Vampire Miami (10 page)

Selah stood stiffly, and then by slow degrees
melted into the hug. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell
of her grandmother, so familiar even after all these years. They
stood still in the kitchen, a column of love, and then Mama B
stepped back and held Selah by both shoulders and looked her in the
eyes.

“I ought to whup your ass,” she said. Selah saw
how red her grandmother’s eyes were. Had she been up all night?

Selah smiled awkwardly. “You might have to get
in line,” she said, and her grandmother snorted and pulled her in
for one last tight hug and then let her go.

“Girl, you’ve been in town one night and already
you’ve aged me ten years. I need my coffee. You want a cup?”

“Sure,” said Selah, and sat on a small
stepladder set in the corner. She watched as Mama B poured hot
water into a second cup, and the smell of coffee redoubled.
Realized that she had already put the coffee powder in the mug
before she’d arrived.

“How do you take it?” asked Mama B. “Sugar?
Milk?”

“Lots of both. Thanks.” It felt like they were
both walking on thin ice, that this feeling between them was as
delicate and new as a dewy spider web. Selah laced her fingers
between her legs and squeezed them with her knees. “How,” she
began, but paused to fight back a yawn, “how do
you
like
your coffee?”

“Black.” Mama B put a tablespoon of sugar into
the festive red mug, and then pulled a small jar of milk out from a
cooler by her foot and unscrewed the cap.
Of course,
thought
Selah.
No fridge
. Mama B poured in what was probably goat’s
milk, and then stirred the cup and handed it over. She then took a
seat at a small round table that was shoved in the corner, and
turned the chair to face her granddaughter.

“Now,” said Mama B, “let me take a look at you.”
Selah blinked, and sipped her coffee. It was good. Strong, a little
harsh, and the milk tasted funny. But it was hot and sweet and
absolutely delicious. She thought of Maria Elena’s
cortaditos
, and wondered if they’d tasted like this. Mama B
was staring at her—she hadn’t been kidding—and Selah did her best
to hide behind the mug, sipping continuously in sudden
embarrassment. Finally, Mama B nodded.

“I’m not going to ask what happened last night.
Probably none of my damn business. But you’re here, and you seem to
be in a better mood.” Selah felt a brief flicker of annoyance, but
promptly squashed it. “So I’m just going to thank the Lord and say
welcome home.”

Home.
Selah felt a pang in her heart.
This was home now. It was true. Simple and final. Selah sipped the
coffee. “Thanks,” she said. “And, well, sorry.”

Mama B made a
tsking
sound. “Let’s both
agree to not apologize, or we’ll be here all day. What’s happened
is in the past. Today is a brand new start. I’m heading over to
Jackson Hospital today to pick up some supplies, submit some
reports, stuff like that. You want to come?”

That rang a bell. “The embassy? Sure.”

“Good. We’ll be heading out in an hour. Why
don’t you take that time to unpack and make yourself at home, and
I’ll let you know when we’re about ready to head out.”

“OK,” said Selah, in no hurry to get up.

“Good, then. We’ll have lots of time to talk,
but I need to make the rounds and check in on people before we go.
I’ll see you soon, love.” Mama B stood, took a final sip from her
coffee, and set it down. She walked out past Selah, touching her
shoulder as she went, and Selah sat still in the kitchen, listening
to her grandmother gather her things in the living room and then
leave quietly.

She reached for her pocket, only to remember her
Omni was gone.
Damn it.
She’d have to find a way to get
online, if only to change her passwords, tell people she wasn’t
dead. Maybe at the embassy. It was quiet in the kitchen. The light
was slowly changing from delicate dawn to the warmer hues of early
morning. She fought back another yawn. Maybe she’d rest just a
little.

¬¬

Selah awoke with a hand on her shoulder.
Blinked, looked up, and saw Mama B looking down at her. “You want
to stay this time? Sleep in?”

“No,” said Selah, meaning yes, sitting up. She
rubbed her face and saw that she had simply curled up above her
suitcase. Swung her feet to the ground.

“All right. We’re leaving now. C’mon.” Mama B
walked out, closed the door. Selah quickly changed into a fresh
pair of jeans and a light yellow shirt. She badly wanted a shower,
but that seemed too complicated right now. Came out, followed Mama
B downstairs, and then met with Cholly and a lady called Laura
Burns in the lobby. Where Mama B was large and solid and powerful,
Laura was slender, energetic. They exchanged hellos, and then both
Mama B and Cholly drew their guns and stepped out into the street.
They paused to look up and down the block, and then motioned for
Laura and Selah to come out get into the rose-colored jeep.

Selah got into the back of the jeep with Cholly
and leaned her head back, watched the dawn city come to life for
about five minutes as the two women chatted up front, and then fell
asleep once more.

She awoke to the sight of armed US soldiers.
Mama B had reached a checkpoint, and for a wild moment, Selah
thought she was going free. That thought died quickly—they were in
line at a large gate, and sticking her head out the window, Selah
gazed at what had once been Jackson Memorial Hospital.

Large buildings rose around her, great white
square blocks with aquamarine windows. Trees had been chopped down
in large numbers along the pavement, leaving ugly stumps, and the
broad street on which they idled had been savagely crossed by an
imposingly high barbed wire topped wall. A broad gate was open
before them, cars slowly filing through.

Selah stared with avid curiosity and then ducked
her head back inside. “Why an embassy? What’s there to talk
about?”

Laura beat Mama B to the punch. “Why does any
country need an embassy, Selah?” Her English was perfect, but
spoken with a clipped Spanish accent. “It provides a safe forum in
which the Americans and the vampires can speak.”

“Yeah, but they don’t need a whole compound for
that. This place is huge.” Selah stared out the window again. There
were at least a half-dozen huge buildings within sight, one of them
at least fifteen stories high.

“It is not just the embassy,” said Laura. “Many
NGOs have their headquarters here—charities, Red Cross, Amnesty
International, and so on.”

“And it’s still a hospital,” said Mama B, voice
low. “If you get hurt, and you’re lucky enough to make it here in
time.”

They moved forward another space. Vehicles were
leaving the compound too. Selah watched with interest as what
looked like a campervan drove out with the Red Cross logo painted
on its side.

Something fundamental about all this didn’t make
sense. She struggled to articulate it, and then simply shook her
head. “Why? Why do the vampires let all these groups into the city
to help?”

“Think it through,” said her grandmother. “Why
do you think the vampires would let other humans do all the work in
keeping the Miami folks alive?”

“So they don’t have to do it themselves?”

“You got it. They know there’s enough bleeding
hearts out there that will work their behinds off to try and help
out. So why not let them?”

“People like you?”

“People like me.”

“So they’re using you. You’re being used.”

“Sure. You think that should stop me?”

“Well,” said Selah. She was still struggling
with it all. “In a way, you’re helping them. Doing their work for
them. You don’t have an ID or work on South Beach, but aren’t you
helping them run the city, anyway?”

Mama B laughed bitterly. “Maybe. But there must
be some forty thousand souls in Miami now. Down from, say, some
three million five years ago. You tell me what’s more important:
defying the vampires, or doing our best to make sure the remaining
humans have food, medicine, religious services, and so on?”

The car before them was waved in, and Mama B
eased the jeep forward, slipping her pistol into her handbag at the
last moment. The guard apparently knew her, as they exchanged wry
pleasantries while he checked her papers. Selah saw her grandmother
pull out a white vampire ID, and the guard pulled out a
military-grade Omni with which he scanned its barcode and then did
a retina check. Selah stared.
Mama B had an ID?
He did the
same for Laura and Cholly, and then looked in through the back
window at her.

“She’s new,” said Mama B. “I’m bringing her in
for registration. Here’s her passport.”

The guard read it carefully, and then stared at
Selah. Scanned the passport, and then held the Omni up to her face.
“Don’t blink,” he said. The Omni flashed green.

“All right, you’re good to go.” He stepped back
and Mama drove in.

“You guys have IDs?” asked Selah. “I thought
only the people who supported the vampires did.”

“We have to,” said Laura. “We wouldn’t be
allowed into Jackson by the vampires if we didn’t.”

Selah processed that. Watched the street slowly
roll by as Mama guided the car into the complex. It was huge. They
passed a long brick building with National Parkinson Foundation
emblazoned across its front. Took a right, and then drove into a
six-story parking garage.

They parked and walked out into the sunshine.
Down a few blocks and up to a building where Cholly elected to
remain outside in the sunshine. Selah followed Mama B and Laura
inside into a lobby filled with a large crowd of waiting people.
Mama B explained that they were there for the same reasons: each
was a designated leader of different pocket community, come to
exchange census figures and evaluation forms for medical supplies
and food. Mama B and Laura were in their element, spreading out and
working the crowd, networking and connecting and greeting all sorts
of people, many of them friends. Selah was a shadow at their elbow,
watching, listening, studying, yawning.

It turned out to be a busy morning. Around
midday, there was a community meeting orchestrated by several NGOs,
a large affair with several hundred people seated in an auditorium.
It lasted two hours, with a number of people getting up to make
speeches, some angry, some impassioned, some truly heartbreaking.
Mama B got up, and only then did Selah start to really get an idea
how important her grandmother was. She spoke powerfully and to
great applause about how inexcusable it was for services to not
have developed further, how greater pressure needed to be placed on
the vampires to allow more in-depth aid to be delivered right into
the city, the need to liaison with community leaders in the rest of
the US to pressure the government to work harder at creating more
progress.

Selah tried to pay attention, but much of it
referred to ideas and programs she wasn’t aware of. Acronyms were
thrown around, legal precedents, and by the end of it she simply
had a sense that a lot of the potential progress was being
frustrated by bureaucracy and a lack of political will. At the end
of the meeting, a number of organizations spoke, offering
reassurance, promises, and hope, but Selah found most of it too
inspirational and idealistic to believe.

The meeting adjourned, and attendees formed
clusters to discuss things further, to seek each other out and
exchange business cards, to praise each other and laugh, to speak
angrily and grandstand further. Selah chose to remain seated. She
watched Mama B at the center of a particularly large crowd. She was
in her element. Listening, laughing, balancing a paper plate of
food and a glass of orange juice, nodding, holding court.

“This seat taken?” asked a voice, and Selah
looked up to see a young guy in a suit standing next to her. His
skin was a rich caramel, his features racially ambiguous.
Good-looking, though, clean-shaven and young. Selah looked at the
long rows of empty seats around her, and couldn’t help but
laugh.

“Not at the moment,” she allowed, and he slid
into the seat next to her with a sigh of pleasure, as if he’d been
standing all day. “Who are you?”

“Tim Hedges. I’m with Doctors Without
Borders.”

“You’re a doctor?”

Tim smiled ruefully and rubbed the back of his
head. “Oh no, not yet. I’m just interning with the organization.
I’m in med school, though, so maybe one day. You?”

“Selah Brown. I live in Miami.” It felt strange
saying that. After all this talk of survival and hardship, bravery
and resolution, it was almost a badge of honor.

“You’re with Mrs. Brown?”

“Mrs. Brown?”
Mama B.
“Yeah. I’m her
granddaughter.”

“I’d better watch my step, then,” he said,
smiling again.

“Why? You scared of her?”

“You’re not? Even my boss is scared of her.
She’s a force of nature.”

“Tell me about it,” said Selah.

Tim’s Omni rang. He dug it out, checked
something, and went to put it away.

“Hey,” said Selah. “Can I use that real
quick?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “My Omni?”

“Mine was stolen last night. I need to change
some passwords.”

He hesitated. “Sure. Let me close a couple of
things.” He shut down some programs, and then handed it over in
general browsing mode. It felt great to hold one again. She checked
the connection. Alpha, of course. She resisted the urge to check
her Garden or Shrine and instead quickly went through all her
service providers, changing passwords everywhere and checking for
changes.

Browsed back to her Garden. Stopped. Froze. It
was wiped clean, just a concrete expanse. She jumped to her Shrine
and stopped again. In its place was the base template, a simple
house made of glowing yellow light. Everything had been wiped,
deleted. She checked for backups. Gone. Checked to see if she could
retrieve the data. Gone.