Long Dark Night

by Janci Patterson

  Lexa scrambled to her feet. “Us. You mean help us, right?”

  That, too. “That’s what I meant.”

  I looked around. Even if I did take off my jeans, there was nothing to tie me to. The couch was too big unless we had a lot of rope, and the table wasn’t heavy enough. The walls were flat, except for chips in the paint. None of it would hold me back, once the blood lust took me.

  “I’m sorry,” Lexa said. “I don’t know much first aid. I think you’re supposed to keep your feet above your head. Or is it your head above your feet? Maybe you should sit up for a while.”

  I rolled my eyes. Her chatter angered the beast, making me want to reach out and shake her. The predator in me crept closer to the surface.

  My face flushed and goose bumps rippled over me. I put my head between my knees, pushing against my temples.

  Don’t hurt her, I told myself. She’s not food.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and sat up so fast that her hand bounced off the back of the couch. Lexa took a step back, but then she just stood there over me. “Maybe you should stand up?”

  “Get away from me,” I said. “Sit down and shut up.” I fought to soften my tone, but failed. “Please.”

  But she didn’t. Her heartbeat was there, a few feet away, pumping hot blood through her veins. Her bones were thick with mouthful after mouthful of sticky flesh. I had to have some. I had to have it now.

  If I bit her, could I stick with just the blood? Could I stop before I chewed her to the bone? I’d have a better chance now than I would in an hour or so.

  I wondered what it would be like to break her skin with my blunt, human teeth. It would certainly be more painful for her, when I couldn’t make it sharp and quick. And if I lost control and chewed into her muscle, she’d die of infection if not from blood loss. I wouldn’t turn her into a corpse, but she’d die just the same.

  “You can help me,” I said. “But we have to do it now.”

  “What do you need?” she asked. “What can I do?”

  I forced myself to look up at her, to look her in the eye. “Just sit down,” I said. “And give me your wrist.”

  She brought her arm up toward her face, looking at it. “My wrist?”

  “Yeah. Your wrist.”

  “What for?”

  “Just do it.”

  “I really think you should try standing up.”

  “Fine,” I said, dragging myself to my feet. A wave of vertigo nearly knocked me back down again, but I stood, swaying.

  Lexa rested her hand on my shoulder, steadying me. The monster lurched inside me, and my teeth snapped reflexively toward her.

  No!

  I pushed with both hands, hitting her in the chest and slamming her against the door. She hit the end table with her good knee, and it spun away. Lexa reached for the door knob, bringing herself to her feet.

  “What the hell?” she shouted. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I pulled deep breaths. Without the smell of her right next to me, I had a little more control. But that wouldn’t last forever. Her odor felt thick, filling the room.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She steadied herself against the wall. “You’re really sick, you know? You need help.”

  She was right about that.

  Four

  I lay on the couch for what had to be hours, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. After the last incident, Lexa sat against the wall, as far from me as she could get, but that wasn’t far, which I gathered was Vance’s point.

  If I didn’t move, I couldn’t hurt her. Lexa’s silence made it marginally easier to keep my mind off her blood—though the cravings grew stronger with each minute that passed. I grew gradually more aware of the unique smell of her flesh, the sinewy meat of her, like a leg of oily lamb. What would it feel like to chew through the skin?

  My stomach turned, and I couldn’t tell if it was because I was disgusted at thinking of her that way, or enthralled by it.

  I heard footsteps at the door. I reached out, sensing for corpses, but could only find the huddled, wild ones in the cells down the hall. The lock clicked, and Lexa jumped across the room, sitting back into her corner, as far away from both me and the door as she could be.

  I sunk lower on the couch as the door swung open. Vance stood in the doorway, towering over us.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Lexa screamed at him. “What are you going to do with us?”

  Vance didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, watching me.

  “What do you want?” Lexa asked.

  Vance ignored Lexa, speaking only to me. “Don’t you appreciate anything I give you?” he asked.

  I squished so hard into the couch cushion I could feel the springs poking me in the back.

  “I’m trying to help you,” Vance said. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  In my head, I ran through scenarios. I could lunge at him, tackle him to the ground, give Lexa a chance to escape. I could talk to him, reason with him, convince him to let us both go. I could do what he wanted and take blood from Lexa.

  But every instinct I had said that doing what Vance wanted would be the death of us both. I stayed still on the couch. Only my eyelids twitched.

  So much for heroics.

  “Zeke had the same problem,” Vance said. “He always thought like one of them.” He glanced pointedly at Lexa.

  “Asshole,” Lexa said. She made a scrambling noise and I looked up to see her tumbling into Vance with her arms outstretched.

  I wanted to join her, but my body pulled itself into a ball, squishing as small as I could. Lexa cried out, and Vance twisted her arms behind her back and flipped her around to face me.

  She wriggled against him, but even without his immunity to pain and her injured knee, Lexa would have been no physical match for Vance. He held her arms tight, keeping her still as she fought him.

  “Let me go!” she shouted. “You bastard! Let me go!”

  Vance pushed Lexa’s head, forcing it down to her shoulder, exposing her neck. Vance kept his eyes focused on me. His teeth grazed Lexa’s neck, and she screamed, looking wide-eyed at me, as though I was part of the horror.

  “Eat,” Vance said.

  And while I tried to say no, it came out only as a mewling cry, and I buried my face in the cushion of the couch.

  I would kill her when the lust became permanent. But I hoped and prayed I could hold out until then. I tried to focus on something, anything but the sweet smell of Lexa’s sweat as she fought, and the shadow of Vance looming over us both.

  Like a child in doubt and fear, I recited.

  But that blind clamor made me wise;

  Then was I as a child who cries,

  But crying, knows his father near.

  I gripped my cross.

  I still believed there was a god, but he wasn’t coming to save me here.

  I hope to see my Pilot face to face, I thought. When I have crost the bar.

  “Enough,” Vance said. I looked up at him as he gripped Lexa’s head, twisting her neck backward with a crack. Lexa’s body slumped, her head lolling backward at an unnatural angle.

  My body had been numb from pain since I’d been turned, but now every hint of sensation drained away.

  “You have to eat,” Vance said to me. “It’s for your own good.” He inclined her body toward me, like he was offering a hamburger to an anorexic. “If not for you, then please? For me?”

  I pulled my knees against my chest.

  Then he shoved Lexa’s body on top of me.

  My monster writhed, demanding the flesh while it was still warm. Lexa’s head knocked against mine, her neck falling close.

  She was already dead, the monster said. There was no harm in eating her now.

  I held it back, like I was clinging to the leash of an angry dog.

  Eat her, the monster said. Take it all.

  But already I could smell the toxins building up in her flesh as the blood stopped clearing them. Her hea
rt had stopped pumping. Soon the blood would cool and congeal. Her lungs had stopped breathing, sending oxygen into the blood. This was one of the first lessons Zeke had taught me: you can’t eat from a dead body. Her dying cells weren’t yet swelling, devouring themselves, but the flesh was becoming inedible fast. That meant I only had to hold myself back for a few more minutes, and the temptation would be over.

  I scrambled onto the back of the couch, pushing Lexa’s body onto the floor. My whole body shook.

  Vance slowly shook his head at me. “If you won’t eat,” he said, “you’re going to starve yourself mad.” It was both a threat and a statement of fact. He stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

  Lexa’s body had fallen on its side, one arm slung over her head. The monster writhed petulantly. I’d spoiled her breakfast.

  My throat was starting to swell—something it hadn’t done since I was alive. If this continued, the starvation would set in my brain, and I’d never come back to reality, no matter how much blood I drank.

  Vance had given me a shot at living. It seemed so clear, now. Eat her, and he would let me stay sane. But I’d failed the test. And now I was going to lose myself.

  I curled into a ball on the couch cushions. The headache hammered at me, sending jolts down my spine. I stopped breathing for long minutes, trying to hold in all my resources to process the pain. I hadn’t felt so much as a twinge from my body in six months, but now it ached like a memory from a past life. I felt cramping in my chest and down my arms, but I couldn’t be sure if those were the effects of the bloodlust or memories of the time my heart failed me.

  The stench of Lexa’s body cluttered my nose, but wisps of her living self lurked in the recesses of the room—places where her fingers had touched the walls, where she’d leaned against the couch. My monster lunged for them, scraping against the walls, searching for flesh, blood, anything to slake the hunger. My hands scratched against the door. I tried to call for help, but it came out as a guttural yell.

  My body hit the floor, and the room blurred. In my mind I could see Zeke sitting on the couch at home, playing Dead House. We’d shot so many zombies. Now he was dead, and I was going to become one. My fingers twitched along with his. Move forward, aim, fire. Headshot. Grenade. Dodge. Dodge. Duck for cover. Aim around the corner.

  Something shoved me aside. My body skidded across the floor until I lay against the wall. Plastic sloshed against my head, and my monster turned, biting into the bag of blood like a drumstick.

  My monster cringed at the first taste of cold blood after the offer of hot, but like a man dying of thirst, it couldn’t let go. Blood rushed down my chin, a stream of it collecting under my tongue. I swallowed. Chills washed over me like a breaking fever. I squeezed the bag with one hand until I’d reduced it to a wad of plastic.

  The monster uncoiled, stretching out. I licked the bag, my teeth, my hands, sucking down the last of it. Then my monster lunged for the floor, lapping up the rest. The pounding in my head receded, and the monster gave one last petulant stir, and settled in for a nap.

  As I came back to awareness, I felt the blood dripping down my collarbone from where it had run onto my neck. My hands were stained with it.

  I usually drank my blood from a glass, with a straw. I’d pour vanilla into it, to mask the coppery tang. It helped me separate the substance from the beater it came from. But there was no pretense of civility once the monster took control. How close had I come to damaging my mind permanently? Hours? Minutes?

  Vance stood in the doorway, watching me. I never let anyone watch me eat, not even cold blood. I hated him for staring, especially now. He’d done this on purpose—made me eat like an animal. He’d turned me into a monster. He’d won.

  But he didn’t look happy. As I lay on the floor, hands and face sticky from drinking, Vance looked at me like I was a problem that needed to be solved.

  He’d wanted me to eat Lexa, but I’d resisted. Vance didn’t stand for resistance—not when my parents tried to refuse his money, not when he turned me, not ever. I should have died for not doing as he wanted. He could have let me starve until I permanently became a salivating monster, searching only for human food. Instead he’d given me blood, even if he’d waited for the last minute to do it. He wanted me scared; he wanted me weak. But more than that, he wanted me sane.

  He needed me for something.

  “I’m going out,” Vance said. “I’ll come see you when we get back.” He turned and called down the hallway. “Bring her a fresh set of clothes. Make her feel at home.” If I was Vance’s problem, he was going to wait to solve me another time.

  Vance closed the door on me, locking it behind him. Lexa’s body still lay on the floor next to me. I wondered how long it would take her mother to notice she was gone. Her mother would be waiting to hear how her surgery went, so it would probably be sooner, rather than later.

  At least there wasn’t any family left to miss me. I’d thought my parents had some kind of flu after Vance poisoned them. They’d lain in the emergency room, hearts slowing. For all my dad’s reading about death, neither of their bodies had approached it with grace. So I’d run upstairs to Vance’s office, to ask him to help us again.

  That’s when he’d decided it was time to stop my heart, too.

  The door cracked open again, and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt fell through the crack before the door snapped shut again. I moved to the far end of the couch, as far from Lexa’s body as I could get. I wiped my bloody hands and face on the outside of the couch arm. The blood had soaked into my collar, so I lifted the shirt over my head and put on the fresh one. With the stained shirt, I rubbed my hands and face until I could no longer smell the blood.

  The clothes still smelled of the last person who’d worn them. I wished I had some kind of a sheet to spread over Lexa’s body, but I settled for ripping the fabric off the back of the couch and draping it over her. She deserved better than that, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch her enough to move her.

  When the next corpse came to feed me, I had to be ready. There was no telling how many people he’d throw at me to get what he wanted. If Vance needed me, I had to get out of here. I couldn’t stay shaking in the corner, not this time.

  This might be my only chance to escape.

  Five

  When the time came, I was ready. Lexa’s body slumped in the corner, still covered by the fabric I’d torn from the couch. I felt a corpse move down the hallway toward me. Others lurked at the edges of my senses, but this one was alone—unless Vance was with him. Vance hadn’t said how long he’d be gone, so it was possible that waiting for nightfall had ruined my chances. Too late to worry about that now.

  I flattened myself against the wall alongside the door. This all depended on not being seen by the corpse who opened it. Also on Vance not being there with him.

  I pressed my nose to the doorframe, sniffing. If the corpse had blood on him, would I be able to smell it?

  The stiff stood there in the hall, pausing. I could see the outline of him in my mind, like a three-dimensional rendering. He must have been young when he died—maybe sixteen or seventeen. His face had a more girlish look to it than most of Vance’s men—high cheekbones and a thin jaw.

  He stepped closer to the door, and I heard a key turn.

  I pressed tighter against the wall. You had to be prepared to act, Lexa said. She was right, I was sure, but I’d never hit a man in my life. Still, I could do this. I had to. The whole plan hinged on getting around him and away. Then I’d have to find a way out of the compound—but getting around the other corpses should be easier, since I could sense them and give them a wide berth. If they could find me, or if Vance was lying in wait, well . . . .

  The handle turned, and I bit my lip. The door swung open, and I caught sight of the corpse outside.

  Don’t wait. Don’t think. I threw myself at the corpse, tackling him in the legs with the full force of my body.

  My teeth dug into my lip, which would have
bled if I hadn’t been dead. The corpse shouted and fell backward, a pint of blood flying out of his hand and bouncing against the wall. The bag broke open, sloshing all over. We both crashed to the floor in a tangle.

  He wrapped his arms around my legs so I couldn’t stand. I should have tried to get around him instead of knocking him to the ground. Now he had a hold of me. Even if I could get away, I wouldn’t be able to salvage the blood.

  The corpse’s shout had alerted other stiffs. I could feel a group of them start to move toward me, but they were still too far away for me to get a clear picture of how many.

  I kicked out, trying to loosen his grip, but he flipped me over and pinned me to the ground.

  I pushed against him, but my muscles were no match for his. He could do whatever he wanted with me.

  The edges of my vision started to turn white, and a scream escaped me, starting deep in my throat, coming out hoarse and garbled.

  The corpse stood and dragged me to my feet, pushing me back toward the room. If he got me in, it was all over. Vance would tighten my security, if he didn’t behead me outright.

  Please, I thought. Let me get out of his grip.

  He paused, just for a split second, as he pushed me toward the door. I didn’t hesitate. I dropped to the floor in front of the corpse, rolling against his shins. His momentum propelled his body over me and into the room.

  I scrambled to my feet, forcing the monster to ignore the blood coating the floor. I pushed the door closed behind him and bolted it from the outside. The other stiffs were coming toward the hallway now. I could feel a group of three of them above, and two below. The closest ones were farther down the corridor, so I turned and ran the way Vance had brought me in. If they could all see me in their minds, they’d close in on me for sure.

  Don’t think. Just run.

  As I passed Lyle’s office, I smelled for him. He was still in there. I hurried past his door.

  I remembered where the elevator was, but it would be easy for them to catch me there. This place had to have stairs. Vance wouldn’t risk getting cornered down here if the electricity blew.