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Blood Lust on the Morrian Express

How Zarek’s Day Goes From Bad to Worse.

By Natalie DemossPublished 2 years ago 24 min read
2

A dull thudding in Zarek’s head penetrated the strange haze of deep sleep. It was the worst headache he’d ever had. Zarek slowly opened his eyes to find himself in darkness. As he tried to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, he realized his mouth tasted like someone had gagged him with a desert cat.

Zarek carefully shifted his body so as not to jar his aching head. That’s when he discovered there was a leather strap attached to a chain around his ankle. It had an electronic lock, so there was no way he could unstrap it. Zarek closed his eyes and groaned. Slavers.

At least he could move his arms. He felt around the lining of his jacket for the hidden pocket within. His sonic knife was still there. It seemed the Salathars who took him hadn't been all that thorough in searching him for weapons. He sat back with a sigh and rubbed the ridge of skin spreading out from the bridge of his nose to his forehead like the leaves of a plant. Then he massaged the tops of his slightly pointed ears. Both actions usually helped to relieve his headaches. He desperately needed his head to stop throbbing so he could get his bearings before he could attempt an escape.

The sound of whimpers from the youngest in the car reached his ears. With the life he led, it came as no surprise that people of all species on Morra were often horrible, but it broke his heart that they could be so vile as to use children.

Zarek’s eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light. They were in a box-like room that was barely high enough for him to sit up. The air was stale and stuffy. It smelled of the waste of those of his terrified companions who had soiled themselves.

When his body jolted hard enough that he nearly fell over, he realized not all of the disorientation he felt was coming from his tender brain. They were moving much faster than the land shuttles the slavers often used. Zarek concentrated on the movement and determined that they were on a train.

How had this happened? He had spent the better part of his sixteen years avoiding the slavers. Zarek thought back to the last thing he could remember. He had returned to Jasbar’s home with a response after delivering a message for him. He had been hesitant to work for the man in the first place, but it was better than starving to death. Zarek had been a loyal employee for two years.

It came as a surprise when Jasbar invited Zarek to dine with him. That had never happened before. It had been an uncomfortable meal as he ate from the plate in front of him. While his boss wasn't entirely generous with his dinner guest, it was the most food Zarek had eaten in one sitting. It was hot and fresh, which was an improvement over his usual meals or lack thereof. What made it uncomfortable was watching Jasbar sample dish after dish continuously placed in front of him by his servants while his crony, a Goblarian named Saldan, laughed raucously at his lame jokes and stories with his high-pitched laughter. If an item didn't meet with Jasbar’s approval, it was tossed aside, often directly at the servants. Being a messenger was beginning to look like a prime job if one had to work for Jasbar.

Like most Slothians, Jasbar was the definition of gluttony in all things. The Slothians’ displayed their success in the size of their bodies. The grey-skinned, hairless Jasbar was so large that his legs were all but useless. He worked out of his home because it was too difficult to get further than traveling between his bed chamber and the salon where he conducted business. Zarek had once caught sight of an enormous bed layered in luxurious fabrics. It was unlikely that Jasbar ever used it. He’d need a tractor beam crane to get him out of his hoverchair. Then again, maybe that’s precisely what he did. His servants managed to bathe him and get him into new clothes every day. Zarek had heard that Jasbar’s bathing chamber was pure marble with a tub large enough for several people to swim in.

Saldan was tiny in comparison. Goblarians rarely stood more than four feet tall. While, Saldan had a paunchy midsection thanks to his association with Jasbar, most Goblarians tended toward being rather thin. Saldan’s spindly limbs sticking out from his rotund belly gave him a strange appearance. The tufts of hair poking out of his large, pointy ears and random points on his head did nothing to improve his looks.

It was an odd friendship. From what Zarek understood, Jasbar and Saldan had met as children, raised up together in the criminal underworld of Morra. Their association had survived Jasbar’s rise to power.

As Zarek thought about that weird dinner party, he realized that he didn't remember leaving Jasbar’s house or even finishing the meal. He had a fuzzy memory of Saldan’s cackling fading in and out.

Jasbar had only invited him to dine in order to drug him. That bastard. Never trust a Slothian. Jasbar would have sold his own mother to the slavers for the right price - possibly even Saldan, although he may well have liked the Goblarian better than the woman who had brought him into the world. Zarek thought he had been a valuable employee. It seemed not quite valuable enough. It was well known that Jasbar was addicted to synth salts. The slavers must have offered him a large enough quantity to sell out his most reliable messenger.

Zarek’s headache was subsiding, and he was beginning to think more clearly. He was confident he could get out of the restraints. The problem was that he didn't feel right leaving the rest of the kids behind. How was he going to get all of them off the train? What if there were more slave cars than the one they were in?

Another jolt sent him into the captive next to him - a Sylphite girl, likely a couple of years younger than him. That wasn't surprising. Sylphites were a hot commodity on the slave market. Male or female, they were willowy, nearly ethereal. The slavers sold them as dancers or courtesans, which were more often than not one and the same. The girl looked at Zarek with large eyes that appeared black in the gloom. He resolved to help her escape at the very least. Her long flame red hair would make her even more desirable.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pushing a lock of cornflower blue hair out of eyes nearly the same shade. “I’m Zarek.”

“Ishana,” she replied quietly. She didn't seem as distraught as many of the other children. Maybe she could help him get the others out.

Zarek glanced around the room, making sure there were no guards around. He pulled out his knife and showed it to Ishana. “I'm going to get these restraints off of us. Can you help me keep the rest of the kids calm while I figure out how to get us out of here?”

She nodded but looked curious, “How are we going to get off a moving train?”

“If we can get to the roof, we can hide up there and jump down at the next stop,” he replied as his sonic blade sliced through the leather as if it were butter. “I used to ride on the roof all the time when I couldn't afford to pay for passage. There are rails to hold onto. We should just need to get between the cars and climb the ladder.”

“Sure. Sounds simple enough.” Ishana gave him a nervous smile.

They made their way through the others, cutting off the shackles and gently hushing them as needed. When he finished, Zarek crouched and listened to see if he could determine how many guards were outside their compartment. His ears came from his Parashtee side and were able to pick up nuances that most others wouldn’t. His Morrian side wasn't nearly as helpful, providing only a dark tan skin tone and possibly his usually quick wit. Considering the predicament he was in he wasn't sure how intelligent he actually was.

He filtered out the sounds from inside their prison. Several people were above them, but he could only hear one other person with the telltale slower heartbeat of a Salathar. That should mean only one guard. Zarek had never taken a life, but he would do whatever was necessary to escape. His knife would slice through a Salathar’s throat as easily as it had the leather.

The train suddenly careened dangerously, taking a turn much faster than it should have, sending Ishana stumbling into his arms. Why was the train traveling so quickly? Had the slavers taken over the whole thing and were pressing the engineer to meet a deadline? Maybe not - the heartbeat guarding the door increased as it rushed off toward the engine.

“Alright. The guard just left. We need to move now.” Zarek said.

He found a trap door near where the guard had been standing and pushed up on it. Zarek poked his head out to find himself peering into the vestibule at the end of a passenger car. He pulled himself up and then helped Ishana through the hole in the floor. He opened the door to the compartment while she assisted the others.

The passengers seemed agitated but took no notice of him. The conductor, however, came forward with a smile while trying to calm those around him.

“This is a first-class car. May I see your ticket?” He asked. He looked down his perfect Morrian nose at him with a sneer. Of course, the upper crust would only allow a pure Morrian to serve them. Zarek may only be half Parashtee, but he would never be good enough for that lot.

Zarek wondered if those wealthy Morrian passengers in the first-class car had any idea that the slavers routinely transported people beneath them. Would they even care? He made a show of patting his pants and jacket pockets. “I’m sorry to have troubled you. I was taking a walk. I seemed to have left my ticket in my seat. I’ll head back there and get it.” He retreated into the vestibule and closed the door behind him, wedging it with a pole he found hooked on the wall. It wouldn't do them any good if the conductor came to investigate.

Zarek opened the door between the cars and moved over to the ladder. He got Ishana’s attention. “I’ll go up first to show the kids how to get a handhold. Can you stay back and help them up the ladder?”

“Yes,” she replied, although her expression said she didn't entirely trust him.

He wouldn't trust him either in that situation. Zarek wasn't sure how to assure her he wouldn't leave her behind. He scurried up the ladder and then held out his hand for the next child to make their way up. It was difficult since the train was moving so fast.

The sound of screams reached Zarek’s ears as they were about three-quarters of the way through getting the children up the ladder. It seemed to be coming from the car beyond theirs. He motioned for the kids to hurry. The passengers below joined the cacophony as the door to their car burst open.

Ishana shrieked. Zarek looked down in time to see a pile of feathers snatch a young boy off the ladder. He was the last to ascend before the Sylphite. Zarek thought at first that the guard had returned although this person was definitely not a Salathar. He felt his stomach tighten with fear as the figure locked his mouth on the boy’s neck, ripping out his jugular. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Ishana screamed again as another person lunged for her. She skirted away from them and began to climb the ladder frantically. Zarek pulled her the rest of the way up as soon as he could reach her. The boy’s blood covered Ishana’s mossy green skin. Her huge eyes, midnight blue in the daylight, looked pained. Zarek gazed into them, trying to determine if she was actually hurt or just scared. The white specks throughout the irises and lack of pupils gave the appearance of a starlit night sky. Ishana panted out terrified breaths as Zarek held her against him.

What in the fire world were those things? Zarek had heard tales of the Bampiroti. Everyone had grown up hearing stories about the space pirates who drank blood. There was no way they could be real. That was laughable. Besides, they took over other spaceships. They didn't attack planets. Yet, here he was, scuttling backward along the railing with the rest of the children as a man with hungry eyes and long fangs climbed up between the cars.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zarek saw the train blow past a station and felt the beginnings of panic set in. The surprised people on the platform went by in a blur. The engineer had probably become a victim of the Bampiroti attack, and now the train was out of control. Zarek and his fellow captives wouldn't likely survive a jump off a train traveling at that rate of speed, even if they were lucky enough to find a body of water to leap into.

If he had known this was going to happen, Zarek would have kept everyone in the hold beneath the passenger car and hope for the best. Not that there was much chance that the fabled space pirates wouldn't have found them down there. If the Bampiroti didn't kill them, the impending derailment would. In all honesty, either means of death would be better than the fate they would have faced at the hands of the slavers if the attack on the train hadn't happened. Most could expect a life in the sex trade. Zarek might have been lucky enough to be used as a pawn to commit crimes. He would be expendable - taken out by a poisoned implant before he could utter a word in the event he was ever caught.

The Bampiroti crept forward, toying with them. Two more appeared behind him. Zarek noticed that their nature was more of a way of being than a particular race. The three facing them couldn't be more different from each other. The one in the lead was of some Avian species Zarek was unfamiliar with. While he bore a somewhat humanoid head, feathers covered his body. He had both a beak and teeth, which was a strange combination. The second had scales and hooded flaps on his neck. His fangs were incredibly long. The third was furrier than anyone Zarek had ever seen but otherwise appeared humanoid.

The children couldn't contain their fear anymore. One of them slipped over the side of the train. Zarek wasn't sure if she lost her grip or jumped to avoid the predators stalking them. Zarek didn't take his eyes off the Bampiroti even when he felt Ishana slump in his arms. She felt so cold.

Tucking a foot under the railing, Zarek kept a tight hold on Ishana with one arm while holding his knife in front of him in a futile attempt to protect them from the Bampiroti. According to the stories, they would only truly die when their heads took leave of their bodies. While his knife was sharp enough to decapitate a person, it was small and would take far more time and effort than he could afford, especially when there was more than one of them. There was no guarantee that would work anyway. The tales also said that the Bampiroti couldn't abide sunlight, but here they were sadistically playing with their prey in the full light of day.

The Bampiroti in the lead licked his beaky lips as he slowly closed the distance. Suddenly Ishana shot out of Zarek’s grip and stood in front of him. She hissed as the Bampiroti moved closer. His nasty smile turned to shock as Ishana moved faster than he anticipated. Not even the bloodthirsty man could match the train’s speed when his feet left the roof. Ishana nearly went flying off the train too. Zarek almost missed catching her by the ankle. He was surprised when she didn't fall flat on her face but seemed to hover like a kite tethered by a string. Was that a Sylphite thing?

Zarek yanked her back down just in time for her to tackle the next Bampiroti. Who knew Sylphites could fight like that? He always had the impression that they were more passive.

As they tumbled away from him, Ishana caught the railing. The snake-like Bampiroti did not. Now they were down to one. At least there was only one left of the roof. There was no telling how many were on the train.

Zarek was so intent on making sure Ishana didn't fall that he almost missed the furry Bampiroti as it moved past him to grab one of the children, a Parashtee girl with a more pronounced ridge and blueish purple hair.

Zarek slashed out with his weapon in an attempt to rescue her. His knife met with resistance and left a large gash in the Bampiroti’s side. However, it did little to slow him down. He had already bitten into the child’s shoulder.

Ishana shrieked and fought to pry the girl away from him. She succeeded and held the child possessively while Zarek repeatedly stabbed at him. The wounds were annoying at best but served to distract the Bampiroti enough that he finally lost his grip on the roof and was carried off in the wind.

Zarek held onto the railing tighter, panting as he surveyed the aftermath of the fight. Had they really defeated three Bampiroti? He almost felt like cheering. Zarek turned to Ishana with a grin. His smile faded as he looked at the girl. There was something different about her. She looked even more ethereal and seductive than before. Maybe it was just high of the battle for their freedom and their lives.

The children screamed as another jolt nearly sent all of them over the side of the train. That brought Zarek’s attention back to the fact that they still needed to survive the runaway train.

“Ishana. Can you keep them safe up here while I see if I can stop the train?” he asked.

She nodded. “How are you going to get there? I would guess there are more Bampiroti in the cars.”

“Yeah. I figured that too.” Zarek said. “I was going stay up top and make my way to the engine.”

“Be careful, Zarek.” Ishana sounded concerned.

“I'm always careful,” he replied.

“Then how did you get caught by the slavers?” she asked.

Wow. Ishana was snarkier than he had thought she would be. He kind of liked it. She had a point, though. “I let my guard down. My boss drugged me and sold me to the slavers.”

Zarek set off toward the front of the train. The hardest part was getting over the gap between the cars. He had to climb partway down one ladder and then jump across to the next one.

Zarek’s heart skipped a beat as he descended a ladder and saw one of the Salathars the slavers hired to conduct business. The bi-pedal lizard people did not mate outside their species, making them perfect for guarding the chattel. They wouldn’t sample the wares. They were thick-skinned and difficult to wound, so Zarek was astonished to see that the Salathar’s throat had been ripped open. At least he was no longer a threat.

He finally made it down the ladder on the engine car. Through the open door, Zarek could see the engineer’s body lying against the throttle. He stepped inside and tugged at the man until he could get to the controls. Zarek saw the emergency brake but was worried that it would derail the train if he pulled it while traveling that fast. He had to try to pull back on the throttle first. Everything was sticky from the blood spray. The force of the body hitting the throttle had left it bent. Zarek strained to pull on it and eventually was able to slow the train, if not stop it. Then he yanked on the emergency brake. Finally, the train came to a complete stop.

Zarek returned to the roof and surveyed their surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe any remaining Bampiroti would leave since there was a decided lack of food. Well, as long as they weren't interested in drinking the blood of children. He began to run across the roof back toward Ishana and the kids, this time jumping across the gaps.

He and Ishana helped the other children down to the ground. Zarek was trying to determine if the girl the Bampiroti attacked was alive and how they would get her down when she stood as if nothing had happened and then jumped to the ground. Zarek climbed down and looked at her in wonder.

He didn't have time to question her or Ishana’s strange ability to fight. One of the doors flew open a couple of cars down. Two humanoid Bampiroti, a male and a female, jumped down effortlessly and proceeded to walk toward them. Once again, Ishana put herself between their party and the vampires. The Parashtee girl stood slightly behind and to her left, hissing menacingly.

“They are ours. You have fed enough. Leave us,” Ishana demanded.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” the female Bampiroti sneered. “You belong to our maker, sisters. You are required to let him have first pick for feeding.”

“Our maker didn't survive when I threw him off the train, sister. I saw his head depart his body when he hit a tree.” Ishana said. “We are free to make our own way.”

The male shrugged. “As newborns, I suppose you will need to feed frequently. You may as well keep all of them. They hold less blood than an adult.” The Bampiroti took a device from his pocket and spoke into it in a language Zarek had never heard. A few moments later, their bodies apparated.

There was no doubt it was a very strange day, and it seemed that the disappearance of the Bampiroti wouldn't be the end of it. Zarek stared at Ishana as their words sunk in. “You are one of them? Both of you?”

Ishana pulled her shirt over her shoulder to reveal nasty-looking twin gashes. “I managed to slip out of his grip, but not before he bit me. It wasn't deep enough to kill, but I don't think he intended to turn me. I don't know that he wanted to drain me either. Sylphites are too valuable to the Bampiroti. And I pulled Saara away before he could finish the job. I wasn't sure she was going to make it.” She paused to survey the train. “We should check to see if any other slaves survived. They’ll likely die in there before any rescue ships find them.”

They left Saara to watch the other kids with strict instructions not to bite them. As they began to search the blood-soaked cars for hidden compartments, Zarek said, “You seem to know a lot about the Bampiroti.”

“My father was a contracted donor before he married my mother. He told me about them,” she replied.

“Where are your parents? How did you wind up on the train?” Zarek asked.

A sad expression passed over her face. “Stargen City. I snuck out and went to a party with my friends. I woke up hanging over the shoulder of a Salathar. I don't know what happened to my friends. Anyway, I can't go back now. My father may have worked for the Bampiroti, but he wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

Zarek shrugged. “I suppose it would be better than spending the rest of your life in the slave trade.” Would it really? Would his life be any better as a Bampiroti? That was something he’d have to consider.

They found two other slave compartments. One hadn't survived the Bampiroti attack. Zarek quickly worked his way through the other car cutting the restraints while Ishana herded them outside.

Zarek tried not to look into the passenger cars, littered with the bodies of upper-class Morrians and low-life Salathars alike. He had become accustomed to the coppery smell of blood since the attack began, but that didn't mean he liked it. Zarek couldn't wait to be back in the fresh air.

None of the children complained as they walked for hours, trying to find shelter. They finally happened upon a remote farm and let themselves into the barn.

Ishana had a look on her face like she was starving. Saara was licking her lips and creeping toward one of the kids.

“Wait. You aren't going to eat them, right? I didn't rescue them just to let you drain their blood.” Zarek cried.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ishana gave him a scathing look. “Saara, come, there is an aging bovine in the field. We will help it meet its maker. We can take care of them once we are full.”

“You’re going to kill one of the farmer’s bovines?” Zarek asked.

“Do you see any synth plasma here? It is already dying. We will be doing it a favor by giving it a peaceful death.” she replied.

“What do you mean by taking care of us?” Zarek was beginning to feel panic creeping in again.

Ishana watched him for a moment before she turned and led Saara outside, which made him even more nervous. Zarek knew he should take the children and run, but that would be futile. The kids were exhausted. Most of them had already fallen asleep. And not even he could outrun the two girls now that they were Bampiroti.

Ishana and Saara returned with armfuls of vegetables from the farmer’s garden providing food for those not on an exclusive blood diet. Zarek moved to stand between them and the children. “You can't just turn them all into Bampiroti. Morra can't handle a bunch of blood-thirsty kids running around the planet. Besides, some of them might have families, like you.”

“Not everything they say about Bampiroti is true. Most avoid drinking the blood of sentient beings,” she replied.

“You said yourself that your father donated his blood.” he countered.

“Some can handle the hunger when they drink the blood of sentients. Others, like those we met today, cannot.” Ishana said. “Sylphite blood is considered an aphrodisiac for the Bampiroti. They pay good money for it and treat their donors well. It is in their best interest to keep them healthy. In most cases, the Sylphites have their blood drawn by a medic for an agreed-upon number of years. Do you think returning these children to their prior lives would be any better? Should we allow them to fall victim to the slavers again?”

Zarek sighed. “At least give them a choice.”

Ishana closed the distance between them in a flash. Her cold lips brushed against his. “And you, Zarek? What do you choose? Would you return to your parents?”

“I have no parents. I never knew them,” he replied huskily. Her touch was intoxicating. He wanted her to kiss him again. He shivered as her mouth slid down his neck. Zarek barely noticed the burning pinpricks at the base of his neck. By the time he realized what she had done, Ishana was licking the wound to stop the blood flow. “What have you done?” he asked weakly.

“I have given you what you’ve always wanted. I can feel your desires. You will never have to be cold and hungry again. You will never feel fear again.” Ishana whispered in his ear before everything faded to black.

Days later, Zarek was marching through the doors to Jasbar’s home, Ishana and Saara just behind him. The guards lay slumped on the ground.

“Zarek. I didn't expect to see you again,” Jasbar said nervously.

For once, Saldan couldn't find the will to giggle - or the breath, as Saara held him by the throat. She dangled him an inch or so above the floor.

“I wouldn't imagine you would, seeing as you sold me to the slavers. What quantity of synth salts was I worth?” Zarek responded.

Jasbar attempted to splutter out an explanation. It was almost comical watching him trying to find a means of escape and realizing that no one was coming to his aide. Zarek and Ishana advanced on him. They had agreed not to drink their blood, preferring to partake of animals or synth plasma. It likely would have tasted vile anyway. But there were other ways to tear them to shreds - excruciating ones.

Ultimately, they decided the rest of the children were too young to turn just yet. No one was sure they could control their blood lust at their age. At twelve, even Saara was teetering on the edge of control. They would care for them until they were old enough to make the choice to become Bampiroti or to make their way in the world. They became a family of sorts, and most of the kids chose life as a Bampiroti once they came of age.

Eventually, they would become their own band of Bampiroti, living on Morra rather than traveling the galaxy like most of their brethren. There was a steep decrease in slavers on the planet. While it may never be easy, life became safer for the children of Morra.

supernatural
2

About the Creator

Natalie Demoss

Single mom to an Autistic child and budding author and artist finally following my dreams. The hand drawn art on my stories is my own.

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  • N.J. Gallegos 2 years ago

    I think this world and these characters could totally be expanded into a novel and I'd read the heck out of it. Love this story. Great drawings too!

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