Bubbles filled the sink as the peroxide burned and the iodine stung. I held them in the sink for as long as I could tolerate, but eventually the pain was overwhelming and I removed them from the basin. I opened the drain, let the liquid empty, and ran cold water over them. Although I hated the idea of staining the pristine white towel hanging from the wall, I used it to dry my hands.
My jacket had more blood on it than anything else, so I took it off and stuffed it into a flimsy looking plastic bag I found in the bathroom closet.
As I walked down the hall towards the kitchen, the woman was already approaching me with a plate of food.
“Come on,” she said. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”
I followed her into an old fashioned looking kitchen. She motioned for me to sit at a small table in the corner of the room.
“You can eat here,” she said.
I sat down, and she placed the meal in front of me.
On the plate I saw grits, eggs, bacon, and hash browns. I carefully grabbed the fork – being careful not to irritate the wounds on my hands and fingers – and started to eat. The food was warm, hot, and delicious. I savored every bite. Before long, the lady had brought me a cup of coffee.
“Thank you so much,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she responded, sitting down at the other end of the table looking intently at me.
“How are you feeling now?” she asked.
I glanced through a door and saw a half dozen guests eating their breakfast in an adjoining room.
“I'm better than I was last night, thanks” I said. “I passed out not long after reaching your shed.”
“Well, I don't know what to make of your story, young man,” she said. “But that bite wound on your neck looks real enough.”
“I still don't know what to make of what happened, myself,” I said.
I felt like this woman was sympathetic and someone I could talk to. I started to give her a more detailed account of the attack. I told her everything. As I related my experience, she looked increasingly concerned.
“It sounds like you were bitten by a vampire,” she said.
“Or a drugged up crazy woman with large teeth,” I responded.
“I think you need to get that bite looked at,” the woman told me. “By the way, my name is Juanita.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Elias Smith.”
I realized that I should pay the woman for her hospitality.
“What do I owe you for breakfast and for the use of your bathroom?” I asked, reaching for my wallet.
“You don't owe me anything, son,” she said. “Save your money. I just want to make sure you get that bite looked at.”
“As soon as I get home and change clothes I'll look into it,” I responded.
“You stay right there, Mr. Elias. I know a doctor,” she said. “He runs a free clinic at the intersection of Waters and Bull Street. I’m going to call him now.”
“I just don't want him to get the police into this,” I said.
“Don't worry, son he won't,” she said with a grin. “He's my son and will do as he's told.”
Juanita stood up, walked towards a wall, and picked up an old fashioned phone. I was surprised that she still had a land line; most of them had been phased out.
I listened as she called and spoke to her son. I was wary about going to see a doctor, but I felt I could trust the woman. She’d treated me, a total stranger, like a welcomed guest.
“He said to bring you over,” Juanita said. “I'm going to drive you there myself.”
The kindness of the woman astounded me. I thought about suggesting that I could walk to the clinic, but I wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible. I didn't know if the crazed woman was still lurking around or not. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation with her.
I finished up my breakfast and Juanita told a young woman to watch over the house and guests while she drove me to the clinic. She let me to a large brown sedan that was parked on the street in front of the house.
She entered the driver’s side and unlocked the passenger door. I climbed in and sat down and looked down the street towards where I’d been attacked the previous night. My assailant was nowhere to be seen.
“I think we should lock our doors,” I suggested.
I then heard a click as the doors locked.
“Done,” Juanita said.
I continued to look at my surroundings. The tall, multistory homes on the street were elegant, and the street was beautiful, but despite this, I realized the woman, or creature, that attacked me could be hiding anywhere around here.
“Which way did you come from?” she asked me.
“Down that way,” I said, pointing to the west.
“So we’ll go the other way,” she said, driving east.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
On the way to the clinic, I noticed a Bible and a few church fliers sitting on the dashboard. She saw me looking at them.
“Take one of the fliers,” she said. “I attend the Temple of Holy Faith on 34 street. You’re welcome to come join us for worship any time.”
I picked up one of the fliers, folded it up, and put it in my pocket. Although I hadn’t attended a church service in a long time, I seriously considered visiting her church to repay her kindness.
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate everything you have done for me.”
“Just pass it along,” she said. “I've had people do the same for me when I’ve been in trouble.”
Before long we were at the clinic. Juanita pulled into the parking lot.
“I’ll be praying for you, Eli,” she said before I exited the vehicle.
I walked inside of the building and saw that it was extremely crowded. In the waiting room there were people of all ages and races waiting to see the doctor. I saw mothers trying to keep their children calm and old people sitting in wheelchairs.
Walking up to the front desk I saw a weary looking receptionist. She was wearing glasses and was sitting on a worn out office chair.
“I was just dropped off here by a woman named Juanita. She told me her son is a doctor here and that he could see me today,” I said.
“What’s your name?” the receptionist asked.
“Elias Smith,” I told the lady with long gray hair.
“Ok, we’ve been expecting you,” she said handing me a clipboard and a pen. “Please have a seat and fill out this sheet. The doctor will see you soon.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I found a seat between a Hispanic woman trying to calm her coughing daughter and an old white woman. Neither of them looked very happy or healthy.
Looking at my cell phone, I thought about calling someone and telling them about my situation. However, I didn't want to worry my mother or bother my co-worker Danielle. I could call Candice, but I doubted she would even care very much.
On the walls of the waiting room were a number of large televisions mounted on the wall. They had become almost as cheap as dirt since the advent of the thin flexible display screens that could be attached to any surface with adhesive. A news program was on and I listened to the familiar discussion of how the unemployment rate was continuing to increase and how inflation was going through the roof. The talking heads were discussing how certain breakthrough technologies, such as cold fusion, could potentially boost the global economy. I looked around the room and saw many people who were in need of something to help improve their lot.
I filled out the form the receptionist had given me, and I returned it to her. Even more sick people were filling the room. I didn’t want to lose my seat, so I hurried up and sat back down.
Only a few moments later I heard my name called. I was taken by a middle aged nurse to a scale where my weight was taken – the digital indicator read 182 pounds. She then led me to a small room where she took my blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature.
A few minutes later the doctor entered the room
. He introduced himself as Dr. Smart.
“I hear that you were attacked,” he said.
I proceeded to tell him the whole story; I included every detail.
“My mom tells me that you don't want the police involved,” he said.
“That's right,” I said. “I don't want to bother with them.”
“Do you have a record?” he asked.
“No, but for all I know they’ll try and turn it around on me,” I said. “I stabbed her in self-defense, but they might not believe me.”
“Don’t worry, I won't call the police,” he said. “My mother has told me not to. She said that she has a feeling about you.”
“That’s good to know -- thanks,” I said.
The doctor proceeded to re-dress the puncture wound before being called out to see another patient. A nurse came in the room and bandaged my hands. She also gave me a shot of antibiotics and a bottle of pills.
“Make sure you take all of these,” she said. “You don't want to get an infection from that bite.”
“I will,” I said.
The nurse led me out of the room and back to the lobby.
“Do I have to pay anything?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “This is a free clinic.”
I walked out of the crowded clinic and felt my stomach growl; for some reason, I was hungry. I’d already eaten a good breakfast at Juanita's house, but I felt like I needed to eat again.
On the way to my apartment, I saw a Western Sizzling Steakhouse. Although I didn’t want to spend the money when I had food in my fridge, I decided to splurge. Approaching the restaurant, I could smell delicious aromas.
I opened the door and entered the restaurant. My stomach growled as the smells of steak and fried chicken became more intense.
It was still early in the day, and there were few people in line. I was able to quickly pay for my meal, find a table, and go to the buffet. Passing by the broccoli, green beans, and other vegetables, I filled my plate with fried chicken and pork ribs. I went back to my table and started to devour them. A few minutes later, I went back to the buffet. This time I placed a few scoops of vegetables and some macaroni and cheese on my plate along with some ham and roast beef.
While I ate, I regretted for a moment that I’d spent fifty dollars eating out. However, I couldn’t help that runaway inflation had increased the price of everything – including restaurant meals. It was 2025, and it seemed like nothing was cheap anymore.
To get my money's worth, I went up to the buffet one more time. I filled my plate with sugary desserts: apple pie, bread pudding, and cherry cobbler. As I sat back down and began to sample them, I realized they didn’t seem as appealing as the meats I’d consumed. I took a few bites of each, and then I pushed my plate to the side.
“Would you like a refill of your drink?”
Looking up, I saw a waitress.
“Yes, please,” I said.
She took my glass, refilled it with sweet tea, and returned it to me.
“Thank you,” I said.
I guzzled down the tea, left a tip on the table, and then walked out.
With my stomach full, I walked all the way across town to my apartment. It was actually a garage that had been turned into a guest suite. The widow who owned the house was an acquaintance of my mother. The old lady needed some extra cash to supplement her social security check and I needed a place to stay, so the arrangement assisted both of us.
Walking to the side entrance, I could see my orange cat was sitting at the window. He was probably hungry. I took out my blood stained keys, found the correct one to unlock the door, and opened it. Chester jumped up onto the table beside the door and rushed to me – as usual he wanted to be petted.
I picked him up and took him to the small kitchen of my apartment. After setting him down on the floor, I reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bag of food. I filled his tray and gave him water and he began to eat happily.
I watched Chester for a few moments, and I then walked over to my small, twin sized bed. I instantly collapsed onto it and fell asleep.
Waking up, I could see that it was once again dark outside.
I wondered how long I’d been sleeping.
I checked the clock -- it was 6:30 p.m.
“Oh no!” I said. “I'm late for work.”
I needed to change clothes, but before I did, I noticed that my stomach was growling again.
I rushed over to the fridge, opened the door, and looked at its contents. Lying beside a carton of milk I saw a pack of lunch meat. I took it out, ripped open the plastic, and quickly consumed it. Still hungry, I opened a can of tuna, took a plastic spoon from the sink, and started digging in to it.
What was wrong with me? Why was I feeling so hungry?
My cell phone rang. Looking at the screen, I saw that I’d three missed calls from my boss. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I had to.
I answered the call.
“Hello,” I said.
“Eli, do you realize you’re four hours late?” Mr. Long said.
“Yes, I do. I'm sorry. I've been sick,” I said.
“Why haven't you been answering the phone?” he asked.
“I'm sorry. I collapsed into bed this morning and I just woke up,” I said.
“You have been working too many shifts anyway,” he said. “Take a couple days off and then call me.”
“I can work tomorrow,” I said. “I can't afford to lose that many hours.”
“I’m telling you to take a few days off,” he said.
“Okay,” I said.
I hung up.
Although I was disgusted with the thought of losing hours, I proceeded to eat almost everything in my fridge. By the time I was done, I still felt hungry. For some reason my appetite was insatiable.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Slowly, I peeled off the bandage on my neck. The bite wound on my neck was almost fully healed. I then started to remove the bandages on my hands. Amazingly, all the scrapes and cracks on my skin were gone.
I looked at my face in the mirror. I saw that the large, puffy bags that had developed lately under my eyes were gone.
I realized that I felt better too. All those long shifts washing dishes had always made my feet and knees hurt, but right now I had no pain in my body.
What was happening to me?
I showered, changed clothes, and walked outside. I had the night off, so I thought I might as well try to enjoy it.
After catching a city bus to the mall, I walked through the busy parking lot towards the main entrance. I wanted to look around inside for a gift for Candice. Valentine's Day was coming up, and I wanted to do something nice for her. Although my efforts would probably be futile, I felt a desire to keep trying to win her affections. Something inside wouldn’t let me give up on her.
As the bus pulled up to the mall I noticed two men in black suits standing together watching the bus. It seemed a little strange for them to be there but I tried to discount them in my mind – they could be anyone.
I got off the bus and started walking along the sidewalk to the mall entrance which was about fifty yards ahead of me. I glanced behind me at the two men and saw they were now walking in my direction. For some reason I felt a little uneasy about them and quickened my pace a little. The next time I turned around I saw them running towards me with incredible speed. I turned to run but to my astonishment I found them standing in front of me.
“You have to come with us,” one of the men said.
“Why? Who are you?” I asked.
“Just come with us,” said the other man, who was a few inches shorter than his companion.
Both of the men looked young – they couldn’t be older than twenty five.
“I'm not going anywhere with you,” I said.
“Sorry,” the short man with brown hair said.
The two men then grabbed me. Each of them held onto one of my arms and suddenly we were moving at high speed towards a vehicle at t
he far end of an empty parking lot, my feet barely touching the ground.
I was in shock. How could they run so fast? After only a few seconds we were at the white van.
“Get inside,” one of the men said.
“No way,” I said.
I tried break lose and dash away, but the taller man grabbed me by the back of the neck, and lifted me off my feet while the other man opened the back door of the van. The man holding me shoved me into the back of the van, and then both of them climbed in behind me and shut the door. I was on the floor and the men sat on a bench seat facing me.
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