Humans Bite Back

Ralphie’s had a reputation around town for their food and service, so the humans steered clear of the joint. If it weren’t for the vampires, I suspected they wouldn’t have any business at all.

The parking lot was quickly filling up as we arrived, and when we pressed past the double doors, the place was packed; I had never seen so many vampires occupying the same space. “I didn’t realize that Silverdale had such a large vampire population,” I commented as the three of us squeezed into a booth.

“Oh, this isn’t everybody,” Edna informed me, “These are just the ones who bothered to check the time.”

Though I had been warned about consuming the food at Ralphies, I was still a growing boy, and my stomach rumbled as the less-than-tantalizing smells wafted from the kitchen. I reached for the menu in front of me, but opening it proved difficult because something sticky glued the pages shut.

“As a rule, we don’t order from the menu,” Edna informed me, which confused me because I was well aware that the vampire cults often occupied the space for hours during their monthly meetings. “Oh, I always wondered how this works; pretty smart to book the place in advance.”

“We do no such thing,” Edna snapped, sounding mildly insulted, “Besides, if any of us had any foresight to do so, we would be waiting years for the Penny Pinchers to pay their fair share,” She regarded her phone, “As a rule, we never order off the menu. The Tall Order chooses then shoots us a text,” Edna viewed her cell phone, “Tonight we shall order scrambled eggs and black coffee.”

“So you guys all order the same thing?” I gaped at her in confusion. “Yep, it’s policy, so if when the waitress approaches, you are to order scrambled eggs and a black coffee….” Though I hadn’t heard anything, Edna’s attention turned from me to a vampire standing at the head of the room, tapping a spoon against a water glass. “This meeting is now in session,” the vampire announced as he moved to sit but became stuck along the way. A vampire from a nearby table leaped up from their chair to render him aid.

Edna’s face was flushed, and she used one of the menus to fan herself. “You have always been a sucker for a misplaced hip,” Chad chided her. Though he sounded amused, I detected a hint of jealousy in his tone. Edna must have too, because she turned to him and gave him a lecherous look, “One day your hips will fail you too, and we will have to set store hours,” Chad looked intrigued, “Perhaps we will even have to use the closed sign,” he suggested. Edna bit her lip and swooned a little; I looked away as I felt my cheeks grow warm.

Thankfully, the vampire who had garnered the room’s attention managed to be seated, and the meeting commenced. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you had nothing better to do, but the matter is urgent, so I suggest you stop Instagramming and pay rapt attention,” there was a snicker from one of the fragile ladies seated at the table next to us. “Who uses Instagram anymore?”

The elder vampire turned to the vampire sitting next to him; though still ancient, she appeared youthful in comparison. Her hair was dark, pulled back in a severe bun which tested her strands roots. The only sign of graying was a silver shoot that traveled from her widow’s peak.

“Thank you, Harvey,” she said to the elder who introduced her, then turned to the crowd at large. “I am Agnes, a proud member of The Street Walkers….” Agnes was interrupted by a group of vampires who proudly cited the cult’s mantra, “If you can’t beat the streets, join them,” Agnes gave them a nod of appreciation and lifted her arms to demand silence.

“As some of you are already aware, we have had some incidents of attacks as of late; it seems as if the humans have become infected with a plague…” she was interrupted when a woman, using her walker to steady herself, stood. She lifted a gnarled hand with blue veins. “I’m Maureen Potter, a proud member of The Penny Pinchers,” as if on cue, several vampires lifted their change purses and chanted, “Hold up the line, hold up the line!”

Maureen beamed with pride at her fellow Penny Pinchers. “As I was saying,” she continued, “I was doing my due diligence and counting out my purchase in pennies, and the human behind me bit me!” she paused and pulled down her collar to expose her uninjured neck, “Right here,” she claimed as she pointed to an area on her neck. She then released her collar and cried, “While I was fending my attacker off, the cashier came around the counter, I had thought she was coming to my rescue, but then she started biting me too.”

The room erupted in a collective gasp; Maureen gave them a moment to recover before she moved forward, “I barely made it out of there with my life; it was almost as if biting had become contagious.”

“Thank you for sharing, Maureen,” Agnes said, giving the other vampire a sympathetic look. Once Maureen was seated, Agnes proceeded, “As Maureen just mentioned, we think it may be contagious.”

Agnes was interrupted again by another vampire; this one was male, clad in a dark flannel shirt and a backward red baseball cap. “I’m Walt, leader of The Dependables,” he paused for the expected mantra cry, “Better out than in!”

Once the chants died down, Walt proclaimed, “We can’t just allow the humans to run around biting vampires; it’s unsanitary,” his proclamation was met with mutters of agreement. I nearly bit a hole in my tongue to prevent myself from pointing out the hypocrisy. “Human habits are hereditary; if we don’t put a stop to this now, we may be facing a pandemic for centuries to come.”

“Thank you for voicing your concern Walt,” Agnes told him in a deadpan voice, “Though I don’t think there is yet cause for panic, Walt is right; that is why Dr. Briggs has been taking saliva samples from his human clients, hoping to identify the virus so he can start developing an antidote, until then we must all take precautions.”

Agnes was seated then, and another vampire stood to address the worried vampires. “As most of you know, I am Reggie of The Tall Order of Keep off The Grass,” he paused as the vampires seated in the row next to him solemnly said, “Darn kids, get off my lawn.”

“Dr. Briggs has put out some guidelines,” Reggie regarded a list he held in his hands, “Starting immediately, The Penny Pinchers should use quarters, so they are not holding up the line for too long,” Reggie’s announcement was met with protests.

“This is for your safety,” he emphasized before addressing the next item on the list, “The Streetwalkers shall travel in pairs, and to aid Dr. Briggs in his research, The Dependables shall report any abnormal uses of digestive products,” he turned to Agnes, “You may proceed.”

Agnes reclaimed the floor as she said, “Yes, The Rough Riders,” she paused as a whoop carried through the crowd as vampires cried, “We ride at dawn.”

Once the celebration had died down, Agnes frowned and shook her head, “I am afraid not, at least not in the near future. The Rough Riders are ordered to refrain from riding until eight a.m. The late risers are less irritable than the humans who have an early commute. Though we don’t know much about this virus, it seems as if agitation is a symptom of a flare-up.”

When Agnes paused, Edna raised her hand; when Agnes motioned to her, Edna stood up and introduced herself as a Street Walker; she waited for the mandatory display of pride to pass before addressing Agnes. “Is Dr. Briggs aware that the witches have had encounters as well? My employee Bishop claims that Petra of The Fire Crotch Coven had an incident at The Super Saver.”

After hearing Edna’s revelation, the room broke out into a state of unrest. A forlorn cry carried over the noise, “Is no one safe from these monsters?”

“That is enough,” Reggie cried, lifting his coffee cup, which he beat with a spoon with such force that the cup broke in his hand. Once the cult members had settled down, Agnes resumed, “Yes, The Grand Supreme has been working closely with Dr. Briggs and will be consulting with the covens in the morning. The high priestess has assured us that she will lend us her top potion makers and botanists. A cohesive effort is necessary if we are to survive this.”

I didn’t hear what was said next because a waitress approached our table. Her hair was disarrayed, her bottom lip quivered, and a thin sheen of saliva dribbled from the left corner of her lip. “Are you alright, Miss?” I asked alarm, but the server ignored me as she took Edna and Chad’s order of black coffee and scrambled eggs. Though her pen touched the paper, I was pretty sure she hadn’t written anything down. When my turn came, I ordered as instructed but decided I needed something more substantial than a plate of eggs, so I added hash browns.

I wasn’t sure what happened, but the server’s eyes suddenly uncrossed and jiggled in her sockets like a pair of undercooked eggs. “Hash brown?” she yelped, and the room fell silent.

Edna brought her palm to her forehead, “Oh Bishop, what have you done?” Bishop wasn’t sure what was happening, but suddenly all eyes were on their table. The unwanted attention may have only caused him slight discomfort in any other setting.

Bishop opened his mouth to recant his statement, but it was too late. The waitress sprinted blindly across the restaurant, crying, “Order up, Hash brown! Order up,” Bishop could hear a series of chirps from the kitchen, “Hash brown…Hash brown?”

“Meeting adjourned for now,” Reggie announced in tones that reflected his displeasure. He lowered his gaze and focused on me to add insult to injury. I gaped at Edna, who avoided making eye contact with me as the restaurant abruptly began to clear out. Though most of the vampires were anxious to escape, more than a few of them paused to cast me threatening glances.

I shrank in my seat and did my best to seem inconspicuous while the vampires made their exit, not daring to speak until Chad, Edna and I were the only patrons remaining.

“What just happened?” I burst out at the first opportunity.

“You deviated,” Edna informed me, “You must never deviate from the order.”

“I don’t understand,” I pleaded with her, “Why? It seems like a silly rule to me.”

“It’s necessary, so the humans don’t listen in,” Chad explained, “Repetition caused humans to tune out; if repetition occurs without succession, their instinct for self-preservation kicks in, and they resort to auto-pilot.”

“Yeah, but they can still hear you,” I pointed out, “So can’t they just recall what happened at a later time when they recover.”

“It doesn’t matter if they listen as long as they can’t comprehend what is being said,” Chad said, lowering his voice a few octaves as he added, “And it’s not likely they will remember because trauma is an effective way to wipe the slate clean.”

“So you force them to forget hours of their life?” I asked, “That hardly seems ethical.”

“We don’t force them to forget,” Edna snapped defensively, “Humans forget of their own free will. I think it’s a defense mechanism or something.”

“I should have insisted on remaining behind,” I concluded, pinching the bridge of my nose. Edna reached over and patted my hand to comfort me, “What’s done is done,” she told me before standing up and tossing her oversized tote bag over her shoulder. “No sense in crying over spilled milk,” she declared, “Besides, we better get going before the humans recover.”

My shoulders sagged with relief when I realized that Edna had no intention of holding a grudge, though I was silent as I trailed behind them as they led the way to the exit.

Without warning, my path was suddenly blocked by our server. “Hash browns, order up,” she cried, cupped in her bare hands was a pile of steaming potatoes which she offered to me. I put up a hand, “They look delicious, but I think I’m just going to pass,” she glanced down at her hands, looking perplexed. I wanted to say more to ease her transition but thought it might be best if I left well enough alone, so I side-stepped around her and exited the restaurant.

I gave Ralphie’s a parting glance over my shoulder, and though the waitress still stood there, hashbrowns in hand, looking stunned, the rest of the staff began blinking and rubbing their eyes as if they had just awakened from a coma.