Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  It took him a moment to make sense of the scene in front of him. It looked like autumn had been and gone in his bedroom. Fallen leaves littered the floor, the bed—even the air was thick with the smell of them. The houseplants were wilted, leaning at crazy angles out of their pots. And on the bed, tangled in the sheet and lying very, very still, was a familiar body.

  Ben hauled himself onto the bed, pulling back the sheets. “Nate?”

  Nate lay on his side. His eyes were closed. Any hope that he was just sleeping was undone by how still he was. I can’t see his chest rise. Ben crawled over to him, grabbing his hand. Fuck, he’s cold. Humans weren’t meant to feel this cold.

  Ben pressed his fingers to the vein in Nate’s wrist. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating—but there was nothing to feel. Ignoring the fear clutching at his gut, he pulled Nate over onto his back, so he could press his fingers to the artery in his neck.

  The two deep incisions in Nate’s neck seemed like an accusation. No. No, no, no. Ben snatched his hand away, becoming aware of the deep crimson stain on the sheets behind Nate. Please, no. He could almost taste the intoxicating richness of the blood on his lips, remembering how Nate’s body yielded so perfectly to his own. Nate’s blood, mingling with the endorphins of his release, was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted—

  I’ve killed him. Ben gasped, feeling as though he would be sick again, but there was nothing left in his stomach. I’ve killed him—

  His hand stayed on Nate’s shoulder. He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t. Without Nate, there was nothing—

  No. I refuse—he can’t die! Ben shook him. Harder and harder, trying to get a reaction out of him. “You promised you’d be here! You said you’d wait while I figured things out—that you’d be strong!”

  Strong. Nate’s peculiar strength came back to Ben in a rush. He staggered over to the window, drawing the curtain back.

  On the fire escape, he could see Nate’s collection of plants, still a healthy green.

  Ben swallowed. I don’t know what it means…but it has to mean something.

  Not allowing himself to think about anything but what he was doing, Ben drew the curtains as wide apart as they could go. The sunlight didn’t quite make it to the bed. Straining with all the strength remaining to him, Ben dragged Nate from the bed and into the light. It took him multiple attempts, but he didn’t pause. Any time he was tempted to catch his breath, the chill of Nate’s skin urged him onward.

  Ben tenderly brushed Nate’s hair out of his face. Now what? Plants needed sunlight and water. And soil, but how on earth was he meant to get soil into his apartment?

  The plants! Ben climbed out of his window. He grabbed first one plant and then another, upending the contents of the pots onto the bedroom floor. It took several trips, and by the last one he had to close his eyes, taking a moment to will his body into obeying his instructions before dumping the soil onto the floor. He almost lost his footing as he dragged Nate onto the bed of soil.

  Water. His body felt both heavy and weak. He swayed, dizzy and battling nausea as he reached the bathroom. There was a bucket used for cleaning in the cupboard below the sink. Ben filled it and dragged it back to the bedroom.

  Nate hadn’t moved. He lay still, even when Ben tipped the bucket over him. The breeze from the open window stirred the leaves, their murmur sounding like the breath he so wanted to hear Nate take.

  “Please.” Ben touched Nate’s cheek. “I need you. Nate—please come back.”

  He shuddered, the breeze suddenly making him realize how cold he was. His stomach swelled, and Ben realized that he was going to be sick again.

  This time, he made it only as far as the bath. Ben leaned against it, his hands clutching the cold edge of the tub. His body continued to shudder, even though there was nothing remaining in him but bile.

  Nate. Ben shut his eyes. His thoughts were clouded and heavy, and there was a curious distance between himself and his body. He knew he should go to Nate, but he couldn’t make himself move. Light exploded and dimmed in his head. I have to go to Nate. If I don’t—

  His stomach rolled again. He’s dead? You’re fooling yourself. Ben swallowed, but the feeling of Nate’s skin, so unnaturally cold, rushed into his mind before he could dismiss it. He’s dead. Ben choked back a sob at the memory of the vampire’s exultation and the thrill of satisfying his hunger. Dead—and I’ve killed him.

  THE PHONE WOKE him. Ben listened to it ring without stirring. He couldn’t move. A heaviness had stolen over him, and he didn’t want to exist at all. He just wanted to lie there, alone with his misery. He made no attempt to reach the phone, or even move. Just leave me here.

  His eyes were shut, but as the phone continued to ring, he noticed that he lay on a pillow with a sheet over him. His brain digested these facts without curiosity. Ben didn’t remember moving, but he didn’t care. What does it matter? Nothing matters. His stomach rolled painfully. Without Nate—

  There was movement nearby. The phone stopped mid-ring. “Hello?”

  Nate’s voice. Ben’s eyes flew open in shock.

  Nate stood at the foot of the master bed. He wore a T-shirt over his boxers, and one hand smoothed the jacket hanging over the back of the chair automatically. He had something wrapped around his neck. “Yeah, this is Ben’s phone. I’m a friend—Nate. Can I ask who’s calling?” Nate’s fingers tightened over the back of the chair. “No—he’s not able to take your call right now. He’s not well.” There was a pause. “Food poisoning.”

  Food…? Ben sat up. His head swam, dizziness warring with the bewildering thoughts racing through his mind. Nate—Nate was real. He felt a rush of relief, followed by an immediate thrill of horror. Did Nate know…?

  “Diya? Okay, I’ll give him the message. Yeah—thanks.” Nate ended the call, replacing the phone within Ben’s suit jacket. He turned around and Ben could see that the thing wrapped around his throat was a vine that started where the vampire had sunk his fangs into Nate’s neck and extended down his arm.

  Nate’s gaze fell on him and he hesitated. “Man, I’m sorry. Was trying not to wake you.”

  “Wake me?” Ben swallowed. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “Nate. You—” He held out a hand.

  Nate sat on the edge of the bed. “I woke up in the sun. I’m guessing that was you?” He reached for Ben’s hand. “You’d passed out in the bathroom. Scared me to death. Do you—you don’t remember any of that?”

  Ben reached out, pressing his hand to Nate’s neck beneath the vines. He felt his pulse, loud and steady, and shut his eyes. The relief was so strong he just gave way, leaning against Nate’s chest. He breathed in his warmth and felt the pinprick of tears threaten behind his eyes.

  “Hey. It’s okay.” Ben heard the rustle of leaves as Nate wrapped his arms around him. “I’m fine. You—you’re going to be fine.”

  Ben breathed out. “You’re not dead. When I woke up, I thought—”

  Nate’s hold tightened reflexively. “I’m not dead, Ben. Not even close.”

  The words should have reassured him, but as Ben lay, watching Nate’s chest rise with every breath, all he could feel was sick. Nate had survived—this time.

  “I THINK THIS is a really bad idea. An hour ago you couldn’t get out of bed without help, and now you want to go to Department Seven?” Nate stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as Ben struggled with the arms of his shirt.

  Ben ignored the dizzy feeling. “Because I can’t be sure that you will go unless I go with you.”

  Nate let out a frustrated breath. “I’m fine. You—you need to rest!”

  “You’re growing vines, Nate.” Ben left his hand on the back of the chair to steady himself as he looked around for his hoodie. “Admittedly, that’s more normal for you than for anyone else, but still—that’s not a good sign!”

  Nate opened Ben’s wardrobe, pulling a hoodie from the shelving unit. He didn’t have to search through the drawers to find it. “Ready? Catch.” He threw
the hoodie. “And the vine is the reason I don’t want to go to Department Seven. You know they’re going to ask questions.”

  I do not remember my wardrobe being that organized. Had Nate stayed in the bedroom with him all that time he’d been unconscious? Ben felt his stomach twist with something that felt like guilt. “Only if they see it. You’ve got a hoodie right? Wear that.”

  Nate hesitated. “You’ll be all right in here on your own?”

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “If you ask me how I’m feeling one more time, I will strangle you, Nate. You should be worried about yourself!”

  “I am, I’m just—well, look at yourself! I’m not convinced we shouldn’t be taking you to the hospital.”

  Ben shuddered. “Not the hospital.”

  “Then—”

  “We’re still going to Department Seven.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed and began winding up his sleeves. “Please, Nate. Don’t argue with me—this is really important.”

  “You’re going to be eaten up with guilt until we do aren’t you?” Nate ran a hand down his face. The vine extended all the way down his shoulder and the length of his arm—mirroring the flow of blood from the wound. Was that coincidence or deliberate? If Nate’s magic was linked to his blood—

  Ben’s stomach rolled. He hastily reached for the bucket beside the bed.

  Nate disappeared, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water. “Drink this.”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t want to drink anything.” The one good thing about how sick he’d been was that his stomach was nothing but bile, and he had nothing more to lose.

  “Just rinse your mouth it. Trust me, you’ll feel better.” Nate pressed his hand to Ben’s forehead. “You do not feel well at all.”

  Ben spat the water into the bucket and discovered that he did feel better. “I’ll survive.”

  “Are you sure?” Nate stroked his arm. “You haven’t been sick like this for a really long time. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  Ben frowned as a thought occurred to him. “What made you tell Diya I had food poisoning?”

  Nate shrugged. “It was the first thing I thought of. To be honest, I panicked. When I found you unconscious in the bathroom, I thought the worst.” Nate’s fingers stilled. “That was—really bad, wasn’t it?”

  Ben shut his eyes. “You could have—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “You could have died, Nate.”

  “So could you.” Nate squeezed his shoulder tightly. “You’re still weak. You want to go to Department Seven, but you haven’t even tried to keep anything down—”

  “Even the thought of food makes me nauseous. I can’t, Nate.”

  “Let’s see about that.” The bed shifted as Nate stood, and Ben opened his eyes to see him walking out the door.

  Carefully, Ben put the bucket back down on the floor. He pulled on the hoodie, and using the wall to steady himself, made his way to the wardrobe for socks. When Nate returned, Ben was sitting on the bed, pulling the last sock on.

  Nate frowned, but instead of commenting, he held out a glass to Ben. “Here.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Drink it.” Nate closed his fingers around it. “It’s just sugar dissolved in warm water. You need the energy.” He watched Ben closely. “I’m not going to Department Seven with you unless you drink it.”

  Ben looked down at his knees. He couldn’t help the rush of warmth he felt at Nate’s concern—or the guilt that followed. Looking out for you—which means you have to look out for him. He took a cautious sip.

  The water felt like the best thing ever to his aching, hurting throat. To his surprise, Ben found that the hard part was restraining himself to small sips instead of downing the entire drink at once.

  Nate watched him anxiously.

  Ben put the cup down on the bedside table. “You should go and get dressed. I don’t mind you wearing only your boxers, but I don’t think Department Seven would appreciate it.”

  “You’ll be fine?”

  “I can manage one glass of water by myself.” Ben kept his voice firm. “Get ready, Nate.” He settled back against the headboard, watching as Nate climbed out of the window. He’d tidied up the dirt, but there was still a muddy patch where Nate’d lain. The plants had been returned to their pots and stood against the wall.

  Ben took another sip of water and then another. There was no way he was letting Nate get out of taking care of himself.

  When Nate returned, with the vine tucked into the neck of his hoodie, Ben had finished the glass of water. He resisted Nate’s attempt to make him rest and, instead, leaned on Nate’s arm as they waited for a taxi.

  “We must be costing you a fortune on cabs.”

  “That’s not important.” Ben was surprised to find how angry he was. “What’s important is getting you checked out.”

  Nate looked down at him and immediately glanced away.

  He was still withdrawn in the cab. Ben didn’t like it, but he was too exhausted to question it—or argue with the arm that Nate slid around him. He leaned against him, his eyes closed. Halfway there. We can do this.

  The woman at the reception desk looked curiously at them both. “No community service today,” she said, “and even if there was, you’re really late.”

  Ben realized that he had no idea what day it was or how long ago it had been since Aki knocking at the door had alerted him to the situation. “We’re here for the lab. The morning-after vampire test.”

  “Oh.” The receptionist looked very much like she wanted to ask and only the ringing of the phone prevented her. “Go back outside and around the corner—there’s a door marked lab. Hit the intercom and tell them why you’re here. They’ll let you in.”

  “Morning-after vampire test?” Nate asked as soon as they were back outside.

  “To check if you’ve—” Ben paused. “Caught” wasn’t the right word, and neither was “infected.”

  “Picked up being a vampire?” Nate pressed the intercom button. “I had no idea Department Seven offered that service.”

  “Recent development.” Ben leaned against the wall.

  “And you think that I might be a vampire?”

  “A vampire fed from you. It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “What happens if I’ve got it?”

  “If you’ve got vampirism, that means you’ll be fine and live a thoroughly normal life—until you die. And then—well, if you want to protect your loved ones, you’ve got to take steps. Most new vampires, acting entirely on instinct, return to the place they feel safest—their homes. And when they get there, they’re overcome by hunger and—”

  Nate shuddered. “That’s enough—oh yeah, hi. The uh—the vampire test.”

  The door clicked open.

  The steps down into Department Seven’s basement laboratory were a challenge, but Ben took them one at a time, knowing he would have plenty of time to rest as Nate took the test. The lab staff ushered Nate into the lab and Ben was left alone in the waiting area. He took his phone out of his pocket. Now to work out how long we’ve been out.

  Ben scanned the headlines on the news sites, but he felt entirely disconnected from it all. Even the realization that he had several messages from Diya didn’t matter. He put his phone back in his pocket and settled back. The only thing that matters is that Nate almost died—because of me. He ran his tongue over his teeth. He couldn’t feel the fangs, but he knew they were there—knew they’d always be there.

  I’m not human. I’m a monster. And no amount of paperwork would change that.

  “HEY.” BEN DIDN’T know how much time had passed before Nate sat down next to him. “Good news.” Nate was grinning.

  Ben felt a spike of anger—did he still not understand how serious this had been? “What’s the report?”

  “Totally free of vampiric influence of—for lack of a better word—germs.” Nate nudged him. “I guess my plant—whatever it is—doesn’t agree with vampires.�
�

  Ben shut his eyes. The relief was too great.

  “Ben? That’s good news—don’t freak out on me!” Nate’s hand was on his shoulder. “Ben—”

  “I’m just relieved.” Ben swallowed. “I’m—really glad.”

  “Now, maybe we can get you home?” Nate offered his arm as Ben stood. “Or maybe even to a hospital?”

  Ben resisted the urge to take it. “Home.”

  “If you’re sure—” Nate noticed the bag on the bench beside Ben. “What’s this?”

  “Vegetable juice for you, a Coke for me. There’s a store on the corner.” Ben frowned. Nate was looking at him as if he’d done something extraordinary. “Aki told me you liked vegetable juice.”

  “Did he?” Nate picked up the bag, leading the way up the stairs.

  The long wait, the fresh air, and the combination of sugar and caffeine in the Coke was having an effect. Ben’s limbs were no longer as heavy and disconnected as they had been.

  Nate looked down the street. “You really walked all the way to the store?”

  “It was the least I could do after nearly killing you.” Relief had given way to the tension headache that had been building throughout the long wait at the laboratory.

  Nate winced, unscrewing the first bottle of vegetable juice. “Can we stop bringing that up?”

  “And just forget it happened? Not happening, Nate! You—”

  “Taxi.” Nate stepped out into the road to hail it. “Let’s continue this at home.”

  The cab ride was silent. Ben sipped his Coke slowly and carefully. Nate drank both bottles of vegetable juice and tried to make conversation with the cab driver.

  They got into the elevator. Nate pressed the button for Ben’s apartment. Ben leaned over and pressed the button for Nate and Aki’s floor.

  “You’re still sick,” Nate said immediately in protest. “You shouldn’t be on your own, Ben.”

  The elevator lurched upward, and Ben had to steady himself against the wall. “And you should be a little bit more concerned with your health, not that of the guy who—”

  “You didn’t mean to hurt me! We both know that what happened was an accident!”