Blac Canadian Vampire Files

"The subjects are not on drugs, they're dead, they have no pulse, they don't breathe, and they crave the flesh of the living," said Bonnie Whyte, reporter for CNN reporting from Baghdad, Iraq. The pretty blonde woman looked deadpan at the camera after uttering these words. Folks watching from around the world were dismissive. That's how it always starts in the movies. The zombie apocalypse. First comes disbelief, then horror, and then it's too late.

"I'll be damned," said Sylvia, bartender at the Red Lotus bar, my favorite watering hole. The tall, busty redhead changed the channel, and the Toronto Maple Leaf versus Ottawa Senators hockey game was on. Considering that this is a bar in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, you'd think the game would be the biggest thing on TV. News of animalistic attacks and people behaving strangely had been bursting all over the place for the past week or so.

My name is Ismail Khalid Mukonkole and I'm a vampire. I hail from West Africa, don't worry about where specifically, and I've been living in Ottawa, Canada, since 2009. A big and tall, dark-skinned gentleman of about forty, that's me. On that fateful evening, I sat inside the Red Lotus bar in the By Ward Market area of downtown Ottawa, just chilling. I was sipping my beer, a fine brand called Alexander Keith's, when the shit hit the fan.

"I'm actually worried about that," said a plump Asian woman seated at the end of the bar. The tall, skinny white dude next to her nodded and downed his drink. Sylvia looked at them, and then switched back to the news. The lady on CNN was still going on and on about the outbreak of rabies-like virus in Iraq and other parts of the Arab world. I wasn't sure what to think of it. Yes, I'm a vampire but that doesn't make me an expert on the weird and the unusual.

In latter years, after the zombie apocalypse engulfed the world and then slowly recovered, I would reflect on my behavior in those early days and shake my head. I was born in 1945 and became a vampire in 1995. In the three decades since, I've wandered across places like Ghana, Nigeria and Senegal, along with France, the United Kingdom and now, Canada. I've grown fond of life in North America. In a land full of immigrants and diverse peoples, it's easier for the unusual like myself to hide in plain sight. North America is the place to be for us vampires. Or it used to be. More on that later.

Like the rest of you, I had to do something to earn my living in the pre-apocalypse days. I worked from home for a call center. I proved tech support to clients calling in from all over Canada and parts of the United States. The job paid twenty eight bucks an hour, which wasn't a bad rate at the time. Mind you this was when the minimum wage in Ontario, Canada, was around fifteen dollars or so. I lived in a basement apartment in the East End of Ottawa, within walking distance of the Saint Laurent Mall.

Life was alright, folks. I was a reasonably well-adjusted member of the vampire community of North America. There weren't that many of us. Perhaps ten thousand, scattered all over the world. In Ottawa, I knew of perhaps three like myself. We don't really care for each other's company for the most part, though some of us form little bands of three to five. I wasn't the social type, even by vampire standards. I had two dogs, Lucky and Marquis, and they were fine company.

Now, you might be wondering about my vampiric lifestyle and habits. Not much to say, folks. I drink blood which is delivered twice a week by a gentleman driving a van. I keep the blood in the fridge. I warm it up in the microwave and I drink it. I sit at my laptop, on Microsoft Teams, and do the call center bullshit so I can get paid. I have accounts with Scotiabank, Toronto Dominion Bank and the Royal Bank of Canada. Why do I have so many accounts? Caution is a natural part of life as a vampire. Never keep all your eggs in one damn basket, you feel me? Cool.

The life of a vampire is usually a solitary one. It's not like the movies. I'm not like the characters in AMC's Interview With The Vampire or Tru Blood. I lead a mostly bland and boring existence and that's how I like it. I don't hunt humans for blood anymore. I used to, in the early days. I stopped because it was no longer practical to do so. There are people who will deliver human blood harvested through creative means to a vampire's household for a fee. I am one of those vampires who pay for such a service. I don't ask and they don't tell. Works for both parties.

"The outbreak seems to be spreading, cases have occurred in Tel Aviv, Israel, and Beirut, Lebanon," said the reporter. Every man and woman seated inside the Red Lotus bar watched the TV screen. You know it's some serious shit when Canadians would rather watch the news instead of a hockey game. Believe me when I say that this almost never happens, folks. Canadians love their hockey. It's not a stereotype but a cold, hard fact. The zombie apocalypse just seems to have my fellow Canadians preoccupied that's all. Just a casual observation from your friendly neighborhood African vampire immigrant...

I stayed in the Red Lotus bar until last call. Around two o'clock in the morning, I began the hourlong walk that would take me from the By Ward Market to Saint Laurent. I made it by three o'clock in the morning, two and a half hours before the faintest rays of dawn lit the sky. I walked into my building, and into my apartment. My dogs Lucky and Marquis greeted me. I took them for a walk, then fed them and refilled their huge water bowls. I went to bed after making sure that the heavy drapes were on the living room windows.

I programmed my phone to wake up at nine in the morning since my shift at the WFH call center was from ten to six. I slept the deathlike sleep of the blood drinking undead. I didn't know that my whole world was about to change. In a few weeks, the zombie outbreak would make its way from the Arab world to North America and Europe. The militaries and police forces of the western world would make a valiant effort but they wouldn't last against the zombies. Soldiers and cops are trained to fight ordinary men, and sometimes women, but not the living dead.

Just like in a bad movie, the zombie apocalypse would catch the world by surprise. The zombies would be everyone's problem, and I wouldn't be the exception. I'd have to form a plan of survival for my dogs Lucky and Marquis and I. Yeah, I would fly to the Canadian Yukon with them and get a cabin in which to ride out the zombie apocalypse. I'd hunt wild animals for the blood I needed, and feed their meat to my dogs. I had it all planned out. Or so I thought. How did this vampire fare during the zombie apocalypse? That's a story for another time, folks.