Suburban Vampire: A Tale of the Human Condition—With Vampires

by Franklin Posner

  “What Jedi mind trick?”

  “The one you just pulled there? How did you do that?”

  “I’m just that good,” Scott said as he pulled away from the curb.

  He still wanted to go on and push the red line but thought better of it and took Tim home, where they engaged in their normal mindless Saturday-night entertainment. Tim brought up the Jedi mind trick a couple more times. Scott’s evasive answers didn’t satisfy him, but they were all he was getting, so he eventually let it drop.

  CHAPTER 22

  Argyll Presbyterian was crowded, as it usually was on Sunday morning. Scott noticed that there were fewer people coming up and congratulating him for his heroism, which was just fine with him. There were the occasional uses of the word “hero” and the occasional recognition, but otherwise most of the congregation were their typical pleasant selves.

  Scott tried to avoid Dawn but found he wasn’t really able to do that. She was, however, pleasant, if not exactly warm, toward him when he did see her. Her parents were typically cordial toward him, Phil Rhinebeck thanking Scott for picking up Dawn the other night and saying how he was now concerned that there were not only bad people but wild animals running around the light-rail station. Phil said he hoped that the authorities would catch that man-attacking cougar soon; Scott just nodded along. Phil seemed unaware of Scott’s conduct with Dawn the other night, which was a relief to Scott, as he just didn’t need the extra stress. In any case, he excused himself from being able to retrieve Dawn again from the train stop.

  “That’s too bad. Can I ask why?”

  “Umm…it’s…personal. Personal reasons. Not bad personal reasons, it’s just…personal, personal reasons. Nothing having to do with your daughter at all. No, sir, nothing having to do with her. It’s…personal.”

  “Personal. Yeah, you said that.”

  “Did I? Sorry.”

  “Why do you seem nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous! I’m…too much caffeine. Anyway, I’m really sorry, really I am.”

  “That’s all right! No need to explain! We’ll make other arrangements.”

  Scott did not pay much attention to Pastor Larry’s message that morning. He reasoned it was for actual people, not vampires, and that it couldn’t have done Scott much good anyway. He was a monster, a hell-bound demon beyond salvation, and that’s all she wrote as far as Scott was concerned. He just sat in the pew, stewing in his fears.

  Pastor Larry noticed Scott sitting alone in the back of the chapel. Naturally, he offered to talk with Scott later after he dropped his family off at home after their usual postservice lunch. Scott agreed to talk with the pastor, but he had no idea how much he should divulge, since he couldn’t just come out and tell Larry that he was a vampire. That would be awkward, and it would most likely cause Larry to become concerned for Scott’s mental stability. Scott considered that brevity was the soul of wit (at least according to Bill Shakespeare, anyway) and decided to keep it as vague as possible. Scott knew he had to talk to someone about his “lifestyle change,” someone not a vampire, someone who was more than just a friend, and someone not his mother—God love her; the poor lady had enough to worry about. Larry agreed to let Scott wait for him at the church. So Scott sat in the chapel as it emptied and the last of the stragglers and volunteer custodians completed their tasks and left to enjoy what was left of their Sunday. The church was now completely empty except for Scott.

  He sat there, alone. And just because he was alone didn’t mean he was any more comfortable. Scott looked up at the cross that stood by the altar. He could not help but to remember the line from Psalms, quoted by Christ upon his cross: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

  Scott then got a weird idea. He rose from the pew and approached the rugged cross. He walked the steps of the dais, briefly stood before the cross, and then dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around the wooden structure. He embraced the cross and felt the heat.

  God? Hey, God, Scott prayed, I don’t know if you take prayers from vampires, but here goes: I know I’m supposed to be some demonic hell-bound monster. But I just don’t feel it. I don’t want to be that way. So, my question is, am I eternally screwed? Have you really abandoned me? You do know this wasn’t my choice, don’t you? It wasn’t my choice. And if I had a choice, I’d have said no. Not only no, but hell no. Sorry. I know you’re down on cussing. Anyway, you are taking that into consideration, right? Right? God, take me back! Make me human again! Please! I’m serious! God, please let me know you’re listening. Send me a sign! Any sign will do. Okay?

  “Well, isn’t that weird?” came a familiar, and unwanted, voice.

  Scott jerked his neck around to see someone he really didn’t think he’d see, certainly not here. “Jack! What the hell are you doing here?” That’s not the sign I wanted! “This is holy ground! And besides, you’re not supposed to be in contact with me. Isn’t that what Father said?”

  “What Father don’t know won’t hurt him. And this ‘holy ground’ here? Hell, you’re here, Scott! Think about that. This is just a building. The spirit of God isn’t in the building. It’s in people. But I thought you knew that. And hey, I see you got over the whole vampire slash cross thing. My boy is growing up!”

  “I am not your boy, Jack. Wait a minute. The vampire versus cross thing—you mean that doesn’t work, either?”

  “No! Well, it does on young vampires, usually. Obviously not with you. Freaks them out. After a while, you just learn to deal. But really, crosses are just two boards nailed together. Ooooh, scary!”

  “So crosses don’t harm vampires?”

  “Well, they are sort of depressing, but unless the cross has some sort of special origin, or is specially blessed or invested with special power, or made of silver, no, they really don’t do anything, not on their own. Sure, the symbolism is kind of vexing, but other than that, only new vampires tend to get really stressed out by ’em. Immaturity, I guess. But I can see you’ve already overcome the cross issue. Good for you.”

  “I don’t want to get over it. I never want to get over it.”

  “Well, boo-fucking-hoo. Scott, I gave you a gift, a great gift. A gift of power. A gift of strength. You can have it all—money, power, sex. Lots of sex. You can have so much more than you did when you were a mere mortal!”

  “Well, I don’t want it. I never did. I want my life back. I want my soul. I want to be normal.”

  “Jesus, Scott, you never were normal. You know it. And now you are so much more. But no, you’re crying about the state of your soul. Begging your God for salvation! ‘God, make me a pathetic loser again! I want that pie in the sky when I die!’ Amen, hallelujah! You make me sick. Look at what I have given you. That power, the immortality—real immortality. Not some nebulous concept of future glory, but here, now. Your God didn’t give you that. I did. I made you a god among men. And this is the thanks I get.”

  “Jack, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  “Well, that’s the understatement of the year. Of course, now the whole immortality thing may be a moot point anyway, depending on what the Inquisitor finds. But I have an out, Scott. You don’t need to face an inquisition. I have friends. They are waiting for you. They want to help you. Join us, Scott. Join us and live.”

  “No. No, I am going to face this Inquisitor and leave the rest in God’s hands.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “More of the God crap. Give it up already! Use your brain, Scott. What kind of defense can you mount anyway?”

  “The prophecies. We are going to refer to a couple different prophecies about—”

  “Humpf! Prophecy, shmophecy. I hate to tell you this, but all those prophecies about the chosen one, the deliverer, are all a bunch of bull. Lies encouraged by the House to keep vampires in line. And you are basing your future on the possibility that the Inquisitor may be impressed by some old ink stains in some musty old book that may be entirely misinterpreted anyway? Good luck with that. There ain’t no deliverer,
and you ain’t him. End of story. Don’t burn up your future on that shit. Be reasonable. Join me. I can help you.”

  “You can help me? Really? Some help you’ve been. Your ‘help’ almost got me killed. And you got me into this mess in the first place! I’ve had enough of your help. And here I was, thinking you had turned me because of some crazy misinterpretation of the prophecies. But that’s not why you did it, is it?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “Then why? I’ve asked you this question before, and you’ve never answered me. I want to know, Jack. I deserve to know. Why was I turned?”

  Jack turned his back to Scott, breathed deeply, and then faced him again. “Okay, Scott, you want to know why I chose you? Why I gave you this gift? You really want to know, huh? Okay. Okay, I’ll tell you. I specifically chose you because you were such a pathetic loser. I knew that the power would not tempt you. It had to be forced on you. So now that you’ve tasted it, it’s inside you, eating at you. Before, your main concern was your soul. I relieved you of that concern. The torture you’re going through is absolutely delightful. You are my greatest creation, a tortured work of art. That is why I turned you, Scott.”

  Scott was not completely convinced. “Seriously? That’s it?”

  “You were simply a plaything in my hands. You still are.”

  “Well, that’s…evil.”

  “No shit. I’m a vampire, Scott! Evil is what we do. Deal with it.”

  “Okay, Jack. I get it. You’re evil. Fine. Now deal with this: get out.”

  “Oh, son, you’re breaking my little heart to pieces here. That’s no way to treat family, now, is it?”

  “I am not your son, and we are not family. Get out. Leave me alone!”

  Jack backed up and headed to the chapel exit. “Okay, okay, you win! But I’ll be seeing you.”

  Jack was almost at the door when he looked back at Scott once more. “You know, it’s been far too long since I’ve been in a church. I hear your church potlucks are to die for. Maybe I’ll crash one sometime. Religious folks are so appetizing!”

  Jack was out the door before Scott could react to the thinly veiled threat, so he returned to the cross, once again kneeling before it and embracing it. Earlier he had thought he had felt heat burning from the cross; now he felt nothing but wood. He did get a splinter, though. It hurt like hell.

  Scott had been clinging to the cross for several minutes when Pastor Larry entered the chapel. He noticed Scott before the cross, his arms wrapped around it.

  “Well, isn’t that weird?” Larry said. “But hey, if it brings you closer to God, who am I to judge?”

  Scott released the cross and rose to greet the pastor. “You wanted to talk?” he asked.

  “Sure, but I thought it was you who wanted to talk. Come on. Let’s talk in my office.”

  Scott joined Larry in the church office. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with volumes on theology, church history, various versions of the Bible, and counseling issues. Larry Parker had special need of the counseling books, as counseling was part of his job. The wood desk was very plain, the wood-frame chairs obviously from second-hand sources. Pictures of Larry’s family were on the desk, along with a silver cross. Scott knew the cross was there and took pains to avoid it; he didn’t want any nasty accidents, after all. He sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from Larry.

  “You’ve seemed…pensive lately. I mean, more so than usual,” Larry said.

  “Well, yeah, I’ve been through a lot.”

  “My gosh, I’d say so, from the divorce and the death of your father to two brushes with death in one week. I’d say you deserve the right to feel a bit off. But I get the sense that there’s something more going on with you.”

  Larry was good. He knew how to read people. And he especially knew how to read Scott, considering he’d been his counselor for years. But Scott wondered if it was more than that. Was he sensing the vampire within him? Was that a spiritual gift, vampire sensing?

  “Well, yeah, Larry, I’ve been going through a few changes lately.”

  “Your mom has spoken to me about you, you know. She’s been concerned about your appetite.”

  Well, she should be concerned. For a couple reasons. “I told her I’m on a restricted diet now. Been losing weight. Can you tell?”

  Larry looked at Scott’s waistline. It had begun to shrink; after all, he was on a liquid diet. But the reduction was really not all that noticeable at that time. “Oh yeah, you’re looking good. But that’s not all. You carry yourself differently. It’s odd. You still keep to yourself. You still seem a bit introverted. But you carry yourself much more…confidently, I guess. It’s a good thing! I’d been hoping you’d get some help with your self-confidence.”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve been working on it.”

  “Good for you! But still, there’s something else. What is it?”

  Scott cast his gaze out the louvered office window, looking at the grove of trees beyond the parking lot as though he was trying to find his thoughts among them and also so that he could avoid looking at his pastor. In a few moments, Scott found his thoughts. “I saw nothing, Larry.”

  “Huh? Nothing? What are you talking about?”

  “When I was dead. I saw nothing.”

  “And so?”

  “I was dead for at least seven minutes, Larry. And I remember nothing. I was in my car and then there was a crash…then boom! I was in the ER. That’s it. There was no light at the end of any tunnel. No dead loved ones. No angels singing. No nothing.”

  “The science on the near-death experience is far from conclusive. Not everyone who goes through a deadly incident and survives reports experiencing the phenomena. It’s a controversial subject even among theologians. So, Scott, I wouldn’t worry that you didn’t see anything, okay?”

  “But I do worry about it.”

  “Is this a crisis of faith? Are you struggling with doubt?”

  “I dunno. I guess. Maybe.”

  “So you are doubting the existence of God?”

  “Oh no. I definitely do not doubt that. That’s a done deal, far as I’m concerned.”

  “Then what, Scott?”

  Scott stood up and paced about the small office. “Okay. Let’s just say, hypothetically, that I have a friend—”

  “That’s not hypothetical. You do have a friend.”

  “Whatever. And let’s just say this friend isn’t sure that God cares for him anymore.”

  “I see. And why wouldn’t this friend think God loves him anymore?”

  “Because of what he is. Because of what he has become.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Uh, he became…” You can’t tell him he became a vampire. Think of something else, and think fast! “A…gigolo.”

  “So this…friend of yours thinks that God doesn’t love him because he became a—”

  “A gigolo. Yes, that’s true. He sleeps with beautiful women for money.”

  “He sleeps with women for money.”

  “Beautiful women.”

  “Okay. Beautiful women. How does one get this job?”

  “That’s not important. What is important is that he thinks God has abandoned him, and he’s kind of freaked out about that.”

  “Uh-huh, and what is this friend’s name, if I may ask?”

  Uh oh. Again, Scott thought fast. Too fast, apparently, as he looked at the shelves of books, spying a commentary on the Gospel of Luke. “Uh, Luke. His name is Luke.” You couldn’t have just told him your friend wished to remain anonymous, now, could you?

  “Luke what?”

  “Uh, Sky…jogger.”

  “Luke Skyjogger. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard.”

  “Well, don’t tell him that! He’s sensitive! Anyway, Luke—”

  “Luke Skyjogger?”

  “Yeah, him. Because of what he is, he thinks God has abandoned him.”

  “Because he became a gigolo.”

  “That�
�s right.”

  “Okay. Well, if that’s a concern, then why doesn’t…Luke…quit being a gigolo?”

  “It’s not that simple, Larry. He can’t quit being a gigolo. It’s who he is. And truth be told, he’s not quite sure how he got there in the first place. He never wanted to be a gigolo. And now he’s stuck. Stuck being a gigolo. How could God love…Luke…now that he’s beyond His mercy? Now that he’s a gigolo?”

  “You know, here’s what I want you to tell Luke. I want you to tell him that no one is beyond God’s mercy or forgiveness. After all, it is written that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son. The world, Scott; that’s everybody. Don’t you believe this?”

  “Me? Oh sure. It’s Luke who’s struggling, remember?”

  “Yeah. Luke. Okay, let me tell you something. I know the kind of man you are. So you’re not perfect. No one is. But I have seen your capacity for kindness, for acts of mercy. You are a kind, gentle man, strong with the spirit of God. I know you, Scott. If a man like you cannot be saved, well, then, I guess we’re all screwed.”

  Scott nodded. “Thanks, Larry. I needed…or, I mean, Luke needed to hear that. Or, I mean, he needs to hear that. When I tell him.” Scott then took Larry’s hand to shake it, making sure not to squeeze too hard.

  “Scott, I don’t believe God is done with you. Not by a long shot.”

  It was obvious to Scott that Larry didn’t quite buy all of his story (which was understandable, because it was a lousy story). But the sentiment was true and heartfelt, and Scott knew it. He took some comfort in that as he thanked Larry and then left the church.

  CHAPTER 23

  Scott’s spirits having been somewhat lifted by his discussion with Larry, he arranged to meet his ex-wife for dinner. He was only partially looking forward to the event since the last time they had met, it did not end particularly well. Additionally, he was not looking forward to remembering his greatest failure, the dissolution of his marriage. Still, he hadn’t been on a date since the divorce, and even though he wasn’t expecting much, Scott decided that he was just going to have as good a time as possible. Or try to, rather; after all, it was with his ex-wife. It was only by luck that the hunky medical-device salesman Russ was out of town for a conference. Scott briefly fantasized that perhaps Russ was fooling around on Laura, cheating on her with some cocktail waitress or fellow salesperson. As much as Scott enjoyed that idea, he thought that maybe he should grow up a little and put the immature fantasy out of his mind.