by Alex Dire
“Mr. Bernard,” said Matt, “there’s no way we could ever be ready for something like this.”
He had a point.
“This wasn’t exactly covered by Shakespeare,” said Matt.
“Dear student,” said Norman, “everything’s covered by Shakespeare.” He said it with a wink, although he actually believed it to be true.
“How so?” asked Matt.
The boom of Rufus’ voice interrupted the moment of levity. “We’re here.”
Norman turned his full attention to the front of the line where the group gathered around a ladder that led up to a manhole cover. They would all now re-emerge into the world above, probably for the last time.
43
Mobius
The band of vampires and teenagers scampered along the streets in the few minutes remaining before sunrise. They had emerged in a section of town populated by old, derelict buildings and roads overgrown with weeds. Few people roamed here. The vampires trudged along at a snail’s pace, while the human students struggled to keep up.
They reached a tall, dilapidated warehouse and stopped. The structure’s walls were riddled with holes and missing sections. Flakes of orange paint peeled from the sides. They stopped by the green door with rusted hinges—the entrance to Richie’s sunlight training grounds.
Ivol sighed, heavy with relief. “Dag. I’m glad that’s over.”
“That was the easy part,” said Norman.
Ivol breathed deep and fast for a good minute. “I know,” he said.
“When this is over,” said Norman, “I’ll give you an ‘A’ for the year.”
Ivol laughed and continued to catch his breath.
“Richie, take them inside and explain the details,” said Norman to his student teacher. “When they’ve got it, make your way to the roof and wait.”
Richie nodded.
Norman grasped his arm. “Richie, don’t get caught up there once the sun comes up.”
Richie winced at Norman’s grasp. His strength drained by the hour. He looked into Norman’s eyes and managed a meager smile. “Time to go.”
The teens walked into the structure along with Richie and began their part in this play. Norman shuddered at the tragedy about to unfold.
After pausing briefly to absorb the moment, he looked at the seven other vampires with him, the last remaining hope of this world. “Felicia, Declan, you should stay here.”
“Not a chance,” replied Felicia. “We’re with you, now.”
Norman nodded toward the group entering the warehouse. “They’ll need you to protect them.”
Felicia didn’t budge.
“They’re only human,” Norman added. He pointed to a pile of cinderblocks that lay around the base of the building. “Do you think they’ll be able to get those to the roof?”
Felicia uncrossed her arms, turned, and walked in after her classmates, followed closely behind by Declan.
“Stay out of the sun,” advised Norman. He’d never had a chance to train them. It would get tough once the sun came up.
“I’m not afraid of the sun, Mr. Bernard,” retorted Felicia.
“You should be,” warned Norman. “You should be more afraid of the sun than of all the people in your life who ever hurt you…of all the vampires who want to kill you now.” Norman shouted to Richie, “Show them where to hide inside.”
Richie nodded and entered the building last.
Norman turned to the five vampires standing outside the structure. “Let’s go pay a visit to our old friend, Skeete.”
Free of their human baggage, the vampire contingent sprinted through the streets in a blur, careening into an unwinnable encounter with Skeete’s Corps. V sociopaths.
They stopped at the corner of Amory Street two blocks away from number 227. Before turning the corner, they crouched beside a fence along the sidewalk that had been completely consumed by an overgrown bush. No one spoke as they focused their exceptional hearing on the frequencies of movement: shoes on pavement, clothes sliding on clothes, voices whispering.
Rae stood behind Norman. He could feel her fear radiating from her face like heat from a bulb. He tried hard not to let his own fear show.
Rufus inched his head around the bush and peered down the street. The full moon lit the normally very dark road in a monotone landscape of grays. The buildings to their east revealed a hint of the sun’s glow over their roofs. Norman wasn’t sure if they were more afraid of being dismembered and staked by the Corps. V horde or of the sunrise which drew closer by the moment.
“All quiet,” said Rufus.
“Too quiet,” replied Skip.
“No,” said Norman. “The worst parts of the city fall silent in the hours before dawn.”
Rufus made brief eye contact with each vampire. “Let’s move.”
The six vampires slid along the fences on the sidewalk, approaching number 227. They all kept their senses on alert. The last thing they needed was to fall into a Corps. V trap just as they were setting up their own.
Rufus halted the group at the edge of the small yard in front of number 227. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Norman and the rest joined in the moment of meditation. Norman thought of his students, who would surely perish if his plan failed. And of Richie, who was doomed no matter what. He would do what he could to protect his class and avenge his student teacher, his progeny.
Rufus opened his eyes. “It’s been a privilege to serve the VR, and to fight with you. I will defend you to the last and honor my pledge and duty.” He then slowly drew a long, ornate wooden stake from a sheath on his back. This was the weapon of a soldier. The hard, wood point was sharpened to perfection. The shaft was decorated with metal. Metal rings also surrounded the handle, added for improved gripping.
Rufus stood and walked to the sidewalk directly in front of number 227. The rest followed and formed a line behind him. They had weapons but kept them hidden, as planned.
Rufus took one last deep breath. “Skeete!” he shouted in his deep, commanding voice. He waited. No answer came for what seemed like an eternity. “Skeete, I challenge you!”
Norman heard quiet commotion inside the house. They might not be responding, but some type of reaction was happening.
“Skeete Daniels. I challenge you to end this war right here, right now in a battle of single combat. I will fight your Corps. V champion to the death. The losing side surrenders all arms.” Rufus was from another time. This type of challenge would never carry any weight these days. However, Skeete was from another time as well. They gambled that Skeete’s history and this ancient affront to her honor might provoke or at least amuse her.
Norman and his friends had no illusion that they’d honor the outcome of the fight, but at least it would draw them out. They continued to wait for a reply. None came. Norman could still hear stirring within the house. He began to wonder if they were going to wait Rufus out, forcing his group to retreat as sunrise approached.
After what seemed like hours, Norman heard definitive motion within—footsteps. A single figure walked within the house. Norman could see a vague outline through the glass in the front door. The knob slowly turned. Norman wondered who would emerge.
Would Skeete present herself as the champion of her cause? Would she step out and accept the challenge? Would she send some brute whose sacrifice she wouldn’t care about? Would the challenger approach with a drawn weapon in traditional fashion or explode from the door, leaping into instant, frantic combat?
A thin space between the door and the frame appeared as it was pushed open. A dark figure stood before them, just behind the door frame. Norman couldn’t see his face or make out details. He could, however, discern a very tall, skinny, male form. Something familiar about this man struck Norman.
As the man moved onto the porch, moonlight revealed his features. The young African American looked down at the ground, with a serious and somber demeanor. The pieces of the puzzle began to snap themselves into place in Norman�
�s mind. However, before he fit the last piece in, the man stepped to the front of the porch and into the full moonlight. Norman knew this young man. He’d spent nearly every day with him for months.
“Hello, Mr. Bernard,” said Chubs, lifting his eyes to meet Norman’s.
44
The Neighborhood
Norman’s mind raced, trying to concoct a narrative that could have led to this moment. Most of the stories didn’t make sense. His spinning brain shifted gears, his teacher instincts beginning to emerge. He had another student to protect—one who had been sent to destroy him. Why would Chubs do this?
Rufus lifted the bottom of his stake off the ground and twirled it a few times. He began to advance on the young man.
“Rufus, wait!” shouted Norman.
He ran past Rufus, grabbing his shoulder and physically stopping the soldier’s forward motion. Norman stopped at the bottom step of the porch and looked up into his student’s eyes. He searched Chubs’ face, trying to read it. All he discerned was that mask of aggression that Chubs wore almost constantly to protect him from the horrors of his street life. The aggression had a taint, though. A barely perceptible tinge of sadness transformed the cast of his face. Norman wondered if it had always been there beyond his notice, or if Chubs had changed since rescuing his classmates in the office of MLK Night School.
After a moment, Norman climbed onto the first step of the Porch. “Chubs, I…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Chubs’ aggressive expression intensified. He pursed his lips tightly and furrowed his nose. He opened his mouth wide with a hiss. His teeth gleamed white in the moonlight and two viscous fangs descended from the top row. “You shouldn’t have come back”
Another of his students, transformed. Another failure. They’d turned Chubs and were using him as a weapon. Chubs would never do this willingly. “Stanley, why?”
All the aggression drained from Chubs’ face, leaving only sadness. In this open moment, Norman had a clear view of a young man he rarely saw. It reminded Norman of the face Chubs revealed after he decided not to join his classmates in their flight from Night School.
A tiny sound came from inside the house. Chubs looked over his shoulder, a hint of anger resurfacing on his face. He gave no answer.
However, Norman perceived the answer nonetheless. He strained his hearing and finally discerned the sound. At the edge of perception, a tiny bird had begun to cry in short, sad sobs. Realizing Chubs’ dilemma, Norman’s own heart sank, sharing in Chubs’ sadness. This young man knew nothing but aggression and fear his whole life. Now this.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bernard. I have no choice,” said Chubs. His face tightened into a snarl. He spat out a hiss and leapt into the air over Norman’s head, descending squarely on Rufus.
“Stanley, no!” Before he could intervene, a horde of vampires emerged from both sides of the house in two streams of deadly wrath.
45
Once More Unto the Breach
Everything slowed down around Norman as he watched his former student glide over his head like a cat. His trajectory would land him squarely on top of Rufus.
Rufus, faster and better-trained, shifted his position, angling the point of his stake directly under Chubs’ descent. Gravity would pull Chubs onto it. The soldier had little to do but wait for his opponent’s defeat, which approached at the speed of gravity.
Norman leapt backward, pushing off the bottom step with the greatest effort he could muster. He shot, like a spear, at Rufus, his speed far outpacing the falling Chubs.
Rufus, however, had centuries of battle conditioning and tremendous speed of his own. He twisted his body and raised his arm to bat Norman away. He had misjudged, however.
Apparently he assumed that Norman aimed for his center of mass, to knock him down. But Norman did not want to incapacitate Rufus, he just wanted to stop him from killing Chubs. Norman’s arm hooked around Rufus’ intricate weapon, wrenching it from his hand.
He and the stake tumbled onto the street as Chubs landed squarely on Rufus. Rufus grunted as his back smashed against the pavement. Chubs’ momentum rolled him off of Rufus along the pavement next to Norman.
Norman and Chubs both got to their knees and met each other’s gaze for a moment. Norman desperately wanted to talk to Chubs, tell him that there must be a way. His inner city teacher instincts told him that no matter the student, there was always a way. He could try to glamor Chubs. But there was no time.
Rufus was already on his feet and prepared to move on Chubs. More vampires, armed with a variety of wooden-tipped weaponry, streamed from around the sides of the house. Still more came out the front door.
Rufus charged at Chubs, who struggled to his feet.
Norman shouted, “Rufus, he’s my student!”
“Not anymore,” said Rufus.
“Please!”
Rae had turned and began to flee the onrushing Corps. V horde. She and Hector had Skip by the arms. Skip’s body refused to move, paralyzed by fright and indecision.
Chubs roared as he gained his footing and prepared to meet Rufus’ charge. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
Just before Rufus’ mass careened into Chubs, he extended an arm and batted Chubs out of the way. He then reached down and lifted Norman to his feet.
“Not worth it,” grunted Rufus as they began to run together.
Then, Rufus groaned in pain. Norman heard something whir past his ear. He looked over at Rufus and saw an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.
Rae and Hector had succeeded in getting Skip to move. However, just as they began to accelerate, an arrow thrummed off the porch and pierced Hector through the neck. It passed clear through with the point sticking out of the front of his throat and the feathers protruding from the back. Norman could see that they were wooden pointed. Of course.
This would slow them down. The wounds wouldn’t heal as long as there was wood sticking out of them.
Still running, Norman reached to Rufus’ shoulder and yanked at the wood. He had a good grip and pulled hard, but the arrow snapped, leaving several inches still inside Rufus.
Rufus roared. Even with the wood-filled puncture, Rufus could outrun Norman. He kept running through his pain.
Rae had succeeded in pulling the arrow from Hector’s neck. They now ran at full-tilt. Hector struggled to keep up. His whole group had no more than a few seconds on the mob of Corps. V. They ran for the street that led to their trap.
Norman took one last look back. He saw Chubs staring at them, motionless, as the vampires streamed out of the house all around him.
Norman and his friends turned the corner and, for a brief moment, lost sight of their pursuers. He thought of his students, waiting to play their part in the plan. Then he thought of Chubs…a student who got away. There were always a few. He stopped. Not this time. He’d failed his students enough.
“Come on!” yelled Rae.
“Keep moving. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous.” Then Norman leapt over the overgrown bushes that lined the perimeter of the house on the corner.
“Where are you going?” said Rae.
“Keep moving,” ordered Rufus.
As Norman sped along the side of the old, wooden house with peeling brown paint, he could hear the small army of Corps. V rounding the corner in pursuit of his friends. He should be with them, running toward his waiting students.
However, he needed to give Chubs one last try. Chubs had clawed his way through the streets his whole life. Everyone he met had become an obstacle, especially his teachers. They had all given up on him, probably in the first week of each of his school years. Now that his human life was over, Norman would be the one teacher who wouldn’t give up on him.
Norman glided along the backyards as silently as possible, leaping over fences and landing in tall, cushiony grass. Finally, he landed in back of the Corps. V headquarters. He crouched silently, aware of his need for haste, but not wanting to walk into a nest of waiting vampires. He listened for h
uman motion. His eyes searched the back of the three-story house for windows, but found they all had drawn shades. Based on the sheer number who had emerged to attack them and the silence in the house, there must only be a few left inside at best. He wondered if Chubs had joined the pursuit or had gone back in.
He didn’t have time to contemplate options. Soon, the horde would reach his class the sun would rise. He was in serious danger of being stuck here in the center of the Corps. V universe for the duration of the day. Time to move.
Norman crept up the back steps of the old house. Each plank of semi-rotten wood squeaked, despite Norman’s attempt at stealth. Reaching the top, he carefully placed his hand on the knob and slowly turned. It creaked as it spun. He gently pulled at the knob. The door creaked open. He wondered if there wasn’t a single part of this house that didn’t make noise.
Opening the door just enough, he slipped to the other side. He pushed it closed, filling the space in the house with its squeaks and clicks once again.
Norman glanced around. He found himself in a kitchen illuminated through its window brightening horizon. In a few minutes, Norman would have a bigger problem than a few vampires who wanted him dead.
He mustered all the stealth that a one hundred fifty-year-old teacher could. It wasn’t his strong suit. He crept along the linoleum kitchen floor to an open doorway on the opposite side. Each step upon the old floor boards released a series of creaks. Norman couldn’t believe the house had been so silent just before the horde of Corps. V had launched their attack.
He reached the doorway and peered through. The kitchen looked onto a dining room. The table appeared elegant, with carved ivy inlayed all around its edge. If Norman didn’t know better, he’d say an upper class family used this room for entertaining their wealthy guests. When he spied the hutch built into the wall, the discrepancy became obvious. Instead of fancy china plates and crystal flutes, it contained an array of wooden weaponry. Many of the weapons had been removed. Norman assumed they were now in the hands of the Corps. V maniacs who chased his friends
