Suck It Up (4 page)

THE LEAGUERS' NEW COMMANDMENTS

1. You shall not age.

2. You shall not drink anything but properly milked animal blood, or artificial blood substitutes.

3. You shall not frighten Lifers with your powers.

4. You shall not destroy your maker.

5. You shall not destroy, or make, a blood child.

5

Catching a Ride

Back in his dorm room, Morning tried to shut out the sound of cadets outside the door. They were exchanging raucous goodbyes before boarding buses that would take them on the first leg of their journeys to new hometowns.

He sat on his bed and flipped through his tattered copy of
Watchmen
. He had read it so many times the graphic novel's vividly colored pages and blood-soaked panels had faded. But while the colors had lost their punch, the story hit him with a disturbing immediacy.
Watchmen
was the saga of masked heroes being murdered by a supervillain. Now that Morning had impulsively accepted Birnam's challenge to be “a hero to all Leaguers,” each gruesome death of a masked hero in
Watchmen
seemed to foreshadow his own destruction. If he did become the first vampire to come out, there was no shortage of forces that would rather destroy him than see vampires accepted as the newest minority with special needs.

His grinding doubts were interrupted by another boisterous farewell out on the walkway. It reminded him that he could still chicken out. Before leaving the office, Birnam had told him that if he had second thoughts he only had to walk out of Leaguer Mountain with the others, get on the bus headed for San Diego, and begin the quiet, secretive life of a Leaguer. There would be no shame in choosing comic books, video games, and a Star Wars stormtrooper suit over what might be a suicide mission.

Outside his room, the goodbyes grew further apart.

Birnam had also told him that he would instruct the driver of the San Diego bus to wait an extra five minutes in case Morning got cold feet.

The walkway fell silent.

The bell in the clock tower rang twice, echoing off the mountain's dome. Morning snatched his backpack off the bed and started out. He stopped at the door and looked at the book in his hand. The cover of
Watchmen
was an extreme close-up of a yellow smile button. It featured one black oval of an eye, crossed by an arrow-shaped splatter of blood. As he gazed down at it, a smile tugged at his mouth. He tossed the book on the bed. It was still his favorite novel of all time. He just didn't think it was a good idea to begin his journey with a book that ended in a lowering curtain of blood.

Morning stepped onto the walkway and climbed down the three ladders that provided the only access to the Academy's cliff-dwelling dormitory. Carving the students' dorm into the inside wall of the mountain served a dual purpose. The long climb up and down was a constant test of a vampire's urge to CD into a Flyer and skip the ladders. Not yielding to temptation was the keystone of the Leaguer Way.

As he hurried across the empty parade grounds and passed the grandstand, an old man cleaning the stands saw him and called out, “Better step on it, Morning, you're gonna miss your bus.”

He stopped and recognized Reggie, the school's janitor. “I already did.”

Reggie looked baffled. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “A little change in my Leaguer Goals.”

The janitor shot him a disapproving frown. “You're not even out of the mountain and you're changing your Goals?”

Morning flashed a smile. “I was gonna be a stormtrooper in the Rose Bowl Parade. Now I'm gonna be Luke Skywalker.”

         

Morning hurried down a lighted tunnel until it ended at a rough-hewn wall of rock: Leaguer Gate. He stepped under a red light protruding from the wall and pressed a large button. A door in the rock slowly opened.

Walking through it, he stepped onto a dust-covered stage at the rear of a dilapidated western saloon. He looked down and marveled at the lack of footprints in the dusty floor. A half hour earlier, graduates had walked through the saloon on their way out of the mountain. He glanced up at the sprinkler heads in the ceiling. They didn't spray water, they sprayed dirt to cover all traces of vampires coming in and out of the mountain.

As he pushed through the half of a swinging door still hanging in the saloon entrance, he triggered a motion sensor. The sprinklers released a fresh cloud of track-covering dust.

Morning raised an arm against the harsh desert light. In the last ten months, the only times he'd stepped outside the mountain had been on field trips for Vampire Health, during the section on solar phobia. All vampires were “born” with two things: bloodlust and an irrational fear of sunlight. But their fear was no different than a nonswimmer's fear of water. The nonswimmer overcame his fear by learning to swim. The vampire overcame his by learning to “sun-bathe.” Conquering solar phobia began with a sunlamp, moved to a tanning bed, escalated to a sunrise, and climaxed with a high-noon walk in the desert sun.

When Morning's eyes adjusted to the light, he looked down a dusty street choked with tumbleweed. The secret entrance to Leaguer Mountain looked like any other ghost town in the Sierra Nevadas. The silence was broken by the
thwop
of a helicopter. The chopper kicked up a dust cloud as it landed in the street. Its rotor torqued down, the dust cleared, and Morning recognized the pilot in the glass bubble. Mr. Birnam was right on time.

SUNSCREEN OR SUN SCREAM?

One of the few things you Lifers got right in your books and movies about vampires is our abject fear of sunlight. Well, half right. Let us shed some light on our solar phobia.

Long ago, we were scared of sunlight for good reason. We were a nocturnal race; we only came out at night. Our dread of daylight was so irrational, so psychosomatic, that if we were exposed to it our skin would burn. And if exposed to it long enough, our apoplectic panic would ignite us in a fireball.

If you find such terror and its fiery result hard to believe, let us remind you of a similar but milder reaction in Lifers. Have you ever seen a student go to the front of the class to make a presentation, and be so terrified that his skin grows red and splotchy? Or worse, breaks out in hives? Multiply that fear a thousandfold, and you might burst into flames too.

Sometimes, people do burst into flames. You call it autoimmolation. But it's as rare as the few vampires who still suffer from solar phobia. We call these vampires
Loners
. If you ever suspect someone to be a Loner, hit them with sunlight. And stand back.

Leaguer vampires don't avoid the sun or seek it out. It's not like we can get a tan. Our skin replenishes itself too quickly. The only “sunscreen” we Leaguers need (so we don't sun scream) is SPF: Solar Phobia Fixer.

6

Second Thoughts

A half hour later, Morning and Birnam boarded a jet on an abandoned runway in Death Valley.

Morning had never flown in a private jet before. It was like being in someone's plush living room. He sat on a leather banquette across from Birnam. After takeoff, a pretty Leaguer flight attendant appeared and served Morning a can of Blood Lite, room temperature. She gave Birnam an iced drink she called “Antelope O-Negative, on the rocks.”

Birnam raised his glass. “To your mission.”

As Morning clanked Birnam's glass with his can, it hit him how his number one mission at the Academy was about to be turned on its head: from trying not to be noticed to stepping into the spotlight, from being freak of his class to being freak of the world. Then he remembered the question that, in his nervous excitement, he had totally forgotten to ask. “Where are we going?”

“We're flying into history.” Birnam took a swig of his drink. “Having any second thoughts?”

“Not really.”

Birnam feigned surprise. “Really?”

He exhaled. “Okay, about a million.”

“All right, let's deal with them.”

Morning started down his list. “When I come out, so will the vampire slayers.”

“It's been so long since Lifers believed in us, they've forgotten how to slay a vampire. They think all it takes is a wooden stake. They've been watching too many of their own movies.” Birnam swirled the ice in his glass. “What's your next worry?”

“To prove I'm a vampire I'll have to take one of the Six Forms, right?”

“Right.”

“But that violates the Loners' third commandment: Thou shalt not leave a mortal with memory of thy darkest powers. The punishment for breaking their commandment is destruction, and if anyone knows how to slay a vampire, Loners do.”

Birnam nodded. “Yes, that is a concern. But I know how Loners think, and they're going to face a very tough choice. If they destroy you for coming out, they'll break the peace treaty that's held for so long, and they'll reignite the war. With their diminished numbers, they wouldn't stand a chance. They'd face total annihilation. I'm sure they'll pick the lesser of two evils: letting you go unpunished.”

“You're sure of that?”

Birnam studied him with a knowing smile. “I can't tell you everything, but there are a few Leaguers who have Goals that involve passing themselves off as Loners and spying. The intel I'm getting from them says this is going to be a slam dunk.”

Morning wasn't sure where he'd heard that promise before, but something about it bugged him. “Okay, even if it's a slam dunk, will I have protection, you know, like bodyguards?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason Jackie Robinson didn't have bodyguards when he integrated baseball. For the same reason the first woman cadet to attend West Point didn't have bodyguards. You'll be all by yourself because we need to see if the world is ready for the change, if they're ready to accept us.” The chair leather creaked as he leaned forward. “Morning, the mission
is
dangerous. You
are
a guinea pig. And if you're having serious doubts, you don't have to do it. I'll be disappointed, but I'll understand. If you want, we can turn around right now, fly to San Diego, and I'll take you to the biggest comic-book store in town so you can start on your Leaguer Goals.”

While his insides churned like a cement mixer, Morning's eyes didn't break from Birnam's. “I left my copy of
Watchmen
at the Academy.”

“Do you need another?”

He knew this was his last chance to back out. A thousand voices in his head screamed,
Don't do it!
But something in his gut said,
You have to.
It was a chance to reclaim his life, even if it ended in a lowering curtain of blood. “No,” he said with a nervous smile. “Why
read
about superheroes, when you can
be
one?” Then he raised his last worry. “If I am attacked, can I defend myself?”

“You know the rules,” Birnam said, referring to the Leaguers' third commandment. “No frightening Lifers with your powers. But if you're facing destruction, you can use one of the Six Forms to escape, as long as no one gets hurt.” He leaned back. “Does that cover all your concerns?”

“Except for the one about forgetting to wear my Epidex.”

Birnam laughed and drained his drink. After pulverizing an ice cube, he held Morning with hard eyes. “Now, let me tell you
my
biggest worry. It's greater than a Lifer rediscovering the secrets of vampire slaying, or a Loner wanting to punish you for violating an old commandment. The greatest threat to your mission doesn't come from without.” He pointed at Morning's chest. “It comes from within.”

Morning's face scrunched. “Within?”

“You claim you've never felt it, but its seed still lurks inside you. Bloodlust.”

Morning breathed a sigh of relief. For a second he'd thought Birnam was going to hit him with another dark secret he didn't know about. “I know the seed of bloodlust is always there. It's the first thing we learned in Bloodlust Management. But we learned techniques to keep it in check.”

“Yes, and those skills are about to be severely tested.”

“They won't be tested any more than if I'd gone to San Diego, and lived a closeted life in the middle of a bunch of Lifers.”

“Oh, yes, they will.”

“How?”

“The answer lies in the definition of bloodlust.” Birnam opened his hands. “Let's hear it.”

Morning bristled at being tested again. Why couldn't Birnam just get to the point? He rattled off the answer. “Bloodlust is more than a craving for a particular taste, like hot cocoa after sledding. It's a deadly cocktail of thirst and envy. The thirst is for the liquid we need to survive. The envy is for the human dreams we had to abandon when we became vampires.”

“That's right.” Birnam nodded. “Cradle-to-grave mortals are blessed with something we no longer possess: a deadline, the ticking clock of life that whips desire and ambition into fantastic human dreams. Immortality is a clock without hands. It robs us of the very things a short life span inspires: will, aspirations, dreams. All we have left is envy. Envy of Lifers for their zeal and passion to achieve their dreams before they die. Yes, bloodlust is an act of jealous rage, but there is one other thing that makes it such a powerful urge. Human blood carries the very
taste
of what we've lost: the ambrosia of human aspiration.”

Birnam's lips parted in a quick smile, and Morning could have sworn he glimpsed the emerging tips of fangs.

“Even talking about it can be dangerous,” Birnam added.

“Then maybe we shouldn't talk about it,” Morning suggested, hoping to drop a subject that was giving him a headache. “Besides, if thirst and envy are what kick-start bloodlust, now there's even less reason to worry about it. Why should I be jealous of some Lifer's dream when you're letting me go after my old dream of being a superhero?”

“Because chasing a dream is not achieving it. That's what makes you a double experiment, both for Lifers and Leaguers.”

Morning wagged his head in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“No Leaguer has ever been allowed to return to the dreams that died when he became a vampire. There's no telling what other desires and cravings it might stir up inside you. That's why I've chosen you. Your bloodlust is buried deeper than any Leaguer I've ever known. Keeping it buried will be your ultimate test. If you succeed, Worldwide Out Day will become a possibility. If you fail, and succumb to bloodlust, we will never live peacefully and openly among Lifers.”

Morning tried to dodge the enormity of Birnam's challenge with a quip. “So you're saying I've got two choices. Be the superhero, or be the supergoat.”

Birnam acknowledged his flippancy with a smile. “Pretty much. Now, do you want to know where we're going?”

Morning was thrilled to change the subject. “Where?”

Birnam gave him a sly grin. “Your hometown.”

“New York?”

Birnam nodded.

Morning fought the urge to do an end-zone dance that included all Six Forms and half the species on earth. “Cool.”