Chronicles of the Uprising (Trilogy 1): Trilogy 1 (4 page)

Two days of pure hell inside that tiny metal box had fried more than Mira’s skin. Anger boiled over inside her. At that moment she hated humans and everything about them. Worst of all, she hated the fact she had once been a human. To have anything in common with those savage inhumane beasts was an outrage. Weak and exhausted, Mira needed blood so badly she could barely walk, a fact that had her handlers noticeably on edge. A starving vampire could snap at any moment’s time. Taking extra precautions, they used the thickest silver coated chains and cuffs possible. She’d also been fitted with a ball gag for the trek back to her cell. Even with the additional precautions, Mira could tell the female handler was nervous. There was no mistaking the tang of fear in the air. Still, though she was clearly still concerned about Mira’s temperament, the female handler did not hold back her contempt as she roughly pulled Mira’s lumbering and aching body towards the cell.

Just the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was a laborious task. Every movement hurt, every muscle ached; her skin, burnt and raw, pulled and ripped with each movement. Wanting nothing more than a few moments of darkness and peace, Mira found the strength to lift her gaze long enough to watch the male handler’s fingers nimbly tap the ten digit code into the lock pad.  95182… Before she could spy the last few numbers, her handler shifted his body in front, blocking her view. The pattern seemed simple enough that she might guess the next few numbers. When she was healthy enough, she’d try it. For now, she could barely hold herself upright. A rarity for her, Mira didn’t even move as they undid her bonds. She welcomed their removal. One less pain in the sea of agony she was swimming in.

Like a sack of garbage, Mira was tossed down on the cold concrete floor. She hissed as her head came crashing down against the unyielding ground. Stars danced in her vision. They slammed the cell door shut behind her. The echo of the bars clanging together added to the sharpness of her aching head.

Every inch of Mira was raw and exposed. Her burned skin cracked and peeled. Nerves on edge, even the slightest flicker from the overhead lamp caused her to jump.

Damn them. Fucking humans.

“How was the tanning salon?” George taunted.

She was in no mood for his playful jabs, and feared opening her mouth because there was no telling what manner of verbal bile she might accidentally spew in his direction. Times like this, there was only one thing to soothe Mira’s vicious spirit. She needed blood. Fast. Problem was, Mira couldn’t remember if she’d stashed the last of her rations, or if she’d been too gluttonous the last time she’d been punished. Rations, even for her, a prize fighter, were few and far between. Every tiny drop was coveted, and occasionally, she overindulged. Mira hoped there would be something left over. Who knew when she’d be allowed to feed again? And in her current state, she was this close to losing all control.

“Seriously, girl, you all right?” All humor had left George’s voice.

“Blood,” Mira rasped, still trying to summon the energy to check her hiding spot, a small pocket she’d created inside her mattress sitting on the floor.

 George’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I got you, girl. Just give me a minute.”

Not sure what he meant, Mira grunted, neither in agreement nor protest. Using all of her remaining energy, she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, enjoying this brief moment of peace. In the cell next to hers, Mira heard George rumbling around in his cell.

“Had a little something stored up for a rainy day,” he whispered, and Mira’s mood lightened.

George to the rescue
. As much as she was jealous of him for the easy lifestyle he had in comparison to hers, she was glad to count him as a friend. He had a good heart, offering to share his blood rations with her. That quality was extremely rare among the other vampires. Caged as they all were, most had reverted to animalistic creatures, embodying the savage image the humans wanted everyone to believe rather than remaining the once-proud vampires they had been. They’d just as easily kill you for the practice.

George tapped on the cell bars. Mira’s eyes opened and she zeroed in on the small thing clutched in his hands.

“I’m going to roll it between the bars. You think you can grab it?”

Mira groaned in assent. She barely had the energy to keep her eyes open. Moving, rolling, anything involving actual muscles seemed almost impossible, but for blood, she’d have to try. She turned her head toward his cell and watched as he bent down low and released a small red vial. Salivating as if it were the last supper, she followed with her eyes as the small glass tube rolled toward her.

George stood and turned back to his mattress. “It’s not much, but it will help.”

With all her might, muscles screaming, she threw herself over, rolling on top of the vial as it came toward her. Not wanting any cameras to spot her with it, she rested her body over the small vial. Gingerly, she moved, every motion pulling away loose scales of burned flesh. The full-body pain was beyond measure, but still she pressed on, lifting her arm, moving her hand over the vial. Still hovering over it, she unscrewed the cap and palmed it her hand. The scent of it was intoxicating, even stale as it was. The moment the scent hit her nose, it was all she could think of. Pretending to have a coughing fit, Mira brought the vial to her lips. The first drop of old rat’s blood hit her tongue. Thick and gelatinous as it was, it still tasted like heaven. Her parched throat burned for more, but after only a few mouthfuls the tiny vial was empty.

The effect was immediate: Her skin began to tingle, and wounds started to knit themselves together. Healing had always been a vampire’s best gift. Given just a little blood, the renewal and repair happened within minutes. Raw, angry burns cooled and the pain slowly receded from her head. Looking more like her old self, but still not quite feeling it, Mira attempted very clumsily to stand. She was too wobbly to make it the first time, but at least her voice had returned.

“Thanks,” she said earnestly to George. His act of kindness would not go unrewarded. She’d make sure of that somehow.

“I’m just glad to help a fellow vamp out. We got to stick together.” George waved a dismissive hand and relaxed back onto his mattress. “You’d have done the same for me, girl.”

“Probably.”

“Oh, don’t act all tough. I know you got my back.” George’s playful tone had returned now that it appeared everything was okay with Mira.

Testing her legs, Mira attempted again to stand, but her muscles had not yet regained their strength, and she collapsed back on the ground.

“Take it easy, girl.” George propped himself up on his elbows and stared into Mira’s cell. Their eyes met for a moment while Mira struggled to move. “You don’t have to always be so tough.”

“Weakness gets you killed.” Mira pushed harder, and brought herself up on both legs. “And I’m not weak.” She held tight to the silver-coated bars, using them for support. Even with the sting of the metal against her palms, she refused to let go and risk collapsing again.

“Your attitude is what’s going to get you killed. Maybe you should try not to smart off to the handlers for a little? You know, there are rewards for good behavior.”

“No.”

“Somehow I knew you would say that.” With an exasperated sigh, George flopped back onto his mattress.

“I can’t change who I am any more than you can.” Taking a moment to steady herself, she let go of the bars and took a slow but determined step toward her mattress.

“I know. I just hate seeing you go through all this time and time again because you give in to their taunting.”

“I’d hardly call fighting back ‘giving in,’” Mira snarled, appalled that George would even suggest that fighting for one’s own self-respect was a bad thing. “Besides, I won’t have to put up with any taunting for much longer.”

“No. Not again, Mira.” Fear sharpened George’s tone. “No more plans. No more escape attempts. They’re going to kill you the next time you get caught.”

“I’ve got it all figured out this time.” After a few successful baby steps, Mira felt confident she’d regained her strength and allowed herself to relax onto her mattress and rest.

“No. I’m not listening to you. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“So. Be. It. I’m not a fucking animal, George. I’m a vampire. Remember what it was like to be free? To hunt? To enjoy the night? When was the last time you saw a full moon? Do you even remember?”

“Yeah, I remember, but in thirty years, I’ve never seen a vampire escape or earn their freedom, so you can forget about it.” There was an odd finality in George’s tone. Something Mira had never heard before. She decided to take the hint and drop the subject. She propped her head up on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

She’d been here for at least thirty years herself, though she couldn’t be quite sure. Days and nights all blended together into one long blur of time. Freedom, though, and the smell of the fresh outdoors – those remained crystal clear in her memory. Sweet freedom. The simplicity and beauty of life before she’d been taken by the humans. Mira’s heart yearned for just a small taste of that joy again.

George wasn’t right. Just because no one had ever succeeded didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a way. She had to. Mira couldn’t live the rest of her immortality locked here as a gladiator until the day she was killed in battle. She’d already lost so much; she would not give the humans the satisfaction of taking her life for entertainment purposes. She’d find a way, or die fighting for her freedom.

The pain, long since buried deep within her, resurfaced. Her last night of freedom had been the most painful. Memories came flooding back and tears rushed to Mira’s eyes. She turned her face into the pillow so that no one would see.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not push away the memory. It played out moment by excruciating moment before her. A small cadre of vampires, Theo at the lead, had taken refuge in a rocky encampment outside the redwood forest, hoping to avoid the human patrol and wait out the day. The coast was still another evening’s run, and if they hoped to flee the country, they’d have to make it to the Pacific Ocean.

Tears soaked through her pillow. That night had been the last time she had seen her lover alive. Theo. His deep green-brown eyes would haunt her dreams for the rest of eternity. Human soldiers invaded their campsite just before dawn. Theo had told her to run, but she refused to leave her lover’s side. Together, they held the humans back as long as they could, allowing others to escape. 

The humans had turned their torches on Mira. Blind and exhausted, she went down. Theo tried to come to her aid, but lost his head with a clean swipe of a soldier’s sword. When her vision returned, she found her lover, lifeless, drenched in his own blood. 

It was the beginning of the end for her. Frozen where she stood, she hadn’t even seen the soldier who had come up behind her. A silver-lined hood stole her vision, and the next thing Mira knew, she was being delivered to a Social Reassignment Facility. Vampire prison.

No fresh air. No beautiful moonlight. No freedom.

For weeks after, she endured unspeakable torture. The humans knew there was a vampire refuge somewhere, and they knew Mira had been heading for it. It was the only reason she’d been kept alive. But she would never betray her kind.

Having proven her strength and ability to take abuse, Mira was sold into the slave trade to be used as a gladiator. That had become her lot in this life: fight until the day she died her true and final death.

Footsteps echoed in the distance. A fast, heavy pace. Men. Handlers, most likely, here to bring round two of torture, no doubt. Mira dreaded the next round of her penance, but resigned herself to it. Couldn’t be any worse than the lightbox.

“Prisoner 8254-B, stand and make yourself ready,” the short, clipped male voice announced.

Relief escaped from Mira’s mouth in a loud sigh. Weak as she still felt, and knowing her face was flushed with emotional tears, Mira was never more glad to not have her number called.

She listened to the sound of the keypad as the handler entered in the code for George’s cell. Interestingly, his code was only eight numbers, whereas hers was ten. Were all the cells coded with not only different numbers but different lengths of code as well? She’d have to pay closer attention each time a vampire was pulled from their cell. Good information for future reference. George might argue against it, but for all he’d done for her, she’d find a way to get him out too. It was the least she could do.

A soft click confirmed the correct code, and then the cell door opened. Mira glanced over to her friend. The tall, bald vampire held his hands out willingly, ready to accept his shackles. George was always such a good boy. His eyes flitted over to her. “Be a good girl while I’m gone,” he whispered.

“No talking,” the handler barked at him, and then turned in Mira’s direction. “And you, don’t look so cocky. We’ll be back for you in a moment. You’ve earned yourself extra training.”

In an effort to appease George, Mira bit her tongue rather than respond to the handler’s taunting.

Training – that was a funny way to describe it. Just as many vampires died in the training hall as in the arena. “No rest for the wicked,” Mira sighed. She wished she’d had a little more blood to help gain her strength back.