Kzine Issue 23 Read online

  They’d found Jim three years ago, living a hand to mouth existence in his cottage. One by one his family, having survived the four plagues, had succumbed to harsh reality. Jim himself was only days away from starvation. The robots had brought him to the roof garden, treated him, fed him and displayed him: a specimen of a near extinct species in something like his natural habitat.

  Jim stared through the gate. A servitor would soon be bringing him a simple breakfast. Ready for the visitors. He sat on a stone bench and readied himself for another day.

  A grating whine distracted him. He glanced up in the direction of the Sun Pavilion’s roof; it was early for the first charabanc. A tiny flying machine drifted out of a steel blue sky: much smaller than the usual traffic. He stood, intrigued. It passed out of Jim’s vision but he heard the electric motors die as it landed.

  The Head Gardener reappeared, leading two other machines that were, by their appearance, designed for a similar purpose to its own. There was a third figure, at first hidden by the robots’ bulks. It wasn’t until the Head Gardener reached the gate and all three machines stepped aside that Jim saw it was another human. A woman. In her twenties, perhaps very early thirties. Around Jim’s age. She was dressed in a style that was fashionable just before the war ended. Black hair tumbled in soft curls from under a wide hat. Her large grey eyes were bright with apprehension. He’d not seen a woman since his mother died.

  “James Taggart,” said the Head Gardener, “this is Margaret Heywood. She is from America: the Bronx Zoo.”

  After a moment Jim remembered his manners. He cleared his throat. “Miss Heywood.” She responded with a tight, nervous smile. “Mr … Taggart was it?” Her accent was odd—American, he guessed. He’d never heard one before.

  The Head Gardener opened the gate and gestured for her to enter with one of its arms. She brushed past the robot, coming no closer to Jim than an arm’s length. As the Head Gardener shut the gate again, Jim spotted a servitor waddling their way, its claws grasping a tray loaded with more than the usual amount of breakfast.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “You have frequently enquired about your fellow species, James Taggart,” replied the Head Gardner. “She will provide you with reassurance.”

  One of the other robots chattered its relays. “Margaret Heywood is on loan to the Kensington Zoo only as long as is necessary.”

  “Necessary?” Jim glanced at the woman again. “Do you know what this is about?”

  This time her smile was tired, defeated. “What do you think?”

  One of the Head Gardener’s arms snaked through the gate, a small object held delicately in its pincers. “You are an endangered species, James Taggart.”

  Jim removed the object from the claws: it was a pack of cigarettes.

  “For afterwards—” said the robot.

  Any further words it may have spoken were drowned by the high-pitched grate of the first charabanc of the day manoeuvring around the roof garden. As it hovered a gangway unfurled and the first visitors of the day disembarked: plodding and waddling, relays chattering and variable-mu tubes glowing with curiosity.

  KILLVAMPIRE.COM

  by John H. Stevens

  Dave Beckert finalized his choice for the night’s entertainment. Damn, I hate dealing with places like this. They make me feel so old. The rap music echoed off the walls pounding his ears and the multi-colored lights assaulted his eyes in a one-two combo on his senses. He smiled thinking of the songs from his day and chugged the last of his drink. I’m definitely getting too old for this game.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” This line usually worked for him. Not that his intended victim would always go home with him but that most of the time they were more than happy to have a drink on his dime.

  “I don’t drink with strangers.”

  “Hi, my name is Dave. What’s yours?”

  “My name is Nancy,” she said while rolling her eyes.

  Nancy had long blond hair that tried to hide her voluptuous breasts and lily white neck. She had probably just graduated from being jail bait.

  When the rolling stopped, Dave stared into her blue eyes. “Now that we’re not strangers, what would you like to drink?”

  Nancy tried hiding her grin. “That’s an old one. Does that line ever work anymore?”

  “Usually not until midnight but I’ve got a good feeling on this one.” Dave wedged between Nancy’s seat and the one next to her and leaned across the bar. He gave the bartender a nod when he caught his eye.

  “Your problem is that you lack confidence.” Nancy swiveled away from Dave but her eyes stayed on his. “Another Cosmo,” she replied when the bartender asked.

  “Jack Black on the rocks.”

  The bartender went to work on the order and Dave’s attention shifted back to Nancy. “It’s easy to have confidence when you’re good at what you do.”

  “You should be good at what you do. It looks like you’ve had a lot of experience. Isn’t it kind of late for you to be up, pops?” A smirk accompanied her dig.

  Dave returned a smile that immediately erased the smirk. “Au Contraire. My night is just starting. There are no alarms in the morning when you’re your own boss.”

  “Is that a fancy way of saying that you’re unemployed?”

  “It’s a fancy way of saying that I have the wherewithal to do as I please, when I please,” Dave said.

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want to be my sugar daddy?”

  Dave edged in closer. “Being any kind of daddy to you is the farthest thing on my mind.”

  * * *

  Nancy’s first thought on seeing Dave was how old he was. He must be at least two hundred years old. She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing out loud. After composing herself, her thoughts went back to the task at hand. She would have to play hard to get for at least a little while. Then the game would be on.

  * * *

  By her third Cosmo, Nancy was facing Dave on her stool and he had established himself between her denim covered legs. Once the band started playing, Dave would feign not hearing Nancy so he could position his ear next to her mouth while brushing his cheek against hers.

  Dave leaned in again. “What do you say we blow this joint and go some place where we can talk.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Dave smiled. “Why don’t we go back to my place and I can put on some real music.”

  “And then what?” Nancy returned the smile. “As if I didn’t know.”

  “I would assure you my intentions are strictly platonic but they’re not. They’re as evil as can be.”

  Nancy stood and whispered into Dave’s ear, “That’s all I needed to hear, but let’s go to my place. I like to have the home field advantage.”

  Dave settled his tab and Nancy led him out of the club. He didn’t see her wink to the man on the last bar stool before they left.

  * * *

  It was a three flight walk up to Nancy’s apartment. The neighborhood was making a comeback but until it made it all the way back, she wished the entrance and stairwells were better lit. That wasn’t a problem tonight. She knew she had a guardian angel protecting her. She unlocked her door and led Dave in.

  The apartment was sparsely furnished but was kept clean. She led him to the couch and gestured for him to sit down. Dave didn’t notice that she left the door to the apartment ajar. “Would you like something to drink? I have beer, wine, and Vodka mixed with anything as long as it’s water.”

  Dave laughed, “A beer would be fine.” He couldn’t believe his luck. He was never anything to look at and his looks didn’t improve with age. He figured Nancy had to be fifteen years younger than him and probably more than that. Plus, she had a body that wouldn’t quit. The one thing he learned through his years on earth was that self-confidence trumped looks and tonight proved his point. Believe that you’re desirable and you will be.

  Nancy came back with a beer and a glass of clear l
iquid on ice. Dave assumed she chose the vodka. He accepted the beer with a “Thank you.”

  Nancy sat on the far side of the couch so she could look directly at Dave as they talked. “Have you seen any of the Twilight Saga movies?”

  Dave shook his head.

  “They’re about this group of vampires and werewolves,” Nancy continued. “The heroine is a beautiful vampire. Do you believe in vampires?” Nancy focused her eyes on Dave even as the door behind him slowly opened.

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” Dave scoffed. “Are you telling me you’re one of those beautiful vampires? Not that I don’t believe it but it would probably take a lot of virgin blood to keep you that young and beautiful.”

  Nancy blushed. “Thank you for the compliment but I’m afraid I’m not the vampire. It probably takes a long time to become as smooth talking as you are.”

  Here it is, thought Dave. He figured the age issue would come up sooner or later. “I know I’m a little older than you are but I think we can work around it if we tried.”

  “You’re good. You’re going to play innocent up until the very end.” Nancy leaned forward. “You can drop the act. I know who you are.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dave didn’t like the look that crept into Nancy’s eyes.

  “How many people have you killed and how many have you turned? Is it true that if you die, the ones you’ve turned will revert to their formal selves? I guess that doesn’t make much sense since some of them might be a couple of hundred years old.”

  “What…,” Dave stammered. “What are you talking about?”

  “I guess they would just die too,” Nancy continued. “Well, we’ll soon find out.”

  “You’re crazy!” Dave rose quickly from the couch but never made it off. The blade sliced cleanly through his neck, his head rolling off his shoulder and bouncing once on the coffee table before rolling to a stop on the area rug. His body collapsed back on the sofa.

  Nancy fought back a scream. Even though she knew it was coming, there was a lot more blood than she expected. She herself was covered with a fine mist of red. The couch is ruined was the first thought that popped into her head. She immediately realized how absurd that was. A headless body was slumped on her couch and all she could think about is needing to buy another one. She chalked it up to shock.

  She took a moment to gather herself, not knowing if she could actually enunciate. “I guess I thought the body would turn into ash or something like that.”

  “It does.” Burt Smith admired the blood dripping off the sword before dropping it next to the severed head on the rug. He plopped down on the middle cushion between Nancy and the body. “You did a great job today.”

  “It happened just the way you planned it.” Nancy looked at Burt and instantly became a little wet below. It was not hard to see how desirable he was and it was impossible not to get lost in his eyes. She felt she was in a trance. “What does happen to all the people he turned?”

  “Well, when a vampire dies, all of his followers also die.”

  “Won’t the police find it weird that all those people died at once?”

  Burt chuckled. “The police won’t find any bodies. They’ll all turn to ash too.”

  “That’s good, I guess. It’s still kind of sad. All those people dying because of him.” Nancy gave a swipe of her hand in the general direction of Dave’s head.

  “No, it’s not sad. Actually, they have it pretty good. A human might live seventy or eighty years. The last dozen or so their bodies are slowly disintegrating and they live in constant pain. Even when they’re young, they still get hurt and every year that passes, their bodies can do less and less.”

  Burt leaned closer. “As a protégé, so to speak, they can live for centuries and their bodies never age. They never lose their beauty.”

  “But what about their family and friends?” Nancy cocked her head. “What about their mortal souls?”

  “Damn their mortal souls,” Burt screamed.

  Just for a second, all the beauty drained from his face leaving an essence of evil. The beauty returned just as quick but Nancy was no longer in a trance. “How long does it take before the body turns into ashes after the vampire dies?”

  Burt smirked and said, “Instantly.”

  “That can’t be because Dave’s body is still there.” The realization slowly crossed her face. “That means we killed him. He wasn’t a vampire like you said he was. I can’t believe you convinced me into doing this.”

  “It wasn’t hard. You wanted to believe it so badly.”

  “I’m so stupid to think vampires exist.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Dave over there thought that vampires existed too. In fact, he was sure he found one and was very close to discovering his identity. Obviously, I couldn’t allow that.”

  His words circled around Nancy’s brain until it slowly came to her. “You’re saying you are a vampire. That’s impossible. I would have known or felt it.” Her eyes trailed from the head to the body and back to Burt. She started slowly. “That’s insane. You’re just pulling my leg.” At the end of the sentence, she tried to bolt toward the door but Burt grabbed her and threw her back onto the couch.

  She fought to get free from his grasp but Burt had a superhuman grip on her which she couldn’t budge.

  “I really owe you a debt of gratitude.” Burt slowly caressed her cheek with his finger. “Dave knew I was coming after him but he always had friends around him. I can change my looks so they wouldn’t recognize me but I needed to get him alone. That’s where you came in. The one time a guy doesn’t want his friends around is when he thinks he’s going to get lucky.”

  Nancy shook her head in disbelieve. “Why would you run a site called killvampire if you’re a vampire?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” He flashed a broad smile. “I’m really going to enjoy this. You have such a delectable neck. I’d recommend laying back and enjoying it. It’s going to happen one way or the other so you might as well experience the ecstasy.”

  Nancy fought as Burt lowered his head toward her neck but was helpless to stop it. She felt two icy pricks plunge into her neck and heard little slurping sounds then heard nor felt anymore.

  * * *

  When Burt was done with his nourishment, he rose and gathered his sword. He wiped the excess blood off the couch. He didn’t need to bother cleaning up. She was good for another meal or two and it would be days until the bodies began to reek. When they did, he would leave it up to the police to piece together what happened here. It really didn’t matter because they would never blame the deaths on vampires. The chief of police would be fired within minutes of that press conference.

  As he was leaving, he muttered to himself, “Ever since I created the killvampire.com website, I’ve gotten more neck than ever before.”

  STEALING THE CITY’S DARK DREAM

  by Kevin Stadt

  A Neon Under Night Water Chronicle

  Marco Price lit a twenty-dollar Brazilian cigarette and squinted out the penthouse window. His eyes scanned the surfaces of the city below, Night Water. The sun had disappeared in the West hours ago, and now Night Water illuminated the center of the Yellow Sea. Far from the downtown high rises, toward the northern and eastern edges nearer the Korean Federation, ocean farms ringed the city, the night shift farmers’ boat lights rising and falling with the waves. Along the southern and western borders of the floating metropolis, massive rows of hydrokinetic towers stretched into the distance, each winking with intermittent lights. The city teemed with refugees and hustlers, entrepreneurs and addicts, mothers and squatters. It bristled with ad hoc architecture, the labyrinthine streets and alleys coursing with traffic in the ground and air, every imaginable space spawning apartments, pawn shops, labs, dload hubs, brothels, offices, genomod studios, noodle stalls, AI outlets, VR holes and aug markets, all glowing in purple, pink and blue neon.

  His gaze settled on a high rise under constru
ction nearby, the only one nearly as tall as Price Tower. If that construction continued, soon the Bennett building would be the new tallest structure in Night Water. William Bennett had not only challenged him in a recent directorate meeting, where corporate leaders approximated a metropolitan governing body, now he was publicly trying to outdo Marco.

  Arturo hailed him on his comm implant. Marco double blinked to switch his HUD on.

  “Hey boss, our boys gloved the hounds that have been sniffing around. A package deal, two of ‘em. And Bennett’s supposed to meet with his stein in about thirty. The cooties are in place.” Arturo’s massive bulk filled the HUD image, two hundred thirty pounds of bald, military-grade, bio-engineered muscle. The sounds of people trying to talk through gags in the background came through the audio.

  “Any idea which mainland government they’re from?”

  “Not yet. Figured you wanted me to save the fun for you.”

  “Good. I’m coming down now. I’ll see what those two have to say and then drop in on Bennett’s meeting.”

  “Sounds lux. See you in a few.”

  Marco stubbed out his cigarette and crossed the palatial penthouse to the elevator, past custom furniture handcrafted out of Bacote and Bubinga, through a library filled with Schopenhauer, Nietzsche and Sartre, past oil paintings of tornadoes, floods and earthquakes. As he waited, he examined his reflection in the full-length mirror, from the Chevalier leather shoes and tailored Barone suit up to his face. By all accounts, people said his face was perfect—square-jawed, symmetrical, ruggedly handsome. But he knew something was off in the eyes.

  “Grace?”

  Her soft voice responded. “I’m here.”

  “How about this?” Marco smiled, doing his best mask of happy excitement.

  “Mmmm… happiness, anticipation of something positive. Right?”

  “Yeah. Okay, how about this?” He consciously shifted his features around, thinking about the various eye and mouth muscle groups, trying to approximate how fear looked on others.