The psychological impact of having no distant future to contemplate was staggering. People had grown restless and impatient with themselves, then surly and ruthless. Finally, they had discovered the existence of the Vampire. They began to believe in the myths they had heard with chilled pleasure as children and to put their faith in the creatures with infinite regenerative powers.
Gilda and her family had retreated from society, taking less blood than they needed, creating fewer like themselves. Even the most flagrant terrorists among them, those who thrived on the fear of their victims, ceased their killing in the attempt to escape discovery. The full transfusion of their blood gave eternal life to the hungry rich, who now sent out the Hunters to capture them. Once transformed, however, the wealthy broke the one commandment held by her kind: never kill one’s creator. In her lifetime she had seen that recklessness in only one other—Samuel.
Gilda finally settled into a rocky alcove on her cool pallet, hoping that Julius or Effie would answer the call she sent out before she slept. She closed her eyes and felt no one but knew they would answer. Soon she’d be assured of their safety and able to make her way to them.
When Gilda awoke her body told her it was dusk in the world above. She started sharply when she saw Houston, one of her guards, standing in front of the entrance to the place where she hid. His broad back and narrow hips were unmistakable, as was the blond hair he wore tied with a scarf as long and bright as the hair itself. She did not move but watched as he shifted uneasily under her gaze on his back.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He didn’t turn but spoke looking straight ahead. “I came upon you as I made my rounds. I know that you sometimes slip away from us but this place is too exposed.”
“You understand that to know my sleeping place means death?”
“Yes.”
“Then why have you stayed?”
“I’ve watched you sleep before. I couldn’t leave you here for someone else to discover.”
Houston’s back gave no clue to his thoughts. Gilda was sure she could take him easily; she need only hold him with her gaze and he would fall before her. Then she would not have to go out to gather life from anyone tonight. Perhaps that is why he is keeping his back turned, Gilda thought.
“Face me.”
Houston turned to her, his large body a contrast to the simple lines of his face, smooth brow, hairless skin, and full lips held firm across his teeth. He looked Gilda in the eye, something none of the other guards did.
“Have you become a Hunter? Do you hunt me?”
“No.”
“Then you seek my life for yourself?” Gilda asked, knowing as she spoke it was not true. There was no callousness about him. Unlike the wealthy who had inherited the earth he was curious, uncertain. It was this that made him a good guard, a strong ally.
“Answer, please.”
“No.”
“What then? I have little patience at this moment!”
“Your guard, as always.”
Gilda stared steadily into his eyes searching for the edge that was sure to appear if he was lying. She looked behind his thoughts and found the curiosity that had become familiar to her, blended with the gut animal smell many men carried when around a woman. She laughed thinly and saw the puzzlement on his face.
“I’ll have the nightly reports in my chamber,” Gilda said. She walked away brusquely, taking care not to touch him as she passed.
She entered her room and lit the candles that she preferred to the omnipresent fluorescents. She pulled a stiff brush through her bristly, close-cut hair. The past attempted to flood in on her. It pushed at the wall curtains and against her breasts, trying to sweep her before it, to engulf her in weariness and fear, but Gilda snapped her eyes open and forced her concentration onto something in the present: the half-full decanter of red wine glistening in the light. She wound herself around the facets of the bottle and slipped inside the smoothness of the vintage wine, feeling its soothing coolness. She wanted to remember which one of the wines this was so she could let Sorel know how pleasing it had been. The light playing on the glass brought his booming laughter to her. She stood entranced until the sound of movement forced her back.
Houston entered with the two others she employed to watch her cavern compound. One was a thin, older man, not yet fifty, whose eyes and body appeared to be perpetually on the edge of starvation. But he was alert and fast; perhaps knowing he was in the final stages of his life made him so. The second was a young woman of about seventeen, plump and clever. She seemed to never sleep and was always everywhere with a smile. Gilda knew she snuck off some afternoons to see someone, a lover or her family, but she never shirked her duty. Gilda paid them fairly, was even generous when she could be, but kept herself at a distance except during these accounts on the security of the cave and the surrounding landscape.
They reported what went on above in the half-abandoned cities several kilometers to the north and east, trying to speak casually, as if they were not sitting in a cave beneath the earth with a woman who could live for eternity, or might just as easily kill them. She had offered the one thing she knew would bind them to her: sharing of her blood, which she promised to do just as she left them for the last time. The old man had refused. His lungs were already gone, as well as all of his friends. The young woman said yes, maybe. As yet she had not declared herself. She worked tirelessly to help her family but said she feared the hunted life. She seemed content with the money to be made as a bodyguard. Houston had said nothing, only took his pay and hovered nearby at all times.
Gilda listened impatiently, hungry to be outside in the freedom of darkness walking the dry bed of the Rio Bravo. She tried to remember what night had felt like long ago—full of promise, the shadows inviting. Evenings arm in arm with Effie, walking until they were both full from the sights they’d seen. Discovering new cities and people, then hiding themselves away from the sun until night came again for them. They had not done so in almost a decade.
She had seen Julius more recently. The challenge of eluding the Hunters ignited a sense of adventure that sporadically led him to her side. He spent their reunions telling tales of the others and playing recordings of newly created folk music he had collected from around the country as proof that the human spirit was still thriving. Then night concealed his departure.
Sitting here with her guards, the only personal contact she dared to make, the night no longer held the meaning it had in the past. There was no freedom above. The Hunters were everywhere, using telepathy, sonar body tracers, and decoy tricks to find the sleeping places. Unable to wait any longer Gilda abruptly dismissed the group in the middle of Houston’s report. She changed quickly into the dark green one-piece she favored and a short jacket. Her boots were silent on the rocks as she climbed the gradual incline to the mouth of the cave.
There were no city lights in either direction. The desert was silent except for the slight rustling of the camouflage tarp that hid a small hovercraft. There was no moon. The contaminated atmosphere rarely allowed it to break through the earth’s grey blanket.
Gilda turned eastward in the darkness and began to run at a speed that soon made her invisible, covering the distance of a hundred kilometers in a quarter of the time it took the hovercraft. She felt conspicuous as she came into town. Almost everyone on the street was in pairs or groups of three and four. Few ventured out unaccompanied.
She wandered, watching and listening before she went to take her share of the blood. She slid easily into an apartment window and took from a sleeping man, who experienced a slight disturbance of his dream. When she heard a key at the front door Gilda slipped a pleasing idea into the greyness of his dreams and fled.
The night had cooled, and there were few people on the street when she emerged. Many of the apartment buildings were abandoned, making the city’s darkness almost complete. Two high-rise luxury towers at the northern edge stood empty in blackness, solemn obelisks serving as tombs
tones for the entire city.
Before she turned down the boulevard that led to the edge of town she felt a presence behind her. She slowed her pace and listened. Light, reflected from a shop window, cast a dull glow, but most of the street was dark. It was the unmistakable stealth of a Hunter. The reflex stimulants they used, making them faster and stronger than the weakened population, was evidenced in the very silence of his steps.
He kept pace with Gilda but held his distance, hoping, she assumed, to track her to her sleeping place and then overcome her. Gilda turned into a narrow alley of smaller buildings and low stoops, ran for a few steps, then backed into a doorway and threw an empty ash can down the alley. It clanged in echoes through the street for just long enough; the Hunter came around the corner, running. Gilda reached out and grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his wind and voice. He made a small choking sound but couldn’t move or Gilda’s fingers would have ripped out his vocal chords. He swung his hand up in a swift chop to dislodge her grip. His strength was considerable, but Gilda’s was greater.
She pushed him away before he could strike her again. He hit the opposite wall and bounced forward like a toy. In the darkness it was impossible to tell anything about the Hunter except that he was of narrow build, wiry, and vicious.
As he crouched low to use the ancient martial arts, Gilda spoke in a soft voice. “Leave me. I have no wish to kill you.”
There was no visible reaction to her words as he continued toward her. Gilda turned to run, certain she could disappear before he had a hint of her direction. He grabbed her arm as swiftly as one of her own kind. His grip and the counterforce stretched her arm away from its socket. The pain shot from her shoulder to the back of Gilda’s head. Her mouth opened, but only breath escaped.
Her foot rose smoothly, the toe of her boot catching the edge of his chin in a ballet movement marred only by the blood that arced from his nose as his head snapped backward. For a moment there was a look of terror in his eyes. The mythology of the Vampire still had power even for the Hunters. This one already regretted not waiting until she slept before he attacked. Even with biphetamines he was not fast or strong enough for her, and the smell of blood was in the air.
Gilda hit him full in the face with her left fist, feeling the slippery wound of his flesh. He lurched backward but didn’t fall. He struggled forward again, and Gilda peered through the sheet of blood over his broken face into his clouded eyes. She could see the haze of drugs that held him upright, conscious and able to resist her will. But in this, too, she was stronger. She held his gaze long enough to rip away his memory, then knocked him unconscious with a brisk crack of her palm on his forehead.
He sat on the coldness of the pavement like a child oblivious to the pain that tore through his body. Gilda left him there and sped away.
Once back at the entrance to the cavern she stood for a moment and sniffed the dry night air. It was clearer than usual. Such a close call with a Hunter was unnerving. She ignored the pain in her shoulder, certain that it would dissipate by tomorrow’s nightfall, and tried to focus on the nighttime sky and her next move.
Bird had made her way south early and settled in the less industrial lands where it was somewhat easier to remain undiscovered. It was said that some of their kind had escaped Off-world, but there were few facts to put faith in. To Gilda, crossing that great expanse of sky was as frightening as crossing the boundless sea.
The Off-worlders had rebelled, refusing to take any immigrants who could not prove need. They monitored all applications as if their lives depended on it. And they did, Gilda thought. Still the Government refused any attempt to reverse the train of destruction they had put into motion.
Gilda’s gaze held on a small patch of grey sky that slowly brightened to reveal the luminance of a waxing moon. As the night breeze blew the heavy chemical clouds away, her heart raced at the sight of her beloved moon.
Then her body became rigid as the message entered her thoughts: Effie and Julius are safe. They will be joining Bird before the next full moon. They are enroute to South America. Sorel and Anthony have preceded them. There is safety there… hovel Faith! Love!
The contact was broken, and Gilda’s body slumped. Houston rushed forward, catching her arms from behind. She broke free instantly and spun around ready to kill. When she saw Houston looking down at the empty air between his arms, she laughed. His shock increased at the sight of the filth and blood on her clothes, but he said nothing as he recovered himself. The night shook with Gilda’s laughter for the first time in years. Houston joined in because it felt good to laugh freely in the night.
“I’m sorry Houston, you startled me.”
“I thought you were fainting.”
“We don’t faint, Houston.”
“All women faint,” he said, chuckling.
“No, Houston, all women do not faint. They haven’t in some time!”
Houston looked chagrined until he saw that Gilda still smiled as she gazed at the faint glow of moon.
“Houston, soon I’ll give you everyone’s wages for next month.”
“Yes.” Houston was invaluable because he didn’t ask questions.
“In the event that I have to be away for a while, you may pay the others until I return or send you a message.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you can take some time away if I am not here. Visit your family or friends?”
“There are none anymore,” he said with almost no inflection.
“Is that why you remain unresolved about the blood?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want out of this world, Houston? It’s dying. Perhaps you should be contemplating how to live instead of dying with it.”
“If it dies there is little I can do but die,” he said. “What’s a world without people?”
“What about Off-world?”
“The money for such a trip, not only the fare, but the bribes, the health tests… I’d have to work several lifetimes for that. The Government has us trapped here. The charity ship sent by Off-worlders stands waiting, almost empty, while the healthy make themselves ill working to accumulate enough money to bribe their way to life.”
“There must be some answer to this disruption of immunity, the diseases, the meteorological tilt,” Gilda said without much conviction.
“The answer is greed. We are dying of greed. I don’t know the cure for that.”
They were both silent, looking out into the surrounding desert, searching for hope, while behind them the female guard slipped away from the entrance to the cave and crept downward to her post. Her hands trembled as she searched the lining of her jacket for the microcommunicator. The decision had been made; she would radio the Hunters. When they arrived she’d collect her reward: passage Off-world for her and her family. The guard was happy she’d been so clever. As soon as Gilda slept it would be over.
Gilda worked at her desk under the lamp’s glow for an hour, putting together the payments for the guards and packing the few things she would carry. She was careful to leave her chamber with the appearance that she would return. She took only a pallet of earth, her mothers’s rough metal cross, Bird’s leather-encased knife, a heavy cloak especially woven and lined with soil, and her copy of the Tao. She decided to fold the ancient quilt that had been with her for so many years inside the pallet. Gilda was saddened to leave the desk she had sat at through the generations. It alone had been witness to the years of recording her life. Early in the decline, when travel was not restricted, she had allowed Bird to transport most of her journals south with her. That was a time when Gilda still believed there would be many more years of writing at her desk.
She removed three sets of forged health certificates from the familiar drawers. One set she put in a brown envelope with a large stack of currency and marked it for Houston. The other two she slipped inside her body belt. Smaller envelopes addressed to the other guards and the larger one she left in the center of her desk. Gilda blew out the lamp.
At the opening she looked out onto the glowing rock at the shadow of the girl guard, who stepped forward, smiling. Gilda glanced around as she did before each dawn, then nodded. She realized she had never liked that smile, and her attempts to probe the young woman’s thoughts inevitably yielded simple yet pervasive preoccupations with her family. Gilda preferred the taciturn face of Houston or the sprightly resignation of the other guard.
Gilda rustled around in the room for some time before slipping out through the silent panel and making her way about the winding passages. She easily removed a boulder that should have required a dislaser blast and disappeared into the darkness.
Houston watched silently, a little sad that she was gone but also relieved. He didn’t think she would have been safe here much longer. Entering her chamber through the hidden panel he took the papers from the desk. He sat down before it, listening for the stillness of the guard outside. Houston opened the envelope addressed to him and tried not to gasp aloud at the sight of the health papers and money. He stuffed them in his pack and went back out through the panel. He found a distant spot where Gilda might have chosen to sleep and stood guard over the emptiness.
Outside, the desert was silent. Gilda embraced the wind and the darkness as she sped eastward toward the city. She would hide for a time in the tombstone high-rises before beginning her journey south. She knew she should feel anxiety or fear, but she was filled with anticipation instead. She wanted this journey. She expected to look at things along the way, not just look for something. Once all of them were together, they would plan a future much different from the one envisioned by the Government.
In the years since leaving the home she had shared contentedly with Effie, Gilda had come to enjoy making the leap into the unknown that was at the heart of traveling. But in her journeys she had learned to let go of searching. She brought no one else into the family, and no longer questioned herself relentlessly. Her time was spent learning to be more than human. She saw more deeply into life, further into the past and through lies. But the future was as much a mystery to her as to anyone—a delicious reason for being, she thought.
The Gilda Stories Page 29