After Sunset

by Clayton Hanson

  “Why thank you.”

  I smiled at her.

  “I came to the U.S. with my family in 1909. My father died in an accident at work soon after, which was fairly common back then. We were living in New York City at the time, in Queens. When we got there it had just become part of the city. A few years later my mother got sick and died of consumption. They call it tuberculosis now but consumption is a better name for the disease. Not too long after that I was turned.”

  “By who?” I said.

  “I have no idea what his name was. I was attacked after coming home late from work one night. He told me to have a nice life and I never saw him again.”

  “Is that why you turn people and then you don’t help them because that is what happened to you?”

  “Yes, and I have daddy issues too, Freud. Maybe that is why I did it at first but now it is just a litmus test. A few have survived but most don’t.”

  “Where are the ones that have survived?”

  “They’ve moved on from the city as years have passed.”

  “How many have you turned?”

  “About 20 or so. More recently than before.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been bored of my same old life. That is why I came down to DC. I was bored of the same old vampires. This life we live isn’t an easy one. Everyone you have ever loved will die before you and you’ll feel guilty because they won’t continue on.”

  “Why didn’t you turn your family members or friends or someone to keep you company?”

  “It’s against the rules,” she said. “If I did it would be the death penalty for me and whomever I turn. It has to be that way or we would turn all of our family and friends. Eventually who we are would get out and that would be the end of us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Enough personal questions. What else do you need to know?”

  “Well,” I said. “What else do I need to know?”

  “Basically three things. Don’t get caught in the sun. We are super allergic or something to silver, so if it touches our skin then it burns and basically takes away all of our strength so avoid silver handcuffs in your weird sex games. And we can’t go into people’s houses or places of worship without being invited.”

  “I don’t play kinky sex games. Jesus. We can’t go into people’s houses without being invited? That’s strange.”

  “Yeah, some vamps think it is proof of God, and others think it is to prevent us from being able to kill at will.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I flip-flop back and forth. It depends on what kind of mood I’m in.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “How old are you?”

  “27.”

  “I figured. It is good to get turned in your 20s because then you look about as good as you ever will for the rest of eternity. It’s sad when people are turned in their 60s or something. They are perennially old.”

  We sat for a few more minutes.

  “Can we leave?” she asked. “I don’t feel like being here any more and I’m hungry.”

  “Of course.”

  When we got outside I asked her if I could go feed with her and she said, “No. We generally don’t feed together because it can create too much blood lust and things can get out of hand. I’m a lady, you don’t want to watch me feed.”

  “I really do though.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  As I walked away I looked into the passenger side rear-view mirror of a car parked on the street and I saw her watching me.

  Andrew called me a few minutes after sunset because he wanted to meet for a beer or two. We met in the basement of one of the many dive bars that line the Capitol Hill end of Pennsylvania Avenue. The sign above the stairs that descended into the basement said “Losers” with an arrow pointing down. Downstairs there was a small bar and some flat screen TVs against the wall. The place had the dank smell of a bar that has served fried food for the last thirty years. It wasn’t a first date kind of bar. It was the bar people would go to meet up with their booty calls at 1:00am.

  I saw Andrew at one of the tables. I greeted the bearded bartender and he poured me an Arrogant Bastard ale without asking what I wanted. It wasn’t an arraignment of my character. He knew it is my favorite beer.

  “Hey, how’s work?”

  “Fine,” he said. He was distracted and only making occasional eye contact. “It doesn’t really matter. I haven’t been able to get any work done knowing that I have an immortal creature of the night living right below me.”

  “When you say it like that it sounds pretty awful,” I said.

  “I mean, it isn’t as if I should be afraid of you. Right?”

  He punctuated his sentence by looking at me with genuine concern and that hurt my feelings or what was left of them. I had learned to stuff down a lot of emotions when my very existence depended on killing other living things, but then again any human’s continued existence depends on something else dying. People eat cows, chickens and eggs all the time. I suck the blood out of people who are dying anyway, that doesn’t make me a monster. It made me sound like a monster though. I’m sure some cannibal would agree with my logic.

  “No, of course not,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I only take people who are deathly ill. I can see it in their eyes and hear it in their breath and heartbeat. I’m not rampaging around killing people.”

  “But you’re killing people,” he said.

  “Yeah. You’re right. But most of them see me as a relief. A couple of them have even thanked me.” This was a bit of a stretch intended to drive home my point. “I talk to them and try to offer them comfort. I can drain people that weak before they even realize what is going on. Do you think it is a good idea for people to linger connected to machines for days or months? It is inhumane and a tremendous drain on society. Some people hang on by a little thread for so long that their families are relieved when they die. I don’t feel guilty about this. If given the chance, I bet some of the families who are mourning would thank me as well.”

  “I understand the point of euthanizing people. But you are doing it yourself. There is a big difference between having a doctor pull the plug on someone and you coming in to do whatever the hell it is that you do. You’re making the decision for them.”

  I watched the bubbles in my beer float to the top. Until that point I had assumed that every person in the hospice had wanted to die at least on some level. That’s why a person ends up in the hospice, to die.

  “Did you have anything to do with Leanne Washington?”

  I had hoped that he wouldn’t ask me about her.

  “No. I’m not sure what that was all about or even if it was one of us.”

  “Us?” He said.

  “Well, yeah. I think that is the proper word at this point. There are you guys and then there’s us.”

  “The predators and the prey you mean?”

  “I don’t think of it like that at all. That’s way too morbid. We exist at night and you guys mainly exist during the day. It’s like we live on two different planets.”

  We sat there and watched a college basketball game for a bit but not a word passed between us. When he finished his beer he got up.

  “Alright man. I’ll catch you later then.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “It was good to see you for once.”

  We shook hands out of habit and when he grabbed mine he looked down repulsed at how cold it was. It made me feel bad but I couldn’t blame him. Then he paid our tab at the bar and left.

  Chapter 8

  I decided to go back and rob the drug dealer again because I needed rent money. They couldn’t call the cops on me. I put on my all black hoodie and some jeans and left the house. On my way over, I felt bad for the little fellow that I was going to rob again. I had hoped that he didn’t get beaten by his dealer or something for losing the money. Unfortunately for him, he was about t
o lose more and he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  I sat on the roof and had the feeling that someone had just walked across my grave. My fangs popped out and I saw a young, black male was standing on the roof near me. He scared the shit out of me because I knew he was one of my own. He was wearing an impeccable black suit with a blue shirt and a matching tie that was the same color as his eyes.

  “Well hello,” he said. “I’ve heard that you are giving my men a bit of trouble.” He had a slight British accent that made him sound intelligent. His hello came out sounding more like the word yellow but without pronouncing the y.

  “Only one of them,” I said.

  I was terrified but determined not to show it. Even though I’m dead, I wanted to keep living.

  He smiled at me. He wasn’t showing his fangs. Mine were out and I didn’t know how to put them away. I felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

  “You must be new or you wouldn’t be here,” he said. “Where did you come from?”

  “Uh,” my voice cracked. “This girl named Charlie. Do you know her?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head with a look of distain, “I am aware of Charlie. How long have you been one of us?” The tone of his voice indicated that he clearly didn’t think I was really part of the “us”.

  “Two months.”

  “She is a black widow spider. I am surprised you are alive. My name is John. What’s your name?”

  I finally had someone other than Charlie to talk about my new condition with. The questions tumbled around in my head.

  “Stephen.” Out of habit I wanted to shake hands but he didn’t move towards me, and left me hanging. “Yeah, I’m surprised too. It isn’t all that easy. She made me and didn’t tell me shit about what to do or how to do it. I’ve had to sneak into shitty old hospitals to get blood from patients or feed off of stray animals.”

  He smiled at me. “That is quite disgusting.”

  “Yeah, no shit. And then when I asked her about what I’m supposed to do she kicked my ass, and then the second time I met up with her she wouldn’t let me watch her feed so I could learn from her.”

  “We don’t feed together because things tend to go off the rails so to speak. Then you decided to come steal from me?”

  “I can’t hold a job and I have to pay rent.” I said. “And I didn’t know that a vamp ran this, uh, deal here or I would’ve went elsewhere.”

  “How short are you this month?”

  “$900.”

  He reached into his pocket and peeled off a wad of cash.

  “This should cover it. Meet me here tomorrow and we can talk.”

  I didn’t want to take the money but I didn’t have a choice. “Are you sure?”

  He waved me off with his hand. “Be here tomorrow and maybe I will teach you a thing or two about us.”

  I would say he was off like a puff of smoke but even smoke lingers for a second or two. He didn’t.

  The next day I showed up with the same black sweatshirt with the hood up, under it a black Baltimore Orioles hat and some dark blue jeans. I didn’t want to stand out in the neighborhood so I made my face hard to see. For a short time I considered not showing up but I didn’t want to start shit with the only other vampire that I knew, aside from Charlie.

  I walked to the corner where I had robbed the boy a month or so before and he was sitting on the stairs outside of the same gutted row house. As soon as he saw me he stood up. He let his fight or flight instincts work out their differences very slowly. To his credit he stayed. Then, without saying a word, he pointed down the street. I turned my head slowly to look because I was wondering if he was going to pull the old, “Hey look over there while I hit you in the noggin with this brick” routine.

  John pulled up in an eggshell-white SUV that must have cost a $100,000. I had never owned a vehicle that was so clean on the outside. Every light from the street bounced off of the paint after being magnified. He gave me a sideways head nod that told me to get in.

  “If you were anyone else, I would run this device over you to see if you have a wire on you, but given your condition, I don’t think I need to,” John said holding up a metal detector.

  “Of course not,” I said. “When you have to kill people to survive, the police aren’t really an option.”

  “That is true.”

  “So what’s this all about? Why did you choose to help me? Please don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for it, I’m just curious.”

  He let out a deep breath. “It is funny to me. I’ve found that people are more likely to question my motives when I’m being kind than when I’m being mean. I guess when people are mean, other people think that is just the way they are but when someone is nice, people wonder what they really want.”

  I nodded and wondered where he was going with this.

  “I helped you because you are one of us now. I am not saying that being one of us is like being a part of a team where everyone looks out for each other. We operate almost exclusively on our own but when someone is new and they are engaging in risky behavior or endangering our livelihoods then the appropriate steps need to be taken. When one of us is in a desperate situation it is our duty to help them out because we cannot risk exposure.”

  “How many of us are there?”

  “Some. Less than you would think. We have a cap on how many can live in an area, depending on the population. It is kind of like your House of Representatives. But unlike them we keep a cap on it, because if there are too may of us then we will decimate the population. Do not bother seeking them out. They know of your existence and the fact that Charlie is threatening our way of life. If any of them want to speak to you, they will.”

  “Okay.” I said. “I’ll keep on keeping on I guess.”

  “Yes. You do that. In the mean time I have a proposition.”

  “Okay. I’m in. Wait, does it pay?” I was so eager to have something to do. Anything was better than nothing.

  “Yes, it pays. Do you care to know what you will be doing?”

  “Of course.”

  “I need you to run security for a few weeks on weekends. Once you work off the money that you stole from me, I will start paying you. The amount you receive will depend on how much we sell. You won’t have any contact with my men. If any of them get caught they can’t know about your existence. Who knows what they would say if they were if they were facing jail time. We know that authorities wouldn’t ever believe a criminal if they were talking about super-human powers, but there is no reason to risk it. If something happens, you will need to minimize your show of force in public, or people are going to talk. The boy that you robbed told people that you were like a comic book character. I had to convince him that he had hit his head during the struggle with you and had misperceived your abilities.”

  “When do I start?”

  “Tomorrow night. Midnight. Watch the guys from the same roof we met on. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The next night and the following weekends I was John’s eyes and ears, his one-man security team, but nothing happened.

  The first night I was ready to fight off a horde of thieves and con men, but people weren’t that brave. There were a few junkies who got a little aggressive with the guys who were holding but it wasn’t anything that they hadn’t seen before. Mainly they had to deal with empty promises from people who wanted to get a little bit now and pay them back later.

  After paying John back, I had made a few hundred dollars in the course of a weekend, which wasn’t all that much but more than I was bringing in otherwise. It gave me something to do with my nights now that I was completely alienated from everyone that I knew.

  I sat on the roof and read the Hannibal series by Thomas Harris and some other books. I actually enjoyed myself for the first time in a long time. I think being around people was good for me, even though they didn’t know I was there.

  After feeding on a house cat (it tasted a little fishy), I went back to the church that I had
thrown the cross off of. I jumped to the lowest part of the roof and climbed to the top. I had a pretty good vantage point from up there. After looking around for a while I sat in the dark with my back to the steeple so that no one would be able to see me even without the missing cross.

  The pastor was preaching a sermon from the Bible, more specifically, the Book of Job. For the uninitiated the story is about God’s faithful worshipper Job, who according to the Bible, “He was the greatest man among all the people of the East.”

  The story is basically a cosmic test of Job’s faith. God allows the Devil to kill all of Job’s ten offspring, make him poor and give him boils. It is supposed to inspire faith in God even in the face of adversity, because no matter what a parishioner is going through it couldn’t be as bad as what Job went through. Job remained pious through all of his misfortune and so should the congregants.

  I waited on the steeple until everyone had left but the pastor. I heard the pastor’s wife tell him that she would see him at home. He puttered around in the chapel and then walked the length of the middle of the church and locked the front doors.

  I slid down the roof and ran to the front door. Even though he had locked the door a few seconds before I started to pull on the door very slowly to see if I could yank it open. It wouldn’t budge so I knocked.

  He opened the door. “What can I help you with my son?”

  “I need a little advice,” I said.

  He sighed under his breath. I could tell that he wanted to go home but his pastoral instincts didn’t allow him to tell people to get lost. He stood next to the door and nodded for me to come in.

  “May I come in?”

  A look of confusion flashed over his face because he had opened the door and gave me every indication that I could come in but I still asked anyway. Then his pupils dilated.

  “Sure. Come on in.” His eyes focused on me. He knew what I was.

  I don’t know what would’ve happened to me without the invitation, but it had been made clear that I couldn’t go into domiciles or churches without being invited. I guess hospices, hospitals, and hotels don’t count with the invitation rule because people (and God or gods) don’t stay there permanently.