The Ark

by Walter Knight

  Cameras flashed. Video ran. I would be all over the local news tomorrow. I hit three more home runs and ended the night with a bunt just to show off. A scout from the Seattle Mariners was waiting for me in the locker room after the game, with a two-year no-cut contract in hand.

  “That was a hell of a game, son,” exclaimed Ronald Hassle. “Call me Ron. I see a bright future for you in the Seattle Mariners organization.”

  “Seattle?” I asked. “Does Seattle have a domed stadium?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about the rain,” insisted Hassle. “It’s hardly noticeable, once you get used to it. Think of it as moist Washington air. It’s good for the skin, too, and you don’t have to worry about getting cancer from sun spots.”

  “It’s the sunlight that bothers me,” I replied. “I hate sunlight.”

  “No worries there,” replied Hassle, pushing the contract across a table for me to sign. “The sun never comes out in the Pacific Northwest.”

  “What about day games?” I asked, as I read the fine print. It’s all in the details. “Do I have to play the California Angels? I hate that ‘Big A’ with that stupid halo on top.”

  “Of course we play the Angels,” advised Hassle. “Now, see here. What kind of question is that? Do you have a history of mental illness? Have you ever been institutionalized?”

  “Never,” I said, quickly signing the contract. “Is that it? Am I in the major leagues now?”

  “You might have to play for Tacoma a short time, but I see no problems,” promised Hassle, just now noticing the blood on my neck and shirt. “You are a natural. If you pass your physical, and the blood test, you’re in!”

  “Blood test?” I asked.

  “It’s just a formality.”

  “Great!” I replied, shaking Ron’s hand. “I thought I would never get noticed. I was so desperate, I almost joined the Foreign Legion. Ron, you saved me from a fate worse than death!”

  Remember, we are partners, announced Anita, her voice all around, but only for me. I looked about, but the vampire vixen was not to be seen. Partners for life, she repeated, my soon-to-be rich American baseball player!

  back to top

  Chapter 3

  I returned to my motel room, feeling pretty good about myself. Major league contract in hand, I shook my fist at the world. “I did it!” I shouted. “Nothing can stop me now!”

  I called my parents in Tucson to tell them the good news. My mom was happy for me. “That’s nice, dear,” she said.

  My dad accused me of lying. “Are you drunk again, boy?” he demanded. “There is no way you hit four home runs and a bunt in one game!”

  I told my dad to check the Sonora Diablos on the internet and read all about it. “See my smiling face as I crossed home plate, surrounded by Diablos.”

  I abruptly hung up and checked the internet myself. The story was there: Four home runs and a bunt. But there were no pictures. My heart sank. I aimed my phone at my face, and snapped several pictures. Nothing. Just the motel room, not me. Damn!

  “You are a vampire now,” whispered Anita, appearing at my side. “No photos for you. No TV video, either.”

  “How can I play in the major leagues if I can’t be on TV?” I asked desperately. “How will I do commercials? This sucks big time.”

  “Maybe no one will notice,” said Anita with a shrug. “TV is over rated anyway. I never watch the boob tube. Radio is so much better. I get all nostalgic listening to the radio.”

  “But what about my fans? How will they see me?”

  “I am your biggest fan, and I can see you just fine,” replied Anita, pouting as she wrapped her arms around me. “Aren’t you glad to see me again? Is baseball all you think of, my lover?”

  “We’re breaking up. You’re not my type.”

  “Oh, but I am your type. Type O-negative, remember? We are bonded together for life. Two immortals, cursed for all eternity, as long as no one cuts off our heads or drives stakes through our hearts.”

  “Huh? Will silver bullets kill me, too?” “No, that is werewolves.” “What?” “Do not worry, sweetie. There is no such thing.” “You promised I could be like Alex Rodriguez,” I protested, pushing Anita away. “How is that going to happen if I can’t be on TV? I want to make commercials for Pizza Hut and Nike.”

  “Maybe I did not completely think things out,” replied Anita, snuggling close again. “Maybe if you cut a deal with Our Lord and Master, something can be worked out.”

  “Who?” “You know, the Evil One. Do not make me say His name.” “Which Evil One? The Devil?” “More evil than that,” cautioned Anita, whispering. “The Commissioner of Baseball. His word is final.” “Bud is a vampire?” “Shhhhhh! It’s a secret. He is not really a vampire. It’s complicated. It’s more like he is the CEO. The commissioner approves all TV rights for major league baseball.”

  “Can Bud get me into day games, too?” I asked.

  “Don’t be silly. You are a vampire, now. The sunlight will burn you to dust. The curse cannot be broken, even if you do have a two year no-cut contract.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, doubtfully. “There must be a loophole somewhere.”

  “I suppose you could hire a lawyer and try to break the curse. Or you could ask for binding arbitration. But, you risk certain death. I would not do it if I were you. No one has ever broken the curse.”

  I tore at Anita’s throat and drank her blood. Call it payback. To Anita, it was mere foreplay, and she screamed for more. Afterward, Anita smoked a cigarette, removed a roll of duct tape from her purse, and patched up her neck. Without another word, she flew out the window. They’re never satisfied. I guess I need to work on my foreplay.

  “How come I can’t fly?” I grumbled, watching her silhouette pass by the moon. “She looks so hot in black,” I mused. As the sun came up, I pulled the curtains shut, scrambled underneath my bed, and slept soundly with the dust bunnies.

  back to top

  Chapter 4

  Ron Hassle asked me to play a few more games with the Diablos, just to make sure I was the real deal. I arrived at the game late, just after sunset. The bases were already loaded, and Coach Morales screamed for me to pinch hit again.

  I swung at the first pitch. Disaster! The bat splintered into a dozen deadly shards. The ball dribbled out to the mound, and the pitcher easily threw home to get the runner. I had time to get to first base, especially with my speed, but I just stood there, terrified of the wooden shards, unable to step over them. The catcher tagged me out. Double play! The inning ended. Dejected, I walked slowly to the dugout, tossing my batter’s helmet.

  “What the hell was that?” shouted Morales. “I expect you to hustle!” “Sorry coach,” I replied weakly. “Those wooden stakes could have killed me.” “You have not heard the end of this!” threatened Morales, turning his back on me. “You have big problems,” advised Anita, as I trotted out to right field. “It was the broken bat. Those splinters freaked me out.” “Not that! It is the feds. They have come for you. They know you are cursed.” “You mean like the X-files? Mulder and Scully?” “See? TV rots your brain! This is Mexico. The Federales have come for you, not the FBI.” I looked to the bleachers. Mexican soldiers were positioning themselves along the fence, assault rifles at the ready. Several wielded crossbows. How odd was that? When the inning ended, a Mexican army officer motioned for me to come over.

  “We know you are the Chupacabra,” accused the army officer. “Do not think you can escape.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I replied innocently. “I have broken no laws. I even have a work permit!”

  “Your picture cannot be taken, Seńor Black. Do not try to deny it.” He flashed his cell phone camera at me and waved the blank screen. “Good trick that is.”

  “You have come to arrest me?” I asked, resigned to my fate. I thought about fleeing, but it looked like they brought the whole army. It was shades of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or maybe Custer.

&n
bsp; “Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed the army officer. “I have money on this game. Big money. We all do.” I examined the Federales closer. They were all smiling back at me. Several waved, giving me the thumbs up. “Then I can go?” “Not if you keep hitting ground balls, bendaho! I want to see home runs, just like yesterday. Then we will talk, after the game.”

  “What is there to talk about?” I asked. “I’m leaving Mexico tonight.”

  “I will decide when you leave,” threatened the officer. “Or even if you leave at all. Some very important people want to talk to you.”

  “What people?”

  “Very important people is all you need to know. For now, you will play ball!”

  I hit four more home runs. Everyone cheered wildly. Federales shot their rifles into the air in celebration. Reporters fiddled with their cameras, fans with their cell phones. Coach Morales patted me on the back, all smiles now. In the locker room, I had a meeting with the very important person, Pablo Escobar, Jr., silent owner of the Diablos.

  “This is Johnny Black, the Chupacabra?” asked Pablo. “Aye, he don’t look so special.” “He hit eight home runs in two days,” offered the army officer. “That is very special.” “And one bunt,” I added. “Try to take his picture,” suggested the army officer, crossing himself. “It cannot be done. See?” Pablo snapped a photo with his cell phone camera. The flash left red spots floating before me. “Can you fly, Chupacabra?” asked Pablo, now convinced beyond any doubt. “Fly over the border for me?”

  “No. I haven’t learned how to fly yet.”

  “Don’t be jerking me around!” accused Pablo. “What kind of a Chupacabra are you if you can’t even fly? I want you to fly my cocaine over the fence, but under the American radar. You will do that for me, and I will pay you a fortune.”

  “I’m a human vampire, not a bat,” I explained. “I can’t fly.” “How many of you are there?” asked Pablo. “Maybe your friends can fly my cocaine?” “I have no friends.” “Someone bit you. Who?” Just kill them all, whispered Anita invisibly.

  “I can’t do that,” I replied.

  “Who are you talking to?” asked Pablo, holding up a gold cross, making quick movements in all directions. “Another vampire is near?”

  “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot fly drugs for you. I cannot fly. I don’t even sparkle, and I am leaving Mexico tonight. I have a two-year no-cut contract to play for the Seattle Mariners.”

  “Really? You are going to the Show? And you plan to leave us all behind and forget about us? But we are not going to forget about you. You signed a contract to play ball for me here in Sonora. We will not let you just leave and forget about us.”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to play in the major leagues.” “No, you look! You work for me! You will do what I say, when I say, and how I say!” “I just want to play baseball.” “And so you shall,” said Pablo, smiling as he patted me on the back like a long-lost friend. His stark change in composure was frightening, even to Anita as she looked on. “You go north and play ball for Seattle. You hit lots and lots of home runs and be a celebrity. But remember, you are still a Diablo. You will hit home runs for me, too, when I tell you to. And, you will strike out when I say so, too. Understand?”

  “Yes, I think I do. You want me to fix games?”

  “You’re smart, a winner, just like me. I knew that from the start! I can tell about these things. And I bet you can fly, too. You don’t fool me one bit. Maybe you need flying lessons because this is all new and exciting to you. You work on flying, young Chupacabra. When your baseball days are over, you can come back here and work for me. Fly for me.”

  “I still can’t fly,” I insisted. “Can’t we all just get along?” “So, we are friends?” asked Pablo. “Business partners? Buddies?” “I would make a deal with the Devil himself to play major league ball, so I guess I can make a deal with you.” “Excellent! I am not the Devil, but I know him. You can see his house from here. And like the Devil, I will collect my due. Count on that!”

  back to top

  Chapter 5

  I drove all night, wanting to get across the border before daybreak. Ron Hassle rode shotgun beside me. I think Ron wanted to keep an eye on me. He thought I might be crazy or something, and did not want me coming unraveled until he personally delivered me to the Mariners.

  ‘Kill them all,’ Anita had suggested. She made it all sound so easy. Even now, sitting in the back seat, she suggested that Ron would make a nice midnight snack.

  “I do not want to kill anybody,” I argued. “Especially not a scout from the Mariners. Can’t I be a good vampire, and drink cow blood or something?”

  “Not in this lifetime,” replied Anita. She ran her fingers through Ron’s hair as he slept in the front seat, turning his neck to the side. Yum, yum, she thought aloud, fangs bared. I was still amazed by the fact that I could hear her thoughts. I imagined she could hear mine too. That could get a bit embarrassing.

  “Only human blood satisfies the curse,” she said. “Don’t worry, love, you will get used to it. Just make sure you sever their heads afterward. Only a select few are allowed to share our gift.”

  I looked over in horror. “Stop that! I will not be a serial killer. I just want to play ball!”

  “They’re just humans,” commented Anita, now white knuckling Ron’s hair in a death grip. “We, on the other hand, are immortals.”

  “What kind of shit is this?” cried Ron, waking abruptly, unable to free himself. “Has your kinky girlfriend gone loco? Let go of me!”

  I slammed on the brakes and swerved to the side of the road.

  “I am so sorry Ron,” I said, my fangs bared, too. “I have no control.”

  “Yes,” said Anita. “Your hunger is too much now. I told you to eat those stupid drug dealers, but would you ever listen? No! Typical man.”

  “Eat the drug dealers!” cried Ron. “We can go back! I won’t tell!” “It’s a thought,” I reasoned. “We could go back.” “No!” exclaimed both Anita. “There is not enough time before the sun comes up.” Anita bit first. Blood splattered all over me and the front seat. The smell, the warmth, it was too much for me to resist. I fed too, plunging my fangs into poor Ron’s neck, not waiting for Anita to release her bite. She snarled, pushing me away, but I held my grip. Ron’s head came off. Anita feasted on the head while I sucked blood from the headless neck. She tossed the head out the window and wrestled me for more meat. What a mess. Who knew vampires were such sloppy eaters?

  We made love in the back seat, falling asleep in each other’s arms. Wow. What a rush. I felt bad for Ron, but ... I’d get over it.

  * * * * *

  “We must flee!” “What?” “The sun!” warned Anita. “It comes up. We must fly to safety now” “I’ve already been through that once tonight,” I explained. “Read my lips. I can not fly!” “Sure you can,” replied Anita. “Just flap your arms.” I flapped, kind of like a chicken. Nothing happened. “You are so gullible,” taunted Anita, laughing. “What?” I stopped flapping. “Focus. Think only of the moon, and you will take to the air.” I closed my eyes, and focused on everything lunar. I started flapping again. Sure enough, as I ran down the road I took flight. SPLAT! Right into a saguaro cactus.

  “Stupid man!” shouted Anita, still laughing. “You want to fly, you have to keep your eyes open. You will never get your license that way.”

  “I don’t need no stinking license!” I replied, looking down at Anita. I was stuck to the top of the saguaro. Long thorns stuck out of my bleeding body as I pulled myself away. An owl peeked out from his nest, pissed. “Help! Get me down from here!” I cried.

  “You’re lucky those cactus thorns are small. You impale yourself flying around reckless like that, and it is curtains for you, lover. Quit playing the fool and get down here!”

  I pried myself off the saguaro and followed Anita back to my car. The morning sky was just turning red. Desert doves cooed in the distance. Normally this would be a b
eautiful time to marvel the wonder of God’s great plan. But for us, the sun meant a fiery death.

  “This will have to do,” advised Anita, opening the car trunk and tossing out the spare tire. “We sleep in here.”

  back to top

  Chapter 6

  I woke to the sound of someone swearing in Spanish, followed by metallic pounding. “It is about time you woke up,” snarled Anita, not a morning person. “They are trying to pry open the trunk!” “Who? I need my coffee.” I was a bit disorientated, waking up in a car trunk with a woman. This was a first. Anita was desperately holding onto the trunk lid, keeping it from opening. “When the lid opens, we will escape,” she whispered. “We will fly across the border to Arizona.”

  “I still can’t fly.”

  “Whatever. Stay if you want.”

  The trunk lid popped open. Flashlights shined in my face. Several Mexican police officers and a wrecker driver peered down at us. The wrecker driver crossed himself, mumbling something as he clutched at a medallion hanging from his neck.

  Anita hissed at the startled officers and flew into the night. I began flapping my arms. Nothing. Think of the moon, I told myself. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate. Up I went, quickly, into the night. Several shots rang out. I looked down at the puny humans below, shining their flashlights up in all directions, and laughed. More shots rang out. No sense of humor. Cops are the same on both sides of the border.

  * * * * *

  We landed in the parking lot of a McDonald’s restaurant in Nogales, Arizona. I headed straight for the door. “Where are you going?” asked Anita, following. “You are hungry already?” “I’m ordering a chocolate shake to wash the vile taste of Ron from my mouth,” I answered. “You think there is a Starbucks nearby?” “This fast food is no replacement for warm fresh blood,” warned Anita. “These Quarter Pounders with extra cheese will just give you diarrhea. We vampires are lactose intolerant. And that shake will make you fat. You think you have problems flying now, just try to fly at night when you are a fat boy. You will buzz around like a silly bumble bee.”