Evilution
Page 6
One of the most intriguing abilities I have as a result of the transition to vampire is the ability for cellular regeneration. If any one of my cells gets damaged or destroyed, the surrounding cells immediately engulf the dead cells and replicate replacements. A cut on my hand will appear to heal almost instantly. Any blood that was spilled will be quickly reabsorbed through the skin into the cells. My cells have the ability to replicate with astounding speed. They have replication rates similar to viral cells and certain cancer cells. For this reason vampires are virtually immortal, not dead but technically not alive in the same sense as typical humans. When the cells replicate they follow the same blueprint of the surrounding cells. It is also what causes a vampire to stop aging.
Incredible feats of strength and speed are possible due to the way my cells communicate with each other. All the cells of my body have built into their blueprints an incredible survival instinct. Each cell is working independently to maintain itself as an individual but at the same time is working communally as part of the larger entity. By working together, my cells can coordinate their actions and energies, combining their strength. This allows for a much more powerful muscular stroke, increasing strength and speed.
This cellular communication also accounts for my heightened sensory abilities. Exceptional hearing, eyesight and sense of smell are all part of being a vampire due to excellent intercellular communication. While my brain coordinates the actions of my cells to have my body function as a complete entity, it is the individual power of each cell and the drive for self preservation in each cell that keeps me going. This intercellular communication can be seen in many species. I believe, in humans, we see evidence of it in identical twins. For example when one twin feels pain an identical twin located across the country can feel its twin’s pain. Since they originated from the same fertilized egg, they have the same cells. Even outside the body these same cells communicate.
By far the strangest trait I have obtained since transitioning is the ability to produce venom and the ability for my canine teeth to extend like a venomous snake. The venom is produced by my salivary glands. These have been modified by the changes in my DNA. The venom, similar in structure to venom produced by the cobra or jellyfish contains anticoagulants, heart rate stimulants and endorphin like chemicals. These cause my prey to have accelerated heart rate which speeds blood loss, while the anticoagulants keep the blood flowing and the endorphin like chemicals cause my prey to be compliant and non resistant.
When I feed off another organism I must drink their blood. My canines allow me to puncture major arteries and as I drink the blood, it is immediately drawn into my blood vessels through the membranes of my cells that line my esophagus and stomach. There is no digestion that occurs in my body. No waste of digestion gets produced. What little cellular waste that is produced is removed from my cells by the reverse process of how blood is brought into my cells. This waste leaves the surface of my skin cells. This waste is mostly urea and this tends to give a vampire a slightly white overtone to the skin. The lack of pink flush and slightly lower body temperature tend to give off a sense of coldness. My digestive physiology is very similar to another hematophagic mammal, the appropriately named Vampire bat. Hematophagy, the habit of certain animals of feeding on blood, is a common evolutionary adaptation for many small animals. It requires little effort and energy expenditure, and the blood is rich in proteins, lipids and other essential nutrients needed by the cells for survival.
Some physiological functions that my body needed to survive as a human are no longer necessary as a vampire. Since I get everything my cells need to survive from the blood I take in, I have no real need to breathe. I breathe, as a matter of reflex, the function built into the lung cells blueprint. But this vestigial function is not vital for my survival and thus I can exist indefinitely without taking a breath. In addition, my heart still beats as a vampire, a muscular pump, sending blood around my body. However, if my heart were to stop beating I would not “die”. Without the circulatory pump of my heart, my cells would absorb all the available blood in my body through the cell membranes. As the available blood is used up my bodily functions would slow and eventually stop. My cells would enter a type of hibernation mode.
The process is similar to how viral cells can exist for years unchanged out side a cell. When they enter a host cell they take on the characteristics of that cell and behave like they are alive. Outside that host cell they are not alive but have the potential for life in the right environment. My cells would hibernate until a blood supply became available. If that blood supply comes in contact with any of my cells, they would absorb the blood through the cell membranes. That blood, the vital fuel source for all my cells, would re-activate the cells and allow them to resume functions. Many plants for example, during a drought, can shrivel up and appear to die. In reality they are in a state of suspended animation. When the drought condition ends and water becomes available it is absorbed into the plant cells through the cell membrane restoring “life” to the plant. Cells resume their functions and the plant resumes its’ life cycle.
That would be the most extreme conditions for a vampire. As long as the cells are not completely destroyed, only burning them seems to do that, they will re-animate under the right conditions. This may support the myth of vampires rising from the dead, clawing their way out of a burial plot in a cemetery. If an individual vampire were somehow entombed and drained of their blood they would appear dead. If their corpse were buried in the earth, and over time, if their remains came in contact with the blood of any living creature, a worm, a mole, a rat, etc. their cells will use the blood from those organisms and start the reanimation process. When strong enough the vampire will dig his way out of the tomb and be free to seek blood from larger more sustaining prey.
I sit in these woods engrossed in my past, contemplating my strange biology, my body so still a wayward deer foal walks right up to me unaware of the danger she is in. In a blink my hand reaches out, faster than the foal can see she is caught in my vice like grip. I make quick work of her, her large eyes stare lifelessly up at me. My reaction to the deer was more instinctual than deliberate. As I finish draining the last of the foal’s blood I come out of my trance like state of reflection. The night has descended and past, the first hint of light on the eastern horizon a faint orange glow. “Red sun in the morning, sailor take warning” flashes through my mind. My thoughts are drawn back to Lily as I recall the lecture on maritime sayings.
As the realization that I have been rooted to this spot in self reflection for almost 17 hours sets in I am compelled to move. I first must dispose of the foal. To avoid anyone finding animal carcasses drained of their blood with puncture wounds, I have gotten in the habit of covering my kills. For a small carcass like the foal it a matter of simply tearing it into pieces and scattering the remains in the woods, I know nature will do the rest. The scavengers of the forest will feast and in no time the evidence will be gone. Once that unpleasant yet effective job is completed, I rinse myself off in the icy stream and make my way back home just as the last bit of darkness is erased by the morning sunrise.
Once at home I change my clothes and having no classes to attend today I decide to forgo my daily morning Bean surveillance and instead go to my bed and sleep. It has been days since I have slept, too excited and caught up in my obsession with all things Lily. As I envision her smiling face I slowly drift off to my death like sleep.
Chapter 10
An Unusual Blood Run
I awoke strangely hungry. The satiation I felt from the foal was gone. Instead I felt slightly agitated like waking up disoriented from a strange dream. After several bags of AB+, my particular favorite, I felt the intense sense of power and energy that surges through me when I feed on human blood. The feeling of connectedness between all the cells of my being creates an almost audible hum. Instead of feeling revitalized however, I felt supercharged; like a kid who eats too muc
h candy, the surge of energy a little too much to rein in causing him to run in circles.
Normally after feeding and sleeping I would awake refreshed. My cells would have made any repairs necessary and the blood would have alleviated my hunger. My sleep is usually a deep dreamless state of blackness, but today something is different. Remnants of a dream, like wisps of smoke swirl in my head. Fragments come to the front of my memory, vivid for a brief instant and then they evaporate. I glimpse Lily and myself in moments of shared joy, I see visions of green pastures and ancient lands, and then there is darkness, Lily’s screams pierce the blackness.
What is most strange about my dream fragments is that they seem to span the past, present and future. The green pastures and ancient land is definitely familiar from my past. New Zealand and the ghosts that haunt me there are obviously fresh in my subconscious since I signed up for Lily’s class over winter break. The images of Lily and I however are strange. Some I recognize from the night at the Library and breakfast at the dining hall, but others are random snip-its of us laughing or talking or behaving in ways that are much more intimate then we have been. And then there is the blackness, with a palpable sense of evil, coupled with the sound of Lily’s scream, I am left with an intense sense of dread.
I try to shake off my strange feelings and attribute them to my trepidation at revisiting New Zealand. The trip is still awhile off and I shall have plenty of opportunity to second guess the decision to go. Instead I decide to take some of this strange energy and focus it on getting myself in order. I have been slacking on my general daily maintenance issues. The farm and house are in disrepair. I need to make some repairs before the winter sets in. I have also let my supply of human blood dwindle. After this mornings feed I am left with just three bags of O-. Today I will find a blood drive or I will take a withdrawal from the nearest blood bank.
Once again the Web has given me the information I seek while still allowing me to maintain my anonymity. There are web search engines for everything. Blood drives and blood banks are no exception. Thank the good folks over at American Legion post 259 in nearby Delhi for hosting a blood drive today for the Red Cross. It will be a nice drive, another opportunity to get out some of this strange energy. The trip from Hills to Delhi is about 65 miles of winding country road. I will take my bike out for a spin.
The weather this afternoon is as charged with energy as I feel I am. There is a sense that something is coming. The temperature is a little too warm for this time of year. The winds are gusty and unpredictable. The clouds in the sky look foreboding. A storm is definitely coming. That just makes the ride on my bike more fun. I get to really test my abilities in a storm on country roads especially at night. It will likely be dark by the time I get back. First stop is the local Quick mart for some gas and some ice.
As I pull into the Quick mart to gas up my 2009 crimson on black Indian motorcycle, three co-eds turn their attention to me and my bike. I give the ladies a nod and a smile and they quickly turn into giggly girls acting coy. One of the girls calls out to me that I “can take her for a spin anytime”. I smile at her flirtation, finish gassing up and go inside to get some ice to put in my saddlebags. I have custom made saddlebags for my bike that are more like mini coolers. My Indian is my preferred mode of transport when I am procuring blood. A motorcycle offers many more options for making a hasty retreat. Speed, maneuverability, and off road access make the bike ideal. I have yet to encounter resistance or trouble when getting my blood supply, but it never hurts to be prepared.
Ready for the trip, I saddle up and take off out of town. Once I hit the open road towards Delhi I let loose with the gas and fly down the highway towards my destination. I love the sensation of the wind as it whips my clothes, the rush of speed as I barrel towards my destination and the roar from the bikes overly loud muffler. Moving at speeds topping 100 mph, I am a blur of color and sound as I pass pasture and grazing cows. The trip is over faster than I would like, I slow to cruising speeds as I near Delhi’s town center. I follow small streets and side roads until I reach my destination.
American Legion post 259 is a single level wooden structure resembling an old train station terminal. The building is L shaped. Inside there is a bar/lounge area taking up the short arm of the L. It is dark, wood paneled and the decor is old 1970’s style. The inside has the dank smell of old men, cigars, and stale beer. There are a few old timers sitting at the bar nursing their drinks and swapping stories. To the right is the long arm of the L shaped building. This is the buildings reception hall. Tables and chairs have been moved to the perimeter of the space and are piled with cookies and juice. Several donors sit with their white cotton and band-aid covered puncture wounds nursing juice and a cookie. One donor, a young girl, looks dreadfully pale as she sits and waits for an assistant to bring her some juice.
It is after 3:00pm and the blood drive is winding down. In past blood runs, as I like to call them, I have found that the best time to insert myself in a position of access to the blood is near the end of the blood drive. As the nurses are packing up the supplies and the blood is being packaged for transport I simply show up and start assisting in moving the materials. My dress, mannerisms and the confident way I interact with donors and staff are usually enough to allow me access to what I need. On the rare occasion I am questioned as to my identity and reason for being in the area, I rely on my ability to “charm” whomever necessary to obtain my supply of blood.
I make my way through the room picking up a juice box and cookies from a nearby table and bring it over to the pale young lady I passed as I entered. “First time donating?” I ask. She sheepishly extends one slightly trembling hand to accept the juice and cookie. “Do I look that bad?” She replies. I smile and tell her to have some juice. As she takes a few tentative sips she says “This is actually my third time giving blood. I usually plan ahead before donating, eat a big steak and forgo my morning workout, but I just happened to be in town today and saw the sign for the drive and thought I could spare a pint. Thanks for the juice. I’ll be fine in a minute.” “Well, take your time, eat that cookie and finish the juice, get up slowly, if you need a hand I’ll be over there cleaning up.” I didn’t need to charm her for her to think I was working at the drive. I just had to show a level of confidence that I belonged there for her to assume I was one of the volunteers.
To continue the charade, I picked up empty juice boxes and cookie wrappers as I made my way closer to the now visible box coolers where the blood was being packaged for transport. As I cleaned up here and there, stopping occasionally to check on the handful of donors at the tables, I established the illusion that I was someone working at the drive. The transition into the medical area was going smoothly. I started to package up extra IV needles and empty blood bags, moving ever closer to my prize. Then out of the corner of my eye I see a middle aged nurse, tired and carrying too large a load of supplies. Just as the boxes topple from her grip I am at her side to catch them. She thanks me profusely and asks me to bring them over to the transport area. The boxes contain the packaging materials used in preparing the blood for transport.
With the boxes settled, the nurse, Susan Littlefield, RN, according to her name tag, looks up at me. “Thanks again for the assist. I didn’t get your name.” She said. The look in her eyes told me she was questioning my being there. “Jack, Jack Night.” I tell her as I extend my hand to shake hers. When our hands touch and I draw her eyes to mine, the remarkable physiology of my nature works its’ magic.
As the top predator on the planet, my body has so many built in mechanisms to manipulate my prey, most humans don’t stand a chance. Pheromones get released as I encounter my prey, in this case, Nurse Littlefield. As the chemical messengers carried in the air are unknowingly inhaled they start to affect the dopamine receptors of Nurse Littlefield’s brain causing a general feeling of wellbeing to wash over her. Eye contact, once established is another important tool in my body’
s arsenal. Once she makes eye contact she is drawn in. I have the perfect camouflage, a monster hiding behind the face of an angel. Every one of my features takes on the subtle contours necessary to form my mask, giving Nurse Littlefield a false sense of security in my presence. And when I touch her hand an almost palpable current is passed from me to her. The result leaves her slightly confused as the electrical impulse temporarily interrupts brain waves, leaving Nurse Littlefield open to suggestion. Even the melodic sound of my voice, as I fill in my suggested idea, works to set the trap deeper.
Nurse Littlefield, any questions or concerns she may have had about me erased from her mind, has now become my unwitting accomplice. After a few more minutes of packing up the blood into the box coolers Nurse Littlefield asks me to bring out the first full cooler to the waiting Red Cross truck out back. Since this is the exact suggestion I planted, I quickly make my way out of the back door of the American Legion Hall. Instead of heading to the Red Cross truck I simply put the box cooler on the back of my bike, secured by a bungee cord from my saddle bag, and I head off into the now approaching dusk.
A few miles away I pull off the road to a secluded tree line and transfer the blood into my saddlebag coolers. I toss the Red Cross cooler into the woods and prepare to resume my ride home. As I saddle up, a smile lines my lips. I am always happy and relieved when my blood run goes so smoothly. While packing my saddle bag I noticed that nearly half the blood I have taken is AB+. Another reason to smile, for me AB+ is like the fine wine of blood. Just thinking of the taste has my venom flowing like Pavlov’s dog. I don’t know why but lately my hunger seems to be insatiable. In less than 24 hours I have had the foal and 3 pints of AB+ from my last supply and yet I want more. I don’t like to go hungry long and it is unusual for me to want more blood so soon after feeding. I resolve to finish off the O- I have left at home before dipping into my new supply.