United Service

by Regina Morris

  Kate stood up and approached Sterling, stopping only inches away from where he stood and making eye contact. “You don’t like the way I look?”

  One of her eyebrows rose as she faced off with him. Her piercing lifted with the brow and reminded him that she only looked human. She was a purebred, eyebrow piercing notwithstanding, and she could handle herself. “You look fine. Sit back down,” he said as he looked away from her. Overall, he loved the shirt. Lace adorned the neckline and the bodice which accentuated her breasts. The form–fitting top showed off her gorgeous figure. Her perky nipples poked through the fabric, and he wanted to touch them. He figured every man in the vicinity had the same idea.

  She turned to sit and Sterling resumed looking at her. He had been so focused on her outfit that he had not noticed the muscular arms the new top showed off. She had nicely developed arms, but they were bruised. Actually, they had several bruises. He was sure he could lay claim to the ones near her wrists and her upper arm, and he felt his gut twist at that self–acknowledgement. His eyes squinted and his head tilted to the side as he studied the many bruises. “Kate …”

  Kate’s hands moved quickly to cover up the biggest of the bruises. “You’re right, Sterling. I should cover up more. Unfortunately, I only brought camis with me. The only long sleeved shirt I brought is now dirty.”

  He caught the change of subject. Her bruises were none of his business. “Here. Wear one of my shirts.” He reached in and pulled out a light blue, button down from his bag. “This shirt will bring out the blue of your eyes.”

  “Thank you.” She struggled to put on the shirt, so Sterling helped her. She sat down next to her two travel companions without smiling or making eye contact. It was an awkward few moments, and then Sterling watched as Kate brought one of the long sleeves up to her nose and smelled it. “It smells like you. Like sandalwood and soap.” She gave Sterling a half smile.

  He liked the way she looked wearing his shirt. It dwarfed her tiny frame, but she appeared comfortable in it. He was right; it did bring out the color in her eyes.

  Since he didn’t want to drop the subject, Sterling asked in his most sympathetic voice, “Kate, you have many problems with your hands. What’s with the gloves you wear?” He had noticed her gloves the second he first met her. It was too warm to wear them, and even though vamps have no body heat, they do try to fit into human crowds without bringing attention to themselves.

  She seemed nervous to Sterling, but she answered, “They’re a fashion statement. All the women are wearing gloves these days.”

  If the airport was a good cross section of the human population, then he didn’t believe her. The only two people wearing gloves were him and Kate. “That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Tell me why you wear gloves,” she counter demanded.

  “No.”

  “Okay you two, settle down.” Ben said.

  Kate shook her head. “You know, you could be picking up women too, like Ben, if you didn’t wear your girly gloves.” Sterling looked down at his plain white gloves. They didn’t seem girly to him at all. “Honestly Sterling, they look like the pair I wear.”

  “I do fine,” Sterling growled. He noticed Ben roll his eyes. “I’m going for more coffee. Ben? Kate? You want more?”

  “I’m fine,” was Ben’s response.

  “Yes, thank you,” Kate answered. Reaching for her bag she added, “I can pay for the next round.”

  Sterling stopped her by saying, “The java is on me, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The bright sun shone down on the dingy camp, announcing another day of captivity had begun. Kekoa inhaled deeply. The dank stench seemed stronger today, so either his senses had become more heightened, or the drugs the human captors gave the children were losing their effect on him. Perhaps both. Either way, the smell sickened him. He scanned the cabin of sleeping boys. Now, nearly noon, the boys still slept.

  Kekoa had arrived at the camp late last night, and the boys had already been asleep, with one notable exception – Brian. Brian was the next oldest boy in the camp. A good year younger than Kekoa, he looked much younger because of his small frame. The boy barely came to 5’ 6”, which was on the small side for a seventeen year old. Of course, with poor nutrition and drugs in their bodies for years, all the children in the camp seemed somewhat smallish.

  Brian had still been awake and cowering in his bed when Kekoa brought Stephen into the cabin last night. Brian’s tear–stained pillow and paled expression gave away his pain. He did his best to fight falling asleep, but once he saw Kekoa back in their cabin, Brian allowed the drugs to take over his body and give him the rest he needed.

  With Stephen in tow, Kekoa couldn’t ask much of Brian before he passed out in a drug induced stupor. The one coherent message Brian had said before passing out was that he was glad Kekoa had returned and could help watch over the remaining children.

  Remaining. The word cut like a knife. Two of the beds in the tiny cabin now lay empty. Tyrone and his little brother were missing. With a saddened heart, Kekoa knew the boys were dead. Killed during his absence. Judging by the way Brian had cried and shook in his bed, Brian had been made a witness to the ordeal. The viewing of the deed served as a warning and as a threat. If you turned, you were killed. If you escaped, all the other children would be killed as punishment. The threat was effective.

  Kekoa didn’t understand why the ten–year–old and fifteen year old boys had been selected for death. They wouldn’t transition for years, so something must have gone wrong. Usually it was the duty of the second oldest boy to witness the deaths of the turning older children, both boys and girls, but this was different. In the morning, he’d have to get the answer from Brian. That is, if the boy could talk about what he had seen.

  Kekoa couldn’t help the two dead boys, and he didn’t know how to help Brian or the rest of the children in the camp. This life was all so different from the sunny days of his youth, where he had spent most of his free time at the beach in beautiful Hawaii with no cares in the world. He had grown used to considering the damp, musky cabin his home, even with the Hands of God’s ever evil presence. Of course, he had been the youngest when he was captured. There were a lot fewer boys back then. He was now the oldest boy, in a very full cabin.

  Last night, Kekoa had settled Stephen into a bunk next to two other boys about his age. Stephen had been still dizzy, and had asked plenty of jumbled questions. Kekoa answered all of his questions, but one. He didn’t tell Stephen why the kidnappers had targeted him, and he would have to tell the other boys to leave him be until he explained the situation to him. Kekoa didn’t know how much Stephen knew of his lineage, and he didn’t want to frighten him. Kekoa also didn’t want to arm their captors with information about vampire lifestyles any more than he had accidentally done in the past.

  The boys now stirred and started to wake. The nighttime always managed to wear off the daily evening dosing of drugs from their meal, but Stephen still appeared tired. His reddened eyes were a sure sign of a sleepless night, and perhaps his body battled the drugs even now. When a guard came to unlock the cabin door, Kekoa took the boys to the food cabin for their midday meal.

  The only information Kekoa got from Brian about the disappearance of the two boys was that Tyrone’s skin had reacted to the silver bracelet. His wrist had been blistered and a guard took note of the tell–tale sign. Tyrone had been pulled from the group in the middle of lunch yesterday. His little brother, Jemal, gave protest and struck out at the guard. Both children had been hauled away to the chapel with Brian. Brian was the only boy to come out alive.

  Now standing outside the food cabin, Brian hesitated before entering. Kekoa convinced him to go in and eat. Disobedience from the norm resulted in a beating or a longer time praying in the chapel. Kekoa knew Brian didn’t want to be in that chapel any longer than needed, and watched as the boy reluctantly walked into the cabin for his meal.

  The simple meal was hotd
ogs on white buns with beans on the side and water to drink. Of course nothing ever needed a knife. Kekoa and Stephen each prepared a tray for themselves and then sat at a back table to talk.

  Kekoa understood some vampire families chose to hide their vampire lineage from their children until close to the child’s Jahrling Year. He considered the act a poor decision, but then he understood the brutal honesty children have, and how hard secrets were to keep. It was important to hide the existence of vampires in the world at all costs, and kids were a liability. The question now was whether Stephen was a purebred vampire or not.

  Determining a person’s vampirism was not an easy task. Sure, if both parents were purebreds then the children would be as well, but if you threw in mixed breeding with half–breeds or a human mother, you’d end up with a purebred vampire or a half–breed. Regardless, the children all resembled humans until their Jahrling Year.

  Kekoa watched as Stephen ate his lunch. For a boy who claimed he wasn’t hungry, he nearly inhaled the food. “Can you tell me about your father?” he asked as Stephen cleaned his plate.

  Stephen turned his head toward Kekoa. His eyes took an extra second to focus. “My Dad? Why?”

  “It’s important. You asked me yesterday why you were taken. I need some information about you so I can answer your question.” Kekoa suspected Stephen was at least a half–breed since he had been kidnapped. In all likelihood, the human captors had confirmed that at least one of his parents was a vampire and snatched Stephen while his parents were not around, most likely during school hours or on a playground.

  As he waited for Stephen to answer, Kekoa took a bite of the hot dog. The food tasted like straw. Everything tasted terrible lately. His hunger pains grew every day, and human food was not what he craved. He noticed the guard studying him and Stephen, so he forced himself to choke down the meal. He ate with great zest in an effort to cover his turning. He gulped down the food quickly to taste it less. He was grateful when he got to the last bite, but thought he might vomit. Fortunately he managed to keep the food down.

  Stephen admitted he had never met his father and said he didn’t know anything about him. The lost lead disappointed Kekoa. He tried a new approach. “Tell me about your mom. Like, what is her favorite food?” Vampires didn’t eat human food, hopefully this would tell him of the mother’s lineage.

  Stephen stared blankly at Kekoa. Half slumped on the table, his elbows supported him. “Dunno. Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does.” He thought for a second, “Did your mother ever tell you a family secret and tell you never to share it with anyone?”

  “What?” Stephen said. He picked up some beans with his fork and nearly missed his mouth.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kekoa lied. There was plenty to worry about. “You feeling okay?”

  Stephen sat up straighter and made eye contact. Taking a deep breath he said, “My head is no longer spinning. My mouth has a metallic taste though.”

  “The sensations will pass.” The boy had more drugs in his body because of his abduction. Kekoa hoped the regular amount would not be so weakening to him once he got into the camp’s usual routine.

  Kekoa’s stomach threatened to expel its contents and he took a deep breath to shake the queasiness. This was the first meal he struggled to keep down, which meant his timetable to save the kids was coming to a close. He would have to feed on blood in the next few days, or risk aging in front of his captors. If he aged, they would know he was a vampire and kill him. Of course, he worried about what danger he would be to the kids because of his hunger. He refused the idea of feeding on the kids since they viewed him as a big brother. How could he become a threat against them? They were family to him.

  The time to escape had come. Kekoa had relived this day in his head hundreds of times. Vampires were stronger than humans. They could compel humans to do anything they wanted. There were now ways of escaping this place, for all of them to escape, if Kekoa turned and the transition went undetected. All Kekoa had to do was not get tied up in silver chains and stabbed to death. Easier said than done considering they watched his every move. If he sneezed the captors inspected the Kleenex. It was pathetic.

  He wanted to test his ability to compel. He should have the gift by now if he was ready to eat blood exclusively. He could compel the captors to open the doors and let them go; at least he thought so in theory. He had never orally compelled anyone before and understood that it took time to learn how to do the deed properly. If he failed in an attempt on one of the captors, the failure would be a dead giveaway. Kekoa was sure the captors would be on the lookout for such an escape.

  He brushed his tongue along his fangs. Yep. Long and ready for blood. Thankfully the captors had not begun to check his mouth yet. Other children who went through the transition were older, so maybe the captors didn’t realize a nineteen year old might already be full grown? At least he hoped that was the case. Kekoa had known that many transitioning vampire children sometimes showed early side effects if they had abilities. Sometimes these side effects would present as early as ten years before the transition completed. Kekoa suspected Tyrone must have been one such vampire.

  The best approach to escape would be to overpower the humans by strength. If he could physically defeat the humans, even if he had to take on all of his captors at once, he might be able to save the children. He removed the fork from his now empty plate and placed the utensil in his lap. The fork felt hot to his touch, which seemed odd since there was no food on the plate to warm it. He searched the room to confirm the captors were not watching, and tested the metal. To his surprise, the fork twisted within his fingers like a noodle. Relief washed over him. At the very least, he had his strength.

  Kekoa’s least favorite guard, named Henry, glanced in his direction. His position was that of head guard, and he always seemed to be around. By the expression on Henry’s face, he had not witnessed Kekoa’s fork experiment. What did catch Henry’s eye was the eldest captive girl, Rebecca.

  Kekoa wasn’t sure if the queasiness in his stomach was coming from the food or the lecherous look in Henry’s eyes. The guard stared at the young sixteen year old as she took care of the girls on the far side of the food cabin.

  Kekoa wanted to beat the hideous smile off Henry’s face, but had to bide his time. He may be stronger, but there were children eating nearby and he didn’t need any of them hurt. He did his best to twist the fork back into its proper shape and placed it back on his plate. The guards always counted the utensils as the kids put away their trays. He hoped they wouldn’t inspect his mangled fork too closely.

  After Stephen ate his second helping, Kekoa gathered the boys up for mid–day Mass. The first few hours after lunch were always spent in dutiful prayer begging the Lord to forgive their parents for their sins and asking forgiveness and salvation for what they would be one day.

  Kekoa had his work cut out for him. The children needed to be saved. Rebecca needed protecting. Brian needed his support to even enter the chapel. Stephen needed to learn the truth about whom, or more to the point, what he really was.

  What Kekoa needed was the death of all these humans, and he swore to himself that he would soon have it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sterling found nothing positive about the flight experience. They had been herded with the masses into three different boarding groups, like cows to the slaughter. He smelled the blood in their human veins and heard their strong heartbeats. The temptation seemed almost too much for him to bear. “Good Lord, Ben, people do this all the time? How do they not go crazy and kill one another in such tight spaces?” Covering his nose, he added in the vampire high pitch, “Or for that matter, how do we not enjoy an eating spree.”

  “Keep saying those things and they’ll try to detain you, man,” Ben said as he shuffled slowly toward the plane in the third, and last, boarding group.

  “I’d like to see them try.” Sterling rolled his eyes and grimaced at the slow moving line. “Fuck this
.” He approached the “First–Class and Membership only” line and flashed his boarding pass. “The three of us are VIPs. Let us through.”

  Ben shook his head as he passed Sterling on the ramp to the plane. “There’s no need for calling attention to ourselves, the plane won’t arrive any faster.”

  Sterling followed, with Kate trailing behind. “Better than me taking a bite out of someone.”

  The rows sat two on each side of the aisle, and Ben took seat C row 17, leaving seats A and B for Sterling and Kate. Sterling stepped aside and allowed Kate to sit next to the window and he took the aisle so he could talk with Ben during the flight. The plane slowly filled up and Sterling studied the number and size of the luggage humans tried to cram into the overhead bins, and their determination grated on his nerves. “Hell, we could have driven there in this amount of time.”

  Ben nodded as he took his cell phone from his pocket. “Shit. Talking about cars, I forgot to reserve a rental. What model car you want?”

  “Anything that will blend in.” While Ben was busy, Sterling checked to see how Kate fared in the seat next to him. The seats seemed closer together than he remembered them being in the past. He felt Kate’s shoulder touch his as she settled into her seat. As she glanced out the window, she brushed the hair from her face and tucked the loose strands behind her ear. With her movements, Sterling was aware of the smell of peaches once again. She flipped open one of her magazines and started to read the article on the page.

  An article title caught Sterling’s eye and he started to read over her shoulder. The title read, “Have your best orgasm ever.” The next article on the page read, “More teens engaging in sex.” Sterling wasn’t that old fashioned, but what kind of magazine was this? “What the hell are you reading?” he asked her.