by Megan Duncan
Massive maple trees lined the entry into the cemetery. Their skeletal branches reached for the heavens as their shadows spider-webbed across the landscape. I took a deep breath, turning through the iron gate. The metal had been molded into a simple design of curls and spirals, twirling upward into a cross. The quality was impressive, and I was surprised to see that, for such a small town, Denton could afford such an obviously expensive piece of metallurgy. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised though; this town had a lot of old money and one thing I’ve learned about death is that those who have money in life want to make sure people know it even after their gone.
Stone pylons held the gate open as I passed between, careful not to hit my side view mirrors in the narrow opening. My tires crunched against snow and gravel as my SUV moved at a snail’s pace. I didn’t even have my foot on the gas, I was just letting it coast, slowly rolling deeper into the cemetery. I scanned the scenery, trying to pinpoint the location of Hazel’s final resting place while also trying not to look at anything at the same time. It wasn’t working too well. How ironic was it that someone like me felt uneasy in such a place? That the mere sight of tombstones made me feel queasy. I guess maybe I’d grown soft over the years.
And there it was; a stark white canopy in the distance sheltering a group of mourners from the impending snowfall. I immediately pulled over, feeling the need for air. My SUV was suffocating me, growing more and more like my very own coffin. I enjoyed the bite of the freezing afternoon weather as I stepped out. It made me feel alive.
You aren’t dead, you idiot! I scolded myself.
Contrary to popular belief you didn’t need to die to become like me. Although, I would admit that you do come damn close. There was no grotesque metamorphosis, no burial in the ground to then rise like some living dead, and no coffins! They weren’t comfortable at all, in fact, they were suffocating and impossible to own this day and age. What would people think if every time I moved they saw me loading a coffin into my U-Haul? Simply absurd!
I pushed the how’s and why’s aside; they weren’t important right now. I avoided walking through the cemetery, uncertain of where my feet were falling. There were dozens of tombstones, but I knew that wasn’t the only type of marker, so I stayed to the graveled path until the canopy was right in front of me. Then I had to truly cross the threshold of the cemetery. Into the land of the dead. Of the forgotten.
To my surprise there were a handful of people already there. I guess the obituary I asked to be placed in the local paper was a good idea. Hazel had always told me she didn’t have any family, but…well, if that were true then no one would have been here. Family or not, they cared enough to show up and that was all that mattered. I was glad I wasn’t the only one. Despite our friendship, it didn’t seem right that I be the one to send her to her final resting place.
I took a seat not too close to the other mourners, but not so far away as to draw attention. The minister stood idly beside a stand of flowers holding a bible against his chest. He was dressed in a black suit and red tie, with a long thick jacket and a wooly scarf. It was a cold day, and I could see his breath cloud into the air as he exhaled. I pulled my gaze away from everyone; away from the misty eyes and gloomy faces, and cast them toward my dear friend. Her casket was white; pure and peaceful just like she was. Roses and orchids sat atop it like a flowery pillow, their fragrant aroma filling my senses. It was almost beautiful in a sad, heartbreaking sort of way. I had to remind myself that she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in that ivory box; and not in the rotting body inside it, either. I had to believe she was someplace else; to believe what she believed, that there was more to life than just living on this earth. It was just a stepping stone to something greater.
The service began with a prayer, something about a shepherd and green pastures; I wasn’t listening. I was too busy staring at her casket, allowing my mind to betray me.
What if she was wrong? What if once you die that’s it, you disappear into oblivion?
I grimaced at my own doubtful thoughts, as I bit my lip and painfully reminded myself that my fangs hadn’t fully retracted. Maybe I was being foolish. Was this whole journey of mine pointless? Why was I searching for proof of an afterlife when I could live forever? No, I knew why, because living forever no longer held any appeal for me. What was the point? The only people who would ever truly know me were the ones that were like me, and I didn’t like them very much.
I wrung my hands together as the mourners took their turns to share a story about Hazel. I learned that two of the older women used to play Bridge with her every Sunday, before she got ill. The third person, a robust man with a receding hairline, was apparently a distant cousin who admitted having not seen her since he was a child. He looked to be well into his thirties. He shared how she had tried to teach him to play the piano, but his fingers were so short and stubby that he was never very good. The admission brought a sad smile to his face.
No one else stood up then to share their eulogy, but still the minister scanned the small gathering. His eyes surveyed me briefly, but my body wouldn’t move. I had wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t force myself to stand up. I just sat there like a frozen log. Others shifted nervously under the minister’s gaze. There were at least seven others who didn’t speak. Maybe it was too hard for them too, or maybe they just didn’t know what to say. I suppose it didn’t matter either way. If what Hazel believed was true, then she wasn’t here to hear any of it anyway.
“Let us join in prayer,” the minister said after clearing his throat.
Everyone bowed their heads, and I did the same but kept my eyes open. I couldn’t take them off the coffin. I kept focusing on it as if Hazel would scream out from inside to be saved. As if I would hear her breathing even one tiny breath and I would know that she was still alive. It was foolish, and I knew those things could not happen, but here I was, waiting for it.
“God, our Father, Your power brings us to birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by Your command we return to dust,” the minister prayed aloud solemnly, as everyone joined in his words. Everyone except me. I didn’t like how this prayer was going. I didn’t like the idea of turning into dust. Not, Hazel. No, I wanted to imagine her ascending like an angel into the heavens. An angel of light; and peace, and music.
“Lord, those who die still live in Your presence, their lives change but do not end.” The prayer continued, managing only to make me sadder than I was before. Despite everything I was trying to make myself believe, it really did seem so final. The rest of the prayer faded away as I tried desperately to block it out.
The minister gave a nod, and a man flipped a switch that began lowering the casket into the ground. A faint grinding noise filled the air, making several women wail into their tissues. I wondered what they believed. If only I could read minds, perhaps my search for an answer would be so much easier.
Within a couple of minutes the casket was out of sight, and everyone started rising from their seats. A few stopped beside the grave, dropping flowers into the hole before walking away, grief shadowing their features. Before I knew it I was the last one to remain, aside from one man who was there to fill the grave once everyone was gone. He stood off to the side, doing his best to give me time to grieve. I wondered if having a job like his was difficult. It had to be sad, knowing that you would wake up every day and bury someone. Maybe it was easier when you didn’t know the person. Although I couldn’t imagine something like this ever being easy. But how was my current profession any different? I was caring for these people, knowing full well they’d die someday soon. I was setting myself up for this pain, but maybe I also deserved it? I suddenly felt sorry for all the lives I’d taken in the past. For all the funerals I had caused. I had been a monster. No, I was a monster. No matter how hard I tried to hide it; it was still inside me, skulking in a corner; waiting.
A single tear cast down my cheek and I brushed it away with a gloved finger. My legs finally obeyed me and I rose from my seat
before allowing them to carry me beside the grave.
“I guess this is goodbye,” I whispered quietly, my eyes burning. “Thank you for everything you taught me. I hope that it’s everything you thought it would be. I hope that your husband is waiting there for you.” I dug my hands into my pockets not knowing what else to say. I was suddenly happy that I would be leaving Denton soon. I’d grown too connected to this town, to close to the people in it. Losing a friend like Hazel was just another reminder of why I hated my life. I would have to watch everyone I cared about die. They would find peace in heaven, and I would be left behind. Alone.
Snowflakes began to fall as I staggered back to my SUV. The flakes stuck to the nape of my neck, melting on contact with my flesh and dripping down my spine with an icy tingle. I shoved the key into the lock and pulled myself up into the driver’s seat. I was ready to go home, but instead of starting the engine I just sat there. I sat and watched as the grave digger heaved each shovelful of dirt into the ground. I could hear him grunt with effort as he stabbed the shovel into the frozen earth, and then the sound of soil clattering against the casket. Maybe it was time I gave up, and went back to being what I was? I looked around the cemetery at the dead trees, and lonely tombstones; at the long deceased flowers and desolate landscape, and realized that maybe there really wasn’t anything more than this. You live and then you die. My immortality wasn’t some gift to make a difference in the world, or to give me time to find purpose in life, but simply a curse. A curse to wander around in a stagnant void. I could be nothing more than what I was, a creature of nightmare. My existence had no meaning, no point. I lived only to feed, to gorge myself on blood and satisfy my every desire no matter how dark or cruel. That was what I was, and trying to change that was…useless.
I spent the short drive home gripping the steering wheel with as much force as possible, and clenching my jaw tight enough that my fangs were piercing into my bottom lip. I’d finally had all I could take. I was going to leave Denton, and go back to my own kind. I wouldn’t return to Ming, he and I could never be allies again, but I could find a new start somewhere else. I knew I could. I resolved to get my affairs in order, collect my last paycheck and then never look back.
It wasn’t quite evening yet, but it was already moderately dark so I flashed up the stairs to my apartment not caring if anyone saw me. I didn’t care about anything anymore; I just wanted to get away.
A paper bag sat at my doorstep, crinkling as Tom sniffed at it hungrily. Marie had brought me up some food. It was kind of her, though I wouldn’t be eating it. I picked up the bag and unlocked the front door letting Tom scuttle inside. The bag clanked on the counter loudly, and I opened it up to find a bottle of red wine. Now that I would enjoy. I kicked the front door closed with my foot before walking into the kitchen and opening the cupboard. I grabbed the stem of one of my two wine glasses and went to the fridge. The box I’d gotten from Ming sat inside on the middle shelf. I dug my hand in and yanked out one of the bags. I poured the glass half full then topped it off with wine before putting it in the microwave. I repeated this process until the bottle was empty and my mind was swimming.
~
4
Happy New Year
At some point during my sloshed pity fest I had decided to chuck some of my favorite novels into the fireplace and use them as kindling. Needless to say, if I could kick my own ass I would have.
I’d let my emotions take control of me, and mixing alcohol with blood didn’t help at all. I could very well have gone outside and revealed myself or even worse, snacked on a local! I shouldn’t have let myself lose restraint like that. That’s how bad things happened.
I dropped to my knees in front of the fireplace, and began sweeping out the remains of my most prized possessions with a small hand broom while cursing myself under my breath. The funeral had affected me more than I had thought it would. And now my fireplace was a graveyard for literature. There was nothing left, but tiny remnants of the antique, hardback covers. At one time the scent of parchment filled my apartment with a wonderful aroma, but now all I could smell was the stench of burning glue and ink.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” I asked Tom, who found my sweeping incredibly interesting. He looked at me, tilting his head to the side before meowing angrily and trotting over to his empty food dish. “Oh, all right, no need to get so bossy!” I emptied my sweeping tray into the kitchen trash, before pulling out a can of cat food. I didn’t usually feed him wet food, but I had no doubts that I wasn’t particularly friendly last night so I figured I owed him. And by the way he was prancing around his dish, he knew it too.
I pried open the lid and spied the clock on the microwave. I’d slept a lot longer than I realized and would need to head into work soon. At least I had the night shift this time, and it was a holiday so that meant overtime. With a move in my immediate future I could definitely use the money, not to mention my trip to Ming had been costly. Another reason to sever ties with him, I just couldn’t afford it anymore. It’s funny how every modern vampire story has us living in opulence with a fat bank account. It wasn’t like that at all for most of us. Unless, of course, you were Ming, and you owned the top blood supply bank in the northwest.
Tonight was New Year’s eve, and while everyone else was partying, getting drunk and hooking up with people they’ll regret waking up next to, I’ll be at work. I preferred it that way. I’d celebrated many a new year, and after the first fifty or so, it really started to lose its appeal. Besides, there wouldn’t be anything different or special about next year. It would be just a repeat of this one, till it was replaced and forgotten with the next.
I stripped down and stepped into the steaming shower, the pipes screaming with effort as it forced the water out of my expensive shower head. Perhaps my next place should be a little more modern. I pressed my hands against the wall and allowed the scalding water to travel down my back and across my body, relaxing the muscles that ached uncontrollably. I grabbed the soap and lathered myself up, trying not to focus on the fact that I wished I could wash away who I was and be someone else. Something else.
At six o’clock, on the dot, I punched in my time card, and headed for my ward. The halls were like a ghost town, everyone having taken the night off so they could celebrate. The walls were decorated with streamers, banners hung crookedly over doorways shouting Happy New Year in obnoxious colors, and balloons were tied up at random places, which only made me shake my head. I knew the staff thought they were brightening up the place, allowing the residents a chance to celebrate the holiday, but it truly did more harm than good. Still, I couldn’t blame them for at least trying, but the people who came here liked structure and order. They enjoyed the peace and quiet; cheap balloons popping in the night and the distant sound of fireworks was only going to disturb them. I would be in for a long night. Last year, Mr. King ran, or more accurately, hobbled, around the building using his cane like a bayonet. The fireworks had triggered some memory of his WWII days. It took me hours to calm him down, but luckily, he hadn’t hurt anyone.
“Hey, you workin’ tonight?” one of the nurses asked as she turned around a corner pushing a food cart. I had to steal a quick glance at her name badge, because I couldn’t remember it. Lisa. She always worked the night shift and since I rarely did, I hardly ever saw her.
“Yeah, you?” I asked, trying to sound cordial.
“No, I’m about to head out. I just finished dropping dinner off for everyone.” She pulled her cart to a stop and smiled at me. Lisa was a good nurse, and was actually one of the few that I felt genuinely cared about the residents here. People like that were hard to find.
“Alright, I’ll get started on meds then. Is anyone else here?”
“I think Jason is here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he ducks out,” she said with annoyance. Nobody liked Jason, but he was the manager’s nephew, and got away with way too much. “Maryann and Dawn should be here in a couple hours. Looks like it’ll be a skeleton crew to
night.”
“Thanks.” I gave a half smile before marching back down the hallway.
“Hey, Will!” Lisa called out to me after I’d only taken about a dozen steps.
“Yeah?” I stopped and turned around.
“Happy New Year.” She smiled sweetly before turning around and disappearing around another corner.
“You, too,” I whispered, listening to the sound of her sneakers squeaking in the distance against the cheap linoleum floor.
When I reached the pharmacy door I grabbed my keys and fumbled through them till I found the one I needed. I turned them in the sticky lock then let go as I pushed the door open, sending them reeling back to the spring cord on my waist with a loud jingle.
I snatched the red clipboard that hung from a hook on the wall, which was color coded for what medication the residents needed in the evening. It could be very bad if someone gave the resident the wrong pills at the wrong time. Blue was for morning meds, green for the afternoon and red for the evening. I flipped through the pages noting how long a list it was and decided I had better get started. We had over sixty residents and all of them needed night time medications, so I set out all the pill cups first to make the process faster. Knowing that there was no one around to see me, I kicked it up another notch and used my unbelievable speed as I popped open bottles and flicked pills into the cups. They came in an array of colors and sizes; from purple to green and from small pea sized pills to large horse pills. Some of them even had odd smells to them that weren’t particularly pleasant. By the time I was done I had a rainbowed buffet of pills precisely separated, and labeled for each resident.
I stocked up my cart, doing my best to put everything in order, and stashed a stack of paper cups before filling up a pitcher of water from the sink. Everything looked to be ready so I pushed the cart out the door and headed down the hallway. I passed by the employee break room along the way and could hear the sound of the television blaring through the closed door. Jason was probably in there sleeping on the sofa like he usually did, which meant I’d have to carry all the duties he’d be neglecting tonight. I didn’t mind the extra work, it was the reason why I had to do it that made me angry. For as much as they charged people to be here you’d think they would provide better care. But that would defeat the purpose of why the board of directors kept this place. It was a cash cow, and the only place like it in the entire state. The sick and the dying came here to spend the rest of their days in peace, others to remove the burden from their loved ones, and some because their loved ones couldn’t care for them anymore.