Escape To Vampire Dam
As a thirty-six year old woman in the post-apacalyptic world, the vampires valued me. Yeah, finally, Noir Tekeste, meant something to someone other than my ten year-old son – wherever he was. My heart gave a pang. I hoped he was still alive.
Ever since Zompocalypse, humans were a scarce commodity in the vampire world. That’s when the blood suckers stepped up to the plate and started protecting people from anything and everything. The emergence of zombies shortened the supply of prey.
Dead blood held no nutrition value for vampires. Once humans were gone, vampires would starve for eternity. Living with out-of-your-mind hunger wasn't an acceptable fate to vampires. So blood-suckers started protecting humans from zombies. I never thought I’d say this but, thank god for vampires.
"Incoming." My vampire guard, Jason, pointed down into the water.
Zombies didn’t pay attention to bottles riding river currents, which was how rivers became postal by-ways. A mason jar, its sparkling head bobbing in froth and rapids, was the night’s last mail delivery. As soon as the net spanning the small tributary caught that goodie, I’d reel everything in and see what the river placed on our door.
Jason wasn't much of a talker. He subscribed to the mindset of keeping food at a distance. Me being human—food meant me. I huffed at him, even though he was my protector and companion for tonight.
“Yeah, I can see that, I have eyes." I batted my eyelashes at him.
His lack of interest in what men had told me was an adorable face and curvy figure irked me. Most vampires, or even my fellow male human compatriots, would smile and ask if I needed a hand bringing in the heavy nets. Not Jason.
I grabbed the mail pole that would release the net and started fishing the mail out of the water. I still got a thrill from getting water post. No matter what the news, letters were information. A personal letter from someone, or anyone proving we weren't alone, was cause for celebration.
"Calm yourself." Jason growled. "Heartbeat."
I scowled at Ass-wad. Jason constantly reminded me blood coursed through my veins. "Bite me."
"Tempting offer." Jason towered over me, eyeing my throat. Built like a biker lumberjack in a leather jacket, with a goatee he was intimidating enough to make me remember my vitality was my only defense against him. I also knew he had a Glock handgun in the inner pocket of his iconic “Fonzie-wear”. I was safe because I was a commodity. No one wanted to kill a golden goose.
You'd think my comment was an invitation. It wasn't. Vampires biting humans was against the head vampire, Calif's rules. Calif ruled all the vampires in a fifty-mile radius. For whatever reason, Calif’s first rule was "no biting".
Calif required all humans wanting his protection to donate via the Red Cross method with their blood stored in little “doggie bags”.
No donation and we were “free to leave” the comfort and safety of Vampire Dam into the maw of flesh-eating zombies, ravenous shape-shifters or who knows what other perversions the apocalypse had created. No, thanks. What vein would you like, sir?
Escape to Vampire Dam
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