Vladimiir Whitehead, introduction

James looked out of the 25th floor window in Vladimiir Whitehead's executive suite at the orange and pink sunset. Looking down he saw the engorged Hillsborough River, which in spite of raised banks had overflowed into nearby communities. The mosque at the University of Tampa stood in several feet of water, now another abandoned center of learning. He looked past the university to I-275 undulating through the city, dipping down past West Shore Boulevard and disappearing into Tampa Bay. 5 or so miles away I-275 rose again, the once high span of the Howard Frankland bridge rising above the waves in a slow arc and dipping back into the bay. Beyond slightly to the south rose Pinellas Island, and further south rose the span of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, like a twin to the Howard Frankland Bridge, rising from the sea and again descending to the depths.

 

If a spirit had been watching the two men standing and gazing out at the scene below them, he would have seen two very stark contrasts. The expression on James Taylor's face, would have been one of sorrow, regret, and bafflement. Vladimiir Whitehead's expression was one of pleasure and awe, like an astronaut's expression at his first sight of the earth below him. Vladimiir Whitehead was not an ordinary man. An ordinary man would see destruction and loss. Vladimiir looked out of his luxury executive suite and saw money.

 

"Beautiful....just beautiful," exclaimed Vladimiir Whitehead turning toward James with his eyes still sparkling with the orange and red reflection of the sunset.

 

James raised his head and steeled himself, looking into Whitehead's shining red eyes, "Mr. Whitehead, do you think that global warming and the rising seas could have anything to do with the rising of the undead? Anything at all?"