Suburban Vampire: A Tale of the Human Condition—With Vampires

by Franklin Posner

  “Thank you, Mrs. Campbell.”

  “Well, you’re welcome, Samuel. Please call me Irene.”

  “Very well, Irene, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Such a distinguished gentleman. Isn’t he distinguished, Scotty?”

  “Uh, yeah, he is,” Scott said.

  “Well, you guys have a great afternoon. I’m off to meet the ladies for lunch!” Irene then left the house, entered her Prius, and drove away, leaving the three vampires alone.

  “A very pleasant woman,” Father said.

  “Yeah, she can be. What do you want?”

  “The purpose of this visit is multifaceted. First, it is expected that I, as Father of the House, come and examine the living arrangements of each applicant to make sure the place is sufficiently secure and not too, shall we say, disreputable.”

  Scott led the two vampires into the living room. He invited Father to sit in the comfortable chair, the padded one with the extending footrest. Scott took a seat across the room in another chair. Elizabeth declined to sit.

  “Okay, so, how acceptable is my house?”

  “Sufficiently,” Father responded. “It’s actually quite comfortable here. Of course, it’s unusual for a vampire to reside with his mother.”

  “It’s unusual for anyone my age to reside with his mother.”

  “You can say that again,” Elizabeth said.

  “Ah, I suppose so,” Father continued. “And such arrangements tend not to end well.”

  “I’m not going to kill my mother. That’s not even on the table.”

  “Understood. Still, living among mortals is not an optimal arrangement. Be that as it may, it is the arrangement you currently have, and I find it is acceptable. For now.”

  “Okay, great. What else is there?”

  “Well, second, I would like to apologize for any misgivings you might have about my initial reaction to you.”

  “Misgivings? You wanted to kill me, Father.”

  “That’s not completely accurate. I did not wish to kill you; I was operating under established guidelines. There are protocols in place that must be observed in order to control the vampire population. If we fail in this, then organizations like Ministry will take care of it, and they are less forgiving than Enforcement. And if Ministry fails, then human governments will surely step in. We no longer operate in an era where peasants with pitchforks and knights with swords are our greatest threat. We operate in a world with satellite surveillance and push-button warfare. When the first atomic bomb was detonated in Hiroshima, the age of the vampire was over. We used to kill indiscriminately, but only one at a time. Modern governments can kill millions indiscriminately, all at one time. We cannot compete with that, nor do we wish to.”

  “So it was nothing personal?”

  “Precisely. Nothing personal.”

  “Well, that’s comforting. Anything else?”

  “Why, yes.” Father reached into his suit jacket and took out a glossy brochure that he handed to Scott. “Part of the raison d’être for the House is caring for the welfare of the local vampire population. This, naturally, includes feeding options, one of the more important functions of the House. A malnourished vampire is a dangerous thing, and so we have come up with several options to discourage this. There are several meal packages that we provide, some at limited or no cost to the individual vampire.”

  Scott opened the professional-looking brochure. He could have been looking at vacation options or a phone-service provider’s sales literature; instead, this was filled with tasteful photos of bagged blood and descriptions of various options.

  “Option number one is the entry-level option. It’s a regimen based entirely on blood from pigs, an acceptable alternative to human blood, as porcine and human physiologies are similar in many respects. The blood product is the result of the butchering and rendering processes, and we take steps to ensure that the farms are compliant with accepted humane slaughtering practices.”

  Scott had no idea vampires cared about humane animal husbandry. That was touching. “I’d think ape blood would be closer, or am I off about that?”

  “No, you are correct. Simian blood is closer; however, it’s more difficult to procure. And many primates are endangered. Pig’s blood is much easier and much less expensive to obtain. Anyway, moving along to option two, this is one of our more popular items. It is a program consisting of human blood, procured from medical sources, that has been either rejected for use in transfusion or is otherwise considered waste. As I mentioned, it is highly popular and not much more expensive than pig’s blood. I would recommend it to the newer member, such as yourself.”

  “Yeah, that’s…neat. I’ve had rejected blood, and actually, it ain’t bad.”

  “Good. The next menu item is nonrejected, medical-grade blood. It’s considerably more expensive than the other two options.”

  “I’d hate to be drinking blood that could be used to save somebody’s life.”

  “I understand your hesitance. Anyway, this plan has its own premium option, which is the ability to choose your preferred blood type. I, personally, prefer AB negative.”

  “Is there a difference in taste?”

  “Only to the most discriminating palates. Continuing, our final and most premium plan is called the Supreme: it consists of the premium option level from the third plan, combined with a regimen of controlled live feeding.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Controlled live feeding?”

  “Oh yes. The House operates a nightclub in Portland that caters to the bondage/sadomasochist fetish community. Among the forbidden pleasures offered there is bloodletting. Those who engage in this behavior at our club are completely willing to allow us to use them to feed upon. Some among this clientele wish themselves to become vampires; others are content with the sexual stimulation they receive.”

  “Okay, that was more than I needed to know.”

  Father then handed Scott a form. “Please select one of the options, and fill in your address and other relevant information. Also, please enter your payment choice. You can place your credit card number in that spot, although we currently do not accept American Express. Of course, you can ignore the parts pertaining to sales tax, as there is no sales tax in this state. Then sign and initial here and here.” Father pointed to a couple empty lines near the bottom of the form. “Your first shipment will be sent to you first-class priority mail, as we use the US Postal Service for shipping.”

  Scott filled out the form as directed. The whole thing struck him as bizarre. He never thought or expected that monsters could be so consumed by rules, forms, and feeding plans. It was an entirely surreal experience for him, and he’d had more than enough surreal experiences over the last couple weeks. When he was finished, he handed the form over to Father, who folded the form and placed it back in his jacket’s inner pocket. Father then rose from the chair.

  “Well, with that accomplished, Elizabeth and I must be going, as we have other clients to meet with. Again, Scott, I do apologize for our earlier interactions, for getting us off on the wrong foot, so to speak, and hope that we may be able to put that behind us and forge ahead.” Father offered his hand, which Scott shook. Not too warmly but as pleasantly as he could under the circumstances.

  “So…Samuel?” Scott asked. “Is that your real name? Can I call you Samuel, too?”

  Father’s almost-smile disappeared. “No, you may not,” he replied. He then headed down the street toward Elizabeth’s BMW.

  “He did mean what he said, Scott,” Elizabeth said. “Father is contrite. He merely did what he had to do.”

  “Yeah. Sure. It’s just that almost getting killed kinda rubbed me the wrong way.”

  “I get it. We’ll keep in contact. And if you ever hear anything from Jack—”

  “I won’t.”

  “You guys ready to rock?” Jack asked one of his acolytes, one of the vampires who had been spying on Scott earlier. The grove of trees to the north of the House obscure
d the group of vampires, who had hunkered down, hoping to avoid detection by anyone affiliated with the House. The overcast, rain-heavy sky blocked the sunlight from illuminating the area. They could proceed in the relative darkness.

  “Yeah, I think we’re all online,” the vampire Sheila answered. “Some of the guys are still a bit worried about this. I mean, a direct assault on the House? The Improvers ain’t gonna like that.”

  “Let me worry about the Improvers. You worry about your tasks. You remember what they were?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Locate the object, and remove it from the property. That right?”

  “That works. Okay, get on your phone, call Bill, and tell him to start moving. And keep low!”

  Jack stood and then hiked out of the grove toward the House. So far, so good. Nobody saw him. He looked about, checking the windows as he approached. He knew that if Elizabeth were actually there, he’d probably have been dusted by that point. Jack concluded that she must not be around. It was probably better that way. No, it was definitely better that way.

  He did look for Elizabeth’s car—no, it was not there. He then moved to the large wooden doors in the portico of the House, where he knocked on the door. The doors creaked open. Jack motioned as subtly as possible to the multiple vampires who had concealed themselves on either side of the large property. They all moved toward the House with military precision and stealth.

  “You ain’t supposed to be here,” the Samoan said. “You can make an appointment. Come back then.”

  He tried to shut the door, but Jack grabbed it, preventing the Samoan from closing it completely.

  “Now, wait a minute,” Jack said. “You know, I always called you Samoan. That’s where you’re from, right? I mean, that’s not your name, right? I don’t know if I’d like to be known by my place of origin. The Texan, I guess it would be. No, actually, that’s kind of badass. The Texan vampire. Catchy. I like it. But still, I suppose you’ve got a real name. It’s a shame no one here knows it.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Aw, nothing. It’s just I’m wondering what name they’re gonna be putting on your tombstone.”

  Jack’s distraction worked. Suddenly, the doorway was filled with vampires. They flooded the lobby of the House and carried the large doorman in with them, attacking him, biting him, ripping his flesh, devouring his blood, tearing his entrails from his belly. His screams echoed throughout the lobby.

  Jack did not stand on ceremony. He moved immediately to the boardroom and threw open the doors, followed by more of his sirelings. Apparently, there was a meeting in progress, as a couple of the House dignitaries who had attended Scott’s trial were seated at the table, caught completely unawares by Jack’s sudden appearance.

  “Oh, sorry, fellas, am I interrupting something important?” Jack asked.

  Chang was Father’s second, a highly respected member of the local vampire community. He survived the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, smuggled out by a foreigner who turned out to be a vampire. The foreigner gave Chang the opportunity to avenge his family, turning him and then unleashing him on the Kempeitai officer who directed the slaughter of his village. Chang later moved to Portland, where he became acquaintances with Father. He was always Father’s choice to take over the Portland branch of the House, a fact Jack despised. Chang was seated at the head of the table, directing the meeting that had been so rudely interrupted. He stood, finding himself surrounded by Jack’s acolytes.

  “This is an outrage!” Chang cried. “A heresy!”

  “Yeah, I’m a naughty boy. Guess I need to be punished. Too bad that ain’t gonna happen, now, is it?” Jack said.

  He signaled to his acolytes, who took to the walls of the room, where they grabbed swords and axes. He signaled to them again to commence the slaughter. Those axes and swords found the necks of the vampires seated at the table, cleaving heads from bodies. Because the attack was so swift and unexpected, most of the vampires seated at the table did not stand a chance; even those that did react were quickly overcome. Gore turned to ash, bone fragments, and bits of cloth. Jack ordered his sirelings, none of whom were injured in the massacre, to take Chang alive; Chang was the only one left, and he was completely surrounded by bare fangs and steel.

  “You blasphemer!” he said as he felt the edges of many blades against his throat, his arms bound by Jack’s sirelings. “How dare you!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blasphemy, heretic, how dare I, yada yada. Give it up already! Jesus. You guys are all alike. You, Father…speaking of dear old Dad, where is he?”

  “I’ll never tell you!”

  “That’s okay; it’s not important. What I do want you to tell me is where you keep the protective stones. You know, the wards. I only need one. You can tell your old buddy Jack, now, can’t you?”

  “Go to hell!”

  “Eventually,” Jack said as he took a wooden stake from within his jacket. “But right now, you are going to tell me where the protective obelisks are. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  Jack plunged the stake into Chang’s abdomen. Chang roared in pain.

  “Oh, now that sounds like it hurt. Did it hurt?” Jack asked. He twisted the stake in the wound, causing Chang more pain as blood flowed from the jagged hole. Chang cried out, the pain growing worse with every twist of the wooden dagger.

  “Go to hell!”

  “Like I said, in my own good time. You know, this is getting old, Chang. This is gonna cost you. I’m thinking it’s gonna cost an arm and a leg.” Jack then nodded to one of his vampire henchmen, who grabbed Chang’s left arm, pulled it taut, and then struck it with an axe. Whether or not he intended it, the cut was not complete, causing the offending vampire to strike two more times, rending flesh and bone, eventually completely severing the upper arm. The blood boiled forth from the massive wound as a continuous scream came from Chang’s mouth. Jack took the unattached limb and tossed it to another of his sirelings, who took it from the room.

  “We wouldn’t want you to reattach that, now, would we? Kinda would defeat the purpose. Now. Oh yeah, I said arm and leg, didn’t I?”

  Another vampire struck Chang’s left leg with a sword and again did not cut completely through. He warned the other vampires to watch out and then completely severed the lower leg. Unable to stand, Chang fell to the floor, which was now drenched with his blood. A vampire slipped in the gore as he retrieved the leg and handed it to Jack.

  “Watch yourselves! It gets kinda slippery. Which is kinda fun when you’re with a woman, or guy, or whatever you prefer. But we’re here on business.” Jack tossed the leg to another of his acolytes, who spirited it away. “Now. Just tell me where you keep the protective stones. I only need one.”

  Chang had had enough. The pain, the blood loss, the loss of his limbs, and the continuing torture were enough to break him. “Up…stairs…second…floor…linen closet.”

  “Oh. The linen closet. You’ve been very helpful. So, I’ll let you live, for now. Just without your arm and leg. Oh, don’t cry about it! Maybe they’ll give you a keen nickname, like Stumpy! What, you ain’t laughing? I thought it was funny.”

  With that, Jack bounded upstairs to the linen closet. It was just that, an ordinary linen closet. The door was locked, but the lock was only meant for deterrence, not true security. Jack grabbed the door handle and yanked. The wood of the doorframe splintered.

  Inside the linen closet were, as would be expected, linens. That Chinese bastard better not have lied to me, Jack told himself. He threw the towels and blankets into the hall and then punched through the back wall of the closet. He pulled wood panels and drywall aside, tossing the debris into the hall as well. And there they were. Protective obelisks. Ward stones. Stones of unknown origins, either holy or unholy, that carried the power to ward off whatever supernatural assault they were assigned. The glossy black stones, shaped like eggs, stood about three feet high and were surrounded by carvings in various languages—Egyptian hieroglyphs, Akkadian, Sumerian, Hebrew, Greek, an
d more. Shiny brass keys were stuck into the top of the stones.

  Jack directed a henchman to remove one of the obelisks. Ordinarily a heavy job, the skinny little vampire easily lifted the one-hundred-pound-plus weight and carried it down the stairs.

  “Hey!” Jack said to another of his sirelings. “Don’t forget the owner’s manual! Can’t program these things without it!”

  Jack’s sirelings carried the obelisk out of the House. Jack stopped in the boardroom and looked down at Chang, who was lying in the pool of his own blood.

  “Boy, you look like you could use some help. Of course, not from me. You will be so kind as to tell Father I was here, won’t you?”

  “You…are…going…to die.”

  “Ain’t we all, brother, ain’t we all?”

  “What now, Father?” one of Jack’s acolytes asked as they walked out of the House and toward the tree line.

  “Now we get ready for phase two of my little plan.”

  A few hours later, Elizabeth and Father arrived at the House. As they drove up the long horseshoe driveway, Father asked her pull the car over. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel it, too. Stay here.”

  Elizabeth got out of the car and drew her warhead-loaded Kimber. She cautiously approached the House. As she came to the portico, she raised the pistol before her in a Weaver-style two-hand hold. The door was ajar. And she could smell blood. She kicked the door open and stepped over the threshold.

  There, in the lobby, she saw the gory remains of the Samoan. His head had almost been torn from his body. His intestines had been pulled from his abdomen, and his blood anointed the walls and granite floor.

  “Oh shit,” she hissed as she stepped over the gore and continued down the hallway to the boardroom, the .45 held before her. She came to the boardroom and kicked those doors open as well.

  “Oh my God,” she said, seeing the wounded vampire lying in the pool of his own blood. “Chang!”