The Family Interests

Millakovia, the name was a family name from the old days and stood on the financial firm doors of the high rise building in Oklahoma City. But the name of the family had slowly worked into a more Americanized version of the name, Millbrook, over the years.

The Millakovia family had been “Sooners”. They had snuck in with a group of settlers moving west just before the territory in Oklahoma had been opened for settlement. That was why they were called “Sooners”. The transport of the soil had been important. Now they could smuggle out as much as they wanted and no one asked why Russians would smuggle out “dirt”. Customs were easy to pay off in America. Most of it came through the Port of Catoosa.

Millbrook was a name of importance in Oklahoma. They were known for their Oil ventures, their “Christian” mission camps, the internet mega church, the cattle ranches, the corn farms, the Mortuary with its crematory and private cemetery, the sheriff in Creek County, and of course the daughter that was a judge in creek county. The daughter that was a judge, she was a shoe in for federal district judge at some point soon. The law firm she came from was also branched out to Oklahoma County. The Millbrook Missionaries had “satellite” missions in 30 of the 77 counties in Oklahoma and they were slowly breaking their way into the DOC.

Joanis Millbrook stood looking out the window with his steel-headed cane in his hand. The head of the cane a fist balled up. It was long and wooded with a blade hidden in the center, as it had been for many a century. The old man was much older then he looked and was pallid from all the years of avoiding the direct sunlight. He was tall and heavy. His hair bawled on top with thick salt and pepper around the sides despite his aged face. A salt and pepper beard was neatly groomed and cut in a Russian cut along his jaw strong jaw line. He wore one of those newspaper boy hats of a brown color. And his icy blue eyes were trained on the city outside. Of course, his generation of vourdalak had to avoid the sun at this age.

The new generations were Ghouls as the American term was used. Born of the older generations’ blood and power. They were the ones that were strong, could walk in sunlight, step and fetch as it were. They had limited weaknesses. It had taken many generations of Vourdalak and human interactions to get such a strong family.

The new moon was drawing closer. It was nearly time to feed the “Font” in Creek County. It was located safely at the North end of the Cemetery in the Millbrook Private Cemetery. Plenty of other people were buried in the cemetery, it paid the bills of he 100 acre cemetery. But it wasn’t just a cemetery, it was sacred ground for the Millbrooks. They worshiped a god, just not the one these back water Okies thought it was.

Followers equal power, blood equals food, and it was easy to pull in both once they had figured out how. First had been the 1980’s and watching the TV Preachers gather their masses. They had been able to gather the faithful, something the financial crash created by the oil bust in Tulsa.

Patience had been something the older generation had benefited from, growing the first brood of “ghouls” had not been so easy. There had been mistakes, off shoots they had to “deal”. It was a good thing they had bought the cattle farms in western Oklahoma. Those had gotten big enough, they were feeding prisons in various parts of Oklahoma as well as the Millbrooks. This made things easier. Then came the cornfields, working those needed people to maintain. That was when Michael Millbrook came up with the idea of “rehab” camps. People who needed a place to go and didn’t have anyone to care for themselves.

“Sir, your grandson has arrived,” Maryann said from the doorway. She was a young, cute blonde. Joanis often wondered what she tasted like. Perhaps she sensed this because she was careful to keep her distance from him. She had a family, that was one of the rules the entire “family” maintained. Don’t take anyone that will be missed by someone who will look for them. Someone who is going to be busy throwing monkey wrenches in what they were really doing. Besides they had developed ways to feed without getting noticed these days.

They called him the “Selector”. A special meat plant where humans were taken that were chosen to be eaten. The whole human was used right down to the marrow in the bones. Nothing went to waste, this way nothing was left to be found by authorities. They had mouths to feed including followers. Children to grow and without nourishment it was not possible to do so.

The “Selector” would there to control the “cattle”. He cleaned them of the drugs and substances that made them “poisonous” to eat. In the early days, the Vourdalak lost hair and grew sick showing it in their skin, but now they didn’t have to be sick with the new process.

“Thank you, Maryann,” he said, he was still facing the window. The sun was blocked by the special UV glass in the panes around the building. They had installed it when it was first invented as a way to “protect the employees”. It wasn’t just means of protection but a way to hide their true nature. Back then only a handful of people in the building were members were turned into proper members of the “family”. Soon they would have all the building that way.

“Grandfather,” Charles said from behind him, breaking his train of thought.

“Charles,” he said with a smile. He turned to face the tall young man. His Icy blues lit with a warmth that seemed impossible even for the most ancient of ghouls. Their species of Russian ghoul was quite unique and had escape the purging of the tsars of old. Before the purging of the Tsars themselves, that had been and irony.

“I see we have business with the family in Creek County this week,” Joanis said.

“Yes, Grandfather. Aunt Wilma is looking forward to your visit as always,” Charles said. He smiled; he always smiled. His white teeth were perfectly groomed.

Wilma Millbrook was a part of the family who was a force to be reckoned with. She was a member of his first brood. One of the few to survive the beginning of the new breed and still walk in full sunlight. She was the owner and still currently ran the Millbrook Mortuary. She appeared soft and caring to those she wanted to, but that woman had one hell of a bite to her. Just like her grandmother. It made the old man smile.

“I assume we will have a business meeting while we are there?” Joanis asked, he never lost his smile, there was an edge to it Charles knew very well.

“Informed them ahead of time to have certain family member present when we arrived, Grandfather. I anticipated what you might want based on recent events with the Virus affecting humans,” Charles said.

“Very Good. Tell me what you brought me for lunch,” he asked Charles with a kind of hopeful look on his face. Charles was one of Wilma’s Nephews. Her twin sister had been killed by a hunter when they were young. Mina was just had her third child when it had happened.

A French-Canadian fur trapper had been working out in Western Oklahoma near what is now Elk City. Fur trappers had come with the homesteaders hoping to get a piece of the pie out in Oklahoma at the time. They were after the land the Indians had, and the Indian wars were dying down. It turned out he wasn’t really a fur trapper. He’d been tracking the Millakovias from the time they had landed on the shores of Novia scotia and worked their way into the thirteen colonies. Of course, the colonies had fought a few wars and expanded by then into what was now the great united states.

Things did not turn out well for that fur trapper. He ended up in a few pots of stew and at least one good winter store of canned meats for the family. No one was the wiser for it.

Wilma grieves for her twin still and on their birthday each year holds a special dinner. This dinner is very important to her. Important enough that certain family members are expected to attend. That date was approaching and she would be looking for suitable “meat” for her dinner. She never left this up to the Selector.

“Why Grandfather, you assume I stopped for lunch,” Charles grinned with a teasing wink at his old grandfather.

Joanis couldn’t help but think about how much Charles looked like his mother and was just as smart too. Wilma loved all three of the nephews, Charles and the Twins, but she tended to favor the twins sometimes too much.

“I know you did. You would not tease an old man who is starving having been without for some time,” Joanis feigned hunger.

“I stopped at the Selector and picked up two of those tar-tar liver burgers you like so much,” he told the old Vourdalak with big grin.

“That’s my boy.”

“The ride will be a long one for you out to Sapulpa and I do not want my favorite grandfather wasting away,” Charles teased.

“Your favorite grandfather? I am the best one in the whole world, dear boy. What grandfather can grant long life as I have granted you,” he asked teasingly.

“True, very true. I amend my statement, the only one for me,” he smiled.

“That’s better, but don’t let your grandmother here you say that. She will think she had nothing to do with it and we both know without her, there would be no dynasty of Millbrooks,” he said wryly.

During the Stock Market crash of the 1920’s she had wisely pulled money out before it had gone under. They had been some of the lucky few with money to keep a lifestyle they didn’t have to give up, and ultimately kept fed. Luring people with the promise of work helped to find fresh meat in a time when the Mortuary wasn’t doing the kind of business it should have been.

In 1935 Black Sunday devastated the panhandle of Oklahoma and nearly all of Oklahoma. For five years they fought the drought, the dirt “blizzards”, and the poor soil. She had set up work camps to survive the Dust Bowl and keep the family fed. She had been one of the driving forces to convince congress planting hemp would save the topsoil. She found scientists to work on the problem. Margo refused to give up for the family.

These same scientists had taught Margo how to reverse the “rot” of many of the family members. The sickness that plagued so many Vourdalak. This “rot” cure spread far and wide, for a price of course. As far as the scientists, Margo paid them with immortality, so that she could keep getting innovative ideas out of them. They were her golden goose, and they proved to still be, so far.

“Speaking of your grandmother, have you spoken to her,” Joanis asked.

“She is meeting us in Sapulpa. She wanted to get one more thing done with the children she is studying currently. She called them, “delightful”. But then Grandmother does love children,” Charles said.

“Hmmm, yes, she loves to spoil them. I suspect a new brood will be coming soon,” Joanis chuckled.

“We will need a private school for them at this rate,” Charles said without thinking.

“What a wonderful idea! You should talk to your grandmother. She will love that idea. You have a degree in Mathmatics. You could teach the little rascals,” Joanis grinned at the idea.

“I prefer you company, Grandfather,” Charles admitted.

“Young man, it’s time you got out there a little bit. See how the rest of the world is and what it’s like to have a family of your own. You need a young lady at your side. The reunion is coming soon. Eventually you will get an arranged marriage if you don’t start looking on your own,” Joanis warned.

“I know, grandfather. Let’s leave that for another day, please. Your burgers will ruin and time waits for no man,” Charles said.

“Slick, my boy, very slick. All right, we will discuss this again, soon. But for today I will let it pass,” Joanis smiled at Charles relived look.

Together Joanis and Charles walked to the elevator that took them down to the parking garage out of the sunlight’s rays and to the waiting car. The car in the back was a cool dark place for Grandfather to ride safely.