A Little Undead

by Laira Evans

  Dad had died... but Holly was safe. The bruises I saw on her face made me want to cry.

  “Holly, Mom, I–” I had nothing to say so like a coward I ran instead.

  “Julie, wait!” called Holly. I couldn't. It was dangerous to be around me now. I couldn't bear it if my screw-ups ever hurt her like this again. I turned a corner and kept running, deeper into the shadows as the land dipped into the earth.

  The sunset was beautiful, clouds like orange and scarlet horses in the sky, though it pained my eyes to look at it. ‘Could I have done things differently? Found one of the vampire hunters Alex mentioned or kept Fred awake long enough to explain? Killed that wretch Liam when he first handed me the letter? There must have been something I missed, some clue that could have stopped everything.’ The horror of killing two men felt so small against everything else. ‘I’ll mourn them when I forget what they did, not before.’ But I had killed Morris as well, hadn't I, even if it wasn't done entirely by my own hands. Killed Dad from not acting soon enough.

  One thought surfaced above the turmoil that tore at my heart, finally rising and pushing into speech. “I wish it would rain.” The droplets came then, ice against my feverish skin. It fit my mood, but I knew it could never wash away the blood. I could feel the life-giving fluid sinking through my skin, body still hungry for it despite my wishes. I licked my lips, shivering as a trickle of life energy entered my core. I was unclean.

  I jumped up the levels of a fire escape, rain battering me as I stood at the building's summit. Then I was moving, practically flying as my mutated feet propelled me over the rooftops. Claws bit into stone and wood with equal force, driving me faster and faster. Wind swept over me and I let myself fall into the sensation, pushing my thoughts into a dark cellar of my mind. All too soon I was forced to slow, the hollow, dead feeling in my chest growing heavier as my stolen energy burned away. Dropping to the street I watched in disgusted fascination as my feet warped back to normal or close to it. My toenails were a pearlescent black, but they were at least shaped like a human's. After a moment of silence I began to walk, not yet sure of where I would go. The gloom gathered rapidly but I no longer feared the night. I was part of it.

  All manner of vehicle passed me by as I picked my way over cracked sidewalks and broken glass. I kept to the shadows at first, but it soon became clear they had no interest in chasing me. Cars packed with frightened citizens streamed outwards, fleeing with their white-faced children staring out their closed car windows, uncomprehending. I wondered if they would just keep driving until morning or if there were some safe haven they fled towards.

  In the other direction, towards the massive cloud of smoke billowing up behind me, traveled the government vehicles. Ambulances, firetrucks, police, and even a Humvee, which to my knowledge never entered this far into the city. It was a spectacular show of force, I just wished they had come sooner.

  I shouldn't be here, among people. That was obvious now. Whether or not I was ever entirely human I simply didn't fit with them, not anymore. I looked up, finally recognizing where my subconscious had brought me. I realized then what I had to do. My apartment door still hung ajar, hinges bent and broken from Alex's forced entry. Wincing at the creak I pushed it aside only to freeze in the doorway. It looked so ordinary. So familiar. Even if I had only lived here for a week and a half. Well, no longer.

  I gathered up my clothes, not bothering to fold them as I stuffed everything I could into my backpack. At the back of my closet were my battered old sneakers, my only shoes left after the loss of my stiletto heels, flip flops and boots. Boston was definitely tough on footwear.

  “How?” I stopped my packing, staring at the impossible item on the counter. It was my knife, Holly's mother's knife that I had kept close to me for so many years. Bruce must have returned it to me after finding it in the alley, though I hesitated to try and consider why. My hand paused over its hilt, but in the end I decided I couldn't stand to see it like this. I took it to the sink, staring at it with a dull thirst as I washed the blood from it, pink clouds bursting through the water. Leaving the knife on my bed I let my finger trace across its length. It hurt to part from it, but it was her mother's knife. The oath I had made on it was useless now. I couldn't protect Holly anymore even if she wanted me to. I hoped she would understand.

  I felt a stab of guilt when I saw my ant farm. Searching the cupboards I found a piece of moldy bread. The ants didn't seem to mind its state of putrefaction. They dove on it in a frenzy as I marveled at the frenetic pace of their industry. Like a force of nature they ground the object so many times their own size down to nothing in minutes. Destructive, fearsome creatures, but beautiful in their own way. Unfortunately, it would be irresponsible to take my pets with me, wherever it was I was going. With a heavy heart I lifted the sand-filled soda bottle carefully, planning to release them at the city limits.

  “Briiing.” The phone rang, mechanical and jarring in the silence of my apartment. I lifted it in an instant, hoping against hope that it was Holly calling to forgive me.

  “Is this Julie Fisher?” My heart fell – it was a man's voice. Still, it didn't sound like he was calling to arrest me. After all, who called ahead to arrest a prison escapee anyways?

  “Yes, that's me.” Besides, after all I'd been through in the past few days I was finding it hard to fear anything anymore.

  “Wonderful! You're the first officer in your district we've found alive. You've seen the news on what happened?” I gave a half-intelligible murmur of assent. “Come to the Central Plaza in uniform at noon tomorrow and there may be a promotion waiting for you.”

  “A promotion?” This was so surreal.

  “The President's forming a special task force to make sure something like this doesn't happen again. There's a spot on it for you if you want it.”

  “I'll think it over.” I said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Was he actually talking about the President, capital P? Admittedly he was only in charge of what was formerly parts of New England and Ontario, not the entire United States, but he was a powerful man.

  “Think quickly.” He hung up.

  Was it possible, I wondered, that everyone on the force who knew of my crimes and my face were all dead? All incriminating files purged by the fire that was even now consuming the station? That frightened young cop in the alley might not even know my name, and I hadn't exactly looked like myself when he saw me. Besides, after firing a clip of bullets into a street crowded with civilians he was probably looking at some jail time himself.

  Would it really be as easy as that to resume my life? I could see it now, President Nielson calling me up on stage as the survivor of the massacre, a symbol with which to forge his task force. With that sort of public sentiment behind me any circumstantial evidence that might remain would be swept under the rug, wouldn't it? I could have my life back, and when all the zombies were dead Mom and Holly would forgive me. They'd have to.

  “They will. I know it.”

  I put the ant farm back on the windowsill and despite great uncertainty started to unpack my clothes. I couldn't help but think I was forgetting something. A slight tugging at my heart plagued me, an echo of terrible loneliness. “Penny.” I grabbed the knife from the bed was out the door in a flash, berating myself for letting Holly's words blind me to Penny's continued captivity.

  As evil as Bruce was, I was glad he hadn't killed her like some common zombie. I could feel her now that I focused, a faint link guiding me through the empty streets. I was treading towards the outskirts, artificial light giving way to moonless night as the scent of salt grew ever clearer. Even if the rest of me had returned essentially to normal, my teeth and eyes remained stubbornly vampiric in nature. Even in the darkness I could make out colors and shapes where human eyes would see only fuzzy grays. My sneakers crunched as I stepped onto the salt-licked wood of the old southern docks. Largely abandoned, only a handful of private pleasure craft hung on the dark waters. Silt and weeds barred passage to anyth
ing much larger.

  I stopped at the edge of the docks, staring up into the endless sky. 'This is the night?' Stepping beyond old terrors and childhood nightmares, there was a beauty in it like nothing I had ever seen before. The sky was not dark at all but vibrant with color. Billions of stars shined through the endless depths of space to form a giant tapestry of light.

  Reluctantly I closed my eyes, staying statue-still as I felt for that now-familiar tug in my heart. 'There.' Peering over the knee-high waves I saw it, the Annabelle. His brother's boat, Alex had told me. To think that my first boyfriend would have a murderous, conniving drug lord as his elder brother. I was silent as I slipped into the water but inside I could feel the fury in my blood building. Belatedly I removed my soaked sneakers and jacket, placing them on the crisscrossing support beams below the dock.

  It had been too long since I had a proper bath but I didn't linger long in the luxuriously refreshing seawater. Easing myself onto the ladder at the back of the yacht I let the water seep out of my clothes and hair until the sound of the few droplets that still fell from me onto the deck were easily disguised by the sound of waves lapping against the hull. A scent came to me as I slunk across the deck. “Wolf,” I spat. It was fresh, and almost certainly Alex. A white-hot fury swept through me, near blinding me with its intensity.

  My toes curled into claws, scratching the yacht's pristine finish as I ground my way towards the door to the cabin. As my fingernails stretched and my night-vision sharpened still further I realized something. I didn't care anymore if he heard me coming. Tomorrow was still a mystery to me. I'd take my chances in the wilds, or as a hermit in some far off village, or perhaps even accept a position on the task force, but tonight was no mystery at all. There was only one ending to his story.

  Alex stepped out from the cabin. “You! How, why are you here?” His speech devolved into incoherent obscenities as he fumbled for the knife at his hip. The stench of marijuana, beer and wet dog clung to him like maggots on a corpse but I could still smell it, the damning smell of lilac.

  “You drank her blood.” The scent of her blood on his breath was unmistakable. It was hypocritical, but the thought of the werewolf drinking Penny's blood struck me as unspeakably perverse. I didn't wait for an answer, blurring towards him with knife in hand. Still in human form, the arm he raised to ward me off just made my attack easier. My sharp nails darted into his armpit and all his strength was rendered useless as he threw himself off balance to escape the pain. My knife quickly followed, driving straight through his side. His scream was nothing against the pounding of blood in my ears as I swung him into the deck. “Animal.” I drove my fist straight into his temple, his eyes swinging backwards as he fell unconscious.

  I panted heavily but in moments I straightened, in control of myself again. The connection that had driven me up until now was stronger than ever. She must have felt me too for a tremor of excitement echoed through the bond as we grew closer. I could feel her presence just around the corner. “Penny!” I had lost a father today, but a childhood friend had come back to me.

  A happy warble sounded from her mouth like a cat presenting a fresh kill. 'No, it couldn't be.' An old children's movie played in the corner, it's bright and cheerful tones jarringly askew with the atmosphere of the room. Three bodies drained of blood lay with Penny inside a steel cage like a trio of discarded dolls. Fang-inflicted wounds in their necks showed how they had died, but a bullet through each of their skills had kept them from rising as zombies. Penny was half naked and covered in grime, but even the sight of her blood-matted hair only distracted me for a moment from her eyes. Deep violet like my own, they glowed with inner light in the dim cabin. A pair of delicate fangs crept out between her lips as she broke into a smile.

  Her hand stretched out between the bars, just brushing my hair. “Mama.” Every muscle in my chest seized up at once as if to suffocate me for my sins. It was a shame that I felt little need to breathe.

  I hardly recognized her. Not only had her features changed subtly, there was nothing in her eyes that spoke of what she once was. Whatever it was my blood had done to bring her back as a vampire and not a zombie, it hadn't been enough to preserve her soul. The sharp but warm gaze of a woman who had survived so much and chosen to keep on living was replaced with the innocent gaze of a child. But she wasn't just a child was she, but the child of a monster. I stepped closer, tears in my eyes as I hugged her close. My hands cradled her head as she sank into my embrace, purring deep in her throat. The stench of three dead men filled the air, blood long gone sour, and I knew nothing good would come of this. Nothing good could come from letting the child of a monster live. It would only take a quick shift of my hands and it would all be over. Her neck would snap and Penny would be at peace.

  I pulled at the bars, metal screaming in protest. I pulled harder and harder even as the Thirst built in my gut. The moment the bar began to bend Penny caught on and joined me, her own considerable strength giving just enough of a boost to send the two bars flying from their sockets. “Come on then, let's get you something to eat.” She seemed hesitant to exit what had likely been her home since her rebirth but once she caught Alex's scent she was more than eager to race ahead.

  She ripped his shirt off like a child opening presents on Christmas morning and sank her teeth greedily into his neck. Her eyes gleamed still brighter as she fed but remarkably she did something I still had trouble with myself. Pulling herself away from the still-living werewolf she nudged his body towards me, as if sharing a soda. I realized something then. I never loved Alex Whitman after all.

  I just wanted to eat him.

  Author's Note:

  Thank you all for reading. Check out various short stories and news on upcoming developments at www.Lycelia.com