by Alex Dire
The skin-head leapt away toward Tyreese and Darius who rolled on the ground clutching their messed-up faces. The woman released their legs and leapt up, grasping a stake. The skin-head landed next to her brandishing his own.
“Glad you could join me,” she said to her comrade. “Which one do you want?”
The glamoured skin-head answered by thrusting his stake through her neck. She shrieked in confusion. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. That moment would cost her her life. The skin-head ripped out the stake and plunged it into her chest.
Down the alley, the bloody-eyed vampire had healed enough to observe the scene. “Gris, what are you doing?” He sprinted toward his former ally. After two steps, he got his answer.
“This,” shouted Norman, landing on his back and plunging a stake into his chest. The vampire screamed his way to hell.
Down the alley, the glamoured skin-head stood above Tyreese and Darius and the deceased woman. The enemy was fully under Norman's control. “You missed one.” Norman pointed down to the vampire on the ground. His spine and head had mostly healed.
Gris sprinted forward, holding his stake high. He growled through clenched teeth as he blurred his way into the center of the alley. He reached the vampire lying next to Declan and thrust his wooden point through his former friend’s chest. A scream from another world roared out of his mouth as he expired.
“Stand down,” Norman ordered.
Gris dropped the stake.
“Is everybody alright?” said Norman.
Cindy shook off her grog and limped over to Norman. “We will be.” She stared into Gris’ face. “How did you do that?”
Norman looked around at his students in various states of recovery. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.”
Declan groaned and stood up. He limped over to Felicia whose throat still oozed blood.
“Those are wood wounds. They’ll take longer to heal,” said Norman.
Keon stood and walked over to the Gris who stared into infinity. He waved his hands over his eyes to no reaction. “What should we do with this one? Send him on his way?”
“No, not yet, at least,” replied Norman. Skeete had finally resurfaced. Norman had hoped she'd slunk away forever. Somehow, he knew, though, that this moment would come. That she would come. During the war. After the war. Now. She always came. Perhaps Norman should never have taken these students in. Skeete had managed to take everything else away from him. Would she take them, too? Would she take his own creation, Felicia? “I have some questions I’d like to ask him. Let’s get back upstairs. We’ll take the fire escape.” Norman bent down and picked up the backpack with the Nebulous insignia on it. “I haven’t seen this in a long time.”
A voice echoed from the entrance to the alley. “I’ll take that.” Elijah approached the group. This was one student Norman had not expected to see this evening. In fact, he hadn't had much contact with Elijah since he'd made himself known as a member of Anonymous. But Norman knew he'd been at school, watching.
Elijah reached out a hand. “We’ve been trying to get our hands on that pack for a while.”
“Why?” replied Norman.
Elijah’s face went blank. “We never let our tech into the hands of irregulars.”
“What’s an irregular?” asked Declan.
“I think he means us,” replied Felicia.
“Why not?” asked Keon.
Elijah chuckled. “Take a look around you.”
He had a point. Whatever science Nebulous had worked out, it was very deadly to vampires. Norman's students had experienced that first hand. Perhaps it was best to keep it locked away somewhere.
Elijah walked up to Gris. “Now this is interesting, indeed. Mind if I stick around a while to talk to him?”
Norman wanted to know the secrets that the back pack held. He debated keeping it for a moment. Then Norman handed the pack to Elijah. He wanted to know its mysteries, but thought it best not to cause friction with his ally. “Sure thing. Stay as long as you like.” Norman then leapt up to the fire escape and climbed to his window. His students followed close behind.
Elijah leapt to grip the ladder of the fire escape but missed.
Norman shouted through the window. “You coming?”
Elijah jumped again to no avail. “Um. Actually, I’ll just take the stairs.”
2
Mondays
Norman hated Mondays. He felt their stab most severely when his alarm went off at 5:00 p.m. Monday evening. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with thirty-two irrational adolescent wills first thing in the evening. Dealing with grown-ups had its own challenges, though. Norman was not so sure it was good to be the king.
“The usual?” asked young Fiore as Norman went through his daily evening ritual before school.
“Sure thing,” replied Norman.
Norman carried the large bag of baked goods and water down the sidewalk toward the alley where he usually got breakfast. As he neared, he sensed the familiar smells of urine, alcohol and unhygienic humans. Norman turned the corner expecting to see several of the usual inhabitants of this particular neglected spot in the city.
However, when he looked down the alley he saw no one. The tenants must have found a better domicile for this evening. Norman felt a pang of disappointment as he realized he would have to go to work hungry. He decided to drop his offerings off at the homeless shelter. It was a bit out of the way, but better than letting them go to waste.
Ten minutes later, Norman stood confused once again. “Where did they all go? You usually have over thirty beds filled here?”
The young volunteer shrugged in answer.
“Is Gene here?” asked Norman.
The volunteer pointed her thumb behind her to a closed office door.
“Mind if I step inside?” Norman asked as he knocked on the door, not waiting for the volunteer to answer.
She kept folding bed sheets as if Norman wasn’t there.
“Okay, then.”
Norman cracked the office door open. “Gene, mind if I come in?”
“Doesn’t anybody knock?” came a deep female voice with plenty of volume behind it.
Norman opened the door the rest of the way to reveal a rather large woman sitting in an old metal and vinyl office chair. Gene’s pony-tailed dreadlocks with their grey and black strands flowed down her back as she typed something on an old electric type writer.
“I did knock,” replied Norman.
“The hell you did,” stated Gene with authority.
Norman smiled. “Sorry, I’ll try to remember next time.”
Gene swiveled her chair around to face Norman. The chair’s squeaks and creaks seemed to complain of its lot in life. “Norman, can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Doesn’t look too busy out there,” replied Norman. “That’s what I came back to ask about.”
Gene dipped her chin and looked over her horn-rimmed glasses from 1967. Her mouth curled into a frown. She didn’t need to make a sound for her face to scream, you did not just say that to me. Then she looked down from Norman’s eyes to the large bag dangling from his hand. “What you got there? Fiore’s?”
“I was going to donate this stuff to the homeless sleepers…”
“Clients!” growled Gene.
“…Yes…uh…but you seem a little light tonight,” said Norman.
Gene snickered. “A little light? We’re empty. Whole damned city’s empty.”
Norman grew curious. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is,” she began before placing her elbows on the wobbly armrests and leaning on them, “we’ve got two thousand three hundred and twelve beds in this city and maybe twenty-five are full tonight.”
Norman rumpled his eye brows. The city was normally starved for more beds. “Where are all the, um, clients?”
Gene tilted her head back and took off her glasses, shooting Norman an incredulous look. “Maybe they all got jobs and moved out to the suburbs.”
“The hell you will,” snapped Gene as she lurched from her chair snatching up the bag. She could move fast when motivated. She looked into the bag and took out two crullers. Then she handed the bag back to Norman.
“Okay, then. Help yourself,” said Norman. “One for you, one for the new volunteer?”
“Who?” replied Gene biting into the confection.
“Right,” said Norman. “See you.”
Norman walked out of the office and past the young woman who appeared to still be folding the same sheet. “Thanks for your help.” He left a doughnut next to the basket of linens.
The last bell of the night rang throughout the school. As the struggling bell gave up and students filed out of the school, Norman’s professional concerns gave way to the sudden turn his week had taken. He thought he’d finally put an end to the vampire civil war when Skeete’s special vampires were destroyed. However, this war never seemed to end. He and his students had been attacked by a new group of vampires. Apparently, Skeete had gathered or created a new cabal of henchmen.
Norman wanted to do right by his six new vampire initiates in a way he’d failed to with Richie Taylor. He intended to bring them into their new lives the right way. Set them free after he’d nurtured them to full-fledged vampires. He’d never intended to bring more vampires into this world, but he’d been forced to in order to save Felicia and Declan and then, well, the rest kind of just happened.
Norman retreated back into his office and sat at his desk to mull over his options. A knock interrupted his nascent thoughts. “Mr. Bernard,” came Elaine Sperry’s voice from behind the tinted glass in the door.
“Yes, Ms. Sperry,” replied Norman.
“The students from the recycling club are here to see you.”
Norman exhaled a tiny laugh. “Send them in.”
In came Norman’s six Nymphs. They all pulled chairs from around the room and formed a small semicircle around Norman’s large desk.
Felicia spoke first, “We wanted to talk to you about last night.”
The students sat around him, the looks on their faces accusing. His failure felt on display. “I’m sorry about that, kids. I thought we were done with that stuff. I promise to keep you out of Skeete’s way from now on.”
“How?” asked Tyreese.
“She seems to put herself in our way” said Cindy.
Norman reached for an obvious answer but could find none to give at the moment.
“You can’t, Mr. Bernard.” said Keon. “We’ve all talked about it. The only way to keep Skeete away from us all so we can get along in peace, is to get rid of her.”
“Last night proved that,” added Tyreese.
The gathering sat in silence. There was more, though. Norman could feel it in Felicia.
“Teach us to fight,” said Felicia. “Teach us to fight like you.”
Norman knew he couldn't protect them that way. “Felicia, I’m not going to get you killed…again.”
“Death is coming for us unless we fight,” said Keon. “Skeete’s not going to give up.” He crossed his arms. “Neither are we.”
Norman could see the resolve in each of their faces. They were so tough, so loyal, so brave. A military commander could turn them into a savage fighting force. But not Norman. For a brief moment, Norman pictured them in full combat regalia. But they were so young. This little band of kids rushing into combat would end in death and grief.
“There’s no other way,” said Tyreese.
No other way. The words bounced around Norman's brain. Tyreese was right. How could Norman protect them if Skeete just kept coming? Norman let the silence drag on. “We’re moving,” he said at last.
The Nymphs’ stirred in their seats and flicked their eyes from one to another.
“Now we know there are other survivors scattered around out there. Let them handle it,” continued Norman. “My responsibilities are…different now.”
“But what about your job?” asked Declan.
“Boys and girls, I’m one hundred and sixty years old. I’ve had many jobs and many identities. I’ll find another. We’ll be fine,” said Norman. Having turned the tables, he now possessed all the resolve.
“But Mr. Bernard…” started Cindy.
“I have nothing more to say right now,” said Norman raising his palm to her. “Now get going. You have homework. I’ll see you back at my place.”
“You mean my place,” Felicia replied in a huff. Technically, it was Felicia’s grandmother’s place, now. They had agreed to transfer ownership to her so that it had a human owner. After their ordeal, keeping uninvited vampires out seemed like a good safety precaution. Felicia’s abuela couldn’t read English, and Felicia had told her the papers needed to be signed for school. She didn’t even know about her new property.
The nymphs left in a bit of a huff. Norman knew that once they got home, they’d regroup for a second round of argument rather than get cracking on their homework. Teenagers were kind of predictable.
The office staff had gone home and the school had fallen silent. Norman had hours of paperwork left to do. There was always hours of paper. A school administrator could measure time in pages. At some point each day he just decided he needed to go home and get some sleep. The work would still be there the next evening. Somehow, though, it always seemed to multiply during the day. So be it. He clicked the point of his pen and dropped it in his desk drawer. A long Monday. Quitting time. He looked forward to a drink.
As he shut his desk drawer, a knock interrupted his dreams of warm blood. The door opened before he could respond, Elijah burst through.
“Elijah, you should have left hours ago, what are you…”
“I did leave,” interrupted Elijah. “I came back.” Elijah attempted to catch his breath. Clearly, he’d run here. “Mr. Bernard. There’s something you have to see.”
Norman and Elijah walked at a brisk pace, winding their way past triple-decker housing and small two-story apartment buildings. The exteriors of the dwellings appeared less and less maintained the closer they got to the warehouse district.
Although Norman hadn't seen much of Elijah until the attack on the condo, Norman actually liked knowing he was at school. He didn't quite understand Elijah's group, Nebulous, but they'd helped him in the past. It was like he had an invisible ally. Now that that ally demanded his attention with such urgency, Norman felt he must give it.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you,” said Norman as they walked. “You’re Naseem’s friend?”
“No,” replied Elijah.
Why won't this kid just talk straight? “But you said…”
“I said he was my associate. We’d never met. None of us do.”
They stopped in front of a four-story self-storage building. “We’re here,” said Elijah.
Norman looked along the outside of the building trying to ascertain what might await him within. “Looks like a typical low-cost storage facility.”
“Precisely,” replied Elijah. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”
Elijah reached into his jacket and procured a pass card from his wallet. He then pulled two wires with alligator clips on the ends from the front pocket of his jacket. He clipped the wires onto the pass card. “Please hold this,” he said, handing the card to Norman. He then traced the wires back to his pocket and lifted a box with three buttons and two dials on it. He punched in one of the buttons and a red LED lit up on the box.
“Tap the card to the sensor next to the door,” he said.
Norman placed the pass card against the sensor block. The red light on the sensor continued to glow.
“Hold it there for a moment,” said Eli
jah. He then began turning the dials and looking at the readout on the box. “Almost.”
The red light turned green. Norman turned the knob and opened the door. Elijah placed the pass card back into his wallet and stowed the twenty-first century lock picking tech into his jacket.
“Fancy trick,” said Norman.
Elijah gave a chuckle.
Norman knew there was much more where that came from.
Elijah flicked on the light. They stood in a long hall with doors along one side. Each door had a number and a sensor for a pass card.
“Which box is yours?” said Norman.
“None of them,” replied Elijah.
“I don’t get it. What is it you need to show me?” said Norman.
Elijah looked up into his eyes. He held his gaze just a moment past comfortable. “Follow me.”
He led Norman down to the end of the hall into an elevator, pressing the up button. They watch the doors close in awkward silence.
“How do you know me?” asked Norman.
“We know a lot of things,” replied Elijah.
“But you didn’t know Naseem.”
“I did know him. I knew him quite well. I’d just never met him. None of us actually meet. That’s kind of the point,” responded Elijah.
“Us?” asked Norman. “Who’s us?”
Elijah looked up with that knowing secret glance. Norman began to recognize his pattern. When Norman annoyed him with questions, he got the look.
Norman decided to shift gears. “If you know so much, what happened to Skeete?”
The elevator interrupted the exchange with a ding. Elijah looked on as the door slid open. Norman began to take a step, but stopped when he noticed Elijah not moving forward. He looked down at the young man quizzically.
Elijah returned his gaze. “Skeete Daniels is the least of your problems, Norman Bernard.”
Elijah moved out of the elevator. Norman followed him onto an elevated track that ran along the entire perimeter of the facility. In the center was a vast open space. Norman leaned against the railing looking down. The entire storage building seemed to have been hollowed out to make room for rows and rows of translucent tubes which lay along the floor two stories below. Each tube was connected to a rectangular device with various displays and indicator lights. There were hundreds of them. Within each, Norman could make out a body suspended in a fluid and the Corps. V logo etched into the glass.
