Me, I'm Not

Previously: The Beginning of the End, The Good Soldier

Hidden in the darkness of the jungle, he watched, and waited. Even from this distance, he was able to detect the scents that the humans were emitting - adrenaline, sweat, fear...and now, with this new group returning to the aircraft, the enticing aroma of spilled blood.

He crept closer to the people, the draw of fresh blood was difficult to resist. It had been so long since he had fed upon human plasma. Animal blood would work as sustenance, of course - it had done him quite well in the past, and there were plenty of mammals to feast upon in the rainforest - but there was nothing really like hunting and killing a person. And, of course, humans were the only creatures that could be turned.

There had been rumors of others like him who had successfully converted chimpanzees, orangutans, and other primates, but the idea of such a creation seems ...distasteful to him. But those myths - if they were myths - were long ago, and far behind him. For all he knew, there were no chimpanzees left alive on the planet to convert, even if he had wanted to. Or perhaps the only chimps that remained were in fact, ones that had been converted into his type. Vampire-chimps, hiding in the darkness of the night, avoiding both the remaining humans, and of course, the Mim-cha. Just like he himself had been doing so recently.

Things had been so good for so many years. Food was abundant, conversions were made often, and his power and influence grew. Humans feared his type, even if they doubted that they truly existed. Eventually, though, they learned the truth, and they began to fight back. Armies of humans trained to kill and hunt vampires began to strike back. It did little good. Vampires were simply too animal-like in their cunning, and much stronger predators. The human race could not defeat the vampiric infection.

So they sent in machines to do the job for them.

The robots looked human, and they even smelled human, so vampires, of course, thought that they were. But the damn things excelled at taking out the undead. They did a pretty thorough job for the first few years, too. As he had seen more and more of his companions get taken out by the machines - which had begun to refer to themselves as Mim-cha, a name that they had apparently self-appointed - he had retreated to the deep rainforests of South America. He had not gone alone, of course, and for a few years he had contacts who ventured back and forth between the jungle and the civilized world. But then, the bombs had fallen, and his contacts had dried up: either killed in the nuclear blasts, or taken out by man or machine. Regardless of how it happened, he had been on his own for practically two decades, and for all he knew, was the last of his kind.

Now, however, there was this group of humans. Which meant food, and a chance to have others like him again. Looking at the new set of people who had just joined the group, he was struck by one individual in particular. There was some sort of aura about him that drew his attention so much more than the others. Interestingly, he appeared to have a twin brother - who was carrying the wounded man over his shoulder. The twin appeared physically similar, of course, but there was something ...off... about him as well. A moment later, a canine approached, looking uneasy, and it made sense. The twin - or perhaps both of the men - were Mim-cha.

Were they hunting him down? Had they somehow gotten word that he had been in exile all these years, and wanted to ensure that I never bothered humanity again?

If so, they would have a fight on their hands.

******

After we got back to the Vulture, we reunited with the crew members. All four of them were alive and unharmed. Isaiah, the pilot, had been working on the radio, and had, in fact, gotten it back to operational status. He had not, however, received any feedback on it.

Reese welcomed me back with a warm embrace and a kiss. She asked me how I was handling the fact that "he" (she nodded her head toward Kyle) was reactivated - the shrink in her doing her psychoanalyzing again - and seemed to take my "I'm fine with it" at face value. I admit that being reunited with my lover helped put me more at ease.

Simon, the Vulture's tech guy, and one of our experts on Mim-cha, was particularly surprised to see Kyle up and mobile. He had some sort of handheld device which he scanned over Kyle's head and chest area. He interrogated the bot for a while, but I was unable to hear the questions or responses. After getting enough information, Simon walked off, muttering to himself, while studying the readings he had picked up on his initial scans.

James went to assisting Evelyn with bandaging Pablo and addressing his wounds as best they could. After getting him as comfortable as possible, they announced that time was critical. James also applied a make-shift splint for my fingers, and ordered Evelyn to rest off her leg. Isaiah told us all that he would continue to contact HQ on the radio, because getting the Vulture airborne again was going to take some time.

When asked about Lindsay, Kyle informed us all, in that oh-so-touching way that robots have, that he had "expired as a result of the crash". I noticed that Reese looked around to see who was taking the news hardest, and might need counseling later.

Kyle announced again his intentions for us to make it to the mysterious hidden facility. Simon asked what I had asked earlier, "What sort of facility?" And added, "How do you know about this?"

Kyle replied that he again did not know what type and as for how he knew about it said, "Certain files have been activated. We should, however, hurry."

Simon told us that his readings before the flashes which had caused the Vultures to crash had indicated that there was, in fact, Mim-cha activity near where Kyle was talking about.

"All right," I said, "Me, the bot, Reese, Andrew and Simon will make our way to this facility. We'll check it out and see how fortified it is. The rest of you, stay here, and hang tight. We'll return with info in 45 minutes."

I was wrong. I never saw the Vulture, or most of the crew, again.

Next: My Violent Heart