by M. Lorrox
He tightens his grip on the torch he holds behind his back as the zombie nears him. Twenty yards; the same distance he is from the back of the group of kids. Ten yards... Five yards.
Jambavan whirls the torch in front of him and tries to spook the zombie into stopping. It doesn’t work. Instead, it just allows the zombie to see him. It growls and grabs at him.
The field trip group turns when they hear the zombie, and some kids scream. The zombies farther down the tunnel quicken their pace.
“Get the door open!” Jambavan deflects the zombie to the side and into the wall of pipes. It’s so narrow in the tunnel that the zombie isn’t knocked over; it’s held up, and it continues to attack. It reaches for Jambavan.
He hits it in the face with the torch. Some diesel fuel soaks out of the torch’s fabric and onto the zombie’s skin, and it howls and flails its arms as the fuel burns. Jambavan pulls a knife from his shoulder holster—a small push dagger whose blade is perpendicular to the handle. He holds the handle in his fist, and the blade extends out between his middle and ring fingers. With a hooked punch, he purposely misses making connection with his fist, but he slices through the zombie’s neck with the push dagger.
It’s as good as dead, and Jambavan shoves it backward into the next zombie. It knocks that zombie back, but it’s only delayed for a second.
Lance slams the crowbar into the crack between the steel door and the frame one last time, and he succeeds in bending the frame open enough to bypass the deadbolt. He pulls the door open, into the tunnel, and Korina shoves him aside and blasts through the door, ready to fight.
She finds an empty basement. Pipes and wires travel along the vaulted brick ceiling, and all along the walls of the basement are shelves and boxes... There aren’t any zombies or people. She turns back to the tunnel. “C’mon!”
Chaperones and children pour out of the tunnel as the sounds of Jambavan killing the second zombie reach them. More growling follows, and it hastens the group’s exit.
When Katlyn steps out of the tunnel, she confirms that only Jambavan remains behind. Korina pokes her head back in and checks the door’s frame. We’re not going to be able to relock this. She turns and finds any adult’s eyes she can. “Stay close. Get anything big and heavy to block the doorway.”
Two chaperones on each side stray from the group and start moving boxes off shelves.
Jambavan dispatches zombie three, and is now ducking beneath punches from zombie four. Why is it punching at me? He ducks under a jab and punches it back—with the push dagger. The blade nicks a rib and travels alongside. It pierces the zombie’s lung.
The zombie keeps attacking.
His torch has long since lost all shreds of fabric and has gone out, so now Jambavan wields a commercial-quality twenty-four-inch-long stainless-steel spoon. He spins and rams the tip of the spoon into the zombie’s stomach, and he’s strong enough to penetrate the zombie’s beer-gut. It bends over and groans, and Jambavan takes the opportunity to finish it with a punch to the temple.
His eyes are burning and his aim is off, but enough of the blade crushes through the zygomatic and sphenoid bones of the zombie’s skull to reach its brain. It drops.
The basement of the Smithsonian Institution Building has a stairwell leading up on one side and a lot of boxes stacked in the other. Korina heads to the end without the stairs, looking for anything heavy to block the door to the tunnel with. Besides one wooden cabinet, she only finds light shelving units and small tables. She yells to the pair of chaperones that are also looking for barricade-making materials on that side of the group, “You two, go grab that cabinet!”
“Okay!”
Lance sets down a cardboard box as Korina draws closer. “None of this stuff is very heavy. Maybe shelves can be jammed inside the doorway?”
Korina sighs. We need a plan B. She glances down the tunnel at Jambavan, who is fighting another zombie, then she shouts, “How many more?”
“Dunno! Last one for a minute!” He stabs the spoon up under the zombie’s chin. It pierces through the skin, through the soft palate at the top of the mouth, then into its brain. The zombie goes limp and drops. Jambavan looks down the hall then hollers over his shoulder, “At least three more, but they’re thirty seconds out!” He glances at the spooned zombie and considers retrieving his weapon.
Katlyn runs to Korina’s side and yells into the tunnel. “Throw the Molotov!” Then she holds out another Molotov cocktail to Korina and a strike-anywhere match to light it. “Jambavan has one. Think two will be enough flame?”
She shrugs as she takes the bottle. “It’ll slow them down. Just light it.”
Katlyn strikes the match against the basement’s white, brick walls, then lights the wick.
As Korina makes her way to Jambavan, he backtracks and finds the Molotov cocktail he hid behind a support bracket. He grabs it and the lighter, ignites the wick, and throws it down the tunnel. It smashes into flame three yards before the next zombie.
It stops and snarls.
Korina is next to him now, and she throws the other Molotov, adding to the flame barrier.
Another zombie reaches the stalled one and knocks it into the fire. It falls into the gelled fuel, screeching as its clothes are engulfed in flames, then it stands back up. It turns around to the one that knocked into it and starts to fight it.
Korina pulls on Jambavan’s arm. “C’mon.”
Outside the tunnel and in the basement, the wooden cabinet is ready to be set in the doorway, and a metal shelving unit—although lightweight—is ready to be placed as a brace behind the cabinet. When Korina and Jambavan leave the tunnel, the others block the doorway, brace it, then stack boxes and a pair of folding tables on top.
Korina motions to the stairwell. “Let’s get everyone upstairs. Jambavan, walk with me. Skip, lead the way.
Jennifer, with Tommy holding one of her hands, stands beside Skip. Without a word, she reaches out and grabs Minnie’s hand, then pulls the girl over to her.
Skip doubletakes from Jennifer to Korina and back. “Me?”
Sadie sits and chats with High Councilors James Cartwright and Bruce Tittensor in their recovery room. Late afternoon light from the window helps soften the fluorescent lights puking green onto them from above, but the flickering of one bulb calls their attention to it like a mosquito buzzing their ears—which, incidentally, are filled with the annoying hum of the lights’ transformers.
Bruce wipes his face with both hands, then wipes his hands up and over his bald head. “With Wollstone and Zaman missing—apparently kidnapped—that leaves no prime minister and six on the High Council, with only five present.”
Sadie looks back at her list. “Who’s missing? Oh... Robert Flaxman.”
James nods. “Robert is certainly going to try and push for emergency powers.”
Sadie sighs. “I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
James and Bruce both nod.
Sadie’s frown deepens. “Wait, what emergency powers?”
Bruce lays his hands on his knees. “With the prime minister disposed and under threat, the High Council can act without his authority until the prime minister is returned to duty or replaced by election.”
Sadie nods. “Of course, but that doesn’t leave any room for Flaxman to weasel within, does it?”
James raises a finger on his healing hand, the wound he gave himself to bleed into Mary’s mouth wrapped in gauze. “You may not be aware, but in the case when the High Council is compromised, an elder may step into an interim high councilor role—and thereby complete the High Council. This elder must be approved either by the prime minister or by a majority vote within the remaining high councilors, and they will hold the position until a new election is held, or until the prime minister replaces them.”
Sadie sighs. “It’s still not clear to me how Flaxman has an opportunity here.”
Bruce waves James back. “Well, he’s…jumping ahead. That’s how an interim high councilor is promoted. Now he
re’s how Robert fits in: there is also a method for ascension to become the interim prime minister. It can only happen when both the High Council and the prime minister are compromised, like both are, right now. In this situation—which I do not believe has ever happened before—the high councilor with the highest seniority is within their rights to promote themselves to be the interim prime minister. Then, they can make assignments to fill the open positions on the High Council.”
Sadie nods. “And that would have been Mary, as the chair of the Foreign Affairs Cabinet, but without her, it falls to the chair of the Internal Affairs Cabinet.”
James clears his throat. “Which is Robert. Fifty years ago, it would have gone to Vincent. He was and is the chair of the War and Defense Cabinet, and that post was ranked higher in succession, but I—for one—argued that Internal Affairs should supersede War and Defense.”
Sadie shakes her head. “Well... Shit… I’m not excited to see Flaxman step up as the interim prime minister.”
Bruce shrugs. “Robert has changed over the last few decades, and I have to agree: he should not increase his power. It is a good thing that he is not here to do it.”
Sadie nods. Now I see where James was going… Should I suggest it? Would they prefer someone else? Oh, the hell with it. She stands. “I’d like the remaining members of the High Council to consider me as an interim high councilor, to replace Mary and thereby fill the High Council.”
James smiles. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to push you into the job.”
Bruce laughs. “So was I!”
Sadie snorts. “I was nervous that you both would perceive this action as personally ambitious, but I am glad that it appears you do not.”
Bruce pulls a sheet off his legs and sits up. “Well, I’d say we have some canvassing to do. You have two votes out of a total of six. You need at least four.”
James nods and leans up.
“No.” Sadie walks to Bruce and sets her hand on his shoulder. “You both are going to stay right where you are and recover. I’ll canvas myself.”
James settles back into his lifted bed. “Bravo, Sadie. Bravo.”
Bruce clears his throat. “Well, you can likely count against receiving Robert’s vote, so that means you need two of the remining three councilors: Vincent, Eliza, and Philip.”
Sadie nods. “I believe I shall visit them in that order. While I’m away, please each prepare a document confirming your votes.” She glances at the two men and decides she can sneak in a joke. “I’m sure the hospital will supply the required needles.” She smiles and walks out the door as they chuckle.
As Sadie walks through the hall, she notices more activity in it. She visits High Councilor Vincent de Villablino in his and Elder Gerard Dziedzic’s room. Gerard isn’t present, and Sadie makes her intentions clear. “I have no ambition in this matter other than to serve the High Council when it is in need. Upon the next general election, I will only run if the House of Elders wishes it of me.”
Vincent, lying back in his bed with his leg raised, waves her down. “Sadie my dear, I can think of none better for this. Thank you for stepping forward.”
She smiles. “I’ll bring you some paper—”
He waves her down again, smiling. “I will take care of that. There’s a very pleasant nurse taking care of me who can get me the required materials. Go convince whoever still needs convincing.” He pushes a button on a wired remote control, and a small red light on it turns on.
High Councilor Eliza Leroux shares a room with Elder Katherine Reichenberg, and when Sadie explains the situation, Eliza is agitated. “This is the first I’ve heard of Wollstone’s and Zaman’s disappearance, and you expect me to vote you into a position of power? I know your family has a long tradition in the House of Elders, but this reeks of opportunism.”
Katherine bites her tongue. That was harsh.
Sadie gives Eliza a single, sideways nod, showing agreement…to a point. “Thank you for your candor. I don’t know you well, and instead of trying to convince you of my intentions, I’ll just say this: if an elder is not voted in to fill Mary’s vacancy by the time Councilor Flaxman arrives, he is in the position to seize the role of interim prime minister, if he desires. I believe that would be an unfortunate turn of events. And so, I’m nominating myself to fill Ms. Wollstone’s vacancy. I have received three out of three votes from the high councilors I’ve visited, and I require at least one more. Please consider casting your vote in my favor, where you will thereby show support of the others who have already done so.” She bows, turns, and leaves.
Katherine smiles. Now that’s a classy, no-nonsense bitch!
Sadie dodges people hurrying through the hall, and now she can hear a distant clamor of noise coming from elsewhere in the hospital. Things must be getting worse out there...
When she is invited into the last room on her list to visit, she takes a deep breath before entering. High Councilor Philip Simonsen shares the room with Elder Raúl Lucas, and although the Lucas family and the Costanzas have been allies for the last one hundred years, Philip is on Charlie’s shit-list. He’s there for good reason; Charlie almost died in the wargames Philip played during the American Civil War.
Sadie wears a smile as she enters the room. “I’m glad to see that you both are recovering.”
Raúl sits up in his bed. “Sadie! My dear, thank you again for helping to rescue us from the Pentagon—without you, the whole High Council may have been lost.”
She blushes. “Captain Sarkis and her squire, and Flying Eagle and his squire, are certainly more deserving of your thanks than I am.” I’m glad to see you too, you old flirt. “Philip, Raúl, I have some updates.”
Philip leans up. “Is it that your husband plans to inject cyanide into my IV?” He sighs. “Sorry, I’m sure he’d prefer to just cut my head off in person…” He shakes his head and waves the only arm he can move. He grumbles. “Please just ignore me. Go on.”
Sadie clears her throat. “High Councilor Wollstone and Prime Minister Zaman have gone missing, and it appears that they have been kidnapped. This leaves the Vampire Order in a state of disarray, and without an interim high councilor to fill Mary’s, mmm, Ms. Wollstone’s place, High Councilor Flaxman will be able to assume position as the interim prime minister. I have nominated myself to fill Ms. Wollstone’s place and to serve—”
Philip is waving his hand again, back and forth in front of his face. “Stop, stop, stop. Robert is a friend of mine, and it’s well known that you and he are at odds. He is a very respected high councilor, and he has served in that capacity for more than a lifetime. Now, you come in here and tell me that Ms. Wollstone and Prime Minister Zaman have been kidnapped, and that Robert is positioned to benefit from their kidnapping?”
“I certainly didn’t intend to insinuate that, just—”
“I find myself wondering why you are here… This could be a wonderful opportunity for your advancement. A true battlefield promotion, a battlefield upon which your name carries glory, thanks to your assistance in our rescue.”
Sadie scowls. “Now hold on, I—”
“AND, Elder Costanza, I find that coincidence…to be quite unfortunate. Yes, I believe your motivations are in the best interest of the Order during this testing time. I will vote for you to temporarily fill Ms. Wollstone’s seat. The High Council will work as intended in the meantime, without a prime minister, to govern and protect vampires everywhere.”
Sadie squints. “Just to be clear, you said you’ll vote for me?”
Philip smirks and nods. “Yes, I did. If you can bring me some paper and a needle I can make it official.” His face grows long and grim, and he motions to his right arm. “I still have no feeling or ability to move my dominant arm, so my script will be much messier than I’d like.”
Sadie walks over to him. “Philip, thank you.”
He shakes his head. “You are fulfilling a duty, now hurry and get me paper.”
She nods and glances at Raúl. “Thin
k you can scrounge up a needle?”
Raúl chuckles. “In this place? Yeah.”
Skip makes his way to the head of the group to lead them up the stairs. As he passes Lance, the large vampire hands him the crowbar. “Here.”
Skip takes it. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be right behind ya, buddy, just watch your swing.”
He nods.
Frank reaches forward and hands Lance the mop-handle spear. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
Frank swallows. “I’ll, uh, be down here with the kids.”
When Skip reaches the base of the stairs, he pauses and listens. He doesn’t hear any concerning noises. He looks at Lance, who shakes his head with a small shrug.
Skip creeps up the stairs—gripping the crowbar by its straighter end—holding the curved part up like a Native American war hammer. He goes farther up the stairs until he sees that it empties into another room that’s still mostly below ground. Above his head, windows with curved tops, protected by metal bars on the outside, stream light into the room.
Skip bends down and motions the group to follow him. He notices Jambavan helping Korina walk, and he purses his lips. She’s definitely injured internally. She needs to get to a hospital.
Katlyn hopes to catch Skip’s eye, but he glances elsewhere.
He finds Jennifer, then Minnie. “Still doing well, Minnie? We’re in that castle now, if you believe it.”
She nods. “That’s what Ms. Jennifer said. Can we go up into a tower? The best views are from the towers.”
Skip laughs and shrugs. “We’ll see.”
As the others climb the stairs, Skip turns to Lance and motions to a door at the opposite end of the room. They creep toward it. Skip pauses and listens for sounds coming from the other side but hears nothing. He reaches for the doorknob, but Lance stops him.
