I look at the card in my hand, everything but the room number. The signs indicate Guest Services are on the first floor. Gingerly I walk toward the man and woman behind the counter. The dark-skinned man smiles with perfectly straight white teeth. “How may I help you?” he asks.
“I have completely forgotten my room number.” My voice cracks a bit from lack of use. I slide the card across the counter toward him. Clearing my throat I continue, “Can you please let me know what it is?”
“No problem.” He looks at the card. “Ms. Amber Reed.” He taps at the keyboard. “Room 538.” Smiling he asks, “Is there anything else?” And he hands the card back to me.
I shake my head. “Thank you.”
Instinctually, I want to dash through the halls and up to the room, but I keep pace with the other guests. The room is down a long narrow corridor. Putting my ear to the door, I know the room is empty. As it should be, since the previous occupant is dead. Sliding the card into the slot, the latch clicks and I push open the door.
Three suitcases lay open on the beds. Amber was not the only one staying here. Alarm drudges a trench through me; what if the others come back? What will they do when she doesn’t return? What will happen to me?
Amber’s scent lingers on the closest suitcase. I unzip the sides and open it. I grab a pair of jeans and t-shirt and close the case. I snatch the brush off the desk and leave the room. I need to find the darkest part of the ship until I can figure out what to do next.
The smaller cabins are on deck 7. I listen for noises in each, working my way toward the rear of the ship. The second to the last still has a fresh cleaned scent, void of any human’s. I push the handle toward the floor until it bends at a crude angle and the door easily pushes open. I rush inside and close it behind me. I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the ground. I put my head in my hands and want to cry. Cry for the girl I killed, cry to release the feeling of fear that never seems to dissipate, and cry for me. The tears spill onto my face, a stream of cool liquid fills every pore in their path. Self-pity overwhelms me until I can’t cry anymore. I wipe the tears away and vow never to shed another one, but I know I’m lying to myself.
The night is just on the other side of the small portside circular window. The island shrinks the further we sail out to sea. Silently, I say goodbye to that wretched place forever. Hours pass by quickly.
I stand and remember my heightened senses. My own voice whispers into the darkness, “This body may be dead, but I’ve never felt more alive in my life.”
Chapter 4
The small room has a queen bed, a dresser with a TV on top of it, and a bathroom with a shower, sink, and toilet. I’m both compelled and scared to look in the mirror. I reach around the corner, feel for the light switch, and flip it to the on position. Three bulbs above the sink blaze to life. Easing around the corner, I stare at the sink and gradually work my way up to the mirror. My eyes slowly adjust to the vision staring back at me. Dark eyes scan the image of a transparent ghostly girl with long brown hair, pale features and the body of a stranger. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand touches my face and caresses the smooth skin. I am real. I am real. I am real.
Turning away from the mirror, I walk into the small room where the shower is and turn the water on. Steam bellows from over the shower curtain and drifts around me. The moist heated air feels deliriously amazing as I take off my clothes and climb into the streaming water.
My skin awakens all over again. It feels each singular drop of water. They tickle as they roll down my arms, breasts, and legs. I scrub off the island, the blood of animals, death, the salt from the ocean, and her blood. Any remnants of death, blood, isolation, wash down the drain. I wash my hair and once again scrub my body with the scorching water before getting out and toweling dry.
I hang the towel over the small port window drowning out the moonlight, and the morning’s glare of scorching death. Naked, I crawl between the white cool sheets. And again, my flesh is hyperaware of the tightness of the threads and the smoothness of them. More comfortable than I have been in months, I easily fall into the arms of sleep.
The girl stands in front of me. Her green eyes plead for me to turn around and leave her alone. I don’t. I can’t. I’m starving. I grin just enough for her to see my teeth. Reveling in her terror, I find myself enjoying the hunt. The pulse in her neck beats very fast and I move a step closer to her. Grasping her upper arm, I pull her the rest of the short distance toward me. She doesn’t struggle as my mouth moves to the tender part of her neck. When I am close enough to bite, she whispers, “Murderer.”
I clutch the sheets to my chest and sit up. I get up and pull down the towel from the porthole. The sun’s deadly kiss tries to edge its way into the room. The clock on the dresser says it’s twelve twenty-eight. Midday. I hate midday. But I’m different now after drinking the human blood—what if I can withstand the sun? Easing up to the window, I extend my hand out to the rays. My flesh singes and the black burn marks cover the top of my hand. I reach for the towel on the floor and wrap it around my hand.
The darkness of the bathroom beckons me. The door thuds closed behind me and I crawl into a helpless ball on the floor.
***
It feels as though hours have passed when I wake. The room is dark when I exit the bathroom. I unwrap my hand to see my wound, letting the towel fall to the floor. The burn mark that had been on my hand has healed; I turn my hand over and over and nothing. A new pale skin replaces the once scorched black skin.
I have never healed this fast before. It has to be the human blood. And I want more. Need more. I want to feel my senses heighten again. Flashes of the dead girl play in my mind. I don’t want to be a murderer, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it.
I step out of the room and into the hall. Only one other person is at the end of the long hallway, and they disappear around a corner. Once I get to the main area of the ship, I find my way toward the buffet. I don’t dare sit down in the dining room.
Hundreds of people pass me and it seems they are paying more attention to me than I would like.
When I reach the common area room, there’s a buffet on either side of it. The man standing behind me thrusts a plate into my hand. I thank him and move forward. Salad items, seafood, side dishes; plenty of choices but nothing looks appetizing. None of this food can compare to human blood. But, there had to be a time when I ate these things. Didn’t I? Finally I come to the meat. A chef stands behind a large piece of beef. The center of it is bright red and blood drips from his knife.
“Would you like a piece?”
Finding my voice, I say, “Yes, please, your rarest piece.”
“My pleasure.”
He holds up the piece of meat and I offer my plate. Nausea rolls in my gut. On the way toward a small table for two in the corner, I pass a group of people. They’re talking and shoveling the disgusting food into their mouths. A woman says, “Did you guys hear about the girl that’s missing? She got back on the boat, but no one has seen her. Weird, huh? And also, I heard that we’re docking earlier than expected, like a day earlier.”
“That sucks,” says the man next to her. “Why should our trip end early ‘cause some bimbo got drunk and fell overboard?”
I pick up my pace and sit down at the table. I want to drown them out, their words, faces, and the sounds their mouths make as they chew their food. I cut a small piece of the meat and put it in mouth. Instant gag reflex kicks in, but I continue to chew and swallow the meat. I take another bite and another. With each piece, I imagine sinking my teeth into the flesh of a rat. As much as I want the girl’s blood again, I can’t bring myself to think much of her.
I finish the piece of meat as quickly as I can and walk to the top deck. I need to feel fresh air. I sit in one of the loungers and close my eyes. Feeling as though I’m going to throw up, I lean over the chair. Every piece of meat leaves my body onto the brown wooden boards.
In sec
onds, someone is next to me, asking if I’m all right. Do I look all right, you idiot?
“Let me help you back to your room,” the man says.
“No, I’ll be okay,” I say, shaking my head.
“You look rather pale, why don’t you let me help you?”
“I’m fine.”
Ignoring me, he puts his hand under my elbow to help me up. I look him directly in his eyes. “I said, I’m fine,” I growl.
His eyes widen and he backs away.
Ashamed, I lie back on the lounger and keep repeating to myself to “act human.” I stay there for I don’t know how long until I get the energy to get up and head back to the room. On my way, I pass the nightclubs. Music booms from inside and I can smell the alcohol from the hall. Three men come out of the club and surround me. I try to ignore them and pick up my pace, but even in their inebriated state, they’re able to keep up.
“Hey, beautiful. Man, where have you been hiding?” one of them asks.
Picking up my pace again, I’m able to gain a little distance between them. I want to run like hell away from them, and the act would be very simple, but I don’t want to gather any unnecessary attention to myself. Act human. One of them grabs my hand and pulls me back toward them. The smell of rum and tequila wafts from the one who has hold of my hand as he breathes out, “Come on, loosen up a little, it’s the last night. Come have some fun with us.”
I turn to look at him, and offer a smile. “No, thank you.”
His hand loosens around mine and moves to around my waist. “Please, just for a little bit,” he begs.
I jerk out of his embrace and back away. Turning, I increase my speed, and jog down the hall, getting as far from them as possible before I kill one of them. Or, all of them.
His words surface again: it’s the last night. The last night. How am going to get off this ship?
I walk down numerous flights of stairs toward the belly of the ship where my room is. I’m exhausted, but I can’t rest. With my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and lower my chin on them, watching the darkness that will soon brighten into a new day. It’s in this short time I have to find a way to get to land without the assistance of the sun to bring me to my death.
I can feel the sun awakening. Preparing to creep from behind the ocean and place her warm hand over the world. Leaving behind the safety of the room, I make my way to the deck. I pass only a few crew members and passengers. Most of the ship still enjoys the comfort of their beds and the last moments of their shortened vacation.
When I reach the deck and look at the horizon, panic heaves inside my chest. I have only fifteen minutes, at the most, to get to land and find darkness.
Chapter 5
Shore doesn’t seem too far away, and my chances for survival increase if I get off this damn ship now. Only one crewmember stands on the deck washing the floors. I jog around to the side of the ship, the side that faces the nearby beach, before we enter the intra-coastal.
I climb down the railing and jump.
During the short drop, a brief human emotion flitters through my mind, and I brace myself for the possibility that death may finally take me into its clutches. This drop would kill a normal person. That thought passes quickly, and I brace for a cold impact, but the coolness of the ocean evades me.
The side of the ship pushes the waves into my face, and the saltiness attacks my senses. I urge my arms and legs to move and begin to fight the wet darkness so that the ship doesn’t pull me under. The sandy paleness suddenly seems so much further away, but I will not die out here when I’ve survived for so long alone on that island of Hell.
My newfound strength astounds me, and I make it to the sandy, deserted beach within minutes, much faster than the most experienced of swimmers could imagine, and before the sun begins its ascent over the horizon, but I can feel the threat as it nears. I need to find shelter, and fast.
Private, boarded up beach houses line the shore, and I run up the soft sand that clings to my wet limbs. Most of these nice homes must have security systems that will alert someone as soon as one of the windows or doors is busted, so I look quickly for a better cover from the sun, but desperation begins to emerge inside. The sun mocks me just below the horizon, and I visualize it smiling at me.
After jumping a high fence with ease and racing though a very well-manicured yard, a quiet street emerges, running parallel to the homes. My mind races at lightning speed, and I feel the static of heat rising to my surface. Across the street and two blocks down I find my salvation…an apartment building that looks mostly boarded up. This whole area seems to be a retirement community for wealthy northerners, but the apartment building will be my best bet at not attracting the cops to come calling. I can’t imagine most of the residents would worry about security if they live in such close quarters with others, and the building provides security by locked entry.
After running to it as quickly as possible, as daylight approaches, I bypass the front security door entrance and race to the side of the building where the rear of the apartments face the ocean just across the street. The bottom level of the two-story building apartments has screened in porches surrounded by tiny green lawns, and they all look boarded up for the summer.
As time is not on my side, I choose the first one and find the boarded up window right on the side of the first porch. Its hinges creak as I lift it easily, find the window, and bust through it. After climbing under the hurricane shutter, it bangs back into place. The glass shards break more under my hands and feet as I stand and see my temporary haven from the sun.
No alarms blare, and with a quick run through the small two bedroom apartment, I find no cameras or keypads. Nothing. I’m safe. I made it off the island. I made it off the ship, and away from my nemesis…the sun. It inches up the horizon and the light begins to seep lightly through the shutters. Although I won’t die today, I’ll feel safer in a windowless room.
I swiftly search the closets. What few things remain consist of old lady clothes that are two sizes too big, but I manage to find some leggings and a t-shirt that I can live with. Anything is better than the wet clothes I’m currently in.
The light flickers on in the bathroom when I flip the switch, and the first thing I do after shutting the door is turn on the shower. The water flows and I smile. “Thank you, rich northerners! Thank you!” You would think that most people would turn off the utilities when they are gone for an extended period, but perhaps their utilities are included in a monthly fee for the building or something.
The cold water may not bother me, but today I keep the dial right in the center and strip off my sandy clothes. As I stand under the flowing shower that washes the salt and sand away, fatigue grabs hold of me, and all I want to do is sleep. I shut the water off, and lie in the large round tub and let the sleep carry me away.
***
The hard surface under my body feels like the cave walls and panic erupts inside of me. I instinctively punch into the hard rock next to my head and it crumbles around my fist. After sitting up and blinking away the low light over the sink, the bathroom comes into view and I see the big hole I punched through the ceramic tub.
“Damn!”
I laugh, and the sound of it is strange in my ears. When was the last time I actually laughed? It must have been before the island.
Some of the sand that didn’t go down the drain clings to my naked body, and I take another quick shower. The old bar soap withers to nothing in my hand.
“Double damn!”
After dressing in the leggings and t-shirt that had been rolled up on the back of the toilet seat all night, I venture out into the apartment and look around. Teal carpets greet me in the living room which is decorated with flowered couches and hanging fake plants. Maybe the owners haven’t visited since the 80s. I may be in luck staying here for a little bit as I adjust to my new situation and neighborhood. I’m not even sure exactly where I am, but I know it’s in the Miami are
a. I saw a sign as the ship got closer to shore.
The exertion of the previous night hits me, and the hunger begins to surface. An inner struggle begins. My head tells me to stay inside for another day or two, stay hidden away from outsiders, but the thirst grips me and pushes me to head toward the front door. Besides, another lonely night doesn’t sound very appealing, especially after being on that damned island for so long.
Even though I don’t seem to belong in this human world any longer, I crave companionship once again. But, I’d be better off remaining in the shadows and observe from afar. That should be easy, right? The thought of the island girl plays over in my head, the sweet blood dripping down my throat…
The quiet hallway outside of the apartment number 101 features ratty cheap gray carpeting under low fluorescent lighting. I leave the apartment unlocked and head toward the door at the end of the hallway, which is only a few feet away since I chose the apartment on the end.
Leaving the front door unlocked may have been wasted since I have no idea what the key code is to get back into the building. I can always climb in the same way I did the previous morning. Sometimes, I want to just hit myself in the head. Instead, I push the door open with a little too much force and step outside, coming face to face with a stranger.
“Jesus!” I hiss.
“Whoa!” The stranger steps back, dropping the stuff he was holding to the ground.
Did I just hiss at him? How did I not hear him approach? How did I not smell that delicious aroma wafting through my nostrils now?
I look away, absolutely sure he can see the hunger in my eyes.
“Sorry, there. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, picking up the books he dropped. “And I certainly wasn’t expecting….”
He stands and looks at me, and I can’t keep my eyes away from him any longer. I cover my mouth, and take a step back into the grass edging the walkway.
“Umm, what was I saying?” he asks, staring directly at me. He looks at my t-shirt and then smirks.
Delicate Thorns Page 2
