Somali Vampire Family Saga Ch 02

The Vampire Raoul Wahid screamed painfully as I thrust my stake through his heart, and within seconds he crumbled into a pile of dust. Like all newbies Raoul was aggressive, vicious and utterly convinced of his own invincibility. That's why it took me all of five minutes to slay him. Freshly risen from the grave, he went to a movie theater and tried to prey upon some college girls. Typical newbie mistake. Venturing out in public like that. He might as well paint a target on his chest.

Someone called the cops, and the N.H.T.U. took the call. I'm with the evening division of The Non-Human Tactical Unit. Our various teams deal with all sorts of threats to human life in our fair metropolis. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, whatever the creep of the day happens to be. We put them down for good. It's our job, you see. Someone has to do it. The world found out about the existence of nonhumans, essentially signing their global death warrant. Here in Quebec, we take great pleasure in taking them out.

I'm one of thirty women in a unit of a hundred and seventeen people assigned to kill any entity that isn't human. We have jurisdiction throughout Canada. My co-workers call me the Huntress. Sounds cool, eh? Some people have unfortunate names, and I'm one of them. What were my parents Amir and Yasmina Osman thinking when they named me Fartuun? It's a fairly common name for females in the nations of Somalia, Djibouti and Eritrea, where people don't even think about it when uttering said names.

Well, I live in the City of Montreal, Quebec, and English-speaking folks have been having a field day with my name for as long as I can remember. Seriously, Fartuun does sound funny. One particularly mean gal named Miranda nicknamed me Farty Pants in high school and unfortunately, it stuck to me. It followed me throughout my university days and in my career as a policewoman dealing with threats that are out of this world. Not much I can do about it.

Anyhow, why am I thinking about the old days? It's because my twenty-year high school reunion is almost up. I graduated from Saint Antoine Academy in south side Montreal in 2007, the same year the world discovered the existence of the nonhumans. All of a sudden, the stuff of myth and legend was making its presence known around the world. Mermaids lured Hawaiian swimmers into shallow waters and consumed their flesh in a frenzy caught on camera and broadcast on national television. A Canadian news anchorwoman transformed into a reptilian humanoid monster while attacked by a crowd of angry men on the streets of Teheran.

As more and more nonhumans were revealed to be hostile to the majority of mankind, the world formed specially equipped squads to hunt them down and eradicate them. At first vigilante groups were formed, but the nonhumans quickly made short work of these disorganized, ill-equipped goons. The governments of the world stepped in, and since then, they've decided to leave the hunting to the professionals. From the moment the menace was revealed, my life and that of billions of people changed. I knew what I was meant to do. I would hunt nonhumans to protect the human race.

Thus I studied Criminal Justice at McGill University from 2007 to 2011, eventually graduating with a bachelor's degree. These days I'm a Constable with the Montreal Police Service. The best cops in the province are recruited into the nonhuman fighting units. It's the most dangerous job in the world. And I excel at it. I am one of a few Muslim immigrant women working in law enforcement across North America. Last time I checked, I'm the only woman who wears the hijab while on patrol, a fact that irks proponents of the renewed Quebec Charter of Values.

What in hell is that, you may ask? It's a proposed law that would ban public sector employees from wearing religious symbols while on duty. Although they've mentioned Sikh turbans and oversized crosses they're not fooling anyone, it's us Muslims that proponents of the Charter can't stand...and everybody knows it. Apparently since I wear the hijab in public, I'm supposed to be soft, malleable and submissive. That's the stereotype that many westerners hold of us Muslim immigrant women.

I'm forty two years old, I'm educated and successful, and I own my own home. A lovely four-bedroom, two-story house in the Laval area. Two bathrooms, a two-car garage and a little yard big enough for a small pool. Yeah, we do alright for ourselves, my family and I. I take excellent care of my seventeen-year-old son Omar, who's lively and funny in spite of his autism. He's six feet tall, curly-haired, caramel-skinned and absolutely gorgeous. My perfect angel. My husband Khalid Hussein is currently working as a foreman in the oil sands of Alberta. He'll come home at the end of the month.

We only see him five to ten days out of every month. Khalid's work is very demanding. I tell myself that I understand why he does what he does. When we met, Khalid was a Concordia University dropout turned vigilante, hunting nonhumans on the streets of Quebec City. This tall, ruggedly handsome Mauritanian stud saved my life one night when, as a rookie cop, I walked into a nest of vampires. We became friends, and eventually fell in love and got married. We had little Omar. Khalid changed his line of work, from huntsman to oil and gas industry journeyman. Our house isn't cheap. Omar's boarding school isn't cheap. We do what we have to do, you know?

Sometimes I worry about Khalid. There's an outbreak of zombies in Alberta. Out of all the nonhumans out there, zombies scare me the most. Vampires, werewolves and ghouls are intelligent predators. Zombies are simply death come walking. They don't feel fear, or pain. They cannot be stopped. They multiply like locusts. A single bite or scratch from a zombie and you become one within a few hours. These mindless, shambling monsters gave the world one hell of a scare three years ago. There was a zombie outbreak in Paris, France. Within days, what began as an 'industrial accident' in a warehouse caused all of Paris to be quarantined. A month later, millions of zombies swarmed all over France.

The European Union's various armed forces stepped in, and the nuclear option was used. In the end, Paris got vaporized for the greater good of mankind, and with it, untold millions of humans locked in deadly battle with who knows how many zombies. The City of Lights is no more. The leaders of the Free World decided that if one mega-city had to be sacrificed to save humanity, then so be it. We've been wary of another zombie outbreak ever since. Of all the nonhumans out there, zombies are the most prolific and the most dangerous.

It's an insane world we live in. A world where ordinary men and women have to contend with the fact that there are monsters everywhere. I wonder if the day will come when we meet some supernatural menace beyond even our technology's ability to counteract it. Only time will tell. As the night wound down, we answered a few other calls. A shape-shifter was prowling around the Dawson College campus, alternately morphing into various male campus residents to sexually assault women. Our guys cornered the intruder and decapitated it before setting its corpse ablaze. All in a day's work.

It was still dark when I got home. I immediately went to check on my son, and grew frantic when I realized Omar wasn't in his room. Calling out his name, I searched from room to room. Finally, I went to the basement, and what I found there chilled me to my bones. My son Omar lay on the couch, fast asleep. Relief washed over me in an awesome way. Taking his blanket, I lifted it to cover him. That's when I saw...them. The two tiny puncture marks on his neck. Telltale signs of a vampire's bite. I gasped in shock, and fell to my knees.

He'll be alright, said a familiar masculine voice. I turned slowly, knowing who I'd see yet hoping against hope that I was wrong. I found myself staring into the face of one Khalid Hussein, my husband. Tall, dark and handsome. His features a beautiful blend of African and Arabian, like most Mauritanians. The man I often called my knight in shining armor. His eyes bore into mine, and they glinted with the sickly, ethereal glow of the undead. When his lips parted into a crooked smile, they revealed his pearly white fangs.

As Salam Alaikum Khalid, I said breathlessly. My hand went for my service revolver. It was still loaded with silver bullets, any of which could end Khalid. Moving with superhuman reflexes, Khalid's hand caught mine. Good to see you too my darling wife, he said sardonically. Then he sank his fangs into my throat. When I came to, three days later, I was...changed. I woke up in an unfamiliar place, some kind of basement, to find the two of them standing over me. My son Omar and my husband Khalid. I looked at the two of them, the two individuals I loved the most. And it was as if I were beholding them for the first time. Vampire eyes see the world differently from human eyes.

Mom you're awake, Omar said, smiling as he pulled me to my feet and hugged me. I hesitated, then hugged him back. I took Omar's face in my hands. There was something different about him. His eyes...there was a clarity and focus in them I had never seen before. Vampirism cures autism, Khalid said evenly, gently rubbing Omar's head. His eyes met mine. You changed Omar and me, I said, accusation in my tone. Khalid sighed, and rolled his eyes. It was the only way, he shrugged. Motioning for the nearby table, he pulled a chair and looked at me. Hesitantly, I sat down.

Khalid licked his lips, then looked at Omar, who smiled adoringly at his father. We're a family again, he said happily. I looked from my son to my husband, still taking it all in. Then Khalid explained. He told me about how the oil sands of Alberta became a battleground between the zombies and the government-sponsored extermination squads. On the run from zombies, Khalid encountered a vampire who fed on him...and three days later he rose as one of the undead. The blood-drinking kind, not the brain-munching kind. At first he had to battle hordes of zombies as well as the humans assigned to contain the infestation, then he fled Alberta by boat, eventually making his way back to Quebec.

The rest is history, Khalid said, with that fearless smile I knew so well. I listened to his little tale, shaking my head in amazement. My husband made me into a vampire, the thing I hate the most. My life had irrevocably changed. What life? I have no life now. I'm a half dead thing with no pulse who registers at room temperature. My old life, my job as a policewoman, my old friends, all gone. What did I have left? I'm not even a person anymore. A while ago, the United Nations declared that all nonhumans, and former humans such as vampires, werewolves and zombies can be killed without trial by any member of the Homo Sapiens genus. Human rights...can't have them if you're not human.

As if reading my mind, Khalid gently took my hand and brought it to his lips. You've got Omar and me and we're going to be together forever, he said confidently. I looked at my husband, then our son. I will never be sick again, Omar said happily. I smiled then. My sweet son Omar. The three of us, together forever. Now that does sound like a good idea. I smiled at Omar and Khalid. Quietly, I hugged them both. My family. At last, we're united again.

Together, we welcomed the night. I know what we're up against. News of my abduction by my freshly turned hubby and forcible transformation into a vampire have circled the globe by now. All the government-sponsored hunting groups will make my eradication priority one. I know too much. I can't be allowed to exist. Would you be surprised to know that I don't feel nervous? Most newbie vampires rely exclusively on their newly acquired superhuman strength and speed. They're overconfident, and that's why the death squads get them so easily.

When you're a creature with superhuman strength and speed, an accelerated healing factor, immunity to disease and imperviousness to the aging process, it's easy to get careless. Me? I know better. I know ALL the battle tactics of both vigilantes and government-sponsored anti-nonhuman hit squads. I know what to expect from them, but they don't know what to expect from me. I took Omar and Khalid to my secret armory, and equipped us with automatic rifles, head-to-toe Kevlar body armor and military-grade weaponry. Vampires don't usually bother with any type of weapon. I'm smarter than that. And I'll do anything to protect my family. When we go out to hunt, the humans won't know what hit them...you've heard of Hobo With a Shotgun? Meet the ones with fangs, bitches!