Bite Me: A Love Story Chapter 3

3. The Samurai of Jackson StreetTOMMYWhen he beginning arrived in San Francisco, Tommy Flood had shared a closet-size room with five Chinese men named Wong, each(prenominal) of whom had wanted to marry him.Its horrible- care being packed into a take- proscribed box of Kung Pao chickenhearted, Tommy had said, and although it wasnt like that at all, and Tommy was alone laborious to use colorful language which he felt was his duty as a writer, it was very move and timbreed strongly of garlic and sweaty Chinese guys.I think they want to pack my fudge, Tommy had said. Im from Indiana, we dont go for that kind of stuff.As it turned come forth, the Chinese guys didnt go for that kind of stuff either, precisely were, in fact, very much elicit in evolveting green cards.Fortunately, nevertheless a week later, in the place lot of the Marina Safeway where he worked iniquitys, Tommy met a gorgeous redhead named Jody Stroud, who rescued him from his confinement with the Chinese guys , by giving him her love, a skilful loft apartment, and immortality. Unfortunately, wee more than a month after that, their minion, Abby, had them bronzed while they slept, and Tommy awoke one night to find that despite his great lamia strength, he couldnt move a muscle.Id rather be trap in a take-out box of Kung Pao chicken, Tommy would clear said if he could subscribe said anything, which he couldnt.Meanwhile, refine next to him, sharing the same bronze shell, his beloved Jody drifted in a dream-state, a side instal of being able to turn herself to mist, a trick she had learned from Elijah Ben Sapir, her vampire sire. Between the dead rest of daylight, and the floating in a dream-world, she could endure decades in spite of appearance the statue. Tommy, however, had neer learned how to turn to mist. there had never been time to teach him. So deduce sun floor, his vampire senses came on like neon, and he experienced both second of his confinement with an electric inten sity that nearly had him vibrating in his shell-an alpha predator pacing the detain of his mind and shredding his reason. Of course, he did the only thing he could do he went barking at the moon mad.CHETHed have to lick about a mile of kitty- inch to get the taste of meter maidservant out of his mouth, yet Chet was up for it. He raked a couple of hind-leg kicks through the dust that was the meter maids remains, and headed crossways the highway and into the alley, where he curled up in the dark and set about blunting the hu domain taste.It was only a little over a month since the disused vampire had turned Chet, but already he was losing all sense of his former self. Time was, that he spent his days on Market Street, napping next to William, the dispossessed man who made his living with a paper cup and a sign that said, I AM HOMELESS AND MY drop IS HUGE. Chet was indeed very large, and while much of his volume had been fur, he had achieved a slant of thirty-five pounds on a diet of semi-used hamburgers and French fries donated by passersby outside of McDonalds.Now Chet hunt down the night, taking down nearly any warm-blooded creature he encountered rats, birds, squirrels, sanctifys, dogs, and even the occasional human. At first it had only been drunks and other stateless, and the first time he had drained one, his old friend William, who turned to dust in front of him, Chet yowled, ran, and hid below a Dumpster for the rest of the night and all of the next day. in that lo spillion was no regret, simply hunger and elation of the blood rush. It was beyond the satisfaction of the knock off, it was positively sexual, something Chet had never know as a normal cat, as hed been neutered by the animal shelter when still a kitten. But along with speed, strength, and senses far more sensitive than even a human-based vampire, Chet, like his human counter split, put that he was physically restored to perfection. In other words, his junk was working.He found that soon after the kill he desperately contracted to hump something, and the more squirmy and wailing, the better. Above the smells of bus fumes, cooking food, and urine-bathed curbs that pervaded the City, he caught the wind up of a female in heat. She readiness be a mile away, but given his impertinently heightened senses, hed find her.A wave of excitement undulated downstairs the fur of his spine, fur that had mostly grown plunk for since the humans had shaved him, mated in front of him, and drank his blood, which served to traumatize his little kitty consciousness in advance he was turned vampire, and motivated a whole new feeling hed grown into as a vampire cat vengeance. For since his metamorphosis, it wasnt just his senses that had expanded. His brain, which before had run a loop of eat-nap-crap, repeat, was now growing into a whole new awareness, getting bigger, even as Chet grew. He was a good sixty pounds now, and somewhat as smart as a dog, where before hed only been a little brighter than a brick. get behind. The hated. in that respect was dog on the air. Coming closer. He could smell it-them-two of them. And now he could hear them. He arose from his butt bath and screeched like an electrified lynx. In response, the neighborhood echoed with a chorus of yowls from a dozen other vampire cats.THE EMPERORSteady, cuted seamows, said the Emperor. He laid his hand across the neck of the golden retriever and scratched under the get up of the Boston terrier, who squirmed in the great pocket of the Emperors overcoat, looking like a frantic, black-and-white, bug-eyed kangaroo mutant. drift Cat Cat Cat Cat barked Bummer, with a spray of doggie slobber across the Emperors palm. Cat Murder, pain, fire, evil, cat Cant you smell them? Everywhere Must chase, chase, chase, bite, bite, bite, let me go you insane, oblivious old man, Im trying to save you, for the love of God, CAT CAT CATUnfortunately, Bummer only spoke dog, and while the Emperor could t ell that the Boston terrier was upset, he had no base why. (Anyone who translates dog knows that only about a third of what Bummer said actually meant anything. The rest was just noise he needed to support. Human speech is about the same.) Lazarus, the golden retriever, having battled vampires on and off for the blend two months, and being steady by nature, was much calmer about the whole thing, but despite Bummers drift to overreact, he had to admit, the smell of cat was tall in the air, and what was more disturbing, it wasnt just cat, it was dead cat. Dead cat walking. Wait, what was that? Not cat-cats. Oh, this was not good.Hes right about the cat, Lazarus ruffed, nudging the Emperors leg. We should get out of this neighborhood, maybe go over to trade union Beach and see if anyone dropped a beef jerky or something. I could sure use a beef jerky. Or we can stay and die. Whatever. Im good with it.Easy, men, said the Emperor, alert now that something was amiss. He knelt down, h is knees noise like rusted hinges, and as he looked just about, kneaded the spot between Bummers ears as if he were readying to make doggy-brain biscuits. He was a great, woolly, thunderstorm of a man-broad shouldered and gray bearded, fine witted and fiercely loyal to the state of his city. He had lived on the streets of San Francisco as long as anyone could remember, and while tourists saw him as a raggedy, homeless wretch, the locals viewed him as a fixture, a rolling landmark, a spirit, and a conscience, and for the most part, treated him with the deference they might pay royalty, despite the fact that he was a raving loon.The street was deserted, but a half(a) a block away the Emperor saw the ternary-wheeled cart of an S.F.P.D. parking enforcement officer, stopped dirty dog an illegally parked Audi. The carts rotating yellow caution lights chased themselves around the surrounding buildings like drunken, jaundiced Tinkerbells, but there was no officer in sight.Strange. Its long past time when a meter maid should be working. Perhaps we should investigate, gents.But before he could stand, Bummer leapt out of the Emperors pocket and made a beeline for the cart, trumpeting himself into the ill with a staccato barking fit. Lazarus took off after the black-and-white fur-rocket, and the old man ambled along behind, as prodigal as his great, arthritic legs would carry him.They found Bummer on the far side of the Audi, snorting and snuffling inside an empty law of nature uniform, and covered with a fine gray powder. The Emperors eyes went wide. He backed across the sidewalk and stood against the fire accession of one of the industrial lofts that lined the street. He had seen this before. He knew the signs. But when he had seen the old vampire and his companions board an enormous yacht in the Bay over a month ago, he thought his city rid of the bloodsucking fiends. What now?There was a crackling nonoperational noise from the law cart a radio receiver. Ca ll it in. Alert his people to the danger. He rolled to the cart, fumbled with the accession catch, and reached for the microphone.Hello, he said into the microphone. This is the Emperor of San Francisco, Emperor of San Francisco, protector of Alcatraz, Sausalito, and Treasure Island, and Id like to report a vampire. The radio continued to crackle and distant voices ghosted through the ether, uninterrupted.Lazarus padded to the old mans side and barked furiously, You have to push the button. You have to push the button. Unfortunately, while the noble retriever understood English, he only spoke dog, and the Emperor did not get the instruction. sack Button Button Button Bummer barked, springing up and down in front of the police cart. He scurried around to the door and jumped in on the Emperors lap to show him.Yeah, that helps, growled Lazarus sarcastically. Golden retrievers are not a very sarcastic breed, and he felt a little ashamed and, well, catlike, using that tone of voice. Oka y. Button Button Button Uh-oh.Button Button Button Uh-oh, what? barked Bummer.A sententious ruff from the retriever Cat.Lazarus boiled out a low growl and laid his ears back against his head.The Emperor saw two of them cats, coming down the sidewalk toward them. But they didnt look quite natural. The light from the police cart was reflecting back from the cats eyes like red coals.A screech, there were two more coming across the street. Lazarus turned to face them, snarling now. A chorus of hisses from behind. The Emperor looked in the rearview mirror to see three more cats stalking from behind.Quick, Lazarus, in the cart. Up, boy, in the cart.Lazarus was spinning now, trying to watch all of the cats at once, warning them off with bared teeth and briery hair. But the cats came on, baring their own teeth. summon now, said the Emperor into the microphone.Something arrive hard on the ceiling of the cart and Bummer yelped. Another thump and the Emperor looked back to see a large cat in the bed of the cart, coming up on two legs and trying to claw around the back windowpane. The old man pulled the door shut. Run, Lazarus, runLazarus caught the first cat in his jaws and was shaking it furiously when the rest fell upon him.STEVETheres nefarious shit afoot, Foo, said Abby. Bring portable sun and fry these nosferatu kitties before they nom everyone in the hood.Steven Foo Dog Wong had no idea what his girlfriend, Abby, was talking about, and it wasnt the first time. In fact, much of the time he had no idea what she was talking about, but he had learned if he was patient, and listened, and more important, agreed with her, she would mercilessly sex him up, which he liked quite a bit, and occasionally he got the message. He used the same strategy with his parental grandmother (without the sexing-up part), who spoke an obscure, country dialect of Cantonese, that sounded to the uninitiated like someone beating a chicken to death with a banjo. Just wait, and all would bec ome clear. This time, however, Abby, whose tone ran from tragically romantic to passionately dismissive, was sound much more urgent, and the patience gambit wasnt going to work. Her voice in his Bluetooth headset was like having a vicious fairy bite his ear.Im in the middle of something, Abby. Ill be home as soon as I finish up here.Now, Foo. Theres a herd, or flock, or a-what do you call a fortune of kitties?A box? Foo offered.FucktardA keistertard of kitties? Okay, sure, that could be it. A pride of lions, a murder of crowsNo. You fucktard Theres a bunch of vampire kitties about to eat that crazy Emperor guy and his dogs right outside on the street. You need to come save them.A bunch? Steve was having a hard time getting his head around the idea. Hed only recently gotten his head around the idea of one vampire cat, but a bunch, well, that was more. He was just a couple of months away from having his masters in biochem at age twenty-one-he wasnt a fucktard. Define a bunch, he s aid.Many. I cant count them because theyre stalking the golden retriever.And how do you know theyre vampire kitties?Oh, because I force blood samples from them, ran it in that centrifuge thingy of yours, prepared some slides, and looked at the blood cell structure under a microscope, duh?No, really, he said. She was flunking high school biology, theres no way she prepared blood slides. And besides-Of course not, you douche nozzle, I know theyre vampires because theyre stalking a golden retriever and a homeless fuck whos hiding in the vaporized meter maids cart. Thats not standard kitty behavior.Vaporized meter maid?The one Chet ate-sucked her to dust. Come now, Foo, turn your sunbeam full-on and get your luscious ninja ass over here. Steve had rigged the hatchback of his tricked-out Honda polite with high intensity UV floodlights, which hed used to flash fry a number of vampires, thus frugality Abby and, for the first time in his life, having a girlfriend and someone who thought he was cool.I cant come right away, Abby. The sun lights arent in the car.Oh my fucking God, theres some little old guy with a chew out coming out of the alley. Well, hes toast. FuckWhat?FuckWhat?Oh fuckWhat? What? What?Oh-my-fucking-god-ponies-on-a-stickAbby, you need to be more specific.Its not a cane, Foo, its a sword.What?Come now, Foo. Bring the sun.I cant, Abby. My car is full of rats.THE EMPERORThe Emperor watched in shame as the cats leapt onto the back of his noble captain, Lazarus. The golden retriever shook himself violently, dislodging two of the fiends, but they were replaced by two more, and three more leapt on top of them, nearly bringing Lazarus to the ground. But they werent pack hunters, and as each maneuvered for the throat, another(prenominal) good timeer was pushed off, his claws shredding both predator and prey as he fell.Blood splattered the windscreen of the police cart. Bummer edged around inside the tiny cabin, barking and snorting, and throwing himself against the glass, covering everything with angry dog slobber.Run, Lazarus, run The Emperor pounded on the glass, consequently pushed his forehead against it as he tried to squint back tears of anguish and frustration.No He would not do it. He would not watch his companion slaughtered. Outrage filled the ancient, boiler-tank of a man and condensed to courage. He was fighting the door latch when half a cat hit the side window and slid down trailing gore.The door handle snapped off in his hand and he threw it to the floor of the cart. Bummer in a flash attacked it and broke a tooth on the metal. Through the haze of blood spray, the Emperor could see another manikin in the street. A boy-no, a man, but a small man, Asian-wearing a fluorescent orange porkpie hat hat and socks, tight plaid trousers that looked as if theyd been teleported out of the 1960s, and a gray cardigan sweater. The little man was brandishing a samurai sword, bringing it down again and again on Lazarus in quick s napping motions, but before he could cry out, the Emperor saw that the sword wasnt even grazing the retrievers coat. With each stroke one of the cats fell away, beheaded or cut in half, both halves squirming on the pavement.There was no spinning, no wind-up or flourish to the fencers movements, just grim efficiency, like a chef chopping vegetables. As his targets moved, he pivoted and stepped just enough to let the cut, then snapped the blade back and sent it to its next destination.The weight and fury removed from his back, Lazarus looked around and whimpered, which translated to Whaaa-?The swordsman was relentless, step, cut, step, cut. Two cats came at him from under a Volvo and he quickly retreated and swung the sword in a quick, low arc that approximated a golf stroke and sent their heads back over the car to bounce off a metal garage door.Behind the Emperor warned.But it was too late. The low attack had thrown the swordsman off-a heavy-bodied Siamese cat launched itself from the roof of a van across the street and landed on the little mans back. The long sword was useless at such close range. The swordsman bowleg in pain, even as the Siamese clawed its way up his back. He spun, then threw his feet out before him and fell hard on his back, but the Siamese took the impact and dug its fangs into the swordsmans shoulder. A half-dozen vampire cats came scurrying out from under cars toward the struggling swordsman.Lazarus, his fur matted with blood, caught one of the cats by the haunch and bit to the bone. The cat screamed and squirmed in the retrievers jaws, trying to claw his eyes. The others fell on the swordsman with fang and claw.The Emperor threw his shoulder against the Plexiglas door of the police cart, but there was no room to move, to gain momentum, and while the entire cart rocked and went up on two wheels under his weight, the door latch would not give. He watched in horror as the swordsman writhed under his attackers.The Emperor heard a steel fi re door smasher brick and light spilled across the sidewalk and into the street. Out of the doorway ran a thin, impossibly pale girl with chromatic pigtails wearing pink motocross boots, pink fishnet stockings, a green plastic skirt, wraparound sunglasses, and a black trounce jacket that looked studded with glass. Before he could warn her, the girl ran into the street and shouted, You motherfucking kitties need to step the fuck offThe vampire cats attacking the swordsman looked up and hissed, which translated from vampire cat, meant Whaaa-?She ran right at the swordsman, waving her blazon as if shooing birds or trying to dry some particularly stubborn nail polish and howler like a madwoman. The cats turned their attention to her, and were crouching, readying to leap, when her jacket lit up like the sun. There was a collective screech of agony from the vampire cats as all around the street, cats and cat parts smoked, then ignited. Burning cats made for the alley across the stree t or tried to hide under cars, but the thin girl ran after them, darting here and there, until each ignited, then burned and reduced itself first to a bubbling puddle of fur and goo, and finally, a pile of fine ash.In less than a minute, the street was quiet again. The lights on the girls jacket went dark. The swordsman climbed to his feet and fitted his orange porkpie hat back on his head. He was bleeding from spots on his back and arms, and there was blood on his plaid gasp and orange socks, but whether it was his or the cats was impossible to tell. He stood before the thin girl and bowed deeply.Domo arigato, he said, keeping his eyes at her feet.Dozo, said the girl. Your kitty-slaying skills are, if I may say so, the shit.The swordsman bowed again, short and shallow, then turned and trotted across the street, down the alley, and out of sight.Lazarus was digging at the Plexiglas door of the police cart with the pads of his paws, as if he might polish his way through to release hi s master. Abby scratched his nose, nearly the only part of him not covered in blood, and opened the door.Hey, she said.Hey, said the Emperor.He stepped out of the cart and looked around. The street was painted with blood for half a block, punctuated by piles of ash and the occasional charred flea collar. Parked cars were sprayed in red mist, even the security lights above several fire doors were speckled with gore. Acrid smoke from earnest cats hung low in the air, and on the sidewalk greasy gray ash spilled out of the sleeves and collar of the parking officers uniform.Well, you dont see that every day, said the Emperor, as a police cruiser rounded the corner, the red and grimy lights raking the building.The cruiser stopped and doors flew open. The driver stood behind his door, his hand on his gun.Whats going on here? he said, trying to keep his eyes on the Emperor and not look at the carnage that border them.Nothing, Abby said.