In honor of International Women’s Day, I post this helpful dictionary for men.
No. (Never, nada, nyet, negatory, negative, not in a zillion years, not if you were the last man on earth) This one is rather simple. “No” means “no” in every language.

Yes. “Yes” doesn’t always mean yes. Usually it does. Sometimes it means maybe. Procedure with caution.

Fine! Run for cover, save yourself. “Fine” doesn’t mean everything is fine. It just means end of conversation. It doesn’t mean all is forgotten. It means that this discussion will be continued later. Later could mean any where from ten minutes to ten years.

Do whatever you want. This is a trap. Under no circumstance do whatever you want. Proceed with extreme caution. You are on thin ice.

I don’t want a gift. This is another trap. Do not assume that you need not buy a gift. You must buy a gift.

Excuse me? This is the ultimate trap – a set up. Do not repeat what you just said. You have said something stupid or rude and are about to have the rug pulled out from under you. Act like you don’t understand what you just said.

Is that your final answer? This is another trap. Never say “Yes, that’s my final answer and I’m sticking to it.” It means your significant other already has a rebuttal ready and as soon as you stop talking she will lambaste you.

I like your best friend, brother, sister. This is a red flag. Your SO finds someone else attractive. You will soon breakup.

Does this make me look fat? There is no good answer to this question. Never say “Yes”. Say something like, “It makes you look younger”.

I love you just the way you are. This is a bold face lie. Women say this to make men lower their guard; then immediately they try to make changes.

Are you going to wear that? This is not a question. It means go change into something more acceptable. It is not a request. Just do and save yourself a big hassle.
​
I hope this helps men understand what women say a little better.

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue and the first three chapters earlier, so if you missed them, scroll down. There are 40 chapters, so I’ll start post them more often. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 4.
Chapter 4
Two days later, Judy interrupted a morning exercise Branko was conducting in the HAMC3. “Branko, I just got a call from NYPD. They’ve a triple homicide that looks like it belongs to us. They didn’t have time to explain.” She handed Branko a printout.
Branko glanced at the printout and handed it to Marty. “Get us zere fast.” Marty punched in the address on his dashboard GPS -- a super version. A map appeared showing multiple routes to the address. It also depicted current traffic patterns and weather. Marty selected a route and the HAMC3 started forward in the self-driving mode. The route took them down FDR drive to Old Ship Street and then down a narrow alley to a warehouse. Several patrol cars were blocking the alley. The HAMC3 was guided around the patrol cars and closer to the warehouse.
While the HAMC3 was moving, Branko and Alex slipped into their outside uniforms which consisted of leather pants and shirts like bikers’ leathers, boots, gloves, and a special helmet with a sun visor that could flip down when needed. With the helmet, they didn’t need umbrellas. Both applied a special sunscreen to any exposed skin around the neck and wrists, helping each other when needed. Alex saw Mike watching. “Vamps need all the protection they can get from the sunlight,” she said. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you put on my sunscreen.” Mike smiled at the thought.
When the HAMC3 stopped, Marty said, “I guess this is as far as we go.” Marty grabbed his body armor and stepped into the grey morning light.
Branko stopped him. “You and zhe others stay in zhe HAMC3 for now. Mike and I will check it. We do not need a crowd in zhe crime scene. Keep your ears on.”
After Branko and Mike left, Marty shook his head and turned to Alex. “What does he mean, ‘Keep your ears on?’”
Alex laughed. “You forget Branko is like a hundred years old. His expressions are ancient. He meant for us to keep our commo lines open, so he can talk to us.”
Marty shook his head again. “Why didn’t he say so? It’s not like we have a choice.”
All FBI field agents have a cochlear device implanted at the academy in their right ear. The implants are wired to a processor attached to the skull just above the right ear. The processor is smaller in diameter than a quarter and about the same thickness. A thin flap of skin hides a tiny microphone and processor. The processor is voice activated. The implants are invisible but enable agents to communicate with each other on several channels using boosters.
Branko led the way inside the warehouse. Most of the warehouse was dark except at the far end where some lighting was set up. A small group of detectives and policemen stood inside the circle of lights. The crime scene was cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. An officer stood by the tape with a clipboard. Beyond the tape were three bodies hanging upside down a couple of feet from the floor, suspended from a ceiling beam by a steel cable that ran through their Achilles tendons. No other restraints were used. Branko approached and identified himself and asked who the CSI team leader was. Branko signed the ledger and then found the FBI agent who was the CSI team leader, William. (Bill) McGarry. He was the same height as Branko but a lot thinner with a thin mustache and thick glasses. He had been in the FBI longer than Branko. Branko felt Bill resented him because he rose up through the ranks much faster.
“Hello Bill,” Branko said. “You got zhe lead on this one?”
“No. Senior Special Agent (SSA) Francis gave the lead to you,” Bill said with a slight smile. “I just have the crime scene and the forensics.”
“Fine. Give me a status report.”
 “The police got a call from a maintenance guy a couple of hours ago. He came in to repair a leak and found them like this. My crew is still working the crime scene. We’ve tagged all the evidence. We haven’t moved anything since we knew you guys were on the way. ME is on the way – stuck in morning traffic.”
“Find any weapons or ID?”
“No, but we’re still searching the building. Here’s the odd part and the reason I told Agent Francis to call you; the bodies have been drained of blood. There’s no blood anywhere. Except for the bodies, the crime scene is clean. There are puncture wounds on the arms, neck and Achilles tendons. Their teeth and finger tips are missing too. Looks post mortem. They were drugged. Probably killed somewhere else and brought here. It looks like a ritual bloodletting.”
Branko shook his head. “No. They were killed here. You could say they bleed to death. Let me view zhe bodies for a few minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll check back in ten. I got plenty of things to do.” Bill turned and sauntered away.
Branko tapped Mike on the arm. “You first. See what you can discover. I will record.” Branko turned on his cellphone and held it up. “Team, commo check.” Marty, Judy and Alex all responded. “Alex, get on line and see whom owns this warehouse. Okay, team, listen to Mike’s observations.”
Mike turned his cellphone on too and turned the camera toward the bodies. “Are you receiving this?” Everyone answered in the affirmative. Mike slipped on latex gloves and stepped closer. “Three bodies, all naked and hanging upside down. Three Caucasian males, appear to be middle aged. The only restraint is a medal cable strung through the Achilles tendons.”
Branko interrupted “Any restraint constricts zhe flow of blood.”
Mike continued, “I see puncture wounds on the sides of the neck and on each arm at the bend of the elbow.” He pointed at the chest of one of the victims. “What’s this? Appears to be a tattoo.” Branko zoomed his camera lens on the tattoo. “Each victim has the same tattoo on the left side of their chest. Looks like some type of bow and arrow.”
Branko interrupted again, “It is zhe emblem of a Romanian Recon Regiment. Our vics were members of zhe Regiment. Every member got this tattoo – same place.”
Mike looked at all the victims. “The vics all appear to be near the same age.” He focused on one victim. “However, this one is unkempt – not as clean cut. The other two look like business men – nice haircuts, wore watches and wedding rings which are missing.”
Branko interrupted again, “Judy, check your sources and see if there are any missing persons reports in Neu York. Alex, see if you can get addresses for ex-members of zhe Romanian Army living in Neu York.”
“Negative, Branko,” answered Alex. “All military records of the veterans from Romania that signed the London Accords were destroyed as part of the general amnesty of the London Accords.”
Banko sighed. “I know that, but veterans joined together in organizations after zhe war. They have records. Zhe Romanian Army has a vets’ organization headquartered in Romania euth chapters in zhe US. They should have a list of names and addresses. Tell then we need zhe info to ID a body euth zhe Hunter tattoo. They will cooperate.” Branko turned toward Mike. “Get closer.”
Mike bent down near the face of one of the victims and sniffed. “Chloroform.”
Branko smiled. “Yeah, I smelled it as soon as we came in. They subdued zhe vics euth chloroform and then brought them here and drained their blood.”
Mike used a thumb to open the mouth of one vic so Branko could zoom inside. “The teeth are all knocked out.” He held up one hand of the vic. “Finger tips are cut off. I guess they wanted to make it hard to ID these guys.” He stood up and turned to Branko. “You’ve seen this before.”
Branko nodded. “It is a ritual bloodletting, except for zhe teeth and fingers. We used to do it during zhe war.”
“But why now? There’s plenty of human blood available.”
Branok shook his head. “They weren’t after zhe blood. Even in zhe war, we were not after blood.”
Mike noted that Branko said ‘we’. “What then?”
“Whoever did zhis wanted to send a message. I am guessing zhe perps are Vampire Freedom Fighters. They are sending a message to zhe Hunters.”
“What’s the message?”
“Zhe war is back on.”
​

I read with interest an article by Kristine Cannon, “Are You a Toxic Coworker?” on my Living/Careers news feed. She wrote that toxic workers wreak havoc in the office and make the work environment stressful and uncomfortable. Quoting Benedicta Banga, career strategist and founder of Leader Initiative, Ms. Cannon said that toxic coworkers are: “self-absorbed, confrontational, rude, controlling, gossipy, and unforgiving.” As usual with lists, she missed a few red flags. As a community serve, I provide more clues that you or a coworker might be toxic.

A toxic person will: unfriends all coworkers and family on Facebook, carry a concealed weapon to work, refuse to reveal their first name, document all conversations, hang a Nazi flag in their office, clean their AR-15 in the break room during lunch and wear body armor to work.
​
Usually, the voices in the toxic worker’s head aren’t on speaking terms with the voices in your head.
Be aware of these red flags that a coworker is a toxic person and be prepared.
​

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue and the first two chapters earlier, so if you missed them, scroll down. There are 40 chapters, so I’ll start post them more often. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 3.

Chapter 3 -- 25 Years Earlier

Somewhere deep in the Carpathian Mountains forest, Jure Thanatos followed his older brother, Alin, into the rundown building that served as the headquarters of the vampire rebellion.  Karayan Nelo, Parris Gregario, and the other two battalion commanders were already in the room. As the leader, Alin sat down behind the big desk and spread out a map. He started the meeting (in Romanian), “Well, today was a disaster…”

Karayan stood up and slammed his fist down on the desk. “A disaster? It was a catastrophe. We lost fourteen men today – six by air strikes before we crossed the line of departure. We cannot go on like this. We have to change our strategy.”

Alin locked eyes with Karayan, his face flushed with anger. “And what do you suggest, Napoleon?”
Karayan straightened up. “We cannot stand up to NATO with our small army. They are destroying us. We cannot face them in open combat. We need to move underground and start using terror.

“Terrorism? You mean targeting noncombatants? That will mean collateral damage. Innocent people will be killed.”

Karayan threw his hands up in the air. “There are no innocents. Currently, only vampires support us. We must convince all sapiens they cannot be neutral. If they do not support us, there will be no peace. They are either with us or against us – no in between”

Alin shook his head again. “No, no. I will not allow it. Do you think you could do a better job than me?”

Jure felt the cold barrel of a 9mm pistol in the back of his neck. Parris leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “If you move, you’re a dead man.”

“An orangutan could do a better job than you!” Karayan shouted.

At that insult, Alin’s nostrils flared, and he bared his fangs. Karayan did the same. Alin jumped onto the desk with both feet. With a loud growl, he leaped onto Karayan and grabbed his throat. But Karayan was ready for him. He grabbed Alin by the shoulders and rolled backwards. As he rolled back, he kicked Alin in the groin, lifting him up and over his head. Alin landed on his back with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. Karayan used Alin’ momentum to pull himself on top, straddling him. He grabbed Alin’s head and banged it on the floor.

The sound of his brother’s head hitting the concrete floor made Jure cringe. He wanted to jump in to help his brother, but Parris pressed the pistol into his neck even harder. A quick look around told Jure the others weren’t going to stop the fight even though no one was holding a pistol to their heads. Meanwhile, Karayan was slapping and punching a semi-conscious Alin.

Alin stopped resisting, so Karayan stopped beating him. He helped him to his hands and knees. “Damn it, Alin. Do I have to kill you?” Alin sat back on his heels and shook his head. He pulled his hair back, tilted his head to one side and bared his neck in the traditional vampire act of submission. Karayan snarled, bared his fangs and just as quickly stopped. Then he clasped Alin by the neck and hugged him. “I do not need your blood, comrade. I just want you to obey me and to be loyal to the cause.” And just like that, Alin was out as the leader and Karayan was now the commander of the rebellion in a bloodless coup.

Karayan turned to Jure. “Are we going to have trouble from you?” Jure tilted his head and bared his neck in the same manner as his brother. “Good.” Karayan hugged Jure. “There is work to be done. Effective immediately, I want you take over 1st Battalion. Parris will be our new intelligence officer. Go see your troops. Your staff is waiting for you. Don’t worry about your brother. He will be our new logistics officer. Everyone be back here at sundown. We will bury our dead and start planning our new strategy. Any questions?”
​
Jure was still in shock. Parris was the previous commander of the 1st Battalion. His vehicle was waiting outside to take Jure to his headquarters. It was now clear that the entire coup was well planned. It was the first time he had witnessed the traditional vampire act of submission even though little blood was lost. Personal fights between vampires seldom resulted in actual killing.

This is one of my favorite short stories. I haven’t posted it in a while, so here goes.
Heads I Win, Tails You Lose
​“Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.”

Judy nearly spit out a mouth full of her cosmopolitan when she laughed. If that remark came from a boyfriend, she might have been angry but coming from a total stranger, she thought it was the funniest pick-up line she had ever heard. She was sitting alone in this popular bar, and this was not the first line of the evening that she had heard, but it was intriguing. It got her attention. She turned on her bar stool toward the stranger. “What?” she shouted above the din of the bar.

In a slightly louder voice, the stranger leaned in and started to repeat his remark. “I said...”

Judy cut him off. “No, no. I heard what you said. What do you mean?”

The good-looking stranger smiled. “Well, that is where all these relationships are heading, right? You meet someone and down the road, you either break up or get married. I am just trying to save time. Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.”

“Wait! Wait!” Judy said with a grin. “If those are my only choices, I must have a name.”

“No, that just makes breaking up that much harder. It’s easier if we don’t know each other’s name.”

“Yes, but what if it turns up heads and we get married? I have to decide if I like your name, right?”

“No. You can keep your name, if you like, or you can hyphenate the names. It’s your call.”

Judy smiled. “No deal. I have to have a first name at least.”

“Okay, my first name is Bob.”

Judy stuck out her hand. “Hello, Bob. I’m Judy. Nice to meet you."

Bob shook Judy’s hand. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s flip the coin.”

Judy poked a finger into Bob’s chest. “No. No. No. I have some questions first.”

“Trust me, Judy. The less we know about each other, the easier it will be to break up.”

“Look! Either I get to ask some questions or no coin toss.”

Bob thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, we each get three questions. You first.”

Judy took a deep breath. “Question number one; do you want kids?"

Bob’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! I love kids. Next question.”

Judy laughed. “Question number two; where would we live?”

“Wherever you like. I’d even be willing to live near your family.”

“Well, that’s good. Now the last question; does this line get you many dates?”

Bob, laughed and shook his head. “Actually, this is the first time I have tried it.”

Judy nodded in agreement. “I thought so. Now you ask three questions.”

Bob thought for a minute. “Okay, here goes. What’s your favorite color?”

“What! Of all the important details you need to know before we get married, and the top of your list is my favorite color. Why?”

“If we do get married, I will bring you a rose every day in your favorite color.”

“Well, lucky for you, it’s red.”

“Very well. My next question is; what’s your favorite type of food?’

“Italian. Why?”

“If we get married, I will take you out for Italian every Friday.”

Judy grinned. “Sounds good. Last question?”

“My last question is; how am I doing so far?”

Judy nodded. “Actually, not too bad. Flip the coin.”

Bob flipped the coin up, but Judy intercepted it before Bob could catch it. She slapped it on the back of her other hand and removed her top hand to reveal heads. Then she picked up the coin and turned it over. “Really, Bob? A two-headed coin?”

“I, I, I just wanted to increase my odds. How did you know?”

Judy smiled. “Let’s just say that this is not my first rodeo. How about we flip to see where you will take me for dinner? Heads for Italian and heads for Italian.”

Bob smiled. “Okay.”
​
Judy flipped the coin and caught it. Without looking at it, she slipped it into her pocket. “Italian it is.”

“Can I have my coin back?”

Judy laughed as she hooked her arm in his and headed for the door. “Don’t push your luck.”

THE END

You may know how to create suspension in fiction (novels and short stories). A blog is a different category altogether. In normal fiction you might use time constraints (the ticking time bomb), keep the stakes high, apply pressure, create a dilemma and so forth. They don’t always work well in a blog. Here is how to apply suspense in a blog:
 Keep the stakes high. Example; I accidently overdosed, and the medics are on the way. I must finish this blog before I lose conscientiousness or die. I’m writing as fast as I can – no time to proofread. I’m fading fast…
Apply pressure. Example; My wife says I must quit this blog or she will leave me. I stuck out and went to the library. I know she’s out looking for me now. She will walk in any minute and catch me. As luck would have it, I have writer’s block.
Create a dilemma. Example; My house is on fire. I’m torn between saving myself and my family or writing this blog. I have many loyal followers, so I have to finish the blog. The heat is getting unbearable. The smoke is making it hard to see my monitor. Almost done.
Use time constraints. Example; This blog will self-destruct in five minutes.
​Good luck and keep writing those blogs.

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue and the first chapter earlier, so if you missed them, scroll down. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 2.
Chapter 2
Branko returned to his apartment tired. He had decided to order Chinese food and relax with a cold beer. All that changed as he arrived at his apartment. He noticed the security system was disarmed. His vampire senses shifted to high alert. As he entered his apartment, he left the lights off to allow his night vision to adjust to the dark. If his intruder was human, he would have the advantage in the dark apartment. He stood still and inhaled deeply. He could smell perfume floating down the hall toward his bedroom. He thought he knew it. It wasn’t the everyday work variety but more like the Saturday-night date-night variety. His mind began to mask the stronger odors: the smell of the carpets, the furniture polish, the garbage in the kitchen needs to be emptied. He began to detect more sinister odors like gun oil and black powder. Branko drew his weapon.
Vampires have a strong sense of hearing. Branko stood still and listened. Once again, his mind began to mask the non-threatening sounds: the refrigerator, the air conditioning, his own heartbeat. He tried to detect the tell-tale signs of an intruder – breathing and a heartbeat. He heard something but couldn’t pin point it.
Branko remained still as his eyes adjusted to the dark. During the day, he always wore red-tinted sunglasses. His helmet that he wore outside had a red-tinted visor, protecting his night vision. Vampires have 200% more rod cells in their eyes than humans to enable them to see well in the dark. Even with that advantage, he knew it would normally take fifteen to twenty minutes for his eyes to fully adapt to the dark. In the years he spent hunting and fighting at night, he had learned techniques to improve his night vision. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes to apply slight pressure. He off set his vision when he looked at an object to engage more rods cells. So far, he saw nothing.
Branko decided it was time to find his intruder. He smiled. He knew the air flow in his apartment would spread the odors. He decided to follow the perfume trail down the hall. He removed his shoes and began to tip toe down the hallway. He froze when he felt the barrel end of a pistol at the back of his head. It was not the first time someone held a gun to his head. It was a classic amateur mistake -- never put your weapon within reach of your prisoner. His mind raced as he thought about his next move. He could raise his hands, then quickly spin around to disarm his intruder. He decided to wait.
A woman’s voice whispered, “Freeze or you’re a dead man.” He froze. “Now toss your weapon onto the couch. Branko did as he was told. “Now remove your clothes – all of them.” He stripped down and stood naked. He felt two erect nipples against his back, so he realized his adductor was also naked. She reached around and felt his erection. “Good. Now go into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Again, he did as he was told. No sooner had he lay down, and she was on top of him. Foreplay was over.
Several minutes later, Branko smiled and sat up on one elbow. “I did not know you were coming over.”
She laughed. “I needed you tonight – stressful day. Besides, I wanted to surprise you -- to get the drop on you.”
Branko laid back down. “Zoe, was your gun loaded?”
Zoe laughed. “Of course. I thought you might resist. Was yours?”
“Of course. I was not sure if it was you.”
Zoe rolled over to face Branko. “You liar. You knew it was me, didn’t you? I didn’t take you by surprise.”
“Yeah, I knew it was you. First, you did not reset zhe security system. And I could smell you.”
Zoe sat up. “No way. I took a shower when I got here.” She laid back down. “That damn nose of yours. Okay, take a whiff and tell me what you smell.”
Branko inhaled deeply. He paused for a moment. “I smelled your perfume when I came in. I thought I smelled it in zhe hall too. You left your scent trial all zhe way to zhe bedroom. I also smelled gun oil and gun powder residue. Now I can smell your deodorant, shampoo, tooth paste, and… and garlic.”
Zoe laughed. “I had target practice today and cleaned my pistol. I also had pasta for lunch.” They both laughed.
Branko got up and stepped over to the dresser. Out of the top drawer, he removed a black pouch that contained a syringe and a small vial of hemin panhematin -- an enzyme inhibitor derived from processed red blood cells.
Zoe sat up in bed. “Why don’t you take a sip of my blood?”
“I told you before, we aren’t that kind of couple.”
Zoe shook her head. “I have friends who date vamps, and they share blood.”
Branko turned around to face Zoe. “It’s an act of submission – not love.”
“Maybe in Romania, but here it’s just another body fluid that lovers share. You’re just old fashion.”
“Maybe… but whether it is love or submission, zhe wounds will not heal quickly and may leave a scar. Your next lover might not approve.”
​“You might be right,” Zoe said. “I’ll ask him tomorrow night.”

​Did you hear about #Oumuamua, the first interstellar object that just missed us? It was discovered back on 19 October 2017 and is considered a new class of interstellar objects. You may wonder (or not) how it was named. Oumuamua (meaning “scout” in Hawaiian) was designated by the International Astronomical Union, which assigns designations for astronomical objects. Oumaumau should not be confused with “Oh Mama” which the astronomer who first saw the object is rumored to have said. Nor should it be confused with a phrase that Harvey Weinstein used to say nor with the hit song "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow" from 1962. The name has no relationship to the Mau Mau which was the name of a violent native uprising against the British in Kenyan nor with the Hawaiian Island of Mokumanamana (Necker). Before it was named Oumuamua was selected, the name Rama was considered. How dull.

Rumor has it that the International Astronomical Union now has a super-secret list of names for such object. How do I know it’s super-secret? Have you heard of it? There you go. I was able to obtain a copy of the list from a super-secret confidential source (is there another kind of source?).
Here is the rumored list of names for the next interstellar objects:
1. Nanaumissedus
2. Omghereitcomes
3. Damnthatwasclose
4. Kissuassgoodbye
5. Datonebigguy
6. Easycomeesaygo
7. Wehadagoodrunwhileitlasted
8. Tooclose2call
9. Holymackerel
10. Ugot2bshittingme
​
If you don’t like these names, suggest another.
​

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue earlier, so if you missed it, scroll down. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 1.
Chapter 1
Mike Castillo sat at his desk in the New York City Counterterrorism Division of the FBI watching a group of agents file into his boss’s office, led by Branko Renner, the senior vampire of the department and the agent with the highest record of arrests. He was followed by four agents Mike didn’t know but had seen around the division. The buzz around the office was that there would be a big announcement today.
Mike’s boss, Senior Special Agent (SSA) Zoe Francis, stepped out of her office into the bull pen and scanned the room. Her eyes focused on Mike and with a nod of her head, she motioned for him to come into her office. Mike was surprised. He was the newest rookie in the Division and didn’t expect to ever be included in any conferences in her office. Mike walked in and looked around. Branko was leaning on the window sill while the others sat in chairs around the room. There were no other chairs, so Mike just stood by the door.
Francis sat down at her desk and opened a thick file. “You may or may not know why I’ve called you together this morning, so let me start by saying we are forming a new task force to investigate the Jägerregiment and the VFF terrorist organizations. Our intelligence tells us both groups have cells operating here in the City, and we need one or more teams to work full time on rooting them out. You five will make up the first task force. If this works, we’ll form more as needed. Your territory will be all of New York City.” She let that sink in for a few seconds. “You may not know each other so, I’ll make introductions.” She pointed at Branko who was standing by the window with his arms crossed. “You may all know Branko Renner. He’ll be your team leader.” Mike could never tell whom a vamp was, except he knew they tended to be older and somewhat bigger than sapiens. He guessed Branko was a vamp.
Mike didn’t know how old Branko was, but judging from his weathered face, he guessed he was at least one hundred. Then again, it was hard to tell which were wrinkles and which were scars. He stood at least 6 feet 2 inches, tall for a sapiens but average for a vamp. His hair was grey around the temples, and he wore it in a short ponytail. He wore a black shirt with matching trousers. A pair of leather gloves was tucked into his belt.
Pointing to a man seated next to Branko, Francis said. “Burke Tucker, commo.” Burke was a thin man. Mike thought he had the thinnest fingers for a man he had ever seen. He looked as if he was always nervous. He wore the traditional grey suit with a power red tie. Francis continued around the room. “Marty Robards, driver.” Marty was short with a barrel chest. He reminded Mike of a guerrilla. He was born and raised in New York City and learned his trade on the streets. He had a reputation for driving like a stunt man but with the nerves and daring of Evil Knievel. His grey suit was ill fitting.
Pointing next to one of the women, Francis said, “Alessandra Vermillion, computers.” Mike guessed Alessandra was a vamp only because she was dressed like Branko except she wore her hair even shorter. He wondered if they were a couple. Mike knew very few women vamps. Alessandra fit the stereotype: tall, strong, confident, and arrogant.
“Call me Alex, please,” she said.
Francis continued the introductions. “Judy Harring, liaison. Judy’ll be your link to any other agencies outside of the FBI.” Mike had seen Judy going in and out of Francis’ office, and he always marveled how she had no butt. Her pants hung straight from her waist down to her ankles without a break. She was also flat chested. Except for a hint of lipstick, she looked like every other guy in the department. She wore a grey suit like the men. Francis smiled. “And the kid by the door looking like a scared rabbit is Michael Castillo, our newest agent.”
“Oh, he’s so cute,” Alex said. “Can we keep him?”
“He’ll make a good mascot,” Marty said.
Everyone, including Mike, snickered for a moment. Mike straightened his tie. He felt out of place. “Call me Mike. Ma’am, I’m not sure what skills I have that qualify me for this team. Are you sure you want me?”
Francis smiled at Mike. “Branko requested you, but it might have something to do with you graduating number one from the FBI Academy. The fact that you were on Notre Dame’s marksmanship team and still hold two national records didn’t hurt either.” Branko just nodded in agreement. Francis closed the file and folded her hands. “Here’s the thing. We’re thinking outside the box on this one. You’ll be working out of a large van. That’s why you have the best driver in the division. Marty’s the best. I don’t want you hanging around the office drinking coffee. You’ll be on the streets. This is also the first team I know of where vamps and sapiens are working together on the same team. It will give us an advantage against these terrorists. Look around and pardon me if this sounds racist, but it is.” She pointed with her finger at Branko with her elbow on her desk. “Experienced male vamp.” She pointed at each agent in turn, “female vamp, inexperienced male rookie sapien, male sapien, female sapien, and whatever Marty is.” Everyone chuckled. “We’ll get results. In fact, I’m counting on it. Branko, you take over.”
Branko straightened up and took two steps forward. “I will go into more detail once we are in zhe van. This division has so many leaks, it is like sieve. Zhe van is secure. Alex and Burke have been working euth Marty on zhe van.  Marty, tell Mike and Judy about zhe van and then lead zhe way there.”
Mike thought he distinguished an Eastern European accent. Branko’s accent wasn’t too bad, indicating he had been speaking English for a while. Mike smiled when he detected a New York accent mixed in.
Marty stood up. “Calling it a van is an insult. It’s a Heavy Armored Mobile Command and Control Center – HAMC3 for short. If it had any more armor, we’d have to classify it as a tank. It’s shielded against any type of ease dropping equipment. Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.” Everyone stood and followed Marty out the door. Branko brought up the rear.
As the team left, Francis shouted, “Good luck, team.”
The HAMC3 was parked outside in the main parking garage. Most federal agencies stopped using underground parking after several suicide bombers drove explosive loaded vehicles inside and detonated them. Branko and Alex stopped inside the exit to open small umbrellas before stepping into the daylight. Both dashed through the sunlight and ducked inside the HAMC3. The inside of the HAMC3 looked a lot better than the outside. While the outside looked like a dumpster with wheels, the inside resembled the main deck of a Star Ship. There were five captain chairs fastened to the floor, each with its own console and monitor. Two chairs were arranged on either side facing the fifth chair in front behind the driver’s compartment and facing the rear. Each side of the HAMC3 had a small bench for additional seating. There were no windows. The walls were lined with computer monitors, TV monitors and communication equipment—all on and muted.
Marty beamed. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the HAMC3, the most technologically advanced command center in the FBI. I have only two rules: no smoking, no eating and no sex inside the HAMC3.” Everyone looked at Alex.
Alex shook her head in disbelief. “Why is everyone looking at me? That happened only one time. Give me a break.”
​“That’s three rules,” Mike pointed out. Marty glared at the rookie.
“Grab a seat everyone,” Branko said. “Zhe chairs are configured zhe same so it does not matter where you sit.” Everyone sat down. “Before you start fiddling euth zhe controls, let Alex and Burke explain what is what. First, I want to give you zhe big picture. I will be brief.” Everyone turned their chair to face Branko’s chair. Branko sighed. “It is good to have you on board. As you know, our primary targets are zhe extreme militant terrorist groups: zhe Jägerregiment made up of sapiens, and zhe Vampire Freedom Fighters made up of vampires. Zhe CIA has informed us that both groups have active cells operating in Neu York City. They have similar objectives -- both need money and weapons. Both are recruiting neu members. Of zhe two groups, our first priority is zhe VFF. They are more experienced and better organized. Headquarters believes they are behind recent robberies at gun shops and banks. They will be tougher to crack and difficult to infiltrate.
Zhe Jägerregiment makes a lot of mistakes. We will bring zem down quickly. They seem to be concentrating on recruiting. They send zhe neu recruits to a boot camp in Montana for basic training. We have informants who tell us zhe names of every recruit. However, at some point they disappear and weeks later show up in Bucharest. From zere it is a short trip to zhe Jägerregiment headquarters which we still have not located. Zhe CIA believes their point of departure is here in Neu York City. We need to shut it down. Okay, enough for now. Burke, you first. Show everyone how things work.”
Mike held up his hand. Branko nodded toward him. “Why the van?” asked Mike. “The computers and equipment in the office are pretty advanced.”
“Not a van!” erupted Marty. “A HAMC3.”
Everyone chuckled except Branko. “We have a mole,” he said. “Or at least a sympathizer. All zhe phone lines are bugged. Zhe computers may be hacked or, at least, zhe data has been leaked. Everything up to six months ago has been compromise. We have not had a major arrest for nearly a year. Zhe terrorists know all of our names.”
“Except mine?” Mike asked.
“Except yours,” Branko agreed. “That is one reason you are on the team.”
“This HAMC3 is independent of the FBI mainframe,” interrupted Alex. “We have access, but we have firewalls. The phone lines are encrypted. Don’t use the computers in the building. Don’t use the phones. Conduct your investigations and reports strictly in this HAMC3. Understood?”
Mike nodded his head. “Do we know whom the mole is?”
“Could be more than one,” answered Branko. “We are not sure if he or she is euth the Jägerregiment or the VFF.”
“Shouldn’t we find this mole first?” Mike asked.
Branko shook his head. “Not our mission. Others are looking for zhe mole. They will catch him sooner or later. As far as we know, zhe mole does not communicate from within zhe department.”
Burke and Alex spent the next hour explaining how the equipment in the HAMC3 worked. The computers were the most advanced in the FBI. There were no visible key boards. Each work station had a small head set with a microphone on a small boom and a set of goggles. Once on an agent’s head, the headset activated virtual reality (VR). Augmented reality replaced the keyboards with holograms. Everything was controlled by brain waves. It took a couple of hours for each agent to learn to use the VR headset and to program the system. Several tutorials on the software were available.
Around one p.m., the team broke for lunch. Alex and Marty took their sack lunches out of the refrigerator in the break room as they passed by. The group sat together in the cafeteria at a table as far from other people as possible. Alex poured red liquid from a thermos into a paper cup. She looked up to notice the others watching her. “Relax. It’s tomato juice.” Everyone chuckled.
Marty removed his sandwich from a small blue plastic bag and started to eat it. “Marty, is that a doggie bag?” Judy asked. “The kind pet owners use to pick up dog poop?”
“Yeah,” Marty answered. “It’s okay, they’re sanitary.”
“But why not use a regular sandwich bag?” Judy asked.
“People were stealing my sandwiches. Since I stated using these doggy bags, no one steals them.”
Branko was pleased to see the team come together. They returned to the HAMC3 and spent the rest of the afternoon configuring their computers, testing the communications and studying the files of the Jägerregiment and VFF. Around five p.m., Branko told everyone to go home.
$$$$$

I post this story every year for #Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry if you have read it. I like it because it is 80% true, only the names have been changes to protect me, I mean the innocent.

A #Zombie’s Valentine’s Day

​I hate holidays. Not the ones with a three-day weekend, just the ones invented by greeting card companies. One year I forgot Valentine’s Day until the day it arrived. Usually, I order flowers online for my wife. After all, she is the mother of two of our beautiful children, and a third not so beautiful child. In desperation, I drove to the nearest box store.

The scene at the flower department was a disaster; flowers flung everywhere; stems bent, leaves torn and flowers missing petals. I searched desperately for a gift: a small bouquet, a potted plant, or even a single rose. Nothing.

Several other men in my predicament also searched in vain like zombies from the Night of the Living Dead. At some point, I bumped into the department manager. Her hair was in disarray, her blouse wrinkled and stained, and she wore no shoes. I asked if I could get a corsage. She gave me an exasperated look and shook her head.

I decided to use my well-developed technique that seems to help in desperate situations; I began to cry. She took pity on me, put my head on her shoulder, and patted my back.
“Perhaps,” she said. “They can make you one in the back.” As I shuffled in the direction she pointed, I heard her shout, “Dead man walking!”

When I arrived at the rear of the store, the scene wasn’t much better. I saw two women making corsages as fast as possible. Both had Band-Aids on every finger. The trash was full of flowers ruined by blood from pricked fingers. As fast as one was made they put it into a petite white box.
When I asked if I could buy one, both women immediately stopped working, and looked at me as though I was the person in the elevator who farted. I was in trouble. The bigger of the two leaned forward.

“Do you realize how many local high schools have Valentine’s Day dances tonight?” Pointing to the stacks of white cardboard boxes, “We still have to make 150 more corsages, and have them ready for pick up in one hour.”

I fell back on my proven technique and began to cry; my lower lip quivered, and tears collected in the corners of my eyes. She softened. “Oh God, not another cry baby!” she shouted. “Okay! Okay! You can have one.”

I returned home carrying the corsage like a cat with a prize bird and presented it to my wife. She looked surprised and uttered those words that every man loves to hear. “You remembered!”

THE END
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