Feed

by Jerry McKinney

the floor of the pipe to darken my face. The stench was ungodly. An officer actually shined a light in my sanctuary and didn’t see me. My senses seemed to be magnified. The light from the end of the pipe was blinding until dusk. I slid out unnoticed in the murkiness of the evening and found my way to my apartment to clean up. Damn, I was hungry.

  Bent over, watching dirt swirling down the drain. The shower water cascading across my back, washing away the traces of that culvert. My mind on my need — the hunger had to be quenched. Dressing quickly, I loaded a backpack with necessities and left. I could never return to my apartment. Too many people had seen me with Penny. They would be looking for me. I had to disappear. The city seemed like the perfect place, already a haven of anonymity for many. Night embraced me.

  The pains were coming more severe as I walked to the streets. Bars in full swing, rock music blaring out, and patrons pushing their way through the doors into the city. I had never realized how loud it was or how much it reeked. Alleyways were a plethora of trash and piss odors that didn’t help the fact my stomach was in full revolt. A middle-aged woman with tight shorts and a halter top leaned against the building as I approached. I didn’t speak a word passing her, just maintained eye contact. She smelled like hell but I was in agony. I stopped at the corner of a building; she stroked my chest with her hand, walking by me. I fell in behind her entering the darkness of the alley. We were not alone. Someone had slipped behind me. I could feel the tip of a gun pressed into my back.

 

  “Don’t move,” a whiskey-laden breath ordered. Then he fired. It burned with the ferocity of an iron poker. Damn, it hurt like hell. I fell on a grease puddle that had leaked from the corner of a dumpster.

  “Oops,” the man laughed, and then spat down on me. “Get his shit and let’s get out of here.”

  She knelt and pulled my wallet from my pocket. I looked at her ankle inches from my face as she flipped through my billfold.

  “Twenty-three dollars and a library card! This loser wasn’t worth the bull…”

  And I bit.

  Underneath the taste of sweat and dirt, the warm flow of blood filled my mouth. I sucked in deeply. She was screaming as I watched him raise his foot. Uncontrollably, my eyes rolled back while the sweet fluid warmed me to the core. I was smiling when he kicked me unconscious. Then she buried a knife deep into my chest.

  The pair threw me behind the dumpster and covered me with trash. I believe they were trying to hide my body; in their own way, they saved me. I watched from under that rubbish as the sun grew long shadows on the wall. Feeding upon rats that came to eat and burrow through the garbage, I began to chuckle to myself. I bet that whore was feeling the pain now, feeling the hunger. As evening descended, I pulled myself out of that alley. Bastards had even stolen my shoes.

 

  I wandered the street that night barefoot and filthy. I never realized how much the city stank. Following a cat into an alley, my stomach was beginning to revolt. A man sat on a milk crate, his eyes watching me as he lifted a bagged bottle to drink. The cat rubbed and twisted through his legs.

  “Hey buddy, you look like you’ve had a tough night.” He reached down and lifted the cat to his lap. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  I stumbled to the wall as my gut doubled up in torment. With my shoulder sliding on the brickwork, I dropped to my knees. He let the cat go, stood up and walked to my side. With all the force I could muster, I grabbed his legs and pulled him to the ground. He hit hard and as I climbed on top, his fist connected with the side of my head. I rolled into the rubble of a broken wall.

  “What the heck’s your problem, bud?” His eyes glazed as the brick bounced off his skull. I dragged myself over him and ripped out his throat with my teeth. The hot blood gushed into my mouth. It was heaven. As I wiped my lips and chin on my shirt, I looked at the life I had just ended ... somebody’s son, brother, and maybe even father. I had taken that away, forever. My throat ached as my eyes filled with tears. I had to grow more callous. If my first kill was so tough, I wouldn’t last long. Luckily, his shoes fit me.

  Vampire? Hmm, I don’t know. Where are all the cool powers? The shape-shifting and the super-strength of the movie monsters; was it all bullshit? Oh, but that sun thing was correct. I saw that and felt it. Burns like Hell. I knew I had to find someplace to hide from the daylight. Today I would stay in the city, but I really needed to get to the suburbs, away from the sound and the stink. I broke into a building’s basement window.

  The room was a myriad of dusty tables and chairs. They were stacked tightly, with the legs stretching out in the dark. An odor of old wood and urine attacked my senses. My eyes had become quite adjusted to the gloom of night; I actually preferred it. The basement was storage for an Italian restaurant whose owner still found value in the age-worn furniture. But the vermin had also staked their claim and scattered as I walked between their homes of forgotten oak and fabric. I made my way to a set of grease-laden stairs and looked up at the doorway. The rats had settled and only darted across the floor but kept their distance. The underside of the steps was a small space, which after evacuating stacks of yellowed menus, would do nicely as a resting place for now. Daylight crept into the window I had entered, but couldn’t do anything more than cause a glow in the general vicinity. As I slept, a curious rodent came too close and became a delicious snack. This remained my home for three weeks.

  I ventured out a couple times a week and fed upon the homeless. The hunger didn’t come every night. Learning from my first exploit, I would smash their heads before feeding; didn’t want to play with my food. The concept was almost amusing if not so horrifying. They were like cattle to me. It was simpler to think of them that way. Tried not to look into their eyes; just cattle … just cattle. By the third week, the streets seemed a little less populated. There were more police patrols. Even in the city it wasn’t too smart leaving bodies near where you sleep. I had to get away. The outskirts, the suburbs should do nicely. I could still steal away into the metropolis for my food and go back safely to the ignorance of the outskirts. Finding an abandoned grocery store in a strip-mall was a stroke of luck. The meat department had a walk-in refrigerator that was perfect. I put a mattress in the cool, dark compartment. It was home.

  Finding clothes from Goodwill boxes left unattended was a gamble. I had been lucky at times and found things that fit perfectly. I tried to save those pieces for when I went out in search of entertainment; on the nights the hunger did not dictate my actions. I am still only a man.

  Her bright red hair fell across perfectly white shoulders, accented with a smattering of freckles. The smile and green eyes she used upon the barroom caught every stare, including mine. With beer in hand, I was perched on the barstool. Not drinking — the alcohol made me retch — I surveyed the room. I had spotted her before leaving different clubs, but this had been the first time I’d ever seen her inside. I left my beer untouched and went into the parking lot and waited. Several times I looked up as the music bounded out the door when someone departed. Leaning on a tree in the shadows, watching the people as they left, I waited. At closing time, she stepped out. I swear she looked right at me in the gloom. Falling back farther into the darkness, keeping my distance, I walked behind her. There was something about this woman; I yearned for her.

  She strolled into a canopied cul-de-sac and entered a two-story Victorian home. The branches from the oaks that lined the circle reached out and meshed together into an unyielding barricade against the moonlight. The facade of the house was covered in shadow. A single window broke the dimness as she entered the second-floor room. I scaled the tree in her front yard and sat on the limb closest to her bedroom. A light jazz played, muted slightly by the glass. In my mind she danced, hips swaying to the music as her hands flowed gracefully; but in actuality, she sat brushing her long, beautiful red hair. After the lights went out, I made it back to my sanctuary before daybreak … and dreamed.

  I stalked a young man once. The hunger ha
dn’t been a factor. He was just wearing a long black coat that appealed to me. The evening hours found the library vacant, save for two ladies with the mindset of returning books to their proper places on the shelves. He was intensely studying a passage in the center of a book and scribbling notes. I walked behind him and looked over his shoulder. Several books lay strewn about the table. He had removed his coat and now it was draped over the chair beside him. The notes held multiple lines of scribbles, with "Modern Mythology" in large block letters and underlined twice. I passed by and sat, pretending to read a book, near the restrooms. After almost an hour, he walked into the facilities. I didn’t wait, but went to his table and grabbed his coat. A book titled Vampirism Folklore was on top of a small stack. I wrapped it into the coat and walked out.

  Excerpt from Vampirism Folklore by Jason Asters, Goldberg Press, © 1989.

  In the late 19th Century, the superstition of vampirism had reached an apex. The European countries that had been so gripped by the fear were cast back into the Dark Ages with a new round of “witch