Easy Street, Unpaved- a Vampire’s Change of Fortune
By Robert P. Wills
2013
i
Hugh sat near the back of the theater, bored. He nibbled on his popcorn occasionally and -more often- flicked it towards random patrons of the theater. The movie was annoying him greatly. Overwhelming curiosity had drawn him in. So far, the only thing keeping there was the popcorn. Food was not a necessity by any means, but he could tolerate it just fine. In fact, heavily buttered theater popcorn has become a favorite of his since he first tried it at a showing of Cleopatra. In 1912. A little morphine to make The Change go a little smoother? Hugh scowled as he flicked a piece of popcorn at a t’ween girl’s head. Hard.
Morphine? That was not even an option in his case.
The movie ended and the theater lights came on low. Hugh remained in his seat as the credits rolled. He was seated near in the middle of a row since the show was nearly sold out so patrons had to crawl over him. One kid, maybe sixteen and emboldened by having a girl with him snickered, “It’s over, freak. You can go now.” Hugh looked up at the boy. If the theater had been emptier, he would have killed him right there in front of his date. “I’m waiting to see if Sam J. gives them a hard pitch at the end”, he replied casually. Hugh remained lounged back in his seat.
The boy stared at him, incomprehension on his face. Sarcasm is wasted on the youth, he thought in annoyance. Then out loud, “Why don’t go try screwing that date of yours now that she’s all lubed up. If you can figure out how. Or you want me to show her the ropes?” He flicked a piece of popcorn at the girl. She flinched. Hugh got a warm feeling inside. “Or I can show you the ropes, little boy.” He flicked a piece at the boy as the young couple backed opting to exit the row in the other direction. Hugh stood and stretched. Although he enjoyed the popcorn, it did not ‘hit the spot’, as it were. It was time for something more substantial.
Hugh stepped out of the theater onto the dark, rain soaked street. It was late- he had gone to a midnight showing. He looked left then right, hoping that the young couple had unwisely chosen to walk into the city. He did not see them, so he turned to make his way into the inner workings of the town anyway; he was in the mood for some exhilaration. The kind that could only be found in the darker parts of town. Long ago Hugh had come to grips with his condition, realizing that he was afflicted with a constant blood lust, peculiar vulnerabilities, and at the same time, some extraordinary abilities. His unbelievably quick healing ability made him, for all intents and purposes impossible to kill with readily-available weaponry- even as it advanced through the centuries.
In fact, until the world-shattering end of most recent World War, Hugh had spent a bit of his time on the battlefields without any real fear of true death. Events in Japan at the end of that particular war had convinced him that his days as a counterfeit soldier were over. That, and identifications had become more exact. It was easy in the Revolutionary, Civil, or even either of the two World Wars, to don a uniform and move about the war-torn countryside at night.
‘Allies’ believed the separated-from-my-unit story, ‘Enemies’ didn’t last long enough to ask questions more than once. Even so, his invulnerability gave him a bit of annoyance. He was a god with a small ‘g’ with no discernible way of capitalizing it. He took this frustration out on those around him, and given half a chance taunted them in the process. Hugh turned up the emptying street and walked deeper into the city; the other patrons had parked close around the theater. Wisely so, since there were people like Hugh lurking about. He thrust his hands into his well-worn trench coat pockets and walked on, watching those around him.
Early on in his existence, he used to keep his head down. Avoiding eye contact was not due to any fear of confrontation; it was more a survival instinct. He figured that the less people noticed him (in his hunting area), the less the chance he would be identified. He had since learned that it wasn’t necessary. In fact, he had actually been in numberous lineups, and was always passed over.
Somehow through the decades, he had inadvertently developed the ability to sway other’s opinions and decisions. Not enough to make them Hollywood-esqe mindless-familiars, but enough to get himself not-remembered or overlooked. How he had come to be able to do that was a mystery to him. The development of the ability was done literally, in the blind. It was like trying to figure out how to play the piano in one’s head, without any sort of outside help, or even knowing what the notes should sound like, or ever having sat in front of a piano
Even so, he had been able to make several fortunes as a gambler throughout the centuries. Getting on “Easy Street” was fairly easy. It was also, he had learned, just as easy to get evicted from it as well. At the moment he was definitely enjoying life on Easy Street with a capital ‘E’.
ii
Earlier in the month while in Juneau for the week, Hugh had followed an old man back to his apartment. There was something about the man that peaked his interest. It was nothing he could pin down, but through the centuries, Hugh had learned to trust his instincts. Once again, they had proven their worth. The old man lived in a dilapidated apartment, in the old part of town. His clothes were tattered and easily third-hand. Even so, Hugh followed him, and after the old man had gone inside, Hugh kicked in the door and quickly subdued the septuagenarian. A quick search of the apartment led him to a large chest hidden under the bed. When he tried to yank the box from under the bed, the handle came off. He tilted the bed up against the wall and opened the box to reveal what turned out to be 640 Gold Krugerrand.
Instantly, Hugh was a millionaire. Packing up his 40-pound fortune in a beaten and worn suitcase, he staged the old man’s apartment so that the Daily News reported it the next day several pages back (below the fold even) with a short story about an old destitute man committing suicide in his dilapidated apartment; “Elderly Man Found Dead” the headline murmured. That much better than the alternative “Old Man Dies. Hundreds of Krugerrand Found Under His Bed! No Heirs Apparent” as a front page banner. Especially for Hugh. The recollection of the old man’s surprise as he wrapped his own belt around his throat made Hugh smile.
A couple approached him walking the opposite way. They moved across the sidewalk to give him a wide berth. Hugh noticed that the man placed himself between his woman and him. Noble and brave, mused Hugh. Much like the absurd characters in the movie he had just sat through. “They don’t get much right, do they?” He asked the man as they grew close, “Sparkly and rich. Rich and sparkly.” The man met Hugh’s eyes as he quickened his pace. There was not fear in his eyes; only preparedness. Nobel and brave indeed. If he weren’t so near the theater, Hugh would have had him begging for his (or at least his woman’s) life in less than a minute. Instead, Hugh just squinted at the man, who to Hugh’s pleasure quickened his pace.
Hugh slowed his walking as his mind raced. Lately his mind did tend to get off track, making him make careless mistakes. Uncharacteristic mistakes. He shrugged off the thought. Rich, gallant, and desirable. And rich. He thought to himself. In any case, the writers were at least on the right track; there was an insatiable desire for blood, great strength and longevity. Hugh thought back to his own beginnings, so many centuries ago. He remembered nothing before the Change - as he now called it thanks to popular literature- only the skills he had apparently learned before it had happened.
iii
It was a bitterly cold February evening over five hundred years ago when Hugh remembered waking up. Pain wracked his body. He was splay
ed out, on his back in an alleyway in a quiet town. Jamestown he was later to discover. Overwhelming pain. Unable to stand, Hugh looked down and saw his own innards spread out around his waist and legs. Absently he was surprised by the amount of intestines he had and how they all had once managed to fit neatly inside him. Another wave of pain took the thought from his mind and pulled a scream from his throat. Frantically he tried to put his intestines back in place, but between his awkward angle, and their slipperiness, he was only able to pile them up on his abdomen. This, he accomplished throughout the screams.
Finally, a lantern approached- attached to a watchman’s shaky hand. “God preserve you!” the watchman gasped as he looked at the fallen man desperately trying to put his insides back where they belonged. “What happened?” he asked over the man’s screams. He bent down and held the lantern near the bloodied man’s face. “Hugh!” he said softly.
At that point Hugh mercifully blacked out. He awoke several days later in bed. His abdomen was wrapped with bandages that were stained red. A matching one was on his neck. Looking about, he did not recognize the room he was in. It could have been any room anywhere; small, with a low ceiling and sparsely furnished. A lone door was the exit, centered between two dark windows. Hugh sat up and a fresh wave of pain washed over him. He fell back in his bed and stared at the ceiling until it passed. Hugh. That was all he could remember and only because he had heard his own name before passing out. At least he assumed it was his name. There was no last name to go with it. No memories. Nothing. Straining, he tried to think of his past and nothing came to mind. Rudimentary things such as skinning a buck, making a canoe, even building a sturdy chair- he knew the required steps for those simple tasks and was sure he could accomplish them with proficiency and ease. Counting and, if he could trust his own mind, reading were also within his grasp. Familial information however was a large grey fog in the forefront of his mind.
Steeling himself against the expected pain, Hugh took an alternative approach to his position: Scooting his legs off the bed and onto the floor, he slid himself into an upright position with as little bending at the waist as possible, using his arms to push himself up. The pain was still excruciating. Delicately he pulled back the top of the wrappings to peer at the damage. Large stitches crisscrossed his belly. It was puffy and in one place, distended, but overall it seemed that his insides were back where they belonged. Carefully, he lowered the bandage back into place. Taking small steps, he gingerly explored his room. After a small circuit which included testing the door, he decided that it was, in fact, his prison. A rattling on the other side of the door caused him to scoot quickly to the lone chair in the room. Unable to sit, he stood behind it, using it as a shield against whoever was entering once they found the correct key. Hugh had no memories of friends or foes, much less any way of telling them apart.
The door finally opened and an unfamiliar man walked in. Older and slightly stooped, the man appraised Hugh from the doorway. He turned and spoke over his shoulder to an unseen associate. As he entered, the door quickly closed behind him. More rattling followed. “I see you’re up and about, lad. That’s encouraging”. The small man smiled but it was not a warm smile, “Encouraging yet also disturbing. How do you feel?”
Hugh thought for a moment. The pain was bearable and seemed to be improving as he stood. “I don’t quite know”, Hugh replied, unsure of his current situation. “I’m alive, I suppose.”
“You could suppose that”, the man said. He still stood just inside the door. His back wasn’t against it, but only barely. “Me, I’m not too sure.”
Hugh leaned forward on the chair for support. “What is that supposed to mean?” Anger began to tickle the back of his mind. He was not sure where it came from; surely the old man was no threat to him.
The man smiled again- still without any sort of warmth. “You shouldn’t be alive you know. I’ve never seen anyone injured the way you were that I could later have a conversation with.”
Hugh did not respond but only stared at the man. The anger was building. He was not sure where it was coming from but there was apparently a lot of it stored there - wherever ‘there’ was.
“Even with the fights with the Monacan and Siouan and I’ve never seen a gutted man make it through the day. And those savages will gut you the first chance they get.”
“Thanks for saving me.” Hugh said flatly. The anger now competed with the pain for dominance.
“It wasn’t me” replied the man. “All I did was stitch you back up after putting your innards back in. I was doing it to make it easier to carry you for burying. When I was done, you hadn’t stopped breathing so they brought you here.”
Hugh moved to the side of the chair and steadied himself with one hand. The other he let hang free. “Thank the Lord you were around to do that, then.”
The old man shook his head. “I don’t think He deserves thanks either, son.” Now the man was leaning against the door. “I’ve never seen anything like that. What attacked you?”
Hugh thought hard for long moments. Nothing came to his mind- it was a grey fog like so many other memories he was sure he had. “I can’t remember”, he answered honestly. Absently he took a step forwards.
“That will make it more difficult then. If we don’t know what attacked you.” The old man was now pressed against the door. “Why don’t you lie back down?” he suggested nervously.
The anger within Hugh had turned to rage. Why should he return to the bed? Even answering was difficult. “I think I’ll stand for a bit”, he said as he looked at the bed. Now the rage was accompanied by waves of pain through his stomach. Somehow he knew the pain wasn’t from the recent meddling with his intestines; it was a pain of hunger. Overriding hunger. He turned and looked at the old man and in an instant knew what he must do.
The man’s eyes got large and he turned quickly. His hand had reared back to knock on the door when Hugh reached him, surprised by his own speed. “No!” was all the old man was able to say before Hugh’s hand clapped over his mouth.
Hugh wrenched the old man’s head back, exposing a pale, wrinkled throat. Without thinking he sunk his teeth into the man’s Adam’s apple and bit it out. Blood streamed down the old man’s neck as Hugh drank and chewed. Staggering back, Hugh lowered the old man to the floor. He continued to feast. It was several minutes later before he realized he still had the man’s now lifeless mouth covered. Sitting back he realized that his pain was subsiding. Again gingerly, he peeled back his bandages and looked at his wounds. They appeared to be the same as they were earlier yet they did not hurt.
Realization hit Hugh as he stood and saw the mauled old man and large pool of blood. He looked from the corpse to the door and back again. Thirst sated, thoughts of escape now were foremost in his head. Roughly he took the old man’s vest and slipped it on. He ripped the sheet off the bed and used it to wipe his face. Steeling himself, he walked to the door- painlessly now – and knocked loudly.
A clattering of keys finally led to the distinctive ‘click’ of a lock opening. Within moments, the door opened outward. With strength he did not know he had, Hugh pushed hard on the door knocking the lower hinges out and the man behind it onto the ground. Rushing past the fallen man at a dead run Hugh bolted into the darkness. Through winding streets he ran, turning one way then another, with no pattern or thought of where he was going. Not recognizing where he was, Hugh continued blindly through the town’s streets and alleys. Finally, the town petered out and wilderness surrounded him. He looked behind him and heard no one following him. The town seemed still asleep. Unsure of the time of night, or where he was, Hugh turned and crept into the forest to hide from the invariable search party. He found a hollowed out log and crawled deep in it and collapsed. Either the townsfolk did not find him or they never came. Either way, Hugh slept through the day and peered out of the trunk as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the forested hills. He stood and looked at the town, not far off. Stood?
iv
> Hugh realized he was standing still on the sidewalk. Occasional passersby gave the young, yet haggard looking man frozen in place, a wide birth. He checked his watch; only twenty minutes had passed. Most annoying. Even so, there was still plenty of dark left. Hugh continued down the street and finally, after several blocks, turned down an alleyway. He had lived in the town on and off for almost 80 years and knew it well. Newly built streets in nice neighborhoods were now very much like the alley he was currently in. Wide for horses and carriages, narrow for automobiles. Traveling the dark alleys did not worry Hugh; any altercations would end up with him having an early, unplanned dinner. If the character was exceedingly unappetizing - which was often the case- Hugh just killed them outright and continued with his business. It was a fairly large town, almost a city by most standards, and unlike centuries ago, people were murdered on a routine basis these days.
Soon he was back on another bustling street. This one was filled with garish neon lights and similarly dressed people. “Come in, see the girls, pal”, beckoned a large man from the doorway of a club. Pounding music poured out of the door, “Only five bucks to get in. No drink minimum.”
Hugh turned to look at the bouncer, “They clean?”
The bouncer smiled a broad smile, gold tooth prominently displayed front and center- or at least center right- , “ ‘Course they are. What kind of place you think we’re running here. Come in and have a look.” The man eyed Hugh up and down. “Five bucks.” He said flatly, deciding that Hugh would be no trouble either way.
Hugh seethed. He had been at one point, tall. Imposing with broad shoulders, lean, and muscular, he often imagined that he may have once been a blacksmith or carpenter. Those were the skills he knew, at least. He had no way of knowing, since those professions were all pre-Change. Cut features and flowing brown hair also made him fairly attractive to the opposite sex. With changing times, even the not-opposite sex found him interesting. Most annoying, but sometimes convenient. He frowned at the bouncer, seeing his appraisal and change in attitude since he did not take Hugh as a threat. As a matter of fact, Hugh had not grown or shrunk (only his hair and nails grew, apparently) but remained a constant five feet seven inches. It was the increasing average height of everyone around him that had made him go from above average to below average.
Easy Street, Unpaved - A Vampire's Change of Fortune (Hugh- Vampire. Hunter. King.) Page 1
