Frater, Rhiannon - As the World Dies 04

by Beautiful Bitch

  “That's cause he's an ass.”

  Sergio drove the truck up the driveway. He parked it under the carport that had been added to the old house twenty years before.

  Their grandmother's Lincoln was tucked away in the garage that was built off to the side. She rarely drove it anymore. Their tiny little grandmother could barely see over the steering wheel, let alone maneuver a car as big as a boat. She still kept it gassed up, the registration current, got it inspected yearly, and did all the regular maintenance on it right on time. Which was ironic, considering she never drove it except to back it out of the driveway, then pull right back in. To keep the engine fresh, she said.

  A blue light in the front window showed that she was still up and watching her late night shows. Probably with a bowl of popcorn sprinkled with chili with a dash of lime spritzed on top, and an ice tea, decaf of course, at her side on an end table loaded down with photos, mementos and little knickknacks.

  Sliding out of the truck, Amaliya looked at Sergio as he got her bag out of the back. She wanted to tell him the whole truth, but even she was having trouble believing it. Ignoring the Virgin statue with all her might, she prepared herself for what lay inside the house.

  Sergio unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Grandmama, Amaliya is here!”

  “I can hear you. I'm not deaf,” came her grandmother's accented voice.

  Amaliya suddenly wanted to cry.

  Stepping onto the front porch, she steeled herself. She moved forward and found she couldn't enter the house. Startled, she tried to step over the threshold, but could not push her way in. It was as if an invisible wall was in front of her.

  “Come on,” Sergio said.

  “Come in, come in,” her grandmother said, waving to her from her lounge chair in the living room.

  The unseen wall was gone abruptly and Amaliya stepped into the house, feeling a little shaken.

  Struggling to get out of her chair, Grandmama slapped away Sergio's attempt to help her up. “Come here and hug me.”

  Amaliya deftly avoided the shrine to the Holy Trinity and the Virgin Mary in the front hall and rushed to her grandmother. Her skin was pricking and she felt nauseous for the split second she was within a few feet of the holy relics. Reaching her grandmother, she flung her arms around the tiny little woman with the black hair shot through with silver and the keen hazel eyes.

  Squeezing her tight, her grandmother gave her several hard kisses on the cheek, then drew back to look at her.

  “You're too thin,” she decided. “And I don't like your hair black. I liked it blond.”

  Sergio began to laugh and set the bag down on a chair. “Nice welcome, Grandmama.”

  “Shut up, you,” the old woman said with a twinkle in her eye, then drew Amaliya down to kiss her cheek again. “Are you sick? You're very cold.”

  “I had food poisoning,” Amaliya lied quickly as she remember what Sergio said about her grandmother preparing food.

  “Ugh. It's that horrible fast food.” Grandmama headed toward the brightly lit kitchen. She was clad in jeans and a t-shirt with the Texas flag on it. “I made good food. Good healthy food.”

  “Tamales aren't healthy, Grandmama,” Sergio corrected her.

  “Who told you to lip off,” came the sharp reply.

  Amaliya and Sergio looked at each other and giggled.

  Following the old woman into the very clean and tidy kitchen, Amaliya sighed at the delicious smells in the room.

  “I got spicy chicken tacos, pork tamales, the rice is ready and the beans almost are.”

  Amaliya grinned as she watched her grandmother at the stove, stirring the big pot of beans, and trying to reach to the back to pick up the skillet full of Mexican rice.

  “I'll get that,” Sergio offered quickly.

  “Okay, nieto,” she answered, surprising her grandchildren. She usually denied help. She pointed to the counter. “Right there.”

  Throwing down a pan holder for Sergio to set the hot skillet on, she turned and uncovered a bowl with fresh tortilla dough in it.

  “You'll eat this and feel much better,” her Grandmama assured her.

  Amaliya sighed and wished desperately that she could eat.

  With utter sadness shot through with a strange joy, she watched her grandmother's tiny hand roll, pound, and flatten out a fresh tortilla before throwing it onto the griddle to cook.

  A weird sort of silence filled the room as Amaliya and Sergio watched the old lady deftly make tortillas. Her wrinkled fingers easily plucked the tortillas up off the griddle and flipped them until they were perfectly done. Soon a whole stack of the fluffy white tortillas was wrapped in a fresh kitchen towel and put on the table.

  This was the way it had always been when she visited her grandmother. She would sit in silence as her grandmother putzed around cooking a feast for her, then as soon as the elder woman sat down, the conversation would start as they ate.

  Showing how well trained he was, Sergio pulled out a couple of glass bottles of soda from the refrigerator and popped them open. Her grandmother had a fetish for the Coca Cola from across the border and Sergio or Felipe would bring her milk cartons full of the refillable glass bottles. They also brought other exotic flavors that Amaliya was never particularly fond of.

  “They still make it with real sugar. Not corn syrup like here,” Sergio said, handing Amaliya a bottle.

  “I didn't know that.” She took a small swig and nodded to him.

  “Good.”

  A large photo of their German emigree grandfather and his tiny Mexican bride loomed over the table and it made Amaliya feel watched over. She felt relatively safe and comfortable at last except for one thing. It was hard to feel better when her skin was crawling because of the religious artifacts strewn around the house. It made her feel like there were ants under her skin.

  Sliding into the chair across from her, Sergio nursed his own soda.

  Their grandmother finished warming up all the food and began to carry it to the table.

  “Okay, now you eat and feel better.”

  A huge plate filled with food was set down before Amaliya. The smell was amazing, but she didn't feel hunger. She wasn't even sure if she could eat it. She picked up a fork and poked gingerly at the steaming pile of ranchero beans. Across from her, Sergio ate with relish.

  Carefully sitting down, favoring her arthritic hip, her grandmother gave her a thoughtful look.

  “Eat.”

  Amaliya hesitated and raised the fork, one bean stuck firmly to the tines.

  “Grandmama, this is good,” Sergio said, scooping up a bunch of rice and beans and part of a piece of chicken with a bit of tortilla. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth with relish.

  Her grandmother's eyes were quite intent as they gazed at her granddaughter. “Amaliya, eat. You look pale and your skin feels cold.

  You need nourishment.”

  Hesitantly, Amaliya pushed the fork into her mouth, and the bean settled onto her tongue. Very slowly, she shifted it between her teeth and chewed.

  Her grandmother smiled with satisfaction. “You need to eat.”

  Amaliya nodded and swallowed. At least she tried to. The bean refused to go down. The more she tried to swallow, the more she gagged. Finally, she gulped as hard as she could and immediately began to cough. The chewed bean hurtled out of her throat and hit the wall.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Her grandmother looked at the spot of bean slowly sliding down her clean wall and looked back at Amaliya sadly.

  “So you are dead,” she said with strange satisfaction.

  “Grandmama,” Sergio said in surprise. “I told you not to watch the news.”

  “Oh, like that is going to stop me,” Grandmama responded.

  Amaliya was so shocked she couldn't move. She pressed her hand against her throat as she stared aghast at her grandmother.

  “On TV they said she was dead. Your Uncle Samuel told me the same thing last night. And
now she sits here, pale as a ghost, not able to eat, and as cold as the grave.”

  “If she's dead, you are taking this really well,” Sergio joked, and shoved half a tortilla in his mouth.

  “Unfinished business,” his grandmother assured him. “I watch TV.

  Touched by an Angel, Medium and the Ghost Whisperer. She has unfinished business.”

  Slowly, Amaliya put down her fork. Her mind overwhelmed by her grandmother's words, she didn't know what to say.

  Sergio rolled his eyes. “C'mon, Grandmama. She's sitting right across from us.”

  “Did the bad Satanist kill you?” her grandmother asked in a soft voice.

  “Do you want us to tell the police who they are so you can go into the light.”

  Amaliya opened her mouth to answer, then shut it, still not sure what to say.

  “She's not dead,” Sergio said again.

  “Yes, she is,” his grandmother answered, and looked very sad. “All my girls die young.”

  “Mae is still alive,” Sergio pointed out. “And Kelly Ann.”

  “Mae is too mean to die and Kelly Ann is too stupid,” their grandmother decided, and crossed her arms over her ample chest.

  “You do realize that is your daughter and granddaughter you're talking about,” Sergio said with a smirk.

  “Stop being a smarty,” Grandmama said and smacked his arm.

  Leaning toward the completely stunned Amaliya, she said once more, “Do you want us to tell the police who killed you?”

  “Uh. No.”

  Looking disappointed, her grandmother sat back. “Why not?”

  “Uh.” Amaliya sat with her mouth hanging open, then shut it firmly. “I am not dead.”

  “Exactly. She has a pulse.” Sergio leaned over and gripped Amaliya's wrist firmly. “See, Grandmama, she has a...” He hesitated, then looked at Amaliya with shock. “Where is your pulse?”

  Amaliya stood up sharply and put her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to talk, then closed it again.

  “You need to go to the light,” her grandmother finally said.

  “I can't,” Amaliya answered automatically.

  “You're really dead,” Sergio said softly. “No way. We talked on the phone. I picked you up off the bus.”

  “Maybe she thinks she's alive, so she acts alive,” Grandmama considered.

  “I'm not....dead. Like that kinda dead.”

  “But you're dead?” Sergio finally stopped eating. “No way.”

  “Oh, shit, this wasn't the way I planned this to go down.”

  “Don't swear,” her grandmother said automatically, pointing an accusing finger at her.

  Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, Amaliya ran a hand over her hair. The holy relics were starting to make her want to run away. They weren't right next to her, but she could feel their power pushing on her. “This was supposed to be our tearful and emotional loving farewell.”

  “Well, you still need to go to the light,” her grandmother said firmly.

  “There is no light!”

  Sergio looked terrified. “You mean the Pope was wrong?”

  That got him a firm slap on the cheek. “Don't blaspheme.”

  “I'm not!”

  “Look! There was no light! Professor Sumner killed me and buried me in the forest! I woke up three days later and...and...”

  “Your professor killed you?” Sergio looked ready to fall over. “What do you mean he killed you?”

  “This is the part where she tells us what happened, then disappears,”

  their grandmother said confidently.

  “He killed me! He....” she made slicing motions across her throat. “-

  killed me! And buried me! But I woke up in the grave, crawled out and...and...it all went to hell-sorry, Grandmama-it went to hell from there.”

  Sergio took a long swig from his coke. “I don't believe it.”

  Amaliya hesitated, then darted across the room, and grabbed his coke from his hand before he could set it down. The world had strangely stood still as she had willed herself to move faster than her family could see. By their sudden look of terror, she had moved to fast for them to track. Both Sergio and her grandmother jumped to their feet.

  Setting down the coke, Amaliya tucked her hair back from her face and looked at them sorrowfully.

  They stared at her for a moment, and then they both ran out of the kitchen down the long hall to the living room.

  “Oh, crap.”

  ***

  Amaliya tentatively crept down the hallway to the living room, past photos of her two aunts and her mother as children, of all the grandchildren, and the great-grandchildren. As she stepped into the living room, she found her grandmother and cousin standing in the middle of the room, Sergio clutching an enormous crucifix from off the mantel over the fireplace.

  Wincing, as she felt smacked by invisible white fire, she stepped back into the shadows of the hall. Her voice quivered when she said, “I'm not going to hurt you.”

  “Well, you kinda scared us shitless,” Sergio answered, and that was followed by the sound of their grandmother smacking him.

  “I was just trying to show you that I'm not what I was,” Amaliya snapped. “You think I'm dead. Well, I am. I'm not a ghost. I'm something else and it’s not any fun! I hate it!” She burst into tears and her sobs filled the narrow hallway. The pictures of her family, the living and the dead, bore her no comfort. “I hate it! Okay! I hate it!

  And I...I...”

  “Put the cross away,” her grandmother's voice said softly. “She's family.”

  “What if...we can't trust her,” Sergio said in a stricken voice from the living room.

  “Just put it away,” Grandmama repeated. “If she wanted to hurt us, she would have killed you when she had you alone and already offed me when she got here.”

  Sliding down the wall, Amaliya covered her face with her hands and felt her body quivering. Her heart was sluggish and she would have to leave soon. The great need would come and she would have to feed.

  “I don't want to kill anyone! All I wanted to do was say goodbye,” she wailed softly. “To say I'm sorry for not being a better granddaughter.”

  Tender, gnarled hands patted her hair gently. “You've been a good girl, Amal. You have. I'm so sorry you are...what you are.”

  “What is she?” Sergio whispered, and got smacked again.

  Amaliya slowly raised her head to look up at them. Her pale face was streaked with blood tears. “I think I'm a vampire.”

  Sergio and Grandmama both took a step back, gripping each others hands. The fear in their eyes made Amaliya miserable and she sighed.

  “I won't hurt you. I promise. I was a little fucked up, sorry, Grandmama, the last two nights, but tonight I'm much better,” she said, trying to calm them.

  Sergio raised one finger. “Define a little fucked up.” He oofed as he got nailed in the stomach with an elbow.

  “Remember Pete?”

  “Yeah? What about hi-Oh,” Sergio said, his eyes widening. He thought this over, then said slowly, “Well, at least you didn't kill him.”

  Amaliya stood up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I just wanted to come and tell you that I love you and I don't understand what is going on.”

  “Professor Sumner made you?” Her grandmother was clutching what looked like a rosary tight to her chest. It made Amaliya's head hurt.

  “Yeah. He did. And then he just left. Told me to figure it out. So, I plan to go to Austin and try to find someone like me. And if that doesn't work, New Orleans, and maybe New York. I have to find out how to deal with this. I'm not even sure of what all I can or can't do.”

  “How are you going to get there?” Sergio asked.

  “I guess the bus,” Amaliya said, and looked down at her hands stained red from her tears. “I better go. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here.”

  “No, no! You should come here!” Her grandmother grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her into
the kitchen. “We are your family and we love you even if you are-is Dracula real?”

  Amaliya laughed, then shook her head. “I don't know. I don't know anything!” She flung up her hands, then collapsed onto a kitchen chair. “That is the problem! I don't know anything! It's all been by instinct.”

  “So, maybe you can get fixed!” Her grandmother rushed over to the kitchen counter and began to fuss with the flour jar. “You can go talk to another vampiro and ask them how to get back to normal.”

  “Grandmama, I don't think it's that easy. He killed her! And all those people in the frat house.”

  Amaliya looked at her nails and tried not to look guilty.

  “Look at her! He did this to her. Killed her and left her for dead. She just happened to come back as a...hey, can I see your teeth?”

  “No,” Amaliya said firmly, and shook her head. Sighing, she covered her face with one hand. This was not going the way she expected, but when did thing's ever go the way she planned? Her luck was notoriously bad. The last few days had proved that over and over again.

  Sergio looked a little hurt by her refusal, but, by the way his body was tensed to flee, it was obvious his fear was the overriding emotion.

  “Here, take this.” Grandmama thrust a wad of cash into her hands.

  “It will help you. Buy food--um...what you need. And take this.” She grabbed up a cellphone from the counter and unplugged the charger as well. “You buy minutes to put on it with a card and I don't think the policia can track it.”

  Amaliya took the cash and the phone with a stricken look on her face.

  “Grandmama, I can't.”

  “Hey, I gave you that phone,” Sergio protested.

  “I never use it,” Grandmama said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “Take it, Amal, and call me when you find out something.”

  “Here, keep the money,” Amaliya said. She tried to hand it back to her grandmother, but was quickly rebuffed.

  “Look, nieta, I know that something bad happened to you. I am sad that you aren't a ghost, because I think we could have fixed this a lot easier. But you are right. You need to go find answers and get this curse taken off of you so you can be at peace.”