"You have got to stop getting sick or they'll think you need a new body." Aril puts a damp rag on my forehead. I gaze at him, "I'm not sick just startled."
"Either way the white people here are looking at you like you need a new soul." he just looks at me and sighs. "I'm not mad. Ain't like niggas don't die everyday."
"That's sad," I look at the tv. "How long have you been here?"
"I'm 17." he says.
"I'm 18." I avert my gaze. "I'm an adult you know."
"When do you turn 18?"
"Never." he says bluntly. "I'm a vampire, an Obayifo that knows too much and very little."
"What's the point of the plant?"
"Ah!" he smiles. "That's what we call it. You know why?" he squints still bearing a grin. "So they can plant us… like the goddamn weed we smoke."
I could use some. "Who is Timothy?"
"Drug addict. Cannibal. All that and a rapist."
"Timothy is a rapist?"
"You do know a rapist is both sexual and a biter. You ever heard the term rape neck?"
"yeah… we had a few times at school."
"Vamps shouldn't be in one place. We have to move around. A lot of people that don't register with the Department just walk. That's illegal."
"Walking is death?"
"You know it. So, I've been told tomorrow. We are all going off into groups. Group one is picking from the tree of good and evil, Group two will be making tea and liquor at the factory, and group three will be handling the burials."
"Burials?" I sit up. "That means people died."
"And you know where you go when you die?"
"Heaven or hell?"
"You so pretty." he smacks his lips. "I don't know what group you will be in. Pray, if you still believe in that."
"Aril…"
"Don't say Zoey-Rose. She went back home."
"The Growden family tortured a kid."
"Tortured kids." he sits on the bed. "The Growden clan molested, collected and murdered children."
I grimace. "Why?"
"White people hate children. Mahlon Growden used to drag his son to the river near their homestead and tell him to jump. When he didn't he just drowned them. Zebedee has seven mixed children. His oldest son thinks he's white purely. You got to get them when they young."
"But why kids…" It doesn't make sense to target children. Black kids, Mexican kids, Arab children, Asian children. Something comes to me. "Is the Growdens trying to make a perfect child?"
"That's what we thought." Aril snaps his fingers. "What if they want mass genocide by whiting everything out."
"That wouldn't work. We learned that white people have weak gene."
"And they do. It's a book I bought in here that one of the slaves on Growden's plants wrote back in 1991. The Chocolate Milk Theory." says Aril. "Colored people are a thing. Indians are dark. Asians are dark--"
"No--"
"Yes! Asian actually have some strong fucking genes. Especially in the eyes. You know somebody is half asian by the face shape, forehead, eyes, and mouth."
"I've seen asian vampires."
"The Growdens used to talk about the train a lot. I mean Harold Growden paid that most dishonest Chinese to take prisoners from China and make them work. They love slavery."
Maybe that's it. I don't see a benefit to it. But with the ability to use vampire magic, the power of word. You could get away with so much manipulation. "It is the oldest racist clan in America." he says. "And you know what else?" his eyes get big. "They came from Germany."
"They're Germans?"
"Originally, so another theory they love Hitler. And one say I really got into it and I said to myself… Helter Skelter." Oh no. We just completely went off topic. "Aril…"
"Listen. Helter Skelter inspired Charles Manson. Charles Manson had his shit together up until the song came out and he started a cult. The cult had no, like, form; they just killed people not knowing why."
LORD.
"I'm telling you Mokiri. I've been here a long time."
.
.
.
The next morning, Aril took me down the steps and I didn't say anything to him. I sat down for breakfast and smiled all day getting to see Shabana. She looked at me with her mouth open at the table. "Mokiri!"
"Hi Shabana." I feel stupid waving my hand in front of her. "Oh…"
"My brother is dead but they gave me a new brother."
"They gave you a new brother?" I uncover my plate and today we are having. A foot long fried chitlin, sausage, cube potatoes, and eggs. Beside the plate is some jelly and syrup. I take my syrup and pour it over my sausage.
I like the combo. I don't what to do with this pig gut.
"So what group are you in?" Shabana asks. "I'm going to the liqour store."
"I don't know yet." I look back at Aril. I face Shabana again. "Who looks after you? Like take you to your room and stuff?"
"My butler is Jennings August Goslan." she stares at me. "He has a very long dick."
"Why does that matter?"
"He keeps offering to have sex with me." she eats her eggs. "He woke me up and asked me did I wanna have sex. I said no. He woke me up again, I don't when I went to sleep."
"Aril asked if I needed something once."
"Did you have sex with him?" she cuts her chitlin. She looks disgusted. "No!"
"Anytime you want." I look back at Aril winking at me. I'm… baffled to tears. "Why do they want to have sex with us?"
Shabana bites her sausage. She shrugs.
After breakfast, we all stayed still. A white woman that was old with glasses came in a maid's outfit. "Ok… when call your names please get up." she says lowly. I can hear cause I'm close to the door. A man beside her with a big nose shouts what she said.
"Read that right there, Burl."
"Oda Simpson."
"Call that, my voice dry."
"ODA SIMPSON!" Burl yells. "Group A. Stand up."
"Read the next one." says the old woman. "Kattie Jack. Abel Norman. Randall Welter."
"Imma ask Zebedee for some new eyes. I cant see a damn thing. What's that nigga name…?" she sniffs. Please skip me. "Dwane Tolbert and Quavean Smith."
"Ok… that's Group A too." she starts counting. "One… two… Burl. You tell them assholes to pick me under. I can't take this shit no more."
"You sure mama?"
"I'm certain as long as Micheal Jackson can still moon walk. I'm ready to die."
"You coming back?"
"Hell no. Imma finna lay down." she wobbles off out the room. "Alright." Burl gets ready to read. "Javari Booker. Amberle Martin and Rudy Vaughan. Group A."
At least he called the Group A people. Burl repeated the names and all those that stood up were told to go outside to the front yard. "Where is Ronan York, Luke Bell, and Yeray Gabasa?"
Those names stood up. Yeray tried to go out the door. Burl dug in his pockets. "I'm not done." Yeray paused in motion. "Jose Miguel, Ritsus--R, I,T,S,U,S,H,I,M,A." He had to spell the name? "K, I, M, I, T, A, D, A."
I turned to see Ritsushima Kimitada stand up. It's just a little girl with a bow in hair. "She's just a child." I don't know why I'm protesting. I know nothing will be done. "Age doesn't matter." says Burl. "Follow outside and you'll see Doctor Kunie and Miss Markinswell. You'll be going apple picking. You'll receive your baskets when you get there."
The group exits and my chest feels funny. Burl goes on to call the next group. "For anybody wondering why things are the way they are. Simple words, segregation. Some of you have been classed by poor and rich. Some of you are ugly and beautiful. Some are mixed and none mixed. If you are 'hardheaded' therefore, your body is useless. Be smart about it."
I furrow. "Group B, you will be making liqours at the Smiley Factory. You'll be given mask. First, Mokiri Pretty Gains."
What the fuck am I first. "Good luck Mokiri…" Shabana looks at me sadly. "Sterling Garbert-Smithe, Poppy Ryder, Georgina Stenham--" Burl rolls his eyes. "K, O, N--"
"KONSTANTINO!" I look at the tables. "It's a K instead of an C."
He's russian.
"Get the fuck out, hard headed ass nigga." Burl directs to the door. "You not going, you ain't suppose to speak."
"Fuck you!"
Calm down heart. "Change the attitude. Imma talk to the lynch man about you." Burl threatens. Should I be a hero. "Caelan!" Burls calls outside the door. "Come get this one."