[metatrondarkangel]

The following is the prologue for the novel I wrote. It will be available on amazon in two to three weeks.

The Reporter: Prologue

NEWS FLASH: This morning, several people were arrested in connection with the late night violence that erupted after last nights demonstration at the New Minority headquarters in downtown Miami. There was one death reporte¬¬d and two hospitalizations. Oddly enough the casualties were Vampires.
More on channel 7 at 11.

I have no idea how long I’ve been here. The events of the past few days seem a little fuzzy at the present time. The nurses are cute for a change, very polite and down right agreeable. I suspect a few of them to be Vampires. I only see them at night and they seem much more active then the usual bunch of night shift nurses. It is really difficult to tell the difference between them. Then there is the one with the fire red eyes.

“Good morning, baby you look good enough to eat!” She greets me with a devious smile that makes one wish she were serious.

I can remember a few things. The assignment seemed easy enough. There were a series of demonstrations that erupted into violence following the New Minority’s acquisition of the former Freedom Tower building and then after their final occupation of the offices. I was sent to take as many statements as possible and try to put together a story for, The Daily. All day long I had to interview people who seemed to be appalled by the occurrences of the past days.

The very heated demonstrations rivaled that of the WTO conferences during the early years of the millennium. People here were outraged that the city council would allow the New Minority to take over control of this historic building. The people were volatile and extremely agitated by the appearance of the leader of the Vampire led organization known as the New Minority. Everyone yelled obscenities and hurled trash at the Vampire dignitary but none would dare confront him. The story seemed typical and leading nowhere special, there had to be more. The victims weren’t just beat up these guys were severely hurt; one dead and two in the hospital. This is not an easy thing to do considering we’re talking about Vampires. There have been previous attacks on them, but I can’t remember when one was put into intensive care.

No one had a clue about what had happened. There was the usual demonstration by Vampire activists protesting the current administrations’ policies involving the “New Minority.” Three of the vamps were somehow separated from the group and were found hours later tied to crucifixes facing east. On the top of the dead ones head was a large piece of paper with a big “K” on it. The locals thought the Klan was up to its old tricks, but I don’t think there’s a Klansman alive that wants to tangle with these guys. To me it seemed odd that those beings that were so afraid of sunlight would want their headquarters in the Sunshine State, much less Miami. The interviewing was leading nowhere until, Frank.

Frank Talbot is a recent transplant from Texas. This guy was a psycho. It was not hard to tell where he stood on the Vampire issue. Just the mention of the bashing brought forward a barrage of obscenities followed by a lecture on the moral objections to the New Minority and its philosophies. As the line of questioning intensified I noticed his level of agitation mounting. I stirred him up to the point where I was feeling uncomfortable so I suggested we continue the next day. He agreed, and apologetically invited me to his house for dinner the following night. I don’t usually take complete strangers up on impromptu invitations to visit their homes. Things like that can be dangerous in my line of work. I was compelled by his southern charm and seemingly singular knowledge on the subject. He also promised me the story I would never forget. In retrospect that was quite the understatement.

I arrived early and found him toiling over a barbecue the size of Texas.

“Is that for me or are you expecting an army?” I asked.

“I’m cursed with the appetite of a wolf,” he replied.

We sat at a table inside in the large dining room of his home out in the Redlands. His home sits on the edge of a swampy area on the rim of the Everglades. The sun was approaching its resting-place, what a view it was. Across the table from me sat this man eating his meal as if it were the only thing left on the planet. It was almost nauseating to watch. I had a later appointment and wished to make the visit short so I strategically veered the conversation towards the issue of interest, Vampires. The conversation grew more and more intense as time passed. He was again growing angry.

“I didn’t invite you to speak of those scavengers of life. Man is so naïve, so vain. Do you think Vampires are the only things that exist from your so-called legends? If you were wrong about them; does it not make sense to conclude that you may be wrong about others?”

His tone grew harsher with his anger. He wasn’t making any sense, speaking of the atrocities committed against his people, silly superstitions, and carrying on. I could not understand any of it. Suddenly, he stopped ranting. He turned to the window, looked at me, gave me the most terrifying look I have ever seen and fell to his knees. I felt concern at first, but the sounds that came from this man froze my heart in fear. I wanted to turn and run yet none of my limbs would respond.

He stood up facing me, his face twisted, contorted; it seemed in pain or rage. I finally took control of my faculties and ran for the door. In my panic I failed to unlock one of the bolts and the door would not open. I pulled and kicked at the door struggling to open it. Behind me the sounds grew stranger, unrecognizable to my ears, if pain, rage, fear and despair had a sound that was it. What I heard next sent my panic into overdrive. I heard growling like a dog’s and the approaching sound of nails scratching on the hard wood floor. I was trapped.

“Oh no, I insulted him in such a way that he’s sicked his pit bull on me,” I thought to myself.

The ripping of flesh and clothes were the next sounds I heard. The force of the blow was devastating. I was slammed against the door so hard I crashed through it. Still, I could not see the animal that attacked me. I could only feel the cold steel-like teeth digging into my flesh and the warmth of my blood spreading across my back. I remember thinking I would surely die. Then, suddenly it was as if the dog had been blown off me by a great gust of wind. I tried to get up, but my legs failed me. There was howling and growling. I then heard a loud snapping, the sound of bones breaking; and stranger still, voices. I was dazed, but managed to roll onto my side to see what all the commotion was about. I looked up and saw a big beautiful full moon. My vision was becoming blurred; all I could make out was the shape of two animals fighting. I blacked out, but I remember voices in the distance.

“I’ve been tracking you for months, you bastard.”

“Canis like you are a disgrace,” said another voice.

“No, you’re the disgrace! That is why you must be destroyed.”

Then, in my delirious state, I was face to face with the biggest dog I have ever seen in my life. The bump on my head must have been worse than I thought because he spoke. He said:

“You’ll be sorry that you lived. This is a night you’ll never forget.”

The last thing I remember thinking was that I never saw or even remember Frank mentioning a dog, and that thing talking to me didn’t look much like a pit bull. Those words keep running around in my head.

“You’ll be sorry; you’ll be sorry.”

The nurses say I’m lucky the man brought me in when he did or I would be dead. I don’t feel so lucky. They never found the dog that attacked me. I had to take the whole series of rabies vaccine, just in case. The pain is unbearable, the nightmares are terrible and my appetite is insatiable. The doctors say I should be able to go home soon. I hope not. I don’t know how I’m going to get along without the painkillers they provide. Life without the attention of all those nurses is surely going to be unbearable. I think when I leave here I’ll ask that red eyed vamp if she minds making house calls. With my luck, she’ll charge extra for that!

(Abridged due to word count restrictions.)


All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2000 Rolando N. Matos