Prequel Story

In the Park  With the Vampire

The general sits on the park bench in full dress uniform, feeding pigeons.  The park is empty.  The fountain continues to flow.  The artificial pond in the center of the park, surrounded by unused jogging trails and bike paths, is still and without motion. There’s not even a ripple.

Outside, the park, there is no traffic at all. The shops are empty, the buildings unoccupied. The town is utterly silent.

The pigeons swarm, a small flock at his feet.  They’re all so very hungry, food’s been sparse.  He feed them from his bag of crumbs, but after a while he runs out.  The pigeons stick around for a little while after that, but eventually, one by one, they depart, leaving the General alone.  He sighs. He enjoys their company, their motion and sounds, the aliveness they’d brought.

Now departed, he feels like he is in a still life. He waited.  That was one thing you learn to do in the military, clear your mind and wait for whatever was coming.

A newspaper blows past. He watches the page flutter on the wind, already yellowing and faded. He doesn’t bother to chase or catch it.  It would have dated to two weeks ago, when the town went dark.

The shadows grow long.  Night is coming.  At one point, a stray dog appears, stepping out of some bushes far off.  The animal seems healthy, though gaunt.  It’s ribs are showing.  The General and the Dog look at each other for a long moment, then it disappears without ever coming closer.

The sun is setting, The General simply waits.

Then, suddenly, with no sense of abruptness, there is a young woman sitting on the park bench with him.  Her skin is pale. She wears a summer dress, floral patterned, with spaghetti straps and visible cleavage, just loose enough to be comfortable but still revealing her shape. The General notes that she isn’t wearing a bra, he is vaguely happy that he still notices things like that. She is barefoot, her toes flexing automatically. The paint is chipping from her toenails.

Her smile, when she smiles at him, is brilliant. She’s beautiful, she’s radiant, she’s everything he ever dreamed of. He wants, suddenly, to offer himself up to her, to pledge his undying love.

She knows this, and it pleases her.

WOMAN:   Nice night.

GENERAL:   I suppose.

WOMAN:  I haven’t seen you around?

She smiles. Her teeth flash, whiter than ever. She leans forward, extending her hand.  He takes it. Her flesh is cold, like all her kind, stiff with rigor and unearthly strength.

ANDY:   Hi.  I’m Andy, short for Andrea.  I’m not going to kill you.

The General nods.

GENERAL: Pleased to meet you, Andy.  It’s quiet out here.

ANDY:   I like it quiet.  We don’t see many people out, these days.  You’re not from around here are you?

GENERAL: Just visiting.

ANDY: Really. Do you have family here?  Who are they? I can help you find them. What’s your name?

Andy digs her toes luxuriously into the grass beneath the bench. The general is in mind of a cat stretching, extending its claws.  She yawns and stretches, arching her back to show off her bosom.

GENERAL: No family.  I don’t remember my name. Protective measure.

Andy barks a laugh. Her lips are red, her teeth a blinding white.

ANDY: So you’re just here, sitting in the park, are you.  Feeding pigeons?

GENERAL: They seemed pretty hungry. I wish I’d thought to bring more for them.

Andy shrugs, she leans up against, him, feeling his chest as she fingers the decorations of his dress uniform.

ANDY: You’re a military man. Ooh, look at all those medals. You must have seen all sorts of action?

The General touches his fingers to one of the medals.

GENERAL: This one’s for typing.  That one’s for attendance.

Andy stares, confused.

ANDY: Is that a joke?

The General watches her.

GENERAL: Do you still have a sense of humour after you turn.

ANDY:   I never really thought about it.  Maybe.  I’m still the same person I was. Turning, you keep what you need, and lose what you don’t.  I’d turn you, if you wanted, you could be useful.  Is that why you’re here?

GENERAL: No.

ANDY:   I don’t think I could, even if you wanted it.  There’s something wrong with you. I can smell it in your blood.

GENERAL:   Cancer.

ANDY:   I’m sorry.

The General looks at her with mild surprise.

ANDY:   I guess I’m sorry.  I don’t really care.  It’s just a thing people say to each other when they don’t really care.

She looks up at that moment, mildly surprised.  The figure of a man is walking down one of the bicycle paths.  He is huge, hulking, dressed in nondescript dark overalls.  He is wearing some sort of mask or helmet, obscuring his face.  The figure in the distance pays no attention to them, simply continuing on the path, eating up distance with every stride, until it vanishes out of sight.

She saw him, she realizes. But she couldn’t sense him. It was as if he wasn’t there at all.  She frowns.  She tries to keep her voice casual, light and friendly, as if it’s all just banter.

ANDY:   What the hell was that?  One of yours?

The General shrugs. The General notes that her eyes had gone red, her nails have lengthened into claws, and her canines are extended, all involuntary reflexes.  He waits politely as they recede and she regains control of herself.

Disturbed, she stares at the General, appraising him.

ANDY:   You’re not dressed for combat.

GENERAL:   Nope.  Dress uniform, salad and all.

ANDY: Why are you here?  To negotiate?

They’d discussed it in their councils, the times and places when the humans would try to negotiate, who they would send, what they would ask for and what offers or threats they might make. They had worked it all out, planning for a big beautiful new world.

They hadn’t discussed some random, late middle-aged officer sitting casually on a park bench, feeding pigeons, waiting for them.

GENERAL:    A week ago, the town went dark. We got reports from survivors and refugees. Standard practice, we sealed the perimeter.

Andy laughs, it sounds like music to the General.

ANDY:   We know about that. It won’t hold us. We can go wherever we want, whenever we want.

GENERAL:   At night, at least.  So anyway, what’s the plan here?

ANDY:   We’re going to take what’s ours. We’ve been hiding in the shadows for too long. We’ve found a leader, a visionary. Brother Vulk.

GENERAL:   The rat faced bald git, we know that type.  Long timers, their minds usually deteriorate to crushed gravel, hiding in basements, eating vermin. So what’s the deal? He ate someone with basic cable? Started watching television?

Andy’s face stiffens.

ANDY:   Don’t be disrespectful! You don’t know how anything works. You’re already slaves, living in a world run by the one per cent.  The thing you don’t understand, is how utterly mediocre your one per cent is, how incompetent and narrowminded and self centered they are. They’re wrecking your lives, and they’re wrecking the world.

Andy blazes with genuine emotion, the true passion of the enlightened. The General narrows his eyes watching her.  She lays a hand on his shoulder, not to attack, but to emphasize her point.

ANDY:   You’ll see. When we take over, your lives won’t change. They’ll actually get better. We’ll look after you, because you matter to us. We’ll heal this world of the scars your leaders have inflicted.

For a moment, the General can almost see it. What would they be, if they didn’t have to be monsters?  Walking free in the world, casting their glamour, worshipped by those they fed upon? Would they really be worse than what we have now?  Maybe they would be better?  Maybe they deserve it.  The General knows it’s mostly her glamour washing over him.  But … maybe?

He shakes his head.  He’s seen too much…

GENERAL:   Farming humans, blood fountains, humane slaughter, all of that.  Replacing corporate bloodsuckers with real ones.  A future as factory farmed animals, like chickens or cattle.

ANDY: Yes, there’ll be some changes. But you won’t be cattle, you’re being dramatic.

Andy tosses her head, dismissively, and the General is struck by how ridiculous he must sound to her.

ANDY:  Can’t you see?  We’ll make a better world… for everyone, not just a predatory, incompetent ruling class, stealing all the wealth for themselves. Do you really think the world is better off ruled by billionaires sucking the planet dry? At least we care.

The General shrugs.

GENERAL: That’s out of my pay grade, honestly.  What about the people in the town?  Are they on board.

Andy looks away, refusing to meet his eyes. The glamour ebbs a little.  She uncrosses and then crosses her legs.  Her voice is slightly less confident.

ANDY:   There are growing pains in making a better world.  Sacrifices.  Hardships.

GENERAL: Where are they?

Andy shrugs.

ANDY: Holed up in churches. Sanctuaries. Schools and hospitals. Every night they fight us off, every day, they try and break out. But it turns out it’s easy to turn refuges into prisons. We could take them if we wanted them, but they’re where we want them to be.

GENERAL: The survivors.

He grunts, and looks away from her. Her kind has an unnatural hypnotic quality, he an feel it pulling at his mind. But he is inured, he’d seen and experienced too much.  Instead, he glances off into the distance.  He noticed a plume of smoke, pale against the night sky, and points.

GENERAL:   What’s that?

Andy looks, following the direction of his finger.  She leans forward, staring hard at the plume, extending her unnatural sentences.

ANDY:   Saint Michael’s Basilica…. it’s on fire!  There are hundreds of people packed in there!

The General stares at her.

GENERAL:   The next phase?

She glances at him, horrified.

ANDY:   What?  No! That’s not us… Why would we…  There must have been an accident.  I have family in there.

He can sense her body tensing. He looks away, surveying the skyline.

GENERAL:   It’s not the only one.

He points out other faint plumes, just beginning, still low and wispy, illuminated pale against the darkness.

Her eyes widen as she focuses.

ANDY:   Wait, that’s the Synagogue.  And the Baptist Church!  All those people!

Abruptly, her eyes go red, her fangs extend, fingers turned to claws.  She snarls accusingly at him..

ANDY:   Are you doing this?  Because if you are…

GENERAL:   No.  It’s not me.  I’m just here.

He can feel her mind reaching for him.  He lets her.  He has nothing to hide.  What is happening was nothing he can control.  He accepts that.  Andy’s claws retract, the fangs recede.

She swallows, composing herself.  He can tell she’s worried.

ANDY:   All right.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to go. But don’t worry, I’ll be back. I’ll find you…

Then she stops, confused, as if she’s forgotten what she meant to say.  She looks down, puzzled.  There is something sticking out of her chest, just below her breasts, protruding through her sun dress.  She finally identifies it as a large piece of metal, rebar or something.  How did it get there?

It is impossible for anything to sneak up on her.  She knows this with utter certainty.

The General is watching her.  She turns to speak to him, to ask something.

And then, at the last instant, she senses it.  Or doesn’t sense it.  An emptiness behind her, a void, something formless and vacant, but somehow… hungry. Her last thought, is the realization that there is something evil in the world, far worse than anything she’s ever imagined.

At that moment, her body explodes into pieces, and disintegrates.  In an instant, she’s no more than dust.

Johnson steps around from behind the park bench.  He’s tall, though it’s impossible to quantify exactly how tall.  Six feet?  Six Four?  Seven?  He’s dressed in nondescript working man’s clothes, dark gray, heavy almost like canvas, with protective coat, wearing a welders hood. The black visor is impenetrable.  He moves with supernatural grace.

The General watches him.  Once at the beginning, when he started to understand, he used to be afraid.  Then wary.  Now, he just watches. He knows he might be next, but he’s just stopped caring.  Being around them does that to you.

Johnson, however, doesn’t acknowledge him at all.  The hood with its impenetrable black visor swivels back and forth.  He seems to select a direction, and then he simply walks that way, moving with graceful, measured strides that impossibly eat up distance.

The General watches until he’s out of sight again, and then sighs.

Time to go to work.  He stands up, dusts himself off, and heads to the center of town.

By the time the sun rises, everyone and everything in town will be dead.  There’s nothing he can do about that. There’s nothing anyone can do.

They’re here now.

 

 

POSTSCRIPT

 Hi everyone!  Hope you liked the story!  This is part of a slasher horror novel called Squad Thirteen.  I’m doing a kickstarter to raise funds to edit, produce and publish the novel. I’d like to ask for your support. If you’re interested in this project, please check out my kickstarter.

Squad Thirteen Kickstarter

 

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