It was hard for me to even talk about material possessions because growing up with a widowed mother taught my brother and me to lower our expectations. Out of anger I started keying expensive cars with my nails (or is it nailing?). If I saw an expensive brand-new car, I would dig one of my nails into the side of the car and keep walking. When I finished I would pull the paint out of my nails and smile to myself. I’m not delusional enough to think that this would change anyone’s behavior but it felt good. I was a vampire so I didn’t have to worry about getting caught. The only people who could’ve caught me were my own kind.
One night I was walking along scraping a few layers of paint off of a grey Mercedes Benz AMG when I saw a homeless man peering out of an alley 20 feet away from me. The sound of the scraping metal had drowned out all the other sounds in the vicinity and I hadn’t noticed him.
As soon as he noticed that I saw him, he turned tail down the alley screaming, “There’s another, there’s another, there’s another…” on repeat.
My instincts took over. He was running away and advertising my existence to everyone in his vocal range so I had to stop him.
Afterward, when I thought about it, I was sure that no one would’ve believed him that I was a vampire or whatever he thought I was, but I was so startled at the time I couldn’t take the chance.
I came around the corner and he was making a gimpy break for the next street over. I ran after him but then I decided to add a bit of flair to my attack. I said, “Hey!” and before he had time to turn around I leapt to a ledge on building to my left. From the ledge I pushed off of the wall towards him. By the time he fully turned around, I plowed into him like a professional wrestler jumping off of the top rope. My stomach hit his chest, our bodies making a perfect “T”.
I was around three stories high at my peak and when we collided I felt his ribs snap. I got up and yelled, “That’s for all my little Hulkamaniacs!” and I strutted around with my hand in the air like I was holding the World Wrestling Championship Belt while I imitated the sound of the crowd going wild with my other hand over my mouth.
It took me a minute to realize that I wasn’t really celebrating a victory and that the man was barely conscious and in pain. As I drank his blood I felt bad for hurting the poor guy.
My mom told me not to play with my food and I’m sure that included this situation.
I felt bad after attacking the homeless man. I knew that I should’ve shown more compassion but I didn’t. Plain and simple. I was struggling not to lose my grip on humanity and I needed someone who could understand what I was going through. Part of me thought that eventually it wouldn’t matter that I was killing people. I cared the first twenty times or so but after the 100th person it wouldn’t matter. On a long enough time, no matter how shocking it was, the distress and guilt would go away.
The last time I had hung out with Charlie, the conversation was good and getting to talk to another vamp helped ease my mind. It was easy to understand that either I have to kill someone to live or I will die myself, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Perhaps I didn’t need to drain people fully to stay alive, but then I would have to feed more often.
I could’ve talked to John about my conundrum but I would’ve rather talked to Charlie.
I decided it was time to go back to the church. I wanted to turn it up a notch on them and maybe get some money as well. I could always use the extra cash. Maybe I would go straight monster on them and tear up the place. I didn’t have any plan in particular. Only the pastor had seen me, so now I would scare the whole congregation. All I needed was to get someone to invite me in and I would cause as much damage as I could before the pastor evicted me again.
The prospect of reigning terror on the congregation excited me. It isn’t that I hated the pastor or anyone else at his church. It was a mere test of their faith, like the story of Job. If they wanted to be let into God’s kingdom then they had to be willing to walk through some fire, so to speak.
I waited until there was a packed house and swung down from the top of the steeple. I was about to try to kick in the double doors and yell, “I am Satan!” when a set of seemingly frail arms wrapped around me and all of a sudden I was airborne. I tried to peel the arms off but they were harder than steel. I couldn’t get them to budge.
We landed at short time later in the corner of a park that had most of the lights busted out. Before we landed I was let go. My forward momentum propelled me to do a couple somersaults until a bush graciously stopped me. I got up and brushed myself off.
Standing there was a pencil-thin, black man in his 60s wearing a gray, summer-weight three-piece suit. His cane was an ivory swan connected to dark black stained wood with a silver tip at the bottom. For a man with a cane, he didn’t have a problem with speed.
“My name is Simon,” he said. “I apologize for your rough landing. I thought you were going to land on your feet.” He spoke with a mild Irish accent that only came out when he was pronouncing his Rs.
He held his cane horizontally in front of him, ready for battle. I held both of my hands open at my sides.
“Hey, it’s cool.” I said, “There’s no reason for us to get into it. I have no problems with you.” Ninety-five percent of the time you hear someone say that, it is because they don’t want to get their butt kicked. This was definitely one of those times.
“I’m glad to hear that. Now what is the meaning of this nonsense with the church?” He put his cane down and began to lean on it a little.
“I don’t know. I mean,” I said, losing my confidence. “I walk by that church all the time and I’m sick of hearing his crap. He is promising people an afterlife in exchange for 10% of their wages. If they really do believe in God then what would it matter if I rattled their faith a little bit?” I felt like a child who had been asked by his father why had he done something dumb.
“I understand. John went through a phase like yours but it was 200 years ago. Listen to me closely. There are too many people with cell phone cameras for you to be acting like a fool. You would have enjoyed the 1700s, the world was a much larger place. But now, if you act like you are a living, breathing demon, the whole world will know. Whether you understand or not, your actions could threaten our very existence and we cannot allow that. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“It is better for us to let them live their lives in religious worlds.”
“It’s a bunch of shit though.”
“You are the first new vampire in this area in over 100 years and you have already figured out whether or not God exists?” He didn’t sound condescending or mean when he asked, even though it would have been justified.
He waited for me to answer but I didn’t have a retort.
“Do you ever think that maybe God, or whatever is responsible for our change, made rules so that we can’t enter someone’s house without an invitation on purpose so we won’t be able to do whatever we want? So that people would be able to feel safe at home and their house of worship? In case you are curious, we can’t go into mosques, temples, or synagogues either without being invited. Also, every holy man that I have ever met knows if they tell us that we are uninvited, we have to leave their church. That part works pretty well, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, a little too well. I didn’t see that coming.” I smiled and shook my head. Now that he admitted to knowing that I was a jackass I was able to relax a little in his presence.
“I know that you did not ask to be brought into this.” he said. “But we have a peaceful existence here and we don’t want to mess it up. I understand your feelings regarding churches, this one in particular, but when you start problems eventually the Council has to deal with it and neither of us want that.”
“Okay. I’ll behave.”
“We shall see.” And then poof, he was gone before I could respond. Not once during my stay in DC was I able to get the last word in with other vamps.
CHapter 11
&
nbsp; I sat in Dupont Circle and watched people roam around completely unaware that a monster was among them. The headlights and taillights of the cars speeding around the circle on a busy night felt like being in a blender with white and red Christmas tree lights. Then my fangs came out. I knew that it meant there was at least another vamp in the area, but like in New York City, there were too many people around for me to figure out who it was. From behind me came a voice.
“Hi.”
And there was Charlie. She was wearing a black tank top with white letters that said, “Dear God, Fuck You”. Which was a little over the top but I understood the sentiment. She was with this tall, lanky guy who couldn’t have been a day over twenty. He was wearing a pink polo shirt over a yellow polo shirt and both collars were up. A typical Georgetown douchebag. I put my fangs away.
“Hello,” I said to her. I nodded to him.
I didn’t want the conversation to go any farther. I hoped she would keep walking. Her friend was looking around at the brilliance of the city. I could tell that he was a brand new vampire.
“Fangs!” she said, hitting her frat boy in the arm. He snapped out of his stupor and closed his eyes in concentration. It took him a second but he was able to put them away.
“I see you have a new friend,” I said.
“Yeah, they come and they go,” she said. “They mostly go. The eternal weakness of men I guess. If you put a few obstacles in front of them, they end up killing themselves or even worse, they make me do it for them.”
This got the attention of the walking bag of douche.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Quiet. We are talking now. I will talk to you later.”
“I’m still here,” I said.
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” She said. Then she got distracted and turned around slowly, looking through the crowd. Mr. Two Polos and I both had our fangs come out again. This time it was much faster. I wasn’t prepared and accidentally bit my lip.
And there he was, the cause of the commotion. Simon. He had on a dark grey wool coat and a matching newsboy hat. He looked even smaller than he did when he had stopped me at the church.
“We have spoken about you making vampires, Charlie. This is the last time. The Council does not want to be forced to take more drastic measures. We can’t keep cleaning up after your messes.”
“This is Simon,” she said to Twin Polos and me. “He is a goon for The Council.”
“Yeah,” I said looking looking at him. “We’ve met.”
Charlie looked at me. I could tell she was wondering what I was referring to.
“There are reasons behind our laws.” he said. “You must obey them. We cannot let you keep creating vampires. We are over our maximum capacity by two right now so they must either leave our city or they must be taken care of. We will not risk exposure due to your need to behave like Medea. This is your last warning.”
Then the old man strolled off down Connecticut Avenue. He had a slight limp and leaned heavily on his cane.
“Medea?” I wondered out loud.
“Yeah, the Greek lady who killed her children.” Then Charlie smiled at the both of us. “His cane is a crock of shit.”
“It looks like he uses it to me,” I said, still thinking about Medea.
“If you ask anyone about it, they will tell you some story about a witch in Nigeria, but I think he uses it to trick people into thinking that he is a weakling.”
“What does he mean that The Council says there are too many vampires?”
“Oh.” she said with a sigh. “That old crap. There’s a council in each region and they have a formula for how many of us can exist in a certain area and not risk exposure. The District couldn’t support 500 vampires. There would be too many people dying and eventually the mortals would catch on. We have to eat once a week or so, which is around 50 people a year. Even though not all of us suck people. You’re so gross.”
I gave her the finger. She smiled.
“There used to be fifteen of us living here and now there are ten.” She looked at the two of us. “Well, twelve. Because of new technology, cameras, fingerprints and whatnot, The Council hasn’t approved of making anyone in a long time. Lucky for you guys, I got bored and wanted some new friends.”
“Yeah, really lucky. You’re so sweet.”
“Oh come on.” she said standing closer to me, which caught the attention of her new boy toy. “You must love the power and immortality. If you don’t, you will.” Then she winked at me.
“Where are you guys off to tonight?” I said trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know.” she said. “I’m might throw him off a bridge or push him in front of a bus because I don’t think he believes me that he is basically immortal.”
“Typical first date,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“Really?” She said. “I wish you would stay. We could have a lot of fun.”
I wanted to stay and hang out with her but I didn’t want to share her attention with anyone else.
“I have a date,” I said. A weak attempt at making her jealous.
“You’re a horrible liar but I appreciate the sentiment, my dear.”
I smiled and walked away.
Even though I spent a majority of my time alone, there were some great moments, like when I snuck into RFK where the DC United professional soccer team plays. The goals were put away for the night but I brought one of them out with a ball and started playing by myself. The lights weren’t on but I can see in the dark so it didn’t matter much.
I started out kicking the ball from the mid-field line and aiming at the top post. I could hit it once out of every three or four times, but it was too close so I stood at the far end and kicked it from there. My aim wasn’t very good but I had more than enough power. Then I got bored of that and started kicking the ball off of the sponsorship signs that circle the inner ring of the stadium. Eventually a couple security guards came to check out what the noise was all about. I stalked them for a while. I knew that I could take them both and there wouldn’t be any witnesses, but I decided not to drain them because they were just a couple healthy young guys trying to make a living.
I climbed to the top of the stadium lights. I had always been afraid of heights but now that I was immortal I gave it a try. I was on my way up when my phone rang. It was my mom.
“Hey, hey,” I said. “How are things in the frigid north?”
“Oh fine,” She said. “It’s 60 degrees and I think I’m going out with your brother and his family on the boat out this weekend. What are you up to?”
“Not too much.”
“It sounds windy there.”
She was right. Sort of. RFK was a bit breezy high up on the catwalk next to the lights.
“It is, a little,” I said.
“How are you doing money wise? You aren’t eating ramen noodles and PB and J for every meal, are you?”
Earlier in life I had been through times where I ate PB and J twice a day but not out of necessity but out of pure enjoyment. Plus living in an expensive city like DC, you learn to save every dollar.
“No, Mom,” I said. “I’m not just eating PB and J.”
I didn’t go into telling her that I was drinking people’s blood and killing them. I’ve always been pretty open with my mother but that was crossing a line.
“How are you really doing?” I said. “Jimmy said that you were going to the doctor, or said that you might be. You know how he is. I never know exactly what he is talking about.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “He says the same about you. I’ve been feeling under the weather a bit.” Then she paused. Even though I was immortal and time had ceased to have any real meaning to me, the pause felt like an eternity. “I’ve been tired and I’ve lost a bit of weight.”
“When are you going to the doctor?”
“Soon. You know that I hate going to the doctor,” she said. At some point most children become a par
ent to their own parent, if only for a moment.
“Do you want me to call and make you an appointment?”
“No. Don’t be silly.”
“Okay, okay.”
“So what else is going on? Is Diablo still nuts?”
We talked for a little while longer, but all I could think about is that fact that my seemingly immortal mom was sick.
I jumped into my car because I needed to get out of the city to feed. It didn’t seem like a great idea to only feed in DC. Even though a lot of people live there, killing a different person every week or so was a bad idea and might eventually lead the police to me.
I took the Fourth Street on ramp to I-395. There was a traffic jam, but there’s always a traffic jam on the Beltway. To get across the bridge to Virginia it should’ve taken me twenty minutes but instead it took an hour.
The hunger started to take over so I arbitrarily got off the Falls Church exit. Once I was off the interstate I realized that the burbs at night were as busy as the city because people were still coming home from happy hours or after-work functions.
I pulled off into a random neighborhood. All of the houses looked the same. The only difference was the number on the side of the homeowners association-approved mailbox. I was wearing my jogging clothes so that I could fit in with suburbanites who claimed to be joggers but only ran on the block that they live on and then walked the rest of the time.
After a few minutes of strolling through a sort of wooded area that was crisscrossed with bike paths and residential roads, I began to cave in to my need to feed. My hands started to feel tight and my knees were getting creaky when I saw a lady with a stroller walking in front of me. I had been concentrating on stifling my hunger when she appeared from one of the other bike paths. She had a belly bump from being pregnant and her two or three year old was in a stroller made by the same company that made Hummers. There was a waddle in her walk and either her cheeks were glowing either because of her pregnancy or because she was walking for three people.
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