by Alex Dire
Every time Walsh opened his mouth, Norman felt like he would puke. The country would never go for registration, would they? He hoped the polls were right, and Nebulous was wrong. “Good evening, kids.”
Felicia flicked the remote to turn off the TV. “Hi, Mr. Bernard.” She kept looking at the TV as if it was on, seeming to stare through it.
“Did you eat?” said Norman.
Tyreese raised a nearly empty glass with a bit of viscous red fluid at the bottom. He lifted it to his lips and tipped the remainder into his mouth. “Ahhh…”
“When can we start getting fresh stuff again?” said Darius.
“Well,” said Norman, “I’m not sure. I think it’s best to avoid scaring people as much as possible right now.”
“We can just vamp them,” replied Darius.
Norman couldn’t help but smile. Vamp. His nymphs were creating their own slang. “I prefer to stay on the safe side,” said Norman. He put his satchel down, withdrawing a binder. “Are you ready for some school?”
The nymphs all shifted from their slacking positions, sitting up straight. Declan opened a backpack, pulling out a notebook and some texts.
“Mr. Bernard,” said Felicia, “How bad is it out there?”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the weather. “It’s not so bad. Some are getting used to us.”
“When I go outside, I feel like everyone’s staring at me. I hate it.”
Cindy chimed in from the love seat. “It’s okay. Nobody knows who…what we are. If we act normal, we’ll be fine.”
This had been true enough, but it might not last forever. If Walsh won the election, things would get very hard for him and the nymphs. Every night there seemed to be a story about some blood drained person found somewhere. There weren’t that many vampires left. People needed to see that they really weren’t all bad.
“I think we need to talk about that,” said Norman.
Felicia turned to him, finally meeting his gaze.
“I think it’s time you return to Night School.”
“Why?” asked Felicia. “We’re doing fine here.”
“Yes, but you can’t hide in here forever. The world changes fast out there. You’re going to need to be a part of it. I think we should start now.”
“But you’re the only teacher I like,” said Declan. “And you don’t even teach anymore.”
“I’ll always be your teacher, Declan,” replied Norman. “I’ll just reserve our tutoring sessions for vampire topics.”
The nymphs shifted in their seats, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.
“I also think you should come out.” The youths stared back. “I think you should reveal who you are.”
Macmanus seemed to be the only one capable of turning his thoughts into words. “That idea is shiite. Why risk it?” His Irish brogue came on thick. Norman was glad he’d joined their little family. He fit in well. The young vampire had also proven very capable in their fight against the enhanced vampires at the white house.
“We can’t hide forever,” said Norman. “And we need to show the world what vampires can be. We’re not monsters.”
“Yes, we are,” said Tyreese.
“We don’t have to be. Believe me, I’ve spent over a century living a very boring, almost human life. It’s all I ever wanted, and it wasn’t really that hard to do.”
“Almost normal.” Chuckled Darius.
“I think we can show the country how vampires and humans can co-exist. Show that that they don’t have to fear us.”
“But there are already organizations that are all about vampire rights. Besides, Kramer’s ahead. He’s on our side,” said Cindy.
Norman thought back to the conversation he’d had with Matt. “We can’t count on Kramer. We need to do this ourselves.” Norman looked to each of their faces one by one. “Faster than you can possibly imagine, every person you know will be gone. But the things they create will influence us for a long time after. We have to help build something we can live with for a long, long time. Otherwise, things could go very badly for us.”
Felicia’s eyes grew watery. She spoke before a tear could form. “I’ll go back to school, Mr. Bernard.”
“Good! I think you’ll see it’s not as bad as you fear.”
“But I won’t tell them what I am.”
Norman’s smile faded.
The rest of the nymphs nodded in agreement with Felicia.
“You don’t need to be so afraid. Everyone already knows about me. I’m getting along okay. They won’t hurt you.”
“You keep saying, ‘they,’ Mr. Bernard,” said Felicia. “It’s not ‘they.’ It’s us. The only reason we’re different is because we came to the office that day and followed you into the sewer. I know you only want to protect us, but…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. His decision to take them with him underground may have saved their lives, but it also changed them forever.
“Those kids at Night School are us. We may live for a hundred years, but we haven’t yet. When you’re old, like you, everyone’s ‘them.’ In a way, even we’re ‘them’ to you. Right, Mr. Bernard?”
Norman had lived a long time. The transformations had been gradual. She was right. He was a man out of his time. Everyone was ‘them’ to him. “Okay. Come to school. Get used to it. When you’re ready…”
Felicia dragged an arm across her eyes. The nymphs sat back in their seats as they glanced at each other.
Small steps, thought Norman.
5
Felicia
Felicia slouched in her desk chair, chin on her fist. She watched Ms. Houser wave her arms in exaggerated arcs around the projected image of an enlarged cell at the front of the room.
“Each of these tiny structures,” said Ms. Houser, “is like a miniature organ doing its job to keep the cell alive.”
Felicia had always liked science, but today she couldn’t seem to keep her mind on it. She'd skipped breakfast and the school meal didn't exactly satisfy her peculiar needs. She couldn't help but think about all the blood pumping through the veins of the students surrounding her.
The bell rang and students quickly put their notebooks into their backpacks and fled the room.
Felicia remained for a moment and observed. She didn’t feel the usual rush that the end-of-school bell gave her.
Ms. Houser’s arms went limp and fell to her sides. Felicia heard the sound of her exhaling as if letting go the day’s strain. She heard the teacher’s heartbeat slow. Her blood returned to its normal flow. Her blood.
Felicia approached Ms. Houser who sat down at her desk and shut down the power point presentation. She looked up and met Felicia’s gaze.
“Hello.” The teacher glanced at her seating chart. “Felicia. How was your first day?”
Felicia heard the words, but for some reason failed to respond. They didn’t feel like pleasant formalities from a mentor figure. They felt like the cries of pursued prey. The sound of Ms. Houser’s heart filled Felicia’s ears. The blood seethed like rivers. The time passed. “Thank you, Ms. Houser.” Felicia hurried out the door, fleeing her own urges.
Declan was waiting for her outside the door. She nearly crashed into him in her haste. Her hard breathing slowed as the moment between her and Ms. Houser faded.
“How was science?” said Declan.
“Okay,” she looked up at him. “I’m hungry.”
“I can’t.”
Felicia frowned.
“I have basketball practice.”
“You don’t play basketball.”
Just then, Macmanus arrived. “Hello friends.”
They both looked over.
“This place is great. I massacred my US history class.”
Declan replied, “Math is hard.”
“History is easy when it was just the news not long ago.”
“Not fair,” said Felicia.
“Age has its advantages,” said Macmanus. “Are you walking home?”
&nbs
p; Felicia, tapped Declan on the chest. “Dec’s got basketball practice.”
“You joined the team?” said Macmanus. “I’m surprised they’d take a brute like you. Maybe football…”
“Coach came to me.”
“Really?” said Felcia.
“Really?” repeated Macmanus.
“Yeah. Said he had his eye on me from before. From gym.”
“So, the coach picked you out?” said Macmanus.
“Yeah.”
“Not bad,” said Felicia. “That’s a pretty high honor around here. Impressive.”
Declan smiled at Felicia and his face became a tad flush. “Thanks.”
Felicia smiled back. She enjoyed manipulating his color.
“They’re looking for any more players?” asked Macmanus. “I think I could show the team a thing or two. I’ve always been a fan of the game.”
Declan shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Probably they’ve got enough.”
“Why don’t I tag along with you and see what I can work out with coach. I have a way with words.”
“Uh. Okay,” said Declan.
The two walked off together toward the gym. Sometimes she couldn’t help but flame the embers of that teenage competition. She chuckled out loud.
Felicia placed her bag on the floor and shoved her science text inside. Her backpack’s seams stretched to accommodate all her school stuff. Night School kids didn’t have lockers. They were all taken by the day kids. They wore their lockers on their backs.
Moments later, she was though the door and into the night. The night felt good. It felt alive to her. It reminded her of how she used to feel walking out of her building on a warm spring morning to marigolds and sparrows. Only now, it was the darkness that felt so good, blanketing her from the ills of the world.
Felicia stepped down and into the street. She had become used to walking the streets without fear. The terror that always hung in the background for her as a young woman alone had gradually evaporated. No one could touch her now. Not her father, not her mother’s series of asshole boyfriends. Not the man she sensed in the alley up ahead. She could smell his stench and hear his heart. She wondered if he was a transient passed out against the wall. If so, she could feed. She had nothing to leave, though. Mr. Bernard had taught her to always leave more than she took. It was an exchange, not theft. But she was so hungry, and despite the unwashed odor, his blood smelled so good.
Then she felt something. A tingling in the back of her brain. It was barely there. This was something new. Mr. Bernard had described such a feeling to her and her friends. Some kind of extra sense. It warned him of danger from humans.
Felicia approached the alley wondering about this feeling, connecting it to Norman’s words. As she passed the alley’s mouth. She stopped. Danger. I’m in danger.
A man stood at the opening. He rushed her and forced her to the ground with his momentum.
An instant later she sprang up. Her far superior strength pushed him up and off her. He landed back in the alley with a thud.
The tingling in her head remained, barely discernible. Danger.
The man rose. He was young, not much older than her. His curly black hair lay about the shoulders of his jean jacket. He ran further back into the alley.
Where do you think you’re going? Felicia was so hungry. This was the perfect opportunity. After all, he’d drawn first blood.
She sped into the darker portion of the alley. As she neared the back, it became more cluttered. She slowed to a walk. The man stood at the end of the alley and faced her. He stared and breathed.
A dumpster stood against the wall to her left. Metal garbage cans lay about. Wooden pallets cluttered the way.
“You picked the wrong girl to jump tonight,” said Felicia.
The tingling. Felicia smiled. He’s no danger.
Then two figures emerged from behind the dumpster. More emerged from seemingly everywhere, or nowhere.
Felicia stopped her advance, greatly outnumbered. Her smile faded as she twisted in a circle snapping her gaze in all directions.
“We know who you are,” said the young man against the wall. “And you’re exactly the right girl.”
She shuddered and recalled the voices of her mother's boyfriends. Bigger than her. Stronger. The memories of how they'd hurt her rushed into her mind. Not this time. Now she was strong. Now she could fight.
Shoes slapped on pavement behind her. She spun around.
Another man stood before her, his hand held high with a narrow shaft of sharpened wood.
Felicia thrust her arm up and grasped his arm before he could stab. She pulled his wrist and heard his forearm snap. He groaned and tried to grip her hand to release himself.
Felicia pushed him away down the alley.
The rest of the men converged on her. Each had some sort of weapon. Her original attacker reached into his waist and withdrew a gun. He fired it.
Felicia felt the bullet penetrate her stomach. It knocked her back. She shrieked as the pain consumed her. She knew it would heal, but damn it hurt.
Pulling her legs back into a crouch, she leapt at the man. He fired twice more, following the arc of her flight, but he was too slow.
She landed on his chest and rode him to the ground, punching him twice in his face. He was done.
Two sets of arms gripped her shoulders and dragged her off him. “Got her,” said one of the voices.
Felicia pulled one arm and gripped his hand, prying it loose. Several of his finger bones snapped. The man screeched and released. Then she tossed the other against the brick side of the alley.
Two more men rushed in.
She leapt and kicked one of the attackers in the face. Teeth flew from his mouth.
The other kept at her. She gripped his arm and spun him around, pulling his back against her. She twisted his arm as he screamed and writhed against her superior strength. His neck was right in front of her face, and she was so very hungry. She opened her mouth and her lips peeled back revealing her canines. She thrust her face into his neck. Her fangs sunk into the tough muscle. A trickle of blood flowed down her throat. Missed.
The blood was not near enough to satisfy her, only to stoke her desire. She ripped her face up, tearing off a chunk of flesh. Blood sprayed from the wound, coating her face with viscous ooze. So warm. So Sweet.
The man grasped his neck, screaming, and collapsed.
The others that rushed her suddenly hesitated.
Felicia let out a screaming hiss, showing her teeth in all their bloody glory. Instinct drove her forward into the line of thugs. She landed with both feet into the chest of the first and propelled herself into the next. She pushed him to the ground, then stood lifting him in the air. She threw him into the wall face first. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, his face ruined.
Three men remained standing. They trembled, faces slackened with fear. She heard their heart rates thumping away. Their blood flowed noisily through their veins. She could almost smell it. Her mouth watering with the taste of iron from the man she’d already bitten.
The corners of her mouth turned up once again into a wicked smile. One man dropped the long garden tool handle he’d sharpened. The three men turned and ran for the mouth of the alley. Felicia blurred at them, gripping the make-shift stake from the floor as she ran. She reached them in an instant, impaling the first man through the back. The bloody point of the stake emerged from his abdomen.
Felicia released the stake. As the man crumpled to the ground, she launched herself into the air, flipping and landing in front of the other two. They stopped dead as she hit the ground.
She almost felt sorry for them, but they’d started it. One of the men shrieked and ran back into the alley. He’d find no help there. The other raised a kitchen knife in shaky hands.
She looked into the man’s face. He was older than the others. He wore a cap with a few curls protruding out the bottom. His face was covered with a few days stubble.
&nbs
p; A sensation visited Felicia unbidden. The feeling of stubble chaffing her cheek. Anthony had been his name. Her mother had only brought him home that day. Felicia had avoided him like the rest with headphones and loud music, which was why she hadn’t heard her mother yell she was leaving for cigarettes. She’d only felt his iron grip on her arm and the chafing of the stubble against her cheek. Then she’d gone to her dark place.
The man in front of her now drew his arm back to stab. Felicia stared coldly into his eyes. He plunged the knife into her chest. She felt the pain of the steel wipe away the memory.
The man released the knife and stared at Felicia. She stood, unmoving and allowed him to absorb the moment, his puny aggression, his useless hate.
She slowly withdrew the knife from her chest. She felt its icy sharpness slide through her cardiac and chest muscles and the soft tissue of her breast. Blood flowed from the wound soaking her cloths. The sharp pain subsided as the cut began stitching itself back together, stemming the viscous flow.
Felicia took one step toward the man. He twitched, neither his brain, nor reflex could muster a response.
Felicia sharpened her focus. The world fell away. Her arcing will attached to his. It was a difficult, slippery power. She held firm. “It’s okay,” she said. In a moment, she was on him. Her teeth pierced his throat. This time she felt the pulsing rush of blood pump through the man’s carotids. It felt so warm and good. Despite the heavy rush of blood, she sucked anyway, like a woman starved. Her pulsing cheek rubbed the stubbled chin of the man as her fangs cut deeper into his flesh and her mind cut into his soul.
In a moment, he would be drained and his limp body would sink to the floor. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to fill her hate with the man’s blood. Her satisfaction with the fluid rose, simultaneously with her want. She’d feasted before. Why was this different? She felt his heart weaken and the beats slow. A gurgle escaped his lips.
She withdrew and breathed deep. He’d live. The limp form crumpled to the ground. Felicia stared at the man for a moment and then kicked his face.
Down the alley, an echo of motion betrayed the last hiding man. She strode toward the sound. Perhaps she’d satisfy her hunger, yet.
