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Light just seems to brighten in the mornings, like a dimmer switch to the world is slowly being turned up. I’ve seen paintings of sunrises, where piercing light streams out over the horizon, brightening everything it touches—bringing warmth and security with it. Now, that image seemed to be more of a myth than the fucking vampires that feasted on my parents. I didn’t have the same level of resolve then, didn’t have all of the fight in me like I do now, but it came real quick.
When the day’s gloom meant I could see the house from the workshop without the need for lights and my tears had finally dried up, I left. Mum was lying dead outside the house, her throat slit just like my dad's. There was a little blood on her nightgown, mostly my dad’s, and dotted on the floor around her, but she was pretty clean, all things considered. I had expected to see an utter bloodbath, but the vampires really got their fill.
Even after a night of crying, the tears came again. I dropped to my knees and rested my head on my mum’s bosom, the way I would have a few years earlier before I grew up. I wished I'd not stopped at that moment. After a while, I composed myself, told her I loved her, and kissed her on the cheek.
Dad was a different scene. That was a blood bath. The blood spattered the walls and carpet and the bedsheets. Dad again was pretty clean, though. I hugged him and immediately wished I hadn’t. The cold, hard, lifeless body was not the man that used to hug me so tightly it hurt. I cried some more and hugged him even harder, despite my emotional pain.
I tried to call the police, but the phones were out. I expected them to come the night before with all the noise my rocket would have made, but of course, my experience was just the same as millions of others all around the globe. Vampires, a creature from fiction, had risen up and pulled the world down. I only had one person I could turn to.
***
THE WALK TO THE DUMP was the loneliest of my life. I navigated the misty morning, the Smog getting thicker with every step I took. One of the things you learnt pretty quick was to get around with very little visibility, so it wasn’t a problem for me getting where I was going. I saw so many bodies on that walk; people drained dry, I even saw a small herd of cattle all slaughtered, bleed out. In the end, I just stopped looking around, but the screams reaching out like tentacles from the unknown dark depths of the ocean still found my ears, and that equalled the terror I felt hearing the howl the night before. Seemingly, from every house I passed, the awful screams and commotions were heard over and over.
I look back now, knowing it was a miracle a vampire didn’t stumble across me.
I reached the dump, pressed the buzzer for entrance and waited. Gone were the days where I needed to hop the fence.
I waited a while, and there was no response, so I buzzed again. I looked around me; the hairs on the back of my back stood to attention. I had the ominous feeling that eyes were watching me through the gloom. I pressed the buzzer again, over and over, then held it down. The dirge of the buzz rising until I felt something would jump out and grab me.
Then a voice from the intercom, “Get the fuck outta here!” the gruff man said.
“Wait! Vic, it’s me. It’s me, Cyra.”
“The hell are you doing here? You seen what’s going on out there?”
“Please, let me in,” I pleaded. “I have nowhere left to go.” A moment passed, where nothing happened. “You promised.”
The lock on the gate clicked, and it started to slowly roll open.
“You better shut that behind you,” the voice through the intercom said.
I slipped inside and then rolled the gate shut behind me, waiting for the click of the lock to snap back into place.
I looked out into the grey, I expected shining silver eyes to pierce the murk and glare back at me, but nothing appeared.
No sooner had I started to make my way to the house than I heard the robot guard dogs bounding up to me.
Before I could see them, I shouted, “Ace. Bowser. Down,” Just like the boy had. Vic had updated them to recognise my voice, and as soon as I spoke, they went silent. A few more steps, and I saw them both sitting like real dogs, on their haunches. “Hey guys,” I said, walking between the two, patting them on their cold heads. “Go, guard the gate.”
They slunk off toward the gates, where I knew they’d sit sentinel, protecting us.
I walked through the yard until the house began to appear through the thinning Smog.
Vic sat on the porch, on his rocker, shotgun in hand, “The hell happened to you?”
I sat next to him, on what was his son's rocker, and told him what happened the night before.
He said nothing throughout, but when I was finished, he ran a hand threw his beard, lowered his head, and shook it slightly. “I’m sorry, Cyra,” he said. “You gotta home here.”