I woke up exactly two
minutes after the moon had risen. The room was stiflingly warm, a result of the
unusual heat wave going through the region.
Week-old paint fumes still lingered in the room, making the air slightly
toxic. I sat up, grateful that breathing was no longer an issue for me, and
looked around. An almost impenetrable darkness spread out before me, cut only
here and there by a few lines of light that broke through around the edges of
the drapes. I could see the edge of the chair that I had thrown my duffel bag
near and the soft light of the bathroom peeking nervously around the edge of
the closed door.
I sighed heavily and thought
about where I was. Hudson City. The equivalent of a third world country right
here on American soil. I couldn’t believe I’d given up Chicago for this dump,
but it wasn’t like I had a whole hell of a lot of choice. For a vampire, peace
is never easy to find. Once your lair has been compromised, you need to run,
fast.
I walked over to the window
and flung open the heavy drapes. Bright light from the gigantic neon sign next
to my room blinded me momentarily. Inadvertently I hissed, not from pain, but
from disgust. Even when I was still human, I loathed the sight of any very
bright light, especially sunlight. Now it seemed fate felt it necessary to put
me in a condition to match my attitude. Unlike vampires in film, I don’t
automatically burst into flames or smoke when first exposed to bright sunlight.
Instead, I sneeze. And I need to find a job. Kind of blows that whole mystical
vampire image out of the water, doesn’t it?
Well, welcome to the real
world. I’ve been a vamp for ten years now and still, literally, live hand to
mouth. I don’t have any great powers. The best I can do is talk the cute drunk
co-ed and her friend into a kinky threesome in order to fill my needs. Sure,
I’m a little stronger and faster than before, but I can’t even withstand
daylight like some of the rumored old-timers can. Like I said, I get these
horrible sneezing fits that last until well after I’ve found cover. If I’m
exposed for too long… Well, I don’t even want to think about that. Some of the
others can’t stand any sunlight at all. I figure it’s kind of like any disease
or virus, everyone reacts with different side effects. The only thing I count
as lucky is that I still pass for human. Most people can’t tell the difference,
but I can, usually. My background
probably has more to do with it than any supernatural powers.
I picked up the interview
letter I had received a week ago. My appointment was set for midnight on the
nose. The time was my idea, although the interviewer accepted it readily. That
made me a little queasy. It's hard to find purely night work and, when you're a
vampire, it can be kind of a necessity. I really get annoyed at these shows and
movies where all of the vampires have immeasurable stores of wealth and
unbelievable powers to procure more. Totally unreal. Most vamps I know are in
the same boat as me. Unless you inherit it, it's pizza delivery time. So
finding a job that’s eager to accommodate a schedule like that automatically
sets off some alarms. Hey, a little paranoia can be healthy.
Most vamps aren't as lucky
as I was to have useful skills before being turned. Many wind up on the other side of the law, doing some really
risky and dangerous stuff. Your average vamps realistically only last about two
or three years before they're either found out by hunters or run afoul of a
more powerful vampire. Either way, they’re usually destroyed.
I'm lucky. I used to be a
Chicago cop. Worked my way all the way up to Detective Two in vice. Other guys,
they go for homicide or narcotics. Not me. I'm not the biggest fan of having
the start of an investigation be a dead body and as for narcs, you can keep it.
Too many idiots with too many fucking guns. Besides, I always got a kick out of
harassing the local tricks and running raids into illegal casinos. It's a lot
of fun watching John Q. Public try to explain about his wife and kids. My
skills are still needed; the only challenge is finding the right job.
My watch chimed the hour. It
was ten. Plenty of time for a shower and a bite to eat. The room was sparsely
furnished and I could feel the beat of the music coming from three floors down.
Normally, a place like the one downstairs would be perfect for a quick hunt,
but I learned quickly that you don’t hunt where you live. And, for tonight at
least, this was home. These accommodations were not my idea. I would have
preferred the Holiday Inn Express or even that cheap motel I saw on the way in.
But instead, my potential employers arranged for an efficiency apartment in
this converted factory turned nightclub. Maybe they own it or something.
Gratitude, I suppose, was in order. The room was clean and the sparse furnishings
were new. At least that's what the manager told me when I checked in at
three-thirty this morning. Odd one, him. He was huge, well over seven feet
tall, and had a heavy Australian accent. When he heard I was coming from
Chicago, he said, "Nice place. "
"Oh," I answered,
"So you've been there?"
"Not sure." He
scratched his head and had a confused look on his face. "Not the kinda
place you’d forget, is it? Sounds familiar – Windy City, ‘ome of the Cubs, deep
dish pizza and all that. Maybe. No, come to think of it, I don’t think I ‘ave.
Ah hell, I can't remember."
I had decided not to pursue
the issue any further. It had been a long night and I needed to get a bite
before sunrise. Luckily, I've learned a few tricks, so finding food in a large,
strange city was relatively easy. I only had to make a short trip to the other
side of town, and was fast asleep well before the first rays of dawn crept over
the horizon.
After yawning and stretching
a bit I pulled the best clothes I owned out of my bag. The suit was almost
twelve years old and more than a little shabby, and my dress shoes were
leftover from when I was a flatfoot. I walked into the small bathroom, hanged
the suit on the back of the door, and answered the call of nature.
There’s another misconception
about vampires. Somehow there’s this belief that ordinary bodily functions no
longer apply to us. Wrong. It’s just different. All I need to survive is blood.
As far as I can tell, that does not follow normal digestion. Blood feeds blood.
However, I have an addiction left over from my human days. Coffee. Coffee with
lots of sugar. I’m surprised I wasn’t diagnosed as diabetic before I died.
That, as well as other foods, gets processed. Sort of. Since I drink a lot of
it, I usually have to piss like a racehorse. Unfortunately, for liquids, it
doesn’t look a lot different than when it went in. Oddly enough, solid foods
come out liquid as well. I haven’t quite figured out why.
After I finished, I jumped in for a quick, hot shower. I knew the
steam would take some of the wrinkles out of the suit that had been rolled up
in a duffel bag for far too long. Just as I got out, there was a knock at my
door. Please be a gorgeous leggy housekeeper. I really wasn’t in the mood to go
out on the prowl again. After hastily throwing on the suit, I flung open the
door. There, standing before me, was one of the most beautiful women I had ever
seen. She was dressed simply, in a pair of worn jeans and a halter top with her
wavy, black hair bound in an elaborate clip. She surveyed me with cool, blue
eyes, which locked level with mine.
“I’m from Murdock. Are you
ready?” She had a strong, musky voice that carried the slightest hint of a
Southern accent. Her nicely toned physique reminded me somewhat of a darker
version of Linda Carter in her Wonder Woman years. She surveyed my clothes and
smiled. “You needn’t be so formal. Casual dress is sufficient for tonight. I
know I’m early. Go ahead and change.”
I looked at the condition of
my suit and decided to save it some further wear and tear. Instinctively I
reached into my duffel and pulled out a clean pair of black canvas pants and a
shirt to match. A few minutes later I emerged from the bathroom much more
comfortable than the first time.
She was seated on the
rumpled bed. Before walking out, she stood with a sweet smile on her face and
asked, “Are you ready, now?”
I nodded, trying to hold
back my sheepish grin. She would definitely be perfect for a drop later. It
wasn’t until later that I wondered why an interview would be casual.
I followed her to the
elevator, all the while admiring the outstanding view. As we rode down, I
looked her over and finally said, “Y’know, if you’re not doing anything
later….”
She looked at me with a
raised eyebrow and the smallest hint of a smile. The elevator settled and she
opened the gate. “After you.”
As I walked past her I could
feel her eyes on me. I liked this, a woman who could take it and dish it out.
Most of the women I ran into took the leers and lines as insults, and lets face
it, they are a little bit. But they’re also fun when taken in the right way.
And she struck me as someone who definitely valued play.
We walked out the side door
of the building. From my vantage point, I could see the end of the line waiting
to get into the club - Raven’s Nest.
“Odd for so much business on
a Wednesday,” I commented as I followed her across the street to a private
garage.
“Not really,” she replied
confidently, “with a university and a private college, the students tend to
keep the place busy enough during the week until the plant workers and
nine-to-fivers show up on the weekends.”
Our footsteps echoed as we
made our way through the almost empty garage. In fact, the place was almost
totally deserted. Only two vehicles were parked there, side by side, in the
middle of the first floor. One was an old pickup that was set up a little high
and about eight different colors. It was quite an eyesore. The second was a
sleek, black Firehawk. I could tell by the hood that it was sporting the top of
the line package with the most power. It was a smooth ride.
Leaning against the truck
and smoking a cigarette was the most menacing individual I had ever met. His
entire presence throbbed with an intensity I had never experienced before. He
was dressed in black from head to toe, and looked like a cowboy version of the
Grim Reaper. All that was missing was a large scythe and a big, shiny belt
buckle.
The woman walked up to him
and said, “Please don’t lean on my truck. You might knock off the rust that’s
holding it together.”
Obediently, the man shifted
his weight, only slightly, but was standing fully erect. Even with the change
in position, a shadow seemed to lurk, partially covering his face.
“Introductions are in
order,” she smiled wickedly and shared a knowing look with the stranger that
left me more than a little uneasy. “My name is Sarah Jane Crowe, and this is
Wayne Stevens. We’ve been sent personally by Seana Murdock, President of
Murdock, Inc. to meet with you tonight.”
I couldn’t believe it but he
tipped his hat like he was Wyatt Earp or something, touching his finger and
thumb ever so gingerly to the brim.
“Wayne,” She directed her
attention to him, “this is Harlan Lee David. Generally speaking we are quite
informal here so you may call me Sarah and Wayne, Wayne.”
“How’s it going?” I
swallowed the word Tex, although I couldn’t quite hold back the amused look I
had.
To my surprise, Sarah looked
at Wayne and said, “See, it’s not just me.”
Wayne growled slightly. “Come on. We’re wastin’ moonlight.”
“A few things first, dear
sir,” Sarah opened the driver’s side door to her truck and pulled out a file as
thick as my arm. As she walked back, she asked, “May we call you Harlan?”
“Of course,” I responded and
began to lean against the Firehawk. Swiftly, Sarah caught hold of my arm and
jerked me forward.
“Sorry,” she said firmly as
she helped me regain my balance, “But Wayne is very found of his anti-theft
devices. If you had made contact with the metal, you’d have been tazered. “
“Thanks,” I held my voice
steady as I looked him over, “Kinda settin’ yourself up for a lawsuit, aren’t
ya?”
He only shrugged as Sarah
further explained, “It’s supposed to have an earsplitting chime that goes off
when someone’s come too near but, apparently it’s broken.”
I raised an eyebrow, but
said nothing. Sensing my nervousness, she added, “I prefer my anti-theft device
better.”
She pointed to the driver’s
side window where a weird mix of a dog was leaning out. He growled softly, but
didn’t attempt to get out of the truck. He seemed almost as nervous as I was.
She flipped open the file
and laid it across the tailgate. “Okay Harlan, what do you know about us?”
I wasn’t prepared for a
quiz, but I gave it my best shot. “I know the basics, at least. I always
research any potential employer. Murdock Incorporated is a multi-national
conglomerate, consisting of Murdock Industries, Murdock Entertainment, Murdock
Shipping, and Murdock Publishing, among many other holdings. You employ over
10,000 full-time workers, with many more contracted out at various projects.
And, against the advice of several business consultants, your headquarters is
located in Hudson City.”
“Very good,” she nodded
approvingly. “I am head of security for Seana’s personal detail as well as
being vice president in charge of security for the corporate headquarters here
in Hudson City. This makes me your boss. Like Wayne, you report directly to me.
Now, obviously a conglomerate our size has people in various positions of the
same nature in different regions, but Hudson City is our home. The position you
applied for, Law Enforcement Liaison, is local in nature. The dealings are
mainly with those members of city, county, and state law enforcement rather
than federal. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The look of confusion
on my face had to do with something she had said. That I reported directly to
her. I had to ask. “You mean, I already have the job?”
Now it was her turn to look
confused. “Yes, why wouldn’t you?”
“Well,” I answered, “I
thought, interview and all . . .”
“Harlan, you did your
homework on us, “ she flipped over a page in the dossier and showed me a
picture of myself, years ago, in uniform at the beginning of my police officer
career. “And we did ours on you.”
“May I ask then if I have
the job, is the interview a formality?”
“This isn’t an interview,”
she responded.
“Then what is it?”
“Introductions,
preparations,” she answered. “A briefing.”
“For what?”
“Seana and I decided that
with your background and contacts in the Hudson City police department you would
be ideal for this position.” Sarah explained. “You hail from Chicago, which is
almost as rough as H.C., and weathered a tough police job with numerous
commendations. After a nasty run in with a local crimelord, you faked your
death and changed your name. Since then, you’ve been doing personal security,
bounty hunting, and various other similar jobs. You have had thorough training
and are very good at what you do. We checked your references. It’s okay, anyone
in our business understands the need for anonymity. So, after a thorough
background check we decided you were the man for the job.”
I hoped my jaw hadn’t
dropped open. They knew all about me. Well, not all. They thought I faked my
death. Still, that was some good investigative work. I was hoping for a good
interview, not the actual job offer. I didn’t know what to say. I needed money
and a place to set up for hunting so badly, and purely night jobs in my field
were so hard to come. Most employers asked far too many unanswerable questions.
Now I had a job. And, there was more.
“Of course,” she added,
“Seana and I decided it would be unfair to hire you without you being able to
test the waters tonight . . . a sort of in-basket exercise if you will. You
should know what you are up against before you decide if you want it. If, after
tonight, you don’t think that this is the right job for you, we can part ways
amicably. Otherwise, the job is yours.”
“Thank you,” was all I could
manage to say.
“Did you bring any weapons?”
She asked.
“I wasn’t aware I would need
any.” I answered and jerked my thumb in the other direction. “I have a Glock in
my room.”
“Not necessary,” Sarah
pulled out a beauty of a Berretta from the back of her waistband. “It’s my
spare but it’s in great condition. Wayne’s got extra ammo if you need it.
Return it when you get back, but only use it if you have to.”
I nodded.
“Good luck.”
I took a deep breath out of
habit and slid into the passenger seat, feeling a little lost, but happy. I
expected the car to have modifications, but, when he started the engine, it was
absolutely silent. Apparently the job needed subtlety as well.
“Special design,” he
answered my unasked question. He deftly maneuvered out of the garage and onto
the street in a matter of seconds.
As we flew down the road, I
could easily sense that Wayne was the kind of guy that just loved small talk.
You know, someone chattering the entire time, filling the depths of silence. So
I obliged him.
“So, how long you been
working for them?”
“Little less than a year.”
“What do you do?”
“Anything I’m told.”
“Is that your job title?”
Insert irritated look here.
“Okay. Well, I’m a Law
Enforcement Liaison, whatever that means.”
“Means do what you’re told.”
“So, I guess, you’re the
same thing.”
“Federal, not local.”
“Ah. So you were on the job.
Where?”
“Somewhere else. Long time
ago.”
“Ok… Was someone else in my
position before?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Sarah.”
“Why’d she change?”
“New job.”
“I see. Anyone else apply?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“They didn’t survive the
audition.” His voice was dry and I suppose he said it to shock me. But he spoke
the truth. I could sense it.
I leaned back in the seat. I
wasn’t too worried. I was already dead. We rode the rest of the way in silence.
We pulled up to an abandoned
section of the railroad yards. It would be the kind of place in Chicago for
drug deals and gang executions. Even the homeless, so in need of the shelter
that the rusted boxcars provided, would steer clear of it. Wayne pulled in as
far as he could and cut the engine, coasting the last few feet. He got out and
walked to the rear of the car. I followed suit.
“Hope you don’t mind getting
dirty,” he stated as he opened the hatch. He pulled out a long duster like the
one he had on and handed it to me. I shook my head.
“No thanks,” I smiled, “I
have style.”
“Put it on,” he ordered,
thrusting it into my hands.
It was far too heavy to just
be canvas. I felt around the front. Two plates of armor were sewn into the
fabric. The fabric felt odd as well. I looked up at him. “All right, what’s
goin’ on? If this is something seriously illegal that I’m gonna have to square
with the cops, then I ain’t doin’ it.”
To my surprise, his face
softened slightly, very slightly. Overall it still held the same irritated
expression he had worn since we met. “What we are doing isn’t illegal. In fact,
there are absolutely no laws covering it. Put on the duster and follow my lead
or walk back.”
He proceeded to make his way
through the railroad graveyard. My gut told me something bad was about to go
down and secretly I wondered if I had fallen into a pack of hunters. Perhaps
this is how they lured in unsuspecting vampires. They could be using Murdock, Inc. as a front. Hell, with
computers these days anyone can pretend to be anyone else. Hunters were known
for their clever tricks. Most of them were trained by fanatic groups, ready to
do anything to wipe out the supernatural wherever they encountered it. My
paranoia had kicked in again. They probably didn’t even believe in vampires. I
put on the duster and followed his lead, ready for anything.
He was two yards from the
target, a very old, unkempt caboose, when he unslung a shotgun he had hidden in
his coat. I looked, but no such luck. I pulled out the Beretta and checked the
magazine. It was fully loaded and the chamber was clear. I guess that was a
good sign; why give a target a loaded gun? Still, Wayne looked like the type
who liked a challenge, so I wasn’t taking any chances. I chambered a round and
waited for his signal. He motioned me to approach from the back.
I climbed the back steps,
ready for assault on any side. None came. Cautiously I slid open the door and
looked in. Wayne was on the other side looking back at me. The car was as
silent as the grave. I shrugged. It appeared to be abandoned.
Suddenly there was a loud
crash and the car landed on its side. Both of us were thrown, but, to my
amazement, Wayne had already recovered and was chasing whatever had upset the
car. I sped up to follow. By the time I caught up with him he had a teenaged kid
laying prone, his face in the dirt.
“Put your hands behind your
back.” He ordered, his shotgun directed to the middle of the kid’s back.
“You asshole,” the kid
answered. “When my father hears about this . . .”
“He’s the one that ordered
it.” Wayne answered. “Harlan, in your right pocket you’ll find some zip cuffs.
Lace him up.”
I stashed my pistol and
asked, “Why?”
“Later. Right now, do as
you’re told.”
“No. I wasn’t hired to be
the member of some brute squad rousting runaways.”
“Do it, now!”
“No!”
His eyes flashed angrily at
me, but I was determined not to yield. This hesitation on both parts turned out
to be almost disastrous. In the blink of an eye a figure appeared behind Wayne.
Wayne swung around and waylaid the intruder. Even now I am not sure what it
was. It was big, and ugly, and strong. The kid hopped up, but, instead of
running away, leapt toward me with his fangs out and his claws bared. I had
been mistaken. This wasn’t a teenaged runaway. It was a full-fledged vampire.
Well, if the cowboy didn’t
believe in vampires before, I’m sure he would now. I didn’t want Wayne to have
any evidence that I was a vampire, so I let my cop training take over. I pulled
off two rounds from the Berretta, but the kid didn’t even slow down. With a
quick swipe, he knocked the pistol from my hand. I slid out of the way of his
next swing, but tripped over something and landed on the ground. It was an iron
spike from the rails. He leapt in the air again, this time to crush me with the
full force of his weight. I snatched up the spike and threw it, a little too
hard. It caught him in the shoulder and flung him across the air and nailed him
to the side of another boxcar. Whoa. Sometimes I forget how strong I am now.
I climbed to my feet and
recovered the Beretta. With my sights trained to his heart I approached, but he
merely twitched against the boards of the car. As I got closer, I realized I
had hit him in the heart. He’d be virtually paralyzed until it was removed. Or
until he was finished off.
Feeling confident he would be staying there, I went to find my
companion. He was easy to find. All I had to do was follow the path of
destruction. Two more rail cars had been tipped over, and several crates had
been shattered. As I rounded the corner of one of the boxcars, I saw him.
He stood toe-to-toe with the
creature. The creature gave no sign of yielding. It swiped long talons at
Wayne. I thought for sure his head was taken off, but it was just his hat.
Wayne had dodged as fast as any of the Masters I had trained with. As his hat
hit the ground, something shiny and silver fell out. Upon sight of it, the
creature disappeared into nothing. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. Wayne
said a few colorful metaphors and scooped up his hat and the item and put them
back into place. He walked past me and grumbled something like, “Let’s get him
down and back to Sarah.”
I suggested we find
something to pull the stake out with, but Wayne yanked the kid down, stake and
all. As he dragged the boy back to the Firehawk, the little prick managed to
summon enough strength to inform us, “You’ll get yours.”
I followed, careful to pick
up any evidence we may have left behind. Wayne stuffed the kid into the trunk
and we rode back in silence. My mind raced. Wayne has said the kid’s Dad had
sent us. Why? Were they trying to cure vampires? Is that even possible? Or had
I just joined a hunting sector? If I had, how would I get out of it without
being destroyed? Then my mind grasped it. Of course. Sarah had said I could
leave if I wanted. They had no idea I was a vampire. But Wayne probably knew
now. There was no way that kid would have wound up ten feet off the ground
pinned to a boxcar without supernatural intervention. I glanced across the car
at him. His look of disgust told me enough. No, he knew. I wondered why he
hadn’t tried to take me out yet. Probably had to report and get orders from his
superiors. I thought, “Maybe I can kill him before we get there?” Too late.
We’d made it back. Damn he drives fast. I figured I could play it cool. Maybe
he wouldn’t say anything. Maybe I could make a break for it before it became
too hairy.
Sarah was sitting on her
tailgate, enjoying something from a bright silver flask and watching her dog
chase his tail around the empty garage. Wayne retrieved the kid from the trunk
and threw him over the side of her truck as he complained.
“You sent me out after this
little punk,” he threw the kid so hard the truck bounced as if for emphasis,
“with this rookie who can’t take orders.” He jabbed a thumb back at me. “There
was an Oni waiting for us, you know.”
“Well, his Dad did say he’d
gotten involved with a shady bunch,” Sarah commented with a smile.
Wayne gave her a dirty look
and continued. “If you keep him, you’d better fill him in on the way things
work around here.”
Sarah slid off the tailgate
and walked over to him. She pressed her forehead against his and gently said,
“Wayne, you’re boring. Why don’t you go out on patrol and let me talk to our
new partner?”
He stalked past me and slid
behind the wheel. Within seconds the Firehawk disappeared from the garage.
Sarah giggled slightly as soon as the car hit the street. “Care for a drink?”
She passed me the flask.
Usually I don’t drink, but after the screwed up night this was, I thought, “why
not?” I took a large gulp and almost choked when I tasted what it was.
“Blood?” I asked as the
thick, viscous fluid clung lovingly to my throat. Was this some kind of test to
see if I really was a vampire?
“O,” she answered. “I like
it better than A or AB. Not so metallic tasting, don’t you think?”
“But this is blood,” I said
as I passed the flask back to her. To my surprise she nearly inhaled a large
drink herself.
“Of course it is. What else
are we suppose to drink?”
“We?”
“Vampires, and don’t try to
play dumb. I can tell.” She examined my shocked face then realization set in.
“You can’t tell, can you?”
“I can,” I answered
indignantly, and after a pause added,
“usually.”
“It’s alright,” she smiled.
“Let me explain. Nowadays, it is difficult to tell vampires from humans. It’s
our own evolution aiding our survival. Hudson City has a large population of
vampires. Somehow, it has fallen to Seana to oversee their activities. As for
Wayne and me, we’re like her pit bulls. We go to oversee any questionable
vampire activities in person and remind them of Seana’s presence. For this job,
people of intelligence and skill are needed to ensure that our activities go
unnoticed by mortal society.”
I looked at her with
disbelief. Organized vampires that not only look out for themselves but also
look after each other? It was incredulous. Impossible.
It is not, Mr. David, a voice answered in my head. It was beautiful and
melodic and instinctively I knew it was Seana’s. Have a toast with Sarah and
welcome to our family.
“Welcome to town, Harlan,”
Sarah offered me the flask again.
I took the flask, raised it
into the air, and gulped down the salty contents. Who would have thought? In
one night I had gone from being a drifter to having a new, well-paying, steady
job in a new city. I guess Hudson City isn’t really that bad. Is it?
(Copyright © 2002 Gina M. Wood - Random Quote Productions)