The Vampirists

by R. G. Nelson

  I consider that for a moment. “And how powerful are you, really?”

  She looks up at me with amusement on her face. “You'll be all right. Though it’s not something a girl should tell her boyfriend, I'm pretty old for these days,” she says with a smile.

  “How old?” I query casually.

  “Adam, you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age,” she teases. But her silence afterwards lets me know that she really doesn’t want to say.

  “That old, huh?” I finally respond, conceding defeat. I guess I won’t be asking her about her origins any time soon.

  “Old enough. Before vampires had the support of something like the Movement, we typically didn't last long.”

  “Humans?”

  “Humans can always be dangerous–but we also pose a danger to each other. And time can even make us into our own enemies.”

  “But you survived,” I say, with new appreciation for this amazing creature.

  “I did for a while. Survived. And then with the Movement, I really started to live.” She looks off for a beat, lost in thought. “Still, as old as I am, I'm nowhere near close to the Elders; they have thousands of years on me. Some can even stand direct sunlight.”

  “Elders?”

  “Yeah. In theory, they run our society, but they're so old they're mostly pretty disinterested in the world now–so long as we don't expose our kind.”

  “It’s pretty unbelievable humans haven’t figured it out,” I say, giving voice to thoughts I’ve long harbored. “I mean, with all the vampires running around out there, you’d think someone would have seen something and told other people.”

  “Adam, people have always found out about us. It actually takes a tremendous amount of work to keep our existence secret. Even just a few hundred years ago, people–a lot of people–believed in us. Vampires then were disorganized, running around snatching victims in the night. And people did see. But eventually, just as human society evolved, so did we. It became easier to move around, coordinate, keep rogues in check–you know, to fade into the shadows. It’s better this way, for all of us.”

  We reach an intersection and stop to wait for the walk sign. It’s a weird feeling to be on the ground doing something as simple as obeying traffic signals after experiencing the freedom of the rooftops above. But I guess this is going to be my life now: one foot in normal human society and one foot out. I’ll be drinking blood, but apparently not jaywalking.

  A loud screech interrupts my musings. A police cruiser pulls up abruptly next to us. It’s spattered with mud around the bottom, as if it has recently seen some hard driving. I brace to bolt, thinking that somehow the agents looking for the Movement have found us. But its lights and sirens aren’t on, and Vera doesn’t budge. “Oh crap,” Vera says, annoyed. I’m confused: she appears to recognize the driver.

  “What do you want, Johnson?” she says to the uniformed figure as he rolls down the window.

  “Nice to see you, too,” he responds. His deep voice is thick with an accent I can only call townie; it really seems like a stereotypical cop’s voice. But even so, my new senses instantly pick up that he is a vampire. And it’s not just the fact that he’s wearing dark, reflective aviators at night. “You need to cut your stroll short. Joseph wants to see you, now.”

  9)

  I sit in a rickety folding chair in a deserted hallway. Actually, I don’t even know if this is considered a hallway because we’re on an old merchant boat of some kind. Vera was summoned into the room on the other side of the hatch as soon as we arrived, leaving me to ponder the crazy course of my night. Less than twelve hours ago I was alive and the biggest worry I had was that my girlfriend was being icy to me. Somehow from there I got shot (twice), died, partially came back to life as a member of the undead, moved out of my house and in with said girlfriend, discovered how to use some of my new vampire abilities, and now, ended up alone in a corridor wondering if my nascent vampire existence is soon going to be put to an end.

  No one seemed too happy to see me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when we arrived in the nearly deserted dockyards there was no welcoming committee, no red carpet or parades. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a shipyard like this before; it seemed quite ominous, like something out of a movie where a shady deal would go down. Despite her brave face, I could tell Vera got increasingly nervous as we drew closer.

  The few vampires on the ship regarded me suspiciously–no one clapped me on the back and said “Welcome to the team.” They seemed to be quite closed and wary of people they don’t know. Or maybe they know that I was turned improperly and that this will be … corrected. I’m not 100% sure of what being a vampire will be like, but I know for certain I want to be around long enough to find out.

  My reveries are interrupted by a loud, rusty squeak. The round handle on the hatch turns slowly, and the door rolls back with its own answering drawn-out creak. Joseph’s distinct voice echoes through the gap, “Come in, Adam.” I obey, noticing that I am reluctant to go inside and face my fate.

  I enter into a medium-sized cabin that has been converted into an office of sorts. Joseph is seated behind a large metallic desk that is cluttered with papers, folders and binders filled with newspaper clippings. They look like scrap books of articles covering the Movement. Behind him are several file cabinets, the open drawers of which reveal similar stashes of documents inside.

  Behind me the door closes with a sharp clang that reverberates around the room. On edge, I look back instantly and notice a large, black-clad vampire manning the door. I guess he is the undead equivalent of a bodyguard. I don’t like that he is behind me and will be out of my field of vision when I take the seat next to Vera. I try to read her expression to see what kind of trouble we’re in. She notices and smiles. If I were human I’d probably breathe out a huge sigh of relief, but here I decide to play up the formality just in case.

  Joseph stands up and offers his hand. I shake it firmly and hopefully with confidence; but I can feel the raw power in his grasp, and it unnerves me a bit. “Adam, pleased to see you again,” he offers, gesturing to the chair at Vera’s right. I follow his hint and sit down formally, with only a quick glance back at the vampire behind me. He hasn’t moved and frankly seems completely uninterested in the conversation at hand.

  “So, how did you find your first night?” Joseph asks, now seated himself. “I do hope you were able to enjoy it; you only get the one, you know.”

  I’m not totally sure whether or not he means one first night or one night total, but I decide to interpret this in the most optimistic manner possible. “Uh, it was good. Unexpected, but good.” And then as an afterthought, I throw in, “Sir.” Just in case my continued existence is really in a precarious position right now.

  Joseph actually cracks a smile. I relax just a bit in my chair. “Joseph is fine, Adam. We are all compatriots here.” He leans back and studies me curiously, as if trying to read my thoughts. “So Vera has explained the unusual circumstances of your turning: a most unfortunate incident. Of course, I had already heard about what happened and put in place the appropriate measures for limiting damage. Everything seems to be well under control, and I don’t expect much “blowback,” as they say. And for the future, we will review our safety protocols to avoid any further incidents. Which just leaves you.”

  He leans forward now, his icy blue eyes burning into mine as he speaks. I stiffen back up involuntarily. “I trust Vera; she has been an excellent recruiter for longer than you can imagine. And yet, we are permitted to turn only committed members. Which to date, I think you’d agree you have not been. Am I correct?”

  I’m not quite sure if this is rhetorical, but I begin to try to form an answer. “Well, I guess I haven’t been fully dedicated, but I have be
en around to help out on several–”

  Joseph cuts me off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I did not bring you here to debate your past involvement with the Movement. No, I brought you here to decide your future.” I shift in my seat and try to sneak a glance at Vera. She is focused on Joseph, so I get no reassurance from her. “In addition to coordinating all public relations globally, I happen to be the leader for this city.” He pauses for a beat before continuing. “So, do you accept me as your leader, Adam?”

  I have no idea what this means. It would have been nice if Vera had explained all this to me before, but I guess it wouldn’t have really mattered. I don’t have to have vampiric powers to sense that there is really only one answer here. “I, uh, yes. I do,” I manage to say, hopefully without too much of a noticeable delay.

  “And do you commit to being a dedicated member of the Movement from this point forward?” Joseph continues.

  “I do.” I can’t help but feel like I’m getting married to a girl I hardly know and am not sure I’m in love with. Or worse, like I’m selling my soul. I look again at Vera; this time, she is smiling at me encouragingly.

  I’d do anything for that smile.

  “Very good. Vera also told me you have high potential–maybe even leadership potential.”

  “He does,” Vera chimes in assertively.

  Joseph smiles at me. Somehow that makes his already icy face seem even colder. “How exciting for you. But you will still have to put in your time and earn a position–start at the bottom and work your way up. Are you ready for that?”

  “I am. It seems like time is one thing I have plenty of now,” I say.

  “Indeed. Well, excellent, it’s settled then. Tomorrow night you will take a ride with some of the boys–I believe you are acquainted with Hamad?” I nod. Hamad always made me nervous, but maybe this is “a better the devil you know” situation. Plus, I’m one of them now, not some human intruder in his flat. “Vera, of course, will be with me; our little Movement always seems to need fresh blood.” The corner of his mouth turns up slightly at his own pun. It has a sinister effect.

  And with that, I’m in. I guess there’s no turning back now.

  * * *

  I enter the mess hall ready for my second night as a vampire and the first as an official, card-carrying Movement member. Earlier, I had been introduced to the strange sensation of waking at dusk. Although I had spent so much time with Vera that my days and nights started to be reversed, I don’t think I had ever missed a whole day before. It really drove home the fact that I’m a creature of the night now–just as Vera and I sharing our nightly bags of blood did before we parted to go do our respective duties.

  I look around the hall and try to hold my head high and feign confidence that I definitely don’t feel. I’m determined to be good at being a vampire, not just for my sake but for Vera, who vouched for me. The space is large, considering it’s on a boat; I’m guessing it’s the largest here, probably why they turned it into some sort of training room. That and the likely fact that vampires probably don’t sit down to group dinners. A gruesome image of what that could look like flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it away and continue to survey the room. There is only one table left now, and it's pushed back to the side near a sink. I look closer and see that it’s cluttered with gear bags and assorted weapons like brass knuckles and baseball bats. I swear I even see stakes. In the corner, there’s a solitary punching bag that looks like it wants to give up the fight.

  Hamad is there, looking quite menacing in his dark, tight attire. The wife-beater he wears shows him to be lean, but cut in all the ideal places for a dude. He also has a natural alpha male confidence that is definitely not an act. The other two I recognize from some of the parties at the flat–Mike and Jesús. I never really talked to them, though; Mike was usually busy chatting up girls, and Jesús always gave off an air of superiority that didn’t seem to invite conversations with humans. Overall, Mike seems just like your plain, average athletic American male, but Jesús (who I think is Puerto Rican–or maybe Cuban) gives off an aroma of danger. Then again, he is shirtless, revealing two large tattoos: one of the Movement logo on his pec muscle and more intimidatingly, a large pentagram across the bottom of his neck and upper back. He looks like someone that you would cross the street to avoid if you saw him lingering around.

  I walk over to Hamad to say hi. He greets me with a smile; I can’t tell if it’s real or not. “So, you're with us tonight,” he says. I don’t know how to read his tone.

  “Yeah, Joseph told me to ride with you guys. What's the plan?” I say enthusiastically.

  “Just a little fundraising,” Mike chimes in. They all seem to think that’s amusing for some reason.

  “But it could get a bit messy. You ready for that?” Hamad asks, nodding at the table with the gear bags and weapons.

  I actually don’t know how I feel about that, but again, I sense that I’ll just have to go with the flow to avoid creating a lot of problems for Vera and myself. I think back to how it felt to fall asleep with her in my arms last night, really feeling her for the first time with my new senses. That alone is worth whatever they throw at me tonight.

  I hope.

  “Sure,” I remember to say.

  Hamad takes this in for a second and then nods his head slowly. Then he says simply, “Okay, let's see.”

  Crack! Crack!

  My world lights up with pain and then shifts from where I thought it should be. I watch the floor whisk by beneath me and feel myself moving through the air before smacking hard into the bulkhead. I’m vaguely aware of Jesús standing where I had been before wearing a smug grin of satisfaction. I get to my feet shakily.

  “What the hell?” I say, shocked.

  Drip. Drip. I can hear my blood dripping from my nose to the floor loudly at the same time as I can smell it. I’m sure they can, too. I wipe it away and notice a tingle that lets me know it is already healing. My body seems to internalize that none of this can cause permanent damage. With this knowledge seeping into my consciousness, I start to get mad.

  “Is this your idea of a test?” I throw out with anger.

  “Yes. A surprise exam,” says Hamad.

  “If you're rolling with us, gotta see what you're made of,” Jesús adds, still smiling.

  I start to walk over to erase that smile off his smug face, but find myself pulled back from behind in a headlock. Mike. He got behind me when I was distracted by Jesús.

  “Nothing like an old-fashioned beat-down to say welcome to the team. I told you I was uncivilized,” Hamad says in a casual, mock-friendly tone. I realize that these guys have no problem ganging up on one person. I guess vampires don’t fight with honor.

  Mike pulls down hard; I stumble backwards out of control. I struggle furiously, but can’t break his hold. Suddenly, lessons from my father, long forgotten during my relatively non-confrontational human existence, return to my muscle memory. I grab Mike’s arm, trapping it, and drop hard to one knee. I pull him over my shoulder and emit what I can only describe as a snarl as I send him flying in front of me. I hear Mike take a satisfying turn slamming into the bulkhead.

  “Coño, newbie's got power,” Jesús says, not without a trace of admiration.

  “And skills,” Hamad adds. “Where did you learn those moves?” he asks me.

  “My dad was police,” I tell him. “He showed me a few things. Guess I still remember them.”

  Hamad is amused. “Police? Well, you're on the other side now.”

  I see his fangs pop out in the same instant that he attacks in a blur. Surprisingly, I can block and counter and almost match his speed. I say almost because suddenly after a few evaded blows Hamad is behin
d me, pinning one arm in a firm grip and exposing my throat. It couldn’t have taken him more than five seconds to trap me like this.

  “You’ll notice there's much more to learn. But don't worry, we'll train you up–the hard way,” Hamad says with his customary devious tone.

  I try to throw him off of me, but it is no use. I can only snarl again as I feel his fangs enter my neck and my blood begin to flow. A swallow or two later and he throws me to the ground as Mike and Jesús close in. I quickly stand and try to recover and face them. They come at me hard, but I do my best to stand firm. I'm even able to get a few blows in before I’m face down on the floor again. I manage to roll onto my side just in time to see a flurry of kicks and punches head my way.

  * * *

  I use the small sink in the hall to wash the blood off my face and neck. It’s my own and there’s a lot of it, but the sight of so much of my blood doesn’t scare me now the way it would have last week. It doesn’t really excite me either–it just doesn’t have the same spark for our senses as human blood. In fact, the most I’m feeling now about what just happened is a little annoyed and a little worried that maybe I went down too easily. I guess that is one of the benefits of healing quickly–things become less of a big deal when there is no real harm done.

  I glance over to where Mike and Jesús are assembling weapons and note some blood on their shirts. I smell with satisfaction that it isn’t mine. Maybe I didn’t do so poorly after all, especially considering the odds and surprise factor. I look down at my own shirt and see that there is quite a bit staining it, especially right near the neck.

  “Got anything clean?” I ask Hamad, gesturing to my splattered shirt. I notice they all have donned blood-red tee-shirts.

  “Leave it on. It’ll only help with appearances,” he tells me. “But throw this on, too.” He tosses me a Kevlar vest as they all suit up in the same. Then they put on matching similarly colored crimson light jackets to cover the bulkiness a bit. I zip my own new jacket up enough to cover the vest, but let the bloody shirt underneath stick out a bit for effect.