The Vampirists

by R. G. Nelson

  Finally, the first Elder takes it upon himself to speak again. He looks very uncomfortable now in his donned role of opposition leader. “Your plan is unnecessary. Reckless. And how dare you not consult us!”

  An accented female voice weighs in, “How would you even hope to control the pace of human development? Is such a thing feasible at this point?”

  “Of course it is. I will be the government–a government that will have unprecedented control over society. Look to the past; a right-wing government stymied important research on human stem cells and set its advancement back several years while in office. We could issue executive orders on what research is allowed, we could control which universities, scientists, and projects get government grants, and we could confiscate and impound any technology that we deem threatening to society,” Lukos says with a condescending sneer. “Or even better, we can co-opt its use for our own Vampirist ends.”

  “And you think humans will stand for this?” someone asks. I wonder the same; surely this goes against everything the country stands for. Citizens are bound to object.

  Lukos smiles now, all affability and charm. He’s back in politician mode, trying to win over the table. “Well, in fact, I do. If there is one thing that has been made clear by this nation’s history, it’s that they are willing to trade over their liberties when threatened. With our Movement out there causing chaos in the street, ordinary citizens will soon be willing to trade anything to make the violence stop. And trust me, this is just the beginning. We have so, so much more in store. If you think the civil wars in the Middle East were bad, just you wait.” The icky crocodile smile again. I get the chills.

  He presses on enthusiastically, “Soon we will have soldiers in the streets trying to crush the Movement. The harder they try, the more our Movement youths will resist. And the harder they resist, the more power the rest of society will be willing to give to suppress the Movement. It’s a beautiful, sanguine cycle. And one that we fully intend to develop and exploit.

  “The inevitable outcome of all this is that we’ll have enough public support for continued mass arrests, military-led tribunals and executions, confiscation of non-approved firearms, secret police, armed drone deployment in the nation’s cities–the sky is the limit! We will lead a grateful nation happily into our clutches. People won’t start to think twice about where they’ve ended up until long after the Movement has been subdued and memories fade, if we in fact ever actually view it in our interest to have it wind down. But even then, it will be too late, and our system of control will be too deeply entrenched for them to do anything about it.

  “And if you think this is too far-fetched and not possible, consider the forms of control that have already been implemented in the name of public security. The government currently monitors and filters all forms of domestic communications–that’s left over from previous administrations. Once Vampirists are in control, we’ll know exactly who knows about us and how much they know. We’ll know where they live, where they work, whom they are close to–in short, we will know how to get to them and how to control them.”

  Silence falls as Lukos ends. I see the Elders considering his words. Finally, the accented female voice weighs back in, almost hesitantly, “But this is just one country. How could you ever hope to expand this globally? There’s not much point in just having it work here–science will go on elsewhere.”

  Lukos is ready for this and chomping at the bits to respond. “True–it could. But to start, we would have a safe haven to plot our next moves. And this country is the center of all human progress–both in terms of scientific and military research. The amount that our work here will set the human race back should not be underestimated. Yet, your point that other countries are emerging as dominant players is not to be ignored. Fortunately, in many of those countries, power is even more concentrated and populations are used to firmer government control. We are already hard at work starting Movement chapters, converting key figures, and putting agents in play to rise through the ranks to top positions in the years and decades to come. We fully expect that when those countries are at the point where they pose the danger that this country does now, we will be able to bring them under our umbrella. And in the meantime, we will have a refuge here from which we can wield our economic power to buy the control abroad that we need, and our military power to take it where we cannot.

  “In short, human technological progress is our enemy number one. But we don’t have to be afraid if we act diligently–if we are pro-active and take the necessary preventative steps to ensure society evolves as we would shape it. We won’t have to stop all scientific development–and you are right to question whether that is even fully possible–because what we won’t be able to stop, we will be able to control. That is the best any vampire anywhere could hope for, short of starting another World War to plunge the planet back into the dark ages.”

  Joseph beams at Lukos’ performance, but then to his great annoyance the first Elder pipes back up with a snarl, “Maybe that’s preferable to what you propose! Your whole plan puts too much on the line; it gets us too involved where we should not be. You Vampirists must understand that vampires are meant to exist on the borders of society: in the shadows. It has always been thus. It is embedded in our very physical natures!” And here most of the council nod in agreement, predisposed by millennia of common experience. I guess over time vampires tend to become creatures of habit.

  Joseph cannot restrain himself any longer. He jumps in, “The limelight is not the same as sunlight. And as some of you very well know, we can evolve over time to overcome our previous physical limitations–”

  But he is cut off by a casual wave of the Vice-President’s hand. “Fair enough,” Lukos says, addressing the group. “I get it. You all have differing opinions from me. Truly, I’m disappointed that none of you see this our way, but I admit that I may have failed to anticipate just how … frozen … in the old ways you are. Still, I’m not an unreasonable man. We can discuss all this further, if you like. But now that we are all here, shouldn't we pause for a moment before we get too carried away and let emotion make us forget to begin the council in the traditional manner?”

  A slight nod of his head to Joseph, and Joseph in turn motions to the back of the room. A servant appears: a decrepit vampire who must have been nearing the end of its human life when turned. Despite his humble appearance, he moves with the usual vampiric grace and speed, flitting from Elder to Elder filling an ornate chalice for each from a large ceremonial pitcher of blood. The Elders visibly relax a bit–they are back in the comfortable territory of the norm. I notice that Joseph is not served–I guess because he is too junior compared to the others.

  Lukos, still standing, raises his vessel in a toast. “To my brothers and sisters: Though we may disagree, we are forever bound by the bonds of sacred blood.”

  “To the bonds of sacred blood,” the rest echo in muted tones. They all go through the familiar motions and drain their glasses, but they do not seem to relish the conflict that surely lies ahead. The Vice-President, on the other hand, seems energized by the drink and eager for battle. His attitude reminds me of that big kid on the playground at lunch, the one who knew he would win every fight before it even began and so constantly went looking for trouble.

  “Now, where were we?” Lukos queries, glancing around at each group participant. Very few meet his eyes. Even fewer hold his gaze for any meaningful amount of time. “Ah, yes ... I believe you were about to note your objections–”

  Suddenly, the Vice-President stops. He looks … strange. Off somehow. Like an old human irritated by indigestion. Around the table, other Elders are having the same reaction. Lukos slumps into his seat. Others collapse forward onto the table, eyes frozen open in shock. They struggle to move, but cannot. Only the V.P.’s expression doesn’t register surprise. Inste
ad, his unnerving, wolfish grin is now locked onto his face–I even see Hamad turn away from its eerie effect.

  Joseph absorbs all this with ill-concealed glee. A suspicion rapidly rises in me that like the samurai of old, Joseph is engaging in gekokujō and attempting to overthrow his superiors. He begins to speak imperiously as he circles the table of hapless titans, “Esteemed Elders of the Council, no creature–alive or undead–can escape the laws of evolution. Adapt, or die. We Vampirists are the new breed of vampire. We Vampirists are the future!”

  On that cue, as must have been previously arranged, several vampires emerge into the room carrying large lab beakers. I notice Dr. Metz at their head; his eyes lock on mine for the briefest of moments before flickering away. What his eyes held just then, I cannot totally be sure. But if I’m not mistaken, he seemed confident … unconflicted.

  Joseph steps back as Dr. Metz begins to bark orders to his small team. “Quickly! We have just minutes before the paralysis wears off. At best.”

  I’m confused as to what they are doing: At first I assumed that they were going to stake the Elders, but they are not carrying any silver weapons. Only we bloodshirts have those on us. And that doesn’t explain the lab equipment.

  Joseph, at his master’s side, commands, “Remove Lukos to his chamber to recover.” Tomas and Piotr spring forward and carry the Vice-President gingerly away. He may be completely paralyzed, but his eyes seem to twinkle in twisted triumph. I realize that perhaps this is no attempted coup d’état on Joseph’s part, but instead, a planned purge of some kind done at the behest of the Vice-President. From what I know, the Elders are the only vampires in the world that can rival Lukos’ and Joseph’s powers and effectively counter Vampirist ambitions.

  Moreover, my confusion regarding Dr. Metz’s group’s intentions is quickly answered as they place the beakers under each Elder and stab into their veiny wrists with a hollow tube that has been sharpened on the end. Blood begins to drain out into the beakers, unstaunched as the tube prevents the automatic closing of the wound.

  Joseph flitters around, overseeing the process and obviously getting in Dr. Metz’s way. “Careful! Every drop is precious,” Joseph proclaims. Dr. Metz and the others continue on, already acting with the utmost care. Metz continually casts anxious glances at the watch on his wrist–he seems quite impatient for the draining process to be completed.

  As the seconds pass, the progression becomes more obvious as it takes its toll on the Elders. At first, they become leaner, gaunt almost, as if they have been suffering from a terrible and prolonged human illness. I can even begin to make out the contours of bones beneath their skin. Then this gives way to pronounced emaciation–they look as if they have been starving in a concentration camp. Protruding bones become the defining feature of the exposed faces and limbs. Skin hangs sallow on frail fingers, but even this begins to change as the skin itself seems to shrivel up, tightening into a withered wrapping around skeletal features. All this coincides with the audibly reduced blood flow; I can hear only small trickles now, rapidly giving way to a smattering of unsynchronized drips.

  Dr. Metz, apparently satisfied, takes the ceremonial pitcher that must contain drugged blood. “I'll get rid of this,” he offers to Joseph, but Joseph barely pays him any attention. A slight nod of his head, and Dr. Metz absconds with the chalice. The others begin to remove the beakers of blood carefully.

  Joseph remains focused on the helpless Elders–Elders that now actually look their millennia-old age. His expression is a mixture of pride, defiance, contempt, and contentment. He walks around the table, touching an Elder casually here, stroking a frozen cheek there. He seems to enjoy the freedom of it–to relish in their vulnerability. He pauses by the first Elder, the one who seemed to spearhead the opposition. He rubs his head, almost affectionately I think at first, but then I realize it’s more like the taunting of a playground bully to a puny kid he has pinned down. “You may not respect science, but as you see now, you should,” he scolds, as if to small children.

  Suddenly, the Elder’s finger moves slightly. It was just a flicker, and a human might have missed it, but it was definitely there. Hard to believe that these almost mummified shapes could contain life, but it is there, raw power just waited to be rehydrated. Joseph notices the movement himself, despite his polemical posturing. He suddenly recoils in shock, flinching back from the Elder. Where a second ago there was complete comfort and insouciance, there now is thinly veiled terror.

  “Stake them,” he commands instantly.

  My team exchanges uncertain glances: we look around to see if more vampires are going to appear on command. It seems like everything else was pre-planned. But after a second or two, no one else has appeared. Joseph gives no indication of who he meant to spur to action–his rapt attention is on the Elders. Another finger moves farther down the table. And closer to me, an open bronzed jaw clenches up in defiance.

  “Stake them now!” Joseph yells, his voice rising in pitch.

  I guess he means us. Hamad bounds forward and pauses in front of the Elder nearest him. Others follow suit, Jesús eagerly. I watch as Hamad’s stake plunges forward into the back of his Elder, penetrating deep through the thin flesh into a shriveled heart. He steps back, almost in shock. Most of us seem to be aware of the combined eons of history that we are extinguishing. But we have no choice: The Elders would eliminate each and every one of us now if not dealt with promptly. Joseph and Lukos saw to that when they launched their plan. I just can’t believe Dr. Metz would be a part of this–but then again, he also must have felt trapped, and I guess that he has no real affection for vampires of any kind.

  Knowing that I have to go with the tide, I find myself behind the Elder nearest to my former position on the wall. He looks to be Native-American of some kind, maybe Olmec or some other group that was present here thousands of years ago. He’s shorter up close than I imagined–I’m not sure if that is from being drained or just because that’s the size people used to be. But it’s disconcerting and makes him seem so harmless. I try to pretend that he isn’t alive, that he is already long dead and not the defenseless ancient man he appears. In fact, he is dead, I remind myself. Undead anyway. And now, headed to the neverend after a delay of a few millennia.

  One second and an airy final gasp later, it is over. I step back and look around at the other bloodshirts. We are all dazed to a certain extent, focused on the scene before us. I don’t have to have been a vampire for long to realize that the established community is being turned on its head. For in front of our eyes, the Elders–the age-old pillars of vampire civilization–turn to the dust and ash that they should have been long ago.

  * * *

  In the aftermath of the … well, massacre, the factory headquarters was in disarray. Joseph and Dr. Metz were nowhere to be seen, presumably off working on the next phase of the master plan. Lukos, too, was not seen again. I guess that once he recovered, he went back to being the Vice-President. He can probably only drop off the radar for so long. I wonder how he worked it with his Secret Service detail? Unless they are vampires, too. Though they wouldn’t be able to stand the daylight as he can–so maybe only a few are, or maybe he could enthrall human agents into forgetting his absence. I’m sure that he has a system worked out by now.

  And the other vamps who were there, the bloodshirts and assorted helpers, spent the next night or two off in groups, rehashing the events for those not “fortunate” enough to witness it for themselves. Some were shocked to learn that our supreme leader is the V.P., but I think a few must have had some idea beforehand and been sworn to secrecy, especially “older” ones like Hamad. Vera tries to seek me out to talk about it all, but I brush her off. Gently, though. I’m finding it harder to keep my anger up as I realize that I’m missing my girlfriend more and more. But while I was relieved that she wasn’t there as i
t turned out to be quite dangerous, I figure that she can still get the details from the others. They talk about that night more than the fact that the Vice-President’s amendment passed.

  They don’t seem to care much about the amendment, but it was a big deal. Apparently, it overturns the old Posse Comitatus Act and gives the executive branch the ability to deploy the military on a mass scale for law enforcement–without congressional or judicial oversight. Similarly, it allows for the National Guard to be used for the same outside their home states. Further, it expands upon past laws aimed at terrorists and gives more leeway for the government to suspend the writ of habeas corpus, meaning people can be detained indefinitely and never get their day in court. A few worried pundits in the media keep highlighting how dangerous this is, and how the country needs to wake up to the fact that the new law can now be used against ordinary citizens (in addition to the terrorists for which previous related laws were designed). I almost want to smile at this–I’m sure Lukos and the Vampirists are intending it to be used for exactly that. Anyway, the administration promptly used these abilities to send the National Guard into the streets to restore order. Supposedly, regular active duty military units are not far behind. The poor Movement protestors are in for a very rough next few weeks.

  With all this going on, I’m tempted to look down on the gossipers, but then I realize that many have been vampires for quite a while and the situation with the Elders must have been one of the biggest brouhahas of their existence. From their point of view, the human government chaos probably pales in comparison. So I don’t say anything to stop their gossip sessions. Only Jesús really agitates me–the way he tells it, he single-handedly fought and slew half a dozen Elders. But then again, even looking at Jesús these days causes a high degree of vexation.