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Scene #44
Dark World
I intended to be the first American journalist to ever interview a vampire. There was a good chance the vampire could snap my neck and The Order, the fundamental ideology that ruled over America since they'd elbowed the vampires out of the way and into Canada, could throw me in jail.
I lived at the Pavilion Apartments. My roommate was my friend and fellow journalist, Nora. In this shag-carpeted top floor apartment, we'd stay up to the wee hours dreaming up the big stories we'd write one day. She thought I was crazy to interview a vampire, and one bad one in particular, and always reminded me just what country we lived in and the strict anti-vampire regulations we must abide by. But she loved hearing about this Maxwell vampire and the trouble he'd made.
I just might have my story one day. If our employer didn't want to take the reigns and stand up to The Order in this movement of free speech still in its embryo stage, rippling the waters by the younger generation, I knew of a newspaper that would.
My phone rang as I untangled myself from shopping bags, raincoat and the oversized handbag that was my portable office.
"Sidney Monahan," I always answered like I was at my desk at the Temple Times.
"It's Herman." Herman was my editor. "We need you down here. Now."
Who knew what assignment Herman had for me: another boring interview with the wives of the Council of State? The ribbon cutting at the Prodigy Laboratory? I gritted my teeth. It was time to propose my story to Herman, see how much a believer he was in free speech and hope he didn't can me for being one.
I unlocked my desk drawer only to find it empty of my copious notes on Maxwell. I searched through the piles and files on my desk with no results. I'd emptied out my briefcase when the phone rang again.
"Sidney—"
"Now."
Impatient editors.
I checked my appearance in the large gilded mirror in the hallway. I wore my typical work attire: white blouse with a slim-legged navy pantsuit, the blazer knee-length, and my standard ankle boots with heels. I ran a brush through my long black hair that fell to my waist, fussed with the straight cut of my bangs and ran a berry-shade lipstick over my lips. I had big brown eyes with dark lashes and I rarely bothered with anything other than a light coat of mascara. I had high cheekbones and a dimple beneath one eye that made it difficult at times to be taken seriously. Thus I believed the reason I ended up with what I tagged as Sissy assignments.
A taxi delivered me speedily to the Temple Times. I pushed in through the gold and glass revolving doors and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.
Herman paced the hallway in front of the elevator bank. He looked relieved when I stepped out. "Good." He hustled me to his office.
Herman was former Marine. I didn't know of anyone bigger than Herman, both in height, breadth and heart. He worked hard and moved fast.
"Sit." He pointed to the set of sleek black and chrome chairs in front of his massive glass desk. "Sit" wasn't meant disrespectfully. When there was a lot going on in his head, he needed everything else around him to stop moving. "We've got trouble. Big trouble." He dropped into his big chair. "Nora left a message on my voice mail. She said 'Call Sid. Tell her to get up here. I need her help'."
"Where's ‘up here'?" I asked.
He looked more like a worried parent than an editor. "What was she thinking going into Canada?"
"Canada?"
"From what I could make of her message, there's this vampire who's gone too far in resurrecting ancient rituals in hopes of bringing to earth the vampire's beloved Goddess Odell." He paused and looked up at me. "He's dangerous. He's created his own army on Mateso Island—"
"With intent to try once again to reclaim America as theirs." I began to seethe.
Herman looked surprised. "How did you know?"
"Because this is my story."
He crooked an eyebrow. "Mmm. That aside, she still needs to be rescued."
"Send the Army."
"If The Order finds out we have a journalist over the Canadian border talking to vampires, they'll shut us down for censorship violation." I was propelled out his office door and to the bank of elevators. "Everyone else is over at the opening of the Prodigy Labs and someone needs to leave for Canada now." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen carefully. This isn't a story. This is a rescue mission."
But it was a story.
"Sid," he gave me a little shake to get my attention. "I know you're looking to prove yourself, but I can't risk my newspaper being closed down."
"But it's freedom of speech."
"Not in this country." The elevator doors opened. Herman neatly turned me around and gave me a gentle push. "Your cover is that of a Protocol Analyst. You're going to accompany the sheriff of the Northwest Sector who's returning after a suspension. He's on probation and someone needs to make sure he behaves for the first thirty days. The military transport leaves in one hour for Henry's Island. My contact will meet you at the gate."
"I'm not going to baby-sit a—"
"Ditch him as soon as you can. Then you're on your own finding transport over to Mateso Island."
"What did he do?" I said.
"Who?"
"The sheriff?"
"Improper conduct with a female vampire." The elevator doors closed on Herman's goodbye.
Finally I'd be meeting this vampire. I just might forgive Nora. Excitement coursed through me, enough so that I didn't really care at present that Herman had overlooked mention of an exit plan.
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