looking down upon them as if she were their leader.
As one, they all raised their palms and slapped them against their chests.
“You have given birth to a nation,” they boomed, their voice as one, echoing off the walls. “You have given birth to a nation!”
The vampires let out a great shout, and as they did, Scarlet took it all in, feeling as if, finally, she had found her people.
Scarlet’s eyes flew open as she woke to the sound of breaking glass. She found herself lying face-down on the cement, her cheeks pushed up against it, cold and wet and damp. She saw ants crawling toward her, and placed her palms on the rough cement, sat up, and brushed them away.
Scarlet was cold, achy, her neck and back twisted from having slept in this uncomfortable position. Most of all, she was disoriented, freaked out at not recognizing her surroundings. She was underneath a small local bridge, lying on the cement slope beneath it, as dawn broke above her. It stank of urine and stale beer down here, and Scarlet saw the cement was all marked up with graffiti, and as she studied the ground, she saw empty beer cans, refuse, used needles. She realized she was in a bad place. She looked around, blinking, and had no idea where she was, or how she got here.
There came again the sound of breaking glass, accompanied by shuffling feet, and Scarlet turned quickly, her senses on alert.
About ten feet away stood four bums dressed in rags, looking either drunk or on drugs – or just out for violence. Unshaven older men, they stared at her as if she were their play-thing, lecherous smiles on their faces, revealing rotting yellow teeth. But they were strong, she could tell, broad and tall, and by the way they approached, one of them throwing a beer bottle and smashing it under the bridge, she knew their intentions were not kind.
Scarlet tried to remember how she had gotten herself to this place. It was a place she never would have willingly gone. Had she been brought here? Her first thought was that maybe she had been raped; but she looked down and saw herself fully clothed, and knew that wasn’t it. She thought back, trying to remember the night before.
But it was all a painful blur. Scarlet remembered in flashes: a bar at the side of Route 9… an altercation… But it was all so hazy. She couldn’t quite recall the details.
“You know you’re under our bridge, right?” one of the bums said as they all approached, getting ever closer. Scarlet scurried back on her hands and knees, then rose to her feet, facing them, shaking inside but not wanting to appear scared.
“No one comes here without paying the toll,” another said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“That was your mistake,” another said, in a deep guttural voice, smiling back at her.
“Please,” Scarlet said, trying to sound tough, but her voice shaky, as she stepped back, “I don’t want any trouble. I’m going to leave now. I’m sorry.”
Scarlet turned to leave, her heart pounding in her chest, when suddenly, she heard footsteps running, and then felt an arm wrap around her throat, holding a knife to her throat, his awful beer breath in her face.
“No you’re not, honey,” he said. “We haven’t even begun to get acquainted.”
Scarlet struggled, but the man was too strong for her, his stubble scraping her cheek as he rubbed his face against hers.
Soon the other three appeared before her, and Scarlet cried out as she struggled to no avail, and then felt their awful hands running down her stomach. One of them reached her belt line.
Scarlet bucked and twisted, trying to get away – but they were too strong. One of them reached down, yanked off her belt, and threw it, and she heard the clang of metal on the cement.
“Please, let me go!” Scarlet screamed, as she squirmed.
The fourth bum reached down and grabbed her jeans by the waist and started to pull on them, trying to yank them off of her. Scarlet knew that, in moments, if she didn’t do something, she would be hurt.
Something inside her snapped. She didn’t understand what it was, but it completely overwhelmed her, an energy flooding through her, rising up through her feet, up through her legs, her torso. She felt it like a searing heat, shooting through her shoulders, her arms, all the way to her fingertips. Her face flushed, the hair stood on end all over her body, and she felt a fire burning inside. She felt a strength she didn’t understand, felt herself to be stronger than all these men, stronger than the universe.
She then felt something else: a primordial rage. It was a new feeling. No longer did she have a desire to get away – but now she wanted to stay right here and make these men pay. To tear them apart, limb by limb.
And finally, she felt one more thing: hunger. A deep gnawing hunger that made her need to feed.
Scarlet leaned back and snarled, a sound that was scary even to her; her fangs extended from her teeth as she leaned back and kicked the man reaching for her jeans. The kick was so vicious, it sent the man flying through the air a good twenty feet, until he smacked his head against the concrete wall. He slumped down, unconscious.
The others stepped back, releasing their grip, mouths open in shock and fear as they stared back at Scarlet. They looked as if they realized they’d just made a very big mistake.
Before they could react, Scarlet wheeled around and elbowed the man holding her, cracking him across the jaw so hard, he spun around twice and collapsed, unconscious.
Scarlet turned, snarling, and faced the other two, like a beast looking down at its prey. The two bums stood there, eyes wide with fear, and Scarlet heard a noise and looked down to see one of them pee in his pants.
Scarlet reached down, picked her belt up off the floor, and walked forward casually.
The man stumbled backwards, petrified.
“No!” he whimpered. “Please! I didn’t mean it!”
Scarlet lunged forward and wrapped the belt around the man’s throat. She then lifted him with one hand, his feet dangling off the ground, the man gasping, clutching at the belt. She held him there, high overhead, until finally he stopped moving and slumped down, dead.
Scarlet turned and faced the final bum, who was crying, too scared to run. Fangs extended, she stepped forward and sank them into the man’s throat. He shook in her arms, then in moments, he lay there in a pool of blood, limp.
Scarlet heard a distant scurrying, and she looked over to see the first bum rising, moaning, slowly getting to his feet. He looked at her, eyes wide in fear, and scurried to his hands and knees, trying to get away.
She bore down on him.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered, crying. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what you are, but I didn’t mean it.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she answered, her voice dark, inhuman. “Just like I don’t mean what I’m about to do to you.”
Scarlet picked him up by the back of the shirt, spun around, and threw him with all her might – straight up.
The bum went flying like a missile, up underneath the bridge, his head and shoulders smashing through the cement and popping out the other side, the sound of rubble falling everywhere as she sent him
