The Hunger

by Dandridge Doug

  About an hour after she had been trapped in the room she heard the sound of a hammer driving nails into a wall, and could feel the vibrations of the blows. She heard the sound of the voices of a couple of men, laughing and joking as the nails were hammered into the windowsill outside of her room. The window grew darker after the hammering stopped, then the voices went away.

  So they don’t want the morning sun to hurt me, she thought. Why is that? Were they planning on using her is some way. As an assassin, or as muscle in Padillas’ operation. If so they were in for a surprise. A vampire was no mortal’s puppet. Especially a vampire who was dedicated to destroying the men who wanted to use her as a puppet. She would lie to them, cheat, swear her soul to God or Satan. But then she would do what she wanted to do. And what she wanted to do was to kill everyone who lived in this house.

  Except the priest, she thought, grimacing at the thought of the man burning her with the large silver cross in his hand. She ran her fingers over the burns, already healing. But because of the holy source of the burns they would continue to hurt for years, even after the flesh had seemed to heal.

  The priest was an innocent, even if he misguidedly tracked her and tried to destroy her. He had no evil in his heart. Unlike Lucinda and her kind he would be whisked to heaven on his death. Such a one was forbidden to her, by her own vow. Sure, she could lie to others to get whatever she wanted. But she had promised to never lie to herself, and had pledged to herself that no innocent would die by her hand.

  The hunger grew stronger by the minute, a thirst that was worse than days under the desert sun without a bit of water. A thirst that threatened to drive her mad. It gripped her belly, made her muscles quiver, and had her looking around the room over and over again. Looking for the food she needed, even though she knew it wasn’t in the room.

  Lucinda stood in one fluid motion from the lotus position, the hunger driving her to leave the room, to seek food. But everywhere she turned the force in the walls and ceiling kept her from getting too close. A step toward a wall was met with a wave of nauseating terror. The terror drove her back to the center of the room, where the terror was its least powerful.

  The ceiling beat down on her head the whole time. By standing she brought her head closer to the ceiling, and it hurt her head to be close to it. She stayed upright as long as she could, fighting to stay on her feet so she might move from wall to wall. But after a few minutes her head hurt too much. Nausea fought with hunger and nausea won. She plopped back down on the wood floor with a hiss of anger. The nausea retreated to a dull background, and the hunger came back to the fore.

  Dammit. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. No matter which path she took, sitting quietly or seeking an exit, some feeling attacked her. She felt that any moment she would end up curled up on the floor, in a panicked terror that left her helpless. That drove her mad.

  The floor, she thought. She hit the floor hard with her hand, but there was no give in it, even to her great strength. She scraped at the floor with her nails, as they hardened to steel sharp claws. Pieces of wood came up under her probing nails, giving her more of a grip between the boards she was working between. After minutes of work she got her nails deep into the side of one of the boards. With a powerful jerk she broke the board free from the surrounding planks, pulling it free from the floor.

  Shit, she thought as she looked at the hard concrete below the hardwood floor. That was something that would defeat her no matter what she did. In rage she flung the board toward the door. It struck hard, but on the flat side, falling from the door without doing anything but superficial damage to the paint. As it hit she thought that it would have been better to throw the board at the painted over window. But it was too late.

  The hunger was getting worse, as was the nausea from being trapped in the room with holy objects. Lucinda pounded her fist onto the boards again in frustration. Then she rolled over onto her side and curled up into a fetal position, riding out the agony of the night. Thoughts of going cold turkey on heroin entered her mind. But heroin shakes would eventually go away.

  * * *

  “What in the hell is he doing?”

  “Now, now Father,” said Fred, sitting on the bed while the priest stalked the room. “Don’t you worry about it. Not a bit. The boss knows what he’s doing.”

  O’Connor stopped in his tracks and turned a baleful eye on the hired muscle.

  “What he’s doing is playing with things he doesn’t understand,” said O’Connor, pointing a finger at the man. “And he’s likely to get burned. And get all of the rest of you burned with him.”

  “Father,” said Fred, his voice strained as he tried to control his rising anger. “The boss is in charge here. Not you. You’re going to bust a gut worrying about things you can’t do anything about. So calm down.”

  “But…”

  “Sit the fuck down, Father,” said Fred, coming to his feet and stepping over to the priest, pointing a large finger in the man’s face. O’Connor looked for the nearest chair and plopped down in it, the big man leaning over him.

  “You’re going to drive me crazy with all of this pacing and whining,” said Fred, emphasizing each word with a poke of his finger in O’Connor’s chest. “Now you sit your ass in that chair and keep it there. And keep your mouth shut.”

  Fred turned and stormed back to the bed, plopping on it to the creak of springs.

  “I’ll be so damn happy when we get rid of your ass,” said Fred under his breath.

  O’Connor had done much work with the deaf in his early days as a priest, and had become expert in sign language and reading lips at that time. He had kept up the skill through his life, and had no trouble reading the lips of the big man muttering to himself. Get rid of my ass, he thought. He shuddered as he thought about what that might mean. But he had enough sense to not let the man know that he had intercepted the speech.

  * * *

  Lucinda could feel the rising of the sun as she lay on the floor, curled up into a fetal position and trying to weather the storm of pain that radiated from the walls and ceiling. The hunger was terrible. She was not sure that she could stop herself from feeding on anything that was put in front of her, including the innocent.

  Her thoughts went back to years ago, when she was still in thrall to the older vampire that had made her. He would send her hunting most nights, to choose her own victims. But sometimes he would send her to bring back food to satisfy his own longings. And he preferred his food to be young and tender, brimming with life force.

  Other times he would bring back a morsel for her to feed on. A squirming baby, crying in terror. The smell of piss and shit and fear. She didn’t want to feed on such a tender life. But the hunger would take charge and she would sink her teeth in the new flesh and suck the life from it. Then she would look down at the lifeless bundle of meat and feel a deep sorrow for it. And a deep sorrow for herself, for being the monster that took its life. The baby or child would sometimes show up on a milk carton somewhere, but that was the last anyone would see of it.

  One day the master did not come back from a hunt. Just before dawn Lucinda felt as if someone had punched her hard in the stomach. From the groans sounding through the lair she could tell that the other two women in the master’s coven could feel it as well. The master was gone, snuffed out like a candle that was no longer needed. And for the first time since she had been turned she felt free to do as she wanted.

  As the sun rose and the other vampires went to their rest, in too much shock to do much of anything, Lucinda forced herself to stay awake. As they slept she went to their coffins and drove the rough wooden stakes she had made of boards found in the lair through their chests. They had screamed horribly for a few moments, as their bodies deteriorated to their true forms. Rotting corpses that should have been decades in the ground.

  Lucinda had then slept, awakening with the coming night, a terrible hunger laying hands on her. She had gone on a hunt as soon as her eyes had opened. But
she had chosen the prey. A man who had just raped a young girl in a dark park. She had taken his blood and his life with satisfaction, sating her hunger while doing the world a service. And she had sworn on that night that an innocent would never again fall to her hunger. A promise she had kept in the years gone by.

  She came out of the vision as she heard the doorknob turning. Trying to rise brought no result, as her muscles would not respond to her commands. She could smell the blood in the men who entered as the door opened. Struggling against the fatigue and the weakness brought on by the dawn, she was able to raise her head off the floor with the greatest effort.

  There were three men standing by the door. The leader held the large silver cross that the priest had wielded the night before, held in front of him like a shield. She recognized him as the leader of the men who had trapped her last night, and probably the headman in the house. One of the others looked familiar, but in her confusion she could not place him. The third was a complete stranger. She could smell the fear on all but the leader, who radiated a confidence that came from holding the cross.

  “I see you’re still awake, babe,” said the leader, grinning down at her. “And just as helpless as the priest said you would be.”

  “You sure she can’t attack us Manny?” said the man she thought was familiar. “I saw what she did to Harry last night.”

  “Hard to see how you saw anything, Jake,” said Manny, glancing back at the man. “What with you hiding in the living room.”

  “I wasn’t hiding, Manny,” said the man with a frown. “I was the backup, waiting to come into the hall if you needed me.”

  “Then you can be the first this time,” said Manny, nodding his head toward Lucinda. “You get around her and grab her other arm. You grab the near arm Gary, and get her up on the table.”

  Lucinda bared her fangs as the men moved around her. She laughed inwardly as Jake passed her feet by the wall, as far as he could get from her. Manny growled when both men hesitated.

  “She ain’t gonna do shit, you assholes,” he said, walking up to Lucinda and holding the cross down toward her. She tried to squirm away, her instinctual terror of the holy object guiding her. At the same time she wanted to sink her teeth into the neck of the foul-mouthed man who stood over her. But she lacked the ability to do either.

  Jake looked down at her, shaking his head, then reaching down to grab her arm. She tried to move her head toward him, to rip into him with her teeth. He let go of her arm as she twitched, then looked sheepishly at his boss. Manny stared at the frightened man, who reached down again and got a good grip on her arm.

  “She’s so damn cold,” said Jake, as he lifted up on her arm, with Gary raising her off the floor.

  “What did you expect,” said Manny, moving to the table. “She’s fucking dead.”

  “I prefer dead things to stay that way and not move around,” said Gary, holding her up as Jake maneuvered around the table and pulled her across. They had her on the table, as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “Come on in, Fred,” said Manny. Lucinda turned her head toward the door to see another of the big men she had encountered in the night come in the room. He held a bunch of tie down straps in his hands. As the other men held her arms out Fred wrapped a tied down strap around her chest, moved under the table, and cinched it tight. Another tie down went around her waist, another around her thighs, then her ankles. The last tie down went around her neck.

  “What the hell do you want with me?” asked Lucinda weakly through parched lips.

  “I don’t want a fucking thing from you, bitch,” said Manny, slapping her across the face. “If it were up to me I would stake you and be done with you. But the boss has bigger plans for you.”

  Fred looped some rope around her wrists, then pulled them together and wrapped it tight. Lucinda tried to struggle, to pull her hands away, but in the strong grip of the man she was helpless. He then looped the ends of the rope under the table and tied it tight.

  “She’s ready, boss,” called Manny after Fred gave him an OK with his fingers. Lucinda turned her head back toward the door as George Padillas walked into the room, a smile on his face.

  “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, young lady,” said Padillas, walking up to the table and looking down on the vampire.

  “Not as much trouble as I wanted to cause,” croaked Lucinda through weakened vocal cords.

  “Oh, no doubt,” said Padillas, grinning. “You would have liked to put me into a grave. Without my head. And I want to live, a long and productive life. So maybe we can compromise.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she gasped, her eyes shutting without her control.

  “You’ll see,” he said, patting her cheek. “Tonight. You’ll be right there in the thick of things.”

  Lucinda felt darkness enclose her, her last sight the grinning face of the man she had come to kill. And the last thing she heard was the hated voice.

  “Sleep tight, beautiful,” came the voice of Padillas. “You have a long night ahead of you tonight.”

  * * *

  “You keep her safe and sound,” said Padillas to Manny as he looked down upon the sleeping face of the vampire. “And keep the priest away from her no matter what.”

  “Why don’t we just get rid of him now, boss?” asked the thug. “I could do him in a heartbeat, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about him.”

  “I might need him, Manny,” said Padillas, turning toward his lieutenant. “I might need his knowledge. But after I’m done with him you can do what needs to be done. In fact you must do what I want done if I’m not to be looking over my shoulder for the next couple of decades.”

  “OK, boss,” said Manny, nodding his head. “I’ll take care of that. And I’ll make sure no one bothers you during the, transition period. And I’ll make sure you have something to eat when you get up.”

  “And the people you’ve talked to have agreed to the arrangements?”

  “Did you think they wouldn’t?” asked Manny with a grin. “Each and every pimp knows to send a girl here when requested. And to keep a lookout for new blood on the street.”

  “I see you’re looking after me, Manny,” said Padillas with a laugh. “And then when you’re ready to join me I’ll look after you.”

  “Thanks boss.”

  “Now I’ve got some affairs to take care of,” said Padillas, pausing at the door. “I need to set up for a lifestyle change, and only have one day to do it.”

  * * *

  Padillas walked from the room as Manny turned back to his three confederates.

  “Fred,” he said, looking at the biggest man, “you relieve Josh and get back to watching the priest. Don’t let him out of your sight and nowhere near this room unless the boss calls for him.”

  Fred nodded his head and left the room, as Manny turned back to the other two men.

  “You guys stay here and watch her. I want two people here at all times. There will be someone at the door. Call him in here if you need to take a bathroom break or something. And I’ll have people to relieve the both of you by this afternoon.”

  “I’m kind of tired already, Manny,” whined Jake.

  “Well, keep your fucking eyes open, shit head,” growled Manny, grabbing the flunky by the front of his shirt. “Or I’ll shut them for you, understand?”

  “Yes sir,” said the stammering man. Manny shook his head as he let go of the shirt and walked from the room. That’s a weak link, he thought as he walked down the long hall to his room, right next to the boss’. He might find himself in a new role after me and the boss do our thing. I wonder how he tastes?

  * * *

  I wonder what is going on in there? thought Marcus, as he stood on the street watching the Padillas house. It’s a big place, with lots of rooms, so she could be hiding in it someplace. But it didn’t feel right. It felt as if she were still in the house, but not in control.

  The elder vampire could feel the rising sun just below t
he horizon, maybe a minute from appearing. He had wanted to be out here till the last minute, in case she came from out of the house. But she hadn’t, and if she did now she would be destroyed.

  Nothing for it now, thought the vampire, walking away from the house until he reached a main street. He moved across the street, into the shadows he had scouted earlier, and converted into mist. The mist went down the nearby storm drain and Marcus converted back to human form. He walked along the big storm culvert, heading for his own lair.

  Tonight, thought Marcus, as he covered his eyes against the burning light. He would have to sleep through most of the day to make up for the energy he was using now by being up at sunrise. But tonight he would again be posted outside the house, ready for what might come.

  * * *

  George Padillas yawned as he felt the fatigue that threatened to put him to sleep. And the pain in his gut that threatened to double him over in his chair.

  “Are you OK, Mr. Padillas?” said the bank representative who had been showing him where to sign his name on the papers.

  Padillas grimaced back the pain, set his face, and smiled at the young woman who filled out her business suit quite delightfully. He nodded his thanks as another employee brought him the cup of coffee he had requested moments before.

  “I’ll be fine, Sally,” stated Padillas to the banker. “Must have been something I ate earlier today.”

  “Yes sir,” said Sally, putting a soft hand on his forearm.

  I guess I’ll really miss sex, thought Padillas, as he looked from the hand to the handsome face of the woman. But anything will beat this pain I feel every day. And living forever has to have its advantages.

  Padillas signed the papers that made Manny his signatory, then the e-banking forms that would allow him to manage all of his accounts without having to come out into the light of day.

  “So Mr. Manfred Gottleib will have power of attorney over all of your accounts,” said Sally, looking at the signed papers, then separating the copies from the original. “I sure hope you trust him.”