by Jason Fuquea
Now I’ll be with Mom and Nanna no longer struggling to make it. My life has been a wash ever since they left me. I have no place, no home, and cannot defend myself. I simply don’t have it in me to make it without them, and this is the result.
I’m a broken, rotting shell, nothing more. The tiredness is pulling me down. I close my amber eyes willing myself to disappear into thoughts and dreams once again letting everything go dark.
“What the hell is that nasty taste,” I thought. Opening my eyes and orientating myself, I’m still on the floor, but not alone. Someone is moving a cup away from my mouth. It’s Jane. She has tears streaming down from her closed eyes.
“Don’t die on me, Alice, keep fighting, don’t die you can beat whatever this is.” She chanted in a grave lament with her head cocked toward the ceiling.
“Was she praying for me?” I questioned. Moving my wound-covered hand gently up to her shoulder, I spoke softly. “I bet you don’t want to see me with my shirt off now, do you?” I chuckled in a dry raspy voice.
“Alice, you’re alive!”
“If you can call this alive,” I said.
I can feel nothing, and my voice is shaky but amazingly I’m not tired. I have an incredibly dry mouth and whatever she is giving me to drink is terrible.
“I can’t believe you’re not dead. No one has seen you in two weeks, and I was sure you decided to go off somewhere to be alone... to ya know… But when Buddy was scratching on your apartment door tonight, I knew you must be in here. I haven’t seen you but I know you love that cat and would never leave him.
“I used a credit card to come in and found you on the floor. Sweetie, I am so sorry about your hair. Are you in pain?” she asked.
“I feel ok, I just have a really dry mouth. Jane, how in the hell can I still be alive after two weeks in here with no water or food, and how can I still be alive with my combo cancer and vamp virus running rampant inside of me?”
Jane smiled at me and said, “You’re just special, Alice. You should be dead but you’re not, that’s all I know for sure, and that’s good enough for now.” Tears are now continuously falling wetting her shirt.
“Jane, thank you for finding me. I want to see if I can pull myself together. Will you take Buddy and feed him? If I can, I’ll come over in a few hours,” I said.
Jane smiled at me and replied, “If you don’t show in a few hours, I’ll be back over to check on you.” She plucked Buddy from the bed and walked out of my apartment, closing the door behind her.
I stood up and positioned my rotting arms out fully to each side, hands open, “God, I don’t know what to do, this is so hard. I have no idea why you want me alive or what you want from me, but I can’t think of any other reason I’m still here than your choosing. Please watch over me if you get time, please help me if you can, please forgive me if it’s possible.” I didn’t expect God to answer, he never has, but I needed to ask for help.
I trudged my hairless, numb, and rotting body into the bathroom. I’m still wearing my red peasant top and skinny jeans, my best ones with no holes in key places.
Stripping down I confirmed that one hundred percent of my body is covered in rot spots. Not one inch is alive. I stepped into the shower and turned the hot water on. Just as I figured I could not feel the water on my rotting skin. I had hoped the water would have some sensation.
Something else just crossed my mind. I realized I’m not breathing. “Holy hell, I really am a zombie,” I groaned. “What am I going to do?” I would rather die than be stuck like this, a rotting corpse without a heartbeat.
In a defiant thought, I focused on my silent heart. “We are not dead. We are not going to let whatever this is kill us. I know you can hear me, and I know you’re still alive in me, beat damn you beat!”
Pain, pain, terrible pain, rolled over and through me. My chest ripped and cracked as my heart thumped with a terrible force so strong that it shook my core. I only felt the heartbeat once.
Shards of putrefied skin and gore dripped from me to the shower bottom and coated it in a grey coat. Skin tore open and split apart in folds across my body. My bones cracking and breaking reshaping me, the pain unbearable and inhuman. My teeth cracked and jawbone reformed with multiple bone fragments and teeth being ejected.
My nails split up the middle cracking open the ends of my fingers, and toes. Discolored blood continually poured from my mouth and scalp as I gagged without control.
My spine reformed, and straightened, in turn adjusting the placement of my ribs, and internal organs. Pain, I felt so much pain everywhere. I am about to black out.
Before I lost complete awareness, I could feel something, hear someone else inside my mind with me. Her voice said, “Its ok, Alice, sleep.”
I don’t know how long I was out this time, but now I can feel hair on my skin. Instinctively I raised my hand to move the hair out of my face. “Hair, I have hair,” I yelled!
I could feel the water cascading down my face, amazed at how good the slight sensation felt. Everything is energized. I stood up in the shower, seemingly timeless. “What tha—” I gasped. I thought about standing, then I was standing with what seems like an absence of time.
I thought about looking in the mirror and almost immediately my body responded by moving me to the full body length mirror on the bathroom door. “Woah, this is crazy,” I thought, amazed. More amazing than my movement was what I’m looking at.
My hair is now slightly longer, cascading down to my hips. Sheets falling and moving in haunting perfection. I seem to have been corrected in every genetic way. I could tell that I am roughly two inches taller, my proportions leaner and tighter as if the sexy gage was turned up to ten.
My facial features now chiseled hosting foreign amber eyes distinctly different than before; they swirled and radiated with what can only be some kind of energy. I smiled in the mirror with my new smile and noticed something different about my new teeth, they were not only perfect but now included two fangs, shaped like Kris daggers.
Physically I am different, but my mental changes are truly off the charts. I now have no fear. My mind working as if it has all the time in the world to find solutions to problems but needs no time at all. I can tell my vision and hearing are both changed dramatically. I know Buddy is with Jane and can hear his distinct purr from here.
I foraged through my dresser and found underwear, a black pullover, matching sweatpants and slid them on. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and slipped on my tennis shoes. I focused and walked to the door. It was as if I picked up one foot and when I put it down, I arrived at my destination. I opened my door and slowly closed it, focusing to move slowly, making sure to control my newfound movement speed. It’s easier to move at my new rhythm now. Moving slower, like before the change takes focus, like being a tightrope walker trying to not fall.
I knocked on Jane’s door, and immediately it opened. “Focus Alice,” I told myself, not wanting to startle her. Jane came to the door and stopped dead still seeing me. She is immobile; I can smell fear radiating from her and knew exactly what the sweet scent was. Her mouth that had been smiling wide slowly curved down. “Jane, it’s me,” I said in a new silky rasp.
Jane struggled to regain control and spoke slowly, “Alice, is that really you?” she asked.
“Yes, are you going to invite me in?” I chuckled at the irony of being asked to be let in. She pulled on the doorknob stepping to the left. I controlled my movements the best I could gliding through the door, still faster than any human.
Jane doesn’t have much of a living room, just a tattoo table and chair with a hundred-pound punching bag hanging in the middle. She did, however, have a functioning kitchen complete with a glass table including place settings plus four metal-framed chairs.
I made my way to the table and sat down. Buddy made his way in from the bedroom and coiled around my legs with his ragged
purr humming. “Hey Buddy,” I said. Then reaching down I stroked him, “You never gave up on me, even after two weeks. You are a strange cat, my dear.” I smiled lovingly at the cat.
Jane had closed the door and stood unceremoniously far away from me. She is still producing fear pheromones and oddly they smell like homemade candy.
“Jane, I took a shower and the rot fell away, leaving me like this. I still don’t know what in the hell is going on with me, but I may be a Vampire. I’ve never seen one,” I said in a calm nonplused tone. Jane stepped closer looking at my new features. She has given Vampires tattoos before, so I knew she would be able to tell me if I were a Vampire or not.
“Can I touch you?” Jane asked in an uneven tone. I nodded and she moved forward slowly as if I’m a starving lion she is about to pet. When her hand touched my skin, she gulped and released a small breathy sound. “You’re frozen, your skin, it’s like touching ice.
Are you ok if I try to pinch you?” I said “sure,” again nonplused. Jane is in shape and could easily wipe the floor with me before the change. Positioning both her thumb and pointing finger on my arm she said “Ready?” I nodded. She grabbed at my skin with both fingers, but her attempts were feeble. She could not bring them together no matter how they were positioned, or approach used. My icy skin preventing her grasping attempts entirely.
Next, getting braver she used both hands in an attempt at grappling my arm. Again, her attacks are unnoticed. She is unable to move my arm, even fractionally, her hands unable to find a suitable position to anchor from or the strength to move me.
Lastly, she walked to a kitchen drawer and brought back two serving forks. Both serving forks are about the same size, nine inches or so in length. “Alice, one of these is aluminum the other is pure silver,” she said. Are you ready to see how tough that icy skin of yours is?
“Yep, go for it,” I replied. I’m very interested in what she’s about to do, this is the best place I can think of to learn about my Achilles’ heel. She took the aluminum fork and slowly pressed it down on my skin. I feel nothing more than the tip placement. She put her weight into it continuing until the fork is bent in half, prongs splayed. My skin is unaffected.
Next, she grabbed the pure silver fork. “Alice, this is probably going to hurt, a lot,” she said. “Vampires no matter how old cannot withstand silver. Most cannot stand to even look at it.” I shrugged and motioned her to continue, hurrying her along. She touched the silver to my skin and pressed down. Nothing happened. My skin resisted the silver as if it were rubber. She forced down harder. “Shit,” Jane uttered giving up her assault with a bent fork in her hand.
“You’re not a Vampire I don’t think, well if you are, not like ones I’ve ever seen. I have given quite a few tattoos and know for a fact silver is a no-go. That fork should have gone through your skin like hot butter, girl, but it didn’t.
“Vampires are colder than humans, but nothing like your frozen ass skin. Also, Vampires can be cut using normal things like forks, or knives, or tattoo needles. Of course, they heal from those things in a few hours, and the rumor is, the older the Vampire, the stronger they are and faster they heal, but still, they get hurt. Alice, one last thing, did you know you’re sitting in the sun?”
Jane continued, “The late afternoon sunlight is shining through the kitchen window and is on your neck Alice.” I lifted my hand slowly not to startle Jane and ran my hand through the light. My hand may be frozen, but the sunlight feels slightly warm on my skin. I also notice that along with the heat on my neck from the sun, I’m still wearing my necklace and cross, so I can’t be a Vampire.
“Jane, when I touch my skin, I feel warmth and silky, soft, pliable skin. I can’t feel what you do.” I paused for a few seconds. “Thank you for helping me. I’m going to take a walk and try to understand what I am.”
Jane nodded and as I smiled back at her I moved into my new rhythm appearing on the landing of the half-spiral stairs almost instantly, then slowly made my way outside to Decatur Street.
Chapter 5
Christina
I walked down Decatur Street, and thought about what just happened with Jane. I knew for sure that I wasn’t a traditional Vampire. I know I am something like them and deep down didn’t have a good feeling about it.
There are no female Vampires, but my very uneducated guess is that during the transformation I exhibited symptoms based on the dominant entity, until they worked out a type of synergy.
All life forms whether it be natural, viral, or emerging want to survive. In my case, I have all three. I believe, I longed for blood when the Vampire virus was dominant, then as the cancer fed off the vamp virus it was strengthened, and that helped the cancer adjust and balance out, finding a place in this new ecosystem.
In life, only the strongest survive and what I now am is the collaboration of the strongest parts of my attackers. No doubt that my own DNA was reconstructed in the mix to fill gaps, used as parts for whatever the other two needed.
The last two parts of this concoction were God and my soul. “I find it very hard to believe that something like what I am comes to be without divine or magical interference,” I thought.
A distant and distinct thought registered inside my mind, “Or something like that.” It answered, in a silky tone that wasn’t my own. I shook my head, “Now I’m hearing voices?” I may not be dead but if this keeps up, I’ll be insane by sunset.
I walked toward Jackson Square and could hear Christina calling my name. A blessed sound at the hands of a sometimes master violinist Sir Chester Adams. Chester isn’t near me, but my hearing is so much better now that all I need to do is focus. I could locate just about anything within a half-mile of me it seems.
Chester and Christina are just past Jackson Square outside of Café Du Songe. Café Du Songe is a French bistro that’s been around since the 1800s by one name or another and is servicing a steady flow of vacationers trying out their authentic coffee and beignets.
I’m not tempted by the aroma, although it’s delightful. Chester has his usual red handkerchief on the ground collecting coins and is busy playing an exciting instrumental where I imagine some commander using this as a rally for his troops, storming into battle. Christina is sounding perfect as always.
I didn’t step directly into Chester’s space but watched from across the road. The song ends and his patrons disband while clapping loudly. I can hear the clang of coins being deposited on the red cloth below Chester.
He doesn’t notice me yet. I’m probably too far from him, and since I’m wearing my hoodie set, mostly unnoticeable. He placed Christina down inside her case and gathered up about half of his coins putting them in a cloth bag near Christina.
I’m waiting for Chester’s break time to officially start, signified by the tell-tell swig from the flask inside his coat pocket. Right on queue Chester reached into his pocket and opened the top of the container.
At that moment I smelled something strange and welcoming. It’s tangy and reminds me of Jane’s apartment. “I’m smelling blood,” I thought. I pinpointed the blood scent radiating from inside of Chester’s flask. It isn’t fresh and doesn’t smell human but is mixed with some type of alcohol. “This has to be Vampire blood mixed with alcohol.”
Why would Chester be drinking Vampire blood-laced alcohol? I considered Chester to be a friend, and if he’s drinking blood alcohol, he must be in some kind of trouble because there’s no way he can afford that with change collected here. Not that I know how much vamp blood alcohol goes for, or where to get it, but you aren’t picking up a case at the liquor store.
Now that I knew what vamp blood smelled like I can smell it everywhere. As I walked across the street toward Chester the smell became almost overpowering. “No way he’s not addicted, it’s coming out of his every pore.”
When I got close enough to him, I sat against the outside wall of Café Du Songe with my head
turned down so he couldn’t see my eyes. I spoke with my new silk-covered raspy voice and said, “Chester, what-cha been up to, sweetie.”
“Madam Alice, what a wonderful surprise. May I humbly take your request?” His British accent is a delight to listen to.
“It’s been a hell of a day, how about a drink from your flask?” I asked simply.
Chester seemed to falter slightly then recovered, “I’m afraid my particular brand of wine is not suited for you, I will not dare have you drink something so far beneath a lady as yourself.” He picked up Christina readying himself to play.
“Well, play something new, Chester. Something with some soul.” Chester nodded and brought Christina to life.
“One last song for the lady,” Chester announced. The music is wonderful, it always was when he plays. I’m not sure what Demons he has, but I’m going to find out.
“Maybe I’m a Demon. Maybe God has cursed me to this lifeless eternity walking the world unable to die.”
“Anything is possible,” the other female voice laughed inside my head. “You’re only crazy if you talk back, right?” I giggled.
The sun started to set as Chester finished his last melody. I walked down the street, out of what I’m sure is Chester’s line of sight. I don’t need to see him; I can smell the radiating vamp alcohol oozing from his pores a mile away.
It’s mostly dark now with only the building and streetlights helping Chester gather up his things. Chester and Christina made their way down Decatur Street crossing over to Madison.
I’m not sure where Chester lives, but I don’t think it’s down Madison. The only time I’ve ever been on Madison street it was by mistake. The street entered directly into the old money and party section of New Orleans.
Chester didn’t strike me as the dancing type, but maybe his Demon lives this way. “He could be playing in the evenings at some dance club,” I thought optimistically. I followed Chester’s scent for another fifteen minutes, going behind a large Victorian-style house into a shared garden.
