by Jana Janeway
She grabbed the phone, taking a deep breath as she dialed the number on the card.
****
“What if she doesn’t call?” Josiah asked as he popped the last of his breakfast in his mouth. “You gonna go over there? Stay home again tomorrow? What?”
“I don’t know,” Craddock answered. “I’ll probably go over there.”
“Well, be careful if you go before sundown. She has your spare pair of glasses.”
“Yeah.”
“And you might want to take over some Maddies.” Josiah tapped the container next to him.
Craddock shook his head. “Too intimidating. I’ll probably just take over some Mealies.”
“Okay, well, I got a shit-load of deliveries today, so I’ll check in with you when I can.”
“‘Kay. Be safe.”
“Always.” Josiah’s reply was automatic, offering his friend and roommate a lopsided grin before disappearing out the door.
Craddock sighed as he pushed his glasses back into place, then he ran his hand through his jet black hair as his eyes wandered about his apartment. The phone ringing caused him to jump; he briefly hesitated before picking it up, wondering if it was Jessica who was calling.
“Hello?”
“Um, Craddock?”
At the sound of Jessica’s voice, he sighed in relief, but still asked to confirm. “Jessica?” He could hear her start to cry.
“I know you said not to panic, but I don’t understand what’s going on, and I hurt so bad! I—I put the glasses on, and I can see better, but the pain is so—”
“Okay, okay,” he interrupted her, “close your eyes and lay back, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t. I’ll bring something over.” He moved to the pantry, grabbing the container of Mealies off the shelf. “Do you feel weak?”
“Yeah, but. . .” She trailed off, as if distracted. “I think it’s just ‘cause I’m getting over the flu—”
“It’s not the flu, Jessica. It’s malnutrition.”
“It can’t be,” she argued. “I ate yesterday.”
“Your needs are different now. I’ll explain it when I get there.”
There was a long pause, and he could hear her breaths stuttering.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know,” he said gently, soothingly, “but you will, okay? I’m going to help you.”
After he said goodbye, she clicked off the phone and set it aside.
Following his instructions, she closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the couch as she waited for a man she knew nothing about to come and save her from a situation she didn’t understand.
****
Jumping when she heard the knock at the door, she raced to it, not even bothering to look to see who was there before yanking it open.
A backpack slung over one shoulder, Craddock stood before her with a sympathetic smile on his face, noting instantly how scared she looked.
Without warning, she threw herself into his arms, catching him off-guard, causing him to stumble backwards.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, wrapping his arm tentatively around her. “It’s only scary ‘cause you don’t understand.”
She pulled away, stepping to the side and gesturing for him to enter. “Then explain it to me,” she pleaded. Her tone of voice exposed the stress and pain she was experiencing.
“Okay,” he set his backpack on the floor, “but I need you to keep an open mind. Your first reaction might be to dismiss me, or go into denial, but I want you to know, what I’m about to tell you is the truth. I would have nothing to gain by lying to you.”
She nodded a little, but winced in pain when she did.
“Oh, right! Sorry! I brought you drops!” As he went for his backpack, he glanced around the apartment. “Does your bathroom have windows?”
“No,” she whispered, “why?”
“It needs to be dark,” he explained. “Sunlight is not our friend.” He held up the little vial that he had produced from his pack. “Bathroom is. . .?”
She pointed at it, following him in when he gestured for her to. The room became completely dark as he closed the door, but he didn’t turn the light on.
She could see better than she should have been able to, she realized, removing her glasses when he set his atop his head.
“Why does it seem so light in here?” she asked, confused.
“Our eyes are extremely light-sensitive.” He unscrewed the cap from the vial he held in his hand. “Tilt your head back, so I can put the drops in.” She did what he asked of her without question or hesitation.
Instantly, her pain subsided, with such abruptness that she jumped as it happened. “What—? What—?”
“Expensive, but worth every penny.” He set his glasses back in place. “It’s not good to overuse it though. You’ll build up an immunity, so don’t open your eyes without having your glasses on first.”
“The glasses stop the pain?” she asked as she looked at the pair in her hand.
“They prevent it. Once the pain hits, only these drops, or waiting about twelve hours in a dark room will get rid of it.” He gestured for her to put her glasses back on, instructing her to close her eyes for a second or two before opening the door to leave. “It’ll become second nature, whenever you are about to be faced with sunlight.”
First counting to two, she then slowly opened her eyes, noticing when she did that the glasses had grown darker. “Oh! These are those glasses that darken by themselves when UV light hits them!”
“Yep. Invented for us, but now Humans use them, too.” When she startled, he smiled back at her apologetically. “I’m getting a little ahead of myself here.” Pointing at the couch, he suggested, “Why don’t we sit down, okay?”
She agreed by nodding, but once in the living room, she sat as far from him as she could. “What you’re about to tell me. . . it’s gonna freak me out, isn’t it?”
He smiled a little, sympathetic. “If you let it.”
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle her nerves, she then exhaled slowly before gesturing for him to begin.
“Okay, remember yesterday, at the park, I called you Mengliad?”
Again, she cocked her head at the foreign word. “Yeah. . .?”
“Mengliad is what we are. Like, some people are Human, some are Mengliad.”
Off her confused look, he moved on, trying better to explain.
“There are a lot of beliefs out there. Some people think we got here by spacecraft. Some think we evolved, like Humans, but in a slightly different direction. Some think we were created by God, after Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden.
“However we came to be, the truth of the matter is, there are two species that are near-identical in every way that inhabit the Earth. One is Human, one is Mengliad.”
“And you’re. . .?”
“Mengliad, yes,” he answered her incomplete question. “So are Bibi and Josiah. So is Lilith. A lot of people you see every day are, you just didn’t know it. A lot of people don’t know it.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” she said with a scowl. “Scientists would know! I mean, through the years, whenever autopsies are performed, or—or—”
He started shaking his head when she began to stumble over her words. “There is only the slightest difference between Humans and Mengliads. There is a slight variation in the blood, but even when really looking for it, it has been passed up. Usually mistaken for anemia. And we have a second lens, which is why you felt blind this morning. It’s a protective mechanism, to shield your eyes from the sun. Other than that, we are pretty much identical.”
“But even if this Mengliad species existed, I’m not one! I’m Human!”
“Not anymore,” he blurted out. Sighing at the abruptness of his response, he offered in a slower, softer tone of voice, “You were converted into a Mengliad. We think.”
“What
are you talking about? How can someone just. . . change species?”
“Not everyone can. Mengliads cannot convert into Humans, and Humans with no Mengliad DNA cannot convert into a Mengliad. Only Humans, with Mengliad DNA, can convert.”
She moved past the insanity of his words momentarily. “How? How does one convert?”
“Usually, it’s done by ritual, called Blood Touch, within seven days of birth. Occasionally, there have been adult Humans with Mengliad DNA, who learn later of their ancestry, and the ritual is performed as an adult. Almost unheard of, is an adult Human with Mengliad DNA, who is converted without knowledge or consent.”
“How is that possible?” she questioned him. His words were causing far more confusion than they helped to alleviate.
“In the Blood Touch ritual, a drop of blood from a pure-blood Mengliad, or Pure-Born, is inserted into the person, and the Mengliad blood dominates over the Human blood. So the person becomes, essentially, for all intents and purposes, a Mengliad.”
“And I’m assuming it’s irreversible.”
He nodded. “A Mengliad cannot convert into a Human, even if they were one before.”
“So then, hypothetically, how did I change? I didn’t do any Blood Touch ritual. I didn’t have anyone give me their blood.”
“We don’t know. There are only nine proven reported cases, where a Human was converted without consent. The most recent was something like twenty years ago. That person was converted when he got into a car accident with a Pure-Born Mengliad. They were both cut and bleeding pretty bad, and the guy was trying to help stop the Mengliad from bleeding out. The Mengliad’s blood got into his wounds and converted him.”
“But I don’t have any cuts.” She patted at her body, indicating in doing so that the scenario he presented wasn’t possible. “And I haven’t helped anyone who was bleeding—” She stopped abruptly when her fingers ran over the band-aid on her arm, under her sleeve.
Noticing her reaction, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Pushing her sleeve up, she looked at him as the bandage came into view. “I thought it looked infected.” Her voice was shaky as she picked at a corner of it and ripped it off in one quick motion. “It’s a mosquito bite,” she whispered, the strange reality finally starting to hit her.
He took her hand, bringing her arm closer to inspect. “If the mosquito had pure Mengliad blood in its system before biting you, it could, theoretically, pass into you.”
“I smacked it, while it was biting me,” she said, and he nodded in response. After a moment, she asked, “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
He gave her another sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I’m afraid it is.”
When she started to cry, he gathered her into his arms, attempting to console her.
Chapter Four
Feeling secure in his arms, Jessica settled her tiny frame against Craddock’s body. He was surprisingly muscular for as thin as he was, she noted, which just made her feel safer. Even though he was a virtual stranger, he had a presence about him that was familiar and comforting.
The knock at the door called Craddock’s attention, but he didn’t release his hold on Jessica, since she made no move to break away at the sound.
“Who is it?” he called over his shoulder towards the door.
“Craddock?” came the familiar voice. “It’s Bibi.”
“Come in.” Craddock rested his head against Jessica’s as Bibi’s footsteps neared them.
“You did it anyway, didn’t you?” Bibi asked him, irritation in her tone. “You told her.”
“Would you want to wait for answers?” he challenged her. “She was scared! Besides,” he added, calmer, “I didn’t tell her everything.”
“What did you tell her?”
Jessica’s sobs seemed to grow in intensity as he recounted everything he had already told her, continuing to offer her comfort by holding her in his arms.
“You didn’t tell her about the nutritional requirements?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t come up yet. I brought food, though.” He nodded towards his backpack.
Bibi only glanced at it before reaching over and gently placing her fingers on Jessica’s wrist, who only acknowledged the action by lifting her arm a little to give her better access. After nearly a minute, she dropped her hand. “She needs to eat. And it needs to be now.”
“It’ll be hard on her,” Craddock argued. “We should be making this transition as easy as possible.”
“I agree, but she waited too long. We don’t have time to mollycoddle her here. She shouldn’t have gone more than six, eight hours, tops. By her heart rate, I’d say it’s been at least sixteen or eighteen hours.”
“If it’s from the mosquito bite,” Jessica interjected, “it’s been almost twenty four hours.”
“Mosquito bite?”
With Bibi’s question, Jessica left Craddock’s embrace to show off the infected-looking mosquito bite. “I was bit on my way to work yesterday. At about nine-ish. By two in the afternoon, I had flu-like symptoms. On my way home, I passed out in the park. Pretty sure I was unconscious for about two or three hours.”
“It’s imperative that you eat now.” Bibi’s tone was dire. “But you can’t eat just anything. Your nutritional needs—”
“Have changed,” Jessica said along with her. “Okay, so, what do Mengliads eat, exactly?”
“Well. . .” Bibi glanced at Craddock. “Mengliads can eat Human food, but it doesn’t really hold any nutritional value. And if you make a diet solely of Human food, you will slowly die of malnutrition. Most Mengliads will eat Human food, but as a way of throwing off suspicion, or because it tastes good.”
“If you’re about to tell me that Mengliads feast on the blood of Humans, or other Mengliads, or animals or something, I swear I’m gonna—”
“Jessica,” Craddock interrupted, “we’re not Vampires.”
“Although some Mengliads think we’re the reason the story of Dracula got started,” Bibi added.
“Because, for the longest time,” Craddock continued, “Mengliads would do most everything at night, and sleep during the day. That, and we have a longer life span. To Humans, back centuries ago, it was like we lived forever, though that’s not true. But after a hundred or so years, it’s viewed as remarkable that the person is still alive.”
“How long do Mengliads live to be?” Jessica asked curiously.
“If you take proper care of yourself,” Craddock answered, “a Mengliad can live to be about two hundred years old.”
Jessica gasped, startled by that revelation, but her reaction didn’t deter Bibi. “And we age differently. Humans start to appear old by the time they’re fifty or sixty years old, Mengliads don’t show their age till they’re about a hundred twenty or so.”
“I’m actually thirty-seven years old, in Human calendar years,” Craddock confessed. “Bibi is forty-eight.”
“But the people around you must see that you don’t look your age,” Jessica argued. “People you work with, or live near—”
The shake of his head, while subtle, stopped her rant midsentence. “We have learned to be careful. Careful of who we befriend. Where we work. Most people will change identities.”
“But, then, how do you get birth certificates? Or explain where you went to school?” Jessica asked.
Craddock smiled at her naiveté. “You’d be surprised how many doctors and college professors are Mengliad. Paperwork is easy to create.”
“And unless you apply for a government job or something,” Bibi was quick to include, “it’s rarely challenged or looked into at all.”
Sighing, Jessica slumped back on the couch. “There is just so much I don’t understand. It doesn’t seem real, and yet, it seems very real. Too real.”
“We’ll help you,” Craddock promised. “Don’t worry.”
She tried for a smile, but it was tight. Strained. “Thanks. And I’m sorry I thought you were a fruitloop.”
Craddock co
uldn’t help but laugh. “You thought I was breakfast cereal?” he teased, knowing full well what she meant.
“With a glass of orange juice on the side!” she joked, her laughter a sign that she would adjust, in time.
Patting Craddock on the knee first, Bibi stood from her position on the floor where she had been kneeling, then headed for his backpack. “Now time for food.”
A wary expression took the place of Jessica’s smile. “Just what is it that we have to eat?”
Bibi gestured for Jessica to join her in the kitchen as she produced a sealed plastic container from Craddock’s backpack and set it on the table. “I need a bowl, and you might want to get yourself something to drink.”
Jessica stared at the container before moving to collect the mentioned items. After she had done so, Craddock stood beside her, touching her back in a consoling manner as Bibi pulled the lid from the container and the contents came into view.
When Jessica cringed, Craddock whispered, “It’s not as bad as you think.”
“Is that. . . mealworms?”
He nodded. “We usually call them Mealies, and we usually eat them raw. They lose their nutritional value if you cook them.”
“Oh God. . .” She took a few steps back as Bibi grabbed a handful and put them in the bowl. “I can’t eat bugs.”
“If you don’t,” Bibi said firmly, “you will die.”
Annoyed by her lack of sensitivity, Craddock glared at her, but he dropped the harsh expression when speaking to Jessica. “They’re really not bad. They almost taste. . . nutty. You’re just conditioned to see them as nasty.”
“I’ve seen those crazy game shows, where the contestants have to eat bugs! They sure don’t seem too thrilled about it!”
“That’s ‘cause they’re Human,” Bibi said. “The contestants that are Mengliad are just acting repulsed, but really, they’re not.”
“Seriously,” Jessica took another step away, “I—I can’t eat that. Those. I can’t.”
“Jessica,” Craddock urged, “you can do this. It’s all in your mind.”
“Watch.” Bibi grabbed a few worms and popped them into her mouth, as casually as how one might munch on popcorn.