by Joe Humphrey
She lay there for an hour, looking at the sky, tears drying on her cheeks. Once she felt her bones knitting back together and healing, she repeated the process, breaking each finger again, resetting it, and waiting for it to heal. She did this for four hours, while she waited for the next thing to happen.
The sky turned from black to dark blue, to purple and red. Caroline pulled her fingers into a fist, feeling them scream in agony, and folded her hands behind her head as she watched the first rays of the sun come up over the horizon.
When the sky became bright enough for her to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, she started getting scared, but held onto the hood of the Cadillac, like the sides of a raft. As the light gathered around her, she felt the first blisters forming on her legs and arms, then her hands and neck, then finally her face.
Panic rose inside her and she jumped off the hood and ran to the back of the car where the trunk was still open. She bent over and picked up the man's body and tossed it into the trunk. She ran over and scooped up his head, which had rolled a few feet away. The skin on her arms was boiling now and she started to scream. She could feel her face bubbling and smell the sick stink of cancerous lumps forming all over her body. She threw the head into the trunk and climbed in and closed the lid.
- 5 -
The stink was overpowering. It was a mixture of the man's vomit and feces and her own melting flesh. Desperate for blood, Caroline clawed at Ted's chest with her good hand and tore a hole through the skin. His sternum was shattered from the shovel and she was able to push through and pull out his heart. She bit into it, sucking blood into her mouth like juice from a peach. She could see sunlight coming through the spaces in the taillights and edge of the trunk lid. Caroline pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes. She had no idea how far from the road she was or if anyone might see her car during the day. She’d have to hope for the best.
- 6 -
Caroline’s eyes opened, and she carefully lifted the blanket. Darkness. She felt her body relax and she reached up and pushed the trunk lid. She hadn’t pulled it completely closed when she’d climbed in, so she was glad to find that it was still unlatched. The lid lifted, and relief washed over her as she saw the night sky and smelled the sagebrush. She rolled over the man's body and popped her head up. She was still in the same place she’d been when she climbed into the trunk.
She climbed out of the trunk and looked down at herself. Her dress was covered in blood and other, even more unpleasant, stains. She inspected her arms and legs and found that they still had minor scarring from the sun, but that should go away over time. She hoped.
The shovel was still laying in the dirt where she’d left it. Caroline picked it up and started digging a hole. She needed to get rid of Ted's body and get home. She looked at her watch. It was just after nine. She wasn’t sure how far she was from Flagstaff, but she had plenty of time to bury Ted and drive home. She would have to stop somewhere to eat, she knew that. That was going to be a challenge because she was a mess.
- 7 -
The Cadillac sat under a halogen lamp in the parking lot of a Chevron station. Caroline watched as cars pulled in and out of the station, gassing up and buying snacks. She was waiting for something specific.
A woman left the station carrying a hubcap and Caroline got out of the car, following her to the bathroom, which was around the back. The woman entered the bathroom and closed the door. Caroline approached the door and turned the knob. In her left hand, she carried her straight razor.
The bathroom door was locked. She gathered her strength, as she was still feeling weak from her close call with the sun, and pushed on the door, breaking the latch and causing the door to swing inward.
“Hey! Occupied! Occupied!” the woman said as Caroline entered. The woman looked at her, and her blood-soaked dress and face, and stood up, her sweatpants around her ankles. She was a heavyset girl in her mid-twenties. She wore a grey sweater with Mickey Mouse on the front.
“Shhhh,” Caroline said, holding her finger to her lips. The woman stared at her and backed against the wall. Caroline approached her cautiously, holding her hands up to calm the woman.
“Stay away from me!” the woman shouted, and Caroline jumped forward and put her hand over the woman’s mouth. She tried to scream but Caroline held her against the wall, her body pressed against the woman.
“Breathe. Take it in. Calm down,” Caroline said, watching the woman’s eyes as they darted around. “Are you calm?” she asked her. The woman nodded her head and Caroline let go of her mouth. She took in a breath to scream, but then… didn’t. Her eyes glassed over, and she blinked, letting her head fall back against the wall and looking up at the fluorescent light.
“What are you going to do to me?” the woman asked, still staring at the ceiling. Caroline took the woman’s hand and gripped her wrist.
“I’m going to give you just a little cut, and then you’re going to sleep. Okay?”
The woman nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, finally looking down at Caroline. Caroline was looking at the woman’s arm. It was meaty and smooth and pale. She looked up and met the woman’s eyes and shook her head.
“No, I promise you I’m not going to hurt you,” she said as she drew the straight razor across the woman’s wrist. Bright red blood ran out over her and Caroline’s hands. Caroline dropped to her knees on the dirty bathroom floor and pressed her mouth against the woman’s wrist. The part of her that hated being dirty screamed out in horror, but the hunger in her chest for blood won that argument. The woman let out a long sigh, almost a moan, and slid down to the floor with Caroline. Caroline sucked at the woman’s wrist, drinking the blood in great, greedy gulps.
When she was done, Caroline stood, licking the blood from her lips and chin. The woman was asleep on the floor, her breath coming in and out in languid snores. Caroline took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. No wonder the woman had been so scared of her. The bottom half of her normally-perfectly-kept-face was covered in sticky, dried blood. The front of her once white dress was black with blood, as was her neck and chest. Her once-white gloves were bloody and stained. Caroline pulled the dress over her head and balled it up and stuffed it into the trashcan. She unrolled a series of paper towels and began the seemingly impossible task of wiping blood from her face, neck, and chest.
With that done, Caroline pulled the sweatshirt and pants off the woman and slipped them on. They were huge on her and she swam in them, but she found that somehow comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket.
Looking down at the woman, now naked, her underwear discarded next to her, Caroline briefly considered killing her, but ultimately decided against it. The woman wouldn’t remember Caroline. She would wake up any moment with a headache and perhaps low blood sugar and would be very confused about where her clothes were. Caroline glanced at the trashcan with her bloody dress stuffed into it and considered it before pulling the trash-bag out of the can and slinging it over her shoulder.
- 8 -
Charlie crawled up the bed and rested her head against Caroline’s chest. Caroline’s broken hand was virtually useless, but she raised her right hand and stroked Charlie’s hair. The girl was dependent on her. She needed her. Even without the manipulation, the girl needed Caroline because she loved her. She knew that and had somehow forgotten it. Those assholes in California didn’t need her. They didn’t even want her. She could feel her heart pulling in different directions as she worked through these thoughts. No, they didn’t want her and fuck them then. Charlie wanted her.
Caroline considered the fact that she’d been willing to kill Charlie in exchange for acceptance by those parasites. Charlie, who was like a daughter to her. She winced at the thought and had to fight back tears of self-loathing. She’d almost thrown out the most love she’d received in decades, possibly since the death of her own, real children, over a century ago.
“Are you okay?�
� Charlie asked, looking up at her with big eyes. Caroline smiled and shook her head no and had to actively fight to not break down. Charlie was a good girl, and innocent. Caroline was in the process of systematically destroying that innocence. She’d known this, all along, but the brutality and cruelty of it had never occurred to her until that moment. By the time Caroline was done with Charlie, she fully expected to have turned the girl into a murderer, just like herself.
She’d spared the woman in the bathroom, not out of kindness or compassion, but because she’d already buried one corpse that night and was desperate to get home, and didn’t want to deal with trying to dispose of another body. That aside, she would have killed that woman without a single thought if the circumstances had allowed it. Not because she enjoyed killing, though there were certainly times that she did, but because her nature insisted that she kill. The nature of what she was, which was a superior being. Her immortality gave her a perspective on human life that Charlie hadn’t fully discovered yet. While she’d never been particularly precious about killing or not killing the way that Charlie was, Caroline could almost remember what it had been like to learn to kill, so she gave Charlie the space she needed to find her own path. That is, with some gentle pushing and guidance.
And Charlie was getting there, slowly but surely. Probably quicker than many other vampires her age. Caroline could already see the girl beginning to enjoy hunting, if not killing. She still hadn’t killed anyone since Reginald, the perverted old man Caroline had delivered. That had been a mistake. Too much too soon. Caroline had been in a hurry and had pushed her too hard. It scared Charlie and made her hesitant.
It was going to take only a few more tweaks to Charlie’s perspective to get her to kill for the sake of killing. Sure, she could cherry-pick her victims (many vampires did) but she would kill. They would hunt together and kill together. Then they could be together forever.
Also, nowhere was it written that Caroline had to stay in Flagstaff. She’d settled there because it was safe and secluded and gave her access to hunting grounds without the politics and exposure of the city. But they could go on the road if they wanted. Find a new town with new people. While Caroline considered California her home, she also knew there were plenty of other great cities, far away from the vampires that hated her. She could go to New Orleans or New York or Seattle or anywhere. She could take Charlie to her old home, Philadelphia.
A feeling like nausea stirred up inside of Caroline as a thought occurred to her. The girl wanted to go to California. That couldn’t happen. Not only because Caroline didn’t want to lose her, but because she knew that the California vampires would reject her because of her muddied heritage. They wouldn’t accept her, both because she was sired illegally and, even worse, because she was Caroline’s spawn. Her blood was tainted by Caroline’s crimes against them.
Yet, the girl still wanted to go there, despite Caroline’s warnings against it... Caroline slid her hand through Charlie’s hair and felt her fingers curl into a fist without her telling them to.
“Hey, be careful please,” Charlie said, panic rising in her voice. Caroline closed her eyes and squeezed her fist tighter and pulled it up her body, dragging the girl toward her face by a fistful of her hair. Charlie yelled.
“What the fuck Caroline! Let me go!”
She knew that what she was doing would have horrible consequences, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was so fucking angry.
“You cannot go there,” Caroline said, pulling Charlie’s face toward hers. “Do you understand me? You can NEVER go there!”
Charlie’s eyes were wide and terrified. Her mouth was pulled into a tortured grimace.
“Go where?!”
“California. You can’t go there! They will kill you. Understand?”
Charlie tried to pull away and Caroline pulled harder, ripping hairs out.
“Jesus Christ, okay! I won’t go there!”
Caroline relaxed her hand and fought the sudden urge to start slapping the girl. She closed her eyes and tried to contain the rage that was boiling up inside her. Most of all, she was afraid to look Charlie in the face and see the result of what she’d just done. Whether it was anger or pain or confusion, she didn’t want to look at it. She knew that if she saw judgment in Charlie’s face, there was a good chance she’d throw her to the floor and stomp her to death.
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut tighter, tears stinging at the corners, her teeth gritted together.
“Everyone… leaves me…” Caroline finally managed to croak out before bursting into tears. Charlie let out a long, desperate sigh, then wrapped her arms around Caroline’s shoulders.
“I’m not going to leave you, okay? I won’t go to California without you, and if you can’t go then I won’t go either.”
“Oh god…” Caroline cried, leaning into Charlie’s shoulder.
“I love you, mama,” Charlie whispered into Caroline’s hair. After a long, quiet moment, Caroline spoke.
“I love you too, honey.”
CHAPTER SIX
- 1 -
The Roadhouse was a dive bar near the Arizona/Utah border that catered to Utah residents unencumbered by the Mormon tenant of abstaining from alcohol, either because they weren’t of the religion, or because their commitment had lapsed. It was also a good place to discreetly meet a sexual partner without the prying eyes of thy neighbor on you. It was a country bar but also played rock and roll, and that made the experience of going there not only tolerable but enjoyable for young Charlie.
In 1975, Charlie was nineteen years old and legally allowed to drink and hang out in bars. Not that they were ever carded (their vampire scent got them into most places they wanted to go without much trouble), but it was nice to feel like she belonged. Also, it’s not like Charlie drank. She only picked at the paper labels on the bottles of beer she ordered. Once she’d gone into the bathroom to pour her beer into the toilet, and out of curiosity, she took a swig and swished it around in her mouth. The flavor was so repugnant she immediately spat it against the wall and had to stop herself from retching blood.
Charlie got up from their table and went to the jukebox. It held a healthy mix of country and southern rock, and Charlie quickly found three songs she could dance to and skipped across the floor in her new boots. Both Charlie and Caroline had ordered outfits for the occasion. Charlie wore jeans and a carefully distressed T-shirt, the sleeves cut off, and a picture of Bob Seger on the front and the words Turn the Page printed across the back. The jeans had come from Sears and the shirt from an ad in the back of Circus magazine. Caroline wore a flower-printed short dress with an oversized white collar and cuffs. Tall, white, leather boots gave her an extra two inches that almost made her comically tall, especially next to the petite Charlie who clocked in at a cool five foot three inches.
The bar was small, dark, and smelled like old beer and sweat. It was a Thursday night and Charlie and Caroline were two of only six patrons. That was just fine with the vampires. Ordinarily, they’d prefer a bigger crowd to get lost in, but lately, they had been trying out smaller establishments. It was perhaps a reckless change of pace, but Caroline had relaxed the rigidity of her rules in recent years. That was fine by Charlie, who disliked crowds and preferred a more intimate atmosphere.
Charlie felt particularly energetic that night. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her body on the floor. She was alone but didn't feel self-conscious. A year ago she would have hidden in the corner and waited for someone to approach her, but ever since Caroline's trip to Las Vegas and the death of the man who had hurt her, she felt a weight lift from her back. She felt freer than she had in years. It helped they were expanding their hunting territory. She was beginning to feel stifled in Flagstaff, revisiting the same locations over and over again. She was learning the names of waitresses and gas station attendants and it made her uncomfortable.
When Caroline got up from the booth they'd been sitting in, Charlie gr
inned and let her hips sway to the song she'd chosen from the juke, Cinnamon Girl by Neil Young. Caroline was an odd dancer, surprisingly awkward given how gracefully she carried herself most of the time. Awkward or not, Charlie loved dancing with her. It was one of the rare times she felt like they were two adults enjoying each other's company.
- 2 -
That week had indeed been rough for Caroline. Ever since her trip to Las Vegas, she’d been prone to bouts of depression. That week had been a particularly bad one, but going out that night, Caroline had seemed unusually chipper. That made Charlie happy, which, in turn, brightened Caroline up even more. The girl had a way of bringing that out in Caroline at unexpected times.
More than once that week, she’d considered going out into the desert and letting the sun take her. It was only Charlie that kept her indoors and safe. She felt no sense of self-worth, but she refused to leave Charlie alone in the world. If only because of the chaos that might cause which would ultimately be traced back to her, and Caroline couldn’t take the idea of her name being dragged even further through the mud.
Plus, she felt something like love for the girl. She didn’t want to see her hurt or lost, and it meant something to her when she saw how Charlie genuinely cared about her and wanted to help improve her dark moods. She didn’t understand Charlie’s love for her, but she appreciated it and wanted to preserve whatever it was inside of Charlie that motivated her to care for her. Charlie loved Caroline and Caroline loved being loved by Charlie.
So, when Charlie danced out to the middle of the modest dance floor in the tiny bar, swaying to the music and moving her hips to the rhythm, Caroline felt compelled to join her. She strutted across the bar, the heels of her boots clomping on the wood floor.