Z Day Interlude (Continued)

  RHIANNON

  See, told you I’d be back.

  Wait, wait, wait. You threw out all the flashbacks and put them into a separate book, but you kept part of my flashbacks? Make up your mind, would you? You put the “hack” in hack writer, you know that? You suck.

  *What’s going on?* James’s voice was groggy since he was still asleep.

  Don’t worry, James, you’re just getting my backstory in a dream sequence. Seems since we slept together, the creator thinks it entitles you to the secrets of my deep, dark past.

  *Huh?* James said intelligently.

  Just kidding, I was going to tell everyone anyway. I tried a little earlier, but SOMEONE cut me off. So just keep sleeping and enjoy.

  *OK,* James said.

  Oooookaaaay. Where was I? Oh yeah-

  Being in love sucks.

  The boy you're in love with, not knowing you exist, sucks rocks.

  I was a year behind him in school, a freshman when he was a sophomore. We rode the same bus together to and from school. Looking back, I had two years to do something about it, but back then, I was afraid of my own shadow, let alone talking to the boy I was infatuated with. I always thought I'd have my moment.

  I didn't have a lot of friends...well, any friends, really. I was an awkward, brainy girl without much in the looks department, at least at the time.

  I followed him around and coveted him from afar. By the middle of my sophomore year, I almost had the nerve to talk to him, and then he disappeared. Just stopped coming to school. I tried to find out what happened to him, but no one knew. Someone said he'd moved away. Someone else said he'd been kicked out of the house. Regardless, I was crushed. I was finally ready to talk to him, and I couldn't.

  The summer between my sophomore and junior years was when my body decided to grow up. I shot up, thinning out until I looked like one of those gymnasts you see on TV. But unlike them, I now had boobs. And my girls were serious. I'm not talking about the need for a reduction before my back breaks, but I was close. My face cleared up; my hair was banging; I was set. This was going to be my year.

  My new body drew a lot of attention from others over the summer. But all those boys were only interested in me for one reason. Go ahead and guess. I'll give you a hint: it starts with “Bo” and ends with “obs.” I mistakenly went on a few dates that were all one-shot disasters that destroyed what little reputation I had, even though nothing ever happened. Not for their lack of trying.

  When my junior year started, I was ready to move on. I'd gotten over my boy crush during the summer and looked forward to pressing through high school to move on to college. My braininess had all but guaranteed me entrance into several schools already.

  I'd taken an interest in psychology at an early age, my mom being a shrink and all. It seemed to come easy to me, and it made it easy to understand people, even if they didn't understand themselves. It was also how I'd managed to keep my legs crossed this whole time. I was “saving myself” for my wedding night, just like my mother had taught me. Can you feel my eye roll from here?

  So, when that boy showed back up at school, everything I'd planned went up in smoke. Apparently, he had been kicked out of the house because he'd stopped coming to school last year. Now, he was back to finish. I knew I shouldn’t get involved; I really did. But it was like seeing him regressed me back into that sad freshman I’d been. That girl wasn't about to let him get away again and devised yet another hair-brained scheme.

  I'd lay all these subtle hints and clues about my interest in him. Let him hear just the right sort of rumors to get his brain thinking about me. I'd make sure and keep myself away to keep up the mystery. So that when he finally couldn't take it anymore, I'd be there waiting for him to pledge himself to me, and we'd finally be together.

  And then that plan got shot all to hell. He had been seeing some girl...some woman, as she was older than we were and didn't even go to this school. Well, she'd left him in the lurch, and now he seemed to have had some sort of mental break.

  So, what did I do? Did I move on from this pathetic creature and get my mind straight? No, of course not. Instead, I came up with a new plan. I would befriend him, be that shoulder to cry on, to confide in. I'd win his trust, and eventually, he'd see me as the love of his life that I was all along. The only problem was he wouldn't talk to anyone, including me. I tried a lot in the halls and in the lunchroom. I'd sit at the same table as he was, but he never heard me. I don't even think he saw me, to be honest. I thought he might legitimately have something wrong with him.

  So, the boy I'd been in love with for three years had turned into a zombified vegetable. (Oooooh, foreshadowing!)

  Graduation came for him, and he went away again, leaving me to grind through my senior year. By the time my graduation came and went, I wasn't the same self-assured, life-planned-out girl I had been. While I was great at Psychology, my interest in other subjects waned, and my plummeting grades prevented me from getting a scholarship. My mom made just enough money to put me outside any of the “assisted” college funds as well. So, I turned to student loans and racked up the debt.

  They say you should consider college loans as “positive debt,” but after four years and over $100,000 in student loans, it was hard to see anything “positive” about that debt. especially when all the entry-level jobs I found expected you to have five years of experience already. With zero job prospects after graduation and those painful student loans looming over me, I turned to the one place willing to help any young patriotic soul willing to “do their duty.”

  The Army was interested in my Psychology degree. They had a specialty called Psychological Operations (PSYOPs) that they felt was right up my alley. PSYOPs' purpose was to win the hearts and minds of the people of our enemies, undermine governmental control, and generally stop the fighting through sneaky, non-violent means. That was all well and good, but when they said they'd pay my student loans in exchange for a couple of years of service, I raised my right hand and signed up.

  Eight months of training later, I found myself in the middle of some of the ugliest places on the planet, trying to win those hearts and minds. That and feeding lies and deception to the right ears to sabotage a meeting, get us Intel about upcoming attacks, and even incite a couple of coup attempts.

  By this time, I'd put some muscle on; my legs were amazingly long, and my hair had grown out long and was jet-black. I had lashes, cheekbones, DSLs, the works. I was also no longer saving myself for my wedding night. A drunken night in the barracks during training had seen to that. I was disappointed, to say the least. Later, on a different night with a different person, and while it was better, it still wasn't what I imagined. I pretty much wrote sex off as way-over-hyped.

  Being in the service got me back on the path academically. Between the military training that also counted as course credit and the classes the Army paid for, I’d just earned my Doctorate when they pinned Captain on me. Things seemed like they were going pretty well for me when my world was turned upside down yet again.

  We were en route to another meeting to get those hearts and minds when the bomb went off. They told me later it was a roadside IED. It tossed our HMMWV like it was a Hot Wheels car. I remembered nothing of it other than a loud noise, pressure, and my head slamming into the truck's frame so hard I didn't wake up for six months.

  When I came to, I'd been sent to BAMC in San Antonio, Texas. I'd apparently been there in a coma for half a year. Things...weren't right after that. They called it TBI. It meant the explosion had scrambled my brains to the point that they wouldn't let me be in the service anymore. They would be medically retiring me just as soon as they put me back together. On the upside, all my loans were paid off, yeah!

  I was missing a lot of time and memories. Luckily, I'd retained my vocal memory, so at least I could still speak. Other things, like walking, I wasn't so good at. I had to relearn the basics of walking…walking, for God's sake! Something we learn by the time we're one! It took me that long just to be able to walk across the floor without stumbling.

  I still had all my school knowledge, but I had to learn to read again! How the fuck does that work?

  It was about this time that the visions started. I'd been out of the service for about a year; I'd been medically retired at 100% due to my “Mental Disorders.” HA! Mental Disorders...just because I heard voices, saw shit that wasn't there and had the occasional homicidal rage incident, they put me on all these medications. Add to this the PTSD nightmares and the fact I still couldn't get into a car without freaking out. I had to go to the VA docs nearly every day. But that wasn't so bad. I was already going to the VA for rehab, and the shrinks had decent coffee.

  Oh, the shrinks. When my mom heard about all this, she wanted to know every detail. She'd gone as far as to talk to the VA shrinks herself, even offering advice! My mom was a hoot. I eventually gave up trying to have any privacy and signed over power of attorney to her so she could collaborate with the VA on my treatments and medication.

  I won’t lie; the drugs were good. They helped me act more “normal.” At least, normal enough to play the game.

  Part of my rehab had me taking martial arts, nothing too strenuous, more flexibility and strength training. After so long on my back, it was tough to get back to the shape I'd been in while in the service. The instructor was nice, really nice. He was a guy named Gerold—a big, strong guy but flexible and quick. I was amazed at how gracefully he moved for such a big guy. It didn’t hurt that he was amazing to look at, either.

  Amazingly enough, he started offering me “private” lessons “off-duty.” After six months of the same boring, lethargic martial arts moves, I took him up on it. At first, it really was martial arts training—a weird mix of various styles meant to be dirty, no holds barred, and deadly. I took to it immediately. It seemed anything violent and dangerous brought me out of the blah/zombie-like mood I was always in.

  (See what I did there? My second Z reference before the outbreak. It’s like I’m setting the scene!)

  Amazingly, the VA had gotten me a job working with their mental health section. I guess they figured I was already there so much; they might as well employ me. I think they didn't want me out of arms reach in case I had another “incident.” I didn't do a lot, mostly filing, running the front desk, that sort of thing. That paycheck and my disability check managed to pay for a small apartment and kept me fed. My mom wanted me to move back in with her, but that wasn't going to happen. Living at home with your mom? I was 28, for crying out loud!

  Eventually, I let Gerold take me out. He was friendly and all, but I just wasn't into the whole romance thing. My life was fucked up enough as it was. I didn't want to burden it with any more complications. But he was persistent and kind, I guess. Looking back, I was such an easy target. How I lasted as long as I did, I'll never know.

  We'd been going out for about a year when we were mugged on the Riverwalk downtown. We'd just had dinner; it was late, and Gerold had decided to walk me around the more deserted part of town down near the lock gates. One minute, we were walking along; the next, a guy was in front of us, holding a knife and demanding our money.

  I didn't even pause. My hand lashed out, crushing his windpipe while the follow-up ruptured his spleen. His SPLEEN! Seriously, who else do you know that killed a man through his spleen? I watched the man fall to the ground, clawing at his throat. He thrashed violently, strange gurgling noises managing to escape from his mouth, and I couldn't look away. Was that all it took? I'd never known it was so easy. He eventually stopped moving or making sounds and just lay there. I knelt so I could see his face in the darkness. His eyes were open and bloodshot.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Gerold had been watching me and reached down to pull me to my feet. He asked me if I was OK, and I just shrugged. It was no big deal; he was a bad guy. I'd been taught what we did to bad guys in the Army. I just hadn't had to do it with my bare hands before.

  “This isn't the first time you've killed someone?” His voice was cautious.

  “Of course not,” I said simply. I mean, I'd shot a couple of people while in the desert. Sure, the first time was a bit of a shock, but after that, it was surprisingly simple.

  He seemed to be amazed at how I was reacting and just nodded. He pulled out a phone and spoke briefly into it before leading us back towards the more brightly lit areas.

  I was feeling better then. Not as in relieved or anything; I just seemed to be in a bit more chipper mood and asked him to take me dancing.

  He seemed to be confused but didn't say no. Turns out he was a terrific dancer, too.

  Things were different after that. Gerold seemed to relax around me more. He seemed less formal...less courteous. I should have taken that as a sign, but I wasn't myself. HA! Wasn't myself; that's a laugh. I didn't know who or what “myself” was by then.

  We'd been sleeping with each other for a while now. I still wasn't impressed with it. I wondered if my body was broken somehow. From all the material I'd read and even professional texts, it was supposed to be one of the pinnacles of human existence. It wasn't for me.

  Gerold took me to an MMA fight one night, and it hooked me. Something about how the bodies would flow together, lock, and then break with one person no longer able to move fascinated me. We started attending various fighting events and even shifted our training sessions to something much darker and more lethal. I couldn’t get enough of it.

  Then, he took me to the club where I died.

  It was an elegant place. All red leather couches, dimly lit tables, curtained booths, the works. A ring was in the center, where a dance floor would usually be. But this ring wasn’t for boxing or mixed martial arts. This thing was a bizarre collage of mismatched steel bars mashed together to form a large dome with a single door.

  Eventually, two “men,” I say that loosely, were put inside and proceeded to tear each other to pieces. The ferocity and violence of the act lit something inside of me. When two girls were put into the ring next, I was out of my seat and right up on the bars with some of the other more zealous patrons.

  My eyes bulged as I watched the two dance around each other before darting in with snake-like quickness so fast all I saw was a blur, and then blood pouring from a wound that hadn't been there a moment before. Over and over, they picked at each other; more and more blood flowed from their wounds until it was over in a millisecond. One girl had darted in and launched herself up from underneath the other girl at the last second. The first girl’s knee caught under the other girl’s chin, lifting her off the ground and crushing her skull into the metal framework overhead.

  I felt Gerold behind me then. “I want that. Teach me that,” I said.

  “I can give it to you if you really want it,” Gerold said.

  I turned and looked at him. “I'll do anything you want, but I WANT that!” I remember my body being on fire, my heart racing. I'd felt more alive than ever before.

  So, he took me into a back room and proceeded to kill me very deliberately, very violently. I remembered thinking, THIS is what sex was supposed to be like. Whatever I'd done before was nothing compared to the raw power of that act.

  After that night, I never had to take another pill again. No more drugs, no more rehab, no more shrinks. I never went back to my apartment, instead moving in with Gerold, who taught me the ways of being a vampire. Not only that, he taught me how to fight as a vampire. Things I didn't think were physically possible, I learned. I learned to defy gravity and sometimes physics, but then again, I was never very good at physics.

  It turned out Gerold was much, much older than I was. He'd once been a gladiator who'd been bought by a female patron, who also happened to be a vampire and added him to her collection.

  He had a second home, his real home, that I started living in. He couldn't leave too soon as my disappearance would undoubtedly raise some questions if he also disappeared at the same time. A year after I'd dropped off the face of the planet, we moved to Dallas. He introduced me to more vampires who liked fighting, and I got better. I learned more ways to maim and dismember. Soon, I was inside cages, taking other vampires apart a piece at a time. It was easy, it was fun, and I loved every minute of it.

  That is, until Gerold was killed.

  My reputation as a skilled fighter had spread a little too far, too fast. Apparently, a local vampire chieftain named Krenner took a special interest in me and wanted to buy me. Gerold was affronted, saying I wasn't property. Krenner took that as I was fair game to claim in his domain. Gerold lost his temper and attacked Krenner. Krenner wasn’t a better fighter than Gerold, but he did have security that cut Gerold down.

  I completely lost my shit at this point and attacked Krenner myself. It took six of them to pull me off him and hold me down. Krenner bloodbound me on the spot. I'd never believed in the bloodbinding until Krenner's commands cut through the red sea of my rage and tamed me like a puppy.

  I seethed at the loss of freedom and tried repeatedly to find a way to get at Krenner. But apparently, this wasn't his first rodeo. He had taken a great deal of time to give me specific sets of commands that continued to thwart any of my attempts to murder him.

  In the meantime, I became the top fighter in his stable. I have to give him this: he wasn't stupid enough to try and take me to bed. After seeing how I fought, I don't think he believed even his strongest command would protect him in bed.

  I fought, killed, maimed, and murdered. After a while, I learned how to do each better, quicker, and easier. I learned vampire physiology, how they worked, and new and more exciting ways to kill them.

  Then, another man showed up and changed everything again. Looking back, I probably should have moved to a convent or something. I mean, men had literally been the death of me. OK, so this time, I had a fair excuse for my poor decision-making. I was literally insane, entirely out of my mind by this point. So, I didn't see what was coming in the slightest; sue me.

  He called himself Pagoda; what a stupid fucking name. Made me think of a Chinese gazebo. But he was all charming and suave and debonair. Yeah, I said debonair. Does that tell you how far gone I was?

  On the flip side, I was an animal. I'd been treated as an animal for so long that I didn't know any better. I also think making me into a vampire fucked me up more than I was before.

  *You think?* the voice inside my head said.

  *Shut up, head,* I told myself.

  I mean, they had me on this massive regiment of pills to try and stabilize my brain back when I was human. Becoming a vampire didn't exactly “fix” my head now, did it? Sure, becoming a vampire physically changes you some, but not mentally. Add to that, I could no longer take the pills because they did jack bupkis to a vampire's physiology. Then, throw in a few bad influences; you can see how things all added up to me being some nut-bag, weapon-x reject who already had one leg over the coo-coo's nest.

  Pagoda told me if I would agree to come work for him, not only would he get me out of the cage I was in, he'd kill Krenner for me...and a bunch of other stuff, but I started and stopped listening when he said he'd kill Krenner. I didn't care. At that point, I would have eaten my own foot to see that bastard dead. Can you guess what I said?

  Oh, he was true to his word; he did kill Krenner spectacularly. I don't know all the exact details, but I'd like to think it involved chains, five horses, and some Honey Nut Cheerios because, you know, you get hungry at a show.

  What that fartbag didn't tell me was that he'd bloodbound Krenner before he killed him. Then he came for me and I changed hands like a hooker at a bachelor party.

  On the flip side, he did get me out of the cage. He had me sent away; don't ask me where cause I wasn't in a state of mind to know. But I’m guessing it was somewhere near Japan, as everyone spoke Japanese. I was assigned to a woman named Natsuko no Kimi. Pagoda had ordered me to study beneath Natsuko no Kimi and follow her every order as she was an Onna-Musha of international repute.

  At first, it was ridiculously difficult to do so, as she only spoke in Japanese! How the hell was I supposed to do what she wanted when I couldn’t understand her? But I was a quick study, as disobedience resulted in severe punishment in the form of withholding food.

  That brought me up short. I'd never been hungry as a vampire, not really. I'd eaten when I wanted, as much as I'd wanted. The whole rapid aging due to starvation rumor really scared the shit out of me.

  The first year was hell, with only a few brief moments of OK thrown in just so I didn't get so used to hell that it wouldn't mean anything. I relearned how to be human.

  So, just to recap, I got blown up and forgot how to be human. Then I got turned into a vampire and forgot how to be human. And then I was turned into an animal that forgot how to be a vampire. Needless to say, it was hard. Harder than learning to read again. God, how my life sucked...but I did learn, and as I learned, my life became easier.

  After I learned how to be a “civilized human,” I began learning how to be a “civilized vampire.” That took another year. You'd think a year was a long time, but when you no longer have an expiration date, time sorta stops mattering.

  The last year I was there, they taught me to be an elegant killer. Not so much assassin/ninja training, but how to “inhumane” people [thanks, Mr. Pratchett, it's a great word], both human and vampire, in a manner that is: A. not offensive to others and B. not going to get me arrested and/or killed.

  Oh, did you think I'd stopped training on how to beat the crap out of people? Wrong! During my entire stay, I trained. I learned something new every day and was expected to master it by the next. They had me doing weird shit you only saw in the really bad Kung Fu movies. Only, since I was a vampire, I could actually do some of that crazy shit! It's hard to keep a grip on your sanity when every day you find reality, as you knew it, doesn't exist anymore.

  The whole experience was excruciating. But three years after I arrived, I left as an actual person again. Regardless of everything else that bitch Natsuko no Kimi (you have to say the whole thing or no supper) did to me, I must thank her for that.

  When I returned to Pagoda, he'd set up his court in Austin. Luckily, everything that had happened to me since my disappearance had changed how I looked so much that my own mother didn't recognize me. Cause yeah, I went to check on her one day when I was feeling relatively nostalgic. It happens. I do, occasionally, have a human moment.

  Anyway, I was added as an official member of Pagoda's court. I was treated respectfully, given my living space, expenses and a nice car. He never once tried to touch me. I wasn't sure if that was because he didn't want to or he was afraid to.

  Seemed men were scared to be alone with me, let alone naked with me. I didn't know why at the time; I mean, I was smoking hot. My body was totally rockin', my girls never perkier, and I was limber enough that I could practically pleasure myself. And my hair...oh, my hair. It was still jet-black, not a strand of gray, soft, slick, and it ran down past my rear. You could tie me up with my hair. Actually, I would have really liked it if someone had tried...I think.

  But Pagoda put a “no touchy” order on me. No one was allowed to lay so much as a finger on me, EVEN IF I ASKED FOR IT!!! The sad thing was that I'd learned to like sex while I was with Natsuko no Kimi. Part of my re-learning of humanity had been teaching me about sex and how to do it properly. I wish there were a correspondence class that she could send out. So many guys, and girls for that matter, could make themselves and others happy with that knowledge.

  I didn't do a whole lot for Pagoda. I was at every function, just there in the background, like an unsaid threat. I later learned I was basically his muscle. Natsuko no Kimi...see, even today, I still have to say it cause she trained me to. She had the reputation of creating the most lethal creatures out there.

  So, I'm living the good life, sorta. I'm assigned to stay at the Austin residence and keep things just so when Pagoda is out of town, which he's out of town A LOT! But that's fine; it leaves me plenty of free time to enjoy just being for a while. Seems most of my life up till then had been progressing at a flat-out run. I'm finally at a place where I can relax, take my time, study up on what’s new in the psychology world, and chill.

  So, of course, Murphy comes along and kicks me in the taint. Yeah, I know, but it's a cool word that doesn't get used enough.

  Z Day. Seriously? Fucking zombies. I never liked the idea, never liked the movie and thought Romero was an ass for making it all so popular. Although, Max Brooks did a fine ass job with the World War Z book. Fuck Pitt’s movie. Shouldn’t have used the WWZ title. Call it “Brad Pitt’s Zombie Movie.” People would have still gone and seen it and the book fans wouldn’t be pissed. But I digress.

  Anyway, so we vampires—

  I mean, seriously, what is it with TV and movie people nowadays? They find this really popular story and decide they want to reboot it, but instead of following the original, they want to do their own horrible fanfic version. You want to do that? Great! Do it, but call it something original. Don’t swipe off someone’s IP when you’re going to fuck it up!

  *AHEM* (sorry)

  Anyway, so we vampires aren’t the only ones running around eating people anymore. Oh yeah, you must be saying, “But Rhiannon, if no one's allowed to be around you, how do you get your blood?”

  Good question, and to put it bluntly, however the fuck I wanted. I find tap boys kinda gross. I mean, you just sorta lay around and let people slurp on you whenever they want. It makes me think of a public drinking fountain, and no one wants to drink out of one of those dirty fuckers.

  So, I go out. I wander around until I find someone who seems nice and bite them. Then, I make them forget about it and go about my business. Simple. Neat. Elegant even. No teen-vampire fanfic gazing into each other's eyes wantonly in the middle of a golf course crap. Wham, slurp, thank you, ma'am.

  Something those two idiots above should have learned.

  *What?* James mumbled.

  Nothing, cowboy, go back to sleep; I’m almost done.

  Did I mention my wardrobe? Oh my God, my closet is the size of a house in some countries. It came fully stocked, but then I took Pagoda's lovely business charge card and overstuffed it. More on that later.

  So, zombies. At first, it wasn't that big of a deal. Small outbreaks that seemed to get handled. As it grew larger, there were some murmurs amongst the vampire community. Rumors popped up about someone accidentally drinking from one of them...how can you accidentally drink from a zombie? No one ever knew the person directly; it was always the whole six degrees of separation thing.

  When it got big enough for cities to start being evacuated and highways to get shut down, the bigwigs of the vampires called for a serious meeting to discuss the now-contaminated food supply. Word came down that no one was allowed to kill another human for food purposes; they were becoming too valuable. There was even talk of vampires being sent to protect evacuation camps. And even more talk of evacuation camps being set up by vampires just so we could keep clean stock lines.

  Another rumor was that they had finally broken through on the synthetic blood they'd been working on for decades. Of course, I'd never seen it, but the rumor was out there.

  Pagoda was at this big world conference, leaving the compound all but deserted. Only a handful of security was still in residence. Most of them had gone with Pagoda to beef up his personal security detail. Apparently, Pagoda had some serious worries when it came to zombies; go figure. Even the few normal residents we had had returned to their homes to protect their property from being overrun by the undead.

  I, on the other hand, was bored to fucking tears. I'd spent my nights bounding through the surrounding forests, killing every zombie I'd run across. They weren't much of a challenge, to be honest, at least not once the fight started. They didn't react to vampires as they did to humans. So, they just stood there and let you slaughter them. Oh, sure, once you attacked them, they automatically tried to fight back, but it was over by then.

  My days were spent making sure the place was running smoothly. The tedium had me starting to pull my hair out. You can only work out so much.

  I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.