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                “There are as many different types of Vampires as there are beasts of prey.”

Captain Cronos, Vampire Hunter

                It’s a large room. Semi-circular, with lush rich red carpeting running all along. A compact, but classy oak desk sits staring at the door, while bookshelves trace the far right side. The books outnumber the shelves and some of them are clearly overflowing.

                To the left is a space that’s clearly reserved for the artwork that’s been casually tossed aside for the main attraction.

                Slate

                She’s tied up on a giant metal cross that’s leaning against the wall. Cuts abound across her arms, but she looks okay. I can see her breathing.

                I look to the man behind the desk. He looks about my age with black hair and a slightly heavier appearance. He looks like a high school football player struggling to stay in shape as he enters the workforce. He’s dressed in a dark gray silk shirt, his silver watch jangling as he shifts position, considering me.

                “This is Sam Helms.” Says the guy right behind me, the little guy who had been directly in front of me when I was in the closet. “He’s the one who claimed to have met Slate when they escaped from bio-dome 4. He’s the one who mentioned the zombies.”

                During the explanation, Morcean gets interested. After the man gets finished, Morcean leans forward onto one hand, considering me. His index finger taps against his lip a few times, then sighs. “Thank you.” He says finally, waving the aid out.

                The man to my side quickly disappears out the door and I’m left with an unconscious Slate and a crime boss of some type. He stares at me for a moment, his chin-length black hair falling down around his face. He’s dressed in a white button-up shirt, but his sleeves are left unbuttoned in an almost renaissance-type look. “I’m Morcean.” He says after a few moments, his eyes staring holes through me. “You’re Sam. And you’ve got something I want.”

                I swallow. “I do?”

                “Yes.” Morcean nods. “Information.” His face twists with the word. He stands up, his glare contorting his face demonically. “You are going to tell me everything about what’s going on in the other bio-dome.”

                “Okay.” I say, my breathing getting erratic. My knees are getting weak.

                “What is the Ever-After Project up to?” He asks directly, coming around the side of his desk. “Since this whole thing started months ago, we haven’t heard a peep out of them. Is this part of their experiment?”

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say honestly, my hands up. “I woke up in bio-dome 4. The entire place was in shambles. Everyone that wasn’t a zombie was dead.”

                “Everyone huh?” He asks, crossing his arms as he leans against his desk.

                “Yeah.” I say. “I snuck out of a place called Argent Labs and saw a light given off by Slate.” When I mention her, I look back at her. The sight of her tied up against the cross makes me sick. She’s bleeding, but she looks okay, except unconscious. For a second, I wonder again if she’s alive, but the sight of her shoulders moving as she takes another breath renews my hope.

                “Sam.”

                I turn my head back to Morcean as he stares at me. “Back to the matter at hand.” He says with a paternal condensation. “You bumped into Slate there.”

                “She and I got down into the tunnels beneath the bio-dome, but the zombies had already gotten inside.” I realize I’m spilling my guts, but I don’t know what else to do. This guy could and may still kill us both. “We got over here and crashed in an alleyway and when I woke up, Slate was gone. I talked with some homeless guys and they directed me to the church. That’s it. I swear.”

                “You swear.” Morcean says, moving back farther to sit on the edge of his desk. “Swearing is a funny thing. Back in the day, it was meant to be a sign of seriousness, of the truth at its utmost purest. Truth distilled, if you want. And slowly, it became synonymous with profanity and cursing and cussing.” Morcean looks up at me, his eyes belying hostility that I can’t imagine. “Are you being truthful, or are you cussing me out?”

                He stands up, his anger flying back to his face. “Do you think I’m stupid or something? Do you think I’d really fall for a story that dumb?”

                I step back from him, but something stands out in my mind, something I can’t put my finger on. And he can see the realization in my eyes and smiles. He stands still as I stare at him. And then it dawns on me.

My eyes go wide in disbelief. My face goes pale. I don’t know if it’s the smell of him or the way he blinks or what, but it’s suddenly so clear to me.

“You’re a zombie.” I exclaim in breathless shock.

                Morcean smiles devilishly, then looks away, considering it with some validity. “You catch on quick.” He says, walking back around to his desk. “I am. Sort of.” He says, opening up a drawer. He takes out a steel chalice and a knife. “You see, the zombies are something and I’m something different. There aren’t a lot of us. But we’ve got all the fun of the zombies, without their mindlessness.” He comes around the other side of the desk and walks over to the unconscious Slate. “I guess, if you wanted to give us a term, if they’re zombies, then that would make us vampires.”

                I go numb.

                He walks around me and heads over to where Slate’s hanging. He takes the knife and puts it to her neck. “It’s been six months since things changed.” He says as I watch him draw a red line across her muscle. “In that time, we’ve heard nothing, absolutely nothing, from the Ever-After project or anything of the outside world.” He pushes on the sides of the wound and the blood pours out into the chalice. He lets a fair amount of it flow, then he turns from her and looks at me.

                “We’ve kept a lid on things.” He explains, swirling the cup for a second as if it was wine. “You know, keeping things civil and working.”

                “Who are you?” I ask, appalled.

                “Who I am is completely unimportant.” Morcean says, sipping from the chalice. “What I’m going to do, well, that’s the thing.”

                “And that is?” I ask.

                “Well, it’s probably going to start with interrogating you.” He says, looking me straight in the eyes.

                “Why?” I ask. “I’ve told you everything. Absolutely everything.”

                “Everything huh?” He says, his head tilting a bit as his anger explodes once again to his face. “Then let me tell you what you neglected to include in ‘everything’. We can start with how there is no listing of you anywhere in the entire Ever-After project. There’s no one that matches your description and has your name. And there is no way someone like you could have gotten inside the Argent Labs.”

                “That’s what I’m trying to tell you: I don’t know how I got in there.” I exclaim. “I just woke up. A few days ago, I was asleep at home, which is a long ways away from here. Next thing I know, I’m in some kind of weird science experiment gone horribly wrong, that’s got zombies and vampires and everything else I’ve ever heard crawling around.”

                Morcean takes one final sip from the blood in the chalice, then looks back at Slate. He considers her for a moment, then looks back at me. “You know, we’re going to kill her.”

                I draw back. I can feel my face going cold.

                “She’s constantly defied our control.” Morcean says, looking back at her. “She’s been part of a very small, but annoying underground movement that’s been trying to defy us or expose us ever since we took over control of this bio-dome.”

                “Why are you going to kill her?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. I glance at Slate, unable to process the idea of her dying. It just doesn’t seem possible.

                “Because it behooves me to kill her.” Morcean says, laying the chalice on the table. He looks at me, staring me in the eyes. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to follow her.”

                “But I don’t know anything.” I implore.

                “I don’t believe you, Sam.” He says, as if he was a father haggling with his son over an allowance. “And I am going to get what I want out of you. And if you don’t cooperate, then I’m going to kill your girlfriend.”

                “You just said you were going to kill her.” I say. “You’re going to kill her either way.”

                “I know.” Morcean nods, turning back to me. “But she can die by getting shot in the head, or I can eat her.” He looks her up and down as if she was a piece of meat. “And since I eat so very slowly, she’d have to make several meals. Probably at least ten or fifteen.” He turns to me completely, standing between me and Slate. “Can you imagine, being eaten alive, for fifteen days?”

                I look past him at the unconscious Slate, at the cut still across her shoulder. “I don’t know anything.” I whisper, my eyes not leaving her.

                “We’ll see.” Morcean smiles coolly.

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