Sacred Blood

Christo was a simple man. He wasn’t very big or very handsome, or even very successful. In fact, Christo was just a plain man. He was tall and skinny with messy brown hair and large coke-bottle-like glasses. Nothing extraordinary about Christo at all, except for one thing; Christo was a man of God. His faith was powerful enough to move mountains and his heart was full of courage not found in most men those days. Christo was a missionary. He traveled from village to village bringing them the word of Jesus Christ. In a time when traveling outside a village could bring death, Christo still traveled.

Christo was from the small village of Bahrain. It was a beautiful and quaint village nestled in the mountains. Bahrain was surrounded by an apple orchard. The cobblestone streets were empty and the buildings looked as if they dated back to the early nineteenth century. Christo was alone on the streets. He stopped at an old store and parked his horse and buggy before going inside. Inside the store was an older woman with her hair pulled back olive skin and green eyes. When the woman saw Christo walk in, she smiled.

“It’s good to see you,” the woman said. “Where are you off to now?”

“I have a mission trip to Damascus,” Christo replied. He surveyed the aisles. The first aisle he went down was filled with weapons: compound bows, arrows, multiple types of guns and rifles, knives and mace made from apples. Christo took some mace from the munitions aisle and went over to the produce aisle and loaded an old leather sack with green and red apples. The woman kept her eyes on Christo the entire time.

“Still trying to evangelize a world that doesn’t want to be saved,” she remarked. “You’re wasting your time, Christo. God left us a long time ago. We’re on our own.”

Christo smiled and approached the register with his purchases.

“We’re never alone,” he replied. “The lord is always with us and he will never put on us beyond what we can be bare.”

The woman smiled and nodded. “You are your father’s son, Christo.”

Christo looked up toward Heaven and smiled. “That’s the idea.”

He paid for his things and waved good-bye. Christo went outside and checked his wagon before he set off. It was not long until he was away from the village and on a lonely dirt road away from the safety of the apple orchards and the village. Only miles of forest surrounded him. The sun was slowly rising and the early-morning rays broke through the cracks in the trees. There was a crackling sound in the woods. Christo reached into his pouch and pulled a miniature cross bow with rapid fire capabilities. The horse was getting uneasy. It stopped suddenly as if frozen by fear. Something watched Christo…something invisible and sinister. The horse began to panic. Suddenly the horse broke out of the restraints and headed back toward the village. Christo was stranded. He took hold of his crossbow and jumped down from seat. In his other hand he held his mace. He made his way to the back of the covered wagon to get the rest of his supplies.

Two men in their early twenties stood in the middle of the road. One was black with blue eyes and a bald head. The other was white with spiked hair and green-black eyes. The black one had a video camera aimed at Christo.

“Well! Well! Well!” said the white one. “Look who’s wandered a little too far from the village.”

“Fresh meat,” interjected the black one. Christo aimed his crossbow at the white man. His hands trembled with fear as he pressed his finger against the trigger. He squeezed the trigger but the cross bow did not fire. Christo had forgotten to pull back the string. With a wave of the vampire’s hand the crossbow flew out of Christo’s hand.

The white man’s eyes changed. They became white and pupiless and his fangs bared. In a single leap, the vampire had Christo in its clutches. Christo was powerless to move. The white vampire turned toward the black vampire. The black vampire zoomed in on the action and licked his lips.

“Make sure you get this. I want to make his blood splatter.”

“I got it,” replied the black vampire. “This is going to be great! We haven’t had a fresh kill in a long time.”

Christo started mumbling prayers. The white vampire laughed. He pulled Christo close to him.

“I’m going to tear you apart.”

“Make sure you leave enough for me. Brotha’s got to eat, too.”

The white vampire savagely and violently sank his fangs into Christo, ripping through his flesh and puncturing his aorta. As he faded into the darkness, he heard the taunting laughter of the vampires and then silence.

Christo woke up as if freeing himself from a nightmare. He was lying on the cold dirt ground. Dried blood covered him. He felt his wound and could feel a chunk of his flesh had been ripped from his neck. Christo glanced over and saw a shriveled up corpse of the white vampire next to him. A gust of wind blew and what was left of the vampire was swept away like dust in a dust storm. Christo sprang to his feet and looked around. There was no sign of the other vampire, just a broken video camera lying in the road. Christo approached the video camera. It was in pieces, but the memory card was still intact. Christo trembled with fear. He dropped the camera and ran back to his wagon. The sun was setting. He must have laid there for hours. Christo stuck the digital card into his pocket. He mumbled prayers and immediately fell to his knees. He looked around and realized he was vulnerable. Damascus was still several hours away. Night was coming and they would be scouring the country side looking for those foolish enough to leave their villages. Christo was vulnerable outside his village. Day or night, they stalked the roads.

Christo grabbed all the supplies he could carry. He grounded up the apples he had and made apple juice. Once he made the juice he sprayed it all over him and applied a bandage and some gauze to his wound. Christo moved on. He continued up the dark road with only a torch to light his way.

Far from the country road where Christo now traveled, there was a large mansion on a hill that overlooked the night lights of a beautiful city. The black vampire arrived at the front door of the mansion shaking and pale with fear. His eyes were full of tears. He babbled incoherently.

“I need to see her,” he babbled. “Samuel is dead. Killed by a human.”

“She’s not here,” The guard said. “But Rasha is.”

“Take me to Rasha,” the black vampire said desperately.

The guard escorted the black vampire to Rasha’s office. Rasha was an imposing vampire with tribal tattoos all over his muscular arms. His red eyes glowed in the dimly-lit shadows of his office. A dying human was draped across his desk and blood dripped onto the floor. Rasha was feeding from the human. The door to his office knocked and the guard brought the black vampire in and shoved him. The black vampire fell at Rasha’s feet. Rasha lifted the black vampire up.

“What’s the matter, Vincent?” Rasha asked with a deep bassy voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Samuel is dead.”

Rasha wiped his mouth and licked the leftover blood off his fingers. “Dead? What do you mean dead?”

“Samuel and I were out. We found a human—”

Rasha grabbed Vincent by his throat and lifted him up with one arm. “You went outside the city and you killed?”

Vincent was choking but managed to nod his answer. Rasha nodded and put Vincent down. “Not bad. That takes guts. Going against the master’s orders, I like that.”

Rasha took a shot glass and put it underneath the dripping, gaped wound of the dying human.

“Have a drink.” Rasha offered.

Vincent was hesitant but took the shot glass and guzzled down the blood. Rasha offered him another glass and he guzzled down that one. “Look at them.” Rasha said referring to the woman draped across Rasha’s desk slowly bleeding to death.

“Such fragile beasts, aren’t they?” Rasha asked rhetorically. “Do you see the fear in her eyes? Absolutely petrified.” Rasha approached the poor woman and stroked her blonde hair. The dying woman shook with absolute terror. Her eyes look up at Rasha.

Rasha broke her neck and ended her suffering. “You look a little like her right before I snapped her neck, Vincent. Should I snap your neck?”

“No, sir” Vincent groveled. “Please.”

“How old are you, Vincent?”

Vincent looked confused by the question.

“When were you turned?”

“Eighteen-sixty-four,” Vincent answered.

“Why you’re just a baby still? You haven’t learned anything. What’s got you all freaked out?”

“Jonah, he was killed by a human.”

“What’s this?” A woman’s voice asked. Rasha and Vincent turned toward the woman. She was beautiful. Her hair was raven black and her skin light brown. She looked Middle Eastern. Her eyes were almond shape, large and hazel. Her name was Saba. When she spoke, she spoke with a Middle Eastern accent. Vincent knelt down before her. Rasha did so but reluctantly.

“What is this I hear, Vincent?”

“Mistress,” Vincent cried. “Jonah is dead. We attacked a human. He sank his teeth in him…”

The sun came up again and the dirt path turned into cobble stone. Apple orchards appeared along the cobblestone road. Christo was exhausted. He walked as far as he could before he finally stopped and rested. A man dressed in old military fatigues riding a horse, he was armed with crossbow strapped to his back passed by. A tin star was pinned to his shirt. The man stopped and saw Christo resting against the apple tree.

“Hey,” he called out to Christo. “You there.”

“I just need to rest.”

The man dismounted the horse and approached Christo. He noticed the gauze on Christo’s neck and the dried blood that had seeped through it.

“You’ve been bitten by one of them!” The man pulled the bandage out and was taken aback. He quickly pulled his crossbow and aimed it at Christo. Christo was too tired to protest.

“I’m not one of them. I wasn’t turned. If I was turning, would I really try to come to a village? It would be suicide. Please don’t kill me.”

The lawman pulled an apple from the tree and tossed it at Christo. Christo grabbed the apple. When there was no reaction, the law man aimed the crossbow at Christo again.

“See?” Christo replied. “I’m not turning. It’s true I was attacked on the road, but I don’t know what happened. I woke up and the vampire that bit me was dead. The other left in a panic because he…wait. I have this…”

Christo reached into his pocket and pulled out the video card. “Whatever happened is on this thing. I took it from the video camera. The lawman looked at Christo and then took the video card. He pulled out a flair gun and shot a flair high in the sky. Sometime later another lawman arrived driving a wagon with a cage attached to it. Christo was placed in the cage. The first lawman led the way to the gates of Damascus. Damascus was a walled village. As they approached the gates they opened into Damascus. Damascus was a thriving village. People were going to and from going about their business. They were dressed in old hand-me-down rags. The villagers stopped what they were doing and watched as the wagon passed by. There was a large stone building at the end of the main street. It was the Damascus jail. An old faded sign on the building labeled it as a public library. Christo was taken out of the wagon and paraded into the jail house. He was forced to empty out the contents of his bag. The desk clerk took his belongings and stuffed them into a bin.

“What’s the charge?” The desk clerk asked. The lawman grabbed Christo and tilted his head showing where Christo had been bitten.

“He was attacked by a vamp last night, but says he isn’t going to change.”

“Why did you bring him here? Tie him up outside the village and let the vamps finish him off.”

The lawman looked at Christo. “Can’t do that without a fair trial. I want to see the judge.”

The desk clerk looked at his appointment book and nodded. “Judge Samson can see him.”

The lawman nodded and escorted Christo down the hall. He held onto the video card and entered through another door to a court room. Judge Samson had just finished with a case of a suspect that had burned down two apple trees. He was sentenced to “exile.” Judge Samson was an older black man that resembled the famed abolitionist, Frederick Douglass

“Next case,” he called.

“Your honor,” the lawman said. “I present the next case.”

“What is the crime?” Samson asked.

“He was bitten.”

“You know better than to bring a bite victim into our village!”

“I did the apple test and nothing happened—”

Judge Samson pointed at Christo. “I want to hear from him.”

“Your honor, my name is Christo. I am from a small village west of here. I have my travel papers if you need to see them.”

Judge Samson nodded. The lawman gave him Christo’s traveling papers.

“Let me see your wound,” Judge Samson said. Christo tilted his head and turned his wound so the judge could see. “This is bizarre. You said you gave the apple test to him and he did not respond?”

“No, sir,” the lawman replied.

“I want you to look at his neck,” Judge Samson requested. “What do you see?”

“There’s nothing there,” the lawman replied with a dumfounded look on his face.

Christo felt his neck and the wound had mysteriously healed.

“What do you do as a profession?” Judge Samson asked Christo.

“I am a missionary for the lord. I spread the word of God.”

“The word of God, huh? I thought God stopped talking. What happened to you?”

“I was attacked by two vampires yesterday morning. One vampire had a video camera and the other attacked me…” Christo trembled as he recalled the attack. “I blacked out. When I woke up, the vampire that attacked me was dead. His body turned to ash and the other vampire must have fled. Whomever killed that vampire must have horrified the other vampire. I don’t know. I didn’t see what happened.”

The law man handed the memory card to Judge Samson. “If we can get this thing to work, it might tell us what happened.”

“Christo, I hereby order that you be held in custody pending some more tests. Just want to make sure.”

“I only ask for one thing,” Christo replied. “May I have my bible?”

“Certainly,” Judge Samson replied. “You’re not a prisoner. We just have to test you and be thorough. So ordered. Bailiff, take this man to his quarters and bring him his bible.”

The Bailiff escorted Christo out. Judge Samson took the memory card and went back to his chambers. There was a video camera hooked up to an old battery. Judge Samson examined the camera and tried to figure out how to make it work. He fumbled around until he found the place to insert the memory card. He turned the camera on and set it to play mode and pressed play. There was nothing on the card. Judge Samson pressed rewind and saw the film rewind back. He pressed play and went back too far. He kept hitting skip until he saw the beginnings of the attack. The judge watched in shock at the outcome shown on the tape. It was something he never thought he would see in his lifetime. Who exactly was the man he was now holding there? How could a human being kill a vampire? The Judge sent word to the council members of Damascus. It was not long until the six members of the governing council were in Judge Samson’s chambers. The six members of the council were men and women of different ages and ethnicities. They watched the video in shock. When the video was over there was silence.

“What does this mean?” Yumi Jones, an Asian woman, asked.

“It means the vampires are gonna be all over this place, looking for the man that killed one of their own,” interjected Lamar Jones, Yumi’s black husband. “They’ll kill us all if they think we are keeping him for safety.”

“What do we do?” Judge Samson asked. “We keep him here they will come for us.”

“We can turn him over to them. That way our village will remain intact,” suggested the heavyset council member with a long white beard.

“We do that and we don’t deserve to live,” interjected a mulatto man.

“Wait,” said another council member, a Latino man. “We just witnessed something that has have never taken place since those blood-sucking bastards took over. One of them finally got what they deserved and it was done by one of us. This could be what we’ve been praying for. We may have a chance to wipe the vampires out and regain our freedom.”

“Regain?” another counsel woman asked. “We were born under the fangs. We wouldn’t be regaining anything. He’s just one man—”

“Right,” said Samson. “One man that can turn our world upside down or save it.”

“I say we vote on it,” Yumi suggested. “We send him on his way or we turn him over to the vamps.”

“All in favor for sending him on his way?” Three of the council members raised their hands. “All in favor for turning himove to the vamps?”

The other three council men raise their hands. The decision was up to Lamar Jones.

“I can’t decide. Either way we send an innocent man to die.”

“Better one man than five hundred men, women and children.”

“All right,” Judge Samson exclaimed. “It’s a deadlock. I’ll write down the two options and place them in this container.”

Samson took his feather pen, dipped it in ink and wrote the two options on a piece of paper. He ripped the paper into two strips crumpled them up and placed them in a container. After shaking the container another member of the council chose one of the crumpled pieces of paper and opened it.

“We turn him over to the vampires,” he announced solemnly. Everyone sighed with sadness. Lamar Jones reached over to the camera and took memory card out.

“May God forgive us.”

In the cell:

Christo was in the cell reading his bible by candle light. He was in the cell with the man sentenced to be exiled. He was tall man with strange tattoos and his hair in a ponytail. He wore a cut-off jean jacket that had been turned into a vest. He kept looking over at Christo. Christo looked up, smiled and then went back to reading. He was taking notes. The other man muttered something. Christo put the bible down for a moment.

“I’m Christo,” he said as he approached the man with his hand extended. The man shook Christo’s hand.

“I’m Screwed,” the man replied. “Screwed Up the bum.”

Christo stood there for a moment. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Screwed. I’m gonna go back to my bible now.”

“Name’s Paul,” the man blurted.

Christo smiled and went back to reading his bible.

“I hate freaking apples,” the man shouted. “I hate em. I hate their taste, I hate the way they look and they’re everywhere. Apples! Apples! Apples! An apple a day keeps the vampires away. Freaking Apples. I took some oil from my lantern, went out to the apple orchard and torched me a couple of dang apple trees. Would have burned down more of them but the Apple Guard got me. Just of sick of it. They’re everywhere mocking me. I wanted to plant me some watermelons, but the jerks said we need to cultivate dem apples. Piss on dat.”

“So I guess you don’t like apples,” Christo replied. The man looked at Christo with a harsh glare. He finally let out a hardy laugh that caused the guards to come by and warn them. The laughter died down but the man continued to speak, “The powers that be really think planting apples everywhere will keep the vampires away?”

“They have so far,” Christo said. The man glanced at the bible and pointed to it.

“Bah! It ain’t the mother freaking apples that have been keeping the vampires away. It’s something higher than that. Maybe God.”

Christo was intrigued. He set his bible aside and looked at the man.

“Do you believe in God?” Christo asked.

“I suppose there might be a God. Hell, dem blood sucking sons of biznatches are from Satan. If Satan is real, then God must be. Vampires and apples all come from the same place. Shoulda planted watermelons…”

“And you think watermelons would’ve scared vampires away?”

“Hell no! They just taste good.”

Christo returned to his bible and the man continued to do nothing. He kept looking over at Christo. “I’m a dead man. They gonna lead me out to the woods and tie me to a tree for the vamps to snack on. Apparently, burning down apple trees is a felony. Who knew? So? What did you do to end up in here?” Christo went to say something but the man put up his hand and continued. “Wait! Don’t tell me. You don’t eat enough. You look like a stick with a head on it.”

Christo laughed and shook his head. Paul laughed as well. “You ain’t did nothing, but get caught in a bad situation, but don’t worry, your bad situation gonna change.” The man smiled at Christo. “And because of you, I think my situation gonna change. Those blood sucking bastards can just try and take my blood…Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Who am I kidding. I’m screwed.”

Saba and Vincent arrived at the location where Christo was attacked. The video camera was still there. Vincent checked the camera and was nervous.

“The memory card is missing,” Vincent confessed. He instantly dropped to his knees. “It happened so fast. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.”

Saba approached Vincent. Vincent could barely look her in the eye. Saba knelt down. She placed her hands on the ground and closed her eyes. Images of Christo’s attack flashed in her mind. She saw everything as if she had been there. Saba stood up. With a wave of her hand Vincent floated to her. She took him by his neck.

“I should kill you where you stand,” she said calmly. “Because of your cowardess, events have been set in motion that may bring about the end for our kind.” Saba squeezed ever so lightly but was beginning to crush his wind pipe. She released Vincent but still kept him floating in the air. Vincent was struggling to breathe again and finally caught his breath. “I will spare your life, but I cannot let you go unpunished.” Saba looked in Vincent’s eyes. Vincent began to scream as his eyes were torn from their sockets. Blood sprayed on the ground. Saba waved her hand again and lowered Vincent to the ground. “When you can learn to obey me I will give your eyes back to you. Now go.”

Vincent flew into the air. A calm breeze blew through, causing Saba’s raven hair to blow slightly. Saba held Vincent’s eyes in her hand and squished them in her fist.

Rasha appeared before her. When he knelt he did not go down as far as Vincent. Saba did not look at him.

“How many villages are within the vicinity?” she asked.

“Three,” Rasha replied.

“This human can be in any one of the villages.”

“Why not use your powers to see where he went. You are the most powerful of us after all.”

Saba stared at Rasha. Rasha’s flesh began to melt off of his skull. He screamed violently.

“Yes, I am,” Saba replied. “Remember that.”

Saba stopped her power and Rasha’s face began to heal.

“Shall I search the villages for the human? I can find him.”

Saba looked at Rasha and sighed with relief. “Do what you have to do, but bring me the human and the memory card. I want them both intact.”

Rasha smiled and then vanished in a ground shaking swirl of black vapor. Saba shook her head.

In Damascus:

A small group of men gathered in a storage warehouse that was filled with preserved apples. The men were creating, sharpening, and inspecting their weapons. The door to the warehouse opened. Lamar and Yumi walked in. The men stopped what they were doing and looked at them. A tall, burly man with white hair in a Mohawk and tattoos all over his arms entered from a secret opening in the floor. His name was Joshua Barabas.

“We have something you should see,” Lamar said. “It’s the chance mankind has been waiting for two-hundred and fifty years.”

Lamar gave the memory card to Joshua. “This is one of those memory cards, isn’t it? I’ve seen one of these before, and I think we might have something that can play it. What’s on it?”

“I can’t describe it. You’ll have to see it.”

Joshua gestured for Lamar to follow him down the underground stairwell. Joshua took Lamar and Yumi to an underground headquarters of the human resistance. The underground base was filled modern technology and surveillance equipment. Men and women were at work monitoring the systems. Lamar glanced at the equipment.

“Where’d you get all this?” Yumi asked.

“Lost some good men trying to get this equipment. Let me see that video card.”

Lamar handed Joshua the video card. Joshua gave it to the technician. In seconds the scene played on an old wide screen TV from the 21st century. The picture was grainy but effective. There was a moment of silence as everyone in the room was in complete shock.

“There is a God,” Joshua said, breaking the silence. “A human capable of killing the vampires. I have to watch this again. Play it again.” The video technician replayed the video card again.

“I can’t believe this is real,” a soldier replied. “This changes everything.”

“It certainly does. Who is this man?”

“Some wandering missionary,” Yumi replied. “Nobody important.”

One the soldiers stepped forward as the video was placed on pause. He was of medium build with short dark hair.

“I know that man,” the Soldier replied.

“You do Simon-Peter?” Joshua asked. “Who is he?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Brother, huh?” Joshua asked.

“We lost touch a few years ago.”

“Well, Simon-Peter, your brother is about to change the world.”

“There’s a problem,” Lamar interjected. “The council voted to turn him over to the vampires. It was a decision not made lightly, but we had to think of the village. If the vamps knew we were keeping him, they would attack us.”

“Then that’s exactly what will happen. Devereaux, can you patch into the Eden broadcasting system?”

Devereaux was a cute girl with light brown skin and short, jet-black hair. She nodded and began typing on an old keyboard.

“I want to be able to broadcast this in twenty minutes.”

Everyone looked at Joshua as if he had lost his mind.

“Sir, we can’t broadcast this,” Simon-Peter protested. “Not only will it draw attention to my brother, but it will piss the vamps off.”

“No,” Joshua replied. “It won’t piss them off. It will put the fear of God in those parasites! Especially if we make them believe there’s more than one of him. It’s been a long time coming, but I know a change’s gonna come.”