The Color of Dying

by Carlos Colon

  “Okay Dominic, pick up that big knife on the table behind you and bring it here.” The Hindquarters’ kitchen employees, paying no mind to the brotherly spat, ignore the sight of Dominic lifting the chef’s knife that was sitting on the kitchen island. “Good. Now take the pointed edge and press it against your neck.” Without a second of hesitancy, Dominic agreeably pushes the sharp edge to the right of his Adams Apple. “Press it a little harder.” With no fear or indication of any pain, the knife presses forward, breaking skin. A burst of blood colors the tip of the blade. “Okay, stop.”

  Blood oozes a path down my brother-in-law’s neck as he stands quietly, knife in hand. Conveniently, there is a First Aid cabinet on the wall where I can access a Band-Aid. Before the blood reaches the white collar of his shirt, I intercept it with my finger.

  No reason to let it go to waste.

  Rather than wipe it off with one of the nearby napkins I lick the blood off my fingertip. The taste settles on my tongue as I tear open the Band-Aid. “Ugh, Dominic, you really need to cut down on your drinking.”

  Dominic shakes the haze out of his head and looks at the chef’s knife in his hand as I place the Band-Aid over the puncture wound. He reaches for his neck with his other hand and feels the bandage over the wound.

  “Any more questions about that night, Dominic?”

  His expression is one of raw disgust. “You sick fuck.”

  “No, Dominic, not sick. Dead.”

  How can his mind even process this? I keep trying to imagine what this must be like from the other side; a dead brother-in-law standing before him, a dead brother-in-law that feeds off of humans, something that people dress up as for Halloween. A ridiculous figure of fantasy facing him as a horrifying reality—one that has taken a tragic toll on all the lives around him.

  The thumping bass seeps back through the swinging doors as Dominic storms back out to the dance floor. Before they swing back shut, Travis passes Dominic and notices the wound on his neck.

  Travis approaches me with an expression that almost passes as a laugh. “Did you just...?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Okay, if you weren’t feeding off the detective, did he at least offer some intel about our friend, the doctor?”

  “No, we were discussing family matters.”

  “Family matters?” Travis reverts to his sour demeanor. “Listen, amigo, you have got to reevaluate your priorities.”

  “I know, I know.”

  The hip-hop beat blasts its way back into the kitchen as Dominic bursts through the door. “She’s here!”

  “What?” Butterflies! I actually have butterflies! Are they dead, I wonder? “How do you know?”

  Travis eyes light up. “Did you see her?” This is a man who loves confrontation.

  “No,” says Dominic. “But she’s here, with two others.”

  “Just two? Where is the other?”

  “All I know is what’s here right now,” says Dominic. “There are six of you freaks right here, right now, in this building.” Dominic nods towards Travis. “There’s you and your sweetheart, the thing that calls himself my brother-in-law, the redhead, and two others.”

  We have to bring Travis’ mate up to speed. “Dominic, does Donny know?”

  “No, I didn’t see him.”

  “Donny’s up on the balcony watching the floor,” says Travis. “Let’s go tell him.”

  30

  The dance floor is packed so tight that it’s almost impossible to move, let alone flail around to the noises excreting out of the house system’s woofers. To a human, if he or she had the heightened sense of smell that I carry, the stench of the sweaty armpits and bodily fluids coming from the patrons might be nauseating. For me it heightens my anticipation, my hunger. Hand inside my jacket, ready to clash, I hold tightly onto the handle of my concealed Filipino. I also brought a wooden stake, as did Travis. Dominic’s weapon is his serum-induced ability to sniff out the undead—much more useful than his service pistol, unless he wants to snuff out a dancer or the DJ (which I would welcome).

  A stunning red-haired woman in a crimson dress would probably stand out under normal circumstances—especially if she’s accompanied by a pair of Goth freaks. But in this crowd, any given night could resemble a Halloween party with the dissonance of questionable fashions bopping to the brain-mashing beats on the dance floor. Add to that the colored lights flickering all around us and, hell, a T-Rex could stomp through this throng without getting a second look.

  The tune changes again. Fittingly, this one has a gothic echo-like feel with crunching guitars and an industrial tech beat. I kind of like it. It feels angry, like we are. The light show changes with the tune, flashing strobes that make the arms and heads rhythmically flailing about look like dismemberments. Even the faces of the dancers are taking a Carnival of Souls-like appearance.

  Death is stalking. We know it is here somewhere. But where?

  I call out. “Travis!” No response-despite his being only a few steps ahead of me. He’s either extra focused or his hearing isn’t as sensitive as mine. I take hold of his arm to get his attention. “TRAVIS!!!” His swift turn, with stake in hand, is thankfully caught by Dominic, who grasps Travis wrist before he could put a hole in what used to be his brother-in-law. There was no mistaking it—there was deadly intention in Travis’ eyes.

  “WHAT?” He is clearly in no mood for distractions or conversations.

  “WHY DON’T WE TURN ON THE HOUSE LIGHTS AND SHUT OFF THE MUSIC?” My suggestion might frustrate the crowd for a moment, but who gives a shit? Combined with Dominic’s sensory ability, the house lights and the lack of noise might give us a chance to spot Simone and her hench-teens.

  Travis nods. He likes the idea. Suggesting that we could get a better view, Travis gestures towards the balcony. Dominic and I follow as the music continues to pound. Halfway up the steps, Travis stops to look down at the dance floor. I stop beside him and turn to Dominic, who’s two steps behind me. “Anything?”

  Dominic shakes his head. “I don’t see her but she’s definitely here!”

  “Dammit, Dominic! Where?”

  Travis signals Donny, who’s looking down from the balcony. Donny, not knowing what I recommended, seems perplexed. Of no temperament to explain, Travis repeats his gesture with more emphasis. Donny shakes his head. It’s a good night at The Hindquarters, why stop the party? Travis’ cold stare conveys that the topic is not up for discussion. Donny shrugs and heads towards the control room.

  Below us, unaware of the danger lurking amongst them, the crowd continues frolicking happily. Until the music stops. A disappointed moan rises. The patrons look around, trying to figure out what happened. Donny turns on the house lights, blinding everyone as their pupils struggle to adjust. The roar of disapproval grows louder. It might not be the best way to run a dance club but, right now, Travis doesn’t give a shit. He is in predator mode-not businessman.

  Travis, Dominic and I scope the dance floor from the steps. Neither of us sees anything. Below, the patrons are turning testy. Some are even heading towards the exit.

  A feeding!

  It bolts through us like a charge of electricity.

  Two feedings!

  When someone feeds within a close distance from where we stand, our senses pick it up instantly. Travis felt it, too. I can tell by the way he just looked at me. He sways his head, searching frantically throughout the dance floor. Below us the clubbers are still buzzing in frustration. Thankfully they’re completely unaware of what’s going on. Otherwise there would be a riot on the dance floor with frightened patrons clawing over one another. For now, only Travis and I know the horror that’s happening somewhere below.

  A piercing scream! Well, so much for just Travis and me knowing.

  A second scream! The unintelligible grumble below turns into a collective panic with a sea of confused torsos slamming into one another. Dominic barrels down the steps towards the direction of the screams. Travis and I trail h
im, trying to crane our necks above the crowd to pinpoint the center of the chaos.

  The screams are multiplying. They appear to be coming from the far corner near the back exit as we wade against the fleeing crowd. Blood! There’s blood on the dance floor. No surprise there.

  Some freaked-out burly dude in a buzz cut tries to overcompensate for his diminished macho façade by attempting to grab me by the shoulders and forcibly shove me away. Sorry buddy, but I am just as determined to get to the scene you’re running away from as you are to get away from it. I lift him by his pants and throw him aside, probably turning his world upside down even more.

  Our field of vision is clear. The evidence of what Travis and I sensed stands right before us. They’re kids! They’re just kids! They can’t be older than seventeen, one male, the other female. Both are dressed in black leather and studs, openly feeding on a pair of young clubbers in miniskirts and high heels. The pretty legs of the victims hang limply, blood streaming down the calves of their nylons, forming puddles on the dance floor. Their heads hang back lifelessly as the teens continue to gorge themselves.

  Travis is stricken in disbelief. Why such a senseless, haphazard attack in such an open venue? What could this possibly accomplish? This isn’t the way we feed. Not in public. Not out in the open. We are not supposed to exist. What is the purpose of causing this panic? Why make our presence known? If no one believes we exist, no one is out to stop us. Why do this?

  Dominic pulls up beside me, having puffed his way through the crowd. The young Goth male lifts his head and looks right at us. Now the female picks up her head, licking the blood from her lips.

  Before I can stop him, Dominic instinctively pulls out his gun and squeezes off a shot, ironically striking the girl in the neck. The bullet knocks her back and her victim falls to the floor. The male decides to get chivalrous, dropping his victim to charge at Dominic with fangs aimed at his neck.

  The male teen takes down my brother-in-law but I am able to knock him away with a flying tackle, leaving us rolling on the floor like a sheriff and an outlaw in a Dodge City saloon. I reach for my stake but the female joins in on the scuffle and starts biting my arm.

  Their energy is fierce. They’re hyper-powered with no capability of forming any calculated thought, feeding and fighting with aimless abandon. I don’t think they even realize I’m one of their own. These little fuckers are definitely not genetically resistant.

  With the young male Goth kid firmly under my control in a headlock, I struggle to shake off the female, who pulls on my head as if trying to rip it from my shoulders. It’s almost funny how completely vacuous they are, thoughtlessly focused on me while completely ignoring Travis, who calmly steps over and plunges his stake through the young male’s back, into his heart.

  The female Goth doesn’t even notice, continuing to wrestle blindly with my head. Travis drives his stake through her back, also, but he misses her heart. Her attention shifts, and with a hideous growl she turns and attacks him. Not that Travis can’t hold his own against her, but rather than waste time that can be put towards finding Simone, I take my out my blade and carve through girl’s neck until her head is completely severed.

  Her body falls to the dance floor, leaving me holding her detached head by the hair. I raise it to look at her heavily made up face, eyes and wide open mouth. Fucking morons, you dumb little shits know nothing about Goth.

  Fuck it. No time for pity, we’ve got problems of our own. Dominic stands couple of steps away, dazed, blankly staring at everyone that’s fighting to get to the exits. His hand over his neck, blood seeps between the fingers. The Goth kid got to him before I could intercept. He broke skin.

  Dominic’s reads my sunken expression. “Like I said before, I’m half dead anyway.” Gunder’s MV-12 poison was bad enough. Now he has a bite that has breached his flesh. The venom is in him. It’s just a matter of time. It might take days, a couple of weeks, maybe even a month. But the venom will kill him and turn him into one of us. “At least I’ll have the decency to stay dead.”

  If I had the time to mourn the inevitable, I would. But time is a luxury we don’t have. Simone is lurking. We might not see her but she is here. And she’s orchestrated this chaos for a reason. Why?

  Travis looks up to the loft area to bark an order out to Donny. His mouth freezes. I look up to see what could possibly paralyze him in such a way.

  That face—the face I haven’t since in twenty-seven years, yet its image is burned in my brain like branded cattle.

  And that red dress!

  Simone calmly looks down at us, proudly admiring the destruction below her. Her eyes beam while her wine-colored lips form a disgustingly satisfied smile. Travis seethes. He’s fixed and poised to attack but his hatred appears to have him almost in stasis.

  That’s all right, Travis. Sit back, buddy. She’s mine. This is the first time I’ve seen this soulless puta de la madre since she took my life away and I want it to be the last. I wonder if she recognizes me. I wonder if she even gives a shit.

  Travis and I both know that the second we make a move she will disappear into nowhere just to enjoy our frustration. So what’s the plan? What can we do to change that? She stands there so smugly, feeding off the hatred emanating from us, two night walkers that she sired. Dammit, what’s the plan? How do we attack?

  Dominic is also game. But this is a confrontation that he has no business being involved in. He is grossly overmatched, no matter how much he wants in.

  Simone’s taunting smile takes an unsettling turn. Her eyes widen into a crazed glare. It shakes me. Shit, even Travis is shaken. I never thought I’d see Travis shaken. Her right arm rises teasingly. She’s got something hidden behind the wall of the balcony. A fistful of blond hair comes into view.

  NO!

  A pale, bluish forehead. The darkened eyes of someone who’s been dead for well over 75 years. Travis cries out. His heart has been ripped from his chest. The head Simone boastfully displays is almost completely detached from the body. Only the vertebrae are holding them together. Not only has Simone staked Donny, but she has almost completely decapitated him!

  “DONNY!” cries Travis. His projection is fractured, his death face exposed. I’ve never seen it before. His demonic features somehow seem more pained than a human’s ever could.

  Now past boiling point, I charge towards the steps leading up to the balcony. Simone watches, unimpressed. Three steps up, I hit a wall as Simone looks down towards me from the top of the stairs. Oh, she remembers me all right.

  Simone licks her lips, seductively. Damn, what a sexy woman! She’s only a few steps above me, almost within touching distance, the unmerciful daughter of Satan that took my life away, the one that made Stefanie a widow and took me away from my kids.

  I want her crushed.

  I want her in flames.

  I want her destroyed.

  And I want to fuck her so bad.

  Travis’ cries are distant echoes. I’m lost in another place, another time. I’m at the Ritz-Carlton. Travis roars with rage but it only slightly jostles me from my trance, even as he darts towards the steps where I stand motionlessly, visualizing Simone’s red silk panties clenched between my teeth.

  A loud bang rings out, snapping me back into consciousness.

  Thick blood oozes from a fresh bullet hole in Simone’s right temple as her body collapses into the hallway leading towards the management offices.

  Dominic waves his gun indignantly towards the balcony. “Get her!”

  Travis shoves past me as I inch my way back towards the here and now. I slowly follow, shaking the cobwebs, reaching the top of the steps to find Travis on his knees besides Donny’s butchered body.

  But where is Simone?

  The bullet wouldn’t have killed her but her reaction time should have been slowed enough for us to catch up with her.

  I can see inside the management office. The door is open. She’s not there. Neither is she down the hallway. The only other room
is the bathroom. A dozen feet or so, at the other end of the balcony, is an emergency exit. But surely Travis or Dominic would have seen her go there. The only place to check is the bathroom. Admittedly, I’m having second thoughts on confronting our maker alone, but Travis right now isn’t in any shape to face her.

  Simone won’t be as easy for me to decapitate as the Goth girl so I’m better off having my stake ready as I step towards the bathroom door and slowly push the door open.

  I can see through the small crack between the door and the frame that it’s dark inside. My hand holding the stake shakes as I open it wider. There’s nothing I want more than to destroy Simone, but if there is anything that my heightened senses can do, it’s separate the bullshit from the bravado. They know that there’s a big part of me that will be relieved if Simone is not behind that door. No sign. She’s gone. We lost her.

  Back at the balcony Travis’ face is helplessly crumpled as he cradles Donny’s headless body in his arms.

  Dominic, finally making it up the steps, is startled by Travis’ death face and agonized howl.

  Travis leaps towards my brother-in-law. “You worthless, wretched mortal, why didn’t you find her?”

  Dominic has never seen one of us with our death face exposed and it’s evident by his shaken demeanor. He has seen the unholy in the flesh. His stoic demeanor is gone.

  “Travis, stop!” Again I have to step in to keep him from ripping into Dominic’s throat.

  Dominic backs away. He’s worked many crime scenes where he’s had to wait out the irrational anger of a murder victim’s survivors, but this is no grieving human. It is a blood-driven predator to whom the only good Dominic is a dead one.

  Travis wrestles to get past me. “You said you could stop her!”

  I can hold off Travis a bit, but not forever. “Dominic, you better go.”

  He stubbornly refuses, clenching his lips in frustration. “I will find her!”

  What?

  Dammit, Dominic, wrong thing to say. In fact, right now anything would be the wrong thing to say, which Travis makes clear by overpowering me and grabbing hold of Dominic’s arm. “You powerless fool, what are you going to do? What do you think you’re going to do?”