“He should be dead. I can’t comprehend… his hand… his hand is actually… warm.”
When the disease takes hold, it doesn’t really hurt. At least not at first. After the train accident, we didn’t really know what happened. Some were left for dead, some bodies burned in the fire, and the rest of us were taken somewhere. I think now that it was probably the catacombs under the city. The ones that the bootleggers used during Prohibition. The same ones where Chris took us to.
I remember waking up and feeling horrible. I didn’t know where I was or how long I had been there. As my eyes adjusted, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The room was long with beds lining either side. Like an infirmary. Torches dimly lit the walls and it was damp. The air was sour and smelled of blood. It wasn’t hard to see why. I could see that I wasn’t alone. There were figures in the beds. Some of them looked dead and others looked as if they wanted to be. Bags of dark liquid were hooked up to many. Blood. That was where the smell was coming from. Suddenly my body shook with a cough and my insides felt like they were going to explode. I drew my hand away and immediately noticed the blood that clotted there. Consumption. I must be somewhere being treated for consumption.
“Will?” a voice tentatively called out. My eyes searched out in the dim light. It was my father in a bed next to me. I don’t know why I didn’t notice him before. I started to get up but immediately felt dizzy and had to lie back down.
“Where’s are we? Where’s Celia?” I hoarsely cried out.
My father didn’t know much more than I did. Celia was in a bed across from us, and I found a small relief that we were alive. If only I knew then what I knew now. I may have regretted surviving, as I have so many times since. Our health only went downhill from there, as the disease wracked through our bodies. The poison slowly freezing the blood in our veins and slowing our heart. Our skin paled and our mortal bodies slowly died. The pain became excruciating as we hardened and during the worst of it, we hallucinated. I would wake up in a cold sweat, with the bedding tangled around my naked body. Sometimes I wished I would get well and other times, I wished I was dead.
I suppose the actual change took only a week, but it felt like an eternity. Even now, as I lay in this place dying from a wound to the heart, I couldn’t help but think of the pain that I endured to become this way to begin with. The only difference is that this time, I had more of a reason to live. I had a reason to pull through.
Will. Don’t leave me. Her voice continued to whisper through the shadowy corners of my mind and her presence flowed through me. I thought back on my life... both of them… and willed myself to continue on, not yet ready to leave. Reminding myself that the world is always darkest before the light.
I followed Celia and the others in a daze, still not sure what had happened to Will. All I knew was that he might be alright if they got to him in time. We traveled in a sleek, black car, with the two men holding an unconscious Will. They seemed oblivious to the blood that was covering us and the seats of the car. Celia, gripping my hand, pressed next to me as we raced to the outskirts of the city, trying to control my shaking.
“Where are we going?” I whispered to Celia, my eyes never leaving Will’s face.
“I’m not totally sure, as I have only heard of this place. It’s a hospital of sorts, I guess. There are those of our kind who are specialists, who are rumored to be looking for a cure. I hope that they will try to figure out how to help him… if they can.” The last sentence came out so low, I wasn’t sure that I had actually heard her correctly.
“I don’t understand, Celia. I thought that… I mean… it went right through his chest. His heart…” my voice dropped off, unable to say it out loud. I feared his heart had been pierced. Immortal or not, there would be no recovery from that. I knew there were ways that he could be killed.
“It is. But my father and I have a theory. It has to do with iron and...” She stopped abruptly and looked out the window. “I think we’re here.”
We had pulled up to a large, gothic mansion. It looked dark and sinister. Rundown. Then again, it didn’t look like the kind of place that I would venture up to without being invited, so it made sense. Iron gates swung open and gravel crunched under the tires. They lined up waiting for us on a giant porch.
It took only a matter of moments for them to shuttle Will off behind a set of closed doors and Celia, and I were ushered into a waiting room. But it wasn’t the typical sterile waiting room. It was furnished with antiques and carried a slightly musty smell of old things, instead of the typical antiseptic smell of a hospital that burned your nose. In fact, the inside of the building was exactly the opposite of the outside. It looked taken care of, at the very least. Celia and I walked to the couch at one end of the room. The springs groaned loudly when I sat, interrupting the silence between us.
“You really should try to sleep. It could be a long night ahead.” Celia murmured.
“I’m okay. I want to be around just in case Will wakes up.” In truth, I didn’t think I could actually sleep.
“Julia, I have to be realistic with you. There’s no guarantee that he actually will wake up. I’ll try to find some things out while you sleep. Just lay down right here. I promise I will wake you when I find out anything.”
It was useless to argue with her because I knew she was right, so I gave in.
“Well I suppose I could close my eyes for a few moments.” The last thing I remember was someone pulling a blanket over me.
I remember getting stabbed. A brilliant pain threatened to pull my body apart, tearing what little of my soul remained. I remembered Julia and the beauty of her and how she stayed. I told her I loved her and then I was dreaming.
Julia was at the piano, her back to me. A song drew me in, and I stood behind her placing my hands on her shoulders, absorbing the sound illuminating from her. She finished and turned to look at me. She smiled and pulled me down toward her mouth, and I wrapped my arms around her. Before our lips could meet, she turned her head slightly to whisper in my ear.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. Before I could answer, she disappeared from my hold and I was standing in the cemetery alone with the graves of my family at my feet. The leaves of the red maple stirred around me and sadness filled my soul. The wind confided in me and its voice was Julia’s.
“I’ll never leave you. Don’t go,” it sang before everything went dark.
I felt cold. I didn’t even know where I was, but I knew that I registered cold. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t, because a bright light beckoned. So this is what it felt like to die. I almost chuckled in relief at the idea that I was actually feeling. There was a deep pain in my chest that felt as if there was a gaping hole. And then I remembered there was a gaping hole. I had been stabbed. I really was dying. I stopped fighting the light and began to relax, trying not to focus on the pain. But the pain would not subside. In fact, it was heightened by a thump. I couldn’t put my mind around what this extra pain was. And then it came to me in a flash. I could see her face. Julia. The reason I was here. The reason my heart was trying to beat. The reason I had for living.
Her image came to me. Dark auburn hair, cascading in soft curls past her shoulders and her green eyes. Ah, yes. Her eyes, so deep they penetrated right into mine. And then I remembered her hands softly placed on ivory keys as a beautiful melody erupted. The music that had saved me the first time, began to run through my mind. I held on to that melody and began to fight through the haze that was trying to pull me under. It came to me like a movie. Short scenes, memories, dreams, pictures. It was all there, in my subconscious, fighting to stay. I fought until I could consistently focus on my memories of Julia and her music. I wanted to live. I wanted to wake up to see her face again. She had said it didn’t matter what I was. We would figure it out. And for once, I wanted nothing more than that. I loved her, and she loved me and we could take this on together.
“William. William, wake up.” My mother’s voice softly whispered through
the haze of sleep. I startled and opened my eyes to see my mother sitting on the edge of my bed back home. I sat up nervously and looked around my bedroom.
“What is it mother?” confusion spread through me. I looked around slowly. The room was exactly as I had remembered, since the time we moved in the house. Although, the thin layer of dust was gone and my hand-carved wooden trucks still lined the shelves. I looked over my mother’s shoulder at the snow falling softly outside. Suddenly I knew. It was Christmas morning, and I was 12 years old. It was before everything happened. Before she died. Before I became what I am.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” she said, then pulled me into her arms. My head lay on her shoulder, and I inhaled her scent deeply. Roses. I fought the tears from coming, trying to tell myself I was dreaming. I didn’t want this dream to end.
The quiet sounds of whispering brought me back at one point. I tried to open my eyes again, but they were heavy and wouldn’t obey. My mind was hazy, and I tried to swim through it. I felt as if I was drowning, my chest bursting with pain. I tried hard to concentrate on the sounds around me, so I could figure out what was happening.
“If only I could understand what these readings mean, I would know what to do,” a low voice uttered. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“Me neither,” another voice added. “The only thing I know is that the dagger didn’t fully pierce his heart, which is a miracle in itself. That is the only explanation for why he’s still alive.”
“His wound is definitely healing, but it’s not healing in the way I would think. I just can’t piece this all together. I actually had to give him a blood transfusion this morning. That is unheard of.” The sound of fabric made me think of a shrug. Then a shuffle of papers and the click of the door led me to believe I was again alone.
I am not dead, I thought to myself and fought, again, against the heaviness holding my eyes closed, only to be met by the pain. I could feel myself fading again, and no matter how hard I grasped, I couldn’t stop the fall.
A giggle, then music but only a few bars before it stopped and the giggling started again.
“Will, please. You have to let me finish practicing.”
Julia. Was I dreaming again?
“Try again,” I heard myself say. “I promise. I won’t mess you up.” A scene was clearing before me. Julia and I, sitting side by side on the piano bench while she played. Now I knew I was dreaming because I had always hoped for this.
She struck a chord again, and I let her play longer, but finally couldn’t contain myself. I ran my lips along the edge of her jaw line and twisted my hand in the hair at the base of her neck. The smell of lavender. Another giggle, and then everything went black.
A heartbeat. A heartbeat pounded through me. It felt strong but not constant and it hurt. I could imagine the atrophied muscles trying to find their rhythm. It was as if it was relearning how to beat. I heard the blood whoosh through my ears and echo in my head. I willed it to continue, wanting so much for it to be there. It was like a metronome counting down for me, and I needed it to continue. I concentrated on that until the sound of voices again. I could only assume at this point that I was in some sort of hospital, and doctors were trying to treat me. The beeping of a machine matched the thump in my chest. I could smell nothing, but I could hear every tiny thing.
“It’s getting stronger as he stabilizes. Should we tell his father?” the first voice asked.
“No. It’s too soon to tell. We don’t want to get their hopes up,” the second replied.
“Did you find anything in the medical archives or in any of our research that could help us?” the first voice asked.
“No. It seems as if this has never happened before. I can only hope that what we are doing is working. That human girl loves him so much, I don’t know what it would do to her if we lost him.” His feet shuffled against the waxed floor as he shifted his weight.
“Perhaps we should let her come in. If they have such a bond, maybe her presence would help wake him.”
Yes! Oh yes, just let me hear her voice, my mind screamed. There was no answer. I fought to open my mouth just to let them know I was there. My calls went unanswered, and the doctors left the room.
I lost track of time. I don’t know how long I had been there, or even where I was. Time was standing still and I was trapped in my own mind. Pain came and went. At times, it was excruciating, as if my veins were full of tiny needles set to prick me from the inside out. I wanted to wake up. I needed to wake up. The heartbeat was still there. Stronger now, and full of hope. And Julia was near. She had stayed and I could feel her, which is what kept me fighting to get back to the surface.
I pulled a blanked over Julia and tried my best to hide my concern for Will. No need to alarm her even more. The truth was, I was terrified. Something wasn’t right and for once, I didn’t seem to know what the right action would be. Should I stay with Julia and let the doctors take care of it, or should I try to figure out exactly what happened.
After arguing with myself for several minutes, I decided that perhaps cleaning myself up would be best. I was mess. Dried blood that looked like tar splattered all over my clothes and face. It plastered my hair in strange angles and twisted itself in reddish black curls. I didn’t know whose blood it was, but it disgusted me. I needed to wash the night off.
The receptionist at the front was nice enough to give me some scrubs and point me to an empty bathroom with a shower. With towel in hand, I glanced once more at the sleeping figure and crept down the hall. Ten minutes later, I emerged clean but not feeling much better. I would have to direct Julia to the shower when she woke.
There was still no news on Will’s condition. I glanced at my watch. My father wouldn’t be here for another hour. I needed to occupy myself.
The chair groaned when I sat down and began thumbing through a magazine. My leg tapped on the floor in a rhythmic disturbance. This would never work. Unlike, Julia, I could never sleep. She seemed to be able to let the exhaustion take over. Perhaps it was her way of dealing with trauma. She was able to shut down. Lord knows, she had dealt with enough of it.
Eventually, she stirred next to me, then sat up with a jolt, as if remembering where she was.
“Hey,” I started. “There’s no news. I would have woken you if there was.”
“Thanks,” she sighed, rubbing her hands on her face, startled when the dried blood began to flake off into her hands. She looked up at me abruptly. “You showered?”
“Oh yeah. I couldn’t sit still. The receptionist gave me some scrubs and a towel. You should go too. Get yourself cleaned up.” I shuddered, remembering how we got this way.
“Thanks.” Julia got up, then hesitated and looked back at me expectedly. “You will come get me if anything changes, won’t you?”
“Of course. You will be the first to know.” I smiled reassuringly. She nodded and walked toward the front.
A few minutes later, my father rushed through the door. He looked around frantically as I rushed to his side and met him with an embrace.
“What happened? I knew that I should have come with you.” Concern etched his face and I could feel his helplessness.
“It wouldn’t have helped. Chris ambushed us. He must have been following Will closer than I thought. You wouldn’t have been with us anyway.” I repeated as quickly as I could, exactly what had happened.
“He has to survive, Father. He just has to. He has come so far.” The emotion I had been trying to hide could not be extinguished anymore. It was just too much.
Julia emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair falling around her shoulders. She hesitated briefly before continuing toward us.
“Hello, Mr. Bradley.”
“Hello, Julia. I am sorry for getting you involved in this. And please, call me Samuel.” His smile was warm and full of concern. Julia took my father’s hand briefly but looked at me.
“Don’t be,” she said. “You didn’t get me involved in anything I didn’t w
ant to be involved in. Do you think we could see him, Celia? Won’t they let me just see how he is?” she pleaded as she turned to me.
“I’ll talk to them,” my father replied. “You probably won’t be able to go in there, but perhaps you can look in on him. I’ll see what I can do.” He walked in the direction of the front desk and I steered Julia back to the waiting area.
“If anyone can get you in, it will be my father,” I reassured.
“I just need to see him,” she said, her voice falling off.
My father motioned to us and we hurried over.
“No one can go in yet. They aren’t sure he’s stable. He’s under full surveillance, but I can take you to where his room is. Perhaps you can look at him through the glass.
“Oh, thank you!” Tears sprang to Julia’s eyes in gratitude. “I just… I just want to see him.”
A doctor came out and ushered us through a swinging door. Despite the ancient decor of the waiting room, the interior of the hospital was surprisingly modern. Each room was separated by thick glass walls. Electronic monitors were scattered all over. This wing of the hospital was empty, except for a room that I suspected was Will’s
“It is fortunate that you were already in Chicago when this happened. I don’t think we could have saved him if you would have had to travel a great distance,” the man leading us commented. I glanced nervously at Julia, but she was white as a ghost and already distracted.
“This is his room. As you can see, we are still trying to stabilize him, so you cannot go in yet. Stand here and look, but I ask that you don’t stay too long.” He hurried away, his long strides eating away at the black and white tiled floor beneath him.
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