“Mr. Ali defied the draft board in the 1960s. The great man said, ‘I ain’t got no quarrel with them Viet Cong. No Viet Cong ever called me nigger!’”
The quote stung the spectators into silence with its reference to Vietnam and the ever present topic of discrimination carried on by the ruling vampires.
Many blacks in Downtown L.A., San Francisco, and other cities toiled as custodians or incinerators of dead cattle. Vampires considered their blood suspect and lower grade. John Danby had never been cattle, but he had mopped floors, cooked, and incinerated people for nearly a decade at the bidding of the empowered blood class.
The prickly quiet was sapping her strength, so Poe ended it. This was her moment after all.
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“Now, girl, put ’em up. I’ll beat you so bad you'll need a shoehorn to put your hat on.”
John Danby crossed his arms and shook his head at Poe who still kept on with Muhammadian grace.
The lines on his face crinkled, and he laughed. The other old timers laughed with him and eventually infected even the youngest of the crowd.
“Can you believe it?” he said after the noise had died down. “A girl this young quoting Ali?”
“He’s my hero, mister,” said Poe as an aside.
“Mine, too. Mine, too,” Danby agreed. “Now are we going to see a fight or what?”
Voices echoed his sentiment.
“Hurry up. I’ve got duck to roast,” complained Habib, wearing an immaculate white apron.
“Michelle, if you even dream of beating me, you'd better wake up and apologize,” paraphrased Poe, her voice deep. “I'm not the greatest; I'm the double-greatest. Not only do I knock ’em out, I pick the round.”
The girl with technically sculpted abs looked bewildered. The desire to wrest the championship belt away from Poe had dissipated somehow. The scarred vampire hunter was a comedian whose jokes Michelle didn’t understand, and she had expertly brought the crowd on her side with laughter. Michelle stood unsure about what to do. Poe was the real thing judging by the fancy moves. A killer.
“Whatsumatter?” Poe asked. Ali danced around her with impressive foot speed and threw fake jabs at her face. “Scared?”
Michelle frowned deeper. She still had her pride.
Too many people were watching the drama for her to 154
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nod in the affirmative. Every human and daywalker suddenly seemed to be around.
“Silence is golden when you can't think of a good answer,” Poe said. “Hit me,” she ordered, “and don’t just use one hand!”
Michelle jabbed left which Poe easily avoided by taking one step back. The reddening girl tried again, and this time she swung with a right hook.
“And it was an air ball, ladies and gentlemen,”
Poe said, taunting Michelle to pound punches which Poe artfully dodged. Her neck extended back to avoid a punch, and a quick duck followed by a side swipe confounded Michelle.
Angry now, Michelle showered her with close calls blocked by forearms laced with calluses from banging them against bamboo and bricks. Poe could see that contact with her elbow and forearm hurt Michelle’s ungloved fists and decided to cool it off.
“And that’s why Superman don't need no seat belt.” Poe danced backwards. “Hey, you wanna know something, Michelle?”
“What?” the girl said. She was breathing hard.
“Since you’ve been such a sport, I’ll let you know a trade secret.” Poe pointed her index finger at the martial arts club.
“I’m listening.”
Deliberately dropping her Ali accent, Poe answered in a serious voice, “I gotta let you know this, Michelle. You’re a decent boxer, but you need to keep your chin down with one fist protecting the face at all times. “And most importantly, you gotta stop looking your opponent in the eye. It’s distracting and a major handicap. Look at the neck. The muscle there will tell you which side the next punch will 155
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come from. Look at my collarbone. See the subtle movements when I jab? That’s how I was able to guess which fist you were going to use and get safely out of the way.”
Michelle nodded slowly, listening. Her coach nearby pulled his Colonel Sanders beard in contemplation and whistled. Apparently he hadn’t known of the simple trick, either.
“You’re a natural athlete with a seditious body.
I’d be jealous if I thought about it too much,” Poe grinned. “I’ve been watching you. You’re pretty good at judo. But let me tell you something, and this is very important. Judo will kill you and your tag team buddies over there.” She waved at the six men and two women looking wilted.
“It’s pretty hard to slam and trip an undead on the pavement no matter how powerful you are.
Who’s to say they’ll stay down? And believe me, you don’t want to get that close.”
If the curly-haired girl was offended, she didn’t show it. Michelle was paying attention, and Poe was encouraged. “I gotta say judo isn’t as useless as capoeira. The guy who ate my earlobe cartwheeled himself right into my extended foot.”
“Hey, don’t make me sound too ridiculous,”
yelled the culprit, Rufus, the chopper pilot who nearly destroyed the barn with his bad landing.
Poe gave Rufus a guilty, dimpled smile and shrugged.
She had no problem with capoeira as a form of expression. But as a form of in-the-trenches martial arts, she’d have to put her foot down. “If you want to last, you need to harden your body not just with muscles. It’s not pretty, but you need to start 156
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developing calluses. So when they hit you, you won’t be distracted by pain. And it’s best to use the legs.
They’re farther away from the reach of a stronger opponent.”
Poe showed Michelle how to block a punch and kicks with the knee folded close to the body, Thai-style.
“Like I said, always keep a fist against your chin for protection. It’s a perfect time to land a punch after blocking someone’s kick, so have the other fist ready at all times,” Poe explained.
One by one the spectators left to their tasks, bored by demonstrations that replaced the promised fight between two attractive young women. Even Megan and her men had left the window long ago.
“This is no fight,” said a sour-faced geezer.
“Yeah, this sucks balls,” another complained.
“Where’s the violence?” a man with a cane said aloud, prompting Danby to answer, “You’ve lived it for over ten years, Matt.”
Only Percy, Danby, the judo team, and Maclemar remained to learn some basic street fighting skills from Poe.
One other watched from the roof. His silver eyes followed every move Poe made with fierce pride. He didn’t know right below him Jenna scrutinized his face.
Only tolerated and ignored before, Poe moved among the camp and received tepid nods at best.
Better than nothing.
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Devoting two hours a day to training the judo and boxing club reduced her listlessness. Megan, as big as a house, had yet to birth her child. According to Miriam, the octogenarian midwife who had hands and limbs as brittle as a bird’s, childbirth would have to be induced soon.
“Four days overdue in this heat,” Poe muttered as she left Maple’s Winnebago. She dropped off a basket of apples for Perla that she’d picked from a neighboring farm. The past few days had seen an exodus of buses full of vampires and humans leaving for their new homestead. Those left behind sweaty in the heat looked listless and fearful.
You’d do anything to avoid going inside, wouldn’t you? the voice in her head mocked.
The camp had begun to disassemble, and a pall had fallen among those left behind. It was a breezeless, hellion of a day. The dregs who hadn’t left with the respective shuttle buses to their new destination escaped to th
e coolness of the barn or the water hole half a mile south of the farm. Like garlic broiled in an oven, the smell assailed the nostrils and left an indelible stench on everyone’s sweaty clothing and skin. The cracked highways produced a winding mirage of gasoline-infused images that played with the mind’s eye.
“It’s so hot, hell’s knocking on the soles of my feet,” complained Maclemar. He was half-hidden as he read a paperback copy of Fahrenheit 451 under the droopy arms of a willow tree that stood in the middle of the farm . “How’s your friend, luv?”
The sight of the Welshman put a smile on Poe’s lips.
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“Good. They’re both fine,” she said and tossed an apple his way. “Picked some apples for Perla in the orchard next door for their trip. Haven’t climbed a tree since I was a kid.” She was shadowed by Penny and Chops who rested their rumps under the tree. “Trying to squirm out of working?”
“No, Sharren. This little quiet moment is reward for completing the look-over of the vehicles, including your friend’s Winnebago. They might leave tonight. Hence the black nails.” He held up his sooty fingers for Poe’s inspection.
“Eesh! That’s nasty stuff there, Maclemar.”
“Next to Habib, I believe I was the only one who did not shirk from duty this day,” he said, patting the cool spot on the ground next to him.
“Who can work in this heat but crazy people?
And what the heck does Sharren mean?”
Maclemar smiled, and slightly crooked teeth showed. Her mom did say that perfect teeth were a complete turnoff. Porcelain smiles of beauty pageant contestants irked her like nothing else. The Welshman’s teeth were pleasant enough. The chance unevenness added character to his smile.
“Sharren means a woman who thinks she’s tough,” he answered with a roguish glint in his eyes then quickly took a bite of his apple. He’d no intention of offending the girl and curtailing the pleasant moment.
“Huh. That’s interesting,” Poe said and squinted with distrust. Since she didn’t want to spoil the nice day by being catty, she took a huge bite of her apple.
“What’s the male equivalent then?” she asked after she’d swallowed the mush in her mouth.
“Darren, if you must know.”
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“Well I don’t know how that word translates in Japanese, Tagalog, or Spanish, but I can teach you the word, ‘gago.’”
“Gago. What’s that?”
“It means stupid man in Tagalog. Gaga is the female equivalent.”
“Nice one.”
“I think so. One of my all time favorite words.”
They finished off their apples in silent companionship. Poe couldn’t help notice how long his legs were in comparison with hers.
Maclemar could really pound somebody if he wanted to with those big fists and that intimidating torso. At least what I saw of his half-naked body on the boat. If we live through this, I’d like to train him.
If he’d let me.
“Watch me litter,” Poe said. She threw the core a few feet from where they sat. She didn’t feel so bad because most had gone indoors to avoid the heavy pelting of the sun.
“The pod people will boil you alive for that.”
“My meat’s tough and wiry. It’s only good for soup stock,” she said, studying his dark face sprouting new bristles. His skin was almost completely the same shade now. “I’ve been thinking, Maclemar. You could’ve just dropped me off at the cove. You didn’t have to come here.”
“No, I didn’t,” he answered after a lengthy pause. His green eyes bore down into her own.
“Why?”
He combed his dirty fingers through his buzz cut and shrugged. “I nearly got you killed by chaining you like a criminal on my boat. The Revs could’ve made Christmas pudding out of you.”
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His answer disappointed her, and she didn’t know why.
“That’s water under the bridge,” Poe said, proud of her idiom. Both her grandpas used to recite them like mad.
“And to be completely truthful at the risk of raising your ire,” he continued. “I wanted to get into your pants.”
The wide grin on his face cooled the blood that rushed to her cheeks. She laughed it off, punching his arm in the spirit of a light and cozy afternoon.
“You’ve been had then, mister,” Poe said. She wiped the perspiration on the tip of her nose.
“There’s nothing special in my pants. You’d get a better deal wooing someone like Michelle who has interesting body piercings.”
“Nah. I think I’ll wait until you come round.”
Poe sighed in admission to herself that she liked Maclemar a lot. She tried to strike the emotion, but he had grown on her. I can’t see myself stuck in a camp like this all my life. But I can see myself on his boat, possibly happy. Except for the seasickness part.
“Don’t count on me too much, Maclemar. I could break your heart.”
“You already have, Poe,” he said with a grin. “I know I can’t compete with a master vampire with a conscience to rival Mahatma Gandhi’s, but I’ll take what I can.”
Without thinking, she pulled his head down for a kiss, surprising both herself and the fisherman. She had forgotten how tongue could be so moist and delicious. Sainvire’s kiss, though wondrous, had been arctic compared to Maclemar’s.
She tasted apples in his mouth.
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The sinewy feel of his arms made her shiver.
When his hands explored her back, shoulder, and waist, Poe nearly forgot that she was in the middle of the grounds where anyone passing their way could see their frenzied embrace. Without knowing exactly how she ended up on his lap, straddling his arousal, Poe panicked. Stop! Don’t give him false hope. He’s too nice a guy for that!
“No more,” she entreated huskily. She pulled away. “I’m sorry, but I must be starved for physical contact. I don’t want to use you.”
“Please do,” he said. His eyelids were heavy.
“Luv, I’m here for you 24/7.”
“I know that,” said Poe. She stood up, and she was visibly shaken. “I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I just can’t see myself staying with them. I don’t belong here. I’m leaving after Megan gives birth and is safely transported out of here. Maybe you can to take me back to Santa Monica to retrieve some of my parents’ things. Then we’ll see where this goes.”
“Beauty, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.
And no, I don’t expect you to forget about him. I’m very patient. One of my best traits.” He pulled her down to the spot next to him. “I won’t take advantage if it’s going to push you away.”
“Um, I think I was the one taking advantage, mister,” said Poe. She pulled on the abbreviated flap of her damaged ear. Sometimes she could swear she felt the missing nub throbbing.
Maclemar sighed and leaned against the tree. His hand rubbed his tummy. “Ah, lassie, what can I say?
Women just can’t take their hands off of me.”
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Poe chuckled. “What can I say? You’re not a bad looking man.”
“Ah, music to my ears,” he said, sitting Poe back on his lap. “I won’t take advantage this time.” She swatted his hand away when he pulled the rubber band holding her ponytail together. Too late. Her black hair cascaded just below her shoulder blades.
“Hey, stop that!” Poe complained. She attempted to retake the band from an exuberant Maclemar. She would never have believed Caveman had evolved into such a charming man.
“Nope. Not yet. Just wanted to see what you look like with your hair down.
Poe looked at him and made a face. “Satisfied now?”
Maclemar laughed deeply and captured Poe’s face in his hands. “May I kiss you again because you’re so damn gorgeous?”
“I
don’t know,” Poe grumbled. She scratched her nose. “What do you think?”
He brought her face close to his and kissed Poe’s plump sensuous lips. It was a deep and extended kiss that left both panting in the afternoon heat. When their lips parted, Poe’s eyes met Maclemar’s green gaze. “Mac—I mean James, I’d like to—” Before she could finish her thought, a thought that would have made the Welshman immensely happy, she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see Sainvire and Jenna walking by. The vampire’s gray eyes swept hers then quickly looked away.
Poe squared her shoulders and turned back to look at Maclemar. “As I was saying, would you like to take me to your trailer right now?”
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“Are you asking me because of those two?” he asked and stared at the backs of Sainvire and Jenna who’d just reached the homestead.
Poe twisted Maclemar’s ear in annoyance.
“Listen. I was going to ask you before we saw the lovebirds. If you don’t want to do it then fine!”
Maclemar hooked his arm under her knees and lifted her up in his arms. “Believe me, Julia. I want to do it and more with you.”
He carried her light form to a small four-person trailer parked under a tree and kicked open the door.
The air was cloyingly hot as he set Poe down on a small bed. He turned on the lights and the small fan by the headboard.
“Shouldn’t you turn off the lights?” asked Poe uncertainly. She had suddenly become nervous.
“No ma’am. I want to see you Botticelli-style,”
he said. He removed his shirt followed by his jeans and underwear. He stood there sweaty, tanned, and so like a Greek statue that Poe couldn’t look away. His erection frightened her. “Now it’s your turn.”
With a deep breath for courage, Poe shed her clothing slowly, not to titillate but because she suddenly felt shy. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he said as he joined her, caressing her hips, raining slow kisses on her neck and myriad bruises.
“You taste so good, and you smell even better.”
“Irish Spring,” Poe offered. “Maybe a hint of garlic.”
Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles Page 14
