Invierea

by Bruce T. Jones

  “Look here, the both of you.” Dee said abruptly. “I might have condoned whatever it is the two of you did last night, but don’t dare to think for one minute it’s going to be your own little secret. Wipe those smirks off your face and fess up!”

  “Everything’s fine, Dee. I’m fine,” Sam said.

  “Did you bite her?” Dee’s expression was almost venomous.

  “Not hard enough to draw blood, if that is what you are asking … and I am fine too, thanks for asking.” Given our conversation yesterday, I was relatively sure Dee’s interrogation was all in jest, or at least I hoped so.

  Dee peered sharply.

  “What?” Samantha blushed before pulling her blouse slightly open. “I think he might have given me a hickey. Do you want to see that?”

  “No, don’t be gross. I just need to know if you … you know,” Dee paused, contemplating her choice of words, “are like him.”

  “And if I was,” Samantha raised her eyebrows. “After all, wasn’t it you who said I need to do whatever it takes to keep from losing him?”

  “Never mind,” Dee replied. “It’s just when you got on the plane, you looked … younger. Like a lot younger. I just had to know if it was because of, you know, him … and not me just looking older than you.”

  “Dee, you already look older than me.”

  “You wish,” Dee said with a cocky smile. She held out her makeup compact, angled the mirror in the direction of Samantha and checked for a reflection. “Just making sure,” she sang. “Try not to make too much noise back here, and for goodness sakes Brian, please behave yourself.” Dee turned back to her seat, hips excessively swaggering all the way.

  “Sorry, I’m sure that was a little awkward.”

  Time to change the channel. “So what is going on with Dee and Phillip?”

  “I think if she would drop her guard, she could easily fall in love … like I did with you.”

  Love. If only I had never looked into those eyes—or seen those legs. But I did, and now all I could think to do was sit in silence and be grateful that I did look.

  “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

  Apparently, my golden silence was not meant to last. “What is?”

  “Here we sit on a plane, just like day one. If it hadn’t been for your golden rule of not dating women you meet on a plane, I might not have been intrigued enough to give you a second thought.”

  “And just look where my lack of discipline and your second thought got us.”

  Without a flinch Samantha whispered, “Does it hurt?”

  “Does what hurt? Becoming a vampire, or knowing I have completely fucked everything up?”

  “I know you are hurting here, Nick,” Samantha placed her hand over my chest. “Give me some time and I will heal your heart.” Samantha swallowed an imaginary lump. “How did it feel … to die?”

  “I am not entirely sure when I died. It wasn’t at all like the movies. She did not bite me and we did not exchange blood … none of that. But I think, maybe it happened in the bar, an hour or so before I killed her. There was this most intensely unpleasant experience, worse than the bullet in the head. My body felt as though it was burning from the inside out. And just when I thought it could not get any more excruciating, suddenly, it felt like a horde of demons sliced through my stomach, reached inside and yanked my intestines out, all at once and yet inch by inch, slow enough I thought the pain would last for all eternity.”

  Four days gone by, my words had detached from the reality of the pain, and reporting it was a mere matter of history. “Overall, a pretty damn unpleasant experience.”

  Sam choked back a tear. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to experience that … and I gave you a hard time. I had no idea. I feel so selfish.”

  “Don’t apologize. The life I lead, the pain I inflicted over the years. I had this coming. I decided God just threw you into my life to heap on the misery as punishment. Without you, I could deal with this easily. But knowing I have screwed up your life …”

  “If this is a punishment, then it was meant for me as well.” Samantha took my hands. “Take me now, and I will endure the pain to be with you, to be like you, till our end. You know in your heart we were destined to be together. You know what you desire to do.”

  “Damn it, Sam,” I said in hushed tones. “Just for once, couldn’t you say the wrong thing? Couldn’t you say something so incredibly stupid that I would know you had lost your mind?” The call of my inner demon was mesmerized. The scent of her blood, offered out of love, enticed the ancient evil within.

  Sam peeked ahead. Dee and Phillip were preoccupied. “Do it now, so we can live out our lives as one.”

  Sam pulled her collar down, exposing the flesh of my desire, her artery seeking the silent cravings of my mouth. I knew this yearning, for I had battled the mystic of the vampire’s seduction, only to fail, and fall into the darkness. Samantha was intoxicated by ancient evil unseen. “Sam,” I said, as I rolled my head up and looked to the unseen heavens. If I took Samantha, my final damnation would be complete. And the beginning of hers. What did I believe? What could I afford not to believe? Was there truly a purpose for any of this?

  It would be so easy to take Samantha as my bride and live out a life of immortality.

  But was it the right thing to do, or just what I wanted to do? The hour to ask God for the answers had long passed. I was solo on this one.

  I looked to her, sadness engulfing my eyes. My mouth filled with saliva, dreaming of the oh-so tempting sweet taste of her blood filling my mouth and body. Her luscious blood, the craving for my quenchless thirst. We were destined for each other, thus, so too her blood. My lips parted, revealing my glistening white fangs. I took her hand and brought it to my lips. Brushing her soft skin against my face the scent filled my head with images of lost purity. She was willing to throw away her life, and soul, to share this damnation. Desiring to covet, keep her with me for eternity, never to age or suffer illness, my choice became clear.

  “Please,” Sam crooned, pleadingly with a tremble.

  Silently, I prayed; “God, if this is wrong, stop me, please.” Ironically, I never sought advice, gave thanks, or prayed for anything from God. Yet here at a spiritual crossroad, I sought out the only help Daniel professed I needed.

  Without pardon, I kissed her delicate hand and placed it in her lap. “Not here, not now.”

  “You need to do it now, before I chicken out.” Sam beseeched, her uncertainty cementing my resolve.

  “That is exactly why I will not. You are not truly ready, and in all honesty, the only reason I would do it is out of selfishness.”

  Out of frustration, or relief, Samantha reclined into her seat with a sigh.

  “If I am meant to do this, we will both know for certain. Besides, if I did it here, your sister would friggin’ kill me with her bare hands.”

  Sam smiled at the thought, then turned her head to the window then appeared to lose herself in a myriad of mixed emotions.

  We said goodbye to Phillip and Dee at the airport. Phillip had offered us a ride to my apartment, but I was not ready for the confines of a limo and a plethora of journalistic questions. With one final apology, hopefully the last, and a promise of some “quality time” together in the next few days, Phillip begrudgingly consented to part ways.

  Sam was eager to be alone, as well as to see my place. The alone part would provide renewed challenges. I had to admit, I was looking forward to seeing my home more than ever before. The guest room had only one window, and an eight-by-ten closet. Wanting to avoid the entire casket scene and be done with the bathtub, I arranged to have a queen mattress delivered earlier in the day, with thoughts of converting the closet into an enclosed sleeping chamber. Gone now were the days of bathtub beds, my sleeping arrangements no longer befitting a new reality show: Trailer Park Vampires.

  The cab pulled up in front of a meticulously detailed brownstone, standing apart in the dark, amongst the other residents on
Sixtieth Street. Accent lighting illuminated the fine details of the building: Spotless stonework, flawless paint, and fully blossoming flowers adorning every window. Even the sapphire blue awning appeared new. The door glass was spotless and the brass trim polished to perfection. As we approached the entrance, an older, stout, cheerful doorman greeted us as he held the door open.

  “Mr. Denman, so good to see you again.”

  “It is good to be home and to see you, Charles.”

  The entrance looked more like the foyer of the W hotel than the lobby of an Upper East Side brownstone.

  “As usual sir, everything is in its place,” Charles reported.

  “It always is.” I handed him five one hundred dollar bills rolled up tightly. I knew my mail would be sorted, my apartment immaculately clean, and my refrigerator well stocked. In fifteen years, I never came home to any unwanted surprises. Knowing I was returning late, Charles had returned to duty just to greet our arrival. A retired Navy chief, Charles understood the importance of details and loyalty. Working as an electrical contractor during the building’s renovations, he took the job as doorman extraordinaire once the renovations were complete, supplementing his retirement pay and affording him the opportunity to live here.

  Sam was silent, scoping out every detail of the lobby. “Wow, this place is stunning,” she said, as she took notice of the exotic bouquets that filled the vestibule. “How much is the rent in something like this?”

  “I hope there is nowhere else quite like this. I pay a small fortune to ensure there is not.”

  Sam looked at me to elaborate, as she ran her hand over the curved mahogany rail in the elevator.

  “I own the building.” The elevator doors closed silently, as the car lifted smoothly upward.

  “Oh, excuse me. I had no idea my vampire boyfriend was loaded.”

  “I trust this does not change anything.”

  “Are you kidding me? I was worried about you not being able to work, and how I was going to afford your drinking habit.”

  The elevator doors glided open into the wide-open living area. “Oh my,” Sam gasped as she took in the visual feast of my home. The openness of the living room, its light avocado green walls, with mahogany trim, white linen fabrics, sculptures, water fountains, artwork, and plants took her breath away. “Pinch me. I know this has to be a dream. I never envisioned your place anything like this.” She walked toward the sweeping granite spiral stairway in the middle of the living room. “Where does this go?”

  On my desk, across the room, I spotted the flicker alert on my Mac. Priority alerts were programmed for all of my devices, but I had not looked at my laptop since the event. My phone had suffered a much worse fate, smashed in a fit of rage the same day. At that junction, I did not think I would ever need a phone or computer again.

  “I will show you in just a minute. I have some urgent business I need to attend to.” Sam took notice of the object of my attention. “Feel free to explore,” I offered.

  “I’ll wait on the couch. I prefer a personal tour.”

  “In that case, come on over.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely … I think.” I smiled nervously. Sam followed to my desk, and stood behind me. I swiveled the leather chair around and pulled her into my lap. Reading the encrypted message I tensed. “Are you sure you want to know everything?”

  Sam pulled her hair back and tweaked her ear to listen. “We have made it this far.”

  I sighed, unaccustomed to confessions.

  “The work I performed, for the CIA, it involved illegal information acquisition, physical intimidation, assassinations, and other numerous international crimes. There were maybe, four guys at a time that performed my level of work. They all died out in the field. It was dangerous, working under the radar, and way beyond the boundaries of internationally accepted law. I knew my clock was ticking, so I began weaving a network of identities and exit strategies. Twenty years ago, when my airplane buddy with benefits shot me, I assumed it was a hostile retribution for either my work in the Middle East, or Colombia. Even though I got shot, she did provide me the perfect exit, the chance to be dead and not have anyone look for me. I called in Rob. He staged my death perfectly, allowing me to disappear once and forever. But over the years I could not shake the feeling that maybe she was working for my own government.

  “Not only does the CIA use facial recognition software to track the movement of our enemies, but their own people as well. Traffic and sidewalk cameras, ATMs, department store surveillance, you name it; the CIA is wired in and monitors it all with advanced computer systems. So I wrote a program, hacked their system and hid a file deep in the operating system. Internally, anyone in the office could pull my file and review records I falsified, but I blinded image recognition software to any electronic queries of my image. It worked perfectly, for almost twenty years … until now.”

  “What happened?” Deeply intrigued, Sam perched on my leg as if she were ready to spring into action.

  “New Orleans PD ran my picture, in an attempt to ID me after my arrest. Somehow the virus I created in the CIA’s computers failed and now they know I am alive.

  “What are you going to do?” Sam’s tone revealed she understood the implications.

  “Hopefully, I can put this to rest with a phone call.” I opened my desk drawer, and pulled out a new iPhone and plugged it into the computer.

  “How many phones are in there?”

  “I don’t know, maybe six or eight.”

  “I would hate to see your cell bill.”

  “I don’t get one.”

  Sam leaned back just far enough to get a full view of my face. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  “Okay, like I told you, I am quite the computer hack. I wrote an app for my phone. When I push this button, right here,” I said indicating the button, “my phone dials into a random AT&T store. From there, it hacks into their computer and selects employees that are not working, uses their passwords and selects random unassigned phone numbers. My phone then uses the WIFI signal from my laptop to establish a fictitious point of origin for my calls. See, it’s done already,” I said as the computer flashed upload complete. “It takes a few seconds longer when the phone is new. I never upload the software until I am ready to use it.”

  Now, let’s see who is at the bottom of this inquisition. I scrolled through the CIA database until I found the header Agent Compliance. “Paul Watson. Geez, this guy has got to be ancient by now. He hired me.” Mumbling more than talking, I dialed the number.

  “It’s time to wake up Mr. Watson.”

  “You are calling him now?”

  “Why not? More than likely he has probably already ordered me terminated. At this hour, home in bed, it won’t give him the opportunity to run me down, not that I think he could.” I showed the phone screen to Sam. “See, origin of call, Glasgow. It would take them at least fifteen minutes in the office to unscramble this call. With him home in bed, unless they are watching his line, it’s not going to happen.”

  The phone rang five times before a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Wake up, Paul. Do you know who this is?”

  “No.”

  “You are looking for me, but you need to stop,” I ordered.

  “Nick?” the voice searched.

  “Listen carefully, Paul. I have three server computers in various countries. Everything I know is stored on those computers. Everyday, I phone in a kill code that keeps them idle. If I don’t make the call, they will auto dial at least one hundred and fifty different reporters and media outlets; they will email, fax and use recorded audio to tell everything I know.”

  “Jesus, Nick. Are you out of your mind?”

  “Your first assassin missed twenty years ago. I will not afford you the opportunity to try again without paying an unbearable price.”

  “Nick, I don’t know what you are talking about. But you do need to come in. We need to talk.” This was no more
than standard CIA bullshit stall tactics, undoubtedly; he was connecting the call to headquarters.

  “No Paul. You need to call off the hit. You need to forget about me, forever. I promise if your man succeeds, you will not live long enough to read about it in the papers.”

  “Nick, it’s too late for that, unless you come in voluntarily, immediately.”

  “I hope for this country’s sake, and yours, Paul, you are wrong.” I hung up the phone and looked into Sam’s eyes. Sitting in my lap, arms wrapped tightly around my chest, I felt her trembling.

  With her left hand resting over my heart, she sighed. “I am about to pee in my pants, and your heartbeat hasn’t gone up one tick. Doesn’t any of this bother you?”

  “No,” I stated simply. “In this building we are completely safe. So, are you ready to see the rest of your home?”

  “My home?” Bubbling with enthusiasm, Sam headed toward the terrace.

  “Let’s start downstairs,” I suggested. Heading down the granite spiral staircase, Sam eyed the heavy metal door impeding our progress. “As far as everyone else knows, this is where I live.” Keying in the code on the control panel, the door opened, revealing a slightly less extravagant, but still tastefully decorated and furnished apartment.

  Void of the lavish appointments above, as Sam toured, her hands explored the various textures of paint and wood. “This is very nice. I could be very happy living down here.” Slipping into the kitchen, she opened the stainless door of the refrigerator to find it fully stocked. “Expecting company?”

  “Charles. I told him I was bringing a guest without elaborating.”

  “So let me see if I understand. You are saying nobody, Phillip, or any of your past girlfriends have ever seen the apartment upstairs?”

  “Not a single one,” I pledged.

  “I could see where any girl would be delighted with this apartment. But why wouldn’t you use the upstairs apartment to really make an impression?”

  “Up there, it is my private space. I have not felt the need or desire to impress anyone with what money can buy. Have you already forgotten what I told you on the plane?”