by Bones Monroe
She watched Zach open a small, palm-sized bottle and squirt red liquid into his mouth.
“What is that? Can I have some?” she asked.
“No, this would be terrible for you.” He showed her the bottle.
Above a cartoon corpse, bright red letters on a black background said: I Can’t Believe It’s Not Blood!!!
“Is that stuff any good?” Grace asked.
“Meh, it’ll do in a pinch. It leaves an aftertaste. People say you get used to it after a while and some swear they never can go back to warm blood but I can’t believe it.” Zach pocketed the vial.
“I’m so sorry about this. I messed up the entire evening!” she wailed.
“Don’t say that. It’s not a big deal. It happens,” he consoled her.
“Have you ever dated an animate before?”
“Yes, a few.”
“A few? I thought I was your first!” Grace looked crestfallen. “I thought I was special but now…I’m just another plain ‘ole meatbag.”
“Now, now,” Zach said putting his arm around her, “don’t say that. You are most definitely not a meatbag. It’s taking all my willpower not to pierce that succulent, throbbing neck of yours to get at your delicious organic plasma.”
She gave him a weak smile. “You’re just saying that. I bet you say that to all the meatbags.”
“Let me ask you, have you ever had a blood clot?” he asked.
“Me? No, never!” she said vehemently.
Zach bit his lip with a fang. “Do you have any idea how sexy that is?” He looked at her ravenously. “Your blood is unsullied, pure red gold, no prior thrombosis to inhibit flow.” He gently ran a finger over her aorta, gently stroking it, feeling her heartbeat under his fingertip. “I love the way your heart beats. I can feel each chamber working. So lovely,” he said pressing his finger in.
She snuggled against him. “You really like me?”
“I do. I really do.”
If there was any time to pop the question, now was the time. The air was pregnant with promise much like when it was laden with moisture before a violent thunderstorm. She had thought of this all day. This was her one fantasy, the thing she had been pining for years now but afraid, terrified even, of telling anyone. This was her secret, but at last, she felt it was time. After tonight, everything would change.
“Take me, Zach. Take me now. I want to be yours,” she said in her most sultry voice.
That was the only thing he needed to hear. He knew what she meant.
Before she knew what was happening, she felt a searing, burning pain as Zach’s fangs pierced her neck. She opened her mouth to scream but her breath escaped her. She only managed a whimper.
And then it was over. That’s it? she thought. I thought it would last longer.
Sated, Zach pulled away wiping her blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat back contentedly, watching her reaction.
The world was spinning. She felt lightheaded. This wasn’t the way she. No, this was all wrong, she thought.
Grace propped herself against the armrest of the couch. “You moron. I’m a virgin. I wanted to have sex. Not this.”
Zach’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You can’t be serious. You don’t tell a vampire to ‘take you’ and ‘make you his’ lightly. Are you stupid?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his eyes darting around.
Grace dropped her head into her palms and groaned. “No, no, this is all messed up now. This wasn’t what I had planned,” she said as she felt her body temperature drop. “What will Daddy say?” she sobbed.
There was a barely detectable whoosh in the room.
When Zach didn’t reply, Grace looked up and saw that he was gone. Gone like a puff of smoke in the wind. He abandoned her.
I should’ve bought those books, she thought.
***
Despondent, Grace sat on the couch staring off into space. She was dead. Like really dead. She couldn’t believe it. This must be a dream. Zach, her beautiful, dashing Zach, couldn’t be this stupid. You don’t just turn a human into a vampire. You had to be sure. Double and triple sure.
She ran to her room, grabbed a mirror and held it under her nose. Nothing. The mirror didn’t fog up. She took a deep breath and exhaled on the mirror through her nose.
Nothing. The room temperature air from her lungs just swirled a few dust motes. She threw the mirror away in disgust.
“This can’t be,” she muttered.
She was alive; she was sure of it. She thought she remembered it took a few bites to become a vampire. She was just at the first stage. She had to prove it to herself.
Blood. That’s the true test! If I’m alive, I’ll bleed. I need to make myself bleed.
Grace ran to the kitchen. She grabbed a knife and held it over her wrist. She thought better of that. It didn’t make sense to test her state of animation by cutting her wrist open. That would hasten her demise. She pointed the knife at her thigh.
A quick stab and I’ll know, she thought. The knife hovered menacingly over her left thigh, the tip trembling in her hand.
She couldn’t do it. She was always chicken about pain. How else could she make herself bleed without hurting herself?
Aha, she had an idea.
Now she ran to the bathroom. This has to work, she thought triumphantly. She fumbled in the medicine cabinet and found what she was looking for. Something she rarely used despite her father harassing her about it almost every day.
She pulled out an inordinately long piece of mint-flavored dental floss. She went at it with gusto, in a few minutes her teeth would shine and be plaque free … and bloody. She NEVER flossed and her gums always protested when Ben insisted she do it. Dental hygiene was not something she deemed very important. Now, she would use her poor dental hygiene to her benefit.
A few minutes later she spit into the sink in triumph. Her spit was clear. No blood.
“What? It can’t be!” she complained. Grace inspected her freshly flossed teeth and gums. She would have made her dentist proud. But there was no blood. Nary a drop.
She plopped herself down on the couch again. The realization of her new condition began to sink in.
She really was dead. Inhuman. Vampire. Her life was over. What was she going to do? How would she tell her father?
No! She couldn’t tell her father. He would kick her out or worse. There was no way she could tell him. Nu-uh.
She had to deal with this without Ben finding out. Everything was different now. She had to pretend to breathe, pretend to eat. She had to do everything the way she had before. But she didn’t know the first thing about existing as a vampire.
She needed help.
Chapter 14
In another part of North Wellon, Ben was having his own issues.
He showed up to the interview a few minutes early and turned on his charm, making friends with the receptionist. She laughed at his corny jokes and he was feeling good about his prospects … until his interviewer appeared.
He seemed like a nice enough fellow, except for the zombie part. He had to have perished as a youth and violently at that. Half his jaw was missing, and he had large gashes on the left side of his face. Ben couldn’t stop staring at the wounds. They looked so fresh.
He tore his gaze away from the injuries and tried to maintain eye contact with the man. As the interview continued, Ben found himself in a vicious cycle. Either he was staring off into space while answering a question or he was staring at the injuries.
The interviewer noticed. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Coleman?” he asked. “Will this,” he pointed at his face, “cause a problem?”
“Uhhh no, not at all,” Ben said, embarrassment flaming across his cheeks. “I think it suits you well.” He looked around nervously.
“It suits me well does it?” the interviewer asked archly.
“No, that’s not how I meant it,” Ben said hurriedly. “I wasn’t prepared for such a young manager,” he
said, backpedaling.
The manager asked a few cursory questions about Ben’s experience and why he was looking for a job.
“Layoffs,” Ben lied. “Company restructured and they cut my position.”
The manager nodded, his fleshy flaps wobbling in the air. A piece of skin flaked off and fell on his desk.
Ben stared at it. Dandruff? Can zombies have dandruff? No, this was part of his face. Part of his face is on his desk. Ben gagged but tried to hide it.
The manager noticed everything. It appeared that his mind was still sharp although it probably wouldn’t be in a few years unless he maintained a strict regimen of the ‘Fresh Brain Diet’ that was the all the rage in the zombie circles these days. The manager, Rob, bought the book and had finished it last night. He was a convert now. He truly thought the diet’s motto, ‘a brain a day keeps decay away’ was genius.
The problem was, how to get quality human brains on the regular? He would have to think about how to go about that without committing a crime. He had no time to waste, he could feel his faculties slipping with each additional day he was dead. Decay waits for no one. He had to get rid of this animate in front of him.
“I see. This has been a great interview, but I see we are out of time. We will contact you for the next steps, ok?” he stood and offered his hand to Ben.
Ben took it gingerly and shook the cool hand. It gave him the creeps. Ben glanced around nervously.
“Is something else wrong?” Rob asked.
“Do you have cameras here?” Ben asked abruptly.
Rob chuckled. “Why on Earth would we have cameras? No, I assure you, no one’s watching you.”
Ben nodded absentmindedly and left.
Walking out of the office, Ben wiped his hands several times against his pant leg. That guy’s hand felt like slightly spongy paper. It had give to it but it also had enough resistance to let you know there was something under there. Something unnatural, in Ben’s viewpoint.
Ben knew he wouldn't get a call back. He could tell by the abrupt close of the interview.
It was a shame though; it looked like a great job. Regardless, if he were honest with himself, it would have never worked out in the long term. There was no way that Ben would tolerate reporting to a slackjaw that was half his age. Granted, he might have been older than Ben if you counted the years after life, but to Ben, those didn’t count. What counted was what you did when you had a beating heart.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. The strange feeling followed him out into the street.
He pivoted into a deserted alley. He had to sort this out. He sat on the grimy street behind a row of trash cans. There, in the dirt, he took a chance.
“Hello?” Ben said.
“You there?
C’mon, I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s not like your presence is subtle, at least not anymore.
It was that stupid ritual, wasn’t it? Yeah, it had to be! I can’t think of another logical reason. Maybe you can’t speak? Nah, that can’t be it. If you can see everything, then you must be able to speak. Maybe it’s that I can’t understand you?
That must be it. I don’t have the technology to understand you. Maybe you are so advanced that you are talking, but I can’t comprehend you. Whatever, I know you’re there.
You know what?
I also know there are at least two of you. I bet you’re surprised, aren’t you? Looks like that ancient ritual was more powerful than we both thought.
You feel different. Totally different vibe.
You’re cool. Like a spectator. You just watch and it feels like you’re just along for the ride.
That other one. He’s not that nice. Not malevolent but kind of in charge. Sorry, I don’t know how to explain it. This is all new. These emotions and feelings are so strange.
I wish you would talk. Let me know something. I’m going through some tough times here. Since you can see everything, you must be able to see the future. Can you give me some guidance?
Ok, Ok, nothing obvious. I have no idea if you have rules, like a ‘Prime Directive,’ where you can’t get involved or something like that. I don’t want you to get in trouble but please, give me some sign, some indication about what I’m supposed to do.
I’m stuck here with my beautiful Grace in detestable North Wellon. You can see how crappy of a place this is. It’s a bad influence on her. You saw what she brought home? Not just a boy, but a vampire! A vampire! She rolls her lovey-dovey eyes and says that he’s different. I can’t get through to her.
We can’t stay here in North Wellon that long. I fear for her safety, for our safety. I can’t catch a break. That back there? That could’ve been a good job to get me back on my feet. But I couldn’t work for that guy. Did you see his face? Man, when that guy laughs I’m sure you can see clear down his throat. Ugh …
You were there. You’re always there. I can feel you, just that sometimes the feeling gets stronger. When it gets stronger, that’s when we can talk. And you know what’s funny? I also sense you can hear me, understand me.
It’s weird. Like you’re a sounding board. That ritual was something else.
You really aren’t going to talk, are you? So then what was the point of all this ‘open your mind’ garbage? I have this super-expanded knowledge and these senses but what good do they do? I’m like a superhero not using his superpowers.
You sit, stand, float or whatever you and your kind do, and watch me like a rat in a maze. Is that it? Is that how you get your jollies? Watching me and my precious daughter suffer? Do you have any idea how much I love her? After her mother died. Wait, did you see that? Were you also there? Way back then and I didn’t sense you? For God’s sake, I sincerely hope you weren’t there for that! IF YOU WATCHED AND DID NOTHING, YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN THE OTHER GUY.
Maybe I overreacted. I’m just under a lot of stress and not reacting well. I didn’t mean to shout. You are the cool one.
Do you want a sacrifice? Like the Binding of Isaac or something like that?
No. You aren’t God. I don’t sense deity in you.
Man, this ritual really messed me up. If anyone heard me talking like this, they would put me in the loony bin and throw away the key.
Honestly, I can’t deny what I feel. But then again, no one thinks they’re crazy. It’s always the other people that are crazy.
Am I losing my mind?
Ok, look let’s get something straight. I’m a no-nonsense kind of guy so let’s be frank here. I know beyond any doubt that you’re there. I know you’re spying on me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I also know there are two of you. I can speak to you, and I’m almost sure you can hear me, although you might not like what I say. I can’t talk to the other, bad guy. I don’t know how I know, I just know.
So you need to help me out here. I’m begging you for my daughter. Give me a sign about what I’m supposed to do. Please? Your kind must have compassion; I’m just asking for a tiny bit sent my way.
So, what I’ll do is just keep my eyes open for anything from you.
I need to keep you guys straight in my mind. You, the cool one, the spectator. You’re kind of just watching, reading, analyzing and reacting to stuff. I can feel you. Imma call you Reader.
Hi, Reader, I’m Ben but you already knew that.
What about the other guy? He has issues. I don’t get a good vibe from him. He’s pulling the strings, controlling things, creating, authoring.
Ha! That’s it.
I’ll call the other guy the Author.
That seems like a good pairing, Reader & Author.
OK Reader, we’ll talk later. I have another interview to go to.
Whoa!
Remember, I’m looking for a sign from you. Don’t let me down.
Chapter 15
“Lamia? Are you there?” Grace called into the perpetual gloom that blanketed Lamia’s porch.
She got no answer. After a few seconds, Grace called out again, this time a little louder.
This time Lamia’s scratchy, old lady voice answered. “In here, Grace. Come in, child.”
Grace stepped inside the enclosed porch and was surprised that she didn’t have to wait to let her eyes get accustomed to the dark. She realized with a start that she could see perfectly well. The three chairs on her porch looked well-worn and comfortable. She could tell that many people had come to sit and chat with Lamia, probably for a very long time.
Crossing the threshold, Grace stopped just inside the front door. Instantly, she swept the room with her improved vision. Lamia slouched on the couch, her head leaning against the wall.
“Are you okay?” Grace asked.
“I think I’ve come down with the sickness that’s going around. I’m so tired. I think it’ll pass, but at my age, I need to be careful,” Lamia said weakly.
“Can I do anything for you?” Grace asked.
Lamia lifted her head and looked at Grace. “Yes, there is something I need, if you would be so kind.”
“What is it? I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Lamia nodded. “Okay. Go down the hall to the backyard. Open the first white cage. You’ll find something inside. Please bring that to me...”
Grace did as instructed. After a few minutes, she came in with a large can with a top made of thick rubber. It looked like an oversized baby bottle
Lamia grabbed the can weakly, bared her fangs, pierced the rubber and drank the contents. A rivulet of red dripped from the corner of her mouth.
The smell almost sent Grace over the edge. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it stirred something deep inside her. She reeled, trying to maintain her composure.
Lamia put the can down and sighed contentedly. “Thank you, my dear. I was so weak. This sickness hit me without warning.” Lamia noticed that Grace could not tear her eyes from the half-filled can Lamia held on her lap.
“Are you ok?” she asked as her strength returned. “You have that look.” She waved Grace closer. “Please come here,” she said.