The Plagues Series: Emergency

Chapter 2

The following night, I reported into work. Every other night, I have a shift at a bank in Targówek as a night guard. It's nothing anyone couldn't do: I mainly stroll around the building, stop at my desk in front of the CCTV feeds, and maybe read the paper for a bit. It's a single floor, consumer bank, and only one night guard needed, giving me lots of time to myself to be like those cliched, lazy night guards you see in movies. The job was as easy to get as it is easy to do. They favoured vampires over humans because, a part from us being immortal for all intents and purposes, as well as superior at hand-to-hand because of heightened reflexes, every vampire has seen combat as we have all been fighting since our beginnings. This is thanks to constantly tumultuous relations with humans, making us more than capable to hold our own in a tight situation, thus the company knows they're getting the most bang for their buck. Plus us vamps are up all night anyway, so a night shift is a perfect fit for us.

It's why I think AMICA nations were pretty smart to allow vampires into their work forces, even if only in a limited manner right now as mainly service workers and industrial labour. The economy has boomed right across AMICA as production is now 24 hours without it breaking any labour laws. The humans work during the day, then we pick it up at night, then the humans take it back just before sunrise, and the cycle repeats. It helps build a lasting cooperation and amicability as race lines are diminished somewhat, and we're all simply just coworkers. This all scares the shit out of Western powers. The only place we're lacking in is exports of guns, as American-manufactured EMWs (Electromagnetic Weapons) are replacing guns in North America once popularly imported from Eastern countries like Russia and China. North America was the biggest and really only mass gun market  of its size and Eastern economies thrived on it.

My hope continued to fade farther as I browsed a newspaper one night. The front page headline was about the EMWs. They were apparently being introduced into Europe and parts of Asia to replace the current civilian gun markets there. The article said that within the next few weeks, they'd be a regular feature in most gun stores. I suppose in a place like Poland it might be wise to have them for the purposes of being able to fry them in the interests of crowd control, but elsewhere in Europe and Asia most civilian populations weren't concerned about owning guns; human-vamp relations elsewhere in AMICA were smooth and trusting, and the infection situation in North America was unparalleled anywhere else, especially since the infection only really broke out within - and was thus contained within - North American shores. 

Their problems were more than what they had been fifteen years ago, as the population of new classes of infected - mutts and vamps - had grown because of increased demand for and consumption of vaxes that were for the most part ineffective at stopping v-ZCJD. The mutts and us vamps are also much more formidable threat to the human population than are maniacs, which have mostly gone extinct because of increased Asylum use.

My eyes caught movement out front. I shielded them from headlights as a van came up the street towards the bank. It came to a complete stop at the edge of the intersection. I didn't think too much of it, figuring they might just be an especially cautious driver who chose to not come to the usual rolling stop. After a few more seconds passed and the van remained where it was, my suspicion was aroused a little more, though only slightly as I figured a vamp's just getting a ride to work. Nothing ended up happening and the van started up again and rounded the corner. I made a note of what happened for the manager and the relief guard. For all I know, the driver was lost, but in Poland attacks on businesses that employed vamps were very common.

At around four that morning, as per every shift, my relief arrived and I headed to my car. Discovered not far from the home in Wyszkow, my ride was a tiny, two-door station wagon. It was an early model hybrid, so it was cheaper to run, but the body made it about as aesthetically pleasing as Marcus' truck. The orange colour it had was pale and tired, and patchy in places were blemishes had been attempted to be covered up by the previous owner and myself.