The Vampire Eirik

by Alex Stargazer

  ***

  The storm raged.

  It seemed to go on forever. My leg muscles stung from all the effort, but I had no idea how far we’d come; there were no landmarks to indicate our progress. Fortunately, there was a moment—just brief, but enough—when the snow cleared. It allowed us to see, and the news wasn’t good.

  There was no longer any path in front of us. The mountains were unfamiliar, and there were no fjords in sight. It seemed like we had been travelling for hours, but not in the direction we were supposed to.

  Of course me and Eirik had checked to see if we were going south. But then, we had to wipe the compass for several moments before we could read it clearly. By then, we’d be walking some more. The odd branch might snare us, the odd tree block us.

  Multiply that over time and distance, however, and you had a considerable alteration in direction. A well known problem to hikers.

  ‘We’re not where we are supposed to be, are we?’ I asked.

  ‘No. It seems we have gone in a different direction. I think it’s about time you phone the authorities and ask for help. Even if… I am not in as much danger as you, this is not something we can play around with.’

  I immediately followed his suggestion. I took out my phone—almost brand new, running the latest Android—only to be stumped by the grey signal bars.

  ‘Crap.’

  ‘Let me guess: no signal?’

  ‘You guessed right. We’re stranded.’

  His face crumpled.

  ‘Damn this weather, it’s so fucking unpredictable.’

  ‘Hell of an understatement.’

  Even I, being used to England, with its on and off days of sun and rain, appreciated this. At least with England, there was a theme: rain, rain and more rain. It hardly ever snowed.

  But not here.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I asked, feeling hopeless.

  ‘Build a shelter and start a fire.’

  ‘Protection, shelter, water and food.’

  ‘Been reading up on your Bear Grylls?’

  I smiled, pleased with the comment despite the circumstances. Maybe my obsession with Discovery would prove useful.

  ***

  I relaxed. I was inside a shelter; a fire was burning. Its hungry flames greedily consumed the wood underneath, giving me much-needed warmth.

  We had some good knowledge of how to survive in the wild. First, we found a good sized gap between two trees. Then, we found some larger branches that had fallen off and used those to construct the frame. Finally, we topped it all off with leaves and twigs, creating a roof.

  Eirik was sitting next to me. Outside, darkness had fallen, and shadows fell on his face. It made him seem eerie, almost inhuman, though we were having a perfectly normal conversation.

  ‘And then our teacher kept trying to explain to him why the concrete had to support its own weight as well as that of the rest of the building!’

  I chuckled. Eirik was doing Mechanical Engineering; that’s why we often shared classes. I remembered the guy in question—Karlsson.

  ‘How did that idiot ever get past all the differential equations we had in class?’

  ‘That’s the thing. He seems to be damn good at maths, but he doesn’t have any common sense.’

  ‘Why didn’t he just do a maths degree?’

  ‘Job opportunities I guess.’

  I laughed again. Everyone knew that the job opportunities for engineers nowadays were paltry compared to that of some other professions, like medicine. Unless you were doing petroleum. Everyone wanted in on the oil.

  ‘So anyway, tell me about your family,’ I asked, hoping to glean more details from my mysterious friend.

  ‘Ah, that.’

  ‘Don’t like to talk about it?’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m not used to doing so.

  ‘But anyway, you already know I have parents: Aleksandr and Emma Keller.’

  Keller was one of the old vampire lineages. Apparently, the name meant ‘demon’ in some cultures. It seemed a bit unfair to me.

  ‘So…’ I prodded him.

  ‘Dad is ninety. Mother is eighty five.’

  I whistled. I had known vampires were supposed to live a long time, but Eirik described them as being middle-aged at best. Emma even appeared young, and pretty attractive.

  ‘They work as part of the Vampiric Council of Norway.’

  ‘Is that like some sort of secret political party?’

  ‘Not entirely. Vampires live by the laws set out in their home country, and vote in that country’s respective parties. The Council is more like a meeting. They decide how to keep their secret, including how to deal with new technologies. They also use their affluence and power as a weapon, to tame misbehaving vampires… or get them out of prison.’

  ‘Hang on a sec. You mentioned technology and prisons. What’s the relation?’

  ‘Quite an important one. First of all, vampires are genetically different to humans: careful examination by a forensic scientist would quickly reveal this. So of course, if a vampire commits a crime, they have to have people on the inside to hide the incriminating evidence—you can’t bribe officials here, so it needs to be done quietly.

  ‘Prisons, of course, don’t serve blood to their prisoners. If a vampire does get in prison, for whatever reason, the Council has to get them out.’

  I whistled. It amazed me that a completely different race of people existed, much less that they could have such a significant impact on our society.

  ‘What happens if there is an abuse of power?’ I asked.

  ‘Now that’s an interesting question. Our Council is highly democratic, comprising of several members. The high ranking vampires can’t make decisions without majority approval, although they can veto certain things.

  ‘If, however, an abuse of power were to occur, then Councils can be judged through a meeting of several other country councils.’

  ‘Do all countries have councils?’

  ‘No. The Nordic countries, Canada, America, numerous European countries and Japan have councils. The rest do not, since there aren’t enough vampires in those other countries.’

  ‘Must be kinda scary living on your own then?’

  ‘Yes. But since many of these countries are quite powerful, the Councils are not completely helpless.’

  I thought about that. It was genuinely frightening that somebody could practically rule the world through a handful of well-placed individuals.

  I shivered. The fire was on its last legs, and it was cold outside. Very cold. I think it was easily twenty degrees below zero.

  I opened my rucksack. Naturally, I hadn’t packed any sleeping bags. Damn.

  ‘Eirik…’

  ‘I can see what the problem is. I’m a vampire, and I’m strong enough to survive the cold; but you will freeze.’

  ‘Are you saying we should share?’

  ‘You can either avoid embarrassment or stay alive, but you can’t have both.’

  I sighed. This was just getting better and better.

  ‘You English are so squeamish about everything.’

  ‘It’s a great British tradition!’ He laughed at that.

  I awkwardly lied down next to him; he wrapped his arms around me, without any of my awkwardness. I struggled with an incredible array of contradicting emotions. It felt strange, uncomfortable, but at the same time, it felt really good. Eirik was bigger than me, and heavily muscled; it was like being on a very warm, very masculine pillow.

  Eirik had told me that vampires were alive—that they operated at a greater metabolic rate. But being so close next to him, I realised what that really meant. He was warm, like a fireplace.

  ‘Hey, you’re not secretly gay, are you?’

  He lifted himself and looked me in the eye.

  ‘Right, so you’re in the middle of nowhere, stranded. You’ve got no food, hardly any water, and it’s freezing. To top it all off, you’re next to a vampire. And you’re biggest
concern is my sexuality?’

  ‘You never told me,’ I pointed out innocently. ‘But if you are—’

  ‘I’m bisexual. And no, I’m not going to molest you.’

  ‘Good. Because you’re kind of hot,’ I admited sheepishly.

  Despite the circumstances, he smiled.

  Chapter Three: Jakten

  The next morning was… slightly awkward, but in a good way. Eirik had woken up before me, and had started a fire. I realised that if Eirik had at any time left me, and without a fire, I could have frozen to death in my sleep. I was touched by his altruism.

  But there was more to it than that, I knew. Eirik knew—as did I—that we needed food. He would eventually need human blood, but I was hoping it wouldn’t get to that.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure,’ I replied.

  ‘Why are the English so squeamish, anyway?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. It’s like we have a culture where doing anything remotely intimate is seen as taboo—but not doing anything intimate is seen as strange.’

  ‘Hypocrisy at its finest.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  We didn’t have time for more conversation, because we needed to get out of here. Besides, there were supposed to be all sorts of dangerous wild animals roaming the forest. The last thing I wanted to do was share my food with a bear. Not that I had any food left—I ate the last of the it yesterday.

  At least the weather had improved. Though the ominous rumblings of thunder could be heard in the distance, there were no snow flakes falling from the sky. Even the wind had momentarily gone quiet, as if waiting for us, ready to spring when the time was worst.

  ‘Do you know how we’re going to get back?’ Eirik asked me.

  ‘Yeah… we have to find Monter Vassfjellet.’

  I surveyed the landscape. There were several mountains dotting the the horizon, but I couldn’t recognise any of them.

  ‘Well, at least we now where south is,’ Eirik commented.

  ‘We still have the compass,’ I agreed.

  ***

  Snow had a timeless beauty to it: it was the stuff of children’s stories, of pleasant days spent by the fireplace. In Icelandic, they have a word that perfectly encapsulates snow—Gluggaveður, or window weather.

  After a while, I really began to hate the stuff: it was cold, always melting, soft and squishy, and impossible to walk through properly. Although my lungs were burning with effort, we could still see where we had started in the distance.

  There was one good thing about it, I admitted to myself—water. Dehydration was just as bad a threat as starvation, deadlier even. But snow could be conveniently melted with a fire, and the water it produced was rainwater. Clean, and drinkable.

  I offered some to Eirik as well, but he hadn’t drank much. Although vampires were supposed to need water—like any living being, really—they seemed to be better at conserving it than we were.

  I’m not a biologist, so the exact details escaped me. All I could tell you is that vampires have some sort of genetic adaptation that allows their enzymes to work at high temperatures, and can control their homeostasis. This meant they didn’t have to sweat.

  Additionally, their bodies assimilated blood, thus requiring less of their own—a convenient ability, since blood was mainly water anyway.

  Speaking of which, vampire blood has some interesting properties. It was actually possible, Eirik told me, to turn someone into a vampire—if you can get enough vampire blood in their system, the transformation will begin. But people usually didn’t survive the process, and new vampires had not been created in a long, long time.

  Then Eirik’s explanation turned more technical. Apparently, vampire blood can make humans stronger; it changes the structure of human muscles on a mollecular level, mediates our immune system, and drastically reduces cell senescence.

  My stomach rumbled, interrupting my thoughts.

  Eirik gave me a meaningful look.

  ‘You’ll have to eat soon, you know.’

  ‘Do you see any food?’

  ‘I’ll hunt you something.’

  ***

  I stood, watching.

  I don’t know what made me agree to do this. I found blood and killing repulsive, and predators deeply unsettling. Maybe it was curiosity, or fear—or both.

  But now I was hiding behind a tree, away from Eirik and his quarry.

  He was hunting what he called a muskox. It wasn’t technically an ox—rather, it was more closely related to the goat, but that was its name. Then again, why should I care how it’s called? I was going to eat it anyway.

  It was some distance away. It was big, as big as a Buffalo. It had horns, which looked dangerous, though Eirik didn’t seem concerned. Its eyes were large, brown and very nervous. It was carefully digging up the snow, looking for food, though it remained alert at all times.

  It almost seemed to sense danger was near. My heart went out to it despite my best efforts.

  Eirik himself was curled behind a bush. He stood perfectly still, like a marble statue, and was completely silent. His eyes didn’t glow or turn red, like in the movies. The signs were more subtle than that: their colour seemed to lighten slightly, turning into a shade that was not quite human. His expression was one of intense focus… and hunger. That was the worst part. There is nothing on Earth that can compare to a vampire’s hunger. The ox-animal chewed on some grass, then began to walk away.

  Eirik sprung.

  He exploded out of the snow like a cannon ball, his muscles more powerful than any gunpowder. There was no explosion; not even a whoosh of air. He was high in the sky, and then, he was coming down.

  The ox never knew what hit it. His hands found its neck, and with a distinct CRACK! its neck was broken. Eirik lifted his head above the dead ox.

  I wanted to look away, but I was mesmerised by the sight of it all: Eirik’s small, gleaming white fangs, which looked sharp enough to puncture steel; the sudden blur of motion—almost too fast for the eye to see—and the explosion of red that followed it.

  For a moment, I didn’t recognise my friend. In its place, there lay a monster; a monster of ancient terror and death, a fiend from humanity’s darkest memories.

  Then, he became Eirik again. His face—which had worn an expression of gluttonous joy—was now filled with that cool veneer of civilisation I thought I knew.

  ‘Are you hungry now?’

  I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  ‘I guessed not.’

  ***

  Later, when the sun was setting, my hunger became too great. So Eirik skinned and cooked the Ox, and I ate the meat. It tasted bloody delicious. Even as my mind scrambled against it, my body craved more. Ah, Eirik, why do you torture me so?

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asked me. There was concern on his face now, along with empathy. It helped me relax, confident that the Eirik I knew was not a lie. Just more complex than I imagined.

  ‘I’m better. It helps not thinking about it.’

  ‘I’m sorry I showed you that. With you being so sensitive I… didn’t realise what effect it would have. You shouldn’t have had to see that.’

  ‘No, Eirik. The predator is as much a part of you as your name, your family, or your dreams. If you can’t accept a person for who they are, then you’re not really their friend.’

  Eirik sighed.

  ‘I didn’t know you were such a philosopher, Peter. Are you sure you should have studied electrical engineering?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure. At least electricity, strange as it is, behaves in nice, absolute ways. Resistance will always be voltage over current.

  ‘But philosophy? I’d go mad!’

  Eirik and I both laughed, the first touch of humour in a bad day.

  When the night came again, I wasn’t afraid to sleep with Eirik. The experience was still too homoerotic for my comfort, sure, but I knew Eirik was doing everything he could to protect me. The difference between a predator and a monster was
that a predator understood the first law of the hunt: not all animals are prey. Sometimes, the lion can love the lamb.

  Chapter Four: Skitrekket

  I knew we were moving in the right direction when we approached the ski lift.

  Unfortunately, it was an abandoned ski lift. No such luck as to be a functioning one.

  It had once been impressive: the sky lift went to the peak of a mountain, and the lower area was covered by the remnants of what had once been hotels and resorts. But now, the wires lay broken, in twisted angles. Many of the posts had fallen down, sad obelisks of what was most likely an avalanche.

  That said, this would be a goldmine for us. Human constructions were a useful part of the survivor’s arsenal; they contained materials that few things in the wild could match. For example: you could find synthetic materials that could be used to make snowboots.

  Snowboots, at their most rudimentary level, were crude pieces of wood or plastic with some sort of string to tie your boots around. The basic principle was that the greater the surface area, the less snow your footsteps would displace. Since my feet fell heavily into the soft snow—Eirik’s even more, though he was still ahead of me—this would give us a huge advantage. Maybe even a lifesaving one.

  ‘Eirik, look around this place. See if you can find me some sort of plastic or wood—we can make snowboots.’

  The sky darkened, and his next words were ominous.

  ‘I will. But be careful, Peter: this ski lift may have been abandoned like this for a reason. The ground might be unstable, there could be avalanches…’

  ‘I know, believe me. But if we could do it, we might be able to get out of here!’

  Then a low rumble could be heard; I looked towards it. There was a cloud of white snow high above the mountain.

  Then, the rumbling stopped. Now I could see the distinct signs of avalanches everywhere: the small fissures in the snow that showed potential underground holes; the destroyed machinery; the strange shapes that lay imprinted on the ground. This place was a deathtrap.

  Eirik gave me a knowing look, but he followed my suggestion. It did not take him long to find something.

  ‘Look at this, Peter.’