Everyone Dies in the End #70
Cindy
“Why?”
The truck rumbled on, the hard wooden seats as uncomfortable as ever, the engine’s exhaust still belching diesel fumes thick and oily. She was wedged in her corner. Ramzke relaxed on the bench across from her, leaning against the cab, legs stretched on the bench, crossed at the ankles, eyes open. She had never seen him with his eyes closed.
“Would you have rather that I let them rape her and throw her in the pen? You do understand what happened to those in the pen, no?”
Cindy changed her position, stretched her legs to the front and stifled a yawn. The driver up shifted, and the engine’s tenor changed as it accelerated. Behind them, in the distance, a light flashed and then disappeared. Cindy barely noticed.
“Yes, I understand that you murder the people in the pen.” She could see Ramzke purse his lips in the dim light.
“Call it what you will, but yes, we feed on them and Vader’s men ensure they are killed afterwards.”
“Why?” Cindy asked.
“Because they would change, and Vader is frightened of that.”
“Would you kill your victims if Vader’s men didn’t?”
Ramzke gestured out the back of the truck at the post-apocalyptic landscape. “You mean before all this?”
The truck hit a pothole, jolting Cindy. The jolt passed and Cindy nodded, certain the vampire could see her head move in the darkness.
“Of course,” replied Ramzke. “We kill most. To do otherwise would tip the balance. Yes, we are powerful, but we are few. If our numbers grew so would our carelessness, and if we were discovered, truly discovered, no longer the stuff of legends and myths, but rather known by all, your species would hunt us to extinction.”
“And the world would be a better place,” added Cindy.
The vampire picked at a thread on his jeans, behind them Cindy spotted the remnants of a burned out school bus, resting on its side next to the road. The sky had lightened marginally. Ramzke had explained that Philadelphia
“So why did you let this girl live, vampire?” Cindy persisted. “Why didn’t you rape, drain, and kill her.”
He laughed softly in the night, a barely discernable sound. “You flatter yourself and your species, girl. I have no desire to rape, but feed? That is a more complex question. You understand what those men were doing, where they were taking that girl?”
Cindy shifted, easing a cramp in her back. “Of course.”
Ramzke sat and faced her. “I killed that man; I would have killed them all, because I abhor what they do. To me you are food.” He spread his hands,” Yes, I must admit that some of you are more than food. You, for instance, “The vampire pointed at her, “I respect you. I respect your spirit, and I respect your word. It is why I gave you the shotgun; it is why I asked for your help with the penners. But those,” he pointed with his chin out the back of the truck,” those would enslave their own kind, feed them to us.” Ramzke spat on the floor, “For those I have no respect.”
“But food is food, no?”
Again the soft chuckle. “Perhaps, but there is something else. The pens represent more than food, they also represent shackles in which this man, Vader, has placed us, so I abhor them also.”
Cindy didn’t answer. Ramzke’s reply had triggered an unpleasant circle of thoughts. Ramzke was a conflicted son of a nutcracker, of that there was no doubt. But who was she to judge? She set out for Philadelphia
Cindy knew the answer to those questions and didn’t like it. Didn’t like what it said about her and about her loyalty. She felt the side of her jeans, the pocket where Eddie’s picture resided. Touching the picture helped, but it no longer dispelled the image of Zak. This was something she must resolve. But I have a teensy little thing to handle before I do, she chided herself. I’m the prisoner of a soulless vampire who is bringing me to a demented warlord named Vader. I just might need to handle that first. The ludicrous convolution of problems made her laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Vader asked, his voice low.
“Vader,” she answered.
“Yeah,” Ramzke chuckled, “just wait till you meet him. He’s a real killer.”
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