by Alex Dire
Norman splashed and pushed himself to his feet. He heard his students backing away behind him.
Norman’s senses sharpened. He watched for the first move.
“Welcome, Norman. We’ve been waiting for you.” The robed figure looked over Norman’s shoulder. “We didn’t expect the entourage, though.”
15
The Miserables
The robed figure opened his arms to show he had no weapons. Norman could smell the human blood coursing through his veins.
“Come, Norman. There are some people who want to meet you,” said the stranger.
Norman lowered his fists. He turned around to his students. They said nothing but their faces screamed one question in unison: What should we do?
“He’s human. Let’s go,” said Norman.
They all relaxed. Norman turned back to their new host. “Who are you?”
“Follow me,” said the stranger as he turned and began walking along the tunnel. “It’s best if we go single-file.”
Norman nodded to his class and they filed in line behind him.
Norman heard the swishing sounds of his students’ feet making their way through the filthy water. His mind raced, trying to explore all the possible outcomes of this situation. None of them seemed to end in his favor. However, he couldn’t go back. The tunnel behind them only led to Skeete.
“My name is Naseem,” said the robed figure as he led the little group through the darkness.
They passed a connecting tunnel to their left. Norman sensed the tiny clicking of rat claws against stone in frequencies that only he could hear. “Where are you taking us?”
Naseem kept walking, ignoring Norman’s question.
Matt stepped out of line and moved up next to Norman. He whispered, “Are you sure this is a good idea, Mr. Bernard?”
Norman put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He handed his flashlight to Keon, who walked right behind him. Keon looked up, puzzled.
“Take the lead,” said Norman.
Keon wrinkled his eye brows.
“It’s OK,” said Norman. “I’m going to check on Cindy.”
Keon took the flashlight and trudged on. He aimed its beam at the putrid soup on the floor about four feet ahead. The dim spot barely lit the steps of their guide, Naseem.
Norman momentarily placed a hand on Keon’s shoulder before dropping to the back of the line with Matt.
“Why are we trusting this guy?” whispered Matt.
“I’m not sure we have a choice,” answered Norman.
“He’s human. This is one fight we can win.”
“I’m curious.”
“You’re a vampire. Couldn’t you just…glamor him?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t get it. We’re stronger than him. We can get information from him. Why are we following?”
“He knows everything you’ve deduced. Yet he still came to find me, alone and unarmed,” replied Norman. “Plus, I’m not sensing any danger from him. Usually, with humans, I can tell.”
Matt pursed his lips and breathed through his nose. “I don’t know…”
“Of course,” said Norman, “this could all be a trap. Stay here at the back. Keep alert.” He reached into his back-pack and retrieved a wooden stake. He handed it to Matt.
“I don’t understand.”
“He may have friends. Remember, right through the heart. Be quick. Don’t hesitate. You won’t get a second chance.”
Matt took the stake and slid it into his belt.
“You may not even get a first.”
Matt took the stake back out of his belt and clutched it in his hand.
Norman put a hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “Are you OK?”
Cindy looked up at him. Fear had inscribed itself on her face like letters etched in stone. He waited for her to say something. She just looked back down. Was she angry? At Norman? Who would blame her? She’d spent her years learning to live by rules of the street. Now Norman had changed those rules. At least it must seem that way to her.
He put an arm around her and gently pulled her closer as they walked. He didn’t know how else to comfort her. He tried anyway, “It’s going to be OK.” Norman realized she would give him no response. She didn’t need to. He released her and began to make his way up the line when suddenly, she spoke.
“When I was seven, I lived with a foster family in the suburbs for a while. I remember going to school and how clean it was.” Cindy paused, remembering. “It wasn’t real. It was like Disneyland.”
Norman held back as she caught up.
“After I came back home, I still hated my life. But at least it was real.”
Norman felt he should give a reply, but now his words failed.
“I was wrong though. We all live in Disneyland.” Her pace slowed. “Don’t we, Mr. Bernard?” Her face never looked up. She was telling him, not asking.
Norman wondered anew, if he should be putting his class at the mercy of their new guide. Naseem could be leading them to an ambush. How many disciples had Skeete acquired? What did she plan? Why did she pursue him? Her attack on the condo could have been part of a plan to drive them underground and now, Naseem was taking Norman and his students right to her.
Should he attack? Somehow, Norman thought Naseem had prepared for that. Why else confront a vampire alone and unarmed? If he did attack and destroyed the mysterious figure, then what? Naseem had led them so deep and through so many turns and junctions that they could spend several human lifetimes finding their way back to the surface.
Norman sloshed his way to the head of the column. “What do you want from us?”
“Just you,” replied Naseem.
Norman wondered if his statement contained some type of threat toward his students. “Why?”
Naseem walked several more strides. “Why? Why, indeed. Why would you believe any answer I gave?”
He had a point.
“It’s better if I show you,” said Naseem.
Norman accepted the answer for now. However, he became more and more uncomfortable with each passing minute, with each turn, with each ladder they descended. Norman could survive indefinitely down in the sewers. The guts of the city was a realm of permanent night. Most vampires ended up spending time down there for one reason or another. His students most certainly could not. Mortal fear had re-entered his life. The seven souls that followed him weighed heavy on his black heart. He wished he hadn’t taken them down here. However, he couldn’t leave them above. Skeete would pick them off like flies.
So Norman led them on. He followed Naseem, questioning at every moment if he should reach up and twist the stranger’s neck. Each moment he didn’t made it harder to act in the next. The opportunity for action receded in his mind like a light on a boat far off-shore.
There could be no light down here. They wandered through these catacombs made by man, a realm devoid of the very sun that infuses those same men with life. Man cannot survive down here within the confines of his own creation. No blood pumps through these cold arteries. They transport only filth and provide shelter for creatures like Norman…creatures that once were men. Creatures that have fallen out of the light but would take that very light away from the living forever.
The deeper they pierced into the Earth, the more his students’ chances of survival faded to black. His thoughts shifted away from killing this stranger who led them into oblivion. Perhaps he couldn’t save his students this way. Perhaps he couldn’t save them at all. Maybe he could relieve their suffering, though. He could spare them the darkness that awaited them. Possibly, it wasn’t Naseem’s neck that needed snapping. Seven tiny twists. They wouldn’t even feel it. Norman could free all seven souls in less than five seconds. Then he could face the darkness alone, free of the mortal chains that restrained him.
No. There must be another way.
Norman looked back at each of their faces. He thought he might see a tiny spark in each to push him on or lift him up. He saw none. He saw desp
air. No light shone from these creatures so dependent on it. No light could exist here at all. He was in a world where there would never be any light.
Until.
There was.
A tiny flicker blinked on far ahead of them in the tunnel. Fire. Maybe candles.
A taint of hope mixed in with Norman’s dread.
“Almost there,” said Naseem.
16
The Calm
As they approached the flickering light, Norman’s mind jump started with questions. Who waited for them at the end of the tunnel? How many? Vampire or human? How would they react when Norman showed up with seven high school students?
Naseem hadn’t expected them. Perhaps Norman could use this to his advantage. They were expecting one. Now there were eight. The students were all a combination of street-tough, and fight-ready. They each had a unique intelligence about them. Then there was Declan: a blunt but powerful weapon, if wielded correctly.
Norman decided that his little band could fight. He needed to get them ready. He faked an opportunity to move back along his column. “Matt, how are we doing with batteries?”
Matt looked puzzled. He knew that his backpack didn’t have any batteries in it. No matter. As long as Matt didn’t speak up about it, Norman’s feint would work.
He visited each member of his class as he moved back along the line, placing wooden stakes in their hands and giving each a nod. They had seen the light, too. They got his meaning.
When he reached Matt at the end of the line, Norman offered an empty hand. Matt took the signal and gave Norman the stake he’d been holding. He’d clutched it so tight, his fingers resisted releasing. Norman placed the spike in Matt’s belt. He then reached around into Matt’s back-pack and retrieved the gun. He gently handed it to Matt, who gulped hard before taking it. There were four bullets left in the weapon. Norman hoped Matt would use them well.
This left Norman weaponless. He wouldn’t need one. He only needed the darkness and the black space within him. A little drink wouldn’t hurt either.
If there were humans at the end of this tunnel, he thought his students would have a fighting chance. With Norman at the lead, they could probably subdue a decent sized group. If there were vampires… His group had stakes, but they were agonizingly slow: a cost of humanity. Norman would do as much damage as he could. Draw enemy attention. They wouldn’t expect his little squad. They certainly wouldn’t expect them to have wooden stakes.
As Norman’s mind raced through the possibilities, the odds began to crack his resolve. How could he push his students into combat? They were just kids. If any of them got hurt or… Norman refused to finish the thought.
As they approached the light, his hopes dimmed. “What’s up there?” Norman hoped for any information that might help him see his next move. Naseem remained silent.
Norman walked up alongside the stranger. “Why should I trust you?”
Naseem stopped. The whole column halted behind him. He looked over at Norman and removed his hood. Norman got a good look at him for the first time. All of his features produced an angular effect. He looked at Norman with one pointy eyebrow cocked up. His sharp nose seemed as if it stabbed at Norman. His pursed lips were surrounded by a thin goatee, all the bristly hairs joining in a point on his chin. As Naseem raised his other eyebrow, each hair on his crew-cut pricked up. “You can go back if you wish.”
Norman had no reply. He’d never find his way back. Even if he could, he knew Skeete waited for him. If she didn’t pounce the second Norman and his students emerged, she would soon after.
No, Norman knew the answer to his own question. This little stroll had nothing to do with trust. Norman was desperate, and his options were limited by the mortality of his little band. He’d walk on and ask no more questions.
They approached an opening in the side of the tunnel from which the flickering light emerged. This gateway was not part of the original tunnel. It was a bashed in section of wall, an unplanned opening.
Norman caught a few glimpses inside as they approached. He discerned several torches. Figures shifted past what looked like a sliver of an opening from Norman’s vantage. The opening didn’t extend all the way to the ground. In a few seconds, they’d stop and climb through.
Norman looked back at his students making eye contact with each. Although it was cold, perspiration covered their faces. White knuckles gripped the sharp pieces of wood that just might save their lives.
17
Teen Angst
Naseem stopped at the opening in the wall and looked back at the group. Norman couldn’t read the expression on his face at first. Then, he though he detected a hint of a smile. Norman’s danger sense pricked up. This was a trap.
Naseem looked through the opening and nodded to someone on the other side. Norman needed to act now. In one second, it would be too late. Naseem would be through the portal and have whatever group waited for them at his back.
Norman narrowed his focus on Naseem. Every drop of scum that oozed down the wall became distinct and unique to him. He discerned their variations of color, size, thickness. None of this distracted him, though. He had one, singular focus that took up the whole of his mind: the lukewarm white orb with solar flare-like tendrils arcing out of it that represented Naseem’s will.
“Naseem,” commanded Norman.
Naseem stopped with one foot through the opening. Norman heard commotion on the other side of the wall.
“Not yet,” continued Norman. “Come back.”
Naseem remained frozen for an instant. Then he began to retract his foot through the portal. Norman now had one advantage - Naseem was mortal. Now he was a hostage. Norman hoped that whoever stirred on the other side of the wall would care.
Naseem’s foot completed its retreat from the portal. He stood back up to his full height and turned toward the line of stake-clutching teenagers.
“Grab him!” shouted Norman.
His group stood paralyzed. They hadn’t seen this coming. Norman would have to get specific. Another moment went by before Declan appeared to hear the command.
He charged forward too late, though. A voice barked through the rough-hewn portal. “It’s a trick. I warned you.”
Another voice responded. “Wait!”
Two burley arms reached through the opening and grabbed Naseem. They pulled him through in one quick tug. Norman’s leverage was gone.
Then the arms reappeared through the portal, followed by a tall and muscular body that leapt through and landed in a fighting crouch. He wore a dark green jacket with an insignia on the shoulder. It was a circle with a diamond shape in it.
Norman recognized the uniform immediately. He lifted his fists and stepped back, but he knew he was no match for this opponent.
The burley man rose. He furrowed his nose and let out a hiss. Norman saw fangs descend as the man’s brow tightened. Norman recognized the symbols and discipline of a VR army regular. This man was trained to kill vampires, and Norman happened to be the vampire he cast his gaze upon at that moment.
Declan continued his charge. He raised the stake up as he hurled his mass at the statue-like soldier. He brought the wood in his fist down in a great arc, barking a guttural yell as he did so. The vampire soldier never took his eyes off Norman. His hand blurred up and caught the plunging arm. Declan’s momentum carried him past the soldier.
The soldier’s grip held firm despite the torque applied by Declan’s speed and mass. Something had to give. A cracking sound echoed through the tunnel. Declan’s yell became a whimper as he dangled from the soldier’s grip, his former bent in the middle.
The other six students gasped as one at the sound of Declan’s agony. The soldier flicked Declan through the opening in the wall. Norman could virtually hear the fight-or-flight debate raging through the heavy breathing of the remaining students. He knew which option would win. They were lost in the catacombs under the city. Where would they run? They faced a vampire: a superior enemy. They each held a
stake in their hands. There was no debate, really. Most of their lives had trained them always to fight. This situation would prove no different.
Norman heard their hearts beat faster, and an almost unison deep breath. They’d be slaughtered. Norman was no match for a military-trained vampire killer. Maybe he could offer enough distraction for one of his students to find a soft spot with a stake.
Norman’s own debate was over: fight. He leapt up toward the ceiling and flipped upside down. When his feet touched the ceiling he pushed off, propelling himself at the soldier from above. His enemy’s arms raised up to catch him. He hoped the students would see that the soldier’s uplifted arms left his chest exposed. They needed to make a move.
His students, however, remained frozen, stunned. Only Felicia responded to his silent command. Her scream, both high and fierce snapped the class into action. She charged at the soldier, fist raised, ready for a deadly thrust to the heart of the massive vampire.
At a speed almost impossible to discern, the soldier caught Norman and flung him against the wall. He spun and kicked Felicia in the stomach propelling her back at her classmates and snapped back to his combat pose as if nothing had happened.
“Felicia!” shouted Cindy.
The students screamed and charged the green-clad brute.
Norman shook off the pain and fog. He saw his students’ suicide charge. The soldier would smash them like gnats. It would be quick, brutal and final. He needed to give them some kind of a fighting chance. Norman pushed himself up and prepared to fly at the soldier with one last effort.
He bent his knees to laugh, but before he could a massive bang erupted from his students. Matt’s hands recoiled from he shot. The sound was amplified by the reverberations off the walls of the tunnel.