Free Fat Vampire 6: Survival of the Fattest by Johnny B. Truant

snapped.  
    “That metaphor wasn’t meant to be taken literally. I meant it allegorically.”  
    “What?”
    “And while we’re talking about books,” Reginald added, “have you ever seen a dictionary?”
    “Look, I don’t need your fucking help to…”  
    Timken patted the air in a pacifying gesture, cutting Ophelia off mid-sentence. Then he nodded, urging her to concede.
    “Fine,” she said. “Neither… person … has any past history of destructive or insubordinate behavior. But our reconnaissance at MorningFresh — which as you know is still locked down and under the control of insurgents — suggests that Mr. Lafontaine is the leader of a human rebellion that, through means unknown, has managed to coordinate terrorist attacks across, to date, sixteen separate locations, and…”  
    Reginald turned to Timken, his animosity toward the president lost to curiosity and disbelief.  
    “Sixteen?”  
    Timken nodded. “That we know of. We haven’t officially released news of several events that happened somewhat quietly, but yes. They’ve been happening all over the globe. And it’s obvious that in addition to being highly coordinated in these attacks, they’ve been communicating for a while. Based on some of the weapons they’ve developed, plus the thing with Geneva’s blocker…”  
    “How have they been communicating?”  
    “We don’t know,” said Ophelia. “Humans in the farms are stripped of most belongings. They have their clothes and live in small shanties in the free range communities, but they’re not allowed to have any technology, so it’s not like they’re walking around with cell phones. But somehow they all knew what to do and when to do it, and somehow they either got or made weapons. Their use of silver is especially curious. Most of it is old jewelry, but some seems to have been cobbled together from old flatware, like forks and knives and spoons. It’s obviously not material that would be available in the communities.”  
    “Serves you right for not just tying them down 24/7,” said Reginald, bitterness in his voice. “Serves you right for letting them move around and have lives outside of being hooked to IV lines.”
    “That’s what I told them,” said Ophelia, not sensing Reginald’s sarcasm.
    “Anyway,” said Timken, “Mr. Lafontaine here seems to be the mastermind. He released a video yesterday afternoon. He clearly has a natural flair for the dramatic, because, well….” He sighed. “Well, we’ll just show you.” He tipped a nod toward Ophelia, and the general pressed more buttons on the small console. The still shot of Lafontaine was replaced by a video.  
    Reginald saw immediately what Timken had been talking about. The video, which showed Lafontaine sitting in what was clearly a cave, reminded Reginald of terrorist videos he’d grown up seeing on the human news from the likes of Osama Bin Laden. There was even a hooded figure in a chair beside him, wrapped in silver. Lafontaine was wearing sunglasses, as if he got what Osama had been going for, but thought he could cool it up a little.
    Lafontaine stood and began to circle. As the camera pulled back, Reginald got a better look at the supposed human mastermind — and when it did, the man began to look less and less like a traditional terrorist. Lafontaine was carrying a fair amount of weight, somehow sporting a gut out in the wildlands at the end of the world. Yet, despite his heavy frame, Reginald saw that the man was much more limber and agile than he himself ever had been as a human. Lafontaine moved with impatient energy, walking and talking as if time were short.  
    “This is the beginning of your end,” he told the camera. “By the time you see this, we will have seized several of your farms and at least one of your biggest cities.” He walked over and pulled the hood from the silver-wrapped vampire who, Reginald realized, was wearing a CPC uniform. The officer spat and snarled the