Her parents taught her as they had been taught. Like a joke or
a riddle, or a long-story pun, it had to be told just that way,
that medium, that message. "Itsy-Bitsy Spider", Mother Goose,
Aesop's fables, all of the lost circles of the T'ai Chi Ch'uan.
A million stories played through her mind, plays of all lengths
from one not-so- simple gesture to grand designs a lifetime
long, plays played out on stages great and small, from a wave of
the hand on a cliffside to the swirling of armies across a
decade. It all came straight into her head, appearing like
_deja vu_ in her memory, as suddenly flashing away to the place
where dreams retire upon waking. An hour was all it took,
though it seemed longer than the lifetimes whose experiences
were imparted. Soon, she knew, really _knew_ all of the ways
the human shape can move, knew the shape of perception itself.
It came faster, each successive wave of wisdom building upon and
elaborating the previous wave. It ended quickly, like a dream
of drowning. Suddenly she was plunged back into reality,
gasping under the shock of her new knowledge, slamming closed
the mind shield that was the last gift her parents gave her
then, the mind shield that was the only defense against the
paralytic mental ability that they'd awakened in her.
She felt around in her new mind. The sensation was strange. It
seemed that she had a lot more room in her head now... and
things seemed to be - faster. Much faster.
Tiny voices seemed to be trying to be heard through her shield.
She eased it up a bit.
"We'd planned to tell you later, like before you went off to
college, but circumstances have changed."
"Because of that news show."
"Because of that. Think what the Nazis did to the Jews, and
that's because they thought they were subhuman. Think what
they'll do to us, who they will *know* to be nonhuman, and will
supposed to be nastily predatory."
"I don't want to think about it! It terrifies me. I say we
just don't take those tests."
"Baby, if it gets to the point where you are required to take a
test, refusal will automatically get you detained. Tested
whether you like it or not."
"What'll we do? Go underground?"
"What do you think we've been doing? We don't exactly keep a
high profile. Actually, we're going to do one of the riskiest
things for us there is. Split up and fade out, ride it out and
fit back in."
"Does that mean, hit the road!?" Tracy had no desire to leave
town on her own.
"Not just yet. This could all blow over, but it might come to
that. We'll have plenty of time to get ready."
"Dad, do I? I mean, if we're, y'know, do I have to - to drink
blood? I don't think I can."
"Keep taking your medication. You won't have to drink. I'm
really thirty years older than you think I am, and I've never
had to drink. The medicine has been working for all of us for a
hundred years."
Tracy said, "You're *how* old? Omigod," she said, then shut up,
her eyes flickering from side to side, and then she continued,
"What if we can't get the medicine? What will we do then? I
don't think I can - hurt anybody. I don't *want* to hurt
anybody."
"You won't have to. Remember what I showed you (he felt in her
mind for a moment, and she slammed her mind shut, but not before
he tweaked a spot in her memory) there? Just keep'em sleeping,
and take a pint, and go."
"But it's gross."
"It is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard of. One kind
of people *required* to eat another kind. I don't know, but the
old ones knew, and told me there was no denying it, when the
hunger burned within you. I never wanted to find out."
"I don't want to, ever. Who were these old ones?"
"The old ones. The ones who knew the old life. The ones who
remembered fondly the taste of blood. The ones we mostly slew."
"Slew? You killed..."
"Each other's parents. We couldn't kill our own. You see, they
liked it. They liked to kill people, took pride in their
deceits. They loved it. They were the masters and mistresses
of eternity, mankind were pawns and cattle. They were old, some
ancient. Some were a thousand years old and more. They had
been doing this for centuries, but there were getting to be too
many people for them to stay hidden. The old ones had to go.
There was no way that they could ever fit in to this world
mankind was building; too set in their ways. This was all a
long time ago."
"This is all too much for me," said Tracy, as exhaustion
suddenly overcame her. "I gotta go to bed," she said, and ran
up the stairs to her room. She fell almost immediately asleep,
and in the land of her dreams, strange memories danced in an
incomprehensible whirl as her parent's gifts were absorbed.
The next day, page two of the Paper had an article on vampires.
It was a nearly word for word repeat of the news last night. A
bit more detail was provided, including a few pages (obviously
hastily prepared and full of inaccuracies) of background on the
basics of genetics, genotyping, the history of legal acceptance
of genotyping and genomics in criminal procedings, as well as
articles on the mechanics of the actual comparator process.
There were heavy citations and references to Science '05 as well
as other scientific journals. Sensationalism was the order of
the day, with each paper trying to out-do the competitors'
"yellow" headlines. So far as the spin and slant of the stories
were concerned, especially reagarding the social implications,
the press wasn't a bit sympathetic. The normally sedate Sun
headline on the story read, "Vampires Everywhere" and "Doctor
Proves Fiends Exist".
The next day, page one had an a teaser on the front page, citing
the death of Dr. Wilson Collier, see story, section C-1.
It seemed that a man had come up with a press pass and camera in
a group of journalists, and had edged up to the doctor, and
killed him with a blow to the head in the middle of an answer,
and fought free of the astounded onlookers.
The photograph showed a blurry man with his fingers in a
doctor's eyes.
The headline read, Fiend Kills Spook Doctor.
The President spoke on television. After the first hundred days
of Republican mismanagement, few people could stand the
President, but it seemed that since nearly everyone had voted
for him, his policies would be followed. In the absence of any
coherent functional policy of any value whatsoever regarding any
of the country's present problems, he evidently had opted to
hunt witches, or vampires, or whatever it was that they were.
It looked as if he'd get a lot more political mileage out of
calling them vampires, and so, despite any real evidence that an
evidently quite numerous race was responsible for any real
crimes, he proceeded as if he had discovered a massive global
conspiracy operating in opposition to the American people.
It seemed that he had ordered, in the name of national defense,
a confiscation of records that would permit FBI and CIA
investigators to identify all of the individuals bearing genes
associated with vampirism. All such identified individuals
would be hearing from investigators soon. If found guilty of
any crimes, they would pay for their actions.
Tracy had learned a few things at school over the past few days.
Vampires were a popular subject. They were not, however,
popular. Paranoia was rampant. Everyone was looking askance at
everyone else. People's reactions to a common question, what
would you do if you knew someone was a vampire, ranged from call
the FBI to burn them alive. Sports were no longer challenging.
Anyone with excellent health was suddenly suspect. People whose
ancestors came from the higher latitudes suddenly began to risk
skin-cancers by spending large amounts of time under
tanning-lamps. Nobody wore sunglasses, or went out at night
without company. Crime dropped precipitously.
Tracy learned what to say, how to act, how to react when people
said things. She learned to nod knowingly when people suggested
that the goddamned vampires ought to all be rounded up, to
snicker at bad vampire jokes. She found this particularly
annoying from people who she knew to be Universal Care lifetime
beneficiaries, such as bipolar- affective-disorder sufferers,
who, unmedicated, might well be on death-row or incarcerated as
criminally insane. She learned to let people's awful ideas seem
to be her own. She could make her eyes light up with
sympathetic bloodlust when someone declaimed that hanging was
too good for them damned bloodsuckers, to grin evilly (though
not too widely; she had lovely teeth) when they added their
ideas on alternatives to hanging.
Tracy could not decide whether these were actually the ideas
that the kids had gotten on their own, or things that they'd
heard from their parents.
She spoke to her father about it. He told her to read the
editorials. She did, and all that she'd heard in school was
echoed there, plus a lot more, and worse.
All of the various factions were adamant about one thing... they
all pressed for speedy and public identification of all of those
bearing the marker-genes. She read of the emerging "forced
separation" faction. This faction urged that all identified
vampires be rounded up, and shipped to what amounted to
concentration camps. The less- sanguine members of this faction
proposed that the vampires should be given a city, or county
(none seemed to know that a state at least the size of
Connecticut would be required) where they could be
geographically isolated, but allowed to live as citizens, but
with no travel allowed.
Fundamentalist preachers who ordinarily would have been regarded
as far-right wackos at best suddenly had massive audiences...
and frighteningly, their exact phraseologies began to be
repeated within editorials.
Tracy also noted that the voices of dissent were being rapidly
shouted down. When one editoral columnist drew the obvious
parallel between current events and the Nazi Holocaust, his
column was pulled the next day, and he was suddenly arrested for
allegedly beating a prostitute after a purported night of
cocaine-abuse.
That evening, the news had a story about the first attempted
interrogation of a suspected vampire.
The FBI had sent a team to the house of a suspected vampire.
When the door was unanswered, they forced entry. No one was
there. They collected a razor for tissue samples. Five hours
later, the comparison results came back positive for Baseline X,
and forensics teams mobbed the place. There had been signs of
an orderly evacuation. Clothing was gone and there was no money
to be found. The vampire's car was found at the bus station.
His driver's license photo was shown a few times. He was now a
Federal Fugitive, to be considered armed and highly dangerous.
A special edition of America's Most Wanted was simulcast on all
of the major networks.
The family watched with unswerving attention, tense, grim.
"It's started," said Tracy's dad.
They started withdrawing money from the bank, a hundred dollars
at a time, and Tracy's dad took her to the range, and taught her
to shoot a pistol, a new 9mm US Baretta he'd bought a while ago.
Tracy soon picked up the basic skills, and showed promise of
developing a real talent for shootistry. They started carrying
large amounts of money on their persons.
They collected all of the pictures they had of each other, and
burned them. They burned letters from friends. Phone books,
family albums, christmas lists, bank papers, all went into the
fireplace, or into safe deposit boxes in other towns.
Tracy's folks taught her constantly. She learned the signs of
recognition, the way to walk noiselessly, the nightspeech signs
clicks and whistles that had been unnecessary skills for a
century. She learned the ways of her people, ways her people
had wished could be forgotten. She learned the fascinations,
the manufacture of various chemical aids from their
common-house-plant sources, and began to accumulate the special
weapons that all had common alternative uses, weapons such as
the fish-hook throat-ripper, the nail-file dagger, the
coffee-saucer discus, and the poisoned darts made from sewing
needles, thread, and broomstraw. She wondered why it was that
her parents were not so arming themselves, and then concluded
that they had long since filled their personal arsenals.
In her dreams, the knowledge that her parents had imparted
became a field of experience, wherein she fought all of the
adversaries that ever her ancestors had fought, and as there had
been many such fights, soon she knew fully what she was capable
of... and as a thousand generations of predators danced their
lethal dances within her dreams, she became ever more
confident... and as her world changed around her, she became
ever more frightened.
The President proclaimed limited martial law. One could regain
one's civil rights by reporting for testing. One would then be
issued a special ID, showing nationality, date of birth, health
and driving/police records. Showing this card when challenged
would prove one to be tested as human, with full civil rights,
including the right to bear arms. Failure to produce such a
card meant that one was subject to the martial laws. If you had
the card, you could get arrested for murder and still get a
trial. Without the card, you could get summary execution for
being out after curfew. The cards were considered very hard to
duplicate.
Tracy got her card from her dad a few weeks after their
possession had become common. He told her that it had been
difficult to obtain. He did not specify what the difficulties
had been. She just remembered the sound of water running all
night, and the feel of her empty Woolite bottle... and she saw
her father shaking his head as he threw one of his best suits
into the Goodwill depository, shaking his head over stains that
wouldn't come out. Tracy didn't ask him exactly what those
stains had been. She was pretty sure that she didn't want to
know. Her father took a plane out of town for a few days, and
returned in a harried mood.
He wouldn't say much about his trip. He only mentioned that his
flight had been delayed when the police had carded everyone
boarding planes. It seemed that his card was good. He had been
allowed to board.
Tracy was sent to stay with relatives. Her bags had been
partially packed within her closet for months, and when she came
home from school one day, her mother said three words to her:
"Clothes in bags." She got the message. She threw her travel
clothes into one bag, and threw a large amount of money into her
waistband, backpack, boot- tops, and beltpack.
Her parents took her to the bus. As she was hurried from the
house, she saw people, her kind of people, backing a
heavily-laden minivan with a Rocky Flats (whatever that was)
sticker into the garage. She cried on her mother's shoulders as
she was whisked to the bus stop, and when she tried to kiss her
father goodbye (for she could somehow tell that goodbye it was),
he put on a brave face that she knew was intended only to make
*her* brave, and she stopped trying to kiss him, an gravely
offered a handshake that he used to pull her into the hug and
kiss that she had sought.
Her last glimpse of her parents was of her father's eyes
searching the rearview-mirror as the car pulled away, and of her
mother's tear-filled eyes darting from side to side.
Tracy was on her way to another life, when the news broke that
hundreds of suspected vampires were even then being rounded up
for interrogation in a single massive action coordinated by the
newly formed Internal Security Office.
The commentator announced that many of these vampires had been
under surveillance for years. No way, thought Tracy. The
people on the bus cheered when the radio informed them that
reports were coming in that the 'suckers were not allowing
themselves to be taken alive. They seemed to be burning their
houses down around themselves in rather than surrender. Tracy
was aghast, but managed to cheer. Her eyes alone showed the
torment she felt then, but nobody looked too closely at her, and
if they did, they mistook her pain and rage for righteous fervor.
Tracy did, however, get off at the next stop. She sat in the
little diner and ate a burger while she read a magazine.
Science '05 had the article by the late Dr Collier. She read as
much of it as made sense to her. The doctor made several points
in the article that had largely been ignored in the frenzy that
had followed his discovery.
"We do however, find very little evidence for the case of modern
vampire predation. Most post-war 'vampire' killings we have
been able to research can be explained as mentally disturbed
humans acting out some fantasy. The police histories and
psychiatric literature are full of such cases. There was indeed
a pattern of killings in all locations we researched, but the
most recent evidences of extensive predation were from the late
19th century, in America's remote mountainous west. There had
been a steady increase in the number of such predations until
about 1820 1840. There then began a decline in predations,
particularly in the United States. By 1900, there were almost
no definitive vampire killings in America. Eastern Europe still
has a very small problem with classic predation, but for the
most part, we believe that they have some means of avoiding the
need or desire to kill.
"We are in fact quite convinced that there are no justifications
for paranoia about vampires. The highest concentration of
Baseline X samples came from the Washington, DC area, and this
area has one of the lowest incidences of inexplicable murders.
We define inexplicable murders as murders which have no evident
motivation, no obvious suspects, and no obvious signs of
violence, all in conjunction with exsanguination. We ruled out
obvious domestic murders, drug-related street violence, and
crimes of passion. We examined closely all deaths involving
single individuals not sexually assaulted nor mutilated,
apparent suicides by exsanguination, indeed all deaths where
there are large amounts of blood missing. We had great
difficulty finding any such cases, particularly in the Nation's
Capital.
"We reiterate that we believe that vampires have developed some
method for living a normal life in the acceptable human manner.
They are probably employed in all walks of life, perhaps making
valuable contributions to their professions and callings. While
the vampires are not entirely human, it must be remembered that
they are people, with at least human intelligence, and a far
superior physique. We do not believe that they should be
harassed, nor subjected to pogroms or ghettoization. As a Jew,
I can state with fair authority that a policy of subjugation and
extermination will probably meet with failure, particularly here
in the United States."
Tracy thought that she would just have to stay away from DC.
She also revised her opinion of Dr. Collier. She saw that he
had been suddenly thrust into the limelight by a sensationalist
media, and had not had a chance to say much except negative
things.
The cook at the grill was watching TV. He suddenly leaned
forward and beckoned to her. "You oughta see this, Miss!
They're getting them all, looks like!"
"Who all?" she asked, knowing too well who he meant. He turned
up the volume on the set, and said, "You know... Them."
He turned the TV to let her see.
"A months long investigation has revealed that there has been an
underground network providing vampires with a chemical regimen
permitting them to masquerade as human.
"All persons obtaining this prescription, marketed as a thyroid
medication can be presumed to be Others.
"In a massive effort nationwide, law-enforcement agencies in
conjunction with the National Guard attempted to apprehend, dead
or alive, all identified vampires.
[Several fast cuts to SWAT teams and cops arriving at houses.]
"Given orders to surrender, the response was unilateral: fiery
suicide."
[Several fast cuts of houses burning up. Some just catch fire,
others explode.]
"And, a few minutes ago, in suburban Cleveland, Ohio..."
[A house on the screen. A house like any other house, but Tracy
recognizes the car in the driveway, the car she learned to drive
in, the lawn she romped on as a baby. She sees the troops
closing in on the front door. Shots ring out from inside, and
there is a sudden blinding flash from inside the house, and the
picture dissolves into static.
[A camera located farther from the scene picks up a spotty
picture, troops on the ground.
"'I feel awful...' says the reporter, who slumps to the ground
in front of the camera. 'Like a hot flash going through me...'
He spits up blood, and then the gas mains explode. The picture
again cuts to static.]
"The monsters detonated some sort of enhanced radiation weapon,
killing hundreds outright, and exploded the gas mains, setting
fire to the entire neighborhood. Rescue efforts are being
compounded by fears of radiation poisoning.
"The President has declared a State of War Emergency. The
Constitution is suspended for the duration of the emergency. We
are under full martial law. A state of war exists.
"This station is now broadcasting under the auspices of the
Federal Emergency Management Agency.
[The announcer blinks at the camera as his TelePrompTer conveys
the unbelievable.]
"Take cover in basements! This is an attack warning. Neutron
devices are being detonated in all major cities.
This-is-not-a-drill! Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Atlanta - "
The screen flares with static. Tracy looked up at the cook.
"So it's come to this," said the cook. "Nuclear genocide. Here
and now."
Tracy had no answer to that. She thought he had said it all.
"We've got a storm cellar out back," he said. "I think we
should be in it. My name's Steve, by the way. Let's go."
The storm cellar was cool and still with an earthy damp smell
like mid-March. Steve closed the doors and for a moment it was
almost dark to her, then he found the switch and turned on the
lights.
"This was built during the bomb scares of the Sixties," he said.
"We should be pretty safe here." Steve was about thirty. The
shelter was about as old as he was, but seemed to be in pretty
good shape as well.
"What about your family?" Tracy asked him.
"My parents died in a car crash years ago. I've been too busy
trying to keep the farm and this cafe going to find a wife..."
"You own all of this?" He turned a switch on an old radio set.
Vacuum tubes started to glow. He adjusted a dial. Tracy had
never seen real, live, vacuum tubes before. A howl of noise
swelled up, and then an announcer's voice could be heard.
"...ay tuned to this station for all official announcements.
Take shelter below ground if possible, or in low-lying areas.
Neutron devices are being detonated in cities all over the
world. There are no indications that we are at war with any
nations. Repeat, there are no signs of wars with any other
nations. Telemetry indicates that cities worldwide are being
destroyed by similar means. Death tolls are estimated in the
hundreds of thousands, perhaps millio -"
"The President of the United States.
"My fellow Americans. This evening, in a monstrous act of
invidious, unprovoked genocide, Those Others among us launched a
sneak attack upon the unsuspecting men and women of the world.
Neutron weapons were detonated in all cities with a population
of over about 100,000 people. These were apparently very clean,
high-yield devices. There will be little radioactive fallout.
All of the damage has already been done. Either you are now
dead or dying from radiation poisoning, as I am, or you will not
likely die from that.
"Perhaps most of the country is now dead or dying. America is
now a Third-World country. The cities have power, for a while.
Some of the automated factories may still be running. Lines of
communications still exist, for a while. There may be fuels
available for some time to come. Martial law will continue into
the foreseeable future.
"The Union is dissolved. Authority is now in the hands of the
Governors of the States, or their delegated successors.
"The FEMA, in conjunction with ISO, will attempt to mothball
institutions of higher learning, secure power generation and
manufacturing facilities. The border defenses are now active,
as are the orbital defenses. The orbital research and lunar
mining facilities are still operational, and capable of
autonomous existence for another ten years or more.
"We have been sorely, but not fatally wounded. Civilization
will go on, not as we have known it, but it will go on. We will
not be invaded. The Border Defenders will see to that. In
emergency worldwide council of the heads of State or their
successors, we are self-destructing all offensive weapons of
mass destruction. We humans have no cause to fight each other.
Overpopulation will not be a problem or an incentive to war for
decades, if ever again. Mankind now has no incentive to fight
itself. Again, we have Others. And we will have revenge. The
World declares war on those who have brought us to this day of
doom.
"I have little time left. The drugs sustaining me for this
speech are killing me faster than the radiation. In one hour,
FEMA/ISO will begin powering down the country. In a decade,
after the smoke has cleared, and the new order has been
established, the amenities of technology will be restored, where
possible.
"I must go now. God bless America, curse the Enemy, and protect
the human race."
"This concludes the address by the President. Repeating," Steve
turned the volume down, and sat staring at his feet.
"Wow," breathed Tracy. "We really did it this time!"
"Yeah," said Steve. "Our own fucking fault, too."
"You sound like you're on their side," Tracy remarked.
"Shit. We deserved it, we Americans. We talk all of this fine
talk about freedom and equality, and then go off on a war of
genocide against citizens who, as near as we could tell, weren't
causing any trouble except by being another kind. And they
fought back, upped the ante, and kicked the whole world in the
ass! Now we're all fucked! You heard the Prez; we haven't got
a pot to spit in. We're a third rate power, the rest of the
world is probably going to be back in the Stone Age in a few
months, and I'm afraid to think about what life is going to be
like for us!" Steve wound down, and began to settle into an
obvious brooding funk.
"They're goddamn vampires," she said, the words burning her as
she spoke them. "How can you defend them?" She glared
disgustedly at him, over her hand covering her mouth and nose,
hooking her thumb backwards, giving him the sign that said, I am
a vampire.
He didn't respond correctly. "I guess I can't defend them any
more. They won't have their cure any more. They'll have to
resume their old ways. (A shiver ran through her. She'd been
thinking about the same thing.) It'll have to be species-war
again. It was bad enough when one could hate them only because
of past predations, hate was so easy. All of those silly
vampire movies. Silly except for one thing; nobody ever rooted
for the vampires. Always there was the assumption of enmity,
always the conditioning of knee-jerk antipathy against the
misunderstood. Hate-Propaganda, like the Germans used against
the Jews so effectively.
"Now, after what they did, regardless of the provocation, I've
got to choose sides. I'm human (I know, Tracy thought), and
that's where I must cast my lots."
"It's good to know where you stand," she said.
"Yeah," he said. "How about you?"
She lied. That night, as he slept, she checked her medication,
a five-year supply if she kept it dry and temperate, sealed in
little blister-packs, sewn into the seams of her coat, luggage,
and hat.
She left it where it was. For the first time since she was ten,
she skipped her dose.
In two weeks, she would hunger. If she had not fed lightly,
weekly, in two more weeks, she would kill.
She would love it, she knew. The memories told her that, though
she personally had not yet been conditioned by the assuagement
of that awful drive.
For the girl she was, and had been, she wept, for her family,
and for the world she had known.
As her eyes closed in sleep against her tear-dampened pillow, a
thousand generations of vampires danced within her dreams.
© Copyright 1992 by Chester Cheetah
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