Sunset At Roseberry

Mark Diptera studied the fly trapped in a spider’s web. The web’s elastic frame bounced in response to the squirming victim, glinting reflections of the setting sun in its silk. Mark mused if the light display was strategic. Was the fly was sending an SOS? Was it rhythmically wriggling to communicate by Morse code? His only certainty was, it would not submit.

Mark arrived in Roseberry Village at late noon. He was to start work as a groundskeeper. A friend found him the job in a newspaper and after completing a phone interview, medical examination and workplace NDA, an individual named Peter Bateson called to detail his first day:

“Arrive at Roseberry before sunset and report to lodging in the watermill. Four colleagues will await you. Our team consists of three groundskeepers and one apprentice. If for any reason, you think you will arrive after sunset, spend the night in the nearest town and only return upon sunrise.”

Mark had to reside in on – site accommodation, but the healthy salary more than compensated.

Roseberry was a deserted medieval village on an uninhabited section of England’s north east coast. During his commute, the road terminated two miles from Peters supplied coordinates. Mark had abandoned his car and continued on foot, lugging along his suitcase and duffel bag.

Like a landslide frozen in time, the remains of Roseberry village hung from a sandy hillside. A beach to its base, a water mill at its summit and only decaying gravestones between. Protruding at crooked angles, Mark imagined they were the earth’s teeth after taking a mouth punch. The striker was the North Sea. However, at this time in the evening the tide was out. The big bad bully was fleeing.

Mark had been recuperating on the hillside when he spotted the spider’s web on a headstone. He began to ponder the irony of his workplace. At 24, he graduated with a master’s degree in engineering. His research interests were interventions that increased the human lifespan. A career highlight was brief notoriety for his controversial thesis titled:

“Curing Death: A symptom of universal genetic disease”

In it, he concluded:

“Human genes causing aging need eliminating from circulation. I recommend self-imposed selection pressures in the form of policies, mandating a base age of 60 years before procreation. Thus, only genes promoting longevity will thrive.”

Too many job rejections ended his academic career. Mark was not a poor engineer. He just wrote himself into a purgatory, having exclusively unpractical publications on his CV.

In proceeding years, academia became just a hobby. However, his ambitions only bloomed with age.

The setting sun motivated him to make his rendezvous. Standing up, he glanced back at the writhing fly and asked:

“What lengths would you go to evade your fate?”

Mark investigated the mill, the only evidence showing humans had not gone extinct. A single storied square building. Originally built from wood, contemporary brickwork had steadily replaced it. A river entered the building’s east side through a rectangle steel-grated opening at the walls base. The water exited at the west-facing wall through a similar opening and ran down the hillside to the sea. The mills turbine must be inside! On its west wall, the mill had single casement window. Mark peered through and met an audience of four silent silhouettes.

Mark startled “Hi, my…”

A nasally voice interrupted “He’s definitely one of them, say the word, ill dispatch it!”

“My name…” Mark reattempted.

Another voice boomed, gruff and uncompromising, “You get one chance! That stream of water. Plant both your feet in it, now!”

Mark reasoned this was a workplace prank to scare the new person, get their shoes wet or something. Not brave enough to find out, he complied.

No sooner than the icy water rushing to greet his toes, the four men emerged in high spirits to welcome him.

Peter introduced himself first. A burly man sporting a tight haircut and clean-shaven face, he struck Mark as ex – military. Next Gabe, a handsome American who articulated with a southern drawl. Then Iman, an older man of Indian heritage. Finally, Whippet. The youngest of the group. He had a bony face with green eyes that complemented a red Rambo-esq bandanna suspending his blonde locks.

“Hello newbie!” He chirped. Mark recognized whippets nasally voice.

“I like milk and two sugars in my tea. You should be writing this down” Whippet cackled, glancing around for approval.

“Whippet, carry Marks bags inside” Peter ordered“

But….” Whippet protested.

“Listen to your master young apprentice.” Peter goaded.

With a huff, Whippet picked the bags up and Mark followed him inside.

The room was an open square. A midline trench of river water divided the cobblestone floor. One side was for living requirements: five beds, drawers and cooking appliances, the other for leisure: a sofa set, a TV, and gaming computers. A wooden turbine, powered by the rivers current, spun over the streams entrance.

Whippet dropped the bags. Landing with a familiar clink, everyone’s heads whipped in their direction. “I hope they didn’t break” Mark muttered unzipping his duffel bag to reveal a six-pack of beer. “I brought beers to share, brewed them myself.”

Each man ravenously grab a bottle.

Whippet pulled one to his lips. Before he could take a swig, Peter ripped it from his hands,

“Slowdown apprentice boy, only groundskeepers get to drink”

“You’re not old enough,” Gabe belched in support.

“I’m nineteen grandad, give it back” Whippet contested

“But Gabe’s American” Peter smirked.

Whippet scrunched his brow. Peter continued,

“Gabe, being a dutiful servant of his nation’s sovereignty, may feel inclined to enforce its alcohol laws”

“That’s right,” Gabe said, stepping forward.

“Citizen’s Arrest!” Iman chimed.

“Fine! Keep it.” Whippet conceded.

“You not having one Mark?” Peter asked

“No, I don’t drink”. Mark replied quickly.

Mark spied a desk piled with books and research papers. He could spot that standardized layout anywhere. This was an eccentric collection: Alien sightings, homemade anesthesia, his thesis was probably here.

“Whose papers are these? I’m actually published myself,” Mark asked

Silence answered.

“They were Franks; he was a science man” Peter eventually said.

“Who’s Frank?” Mark inquired

“You replaced him?” Peter answered.

“Shame, he’s gone” Mark sighed

“Frank never left”

Peter did not leave Mark confused long.

“He is at the window” .

Mark instinctively looked at the window. The sun had now set, so he waited for his eyes to adjust. Outside stood a black humanoid silhouette with two fiery red eyes. They were staring back!

“Careful looking in its eyes!” Peter instructed, “Franks a vampire,”

“What!” Mark stuttered, caught off guard by Peter’s bluntness.

“Messy workplace accident, few weeks back” Peter replied

“You know, Blood sucking undead monsters that cannot enter buildings unless invited. There’s thousands outside” whippet gloated.

Countless questions invaded Marks mind, all scrambling to be vocalized. He could only muster.

“What is this job?”

Instantaneously, each man bolted to his drawers.

“He asked! We can do it now!” Gabe beamed

“Yes Gabe” Peter said, now wearing a light-blue top hat.

“Do what?” Mark pleaded

“If you haven’t guessed already, you’re not a groundskeeper.” Gabe teased“ Whippet kept forgetting his job training, so we created a song to explain it. We rehearse our performance most nights for fun. Now we have an audience, you.”

Mark sat down in strange anticipation.

“I’ll narrate, Gabe do the villagers and Iman you sing as Godfrey,” Peter instructed.

Whippet started, “Peter, I wrote verse about vampire characteristics…” He slipped on slick cobblestone and fell, dropping his lyric sheet in the river.

“No!” He wailed as the water swept it away.

“Everyone else ready!” Peter boomed

They began:

What is our Job?

What do we do?

Shall we tell him?

I want to…

We are:

Deodorant sprayed on a flowering rose tree,

A drum competing against a wailing banshee,

And the brightest lighthouse in the open sea.

What’s more, it’s not hyperbole,

To say the fate of the world depends on you and me.

Are you confused yet? Attention getting frail?

Sit back and relax; Let me tell you a tale…

Over 20 years ago, in the 16th century

Roseberry was built on vampire territory

At night they came, the population, their deli

Offering one-way tickets. Destination? Their belly.

To vampires you’re just a slab of meat

Your lungs the starter, your liver? A treat

Your eyes are popcorn and your teeth are chips

I hear them drooling, they’re licking their lips

finally, after your bones are licked clean

You come back to life but now you’re on their team.

Roseberry residents, tired of the routine attack

Drafted a plan in order to fight back:

“They only come at night; light keeps them away

Let’s build massive fires to create an eternal day.

”The fires were built, but in a flash

They spread and reduced Roseberry to ash.

Survivors fled miles from the beach

And set up “New Town”,

“out of undead reach”

Secretly, they knew their claims were fiction,

Because blood hungry monsters have no jurisdiction.

Defensive strategies were debated

And another plan was formulated:

“To ensure vampires stay in Roseberry we’re obligated,

To send a daily sacrifice to keep them satiated.”

Criminals became the chosen supply

After a few nights, their numbers ran dry.

A crime free town sounds exceeding

Except when a vampire army needs feeding.

Everyone’s desire for self – preservation

Caused the side stepping of legal legislation

Any triviality became justification

To send each other to eternal damnation:

Malevolent Max; told kids a horror story,

Sinister Sam; His wine stained shirt was too gory,

Vile Vera; arranged her flowers very haughtily,

And Bill dreamed a dream of Evil Eddy behaving naughtily.

The stage is set; enter Godfrey Sounder,

An orphan of 16 and our original founder,

He loved watching blacksmiths turn ugly dull rocks

Into beautiful swords, handy hammers and safe locks.

But Godfrey was under heavy observation

From suspicious neighbors scared of his smithing fascination

Thinking it demonstrated a violent inclination

He became a prime candidate for vampire mastication

For Godfrey chained and left in Roseberry,

Death seemed a certainty

But the blacksmith who made the lock snuck him a key

Which he used to set himself free.

Before the sun vanished behind the lowest hill

Godfrey took shelter in Roseberry’s old water mill.

The only building the fire hadn’t cremated

Because its water stream had kept it isolated

To vampires, Godfrey was mesmerizing,

A Tender T-bone; deliciously appetizing,

His blood’s aroma was so tantalizing,

Depriving their fangs of it would be agonizing.

But Godfrey was safe in a shelter,

Unless invited, vampires could not enter

He was dinner! The vampires had no doubt

So they spent all night trying to lure him out.

As they became more desperate to drink

It slowly diminished their ability to think

Evil ceased to roam for prey

With its nose stuffed in a free buffet

Godfrey knew he was safe in this shed,

When morning came, a light bulb lit inside his head,

Harkening his blacksmith ambition

Godfrey gave New town an enticing proposition:

“If compensated to my satisfaction

I will serve as humanities distraction

Imagine your life, happy and splendid

The threat of vampires finally ended”

The mill became a mighty forge,

Food was plenty and free to gorge,

He spent his life defending the nations

And it’s been done that way for generations

To answer your question

What is our job?

Vampires are real

Were squatting in their domicile

To overload their senses,

So the urge to shop elsewhere entirely dispenses

They terminated by proudly jolting their arms wide, expectant of an applause. Mark obliged. He stewed over the information while waiting for the men to change and settle. He approached Peter.

“Peter, I think I understand, But why me? Why us five?”

“Your blood is type B. This ice-cream shop serves every flavor: A, B, AB and O. Even rare the Bombay type “hh” courtesy of Iman. We needed to restock B after Frank departed, and you qualify.” Peter noticed Marks routine glances at his watch, “It’s doesn’t go any faster when you’re looking at it.”

Mark changed the subject. “So, how does one spend time here?”

“Normally, on whatever you want short of going outside. Electricity generated by the turbine powers the television, computers, even a WIFI satellite. Vampires destroy all outside cables or pipes we install, but they cannot do anything about running water. However, Frank is a relatively young vampire and not blood deprived yet. His mental faculties still function, so he can have ideas to explore elsewhere for blood. Our job is to prevent those ideas forming.”

Thump! Thump! Thump! Gabe pounded the window to get Franks Attention.

“Oi! You have something stuck in your teeth! Stay there I’ll help.” He shouted.

Gabe produced a pink handheld mirror and held it to Franks face.

“Look, there! Next to your canine”.

Frank smashed a fiery gaze at Gabe, locking on his eyes. Instantly, his arms went limp, his neck relaxed and his head collapsed into a droop.

“Gabe? Gabe!” Iman panicked.

“He’s hypnotized!” Mark cried.

“Mmmmuuss” Gabe muttered

“Mustt lett mmastteerrrr iinn”

Gabe reached for the window latch. Peter, Iman and whippet bounded across the room, but it was too late. His hand arrived at its target. Soft white moonlight illuminated the wrinkles on Frank’s skin. Even in the darkness, you could see it smiling.

Gabe burst out a deep belly laugh, spitting as he howled:

“Frank thought I was going to let him in!”

All four men roared in unison. Taunting the beast outside.

“Sorry for frightening you Mark, you just witnessed the ‘trick trance technique’. We invented a plethora of gags to wind vampires up. Making them angry means they exclusively target you for revenge dinner. Preventing any wandering off.” Peter giggled.

Gabe laid himself down and shut his eyes.

“Another treat! Gabes demonstrating the ‘Sleeping Tiger Trick’.

Mark, watch what he does next” Peter waited expectantly.

Gabe replied with an anti-climactic snore.

“Gabe? Has he fallen asleep? You lazy littl…”A “Thud!” Interrupted Peter.

He turned to see Iman had collapsed. His mind started swimming, but not from the harrowing sight of Iman, he was rapidly losing consciousness! Muscles he had never felt were unravelling and buckling their supports.

A voice boomed, “That was a great performance you put on for me, but I think mine was better” It belonged to Mark.

Peter slumped to his knees.

“You look unwell Pete, perhaps it was something you ate… or drank” Mark ridiculed.

Whippet yelped at the sight of his friend falling into anesthetized sleep.

“Relax whippet, pun intended, they ingested the sedative Estazolam. That means nap time for a few hours.”

“What are you doing Mark!” Tears streamed from whippets eyes.

Each man stood on opposite sides of the mill, the water separating them.

“Frank and I have met. Knowing my work, he visited my home and spoke of a species that evolved immortality. He said I could study them if I delivered you four alive. He told me everything, the job vacancy, the blood type to falsify, even the anesthesia to use. ”

Although in shock, Whippet grasped Franks plan quickly: Frank wielded supernatural ignorance as a weapon. They expected he would retain some cognition, but this...

“Without us, the deprived vampires will devastate our oblivious world!” Whippet pleaded.

“Vampires, Nosferatu, Ghouls, you insult my intelligence using medieval peasant logic.” Mark rebutted.

He continued:

“In the 5th century, Germanic tribes were ravaged by monsters named “Arktos”. Vocalizing its true name became taboo, as they believed the act made it appear. To converse safely they coined a nickname. Do you know what word they created?”

He left a Dramatic pause.

“Bear”

He did it again.

“There’s no debating Bears aren’t dangerous animals, but they aren’t ‘supernatural’ like the tribes feared. Science taught us the bear’s predatory traits are products of evolution not evil. ‘Vampires’ are virgin to academic study, so you still attach an arcane malaise like peasants did. Granted, they’re idiosyncratic. Nevertheless, every trait will prove rational. Including immortality.”

“What are you planning to do!” Whippet indulged him to stall while he strategized.

“I’ll cross reference their DNA code and isolate the genes causing immortality. After assembling the proteins they code, I’ll use them as active ingredients in a medication that cures death.” Mark beamed grandiosely.

“But if you’re wrong, you unleash the vampires.” Whippet probed, still strategizing.

“I’m a pragmatic man whippet. Science won’t develop immortality within the life span of the youngest human alive. Studying these creatures is our best chance. If they are the undead monsters you fear, death would’ve claimed everyone anyway, what difference does it make taking the form of a vampire”

Whippet was out of time. Mark had talked himself up.

“We’re all flies in death’s web; I’m going to set us free.” He inhaled deeply

“FRANK! I invite you i...”

“LALALALALALALALA” Whippet wailed masking Marks voice. He had daydreamed himself saving the world, but never imagined a showdown like this.

So far, it was working.

“Plan-B” Mark pulled a loaded hypodermic needle from his pocket and charged. He slipped on the slick streambed. Landing with a splash, the needle flew from his hands and disappeared below the water’s surface. Mark on all fours, thrashed around to locate it. Whippet pounced on his back and used his body weight to force Marks head underwater. Mark was screaming invitations to the vampires, but they materialized on the surface as mere gurgles. Whippet’s eyes frantically darted trying to home on the needle. There! Just within reach. He grabbed it and injected Mark.

Underwater, Mark saw Whippets lyric sheet snagged by rocks, he could just make out the final lines:

A Life that’s endless,

Guarantees the probability it becomes meaningless,

Before succumbing to anesthesia, Mark had an epiphany.

With Mark tied up, Whippet put the kettle on. A cup of tea waiting for his friends rousing would make news of their (and the worlds) new savior, easier to swallow.