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Antipodean Vampire Invasion a dream by Paul Garner's subconscious I was driving through the supernaturally beautiful New Zealand countryside, familiar perhaps... Matangi Road where I used to live. In the Waikato, with Mt Pirongia on the left, no... the right, gradually becoming more beautiful and further from my memory as I drive and gaze in wonder. I'm actually a little aware that I'm dreaming, a tourist in the scenery of my mind, hoping that this holiday lasts a while. I see two jets arrow through the summer-blue sky, then orange sparks from one and what sounds like fireworks, new vapour trails spiralling away, and more cack-cack-cack of small explosions as the jets make their way ever more gradually towards the horizon. I realised there was a battle going on... here in... what was this country called? It was both a surprise and a vague recollection of familiarity, as if military skirmishes were to be expected in the region. I drove on through fields of green and gorse-yellow, with a shimmering fine film-grain and intense cyan sky, as the scenery became more mountainous and the road narrower. I passed another car on the steep and windy road and realised I was grateful for my car... it was a modern, powerful, four-wheel drive station wagon, like an Audi or something. I was glad I'd found it... I could go wherever I liked, it was a capable vehicle, a valuable asset now that things were collapsing. I would take good care of it. Coming round a bend in the road I saw a big stone wall rising up from the mountainside to my right. Driving slowly, I looked up... it was very tall, and very thick at the bottom, tapering toward the top, so tall that it was hard to crane my neck back and see its summit. It was a huge castle of dusky red stone. There was another castle almost round the next corner, of dark grey stone, and another. The road was getting muddier, rougher, unsealed. I came to a village, and as I entered there was a sign that said: "Last [something] for 6 [miles? or was it hours?]" ...I couldn't catch all the words as I drove past. I stopped... if this was the last chance to pick up supplies for a while I'd make the best of it. I stepped into a small stone store which was perhaps the village post office or tearooms, but could have been a curio shop in Prague... low ceiling, wood panelled walls - not dark, not light, a mid-tone... aged oak? I don't know my woods. It was deserted but by no means empty. I investigated the adjoining room, also deserted, then when I returned to the entranceway there was a man there. He was not quite middle-aged, with long dark wispy hair, vintage spectacles with small round lenses, and maybe a long-cut black leather jacket. I greeted him apprehensively, but he turned out to be friendly and led me through to another room where there was a cafe of sorts and introduced me to a couple of other travelers. I tried to find out exactly what this village was the last stop for and these travelers, with their 'already tried it' in-the-know know how assured me that in fact it was the last stop for just about everything for a good long way, and that my best bet was to stop here the night. I had a bite to eat and finished my coffee then decided to heed their advice and check into the hostel rooms above the cafe. After a long day in the car I felt like a shower, and headed down the corridor to the washrooms. They were communal of course and surprisingly busy for this time of day. Less surprisingly they were antiquated and dingey, afflicted with an ominous yellow light. I was feeling apprehensive again. There seemed to be some movement within the movements of the diverse, naked crowd of men as they shuffled between showers and towels... some pattern, or dance of purpose beyond simply getting showered that I wasn't quite perceiving. There was something threatening about the situation, but I wasn't quite sure what... I felt on my gaurd, wary. The first couple of shower booths were full... I walked past them, perhaps already looking for vampires. As well as showers there were big sinks, like old-time laundry sinks or commercial kitchen sinks, made of stone or concrete. These were also full, two people squashed in each as if they were makeshift baths. Bodies were moving all around me and I knew there were vampires here. Then I saw one of the men in a sink kissing, no, biting the other's neck, and a dilute red stain spread across his skin in the yellow light. The biter pulled away from his victim, who fell back weak, then vomited like a baby. More scared now, I looked around wondering why no one else was running, panicking. I saw another biting in one of the shower booths, but they seemed to accept it... perhaps the bite wasn't fatal? I shrank back from everyone and found that the next booth was completely empty... but then I realised that the movement within movement of the crowd that I'd seen before had perhaps been an element of 'safety in numbers'... a schooling-fish instinct. I felt more in danger out here, on the edge of the crowd, on my own. I showered in about ten seconds flat, forgetting all concerns of sweat and grime and just hoping to escape without losing myself completely to fear, or indeed to a worse predator. Beyond the full booths and the one I was in lay a couple more empty booths... it was a large labyrinthine washroom. Away on the far side, where no one seemed to go, I caught glimpses, got the impression there was another shower booth with the curtains drawn, host to a very private party... invites only... the scent of menace and blood. What were the vampires doing here? Fighter jets indicated that they had not hidden themselves and spread incognito amongst the regular population, not all of them anyway. They were in some sense concentrated in a particular locale, nearby, perhaps staging an invasion? They were aliens. Moreover the legends had to come from somewhere... they had been here before, but why had they come back? To invade en masse? To look for something? What had they left behind? Perhaps it had something to do with all these ancient castles... thrones of a Nosferatu dynasty long since died out, or gone undergound. But which perhaps still hid some secrets in the crypt. I pushed my way naked through the throngs of schooling washroom dancers, vampires and victims, eager to leave. On the way out I ran into a couple of girls, perhaps I'd met them earlier in the cafe... they were here for a shower too but not yet naked, just in underwear tops and bottoms. We said "hi", pressed up close in the crowded room and exchanged state-of-the-nation addresses and innuendo glances, getting a little thrill. I left... Back Copyright © 2002 - Paul Garner.

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