Vampire Esquire's War: A Novella

by Wells Jr. , Michael

  Moinque left the room, lips pouting.

  Lenin picked up the documents. A cursory review indicated the documents pertained to a $2 billion Super PAC he wanted to create in the United States. The first document was a letter from Fredrick Von Trapp, President of the European Vampire Restoration League:

  “Dear Vladimir,

  I trust this letter finds you in good health. These are exciting times as we feel there is the real chance for vampires to achieve dominion over humans. The European Vampire Restoration League supports you. We have evolved over time, and that has allowed us to grow and gain influence.

  We will need that influence for President Thomas Elder poses a threat to us. The continuation of the United States and its liberties for its humans keeps them powerful and us weak because we cannot subjugate them. And we can then take over the world.

  Things are different now. The pieces are falling into place. The attached documents pertain to just a part of the plan. You are perhaps the largest part, but we all need to work together. If we work together, we will succeed this time.

  Your Friend and Fellow Vampire,

  Fredrick Von Trapp

  The Vampire Restoration League had been reconstituted under Fredrick’s relative, Wulfrick Von Trapp, in 980.

  I can’t stand President Thomas Elder, Lenin thought. He’s a vampire hunter. Their kind presents a direct threat to vampires. I can’t manipulate a man like him. I can’t get rid of him. I’ve tried in the past. I knew he was a threat, but I couldn’t stop him from being president. But I can stop him now. If I destroy him, then I can use his replacement to stage a vampire takeover, first of the United States and then the world; it will be my part of the master plan.

  Vampires can’t take over unless people aren’t looking. I need lots of humans I can control, people who won’t be missed or who are never known to begin with, but who when made into vampires will be loyal foot soldiers.

  He needed President Thomas Elder out of the way, but the plan needed to remain top secret.

  "But that time will come eventually," he said out loud to himself. "It has been a long time coming."

  ______________

  “Vladimir Lenin” had been a vampire for thousands of years now. His real name was Golgotha Huttan. The new Vladimir Lenin admired the old Vladimir Lenin. So he decided to take his name even though he, unlike the original Lenin, loved capitalism. But capitalism was a tool because his ultimate philosophy was dominion over others.

  Lenin lived in Paris, which was one of the cities most friendly to vampires. One of Lenin's favorite pastimes was to sneak around the Seine at night and attack young lovers. He enjoyed the look of utter terror on their faces. Their youth made their blood taste better, and Lenin never tired of asserting his superiority over humans.

  Like most vampires who lived for a long time Lenin was wealthy, very wealthy in fact. He was one of the ever-growing list of vampire billionaires.

  Vampire billionaires had expanded since the end of the Cold War because many of the new billionaires were Russian, and most of the Russian. Beluga caviar, oil, natural gas, metals, diamonds and coal all existed in abundance in Russia, and after the Cold War ended these men made vast fortunes thanks to such resources. Their natural vampire aggressiveness and ability to manipulate humans made it easy for them to take over.

  There were actually more vampires billionaires than human billionaires, but must people didn't believe in vampires, let alone vampire billionaires. And this was just as well, thought Lenin. It made it easier for vampires to sneak up on people.

  They indulged themselves too much whether it be with women, rare blood or yachts. Lust and greed distracted them and prevented vampires from taking over the world.

  Vladimir Lenin was not impervious to the fires of lust, and he did, on occasion, feel himself drawn in to hedonistic pleasures. But he never sacrificed his business or the ultimate goal of vampire domination. He did keep beautiful women around for his urges, the most recent one being Monique Laroche.

  ___________________

  The thirty Malaysian teenagers didn’t know where they were or how they had gotten there, but they were bound and gagged in a building under construction. The building appeared to be a future hotel.

  “All of you work for me,” said a tall figure looming in the shadows. This man wasn’t Asian. None of the teenagers had seen him before.

  Several girls and boys sniffled.

  “There, there,” said the man with mock sincerity. “You won’t be doing hard manual labor. You will be part of one of the largest and most profitable industries in the world.”

  The teenagers had heard the stories of friends and family members who disappeared never to be heard from again or, if they did make it out, they came back different people, damaged people.

  Human trafficking exists in every society. Millions are exploited each year, but the trade is fueled by human lust.

  Ronald Drum made hundreds of millions on real estate all over the world, and his latest project was the development of low to middle income housing in Europe and Asia. Vladimir Lenin and Nero Corporation would fund the construction projects, but Drum would develop the properties. And the most recent Malaysian project would likely be the most profitable.

  Nero Corporation invested heavily in Malaysia and in the rest of Asia. Ronald Drum’s named carried cache, and it drove money into most companies involved in the real estate projects.

  Vladimir Lenin believed in overseeing various construction projects, and he loved popping in unexpectedly.

  He walked out of the shadows, fangs bared. The teenagers’ eyes grew wide, and he could hear their sniffling.

  Lenin grabbed a girl and a boy. He yanked off their gags, and both cried out. “Shut up you vile humans,” he yelled.

  Then he bent the neck of the boy and buried his teeth into the boy’s carotid artery. He drank the sweet blood of youth. He threw the girl to the side, and she ran, the dust from the construction site kicking up behind her.

  Lenin tossed the boy’s body into a grave. Then he went after the girl.

  In one fluid movement, he grabbed the girl’s leg and swung her up. He bit her neck and sucked all her blood out in less than a minute. Then he tossed her in a grave beside the boy.

  With a blood stained face and blood soaked clothes, he said, “I look forward to snacking on all of you and many others. When I’m done, you will see me again for all of you will be my children.”

  And he did snack on them. The flight home went smoothly, and he relived the conquests.

  ________________

  Whatever satisfaction Vladimir Lenin felt from draining the Malaysian teenagers passed by the time he got home.

  Vladimir Lenin had plenty of money. Many vampires were complacent at his age. Not him.

  Lenin was also tormented by the thought of the vampire, Drogba, whom he made almost 2,000 years ago. Drogba had such promise, but he had not worked with Lenin to put vampires in their rightful place as the superior species, a species of which he was the rightful ruler.

  Lenin glanced up from his desk to see Fredrick Von Trapp. Startled, he said, “How did you get in here?”

  Von Trapp stared quizzically, and then he smiled. “I’ve had permission to enter for several thousand years. I am, after all, your maker.”

  Lenin relaxed. “True. Ever since that day at the Battle of Issus in 333 BCE, I’ve been tied to you.”

  “Yes my child, and you have always made be proud.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Lenin.

  “I trust you received my letter?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “Great. There is something I want to show you.”

  “Let’s go.” The two vampires chose to walk out of the office and down the avenue. Given their ages and superior genetic makeup, sunlight did not bother then. Contrary to popular myth, some vampires could face direct sunlight and not be affected by it.

  If Parisians passing Lenin and Von Trapp had known the threat rep
resented by these two vampires, they would have crossed the street and walked past on the other side. Lenin and Von Trapp walked up the Champs-de-Elysees towards the Arc de Triomphe.

  “Such a large structure,” Von Trapp said of the Arc. “I love it,” said Lenin, “because it is grand and unapologetic.”

  “That it is,” said Von Trapp. “Perhaps we will build a monument to great vampires one day.”

  “There certainly have been many.”

  “Vladimir, I want to show you something, but we need to go into the metro stop.”

  “The de Gaulle metro stop?” Lenin looked incredulous.

  “Yes.”

  The two vampires went down the stairs with throngs of people, many of them tourists, bumping past in the tight labyrinth of passageways.

  Von Trapp came to an isolated area with the Expendables movie poster on it. “I’m tired of seeing this American crap all over Paris. It isn’t like any decent Parisian would go to this movie.”

  “That’s why it is the perfect place to put a door,” said Von Trapp. Von Trapp grabbed the poster’s metal frame and pulled it aside to reveal an opening. People passing by didn’t seem to notice. Von Trapp motioned to Lenin to go inside. He did.

  The two vampires walked down a dark, damp passageway into an open area. It took a little while for his eyes to adjust, but eventually they did. Then Von Trapp flipped a switch, which turned on low level fluorescent lights.

  Beneath the lights Lenin saw flat, dark soil for what must have been several soccer fields. “Soil from the Rhine River Valley. Some of the richest in all the world. Perfect for making vampires.”

  “Vampires?” Lenin smiled pleased efforts were being made all over the world. They would need to work together for vampirekind.

  “Yes. There are hundreds of new vampires down there. They will arise soon, and more will come after them. They are all from my bloodline—your bloodline––and all will be loyal to the Vampire Restoration League.”

  “How did you make so many?”

  “My progeny has been busy. We proceeded with German efficiency.” Von Trapp laughed. “But we need to coordinate our efforts.”

  “I agree, and I am sure you know of my plans to influence matters in America.”

  Von Trapp nodded his head. “Yes, I do, and I like it. Subways and metros around the world in major cities can be useful for hatching the critical mass of vampires necessary to take over the world. And, if we unite, then nothing can stop us.”

  Lenin hissed happily, his fangs bared, raising to his full height. Von Trapp responded in kind, tearing off his overcoat to reveal his Restoration Vampires t-shirt, which clung tight to his muscular chest.

  Von Trapp snapped his fingers, and a light came on to reveal a naked, quivering man in his 20s bound by duct tape. “Care for a snack?”

  “But of course. And he will be one more vampire for our plan.”

  “You are right,” said Von Trapp. “See his grave down there?” Von Trapp pointed to a grave at the corner of the massive graveyard (temporary graveyard).

  “I do,” said Lenin.

  Von Trapp tore off the duct tape and bit hard into the man’s neck. Blood spurted on his face and stained the t-shirt. Lenin dug his teeth into the man’s femoral artery. Soon after, they drained the man.

  Chapter 2

  “I’ve come a long way from working in my dad’s pawnshop in Indiana,” Mark Inman said out loud. “You would be proud of me dad.” Inman’s dad, Saul, died twenty years ago when Inman was a freshman at George Washington. He hadn’t left Washington since, and he didn’t plan to leave anytime soon.

  His secretary put through a call from the chair of the Republican National Committee.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning Majority Leader Inman,” said Raymond Jennings. Inman rolled his eyes. Jennings was the new guy on the block, and he was looking to make a name for himself by raising lots of money and getting the GOP back in power.

  Inman loathed these kinds of calls, but he especially hated them with guys like Jennings who would love you for about as long a Georgetown prostitute and discard you the next morning. Not much is permanent, he thought.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Quite well,” said Raymond Jennings. “We are ahead of our fundraising marks, and we thing we are going to be competitive. It helps we don’t have a popular President. He’s beatable.”

  “Yes he is.” Inman knew President Thomas Elder wasn’t as popular as he had been when he started. Elder rode a wave of anti-incumbency into the White House, trouncing an ancient and very boring Midwestern Senator in the process. Campaigning and being president were two completely different things.

  “You are going to be up at the top of the list for people to take Elder on. Just think: you could be President.”

  Inman rolled his eyes. “How many different people have you said that to today Raymond?”

  Without missing a beat, “Only a few.” Then Jennings laughed the same, vapid laugh standard for many other Washington politicos. People who weren’t funny and thought they were all seemed to laugh the same, empty way. In many ways, they were former frat boys with arrested development issues.

  “I’m sure I will talk to you again soon, Raymond.”

  “You will. Keep up the good work.” Inman disconnected the call. He did like the idea of being president, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to be sucked into the talk. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed. Inman could handle about anything else in politics other than the losing.

  ___________________

  Mark Inman became House Majority Leader at fifty. Despite his Jewish heritage, ironically, Inman played the part of a born-again Christian, who kowtowed to the Evangelical elements of the party. This dichotomy in thinking and the ability to suspend his own beliefs in the furtherance of his political future had served him well. Such duplicity is the mark of a stellar politician.

  Inman walked across the deep, Persian rug to the middle of his office where his cherry desk sat. The solid wood felt permanent and sturdy. He’d had the desk since his first term in the House. A wealthy contributor gave him the desk back when you could get away with such things. Now things were different. But the goal was always the same: advance and move up the food chain until you were at the top.

  _______________

  Inman didn’t have much time to think. Fletcher Turner, his top aide, had been waiting patiently while Inman talked on the phone. Inman felt he needed to address the presidency issue with Fletcher, who was clearly interested.

  "President Thomas Elder is going to be a one term president. His Chicago machine can't get him reelected in this awful economy. We will kill him in the midterms," said Inman.

  "Sir, what is it James Carville use to say? 'It's the economy stupid.'" Inman laughed.

  "You were about ten when he said that weren't you?"

  "Nine sir, but who’s counting?" Turner laughed in response to his own statement. "Bill Clinton should never have been President, and neither should Thomas Elder. No Democrat should be. That's not the natural order of things."

  "True, but that should all change soon enough. Our party has a unidentified new donor or donors who set up a Super-PAC with two billion dollars in it. It can be used by the eventual nominee to defeat Elder. Defeat at any cost is the new mantra. Of course, just between us, if Elder somehow tricks the American people again, there are other ways to deal with the problem."

  All political offices needed people like Fletcher because they were blindly loyal or at least they appeared that way. In Washington, only appearances mattered. People like Fletcher did all the work for shit pay, crap hours and little thanks. And they did it usually because they believed—at least for awhile—until they got burnt out. Then they used what they knew to secure more lucrative jobs elsewhere.

  In many ways, Washington was run by young kids, who served as staffers for America’s political leaders.

  Inman used to admire the people
he worked for in Washington, but that admiration waned. He’d hated politicians for a long time, an irony not lost on him.

  The longer he worked in Washington the more he hated politicians.

  While working as a staffer for a one-term Congressmen from Florida, Inman recalled his political epiphany. At one time he believed in his party and his party’s ideals, but he tolerated the people he worked for and hated those on the opposite side. Eventually it dawned on him one crisp October day sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, eating a soggy, tuna fish sandwich that you didn’t work for these guys because you loved them. At best you didn’t hate them. Anyone who understood politics realized any decent politician was in it for himself. If you didn’t do it for yourself, then you certainly couldn’t help anyone else. So he quit his job that day, went to Florida and ran for Congress, defeating his former boss.

  Inman looked down at his private cell phone after it buzzed. The sexy, Georgetown Law student he’d just started screwing a few weeks before. It was good to be in charge.

  Fletcher had seen them one Saturday when Turner was working on a memo. Inman almost never came in on the weekends. But he was there that day. Turner saw the girl rush out of the office with lipstick smeared. Turner acted as if nothing had happened, and so did Inman. They had never spoken of it again. Inman knew Fletcher knew, but Inman didn’t care. A code of silence would keep Fletcher quiet. You don’t tell on your boss, especially not about these kinds of things.

  Inman didn’t need Fletcher at that moment. He wanted Fletcher out of his office.

  “Thanks Fletcher,” Inman said, implying he was done.

  “Glad to help sir,” said Turner. Fletcher walked out and left Inman to ponder bigger and better things. The presidency. A perfect, 22-year-old female ass. The possibilities were endless.

  ____________________________

  Chapter 3

  Like many girls from UVA, Bridgett was an irresistible combination of beauty, intelligence and ambition. This made her attractive to men, but it also made her intimidating. So Bridgett remained single, a depressing status and one that would continue for the foreseeable future primarily due to her job. And she wasn’t single for the reasons people normally thought. Even though times had changed, she couldn’t admit who she really was, and she certainly couldn’t tell her mother. So she told herself the right person hadn’t come along yet.