Death and Immigration
"What do you mean I can't enter the country? I'm a United States citizen."
"Well, technically, not any more, sir," the immigration officer stated, his voice even, but firm. "Your SPR levels--Supernatural-Paranormal Readings--were off the scale. You're a vampire, sir. That means you died, and hence, are no longer a legal citizen of the United States. You are now considered to be a contagious disease."
I frowned, started to shake my head, and stopped. I was coming home from a sci-fi/fantasy convention in Toronto. The weekend had been a frenetic, but perfectly normal convention weekend. This morning, I had wakened with a horrible thirst, and I did throw up at the sight of food, and my head still felt like a clawed creature was scraping its way free from my brain. But hey. What good hangover doesn't cause symptoms like that?
"Well, I did fall in with those Buffy the Vampire Slayer people. A little weird, but none of them acted like vampires--they just wanted to watch vampires. There must be some kind of mistake. Paranormal readings? Is this something to do with the War on Terror?"
"Oh no, sir. We've been checking on supernatural beings for years. It isn't really a secret. It's just that no one in their right mind tends to believe it."
"Huh. How do I go about proving I'm perfectly normal instead of paranormal?"
The immigration officer smiled with condescension barely disguised as pity. "I'm afraid there's been no mistake. The information's already in the computers. Besides, I can see your fangs."
My hand flew to my mouth, and, damn, if he wasn't right. I immediately sliced my tongue. Now that I was aware of the pointed ends, my teeth felt awkward and alien in my mouth. Like new fillings do after a visit to the dentist. I studied the taste of my blood. Still metallic, and cloying. Maybe other people's blood would be tastier.
"So. I have to stay in Canada, then?" I asked. The officer snorted, and then acted like he was coughing. I was well aware that he was laughing.
"I'm afraid not, sir. The Canadians don't want vampires any more than we do. It's the life span, you see. Werewolves aren't so bad, but you know what even a few vampires can do to Social Security or socialized medicine?"
It was beginning to dawn on me that I might have a serious problem. I had questions to ask, but I was distracted when a group of men in contamination suits burst into the immigration hall. Hadn't this guy said something about contagious diseases?
The officer rose from his desk, and began backing away. "Good day, sir. And allow me to convey my condolences over your loss."
"You've been keeping me here!" I jerked as my teeth suddenly transformed. Not just growing longer, but thicker. I ran my tongue around my mouth, and felt how crooked and rough they were. Each tooth was rough with cork-screw ridges. The better to drill you with, I thought.
"No, no," the officer exclaimed with fervor. "We wouldn't try to trick you that way. We aren't part of Health Services, so your elimination doesn't fall under our jurisdiction. We're just here to keep you out of the country." He smiled again, then turned and ran.
A blood red mist fell over my eyes, and a strange, violent lust seemed to pulse in my veins. I swung around to face the on-coming contamination team.
They looked just like foil-wrapped TV dinners.