Of Superior Design

by Matt Rogers

  Chapter 27

  The flight was a long one and Johnny was trying intently not to strangle the boy.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Why do pilots wear hats?”

  They had another destination, another stage to set before the time was right and their true motives revealed. The Statue of Liberty had served her purpose alongside the Canadalaskan Pipeline. France and America, while not openly declaring hostilities, were eyeing each other through shaded lenses. It was their history which made it all possible. Association with the past made the future probable. France and England had for so long been at odds with the other the final outcome was almost an inevitability. Blow up an American pipeline on an English proxy state and blame it on her historical rival who also had a claim to the frozen turf. The whole of Northern America was colonized by the two and even though England held the upper hand at the end it wasn’t as if France couldn’t bide her time until enacting a little colonial revenge. It was only the quirk of fate which allowed English rule in the first place. Who would’ve thought a few emigrants with muskets would cause so much upheaval? Throughout the middle ages, during the time of mankind’s great awakening the countries of England and France traded places at the pinnacle of power. Spain, Portugal and few other Europeans joined in the fun from time to time but eventually it led back to the two originals, the architects of so much glory and death.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Do insects poop?”

  When America took power they did so with France’s help. The English never forgot, America fully forgave and the French fell victim to a finicky friend with global aspirations. The Vamps intended to exploit history. They knew Human Nature for what it was; suspicious. Humans were suspicious of everyone. It began in their youths as childhood playground retorts became raunchy rumors and finally viscous verbal assault for the privilege of promoting one’s own propaganda. The Americans would see French villainy for the Canadians would supply the foes. French ancestry had been trying to secede from English-speaking Canada since the nation formed. It was an easy leap of faith to believe those wishing to escape English domination would eagerly jump at the chance to cause two former colonies trouble through explosive devices. The oil held a second benefit for it was also of precious grade. Those who held power could not ignore those who produced it. The secessionists publicly declined they’d done anything wrong but their shouts of innocence were drowned out as a nation to their south once again sided with its parent across the ocean.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “If cows eat grass and people eat cows why can’t people eat grass?”

  Blowing up the Statue of Liberty was to further strengthen the belief the French were somehow involved. It didn’t matter the piece of art was a gift from the wine-masters for it was merely a symbolic gesture meant to provoke finger pointing. The Vamps judged Humans everywhere the same and thus if the French felt some of those who wished to speak their language dealt a blow to both their historical rival and turncoat friend then they would stiffen their lips, straighten their backs and declare their outrage while simultaneously rooting for their overseas sympathizers.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Whatever it is, ask Aunt Melissa, Daemon.”

  Ever since the last world war the Croissant Eaters had been the butt of jokes for their ability to surrender. It didn’t matter they fought on after invasion and subjugation, the fact they’d lost in such stunning fashion made them wary of capitulation in any situation. Vampire minds believed when the Americans demanded from the French an explanation for why those wishing to speak their strange language would attack oil transportation and Harbor-Art welcoming immigration the Perfumed Ones would take umbrage, do the natural Human thing and fake indignation.

  “Aunt Melissa?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Why is Uncle Johnny throwing up in a bag?”

  Spain was ever present for she had always been the third wheel; the slightly weaker one who was invited to dance only when the other two became bored with each other. It didn’t mean she was left out of the party altogether. No, she was always sent an invitation but sometimes it arrived a day late. She was, however, also a lady of substance who might not command the attention of her northern neighbors but she was most definitely attractive to other suitors. Latin America did not become the predominate Spanish-speaking continent through complete and utter destruction of its native population. It did so through immersion. Spain entered, laid a foundation through force if necessary but not through relocation. The natives, those who survived the initial plague of disease were welcomed into Spain’s loving if somewhat smothering embrace.

  “Aunt Melissa?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Why is Uncle Johnny going to the bathroom so much?”

  Mexico was the bridge to America from the south. The Wolves needed a place to duel and the land of tequila offered a perfect arena. First Clan could send their Wolves into battle with Third while the countries of America and Mexico fought. The Humans wouldn’t be the wiser because the violence in the central land had been out of hand for so long the loss of Wolves would be absorbed by the ranks of soldiers. The Vampires felt it was a practical plan, a way to prove the stronger clan without provoking Human questions as to who was battling whom. If, for some odd reason the two countries couldn’t find common ground to fight then a backup plan had been devised where Canada would become Mexico and France would swap with Spain. It didn’t matter through which door First’s Wolves arrived, only that the door allowed access to America. Some thought they might somehow skip the USA altogether and just battle it out in the lower southern countries but were silenced by the fact of American involvement everywhere in the world. America was the super-power, the one with the money and might to make matters their own. They’d been snooping and spying on everyone for so long they no longer even tried to hide it. The Vampires quickly came to the conclusion if good old Uncle Sam was not involved in the conflict he would definitely be aware of the problems, keep watch on the situation and not help but notice a few thousand Wolves tearing up a small village in some back-water country whose only claim to fame was potato farming and pot pushing.

  “Aunt Melissa?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Why is Uncle Johnny running up and down the aisle screaming we’re all going to crash and die?”

  Everything had gone according to plan which was why the results were so baffling. Texas and Mexico were at odds but neither side was provoking the other enough for outright warfare to begin. The northern United States was in a lather over the loss of Liberty but not so much they were going to invade their arctic neighbors. Those in the center states were upset over the loss of a pipeline and the resulting higher price of travel but they were of little consequence since they abutted no water and were thus considered the sheltered states; the states of somewhat lesser value than their ocean-front-property brethren.

  “Aunt Melissa?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Why are the stewardesses sitting on Uncle Johnny?”

  They were landing in the sunshine state for a reason. They still had a plan and were committed to its implementation. It didn’t matter the actual timing of the conflict only that it needed to happen and they needed Human involvement. The landing was picture-perfect, the luggage retrieved, Johnny released from Airport custody and the limousine left with the three from LeTorque in back and a Zombie driver in front.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “What does pepper spray taste like?”

  The ride took little time and the formalities even less.

  “Do I have your Support, Wolf of Delmar?”

  “You do, Mistress.”

  The planning however was a bit more complicated for it involved a few extra players and could very well backfire. They were in Miami walking along its beach
. Melissa was in deep conversation with the head Vamp of Delmar, an intoxicating beauty of southern origin named Consuelo. She was five and a half feet tall, less than one-twenty in weight with brown hair, brown eyes and skin the color of caramel. They were wearing shorts, blouses, sandals and sun hats. Consuelo’s other family members were also there but if one didn’t know it they’d never see them. The Delmar’s were of the Security Tribe and were experts at surveillance, information gathering and the opposite which came from such endeavors. If they did not want to be seen they wouldn’t. She had given orders for her mate, Escobar, to keep watch with the others but stay hidden as Melissa, Johnny and Daemon walked the white sands to discuss, away from Heavenly hearing, their plans for war.

  “Mistress Melissa?”

  “Please, call me Melissa. Mistress sounds so old.”

  The Vampire with Caribbean charm smiled at the remark for although Melissa was indeed quite old by Human standards she appeared to be in her late twenties at most.

  “Okay, Melissa, and l am now only Consuela. I think I may like taking orders from one such as you.”

  It was a kind statement, one Melissa did not take lightly. Vampires were conspirators and thus each had at one time or another worked with virtually every sister in their Tribe. The female form of Superiors came in all shapes, sizes, intellect, abilities and personalities. All had known others who were authoritarian in demand and elitist in demeanor. For Consuela Delmar to make her statement was a compliment of high proportions for she was anything but a lower Vampire. The Delmar family was in charge of Security Tribe for all of Third Clan. They had as much authority as the Beech family in their realm of employment. Melissa had decided on using the Tribal leaders of her clan for the plan. The Ellis family of New York were the third of the triumvirate as they controlled Shelter. The LeTorque had briefly held the position in Shelter but when Melissa had been elevated to Matriarch of all Third they had given the post to the Ellis family. Wolves and Vamps were always reluctant around those with more authority and would bristle at the notion of one tribe possibly having more influence than another if the overall leader of the clan was also the leader of a competing tribe.

  While the two Vampires plotted the youngest Wolf on the beach played. He was a bundle of endless energy and irresistible to the eye. He would run up the edge of the water, wait for a wave to crash, watch the sea-foam surge toward him and squeal in delight as he raced away from the approaching saltwater in glee. Johnny, for his part, was relegated to baby-Wolf sitter. He had all the responsibilities of one who held the fate of the world in his hands with absolutely no power to enforce anything. If Daemon wished to leave, wished to run and hide, there was nothing he could do about it. The child was quicker, stronger and had the ability of blending. Johnny held no illusions. If the kid wished to hide he would be gone in an instant. It made his job both harder and easier. He would go from worry to resigned acceptance every two minutes. He would watch as the incredibly fast Wolfling ran around until, all of a sudden, he wasn’t there. Johnny’s anxiety would rise for he was in charge of the midget canine but then another thought would immediately come to mind; what the heck could he do about it? He held no physical abilities to match even the youngest of his kind. He was Wolf in gender only. He couldn’t even go up against a Vampire of youth for he was weaker than them by the time they reached adolescence. He was, in every way, the most Inferior Superior in existence. It bothered him at times, annoyed his sense of self-worth which was why he was intent on altering the situation.

  “How many will it take?” Consuela asked.

  “One might do but two would vastly improve the odds” Melissa answered.

  Johnny knew somewhere out there among the throngs of scantily clad women and chest-puffing, gut-sucking men were the others from Delmar. He was constantly scanning the crowd to see if he could get a glimpse of the enormous Wolves but saw no one even close to their size. He was having no better luck trying to locate the two Vamps of Delmar who he knew were also in attendance. Consuela was with Melissa so her sisters would be near. He figured it would be impossible to miss them if they were not going incognito through way of invisibility. Vampires were perfect of feminine feature so if they were out there he would surely know for every male eye on the beach would show him the way. He was, unfortunately, out of luck. The males in attendance were indeed ogling every female in sight but they were not doing so in mass form at a few ladies. No, they were leering at anything in two pieces of swimwear within Peeping-Tom distance. Johnny had always wondered why God, whichever form it took, would make one-half a species so incredibly sexy and the other a hairy, belching, war-mongering imbecile. He also wondered about the Peeping-Tom guy. How bad was he? Did he go about staring into every open window he could find? Why didn’t someone just knock his block off before he could register so many peeps? Surely the gentleman didn’t get the moniker from only a few sideways glances? He was sitting there dwelling on his peeping controversy while simultaneously doing the same to every woman on the beach in a bikini when he heard the child scream his name.

  “Uncle Johnny!”

  He looked to where the voice originated and noticed with pleasure the child had finally built up enough courage to enter the water.

  “Yes, Daemon?” he yelled back.

  “Look at the big fishy-tail!”

  He and everyone else who heard the statement immediately went from relaxed to alert status in an instant. Johnny looked to where the boy pointed and sure enough there, slicing through the water about fifty-feet away was nightmare come to life. The triangular fin was a darkened shade against the brightly lit mid-afternoon sun shining off the ocean and before he realized what he was doing he found himself running toward the savior of his species.

  “Shark!”

  “Get out of the water!”

  He didn’t realize it then but he would later and go on to ponder forever the stupidity of his actions. He was no match for a shark. Heck, he was no match for a catfish. He could swim, sure, but he did so at the Human rate found hilarious by the denizens of the open water. He was running to his death in order to save a child who might or might not need saving. Daemon was different. Daemon was special. Daemon was watching in wondrous transfixion as the swimming man-eater from the dinosaur age bore down on him quicker than Johnny could run on solid land. Johnny was at the surf when he saw it happen. The shark, sensing an easy lunch went directly at the boy. It was within inches of delivering the first bite when the extraordinary occurred. Daemon, standing in water up to his chest waited until the cartilage creature of teeth was just about ready to strike and then, in an instant, leapt completely out of the ocean, over the shark while turning in mid-air to land in the water facing the people-muncher.

  Johnny almost stopped, actually paused for a second with both feet in the water as he watched the child toy with the fish of maritime mystique. He’d wait, jump, land and wait again all the while giggling in delight as the mindless predator from the depths circled, struck, missed and began the process anew.

  “Daemon!” Johnny yelled as he strode further into the water.

  “Yes, Uncle Johnny?”

  “Quit playing with that shark and get out of the water!”

  Daemon actually looked crestfallen.

  “Aww, do I have to?”

  “Yes!”

  Johnny watched and waited to see if his powers of persuasion were enough to encourage the boy to stop fooling with the top predator in the sea and follow proper adult instruction. When Daemon glanced back at the shark making another pass and smiled he was worried his guise of parental figurehead was not going to work. Daemon, though, ever the inquisitive but mindful child did follow his Uncle’s order only not in quite the way Johnny would’ve wished. He glanced at the shark, smiled brightly and leapt again. The difference was the landing. Instead of leaping out and over he leapt up and on. He landed with both feet on the head of the aqua terror. It must’ve come as a shock to the apex eater and Johnny wondered what went throug
h its mind as it felt the full brunt of attack from a fifty pound kangaroo-hopping boy in the waters off the coast of Florida. The boy leapt, landed on shark head and immediately leapt again leaving the shark confused, Johnny amazed and Daemon two more hops before reaching the shoreline.

  “Okay, Uncle Johnny, are you coming out too?”

  It was then Johnny realized his mistake. He’d gotten so caught up in the sight of watching the wondrous Wolf he’d wandered and waded too far into shark infested waters. He turned toward the shoreline and began making his frenzied dash of escape. As he trudged through the liquid substance he began wondering why it was so much harder to move through water when one wanted to leave its presence. He glanced over his right shoulder and immediately redoubled his efforts. The shark was again on the prowl and the only thing in its territory was a slow moving skinny monkey-like creature stupid enough to think walking through water was faster than swimming. Johnny again glanced and yelled in terror as a dorsal fin closed fast.

  He was sure the end was near. He had never actually given thought to how his life would finally terminate but he was confidant of one thing; getting eaten by a shark had never arisen as an option.

  “Oh crap!”

  He was moving with intensity, breaking all his previous water-walking records but knew the gig was up. He was going to go down in history as a man who went down a shark’s gullet. He looked one more time and was completely horrified. The fin was less than ten feet away and he was twenty from the safety of dry land. He prepared for it, tensed up to hopefully give a little resistance to the teeth which would render him to pieces but as the time passed and he felt no searing sensation of flesh removal he chanced a glance and fainted in relief.

  He came to at the sound of the boy’s endless questioning.

  “Uncle Johnny?”

  “Yes, Daemon?”

  “Do crabs eat people?”

  He flew off the ground before realizing he did it. He knew the question for what it was, looked down and verified he had been laying with the fishes. Well, not fishes but crabs. Nasty little sideways-walking, pincher-wielding sea critters.

  “What the…? Where are we?”

  “We’re at the Delmar’s. They laid you down and told me to watch over you until you woke up.”

  Johnny looked around to get his bearing and realized they were at some sort of bungalow retreat. There were huts located along the beach and behind them, about a fifty yards from the shoreline must have been the main house. It was a one story residence but looked as though it could house thirty. As he was watching a figure emerged, glanced his way and took about two seconds to cover the distance.

  “Are you doing better, Wolf of LeTorque?” Escobar asked with a grin.

  “Um, yeah, thanks for your help out there.”

  When he’d taken the last glance to verify he wasn’t shark-bait he seen a remarkable scene. Escobar holding the tail of the silent killer with an inordinate amount of teeth. The vision was burned in his memory because it appeared the shark was actually showing emotion. It seemed the brainless beast was evoking confusion with its eyes. He didn’t remember anything after that because he’d gone unconscious until awaking to find himself watched over by an innocent Wolf while being sized up by a few vile half-land, half-water skittering crab-monsters.

  “You hungry?” the Alpha Wolf asked.

  “Famished” Johnny replied so they walked back to the house.

  The inside was airy and cool. It had fans everywhere and was enshrined with various forms of art depicting oceanic themes. Johnny felt the a little unease when he glanced at one painting showing a group of fishermen battling a Great White Shark but had to admit the image was breathtaking.

  He walked into the kitchen, finally saw the other two Vamps of Delmar and realized there was absolutely no way the two of them could visit a beach in anything other than full robes. If they’d worn swimsuits a riot would’ve ensued. The two Wolves mated to them were also in attendance but they pretty much paid him no heed for they were much more interested in their new Matriarch and her plans for them.

  “When do we begin?” one asked.

  “Tonight” she replied and huge smiles emerged on the Wolves’ faces.

  The food was set up as a buffet. There was everything one could wish for and a few Johnny knew nothing about. He set about trying everything and was debating what to eat next when Escobar appeared at his shoulder.

  “Hey, I want you to taste something for me” he said.

  “Sure” Johnny replied for up till then everything he’d eaten had been of the delicious variety.

  “Ok, I’ve been experimenting with two types of seafood. I’ve got a cooked version and a sushi version. I want you to tell me which one tastes better.”

  Johnny nodded to indicate he could very well do the chore asked of him and began with the baked version. It was incredibly tasty. When he tried the raw version he was even more amazed. It was sweet and salty at the same time and he was having a difficult time actually performing his duties because both were excellent.

  “Um, I actually think I like the sushi version better” he admitted.

  “Huh? That’s a strange coincidence” Escobar replied.

  “Why?”

  “Because he thought also you’d taste better raw.”

  Johnny looked down and realized what he held; the prepped and prepared plate of a shark which had planned to eat him for lunch. He also realized one other thing; revenge really was best served cold.