I walk to the full mirror and look at my mug…looks the same to me, a little flush maybe, but otherwise the same. Rachel walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my torso, caressing my chest with her hands.
“Lower,” she says.
I lift my shirt slowly and stop half way up, admiring the six pack that is chiseled where my chubby ponch used to rest. I lift the shirt higher and see a pair of pectoral muscles that I’ve never seen before. Rachel’s face smiles at me through the mirror. “What did you do?”
“You’re one of us now,” she says.
My mind spins with all the possibilities and ramifications of what she’s just told me. I’m a vampire… I’m a damn vampire! “How?” I ask while reinspecting my neck for bite marks.
She brushes my hands away from my neck and laughs gently. “I told you, that’s not how it works.”
I spin towards, feeling angry, fearful…strong. “Then how?”
“Last night.”
“Last night, what?”
She smiles and glances down at my crotch. My eyes go wide. “You didn’t bite me down there!”
She laughs out loud and covers her mouth. “You became a vampire while we were making love. The change is transferred like a sexually transmitted disease…only you’re not diseased, or undead…” She leans in close to my ear and whispers. “You’re immortal.”
Something inside me likes the sound of that. I step back. “What else?”
“The transferring of vampiric energy fades after every time a vampire makes love to a normal human. Each new lover is given less and less and eventually, perhaps after thirty or so human lovers, the vampire can no longer spread the change. Each of the new vampires are given the traits of all vampires, born a vampire or changed, all the traits are the same, only in different degrees. The first human lover of a vampire is given the powers of a vampire born. Enhanced speed, strength, healing and longevity are all transferred. But with the change comes a dependence on human blood for sustaining our lives, not a thirst mind you, dependence. I personally take my blood through injections. I can’t stand to drink it straight. Any more questions?”
“Just one…how many lovers did you have before me. Human, I mean.”
She smiles her perfect smile again. “None.”
“Then I’m as strong as any vampire?”
She nods. “For at least the next month or so, then you’ll need some blood.”
“And I don’t have to drink it?”
“No.”
I smile wide, hardly believing what’s happening, but loving every second of my newfound lease on life and superhuman powers. Then I remember that the other vampires at DCC want to kill me and drink my blood. “We need to get out of here.”
“The path to the docking bay should be clear. I have my own ship.”
I nod and she opens the door, looks both ways and waves for me to follow her.
* * *
Minutes passed and the hallways appeared to be deserted.
“How much further?” I ask, as we round a corner.
“Through the star room and straight through for another hundred meters. My ship is docked next to the bay you came in.”
I nod and we head through the doors into the star room. As we pass through, I’m captivated again, and my eyes are drawn to the stars above. As I take in the lights, a darkness slides across the ceiling, obscuring the stars as it moves. My muscles tense, and I feel a sense which I’ve never felt before, but which I understand immediately.
The shadow descends.
“Look out!” I push Rachel to the side and the dark blur lands where she was standing.
A man, perhaps six foot five and thick, stands in front of me. His shirtless torso ripples with massive muscles the likes of which I’ve never seen. His hair is stark white, like an albino, but his eyes are dark, almost black.
“I’m impressed. You have fast reflexes for a human.” He doesn’t know. “Perhaps you will survive the hunt longer than expected.”
I stand speechless, not knowing who this is or how powerful he is. I don’t dare act or speak.
The man turns his head toward Rachel. “And where are you going?”
Rachel remains silent, staring at the floor.
With a speed I’ve never seen in my life, the man backhands Rachel and sends her sliding across the floor. I stifle the urge to tackle him. “The others are on their way…I’ll deal with you afterwards,” he says to Rachel.
The man turns his attention back toward me. “I am John, the founder of the Dark Crater colony. Tell me what you know.”
A thousand lies enter my mind and I quickly focus on what I believe is the best scenario. I put on a show that any actor would be proud of; quivering hands, shaky voice, shaking knees. I’m like a terrified bunny before a ravenous wolf. “I…I thought something strange was going on… I asked her—I begged her to tell me.”
“And?”
“And she…she said you were hunters…that you would hunt me down with guns and kill me… I cried until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She was going to get me out of here.”
John chuckled and said, “Was she now?” He turns his attention back to Rachel. “And what were you planning to do after that?”
Rachel doesn’t answer, but I see my chance. I don’t know exactly how strong I am now, but I think of trying to smash his spine. It may not kill him, but it might buy us some time. I clench my fist and prepare to thrust.
With a whoosh the doors open and I hold my punch as twenty men enter the room. They stand at the outer fringes and two walk forward—the captain and the first mate. John looks me in the eyes and holds my gaze. “Rachel told you only a half-truth,” he says, “We are going to hunt you, but not with guns.”
I keep the charade going. “Then…with what?”
“John stands aside allowing the captain and first mate to step closer. “With these,” the captain says, pointing at his teeth, which have grown long and sharp. “Only it won’t be me, though I wish it was.”
“You’ll be my first,” the first mate says.
John motions with his head toward the few men standing around Rachel. “Bring her.”
Rachel is dragged across the floor and placed next to me. John looks down at her. “Nothing smart to say?”
“You’re drunk with power,” she says. Something in the statement catches my attention, and I look at the man in a new light. He stands above Rachel, fearless because he imposes fear through violence. I see my father, standing over me with a pipe, striking me down again and again. A drunk bastard. I should have killed him.
“Now that wasn’t very smart, was it?” John backhands Rachel again and she slides a few feet away, her skin squeaks against the smooth floor. Only this time, instead of looking down to the ground, she looks John in the eyes.
“You’re all cowards!” she says, glaring at the men standing at the fringes of the room. “Every one of you! Do you really think the outside world is going to not notice you forever? Do you really think your crimes against humanity are going to go unpunished forever? Sooner or later someone’s going to come looking for one of your victims, and our colony—a colony of cowards—is going to be found out. Any one of you could change that!”
“No one here is strong enough,” John says. “I am the only true-born and there are no first-made among us.”
“How convenient for you,” Rachel says. “You make the rules. Anyone who can kill you becomes the new leader of DCC, only you don’t allow any true-born or…” she glances at me and continues, “first-made to join us.”
John nods, “Wisdom of the ages, Rachel. I think I’ve heard enough.” John signals the others. “Prepare them for the hunt.”
I know what Rachel wants…for me to kill John, but I don’t know how. Anything I do might injure him and not finish the job.
As the men reach for Rachel, she begins to scream. “Please! Someone kill him! Rip out his heart and save the future of the DCC.” She puts up a massive struggle taking all
attention away from me. John turns his back to me.
Great, now she can read my mind. But I know what I need to do. I know what she wants me to do, but it doesn’t seem…human.
I quickly remember that I no longer am human. I embrace my new self and my new abilities. I stand with a speed that no one, including myself, is expecting, and lunge toward John’s back.
John’s chest explodes out as my fist punches through. There’s no scream, no howl of pain, only the gurgle of dripping blood, oozing over my fist, which protrudes through John’s ribcage. A few of the men step forward, but stop as I draw my hand back out of John’s body.
John’s body collapses to its knees and then slumps over forward, leaving me standing above him, still clutching his heart. I feel my own heart beating quicker. My muscles are on fire. I tense as I anticipate an attack. But nothing comes. The men just stand there, silently waiting. Rachel catches my eye and nods.
I drop John’s heart onto the floor and say, “Let her go.”
The men instantly step away from Rachel. I glare at the captain and first mate and they scurry away like wounded animals, hiding behind the other men. Rachel stands by my side. She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, filling me with confidence.
“You know the rules,” I say, “I’m the boss…and I’m going to make a few changes.”
Rachel looks up at me and smiles her smile. It’s the last thing I see before my chest explodes. I look down and see my heart, what’s left of it, clutched in Rachel’s feminine hand.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I look back to her face, which looks torn. A fire fills her eyes, but her lips are turned sadly down. I swear I see her mouth the word, “sorry,” but then I…I think…I…*
AFTERWORD
Despite DARK SEED OF THE MOON being one of the longer stories in this collection, when I first re-read it I had very little memory of why I wrote it. I’m not a huge fan of vampires—I do watch most vampire movies, but have only read three vampire novels, two by David McAfee and one by Jon Merz, and those were after the writing of this story. DARK SEED was also written long before the current vampire craze, so there was no strategic reason to write a vampire story.
But there was a hint of a memory that revealed it wasn’t vampires that inspired the story. Rather, it was an article about the moon. NASA believes that craters created by comet impacts on the poles of the moon have remained in a state of permanent shadow—total darkness—and that intergalactic ice may still be there, hiding beneath a coating of moon dust. The idea of eternal night turned my mind to vampires. Because, really, what could be better for sun-shy living dead? Of course, then there is the challenge of feeding on human blood, the answer to which became the plot of this story.
FROM ABOVE
When my arm came off, I knew something wasn’t right. It wasn’t the pain, because there wasn’t any, it was the way it detached from my body—as though a small portion of the world was suddenly freed from the pull of Earth’s gravity. It rose up, cut clean, still clinging to my C130 Magnum, and disintegrated, piece by piece until nothing was left. But not just my arm; a perfect circle of the warehouse was carved out as if by a giant, invisible cookie cutter. Everything within the warehouse and the ground beneath that was inside the affected radius simply floated free and then disappeared—atomized. There was no explosion, no twisting of metal or bursting of pipes, it happened as silent as a mouse fart and was over in seconds.
As far as I could tell, I was standing at the edge of ground zero. Another foot forward and I would have joined the three perps I had cornered in the warehouse. Poor bastards were either in deeper than The Authority thought, or they did something to really piss off God.
I looked up and saw the sky; at least it looked clear during the day. A hole, fifty feet wide had been carved into the roof of the warehouse—one of several warehouses I had been checking for Dretch production. Being a narc wasn’t my idea of important police work, but some of the hot shots up-town didn’t like my style. Of course, that would all change now.
Peering down into the hole, created by whatever invisible force was at work, I came to the realization that this was going to be a big case, maybe the biggest ever. And with me as the only survivor, I’d be back in business.
A tingling in my arm tore my attention away from the gaping hole and thoughts of the future. A stump wiggled below my shoulder. I swore I could still feel my arm moving, but the smell of burnt flesh confirmed my suspicions. Whatever had taken my arm had also cauterized the stump, and it happened so fast that my nervous system didn’t even register the catastrophic wound. What was worse, my leathers were ruined.
I decided that I’d find out who took my arm and make sure they paid for what they did. At the very least, they could buy me a new Tac-suit.
That was a year ago. Shit.
Sure, I’m up-town. I’ve got a new synthetic limb that puts my old arm to shame. But I had to buy my own damn new Tac-suit, and I’m no closer to finding out who put a mile-deep hole in the Earth. The tech-boys tell me it came from an object in orbit, which makes finding the source near impossible. Back in the twentieth century, the human race started putting things in space. Three thousand years later and we haven’t stopped. At night it’s impossible to tell what’s a star and what’s some yuppie’s space-winni.
A layer of crap, a half mile thick, surrounds the Earth on all sides and bulges at the middle, like the rings of Saturn. And with almost as many people living up there as there are down here, finding out who or what owes me for this Tac-suit is near impossible. The fact that only three wanted felons and my arm were taken makes this case a low priority. Until someone decides to take another potshot at the Earth again, I’m grounded. Not that I’m complaining. My new partner is a fox.
“You on Dretch or something, Priest? Watch the freakin lanes.”
Rehna has a way with words that I always enjoy.
I twist the wheel and dodge some old lady driving way too slow for air-trans. She should have stayed on the ground with the rest of the simps. Damn people, afraid of technology. When the human race took to the skies en masse it gave us room to breathe and new freedoms that led to a technological renaissance that lasted for thousands of years. Cities grew up, thousands of feet tall. Vehicles took to the air, traveling faster and safer. Life sped up. Got better.
But not everyone took to the air. Some, afraid of change, stayed on the ground—living slow, unproductive lives; hugging trees, driving cars with wheels and sniffing the damn daisies. Aren’t many simps left now-a-days. Good thing too.
“Daydreaming again?” Rehna asks me with a smirk.
“Not about you, so don’t get your hopes up.” She’s gonna love that.
“Do you want me to land and beat you like a school girl?” Her face is turning red. She’s either embarrassed or about to shoot me. I decide to find out.
“Keep talking. I think I’m fallin in love.”
“That’s it.” She shoves me to the side and I see her take the wheel, but it doesn’t quite register in time to stop what happens next. We’re hurtling straight for the ground. My instincts tell me to take the wheel back, to scream, but I know Rehna. She’s not suicidal.
Our air-trans mobile unit comes to a stop five feet above the ground, face down. If it were a civilian unit we’d be a smudge on the pavement, but these sleek new mobile units can stop on a dime and cruise at nearly the speed of sound. It’s sleek and smooth, the way I like my women, but I can’t say I like the light blue color. Kind of Nancy if you ask me.
The hatch opens and I fall five feet onto the pavement. She knew I wouldn’t be wearing my belt. I hear Rehna’s boots hit the pavement behind me. A second later I hear the hum of her C130 warming up. We have a winner. She’s gonna shoot me. Now I know I’m falling in love.
“On your feet,” Rehna tells me.
I stand and turn to face her; damn she looks hot in a Tac-suit. I gotta remember to thank the man who designed them. They’re projectile proof, which is nic
e, as most perps can’t afford C130s. In a pinch can even protect the wearer from the depths of the ocean or the vacuum of space. Not that I’ve had occasion to test either claim. The point is, in most cases, they’re nearly indestructible. But the hot laser Rehna’s packing will cut through me like a slab of lard. I admire the curves of her body, which are accentuated by the tightness of the black Tac-suit. Her belt hangs loose on her hip...My eyes linger.
“Ugh. That’s it,” Rehna says. She’s losing patience with me. Her C130 falls to the ground. Her belt falls next. This is getting interesting.
Rehna swings high and then low, missing both times. She’s fast, I’ll give her that. But I’ve got ten years experience on her, and I can scan her like an unsecured porn server.
“This is stupid,” I say, but I don’t think it goes through.
I duck two more swings and a third catches my arm. Too bad for her, she picked the wrong arm. Cling! My synthetic arm is hard as steel, and she hit it with enough force to knock out a Rhino. Her thick glove keeps her fingers from shattering, and she lets out little more than a stifled grunt. She’s tougher than I thought. Her fist comes at me from the other side. I feel a breeze on my chin as her knuckles skim past my face. Too close.
I step back and prepare to end a fight that should have never begun. I told The Authority adding women to up-town was a bad idea. Of course, they didn’t listen and now I have to teach Rehna a lesson. One punch to the side should do. Don’t want to ruin her pretty face.
As I clench the fist in my human arm, a slight aberration in my vision catches my attention. My memory surges back to the warehouse. I saw the same distortion right before I lost my arm. My eyes track up. A wavering visual phenomenon, like heat rising from hot pavement, cuts straight through the center of a ten thousand foot behemoth, constructed a thousand years ago.
Whack! My check burns with pain after Rehna’s punch connects. But my eyes don’t leave the sky. Rehna must have noticed, because I don’t feel a second punch—good thing too, the first almost broke my jaw. What a woman.
Insomnia and Seven More Short Stories Page 7