The Vampire Underground

by Brian Rowe

  “You know what that means, right?” Droz took another step forward, pressed his foot down against Sawyer’s head, and shouted, “Everyone gets a taste!”

  There was laughing, clapping, cheering. Boisterous noises echoed through the auditorium.

  Paul turned around and pulled Brin up to her feet.

  “OK,” he said. “Ready… and… go!”

  Brin wasn’t prepared for a running marathon yet, but before she could say a word, Paul had a death grip on her hand and started pulling her at top speeds down the stairwell. She almost tripped on the way down, but she found her footing.

  They turned right at the bottom of the stairwell and entered another stairwell, one that took them down underneath the stage of the auditorium. They raced down a thin corridor, one that was dirty and dank and looked appropriate for sewage waste.

  We’re underground the Underground, Brin thought.

  They made one more right turn, then faced a pair of giant double doors.

  “Where does this go?” Brin whispered.

  “Shhh,” Paul said for the umpteenth time. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Brin, listen to me. Don’t look at anyone funny. Don’t say anything funny. Don’t say a word, actually. Just act natural. Pretend you’re one of us.”

  She nodded, even though she had a problem: Brin hadn’t a clue how to be one of them. Did she have to walk a certain way? Did she have to throw some dirt in her eyes to make them glow red? She had no idea. She had no clue what she was supposed to do.

  She gulped, loudly, as Paul pushed through the doors and pulled Brin into a large room, one that looked to be a rehearsal area. At least fifty pale bodies roamed the room, some practicing their steps, some touching up their make-up, some clearing their throats and trying to sing. Eight vampires belting out a chorus stepped away from each other in the back of the room, revealing four bodies in chairs, all seated next to each other, all with their backs turned to Brin.

  “Oh God, it’s them—” Brin started but stopped when Paul tugged hard on her shirt and pulled her in the other direction.

  She passed some vampire toddlers, who were sucking blood, not milk, out of their bottles, and she nearly bumped into the creepy vampire clown, who was still covered in full pancake make-up.

  When they reached the right side of the room, Brin looked forward to see a figure sitting in a high chair, a young female applying make-up to his face. Brin gulped again. It was him.

  Paul approached the chair. Brin reluctantly stepped forward as well.

  “Hi,” Paul said, in a low voice, his head down, like he was a slave and this intimidating figure with the top hat was his master.

  The cocky vampire in the chair didn’t say a word. Instead he clapped his hands twice, signaling to the make-up girl to leave. He crossed his arms and sighed. “Well, well. If it isn’t my biggest disappointment.” He didn’t turn around; he stared at Paul from his mirror. “You have a lot of audacity showing your face in here.”

  “I know,” Paul said. “I’ve come to say I’m sorry. And that I’ve learned from my mistakes. I promise I won’t abandon you ever again.”

  “How am I supposed to believe that when you’ve abandoned me not once but twice, Paul?”

  He turned around, the lack of emotion on his face scaring Brin more than if he had been sporting a deadly scowl. The vampire’s eyes weren’t red at all; they were completely black. His slicked back gray hair was long, wet, and nearly touched his shoulders. His tuxedo, which she assumed from afar had been black, was actually a dark blue.

  Creepiest of all, the vampire sported twelve fingers instead of ten.

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said. “I’m a thousand times sorry.”

  “You should be lucky you’re not already dead.” He giggled to himself and rubbed his palms together. “Dead a second time that is. Nobody walks out on me and returns with an apology. Just because you’re my son doesn’t mean—”

  “Dad,” Paul said. “Please.”

  Brin pursed her dried lips. That was a surprise.

  “Dad, I’ve met someone,” Paul continued. “I’ve met someone who has shown me the error of my ways. I’m not afraid anymore. I can follow your lead. And I want to prove to you that I’ve changed by taking part in the ritual tonight. I know you have humans.”

  Paul’s father didn’t say anything for a moment. But then: “Who is she?”

  Paul stepped to the side, revealing Brin, in all of her delicately applied vampire make-up. She stood upright, trying her best not to throw up from fear. Droz stared at her, not with suspicion, thankfully, but with approval.

  “She’s pretty,” he said. “Where did you find her?”

  “On the coast,” Paul said. “I beg you, Dad. Please. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Paul smiled at her. “Brin.”

  “Brin?” The father spun around in his chair, revealing his slender stick of a body. His legs were crossed, and his shoes were polished and sparkly. Brin couldn’t look away from his six-fingered hands. “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It was her grandmother’s name,” Paul said, noticeably swallowing through his lies.

  Brin stared forward, trying not to speak. But she couldn’t help herself. She stuck out her hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Sir—”

  “Silence!” the vampire screamed. “How dare you speak without my permission!”

  Paul took a step forward. “Dad, she didn’t mean—”

  One minute Droz was in his chair, and the next, he was standing in front of Brin, his chest nearly pressed against hers. He slapped her hard in the face.

  Brin almost stumbled backward from the pain. It wasn’t just a slap; it felt like someone had struck her face with a brick.

  “I don’t know where your little clan has been nesting, but this is not appropriate behavior, you stupid girl!”

  “Dad,” Paul said, pushing Brin away, “she comes from a more progressive group on the coast. It’s not frowned upon there for the women to speak.”

  “It’s not frowned upon here, either, Son. It’s forbidden!”

  Brin got the point. She nodded and brought her head down, not wanting to lift it again until this failure of a father figure would change his foul attitude.

  “It won’t happen again,” Paul said.

  “It better not.”

  “Dad, I know you’ve promised everyone in the crowd a taste of the humans,” Paul said, “and you know how I feel about killing the living in cold blood. But I want to show you tonight… I want to prove to you… that I’ve changed.”

  As the father and son pressed on with their little reunion, Brin turned her head to see the quartet in the back corner. All, like Sawyer, were stripped of most of their clothes, with only t-shirts, tank tops, and underpants remaining. Brin could see Anaya on the right side, her layers of back fat poking through the holes of her chair like grated cheese. The girl was hunched over, her hands touching the icky dirt floor, appearing as if she had been tortured for the past few hours. Next to her was Chace, also slumped over, like he had been struck in the gut with a hammer or two. Lavender was to the left of him, facing the ceiling, not moving, already looking dead. On the far left was Dylan, coughing and sobbing, already appearing defeated.

  “Oh my God,” Brin whispered.

  “Did you say something?” Droz said.

  Paul shook his head, and Brin shook it faster, immediately diverting her attention back to the twosome in front of her.

  “Good,” the father said. “You should know, as it has always been, that you only speak when it is requested. Now I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I’m going to allow you to answer. Do you understand?”

  Brin nodded. Yes, you bigot, I understand.

  “All right. First question. What is the name of your clan?”

  Brin looked at Paul, then back at Droz. She had no idea what to say. She didn’t know if this vampire had memorized all the clans, or if she cou
ld make up a name and hope he believes it. She realized she didn’t have a choice.

  “Grisly,” she said. “The Grisly Clan.”

  “Very good,” he said. “Next question…”

  Phew.

  “Do you have a problem… any sort of objection in this progressive clan of yours… to consuming human blood?”

  Oh my God, gross! “No,” Brin said, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

  “And finally… and this is the most important question of all… do you love my son?”

  “With all my heart.” She blurted it out, without thinking, like she had already developed real feelings for the gentle monster.

  “Good,” he said. He turned to his son. “This is your last chance, Paul. If you let me down again… if you leave me again… consider me not your father, but your most dangerous enemy. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Paul said with a slight grin.

  Droz shook his head. “I don’t think you do.” He leaned in toward his son. “You will be hunted. You will be destroyed. Your little girlfriend will be destroyed. And I won’t blink an eye.”

  Paul stared back at his father. “You would blink an eye, Dad.”

  The vampire, irritated by his son’s attitude, slammed himself up against Paul. He was at least four inches taller. “Don’t test me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  Droz stepped past his son and pointed to the corner of the room, where vampires were crowding around the human quartet. Music started blasting from the auditorium above, and the sounds of cheering echoed faintly into the room. A horde of creatures started running up a large stairwell, while two more creatures lifted the lurpy Dylan up off the ground and marched with him on their shoulders, like he was Queen Cleopatra.

  This isn’t happening, Brin thought.

  Two more vampires lifted Lavender off the ground, and then two more approached Chace’s chair.

  “You’ll prove your loyalty to me tonight,” Droz said to Paul. “The first thing I want you to do is carry the fat girl upstairs.” He smiled, revealing an unusually white pair of vampire teeth. Brin couldn’t understand it: these vampires lived under the earth but still seemed to have access to electricity, as well as, apparently, a five star dental practice.

  “The fat girl?” Paul said.

  “Good luck,” he said, sauntering past Brin and Paul and disappearing up the stairs.

  Brin and Paul didn’t move for a moment. The cheering from above grew louder and louder. The big finale of tonight’s show was about to begin.

  “We can save Anaya,” Brin said. “We can at least get her out of here.”

  “No,” Paul said. “We’re going to save them all. Follow me. And do exactly what I say.”

  Paul walked up to the disheveled Anaya, but Brin stayed glued to her spot. She didn’t follow him right away. She didn’t want to follow him.

  But she knew she had to.

  “Are you coming?” Paul said, leaning down and gripping one side of Anaya’s chair with his hands, which thankfully, unlike his father, had the normal amount of fingers.

  “I guess,” Brin said. She rubbed her palms together, not in anticipation, but in trepidation, as she marched her way over to the back of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Grip under here,” Paul said, motioning toward the bottom of the chair.

  Brin bent down. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” She gripped the back right side of the chair and leaned in toward Anaya’s ear. “I’m here, Anaya. I’m gonna save you like you saved me.”

  Anaya turned her face toward Brin. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and a huge piece of duct tape strapped over her mouth. She looked like she was fading, like she had been injected with an anesthetic poison.

  “You ready?” Paul said.

  “No.”

  The decibel level of the cheering grew to an obnoxious peak. Brin knew they needed to get Anaya up to the stage, or Paul’s venomous father was going to storm back down and split his son and phony girlfriend in two.

  “OK… here goes…” Paul said. “One…”

  “Two…”

  “Three!”

  Brin lifted. She pushed.

  Nothing happened.

  “Are you pushing?” Paul said.

  “Of course. Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  They tried three times. The third time they got Anaya’s chair off the floor for two seconds, before it crashed back down again.

  “Shit,” Brin said.

  “She’s huge!” Paul shouted.

  “Don’t be mean.”

  “I’m not… I just… we need help!”

  As if Paul was the actual leader of this large vampire clan and had his own minions at every corner of the Underground, two additional vampires, both teens, appeared at the bottom of the stairs and headed over to help.

  They chuckled at each other. One said, “Having problems with Chubbs? That’s what we’ve named her. Chubbs!”

  The other one said, “You know what they say about the fat ones, right? The blood… it comes out in chunks.”

  Brin threw up in her mouth a little as the two ingratiating vamps kneeled down. Both said in unison, “One, two, three, go!”

  All four pushed, successfully lifting Anaya and her chair off the ground. They started marching up the stairs.

  “…and for the young pretty boy, I announce the following four numbers…” Droz said into the microphone to the bloodthirsty audience, “twenty-eight… one-hundred-and-sixteen…”

  Brin and Paul slammed up against each other in the back, trying their best not to drop Anaya down the stairwell.

  “What’s the plan?” Brin whispered.

  “Just follow my lead,” he said.

  “We’re gonna die.”

  “We’re not gonna die.”

  “Your dad’s gonna kill us when he finds out—”

  “Shh,” he said, as the harsh spotlights from above struck not the center of the stage but the audience members surrounding the stage. Another light, this one the brightest of all, focused on Paul’s father. The sitting, nearly naked humans in the center couldn’t be seen at all. “Just, Brin, please… you have to trust me.”

  Trust him? Really? I’m supposed to trust another vampire, one whose own father is the leader of a clan who feasts on unsuspecting tourists? I’m supposed to trust a vampire who’s taking me into the center of a slaughterhouse? I’m supposed to trust somebody who very well could be faking his loyalty to me in order to murder me and drink my blood the first chance he gets?

  But then Brin thought, I don’t have a choice.

  “Ahh, there she is,” Droz said, putting his arm out as Brin, Paul, and the two teenaged vampires set Anaya’s chair down next to Dylan, Lavender, and Chace.

  A handful of creatures in the audiences were standing, rocking back and forth, wanting nothing more than to rush the stage to start enjoying their bloody treat.

  “So tell me!” Droz shouted to the cheering crowd. “Who here wants to see our collection of humans on the stage?”

  The applause gave Brin an instant headache. It was like these vampires hadn’t gotten a taste of blood in years. Some were hugging each other; many were jumping up and down. Some were even kissing hard-core, with their wet sloppy tongues rolling around in each other’s mouths. Brin looked away.

  She turned toward Paul at the exact second he slapped his hand against Brin’s left pocket. The one that held the pocket knife.

  “You’ve wondered when it would come in use,” Paul whispered. “Take it out now. We only have one shot at this.”

  Brin nodded and peered to the left to see six more vampires standing behind the other three chairs. She had a strong idea of what Paul wanted to do with the knives, but she had no idea how they were going to get past the other vamps in order to free Chace, Dylan, and Lavender.

  Her question was answered barely five seconds later. “Clint and Worrell, come up here,” Droz said. Th
e two vampires standing behind Dylan left their human alone and approached the cocky emcee on the right of the stage. They made their ways under the spotlight post-haste, obnoxious smiles plastered on their white, chalky faces.

  Paul leaned in toward Brin. “Start cutting,” he said before tiptoeing toward Dylan’s chair, miraculously undetected, and squatting down.

  Brin grabbed the rope tied behind Anaya with one hand and gripped her knife in the other. She tried not to kneel down or make any sudden movements, even though she was well hidden in the darkness.

  She knew her time was limited. It was now or never.

  Brin quietly gulped, then started breaking Anaya free from the chair.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Five strands of thick rope surrounded Anaya’s waist, but, even though these vampires apparently had access to lighting equipment and sound systems, they didn’t seem to know where to find better resources for tying people up; the knife cut through the rope like butter.

  It’s working, Brin thought, as she looked to her left to see Paul breaking Dylan free from his chair.

  “So tell me, Clint,” Droz said, pointing the microphone at the vamp in the front. “What’s your human’s name?”

  “His name is Dylan,” he said. The audience erupted into applause before he added, “and he’s young!”

  Brin couldn’t even hear herself think as the crowd’s cheering and clapping reached a zenith of a decibel level. She cut through the third strand. Two more to go.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered.

  “Now Jackson and Rex,” Droz said, “would you two please come forward?”

  The two vampires standing behind Lavender vacated their spot and sauntered up to Droz, one stumbling and almost falling on his face in the process.

  “Oops!” Droz shouted. “Looks like someone’s excited!” Laughter echoed through the large room as Droz shoved the microphone in the first vampire’s face. “And what’s your lucky guy or gal’s name?”

  “He-he, he-he,” he said. This creature didn’t seem to know the English language.

  “OK, let’s try the other one… Rex.”

  The other vampire smiled. “Her name is Lavender. Like the color. And she’s even younger!”