by R. G. Nelson
I start to pay attention to the content. Joseph is mid-point, “The time has come to take the next step, to begin to strike the blow that will deliver us from humanity forever and ensure a future for vampires across the globe.” People interrupt and begin to cheer.
After basking in their applause for a few moments, he waves them down. “But it will require sacrifices on our part, sacrifices that I know you are ready and willing to make.”
Uh-oh, this doesn’t sound good. He even pauses emphatically for a moment to let this last line sink in. For the first time, Vera and I look at each other. I see that she, like me, is wondering exactly what this means. Around the room, others exchange nervous glances as well. Several throw looks over at the various small knots of bloodshirts scattered throughout the room–it’s known that we tend to bear the brunt of the physical burden for the militia. Others have other things on their mind: I see many male eyes seeking out the now single Laney–she just smiles back anxiously. I wonder what bomb Joseph is about to drop on us–is the next sentence to come out of his mouth what tonight is really all about?
“We have been under scrutiny from law enforcement over the past few months,” he continues. Heads nod in agreement. We’ve all been feeling that. “This will only intensify. Accordingly, all Vampirists will relocate here to spend the daylight hours in safety.”
“What?” I say accidentally out loud. Vera glances over and squeezes my hand in warning. Luckily, I’m not the only one vocalizing my surprise. The crowd murmurs. It seems like it’s slipping away from Joseph, despite his earlier mastery.
Joseph presses on. “Moreover, our agents in the government have indicated that efforts to penetrate our organization are increasing. Thus, all non-sanctioned contact with outside humans is henceforth prohibited.”
Again, a murmur starts. Most vampires here don’t have human friends or family, but some have a special one they consider almost like a pet. Kinda like Hamad and Hailey, who despite months of following Hamad around has gotten nowhere fast. And most vampires like their relative autonomy as well. They’re in the militia, sure, but they’ve gotten used to the freedom that comes with being the masters of the night.
Joseph interrupts the growing rumble authoritatively. “I shouldn’t need to say it, but this comes straight from the top. All cities will employ and adhere to the same guidelines from this moment forward. And the supreme leader will be coming to visit this location after his tour of the other stations. We’ve been officially made ground-zero headquarters for all that is to come. This is an honor, but everything better be perfect.”
I’m furious. Most of what has made all this bearable for me has been my ability to go home after work and lie in my room with Vera. It’s been my new escape: my refuge from life as a Vampirist. I need a separation of work and home. I need to be able to unplug from this and remind myself who I am and why I’m doing it. I can’t do that if I’m stuck here in this decaying old factory indefinitely. I’m surprised, too. I would’ve thought that he’d introduce these changes gradually, give us time to get used to them before piling on the next. I guess he opted for the Band-Aid theory.
Vera must feel the anger inside me. I guess I’m squeezing her hand tightly–so tightly that if she were human, it would be broken. She disconnects from my iron grip easily and reaches her arm up around me, comforting me in her half-embrace. I look at her and she looks up at me, too. I see that she is not thrilled, but there’s a look of resignation in her eyes that lets me know that we’ll comply. Near her, Laney also seems to accept this new set of orders without much of a fuss.
I search the crowd for other dissenters, but instead I see a mass of vampires that are more curious about what Joseph was hinting at moments ago–about the big plans underway. No one, not even the bloodshirts, have the full picture (that’s the way Joseph runs his operation), and people are interested to see what he’ll reveal now. Gone are the annoyed grumbles; the crowd is falling back into his grip. How fickle the masses can be.
Only one other pair of eyes is not staring at Joseph. Only one other pair meets my gaze and seems to share my sentiments. But then Dr. Metz just smiles wryly and turns away. I force myself to do the same.
Joseph is getting back into it. “In the weeks ahead, many of you will be called upon to undertake special missions for the sake of the militia.” Now the crowd begins to buzz with excitement. I see Jesús and Hamad smile and nod at each other. Meng, who is next to them, nudges Hamad and points to himself. Hamad shakes his head and makes a rude gesture with his hand. They all laugh.
“I have every confidence that you will carry these out to the glory of yourselves and our cause. My friends, these are the days that vampires everywhere will be talking about for centuries to come.” The masses are now cheering. Some whistles pierce through the night and reverberate off the factory walls.
“We may face an enemy that appears to be powerful and firmly entrenched. But we are powerful, too.” Vampires all around are nodding. Some fangs come out as if to prove Joseph’s point. “And as powerful as we are individually, we are even more powerful if we stick together and act as a cohesive whole. As the Vampirist Militia.” More shouts and applause now, louder. Next to Vera, Laney seems like she’s trying to lead the cheering section. Some arms are even up in the Vampirist salute.
Joseph feeds on this, like he’s drinking from the crowd. “We have been the true observers of history. We have watched humankind for ages, and we have seen the mighty fall at the hands of a dedicated foe. We saw what happened to the Czars and then to the tyranny of the Soviet bloc … we saw what happened to the dictatorships of the Middle East! And we know that this can happen here … for where society is divided and frail, there is room for a new force to rise! We can have our own Vampirist Spring!
“For once, we will not just sit back and observe history from the shadows. No, this time we will step forward and make our own revolution–a crimson revolution–together!”
Even I feel chills tingling on my spine–his ending words are that gripping. The crowd agrees: They literally go wild. People jump up and down and bump into each other in their frenzy. A human would go deaf in such a cacophony (actually, going deaf would be the least of a human’s worries in such a mob). I look around, and all I see is a sea of icy blue eyes and fangs bared in excitement spreading out before me.
Joseph steps out from behind the podium and stands directly in front of one of the militia banners. It frames him perfectly, the crimson emblem seeming to hover above him like a bloody halo. He gives the Vampirist salute, and the crowd hisses in approval. My senses pick out a rustling of crinkling fabric that rushes in a wave over the room as everyone moves in unison to return the gesture. With a prod from Vera, I do the same. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t stand out. I wonder what Dr. Metz is doing, but I can’t make him out now among all the arms. Besides, I’m sure I can guess; he’s been blending in here since before I was even born as a human.
I focus back on the immediate situation. Once more there’s a tangible electricity in the air. It’s a buzz running through the crowd, feeding off itself and sparking excitement in even the most apathetic of vampires here. I’m finding it harder and harder to resist. This thing is insinuating itself into my emotions, amping them up like crazy. There’s something about being a part of this group that is so terrifying … terrifyingly tempting.
But just as I feel myself cresting and about to give over and join the voices raised in rapture, a stray thought pops to the front of my mind: I wonder if tiny Annie can hear all our commotion from her cell deep in the holes?
Annie.
The memory of her reminds me to struggle to keep sight of the part of all this that’s just terrifying.
19)
The only good piece of news is that the relocation order doesn’t come into effect
until tomorrow night. Vera and I get one last day to spend alone in our room together … one last day to just be the two of us together against the outside world. So it really sucks that evidently there is tension between us. We’ve been packing our belongings in silence now for about ten minutes. All our previous efforts to communicate ended in this iciness.
Mid-way through stuffing my old backpack with the same clothes I brought from my human home all those months ago, I hit a point where I can’t take it anymore. She has to see what I’m saying! No rational being could not understand my point. So I decide to give it another shot. But I start carefully.
“This doesn't feel strange to you?” I ask gently. Even with my soft tone, my words cut through the air like a knife–the tension is that thick. “All moving in together in one location? Is that even safe?”
“I told you, Joseph said we not only bought the factory, but also the adjoining properties. We used shell corporations, so it’s safe for us. The city was happy to get new ownership in the area and approved a decade-long redevelopment plan that’s not supposed to break ground for months yet. No one will put it all together. And no one will come looking until it’s far too late.”
“Okay, and cutting off communication with the outside world?” I press.
“Look, Adam: He's just doing it for our protection. He's trying to be a good leader in difficult times. There are tough decisions to be made, and he’s making them.”
I’m not convinced by her arguments. “I don't know. I'm pretty sure terrorists–” I instantly cut myself off and choke on that last word, even before Vera’s eyebrow goes up in warning of a coming tempest. I want to think about what this blunder means; part of me instantly recognizes that I’ve had some serious questions about our actions over the past months and that quite possibly this was a Freudian slip highlighting that. But I need to move on quickly and fix this before Vera and I have a really big blow up.
“–Or other freedom fighting organizations, such as ourselves …” (and now her eyebrow finally lowers) “split up when the pressure’s on and they need to hide. They don't just group everyone together in one place.” I have more to say, but want to gauge her reaction before I throw on the next log to the fire. She seems somewhat stabilized, so I go for it. “That's what cult leaders do.” There, I’ve said it.
I see the words hit her and course through her being. I swear that I can see her tremble with suppressed rage, but then it’s gone and she is back in control. She answers me with a sickly-sweet tone that somehow bothers me more than her anger would have done. “It’s also what generals do–you know, marshal their troops before an attack? Didn’t Eisenhower limit his troops’ communications before D-day?”
Man, sometimes she really shows her age. But I guess it’s good to know that she has thought about this somewhat and isn’t just blindly following along like most of the others probably are. I relax a tiny bit, drop my bag, and sit on the edge of the bed. She joins me.
“How can you just follow him into an attack we don’t even know about? And do you even know this supreme leader?”
She seems momentarily troubled, but then recovers. “No, but I don’t have to. I know Joseph. And I trust that he has his reasons,” she continues, now with a more normal tone. “You should, too. You like being a part of this family: Sometimes you'll have to make sacrifices for us. We may not be perfect, but show me a family that is.”
I don’t really have an answer for this. I think of the things that I’ve done–some family we are. I know her logic is still a bit twisted, but she just takes certain things for granted that I don’t. She’s been a vampire longer, and I guess some of the stuff that still seems horrific for me is just part of a night’s work for her.
“Adam, I know this must be difficult for you–you didn’t have much time to ease into this whole world. But that’s undeath, and now you need to adjust, to accept what you are and do what needs to be done for all of us.”
I know that this conversation is going nowhere. I want to push it–show her that she’s wrong. Show her that I can do what is needed to protect us without doing some of the things we’ve been doing. But then a voice in the back of my head points out that maybe I can’t. Maybe this is the only way–how would I know? And what can I do to resist anyway? So as much as I want to force the issue, more of me just wants to enjoy this last night together.
Still, I can’t be the one to break. I want to hug her. I want to embrace her tightly: to smother her and disappear under our sheets one last time. But some form of misplaced male pride can’t let me make the first move to resolve this fight. I see her watch me, sizing me up. Her eyes probe me–she knows me so well, I bet she can guess every thought going through my head right now.
As if to prove this, she leans in close and takes my hand gently. I’m almost angry that she can read me so easily: I want to pull it away to show her that she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks. That I’m my own man and not predictable. But I don’t.
Instead, I squeeze her hand back.
She starts to purr into my ear. “Besides, Joseph also pulled me off the streets–said that he's going in a different direction for recruiting from here on out.” Now she’s nibbling on my ear. Her fangs come out and she scrapes them gently across my neck in between delicate presses of her lips, shooting waves of pleasurable chills all across my body. “Which means, now we'll get to spend more time together.”
And … she’s kissing me. “See, it's not all bad.”
And then she stops talking altogether.
* * *
Later, I lie awake during the day and close my eyes … I can almost imagine that I'm in my bed at home in my old room, my human room, and that I’m alive, truly alive, and not stuck in whatever limbo-esque existence this is. I sure didn’t appreciate it then, but my biggest problems were limited to paper cuts at Copy World, taking care of my dad, and trying to figure out what the hell I could do with my life. Now, I’m dead (or undead if one still wants to get technical) and my “life” is being decided for me, down to where I have to sleep at night and whom I can talk to. Not to mention the issues that I currently have to deal with like kidnapping little girls, killing rogue vampires, and, oh, revolution … no big deal. Those human days really aren’t looking too bad from this perspective.
I let myself sink into the fantasy. I focus on clearing my mind of all these pressing distractions. With just a little bit of effort, I can almost fool myself into thinking that my old room is right there–just on the other side of my closed eyes. I want it so badly: I can almost smell that distinct odor that denotes home … but then of course I feel Vera next to me. It’s nothing much, just a small touch: a finger, a toe, a brush of the knee, and I roll over to embrace her and forget about such fantasies.
* * *
I unpack alone in the tiny, converted storage room that is now to be my bedroom. Our bedroom, I should say, as I share it with a bunch of others. There are five bunk beds, which mean that potentially ten of us will be stuck in this claustrophobic space. I know that my cell is in here for sure, but I haven’t met the others yet, as we were the first to arrive. Of course, Vera pulled some strings to end up with me, though I guess this is just more for convenience as we would crash with each other anyway. They’ve all left me alone now; admittedly, I’m a bit grumpy about this move still and far from a happy camper.
The wall space not covered by the tightly packed beds is filled with school-style lockers that were dug up from some other place. No windows here, but it wouldn’t matter as they would have been boarded up anyway. It’s hard to fit my crap in the small metal confines, but I guess most vampires have a lot less than I do. They’ve long ago shed most of their former human possessions and clothes. Very few Vampirists seem to bother with acquiring more than just a couple sets of the latest f
ashions to keep up with the times and blend in. I guess shopping for clothes gets old after a while. Laney seems to be a rare exception: She used to blame her love of fashion on the needs of being a recruiter. I wonder how she is doing fitting her extensive wardrobe into the small space in whatever room she ended up in? Eh, no doubt she’ll just charm some other guy to share his locker.
Suddenly, I notice that I’m not alone anymore. I turn casually, expecting to see Vera. But it’s not. It’s Dr. Metz. “How're your new digs?” he asks, obviously trying out an unfamiliar expression.
“It'll do,” I answer simply. I’m baffled by his presence here. We chatted only that one time, and that was a few weeks ago. Is there some reason for him to seek me out now, or is he just following up on that moment of mutual dismay that we shared during Joseph’s momentous speech?
As if sensing my confusion, he continues, “You must be thrilled to be here for such exciting times. I'm sure there was no one else from your human life you planned to see, no family, friends ….”
I get the sense that he means this to be ironic. But thinking about the father that I keep at a distance and my failed friendship with Franklin, I answer honestly, “Actually, no."
Metz doesn’t miss a beat, “Ah, the perfect recruit.”