by Lewis Aleman
Most people don’t come up here—most don’t know it exists—and some of the ones that try don’t make it all the way up here on their drunken, creaky stairway climb, crashing to the uneven steps beneath them or onto their annoyed friends who came along on their ill-advised and inebriated expedition.
As crowded as it’s been downstairs, it’s been calm and steady up here all night. Simon found right where to put me. Safest place in the unsafe storm, perched above the raging waters below.
Suddenly Simon’s eyes light up—jolting from complete stillness to furious intensity, shocking me as if a statue has just reached out to grab me.
My eyes follow his stare down to the dance floor—sure enough, it’s Ambrosia, bopping her way up to the bar, smiling and strutting like it’s just another night out—no fear of creatures of the dark on her face, just a mischievous smile welcoming the energy of the night.
Before I can take my eyes off her, Simon’s whispering in my ear.
“Stay here—I’m going to get her.”
“Okay,” I say, filled with fear and relief at the same time.
So close to getting her and us out of here.
So close to being away from the beasts that want to tear us apart.
But so close to being caught.
So far from the exit.
Simon rushes into the crowd to grab the only blue-haired girl in the joint. He stands out like a man among children—a tiger among kittens, and Ambrosia…well, she’s Ambrosia. Can’t be hard to spot—even for the bad guys…if they’re here…
God help him. Crazy dancing people better part a path for him. In the name of love and all that’s good, let us get out of here.
Maybe I should wait at the bottom of the stairs. Makes no sense for him to have to come get me and then go back down the stairs again to the exit. But then I won’t be able to see him. Can see Ambrosia here. Will see him going after her here. Wait till he has her then run to the bottom of the stairs.
He’ll want to kill me for leaving here before he gets back, but I’ve got to help. Only thing I can do.
Always thought Juliet was foolish—immature and infatuated. But now, I feel that wherever Simon is at the end of the night is where I want to be too. I’d rather it be here, but couldn’t live with myself if I knew I let him slip to the next life without fighting alongside him.
Wait. There’s something below. Something awful. Is that…
Body slams off me—crashes into the wall—and starts to slide toward the ground.
Didn’t see him coming round the turn.
Catch him by his arm with one hand and his bebop hat that has fallen off with the other. Steady him quickly on the stairs—toss his hat on his head—give him a nod but not a word and rush down the second part of the stairs that squeak beneath my boots louder than the booming music flooding from the dance floor and into the narrow stairwell.
Rest of the steps are a blur and then gone.
Feel like I’ve hit a staggering herd of cattle as I smack into the mass of bodies that stumble, some of them to the beat of the song and some to the pounding of the arrhythmic alcohol rushing through their brains.
Push with my hands—a sea of human waves—trying to swim through them. Some spill. Some shout. Most just get the hell out of my way.
Two bouncing strands of blue. Her hand grasps a drink from the bartender—takes a sip—looks around. Can almost see the liquid light up her eyes. Heartbeat races through her—two of them.
See something moving near the stage. Emergency door opens wide.
Ambrosia spots me coming toward her. Pulls cup from her lips. Nervous lips.
Roderick steps off the edge of the stage onto the floor. Followed by goons.
She turns away from me toward the dance floor, with the look of a child swimming away from a parent, not ready to get out of the pool.
By the stage, Edgar is the last one through the door, letting it slam closed behind him—the noise covered completely by the music, unheard even to my ears from this far away.
Unknowing that the four of them are ahead of her in the crowd, Ambrosia bops toward the stage, a wave in the sea of bodies, sliding through them effortlessly, while they crash into me angrily like a rock on the California shore.
I shove through the people, struggling to catch her without hurting anyone.
Someone shouts behind me. Hostile voice. Very. Not familiar—not a vamp. No time to look. Must be someone I pushed out of the way.
She slides through the crowd like she’s truly liquid, keeping ahead of me like an object you can’t catch in a dream.
Crash and splash explode against the back of my head. Bits of brown, beer-bottle glass shatter and fall down the front of my shirt and down my back.
Keep walking. Faster.
Roderick looks in my direction. Grinning. Looking ahead of me in the crowd—he discovers her.
Feel blood drip down my neck onto my shirt.
Rush toward blue hair. People jump out of my way—must be the blood.
Roderick steps closer to her.
Facing the left corner of the stage, Ambrosia starts dancing with a guy, her back turned to us. Oblivious. Death a few dance partners away.
Roderick’s closer than I am. Just a few feet to go.
A red-haired girl stands in front of Roderick and starts jamming her finger into his chest. Looks familiar. Girl from the other night—one he called fire crotch—it’s her. Three tattooed guys stand behind her, one of them bald, tall, and meaty. Seen them at the metal bar down the street before—regulars here—bouncers there.
Roderick shoves the angry and red hundred-and-three pounds out of his way. The group of guys attacks Roderick—largest one grabbing his throat.
Roderick smiles—diving his fangs into his lower lip, striking his own blood. Carvelli rushes to help him. Quint’s nowhere to be seen. Lost sight of him. Damn it. Edgar’s gone too. Not good. Not good at all. Better fly out of here.
At least Ruby’s upstairs.
Reach out and grab Ambrosia’s wrist. Duck down low. Turn my back to her and pull her arm until her torso is across my shoulders. Hook my other arm around her knee—stand up with her draped over my shoulders.
Only two of the tattooed protectors still stand—missed one being knocked down. Carvelli has one staggering from punches he’s just landed.
Ambrosia slaps my face to put her down.
In a fast burst just a few feet away, Roderick slams his hands into the sides of the face of the meaty guy who tried to choke him. His fingernails drive deep into the flesh of both cheeks. Agony is the big man’s face as he falls to his knees. Roderick stares at his victim a moment, absorbing his anguish—savoring it, then quickly dives his fangs into his adversary’s forehead.
Ambrosia stops slapping—must’ve finally seen what’s going on.
Exposing himself again. In front of all these people. Roderick wants something in Ambrosia more than his own life. Never been this reckless. Desperate.
People run to the exit. Jamming the doorway. Not gonna be easy.
Would normally wait my turn, but they’re in no danger—just my blue passenger and Ruby. God, Ruby. Get to her. Shove people out of my way with elbows. No one fights—all push to the door. Force my way in front of them.
Finally the stairs. No one coming down. They may not’ve even seen up there—in their own little world—can’t even see out the window if they’re sitting down. Even if they did see the mayhem, they may think staying up there is the safest place for them to be. Might be right.
No safe place for us.
Three steps at a time. Have to keep at an angle to keep Ambrosia’s head from hitting the wall. Into the dark blue room in a flash. Not here. Scan room again. Gone. She’s gone!
Dashing toward the bar, I scream, “Where the hell is Ruby?”
“Left after you did, Simon—not her babysitter.”
“Mother—”
Don’t finish my cursing. Dash back downstairs. Heart lunging.
Eardrums rumble with my pulse, thundering with the storm that’s my fear. Flashing—rumbling—pouring over me.
I look at the area between the stairs and the exit—no sign of her. Maybe missed her in the main room—look fast—deserted. Except for the DJ frantically unhooking some gear up on the balcony.
Outside—she might be outside.
Sprint to the exit. Nudge past the last of the stumbling evacuees.
Outside’s crowded. Sidewalk, street, and opposing sidewalk—all cluttered with people. Looks like a street party—Bourbon after a parade.
People are panicked—terrified as individuals, yet enticed, enjoying sharing the event as a group—somehow gaining coolness points like they’re witnessing Woodstock. Few leave. Stand around. No idea how fast Roderick and his three minions could rip them apart if they felt the urge to.
Madness.
Lucky for them, Roderick is so obsessed with the package on my shoulders that he cares for little else.
Scan the area.
Scan left—nothing.
Scan right—nothing.
Push through people.
“Simon!” shouts Ambrosia over my shoulder, trying hard to wiggle free.
Just as her voice invades my ears, I see Ruby. Above the crowd. Eyes lock. My heart leaps, but then it crashes back in panic—too high—she’s too high above the crowd—she’s not that tall. Terror runs in her eyes.
“Simon!” Ambrosia shouts again over my shoulder.
“Shh! I see her. I see Rub—”
Sting shoots into my shoulder blade—the bottom ridge. Eyes try to roll back. Ambrosia falls from the tops of my shoulders. Sharp pain rushes through my veins.
Sickness.
Spreading.
Struggle turn around. Fall to one knee.
See Carvelli just as he punches my face, syringe still in his hand. Needle jabs into my cheek and tears out as he pulls away.
Visions of Ruby being dragged away by Roderick send me into a rage. Fling my fist into Carvelli’s groin. He bellows as his breath leaves him. Grab his head—diving my fingernails into it. Slam my knee at full force into his face—feel his nose break and go flat beneath me.
Again and again—slam my knee into his mess of a face. Let him drop to the ground. Hands cover his face, but he doesn’t move except to breathe.
Frantically look around. Ambrosia, holding her hip as she gets to her feet, turns to run away. Crowd has backed away from us.
Rush at Ambrosia, grab her shoulder and yank her to me. Having trouble keeping my balance. Growing dizzy.
Blackness behind eyes becoming heavier.
Bark into her ears, “Get on the ground—crawl upstairs—hide behind bar—wait there! Now!”
Shakes her head—refusing.
“Ruby needs us! Now! Now!”
Half tossing her to the ground, I push her in the direction. On all fours she makes her way to the bar. For once—hope she listens. For all our lives—hope she crawls fast—low to ground. Fast. Low. Or all dead.
Ruby.
Only thought.
Ruby.
Don’t see her face.
Carvelli on ground still breathes—doesn’t move besides that.
Look where I saw Ruby held above crowd. Nothing. Just people. Stumble that way. Still nothing.
Crowd parts out of my way. No doubt why. Blood back of head. Needle hole in cheek. Wish crowd did this earlier. Could’ve saved her.
Ruby. Ruby. Ruby…
There she is. She is! Above crowd again.
Step closer. Those in the middle rush to sidewalk. Path clears a view into hell.
Roderick has Ruby by her waist, hoisting her above his head, making sure that I see her—luring me in.
Sting from shoulder spreads into my lungs—breathing slows. Stinging through head—thoughts sludge. Eyes heavy. Ruby…my poor Ruby…
“Ruby!” my one thought pours from my lips.
“Simon!” she cries, voice cracking, tears glistening down her cheeks, over her lips, and down her neck.
Roderick drops her to her feet to the side of him. Quint grabs both her arms—pins them behind her back, keeping her from falling to the ground.
“Sad thing being separated from what you want, Simon—from what you need. Isn’t it?”
Try to speak, but blackness floods vision, drowns thoughts.
“See what hell you’ve been putting me through, dear boy? Not fun to have someone toy with what you crave, is it?”
“La-let her go, Roderick. Kill you. Swear I-I’ll—” words trail, my body sways.
Blackness.
Voice cuts through the void, “Can’t even say it, you fool, much less do it.”
“Simon!” her voice stings worse than the junk they shot in me.
Try shake head clear. Nothing. Shake again.
Jump at Roderick—kick square in his chest. Falls back step.
Swing at his head. Glances over jaw.
Blackness rises in mind.
Raise hands to swing—block—something—can’t see.
Punches pummel my head. He can’t be moving that fast—mind so slow—numb—just seems fast.
Concrete smacks back of head and neck.
Laughter. Hear it above me.
Shouts. Cursing all ‘round me.
Cursing and laughter fighting.
Hear crash—beer smell—glass and wetness falls on me again.
Roderick snarling now—no laughter.
Ruby. Damnit, get up—Ruby.
Finally see something. Roderick yelling at crowd—beer running down his face—his shirt and head drenched in beer. Fingernails and fangs threatening them. Crowd shouting back—only side of crowd not facing him. Changes when he turns other way. They shout something about nice Halloween costume. Something ‘bout let girl go.
I dive at him. Take him to ground. Pounding his head fast as I can. Dizziness worse with every punch.
Not much left.
Hang on. For her. Hang on.
Sirens. Swirling—coming to my ears. Losing it or police coming.
Heavy hit to back my head. Swirl like hurricane. Quint. Boot. Head.
Blackness floods. Vision—gone.
Roderick curses.
Love cries my name. Sweet voice. Agony. Worse than darkness.
Bottle crashes into my head. Spinning in mind speeds up.
Only New Orleans—flee violent scene—carry drinks out with them.
Ruby………Ruby……………Ruby…
Hands grab at my head—feel like they’re spinning with me.
“Bring me Ambrosia, or I’ll rip into your little lover here, and see how red Ruby is on the inside.”
Can’t see. Feel my fangs dig into my lower lip.
“Bring her, Simon. Bring her to me.”
Sounds fade into darkness. Softer. And softer. Hear her call my name. Stings my heart. Darkness takes ove—
Darkness turns to light. The light’s just as hideous as the pitch.
The crowd’s wretched beer runs its sticky path over my face again. Thankful for it reviving me from the abyss—hating with all my being what it’s woken me to.
Would stay in the darkness forever if it would free Ruby from the hell she’s in.
Push off ground with elbow. Stand. Wobble. Crash to ground.
“Woah, take it easy. Take it easy,” says one of the people standing around.
Sirens loud now. Flashing—blue tinting everything.
Force myself up hard again. Start to buckle at knees.
Hands reach out to grab me. None of them in uniform thankfully. Swing my arm, brushing them away. Stumble till I find a streetlight to brace myself—just past the curb.
People step away like I’m the Grim Reaper. No one comes near after swatting their hands away.
Uniform coming at me from side. Damn it.
“Sir! Sir, I’m gonna need you to lie d
own.”
Hold a pointed finger in his direction. Stare angrily at him like all this is his fault. Easy to do—sickness making me feel vile. Beyond angry. Stops where he is. Paramedic, not police. Good thing.
Make my way toward bar. Stumble gets a little smoother. Focus. Don’t want any more uniforms to take interest in me.
One clear thought—Ruby. Precious Ruby. Get to her.
Two parts to thought:
One: Blue better be upstairs.
Two: Need a car. Fast one. Now.
Look through the opened doors to the bar. First time I’ve ever seen no one at the entrance table. Guess when the party’s been shut down there are no IDs to check.
Head still spins. Wake of the storm still swirling the current of my thoughts. Maybe haven’t even seen the worst of it yet. Can’t think about that now…
Police scattered inside of the bar—some on the street near the entrance. All talking to witnesses. All of them trying not to show they believe the accounts they’re hearing. All trying not to show they’re scared.
Guess they’ve left me alone ‘cause they thought I was for the paramedics lying unconscious in the street—maybe for the morgue—not for questioning—least not tonight.
Hopeless—never get to Ambrosia without them stopping me. Got to try anyway.
Maybe can pretend I’m just drunk.
Put hand to cheek—wound still there—not bleeding anymore but still pretty fresh. Blood on my shirt—down my neck. Never pass off as just drunk—they’ll know I was in the fight. If I have to fight cops to get upstairs to Ambrosia, this’s gonna get ugly. Very ugly.
Arm flings around my left shoulder—same side as my face wound.
“Simon,” the voice irritates my mood just like every other sound around me since Carvelli shot me up with that sickness, but it’s not one of them. Not Ambrosia either.
It’s Danny. Guitar player—local band. Normally be happy to see him. Not much on earth I want to see now but Ruby, blue hair, and a car.
He leans in and whispers, “Let me lead you inside—past cops—get you cleaned up.”
Nod my head, and we’re walking into the bar like a couple of hungry seniors trying to sneak past the principal into freshman lunch.
Red flashes in my mind and not the petite, angry girl who inadvertently helped me keep Roderick from getting Ambrosia tonight. Danny’s got a red, loud Camaro. Could always tell when his band was playing at the metal bar. Couldn’t miss that car parked outside. Think it’s an IROC. Gotta make him give it to me—Ruby’s life depends on it. Hope I don’t have to take it from him—even for a night.