Dominion of the Damned

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  True to Louise’s word, she was waiting outside the showers to take Hannah to the cafeteria. She led her to a big, high-ceilinged hall filled with rows of tables and benches. Catwalks hung about twelve feet above the floor, running all the way around the room. Originally meant for prison guards, it was now patrolled by men and women in more of those black uniforms.

  Across the back of the hall stretched a counter. Louise led Hannah to it and handed her a tray. “The food’s decent here, even if you don’t get a lot of it. They’re pretty strict about the portions. But at least they’re determined to keep us healthy. Can you find your own way back up to your room?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “Good. I’ll go finish getting it ready for you.”

  “You’re not eating?”

  Louise waved a hand. “I’m too busy. Don’t worry, they’ll bring a tray up to my office.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah called as the woman walked away. She sighed, and took her place at the end of the food line. She must have been late — most of the tables were already full, and the line was mercifully short.

  When she reached the counter, the food surprised her, despite what Louise had said. She was served a chef’s salad with fresh vegetables and a hard-boiled egg. With lunch in hand, Hannah looked for a place to sit and eat it. She kept her eyes ahead and headed toward some empty tables in the back. It felt like she was back in high school, when she’d had more pimples than friends, and trying to find a spot to eat her lunch and read a book in peace had been a daily ordeal.

  “You’re new,” someone called as she passed by their table.

  Hannah turned to see a girl about her age looking up at her. She was super thin, with mousy brown hair in a pixie cut. The prison jumpsuit she wore looked like it was about to fall off, it was so baggy on her. She gestured to the seat across from her.

  “Here. Sit.”

  Hannah obliged, grateful for some human company. Maybe this girl would be able to give her some answers. Settling in across from her, she said, “I’m Hannah.”

  “Phyllis,” said the girl. “When did you get here?”

  “Last night, I think. I wasn’t exactly conscious for the trip.”

  “Wow. I didn’t think there was anybody left out there.”

  Hannah looked around to make sure nobody was listening, then leaned forward and asked, quietly, “Do you know where they keep the children?”

  “No, why? Do you have a kid?”

  Hannah sat up and stabbed a chunk of lettuce with her fork. “My baby brother. They took him from me.”

  Phyllis nodded. “Yeah, they do that. But don’t worry, they won’t hurt him.”

  “That’s what Louise said, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe it until I see him for myself.”

  “No, I get it,” said Phyllis. “How old is he?”

  “What month is it?”

  “Um, August. I think. It’s easy to lose track in here.”

  “That would make him about five months.”

  “Damn,” said Phyllis. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a baby that young. Anyway, just keep your head down and do the work they give you, and they’ll let you see him in about a month. Hey, what’s your last name?”

  “Jordan. Why?”

  “You just missed the cutoff.”

  “What cutoff?”

  Phyllis put her fork down. “For the blood drive. They split us up alphabetically. This week is F through J. You’ll go tomorrow.”

  Hannah suddenly felt queasy. She dropped her fork on the tray and pushed it away.

  “Hey, don’t be scared,” said Phyllis. “It’s just like giving blood at the Red Cross, except they don’t give us any cookies after.”

  Hannah shook her head. “They’re really vampires?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Phyllis. “Is this a new concept for you? Where have you been hiding?”

  Hannah gave a small, apologetic shrug. “In a bomb shelter.”

  “Oh.” Phyllis blinked. “Wow. What was that like?”

  Hannah frowned down at her plate. “Safe,” she said.

  Phyllis also eyed her plate. “You really should eat that. You need to keep your strength up.” She glanced around, then leaned over and said, confidentially, “I’ve heard rumors that if we get too weak to give blood, they feed us to the zeds.”

  Hannah just stared at her in horror a moment before asking, “The zeds?”

  “Yeah. You know, like how the Brits say the letter z? For zombie?”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you call them?”

  Hannah thought about it a second before saying, “The scary dead things that ate my parents. But yours is catchier.”

  It was Phylllis’s turn to say, “Oh.” For a moment she just sat there, quietly chewing her food. “Anyway,” she said at last, “there aren’t that many of us humans left, and it forces them to ration their food, which makes them cranky. So do your best not to piss them off.”

  “What if they piss me off?”

  The look Phyllis gave her said she hoped Hannah was only joking. “Then you remember that they’re the vampires, and you’re only human, and your little brother needs you to not get killed.”

  Hannah grimaced at that, but she knew Phyllis was right. Noah was depending on her. She needed to be smart, and patient, bide her time and gather information. And most of all, keep herself alive and strong. She picked up her fork and took a bite of her salad.

  Phyllis gave her a look of sympathy. “I know this is all pretty mind-blowing stuff at first. I mean, vampires? Seriously? But once you see a bunch of dead people get up and eat your boyfriend, it gets a lot easier to believe in this stuff. Why not vampires, too, right? Hell, at this point I’ll believe in werewolves and fairies and little gray bug-eyed space men. The only thing I don’t believe in anymore is God.”

  Hannah looked around at the other diners. The cafeteria was full, a sea of orange jumpsuits and drawn faces. There must have been at least five hundred people in here, maybe more. Everyone sat huddled in small groups, heads leaned together, talking in hushed voices. People at their own table were looking at Phyllis, who hadn’t bothered to keep her voice down.

  A few tables over, a man got up and came toward them. He was an older man with graying hair and glasses. As he got closer, Hannah could see that his skin sagged as if he’d lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. He approached them and put a hand on Phyllis’s shoulder. “Phyllis,” he said, “will I see you in group tonight?”

  Phyllis rolled her eyes, but she said, “Yes, Rabbi.”

  He nodded, and patted her shoulder. “Good. Then maybe I can convince you to come to Temple on Saturday.”

  She shook her head. “Fat chance, Rabbi.”

  “We’ll see.” He inclined his head to Hannah, and said, “Bring your friend. I’m sure she might be helped.” He smiled warmly, and she found herself smiling back. He had kind eyes. He patted Phyllis once more on her shoulder, then returned to his table.

  “Rabbi Zuckerman,” Phyllis explained. “He was my parents’ rabbi. Now he thinks it’s his job to watch over me.”

  “That must be nice,” said Hannah.

  Phyllis laughed. “It’s annoying as hell.”

  Hannah didn’t say anything to that. She remembered being annoyed by her parents. Who wasn’t? But she’d give anything to have them back, to know they were nearby and watching out for her. “I’m surprised they allow you guys to worship.”

  “They don’t really care what we do, as long as we don’t cause trouble. They let all the different religions get together and have their rituals and ceremonies. Of course, they come to them, too, just to make sure we’re not organizing a revolt.”

  “Even to the Christian ones?”

  “Yeah. What difference does that make?”

  “Just, you know. Crosses and all that.”

  Phyllis dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “Turns out that part’s not true. I don’t know about any of the other s
tuff, though. It’s not like we see much daylight in here, and nobody’s had the guts to test the wooden stake theory.”

  Hannah nodded. “What’s group?”

  “Oh, that.” Phyllis sighed and shook her head. “The prison shrink convinced the powers that be to allow group therapy sessions. They have them every night, and all of the ministers take turns leading them. Tonight’s Rabbi Zuckerman’s turn. Don’t worry, we don’t have to go.”

  “What do they talk about?”

  “Oh, you know. How horrible everything is, what it’s like to watch your loved ones get devoured by the living dead, how we feel about being enslaved by a master race of vampires… the usual.” She rolled her eyes. “As if post traumatic stress isn’t the least of our worries. Besides, there’s nothing ‘post’ about it. Everything is still pretty fricking traumatic.”

  Hannah looked around at the prison walls, and at the guards—she guessed that they were vampires, too—patrolling the catwalks above them. She couldn’t argue with that. “What happened to all the inmates?” she asked.

  “You mean the ones before us?” Phyllis scanned some of the nearby tables, then pointed. “See that balding guy over there?” When Hannah looked at where she pointed, she continued, “He was the prison psychologist. According to him, the plague got in and wiped everybody out. He and a couple of guards locked themselves in his office while the prisoners all tore each other to pieces, then they shot their way out and headed for the hills. Sounds like a real action movie. Anyway, they were the only survivors.”

  Hannah suspected everyone in this room had similar stories. She didn’t ask Phyllis hers, because she didn’t want to talk about her own.

  “Don’t look now,” said Phyllis. “There goes Doctor Caligari.”

  Up on the catwalk, Doctor Konstantin strolled by. He still wore his white lab coat, and his attention was fixed on a clipboard in his hand. “He told me his name was Konstantin.”

  “Yeah. Konstantin the Kid Killer. Oh, I know, he acts all nice, but,” she leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper, “they say he does experiments on kids.”

  Hannah thought back to her earlier conversation with him, when she’d asked him to bring Noah to her. Her grip on her fork tightened. “What kind of experiments?”

  Phyllis glanced up at the doctor, and Hannah followed her gaze. He’d run into Esme on the catwalk, and the two of them appeared to be having a heated argument. Phyllis turned back to Hannah and said, “Nobody really knows for sure. He comes here a couple times a month, supposedly to run a clinic and make sure we’re all well. But he always picks some people to take back with him, usually people Esme’s ready to get rid of. And kids. He prefers orphans.” She leaned in closer. “They say he’s trying to create synthetic blood. Then they won’t need us anymore. And what do you think happens then?” She sat back, shaking her head and casting him an evil eye. “That guy’s bad news.”

  Hannah looked back up at the doctor. Was Noah’s name on that clipboard? Did Konstantin plan to take him away to become a lab rat? This morning, he had looked her in the eye and assured her that Noah was safe, and that he would stay that way. Something about him, and the sincerity in his voice and in his gaze, had reassured Hannah, in spite of everything. But weren’t vampires supposed to be able to hypnotize people, to cast a spell over their victims to make them willing? Had he done that to her?

  She realized she was staring up at him. The argument with Esme ended as she stormed away, and he turned to look out over the crowd. His gaze met hers, startling her. She quickly looked away, fixing her attention back on Phyllis. “Where does he take them?”

  “Rumor has it he has his own camp set up at a converted Army base. But nobody really knows anything. It’s not like the people he takes are ever heard from again.” She reached across the table and touched Hannah’s hand. “Just try to stay off his list, okay?”

  Hannah nodded, but she chanced another glance up at the doctor. He was walking away, his attention back on his clipboard. Hannah wondered again what it held. Was that his list of people to take? All she knew for certain was that if Noah was on it, then she had to make sure she was on it, too.

  FIVE

  As the humans fed below, the collective scent of humanity assaulted Esme’s nostrils and made her mouth water. It reminded her of a time long past, of a girl barely out of childhood, denied the pleasure of sweets because the clients wanted her for her slender figure. That girl would go into the chocolatier to simply stand and inhale. It had been exquisite torture then. It was more so now, with her heightened senses and the inescapable hunger.

  She normally avoided the human gathering places for this reason; but her darling Alexandr had requested a meeting, and he was loathe to be alone with her in her office. So she humored him in this as with most other things. She sensed him coming even before his steps vibrated on the catwalk, as she knew he could sense her. They were tied together, eternally, whether he liked it or not.

  Esme smiled as he approached, carrying his clipboard and wearing his white coat, playing dress up in a doctor’s clothes, always denying what he truly was. His hair was mussed, no doubt from raking his hands through it as he pondered the solution to some scientific problem. The power emanating from him, and the look of determination on his face, were in stark contrast to the first time she’d seen him, lying in a gutter in Prague, drinking his life away. Then, he had welcomed her embrace as she offered him an escape from his pain, and vengeance. Now he shunned it, always keeping her at arm’s length.

  “You’ve kept the infant in quarantine, as I asked?” he said as he approached.

  “But of course.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’ll be leaving tonight with the children. And the new girl.”

  Esme laughed. “My dear Doctor, you’re so predictable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please. I saw how you looked at her in the infirmary. The hunger in your eyes had nothing to do with blood.” She looked down and spotted the girl in question, sitting at a table with another young woman, casting furtive glances up at them. “She is a pretty little thing, isn’t she? With that long, dark hair and those soulful eyes… it’s no wonder she reminds you of Irina.”

  She could sense the way his body tensed at the mention of his wife. “That has nothing to do with it. I simply need her to care for the infant.”

  “You already have caretakers for the children.”

  “Infants require full-time care. You would know that if you’d ever been a mother.”

  Esme ignored the verbal slap, and smiled. “Oh, but I am a mother, my dear, sweet boy.” She reached up to caress his cheek, but he pulled away. “Don’t think that you weren’t every bit the infant in the beginning, Alek. You certainly depended on me willingly enough.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on his clipboard. “I didn’t come here to discuss us.”

  “No,” she said wistfully. “You never do.”

  “The girl has medical training,” he continued, determined to keep their meeting all business. “I could use her in my lab.”

  “She’s scheduled for collection tomorrow. You would take her tonight, denying us the extra rations?”

  Alek sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow, then. I can wait.”

  Esme looked back down at the girl. Many of the cattle in her herd were docile enough, recognizing the need for the care and protection that Esme provided. But there were always a few that would happily bite the hand that fed them. She could tell that the girl was the latter. She wasn’t about to let her go before enjoying the pleasure of breaking her. Nor was she about to allow her to become Alek’s special pet.

  “You might as well go tonight,” she said. “The girl stays.”

  “Esme—”

  “We need her blood. We’re already subsisting on only a pint a day, while the rest gets shipped to the Council. Would you have us starve?”

  He rolled his eyes. “One more human won’t make much of a difference there, either way.”

  “
And she won’t make that much of a difference at your camp, either. Do what you want with the babe. The girl stays.” She turned on her heel and walked away, ending the discussion. She could still sense Alek fuming behind her as she exited the cafeteria and headed back to the privacy of her office.

  Back in the safety of the Warden’s office, Esme took off her shoes and hurled them both across the room. They crashed into a vase on the bookshelf along the far wall, shattering it with the satisfying crack and tinkle of broken glass. In her stocking feet, she trudged over to the leather sofa that sat opposite her desk, and sank down onto it. She was overdue for sleep, she was hungry, and she was in no mood for Alek’s nonsense.

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember a time before his desire for her had gone cold. Those first weeks after she had bestowed her gift on him had been heavenly. He had been a reluctant student as she tried to teach him to hunt, but he’d been eager enough after the lessons were over, nursing from her breast like a baby and making love to her wherever they pleased.

  But he had never wanted her more than that first night. Then, she had been his savior, his Angel of Mercy.

  She saw it as if she was there. She could recall every kill from the last century in perfect detail, every client her mother had sent to her before she had received the gift, right down to their foul breath and the stench of their body odor. How vividly she could still remember the first man to take her, the high price he’d paid for a virgin not yet touched by womanhood. She could still feel the weight of him on top of her, all three hundred pounds of him, how claustrophobic and smothered she’d felt as he lay on top of her, sweating and wheezing. Thankfully, his manhood hadn’t matched the proportions of his girth, and the damage he’d done was minimal. Nevertheless, years later Esme had taken special pleasure in hunting him down and tearing through all three of his chins, feeling his hot blood pour down her throat.

  With her eyes closed, she saw Alexandr lying in that alley as though it was happening for the first time. Passed out drunk in the gutter, lying in his own vomit and still clutching the bottle that had put him there, he would have likely frozen to death by morning if she had passed him by. She only stopped because he seemed like an easy meal.