Beginnings

by J. S. Frankel

  A second later, the memories shifted over to his first escape, then the second and finally the dream segued into the events of the night before. The shouting of the Bangers, the quiet and menacing voices of the henchmen, the smarminess of Simpson…time for a total recall moment.

  Then there had been the blood—oh yes, the blood—and it had all come from Angela and out of him. She’d been stabbed and her life’s fluids, artificial or not, spurted out and she’d needed them replaced and he’d offered her his blood and his life and he was…

  Awake! “Uh, where am…?”

  Voice trailing off, he concentrated on focusing his eyes and once sharpened, he recognized this place as his room. A thick bandage was on his right wrist. Every joint felt stiff and inflamed as he turned over to get a look at the clock—seven in the morning. It was time to get up.

  Even though his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive and every muscle complained, he had to get out of bed. Moreover, he needed to see if Angela was all right.

  With a massive effort, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, wavering until his sense of balance returned. Tottering through the door and over to Angela’s room, he hesitated before knocking.

  “Hi, it’s me,” he said.

  His question was answered when he heard a soft voice call, “Come in.”

  Angela lay in bed, the covers up to her chin. With her hair framing her face, she wore a guileless expression and looked like a little girl, all innocent and pure. Her complexion was back to its usual porcelain cover and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Hi,” she said. “Are you doing okay?”

  Paul shrugged and decided to try to move as little as possible. Even breathing hurt. “I’ll live to get my ass trashed another day. What about you? Are you going to be, uh, you?”

  The room spun and in a flash she was at his side, lifting him off the ground in a firm but gentle grip. As she hauled him over to the bed, he noticed she was wearing a pair of dark green pajamas which showcased her slender figure. “I should go…” he began to say.

  With little effort, she tossed him onto the bed. “Get in,” she commanded. “I took a lot of blood from you and you need to rest.”

  Too tired to protest, he got in and she slid in beside him.

  Oh…this is intense. He’d never thought of being with her. “Uh, is this okay? I mean, we just went out once,” he said, feeling embarrassed as well as really stoked by being beside her.

  He attempted to get up, but she gently pushed him down and hushed him by touching her fingers to his lips. “Lie down. We’re just talking, okay?”

  “Okay, I got it.”

  Paul lay back and took in the details of her room. Initially, he figured it would be as empty as his was, but he noticed an enormous clothes closet in the corner with an assortment of frilly looking outfits hanging up, as well as a diverse number of shoes and boots.

  Angela caught his gaze. “My maker wanted me to look like everyone else. I think all of these came from a catalogue.”

  They looked sort of old-fashioned, but he remembered how she’d dressed before and thought those clothes didn’t look so out of place on her. Right now, her body was warmer than the first time he remembered…

  “I think your blood did something to me or for me,” she began, interrupting his thoughts. “I can’t figure out which.”

  Her hand came up to gently stroke the side of his face. “But you saved me. They could have killed you.” After wetting her lips, she added, “They were after me. They were after all of us.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. The door opened and Ooze stood there. Once he saw them in bed, he raised his hands and said, “Oh, whoa, wait a second. It seems that I’m interrupting a little us time.”

  Embarrassment, thy name is water, as pink suffused Angela’s normally white complexion, and she ducked her head in a moment of supreme shyness. “What is it?” Paul asked, finding his voice.

  “I didn’t see you in your room,” answered Ooze, studiously avoiding looking at the bed. Instead, he focused his watery visage on the ground. “I just wondered if you were all right—uh, I mean, both of you.”

  “We’ll make it,” Paul answered.

  Ooze backed out without a word and the door closed softly behind him. Angela uttered a nervous giggle, and Paul wondered if this day could get any weirder. Under the covers, he felt her hand grasp his. “What’s…uh…what’s all this for?” he asked.

  “Like I said before, you saved me. Thank you.”

  Paul shrugged. They would have ripped him open even if she hadn’t shown up. “You saved me before a couple of times…and like you said, you can’t give up.”

  She uttered a soft laugh. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” A shudder ran through her. “Not taking my shot made me weak. I’m sorry I didn’t come when you called me. I heard your voice and I saw you, but I couldn’t move at first.”

  Her gaze turned inward. “When that fat pig stabbed me, I felt like I was going to die. The electricity made me mortal, the same as you. I guess I have a weakness after all.”

  “You’re fine now, aren’t you?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve got blood in you, right?”

  Angela’s teeth gleamed in the semi-darkened room. “I’ll be fine.”

  She pulled the collar of her top down just far enough to expose her upper shoulder, the region where she’d been stabbed. Even in the semi-darkened room, he saw the whiteness of her flesh, pure and unmarked. It was as if she’d never been injured at all.

  “When we brought you back,” she said, pulling her collar back up, “I took my shot right away. As far as I know, I slept through everything. Right now, I feel pretty good.”

  To prove her point, she leapt out of bed and rolled over and onto the floor. After limbering up by doing some martial arts katas, she threw some lightning fast punches and kicks at imaginary opponents, flipped high into the air and spun around then landed gracefully on one foot, like a ballerina. A second later, she slipped back under the covers again. “I can handle it.”

  Putting her face close to his, she asked, “Are you worried about me taking your blood?”

  Her breath, warm and sweet, gave him a measure of peace he’d been lacking as of late. “No, it’s cool,” he answered. He was actually more worried about blood loss, but it was morning now, he was still here and he’d live. “I just wondered what it would do to you.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t tell the difference, if that’s what you’re asking. And before you do ask, you’re not going to become a vampire,” she said. “Don’t worry. That’s a myth. I’m real.”

  “Okay, I won’t worry.”

  A note of hesitancy combined with wonder entered her voice. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about this,” she said, still speaking softly. “I’ve… I haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know what it’s like to be like other people. But,” her voice grew surer in tone, “you’re a really cool person to be with, if that makes any sense. I like having you around.”

  “I always wanted to be someone’s personal blood bank,” Paul cracked. “You can feed off me anytime.”

  This time a cute giggle came from her. “Maybe once is enough? But thanks for the offer. I might just take you up on it.” Angela stretched out and sniffed the air. “I think someone needs a shower—and it isn’t me.”

  Paul took a tentative sniff. No doubt about it, he stank. “I got the message.”

  After slipping out of bed and entering the shower, he stripped down then examined his body. Red welts stood out all over his torso and his whole body felt sore, but on the whole, he felt positive. He’d actually saved someone and for the first time since coming here, he felt like he’d become part of a team.

  At the same time, though, he wondered how he could deal with not only the Bangers, but also the team from Rallan. There was no way he could say anything to the authorities. Rallan would simply deny everything.

  However, Simpson an
d his goons couldn’t make a move and they were known. So for now, it was more or less a stalemate. At the very least, they didn’t know the location of this place.

  Shower over, he wrapped the towel around his waist and padded back to his room. Clean clothes sat on the bed, neatly folded. He got dressed then looked in Angela’s room, to find it empty. Going downstairs, he found her sitting on the couch dressed in a pair of jeans and a black blouse watching the news with CF and Ooze. Sandstorm didn’t make an appearance, but that was his way. Sometimes you had to give up on a person…or a clump of dirt.

  Ooze turned around and offered his version of a smile, which meant the water inside his containment suit seemed to harden into upturned lips. If he was feeling any embarrassment over his earlier social gaffe, he didn’t show it. Instead, he waved to the sofa. “Hey, we’re on the news, bud! Pull up a seat.”

  Paul took a seat next to Angela. They joined hands and watched the newscast.

  An announcer, the same announcer as the other day—bad hairpiece and all—stood outside the abandoned warehouse where it had all gone down the previous night. The bystanders looked familiar. They were the ones who had been at the warehouse the night before.

  “Previously I’d given my report about a vampire girl taking on a police officer,” the reporter said in breathless tones. “Now we have reports from some of the individuals behind me that a zombie is loose as well. And everything seems to be masterminded by the same young individual. Citizens aren’t sure if this is a prank or the real thing. If it is a prank, then it’s the best thing this city has ever seen as crime is down…”

  Ooze changed the channel to a different news report. “Now some people are calling the newest team of the undead, the Nightmare Crew,” the announcer said. “Vampires and zombies… We only have to ask, ‘What could be next?’”

  A third newscast showed one of the homeless people, the toothless guy wearing a pink coat, exclaiming, “I saw it, man. I saw it! Huge zombie guy was picking up this vampira chick and stuffing her into a van. It was like creature feature. You feel me?”

  The channel changed again, and this time a picture of a hideous vampire appeared with fangs at least a foot long, skinny and diseased-looking. Do we want this protecting our city?

  That was the caption, and it seemed to set Angela off as she grabbed the remote control and switched off the television. A sour look painted her features. “I don’t think I want to be called one of the undead.”

  Ooze chuckled. “Don’t take it so seriously. This is ratings! You looked good out there. You kicked some serious butt, Angela. You did, too, CF my man.”

  For his part, CF bobbed his head once and got up to go into the kitchen to get his daily feed. Angela sat staring at the television with a more than slightly zoned out expression on her face.

  “Is something wrong?” Paul asked.

  “They called me undead,” she said in a shaky voice. Her confidence seemed to vanish in a split second. “I’m not undead.”

  Abruptly, she threw the remote down and ran upstairs.

  “Better go after her, bud,” Ooze advised. “I’ll be here.”

  Paul took the hint and went to her room. He tried the door. It was locked. “Hey,” he said, knocking lightly. “Can we talk?”

  “Go away.”

  He rubbed his face. “Angela, let me in…please.”

  A second later, the door opened. She stood in the doorway with tears streaming down her face. “I’m not human,” she said in a voice that wavered between self-pity and self-loathing. “You heard the news report. I’m one of the…undead.” She spat out the last word.

  Not knowing what else to do, Paul hesitantly put his arms around her. “You’re human to me. It’s just my opinion, you know, but I wanted to say it.”

  At first, she stiffened, hard as a block of ice, but a moment later she relaxed and clutched him tightly to her. Her body shook as she wept, and Paul didn’t know what to do, but hugging seemed to be the way to go. Finally, she pulled back and wiped her face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He took her hand. “C’mon,” he said.

  “What…are you doing?” she asked as he led her down the stairs and over to the large dresser. Ooze was on the couch and he watched them as they made their way over, but said nothing.

  In a smooth gesture, he put on his jacket and rooted around in one of the drawers for something. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, and pulled out another jacket. Designed for a man, it was too large for her, but he tossed it in her direction. “Put that on.”

  Bewildered, she stared at him. “What are we going to do?”

  “Go for a walk.”

  A mushy hand went up and waved. “I’m going to second what Angela’s probably thinking,” Ooze said as he formed the letters WTH with his body. “What are you doing?”

  Paul pointed at the door. “We’re going to go for a walk,” he repeated. “We won’t be out long, just a few minutes, but we can still keep a low profile and have some fun. And I’m getting tired of being stuck in here all the time.”

  “I need something on my feet,” Angela said. “Wait a minute.” She ran upstairs and came down a few seconds later wearing a pair of high-heeled black boots. On her they looked more than hot. “I just tried these on. They’re comfortable.”

  “Then let’s go,” Paul said as a surge of strength went through him and he pulled her out of the door. At roughly eight in the morning, the sun had already come out and they made their way down the silent and cold streets hand in hand.

  As they walked along, Angela stared at the houses. “I’ve never really looked at any of these places before, not in the daytime,” she said.

  “What do you think?”

  She shrugged. “They’re houses. People live in them. That’s all I know.”

  “There’s a lot more,” he said, thinking about the possibilities of what life could be.

  Angela glanced at him. “Is this what people who date each other do when they don’t go out at night?”

  Good question and it was one he didn’t have an answer to. “Uh, I guess they walk around, eat something in a restaurant if they have money, go to the park…stuff like that,” he answered.

  “They do all the human stuff?”

  In a moment of ballsiness, he took her hand. “Yeah, we do all the human stuff,” he echoed. “And I mean we, which includes you.”

  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and they continued their sojourn to the end of the town then turned around. On the way back, he caught sight of her grinning. “What are you so happy about?” he asked.

  The grin faded, but only a little. “It’s…nice to be out,” she said and gazed in wonder at the various houses and businesses and restaurants that dotted the main street. “I’ve never… I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever do this.”

  “Well, you’re doing it now. And, you know,” he added as a thought popped into his head, “If you want, we can do this more…”

  “Oh, good morning,” a voice said.

  Turning around, Mrs. Porter, the old dog lady, stood there with her little pooch straining on the leash. She eyed Angela up and down and her mouth popped open, but she shut it again. Her dog started to whine then it growled. “Down, Peter,” she scolded, yanking on the leash.

  The dog, however, continued to growl. Its hackles rose while its tail pointed down and its teeth came out in a snarl. Mrs. Porter’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” she said in a surprised manner and pulled on the leash. The dog didn’t give up any ground. “He usually doesn’t act this way around strangers. Have we met before young, er, young lady?”

  “I don’t think so,” answered Angela, backing away from the animal. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled in an unpleasant sneer. It seemed as if there was no love lost between vampire and canine. “I’m just visiting for the day.”

  The dog didn’t seem to like the reply as it advanced on her, its sounds of anger rising in intensity, and its growls gave way to how
ls of rage. It only stopped when Mrs. Porter pulled back sharply on his leash and it gave a yelp of surprise and pain. “Dogs…don’t like me,” Angela muttered.

  “What’s that?” Mrs. Porter asked, cupping her hand over her ear. “What did you say, young lady?”

  “I said,” Angela raised her voice, “dogs don’t like me.”

  Peter continued to bay, and Mrs. Porter scooped him up in her arms. “I don’t wonder,” she remarked in a haughty voice. “With that complexion of yours, you might think about getting out in the sun a little more.”

  Angela tensed and for a second Paul thought she was going to slap the old woman for her crass remark. Instead, she leaned over and her fangs came out half an inch. “You should see me after dark. I look much better in the moonlight.”

  She turned on her heel and strode away. Paul followed her, glancing at Mrs. Porter who stood on her little spot of ground, transfixed. This was not a good way to stay hidden, and he nodded politely at the old woman before running off to catch up to Angela.

  “Hey, wait,” he puffed out as he ran along the street. She kept striding along and didn’t deign to look behind her. “Angela, wait…please.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. “What is it?”

  Rubbing his forehead, he thought of what to say. “Not everyone is like this. I mean, maybe we should try a different place. You have to have hope, right?”

  “It’ll be the same,” said Angela in a voice tinged with acid. A second later, the expression of anger disappeared from her face and her voice held nothing but despair. “Hope is for humans. When you’re different, they stare. They don’t accept. People just don’t like me.”

  A spear of longing went through Paul. He couldn’t understand, not entirely, but he had to run with his feelings and his feelings said be with her. “Let me show you that we’re not all losers.”

  They took the van and headed over to a nearby town. She drove with a sure hand and thirty minutes later they ended up in Amity. Mainly rural with large farms, it boasted a number of quaint old-style houses similar in architecture to Angelica’s houses, a few restaurants and not much else.