by Alex Dire
“Yes, we should go now,” said officer Abraham. “Let’s go guys.” They all turned and left the house. Georgios closed the door behind them.
“Georgios, how far away is the police station?”
“I don’t know. I guess nine or ten minutes.”
“Move now,” said Norman. “We need to be gone when they get here.”
“Oh boy,” said Rae. “Let’s get on with this. Georgios, if you could kindly lead the way to the mixtures, we can conclude our business in your lovely little home.”
Georgios led them back through the house as the police cars started and drove off down the road.
Norman waded through the knee-high grass behind the house. A dilapidated greenhouse stood beyond a thin stand of trees. Past that was a small farm.
“This is where I carried out many of my experiments. As you can imagine, it was tricky trying to grow mushrooms in sunlight. I could never be there when the action was happening,” said Georgios. He bent at the door and looked at the digits dialed into a combo lock. Spinning each one, he pulled down on it. It did not yield. “Hmph.” He tried another combination. Still no luck.
MacManus moved to the door, grasped the lock and yanked hard, his strength amplified by his frustration. The lock held and the brunt of his effort tore the hasp off along with a chunk of metal from the door. “After you.”
An unfamiliar smell blew out from the abandoned green house. As Norman stepped inside, the smell nearly overwhelmed him.
Felicia took a whiff and fell limp. MacManus caught her before she hit the ground.
She was new and didn’t know how to control her hyper-tuned senses. Another thing Norman had yet to teach her.
“Breath through your mouth,” said MacManus
She started taking short breaths through her mouth and stood back up. “Thanks.” She looked to Georgios. “What the hell is that smell?”
“It’s part rotted mushroom and part…” He looked around the room at the rot that lay around. “…Not sure exactly. The genes are pretty complicated.”
“You’d better wait outside,” said Norman to Matt. He scanned the room and saw a dozen crates at the back. “Is that what we’re looking for?” asked Norman.
“That’s the stuff. I hope it’s still good.”
Just then the whole group looked back to the door.
Screeching tires and flashing red and blue lights came from the driveway in front of the house.
“Sheeite,” said Shamus.
“Quickly, said Georgios. “The crates.” Slipping on goo, the five vampires sped across the greenhouse to the back. Felicia covered her nose again. Even MacManus couldn’t muster his usually impenetrable tough facade.
“Jesus, Georgios,” said Rae. “Someone actually paid you to grow these?”
“Quite a lot, actually,” replied Georgios, lifting the first crate over his shoulder.
Moments later they had stacked the ten crates behind the thin line of trees that separated the farm from the back yard. They watched as spots of light crossed the windows of the house at a frenzied pace.
“We can make a break for the van while they’re searching,” said Rae.
“Fuck that shite. I say we take them out and lock them in the basement. Then we’ll have time to load this stuff.”
Georgios looked at Norman. “Why don’t you work your magic on them?”
“No. They’re not all in one place.”
“Come on, teacher,” said Bronte. “Give it a try. If it doesn’t work out, we could always put MacManus in charge. I could use a good fight.”
Norman wasn’t sure there was such a thing as a good fight and wanted to avoid one right now. They were in a hurry and their mission was about as important as it gets. Plus, he knew that one false move would result in another call for backup. He crouched behind the tree and answered Bronte’s challenge with silence.
“Fuck this,” said MacManus “I’m going in.” He stood to move across the back yard. Bronte rose with him.
This was going badly. As soon as shots were fired, the town’s whole police department would descend on them, plus, who knows how many state troopers.
“Wait,” said Norman, wishing his companions could see more than one move ahead.
“You had your chance, teacher. We’ll take care of this from here.” Bronte put her hand on his shoulder and shoved a little too hard.
Norman tumbled backward, falling on some broken branches. One of the dried broken limbs scraped against his ribs. He pursed his lips from the pain but a muffled grunt escaped. He had not anticipated confronting sharpened wood on this sojourn.
In an instant Felecia flew into Bronte’s chest, pushing her to the ground on her back. She had a diminutive figure, but she was like concentrated TNT, explosive whenever her fuse went off.
Bronte hit the ground with a grunt. Looking into Felicia’s eyes, she laughed out a few words, “You’re lucky we’re on the same side, Nymph.”
“You are,” replied Felicia.
She flicked a hand next to Bronte’s neck. Bronte winced as the point of Felicia’s silver infusing blade pricked her throat.
“Not bad,” said Bronte.
“You okay, Mr. Bernard?” Felicia asked.
He didn’t answer. He was already at the back door of the house. I'll do this myself if I have to. He pressed his ear against the door to listen to the frantic tussle within.
“We’ve cleared the house. It’s completely empty. No electricity,” came a voice from within. Smells like death.”
A blast of static answered, followed by a voice. “Check the property. Records indicate a greenhouse in the back. We’re sending two more cars.”
“Roger that,” replied the officer.
Norman looked back to the line of trees. The four vampires stared at him, anticipating his next move.
Norman closed his eyes. He could feel the wills spastically floating through the house.
A police officer’s voice issued commands from inside. “We’re going through the back yard. You four, go out the front and come around the sides. Russell, you come with me out the back door.”
Norman wondered if he should burst in now. It might bring them together into the same room where he could deal with them all at once. Should he wait and confront them in the back yard? What if they saw his friends?
He pushed his ear back against the door. The time was now. He twisted the doorknob, rotating with caution so as not to alert the officers who surely approached it at that moment. Norman would burst through and glamour the two heading for the back door. Then, as the others came to their defense, he’d get them, too.
He heard the steps approach. Two circles of light crisscrossed over the curtained window panes in the door. Norman counted their steps. Just a few more and he’d make his move. He felt the door knob twist in his hand. Now!
Then, another static blast. “Officer Kelly, abort the search we need you ASAP we have a Code Black in progress.”
The door knob went loose again. The footsteps receded in a rapid rhythm.
“Boys. We’ve got to go. Code Black. “
All noise from within the house rushed away and out the front door.
Norman looked back at his friends and shrugged his shoulders. They began to walk toward the house across the back yard.
The police cruisers screeched away out of the driveway and down the road.
“Not bad,” said Bronte as she reached the house. “I never should have doubted you.”
“It wasn’t me. They were called away.”
“What for?” said Rae.
“Not sure, I only heard a Code Black.“
Rae choked off a gasp.
“What the hell does that mean?” said MacManus
“Don’t know, but it got rid of the cops, so it can’t be that bad,” laughed Bronte.
“I know,” said Rae in a quiet voice.
The four vampires all turned to her. Her face had gone whiter than death.
“Active terror
event.”
24
Feed the Homeless to the Hungry
MacManus sped down the road back toward route ten. Crates filled the back of the mini-van. Norman, Rae and Georgios sat on some crates that had been placed where the back seats used to be. Bronte had torn them out with ease.
Norman broke the silence. “Slow down, MacManus. The last thing we need is to be pulled over.”
“No one’s pulling us over tonight.” MacManus pushed harder on the accelerator and the van sped up way beyond the speed limit. “There’s no speed limit during a terrorist attack.”
“Hmm,” replied Norman, abandoning his protest.
Felicia reached to the dash and flicked on the radio. A newscaster was reporting.
Norman stared out the window. The sounds of news blended in with the road noise into a blur of undifferentiated sound.
However, two words from the radio cut through Norman’s catatonia and rattled through is brain: homeless shelter. They seemed louder than the other sounds. Norman repeated them in his mind. Why did they fail to dissolve like all the others? There was something there. Something Norman was supposed to hear. The words meant something to him. What was it? He reached into memory.
Felicia reached over to change the station.
“Wait,” said Norman. “Turn it up.”
The newsman prattled on. “Police are now arriving at other abandoned structures where bodies have been reported. We’ve got Angela Saunders on the ground near one of the facilities now. Angela…”
“Thanks, Dave,” replied a new voice from the radio. “I’m here with Jean Dubose, operator of the D-street homeless shelter outside an abandoned warehouse. Ms. Dubose, what lead you to discover the bodies in this building?”
“What do you mean? I been working in this city for forty years, never went a night without a full house. Not one night.” Jean’s gruff, aggressive voice sounded almost soothing to Norman. “Aint’ never been a politician in the world could clear that many people out of shelters.” She sounded offended, as always.
“So…. You went out looking for them?” said the reporter, rattled by Jean’s bizarre authority.
“You think this building came looking for me? A bunch of the regulars stay here when the shelter’s full.”
“And now, as you’ve discovered, it’s full of bodies.”
Jean’s voice, now trembling and hesitant, replied, “I knew some of those guys. Those families. They didn’t deserve this.”
“How many bodies would you say are inside?”
“I never seen anything like it.”
“Can you say what you saw?”
All the occupants of the van stared at the radio, trance-like, waiting for Jean’s description.
A phone rang, interrupting the dialog and snapping everyone back to the moment.
“Turn it down,” said Rae fishing her phone out of her pocket.
“No,” said Norman. “I need to hear.”
She showed Norman the screen of the ringing phone. The text read: “Representative Garcia.”
Norman nodded to Felicia who pushed the power button on the radio.
Rae swept a finger across the screen and brought the device to her ear. “Hello, Representative, what can I do for you?” She paused listening to the voice on the other end. “Yes, we just saw on the news. We were…” She interrupted her thought to listen to the voice again. “No, we…” Again, her though cut short as if it didn’t really matter. Probably, it didn’t. She listened to the voice prattling. As the seconds passed, her face grew graver. Her concern gripped the corners of her eyes and mouth and twisted. She looked at Norman as if he could hear what was being said and somehow respond. Finally, she looked back down at her lap. “I understand.”
Rae lowered the phone and looked back up at Norman.
“What is it?” said Norman.
“We’ll need to change our destination.”
“I was afraid of that,” said MacManus from the front seat. “Are we going to the building from the newscast?”
“No,” said Rae. “To the self-storage.”
“What? Why?” replied Norman.
“MacManus, could you pick up the speed a little?”
MacManus pressed the accelerator and the car jolted ahead at increasingly unsafe speed.
Matt bounced in the back. “Wait a minute there. Are we forgetting our cargo?” We need to get this back to…my friends.”
“No time,” said Rae. “It’s too late.”
“Too late? It’s our only chance. We have no plan B.”
“Rae,” interrupted Norman.
She ignored Norman. “It’s too late. MacManus, faster. Get us to the warehouse.”
“Rae!” Norman gripped her shoulder.
“And feel free to pick up the speed, please.”
“I’ve got it almost floored. Any faster and this thing will fly off the road. It’s a minivan, not a race car, love.”
“Rae!” Now Norman was shouting. “What the hell are you doing? We need the serum.”
Rae, who’d leaned forward so far she was practically in the front, snapped her face back to Norman as if she’d forgotten he was there. “It’s too late, Norman. They’ve emerged. They’re fighting. Right now. Garcia took us more seriously than he led on. They’re at the warehouse.”
Norman let the info sink in through the layers of his grey matter. Rae's sending us into three hundred vampires like Cornelius. We can't win. This is madness
“Okay, just drop me off here,” said Matt. “We need to get this stuff to…my people.”
“I don’t think they can help you, here.” Georgios motioned out the window where dense trees surrounded the van on all sides. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“We’re never nowhere. Stop the car, MacManus”
MacManus looked back to Rae. She nodded.
“Jesus,” he said slamming on the brakes,
“Easy there,” said Matt. “Some of us are fragile.
Moments later they all helped unload the crates out of the car.
“Are you sure you want us to just leave you here?” asked Norman quietly. “How will you get…” Norman looked around at the festooning trees and dark street.
Matt reached in his pocket and withdrew a small black stick. He flicked a switch and a light came on at the end. He pointed his little flashlight at the crates. “Is that all of them.”
MacManus climbed back into the car. Just before he slammed the door, he shouted, “Bye.”
“Guess so,” said Matt. Then he flicked another button on the flashlight. A small green LED turned on. It blinked and beeped three short times and then lit green and stayed illuminated. “I’ll be okay.”
Norman looked at his student and tried to comprehend what he’d become. He’d changed much since his Trench Coat Mafia days. He’d been a quiet kid more interested in his role playing and comic books than school. That didn’t make him very popular in the neighborhoods he’d grown up in. He’d mostly survived by keeping quiet. Norman had always admired his various methods of listening to music on the sly in class, but as a teacher he could never react with anything but stern disapproval when discovering Matt’s little deceptions.
Now Matt was living a fantasy life, a life where he had power for the first time. He was some kind of real world sixteenth level wizard. What a strange turn. However, this might be the last time he ever saw his former student. Norman was rushing into what would probably be very much like a war zone. Matt would end up who-knows-where. Norman still knew very little about the secretive Nebulous. He resolved, if he survived, to make a point of finding out more.
“You’ll be okay here?” said Norman.
“Yeah,” replied Matt.
Norman reach out his arms and embraced the young man, knowing he would likely never see him again. “You sure?”
They separated.
“I know a guy,” said Matt with a sly smile. “Good luck.” His smile curled down into a scowl of concern.
&nb
sp; ‘I don’t believe in luck,” replied Norman. He walked to one of the crates, unclasped the lid and opened it.
“What are you doing?”
“Any day now!” shouted Rae out a window. The car engine roared to life.
Norman lifted a layer of foam from inside the crate. Rows of tiny vials stood inserted into another perforated layer of foam. Norman slid one of the vials out and slipped it into his pocket.
“It won’t do you much good,” said Matt. “You need a delivery device.”
“I’ll figure it out,” said Norman.
The horn blared, and Norman scurried into the side door of the minivan. MacManus instantly stomped on the accelerator sending Norman careening back through the empty van, hitting his head on the back door. He crawled back to the front. “Easy there.”
Felicia rolled down the window and extended an arm out. She raised a peace sign to her former classmate. Norman looked back through the rear windows to see Matt replying in kind. A flicker of light blinked behind Matt. Norman stared down the road at the receding figure. Two headlights approached him and stopped. I know a guy, thought Norman.
Fifteen minutes later, the van turned down a nearly abandoned road into the warehouse district. A calm had settled over the rows of dilapidated buildings. The occupants of the car held their breath waiting for something to break the standstill in time. They didn’t wait long. A helicopter roared overhead toward the heart of the district.
Norman rolled down his window and pushed his head through the opening. The helicopter had blue and white markings and the words “News 12” painted on the bottom.
“Here we go,” said Norman.
MacManus pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor and the minivan lurched to high speed sending the rear occupants tumbling to the back of the van in the absence of seats and belts.
“Do you know any other way to get a car going?” said Felicia.
“Of course,” said MacManus.
Norman crawled back to the front for the van and grasped the back of Felicia’s seat to steady himself. He watched out the front window as MacManus wound his way through the narrow and abandoned streets toward the self-storage warhorse where they knew their enemy awaited. “Perhaps we should engage in a modicum of caution as we approach,” said Norman.
