Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  “Why are you making excuses for me? This is your life we’re talking about—yours!”

  The elevator arrived at Nate’s floor, but he made no attempt to leave. “Look. I woke up feeling—not good, but not bad either. I was lying in sunlight, with my plants around me—I knew you’d done that. But I couldn’t find you anywhere, and when I did—” Nate swallowed. “I poisoned you. My blood—that’s what happened isn’t it? You drank my blood and—”

  “Neither of us knew that was going to happen,” Ben said. “You—you’re very lucky. Your plant nature not only protected you from vampirism, but it means that any vampire attempting to feed on you will—”

  “And that’s why vampire compulsion doesn’t work on me anymore?”

  “Probably. You’d have to do proper research to be sure.” Ben held the door-open button down. “None of that changes the fact that if you hadn’t been—whatever you are—you’d be dead.”

  “Or a vampire.”

  “Dead, Nate!” Ben felt his final shred of control snap. “All you would be is dead—like you were when I woke up!” Nate tried to speak, but Ben didn’t give him the chance. “You didn’t have a pulse—you weren’t breathing—you just—you were dead.”

  “Not dead,” Nate shot back. “I’ve got a pulse now. I’m breathing—”

  “Only by pure luck!” Ben felt himself shaking, not in weakness but in anger. “Don’t you care?”

  “All right! I’m scared, okay?” Nate glared at him. “I am freaking out and trying not to show it because I’ve got no idea what to do. Maybe you could have killed me. But maybe you can’t kill me? Did you think of that?” Nate motioned to his body. “Maybe I’m weird—weirder even than vampires. At least with a vampire there are rules, you know what’s going to happen. Me—” Nate’s hand came to a halt. “I’ve got no idea.”

  Ben resisted the urge to put his hand on Nate’s arm. Anger had been replaced by concern. “Feel better?”

  Nate let out his breath in a shaky burst. “Yeah. I guess I needed that. God.” He buried his face in his hands. “I thought I was meant to be the expert on feelings.”

  Not when they’re your own. “It’s understandable to be confused. You need time to make sense of it.” Ben nodded toward the door. “Go, lie down. You’ll feel better for the rest.”

  “You’ll be fine?”

  Ben held up the Coke bottle. “Stop worrying and lie down already.”

  Nate stepped out of the elevator. “This—isn’t something anyone can know about, right? Your application—”

  “Forget my application.”

  Nate sucked in a deep breath. “But—”

  Ben hit the button to close the elevator doors. “This changes everything, Nate.”

  He saw understanding flicker in Nate’s eyes before the doors slid shut. Ben sank back against the wall.

  Everything… When you’d lost everything, nothing mattered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “FUCK.” NATE DIDN’T need the click of the elevator doors sliding shut to recognize the barrier between him and Ben. It was there in the way that Ben held himself aloof, guarding his reactions. He was already impossibly distant. The closed doors were overkill. Nate clenched his fist. How did I mess up so badly?

  Things had been going well. Ben had depended on him. And now… Now I’ll be lucky if he can look at me without experiencing a traumatic flashback.

  His reflection in the metal stared back at him—pale and scruffy, with his hoodie bunched weirdly around his neck. Nate winced, turning away.

  As soon as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, the dog bounded up, its tail wagging. It barked, darting around in a circle.

  Despite everything, a tired smile creased Nate’s face. “Hey.” He knelt down, holding his arms out for the dog. “You missed me, huh?”

  The dog didn’t seem to be able to decide whether he wanted to sniff Nate or lick him, so after a spirited attempt to do both at once, he stuck his nose down Nate’s neck.

  “Easy. You don’t want to drown me—I’ve had enough near death experiences for one day.” Nate’s hand slowed, burying itself in the dog’s fur.

  The dog barked.

  Nate raised his head to find the dog looking at him, his eyes filled with concern. “It’s really hard to believe it happened. I know Ben wouldn’t make it up—hell, I’ve got the vine to prove it. But…” He trailed off helplessly. “I can’t believe I died again.”

  The dog barked again, darting back.

  Nate peeled off his hoodie. It dragged on the vines and it took him a moment to untangle it. The vine had grown, winding tightly around his arm. As he watched, the leaves unfurled, stretching toward the light. “Ivy. It was ivy the last time, too.” Nate caught a leaf between his fingers. It was smooth and glossy and felt cold.

  He looked up and saw that the dog had backed away the length of the room. His tail drooped between his legs, his hind paws pressed up against the wall.

  “It’s okay. It’s just me. You know, the one who feeds you.”

  The dog didn’t move.

  “Fuck. You’re afraid of me?” Nate’s stomach sank. He crouched down again. “Here, boy. Come here—see, it’s still me.”

  The dog didn’t move.

  Wow. Dogs are supposed to like anyone. This… Nate swallowed and stood. “You’re probably hungry. Let’s get you fed.” Then maybe the dog would remember him.

  Nate stood in front of the fridge. There was some sliced ham. Nate put it in the dog’s bowl, along with a piece of cheese—he was fairly confident that dogs liked cheese.

  The dog watched from the kitchen doorway. He waited until Nate had returned to the fridge before slinking over to his bowl. In a couple of gulps, the cheese had disappeared.

  Nate smirked. “Knew you’d like cheese. It’s the protein, right? Dogs are all about protein.”

  Like vampires.

  Nate found his fingers had drifted back to the raised bump where the ivy grew. He snatched them away, turning back to the fridge.

  There was half a loaf of bread, but Nate didn’t feel like making a sandwich. Or anything, really. The thought of food made his stomach heavy and his throat constrict. With a sigh, he shut the fridge door and grabbed himself a cup of water. He leaned back against the counter, watching the dog lick his already clean bowl, just in case he’d missed something.

  “Good dog.”

  The dog glanced up at him, still wary.

  Nate sighed. “Maybe you’re smart to keep your distance. I fuck everything up.” He sat down at the table with his cup of water.

  The dog whined softly.

  “No, it’s true. Case in point—Ben. I pushed him to feed from me. It’s supposed to be really hot—and I thought I could take it. But—something went wrong.” Nate stared at the cracked surface of the table. His hand stroked the raised bump where the ivy left his skin. “I guess he took too much ’cause I passed out. And I made him sick. Literally. He was throwing up—I don’t think he’s kept anything down all day.”

  The dog made a plaintive sound. Nate looked down to find he had approached him, standing a few feet away and watching him with luminous eyes.

  Nate smiled faintly. He knew it was nothing but the hope that there was more food to come, but the dog’s actions touched him. Like it understood. If nothing else, I can pretend he understands me.

  He groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “Ugh. I am such a piece of shit. I was supposed to keep him from hurting anyone—that was the deal! And now— He must think I’m absolutely pathetic. The absolute worst.”

  A warm pressure had him looking down. The dog had crept close enough to rest his head on Nate’s thigh, gazing up at him with what was, if not absolute trust, then well-disguised hunger.

  Nate felt a knot form in the back of his throat. “It’s true. I can understand how he feels. I’m—disgusted with me, too. I was supposed to be better than that. All my practice at being strong, at using my powers, at learning how to resist vampires…
Apparently it all means shit when things really matter.” Nate stood, returning his cup to the sink.

  He caught movement in the window and looked up to see the ivy leaves rustle with his movement. His lip curled. You can’t look more like a freak, can you? His fingers tightened on the ivy. Feeling a wave of revulsion for it, he ripped it away.

  The wave of dizziness was immediate and intense. Shit. I shouldn’t have done that! Nate reached for the counter, but he was too late. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he fell into darkness.

  NATE STARED AT the ceiling above him. He was surprised to see wooden planks. He’d been expecting night sky and drizzle, and a few branches of the trees surrounding the Mason’s park oak. At his neck, where there should have been cold mud, was a rough, warm presence. And the earth was soft underneath him, cushioning him.

  “None of this makes sense.” His voice cracked and Nate winced. Is that really my voice? What was happening to him?

  “Quiet. Don’t try to move.”

  He hadn’t been about to move, but Nate stilled automatically. The voice—he didn’t know the voice, but it was young, male, with an authoritative note.

  There was the sound of movement beside him, and then something being set on the coffee table. A glass, perhaps?

  The speaker bent over him and Nate saw a young man with a beard halfway between blond and light brown. The light in the living room was dim enough that Nate couldn’t tell which it was, or what color the eyes that watched him so intently were. “Think you can drink something?”

  Nate swallowed. At the question, he discovered he was suddenly very thirsty. “Yeah.”

  “Let’s get you sitting up.” The guy put his arm around Nate, and with the aid of a few cushions, Nate found himself settled in a half-reclining position.

  The guy held a glass to his lips. “Easy—little sips.”

  Nate badly wanted to gulp down the entire glass, but he did as he was told.

  After a few sips, the man withdrew the glass. “How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Does the water help? You’re not nauseous?”

  Nate was about to shake his head and thought better of it. “No. The water’s good.” He paused. The last thing he remembered was ripping away the ivy. His fingers made their way to his neck.

  The guy caught his hand. “I don’t think you should do that.”

  Nate stared at him. He didn’t have the emotional resources to be surprised. “What happened?”

  “You passed out. I got you settled on the sofa, your head elevated. You don’t seem to be bleeding, but— Better not do anything fast, okay?”

  Nate considered his words. After a moment, he shut his eyes. “More water?”

  The guy held the glass to his lips.

  Halfway through the glass, Nate was too tired to swallow. The guy placed the glass on the coffee table beside him. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll be here to keep an eye on you.”

  I don’t even know who you are. The thought was not urgent enough to keep him from sinking back into the comforting darkness.

  ARTIFICIAL LIGHT FLOODED the dark living room. Nate winced at the sudden intrusion. He heard the bolts slide home and the jangle of keys. “Aki?”

  “I’m home! Man—you just slept all day, huh?” Aki stood at the side of the sofa, looking down at him. “Geez, Nate. You really don’t look good. Maybe you should lay off the partying—you’re clearly way out of shape.”

  It was too much mental gymnastics to try to decipher Aki’s words. Instead, Nate took slow and careful stock of his surroundings. He lay on the sofa, a full glass of water on the coffee table beside him. He was slightly raised, supported by cushions, and the rough hand-knit blanket that had been a present from his mother lay over him. There was a pressure on his feet, and Nate looked down the sofa to see the dog curled up on his legs.

  The dog stretched and yawned, showing its teeth. He looked at Aki, his tail wagging hopefully.

  “Yeah, I brought you something. Brought both you freeloaders something, actually.” Aki fished in the bags he carried. He threw the dog what looked like half a kebab. The dog snatched it out of midair and gulped it down.

  “I’m not going to make you catch your food. Sit up, Nate.” Aki placed a bottle of his favorite vegetable juice on the coffee table. “I passed a kebab store on the way home. I got one of those weird-ass falafel things. They’re vegetable right? No, they have to be—they taste like shit.”

  Nate placed his hand on the back of the sofa. Carefully and deliberately, he heaved himself into a sitting position. “You just got back?”

  “I don’t know what you’re looking at me for. You ate all the food, and trust me, you don’t want any of Nate’s gross vegetarian stuff.” Aki scratched the dog’s ears. “Yeah. Obviously, Nate. You saw me walk in.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Are you high?”

  “No. I—” Nate stared around the living room. It was exactly how it should be. The chairs were in all the right places, the dog and Aki watching him with bemusement. “You didn’t move me to the sofa?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Look at the size of me compared to you. I couldn’t move you off that sofa.”

  Nate looked around. “Did you have a friend over? I remember someone.”

  “I’ve been at work the entire night. No friends—nothing.” Aki crossed the room, placing his hand on Nate’s arm. “What’s going on? You’re starting to freak me out here.”

  You’re freaked out. Nate swallowed, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts felt unbearably slow. “I don’t remember exactly. I was in the kitchen when I got really dizzy. I think I fainted.”

  “Shit. Seriously? Dehydrated?”

  Nate ignored Aki’s question. “Someone had to have shifted me from the kitchen to the sofa because I know I didn’t. And he tucked me in and brought me a glass of water.”

  Aki snorted. “He? Isn’t Ben the obvious choice?”

  Nate’s throat tightened. “It wasn’t Ben.”

  “Whoa. No need to snap.” Aki stared at him. “Well, if it wasn’t Ben and it wasn’t me, that doesn’t leave a lot of options. You probably hallucinated it.”

  “I didn’t do that.”

  “How do you know? You said you fainted, right? Maybe you hit your head on the way down. Or maybe you’re just so out of it that you imagined that, too.”

  “It didn’t feel like a dream.” But already he felt uncertain about the incident. It hadn’t felt real at the time. He’d been curiously disconnected from his body throughout… Nate looked up and saw Aki’s brow furrowed, his mouth pressed together as he studied him. He forced himself to smile. “No, you’ve got to be right. It’s the only explanation.” He reached for the kebab. “Thanks for the food, Aki.”

  “No problem. I know what you’re like when you’re hungover.” Aki settled into one of the armchairs, watching Nate peel back the tinfoil surrounding the kebab. “So… You think Hunter was into me?”

  The smell of the kebab set off an immediate chain reaction of hunger. Nate took a moment just to breathe it in before taking a small, careful bite. “No.”

  Aki glared at him. “At least consider the question.”

  “I have. And sorry, Aki, but I don’t think there’s anything happening.”

  The dog laid his head in Aki’s lap, Aki stroking his ears automatically. “He seemed really interested in me. He only left me alone to attend to business and he always made sure I had everything I needed before he left. That’s got to mean something, right?”

  Nate shook his head. “You forget, I had dinner with the guy. That’s how he is with everyone. He’s even nice to his food.”

  “He wasn’t nice to Wisner.” Aki sighed gustily. “Did you hear that polite poison in his voice? Incredible. I was so mad when that waiter pushed me into the cab just as things were getting interesting.”

  “It was a lot better that you missed it.” Nate swallowed his current bit
e and set his wrap down on the table.

  The dog whined softly, pushing his nose into Aki’s hand.

  Aki resumed petting him. “What happened after I left?”

  “Ben and I got into a vampire standoff against that guy, Julian. I won.”

  “You?” Aki’s eyebrows raised. “But that’s a good thing—right?”

  Nate winced. “It was. But then—I fucked things up with Ben big time.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t go for Hunter.”

  “No!”

  “Well, then—”

  “You know the deal between me and Ben? That I had to be strong enough to stop him hurting anyone?”

  “Fuck. Seriously?”

  Nate nodded. “Yeah. He ended up hurting me—and now he can’t even look at me without flinching, and he’s so remote he might as well be on the moon—”

  “He hurt you?” Aki’s voice was hard and flat. “Nate, what did he do?”

  “It’s not important—”

  “Nate!” Aki was on his feet trying to tug the blanket off him. “What did he do?” The dog began to bark, reacting to his anger.

  Nate clung to the blanket. “Leave it! Look it’s not—it’s my neck, all right?”

  Aki insisted on taking a long look at Nate’s neck, and once he’d stared at the two pin pricks, taking his pulse and temperature, and adding another blanket over Nate. He then went into the kitchen where he could be heard angrily banging cupboards. “You cannot be serious. Did neither of you think to get some sugar into you?”

  “Ben got me two bottles of vegetable juice, which I drank.” And planted him on his floor. Nate swallowed. The ivy had not grown back. His neck felt strangely bare without it. “And then you got me another drink.”

  “Drink it. And then drink this.” Aki reappeared, stirring a glass of sugar water. “I am so mad at you. I thought we’d covered not scaring me.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to end this way.” Nate obediently drank the glass Aki set in front of him. “It was supposed to be hot—you know, like everyone says it is. And it was—but I guess— I don’t know what went wrong.”

  Aki hesitated, wiping his hair out of his eyes before he perched on the coffee table. “Maybe this is a sign, Nate. You and Ben—you’re not as good a fit as you think you are.”