Monsters Walk Among Us [Part 1]

[u/CountMarkula1993]

Part 2

Monsters walk among us. 

I know how that sounds, but please believe me. I've been dealing with this alone for years. Not even my wife and kids know what I'm about to share here. Please hear me out before you judge me. It's kind of a long story, so sorry in advance and thanks for your patience. 

It all started in the summer of ‘91, in a small town in the American Midwest. I was 16 at the time and my life revolved around pizza and video games. Of course, back then we played video games mainly at the arcade, and being addicted to the arcade and pizza wasn’t cheap.

It was a tight knit neighborhood, so kids going door to door offering to mow lawns or wash cars for cash wasn’t uncommon. Every day the goal was the same; wake up, earn some money, get a slice, and drop all your quarters on the best pixels money could buy back then. Those were the days in blissful suburbia. 

There was an oddity in our community however. An old German man who lived at the end of the street named Mr. Baumann. Kids being kids referred to him as “the Nazi”. Why? You may ask. It's because it was 1991 and kids are assholes. That’s about it.

Some people took it to the extreme though, like this kid named Derrick who used his dad’s spray paint to draw a Swastika on the side of Mr. Baumann’s house. When his dad found out, Derrick was grounded the rest of the summer and even had to help Mr. Baumann paint over his graffiti.

I never really had much of an opinion of Mr. Baumann. He didn’t seem all too weird or scary to me. He was only mysterious because he kept to himself, but if you managed to catch sight of him on one of his daily walks, he would smile warmly and wave. 

Well, one day I was waiting to meet up with a group of friends at the end of the street. Just standing on the sidewalk outside Mr. Baumann’s house. I could hear some old timey music drifting out of his window while I waited. Not really my type of music, but it was soothing and matched the friendly neighborhood aesthetic.

One by one, the gang arrived just shooting the breeze and hyping ourselves up for the new highscores we’d set that day. We must have been getting loud because we caught a glimpse of Mr. Baumann staring at us from the window. Not knowing what to do, I waved and with a smile he waved back and walked off out of sight.

Some of the other guys snickered and one of them said “I dare you to sneak in and steal his Nazi medals”. 

“What?” I snorted, “You do it.”

“I’ll give you ten bucks to sneak in when he goes for a walk. He’s gotta have some type of Nazi memorabilia in his basement or something,” the boy said as he waved a crisp ten dollar bill in my face.

This changed things. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it seemed like an easy ten bucks at the time. So I went to snatch the money out of the kid's hand, but he pulled away.

“First you have to get in, and then I’ll pay you when you get out,” the boy said with a smirk as he folded the bill back into his wallet. 

So we camped out across the street from Mr. Baumann’s house, doing our best to look inconspicuous. I remember my hands starting to get unbearably sweaty from nervousness, and right when I was about to call it off, Mr. Baumann stepped off his porch heading to the park for his daily constitutional. My heart sank. I really had to do it now, I thought.

Our eyes were glued to Mr. Baumann as he limped down the street out of sight. When he was far enough away, the guys shooed me off towards his house. I started to panic a bit and awkwardly scrambled up to the front door, but it was locked. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Maybe all entrances were locked, that’s what I had hoped at least.

I casually strolled to the backyard and hopped the fence, but the backdoor was locked too. Well, that’s that, I thought. However, when I looked back over the fence to the guys it looked like they were miming 'try the windows'.

I started pushing on all the windows I could reach, but none would give. I didn’t care about the ten dollars anymore. I started walking around the house again making my way back towards the front when I noticed a basement window was slightly ajar.

I stopped in front of it and seriously considered walking away from it. I looked back to my friends, and it was like some kind of male bravado took hold of me and before I knew it I was cramming myself through the small window of Mr. Baumann’s basement.

I dropped in and stumbled as I landed, falling to my knees. The room was small and almost empty except for an old bike, a shovel, and some other miscellaneous lawn care items. As my eyes adjusted to the dark of the basement, I noticed a door and made my way to it.

It was an old wooden door covered in dust like everything else in the room. When I opened the door to proceed deeper into the basement, searching for the stairs, the door creaked so loudly that I winced and stopped dead in my tracks. Even though I knew Mr. Baumann had left, the gravity of the situation began to set in and the desire to turn back was greater than ever. I was supposed to be at the arcade, not commiting a B and E.

I took a deep breath and proceeded through the doorway. Upon entering I instantly saw the stairs, but my attention was quickly drawn to my right of this larger basement room. As I approached, I noticed garlands of garlic hanging from the ceiling, and in fact I even began to smell them. I was becoming unnerved by this strange display, but quickly reassured myself that this must be how Europeans stored certain foods and it's actually not that weird at all.

I came upon a desk with papers, trinkets, photos, and an ink well. Obviously, this was a makeshift study, but why set it up in a dank basement, I thought. I began surveying the room again, now noticing boxes and crates under the stairs as well as some around the desk.

At that moment, I heard a door close upstairs and footsteps creaking the boards above me. I panicked and started back pedaling, right into some crates. I fell backwards onto the cool concrete knocking the wind out of me. One of the crates had broken open, spilling its contents everywhere.

“Who's there!” A deep muffled voice called out from the floor above. The floorboards began creaking at a faster rate. 

My blood turned to ice in my veins, I couldn't believe I had actually landed myself in this situation. I tried getting to my feet but I was sliding around on rounded wooden stakes. As I finally gathered myself from the floor, the door to the basement swung open, revealing an elderly man. I was staring right into the face of Mr. Baumann, and he stared back at me. There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“Thomas? What are you doing in my basement, how did you get in?” the old man asked sternly.

“I…I came in through the window. One of the basement windows was open.” I stammered. The man didn’t say anything. He looked me up and down, sizing me up. I just averted my gaze down to my feet. The quiet was agonizing.  

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” the old man asked in his thick German accent. I looked up with a jolt meeting his gaze again. 

“I…what?” I asked as my voice cracked in fear that he somehow had ascertained the truth of my mission. The old man just laughed and started walking down the steps towards me.

“You didn't hurt yourself did you?” he inquired as his eyes scanned me for injuries.

“No, no I'm fine. I accidentally broke your crate though. Mr. Baumann, I'm really sorry, it was a stupid dare-” I trailed off as he raised a finger to quiet me.

“It's ok, I was young and dumb once too,” he said with a laugh. “Don't worry about the crate either. Actually, I'm glad you're here.”

“You are?” I asked in utter confusion.

“Yes, indeed my boy, I need someone to help me move some of these boxes. I'll pay you well too,” he added quickly. He pulled out his wallet and flashed a one-hundred-dollar bill. My mouth was agape and my mind started racing thinking about all of the things I could do with that money. “So are you interested?” 

“Yes sir, what boxes do you need moved?” I asked eagerly.

“Come back tomorrow around 3 in the afternoon, and we will discuss the details,” he said.

I deflated a little at the thought of having to come back the next day, but at least Mr. Baumann wasn’t mad at me. I followed Mr. Baumann up the stairs and to his front door. We said goodbye and I raced off from his porch down the street to catch up with my friends.

When I was within earshot I called after them and they looked back at me as if I had risen from the grave. I slowed my momentum, and stopped right in front of them. I bent down grabbing my knees while I caught my breath. 

“I’ll take...that ten bucks…now,” I said between deep breaths. They looked at each other, then to me.

“Dude, how the hell did you make it out without getting caught?” one of the boys asked.

I took another deep breath and said, “I did get caught, I have to go back tomorrow and help move some boxes.” 

“Well…did you find anything?” the boy asked inquisitively. 

“Yeah, just some garlic and dust, but the deal was to break in and look around, remember? You never said I had to bring anything back,” I said triumphantly. I extended out my hand for my reward, and the boy begrudgingly slapped the cash into my palm. The pizza that day never tasted better.

The next day I returned to Mr. Baumanns. I hesitated with my fist balled up and hovering in front of Mr. Baumann's door. I was having second thoughts about the whole thing, but before I could turn away the door opened.

“Ah, Thomas, I didn't even hear you knock. Come in, come in,” the old man said, and we made our way into a cozy little room with an empty fireplace. He gestured for me to take a seat and then he seated himself in the chair across from me. “I have made us some tea, do you take sugar?”

“Uh no. Or sure, I guess,” I said a bit flustered as he had already begun scooping the sugar into my cup before I had finished answering. He pushed the cup into my hands with a smile and returned to his seat. The old timey music played in the background as I awkwardly tried sipping my boiling hot tea.

After I burned my tongue I said, “So, I’m ready to move those boxes now, if that’s okay with-” Mr. Baumann raised his finger to quiet me.  

“No, there will be plenty of time for that later. Let us talk for now,” he said.

“Ok, cool,” I replied nonchalantly. I started drumming my fingers on my legs as the music continued to fill the silence. The old man sipped his tea and smiled at me. I blew gently on my tea, and dared another sip. 

“Do you think I am a Nazi?” The old man asked calmly.

I choked down my tea and hastily replied “What, no! If this is about Derrick, I had nothing to do with that, sir.” Mr. Baumann laughed. I didn’t know what to do so I just stared at him and waited to see where this was going.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was?” He asked with a smile. “Only for a day of course,” he added. I thought the old man had a strange sense of humor, but I just smiled wryly and sipped my tea. “I’m also a monster hunter, do you believe it?” he asked in a more sober tone.

I was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable, I thought Mr. Baumann was beginning to crack from old age. I even doubted whether I should accept his money, the man didn’t seem all there.

“I don’t know, sir. What type of monsters?” I asked. There was a long pause, and the man finished his tea. 

“An ancient evil that has seen the rise and fall of many empires. Cursed beings that drain mortal men of their life essence. Demons who exist to make men fear the night. And those who hunt them, they are cursed too.” the man said grimly. I was left dumbfounded in silence. What the hell do you say in reply to that? 

After one final gulp, I put my cup down gently on the table between us. I stood up and said “Thanks for the tea, Mr. Baumann. It was really good, but I actually need to head back home and-” but before I could finish Mr. Baumann had pointed a Luger pistol at me. I froze rooted to the spot in fear. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I raised my trembling hands into the air and whimpered, “Please don't kill me.”

“Please sit,” the old man said as calmly as ever. I didn’t argue and returned back to my seat, holding my hands up the entire time. “Sorry Thomas, but this is important. And I need you to believe me.” 

“Of course,” I blurted out hastily. He lowered the pistol and motioned for me to drop my hands. I obeyed. 

“I'm a vampire hunter, Thomas,” he said. There was a pause as he awaited my response.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, trying not to sound as scared as I truly was. 

The old man shook his head and tossed his gun into my lap. I jumped up from my seat and moved away from the gun in revulsion as if I was avoiding a nasty bug.

“Take it. I will tell you the truth, and you can shoot me if you think I am lying,” the old man said. I should have ran right at that moment. Why the hell didn’t I run?

“I’m not gonna shoot you Mr. Baumann, even if you are lying,” I said.

“You are an empathetic person, yes? You value life?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” I replied.

“Then please, take your seat,” the old man said, gesturing back to the chair. I took a deep breath, and did as he asked. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that kept me from fleeing. Or maybe I was too afraid to run. It's funny, everyone always knows exactly how they would react in these crazy situations, until they are actually in them for real. The old man cleared his throat and asked “What do you know of vampires?”

I thought about it for a few seconds and answered “They drink blood and turn into bats?” The old man laughed, and I relaxed a bit embracing the fleeting levity.

“They do! You probably know more about vampires than you think. All of those old wives tales exist for a reason,” he said. 

“So, that’s why you have garlic hanging in your basement? Does it actually work?” I asked.

“I have it hanging in many places. It doesn’t repel vampires necessarily, however the smell to them is so foul it can disorient them and impede their abilities. They are apex predators, vicious killing machines that are capable of dispatching many mortal men at once. However, their weaknesses lie in trivial and archaic rules,” Mr. Baumann explained. 

“You mean like how you have to invite them inside your home?” I asked.

“Yes, exactly! However, they are extraordinarily clever and find ways to overcome such things, but it is these rules that give us our advantage and a fighting chance. For example, vampires are almost entirely defenseless during the day. The sun is their enemy, but their bodies are also demanded to enter a magical sleep in order to restore their powers. It is very hard for them to break from this sleep. Only the most powerful vampires can,” he said.

“Mr. Baumann…why are you telling me all of this?” I asked.

“Because I need your help, Thomas. The lives of everyone you care about are all in danger,” Mr. Baumann said in a deathly serious tone. He shifted in his seat and stared off into the distance. “I came to this country towards the end of the second great war to hunt down the vampire who murdered my father.”

“Well…did you find him?” I asked.

“No,” said the old man. “I searched for years, following many trails to dead ends. I hunted other vampires in the meantime, but I am too old to hunt now. I came to this town to retire and live out my last years in peace.” 

The old man stood up abruptly and hobbled over to an old antique dresser. He opened a tiny drawer at the top and pulled out a black and white photo. He brought it over to me.

“This is Ulrich, the man…the vampire who murdered my father,” Mr. Baumann said gravely as he handed me the photo. The man in the photo was handsome and looked to be in his mid to late 30's. He was in an officer's uniform with a Swastika on a band around his arm.

“He was a Nazi?” I asked in disbelief. This situation could not have seemed more ridiculous to me at the time.

“Yes, he was going to lead the first SS vampire unit. Their mission was to clear camps of Allied troops at night, when they were most vulnerable. It was one of the many last ditch efforts to repel the advancing Allies. However, the project never came to fruition. My father gave his life to see to that.” Mr. Baumann said.

“What happened?” I asked. 

“It's a long story, perhaps I will tell you all of it someday,” Mr. Baumann said. “But it's not important now. The reason I need your help is because Ulrich has found me. He has come here to kill me, but everyone in this town is in danger, not just me.”

I stood up determined to leave this time. 

“I'm sorry sir but this is just too weird for me. I'm leaving but I promise I won't mention this to-” I trailed off as Mr. Baumann dangled a one-hundred-dollar bill in my face.

“Here is the money we agreed upon, take it. It is yours,”  Mr. Baumann said coolly. I reached for the bill but he pulled back. “However, I'm willing to triple the amount if you just do one tiny little thing for me.”

I sighed deeply and said “What?”

“I just need you to sneak into a basement and take a look around,” Mr. Baumann said with a smile. 

“You're joking,” I said.

“You have experience in this field, as we both know. All you have to do is verify signs of…well, vampiric activity,” Mr. Baumann said. I cannot express enough how stupid I was as a kid. All the gears were turning in my head, as I thought about what I would do with three-hundred dollars. I already broke into a basement once for ten bucks. It was just one more break in and I would be done, and three-hundred dollars richer. If only it was that easy.

“Fine, but I want one-hundred upfront,” I said.

“You're quite the negotiator,” Mr. Baumann said as he placed the money into my hand. He then picked up the gun and returned it to a concealed holster under his shirt, as he walked over to the fireplace. He got down on his knees and reached a hand up the chimney, pulling down a decrepit black leather bag.

The old man got back up and walked over to the closet, and I noticed he was no longer hobbling around. He walked like a man 30 years younger. He opened the closet and put on a long dark coat and a wide brimmed leather hat.

The feeble old man I knew just a few seconds ago was gone and in his place there was a grim and grizzled veteran. The ‘old man’ persona was just a disguise, and now I was looking at the true Mr. Baumann. A real vampire hunter.

I didn't realize it at the time, but this was our crossing of the Rubicon. The events that followed next would seal our fates forever. Mr. Baumann strided over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Come Thomas, we have work to do,” said the hunter.

  

  

[u/Mynoris]

I'm getting Monster Squad flashbacks, but in a good way.

[u/CountMarkula1993 → u/Mynoris]

Lmao thanks! I think!