The Midnight Cleaning Company

Chapter 21

"Enlighten us with your plan", Vincent requested with a faint hint of sarcasm. The ever present manic grin he wore made it difficult to tell if he was ever sincere.

"The Elders contact the Cleaners by calling a number and giving the address that requires disposal of evidence. To meet with the Cleaners we must do the same", I said and took a big gulp of my coffee. It was scolding hot but tasted so fantastic with blood mixed in that I did not mind.

"We give them an address then lie in wait", finished Andre.

"Precisely", I said from behind my coffee mug.

"They will be panicking about your disappearance and preparing for war by now, what makes you think they will drop everything and arrive at the ambush?" Vincent inquired.

"Covering up evidence of the Elder's particularly messy indiscretions is the Cleaners primary purpose, to prevent Humans from stumbling across it, to maintain The Secret. Call, and they will come," I finished with an accidental throb of pride.

"Simple yet effective", beamed Vincent.

I still could not tell whether he was being approving or patronising.

We drove in two cars: one for the ex-cleaners and Josephine, and one for Vincent and a group of Rogues for back-up, to a large vacant house in Stoke Newington, half way between the Rogue's club and the Cleaner's office.

Jacob had not taken to Human blood and so had not healed adequately. We left him behind in the care of his overly enthusiastic nurse.

The house had a for sale sign lent up against the short brick front wall. It was empty apart for the fitted surfaces. I settled myself cross-legged on a kitchen counter while we waited.
Vincent made the call to the number I provided, as the recipient would not be likely recognise his American drawl. He left to conceal himself in the garden with the other Rogues, leaving Andre, George, Josephine, and myself in the house.

While we waited I tried to plan ahead what I would say to my ex-colleagues to convince them to join us. A thousand different phrasings crossed my mind before I anxiously dismissed them all. Josephine's presence was my trump card, although apart from George and myself, only Charles had known her during the war. The other old-hands had been in different divisions and we had only been thrown together later as survivors.
In the silence my thoughts returned to the last night of The War, the night that the Elders had tricked us into slaughtering our own kind to fix the problem of our existence; the last time I had opposed other Cleaners.

The War against The Rouges had ended with a whimper. After almost two decades of conflict, all the charismatic ideologues were dead and the hollow husks of soldiers were all that remained. It seemed as though in the end the mayhem only ceased because the conflict itself had become too exhausted to continue. We claimed ourselves victorious because we were the only broken bodies still able to drag ourselves upright.

It had been a very slow and tedious few months since the threat of the Rogue army had finally been quashed and we were just keeping watch for embers of resistance. All that was left of us men and women who lay in the re-growing grass and stared blankly up at the stars, was the corporeal stain left behind when the barrage of trauma kills the soul inside a person.
We had not been resupplied. I had a rusted and bent rifle but no bullets and the ragged remains of a uniform I wore I had taken from a fallen Human soldier. It was a faded beige colour and it's previous allegiance was now undistinguishable.

I had only half a deck of cards with which to amuse myself. Since the missing cards prevented us playing any regular games, my comrades and I invented new ones with ridiculously complicated and convoluted rules, and gambled with rations of diluted animal blood. We had been playing one of these games when the other Cleaner camp attacked. They rolled down the surrounding hills like an avalanche and swamped the palisades. We had not been expecting any form of attack and so were taken unaware and slaughtered. I saw from my camp fire the perimeter guards cut down like wheat as they fled from the overwhelming assault.