Chapter 6
Prague
"It seems as though the dead have arisen from the grave, lord. We may have problems in New York," Udokeir said with his head low, his silver hair in his eyes and pulling his robe to a close in front of his chest.
"Explain…"
"The Daywalker, lord, seems to be alive. It may be someone impersonating Blade, but he is nonetheless destroying vampires, again."
Damaskinos looked unperturbed by this news. And outside the thunder echoed across the landscape followed by bursts of light.
"Well then, Udokeir. It seems as though you are going to the Big Apple."
*****
New York
A large, wiry brown rope was lassoed and tossed over an iron stump on the pier, and Rossi pulled the Demeter to a jolting, thudding halt. Blade pulled off his long coat and re-sheathed his sword. Sonic was off first, and turned around to give Monica a hand off of the boat. Monica hesitated—she looked at Blade for a moment, but he didn't see her. He was busy single-handedly trying to pick up every bag of weapons. Monica turned around to accept Sonic's offer.
As he was finishing tying the boat's anchor, Rossi smiled to himself as he watched the way Monica looked at Blade.
Rossi dusted his hands, and walked over to Blade who was still layering-on the duffle bags.
"Let me give you a hand with that," he said while taking the last dark duffle. "Blade, how many trips do you think we'll have to make? The boat's pretty small."
"I don't know. We're gonna save as many people as possible, Rossi," Blade said uncharacteristically empathetic.
"For most of 'em, this is just a giant coffin," Blade finished.
That's more like it Rossi thought silently to himself.
Bible John was the last to exit the boat—everyone thought it odd he was taking so long. Well it has been a long time since he's been in any type of violent confrontation; nerves must be working him over.
As he hopped on the pier, he adjusted his thick glasses. The box-construction was colossal. It didn't look that big from across the river. And they were still a good hundred yards away. Bible John noticed Blade, Rossi and Sonic loading clips into guns, and tying swords around their backs. Monica stood their frozen like a statue, and except for her flowing dark hair, she was motionless. He doubted she was anywhere near as scared as he. His knees wanted to buckle as he walked to meet the crew. He figured after he vomited, he'd be ok—not the case, he needed to again, but he suppressed it. Bible John tried to attribute the sickness to the choppy waters, but he knew otherwise, and that made him feel like a coward.
As he drew nearer to Blade he felt much safer, like he was with a superhero.
"Think fast!"
Bible John looked up as a shotgun was tossed in his direction. He looked back at Sonic like he was insane for throwing a weapon so carelessly like that.
"Relax. It's not loaded. I figured you needed something to do. And you're probably gonna need that in there," Sonic said pointing to the building with a thumb. "You look like you're going to hurl, John. Man, there's only like a dozen of 'em in there. We're in, then we're out. Simple."
Simple. Sure.
The pier boards creaked and cracked with Bible John's every movement—which if it wasn't for the wind, he wouldn't be making.
Laughter, that's what the seagull's crying sounds like, laughter
Bible John's head was swimming in thoughts, so he began to load the silver-filled shells into the Benelli shotgun to help him forget about it.
Blade led the group to the large, silver, steal entrance. The doors were much larger than they first appeared on the pier—but so was the entire structure. Monica was already ahead of Blade; she squatted next just off of the door and opened the laptop computer for a better way in, if there was one. These doors more than likely do not open in daylight hours. Blade had no idea how many vampires were inside, and if they were armed or not was another concern. Monica continued to click away on the keyboard. She was hacking access codes to all of the human cells, and at last obtained the necessary code to open the foyer. She gazed over the infrastructure's blueprints one last time to see if there was a better way in or out.
"Looks like the only way," Blade said as he coolly looked the door up and down.
"Ok, when I hit Enter, this door will open. All the other doors to each cell will open too," Monica said looking at each of the men, waiting for their silent acknowledgement. Sonic clasped both hands together and gave her a wink. Rossi grabbed his handgun and cocked it, and held it by his side as he stretched his neck side-to-side. Bible John looked up from his matte black shotgun. Blade turned around and looked at his crew. He knew it made the others calm when Blade took charge. They were here to kill vampires and save the human slaves, but not at the cost of losing his friends.
"Bible John, you and Monica will wait out here—you can take the people back to the harbor. You and Sonic are with me," Blade said looking at Rossi. Sonic removed one of his shoulder-holstered Uzis and placed it in both hands. Monica stood up and showed the floor plans of the building to Blade, Sonic and Rossi, and Blade pointed out on the screen where he wanted Sonic and Rossi, the best place for them to be was near the entrance to usher out the humans.
Sonic was to stay directly at the entrance, while Rossi would clear the first floor with Blade.
"You ready?" Blade asked.
Everyone shook their heads yes.
"Open the doors."
The doors slid open eerily slow and quite. There was one figure standing with his back to the doors, and he turned around fast as he felt the sun on his body burning away his flesh. He hopped back safely out of the UV rays, but as fast as he moved out of harms way, Blade moved faster. In a blurred motion, Blade had his sword tearing its way through the vampire's torso and up his rib cage. The burning ashes scattered across the shinny marble floor with the breeze from the river and Blade's lightning-fast motions.
Sonic and Rossi followed Blade into the hallway while Blade sheathed his sword and grabbed the gun at his side. Voices could be heard whispering. The cells were open, and some of the slaves were brave enough to take a peak.
From here it was still hard for the two to see what the building looked like—it was dark, but Blade could obviously see just fine. He took out unseen guards on either side of him with only two two-round burst shots.
***
111212, or Jerry as he liked to think of himself, ventured out of the door that opened from his cell. He looked to the left and right of him, and saw that only a few others were on the catwalk, and some directly opposite him. His heart began to beat heavily as guards stormed both sides of the balcony, and began to shove the slaves back into their cages. But Jerry was just too curious. He saw sunlight. A door or window was open, something was obviously wrong.
A guard ran up to Jerry and violently grabbed him by the shoulders and continued to force him back into his cell yelling profanities and spitting as he yelled like a rabid animal. Gunshots rang out, and the guard flinched as the sound echoed the halls. The rabid guard turned around to look over the railing and dropped his guard long enough for Jerry to know what he had to do.
Something was apparently happening that would change his life. Something was changing the way life would be lived in this coffin, and his hesitation was gone. Jerry rushed the guard from behind and with a spear to the spine tackled the guard off of the terrace. The two fell limply twenty feet or so, and then landed with a breath-taking thud. The guard landed face first—his neck obviously broken with the bone sticking out of his neck. Jerry was winded, and his vision was meager. He saw the shapes of two men shooting guns and swinging punches and kicks. The red-orange ashes of dead vampires blew casually over him and made him want to sneeze, but he was losing consciousness, and was trying to concentrate on staying awake.
He felt someone, or something, grab him by the shirt collar and drag him into the bright sunlight. And then he finally sneezed.
"God bless you," a voice said.
Jerry noticed through squinted eyes dozens of his fellow inmates being scurried onto a boat—the Demeter, it said on the side. A beautiful Asian woman was helping them aboard. Another man with glasses was fidgeting with some controls on the boat, as he stopped to adjust his bottle-cap glasses.
"I think he has," Jerry said, but he wasn't sure if it was discernable.
A tall blond-haired man with guns on both shoulders helped him up to his feet.
"You ok to walk? I saw you take that fall in there—that was about twenty feet or so. How do you feel?"
Jerry didn't say anything. He was still trying to figure things out.
"Hello? Anyone in there?" the blond asked.
"I'm Sonic, and over there, that's Monica, and Bible John. We're going to get you outta here, ok?"
"Who's in there killing them?" Jerry asked.
"That's the man himself. Blade. Oh yeah, and Rossi's in there too," Sonic replied while helping Jerry to the boat.
"Thank you," Jerry managed to finally get out. "I'm Jerry."
"Jerry, it's nice to meet you, but it would be great if you'd get on the damn boat and let 'em take you to the harbor. What do ya say?" Sonic asked with a smile.
Jerry returned the smile and looked to Monica who was smiling back, and took his hand and helped him on the Demeter.
"I'll see ya on the other side, Jerry."
"Ok, Bible John, I think we're full on this one. Let's make a drop off."
"Roger...I mean ok, Monica."
As the Demeter pulled off, Jerry turned around to see more people filing out of the prison, and Sonic was running off to meet them.
He looked at the monstrous building, and for the first time in years, maybe longer than he realized, he felt like a person again, and not a piece of food.
After a few minutes of basically soaking up the sun, and feeling totally safe, they arrived at the docks. He was amazed to see dozens of his friends, if you can call them that, wandering the wooden planks of the pier.
Monica and, Bible John? Yes, Bible John, that's what Sonic said his name was, helped the people off the Demeter, and he was the last to get off. He still felt like he was in a state of dreaminess. After he tripped over a rope, he turned around to face two of his saviors.
"Can I help?"
"Sure. Can you keep everyone calm? Let them know that we will be back to get everyone to a shelter when everyone is out," Bible John said, hoping that it would work, and that the he wouldn't ask where the shelter is.
"Yes," Jerry returned with a smile, and then turned around to meet up with his people.
Bible John returned to the cabin, and Monica untied the Demeter, and they set back for "the Square."
"When we get back to "the Square" I'm going to try to contact some friends. These people won't be safe in the sewers—the vampires will be able so smell that much blood in a hurry. I'm going to look for all the human safe houses in Manhattan," Bible John said.
"Good idea."
***
Elton Avenue—three blocks from the docks
A standard white Dodge B250 van cruised down the quiet and desolate street, stalking a car full of young people. The two drivers looked at each other and smiled. The passenger pulled out a large chrome Desert Eagle handgun. It did about as much damaged physically as it did just by looking at the hand cannon. Evil thoughts coupled with outrageous glory. The thrills of the hunt made it worthwhile even more. Their masters would be happy with them. A car full of young flesh, and female flesh at that, except for the driver taunted the two vampire familiars.
The driver was having second thoughts, but knew that his teammate wouldn't let them get away. His smile went away as the little green 2004 coupe pulled into a wide alley. Looking into his side mirrors, Gage couldn't see his mates in the second recon van. Miguel noticed what Gage was looking for, and interrupted his thought.
"They're probably getting laid. Keep you're eyes on the road, and follow that damn car!"
"You'd better calm down, partner. I know what I'm doing," Gage retorted with a mock backhand motion. And as Gage looked over to his partner, the glass windshield shattered and Miguel's head exploded, and he was covered in brain matter, blood and glass.
"Jesus Christ!" shouted Gage as he jumped in the back of the van while simultaneously grabbing his holstered pistol from his shoulder.
"A fucking sniper?!"
Another shot rang out, but it was silent, except for the ripping of the van's bodywork.
*****
Manhattan, lower-Eastside
His eyes seemed to cast a red hue over his non-prescription glasses. His long, shaggy and uncombed black hair was almost blue, as the light reflected off from his over-head lamp. His glossy-white hand turned another page in the book he was reading: a medical journal from the hematologist Dr. Karen Jensen. As he flipped the next page, he had already decided he was finished reading for tonight, and closed the book, and set it upon his desk.
His glasses were also removed and sat atop the book. Michael Morbius needed some fresh air, and walked over to a window in the center of his apartment. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his long-sleeved black shirt, and uncuffed the sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows.
The dwelling was in shambles-completely! Papers and medical equipment littered the place haplessly.
He began to reminisce outside the apartment of days long past when he was the acclaimed Nobel-prize winning biochemist. And ghastly thoughts of his ex-fiancé, Martina Bancroft, and his friend Dr. Nikos whom he killed due to the overwhelming bloodlust after he and his doctor friend tried to find a cure for his rare blood disease.
After injecting himself with distilled substances from the blood of vampire bats, and while subjecting himself to electrical shock therapy to create more blood cells, an explosive chain reaction was set inside his body reacting with the vampiric fluid already coursing through his veins.
Thus the vampire inside Michael Morbius was born, and his friend Nikos was set to die. After killing his friend who had tried to save his life, Morbius could not bare to kill Martina Bancroft, his soon to be wife. He through himself in the ocean, and upon trying to survive his new vampiric nature was complete.
He still carried with him to this day, and possibly forever the unimaginable guilt of killing innocent human beings to survive. Men, woman, children; they were all the same. But after a while—maybe too late regardless—he derived a serum which would help him to no longer turn his victims into horrible blood-sucking vampires.
Michael Morbius looked about the streets of lower (literally) Manhattan and with a step, fell towards the concrete of Earth; quickly gaining momentum as gravity pulled with invisible hands. But then Morbius opened his eyes just before reaching Terra Firma, and slowly he began to control his descent.
As he landed in the alley, dozens of vampires scattered in all directions like roaches after a light is flicked on—perhaps it did, in their heads. They feared the floating man to be a hunter; vampires in general could not fly, or levitate, though some gained the magical gift through the eons.
The Living Vampire looked at them in contempt; with malice, the redness of his eyes now glowing.
He thought about immortality, and how such ignorant beings could possess such a priceless gift.
He thought about their ancestors, who should have died after thousands and thousands of years still lived—since the hairy-less, ape-like Neanderthals ruled the almost continent-less Earth of ages ago; when Adam and Eve roamed Eden with their big, over-sized foreheads and hunch-backed shoulders.
They were a plague alright, the vampires. A disease—definitely a virus that eventually mutated their bodies into monstrous and grotesque beings.
But they were in too many ways like the humans they now ruled over. Yes, Morbius hated the vampires for different reasons than the mortal humans. After all, neither would ever accept him as one of their own.
He was a creature of circumstance; purely scientific, accidental, medical circumstance—much like the man whom he had come to the Big Apple to look for. He didn't know if the man—if you can call him that—still lived. He had not heard news concerning the legendary fighter in almost twenty years.
He may of finally did what was on Morbius' mind for years and years—and taken his own life. Reality was pretty grim nowadays, and didn't look like it was getting any better. Hell, if the main adversary of the immortal creatures had given up, then why shouldn't all of humanity do the same?
As Morbius walked the more or less calm streets, he felt distraught that he didn't inherit the human-like vampires' gifts like telepathy. It would be much easier if he could reach out with his mind to the Daywalker, instead of physically wandering these dangerous streets. Instead, Morbius acquired all seemingly instinctual, animalistic attributes.
And the streets were indeed dangerous, even to other vampires—and Morbius was no exception. The nocturnal creatures were just as territorial as the wild animals they occasionally imitate.
And he thought strange the absence of the many vampires that wander lifelessly on the streets—sometimes like zombies. The city seemed almost like it had decades earlier, before the uprising. It was as if a fear has once again captured the demonic minds of the vampires.
And a burst of hope filled all of Morbius for a moment, but he silenced it due to its illogical assumption: the Daywalker was alive, and back in action it would seem.
But what else could explain the sudden and bizarre desolateness on the streets?