The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions (10 page)

Brian stared into its crimson depth. A moat filled with blood. At a vampire coven that had become the largest of its kind. Strangely, it made sense. 

Barnaby materialized beside Ruby. “I constructed this from the first several hundred victims of the foreign battle. Separate heating and flowing systems regulate it, keep it fresh, keep it warm, keep it moving.” He frowned. “As you can see, I am perhaps a bit of what you have heard. A monster. Perhaps that is true, but I would rather embrace my heritage than run from it.” 

Brian grabbed Ruby’s hand and pulled her away, toward the storefronts that lined the main wall to their right. They didn’t need to stare into a bloody moat and speculate on how it was created or why. Vampires were vampires. It came as no real surprise that their cordial host was no more sophisticated than the rest. 

He glanced back at Barnaby, who still stood at the moat, face lost in concentration. He still didn’t know what to make of the Undead leader. Barnaby had shown them kindness, humor, intelligence, even anger and cause for suspicion. Yet his frown displayed a complexity, a capability of feeling the worst of human emotions. For that, Brian felt pity.  

But for the horror of the moat and what Barnaby had done to create it, he felt sickened. Ruby’s skin was paler than ever, her lips drawn back in a tight line. She was as disgusted as he was.  

He changed his mind then, an instantaneous decision. He would not—could not—become a vampire. He couldn’t allow himself to be like them, to understand or live their lives.  

Barnaby appeared in front of them, cutting off their path. 

“My denizens will not awaken for approximately thirty more minutes. I must take my leave from you momentarily, but I shall be back before they crawl forth into the night. Please, tour the area freely.” And with that the Undead leader vanished.  

Still clutching hands, Brian and Ruby set out to peer into the windowless stores on the western path. The first one, “Bob’s Electronics”, contained televisions, CD stereos, DVD players, even iPods. Brian was awed by the price tags. He hadn’t seen a dollar sign on any product in years. 

Ruby pulled him toward the next store, “The Undead Fitting Co.” Peering into the darkness of the glassless window, Brian could make out some of the latest brands of clothing hanging on endless racks. There were suits and fitting rooms in the back of the store. Measuring tapes hung from door knobs, and dress shoes lined shelves on the two far corners. 

He shook his head. Vampires in business suits? 

Ruby veered across the street to a building that wasn’t a store but rather the “Haven Fire Department, Safehold Sector”. A large garage door was adjacent to a tiny windowless office. Inside the office, there were several computers, a phone operator switchboard, maps of Haven hanging on the walls, and firemen gear hanging from crude hooks fashioned from what looked like bones.  

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he whispered. Ruby turned and smiled. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. This is nothing like what I’d imagined it’d be.” 

 “Me either. It’s so much more, well, sophisticated.” 

“And we’ve barely seen anything yet. Come on!” 

They moved from one windowless building to the next. There was a bakery, with scents of fresh baked bread wafting on the thin air; a furniture store with modern, luxurious sofas and chairs; a tobacco shop; a convenience store without gas pumps; a theater; a laundry-mat; and many more. 

When they arrived at Adam’s Meat Shoppe, they paused and glanced at each other. What kind of meat would vampires buy? Brian leaned in over the large window sill at the front of the shop. He gagged on the stench of rotting meat and turned away. He placed his hands on his knees, then threw his head back and breathed in through his nostrils. 

A transparent moon greeted him, along with the first twinkling star in a darkening sky. 

His heart pounded. He reached out and grabbed Ruby’s wrist, pulling her back toward the drawbridge. She resisted, rooted in place, staring straight ahead. Brian glanced about on the cobblestone path and noticed flitting shadows. 

Then Undead surrounded them, reaching, raking their skin as they passed by.  

Ruby grabbed his forearm tighter. He peered back into the meat shop and balled his fists up. 

Several vampires wearing tattered, blood-slickened clothing piled out of the meat shop. They ambled toward Ruby and Brian, wiping their hands on their pants and licking their lips. 

Chapter 13

The closest figure bared his fangs, manipulating his mouth in what could only be considered a smile. He had a long gray beard, and his luminescent green eyes fixated on Ruby. A hint of curiosity danced upon his features as he held up his blood-stained hands and shook his mangy mop of hair.  

“Calm down, humans.  No harm’ll come to you. Tonight, anyway.”  

Undead fingertips stopped brushing against Brian’s back. He glanced around. The flitting shadows disappeared into the night. The green-eyed vampire shrank back to the meat shop’s front window, eyes wide. 

Barnaby stood before Ruby, back to her and Brian. He flicked his fingers and the mysterious flame appeared on the tips. He reached out and touched the wall beside the green-eyed vampire. A torch flared to life. The flame shot down a trough, lit another torch, shot upward on a vertical trough, lit another torch, and so on. The fire spread from one torch to the next, one storefront to the next, around one side of the main wall and to the next, until all of Safehold was awash in dancing light.  

Brian sniffed and scrunched up his face. 
Kerosene
.  

“Sir, I told them we mean them no harm,” the green-eyed vampire said. 

“You have done nothing wrong, Adam. However, your last remark to my guests was offhanded and uncalled for.” 

Adam smiled crookedly and shrugged. “Just a bit of Undead humor, sir.” He looked past his imposing leader. “I apologize to the both of you for my crude behavior.” 

Ruby nodded once, and Brian followed suit.  

“Now, Adam, please open your shop. I am in need of my evening delight.” 

Adam darted through the open window and flicked a switch inside the meat shop, then disappeared from view.  

“We have our own wind-powered electrical plant. The facilities have electrical power, as does the Keep,” Barnaby said. He glanced over his shoulder at the two scientists and winked. “It just felt homier to have the torch and kerosene system installed. A gothic setting is more suitable for us.” 

Adam reappeared, clutching a brown paper sack. Blood dripped from the corners. 

Barnaby reached out and took the sack. “Thank you.” 

Adam smiled, exposing his teeth. One fang was chipped but still glinted like a knife in candlelight. “You’re welcome, sir. Enjoy.” 

Barnaby beckoned to Brian and Ruby, and they set off, meandering through the growing throng of fanged creatures bustling about on the cobblestone path. Many glanced furtively at Barnaby, offered a short smile, and sped away.  

Kind of like with Strajowskie and the human race, they both feared and revered their leader. Though given their hasty avoidance of Barnaby, Brian guessed it was more the former than the latter. 

“The citizens of Haven use the American dollar, but I have free rein over any product or service in the community,” Barnaby said. “I wish to eventually adopt the policy your leader has enacted, though I am fearful of the repercussions it could cause in our infantile society.” 

“The No Money Resolution?” Brian asked.  

“Yes.” 

President Strajowskie had introduced the Resolution in 2043. It was a neo-Socialist pact which allowed humans to exchange hours worked for clothing, vehicles, and any other product or service they desired. Societal classes in the United States had become less distanced, but the nation had never gotten close to the prominence it experienced at the turn of the Twenty-First Century. Adopting such a policy could indeed cripple a budding community. 

“Why?” Brian blurted out. 

“Haven folk are respectable citizens who uphold jobs to support their families and themselves, just like humans.” 

“Yet you kill humans with savagery on the battlefield.” 

Barnaby turned around. “Your kind also attacks on the battlefield with savagery, Koltz. Is it so hard to believe we are all alike?” 

“Yes.” Brian crossed his arms over his chest. “Look at what you’re clutching.” 

“You will soon see the errors of your preconceived notions, Koltz.” 

Barnaby disappeared from sight. A group of unkempt male vampires converged at the center of the pathway in the leader’s passing wake. Brian reached back and Ruby gripped his hand. He quickened his pace, determined to not lose Barnaby in the throng of vampires. Though the armor given them was substantial and sufficient enough to deflect most mortal wounds, he didn’t want to test them. 

He smiled. He’d changed much in the past few days, from a humble-minded scientist who abhorred physical contact to a man who thought only of physical confrontation. It wasn’t a giant metamorphosis, but to have such thoughts was the beginning morsel of personal growth. He liked it. The sense of security, the confidence. It was new and exciting, and it was already working wonders on his relationships. 

He bumped into a solid figure and his musings dissipated.  

A huge, heavyset man looked upon him with cold, gray eyes. His beard was scraggly, with white streaks running through it. He wore a leather coat that was far too small, and a plain black stocking cap was tilted on the side of his head. “Watch where yer goin’, scumbag!” 

Brian averted his gaze. With Ruby in tow, he had walked into a group of large vampires. Not nearly as large as General Hammers or Cannopolis, but formidable and imposing nonetheless. Several of them closed in from behind, forming a crude ring around the two scientists. 

The man before Brian leaned in close. “Waid-a-minute,” he muttered, sniffing. “C’rect me if I’m wrong, but ain’t you a full-blooded human?” He smiled, revealing several rows of sharp fangs. He was one of the mutated versions, the ones whose maws resembled those of sharks rather than the typical vampire. 

One of those whom Brian had hoped he’d never have to meet. 

“Yeah, I seein’ it now.” He punched the obese vampire next to him. “Hey Rufus, looks like we got us some humans. Some live ones fer once.” 

The men all chuckled and licked their lips.              

A scrawny, lanky vampire stepped into the circle. Dark bags of skin on his upper cheeks complemented pure-white eyes. “They’re well-equipped. Definitely not sent to spy on our wonderful city.”  

He reached out and pulled Ruby forward by her neck-brace. Brian tensed and stepped forward. The large bearded vampire put his giant hand on Brian’s chest, holding him back.  

“These are Barnaby’s.” 

The other men leaned forward, staring at the neck-brace. The lanky vampire released his hold, stepped to the side, swept the large man’s hand from Brian’s chest, and made a motion with his hands as if he were parting water. “Please forgive our insolence and rudeness. You two are obviously guests of our lord, and you are welcome in Haven.” 

Brian blinked, fumbled for Ruby’s hand, and stumbled out of the circle. He glanced over his shoulder. The lanky vampire stared after him, then turned and strode down the pathway. 

“Is this disturbing or what?” 

“Yeah, it’s a little awkward to be around civil vampires,” Brian whispered.  

“Is it just a show, or is it sincere?” 

“Good question.” Most of them seemed to know beforehand that humans would be in their community that night. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were acting. 

Barnaby suddenly appeared before them. “Please try to stay with me. You still have so many things to see on this beautiful night.” 

He turned, once again leading the way. They were entering the far-left corner of the courtyard, diagonal from their original entrance at the Keep’s drawbridge. Brian gasped when he saw several bars lining the wall. One grand neon sign proclaimed, “Nightly Strippers! $2 Pitchers!” A leg made of light bulbs swayed flirtatiously atop the sign. 

“No fear. They are vampires, I assure you.” Barnaby laughed. “And yes, we drink the occasional beer.” 

“But alcohol would have no effect on your system.” 

Barnaby waggled a finger and laughed again. “Au contraire, mon frère. A miniscule amount to a human can be insanely intoxicating to us.” 

Brian ran his free hand through his hair. He’d always believed blood was virtual alcohol to vampires and had never stopped to wonder if drugs could alter them or not. He’d never seen a point to it. They were, by all standards, dead. 

Ruby cocked her head to the right. Brian followed her gaze and noticed a slim opening between the vampire strip club and another building—a liquor store—next to it. In the cramped alleyway, two figures exchanged handfuls of objects.  

Brian squinted. Money and a small baggie? 

Barnaby held his hand up. “It happens in Smalltown, USA; it happens here. The drug trade is a large one. Even with a police force, I must confess I condone such markets. It is good for our small economy. We have few trading opportunities outside these walls. And, as with alcohol, the effects of even miniscule amounts can be rather pleasurable.” 

Ruby harrumphed and placed her hands on her hips. “I thought you said Haven citizens were respectable.” 

“I never said it was allowed. I simply stated I condone it. I borrowed many human doctrines and laws in order to provide structure to Haven, and it is still illegal here. But who am I to deny pleasure to my people? Who am I to judge? We do, after all, drink blood in order to survive. The same moral rules that apply to your race do not necessarily dictate the morality of my brethren.” Barnaby smirked. “Nor do such broken moral codes imply we are murderous scoundrels, either.”  

The cobblestone ended, and they hopped onto a beaten dirt path, which ended at a shoddy shack in the farthest left corner of the walled courtyard. Its screen door swayed in the still air, hanging by one hinge. Windows were busted out. Brown, withered grass jutted up along the shambling foundation. No sign hung above it to proclaim what building it was.  

Barnaby stepped to the swaying door and knocked, the brown sack held before him. 

“Who is it?” asked a meek voice from inside. 

“Who else would be bringing you dinner?” Barnaby said. 

The door opened. He entered, turned, and gestured with his head for Brian and Ruby to follow. 

The entryway was scantily lit by candlelight filtering in from an adjacent room. Footprints marred its dusty floor. Cobwebs hung like cotton candy from the ceiling. The boarded floor creaked and swayed beneath Brian as he guided Ruby along, following Barnaby at a safe distance. 

They entered the room from which the light filtered. A table missing one leg rested in the middle, a lone candle atop it. Twelve hunched figures buried in robes and seated on overturned crates surrounded the table.  

Ruby squeezed Brian’s hand tighter, undoubtedly believing one of the shrouded figures had assaulted her in their bedroom hours ago. 

Barnaby plunked the sack onto the table. “It has been awhile since you had venison.” 

The tallest figure stood and dumped the contents of the sack out, then pushed back their cowl and shook loose long, black hair. Dark eyes, dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. She had some substance to her, more than just tight flesh over thick bone, as was the general appearance of most vampires.  

“Thank you, Barnaby. Children, you may have your supper after you wash your hands.” 

The seated figures scurried away from their crates and rushed into an adjacent room. 

Brian relaxed. He’d believed Barnaby had bought meat for himself, and that the meat had been some piece of a poor human.  Shame washed over him, and he stared at the floor. 

“Koltz, Miss Paige, please meet Stella. She runs the Safehold of Haven Helping House.” 

“An orphanage,” Ruby said with a hint of admiration. 

“Those who are on the battlefield afar and have no other relatives in Haven can rely upon Stella to watch after their children without any concern for their safety.” 

“I thought vampires couldn’t have children,” Brian said. 

“They cannot.” Barnaby frowned. “No, these children were, sadly, turned. Though I do not condone it, entire families are often turned together.” 

Stella stepped forth. Her voice had a melodic lilt to it. “Most of our kind here in Haven have family in America. I myself have a brother over there. This allows me to feel close to kindred spirits, and to provide a sense of family that’s missing from these children’s lives. Thanks to Barnaby, we survive.” 

The children rushed back in, plopping down on their crates, still shrouded. Stella disappeared and returned, a stack of small plates balanced on one palm and a bundle of tarnished forks clutched in the other. Before Brian could discern movement, the plates were set on the table and the venison was unwrapped. Stella produced a butcher’s knife and hacked at the raw meat. Soon, it was distributed and the children sawed at dead deer with their forks. 

One child pulled back his cowl. He was plump with rosy cheeks, a tousle of red-orange hair. Freckles dotted his face. He ate feverishly, gripping the hunk of meat on his plate and gnashing into it with his teeth. 

Stella slapped his hand. “Now, now. You know better than that.” 

The child slouched and released his grip on the meat. Using his fork, he chopped it down into bite-sized pieces.