by Glenn Rolfe
He’d love to find November and hang out with her until she had to leave, but they hadn’t set up a date for today. Plus, his mom didn’t want him out wandering around alone. His uncle had a great collection of movies, but he knew if they didn’t finish this job today, he’d have to give up another day to spend working and not hanging out with November. The choice was easy.
“Let’s get this done,” he said.
“You got it, Squirt.”
* * *
By the time they were finished, Rocky’s entire body hurt. His back was sore, and his legs didn’t like him much, either. He could not wait to get out of his back brace and into the shower. His undershirt was drenched at least three different times today. The beer had worn off, and he was starving.
“Come on,” his uncle said.
Rocky followed him around the front of the house and over to the garage.
The brown paint on the garage doors was peeling; the cracked windows were all dusty looking. Rocky wondered if his uncle even used the space anymore. His Chevy pickup was parked in the driveway, right where he always saw it.
“So, what’s this, like your secret laboratory?” Rocky asked.
His uncle remained quiet.
Rocky half expected the smoke of some toxic gas to come billowing out as the door screeched on its way up.
Instead of a table with a cadaver or beakers or piles of explosives, there set a big, dark beauty of a car. Chrome and metal stared out at him. This ragtopped Buick rested like a dragon in a lair waiting to be called to duty. Rocky stepped past his uncle and ran his hands along the hood.
“Holy Christ, have you always had this hiding in here?”
“No, only since last summer. It’s been in storage since I got Betty over there,” Uncle Arthur said, thumbing back toward his truck.
“Does it run?” Rocky asked. “It must. I mean, it does, right?”
“Get behind the wheel.”
“What? Really?”
His uncle nodded.
Rocky scurried around and opened the driver’s-side door. Climbing into the vinyl bucket seat, he held the steering wheel. This was a thing of beauty. Keys dangled from the ignition.
“Turn her over,” his uncle said.
Rocky cranked it. And she rumbled to life, a bear up from its deep seasonal slumber, powerful and hungry.
His uncle climbed into the passenger seat and rolled down the window.
“Well, let’s see what you’ve learned.”
“You want me to drive this?”
“Listen, if I’m going to pass it down to you, Squirt, I’m gonna have to know you can handle it.”
“You’re gonna what? Are you serious?” The actual notion that this car could be his…. His teenage mind was blown. He knew his uncle loved him, but this was no mere hand-me-down; the depth of a gift like this was overwhelming.
“This was my first car. Your dad and I enjoyed cruising in this baby, let me tell ya. Nothing broads like more than a cool cat daddy with an even cooler set of wheels.”
Rocky thought of November seeing the car. His car. He pictured her sitting in his uncle’s seat, her brown eyes taking it all in. A smile spread on his face.
“Put her in gear,” his uncle said.
He’d never been more grateful for anything, but at the very moment, he was most appreciative that the Buick was an automatic. Easing from the garage, then the driveway, Rocky pulled into the street and nearly clipped John Chaplin.
He slammed on the brake and they jerked to a stop.
“Jesus H. Fuck!” Chaplin shouted from the sidewalk where he’d jumped for his life.
“Damn, kid,” Uncle Arthur said. “You okay?”
“No thanks to that dickweed behind the wheel,” John said before cupping his hand over his brow and squinting. “Hey, that you, Rocky?”
“Hey, John,” he said. He didn’t know much about Chaplin, but the kid was okay. He was a year younger than Rocky but seemed much older, and hung out with some of the more misfit types.
John walked around to the driver’s side, placed his forearms on the windowsill, and leaned in close enough that Rocky could smell the beef jerky and cigarettes on his breath.
“How come you’re driving? You get your licence or something?”
“Going for it in a couple weeks.”
“No shit?” Chaplin said, cocking an eyebrow and nodding his approval.
“Yeah,” Uncle Arthur chimed in. “And when he gets it, this lil’ dream is his. Pretty damn cool, huh?”
Chaplin nodded. “Fuckin’ rad, man. Just a piece of advice?”
Rocky, with his hands still resting at ten and two, waited for Chaplin’s punchline.
“Don’t run anybody over, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah, all right, man.”
Chaplin snickered as he pulled his pack of jerky from his cargo shorts. “Oh, before I forget. My band is playing a show next Saturday at Jonas Bazinet’s garage. Starts at four p.m. You should come see us.”
“Is it punk music?” Rocky asked.
“Sure is. Come by, it’ll be good for ya. See ya.”
John boogied off down the sidewalk.
“Punk music?” Uncle Arthur said, the look on his face like he’d just smelled King Kong Bundy’s sweaty asshole.
“He’s a pretty cool kid. I didn’t know he actually played music.”
“Not sure I’d call it punk music.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, but I’ll probably check it out.”
“You ready to continue?” his uncle said.
Rocky let off the brake and headed toward the beach.
Chapter Fifteen
November sat in her room surrounded by the voice of Morrissey. Something about his lyrics, cynical and dark as they often were, seemed more human than anything else in her world. Of course, when you live with monsters…. She’d give anything to not be one of them. To be able to survive without sucking the blood of any living creature, to have the simple life. She never wanted to fly or use her strength, not that either ability was particularly strong with her. She chose to abstain from drinking from humans, and thus her monster abilities were less than they could be. It was her rebellion. A middle finger not only to Gabriel, but to their very existence. She could only dream of inviting someone like Rocky over. Sitting here with him now, listening to records together, holding hands, kissing…but that was a dream her brother would invade and devour.
Her door cracked open, startling her.
“Dear,” her mother said. “Come. We need to talk.”
November got up and joined her mother in the living room in front of the television. The local newsman was talking about two missing children and warned that there could be others. A teenage girl from out of state, and a local fifteen-year-old newspaper boy. The girl had been missing for a few days after not coming back to her hotel. The boy vanished while out on his route yesterday morning. Parents were being urged to keep close tabs on their kids. The few tourists interviewed from just down the road showed minimal sympathy, if any. They seemed more annoyed by the situation.. One man said, “Kids these days take off as they please. I’m sure she’ll turn up.” A redheaded twenty-something from New Jersey rolled her eyes and said, “I’m here for a good time. This is a bummer, but, like, I hope she’s okay.” The locals, however, came across as frightened.
“It just doesn’t happen here,” one middle-aged mom said, clutching her young daughter to her side in front of the steps of the town hall.
November didn’t have to ask her mother her thoughts.
“If it is Gabriel’s doing—” her mother started.
“He wouldn’t,” November said, not quite believing her own words as they left her lips. He’d changed this last year. His broody ways, his nightly outings. With Father gone, he answered to no one. There was no telling wh
at he might be doing out there.
“I know you love your brother. I know you only see the good in him. You two have always been so close,” Mother said, taking November’s hands in her own.
November wanted to interrupt her and reveal her theories on what happened to the boy she’d kissed last summer, Bobby Colby, but she held her tongue.
“I fear he’s….” Mother’s old, grey eyes drifted beyond. “I worry about him, at night, when he’s out there. He seems distant.”
“Do you think he’s capable of doing this?” November said, treading carefully, nodding toward the TV.
Her mother backed away and tented her hands over her mouth, staring at the screen and shaking her head. Her watery eyes betrayed her.
A crash behind them caused them both to cry out.
When November stepped toward the bedrooms, she saw the hard-plastic potted plant that had sat upon the bookshelf on the wall had fallen and spilled its spider plant. Soil spread out across the floor.
Mother walked past her, stopping at her own bedroom door before looking back.
“I need rest,” she whispered. “I’ll think about what we’ve discussed. You should stay in today. Tomorrow night, we can go for a walk.”
Before November could respond, her mother disappeared behind the door.
November tended to the mess, just as she feared she’d have to with whatever Gabriel had gotten himself into. If it wasn’t already too late.
* * *
She dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, her sunglasses in place over her eyes as she headed for town. She needed to be around people. She didn’t want to think of her brother turning into a full-fledged monster inside and out.
In the main street she noticed the posters on the telephone poles.
A teenage girl, maybe her own age, with blond hair: Missing.
A police cruiser passed on her left.
The street where the boy had gone missing yesterday morning. Would they find him? Or the girl? The other question she refused to ask herself was, would there be more? Were there more already?
She was cold, her skin cool despite another hot afternoon. She crossed her arms as she ventured toward the pier.
She needed to see Rocky. Needed to hear his voice, hold his hand. She needed to know that he was safe.
Don’t be so foolish, she chided herself. Gabriel has been glued to his room in the daylight hours. He wouldn’t be bothered to venture out into the sun. Still, she couldn’t shake last summer.
She passed Greg’s taco truck and saw him talking with a gang of skater kids with spiky hair, holding Santa Cruz boards with neon-green wheels.
She continued, hoping to happen upon Rocky near the arcade or the beach, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She ended up under the pier, listening to the thousands of kids swimming, cheering, crying, woo-hooing while they splashed in and out of the ocean. The waves were standing up today. She watched as they showed the beachgoers the brute, unquestionable strength of the mighty Atlantic. She pictured her life the way it could have been, if they weren’t vampires. She imagined her father chasing her into the waves. Her mother calling after Gabriel to go rinse off as he rolled in the sand building sandcastles and moats and pretending there were dragons after his king and queen. Her family had never come to a beach as busy and wonderous as this. They’d stuck to small lakes, campsites where they could easily extract themselves without notice.
A small boy came rushing up to her holding something in his tiny hands.
“Do you wanna see my crabby?” he asked, his voice like a cartoon.
“Sure I do,” she said, dropping to a knee and smiling.
The boy un-cupped his hands
A small hermit crab lay tucked away safely in his shell.
“He’s asleep right now, but I’m gonna wait until he wakes up. He’s real neat, huh?”
“He sure is,” she said.
“Okay. Bye.”
She stood and watched him run back toward the woman under a dark blue umbrella that she assumed was his mom.
She found herself smiling as a familiar voice called out.
“Hey.”
Rocky was walking toward her. He had on the shorts she’d bought him and a Superman t-shirt.
“Hey, Heatstroke, sorry I wasn’t here last night,” she said.
He stopped at her side and stared out at the sea. She loved the look in his eyes. Like it was the first time he’d ever seen the ocean and all its beauty.
“Do you always look at her like that?” she asked.
“At who?” he said, his cheeks reddening slightly.
“The ocean. You live here all the time, but there’s something about the way you look at her.”
“Doesn’t matter how many times I see it, it’s still one of the most amazing things to look at.”
He reached for her hand. She took his.
“This is probably going to sound super corny,” he started, “but….”
“Go on,” she said.
“But I was thinking how you make me feel the same thing.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. They kissed until the rest of the tourists and the pier disappeared, leaving just the two of them and the crashing of the waves.
They found a warmer spot in the sun and settled next to each other.
“So,” Rocky said. “You haven’t told me about your family.”
She didn’t feel like going down that road with him. She wouldn’t know where to begin with Gabriel.
She gazed up at the Ferris wheel behind him.
“My sister thinks you’re pretty cool,” he offered.
“She seemed cool. Sorry I didn’t hang out. My mom hasn’t been feeling very well this summer.”
“Oh,” he said. “Is she going to be all right? Am I keeping you from her?”
She placed her hand on his. “No, it’s not like that. She’s not dying or anything.”
After a moment of quiet, Rocky smiled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Yesterday, I wasn’t around because I had some work to do with my uncle. And….”
“Yes,” she said, urging him on.
“He’s giving me a car.”
“Whoa, that’s great.”
She loved the way his smile lifted his eyes. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.
She looked over his shoulder toward the Ferris wheel. “Hey,” she said. “Will you go on it with me tonight?”
“Oh…I, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” he said, looking at his watch. “One, I’m supposed to be right back home. My mom’s getting really nervous about the missing kids.”
“I heard about that,” she said, dropping her gaze. She tried to keep Gabriel from her thoughts.
“Yeah, she actually told me to stay home. She thinks I’m in my room listening to music.”
“Oh.”
He got up. She rose with him.
“Well,” he said, “maybe we can meet up earlier tomorrow?”
“I can do that,” she said. She gave him another kiss. He smiled again and started to pull away.
“Wait,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“You said there were a couple reasons we couldn’t go on the ride. What’s the other?”
“Oh,” he said, looking away and chewing on his lip. “I’m sort of afraid of heights.”
She watched him kick at the sand.
“Well, you know what they say. You gotta face your fears.”
“Yeah, they do say that, huh?” He nodded. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” she repeated.
She watched him hurry along toward the fountain and the main corner of the square before he looked back, gave her a quick wa
ve and disappeared down East Grand Avenue.
She turned and gazed out at the waves. Rocky was right. It was amazing.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel awoke, his body aching. His hands trembled, and his mouth was dry as hot summer sand. He was sweating like an obese man trying to run his first mile. Disgusted with his body’s seeming betrayal, he shoved the coffin open and hurried free. Try as he might, he couldn’t still the tremors in his hands.
He left his room in search of his sister. He knocked once on her door before throwing it open. She was not there. He grunted as he made his way to the living room. Mother lay in her normal space on the couch watching more mind-numbing television.
“Honestly, Mother,” he said. “Do you not have anything better to do with your time?”
She raised an eye to him, studying him. Her gaze stopped at his hands. He held them behind his back, out of her sight, and stepped between her and her precious programming.
“You have something to say?” he dared her.
“Nothing I haven’t said already. Will you please move aside?”
He grimaced, malice seeping over his features as he closed in upon her. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I told you I’m fine.”
She refused to meet his stare. She leaned to the side and looked past him.
He tried to get her to look him in the eyes, his face no more than a foot and a half from hers. When he realised she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, he snorted and straightened up.
He walked toward the door, fighting the pangs in his gut as he rubbed his hands together out of her sight.
“Going out again, I assume,” she said. Her voice froze him.
“Don’t wait up,” he said, holding back what he really wanted to say.
I’ll do whatever the fuck I please, old woman. It’s my business and my life. I’ll live it the way I choose. If I want to drain every last blood bag in this town, I will.
And he was off into the night, high above the side streets and in search of the cure to his discomfort.