Chapter -2: Adam
What bothered Adam most about this, he’d realized, was the need to be historically inaccurate.
If he were being honest, his very presence made this whole thing historically inaccurate. Sure, free black men served in the Union Army, but he could not recall any high-ranking officers of color. And he’d looked. Mostly, they were used as a front wall – human shields. Still, Adam Jones was a beloved and esteemed member of Brandeis University’s faculty, of the Waltham community at large, and considered a hero amongst his reenactment troupe for his persistent efforts in maintaining their location and very existence in the face of threatened budget cuts. And being an all-around genial guy. And so amidst his protestations of historical inaccuracy, the Boys had basically demanded he adorn the Silver Eagle.
He doubted that a Silver Eagle General would slaughter his own troupe. He also doubted that there were vampires in the Civil War.
Both of these things, he decided, he would have to look up when he wasn’t facing the very real and imminent threat of his reenactors attempting to bite and drink him. When this was all said and done, if he survived, he’d need to retreat to his study and learn about something. And these were as good curiosities as any.
Twitching at the thought of ruining such a beautiful piece of historical representation, he snapped Mark’s hyper-realistic musket and impaled him with the wooden end, more questions came to mind. Weren’t vampires supposed to hate the daylight? Weren’t vampires not supposed to turn instantaneously? He was at least sure that both parties would need to drink before the transaction and transformation would occur. The first question he wrote off with the typically overcast day, but intended to follow up regardless.
Good. Questions were good. Planning research was good. It served as a distraction from driving wood into most of his brigade. The distraction further served to not overthink the moves his physical form was performing almost on instinct. If he’d noticed, he’d question how he suddenly learned to flip, or where his parkour abilities came about. He’d question how he could drive two stakes simultaneously into vampires without looking at them. He’d question how he could blindly grab a handful of evaporated vampire ash like it was a baseball, thrust it into the eyes of a vampire he could barely see, then stake him in a motion smooth as gelato. He’d question how he’d learned to run so fast, jump so far, all questions that if sought would result in a Wile E. Coyote-level catastrophic response. No, his body thanked his mind for being so distracted with academic pursuits and blissfully unaware of its own machinations.
It would all catch up to him later. The soreness of his muscles contracting and expanding and bending and twisting in ways it’d never previously considered. The horror that he was responsible for the deaths of pretty much his entire reenactment troupe. The curiosity of where the grant money would go. The fear about how to explain to the authorities that he was not some mass-murdering black stereotype but that he’d slayed fucking vampires. The slight shame in thinking in expletives for the first time in nearly a decade.
For now, however, that all took a backseat to attempting to explain to himself the presence of vampires in his sleepy college town or really at all. To taking note of the fact that he thought he’d glimpsed Countess Elizabeth of Bathory in the midst of all the chaos and making a mental reminder to provide a description to his friend and colleague, Professor Eleanora Montana in European History in hopes of corroboration. If he survived.
If he survived. That was a vital piece of all this.
He took a breath and looked around then lifted his stakes back up. At least he was attacking vampires in Confederate uniforms now. He knew it was a little silly, but it gave him a modicum of comfort.
“You sure it was dark brown, wavy, yay high?” Eleanora motioned slightly down her shoulder blades.
“Well I couldn’t tell you the length,” Adam said. “She had it up in-”
“Ringlets?”
“Precisely.”
“Well shit.”
Adam smirked. The bespectacled bonding of brains and beauty sharing his office did not share his repression with language. She pulled her glasses off and nibbled at an end.
“Does that help you think?”
“I just do it for effect, Adam,” Eleanora laughed. “Yep, you are dealing with the Blood Countess herself. Which, I might add, is painfully cliché for this scenario. There are at least five other lesserknown high-ranking vampires from that region who could have led a charge. But no. It’s always Elizabeth.”
“You deal with this a lot?” Adam arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, Elizabeth and I go way back. Actually, I have to show you something…” Eleanora pulled at her neckline. Adam jumped back and Eleanora let out a hearty laugh. “Jesus, Adam, this has you seriously jumpy.”
“Not every day you deal with this kinda thing.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“You’re just a ball of jokes today.”
“No different than any other day,” Eleanora smiled, then grew grim for the first time in their conversation and possibly in the school year. “But I’m serious. This shit is never an isolated incident. And if Bathory is involved then Waltham’s going to be a computer in no time.”
“A what?”
“Full of bites, Adam,” Eleanora sighed. “Keep up.”
Eleanora held the punching bag, but sensed it probably wasn’t necessary. The bag seemed to holding its own just fine.
“I don’t know how you beat a whole army,” Eleanora said.
“I don’t know either. I just remembered taking stock of the Blood Countess, a vague sense of satisfaction at killing Rebs, and a whole lot of questions about what vampires were doing out in the daylight. Then suddenly, I was alone among a sea of empty Civil War skivvies and sore as I’d ever been. Did you know vampires being dusted don’t extend to their clothes? It’s fascinating. Are you okay? You seem more tired now than you were a moment ago.”
“Because you were kicking the shit out of me as you were saying that. Whoa. Holy shit.”
“What?”
“I have a theory. Think about some other random stuff. I don’t care what, just anything you’ve been wondering about, and try to kick the bag.”
“Sure, I suppose. The vampire question is one that got to me in particular. Vampires as I recall them should burn to a crisp in the daylight. Some of them had sunglasses on so I thought it might be cornea related but then that wouldn’t account for those who were just turned. Oh! That’s another issue I had. All of them who were bitten turned instantaneously. Now zombies I know do that, because of a viral infection, but my understanding of vampires is at the very least there needs to be a mutual transaction of blood and I think they need to die and be reborn? Now I think Bathory bathed in blood so maybe her fangs give an automatic transfusion and that goes down the vampirical lineage? I suppose that’s possible and could probably account for the instant nature of the whole thing but- hey, where’d you go? Did you walk out on me again? I thought-”
“I’m under you.”
“What?”
“I am under you. And there is a bag between us. Please get up.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Adam rolled the bag off her and reached out his hand. Eleanora signaled she needed to stay down a second or two more. “How did…?”
“During your very fascinating rumination, you kicked the living hell out of this bag, then proceeded to jump over the bag, break the chain which can hold this 100-pound monstrosity like butter with your foot, flip and land on top of it slash me.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Most impressive is you didn’t shut up the whole time.”
“That’s just being a professor.”
“True that.”
“So what does this all mean?”
“Well, we’re mere history professors so we should probably corroborate this with someone in the science department, but my guess is by distracting your brain with ruminations you allow your autonomic nervous system to kick in and its response is to go Bruce Lee?”
Adam plopped down in his chair and scratched his head. It did explain how he was the only one remaining in a whole sea of reenactors. It did explain why it hurt in muscles he had hitherto only vague knowledge of. It didn’t explain why this was the first occurrence given his penchant for rumination. Unless the department was replacing desks without notifying him. No, that would be a luxury reserved for the Classics and Sciences only. Freaking Classics Department. Eleanora pushed her arms to the side and hoisted herself up.
“I’m going to go ask one of the Physiology professors if they can explain it better. Maybe we can get some answers.”
“Maybe I should come too?”
“You stay back, Shaq Fu. You start thinking too hard I might end up in a coma.”
Eleanora peered into Professor Jerry Stone’s office. The door was cracked. She could see the skeleton just chilling inconspicuously, as skeletons she supposed do. She stuck her head in further.
“Jerry? You in here, bud?”
“Eleanora!” Jerry, the perky son-of-a-gun spouted. “Always great to see you. Come in.”
“Thanks!”
“Have you met my friend? Her name I think is L-”
“Oh, fuck me.”
“Eleanora! That was quick,” Adam said when he heard footsteps. “Did you learn anything?”
“I did!” Eleanora smiled. “Quite a bit. For example, it is your autonomic nervous system kicking into hyperdrive. We were right about that. You were actually right about quite a bit!”
“Oh? Like what else?”
“Well, Countess Bathory’s fangs are loaded with an excess of blood from her baths, making the transfusion automatic.”
“How did-”
“What I didn’t know was the daylight thing. But it turns out when you’ve been around as long as the Countess has, you develop methods, get perks…walk around in daylight, don’t have to get wrinkle-faced…”
“Eleanora…”
“I also learned it feels amazing!” Eleanora smiled as she inched closer. “Hey, I want to show you something.” Eleanora pulled down her neckline. Adam sprung up from his chair and backed up.
“Eleanora, please…”
“Don’t think too hard about it, honey,” Eleanora stated. “Really. Don’t. I know what happens when you do. Can’t have that now.” Eleanora released her fangs and lunged at Adam. Adam ducked and began pondering how Bathory got in. Did she have to be invited, or was skipping that criterion one of the perks? Which of the Professors got to her? Were more than one Professor affected? How far down a lineage do these perks extend?
“Are you really going to fridge me? I thought you were above t-” Silence. Adam snapped out of it in noticing Eleanora didn’t finish her thought. He shook his head. She was gone. His favorite chair, the one he let his highest grading students sit in during office hours, was broken and splintered. Adam put two and two together and dipped his head. He’d never felt so alone. He’d never felt so in danger, and that was including the frustratingly racist police officers in his neighborhood.
He wondered what he’d tell Dean Samuels. Maybe he’d just say, “Sabbatical.” Samuels wasn’t going to readily believe that monsters roamed the campus. Or maybe she would. Maybe she was one of them already. That’d add to his list of heartbreaks. Winifred Samuels was one of the best bosses he’d ever had the pleasure of working under, and if she were a vampire then the school was well and truly lost.
He placed a careful hand on the window. It was time to go.
