arranging themselves for
an assault on a deadly stronghold. I understood. I’d seen the city
from outside—riding in on the highway or from the deck of the
Staten Island Ferry. I knew what it looks like—all glittering steel
and shining glass. The city looks powerful and impenetrable and
solid. It’s hard to imagine that there are people inside it, that
there is anything inside it. It’s all too easy to forget that
there are people—millions of them all living lives that range from easy
and comfortable to difficult and dangerous.
Hooded figures crept across the
parking lot, each holding a weapon. There were baseball bats and
hockey sticks and handmade clubs and knives and lengths of chain
and machetes and another shotgun. And me with my ax and Hector with
his own gun.
We jogged across the lot like we owned
the place. When we reached the door looked at Hector and said, “Why
don’t you knock this time?”
He grinned, lifted the shotgun, and
blew away the padlock.
My ears ringing from the blast, I went
left, holding my ax loosely in my hands. Hector went right,
shouldering the gun. Deeper inside the warehouse I heard another
blast, followed by the faint squeaks of a door’s hinges.
The inside of the warehouse was dark.
Most of the place was aboveground, so the vampires had had to do
some renovation to make it inhabitable. They’d hammered boards over
all of the windows, blocking ninety-five percent of the sunlight
from getting through. What filtered in wasn’t enough to be damaging
to the vamps and it also wasn’t enough for us humans to see by. The
only real, usable light came through the small sliver of the
door.
“I don’t like this,” I
muttered. “It’s too dark.”
“Quiet,” Hector said,
invisible somewhere behind me.
“That, too: It’s too
quiet.”
Where the hell were the vampires?
There hadn’t been so much as a hiss when the shotguns went off.
They should have been swarming, descending on us like a plague of
sharp-toothed pigeons.
I felt Hector’s hand on my shoulder. I
looked at him and could just barely make out his fierce grin. It
was dark in here, so dark, like swimming in murky water, there was
no way of knowing where anything or anybody was. I heard the
occasional footstep in the warehouse as the Family fanned out in
and around the shelves, or the breaking of glass as it fell from a
shelf. Otherwise, though, the silence was frightening. I could hear
my own labored breathing, my own heartbeat. And I was dimly aware
that a vampire could hear it, too, pumping my delicious blood
through my soft veins.
We reached a wall at the end of the
warehouse.
“What do you think?” I
asked.
“ Nada ,” Hector said.
A voice, a female voice, Maria’s
voice, screamed somewhere in the darkness. Hector spun around and
without a word to me, sprinted towards the sound, leaving me alone.
I paused for a moment, unsure what to do, and then I heard the
booming roar of a shotgun.
“Dammit!” I whispered. I
ran into the dark, pulling a cheap plastic flashlight from under my
coat and flicking it on. We didn’t like to use the lights—standard
procedure: make it as hard as possible to be seen—but it didn’t
seem like there was much point in secrecy. The whole operation was
fucked and I wanted to see what was happening.
The light bounced off a huge,
curvaceous set of boobs. I blinked, staring at the cleavage for a
moment, and looked at the face attached to them. A beautiful woman
smiled for a moment—I had a flash-image of silky, dark hair and
shining eyes—and then her face changed. The skin went gray, the
eyes went black, and the fangs descended.
The female vampire sprang at me, her
claws slashing at my face. I batted her away with the handle of the
ax and jumped to the side.
Right into a pair of she-vamps. Both
of them were similarly pretty—in fact, I thought they could have
been sisters—at least, until they dropped the acts. Three sets of
horrific vampire mouths descended on me,
an assault on a deadly stronghold. I understood. I’d seen the city
from outside—riding in on the highway or from the deck of the
Staten Island Ferry. I knew what it looks like—all glittering steel
and shining glass. The city looks powerful and impenetrable and
solid. It’s hard to imagine that there are people inside it, that
there is anything inside it. It’s all too easy to forget that
there are people—millions of them all living lives that range from easy
and comfortable to difficult and dangerous.
Hooded figures crept across the
parking lot, each holding a weapon. There were baseball bats and
hockey sticks and handmade clubs and knives and lengths of chain
and machetes and another shotgun. And me with my ax and Hector with
his own gun.
We jogged across the lot like we owned
the place. When we reached the door looked at Hector and said, “Why
don’t you knock this time?”
He grinned, lifted the shotgun, and
blew away the padlock.
My ears ringing from the blast, I went
left, holding my ax loosely in my hands. Hector went right,
shouldering the gun. Deeper inside the warehouse I heard another
blast, followed by the faint squeaks of a door’s hinges.
The inside of the warehouse was dark.
Most of the place was aboveground, so the vampires had had to do
some renovation to make it inhabitable. They’d hammered boards over
all of the windows, blocking ninety-five percent of the sunlight
from getting through. What filtered in wasn’t enough to be damaging
to the vamps and it also wasn’t enough for us humans to see by. The
only real, usable light came through the small sliver of the
door.
“I don’t like this,” I
muttered. “It’s too dark.”
“Quiet,” Hector said,
invisible somewhere behind me.
“That, too: It’s too
quiet.”
Where the hell were the vampires?
There hadn’t been so much as a hiss when the shotguns went off.
They should have been swarming, descending on us like a plague of
sharp-toothed pigeons.
I felt Hector’s hand on my shoulder. I
looked at him and could just barely make out his fierce grin. It
was dark in here, so dark, like swimming in murky water, there was
no way of knowing where anything or anybody was. I heard the
occasional footstep in the warehouse as the Family fanned out in
and around the shelves, or the breaking of glass as it fell from a
shelf. Otherwise, though, the silence was frightening. I could hear
my own labored breathing, my own heartbeat. And I was dimly aware
that a vampire could hear it, too, pumping my delicious blood
through my soft veins.
We reached a wall at the end of the
warehouse.
“What do you think?” I
asked.
“ Nada ,” Hector said.
A voice, a female voice, Maria’s
voice, screamed somewhere in the darkness. Hector spun around and
without a word to me, sprinted towards the sound, leaving me alone.
I paused for a moment, unsure what to do, and then I heard the
booming roar of a shotgun.
“Dammit!” I whispered. I
ran into the dark, pulling a cheap plastic flashlight from under my
coat and flicking it on. We didn’t like to use the lights—standard
procedure: make it as hard as possible to be seen—but it didn’t
seem like there was much point in secrecy. The whole operation was
fucked and I wanted to see what was happening.
The light bounced off a huge,
curvaceous set of boobs. I blinked, staring at the cleavage for a
moment, and looked at the face attached to them. A beautiful woman
smiled for a moment—I had a flash-image of silky, dark hair and
shining eyes—and then her face changed. The skin went gray, the
eyes went black, and the fangs descended.
The female vampire sprang at me, her
claws slashing at my face. I batted her away with the handle of the
ax and jumped to the side.
Right into a pair of she-vamps. Both
of them were similarly pretty—in fact, I thought they could have
been sisters—at least, until they dropped the acts. Three sets of
horrific vampire mouths descended on me,
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