Suburban Vampire: Book of Origins

JEREMIAH and ALLAN, MASTER and ACOLYTE

MISSISSIPPI

1858

The glaring sun bore down upon the slaves working the cotton fields at Cameron Manor. One of them, a muscular, middle-aged man, stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. Another younger slave came up to him with a cup of water. "I thought you might be needing this," the younger man said.

"Thank ye," the older man said, "but I coulda got it on my own. Ain't no need for you to grovel to me."

"Well, they say you's the crew boss around here and Master Allan gave you authority. I thought it might be in my interests to be on your good side."

"Son, good side, bad side, I don't think it matters." The older man lifted his head and put his hand above his brow to shelter his eyes as looked off into the distance. "Ah, see that there wagon? The one just pulling up yonder? They's bringing more slaves. Fresh meat, as Master Allan says."

"'Fresh meat'," the younger slave chuckled. "That there's funny."

"Don't you be laughing, boy." The older man pointed over to the Manor house, where master Allan Cameron, dressed in his finest, stood upon the balcony. "You see there? That's Master Allan. All the white folk call him a 'true southern gentleman', but there ain't nothing gentlemanlike about him. Oh sure, he do feed us and treat us better than most, but I want you to notice something."

"And what's that?"

"I been keeping track of folks. That's part of my job. Although we're getting more slaves every week, the numbers, they don't change much. And some of the folks I count, I don't see no more."

"They could have escaped, taken the underground railroad north?"

"No. I'da heard tell about that. No, what they say is, when Master Allan 'invites' you in for supper, don't you be going inside, because there's many a man, woman, and child that go in for supper, and they don't ever come out. One gal I know, she says she seen blood on the floor inside. Lots of blood. So you steer clear of Master Allan, you got it?"

"I will."

The older man pointed once more toward the balcony. A large, handsome black man, dressed equally as well as Master Allan, came out from the manor house to stand alongside Allan. "And you see that negro right there? That's Mister Jeremiah. He be Master Allan's house nigger. There ain't nothin' right about him, you hear me? You best avoid that one, I tell you."

"Yeah," the younger man said as he looked at Jeremiah, "he has an odd air about him. I think I will follow your advice, old timer."

"I mean it. He may look like one of us, but he ain't. In fact, I ain't sure what the hell he is."

On the balcony, Allan Cameron paced about. "What troubles you today?" Jeremiah asked.

"I'm nervous," Allan said, having covered his Scottish accent with a more appropriate local one, "nervous over the current political situation. Have you read the papers, Jeremiah?"

"Do not be too concerned, Allan."

"Do not be too concerned? There is a good chance that this Mr. Lincoln will be elected to the presidency and the Republican party will prevail! Have you read what Mr. Lincoln said in his debates with Mr. Johnson? Have you?" Allan picked a paper from a nearby accent table and opened it. "This is what Mr. Lincoln says: 'I have always hated slavery, I think as much as any abolitionist.' And he claims not to be an abolitionist! You can't tell me this sentiment isn't slightly concerning to you!"