by Jeff Seats
Craig brought everyone back to him as he continued, “Of course a lot of these legends are fables, old wives tales. Many, however, have proved to be true.” Jokingly he looked at Liz and continued, “Red hair, for example...” Liz tensed up. “Not true...” Liz relaxed some. “Mostly.” Everyone laughed at that.
Liz wanted to say something smart, something intelligent, as a retort like, “Fuck you,” but instead she bit her tongue and looked into Craig's eyes and gave him a thin, tight-lipped smile.
For a second they locked eyes and Craig thought he could hear her swear at him. She's got gumption. He thought. Then he broke out into a broad grin. “Frankly, I've never met anyone with red hair who ever became a vampire. Ever. So I think you're safe Adams...though I do know one or two vamps who do sport a red coif.”
Then Craig continued to address all the recruits. “You can find more of this popular culture stuff online. The relevant info that you’ll need for working at the CSC can be found in the folders you just were issued and our library.
“You just saw that Theodore Roosevelt signed a peace treaty between humans and vampires. But that wasn’t the first time that he had had experience with them. At the age of 36, Roosevelt became the commissioner of the New York City police department. At the time the city was experiencing some very ghastly murders. These deaths made the Ripper's work in London appear to be the work of a child.
“In all cases, the killing took place at night, and the victim's throats had two large puncture marks or were their throats were just torn away. The bodies were found drained of blood. The press called them the ‘Night Stalker Murders.' In reality; the city was infested with vampires.
A hand shot up from the second row. “Excuse me sir...I, um, I like to read true-crime novels—Capote, Ann Rule—anyway, I've read about Richard Ramirez. He was the Night Stalker in California, not New York and that was in the 1980s.”
Craig nodded his head in agreement, “And in 1974 there was a Night Stalker TV series about a reporter who uncovered stories about the supernatural. It's a cult classic around the CSC. So, what you have here is an example of someone borrowing from someone borrowing from the tabloid headlines of 1895. There's no keeping good sensationalism in the closet. A good sounding label will always be plagiarized.”
“Okay. Where was I? Oh, yeah. With help from a team of vampire hunters sent from the Vatican...” Craig saw that Liz was about to interrupt and stopped her. “It’s in your folders.” He said as he threw a cautionary glance in her direction. Liz relaxed back into her chair and opened the folder looking for and finding the section that Craig had referenced. Keeping a wary eye on her, Craig continued, “With help from experienced vampire hunters, Roosevelt established a special detective unit within the NYPD tasked to track down the vampires and their nests. Later, when Roosevelt had become president he asked these same investigators to form the CSC.
“As a part of the agreement, we supply the blood...”
Craig saw Liz raise her hand at this. So he looked in her direction, again, and answered her before the words could leave her mouth. “We do this...” He said staring at Liz. “...utilizing several methods. The first being blood collected at donation centers which we run in many cities. We also provide livestock that can be consumed, whole, within the borders of the rez. This satisfies the vampire’s need to rip into live, warm flesh. And, now and then, we provide fresh cadavers; unclaimed bodies from the morgue, which I admit is rather disgusting.” Then pointedly he added, “All the sordid details can be found in your folders.”
Craig looked over to Adams expecting some outburst, but her face remained calm. She had opened her folder and was casually looking at it, apparently reading the section Craig had referenced, but her body language revealed how interested she was as she sat on the edge of her chair wanting more.
“The first reservation was an abandoned mining town in Montana in 1901. The CSC didn’t have very much experience with the idea of keeping humans and vamps away from one another and thought an isolated, empty town was just the ticket, except that people would wander in from time to time.
“Once in a while things didn't work out well for those folks,” Craig used two fingers in a biting motion against his neck. “Most of the time those that found themselves in this seemingly abandoned town would experience what anyone of us might call 'supernatural occurrences' such as hearing voices in their heads or seeing human bodies materializing before their eyes. These were usually enough to send them running with their tails between their legs. In turn, they would spread stories about the impossibly weird shit they had seen.” He could hear some chuckling at that. “Hence the term, ‘Ghost Town.’”
It was his favorite line, especially when recruits had an "ah-ha!" moment learning about the origins of a term.
“Not that the CSC didn’t make use of the fear generated by the label, Ghost Town. You could call it an early disinformation campaign.” Now there was some outright laughter. Even Adams was smiling again. “But it became quite evident that we had to do more in the way of keeping unintentional blood donors away from the vampires.”
Agent Hamilton walked up to the movie screen and raised it revealing a map of Oregon. A red arrow pointed to a spot in Eastern Oregon roughly centered in that part of the state.
“Today the vamps reside in a town which is a replica of an American town from the 1960s built in an isolated valley. Ostensibly as an A-bomb test site.
A hand popped up from one of the men in the back row.
“Yes. Question?”
“Yes, sir. I grew up in Seattle. I studied Northwest history. I don’t recall reading anything about atomic test sites anywhere in Oregon. Aside from Hanford, Washington where they process uranium for nukes and the Idaho National Lab where the government does all sorts of nuclear research projects. The only other likely spot is the Boardman bombing range on the Columbia and that's for Navy pilot’s target practice.”
Craig looked up to Saunders who was still watching from the projection room. Saunders gave an approving smile and a nod to the question.
“You make a good point. All tests for nukes take place in Nevada. Always have; except for a few atolls in the Pacific that got erased. At the time there were no more ghost towns left to turn into an appropriate reservation for the vampires. All the ones that could have worked were becoming tourist destinations like Virginia City in Nevada. We had to abandon plans for its use because of that exact reason. The TV show, Bonanza popularized Virginia City and it suddenly became a tourist destination. So, with a little bureaucratic slight of hand, we had Site-Alpha built using funds from the department of defense as one of their test sites, though you won’t find it on any of their books.”
Craig looked around and could see that more than one face registered a question, so he added, “This is no cardboard, pretend town. These towns were built like the real thing with actual bricks, concrete, and steel. The buildings were stocked with actual items; canned food, furniture and books and other stuff as well as dressed-up manikins in different types of fabric. All of this was done to study the effects of a bomb blast on structures and the effects of radiation on any surviving things and people.”
Agent Hamilton stepped up to the wall behind Craig and grabbed the line hanging from the bottom of the map. He gave it a good hard yank and the map snapped up revealing an aerial photo of a small, isolated valley.
Craig picked up a long pointing stick and traced a line around the valley. Up until five years ago, we had armed guards patrolling the perimeter, but the effects of a bad economy play hell on nonexistent, secret government agencies. God only knows what the new administration will do to further decimate our budget..." Craig heard a small cough come from Hamilton, who was still behind him and he saw Saunder's slowly shaking his head up in the booth. "...but I've been told that I sometimes bring a bit too much politics into these little chats.” He smiled apologetically. “So, now we rely totally on technology to monitor the reservation: sensors to detect a breache
d fence, drones, and satellite fly-overs.”
A hand shot up in the front row. “Yes?”
“Sir. My only knowledge of vampires comes from popular fiction...”
“Which, surprisingly, can be quite accurate.”
“Well, then I'm kind of wondering...aren't vampires supposed to have an ability to fly. How can a fence keep them in, really?”
Craig stopped to consider the answer. “The main reason the vamps stay where they are is their mayor.”
Liz blurted out, “What? They have elections?”
Annoyed Craig responded. “No.” He paused. But he had opened the door for the question by mentioning the mayor. Damn it! “It's a title we use for the strongest of the vampires. Alexei Rurik. You saw him in that film. He is the one who 'convinced'...” Craig drew air quotes around the word convinced when he said it,“...the others to go along with Roosevelt's deal. And make no mistake, he is the most powerful vampire of them all and can enforce the agreement. So it's our little in-house joke, but, yeah, Alex is the mayor of Vamp Town.”
Liz was about to ask another question but the door opened and three agents walked into the room followed by Saunders. They stopped and stood behind Craig. Like Craig, they all seemed to have shopped at the same uniform outlet store; their suits all various shades of gray.
Craig became very still and looked at each of the newbies in their eyes. Then, very seriously he spoke, “We are not the Men in Black. There are no Maulders’ or Scullys’. No X-Files. And there are NO aliens in Area 51. But there are real monsters out there that have been terrorizing human beings for thousands of years. We have successfully kept this reality from the public for well over 100 years. And we plan to keep it that way. No one who has made it this far in the process is allowed to walk away. There is no quitting. You are now the property of the Federal Government. One loose tongue will land you in the blackest hole for an extremely long time.”
Craig surveyed the recruits to make sure his last words had set in.
“Ladies and gentlemen we are The Monster Keepers. Welcome to the CSC.”
He picked a folder up from the desk. “You probably noticed that the folders you received have different colors. The colors indicate the area you have been assigned to, technology, analysis, action team and field work.
The recruits nervously shifted in their chairs. The tension was thick in the air. Liz was about to bust with all her exuberance. Please let mine be field work. Or action team. Either one works. She thought.
Craig nodded to the guy from Seattle in the back row. “Blue signifies you have been slated for analysis. If you have a blue folder step on down and join agent Hamilton.” Along with the historian, another guy with a blue folder stood up and they made their way to stand near the agent.
“Yellow folders mean that you have been identified as technical geniuses and have been assigned to work in the control room monitoring the reservations. I see three yellow folders, right? Good. Please join the blues down with Dave.” They stood and joined the others.
At this point the door opened and another person, dressed in a black ACU and combat boots, joined them. “This is Captain Smith. He is the commander of our Action Teams. When the shit hits the fan, it's one of his teams that are sent to mix it up.” Craig nodded to a woman with a green folder. “You have been assigned to work with Smith. Listen to him and you will live a very long time. Please come on down.”
There were four recruits left sitting in the room. All had red folders on their desktops. Craig addressed them. “You four have been selected for field work.”
Liz couldn't keep from grinning. Yes!
“The four of you will remain while all of you...” Craig indicated those who were standing at the front of the room. “...will follow Dave and Captain Smith out and onto your new lives. Again, welcome to you all.”
Agent Hamilton opened the door and the new agents exited followed by Captain Smith. That left Craig along with Saunders, the three other agents, standing behind him, and the four recruits with red folders.
Liz held onto her red file folder like it was the map to the lost gold of the Incas. Her nervous energy was hard to contain as she remained at attention in her chair, all nerves. Craig gave her another once-over look; This one has trouble written all over her. He shook his head again then turned to watch the last of the six clear the room with Hamilton taking up the rear and closing the door behind him.
Now Craig addressed the remaining four. “On the inside cover of your folder you have a name attached. That person is one of us standing before you now and will be your new partner.” Craig indicated himself and the others behind him. “I have no knowledge of who has been assigned to whom. Others with higher pay grades have made these determinations based upon your skills and mental compatibility. The agent you are assigned to will be your teacher, coach, and parent in this new life of yours with the CSC. What they say should be taken as if they are the words of God himself. Listen to them and follow their instructions.” He hesitated for a moment then added, “Trust me. Your life depends on listening and learning all that you can from your partner. I know...”
Craig’s voice tailed off as he momentarily got caught in a memory loop recalling the death of his last partner. He shook his head wishing that she hadn’t gone off into the building alone after he had told her to wait for the Action Team to arrive. Saunders placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder bringing him back into the present.
“Sorry,” Craig said to those who were still in the lecture hall. Then he cleared his throat and looked to a man. “You, in the back row, please say your name and read the name of your new partner.”
“Matt Jones.” Then he looked down at his folder. “Agent Mendez.”
“New agent Jones please come down and join Agent Mendez.” Mendez stepped forward and offered her hand to shake Jones' then she guided him back for the next assignment announcement.
Craig looked to the woman three desks to Jones' right. “And you next.”
“Sara Washington and my new partner is, uh, Agent Fowler.” Agent Brad Fowler stepped up to greet Washington. He shook her hand and gave her a slight slap on the back just like the good old boy that he was.
That left one man and Adams without assignments. Craig paused as he looked at them both. Then he turned to Saunders and gave him a weak smile.
Craig gestured towards the man. “And you?”
“Van Wilson...Umm.” He fumbled with his folder as he tried to open it. “Agent Garnet.”
“Wilson, come on down and meet Agent Bob Garnet.” Van Wilson walked over to Bob Garnet who greeted him in a stiff, professional manner.
Liz waited for Craig to ask her to read who her partner was. Craig again turned to Saunders who had a grim look on his face and was shaking his head slowly.
Craig took a deep breath and slowly released it, taking as long as possible to keep the inevitable from happening. Finally, he looked at Liz. “And you?”
“My name is Elizabeth Adams. Liz.” Looking at her folder, she stood up and announced her new partner’s name. “Agent Craig Wright!”
Craig grimaced and gave her a weak smile. A quick glance towards Saunders confirmed what he thought. The ass hole had a huge grin on his face, and he was nodding his head in amused approval.
Liz trotted down to stand with Craig clutching her file to her chest with a beaming smile on her face and looked right into Craig's eyes. “I am very excited to be here, sir!” Liz held out her hand to shake with her new partner.
He looked down at her outstretched hand and shook it with little enthusiasm.
I hate my job.
—— INCURSION ——
A FEW HOURS after Eddie had gone off in his search for help, the passengers started to grow weary of just sitting around and waiting. Jenna and Kelvin seemed to be having the best time sitting under the shade of a juniper tree. Every so often Jenna would rise to her feet, face her audience, Kelvin, and deliver one of her stand-up comedy routines. At the end of her mon
ologue, Kelvin would laugh and clap wildly. Then Jenna would collapse in laughter and hug him. They had been carrying on like that since the driver had walked out of sight and seemed that they would be able to carry on like that for days.
To say that Jenna and Kelvin were good friends would be an understatement. They had met only a couple years earlier in Chicago and instantly became inseparable companions. Perhaps it was that they found themselves at opposite ends of the same life story and the one complimented the other.
Jenna grew up doted on as the blessed child to a couple who had been trying to have children for a very long time. By the time her parents had all but exhausted their financial ability to continue with the various fertility treatments the miracle baby, Jenna, was born.
At an early age, Jenna felt that she was slightly different than the other kids she played with, but it wasn't until middle school that she discovered her attraction to girls. When she was asked to the school dance by Daren, she said yes but spent the entire time with Whitney and some of the other girls. Daren didn't seem to mind since boys of that age hadn't any clue at all about how to be around girls. To them, these first dances were just a way to get out of the house and hang out with the guys and continue their grab-assing from earlier in the day. She felt an attraction to Whitney which she couldn't explain, but it was there; a kind of lightheartedness when she was with her. Whatever it was, it was a feeling that she never wanted to end.
In high school Jenna found herself hanging out with the theatre geeks. Drama class taught her how to channel her spunky nature. Improvisational acting exercises helped her to hone her abilities at quick-witted wordplay into solo performances which opened the door to stand-up comedy. Oddly, she found that when she was up in front of an audience, she could be herself, talk about her shit and get laughs and the more she realized that she was indeed drawn to women romantically the more she found safety in comedy. She could explain herself to the world without fear of recrimination.