"Oh my Gods! Is he dead?!" Rayne shrieks as she drops to her knees in the wet mud. The rain has significantly slowed, leaving black clouds looming above. Placing her small hand on the back of his shoulder, she tries to shake the body awake. Even through his thick, dark green shirt, she can feel his body is cold. "What happened?" she questions the villagers, although deep down she already knows; vampires. Rayne's mind begins to race. Clementine stands behind her, frozen, with her hands covering her frightened expression.
"I think it's evident what happened here." A townsman speaks up. It's Mr. Johnson, a banker and father of John, with whom Clementine had a brief relationship. "We need to alert the people."
"But the vampires have not disturbed us in almost two centuries!" exclaims Mrs. Charity, the village bread maker. "What have we done to anger them that they have returned?" They begin to murmur amongst themselves, flashing criticizing side glances at Clementine. Clementine wraps her skinny arms around herself, trying to disappear from their accusing looks.
"Stop. Stop, look." Rayne intervenes, seeing her friend's discomfort. "Who's to say we angered them? We all know the vampires are cold, heartless beings that take as they need." Rayne was unsure of her own words. "Turning against our own will not bring Mr. Hytop back. We need to prepare in case they attack again." Wrapping her fingers into Clementine's, she pulls her away toward the road. The villagers shoot skeptical looks but take heed of her words. Swooping down, a few of the men carefully try to lift the oversized body, its heavy weight maximized by its lack of life. Rayne and Clementine run down the dirt street to the large opening at the very hub of the village. Mrs. Charity's adolescent son, Thomas, follows close behind. At the clearing's core sits a large, round platform built of massive grey stones. Standing at least seven feet high, atop it rests a wide, iron bowl, tarnished from the unyielding rains. Two sturdy metal rods rise some feet above it. Bending at ninety-degree angles, they meet in the middle where a thick rope is knotted. Tied tightly by the other end, a colossal iron ball hangs suspended below.
The three run frantically up the wooden steps onto the stone platform. Reaching over the bowl's rim, Rayne can barely touch the rope hanging down the middle. Finally grasping it, she tries with all her might to pull the bulky hunk of metal toward her, but it slips, swinging further from her reach. Clementine appears next to her, panting, and Thomas a second later. Reaching over, his long, lanky arms snatch the rope with ease. The solid, iron ball is too heavy for just one person and the girls help him heave it up. The three of them lift the globe as far as their strength will allow before letting it go into the bowl with a harsh shove. As the length of the rope catches, the large ball hits the inner rim of the iron dish. Momentum causes it to go spinning continuously around the perimeter. The metal on metal contact lets out a loud hum, encompassing the village.
While Clementine shelters her ears from the deafening purr, Rayne thinks about the only other time she's heard the siren sounded. When she was a small girl, a werewolf was looming in a near forest. One night it violently killed a local woodworker, leaving him faceless and unidentifiable. It took two days for the village hunters to slay him. The problem now was, not only is there hardly any way for humans to kill vampires, given that they ruled the capital of the state, it was deemed illegal and punishable by death. This is not to say that vampires are allowed to run freely, killing and drinking humans as they please. If ever one was caught and found guilty, surely, they would also be sentenced to death by the state for murder. Rayne has never heard of it being done though, as no human would dare cross a vampire, and the night creatures weren't known to turn on their own kind for the benefit of a lower species.
The village streets begin to bustle as the townsfolk spill from their homes, hearing the metal loudly ringing out. Slowly and cautiously, they crowd to the center of town around the platform supporting the three young adults.
"What's going on?" "Why did you sound the alarm?" they shout from the group. Rayne turns to Clementine and Thomas, waiting for someone to speak out. The two fall back, looking down at their shoes shyly.
'Oh me?' Rayne thinks to herself, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat. "Um, I…" her voice cracks as she tries to shout above the ringing bowl behind her. Her cheeks burn red with embarrassment from such a large crowd. She continues, "uh, we found a, um," the gathering falls silent, staring up at her eagerly, "it's Mr. Hytop…he's dead." The villagers gasp. "And…it appears as though a vampire is the culprit." Frightened whispers spread across the group. Mr. Johnson, Mr. Green, and his son, Peter, join the crowd, struggling to haul Mr. Hytop's bulbous body without further damaging it. Seeing it now, Rayne can tell one of his legs is broken, with his foot twisted completely backward. Stuck in the sole of his boot is a squashed dandelion. Mrs. Charity runs out ahead of them, clutching an old, rolled-up blanket. The crowd parts to let them through as they make their way to the base of the platform. Mrs. Charity sprawls the blanket out in front of her onto the dirt for the three men to carefully lay Hytop's corpse upon. The group gathers closer, leaning over one another to get a look at the lifeless body.
Mr. Hytop was a lone, solitary man. He was one of few in the village that never married, and he came known to others as bitter and mean. Still, many of the women in the crowd begin to weep quietly. Holding each other closely, they dab their eyes with worn-out handkerchiefs. Though folks in the poor village sickened easily, two deaths in one week was rare, and the sadness it evoked was hard for the people. Mr. Johnson rises and attempts to comfort his fellow neighbors. Being older than most and more experienced, he's considered the unspoken leader of the village and many look up to him in uncertain times. Johnson has seen the ire of vampires before, unlike most of the younger townspeople, though he has never met one personally. Bouncing up the wooden steps of the stone platform, he skips every other stair with his long-legged strides, waving his hands in the air to gain the attention of the gathered group.
"Look!" he shouts over the crowd. The bowl behind him still rings. "We must assume the vampires will be back!" The terrified eyes of the group gape up at him. "I urge all of you to try to prepare yourselves. Board up your windows and lock your doors. Do what you can to keep you and your family safe. Starting now, no person is to walk the streets alone. Pair up and do not get caught outdoors after dark. Doing so could mean your funeral." Hushed whispers walk through the crowd. "Whomever is not boarding windows, light the street torches and ration the food and water." His hazel eyes scan the faces in the audience. "John, Thomas, Joseph, would you please help me get Robert to the pit?" Since Mr. Hytop was alone, his remains are to be burned with no ceremony, as families of the deceased generally pay for the casket and a spot in the town cemetery. John, Thomas, and Mr. Green hustle over to the limp body while Mr. Johnson hops down from the platform in just two long steps. They lift him carefully and slowly begin their walk to the fire pit on the outskirts of town. Somberly, the rest of the villagers disperse to prepare for their unwelcome visitors.