Vampires Save the Night, page 8
I stuttered out a greeting. “G-g-g-ood evening, sir. What can I get you all?”
“You can get the fuck out of town,” growled the burly man in response.
He snapped his fingers once. His companions spread themselves around the shop. The burly man continued speaking in his baritone.
“Now kid, you get to watch what happens when an owner refuses generous offers to shut shop and allow other, better cafes to take their rightful place.”
He snapped his fingers again. His companions quickly produced an assortment of metal rods and baseball bats from inside their jackets. I watched, paralyzed with fear as they readied themselves to wreak havoc. Big Burly rolled his shoulders and turned around to face his men.
“Okay, boys, time to give Joe’s a makeover —”
His words were interrupted by the ringing of the entrance bell. I watched as a familiar face entered the shop. It was my regular patron — the old man. He hobbled inside looking curiously at the five towering men wielding their weapons.
Big burly approached the old man. “Shop’s closed, pops. Get out.”
The hunched old man shook his head defiantly. He looked even more diminutive in comparison to Big Burly.
“I want my coffee.”
Big Burly motioned to one of his companions. Red Cap charged towards the old man and sent him flying with a hard kick to the chest. The aged geezer crashed into the corner table several feet away.
I couldn’t hold back my tears. I rushed out from behind the counter, praying the old geezer wasn’t already dead. However, before I could even reach him, I felt a vice-like grip on my shoulder. Big Burly squeezed harder, making me scream out in pain.
“I’d rather you sit this one out, kid.”
He delivered a heavy blow to my stomach with his fist. I felt the wind get knocked out of me. Big Burly let go of me, leaving me writhing on my knees, gasping for breath.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do.”
I strained my neck and looked up. The old man was back on his feet. I blamed it on my shaky vision, but he appeared different. His hunch was gone. He appeared paler and projected a cold aura.
Big Burly growled. “Looks like that kick didn’t knock any sense into you, gaffer. Perhaps this will.”
He whipped out a pistol from his belt and aimed it at the old man. The old man chuckled. Big Burly squeezed the trigger. But the old man had disappeared from his position. He was now standing behind Big Burly, who was suddenly missing his gun-wielding arm. Big Burly howled, trying to plug the blood gushing out of his shoulder with his one remaining hand. He collapsed within seconds.
The old man cocked his head, studying the other assailants.
The remaining masked men looked at each other in puzzled terror. Red Cap charged again at the old man, but this time, his kick did not land. Instead, he was stopped in his tracks as Big Burly’s severed right arm skewered through his chest.
My breathing had eased up now, and my vision had cleared. I could clearly see the old man’s blood-shot eyes, his sinister sneer, and two sharp fangs protruding from his lips.
The three masked men left standing huddled together, approaching the old man as a group. He let out a sigh and snapped his fingers. The lights began flickering and a mist appeared out of nowhere, encompassing the horror-stricken group of thugs. With a second snap of his fingers, the lights went out, covering us in complete darkness. I could only hear the sound of my anxious breaths.
The screams came without warning. Three of them. One after the other in quick succession. Each one of them lasted only a second before getting abruptly cut off.
A third snap of the fingers brought back the lights, revealing the masked thugs. They were lying lifeless on the floor, shriveled corpses all three of them. The old man stood over them, wiping off the blood dripping from his mouth with his sleeve.
He turned to look at me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the mess. I’ll take care of it.”
He spread his arms wide, levitating a few inches above the floor. A cold gust of wind slammed the door open. Suddenly, a black cloud swooshed into the shop, swirling around the bodies. Only when I observed closely did I realize that the cloud was actually a swarm of tiny bats. They fluttered about for a minute before exiting the same way they came in. The corpses, the blood, and the severed limbs had all vanished. There was no trace left of the masked men’s presence.
The old man hobbled towards me. He had reverted to his hunched form.
“A classic espresso to go, please.”
***
I handed the old man his coffee with shivering hands. It had taken me a tad bit longer than usual to prepare the drink. The old man handed me the cash and grabbed the cup.
I blurted out the question I was trying to avoid asking. “W-w-who are you?”
The old man smiled politely. “I’m just a regular at Joe’s.”
I scratched my head. “But, why?”
The old man sipped from his cup and smacked his lips. “Blood might keep me alive, kid, but I live for Joe’s coffee.”
It’s Your Problem, Too
By Amanda Desiree
He hovered at the balcony, seeking the weakest of the herd. Next to the bar, a pudgy, soft dullard with patchy hair and a beard to make up the difference observed the party from the fringes. Easy pickings!
Jordan descended into the roar of conversation and soft rock tunes. He navigated through the press of bodies, keeping his quarry in sight.
He didn’t move fast enough. A flame leapt from the darkness and engulfed the fat Congressman first.
The junior senator cursed under his breath. He could see his colleague was already under the lobbyist’s spell, watching with a grave expression as she shaped catastrophes in the air with her hands: tidal waves and drowning polar bears and plagues of locusts, no doubt. Lippscott’s wattles wiggled with every deep nod as he followed along.
“Do we have a problem?” Monica, the rep from Tri-State Fuels, sidled up to Jordan with an offering of rum and coke.
“Before Thanksgiving, I’d have said no. Lippscott’s been reliably on the side of the common man, the coal miners, for the past two decades. Then, I saw him talking to your competition at the tree lighting, and now he won’t return my calls.”
Monica sized up the other woman. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Jordan chuckled. “You’ll see plenty more of her before long. She’s part of the Society for the Preservation of Tomorrow.” Monica looked blank. “You are new in town, honey! It’s an international NGO, a bunch of do-gooders, out to ‘protect the world for future generations for the next thousand years and beyond.’ I guess no one ever told them the sun’s set to explode in another millennium or two.”
“Green dealers, huh?”
“They’ve been around longer than that. Their big cause used to be anti-nuclear proliferation; now it’s the environment. It’s their fault you don’t have aerosol cans for your hairspray anymore.” Jordan fingered one of Monica’s perfect, stiff curls. “They’ve got some cachet, deep pockets, and big-name philanthropists pushing their fund-raisers. Their money goes to Save the Rainforest and developing alternate energies. Damn near 99% of it, if you believe the auditors. They’re true believers.”
“So why is Lippscott their buddy now?” Monica asked. “Did he get a visitation from three spirits? Have a near death experience or something?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out.” Jordan polished off his drink for fortification and passed Monica the empty glass. Her lip curled; Jordan couldn’t tell if it was because he was treating her like wait-staff or because of the prospect of losing Lippscott’s support. He didn’t care either way.
“I’ve already told Oklahoma and Texas this bill is a sure thing. Louisiana’s on the fence; I need both of you on board to get the balance of the votes.”
Jordan waved away her sniping and crossed the room. The babe in red chose that moment to merge back into the shadows, leaving Lippscott adrift. He scurried to the bar and clung to it as if he really had been drowning. Jordan couldn’t blame him. After five minutes’ conversation with a tree-hugger, he’d feel like he was in over his head, too.
“Long time no see, Eddie!” He slapped Lippscott on the back and tried not to cringe when the senator turned around. Up close, Jordan was alarmed to see how pale and haggard Lippscott had become in the past month. Not that anyone in DC got much sun during the winter, but he looked genuinely ill. Maybe Monica had been right about him having had a health scare. “Hey, what gives?”
Lippscott shook his head, making his pouchy cheeks flap. “I’ve been working hard. Lots of late nights ….”
“Too many to help me get our ducks in a row before we go back into session?” Jordan hopped onto the adjacent bar stool. “We need to discuss how we’re going to spin the new legislation.”
“Not now, Jordan.” Lippscott turned aside, but Jordan caught his arm.
“Then when? I must’ve left a couple dozen messages for you. At your office. On your cell. This is the first time I’ve seen you since you took up with those Tomorrow people. What have they promised you?” Lippscott continued shaking his head mournfully. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. HEAP is going to bring us millions —”
Lippscott winced and raised his hands to cover his ears. “Please! I don’t care about the money anymore, Jordan. There are more important things to worry about.”
“— of jobs,” Jordan finished. “The new pipeline, the new mines, the off-shore drilling will create administrative jobs and jobs in the field. Who could say no to that? It’s in the people’s best interest. And ours.”
Lippscott opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut and sat bolt upright.
“Excuse me. I believe you’re in my seat.”
Jordan turned and took a better look at the tall, slender, shapely redhead in a low-cut red gown that kissed the floor but had a slit up to her thigh. It was an old-fashioned look, but she made it daring and sexy. She was way hotter than any Preservationist he’d seen before, and they were an appealing bunch. Cuter than Mormons, even.
“Pardon me.” Jordan flashed his most appealing smile back to her and eased off the stool.
Lippscott’s eyes remained riveted to her gorgeous figure. Uh-oh. Surely, he knew better than to fall for a lobbyist, no matter how stunning.
Jordan whispered in his colleague’s ear. “This isn’t about business, is it? She got under your skin, huh?”
Lippscott grunted affirmatively. He looked like he was going to cry.
“Oh, please don’t run off.” Her voice was softer than he’d expected, yet each word managed to carry perfectly through the din of the holiday party. The woman extended a dainty hand, her fingernails also painted red, naturally. Her finely-shaped white teeth dazzled between scarlet lips. “I’m Lorelei Meister, the COO of the SFPOT. And you’re freshman senator Jordan Freer, one of the brightest and most influential young leaders I’ve seen in a while. Your victory over the incumbent was very impressive.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jordan’s hand almost swallowed Lorelei’s, but her grip on his fingers was steely. He had to flex them when he released her. Even though her eyes were as placid as the pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial, he could sense the competitive fire simmering within her.
Lippscott must have sensed the spark too, because he glanced between Jordan and Lorelei. He looked worried. He excused himself and slipped away, casting a single glance back at Jordan. He looked regretful. Poor bastard.
“I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I thought I heard you discussing the Homeland Energy Access Program. HEAP.” Lorelei rolled her lustrous eyes.
“Yeah. We tried to come up with something to fit the acronym HEART to make the legislation sound more lovable, but no go,” Jordan admitted, slipping into Lippscott’s newly vacated seat.
“Why are you so determined to increase coal production? Are you expecting lots of naughty children this year?”
“I’m expecting to bring hope back to the American people. The coal industry has suffered in recent years because of legislative shackling, and the families of coal miners have suffered with them. But by bringing back traditional jobs, we can improve the financial prospects of the region and boost morale. Plus, we’ll be harvesting a local energy source: America relying on America instead of foreign countries. Why would anybody want to take that away?”
“You can give people hope without giving them cancer,” Lorelei returned. “Coal miners suffer shorter life expectancies because of black lung disease. And for what? Coal isn’t as efficient as wind or solar power so there’s less demand for it. That’s why the industry is in decline, not because of regulations. You would do better to lobby for retraining programs to introduce the new green energy industries into your target regions.”
Jordan leaned in, smiling. “Is that all? You forgot to mention that coal dust pollutes the air, causing temperatures to climb and the polar ice to melt and poor polar bears to drown. Boo hoo.”
Lorelei quirked an eyebrow, piqued by his turnabout. “As much as I like polar bears, they aren't such good poster children as you might think. Most people have never seen a real one. It’s harder to envision their peril because they remain something exotic and far away. Something people needn't worry about.
“But pollution threatens other animals that people can see every day. At least, they used to be ever-present. Thirty percent fewer birds exist now than fifty years ago. And bees! In just ten years, the national bee population has declined by thirty to forty percent. That’s a consequence of both climate change and corporate greed. Increasingly severe winters and droughts each year kill off the bees during their mating season, while a combination of pesticides and genetically modified crops attacks the immune systems of the remaining colonies, making the bees more vulnerable to parasites.
“Maybe you’re thinking, ‘So what? I’m allergic to bees. I don’t want to get stung. I don’t even like honey.’ Even so, without bees, the plants don’t get pollinated. We’re not just talking about pretty flowers, Mr. Freer. The vegetables and fruits humans consume, the cacao and coffee trees to which people are addicted, will suffer too. Our food supply will collapse if we lose our bees. It may not happen overnight, but it could easily happen within the next several generations. What kind of world will that leave for your grandchildren?”
“I’ve had a vasectomy. I don’t have to worry about grandchildren. Just myself.”
Jordan watched her perfectly shaped eyebrow arch up again. Perhaps she didn’t hear that argument very often.
“Yeah, I’m selfish. Sue me. I have to worry about making a living now and making my constituents happy for the next five years. I’m not a one-term senator. I plan to be around for a long, long time. People want to see results now. That’s how I defeated my competition. For years, Senator Ardmore promised returns that never materialized, rewards that had to be deferred. My people need something they can see and hold now: a job, a tax refund, a guarantee that they’re better off now than they used to be. I can give them that. So why should I care about whatever happens a hundred or even two hundred years from now? It’s not my problem.”
“You don’t have to wait a hundred years to notice the fallout from high energy consumption, Mr. Freer. You can feel it now. We haven’t reached the historical average for snowfall in five years. Twenty years ago, this party was canceled on account of an ice storm. Tonight, I haven’t seen a single scarf or parka.”
“What would you know about the weather twenty years ago? I’ll bet you were only in pre-school.”
Lorelei dodged his compliment and continued. “Those polar bears you were so concerned about aren’t the only casualties of the melting ice caps. Sea levels are rising incrementally each year as the oceans swell with more mass from depleted icebergs. You may not notice any difference when you vacation at the beach, but islands in the South Pacific and the Indian Ocean are rapidly losing surface area to rising tides. People who live on these islands are rapidly being displaced as their homes flood. The same will happen to Hawaii before long. Within the next 50 years, these areas will be under water.”
“So, talk to Senator Okane. She reps Hawaii. Besides, if this is all going down fifty years from now, then people have plenty of time to move to higher ground,” Jordan retorted.
Lorelei stared at him. “You really are a selfish bastard.”
“I’m afraid so. And I’m afraid you’re not likely to change me anytime soon.”
“I wonder.”
Lorelei’s crystalline eyes lasered into him, weighing him, scrutinizing for his weak points. Her intensity unsettled Jordan, even though she was even sexier when she was determined.
He made to leave. “I’ve enjoyed out conversation, Ms. Meister, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to steal any more of your time.”
“Oh, I have plenty of time to spare. Tell me, what does a selfish bastard like to drink?”
***
Jordan didn’t schmooze as much as he’d planned. Lorelei’s close proximity the rest of the night distracted him. Maybe that was part of her strategy to keep him from sowing the seeds of the planet’s destruction. Well, he could make up for it at the New Year’s Day festivities.
As the night dwindled and the other, older legislators, Lippscott included, departed, Jordan decided to turn in. Five perfectly shaped scarlet talons overlapped his cell phone before he could summon a ride.
“Would you like to share my cab?” Lorelei asked. “Carpooling cuts down on emissions, you know.”
“Are we going to talk more about the birds and the bees?” Jordan offered a devilish smile and hoped she wasn’t one of those thin-skinned Me-Too feminists. Would she cry harassment because he’d flirted with her? Would his bright career be buried under a flurry of accusatory headlines?
Lorelei tossed back her head and laughed. Her perfect teeth winked at him. “I think we’ve done enough talking. Don’t you?”
