CHAPTER ONE
Finding Ferals
After the meeting and taking on a few supplies, the flotilla was underway again, trolling its way upriver. I sat on the bow. The sun had long passed its zenith for the day. The jungle on the western bank was a black silhouette profiled against an orange sky shot through with threads of purple clouds. The boats hugged the west bank to take advantage of the evening shadow. The air was alive with mosquitoes which were no bother as long as the convoy didn’t stop.
A shadow fell across me. I snatched an insect out of the air.
“They wouldn’t listen,” Rabina said, sliding in alongside.
We dangled our feet over the side. I looked into the darkening water. Heavy damp smells gathered along with the approaching night. “They may have to learn the hard way.”
She followed the direction of my gaze. The bow cut cleanly through the water with only a whisper of splash. “You know,” she said after a minute. “These river craft are still the best of their kind. They will serve well.”
“I don’t worry about the equipment. It’s the fools running it. They think this round-up is going to be a walk in the park. It’ll be all right, only they’ll be blindfolded in a park full of wolves.”
A partially submerged tree branch drifted by. It thumped against the bow and rode down the side. “Tell me about your children,” I said.
Rabina brightened. “They are everything,” she said and pulled a small photograph folder from a back pocket. For the life of me, as tight as her pants were, I don’t know how it squeezed in there. “Here they are.” And she displayed a picture of three toddlers with a male Vampire. “The big one is my mate, Frank,” she said smirking. Then she turned to me and added, “The First Children must be almost teenagers. Do you have photographs?”
“I do, as well as some of my second litter.” I produced a photograph of our latest family portrait. Sam and Cassie were seated side by side looking like the adult and adolescent version of the same person. Louie and Beatrice, five when the picture was taken, lounged in repose on the floor in the foreground, while Claire and Eddie, tall like me, stood behind. Claire had my features and dark coloring while Eddie favored Sam.
An expression of embarrassment crossed Rabina’s face. “I forgot about the younger ones. I apologize, but everyone knows the “Firsts”.
I smiled inwardly, recalling the tense night Bertie, the Nanny, and I brought them into the world. It was a home delivery. Sam and I were the first Lycan/Vampire couple and the first of our kind to have children. The Subspecies hadn’t “come out” yet, and one knew what the babies would look like, so a hospital delivery was out. “Yes,” I said. “They were twelve last May.”
Rabina turned away and contemplated the water passing under the keel for a while. She seemed to want to ask me something but wasn’t sure how to approach it. On shore, something large rolled into the water with a slash. “Is something on your mind?” I finally asked.
The last of the evening sun highlighted the handsome features of her profile. She kept her eyes riveted to the passing water. “I remember before I emerged,” she began slowly, uneasily. “I didn’t walk until I was almost three and said my first word after my brothers and sisters had started school. Was that your experience?”
The navigation lights blinked on. The right or starboard one suddenly washed us in green light. “Of course it was,” I answered. “The development pattern of subspecies is well known.”
“Yes, we lag humans until our late teens when puberty happens to us, almost all at once, and we “Emerge”.” She paused searching for words. Finally she turned to me. “Why are our children different from us?”
I considered her question. Actually I had been considering it in degrees of concern, ranging from casual reflection to out and out dread. It started when the triplets were only a few months old and Carole Henson, a Vampire who was my nanny and lover, pointed out how they were as alert as human babies, far more than I at their age. “Dr. Ortiz believes they owe their development to hybrid vigor,” I answered repeating the official company position. Dr. Ortiz was President and Chief Medical Officer of The Corporation.
“I know, and I know he is the final word when it comes to any medical matters involving The Subspecies.”
I patted her arm and smiled in the dark. “Don’t worry. He is confident they will emerge as we did.” I said trying to sound optimistic and put her at ease but in truth, I shared the same concerns. More than once, I lay awake at night turning the possible outcomes and their consequences over in my mind.
She nodded yes and seemed to agree, but as we continued sitting together she asked, “What if they don’t Emerge? What does it mean for them?”
I thought of the ruminations I had over the years about this. “All we can do is wait and see how they turn out,” I said, was all we could do, knowing the triplets, seven months older than any other subspecies children, would experience whatever it was first.
“How do you do it?” Rabina asked.
“How do I do what?”
“Forgive me, but doesn’t it bother you and your wife not knowing,” she said.
“Not knowing what?”
Her voice became edgy and impatient at my inability to understand. “What if our hybrid children will live no longer than humans? If it is true are you prepared to watch them grow old and die? How will you feel at their end when you look like their grandchildren?”
I took her hand which was trembling. “Sam and I are Christians,” I said. “We believe in a loving God who puts no challenge in our lives we cannot meet.” I tried to be reassuring but had to admit I faced times and situations when I wasn’t so sure.
“And what if you don’t have a faith?”
“We believe nothing and no one is beyond His help.” I patted her hand and added smiling, “Besides, we may be worried about nothing. The children are developing like humans, but it doesn’t mean they won’t become like us eventually.”
She withdrew her hand and stood up. “You may be correct, and I hope you are. We won’t know for sure until the first ones reach puberty.”
Until the first ones reach puberty. Her words hit me like a truck. The thought smoldered in the back of my mind since the triplets were babes. It remained a distant and abstract notion except for the rare occasions, like this, when triggered by a remark, it surged back into the forefront of consciousness. My anxiety must have shown because a concerned look came over her. “I didn’t mean to imply…,” she started to say.
I put up a brave smile. “It’s all right,” I said. “Sam and I have had this discussion many times.” We had, and it wasn’t the happiest memories of our life together.
In the distance an animal cried out, scattering the heavy silence of the night. “I think further discussion of this subject will serve no good and only add to our anxiety and despair,” Rabina said and turned to leave. I watched her long legged motion, made unsteady by the moving deck, unsteady like a young animal with long legs and powerful rounded hips it hadn’t learned to control, reminiscent of Cynthia after she emerged. At the entrance of the hatch leading below decks to the berthing area she paused and turned back. The glow of a green navigation light lit up her face. She smiled and said, “Good night. Tomorrow will be a full day.” And she ducked below.
She was attractive, even beautiful, I decided, as I mused over her curvaceous movement.
But she was not Sam.
I watched another couple of miles of black formless jungle float by. The conversation with Rabina made me think of my own concerns about our children. The optimistic banter was a sham. In truth, Sam and I rarely discussed the subject. She simply refused to admit there was a problem and anytime I forced the issue, things ended badly. It hung around us like some tethered beast, relentlessly straining against its moorings, growing as the children got older. With concern, I watched Cassie, Claire, and Eddie read at a second grade level when they were five. Now they were twelve. Eddie demonstrated an interest in females while the girls, Cassie in particular, showed initial signs of puberty. Sometimes I laughed at myself for fretting the children were developing normally, even ahead of their age group in many respects. A parent should be proud, not concerned. Then I remembered the logical outcome. I would witness their departure from this life as I had seen their entry to it. That was the beast pulling and twisting against its bindings deep inside me in the dark, biding its time.
In my bunk that night I lay awake, still spun up like a gyroscope about the conversation with Rabina. Her bunk was adjacent to mine separated by a stainless steel partition, “bulkhead” in nautical lexicon. I heard her crying quietly in the darkness.
Finding Ferals
After the meeting and taking on a few supplies, the flotilla was underway again, trolling its way upriver. I sat on the bow. The sun had long passed its zenith for the day. The jungle on the western bank was a black silhouette profiled against an orange sky shot through with threads of purple clouds. The boats hugged the west bank to take advantage of the evening shadow. The air was alive with mosquitoes which were no bother as long as the convoy didn’t stop.
A shadow fell across me. I snatched an insect out of the air.
“They wouldn’t listen,” Rabina said, sliding in alongside.
We dangled our feet over the side. I looked into the darkening water. Heavy damp smells gathered along with the approaching night. “They may have to learn the hard way.”
She followed the direction of my gaze. The bow cut cleanly through the water with only a whisper of splash. “You know,” she said after a minute. “These river craft are still the best of their kind. They will serve well.”
“I don’t worry about the equipment. It’s the fools running it. They think this round-up is going to be a walk in the park. It’ll be all right, only they’ll be blindfolded in a park full of wolves.”
A partially submerged tree branch drifted by. It thumped against the bow and rode down the side. “Tell me about your children,” I said.
Rabina brightened. “They are everything,” she said and pulled a small photograph folder from a back pocket. For the life of me, as tight as her pants were, I don’t know how it squeezed in there. “Here they are.” And she displayed a picture of three toddlers with a male Vampire. “The big one is my mate, Frank,” she said smirking. Then she turned to me and added, “The First Children must be almost teenagers. Do you have photographs?”
“I do, as well as some of my second litter.” I produced a photograph of our latest family portrait. Sam and Cassie were seated side by side looking like the adult and adolescent version of the same person. Louie and Beatrice, five when the picture was taken, lounged in repose on the floor in the foreground, while Claire and Eddie, tall like me, stood behind. Claire had my features and dark coloring while Eddie favored Sam.
An expression of embarrassment crossed Rabina’s face. “I forgot about the younger ones. I apologize, but everyone knows the “Firsts”.
I smiled inwardly, recalling the tense night Bertie, the Nanny, and I brought them into the world. It was a home delivery. Sam and I were the first Lycan/Vampire couple and the first of our kind to have children. The Subspecies hadn’t “come out” yet, and one knew what the babies would look like, so a hospital delivery was out. “Yes,” I said. “They were twelve last May.”
Rabina turned away and contemplated the water passing under the keel for a while. She seemed to want to ask me something but wasn’t sure how to approach it. On shore, something large rolled into the water with a slash. “Is something on your mind?” I finally asked.
The last of the evening sun highlighted the handsome features of her profile. She kept her eyes riveted to the passing water. “I remember before I emerged,” she began slowly, uneasily. “I didn’t walk until I was almost three and said my first word after my brothers and sisters had started school. Was that your experience?”
The navigation lights blinked on. The right or starboard one suddenly washed us in green light. “Of course it was,” I answered. “The development pattern of subspecies is well known.”
“Yes, we lag humans until our late teens when puberty happens to us, almost all at once, and we “Emerge”.” She paused searching for words. Finally she turned to me. “Why are our children different from us?”
I considered her question. Actually I had been considering it in degrees of concern, ranging from casual reflection to out and out dread. It started when the triplets were only a few months old and Carole Henson, a Vampire who was my nanny and lover, pointed out how they were as alert as human babies, far more than I at their age. “Dr. Ortiz believes they owe their development to hybrid vigor,” I answered repeating the official company position. Dr. Ortiz was President and Chief Medical Officer of The Corporation.
“I know, and I know he is the final word when it comes to any medical matters involving The Subspecies.”
I patted her arm and smiled in the dark. “Don’t worry. He is confident they will emerge as we did.” I said trying to sound optimistic and put her at ease but in truth, I shared the same concerns. More than once, I lay awake at night turning the possible outcomes and their consequences over in my mind.
She nodded yes and seemed to agree, but as we continued sitting together she asked, “What if they don’t Emerge? What does it mean for them?”
I thought of the ruminations I had over the years about this. “All we can do is wait and see how they turn out,” I said, was all we could do, knowing the triplets, seven months older than any other subspecies children, would experience whatever it was first.
“How do you do it?” Rabina asked.
“How do I do what?”
“Forgive me, but doesn’t it bother you and your wife not knowing,” she said.
“Not knowing what?”
Her voice became edgy and impatient at my inability to understand. “What if our hybrid children will live no longer than humans? If it is true are you prepared to watch them grow old and die? How will you feel at their end when you look like their grandchildren?”
I took her hand which was trembling. “Sam and I are Christians,” I said. “We believe in a loving God who puts no challenge in our lives we cannot meet.” I tried to be reassuring but had to admit I faced times and situations when I wasn’t so sure.
“And what if you don’t have a faith?”
“We believe nothing and no one is beyond His help.” I patted her hand and added smiling, “Besides, we may be worried about nothing. The children are developing like humans, but it doesn’t mean they won’t become like us eventually.”
She withdrew her hand and stood up. “You may be correct, and I hope you are. We won’t know for sure until the first ones reach puberty.”
Until the first ones reach puberty. Her words hit me like a truck. The thought smoldered in the back of my mind since the triplets were babes. It remained a distant and abstract notion except for the rare occasions, like this, when triggered by a remark, it surged back into the forefront of consciousness. My anxiety must have shown because a concerned look came over her. “I didn’t mean to imply…,” she started to say.
I put up a brave smile. “It’s all right,” I said. “Sam and I have had this discussion many times.” We had, and it wasn’t the happiest memories of our life together.
In the distance an animal cried out, scattering the heavy silence of the night. “I think further discussion of this subject will serve no good and only add to our anxiety and despair,” Rabina said and turned to leave. I watched her long legged motion, made unsteady by the moving deck, unsteady like a young animal with long legs and powerful rounded hips it hadn’t learned to control, reminiscent of Cynthia after she emerged. At the entrance of the hatch leading below decks to the berthing area she paused and turned back. The glow of a green navigation light lit up her face. She smiled and said, “Good night. Tomorrow will be a full day.” And she ducked below.
She was attractive, even beautiful, I decided, as I mused over her curvaceous movement.
But she was not Sam.
I watched another couple of miles of black formless jungle float by. The conversation with Rabina made me think of my own concerns about our children. The optimistic banter was a sham. In truth, Sam and I rarely discussed the subject. She simply refused to admit there was a problem and anytime I forced the issue, things ended badly. It hung around us like some tethered beast, relentlessly straining against its moorings, growing as the children got older. With concern, I watched Cassie, Claire, and Eddie read at a second grade level when they were five. Now they were twelve. Eddie demonstrated an interest in females while the girls, Cassie in particular, showed initial signs of puberty. Sometimes I laughed at myself for fretting the children were developing normally, even ahead of their age group in many respects. A parent should be proud, not concerned. Then I remembered the logical outcome. I would witness their departure from this life as I had seen their entry to it. That was the beast pulling and twisting against its bindings deep inside me in the dark, biding its time.
In my bunk that night I lay awake, still spun up like a gyroscope about the conversation with Rabina. Her bunk was adjacent to mine separated by a stainless steel partition, “bulkhead” in nautical lexicon. I heard her crying quietly in the darkness.
_
© 2010 - 2014. All rights reserved and no exceptions. All personal works on this site are the exclusive property of Mike Arsuaga. Work may not be transmitted via the internet, nor reproduced in any other way, without prior written consent.
© 2010 - 2014. All rights reserved and no exceptions. All personal works on this site are the exclusive property of Mike Arsuaga. Work may not be transmitted via the internet, nor reproduced in any other way, without prior written consent.