A People's History of the Vampire Uprising_A Novel

by Raymond A. Villareal

  I called over one of my team members, a Caltech grad student named Dylan, who was at her computer. I stepped away from the microscope. I pointed a finger at my chair. “Replicate my most recent experiment,” I said.

  Dylan performed the steps as she looked through the viewfinder. I watched her work by looking at the computer. Dr. Azoulay, my other researcher, stood next to me to view the monitor. “Oh my,” Dylan said as her hands gripped the side of the table. “Holy shit!” she cried.

  I called Terrence Davila. He was in a meeting, but I barked at his assistant to get him out.

  When Terrence arrived, I asked him to do the same thing Dylan had done. A few moments later he looked up. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me like I was a Christmas present. “I’m getting drunk tonight!” he screamed, as if tonight would be any different from any other night.

  Of course, without a live Gloaming to test the drug on, all this was theoretical. However, most of our computer models indicated that the drug would be an effective prophylaxis against the virus. The drug worked by inhibiting reverse transcriptase, the enzyme that copied Gloaming RNA into new moot viral DNA, which would bind to antithrombin and change the molecular composition of the blood to something closer to human. We named it Glomudine.

  In addition, our computer models indicated that the chemical compound in Glomudine could be used to severely incapacitate Gloamings if administered in an aerosol form. Soon we began working with different manufacturers to compile a means to deliver an aerosol version of the drug during a conflict. However, similar to various other types of chemical weapons, Glomudine was fatal to humans if they were exposed to the drug in the amounts needed to incapacitate a Gloaming. I presumed our research was still purely theoretical or at least worth the risks.

  Looking back on it now, I should have known the stakes of my research and the true costs of extensive Glomudine use. And at that point, security at the Atwater lab complex was stepped up, as the Gloaming tension in New Mexico was reaching a critical point. More and more military personnel were visiting the lab every week.

  I should have urged greater caution. I should have been more vocal, more firm that we needed to get closer to 95 percent efficacy before moving to manufacturing the Glomudine.

  But like Mike Tyson once said, “I got old too soon and smart too late.”

  Federal Bureau of Investigation—Department of Justice

  Via Secure Email Congressional System

  FROM: Special Agent in Charge Hugo Zumthor

  TO: House Committee on Homeland Security, Counsel; Office of the Attorney General

  SUBJECT: Situational Information Report/Classified Law Enforcement

  MARKED: Sensitive

  DATE: August 13

  About three weeks after the BuzzFeed article was published, leading to formal Department of Justice and Congressional inquiries, I led a team of local FBI agents to the Rio Grande Institute to conduct a standard preliminary inquiry.

  At the Institute’s gated entrance, we were denied access by New Mexico National Guard troops stationed at the front. Thereafter, the FBI sought a search warrant from a Federal judge for Institute personnel and all records, including email, text, audio, and video records. After five days, Judge Koster granted the search warrant and again we went to the Institute, this time to serve the warrant.

  Again, we were denied access to the Institute. I’m sure there is a logical explanation for these actions, though Lord knows we might not be here long enough to hear it. But this time, a significantly greater number of New Mexico National Guard troops were stationed along the main road which accessed the Institute’s gated entrance.

  Currently, we are awaiting further orders from the Director and the Attorney General as to how to proceed.

  The Huffington Post

  [Original post taken from the front page, Sunday edition, of O Estado de S. Paulo. Translated from the Portuguese.]

  The annual Brazilian festival, known as Carnaval, which takes place a week before the Catholic celebration of Lent, has been the subject of much speculation after reports indicate that over seventy people went missing in the city of Ouro Prêto after the celebrations. For several months, details were scarce as multiple families reported missing loved ones and the Brazilian military opened a full-scale, but incredibly limited, investigation. Then, in late summer of this year, ten square blocks of the city were suspiciously declared a “forbidden zone” to all but certain credentialed personnel, indicating that some progress had finally been made.

  Overcoming fear of persecution, witnesses finally emerged last month and told others that five Gloamings had attacked a group of revelers in the Jardim Botânico Bloco de Rua (“street block”). The street blocks of Ouro Prêto are famous for their own particular parties and themes led by the sounds of frevo and maracatu music, with brass and drums filling the air.

  According to reports, the Gloamings were dressed in black silk pants with red trim and rumba shirts with wide red frilled sleeves and frilled calf covers. Their faces were painted white and they wore large top hats. They came out of the three-room apartment of a local grocer who was away with his family in Rio de Janeiro for Carnaval. The Gloamings waited until after the parade, when there were no more floats but the streets were still crowded with revelers. Gloamings then began to dance with the people. This lasted a few minutes, until the Gloamings went into a frenzy and murdered the people on the entire block. In the commotion of the festivities, it took some time before people realized that friends and group members had suddenly disappeared. These events, thought to be just social disruption, went unreported for weeks.

  After corroborating over thirty eyewitness statements, officers immediately called in the army, who then cordoned off ten square blocks surrounding the reported crime scene and refused access to any press or local government officials. Sources in the army indicated that after days of searching, all of the deceased were found exsanguinated and left in the sewer system under the street. The bodies were finally buried after an examination at an unknown mass grave site, which angered many of the families of the victims. Sources in intelligence agencies indicate that the government had prior knowledge of the event, but stalled a rigorous investigation because the government of Brazilian President Lucas Sousa does not want to antagonize the Gloamings he has become intertwined with through his business interests.

  Chapter 21

  September 15

  Forty Months After the NOBI Discovery

  Hugo Zumthor

  Special Agent in Charge of Gloaming Crimes Unit, FBI

  The McMaster Nuclear Reactor in Hamilton, Ontario, was a low-power nuclear reactor known as a research reactor on the campus of Canada’s McMaster University.1 These reactors are smaller because they are used for research, not to produce electricity. But they do contain all the elements of power reactors, including highly enriched uranium [HEU].

  Goddamn nuclear…well, nuclear anything. Albert Einstein said it best: “The release of atom power has changed everything except our way of thinking…The solution to this problem lies in the heart of mankind. If only I had known, I should have become a watchmaker.”

  Amen, Albert.

  I learned all this when a CIA colleague called out of the blue, to request a meeting in my office. I was always a bit wary of such requests. Those meetings tended to be long on cliché and short on workable solutions—the CIA modus operandi. “Why?” I said before I even agreed to the meeting.

  There was a pause, and then a click. The line was being monitored. “We need to discuss some Internet traffic regarding a certain group bringing highly enriched uranium or plutonium into the United States,” my colleague said. “Easier in person, I think?”

  A certain group. Ah. I had a feeling I knew which group the CIA needed to consult me about.

  It wasn’t until I hung up the phone that it actually hit me.

  We were talking about Gloamings, of course. But Gloamings and…

  Nuclear power?

  Thi
ngs were proceeding at a frantic pace following the interception of the white paper and I wanted to meet with Lauren Scott to ask her a few questions about the ultimate purpose of the Gloamings. We met at Dulles Airport and sat in the corner of a Starbucks amid the throngs of passengers. Where does all the time go…

  “I can’t miss my flight,” Lauren stated with an annoyed look on her face.

  “I know,” I replied, “and I appreciate this. The CIA would never let me forget it and then I would owe them one.” You never want to be in debt to the CIA.

  “So what’s up?”

  I passed my tablet over to her and she read a summary of the white paper provided by a team of analysts. Lauren’s brow furrowed and then she nodded, as if this confirmed all of her fears about the Gloamings.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. It’s a natural progression of their survival instinct.”

  I took back my tablet and shut it off. “You believe it? I mean, do you think they’re seriously considering this nuclear winter, permanent night scenario?”

  Lauren stared at the people crisscrossing the airport terminal. “The good news is that they really need us to survive. The bad news is that they really only need us to feed. I suppose if they ever construct a synthetic blood supply that is identical to human blood, then we better start worrying. Or they could always just imprison us for blood. Probably not feasible, but…”

  That’s all I really needed to know.

  On October 5, an unknown number of individuals entered the McMaster Nuclear Reactor and stole about two hundred kilograms of HEU—about the size of a newborn baby. The reactor fuel at the McMaster reactor consisted of small black pellets which resembled charcoal sticks for drawing and weighed only a few pounds each, so the heat was not excessive enough to prevent transport, or even to prevent holding the pellets in your hands.

  The individuals did not leave many tangible clues, other than a knocked-out security guard and a few tire tracks in the snow.

  The pellets were traced to the Zemun clan—a large criminal enterprise based in Serbia with about ten thousand soldiers in its ranks. It is thought the pellets were then funneled through New York City and then Dallas, as various radiation detection devices were alerted in those cities. Eventually, the pellets made their way to Uruguay, where they were transferred to the members of the Japanese yakuza gang known as Yamaguchi-gumi, who were thought to have put the pellets on a freighter carrying television and cell phone components made by a Brazilian manufacturer. Then the freighter was docked in Kitakyushu, Japan. The Yamaguchi-gumi clan then transported the pellets to a Gloaming facility in Lisbon, Portugal. While in Lisbon, Gloaming scientists constructed a low-yield but still dangerous tactical nuclear weapon 1.5 feet in diameter, wherein two sides of the highly enriched uranium would slam against each other, causing a nuclear reaction when fired by a specially modified artillery gun, namely an eight-inch howitzer. This inelegant device could be shipped easily by plane or boat.

  So much of the media attention—and our efforts—were misguidedly focused on the horror of the Gloamings’ “blood banks.” Our intelligence agencies were oblivious to the horrifying plans that the Gloamings were conducting under our noses that would change the course of history and lead to years of finger-pointing and investigations. But it would never change the absolute fact.

  We never had a chance.

  1 “The McMaster Nuclear Reactor is an open-pool type materials test reactor (MTR) with a core of low enriched uranium (LEU) fuel that is moderated and cooled by light water. Primary and secondary cooling systems act to remove the heat that is generated in the core of the reactor, with external cooling towers acting as the ultimate thermal sink. The reactor is housed within a concrete containment building and generally operates weekdays from 8 a.m. until midnight at a thermal power of three megawatts.” © McMaster University Website

  Initial Psychiatric Assessment

  March 18, 2:25 p.m.

  Patient A is an eight-year-old male and was referred by the school district after frequent outbursts in class, including yelling, crying, and inappropriate slapping of other students. The patient has no previous psychiatric history. The patient’s general medical history shows no peculiar illnesses and shows normal functions for his age. Diagnostic tests have been scheduled but not completed. Axis IV of DSM-IV-TR assessment shows that the recent armed conflict in New Mexico has affected the patient. Patient A was asked to write about what causes his stress and generally what he remembers about his first outburst in class.

  Interviewer: Tell me what happened when the bombs started.

  Patient A: The day of the loud explosion we went under our seats. Mrs. Greer, my teacher, told us not to worry. We stayed there for a while and Lisa held my hand when I started to shake. I was waiting for another one to go but it didn’t happen. Mrs. Greer told us to come out and then another bomb went off. This one shook the windows and we all screamed, even Mrs. Greer. We got back under the tables.

  Interviewer: Did anything happen after that?

  Patient A: Then we got out of class early and my mom picked me up. Mom and Dad yelled a lot about leaving Albuquerque but we don’t have a lot of money and my parents have to work. I don’t want to go back to school because it’s not safe there with planes and explosions.

  Interviewer: Did you go back to school?

  Patient A: I didn’t want to go but the governor gave all of the students at school free gift cards. Two hundred dollars! Mom bought groceries and clothes for me. The governor is a Gloaming and he’s a good man.

  Interviewer: What do you think about the Gloamings?

  Patient A: My friends and me talk about them all the time. They seem really cool and I heard that some of them can fly. My mom says that’s not true but she’s just never seen it either. She doesn’t really like them but she won’t tell me why. All of my classmates have seen them. We all think they’re pretty cool and nice. My parents and I went to the governor rally at Johnson Park and there were two Gloamings right near me! I begged Mom to walk closer to them until we were right there. I could have touched them. They were a boy and a girl. They smelled so nice, like flowers. I wanted to touch them so bad! They looked at me and Mom pulled me away and we had to leave then. If I could I would be friends with them.

  Chapter 22

  October 8

  Forty-One Months After the NOBI Discovery

  Hugo Zumthor

  Special Agent in Charge of Gloaming Crimes Unit, FBI

  My mother once told me that I wasn’t a very good son. She only said it once but it stuck with me after she passed away. When I was a child I would run outside to play whenever she wanted to talk to me or hold me. Even when I got older and after my dad died, it didn’t change. Her only child ran away to become an FBI agent. I never got over it after she passed. But I’m not the same person I was back then. He doesn’t exist anymore…

  I was thinking about this as I stood in front of the monument to the children who died here at the gates of the Rio Grande Institute.1

  I didn’t believe it when I was first sent the memo two days before it broke on the news: Governor Nick Bindon Claremont, thirty-fourth governor of New Mexico, had died after a blood infection brought on by the consumption of tainted blood. Seemed apropos.

  Of course, his wife, Leslie, then became the new governor by virtue of her being the lieutenant governor. I would never be able to shake the suspicion that she murdered her husband to further the goals of the Gloamings. Her ascension ushered in a new era of cooperation with the federal government. Many people were taken in by the tranquility, but all I could think about was that this new age was simply a temporary cessation of hostilities. I was in no mood to make nice. I was only here to plunder what was left of Nick Bindon Claremont’s ambitions. And that would begin at the Rio Grande Institute.

  I was on a commercial flight to New Mexico to finally serve the federal search warrant I had been holding on to for a year when I recei
ved a message from the New Mexico governor’s office, saying that I was welcome to search the facility and if I needed anything else they “were here to help.”

  So be it.

  I called in the Atwater Corporation to helicopter Dr. Lauren Scott to meet me there and help in the search in case we needed someone to interpret any medical data retrieved. She was somewhere in the Southwest chasing invisible microscopic monsters and could meet me there when I arrived.

  And sure enough, she was waiting for me in the deserted lobby of the institute, with a large backpack slung over her shoulder.

  “Again we meet,” she said with a grin. “Your aide-de-camp is present for duty, mon supérieur.”

  That got a smile out of me. We might have some fun out of this yet.

  We walked into the main lobby area with its precious artwork still hung on the walls and the marble walls and floors gleaming as if recently polished. But it was all empty. Like a snapshot of a wasteland. Silent, as if one moment there had been the rush and business of people engaged in work and a second later they had all disappeared. Papers strewn on the floor, coffee cups left on tables and shelves. I could almost see the conversations still hanging in the air. It looked like the ruins of Chernobyl or Pompeii.