THE JOHNSON COUNTY VAMPIRES

submitted by Abigail de la Badie

Johnson: This story is dedicated to my faithful assistant Orion Baker, who died during the course of this investigation. A theatre student at the University of Iowa, Orion was working his way through school doing late night custodial duties at the hospital. Weekends he helped me with my clerical needs and demonstrated enormous potential for paranormal research. Although I miss him very much, I pray I shall not see him again.

     He came to me in a wild condition six weeks ago, clutching his microcassette recorder and shouting about a hideous evil lurking in the woods along the Iowa River. After I calmed the boy with a nerve pill and a jigger of whiskey, he described what he had learned in a highly charged tone that seemed tinged with a hint of madness. I was quite skeptical of anything he might suggest in such a state of mind. Breathlessly, he explained that because of his position as a janitor he had gotten close enough to the doctors to overhear a heated conversation with the County Sheriff. A body had arrived with a deep wound in its neck and entirely drained of blood.

     "The twin punctures of fangs, I suppose?" I asked with an incredulous smirk.

     "No. It was made by a hack saw."

     "Then the loss of blood would be hardly surprising."

     "Except that the blood was drained before the cutting had begun!"

     This revelation did intrigue me, and I asked him to continue. As he spun his narrative, I learned that this sort of decapitation of bodies was a regular occurrence in the county since the beginning of the year; a fact I corroborated with a call to a confidential source among the County Board of Supervisors. My source there reported that at least one or two transients living under the various bridges and in the steam tunnels of Iowa City go missing each month, only to have their headless bodies turn up along the river just south of town near Sturgis Ferry Park. Thus far, nothing was being done about the problem outside of an already sluggish "official investigation" which was waiting to turn the entire matter over to the FBI. Since only transients seemed to be targeted and various members of the local business establishment saw nothing wrong with repelling the homeless from Johnson County, there was little pressure on the county Sheriff to solve the crimes.

     But hiding the crimes themselves, as it turned out, was their first priority. When a headless body is found, a special squad from the County Coroner's Office is dispatched to take it to the morgue for immediate cremation.

     But because the body of which Orion spoke was discovered in the process of decapitation-and a darkly clad individual with wide mustache and fur lined cap had been seen racing away into the woods with a saw--the city police were notified rather than the Sheriff. Thus, the victim's body arrived at the hospital. It appeared that the secret was out and Orion had witnessed the County Sheriff at the hospital demanding release of the body. The staff there refused compliance without the proper authorizations.

     My young assistant continued, "Then the Sheriff got really pissed and demanded an immediate autopsy and that the head must be fully removed. The doctors refused, said the whole thing was preposterous. The Sheriff stormed out to get a court order. I wanted a better look at the thing and since the morgue is on my cleaning schedule, I followed the gurney down to the cooler. Well, I was down there, and was just about to get some pictures, when I heard the door opening again. I hid behind the corpse of this woman named Barbara Cost. I peered over her carcass and saw the Sheriff enter with two deputies. They took out some tools from a big black bag. One deputy cuffed the body to the gurney, the other one watched the door. The Sheriff finished sawing the head off. I couldn't take a picture, but I taped the whole thing."

     During this bizarre oration I had remained skeptical until I myself heard the tape. Although the rasp of the saw through dead flesh and hollow crunch of bone could have been anything, the conversations verified the details. I took up the investigation myself and traveled to Hopkins Grove to consult the special collections library at B. Lavatsky Museum for what information I could find on the subject of vampiric visitations in the state. Orion, being younger and of a disposition better suited to meeting hoboes in their environs, went in search of anyone who might have known the victims.

     Huddled together in large groups for protection, the shabby occupants of the ramshackle structures along the railroad tracks wore strings of garlic and carried sharpened sticks. They were reluctant to reveal much to an outsider, but lubricated by cheap, potent wine, a patchwork story of fear and horror emerged. And threading each interview to the next was the same repeated name....Count Ujazy

     My research had also come across the name, along with startling facts. In 1849, Austria had crushed the Hungarian revolt and Ujazy and his family fled to London. They had petitioned the United States for asylum and were invited by President Taylor to settle in the new state of Iowa. In Decatur County the deposed aristocrat built a huge castle of logs in replica of his ancestral home in Budapest. This became the center of the town of Buda, where the count ruled a colony of 5,000 Hungarians.

     I left Hopkins Grove in some haste for the tiny town of Buda, IA, where I was certain the truth would be waiting. I found the town had a deep tradition rooted in its European past. Stories of vampires there are as common as tales of cow tipping in other parts of the state. I went to the local Historical Society and found them reluctant to discuss their founding father. The drunken proprietor of the bed and breakfast in which I stayed was more forthcoming. He told me that Ujazy had taken up the practice of certain black arts by which to wreak revenge upon the Austrians who had sent him into exile. Whether by magic or not, the Austrians did dispatch a decree stating that the Count's family could return to their native land, provided he remain behind. Since the count's family refused to leave him, he committed suicide so that they would have no reason to stay.

     I shuddered as I knew that souls forced from their bodies by their own hands opened channels for certain demonic elements, and the corpses of those already attuned to black or necromantic arts often reanimated as vampires. My host, silently pointing to the multitude of crucifixes and strands of garlic decorating his inn confirmed that he shared my suspicions. Before retiring, he whispered, " It wasn't long after Ujazy slit his wrists with an ancient ornamental dagger that stories of bloodsuckers started here. It had got so bad at Christmas last year with so many of the monsters around, that the town looked deserted except at night. They was all in on it, too: the town council, the church, the Businessman's Association. Something had to be done about it! None will say its true, now, 'cuz they're afraid of the ones who got away. You see,some of us got help from the experts and made a stand for life."

     "Who helped you?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

     "Them from Polk County. Sheriff Marduke and Father Alcott from the Episcopal Church up there in Hopkins Grove. They come in with a lot of help on New Year's Day. We conducted mass exhumations of bodies that were marked as dead for decades but were still ruddy cheeked and smiling with fresh blood on their lips. We decapitated them and burned them in huge pyres on the hilltops as a sign that evil was no longer welcome in Buda! The whole town was consecrated as holy ground. Cleaned them out, like vermin."

     "It would seem then, that Ujazy's biggest mistake was creating too many vampires to be tolerated."

     "And if he's cutting the heads off victims in your town, its because he's too smart to make the same mistake twice."

     I returned to Iowa City as quickly as I could, hoping against hope that Orion had not pursued any of his leads if they had proved as dangerous as my discoveries. I arrived to find his notes and interviews left in my study, but my camera missing-along with a crowbar and some other tools. On my message board was his promise to return the items after his investigation of Oakwood Cemetery. I hastily called Father Alcott at All Saints Episcopal Church to come to Iowa City.

     When I arrived at Oakwood, local law enforcement was already out in force. The cemetery itself was in chaos. Tombs had been thrown open willy nilly and the bodies inside staked and beheaded. There seemed to be no pattern to the disinterring, and the corpses of dozens of homeless people were strewn about the gravesides, gruesomely dismembered and partially eaten. Orion had not come alone to do his work, but brought an army of transients to attack the cemetery and free themselves from Ujazy's predations. It did not appear they were entirely successful, nor particularly adept at telling the truly dead from the legitimate un-dead.

     Sheriff Marduke, I found, was already at the scene, helping the Johnson County Sheriff's Department contain the situation, advising and assisting where needed. Bodies were returned to their graves, though I noted with some apprehension since none of the stakes were removed. The entire incident was put down to a fraternity prank gone too far, and rumors of a Satanic cult were dispelled. Local newspapers were cautioned against running any account of the disturbances, and after brief discussions that night with Father Alcott and Sheriff Marduke, all complied.

     Of my assistant, no trace was ever uncovered, except for my camera, which was found at the foot of the Black Angel. I recently had the film developed and the picture you see here is quite possibly the last thing my young friend saw during his lifetime. I shudder to think of the sights he will see in his un-life.

vampire




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