*PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST*

 

Charles had ironed his blue button-down shirt. His eyes were no longer dark red, having faded to bloodshot with a ring of red along the outer rim of the irises. His complexion was sill ghostly pale, but had evened out. Settling in, he offered up a wan smile.

“So, I’m the only one doing better from the sounds of the news outside. The craving is down to manageable levels, and my eyes. To be honest, I hadn’t even noticed until I posted the last video. As I showed, mirrors don’t work for me, and I’m not much for taking pictures of myself for casual viewing. I was able to leave my place, only to find everything shuttered up. I don’t know why a lot of these people are sticking around. I guess there’s a real fear among the… well, among certain groups that if they leave, their rivals will steal their contraband. It’s not unreasonable, since crossing the cordon means having to deal with the authorities. But staying means having to deal with zombies. There was a pretty big scare recently when one of the flying bricks got zombie blood in his eye and got infected. They did manage to treat him in time, but that got everyone scared. They finished testing my blood and it turns out I’m immune to reinfection. All of a sudden, I’m in high demand.”

Charles paused, composing his words.

“There are still volunteers who are helping with the situation, but there’s not enough suitable protective equipment to go in there and deal with zombies. A lot of them are agitating for clearance to just shoot the infected, since they are as dangerous as the undead, and taking them alive can get to be a problem. I was lucky in the steam tunnel that there was just one, and I got him restrained before the fight broke out. Imagine if there were five, or if the zombies were hostile from the word go. Even I have to worry about what happens if these guys rip me apart. I mean, there were tens of thousands, possibly over a hundred thousand people living within Riverside and the Bricks before the cordon went up. Nowhere near that many have been cleared and evacuated. We have no good measure of the number of zombies running around, or rather, shambling around. Anecdotally, I don’t think it’s as high as it might be. But when people start running low on food and have to venture out, we could see an explosion in the number of infections.”

“In fact, the best thing you can do if you’re within the cordon is get tested and evacuate. If you do get bitten, for goodness’ sake, get treated. Turning into a zombie is far worse than anything that might happen otherwise. Even if you have outstanding warrants, I’d take jail over being a walking vegetable any day. I know you might not put much credit into my opinion since I’m immune. But just think about what would happen to you – while you still have the capacity to think.”

Charles drew in a deep breath.

“Well, I did not intend for this to turn into a PSA. But that doesn’t change anything I said. As for me, the city wants me to help them find the cause of the outbreak, and to clear some more of the zombies. They’re going to send some more gear to help with that. Apparently there are also a few things some viewers have sent that got stopped at the cordon, since mail deliveries are suspended. Apparently neither wind nor rain nor the rest of it doesn’t include zombies. I don’t blame them. We’ll see what’s in those boxes when they arrive. I didn’t really think I’d amassed enough of a following for people to send me stuff. I mean this is only what? My fifth video? But, I’m not going to be rude. If you sent me something, I’ll share it, unless it’s wildly inappropriate, I mean.”

“I hear there are a few other people reporting from within the cordon. Surprise, surprise, none of them are professional journalists, just regular people with phone cameras. They’re braver than I am, but I still advise them to get out if they can. No, I am not going to go out of my way to meet up with them. Unless there’s a good reason, I’m not going to take the risk, or put them in danger by causing them to emerge from hiding. I have seen the comments about talking to these people, I just can’t justify the risk.”

“In the good news department, the BHA has decided they don’t need to torment me any more for the time being. I got an email saying they’ll mail me my card, but with deliveries suspended, well, it’ll be a while before I actually see it. I do have a few things I need to get done today, so I’m going to wrap up the video. Among the usual links to help me out, I’ve added some to charities who are helping with treatment and evacuation of people from the quarantine zone. I understand not wanting to give anything to me, but they could use some help. Anyway, I’ll see you next time.”

* * *

The video started with the view of a steel-clad door with four locks. It had green paint with scratches showing gray primer and bare metal. “We’re back to my lousy body cam for this one, because we’re going for a walk. The Community Fund has sent me a cowl that connects to the rest of the hero suit and prevents sunlight from reaching my skin. So, I can go out during the daytime. Anyway, it’s eerie out there.”

A gloved hand reached up and undid the locks on the door. Bright light washed out the camera’s image as he opened it. Hidden in the light, the video cut to a different view, as the light faded to a line of sight along an empty street from the double yellow lines. Old brick buildings sat crammed next to each other and crowding the sidewalks to convert as much of their meagre lots into interior space as possible. Most were three or four stories tall, with raised stoops leading to the front entrance. A handful of parked cars still sat at the sides of the street, but none drove along it. Every one of them was battered and well-used. There were no people visible.

“This is where I’m going to start recording again, because I didn’t want to show everyone where I live. You can see why it’s called the Bricks, that’s what pretty much every building around here is made from.” Charles gestured at the buildings. “There’s no activity, I don’t even hear any birds. Normally, you’d hear dogs, people, and cars. But now, it’s as if… well, listen for yourselves.” He let the silence linger for a long moment.

“I’m going to walk to the cordon, hopefully they won’t mistake me for a zombie. If I keep talking, they’ll know I’m not. Zombies can’t form words, their brains are too far gone.” Charles began walking, the image wobbling as he did so. “It doesn’t appear as if there are zombies out on the street either. Everyone and everything has just… gone. I know some of these buildings are occupied, but I’m not going to mess with anyone in them. These are the same neighbors for whom a drive-by is a recreational activity. Well, not all of them, but enough.”

Charles paused at the intersection, turning to show the silent and still streets lined in brick buildings. “Any other time, standing here would be suicide. This is normally a busy road.” Continuing onward, Charles was quiet for a while. He stopped abruptly, words slipping slowly from his lips. “I… See…” he said. The camera panned to the side, refocusing on the shadows in an alleyway. Dozens of pairs of unfocused eyes peered back from a silent mob milling around an overturned dumpster. Charles resumed speaking in a whisper. “I’m not sure how well this camera is picking up the zombies in the alley, but there looks to be at least sixty or seventy in there. I can see five or six living infected among them. I know I advised people to get tested and evacuate, but I’m not sure how you’d go about evading packs like this. I’m just going to walk on and hope they don’t decide to follow me. Zombies do have some form of herd mentality. I don’t want to accidentally trigger it.”

Charles began walking again. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. “They’re not behind me. They’re not behind me. Oh, thank god, they’re not behind me.” Running flat out, Charles’ motion reduced the image on the camera to an indistinct blur.

“Halt!” another voice called out.

Charles skidded to a stop. As he did, the image stabilized to that of a barricade made from sandbags and concrete road barriers. Two soldiers in olive drab chemical warfare gear stood behind it, rifles level. “Don’t shoot, I’m not a zombie!” Charles said.

“How do we know that?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Because he can talk, you idiot,” the other answered.

“Take off that mask.”

“I can’t do that,” Charles said.

“You don’t look like one of the tights operating in the quarantine zone,” the first soldier said.

“Do you have any identification?” the second asked.

“I do,” Charles said.

“Step forward and let me see it.”

Charles approached the barricade and held out a packet of papers. The second soldier looked them over, struggling to read them through the lenses of his gas mask.

“So who is he?”

“That vampire who’s been running around the zone.”

“In daylight?”

“I guess that’s what the suit is for.” The second soldier handed the papers back to Charles and grudgingly said, “You can go through.”

* * *

The video switched back to Charles’ wall of cardboard. He sat in front of it, still only visible from the shoulders up. The black, form-fitting hero suit he wore extended up into a full-head covering cowl with oval red eye lenses. Reaching to the back of his neck, Charles peeled the cowl off and pushed his hair back into place. He set the cowl aside and donned his glasses. “In case you can’t tell, I’m back from the cordon. I’m not sure I can tell people in the zone to risk the trip if there are packs of zombies like the one we spotted earlier running around. It’s a judgment call. If you think you can make it, run. If not, make sure you have plenty of supplies and barricades.”

Charles sighed.

“The city wants me to look into-” the video abruptly cut, switching to another image of Charles in the same spot. “Sorry, I realized it was a really bad idea to broadcast what I was supposed to investigate to the whole world, so I had to trim that out, lest the target of the investigation find it. Lets just say nasty things have been happening inside the zone, and they don’t have too many options for investigating. I will record them, and share after everything is wrapped up, but it would only work against me to give too much information ahead of time.”

Adjusting the camera to show more of his torso, Charles quickly pulled a cardboard box onto his lap. Quickly enough that it had the appearance of unseemly haste. “I actually did get some stuff from my viewers, so lets take a look.” He cut the tape on the box and opened it. “There’s a letter.” Pulling out a piece of paper, he read the contents silently before giving the words voice. “Dear Charles, you really aren’t rocking the vampire aesthetic. You need a cape. So I sent you a cape. Signed, Dennis.”

He gave an incredulous look to the camera. “Uh huh.” Reaching into the box, Charles pulled out a heavy piece of fabric, it was black on one side and blood red on the other. Searching the edge, he turned up a collar, with a chain of little silver skulls as a closure. “I do see a problem, I’m afraid. Look at this collar, it looks as tall as my head. That would block my peripheral vision, and I need my peripheral vision.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe…” He turned the collar down and tested the height. It came up to his cheekbones. “I’ll have to think about that,” Charles said, setting the cape aside.

Cutting open a padded envelope, he extracted a notebook and began flipping through it. His expression grew more slack with each page turned. “I can’t show this on camera. That would get my channel shut down faster than you can say ‘Community Guidelines’.” Charles tossed the notebook onto a table out of frame. “There’s one more box from viewers, so lets see what’s in there.” He picked up the box in question as he set aside the box containing the cape. “There’s no return address.” Charles exaggerated raising an eyebrow. “If anything I’d think the last one would be the sort to come with no return address.” Plying his pocket knife to the tape, Charles opened the box. “There is a note.” Again, he skimmed the paper before reading it aloud. “Charles, your camera is-” Charles paused and made a gesture indicating an intentionally dropped word. “I want to actually see the action. Here’s a better camera for that. Signed, a rich… individual. Okay, they didn’t sign it an individual, but from the wording chosen, I presume this viewer is a woman. Anyway, she said it’s a camera, lets see.” Reaching back into the box, he extracted a long chain of air-filled plastic bags. On the second try, he extracted a smaller box emblazoned with product images showing a spherical object on a stand, alongside logos and slogans.

“This… looks like a Paragon Logistics Omnicam. I mean, it can’t be. These run five or six figures at the low end.” Opening the smaller box, Charles reached in and pulled out a small sphere swaddled in packaging. An instruction booklet and a pouch containing cables fell into the first box as he gaped at the object. “I mean… wow… This… camera is designed to capture hero fights from the perspective of the hero. It’s supposed to compensate for all sorts of movement or powers usage that makes ordinary cameras weep. It’s probably worth more than everything I own.”

Charles paused for a second.

“Is that why you gave anonymously? So I couldn’t even try to give it back? I guess the only thing I can do is make better videos. I’d better not drop this thing.”

Charles found a safe place to put the camera and the video ended.

* * *

The image of the empty street was far sharper than any of Charles’ previous videos. It slowly panned around, showing the surreal shortage of people.

“The omnicam appears to be on,” Charles said. “Aside from a camera test, I’m going to be checking out something the city has asked me to look into. I gather they’ve got drones orbiting the quarantine zone, and spotted activity. Anyway, I figured I could spend the time walking there to answer a few questions people have asked.” He began walking down the empty street, though there was almost no wobble to the image, just a gentle sway.

“The first question is whether the urban legend that you can’t be both a vampire and a werewolf is true. The short answer is I don’t know. From the research I’ve done, I’ve found out that werewolves have a highly aggressive immune system along with their regeneration. If this immune response is strong enough to destroy the virus within the first ten to twelve hours, then none of the genetic changes would take place. That’s a big if. But, there are no recorded instances of a werewolf being exposed.”

“What about the other way around? Well, Lycanthropy has more in common with a curse than a disease. But there are recorded cases where a blood transfusion has passed it on as surely as a bite. Preventing a complete transformation requires a ritual rather than medical attention. And that doesn’t always work. So I can’t theorize about what would happen if a vampire were exposed. I know that isn’t all that satisfying, but there just isn’t enough information. And no, I do not want to test it on myself. I have enough afflictions.”

Charles paused for a moment. “I suppose if there’s a way to detect and remove the curse early on, you could test the transmissability by blood, but it would be highly unethical.” Turning a corner, Charles’ stride faltered. “That’s… ominous,” he said as the camera panned to show a panel van tumbled onto its side. Pinned to the roof was a scrap of carcass, barely more than a ribcage and two arms splayed across the primer-gray metal. A series of arcane symbols were scrawled in rust-red around the near-skeletonized fragment. “No, I was not sent here to look into that. I don’t think the city’s drones have spotted it. But I don’t think zombies did that. They lack the cognitive ability to even come up with something like that.” Charles was quiet for a moment. “We’re looking at humans, ghouls, or another vampire. It looks like there are teeth marks on some of these bones, but I don’t know if they scavenged a zombie victim for this… display. I certainly have no idea what these symbols mean.”

Charles hesitated, then mused, “I don’t know if I’ll even be allowed to post this content. I’m going to leave it in and see if they take it down. While the active display is new, I’ve been coming across the skeletonized remains of zombie victims most of the times I’ve ventured outside recently.” Charles walked past the overturned van. “Though this would mesh with some of the reports of other brutal crimes going on within the zone. Some of it is your basic score settling that comes out when criminals know cops and capes aren’t going to be responding any time soon. Others are like that display on the truck. What we don’t have are riots or large scale looting. I guess that people figure zombies would be drawn to that type of activity. Probably. Though food stocks have got to be running low for the people still inside the zone. When that starts running out… all bets are off.”

There was a cut, with the image advancing to another street, somewhat wider, with shops on either side and looming concrete towers darkening the left hand side.

“I had to document that scene more, but didn’t want to bog down this video. So I’m picking up here on first street. This is generally regarded to be the boundary between The Bricks and Riverside, even though the Riverside Projects are still a block away.” The camera focused on the brutalist architecture towering ominously in the background. “First street is as close as I go to that place.” The view returned to the road ahead. “It’s surreal to have no traffic or people whatsoever. In front of us, you can see where they’ve raised the drawbridge to Gruefield. Behind us is a cordon barricade. I’d wager I’m being watched by snipers, but a guy in a cape isn’t going to draw their fire. Still, I don’t want to linger in someone’s crosshairs.” Charles began moving briskly down the street towards the raised drawbridge. “The activity I was asked to look into is not that far now. I don’t know if cars draw the attention of Zombies, but I don’t own one, and the zone is out of gas already. Utilities that come in by pipes or cables are still working, but the trucks that refill the gas stations aren’t coming into the zone. And I don’t blame them.”

Approaching a door below a sign that was deliberately blurred out, Charles opened it and stepped inside. The racking of a shotgun greeted him. A woman whose face was blurred kept the pump action level. The space appeared to have been a bar, and was in a terrible state of disrepair. Almost a third of the drop ceiling tiles were missing, and the rest stained to some degree. The stools were ripped and patched, the woodwork scored and vandalized where it hadn’t been torn off completely.

“Who the-” Bleep. “-Are you?”

“My name is Charles, I’m here on behalf of the city-”

“You’re that vampire.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“There was an unusual amount of activity in this vicinity, and I was asked to see what was going on.”

“They’re in the back room,” she said, a hint of mirth entering her tone. Charles slowly approached a door covered in marker scrawl and crudely carved lettering in a nonsensical jumble. The audio cut out as Charles opened the door. The space beyond had once been a storeroom, and was lit by a pair of bright halogen lamps. The walls had been freshly painted white, and an altarcloth had been draped over a folding table at the far end. Rows of mismatched chairs stood in for pews, and the congregation, all in their Sunday best, faces blurred out, turned to look at the interloper.

Sound returned as Charles closed the door and backed out of the makeshift church to the laughter of the guard.

Outside, Charles walked briskly across the street, towards the sea of brick buildings he was more familiar with. In the distance, the shining towers of New Port Arthur gleamed outside the cordon.

“Okay, now, for anyone who is curious, I wasn’t actually repelled by any of the religious symbology. It was just an extremely awkward moment to barge in on their service like that. I just felt rude. Anyway, I’ve got to get back, see what video I’ve gotten, and-” Bleep.

The camera swung down to where half an old woman had reached out from between two parked cars and grabbed Charles’ ankle. Cloudy, unfocused eyes stared blankly as she tried to pull herself within biting distance. Her lack of teeth proved no deterrence to the instinct.

“Off, off, let go!” Charles cried out, tugging and shaking his foot to free himself from the partial zombie’s grasp. In a few stumbling steps, he was loose. The low moan that rose from dozens of incoherent throats around him made Charles pause. Staggering, shambling forms emerged from doorways, alleyways, and in between cars, each turning their ill-focused attentions towards the creature in their midst not of the pack.

“Oh-” Bleep.

With zombies on all sides, Charles drew his sword and ran. The undead surged towards him. Those whose bodies were fresher moved faster, while those whose muscles had atrophied or decayed stumbled along like the heaps of putrescence they were. With the ring tightening, Charles hacked and chopped at any limb that reached for him. Cleaving into any skull within biting range, he fought to break free of the ring, to reach open ground where his speed would get him clean away. Red, festering ichor splattered the camera as his sword bit into decaying flesh. Near-mindless hands continued to reach for him as Charles lashed out with his gore-drenched steel.