Vampire Miami

by Philip Tucker

“Cloud?”

  He nodded. Looked down the street and then back. “Selah, hurry. I shouldn’t be here. We have to go.”

  She walked over to him. It felt like the distance was over a thousand yards, that her legs had three new sets of knees, that she might fall at any time. There was no strength left to her. There was no will. She felt like a feather, as if a strong wind could blow her away at any moment. “Cloud?”

  He stopped scanning the street and looked at her, and she felt as if the hundreds of others heading toward the Arena had disappeared and left her alone before this man with his quiet, burning intensity. “The same.”

  Then she was next to him, swinging her leg over the back of his bike to ride pillion. “Hold on tight,” he said. “This was a trap. I’m going to have to go fast.”

  “A trap?” That was all she managed. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he gunned the throttle and the back wheel accelerated in place, causing the rear of the bike to spin about until he released the brake and they shot forward, engine spiraling into a tiger’s roar, sliding out obliquely into traffic, slotting through the crowd that was drifting across Biscayne toward the Arena. Selah simply held Cloud tight about the waist and pressed her cheek against his back, against the smooth, cool leather of his jacket. He had a slender waist, she thought. Like a dancer. Wide shoulders. Cloud. He had come for her. It was like a dream.

  One thing was clear. Cloud knew his way around a high-powered motorbike. He coaxed every ounce of performance from it, hopping up onto the pavement one moment and then back onto the road, hunched low like a jockey on a prizewinning racehorse, daring a look behind them every few moments until Selah did the same and felt her throat close up. Three bikes were in pursuit. A trap, he’d said. Selah turned her head back and pressed her cheek against his jacket once more. She’d been the bait. He’d known it, and come for her regardless.

  Two more blocks whipped by, buildings a blur, and then Cloud eased on the brakes, leaned over low, took the corner, and slid right off Biscayne at an insanely high speed. Selah closed her eyes, didn’t want to see. Held on, prayed that the tires would keep traction. If she had been riding high on vampire mojo, maybe this would’ve been a thrill. It had been a thrill, she realized, not too long ago. Now? It was terrifying.

  A thump and crash behind her. She sneaked a look. Two bikes following, one now cratered into the wall of the first building beyond the turn. Fierce elation. She didn’t know if they were vampires following her, or humans in their employ. Didn’t care. Die, bastards, she thought viciously.

  Cloud steered the bike down the center of the street, right along the median, gunning past one block after another, slicing through intersections at full speed, traffic not withstanding. Selah simply didn’t want to look. She pressed her face into him, held him tight. Another curdling crash behind her, the sound of horns. She didn’t look this time. Knew what had happened.

  A whine past her ear, followed by a second. What on earth? Opened her eyes and looked behind them. The last rider had a gun, was lining up a third shot. Cloud didn’t wait. He hopped the bike up onto the sidewalk, slowed down so fast that the tires shrieked in protest, and then took a broad flight of stairs. Selah couldn’t see where they were going. Simply tried to not get bucked off as the bike jounced and jostled its way up, the bike seat slamming into her over and over again, jarring her teeth. Then they hit a landing, glass walled to her right and looking down over the street, and Cloud took off once more, threading through tables and chairs, shops and stores on this elevated walkway blurring past to their left.

  Selah looked behind her, saw the third rider appear over the stairs, following right after. A third shot, so close it sounded right in her ear. Cloud ripped the bike over to the left around a sharp corner, nearly coming to a stop as he did so, but they were going too fast. The bike slid out from under them, and suddenly Selah was tumbling like a rag doll, arms pressed to her chest, eyes wide open, pain tearing up her leg, cracking her head.

  She came to a stop against the wall. Blinked, tried to get up. Her vision was blurred. Saw Cloud struggle up onto one knee. The third bike came around the corner with better precision, but Cloud lifted his arm, a gun of his own in his hand, and shot the rider right in the chest. The rider fell to the side, twisting the bike down with him, its rear wheel causing it to spin out and smash through the glass wall. It fell out of sight under a cascade of broken glass, and took the rider along with it.

  Silence. Cloud turned to her, staggered, pulled off his helmet and let it drop as knelt by her side. He slide a hand under her head and wiped her hair from her face. “Selah! You OK?”

  She blinked. Her vision was clearing. Perhaps it was some vampire residue in her system. She didn’t think she should have taken that fall so well. Put her hand to her head, and then nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think.”

  “Jesus,” said Cloud, and lowered his head so that his brow touched hers, eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. “That was fucking insane.” He straightened up, and then held out his hand, watched it shake, and then snapped it into a fist. “Goddamn. All right. We need to keep going.”

  “Yeah,” she said, taking his hand and rising to her feet. She felt shaky, but not too bad. “Thank you. For coming. For doing this.” She tried a smile. He smiled for the first time, closing one eye as he did so, so despite her split lip, she guessed that she’d pulled one off.

  “Come on,” he said. Grabbed the bike, and hauled it back up onto its wheels. “More of them are gonna come. Let’s go.”

  “Where we going?” she asked, climbing back on behind him. She didn’t care, really. Just wanted to close her eyes and wrap her arms around him once more.

  “Someplace safe,” he said. “Safe as it gets in Miami, at any rate.”

  Selah took a deep breath as he began to drive along the rest of the walkway and back down onto the street. No words had ever sounded so good.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They drove for about twenty minutes, stopping only once to discard her new Omni and check her clothing for bugs. Cloud waved a slender wand over her, but nothing pinged. They climbed back on the bike and headed out. Part of Selah, a new and harder side to her, thought she should watch where they went, learn the directions, catch the street names. But she couldn’t be bothered, couldn’t muster the energy. It felt good to just ride behind Cloud, to hold him, to let him take over. Let him take her wherever he thought was best. She’d just go. Selah relaxed, inch by inch, and allowed herself to enjoy the thrum of the bike, the feel of the biking leathers against her cheek. Closed her eyes, and thought of nothing beyond the sensation of relief.

  Eventually, they slowed to a stop. Selah lifted her head. It was turning out to be a beautiful night, the sky clear and the air smooth and warm. They’d stopped before a small house on a quiet suburban street. It was dark, but the waning moon as she rose over the horizon illuminated the thicket of weeds that claimed each front yard, that had crept out surreptitiously onto the road itself. Great trees spread their canopy over intermittent spots of the road, and the homes were beautiful, each a unique cottage made of rough white stone, with small, covered porches and dark windows.

  “Where are we?” asked Selah, climbing off the bike.

  “Coral Gables,” said Cloud, removing his helmet and scruffing his hand through his hair. “Used to be old money. I went to school close by. UM’s over in that direction.”

  “Oh,” said Selah, and a subtle thrill ran through her once more, the ghost of what she might have felt a few days ago before the world imploded. She’d just learned something about Cloud that nobody online knew. “You were a student there?” She almost groaned. Hadn’t he just said as much?

  “Yeah.” Cloud wheeled the bike into the driveway, and hung the helmet on one of the handlebars. Scrounged up a weathered tarp from where it lay to one side and draped it over the bike. “Seems like another life.” He wiped his hands on his hips and turned to her. “How you feeling? Headache? Dizzy?”

  Se
lah rubbed at her elbows, the back of her head. There was something to him. Something subdued, even here, with just the two of them, something wary. Almost as if he were shy. “I feel fine, actually. It’s weird. You’d think I’d be in worse shape.”

  Cloud dug a key from his pocket, and then knocked a complex tattoo on the front door before unlocking it. “Yeah, you’d think,” he said. “Guess we got lucky.” He shook his head and pushed the door open. “Hey! We’re back.”

  Selah followed him inside. She didn’t know what to expect, was almost shy about meeting new people in her raw state. Still, she couldn’t remain outside. Inside it was dark, but Cloud navigated through the living room with ease, digging an LED flashlight out of his pocket to help guide Selah around the chairs and side tables. Right up to a narrow door under the stairs, which he knocked on again in the same code.

  Selah heard the sound of a deadbolt slide back. Then the door opened and a white girl stared at them both, light coming up from behind her. She was curvaceous, verging on heavyset, and her hair was cropped short but for her bangs, which were long and curled off to the left. A tattoo insinuated itself up the side of her neck from out under her T-shirt, though Selah couldn’t make it out.

  “You’re one lucky idiot,” she said to Cloud, voice disapproving. “It was a trap, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Course it was. Selah, this is Cassie Jones. Cassie, Selah. You going to let us in?”

  Cassie turned to scrutinize Selah, her face still hard. “You sure she’s not bugged?”

  “She’s clean.”

  “Hi,” said Selah.

  “Come on in, then,” said Cassie, turning to walk down the steps into a basement. Cloud gestured for Selah to go first, unfazed by his friend’s grumpy manner, and Selah did so, moving down the wooden steps into a large, cinderblock-lined basement. It had a low ceiling and concrete floor; half of it was filled with what looked like IKEA bunk beds, with the other half given over to computer monitors and electronic equipment. As the trio descended, a couple of other people looked up.

  “Welcome to our HQ,” said Cloud. “At least, this month’s installment. We’re already looking for a new place. Can’t be too safe.”

  Selah drifted a few steps from the base of the stairs and then stood, looking around. The others stood and gathered before them, Cassie moving away to check what looked like security monitors of the street outside and further down the block.

  “That’s Barbara Hein,” said Cloud, gesturing to a second white girl who was willowy thin and had hair dyed so black, it held blue tints in its depths. “And you know Joey.” Joey was Fox, staring abashedly at her. He spread his arm wide and turned in a circle before dropping them and looking at her soberly. “The four of us make up the Resistance.”

  “The four of you?” Selah turned back to him. “This is it?”

  Cassie snorted from where she was working, and Cloud nodded. “Yeah. We’re a small operation. We used to be larger, but it’s just too dangerous. Some good friends were … taken, and so we decided to stop accepting new members. At least until we figure out a few things. So for now, this is it.”

  Barbara examined Selah with a friendly smile, and Joey stepped forward. “Hey. I’m glad you made it out of there. Sorry Cloud and I had to run like that. It’s, like, our standard protocol for when we’re discovered. Don’t fight, just run.”

  “You were there that night?” asked Selah, turning back to Cloud. He nodded, expression neutral, and walked over to sit in an ancient armchair, drawing one knee up so that he could rest his elbow on it. “Oh.” She looked around. This wasn’t what she’d expected. This basement room, the IKEA furniture, how small a group they were, how young. She’d thought—she didn’t know what she’d expected, exactly. More people, more activity, a more dramatic base. Maybe a penthouse apartment somewhere, or something like the Batcave.

  Joey saw the disappointment on her face and laughed. “Come on, take a seat. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” He headed over to a couple of couches shoved into the corner and collapsed into one, kicking out his legs.

  Selah sat on the other couch. Barbara perched on the couch’s arm, and Joey pulled up a ragged beach chair. Cassie had moved to another computer, and was checking some code.

  Cloud leaned back, “So, for better or worse, here you are. Welcome. We’ve been running this thing for three years now.” His voice was quiet, but there was a charge to it, a current of power that drew and held Selah’s attention. “We’re fighting to do one thing: make sure the world out there sees exactly what’s going on here in Miami, and never loses sight of the reality of what the vampires are all about.”

  Joey cut in. “You’ve seen our stuff online?” Selah nodded. “Cool. Well, what we’re doing here is pretty well thought out. Sure, we could recruit more people and kill a couple of vampires, or plant a bomb in one of their buildings, or do some real guerilla work. But to what end? That’s not where the real battle is being fought.”

  Selah looked at the others. She felt a small thrill again. How often had she dreamed of sitting right here, having Cloud and his friends explain this very thing to her and her alone? She felt a surge of fondness at the memory of that girl, that world.

  “So, what are you trying to achieve?” she asked, Maria Elena’s words coming back to her. “I mean, we all know they are vampires. Telling us they’re vampires isn’t anything new. Is it?”

  Cloud stood up, restless, and began to pace. “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve only figured it out myself about a year or so back when this new recruit of ours joined up. You might get to meet him later.” Cloud stopped at the far wall and turned, crossing his arms. “What do you think they want to achieve, the vampires? What do you think their long-term goal is?”

  Selah frowned. Long-term goal? She hadn’t even asked that question. She thought it over. Thought of Mama B’s work. Thought of the Beach, of downtown. The planes flying into Miami Airport. The Freedom Games. “Create … a functional city?”

  Cloud shook his head. “No. They’re not interested in that. Couldn’t give a damn. At least, not all of them.”

  Joey cut in. “There are two groups, see. The old-school vampires who were around before the War, the Dracula types who have this almost medieval mentality. They’re happy to just run the city and drink blood and act all old-school. But there’s this new group, of which Karl Plessy is the leader. The new vampires, the ones who were made during the War. They’re ambitious, they’re modern. They want much more.”

  Joey grinned, and then cut a glance at Cloud and dropped the grin. She could feel his excitement, but Cloud was like a brooding storm cloud at the end of the room. He shook his head, as if working through his own ideas once more, and then picked up the thread. “Think about it. What’s their reality? They’re trapped here.”

  “‘Like tigers in a cage,’” said Cassie.

  Cloud nodded. “They can’t go anywhere. And they know that right now there are scientist types trying to come up with some kind of vampire superflu or that the damned politicians that got us in this mess are trying to work up the nerve to drop a nuclear bomb on the city. Something, anything that could wipe them all out at once. Which means what? They have to get out.”

  Selah nodded. “But they can’t. That would break the Treaty.”

  “Right,” said Cloud. “So they need to get the Treaty out of the way. They need to get our government to tear it up. How they going do that? By changing the way we see them. At the moment everybody thinks of them as cold-hearted monsters that need to be destroyed. But think about it—what do they spend all their time doing? Turn on the damn TV and what do you see? What’s online? What image are they trying to push?”

  Selah blinked. “What, like, the reality TV shows?”

  “Yes,” said Barbara, “and the parties. The interviews they’ve been giving on the news channels. The movies they’ve allowed to be filmed. The Freedom Fights. All of it.”

  “But—the Freedom Fights are disgusting,” said Sela
h. “How can that be part of it?”

  “They’re not trying to be nice guys,” said Barbara. “They’re going for dangerous, sexy, popular. Whatever. They want to seduce the human public, and, like, the Freedom Fights are the most popular feeds online. I don’t know what it says about us humans, but they’re a freaking hit.”

  Selah’s mind was spinning. “So, what you’re saying—South Beach, all of that—that’s a publicity stunt?”

  Cloud nodded. “They’re figuring things out as they go. I think the movies from last year, like Nowhere to Run and Eternal Dark were their first big steps. Huge box office numbers. Sure, those films made them look bad, but go one level deeper. They were commercial movies filmed here in Miami. It took the vampires from being real enemies to cinematic enemies. Remember all the interviews with Lacrime, the head evil vampire from the movie? How sophisticated and suave he sounded, how he was on every channel? How the studios couldn’t stop going on about how they had actually ‘worked’ with the vampires to make the film ‘authentic’? It was amazing stuff, a real coup for them. And just the first step.”