I turned my back on her and marched out of the office. I stalked to the front entrance of the warehouse and reached for the interior bolts securing the door.
“Don’t,” she said. I froze. I hadn’t heard her follow me, but when I turned my head she stood directly behind me; hands fisted on her hips. She spoke the word softly, but I clearly heard the menace in her voice.
I shivered. Fear crawled back into my belly and nested there. But my anger remained and still had rule over my thoughts and actions. Unfastening the inside locks, slowly but defiantly I pulled open the door and walked out under the clear starlit sky. I heard, rather than saw the door close behind me. I heard a soft click, then the interior bolts slid home. Regret washed over me momentarily at the sound, but it was quickly replaced by exhilaration. I was outside!
The night was glorious. I laughed aloud and immediately began to run with the excitement of my newfound freedom. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Buildings, trees and lampposts blurred past my vision as I pushed myself at top speed, letting the rush of the wind across my face carry away the memories of cemeteries, cramped warehouses, and arguments with vampire girlfriends. A few nighttime pedestrians stopped to stare at me as I passed and, with a shock, I realized I was running at a pace that surpassed many of the vehicles traveling on the street. Faster than any living man has any right to run.
The evil that holds my soul and infuses my body also gives me great strength and speed. It requires sacrifices and blood to sustain it, but it has its rewards as well. The speed was intoxicating, but reluctantly, I realized I could not afford to be drawing so much attention to myself.
I stopped my mad pointless dash and slowed to a more leisurely – and less conspicuous – walk. My legs felt no fatigue and I did not feel winded. How can one be short of breath when he does not need to breathe in the first place? I strolled casually, trying to blend in with my surroundings as I considered where I might safely seek my evening’s victim. It would have to be someone isolated and easily taken. And ideally, it should be someone that would not be missed when they disappeared.
Although the night air held a hint of frost and I wore only light clothing, I did not feel chilled. I found that while I could clearly feel the sensations of cold, I did not appear to be susceptible to the normal reactions to it. Just as when I had stepped into a cold shower, I felt no desire to shiver or wrap my arms around myself to conserve body heat. There was no gooseflesh and no sense of discomfort in my extremities. Although warmth is lovely, and I do seek out opportunities to enjoy it, the cold, even prolonged exposure to it, did not seem to cause me any detrimental effects. Yet one more benefit to being dead.
My eyes were another. As I had discovered in the farmhouse, my eyes are very sensitive to any source of light, and though the moon currently offered minimal illumination, I found I could see as clearly as if the sun rode high in the afternoon sky.
My wandering became more focused when my stomach clenched uncomfortably, reminding me why I was outside and begging me to find food. Soon. I knew I could not simply grab someone from the street, as the risk of witnesses was too great, and I did not wish to be actively sought by the police. Jail cells permit too much sunlight in for my tastes. I was smart enough to know my victim had to be someone that, even if a body was found, would not generate too much excitement among the authorities, or too much fear in the local citizens.
My first impulse guided me into the back alleyways. Knowing that every city contains its own population of homeless and destitute, I began to prowl the dumpsters and darkened doorways for any unlucky derelict that might have chosen to go to ground there. I hunted fruitlessly for hours, roaming through empty streets and uninhabited gutters. The occasional pedestrians I did see, either kept to the main streets or traveled in small groups, and I did not wish to risk being seen when I fed. The only real luck I had was while sniffing around a garbage pile hoping to find a drunk sleeping off an evening of binging. I pushed around a few closed, plastic bags of refuse and spotted a wadded up twenty dollar bill in the street. Not sure what good money was going to do me now, but unable to just leave it on the ground, I picked it up and pushed it into the right front pocket of my jeans.
More time passed and my search still turned up nothing. Growing more frustrated with each passing minute that I could not locate a suitable victim, I began to wonder if I should just give up and slink back home. Disheartened, I stepped out from an underground parking garage I had just finished searching and paused to stare up at the sky. Amazingly, as I stood on that street corner considering seriously whether to quit my search and return to Andi empty handed, my victim found me.
A tall, dark-haired, Asian girl, about twenty years old, strolled over to me from a bus stop bench across the street from where I stood. She had a pretty face, though she wore too much makeup, and her chocolate-brown eyes seemed very old for one so young. She wore a snug, black, leather jacket over a white T-shirt, and a very short black skirt that revealed most of her long, tanned legs. A cheap, black plastic handbag dangling from a strap over her shoulder completed the outfit. Spiked heels on her shoes lifted her several inches higher than her already impressive stature. I guessed her to currently stand about six feet tall.
She was thin, almost to the point of emaciated, and she had a hungry look on her face. She needed something and, although she was trying to keep a calm, detached expression, I could see the hopefulness in her eyes. I felt an immediate kinship with this girl. I understood hunger.
“Hi, sweetie. Are you looking for company, tonight?” She placed her hands on her hips, letting her jacket pull open to display her small, firm breasts. Her nipples showed clearly through the thin material of her shirt.
“Actually, I am,” I replied. I glanced around for any casual observers of our conversation. “Do you know of any private places nearby?”
She nodded towards an alley along the north side of the garage I had recently exited. “Sweetheart, if you have the money, I’ll do you right there in the street. Ain’t nobody gonna see us.” Remembering my recent windfall, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled twenty-dollar bill, holding it up to show it to her. Her lips pressed together and her mouth pulled to the side in a display of disappointment. “For that, the best I can offer is a blow job,” she said.
“That’s fine,” I agreed. She took my money and stuffed it in her purse, then with a tilt of her head that indicated I should follow her, she led me back into the protective shadows of the alley.
In the alley, safely concealed from any casual observers, I turned to stand with my back pressed against the cold brick wall. The girl knelt before me and unfastened my pants; unbuttoning the clasp and sliding the zipper down with a smooth and practiced efficiency.
“Oh, my God. You are freezing cold,” she said, as she freed my growing member from the confines of my underwear and hefted it in her hand.
“Yes, I am,” I agreed. I smiled affably. “Please continue.”
Though it had not been my primary reason for bringing the girl there, I allowed myself the pleasure of her ministrations. Why deprive myself, I thought. And I still had plenty of time to get to … other things. Her experience in the act was obvious and with her mouth and hands she brought me quickly to climax. I felt the familiar and welcome tremors of orgasm flow through me and I slumped back against the wall, bracing myself as the muscles of my body tensed in pleasure. To my surprise, the girl suddenly reeled back away from me, falling to the ground, gagging and coughing. On her hands and knees, she spat several times into the street then wiped her lips with the back of one shaking hand. She peered up at me, suspicion and anger in her shocked expression.
“That was like ice,” she accused, spitting once more. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Actually, there is quite a bit wrong with me,” I admitted. I dropped to my knees beside her and grasped her shoulders in my hands. She tried to pull away but I held her firmly and she was unable to break free of my grip.
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“I could spend most of the evening listing the things wrong with me.” I pushed her down, flipping her onto her back. She locked eyes with mine as I lowered my face closer to hers. “But the main thing wrong with me right now is that I am very, very hungry. Fortunately, I know how to fix that.”
Salty and sweet at first, her blood was hot and satisfying in my mouth. However, after several swallows of the thick revitalizing ichor, I noticed something slightly unpleasant about the way it tasted in the back of my throat. There was a hint of something nasty; almost rancid. I had not previously been exposed to this type of taint, but I recognized it easily enough. She tasted of death and decay. Although still too early for the effects to show on the outside, some chemical or drug in her system was already destroying her on the inside. She was an addict. The girl probably worked the streets to support her habit and her nightly wanderings in search of drug money had led her to me. Lucky me.
Despite some concerns regarding how the drugs in her system might affect me, I was not going to stop. I was too hungry and too far gone into my feeding frenzy to pull away.
With one hand I covered her mouth to muffle her screams, and with the other I held her close against me as I fed. She struggled, her fingernails raking against my arms and back desperately, but I took little notice. My heart moved sluggishly in my chest in sympathetic vibration with her own dying heartbeat, and my body temperature rose to almost normal as the heat of her lifeblood suffused my veins. I felt alive, even as my victim died in my arms.
Just like when I had fully fed before, the moment was over much too quickly. After what seemed like only seconds, the girl’s hands dropped to her sides and her body went limp. I reveled in the heady euphoria of my actions, even as I still held her lifeless body against me and tried to draw a last few precious drops. Finally, convinced that there was no more to be had, I rose to my feet and let her tumble like a rag doll from my hands. Standing over the broken, lifeless thing I had just created, I felt no pity or remorse. I enjoyed killing her, just as I knew I would.
Yet, unbidden, tears welled in my eyes. I cried silently, examining my handiwork in the cold alleyway, the tears rolling fat and wet down my cheeks. This was not the first death at my hands, but this was the first time I had intentionally and purposefully acted to take a person’s life. By seeking out and attacking this woman, I had forever lost the part of me that connected me to the rest of the human race. Worse, I didn’t feel regret or guilt, but I recognized as I stared at her motionless body that I should. My tears were not for the murdered child at my feet. I didn’t have enough humanity left in me to give a fuck about her. These tears were for me.
From this day forward I would always be alone. A creature separate from the rest of the world.
I cried out of self-pity. I cried for what I had become.
Remembering where I was, I consciously pushed away the melancholy and brushed at the tears on my cheeks. This was not the occasion for any more deep introspection. There would be time for that later when I wasn’t standing over a bloody corpse in an alleyway. I glanced around to be sure I remained unseen. Reassured that there was no one in the alley that might have observed my crime, I took inventory of myself. I did not look good. The girl’s blood covered my shirt, and I could feel more of the thick fluid drying on my face. I could not possibly avoid drawing attention if I remained on the street. I decided the time had come to rejoin Andi.
First, I adjusted my clothing, fastening my pants and trying to correct my general disarray. Next, I reclaimed my money – plus an additional two hundred dollars – from the girl’s purse. After a moment’s hesitation I also removed her watch and a ring mounted with a green stone. The stone appeared to be only glass, but it might still be worth something. A man who cannot hold a day job must think of finances at all times.
Next, I looked for a dumpster or a sewer grate; somewhere that I could place the girl’s body that would keep it from being discovered too quickly. There was nothing in the alley that looked promising. And I was not going to carry a corpse around the city with me looking for a place to stash it. With a shrug of resignation, I decided that I would just have to leave her where she was. She would be discovered in the morning, or possibly sooner, but by that time I should have been able to shower off her blood and burn my soiled clothes. There wasn’t much more I could do.
With a last furtive check to be sure the streets remained empty, I ran for home. I ran as fast as I could travel, fear prodding me at every step. My speed drew looks from two late night strollers, but I decided I was still less conspicuous than if I walked casually by them with blood covering my face and clothing. And, as fast as I moved, I would only be an unidentifiable blur to any who saw me pass.
When I reached the building Andi and I shared, I paused in the parking lot searching for any late-night bystanders. I panted loudly as my exertion triggered the habitual urge to consume more oxygen, but with no real need for air I composed myself quickly. I walked as calmly as I could under the circumstances to the front door and, finding it locked, I knocked, glancing repeatedly over my shoulder for any signs of pursuit.
Andi answered immediately. She was still wearing the grey sweatshirt I had last seen her in. She still had the same look of disapproval on her face as well. I smiled and tried to slip inside, but she barred the doorway with her body.
“Andi, please. I need to change clothes and clean up.”
“No, Gregory. You are not coming in.” Although she spoke mildly, without any harshness, I saw a hardness in her eyes that told me she had made a decision I could not change. “I told you to stay, but you chose to leave anyway. If you feel ready to make decisions for yourself, then I think you are ready to be on your own. You are no longer welcome to stay with me. I suggest you find a new lair quickly as the sun will rise before long. Perhaps we will see each other again. If you survive.”
“Andi, wait.” But the door closed in my face. I heard the locks slide into position and the sound of her footsteps retreating deeper into the building.
I waited outside the door for several minutes; shocked, but still convinced at any moment she would let me inside with a laugh and a warning that next time would be for real. But she did not reappear.
It seemed that this time was for real.
CHAPTER 11
In a town I did not know, covered with blood and only a few hours away from sunrise, I was in a very bad position. I did the only logical thing I could think of. I began to prowl for a place to hide from the coming daylight. All things became secondary to simple survival, and I could not survive out in the open.
I wandered aimlessly for perhaps an hour. Panic began to gnaw at me. Every possible location I could find would either allow in too much sunlight or it left me too open to discovery by passersby. I could not afford to have some nosey explorer chance upon my sleeping body and perhaps drag me out into the light. Or notify the police, for that matter. I considered staying awake and hiding among people; perhaps in a dark movie theatre. But unfortunately the blood on my clothing ruled out contact of any kind with the public. Besides, I wasn’t even certain that I could stay awake during the day.
Finally, through luck and desperation I happened on an idea. Not a great idea, but it might prove to be just what I needed to help me survive the next 12 hours. I moved to the middle of the street and began to run, examining the black asphalt under my feet for what I needed. After covering almost a mile of roadway, I found what I was searching for: a manhole cover leading down into the sewers. Fortunately, the cover had not been tarred down into the asphalt. It took only a few more minutes to find an older model car that wasn’t likely to have an alarm system, break into the trunk and steal a jack handle which could be used as a pry bar. I levered open the manhole cover and slipped into the hidden recesses of the sewer. Above me, a false dawn had already begun to lighten the sky. The morning sun was no more than an hour away.
The darkness in the sewer tunnels was more complete than even my eyes could penet
rate, so I was forced to make my way through mostly by feel and sound. I walked until I felt that I had moved far enough that I wouldn’t be caught by any sunlight if someone opened the hole I had recently entered. I also didn’t want to go so far that I just ended up under another opening. When I guessed that I had gone a safe distance I started searching for a nook or hole to crawl into.
By the time the sun came up over the horizon, I was safely concealed in the tunnels of the sewer. At least as safe as I could be in a publicly accessible place. I was playing the odds and hoping that they would fall in my favor. I waited, feeling the time pass painfully slowly as I sat wedged into a small runoff pipe trying hard not to think about what might be in the water flowing around me. The filth, I told myself, could not actually hurt me; as a dead man I was not susceptible to disease. Besides, the goal was not comfort but simple survival. Outside in the sunlight there was nothing but destruction waiting for me. In the sewers, I at least had shelter.
At some point during the early hours of the morning, lethargy began to consume me. I fought to stay awake as long as possible but apparently I was not yet strong enough to stay alert the entire day. Although I struggled, eventually the pull to sleep was too strong to fight any longer. I whispered a small prayer that I would not be discovered accidentally and dragged into the light, then reluctantly let my consciousness escape.
When Darkness Comes Page 10
