That Which Bites

chapter 10–A SHOOTOUT LIFE

SLEEP EVADED HER. THE cloying stench of garlic hurt her eyes. Stupidly she’d doused herself with sticky garlic juice before hitting the sack. It was her cross, her amulet against fiends of the night. Her battered body needed protection even if she smelled like foot sweat.

It was open season on the girl who had killed a councilmember and a score of others at different stages of death. A platter awaited Sainvire’s head for allowing Poe to go on a binge. Her battered ribs hurt which made breathing laborious. But she had to rise and put on her gear. A shower was out of the question.

Only the very sick and injured remained. The rest had slipped out before dawn. Poe could taste their fear even with her eyes closed. The plan was so audacious that casualties were inevitable.

A series of explosions shook the underbelly of downtown not one hour later. They originated from random, dispersed corners. The first thing Poe thought of was Penny who lounged alone in the bunker. She’d left the lame dog enough food and water for a week, but she still felt sick with guilt.

“Holy cow. It’s started,” Poe said and rubbed her nervous tummy. “Look after all of them,” she prayed to her parents. Her heartbeat was surprisingly steady.

By six, Poe emerged from the building, Kevlared and heavy with artillery. From where she stood, the 277

Rono/That Which Bites

triangular roof of Parker Center was gone. Black smoke rose from the gutted building that housed many of Trench’s police goons. It was as if downtown had lit giant incense sticks to flavor the air. Union Station, a quarter-mile from Chinatown, was intact, however.

Jointly administered by the Council and a handful of master vampires, it was the best defended of all the cattle farms.

“Better go get Penny,” she muttered to herself.

Poe helped herself to one of the leftover bicycles in the alley as her limp slowed her down. She pedaled speedily down Broadway, the voice in her head becoming vicious. You need to help them, the voice urged. Some of them are your friends. You can’t let them be slaughtered.

“Shut up, you,” Poe said. “I don’t owe them crap.

If they eat it, it’s on their own heads. Now get the hell outta my head!”



(((

The plan had looked so clear and logical on the blueprints with pewter Monopoly tokens representing strategic placement of their people. Megan didn’t count on fellow rustlers catching bullet wounds in the neck and noggin. “Body armor is useless to sharpshooters,”

she said in a panic. The Bonaventure Hotel had an elevated walkway gently spiraling in the middle of the hotel, perfect for unseen snipers who were picking them off one by one. Megan estimated there were only two shooters, but they were deadly nonetheless.

Trench’s henchmen were definitely skilled.

“We should’ve been out of here ten minutes ago!”

she cried, tears of frustration and dread gathering in her eyes. “What’s taking so long?” she asked Morales for the tenth time.

278

Rono/That Which Bites

They expected stoned leeches and snoring vampires when they exploded grenades in the doorway of the Bonaventure Hotel. The hotel, used as a nightclub by Quillon Trench, also housed a premier blood farm to accommodate thirsty guests. The plan didn’t account for accurate snipers or the number of undead able to defend the fort due to the lack of sun.

The glass walls of the spherical hotel had been doused with tar to suit the undead.

“Keep the line moving, people,” Megan ordered her voice already hoarse from screaming commands.

“Fill the elevators and head to the lobby area now!

Morales, how’re you doing with blammie?”

“I can’t set her off until you guys are out of here.

Claude’s set up two cases in two decommissioned elevators on the 20th floor. They’re set to explode after this one,” Morales answered tensely, his wrinkled brow swimming with condensation. He fiddled inside a large ice chest. He could smell the nutty, calcified smell of the plastique.

“Are you sure that thing’s gonna work?” Megan asked for the umpteenth time as she pushed another three cattle into the cramped elevator and sent it downstairs where their people waited to escort them out of the building. At least the lobby was a blind spot for the snipers.

The slow progress of the cattle and the gunshots ricocheting around the cylindrical hotel floored her.

“We’re not here on a picnic, you know.”

Morales wiped his brow and snarled, “Meg, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to set the timer to ten seconds.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Just do it soon or we’re all dead.”

“We’re done for anyway if those snipers aren’t handled,” said Morales who kneeled on the floor to 279

Rono/That Which Bites

hide his precious head. “Those two bastards are butchering us.” He gestured to his vampire assistant.

“Squat behind me, Claude. If you get hit, there’s no one left to carry this shit. I have a back problem. Might as well be dinner.”

“If I get any closer to your behind, folks will start taking pictures,” said Claude dryly.

The ice chest, the last of three, contained sixty pounds of C-4 with enough velocity and density to cut through metal beams. Questionable wiring and explosives connected it to a simple detonator, battery, and kitchen timer.

Claude, wearing a black turtleneck, carried coils of cabling. The pinched-faced halfdead had been an accountant in the old life. If his dead pores were still active, the day vamp would have been dripping from stress.

The kitchen timer in the shape of an apple didn’t exactly solicit any trust. But Morales followed the Incendiary Bomber’s Recipe Book to the dot. He’d done his job. Any calamities that occurred were out of his hands.

The farm, located on the fifth floor and surrounded by posters for cheesy ’80s movies filmed at the hotel, was easy to reach. Any higher would have posed problems. One of the most photographed buildings in the world stood a measly thirty-five stories, towered over by a slew of downtown skyscrapers. Three of its main glass pod elevators had been disabled, and the stairway splashed with garlic water. It was the flying critters that they had to watch out for. Fortunately there didn’t seem to be any at the hotel.

Foldable hospital beds where over sixty cattle were penned were configured in tight rows within the exposed atrium. The trick was to get the sluggish and 280

Rono/That Which Bites

rickety limbed down the elevator without getting hit by sniper fire. Already, Sainvire’s vamps and eleven humans were thinning.

“Get down!” a human named Gina screamed at Megan who missed a bullet by an elbow. “Jesus, that was close,” Megan complained. Before she could thank the woman that rescued her, two shots exploded, hitting Gina in the mouth and cheek.

“Shit! Gina’s dead,” Morales cursed, taking refuge behind a cement pillar. “Guys, hide behind the cattle. They’re precious to the vampires and won’t be in any direct danger.”

“This is the last of them,” Megan declared, her voice raw. Around fifteen cattle milled around waiting for the elevator to take them to the lobby.

“Good. I can set the clock to go off in ten minutes.”

“Do it, but we’re on our own. I’ve sent most of our people down with the cattle.” Her breath froze. “I hear shots below. I hope you’re wearing a vest, Morales.”

“Hell, I’m wearing ten-year-old underwear,” he said with a forced a laugh. “If that won’t give me luck then I don’t know what will.”

Desperate leeches forcibly shook and kicked the hard-to-awaken vampire residents, even resorting to setting fire to their arms with lighters until conscious.

Those who could crawl down the glass panels and the concrete walls did, looking like slugs. Flyers went straight for the rustlers.

The longer the cattle thieves stayed in the hotel, the more cretins crawled out of the woodwork.

Infuriated vampires eager to stop the cattle rustlers hollered in their toughest voices.

“You think you can steal from us?” one of them shouted, pissed at being burnt and forced from bed.

281

Rono/That Which Bites

“Don’t you know that you can’t go against the new order?

Rapid fire bounced around the hotel, poking holes in tarred glass walls.

Morales didn’t see the human gecko on the post directly above him and screamed like a girl when wrestled to the floor. Claude, the accountant, tried to pry the lizard-like foe from his friend, but the slime hurled him against the elevator door. Pushing the cattle out of the way, Megan aimed at the creature pinning on Morales’ chest. Before she could pull the trigger, a flying vampire with dried drool marks on the side of his mouth wrenched the gun away from her.

“Morales!” Megan squeaked as the vampire backhanded her.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

“Anyone call for pizza?” a deep, throaty voice asked.

“Poe?” both Megan and Morales recited incredulously at the same time.

“Yup. Come to crash your party,” Poe said with a smile that fizzled as a halfdead rammed at her with his speed. Sidestepping the creature, Poe happily planted a booted foot on his back and put a bullet in his skull.

She followed with a left-handed chest shot to the undead that sat on Morales. Without missing a beat, Poe aimed for the flying beast that tackled Megan and shattered its face with the gun in her right hand.

“Hey, Poe,” Megan said weakly, rubbing her face.

After staring at each other for what seemed like the length of a Kurosawa epic, the Titian-haired woman broke eye contact. She reached in the elevator and pulled the stop button.

Behind Megan was an exodus of wobbly-kneed cattle that needed to be crammed in the elevator. Some 282

Rono/That Which Bites

had soiled themselves from all the shooting. “Hey, Megan.”

“Ladies, a suggestion. Talk later. We got eight minutes to clear outta here,” urged Morales. “So hussle!”

Sniper fire missed Morales by a thread.

“Holy pantalones! I almost lost my left hemisphere.”

“Give me your rifle,” Poe asked the temporary doctor and bomb maker. Morales slid the weapon across the floor. From behind a beam, Poe cocked the rifle in readiness and waited. “Do me a favor, Morales.

Stand up real quick then duck back down again.”

“With no helmet?” Morales protested, his sense of humor unsnuffed. “Alright, but you better not let them ding me. I have some underwear shopping to do after all this excitement.” A second after bobbing his head up, gunfire from two separate directions shattered the glass elevator walls.

“Got you now, misters.” Poe fired into the shadowy balcony two floors above them. She fired another two shots on the ninth floor balcony. The bodies of two snipers plummeted onto the lobby pond, the only indication that she’d hit them.

“That’s my Poe!” howled Morales, clapping her on the back.

Poe jumped into the waiting elevator with the cowering cattle and her friends. They squatted low in case more snipers lurked. Morales was the first to step foot from the elevator when it reached the lower lobby to check if the area was secure. He motioned for Megan and Poe to ease the cattle out.

Bodies decorated the lobby area. Some were Trench’s toked up leeches and vampires who had died in muddled confusion. Many of the dead, however, were rustlers.

283

Rono/That Which Bites

“Hurry! Get these people outta here!” Morales yelled. Two humans wearing overalls marched in to lend a hand. “Claude, keep the wires moving. We’re almost there.”

Busy coaxing an ornery blood cow who refused to budge, Poe failed to see a group of groggy vampires leaving the monitor room. They were armed with matching silver 9mm Browning specials. When one of Sainvire’s vampires directing people outside the automatic doors hit the ground dead, Poe snapped out of her reverie. She yanked the poor human survivor to the ground.

Mean and lean with her swollen cheek, Poe did a 180 and shot the three vampires dead-on in the heart.

“Right on!” yelled Morales who’d just stepped out into the street.

Unfortunately all three pissed off undead were wearing body armor. The three vamps trained their weapons on Poe, who dove flat on the floor, taking cover behind the thick slab of cement that enclosed the circular water fountain.

“Stupid, stupid!” Poe berated herself. “Always aim for the head.”

Water and koi fish met angry bullets for what seemed like hours. Losing interest in Poe, who’d probably caught one in a major organ, Trench’s vampires mowed down cattle to get to the rustlers retreating outside. They could care less about what their master would think.

Like a baby chick taking her first peek, Poe raised her wet head for another look at the sure-shot vampires. A hand touched her shoulder and Poe jumped. She let out a wild shot, almost pegging cattle in the ankles.

“Calm down, for chrissake!” Megan scolded. Poe wanted to elbow her friend in the gut and tell her off 284

Rono/That Which Bites

for stealing up on her. “Let’s sneak out the side entrance there,” she said. “There are plenty of cattle rescued already, and the explosives are gonna blow anytime now.”

Megan’s face had a strained, almost scared expression. Poe tried not to be annoyed at her friend and recalled Megan’s traumatic retelling of her long internment with Trench. Now being under Trench’s roof took guts.

Poe, however, narrowed her eyes and flared her nose. “No one’s getting left behind.”

Instead of swearing, Poe looked away and cocked her Astra. She popped her head up, just enough for a clear aim. In three consecutive shots, Poe managed to hit the goon triumvirate smack in the back of their skulls.

She blew away the imaginary wisps of smoke emanating from her gun. Megan’s surprised gasp she ignored. “Let’s go.”

“Thank goodness for the vests,” Morales cried, rubbing his stomach where a bullet had hit him. He ran back inside to check on his friends. “Get the hell outta here, every last one of you. The building’s gonna blow in three minutes!”

Only when the last cattle stepped out into the winking sun did Poe go outside herself. Sainvire’s day vamps piled on the slowest and weakest upon their shoulders and ran as far as they could. From two blocks away, they watched the Bonaventure Hotel implode on the lower levels and collapse sloppily, leaving more than a few sections burning but intact.

“Hey, I’m no explosives expert,” Morales shrugged, chucking the extra wires in his pocket. “I was a realtor for goodness sake.”

(((

285

Rono/That Which Bites

Sainvire flew alongside two Metro buses filled with cattle stolen from the Walt Disney Concert Hall.

The plan, hatched over a year ago and put into effect after the library siege, looked to be working. Three groups targeted the Bonaventure Hotel, Disney Hall, and Parker Center at the same time. Once the cattle were safely led underground in the subway tunnels, Sainvire’s people would converge and infiltrate Union Station, the “Last of the Great Railway Stations,” and now the ultimate cattle farm. The sound of explosions around town was music to his ears.

Most enemy undead were asleep, and the halfdeads were no match for Sainvire’s force.

Sainvire’s nocturnal vampires had been transformed into day vamps over time by Plasmacore.

Casualties were inevitable, however, and he was powerless to prevent them. The sight of Paul Robb getting an arrow through his chest pained him. His longtime friend that marched with Dr. King was one of his heroes. Robb was turned into a vampire in the 1970s and Sainvire had crossed paths with him soon after. He didn’t delude himself. By sunset, more of his people would die. Union Station would prove to be their biggest hurdle. Just getting into the well-barricaded place would take a miracle.

He looked at the drooling faces inside the buses.

The poor things were once animated and alive. He ran a hand through his black hair and said, “We’re going to get you back to normal.”

He thought of Poe, so full of passion and brimming with life. He’d never known anyone like her in his long years on this earth. The girl had shot him!

Several times at that. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of her. He’d been told that Pengle had clawed his hook into Poe’s chest and let her dangle in the air. Seething 286

Rono/That Which Bites

hate filled his thoughts. If Kawana hadn’t killed the bastard, he would have hunted him down and shred him like Watergate files.

“Be safe, Julia Poe. We have unfinished business,” he whispered in the wind.

(((

“You’ve changed,” Megan said accusingly as she tossed Poe a sandwich. The girl was winding down next to Morales in the underside of a set of stairs inside the 7th Street Metro Station platform. Megan had been supervising the welding shut of the station doors until she decided to ladle out lunch. The next objective was to hide confused cattle underground and follow the subway tracks to Union Station.

Poe winced at Megan’s comment, purposely spoken within earshot of Morales. Averting her gaze to a group of cattle eating their food oh-so-slowly, Poe took a deep breath. For the first time, she noticed a tiny girl with oily brown hair about five or six kneeling on the platform. The girl wearing what looked like a potato sack was the first child she’d seen in over ten years. She seemed lucid as she was looking at Poe with curiosity.

Poe smiled at the child as she peeled back foil and chewed off a corner of a potato salad sandwich. She hoped Megan would shove off before she could say anything that could potentially end their friendship.

Before she could swallow, Megan made another searing remark.

“I don’t know if I like this new Poe or if I can trust her,” Megan spoke as if Poe was not present. She deliberately exhaled, catching Morales’ eyes for support in the weak camp light.

287

Rono/That Which Bites

“Meg, what’s with you?” Morales demanded.

“She just saved our butts back there.”

As slowly and as articulately as she could, Poe asked, “Which person did you like before, Megan? The stuttering girl who wasn’t told about Sainvire’s operation, even though she killed for him for years? Or could it be the girl who wasn’t told that it was time for a bra at age twenty-two?”

Poe looked at Morales who scratched his nose without expression. “We all know which you’d pick, Morales.”

Flustered, Megan tried to recast her words. Poe had never been contentious with her before, and it was more than a little disconcerting. “I didn’t, I just don’t like to see you with bloody cuts and bruises.” She ran a hand through her red hair. “And the way you killed those vampires. You were so clinical.”

Poe, laughing without cheer, held her belly.

“Goodness. Sorry about that.” She stopped mid-laugh and looked pointedly at her friend. “I should’ve asked dead folk to take it easy with their fists so I could stay pretty.” Then she breathed deeply and counted in Japanese for calm.

“And as for me killing clinically, I was taught by the best. A nun and a giant who apparently didn’t trust me one bit.” She glanced at Morales whose jaw clenched and unclenched. “I’ve killed for you people. I freed cattle so they could be on a real working ranch, somewhere far from the city. Somewhere a fourteen-year-old would’ve been best suited.”

Megan didn’t even bother looking up anymore.

All Poe glimpsed were her red ears as she stared down at the roast beef sandwich on her lap. So Poe continued.

“And I truly do apologize for being so hard . ” She gritted. “Goss is gone. To keep it that way, I had to 288

Rono/That Which Bites

chop off his head and throw it down the garbage shoot.” Poe swallowed at the lump in her throat. “And Sister? She was stabbed in the eye next to me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Sorry if the change in me offends you, Megan,”

Poe continued, “But to tell you the truth, I like me better this way. Tough shit if you don’t trust me. Like you ever did.”

Poe stuffed the sandwich crushed by her fist into her pack. She stood up and headed toward the cattle quietly eating lunch. She plunked down in the middle of the platform lit only by a few camping lanterns. She ignored the garbage and dirt and rested her hurt back.

“I need to take a nap,” she mumbled to herself and tried to yoga away her grief. “I don’t feel so good.”

An hour later, Poe had her gun cocked and pointed even before her sleepy eyes focused into the face of Morales.

“Whoa, Poe. It’s me, Sam.” The handsome, easygoing man actually looked panicked.

Poe retracted her gun and wiped her dry mouth.

Not for the first time Poe felt embarrassment about her shoddy looks. Her uneven-to-missing patches of hair, mislaid earlobe, and multiple scars and lacerations made her self-conscious. She said a quick prayer for her straight teeth to remain unchipped. Morales, sensing the awkwardness of the moment, took out a moist towelette packet and handed it to Poe.

She accepted it with thanks as she sat up creakily on the bench. “I feel like shit.” The towelette was as dry as tissue after a decade of disuse.

“And you’ve looked better,” he said with a nod.

Poe shuddered at this side of Morales. No perverted winks and leers? No sexual innuendos? Boy, 289

Rono/That Which Bites

I must really look hell-nasty for him to be respectful all of a sudden. Or maybe it’s the bra.

“Thanks, Morales,” Poe said, blowing her nose and tossing the soiled wipes on the platform. “Say, why’s it so dark in here? Where’s everyone?”

Morales flaunted a crooked and irresistible smile.

“Just wanted you to know that the last group marched in the tunnels almost an hour ago. If we don’t vamoose now, we won’t catch up.” His smile disappeared, locking eyes with Poe. “I don’t want to sound yellow, but it’s dark and damp in the subway tunnels and the thought of rats and insects kinda loosens my bowels.

I’m not stable enough to be in the rear of the procession. We gotta follow the tracks now.”

Poe surveyed the empty platform and the darkness ahead. She inclined her head and said, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

His brow drew together. “Ask me later,” he sighed.

“Well sorry anyway.”

He ignored the guilt dripping from her words.

“The plan is to march the cattle through the subways tunnels to avoid the Council and the rest of the bloodsuckers until our transportation’s ready. “In the meantime, we’re crossing our fingers that all the cattle are physically and mentally able to make the trek.”

Poe bit the inside of her lip trying to gauge the plan. “So we’re really heading to Union Station?”

“Yep, yep. While you slept, we injected the anemic bunch with vitamin B12 shots. Liver sandwiches, water, and vitamins helped revive some of them. I saved a shot for you if you’re interested, but we really gotta go,” said Morales.

“Thanks for thinking of me, T-Doc,” Poe smiled gently, her dimples showing. “But I think I have enough energy to carry me through. Between you and 290

Rono/That Which Bites

me, I’m downright weak-bellied when it comes to needles. How’s Sainvire going to rustle up transportation for all these people anyway?”

“By hijacking the trains at Union Station.”

“What?” Poe bellowed, spitting accidentally where Morales sat. “That’s the mother lode. There’ll be tons of vamps, cops, and the rest.”

“Yeah,” Morales nodded, looking distractedly at his Indiglo watch. “If anyone can pull off this lunatic idea, it’s Sainvire. We gotta go, kid.”

She nodded. “One more question. Did Megan ask you to stay behind?”

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I was concerned about you. I thought you could use a nap. Problem is I dozed off, too.”

Reeling that her only girlfriend didn’t see to her welfare pissed Poe off. She did the next best thing; she picked on Morales. “You should’ve been that concerned eight years ago when you found out I lived alone underground. It would’ve counted more.”

“I know.”

An awkward silence filled the air. Only Morales had the balls to break it. “Don’t think bringing you in and sending you to the recovery ranch didn’t cross our minds.” Morales rested his hand lightly on Poe’s arm.

“It’s just that you had never been cattled up, and you survived the city on your own all those years. Then you showed up at Goss’ building. We were suspicious that you were a plant.”

“For nearly a decade? Hundreds of rescued cattle later?” Poe quipped, removing her arm from under the man’s hand. The thought of Goss and Sister Ann whom she’d loved unconditionally not trusting her broke all comfort and Christmas cheer from her heart.

That was why Sister Ann kept mum about where she 291

Rono/That Which Bites

lived all those years. “You all used me. To think I was working for a damn vampire all that time!”

She jumped down the platform to the dark, gravelly tracks beneath and began following the rails using a small flashlight she’d retrieved from her pack.

Her leg ached, but what could she do?

“I’m sure I’m speaking for everyone,” he said, following the girl into the tunnel, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We’re all sorry about what we did.

Especially Megan. Especially me.”

“Don’t give me that, Morales,” Poe huffed. “It’s a bit too late. As for Megan, she let me know what she really thinks of me.”

“Think of me what you will, but Megan has always loved you, Poe.”

“Nice way of showing it.”

“She was just jealous of you.”

Poe’s head swiveled so fast that Morales actually heard her neck tendons crack a little. “Jealous!

Jealous? Gimme a break! She’s pretty and intact for crying out loud!”

“She heard about you and Kaleb. About the night he spent in your bunker.”

“Who blabbed?”

“Kaleb did,” Morales laughed without glee. Then he corrected himself. “Alright. To be fair, Claude, the biggest mouth in the west, heard Sainvire spilling his guts out to Joseph. Within ten minutes, the underground was abuzz with the news.”

Poe wiped the spittle that spewed from her mouth.

Is nothing sacred anymore?

Morales shook his head. “He could’ve laid low in Pico Rivera after the raid, Poe. He went searching for you instead. He hid out for hours near your bunker, hoping you’d show up. He was gunned down by day vamps for crying out loud. So when Kaleb finally came 292

Rono/That Which Bites

back to HQ a day later, Megan confronted him about it.”

She asked the million-dollar question. “Why is it so important for her to pry into other people’s business?”

“Must I spell it out for you, Poe?” Sam’s brow drew together, cursing when he tripped over an empty paint canister. “She’s in love with him. Always has been.”

Poe hyperventilated thinking about best friend etiquette. Everybody knew how wrong it was to snag a friend’s boyfriend. Crap! I’d hate me, too, if I were in Megan’s shoes.

“Well, you know, I didn’t know. Nobody told me.” She shook her head. “But, um, she can have him.

Never liked the bloodsucker anyway.” Her heart felt like it was being ground by a handheld fruit juicer. Fact was, she lusted for the vampire, but she hated him too.

“She can never have him, Poe. That’s the problem.” He expelled a breath reeking of liver and onions. “Megan is Sainvire’s great niece. She’s his brother’s granddaughter. He’d always taken care of the Sainvire family in some way even when the world was normal.”

That’s a mouthful, thought Poe. Sainvire’s brother’s granddaughter. What the hell does that mean? Goodness, the apocalypse is over. What’s a little familial intermingling in this crazy city anyhow?

But the thought of doing it with her own grandpa’s brother made her want to hurl.

“Kaleb thinks of her as family and not as a potential mate,” he continued. “But she still holds out hope.”

“Gee, wouldn’t want to touch that one.” She sighed somewhat relieved to know that Sainvire had some scruples left and that Megan’s feelings weren’t 293

Rono/That Which Bites

reciprocal in any way. When Morales raised an eyebrow at her audible sigh, she quickly added. “I, I’ve had a feeling for a while now that you kinda like her, too.”

At this, Morales laughed. “Poe, I like all women.

Pretty ones, most of all.” He shined his flashlight on her face and beamed, “My true weakness.” He pointed the light to the ground.

Poe looked away, flattered by the hint, but she didn’t take it as truth. She’d seen herself in the mirror, and she was scary as hell. She was missing pieces of herself, and that fact was difficult to gloss over.

“Who made her into cattle?” Poe remembered seeing the bite on Megan’s neck.

Morales scratched the stubble on his chin. “That’s a long story, Poe. I think we should pay more attention to what we’re stepping on. Avoid that opossum ahead.”

Determined to know the truth, Poe laid a hand on Morales’ forearms and looked into his face, silently conveying that she deserved to hear some truth for once. She pulled out a headlamp and adjusted it on Morales’ head. Quickly Poe put on the night vision goggles from her pack, giving her momentary vertigo.

Everything became Tron green.

“Alright,” he sighed. “A year or so after the Gray Armageddon, the cattle round-up began. Sainvire’s ideas were put into play. Trench’s roughnecks swept the Echo Park area. Megan, who was holed up in a hill house, was taken away. I met her in the same cattle truck bound for the Bonaventure Hotel that had been claimed by Trench.”

Poe slowly withdrew her hand from his well-muscled upper arm as they resumed their walk. “Why didn’t Sainvire rescue her or something?”

“He tried when he found out. Only, Megan opened her big mouth and threatened Trench by saying 294

Rono/That Which Bites

that she was related to Sainvire.” Morales shook his head. “Calling it a blunder is big understatement.

Trench made her his personal fountain, drinking her blood through straw hook-ups every night.” He pursed his lips at the memory. “There was bad blood between the two masters, you could say. Trench wanted people as prey to be hunted. He didn’t want to drink cold farm blood.”

“What did Ka…Sainvire do?”

“He met with Trench several times, but the vampire only toyed with him. Trench stuck an intravenous hose directly into Megan’s forehead veins and drank her blood like a cocktail in front of Kaleb.

Sainvire almost killed him on the spot but Joseph stayed his hand. To kill a master vampire wouldn’t have been a prudent thing to do.” He glimpsed Poe’s scar in the dark. “Eventually the Council stepped in.





But they voted in favor of Quillon’s ownership rights.”

“How did she get out?”

“With the help of a councilmember.”

“Rodrigo,” she uttered under her breath.

Morales looked at Poe strangely. “Yes, Jacopo.

He was the one who actually approached Kaleb about a plan to steal her away from Quillon.”

“Were they chums, or what?”

“That was the strange part. They weren’t even friends.” Morales focused on her bug- eyed goggles.

“He just offered to snatch Megan away and have her stay in his place until it was safe to deliver her to Sainvire.”

“Hmmm,” Poe nodded in understanding, eyeing the fungus-laden walls of the subway. She shivered at the sheer number of cockroaches commingling on the walls. Rodrigo loved Megan enough to get her away from Trench. Poe stopped asking questions and let Morales concentrate on the tracks.

295

Rono/That Which Bites

Morales spotted an abnormally large rodent near his foot and squealed like the end was near. The muscular man was scared of the dark.

For one so cunning, Morales was a bit of an airhead. His ridiculous penchant for choosing the worst weapons because they looked “manly” irritated Poe like nothing else. He carried two extra-long Dirty Harry Magnums that took up far too much space on his fishing-jacket-slash-battle-armor. The loose bullets jangling in his pockets weren’t practical at all.

“You know, reloading two-cylinder six-shooters bullet by bullet in the middle of a fight is gambling with fate,” she told him.

Morales just rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Kid, just leave it to the pros,” in a voice similar to a scathing Clint Eastwood.

She offered to lend an Uzi she was reluctant to use and an automatic she carried in her pack. He scoffed at her generosity, brushing off her criticisms and suggestions.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and kept her mouth shut.

Aside from the headlamp, Morales had a boxy flashlight with an emergency radio attachment. Poe rolled her eyes at the fancy station knobs, as there was nobody alive to broadcast. Amateur!

“You wouldn’t happen to have another pair of fancy goggles on you, would you?”

“Nope.”

“Rat shit! Clumps of them!” she heard Morales whine after he slipped on moist tracks, nearly eating crumbs and other goodies on the ground. “Oh yuck,”

he cried when he rested his hand on the mossy wall to heave himself up. It was crawling with life.

Morales wiped the slime on his pants, the hairs on the back of his neck still standing. He clicked on his 296

Rono/That Which Bites

square flashlight that flickered weakly. “Damn batteries! Can never find a working set these days.”

Poe could have sworn T-Doc sobbed when the lights finally flicked off.

“Goss told you to use rechargeable batteries years ago, so don’t complain.” Poe adjusted the goggles to her eyes and warned her companion, “And don’t you point your headlight at me. It’ll blind me!”

“Yes, yes,” he answered, irritably. He muttered that his light wouldn’t reach her anyway, because she was so short.

Poe shut her mouth and didn’t say a word. If she were to exchange words with moron man, she’d be forced to shoot him. Her temper had been awfully short lately. She bet that Mr. Manly Man never studied the tunnel maps like Goss and Sister Ann had insisted she do.He certainly was no Kaleb. She shuddered at the memory of exploring those luscious lips, those sensuous eyes with dark eyelashes longer than hers.

“Don’t go too fast!” ordered a disturbed Morales, who kept slipping due to his low traction Pumas.

“Look, I’m limping. How can I go too fast?”

Getting p.o.’d at Morales was better than thinking about Kaleb Sainvire. She owed the vampire an apology. He wasn’t responsible for cattle milking.

Rodrigo Jacopo was.

Poe forgot about Sainvire and Morales when a large creature trotted across her foot. She screamed and so did Morales who was tapped by the creature’s tail.

Poe, in turn, tripped and twisted her right ankle, the one Sainvire had punctured.

She seethed. Not everything appeared clearly, even with night vision goggles, especially if the opossum was coming from the rear. Not only was her ankle hurt, she was blinded, too, as Morales’ light trained on her.

297

Rono/That Which Bites

“You good, Poe?” Morales asked, giving her a hug and halfway lifting her off the ground. The concern in his voice was genuine. Poe was truly touched, but not to the point that she’d let him drag her around.

“No, I’m not! It’s my frikkin’ ankle,” she fumed, tearing up. “Hell of a time to f*ck up.”

“I can carry you.”

“No need for that,” Poe said, chuckling a little.

Then she winced at the pain. “I’ll be well enough if you’d just point your light somewhere other than my face.”

Instead of moving the light, Morales squatted down. He took out two red bandanas from one of the many pockets of his fishing jacket and bandaged Poe’s right ankle tightly. The man was a better doctor than a killer.

“Of all the days for this to happen,” Poe complained.

She appeared oddly ethereal, like a human fly with her enormous night goggles and hacked hair of different lengths. He gave her boot a light tap then stood up. Without asking, he took a small flashlight hanging from her pack to sweep the platform for possible obstacles. Finding no slippery mounds of rat droppings, he put his hand under Poe’s armpit and helped her walk, keeping the flashlight pointed in front of them.

“I can walk, Morales,” Poe hissed. She could feel the twisted ankle expanding. “Get your hand–”

“Forget it,” he said firmly, holding her more tightly. “We need to catch up to the rest, entiendes?”

Poe counted to three in Japanese: ichi, ni, san. “Fine!”

she relented.

Poe hopped on one foot, testing the rocky tracks.

298

Rono/That Which Bites

“Don’t even think about molesting me in any way,” Poe said as a bitter afterthought.

“FYI, this Petri dish of a tunnel has shrunk my manhood to dandruff size. Relax,” snarled Morales.

They walked in silence, inching together ever so closely as they progressed deeper in the heart of the dank tunnel. Morales’ robust Christian Dior perfume plagued Poe’s nostrils. Strong artificial scents did not agree with her.

Morales’ cologne intermingling with little creature crud and piss-ammonia kindled an awfully bad premonition. Christian-f*cking-Dior and my swollen ankle make me want to shoot someone. She had to stop for she was hyperventilating.

“What’s wrong, Poe?” Morales asked out of concern. “Is the ankle bothering you?”

She shook, sweating cold water. “Nothing. Yes, sumfin.” She inhaled deeply, but away from Morales.

“Get away from me.”

“What?” Morales mouthed, completely taken aback.

“I mean your cologne is making me sick!” Poe reached for a glove from her pack and slipped it on her right hand. “Never mind. I’ll lean on the wall.”

Unhooking one of the two bottles of garlic water from her Mexican belt, Poe sprayed Morales in the face until he yelled an expletive. “Don’t be mad. I’m allergic,” she said when Morales remained silent. Poe hung the bottle on one of the hooks of his fishing jacket.

“This kind of perfume I approve of. I’m sure you’ll need it today,” Poe added. “And if I were you, I’d squirt myself with holy water as much as possible to drown out that problem.”

“You know, if I didn’t respect you so much, I’d strangle you right now.”

299

Rono/That Which Bites

“Just you try,” she said, grinning. To assuage his ego, she mentioned how fit he was.

“You should see me without a shirt.”

All talk skidded to a halt as terrifying screams and gunfire erupted farther up the tunnel. The mutual look of stark horror they gave each other in the dark was enough. Poe took off the sodden glove and threw it on the ground, hobbling faster. Morales handled one of his Magnums and half-supported Poe with his free hand.

Between the two of them, they hustled a consistent pace toward where the pealing screams originated. Each step and bang of gunfire made their pulses beat even more wildly. Finally Morales ordered Poe to get on his back.

“No way!” said Poe.

“People are dying, Poe. You’ve got no choice on this.”

She hopped on his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. As a precaution, Poe stuffed his ears with tissue in case she had to shoot from above.

“Just make sure I can still hear, okay?”

“Yeah.”

The man practically ran in the dark. Poe’s extra weight didn’t seem to hinder him. His lung capacity was impressive. Poe, clinging to his neck and head, was truly grateful that he was in such good shape. Her personal pony.

A couple times, Morales stumbled, but he corrected his balance without incident. The desperate voices grew shriller as they pushed on.

A movement from the ceiling caught Poe’s eyes.

As the objects drew nearer, Poe recognized three toddler babies with sharp fangs and darting tongues slithering on top of them.

“Oh, Jesus!” Poe coughed her skin alive with goose bumps. She unlatched the safety on the Astra 300

Rono/That Which Bites

and prayed that she could aim with the frog glasses on.

Her hands trembled from fear.

“What’s going on? What do you see?” Morales asked, scared shitless from being so blind despite their portable lights.

“Babies on the ceiling,” Poe said, swallowing deeply. “Brace yourself. I’m going to shoot them down.” She added, “Whatever you do, don’t flash the lights in my eyes.”

Because she didn’t want those creatures any closer than they already were, Poe shot at all three from twenty feet away. The first two bullets went awry but by the third, Poe’s instinctual shooting skills kicked in. The creatures squealed demonically as they fell to their deaths.

Even Morales shrieked, as Shaft would have put it, like a motherf*cker, when the babies with sharp yellow nails fell on the tracks. From that moment on, both of them were alert like rabbits, scouting every wall nook and cranny for more of the same vermin.

“I heard they exist,” Morales said, cringing.

“Some were sucked by greedy vampires when they were babes and turned, and the rest are products of vamp-on-vamp love. Some stay in baby bodies and some actually grow up, so I hear. Disgusting!”

“I can walk now, Sam.” Poe tapped his head.

Ahead was a wall of babies, child vampires, and deformed halfdeads herding cattle into a nook. These cattle laggers were the slowest and weakest, the ones left behind by their group. The babies formed a monkey chain, looping their elbows together until they could torment the humans from inches away. She saw a particular hanging baby dart out its reptilian tongue and lick at a cut on the forehead of one of the cattle hanging on a thread of consciousness. Even in the dark, Poe could tell that the toddlers were filthy little fiends, 301

Rono/That Which Bites

bred and born in the tunnels because of their parents’

shame.

Sainvire’s people decorated the sticky ground.

Cattle or not, some of the humans were awakening from their heavy languor. The sight of a demonic baby lifting and sucking an adult body dry could awaken anyone.

“Okay, Poe, but if you need to run, let me know and I’ll give you a ride,” Morales said, his voice at the breaking point. Mr. Macho was scared shitless. He shook like an old washing machine on rinse. Like Poe, he had never seen anything like that before. He had always been the planning and logistics guy, not a vampire and dead baby killer. While Poe was on his back, he had actually felt safe. Now he was close to pissing his pants.

A munchkin vampire spotted them, opened its mouth, and let out a sharp hiss that alerted the other beasties. Soon the group of impish kids, babies, and adult vampires re-grouped, surrounding cattle and using them as human shields against possible retaliation.

Poe slid to the ground, ignoring the pain in her ankle. “Morales, can you shoot dead on?”

“Wwhat?” Morale stuttered. “I’m not a crack shot.

Not in the dark. No, not at all!”

“Are you comfortable enough to shoot those baby things instead of the big cretins circling the cattle?”

“Nnoo!”

“Then just aim for the ones on the ceiling, okay?”

she ordered, taking the holy water from his jacket and handing it to him. “And when they get close, spray them until they fry.”

With her own bottle, she sprayed a circle around them. “Just remember, they’re barefoot and naked.

302

Rono/That Which Bites

This stuff is like boiling oil to them. Spray the ground if you have to. And don’t leave the circle.”

She hooked the bottle back to her belt. In her left pocket, she took out a plastic water squirt gun shaped like a neon pink turtle. Procuring a plastic mouth protector she found at the Mexican shop, Poe stuffed it in her mouth. “There’s no way I’m getting a chipped tooth today.” She took the high-pressure gun and squirted the ceiling. Two babies fell screeching in agony.

“Shoot, Morales. Shoot!” Poe ordered her seemingly frozen partner.

With much trepidation, he did, the flashlight in his other hand shaking.

She grunted her approval and stuck the plastic toy gun in her left pocket again. Her eyes never leaving the thick wad of bodies on the ceiling that were carefully avoiding the holy water line, she shot her automatic upward. Many fell hissing, but the creatures were like ants, reforming and continually prodding on.

Her breath caught in her throat. The little girl she had seen earlier was snagged in the air by four linked baby vamps. The girl, used to a hellish existence, did not scream, but her dirty face looked petrified as if stuck in a nightmare.

“Ready?” Poe asked, fearful for the child.

“Yes,” Morales answered. His voice was a little stronger and less nervous after he’d damaged his first two vampire babies.

“Now!” Poe shot at the linked vampires until they lost their hold on the girl. Poe prayed that the child did not break any bones. She looked so brittle.

Next she went after a throng of adult vampires that looked like the siblings of the Elephant Man surrounding about twenty cattle. Her automatics blasted at the first line of defense, and with the Glock 303

Rono/That Which Bites

in her left hand she aimed at the rear guard, babies and adults using humans as shields.

She took out the vampires and babies shot by shot with deadly accuracy, replacing clips as she went. A bullet rent the arm of a human. Poe’s concentration faltered at the error and for the unmistakable human wail as he fell.

Next to her, Morales shot upwards, mostly hitting his targets. Some of the enemy, however, moved so swiftly that they were able to dodge the Magnum’s force.

“I’m out of bullets,” Morales cried in panic.

“Need to reload!”

Cursing, Poe reached for the Uzi from her partially opened pack and threw it at Morales. She did not see the three-link vampire baby chain looped behind her. By the time she realized it, two of them had jumped on her head, and another set of six fell on Morales.

Both toddlers scratched Poe’s scalp and neck with their grimy nails before sizzling from contact with her blessed skin. She wasn’t aware of her advantage, however, because she was so disturbed by the close proximity of the baby vampires to her face that she lost it. Morales’ blood curdling screams didn’t help.

Flicking out the oil-blessed wrist knives on either hands, Poe stabbed the two devilish chubbies over and over until their little hearts were punctured. Only when the smoke cleared did she fall back to earth.

She looked over to Morales, trying to disengage the little claws of six fiendishly uncute cherubs that had dug into his skin. The only problem – the hands were welded to him because of the recent application of holy water. Poe hobbled over to where he lay.

“Get off him!” yelled Poe. She squirted the creatures, and they bawled like chicken on the 304

Rono/That Which Bites

slaughter wheel. The blessed water melted flesh like candle wax.

With one fat thumb she pulled the hammer of her Glock, stopping any more babies from jumping on them. With the other hand flashing her sparkling new Rambo knife, she sliced away the parasitic vampire hands stuck on Morales’ flesh. Morales scrambled to his feet.

“Scrape the hands later, Morales!” Poe yelled over the gunfire, the mouthguard garbling her voice. “Grab the frikkin’ Uzi and kill vampires!”

Despite his state of shock, Morales did as he was told. He fired at the slithering abortions with desperation and surprising accuracy. Poe resheathed her gummy knives and reloaded her firearms. She hobbled closer, careful to avoid Morales’ bullet shells and the small bodies that plunked down like melted icicles from the ceiling.

She targeted the deformed vampires clumped on cattle arteries. “One head. Two heads. Three heads,”

Poe recited out loud until she decimated the rank lot.

Hearing her own voice helped her concentrate.

Poe nearly retched as her mind separated itself from the killing.

After a layer of bodies covered the floor, Poe handed Morales another clip and showed him the release. Catching on, he loaded the cartridge into his empty weapon.

Terrified cattle huddled together clutching flashlights, candles with paper drip catchers, and oil lanterns. As leery of Poe as they were of the supernatural beings, the cattle shied away from her.

That’s what you get for shooting one of them in the arm.

“Morales, you stay with these people,” Poe ordered. “I’m going ahead.” Gunshots could be heard a 305

Rono/That Which Bites

few yards away, and Poe was determined to see to the other batch.

“I’m going with you,” he insisted, his voice unstable.

“No. If both of us go, these folks will be easy prey,” she said adamantly. “They need you.” She squeezed his arm then let go when he winced at the burnt hand glued to his forearm and neck. “We’ll take care of those later.” She opened her pack and handed out five handguns to the most alert of the bunch. She had swiped as many firearms as she could at the restaurant. Her pack was certainly getting lighter, and they weren’t even at the destination yet.

“Just point and squeeze,” she instructed the awakened cattle.

She hobbled as fast as her injured body would take her. “You have Penny to take care of. You can’t die just yet,” she whispered. There was no way that she would allow her dog and only family to starve to death.

Besides, the ocean was waiting for them.

She hopped over debris. With the goggles on, the sound of her breathing, screams, and gunfire in the background were amplified like Darth Vader’s asthmatic wheezes. Poe was stuck in a nightmare, a bilious, underwater dream full of unwanted swim partners with fingernails that had raked their own dead asses.

Every two seconds, she’d glance up the moldy ceiling to look for Gerber ghoulies. Just remembering those creatures made her feel foul and truly grossed out. She found herself saying, “Sainvire, be safe.”

The trail of dead cattle and vampires gave her the impression that she was nearing the batch. She recognized one of the vampires lying dead on the tracks as one of the library chefs.

306

Rono/That Which Bites

She was looking down at the fallen Petra when the body next to it sat up and karate chopped Poe’s good leg until she fell on her butt.

Next thing she knew, her opponent yanked off the goggles from her face and flung them against the moldy wall. She was blind. Highly aware that she was in big trouble, Poe pushed herself to remember where the goggles landed, praying that she wouldn’t get disoriented.

The whole world became one dark mess. Every time Poe tried to stand, a very silent and unseen enemy would trip her up. It was toying with her.

“This fight is unfair,” Poe accused lamely.

The creature didn’t even gloat or make noise, so she had no idea where to aim her weapons. Her backpack was yanked from her back along with the knives on her wrists. Because it was a matter of life and death, she glued her fingers to the Astra.

It occurred to her that she still had a miner’s lamp around her neck. She pulled it to her forehead and clicked it on just when the creature’s foot smashed her mouth, nearly cracking her jaw. She fired, but at the empty, dank air. Groaning and slurping her bloody spit, Poe stood up on wobbly legs. The creature wasn’t done with her. It savagely smacked the side of her head.

Dizzy as hell, she forced herself to point the light.

What she saw was worst than the Nosferatu of her dreams. Before her was a drooling malevolent beast with an enlarged eye and one tiny imitation of a normal eye that sported a blood red pupil. Its movement screamed hate . I’m going to die!

The creature was Milfred, the Council’s butler, standing straighter than usual with a deranged look on his face. His one bulbous eye was horrific, blinking and winking at her light. His hunch did not protrude 307

Rono/That Which Bites

from his back anymore, and his tiny eye was no longer closed.

“Milfred, you faker,” she accused, sounding garbled. Poe shook her head. “You’ve chucked the meek and supplicating act, I see.” Before he could come at her again, Poe pulled the trigger, striking him in the chest.

The impact downed him, but he quickly recovered. He straightened his stained cloak and picked up his stride toward Poe. The butler’s impervious to bullets? Poe shot him twice more on the same spot, but he continued walking. Fear tasted salty.

Saline tears, together with blood, runny nose, and garlic sweat resembled the flavor of death.

Milfred tackled her, screaming a fleet of rubbish.

His severely aged claws encircled Poe’s neck. The back of Poe’s head collided with slimy gravel. She would have passed out if it weren’t for the words that came out of the butler’s mouth as he squeezed her neck even tighter.

“Mum mum mum. Ya killed me mum, ya stupid girl. I’ll fukin’ kill ya till ya can’t be killed no more ya–” he droned like a foul-mouthed British sailor in the movies.

Poe kicked his shin, kneed his balls, and pegged a bullet at his left lung, but he just kept on squeezing.

Wanting a slow death for Poe, Milfred alternately slapped and punched her. He even hit her in the stomach to keep her conscious. The cretin was stronger than some of the vampires she’d offed before, and bullets bounced off him. He was going to kill her.

With nothing more to lose, Poe vowed to stare her killer in the eye until the very end. The headlamp projected a weak beam which made it easier to stare at the big and small beady eyes with hate. Since the gun was useless and her other weapons were strewn on the 308

Rono/That Which Bites

ground, Poe tried one last assault using the last of the arsenal – her hands.

Because the blowfish eye miffed her to the point of desperation, she stuck her left index finger good and hard in its orbs, as if she were penetrating a soft-boiled egg. And since the small beady eye with bloody pupils disgusted her, she punctured it with her right thumb.

Imagine Poe’s surprise when the butler let go of her neck and clutched at his eyes, screaming and cussing like he was Kevin Smith. He had a weakness after all. Milfred tripped on Poe’s fallen pack and stumbled backward. Providence at last.

“Your mum?” Poe coughed. “This is about your mom? Gwendolyn?”

She did not know whether his blinkers were going to heal themselves, so she approached Milfred with a knife she picked up off the ground. On the tracks, Milfred lay on his back. Underneath his coat revealed a vest.

“Bulletproof vest,” Poe said with derision, spitting out her blood-flavored mouthguard. “The punk!”

Poe lifted an old Luger lodged in Milfred’s pants.

“Nazi weapon. How come I’m not surprised?” With an unsteady grip, she emptied the Luger into Milfred’s face until pulpy meat was left. He died screaming,

“Mummy, mummy, mummy!”

(((

The hand that reached for the goggles on the tracks trembled. She’d shot a human.

And a bug-eyed butler toyed with me. Milfred hadn’t straight out tried to kill her. He had amused himself by kicking the shit out of her first.

Looking sharply about her with the headlamp, Poe located the goggles and wiped them with her t-shirt.

309

Rono/That Which Bites

She put them on, still sniffling, tasting the blood that leaked from her split lip. I must be some sight. Mash meat isn’t far off. Good thing my teeth are in good shape. Otherwise I’d shoot myself dead right now.

At that moment, Poe despised the dark as much as Vincent Gallo’s pompous films that irked her like no other. She hated vampires. She hated rats. She especially hated babies with fangs. Now she was in a dark tunnel surrounded by all of the above and more.

And she was alone. She clicked off her light to stew in darkness. It seemed to be the story of her life.

Tired sobs escaped her mouth. “What the f*ck was that all about?” She fired at the remains on the floor just in case.

She wiped the continuous dribble of blood and snot with the back of her hand. Because her nasal passages were congested, Poe blew her nose like it was the last well in Australia.

Hear that? That’s the sound of bedlam up ahead.

Now quit feeling sorry for yourself and join the party of the year!

Mostly hopping and relying on one leg, Poe managed to reach a group of cattle. What her green, hazy vision revealed made her shudder. Xena help me!

“After this horror, I’m taking Penny to the beach.

We’re retiring for sure!”

Sniffling, she aimed her firearm at the adversaries huddled together like one centipede body. The little creatures were using cattle to shield themselves against Sainvire’s people who were dropping like baby teeth.

Briefly she glimpsed Megan, aiming her gun at a wicked toddler, buck naked and filthy.

How many babies did these vampires crap out?

Haven’t they heard of abstinence or birth control?

Even she knew about them. The unprovoked image of Sainvire performing coitus interruptus flitted in her 310

Rono/That Which Bites

mind to accuse her of hypocrisy. Sainvire didn’t happen. The whole thing was bogus and gross.

“Down, cattle! Now!” she ordered in her harshest and loudest voice. More than a few dropped to a squat in fear of their lives. Sex with the dead is so f*cked up.

Poe pulled the hammer and shot adult and baby vamps, picking them off like clockwork until the rest scrambled away from the huddle. Megan and a handful of rustlers followed her lead. The critters were so swift and reptilian that it took skill and deep breathing to plug bullets into their tiny bodies. Most of Poe’s clips had been emptied. She reached back to the side pocket of her pack for more but found none.

Babies and toddlers scampered up the ceiling like Spiderman’s spawn. One in particular had flying abilities. Softly padded like a plump two-year-old, it soared toward her with such animosity that it sent her reeling back. The little beast raked her scalp, claiming some flesh.

In the distance, she heard Megan scream, “Poe, I’m coming!”

While humans and Sainvire’s vamps concentrated on the thick cluster of babies on the tunnel ceiling, Poe was busy rifling for ammo. The flying imp headed her way once more, screaming the most god-awful gibberish. The baby’s mouth looked like shark teeth with one sharp incisor up front.

Poe screamed until she ran out of air. Squeezing whatever was in her hand, Poe yelled, “F*ck!” The holy water in the squirt gun caught the baby in the eye.

The orb gurgled, expanded, and exploded.

“Here, catch!” Megan hollered, throwing her a fully loaded Walther PPK. With the combination of holy water spray and gunfire, Poe and Megan’s people scattered the babies back into their hidey-holes.

311

Rono/That Which Bites

“Thanks, Megan,” Poe began out of breath. “We need to talk after–”

“Poe, watch out!” Megan screamed as a halfdead with melted skin and an a*shole for a mouth rammed her from behind. The creature pounded Poe’s back and shoulder with her fists. Pinned, Poe couldn’t get up.

The halfdead straddled her from behind. She lost her firearm in the shuffle.

“Get off of her, you sick bastard!” Megan shrieked, blasting the creature with Poe’s neon squirt gun she found on the ground. The redhead was a mediocre shot. She wasn’t about to fire at the creature at the risk of hitting Poe. “Five o’clock from your right hand, Poe!” she yelled. The gun by the tracks was within Poe’s reach.

She could barely breathe let alone reach for the weapon. Her kidneys had taken a monstrous pounding.

The halfdead punk stopped her assault on Poe and shrieked at Megan who had inched closer. Megan, having no choice, shot the halfdead with a bullet through the head.

Flipping over with difficulty after the limp body had slipped from her back, Poe held her position and kept her back rested. Every little turn and movement was a stab to her spine. The feeling was nothing she had ever endured before, not even with her many training injuries.

She curled her hand on the firearm a foot from where she lay. As best as she could, Poe tried to help out Megan and Sainvire’s foot soldiers by guarding their blind side while they duked it out with little babies and vamps. Surprisingly she could hit just as well from ground level. When she couldn’t provide cover because of her limited view, Poe barked warnings against approaching danger. But the day was won when cattle jumped into the picture.

312

Rono/That Which Bites

At first, the weak, rubbery bunch, slowed by vampire bites, merely cowered in lethargy. Then a woman in her sixties stepped up. She pried away a ravenous infant from one of Sainvire’s human scientists.

“Go, cattle!” Poe reveled on the ground.

Somehow the label didn’t quite fit anymore. “Go, lady!” she corrected.

The infant vampire overpowered her in strength alone, and it turned on her. The others, however, did not let the suckling devour their fellow unfortunate.

With the combined counterforce of ten cattle, the infant was pulled away from Remy, the brave captive, and was stomped on. By then, even the weaker of the cattle was reenergized enough to protect each other.

(((

Megan found Poe on the ground staring up at her.

“You okay?”

“Nuh uh,” answered Poe, whose back was on fire.

Since she could still wiggle her toes, she figured that all was not lost. Fifteen of Sainvire’s men, bringing with them about ninety cattle, had joined them from connecting utility tunnels along the way.

“How about these cattle, eh?” Megan said excitedly. “They slaughtered most of the deformed gremlins this side of downtown.”

“Yeah, I know. I only had to fire once or twice to even out the odds.”

“Are you going to lay there for the rest of the afternoon, or what?” Megan smiled in the dark, but the concern in her voice was unmistakable.

“Nope. Just until Morales catches up.” She hugged her knees to her chest until she was seesawing on the pebbly ground to stretch her spine.

313

Rono/That Which Bites

“Shit! I forgot about Sam!” Megan didn’t waste a moment to send agile vampires and humans, newly arrived, to fetch Morales then turned back to Poe.

“Thanks for helping out.”

“I didn’t do much. Just laid here,” Poe said, avoiding the flashlight glare from Megan’s head.

“Sorry about that,” said Megan, moving her light to the side.

“Thanks.” Poe was overwhelmed. This fighting over a boy, or rather, a great uncle, was silly. She wanted her friend back.

Megan squatted next to Poe and inspected her scratches and mouth wounds with a pen light between her teeth, cleaning them with less-than-moist towelettes.

“Megan,” Poe began, “I didn’t know about you and Sainvire.”

“I know,” Megan answered. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I guess.” Poe couldn’t leave it at that. “But I just want you to know that it was a mistake, and it’s over between us.”

Megan looked her directly in the face, knowing that Poe would be able to see her countenance clearly through the goggles. “It doesn’t matter, Poe. Whatever happens, you’ll still be my friend, and he’ll still be my great uncle.”

Poe opened her mouth to speak, but Megan stopped her with a gesture. “I’m really sorry about how I treated you before,” Megan began. “You’re right. We should have trusted you enough to let you know about Kaleb and the Plasmacore.”

Poe’s eyes brimmed and everything turned green and hazy. The week had been emotionally taxing for both.

314

Rono/That Which Bites

“I should’ve stood up for you and insisted that Goss and Sister clue you in to what was going on,” she sniffed, her voice breaking. “I should’ve stood up for you as my friend, period. And your eye gear is weirding me out.”

Poe ignored her injured back and sat up. She took Megan’s hand and squeezed. The two embraced. They stayed this way until a humungous rat walked over Poe’s ankle, causing both women to yelp and killing the moment.

“This is a really disgusting place to have a maudlin heart-to-heart,” Megan proclaimed. She hoisted Poe to her feet and wiped away rat droppings clinging to her clothes. Without preamble, Megan unhooked her bottle of holy water and sprayed herself.

“So the objective is to smell like you, and I’ll live through all this unscathed?” she asked.

Poe shook her head. “Well, not entirely unscathed.

But I guarantee you’ll make it. I’m mystical that way.

Keep the squirt gun. I have two more in my pack.”

“Mystical? Where’d you learn such a fancy word?”

“From that crumpled up Madame Elmira psychic poster by your feet.”

“That’s for when the pain really gets bad,” said Megan who placed four tablets on her friend’s dirty palm. “Take one tablet every four hours. Don’t take them all at once, though. They might be expired, but they’re still killer strong.”

Ten minutes later, Morales and cattle comprised mainly of the elderly and the sick arrived bruised but intact. He immediately sought his two friends, giving them wet, lingering kisses on the cheek.

“Sam, you’re going to give me zits, dammit!”

Megan complained, pushing Morales away. She patted his shoulder fondly then left to organize the group. “I 315

Rono/That Which Bites

thank you all for your courage – humans, vampires, and everyone in between. There’s still more to go, so we’ve got to book. The uninjured, make sure to find a buddy to support. Let’s cross our fingers that we make it safe and sound to the trains. We all deserve a new life.”