The Vampirists

by R. G. Nelson

  “Let’s get out of here,” Mike says. “We should report back. Joseph needs to know about tonight.”

  * * *

  Back at the temporary headquarters, we grab Hamad and Jesús and explain what happened. They seem to regret not being there with us. Jesús, especially, seems like he is spoiling to go out and find them. However, Hamad directs us to Joseph’s office first, where Mike and Laney lead us through a re-hash of the events one more time.

  Joseph leans back as he hears this story. He is not surprised, nor is he pleased. At the end, he leans forward earnestly, resting his hands flat on the table as he begins to speak.

  “You did good work tonight.” And here he looks not only at Mike and Laney but also at me. “It would have been a mistake to engage with them on a public train. You did well to leave.” It makes me feel pleased to know that he has acknowledged my involvement in tonight’s action. Makes me feel part of the team. He continues on, “Still, I’ll have Meng’s boys go out and see if they can find these rogues. See if they can persuade them to join our militia.”

  “And if not?” I ask, partly just to enter the conversation now that I’ve been emboldened by his previous compliment. I suspect that I know the answer.

  “Adam, I will never comprehend the inability of some vampires to understand and adapt to the changing of the times. I, along with a few other vampires, have long understood the need for our defense militia. Others are just catching on now. Yet, some–some are too stuck in their old ways or too arrogant to admit a need for change.” Joseph pauses a moment before continuing, waiting for his words to sink in.

  I nod to show my understanding. I saw the way the classics sneered with contempt at us on the train.

  With a shrug, Joseph states flatly, “Even the humans understand that that which does not adapt, does not survive.” We all understand what he means.

  Mike pipes up, “We’d like to be the ones to go out on this when they’re found.” He glances at Laney, almost sub-consciously, and then says with a sharp edge in his voice, “I feel like we should have a chance to pick up our discussion from the train.”

  Jesús backs him eagerly, “And put them down.”

  Joseph smiles. “Assuming they won’t join us, of course,” he corrects.

  “Of course,” Jesús and Mike echo in unison.

  I get the sense that Jesús really hopes that they won’t join. And Mike is understandably taking a tough stance because of the Laney angle.

  “Great. The militia could always use vampires with their … survival skills. But we cannot tolerate different factions of the undead whose agendas diverge from our own. For us to accomplish our goals for vampire-kind, we must have unity of vision and strategy.”

  “Understood,” Hamad confirms. We move to leave.

  Before we make it out the door, Joseph’s voice cuts us off one last time. “A general point: Be careful. You never can tell what these types are capable of.”

  We nod politely and file out.

  I’m still thinking of what he said moments ago–I wanted to ask just exactly what our goals are. Nothing has ever been clearly explained other than some high-level talking points on making the world safe for vampires to live freely without fear of human oppression. But there has been no plan laid out, no detailed strategy for action revealed. Still, I can tell that enquiring would be pointless. I get the sense that Joseph likes it like this.

  14)

  We get our shot before too long after other bloodshirts locate the classics’ lair, a boarded-up tenement house. Fitting for these types, I guess, they chose a place that even the poorest humans would eschew. Well, the types of humans that people might miss, anyway. I used to watch that TV show about policing drugs in Baltimore and know that probably more than a few meals found their way to the classics’ doorstep while looking for a place to shoot up in peace. I’d call that unlucky, but then again, it would save users the long, slow wasting away process that comes with a junk habit. I think I’d actually prefer the quicker death by vampire.

  Speaking of death by vampire, Mike has the grimmest look of determination set on his face as we drive over. I know for him it’s personal: because of Laney, because of his past, and because the classics were such dicks in general on the train. As he stares hard out his window, he’s gripping the silver stake in his hand so tightly that I swear his already pale knuckles are two shades lighter. I can tell that he is grinding his teeth by the way his rather cut jaw line saws up and down. I lean across the back seat and slap his thigh playfully.

  “Mike, what’re you thinking about so deep? You look like you’re about to kill someone,” I tease.

  He laughs wholeheartedly–I swear I even see his fangs come out a bit. “Yeah, that’s the idea,” he finally manages to choke out.

  “What’s with the backseat bromance?” That’s Jesús, who’s driving.

  “You jealous, a-mi-go? Sad Mike has a new buddy?” Hamad takes a break from navigating and jumps in, accentuating his butchered pronunciation of the Spanish word.

  “What, me? Shit, no,” Jesús counters. “Just don’t see why I always have to drive and miss out on all the fun. Shouldn’t the rookie be on wheel duty?”

  Hamad looks back at me thoughtfully, “That could be arranged.”

  I opt for not responding and look back over at Mike. I’m glad his tension is eased a bit. We are going into a life-or-death fight, and for once we will actually have to exert ourselves to make sure we don’t end up on the bad side of that. In his pep talk earlier, Hamad said we should be focused and prepared for the worst, but I worry that Mike is getting too stuck in his own head and won’t be at his best. I don’t want him taking any unnecessary risks in anger or doing something stupid because he is distracted by dark memories.

  For my side, I’m trying not to think about what is happening too hard. As a human I was obviously not much of a fighter. As a vampire, I’ve gotten a taste of violence and almost started to enjoy it (if I care to probe my inner depths and admit it to myself). That said, fighting other vampires puts me on an equal level, which I’m worried might bring out my very human reluctance to engage in something that can get me hurt. It’s easy to pick a fight when you have cheat codes that basically render it impossible for someone to beat you, but it’s another thing entirely to step into the ring when the creature on the other side is as fast as you, as strong as you, and maybe has decades more experience.

  Still, I’ve constantly been surprised by the vampire nature that has silently crept into my being. Even now, I do notice a little pull toward the night ahead–a bit of that predatory eagerness that I feel before unleashing the inner vamp in me. I call it my battle buzz. I’m counting on it coming out full force tonight. And for once, I don’t have to worry about combating that little voice of doubt and guilt that plagues me about what I’m turning into whenever I fight human foes. Tonight, my actions place me firmly on the side of right. I think. I’m pretty sure that by taking out these classics I’ll save dozens, hundreds, or hell, even thousands, of humans over the course of the next few decades. I’m tipping the scales of judgment for my vampire existence back into the good. And I get to take out some very irritating vampires in the process.

  Winning.

  Hamad looks up from the navigation map on his mobile phone. “Pull over here. It should be just ahead,” he orders softly.

  I look out the window; the human me wouldn’t have liked this place. It’s one of the more run-down blocks in one of the most run-down areas of the city. Outside is all blackness, filth, and grime. Random garbage litters the curbs here; in my immediate field of view is a broken sink basin, a few destroyed tires and half a rotting wooden bedframe, I guess stuff no junkies could find buyers for.

  The author
ities boarded up most of these houses to keep people from going in and getting hurt or using them for illegal activities, but no one has bothered to purchase the land and tear them down for redevelopment. So these dens of iniquity still stand and serve as refuges for the occasional miscreants. Or vampires. This fact is driven home when I step out the car. Despite the heavy human waste odors that crash into me like an offensive scented wave, I sense no humans currently nearby. They must have all been chased away. Or worse. And the police are likely too busy dealing with Movement protestors hanging out in other parts of the city to bother with this area. We’re all alone here.

  Almost.

  “How many we dealing with again?” Jesús asks.

  “Meng’s team reported just the two,” Hamad answers.

  “Yeah, that’s all we saw on the subway,” Mike confirms.

  “I think they mentioned another, though,” I add, trying to remember back to that interchange we had in the train car. Due to the tense nature of the conversation, I only half paid attention to exactly what was said. I was more focusing on trying to figure out whether they were going to attack us or not.

  “Well, it doesn’t change anything. Be ready for everything,” Hamad responds confidently.

  “No worries. This is going to be fun,” Jesús declares. I think he gets off on this stuff a little too much.

  We quickly recheck our gear and make sure our Kevlar is in place correctly before heading up the two blocks to their hide-out. As I pass by all the empty houses and trash on the streets, I can’t help thinking that once these places were shiny and new and had happy families living there. Now all that’s left is shattered ruins. I wonder how long it took? When did people realize that this neighborhood was headed down the drain? What did it take for them to abandon ship? Or did they just keep on keeping on until one day they were suddenly forced to give up their lives here by some external force?

  Some of us might know. I wonder if Vera ever saw these buildings in their prime, or maybe even Hamad? Will I be around to see the day when this area is finally bulldozed and humanity comes back to claim this wasteland? It’s crazy: as vampires, we were in the perfect position to be the watchers of humanity, to have chronicled their story through the ages–their emergence from ignorance into however you want to label today’s society. Instead, all we seemed to want to do was live in the darkness and eat them. Well, I guess in the end you shouldn’t expect too much from a race populated from humanity itself. Case-in-point: the classics.

  We pause in front of the address given us. Most people would never have been able to spot the faded numbers near the boarded-up door. Most people also wouldn’t go inside a place like this as we’re about to. Hamad ever so softly removes the piece of wood leaning against the low basement window, and we slip through one by one into the blackness beyond.

  Though I can see clearly, I don’t like what I sense. The room is fairly big and surprisingly uncluttered except for various debris from the ceiling and walls that are coming apart. Both a doorway and a hole in the wall allow for a view into another seemingly empty room beyond. But the stench emanating from that side of the basement lets me know without a doubt that we are in the right place. It’s the stench of decaying bodies buried shallow beneath a dug-up floor–the smell of death. Of vampires.

  As quiet as we are, a voice emerges from the bowels of the basement. “Intruders.” It’s the evil one; I can’t forget that slimy, serpent sound.

  And now the other, “You aren’t welcome here.”

  Hamad and Jesús exchange smirks. They’re enjoying this. “Come out, come out. Don’t be shy: We just want to talk,” Hamad taunts.

  As if on cue, the two shapes from the train materialize through the door. The evil one looks like he hasn’t changed since we last saw him. Actually, he probably hasn’t. The darker, younger one is shirtless this time; his figure would be almost invisible to a human in the blackness. Great camouflage. Mike instinctively draws his silver stake from the pouch we wear on our side and grips it tightly. Jesús repeatedly flips his casually into the air and catches it, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  The evil one scoffs, “We don’t want to talk.”

  His side-kick adds, “Leave. Now. Or face destruction.”

  “A little hostile, bro,” Mike says, bristling at the threat.

  “And a little bold, given that there’s four of us,” Jesús says with a smile.

  “Look, we just wanted to come by to tell you: Congratulations!” Hamad says. The two vamps look at each other in confusion. Hamad continues with a mocking air, “See, we have positions available in our organization that we think you'd be perfect for.”

  Now the evil one smirks. “We know all about your Movement. But we do not mix with humans. We eat them.”

  “Humans serve us. And they serve our purpose,” Hamad explains.

  The evil one laughs. “Really? Is that why you rob blood banks?”

  Hamad appears nonplussed. “So, I guess there is no chance of you joining?”

  “We serve another. He will destroy you all,” the younger one says theatrically.

  “Really? And where is he now?” Jesús asks innocently.

  The two vampires look at each other, and for the first time I see a flicker of hesitation run between them.

  “He’s nearby,” says the evil one, recovering quickly. But not quick enough. My cell smells blood in the water.

  “I was hoping for this,” Mike says. He, Hamad and Jesús have all started to close in for the kill. I even hear Hamad and Jesús softly chuckling to themselves. Like hyenas moving in on a wounded animal. I admit I’m drawn forward, too. The vampire in me is ready for a fight.

  “You should leave while you still can,” the younger one bluffs.

  “You know that's not gonna happen,” Hamad says. Now that I’ve worked with Hamad for a while, I know to ready myself at these words. Even so, I’m surprised at the speed with which his attack comes. One second, he is slowly closing the gap between them, speaking calmly, and the next he is on them. Jesús blurs to his side and together they begin to pummel the sinister vampire furiously. I almost feel badly for him–I’ve been on the receiving end of that before. The vamp doesn’t appear to stand a chance against their combined onslaught. I guess in our world, there is no point in fighting fair and chancing being sent to the neverend.

  Half a human heartbeat later and I’m by Mike’s side, locked in a deadly struggle with the shirtless younger vamp. I can see his muscles tensing with exertion as he resists Mike’s grip. He fights wildly and throws frantic blows in our direction–he knows his very existence is on the line. But we have the advantage with two people, and he can’t seem to choose which one of us to focus on, so his efforts are disjointed and have little effect.

  I decide to give Mike the chance to get his revenge. Maybe it will help him somehow. So I duck underneath a flailing arm and get behind the vampire, quickly securing both an arm and his neck in a lock. His free hand tries to search for my face: I know he wants to find my eyes or some other vulnerable part. I look down and bury my head into his shoulder so he can’t reach me. He quickly switches to trying to break my lock or pull my arm off, but the simple fact is that I am stronger than he, and he has no chance of succeeding. I have to remember to thank Vera again for her strength.

  I sense the vampire pause his exertions. His free arm falls limply to his side. I look up and see Mike standing in front of him, only half a pace away, with a raised silver stake in hand. A curious mix of emotions runs through his face, but he does not strike.

  “What was so good about this life that you would die for it?” Mike asks. He waits for an answer.

  A moment of silence passes between them. In the background, I
hear crashes and the laughs of Jesús and Hamad–they are toying around with the other vampire. I know the vampire in my grip hears it, too. I feel his body steel itself in anger.

  “It was mine,” the vampire spits out at Mike. I feel the tension that comes with an impending strike, but before I can call out a warning, the vamp’s free hand shoots out and deftly grabs the silver stake from a very surprised Mike. Half a human heartbeat later it impacts on Mike’s chest, searching for his heart. My own heart rises in my chest and for the briefest of moments I fear the worst, but the stake turns to the side harmlessly.

  Mike quickly re-secures the stake and smiles, “It’s called Kevlar, dick.” I feel the astonishment course through the vampire’s body. Then I feel nothing because the vampire slowly withers to nothing in my arms. All that remains is Mike standing in front of me, stake still outstretched to where it delivered its fatal blow.

  The moment passes, and both Mike and I look over at Hamad and Jesús, who have the evil-looking vampire pinned on his knees in submission. Actually, he doesn’t look so malevolent any more. Or smug. Nor does he seem to be the dangerous threat I felt on the train car. He appears weary, worn … almost resigned. I don’t feel much glory in this victory, but I guess that what we have to do must be done. His younger partner just proved that they are prepared to be fanatics to the end.

  Mike must sense my thoughts. Gone is his rage from the night on the train … his need for revenge. Instead, I see something inside him that is torn, something that registers this night’s conflict as a waste.

  “You wanted this. You could have joined us–you could have been our brothers. But you chose this life,” Mike accuses as he approaches the kneeling figure. “Just like you chose this death tonight,” he continues. My vampiric eyes see his silver stake glinting in the darkness with each step, flashing like a lighthouse warning of impending perils.