Sean Zhao, Period 7, 5/26/2023

Sean Zhao

Period 7

5/26/2023

Fanfiction about Louis’ anecdote from WWZ

New York City, New York

[I walk through the empty streets of New York until I reach the address on the card. The boarded up windows contrast the bright red brick in the midday sun. Behind an unassuming door lies an extravagant apartment decorated in 1700s style. A servant leads me through a hallway to a dark, empty bedroom. As I turn to sit on a chair, Louis de Pointe du Lac materializes in front of my eyes. His old, striking eyes deceive the youthful facade the rest of his body portrays]

Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would have personally met you at the door if not for the circumstances. My name is Louis. It has been quite some time since anyone has been brave enough to approach me directly. Not even the dead come here. 

How long have you been staying here?

Oh, a few years. Skin off my back. We, or at least who we’ve been able to contact, have been staying here, away from it all. It really is quite nice here. While humans scuttle around like rats, we’ve been content to watch from afar. When I first heard of your so-called “Great Panic,” I was ecstatic. The dead rising again? Out for human flesh? I thought a revolution was on the horizon. My brothers and I could rise and reclaim our spot above humans proudly. We would finally become gods. You can imagine my disappointment when I saw the bumbling mess that humans become after death. 

Is there a difference between you and the undead?

Why certainly. Call it a vampire gene or whatnot, but there is a certain something that separates a true vampire from an overdue corpse. The mind needed to remain intact. Can you really compare the rotting gums on one of them to these fangs? Their mottled, decayed arms to this strength? I realized that the old method of feeding and turning was the only way for a vampire to be created. Oh well. I mourned my potential throne, but relished in the chaos that followed. 

Sustenance wasn’t an issue?

In the first few months following the Great Panic, you couldn’t walk 3 miles next to a human before they got antsy and started blasting. Everyone was on edge, and this meant that they usually huddled together, and refused to move. Any rustle in the brush was immediately met with gunfire. It’s not like the dead served as much sustenance anyways. Even before their war, I was unable to feast on stale or dead blood. I needed their vitality. Each person turned was another day that I wouldn’t live. For the first few months, I resorted to old tactics. Feral cats, rodents, anything that was still living and breathing. And the remaining survivors, those herds of fat sheep, protected by rifles and grenades and anything else they had in their bunker, were… Unreachable. I caught a few shotgun shells to the chest when I was feeling hungry, which ruined a few of my suits. But eventually, someone would get careless. Fall asleep during lookout. Not communicate their position. Their friends would wake up to one less mouth to feed in the morning. In a way, I was doing them a favor. A perfectly neutral observer. The survivors were able to enjoy more resources themselves, and the undead didn’t gain a new recruit. 

Did you ever interact with the undead? 

No. I assume your scientists are hard at work discovering how they were able to survive for so long. I have no interest in this matter, nor did they have any interest in me. Perhaps their vision was based on the heat you produce, the sweat that seeps into your clothes. Everything that could designated something as human I lacked. I could walk to the very middle of their horde and not be met with so much as an inquisitive grunt. I will say though, they did serve as a convenient way to locate settlements. As they fought to push them back and to fortify their defenses, they failed to realize that I had been there the entire time. Once all the hatches were secured and doors locked only then did they realize there was somehow an extra person behind their defenses. I quelled many hordes myself this way. They would break in and find nothing but bodies. For the first time, I had to share the shadows with something.