by Matt Rogers
Chapter 24
They moved through the night, silent as the element which bore their name. The Winds flew over the land without the slightest sound exposing their presence. The objective was simple for it could not move, did not know they were on the way and had no defense against them if it did. They arrived at the spot and the Alpha issued orders.
“There” he said while pointing.
The two lesser Wolves of Wind moved with incredible speed and explosive charges were set within seconds. The timing was crucial so the detonators were armed with receivers. The head Wolf, Thor, held the privilege in a paw.
“Mistress?” he said into the communicator.
“Yes?” was the reply on the technologically superior product of secure transmission.
“We are ready” he said.
“Then we will proceed. I will inform you when the time is right.”
The station was surrounded with high voltage fencing, top-of-the-line surveillance cameras and four guards, one in the shack, three roaming. The chain fence was not scaled for the shack was the weaker link. The guard inside was ill-prepared for invisible Vamps holding syringes with sedatives. The roaming guards soon followed their compatriot in chemical comatose.
The moment was important for the footage would figure prominently on the late-night news. Coordination was considered essential for maximum shock and public outrage. Nadia and her Vampire sisters of Wind family association waited with anticipation for the call which would set into motion the world’s fascination with conspiratorial theories on the motives of those who would be blamed. France was the recipient of Superior planning not for any other reason than location on the motherland, previous martial activities and colonial expansion. The call came in at eight.
“This is Nadia” she answered.
The order was given and the Vamp in charge of the mission implemented its design.
“Throw the switches” she ordered and the two Vamps lower in the family hierarchy did her bidding.
They had no wish to cause lasting impact only burning memorization. The cut-off was empowered and oil destined for America stopped in Canada as it’s metallic case over a thousand miles long was simultaneously severed through switch and explosion after a single word was sent by voice through airwave.
“Now” she whispered into the handset.
Thor pushed the button and the night sky illuminated as petroleum ignited. The sight was awesome to behold as liquid decay of the previous-living found eternal rest through combustible means.
“Uncle, Johnny?”
“Yes, Daemon?”
They were sitting on the edge of the water waiting for the moment which would change the world.
“What’s in her hand?”
“A torch.”
They had flown in that morning, met the local representatives of Third Clan and quickly established her authority.
“I ask for your loyalty, Wolf of Ellis” she’d said.
“You shall have it, Mistress.”
The plan was put in motion and the boats launched ten minutes later. The deed was begun when the place was evacuated for façade improvements.
“Why is she holding a torch?”
“Ask Aunt Melissa.”
The island they were on was the greatest of its kind with buildings erected to the sky because land had long since vanished.
“She was a gift to America from France. The torch represents a beacon, a lighthouse of a sort, showing the weary the way to the promised land” Melissa answered.
The Wolves of Ellis had arrived at their destination and a signal was sent indicating they were waiting.
“Johnny?” Melissa said.
“Yes?” he replied.
“Tell Nadia to begin.”
Estimation was the tricky part for timing of Human reaction was always predicted and consistently incorrect.
Johnny called the Matriarch of Wind and felt a slight thrill knowing he was starting a war on opposite ends of a continent at specific times for visual effect. The idea was to have one breaking news story interrupted by another. An economic disaster followed by a cultural one. If all went according to plan in the span of one hour the population of the greatest nation on Earth would feel attacked on two fronts, one down south, one up north. They would feel under siege by two bordering nations, Mexico and Canada, with historical ties to two other historically significant powers, Spain and France.
“Uncle Johnny?”
“Yes, Daemon?”
“Why do people have accents?”
New York held a great place in Johnny’s heart for he’d visited it earlier in his travels. It had grown into something he could not have conceived and its innovative people had shown him the light; they were necessary for Superior survival.
“I… uh… hmm…? Ask your Aunt, Daemon.”
As Melissa instructed the child on the strange behavior of Humans and their vocal-delivery phenomena Johnny got up and took a little stroll through the park. He always enjoyed visiting the place for he knew it held on for dear life as the world around it set down concrete foundations and built towers of biblical Babel proportions. He was a little surprised how the people on the tiny isle of Manhattan had been able to keep a portion of its real estate in original form. Usually it was the developers who won the battle, very rarely was nature left alone. Central Park confused him for just when he thought he understood Humans and was ready for their extinction they went and did something so out of character he had to re-think his earlier impression and give them a little more leeway. He still felt they’d cut their own throats one day but maybe, he thought, just maybe they might be able to survive long enough to survive forever.
He was in deep concentration so he didn’t notice them until it was too late.
“Give us your wallet.”
They were standing directly in front of him, smelling of cheap whisky and in need of delousing. Johnny was a bit angry for letting the situation occur. He should’ve been more aware of his surroundings. One was brandishing a crowbar and the other a broken bottle of rot-gut. Neither appeared to believe in personal hygiene.
“My wallet?” Johnny asked, a little stunned and unsure if maybe he’d heard incorrectly.
“Yes, your wallet, give it to me” the man with the steel bar in his hands said as he raised it threateningly to emphasize his point.
Johnny was scared and did what scared people do in times of stress by freezing. He told himself to move, told himself a wallet with thirty bucks wasn’t worth the beating he would get from two homeless people in a city park known for its hobo population. Unfortunately, his mind was not interested in delivering the message to his muscles or they were on some sort of sabbatical.
“I said give me your wallet!” the nasty vagrant said again.
Johnny couldn’t move. He was scared stiff. He kept shouting to his brain to follow the man’s advice but his brain wouldn’t mind his orders. It had other ideas. It was intent on minding its own business through paralysis and letting the skull encasing it get crushed by a smelly drunk with money problems.
The man was egged on by his partner in crime with the two-dollar container of liquid libation and Johnny stood stock still in terror as the man with steel and the bum with broken bottle advanced. He was preparing for the beat down when a child’s voice broke the tension.
“Uncle Johnny?”
The two men halted their forward motion and turned to look at what had dared intrude on their night-time enrichment program. What they saw caused their eyes to bulge and their tongues to lick lips. Before them, a mere ten feet away was the most incredible delight they’d ever seen. She was five-feet nine, regal of posture and endowed with what all men considered important. Her figure was one of intoxication. A dream. An elixir of the gods. Manna in female form. The child next to her was of little relevance.
“Uncle Johnny?” the boy said again.
“Yes, Daemon?” he finally replied.
“Are these guys your friends?”
>
The men were infatuated with the woman standing next to the curious little brat. She was everything to their eyes and wondrous to behold. Hair as black as night and a face artists the world over would fight to death for the privilege of putting on canvass. She stood there, not moving, only smiling as the ragamuffin next to her waited for an answer.
“No, Daemon, these are not my friends.”
What happened next would forever change two troubled men into productive citizens.
“Then may I practice on them?”
The questioned was answered by the beauty beside the babe.
“Yes, dearest, go have your fun.”
They blinked, both at the same time for the child disappeared. He was there and then gone. Their minds, a little sluggish from years of pickling through potent participation quickly did what small minds do by disregarding what they couldn’t understand and returning to what they could. She hadn’t moved so they felt justified in their actions. It was as if the Lord himself had delivered her to them. They moved toward her with evil intent as she remained still, smiling, and they felt an excitement build before the situation took a decidedly different turn.
“Yaaaagh!”
He didn’t know what had ahold of his hair but the force with which it pulled caused a ripping sensation to be heard and the man with hands on steel became the first person in over a hundred years to be scalped alive on an island once owned by Indians.
His partner did not understand what happened but clearly viewed with his own eyes his buddy’s head-skin torn away.
“What the…?” he began.
“Yaaaagh!” he finished as he too joined the newest fad of instant baldness through traumatic hair removal.
Both men were lying on the ground screaming in agony when directly in front of them their locks of mane appeared followed immediately by the image of the child who wasn’t there then was.
“Do you want these back?”
Neither man could verbally answer for the pain was all encompassing. The child must have sensed their disease for he looked down at them from his three-feet of height, shrugged and then tossed the topknots of the fools in the water a good hundred feet from where they stood. Neither man could move, neither could speak for their worlds were consumed with burning excruciation where their head-fur previously was planted.
“Uncle Johnny?”
“Yes, Daemon?”
“Should I rip their heads off now?”
Their speed was not what saved them. They’d heard the words of death issue from the mouth of a child and did what beggars everywhere did by pleaded for their lives while at the same time taking off like jackrabbits at a coyote convention. They would easily have been caught if not for the particular timing of their escape. As they fled the Statue of Liberty exploded and the two men were forgotten as the child’s attention was drawn to the fireball in the sky signaling the start of something new.
