by M. Lorrox
Along that wall are the computers—a whole series of computer components without external cases, with wires running everywhere. There are fans spinning and lights glowing on each one, and all have a cable running to an Ethernet switch—which has a lot of lights flashing on it. Box fans on the sides of the components circulate the air, and in each corner near the ceiling, vent fans exchange air with the outside. It’s warm in there, but not too bad. It’s not the quietest garage, though, so the guys talk a little louder than usual.
Charlie finishes his first beer while Skip flirts with his. He sets his empty bottle down. “So, what happened this week? You said it was rough?”
“Yeah, one of my best vet techs got a call that their brother was missing, so she took off, and another one of the techs put in his notice—he wants to head over to Nashville to help his family move.”
Charlie opens another beer from the carton that Skip brought.
“And with everybody leaving, there’s a lot more abandoned animals. The jerks are just propping their doors open on their way out, leaving the animals free to roam and fend for themselves. The neighbors end up calling the office, and we are trying to catch and shelter what we can, but we just can’t help all of them. It sucks.” He lifts his beer and takes an overdue pull from it.
“That does sound tough. I know how much the fuzzballs mean to you. If you ever want a terrier to keep you company at home…I know a guy.” Charlie sips his beer and sighs at his own misfortune.
“Ha, no. Rusty wouldn’t live with me. He’d be back here in a minute.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Suddenly they hear a -beeeeeep- coming from one of the computers. Charlie just waves his hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that; it’s just power cycling. A couple rigs are flaky, so I have them restart every so often.”
“I can’t help but ask; you’re still mining Bitcoin? It must be profitable then?”
“Well…” Charlie finishes his second beer. “It wouldn’t be profitable if they were straight-mining Bitcoin, so instead I’ve got them mining other coins that I can sell for Bitcoin. I’m close to pulling the plug, though. Sadie’s at her wit’s end with all this mining.”
“Mmm-kay.” Skip decides to drop it. He looks around for something, and then he finds it. “Oh man, can I see your sword?”
Charlie quips back, “Well, gee, Skip, I’ve only had two beers. You should get me more liquored up before you try and have sex with me. I’ve told you before, I’m just not that attracted to you.” Charlie laughs and opens his third beer.
“Shut up.” Skip leisurely finishes his first beer; he’s given up trying to keep up with Charlie. He stands up. “May I?”
“You may.”
He walks over to the shelf. On top are two samurai swords: a long red-and-black one, and a short blue-and-white one. He reaches for the long one, but Charlie interrupts. “Skip, take down the blue one.”
Skip carefully lifts it out of its holder. “What is this called again?”
“That one’s a wakizashi, a personal carry sword. The long one is a katana, a battle sword.”
Skip sits back down and grabs his second beer. “These are tasty, right? A lot of good brews have been coming out of the west these past couple years.” Skip deflates as he reaches for the bottle opener.
Charlie shifts in his chair. “A lot have been coming out of the west these days… But you’re right, this beer is really good. Glad they opened up a brewery out here before everything hit the fan.”
“That’s for damn sure.” Skip takes a large swig from his bottle.
They sit in silence for a minute. Sadie breaks it when she opens the door from the house. “Hey, Skip!”
“Hi, Sadie. Thanks for letting me come by.”
“Oh of course, Skip. Our home is your home—just, ours.” She laughs. “Charlie, have you heard anything from Eddy?”
“Nope. Have you texted him?”
“I’ll give him another shout. Remember, dinner’s at seven forty-five. Skip, would you and June like to join us for dinner?”
Charlie tries to hide his surprise; that wasn’t the plan. Besides, they never invite others over for dinner without first hashing out a play-by-play of how the night will unfold.
“Oh, no. Thank you for the offer. Maybe another night.”
“Oh, okay. We’ll plan something soon. Later!” Sadie returns to the kitchen and shuts the door.
Skip notices the confusion on Charlie’s face. “It’s a nice gesture, but I don’t want to impose, especially without June. She’d really enjoy having dinner with you all as well.”
“Ah. Makes sense to me. We should do something soon, though. Maybe sometime this week?”
“That would be nice, Charlie, thanks.” Skip drinks more of his beer and returns his attention to the sword.
The handle is wrapped in a light-blue cord, partially covering an odd, light-beige textured material. “What’s this bumpy stuff?”
“Ray skin; it covers the wood handle.”
Skip looks up at him. “That’s weird.”
Charlie motions with his bottle. “Japan is an island, after all.”
Skip nods then continues inspecting the sword. Wrapped just underneath the cord on one side of the handle is a piece of iron carved into the shape of a dragon. Nothing is wrapped in the cord on the other side. A single brass pin holds the blade into the handle toward the bottom, and at the very end is a gold cap featuring an intricate carving of a man walking along a cliff, high in the clouds. At the opposite end, just under the sword’s steel guard, is a gold band with similar cloud designs engraved along its perimeter.
Skip grips the handle with his thumb pressed against the clouds that float just under the guard, and pulls the blade from the white lacquered scabbard. The blade is covered in a thin oil that glistens in the overhead lights. The edge of the blade has a beautiful smoke-like wave pattern, sometimes looking almost like branches and flower blossoms in the breeze.
Skip holds the blade out in front of him and elevator eyes it down, then back up. “What do you call this again?”
Charlie laughs. “It’s a wakizashi; the scabbard is called a saya.”
“Right, right.” Skip turns the blade over, looking at it again, then he notices that Charlie is sitting back and grinning. Skip lets his frustration show. “Alright, how did you REALLY get these swords?”
Here we go again. “The wakizashi in your hand was given to me when I was accepted as a pupil at a prestigious fencing school in Japan.” Charlie finishes his beer and sets it down with a -thud- that rattles the table. “I got the other one after I saved a family from a fire. The patriarch was a famous swordsmith—the same master who made the sword in your hand. To show his…gratitude, for saving his family, he made me the katana.” Charlie motions to the sword in Skip’s hands. “His signature is engraved on both swords, under the handles. His name was Muramasa.”
Skip turns over the mirror-polished blade. On one side is an inset area, and in it are a series of etched Japanese characters. “What do these symbols say?”
“The sword was a present, and the inscription is a sort of introduction. It’s to remind me of its name.”
Skip takes a breath. “Care to share?”
Charlie clears his throat. “It’s named Ukigumo, which means passing cloud.”
“Interesting.” He turns the blade over in his hands again. “And when was that exactly? Huh, Charlie?”
“1564…ish.” Charlie opens another beer.
Skip takes a drink of his. “Uh-huh.”
“Vampires can live forever, dude.”
“Riiight.” I really don’t understand this game. “And you can live forever because...you’re a vampire.”
“Well, a long time at least. Want another beer?”
Skip looks at the bottle in his hand, and to his surprise, it’s nearly empty. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
Charlie holds up a fresh bottle between himself and Skip, gripping it near the top with one hand. H
e presses his thumb underneath the cap, and with a -ksshhhhhhh- he gives Skip a big thumbs-up, having popped the top with his fingernail. He holds the thumbs-up until the bottle cap comes to a rest on the concrete floor.
Skip looks at Charlie cockeyed. “That’s a good trick. You’ll have to teach me sometime.”
Charlie frowns. “Mmm, we’ll see.” He hands the beer to Skip.
Skip takes the beer with one hand, still holding the sword in the other. He stands and starts to walk around in the garage, looking at pictures and other objects on the shelf.
Charlie watches him closely, still sipping his own beer.
Skip leans toward the wall and inspects an old boxing poster. It appears to be a near-photographic illustration of a mustachioed pugilist posing with his fists up—no gloves. It’s old; it’s an original.
“This looks familiar.” Skip points to the boxing poster.
“Well, that’s probably because that’s me.”
Skip inspects it, squinting. “Oh! This is one of those posters for that steak house! I saw it on TV! That’s pretty cool.”
Charlie, foiled again, puts his face into his palms.
“Oh, and what’s this spade thing called again?”
Charlie responds in a muffled voice from behind his hands. “Monk’s spade. From China.”
“Cool!” Skip returns to the table, sets down the sword, takes a big sip of his beer, and then sets down the bottle. “Was that before or after Japan?”
Charlie wipes his eyes. “China was earlier. I was there for a while, starting around 1530 or so.”
Skip is already walking away, back to the spade. It’s standing vertically, propped up next to the shelf. It’s a roughly six-foot-tall steel staff, with an open ring the size of a grapefruit on the bottom, and a flat, spade-like curved blade along the top. The metal is thick and solid. Along the staff portion of the weapon are some ridges and bands of carved characters, along with dents and deep scratches.
Skip grabs it with a hand and starts to lift it, but soon realizes that it’s insanely heavy. “Jesus, this thing weighs a million pounds!”
Charlie stands to join him. “Careful there, little buddy. You’re close; it weighs about thirty kilos.”
“Yeah, exactly. In American that’s...a million pounds!”
“Riiight.”
Skip struggles to raise the weapon. “Damn. I can barely lift this.” He holds the long weapon sideways and attempts a thrust-like motion with it, like he was pushing someone away with the width of the staff. He struggles with the heft and ultimately sets it down on its ring. “What a stupid weapon.”
Charlie grabs it out of Skip’s hands. “Your face is stupid. And wimpy.”
“Ha! What are all these dents and dings from?”
Charlie smiles. “This spade is made of steel. Those marks are from battles. Most are from swords, although some are from spears.”
Skip feigns awe.
“You asked!”
Skip points to one curved dent. “I bet this is from when you bashed in the helmet of a shogun!”
Charlie moves the weapon farther away from Skip, frustrated. “No, that’s just from dropping it this one time…”
Skip stares at him, waiting.
“Ugh, I hate you. That mark is from dropping it on my car. I was seeing how long I could spin it on top of my head, and the answer was...not as long as I thought.” Charlie chuckles.
“You’re nuts.” Skip looks at the other items and artifacts on the shelf. “Why do you have all this stuff?”
Charlie puts the spade back, then turns and puts an arm across Skip’s shoulders. He takes a dramatic breath. “Buddy, I’m a vampire. I have to drink blood sometimes, and I don’t age. I’m five hundred and ninetee—yeah, nineteen years old, and these items are mementos from my past.”
“Oh, give it a rest!” Skip laughs and breaks free from Charlie’s embrace. “That’s some good backstory, though.” He walks back over to the table and his beer.
Charlie just smiles and shakes his head. Never has he had so much trouble getting a human to understand what he is. Usually, the secret is important to keep, but he and Sadie had decided to reveal themselves to Skip. Charlie has tried over and over to tell Skip, but he just won’t listen.
This calls for drastic measures… Charlie pulls a large pocketknife from his belt.
Skip notices the little critter in the wire cage on the workbench. “What happened to the squirrel?”
“Oh, Rusty had it. His leg is bruised up, might be broken.”
Skip looks concerned. “Hmm. Well, we’ll just have to wait a couple days to see if he recovers. You’re lucky you got him from Rusty so fast! I’m sure Rusty was about to thrash this little guy to death.” He takes a quick sip from his beer. “You see, dogs instinctively hunt and catch animals, but afterward they don’t really eat them; they just thrash their heads back and forth with the critters in their mouth, and it kills the captured animal.”
Charlie bites his tongue. “Yeah, I sure am lucky.”
“Well, I guess I mean that the squirrel is lucky.”
“So much lucky in this house.” Charlie moves toward Skip, who has his back turned as he takes another drink of his beer.
Charlie flips open the blade. “Skip, I’d like to show you something.”
“What’s that?” He starts to turn around when his phone rings. “Hold on…it’s June.” He answers the phone.
Charlie lowers the knife.
Skip seems alarmed. “Wait, wait. Are you okay? Thank god. Who got bit? Honey, try to stop crying for a second…”
Charlie closes his knife and puts it away.
“Okay, June, listen. Can you meet me at home? Yeah, alright, I’ll get my kit ready. It’s going to be okay, June. See you soon.” Skip hangs up and turns to Charlie. “Sorry, buddy, I gotta go. Something happened at Heather’s house, and their dog is all messed up. They’re bringing it over, and from the sounds of things, I’ll probably have to put it down. June’s really upset.”
“Of course. I understand. I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”
Charlie pats Skip on the back as they turn and walk toward the Jeep. Charlie stops. “Skip, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
He walks over and grabs the cage with the squirrel. “Can you look after this little guy?”
Skip smiles. “Sure thing, buddy.” He takes the cage and walks to the Jeep.
After a short ride, Charlie pulls over in front of Skip’s house. “Well, good luck tonight. It sounds like it’ll suck.”
Skip jumps down from the Jeep while holding the cage, then turns back to face Charlie. “Yeah, I think it will. Right on par with the week, it seems. I’ll give you a holler tomorrow.”
“Alright, take it easy, man. Stay safe.”
“You too.”
Charlie drives back home, cursing his luck and wishing the best for his friend and for June. Charlie has escaped death for generations, but really, he hasn’t. For generations, he’s delivered it to others, and he’s watched it take those close to him.
Charlie is back in the kitchen by the time the garage door shuts behind the Jeep. He’s had a half dozen beers so far, but thanks to his metabolism, he’s not even buzzed. He grabs a glass from a cupboard and adds a couple ice cubes, then sets it on the counter. He pulls a drink from the fridge and precisely fills the glass halfway, then he adds five shakes of hot sauce. He opens another cupboard that’s mostly filled with various teas and grabs the grain alcohol from the top shelf.
He fills the glass the rest of the way with the alcohol; he has created one of his “health tonics.”
Walking into the family room, he finds Sadie playing with Minnie. They’re working on a puzzle. He sits and watches them.
“Any sign of Eddy?”
Sadie doesn’t look up. “He’s upstairs, Charlie.”
Charlie tilts his head. “Oh, did he just get in?”
“
No. He’s been here a half hour or so.”
“Huh. I didn’t hear him come in.” Charlie takes a sip of his drink. “I dropped Skip off. Do you need any help with dinner?”
“No, it’s in the oven. It’ll be ready in a little while.”
“Alright, well…thank you. I’ll go chat with Eddy.”
Upstairs, Eddy is in his room. Usually he’s on his computer, playing games on his phone, or listening to music and reading. The past few weeks he’s been acting more distant from Charlie and Sadie—something they attribute to typical teenage behavior.
Eddy is anything but a typical teenager, but he still has typical teenage feelings and thoughts. As difficult as the period can be for regular humans, it’s particularly more so for vampires—especially nowadays. As he approaches adulthood, more and more of his vampire characteristics are manifesting. These begin with other hormonal changes that occur when a vampire child goes through puberty, and they don’t stop until the individual has reached their mid to late twenties. Being in a public environment with other kids during these changes poses many challenges.
Eddy must more actively hide his enhanced abilities from normal kids at school, and often his efforts are met with mixed results. He has to pretend not to hear people that try and sneak up on him, not to get alarmed when he hears something fall or get knocked over—outside his classroom and at the other end of the hall. He needs to slow down his movements in gym class and appear tired when the other kids do. He must limit his exposure to sunlight, and in the same vein, he has to ensure he’s consumed enough blood to offset the sun’s deadly effects on his more susceptible body.
He has to work very hard to appear ordinary. Most teens don’t like being ordinary. Eddy, in that regard, is just like the other kids.
He isn’t going through these challenges alone, though. The internet has allowed this generation of vampires the ability to communicate—and commiserate—online. He’s become friends online with a number of other young vampires just like him. The main forum dedicated to his age group is called The Xchange for Young Vampires or The X-Y-V.
