by Lund, S. E.
Our first stop is several hours later, to sit by the side of the road and eat a light meal of fruit and bread, with honey. It feels rustic and like something you’d read about in a book about a medieval fantasy. Merry and Pippin might eat such a meal, and I smile to myself, thinking how my life has become part horror story, part fantasy.
Jan is very quiet as a traveling companion. I try to get him to talk about himself when we first set out, but after a few monosyllabic responses to my questions, I gave up. Instead, we have the sound of the road to keep us company and I try to keep my mind busy naming the kinds of trees and wildlife I see. It’s surprising how much of nature has returned now that there are few vehicles traveling along the roads. Now and then, I spy a bird of prey high up in the trees, or some small rodent in the underbrush dart across the road ahead or behind us. Squirrels? I have no idea, but that’s about the extent of my entertainment during the trip with Jan, who I now call Mr. Silent Type, to myself.
We arrive in New Haven, Connecticut late that night as the sun is setting, and find a small hotel on the edge of town. When we break open a door, we find a relatively clean room to bunk for the night. The place is covered in a layer of dust, but it’s otherwise clean. The room is cold, but there’s nothing to be done about it. We can’t light a fire, so instead, I unwrap several sleeping bags and slip inside one.
Jan stands guard.
“Should I take a turn at watch?” I ask, trying to be a good traveling companion.
He laughs to himself but doesn’t reply, so I take that as a no. I suppose he doesn’t want to put his life into the hands of someone like me – a young, newly-ascended vampire. I must seem like a pup to someone like him.
I close my eyes, and soon I doze off because, despite everything, I’m exhausted after a long day of travel.
* * *
Jan wakes me up a few hours later, when the sun is still below the horizon. We have to get going, for Jan wants us to arrive in New York before noon. The drive becomes slower the closer we get to New York City, as we pass through the suburbs on the way down the coast. I grab some more fruit and bread, and drink an entire unit of blood to start my day, and watch the passing scenery as we travel through the small towns along the coast. It’s picturesque and I wish I could stay at a few of the places I’ve heard about but never visited – Bridgeport, Fairfield, Norwalk. They’re all names I’ve heard before and I think that one day, when everything has returned to some kind of normalcy, I’ll return with Julien and spend some time traveling along the coast, visiting the small towns and walking the beaches.
Finally, before noon, we arrive in Queens, and stop at an old gas station so I can use the facilities. The water isn’t running but it appears no one has used this washroom since the plague struck so I’m able to relieve myself without too much disgust at the smell.
Travel is even slower now that we’re in the Bronx. The streets are much more clogged with old cars and so we have to push a few out of the way with the front of our vehicle. Luckily, it’s quite a heavy vehicle with a truck chassis and so we are able to use brute force to clear a few streets and make our way through and on towards Manhattan. I get the sense that there are people in some of the buildings, watching as we drive slowly by. I feel their eyes on us, and hope that they’re just onlookers, and not part of any organized group.
We take a road across the Bronx River and then cross over into Harlem, down narrow streets past old brownstones that line the blocks. We finally get to a street that’s blocked on all three sides with vehicles.
“It looks like a barricade,” I say, for the vehicles are lined up bumper to bumper and look like they’ve been placed there rather than simply abandoned.
“We’ll make a run for it,” Jan says and tries to plough his way through a line of smaller cars, their doors off, their hoods open. Unfortunately, we’re unable to slam through the line and instead, our bumper gets locked into another back bumper of a light truck. Jan gets out and tries to pull our vehicle off the other, but it’s no use. Even with the two of us trying to lift the bumpers up and apart, we can’t budge them.
“Damn,” Jan says and wipes his brow of sweat. He runs his hands through his long hair and shakes his head. “Looks like we’re on foot the rest of the way unless I can find someone to help.”
We glance around, but these streets seem empty. Doors hang open on their hinges, windows are smashed. The only sound is a few dried leaves crackling in the wind.
Jan retrieves our bags and stuffs a few vials of blood into his and a few into mine, and we shoulder the backpacks and start on foot.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask, following Jan down a street.
“South and west,” he says, simply. “That’s all I know. South and West. Get to Harlem and find our way to Central Park. Keep going all the way to Battery park.”
I nod and we set out, and after a day and a half of driving, it feels like a relief to walk for a change. I wonder if we do find Michel whether he’ll return with us. I can’t imagine Jan thinks he’ll just find Michel and convince him to return. I doubt I’ll be able to convince him either. Still, I have to assume that Soren has it all planned out and somehow sees this in his plans.
I gave up trying to figure everything out. Instead, I’ve decided to go with the flow as much as possible. Trust my gut.
Right now, my gut says that the streets here are empty and I wonder where all the people have gone. Perhaps they’ve fled to the countryside where there might be food. Perhaps further south, where the weather is warmer. The city would run out of food very quickly unless there are shipments coming in on a daily basis. It’s easy to forget how reliant we all were on the transportation system to bring food from the south and from other countries. Now, all that’s gone. With the world falling apart little by little, mile by mile as the plague spreads, everyone is facing the same prospect of starvation and death by diseases that used to be easily treatable.
After about an hour of walking, we reach Central Park and skirt along the exterior, down to the southwestern edge and over to 5th Avenue. On the way, we stop to have a bite to eat, sitting on a bench in a little side street park that must have been quaint once upon a time, when the city was full of life and teeming with pedestrians and tourists. Now, it’s quiet except for the wind. Old newspapers float in the breezes between buildings, the eddies of air lifting up some dried leaves. It’s mournful.
We walk on farther south, along Park Avenue past Washington Park, and at long last, we near Battery Park, past City Hall and the 9-11 Memorial. I never did visit after the attacks, and now we stop briefly near the empty reflecting pool, filled with wet leaves and trash. With no pumps to empty out the water underground, the subway system has been filled with seawater. I wonder how long before the ocean reclaims this part of Manhattan and it makes me so sad to be here, now.
As we get closer to Battery Park, I start to feel as if someone is shadowing us, walking down side streets, just out of eyesight, but every now and then, it’s like my blindsight kicks in and I have this weird sense that there are people all around us, watching, waiting.
“Do you feel like we’re being watched?” I say quietly while we walk down Broadway Avenue.
“I felt it too,” Jan says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Remember that vampires have excellent sense of hearing.”
I nod and say nothing more. If this is Michel and his people, I won’t feel too afraid, but if it is just a lone gang, we might have to fight.
“Do you have your weapon handy?” Jan says in a light voice.
I grip the handle of my blade and touch the stake that rests in a pouch on my other hip. “Yes,” I say softly. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Stay close,” he says and I do, keeping up to him, shoulder to shoulder, although he is much taller than I am. We keep walking down the street and I can see the river so we’re getting close to Battery Park and the ferry. When we take a side street, three men step out at the end of the road and wa
it for us, their swords drawn.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, my heart rate increasing even more than before.
“Let’s see whether they’re friend or foe.”
We continue on down the street and Jan holds out his hands, empty of weapons, and speaks to them in a loud voice while we’re still half a block away.
“Ahoy there,” he says in a friendly voice. “We’re travelers looking for old friends.”
One of the three men, older, heavy set with greasy clothing that resembles SWAT gear, steps forward, his sword held out in front of him.
“This is our territory. If you have no permission from our Lord to be here, you’re going to have to leave.”
Jan stops, leaving a distance between us. “And who is your Lord?”
“Braxton,” the man says. “He holds this territory. If you have not been invited, you must leave.”
“We will,” Jan says and holds out his hand to stop them. “Before we go, I want to say that we’re looking for a priest named Father Michel,” Jan says, glancing at each man in turn. “We hear he works out of a cathedral around these parts. We’re old friends, so if you know this priest, please tell him that we’re here to speak with him on urgent business. We’ll go farther north, closer to Central Park. He can find us there.”
The three men look at us suspiciously but don’t respond.
“Let’s go,” Jan says and we turn and begin walking down the street. I glance back and the three men are standing together, speaking, watching us as we leave.
“That feels too easy,” I say, not sure I trust that they won’t come after us.
Sure enough, before we’ve even reached the end of the street, I hear them running towards us and so Jan and I take off running, taking alleys and side streets as we travel back north and east, trying to get away from our pursuers.
“Down here,” Jan says and we take another alley, running down the narrow passage between hulking buildings, the scent of rotten garbage and grease behind a restaurant making my stomach churn. We take another alley and find ourselves in a small street that has only one exit. We’re trapped, and I turn back and see the three men enter a few streets back.
“In here,” Jan says and motions to an old parking garage with a high cement fence. He jumps up and stands on the wall, then reaches down to me, but before he can, an arrow whizzes past my head and bounces off the cement. Then another strikes Jan in the shoulder and he falls backwards, losing his balance because of the force of the impact. I turn, ducking as I do, and see one man has a crossbow out and is nocking another arrow.
I have nowhere to run and so I stand up straight, my blade in one hand, my stake in the other.
I won’t be taken easily. If they shoot me, there’s nothing I can do but if they don’t shoot me, I can at least use my sword to defend myself.
“Stay where you are,” one of the men says. The other with the crossbow points it at me. “He has a wooden arrow. It would kill you instantly if it hit your heart and believe me, he’s an expert marksman.”
I stand my ground. “I’ll leave, we’ll both leave. We don’t want any trouble.”
“You won’t get any, as long as you cooperate. You say you want to see the Priest? Well, it might be worth our while to have you for a while. We might be able to use you to get some food and provisions. A trade, if you like. The Priest has a lot of followers. If you’re truly his friend, we’ll see how much he values you.”
Jan struggles up and leans against the cement wall that lines the car park.
“The Priest will want to see the girl,” Jan says and jumps over the wall to stand beside me, his voice strained from his wound. “Tell him her name is Eve. He’ll pay you whatever you want and if you hurt her, he’ll make you pay.”
One of the men motions to me to come towards them, but Jan puts a hand on my shoulder.
“She stays with me until the Priest comes himself.”
“We tell you what to do, not the other way around,” the man in the middle with the sword says. “Eve is to come with me. I’ll take her to the Priest. You’ll stay here.”
I turn to Jan and he shakes his head. “I don’t like it. There’s no telling if they even know Michel.”
“We have no other choice. That guy with the crossbow could kill us both.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say and step forward. Jan tries to grab me, but he’s shot immediately in the other shoulder and he groans, staggering back from the force.
“Stay, Jan,” I say firmly, and leave him by the wall. I go to the man in the middle, aware that crossbow could shoot me as well. He nocks another arrow and holds the bow pointing towards me.
I stand in front of the men and the one in the middle grabs my arm and turns me around while another one grabs my backpack. Then the man ties a black blindfold around my eyes and ties my hands behind my back. I’m pretty much helpless at this point and can do nothing but walk along with the three of them down the street. I can see my feet as I walk, so the blindfold isn’t completely blocking my vision, but I can’t see much else. We walk on for about ten minutes, and soon, we enter a building, taking a hallway into a room that echoes as we walk along the marble floors.
I’m pushed down onto a chair, my hands over the back.
I sit in silence, waiting for whatever is going to happen to me.
The three men – or two now, I can’t tell – speak in soft voices a distance away from where I sit.
“Okay, Eve,” the man says. “We’re going to contact the Priest and let him know you’re here. It’ll be up to him as to what you’re worth.”
I shrug. At this point, I’m sure that Michel will pay whatever they demand and I feel badly that it’s come to this. I don’t want him to be forced to rescue me if it somehow thwarts his plans.
He’ll know what to do. I don’t think he’ll let me die, once he knows I’m here.
It’s quiet now, and all I hear is the sound of a guard breathing. My arms ache, and I feel the ties chafing at my wrists, but I can bear it. Waiting for whatever happens next gives me time to think. I wonder how Jan is and whether he’s even alive. Even though I barely know him, and he is one of Soren’s men, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. And I can’t help but wonder what Michel’s been doing all this time away from Soren.
He’s developed a following during the past few weeks that he’s been gone. He’s got access to food and provisions, or so the man seemed to think. He has influence.
I wonder if this isn’t all part of his plan – to leave me and fight Soren from the outside. The only way I’ll know is if he does actually come for me.
He’ll come for me, I hope…
Time passes. I estimate about an hour or more, before I hear footsteps in the room.
“Take off her blindfold, for God’s sake,” Michel says. I hear his footsteps come nearer and then my blindfold is removed and I’m staring up into his face, and I have never been happier to see him before.
“Michel,” I say, a constriction in my throat. “I’m sorry about all this. Soren sent me. He threatened to kill Julien unless I complied. I didn’t want—”
“Shh,” he says and personally cuts the ties on my wrists and helps me up, pulling me into his arms for a warm embrace. He’s dressed in a black cassock and has a large cross around his neck. He looks like a monk from some medieval era instead of my Michel, the first man I fell in love with.
“I’m sorry it came to this,” he whispers in my ear. Then he pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “You look no worse for the wear. I hear they shot poor Jan with two arrows.” Michel shakes his head. “I’ll make sure he gets some blood so he can heal. We have him at the medical facility and will keep him there until we send you back to Boston.”
“Soren wants you back,” I say. “He said he’ll kill Julien if we don’t return with you.”
Michel shakes his head. “He won’t. He’s just bluffing.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, alarm filling me. “He
showed me that he can kill with a thought, from a distance. I believe he’ll kill Julien if you don’t return.”
“Think about it, Eve,” Michel says and escorts me out of the room, throwing a small leather purse of money over to the large man who brought me here. “Soren needs someone to say mass for his followers. He wants me, but he’ll make do with Julien. He wants one of us, so he can make us pay for what we did to Marguerite. If he kills Julien, he knows I’ll never willingly return to help him. He’s bluffing.”
“He sent me to get you to return.”
“No, he didn’t,” Michel says and leads me down the street. Flanking us are six guards in SWAT gear, their weapons drawn. I can see how much power Michel has amassed in so short a time. He has loyal followers willing to protect him.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Michel turns to me, a half smile on his face. “He wants us together,” he says. “He wants to push us together, to tempt me from my vows. He’s not going to succeed.”
I want to respond that he’s right, but I don’t.
“Where are we going?”
I glance around the street, trying to figure out where we are, but I don’t know Manhattan and so it’s all just big city to me.
“We’re going to my offices.”
“You have offices?” I ask, wondering how he was able to get so powerful so quickly. “You did all this in the past three weeks that you’ve been gone?”
Michel smiles, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I’ve been planning this for a very long time, Eve.”
“You and your plans,” I say and smile.
We continue to walk to an ornate building wedged in between two others. It looks like a church in the middle of the block.
The guards open the doors for us and we enter the cool dim interior. There’s a hush inside and I see that it is a church, with ornate flying buttresses and gilded features. At the altar is a crucified Christ on the cross. Everything looks like it came from thirteenth-century France…