Never Fear

by Heather Graham

  There would be evidence that he called her and they talked for a few minutes. He would say they argued, say he stopped over there, told her he did not want to get married. He would take the ring back. He had debated a whole suicide note thing but that seemed like it could potentially bite him in the ass. Instead, he was going to go home, tell his roommate they had broken up and that she had threatened to kill herself, which she did every time they fought. That was the truth. Numerous people had heard her go crazy on him at parties when she thought he wasn’t falling over her feet fast enough. She threatened to kill herself at least once a month, usually with witnesses.

  People might still speculate that she didn’t seem suicidal at the moment but there would be no evidence of foul play.

  Natalie was crying in his ear. “This is insane. Why would you do this? I can’t see anything. I’m going to have a heart attack.”

  God, he hoped not. He’d have to haul her corpse across town and that sounded like a bitch to finagle.

  “Beg me,” he said, and he was shocked to hear his true inner voice, the one he never really allowed to speak out loud. He hadn’t heard it since he was fifteen and he’d gutted a live cat in the woods, giving it a running commentary on which organs he was currently removing while the cat yowled and thrashed. He’d learned to control those urges, to wait, to plan, to pretend. Pretend to be normal.

  Then the fear had tenuously crawled in, surprising him. He had been afraid to commit to taking a human life. He had hesitated and in doing so had become so very ordinary, so very staid. So “suburban guy with a golf cart.”

  Not anymore.

  “Please,” she murmured, tentative. She didn’t know this Eric and she was frightened into a stunned silence, the word hesitant.

  “That’s not trying hard enough.”

  “Please let me out. Please!” Her voice got shrill.

  “No.” He hung up the phone.

  He expected her to call him back but she didn’t. One minute went by, then five. He started to get concerned that she had fainted. Or run out of oxygen. He called her again. The call connected but she didn’t speak.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, puzzled, wary. Concerned. It couldn’t be over this soon. He didn’t want to her die in the hole. Not before he saw her eyes.

  “Can’t. Breathe.” She was wheezing. She sounded weak and hoarse, air rattling in and out of her lungs.

  Maybe he’d overestimated the time she could be underground. Maybe he hadn’t accounted for the presence of radon or something, hell, he didn’t know. “Natalie, stay with me. I’m going to crack the lid, just so you have a bit of air, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

  There was nothing but silence. Even her breathing seemed to have stilled.

  The cemetery seemed to press in on him, yet at the same time he suddenly felt fully exposed. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t as fun as he’d been expecting it to be. It was like he actually cared about the stupid bitch. It didn’t make any sense. He knew he shouldn’t open the vault, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion to check on her, make sure she hadn’t suffocated already.

  He lifted the lid two inches, fully expecting to see her eyes blink in fear and recoiling from the sudden moonlight. But there was no sign of her. He lifted the lid even further, its springs creaking obnoxiously. He had the lid halfway up when she sprang on him, the sudden searing pain in his chest shocking and confusing. He let out a roar before he was flat on his back, the light from above disappearing as the lid fell back in place. What the hell? He tried to sit up, but Natalie was pressing on his chest with one hand, not looking like it was a strain at all, even though he was frantically pushing up with all his strength.

  Her eyes were glowing in the dark. Not with fear, but with disappointment, amusement. “Really, Eric? I never took you for the theatrical type. It’s one of the things I appreciated about you. This was insanely melodramatic.”

  He stopped fighting, not sure what was going on. He gripped her wrist with his hand and tried to shift her off of him, but she didn’t budge. He started to sweat again, like earlier, the cold fingers of fear tickling up his spine. “I don’t understand,” he said, stupidly.

  “You’re not the only one with secrets.” Her free hand stroked his cheek in the dark and he shuddered, the tight fit in the vault unnerving, her demeanor even more so. She sounded like a different person.

  Her true inner self?

  “You wanted to know why I have a fear of being buried alive? It’s because I was put into a coffin every night, night after night, for two hundred years.” Her cold lips teased across his. “I was so glad when I aged out of that shit. It gave me a fear of small spaces. Of coffins, graves, cemeteries. Which is ironic, considering I can’t die.”

  The illogic of that jerked Eric back to his senses. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone dies.”

  “Not vampires.”

  “Vampires don’t exist. Plus you go tanning,” he said, which was a ludicrous statement.

  “I like having color,” she said, before clamping down hard on his bottom lip. “I feel healthier.”

  He tasted blood.

  “I’m annoyed with myself for not realizing who and what you are,” she murmured, before sinking her teeth into his upper lip.

  It stung and he couldn’t move. Nothing in his body worked. He was frozen, pinned by her single hand. “I feel the same way,” he said, accepting that he was going to be killed instead of getting to kill.

  “I won’t ask you to beg. Just remember the only thing you have to fear is fear itself.”

  She jabbed into his neck with her teeth, the blood pulsing and gushing straight out of him. It felt like it was drawing up and out all the way from his toes. The air was thick with the tangy sweetness.

  “No,” he managed to say. “The only thing you have to fear is other people.”

  Or vampires.

  She drew back, the glow of her eyes hypnotic.

  Then while he screamed out loud or maybe just in his own mind, she tore his flesh apart, burying her face inside his chest cavity, ribs cracking, muscle shredding. Natalie growled as she fed and he lay there dying in agony.

  Her fangs sank into his heart and he bled all over the vault, faster than she could lap it up.

  He hoped she would keep the ring he’d planned to return and think of him fondly.

  9

  Phobophobia

  fEAR OF BEING AFRAID

  Lance Taubold

  The lights were on.

  They were all seated before him. A murmur of whispering voices could be heard as everyone settled, made themselves comfortable.

  Waiting.

  They’re all here for me. Me. They want to hear my story: all the guts and glamor. Well, I’ll give it to them: the whole truth. Then they’ll all know how brave and fearless I really am.

  “I started out in the Marines. My parents encouraged me. We’re the best and brightest the military has to offer. Always on the front lines. Always ready to serve. We are trained to kick ass--and we did. Twice they called me up to go to Iraq. And twice my orders were cancelled. It sucked. I wanted to go defend our country so bad after what those Muslim fuc… sorry, freaks did to New York. To the whole country. Hell, to the whole world.

  “You’ll have to forgive my language. I get so passionate, sometimes I forget when I’m in polite company. That’s the Marine in me: tough but rough.

  “Anyway, after my orders got cancelled the second time, I started to rethink my life in the military. My time was up in the Marines and I needed to think about my future. I wanted to serve my country still, but I needed an education too. The Marines only had a tuition assistance program for getting a degree. But the National Guard would pay for everything, tuition, books, etc.

  “So, I joined the Guard, which made me part of the Army, of course, and they would pay for school as long as I stayed in. The Army’s awesome--and they’re tough too. Great guys. This would also give me the opportunity to study to become what I’d alway
s thought of becoming: a surgeon--you know; save lives. I knew it would be a lot of school and studying, but I don’t mind hard work--never have. I grew up in a pretty small town; there wasn’t a lot to do, so I studied hard and read a lot, didn’t hang out like a lot of kids did. Not a lot of friends, which was fine. So studying wasn’t new for me. Bring it on.

  “I went for three months to medic school--Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, I figured it would be great to do that, you know, in case my unit got called up to go to Afghanistan, which they said was really unlikely, but a guy could hope. But if I did go, I would be there to help if any of my guys got injured. ‘Cuz that’s what it’s all about, keeping my guys safe and protected.

  “It wasn’t long ‘til I got out of medic school--and not to brag--but I was top of my class. I loved it. Met some great guys and women too who were there.

  “Anyway, then it happened. I still remember the day we all got called into the Drill Hall on our day off. A Friday. The company commander announced, “Gentlemen, we’re going to Afghanistan.”

  “I heard lots of guys around me swearing, and mumbling things about how they couldn’t go and what were they gonna tell their girlfriends. But not me. I was stoked! I think I punched my fist in the air. Finally, I was going to get my chance. Of course, I was going to have to put school on hold for a year, but it was worth it. Freaking Afghanistan!

  “Then, things got even better. It turned out where we were going in country was a very strategic place for us and we were going to have a four-man sniper team. And, they needed a medic. I was a great shot. I’d grown up with guns and would go out shooting all the time back home, not that there was any danger where we lived, but you never know, you know.”

  He laughed and gave his audience a chance to laugh with him, before he continued.

  “So, I put in to be the team’s medic. I would be there to back them up and take care of them if they were wounded. But I had to shoot too. Which, as I said before was no problem. I didn’t know these guys at all, but everyone said they were the best and I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Hell, I would probably just be on the sidelines most of the time, but I told them I wanted to be in on the action too. And they told me, who was going to take care of me if I got hurt. Which made sense, so I didn’t push it. They needed me and I would do whatever they wanted. Our group would be special and reserved for special assignments, so I wouldn’t really be with the rest of the guys, as such. There were other medics that could handle it. It felt great to be part of that elite group, knowing that I would be doing something really worthwhile.

  “I was prepared though, just in case. I carried three weapons: two pistols and my rifle, and of course, my knife. I also figured if one of the guys needed a backup weapon, they could use one of mine.

  We trained for three months. The whole time I was worried, and kept expecting to hear them tell us our tour was cancelled.

  “But it wasn’t. We left in August last year. It took forever to get there, stopping in Germany, then Kyrgyzstan. But I’d gotten smart. Every time I flew--even in the states--I would take something to knock me out-- Well, not really knock me out. It was just something to make me drowsy so I could sleep, you know. So I wouldn’t have jet lag.

  “It was funny, when we landed in Germany--our stopover--my buddy, Gary, woke me up and punched me. I guess I fell asleep on his shoulder. But he didn’t know it either, ‘cuz he was passed out too. Hey, I was comfy.”

  He paused to let everyone laugh again.

  “Oh yeah, he also said I talked in my sleep; something about getting shot or shooting somebody. Yep, I was ready to see some action!

  “So, we get to the Baghram Air Field--our last stop--before we head out to our COP, you know, our combat outpost.

  “Let me tell you, this place was no Marriott--not even a Holiday Inn--not even a Motel 6! This was bare bones minimum. Except it had a gym. Which was awesome. As you can see, I love to work out. And when I was there, I was jacked! I mean I’m okay, now. The ladies seem to like how I look. Guys, too--just kidding. Besides, it was war, a military thing, guys help each other out. I mean… what I mean is: the guys all liked me, they’d tell me how ripped I was and ask me for workout tips.

  “But over there even the gym was pretty bare bones: all free weights--which I love--It makes you bigger, faster--a couple of benches, bars, mats. Oh, they did have a couple of leg machines, not that I really needed it. My legs are huge from all the ruck marches we did, so that way I could really focus on my upper body. We had a lot of down time and I spent most of it in the gym. I’m 5’9” and I was 195--all muscle. Big traps and delts. Got my arms to 18”. I had the Afghani guys that were with us take a lot of pictures of me.

  “I was eating, like, 3500 calories a day. I’d ordered online a bunch of supplements, protein powder. No anabolics though! It was all natural. Protein, three to four hours a day of hard workouts, and it paid off. The Afghans were all afraid of me ‘cuz I’d gotten so big. They’d ask me to help with their workouts and shit, sorry--stuff, and I’d give them some pointers. They liked to spot me on the bench when I needed it. Didn’t want to get hurt, tear a rotator cuff or anything. Then I couldn’t support my guys. I’d be useless to them. But bein’ jacked was really all for them, you know, so I could carry guys if they needed it--which they didn’t, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done if they’d gotten injured or killed. I can’t think…

  “I mean, I… I woulda done what needed to be done. Whatever! I could do it, you know?

  “I'm trimmed down now--a buck 80 to 85, depends on the day. Lean, mean muscle. Nobody’s gonna mess with me. I know you can’t tell through what I’m wearing really well, but I’ve got great pecs and arms.

  “It’s kind of hot in here. Is the AC on? My forehead’s sweating and I know I’ve got bad pit stains.

  “Well, I guess you all want to hear about my time in country, where the action really is.

  “We went on patrols most days into the villages in the surrounding area. I guess you heard how I used to give out toys to the kids in the villages; that was my idea. I figured it would take the Afghans off guard, Then they’d think we came in peace. I’d carry an extra pack filled with stuff for the kids and my guys would distribute them. We still carried our weapons, of course, to let them know if there was any funny business from them, we would take ‘em down.

  “There was this one time, right around Christmas, we went into this village--where we’d been lots of times before--and it was all quiet-like. No kids came yelling for treats. There were a few animals around, but that was it. Some of the guys got scared, but I told them everything was all right; probably a holiday or something. It made them feel better. But everything wasn’t all right.

  “Can I get some water please? It’s still pretty hot and my throat’s kind of dry from all the talking.”

  He swallowed.

  “That’s better. Thanks.

  “So I sent one of the guys to go ahead a little and he walked about thirty yards or so, while we scanned the area--and that’s when it happened. Blam! Sorry, didn’t mean to make anyone jump. But it made us all jump and hit the ground hard. Those bastards had placed an IED in the middle of the road! A fucking bomb! I… I…

  “I don’t know… I ran… I hid… I… yelled… I… black… screamed… gun… Motherfuckers!... blood… blood… Pauly… dead… dead…”

  Silence.

  “Oh yeah, sorry, just trying to remember everything so I tell it right. It happened pretty fast. So then I got the guys together, tried to calm them down and told them to get it together; that we needed to get out of there, see who was hurt. I was fine. My HMMWV--Humvee--was in the center of the formation at the time the IED went off, but I had to check on my other guys. They depended on me: their Doc.

  “Oh, this is kind of funny: one of the guys who was injured, Slater, needed me to give him a sedative so when I went to stick him, I missed the stick three times before I got it in the right spot. Me, the doc, missed the s
tick. Hey, it happens, you know? So I’m not perfect after all.

  “Anyway, we medevaced him out with the two other guys who were injured. They were all checked out back at the base in Baghram, recovered, and were back in action a couple of weeks later. Yeah, I’m not sure where they were reassigned, but I heard they were okay.

  “But it just goes to show you, you can’t trust the Afghans. They’ll smile and take gifts from you, then turn around and stab you in the back--or blow you up... nasty fuckers… crazy dune coons... raping little boys... selling their daughters... should blow them up…

  “Can I get some more water please? It’s hot; kind of stuffy too.

  “That’s great. Thanks.

  “Oh yeah, I got another good one for you. We were driving to the base to get supplies for the week--nice little convoy, MRAPs… Oh yeah, that’s Mine Resistant Ambush Protected…, HMMWVs, I think six… that was pretty standard--six to eight.

  “Well, this time there were six. We’d been driving about a half hour. The roads were hardly roads--dirt paths, rocks, boulders. Let me tell you, after one of these runs, I was issuing naproxen and ibuprofen to my guys like they were jellybeans. All that bumping and jarring fucked your back up for days. And your ass. It wasn’t fun. Of course we couldn’t take their, quote--unquote--roads. IEDs everywhere. But those sneaky fucks were not as stupid as we thought. This time they’d planted one on the route we’d taken a couple of times before. This was my first run. They wouldn’t let me go before in case I was needed back at the COP, you understand.

  “So, we’re bumping along, laughing, joking, ragging on each other, talking about girls, when suddenly the MRAP in the front position hits a fucking IED. And this had to be a big motherfucker, ‘cuz the mine roller on the front hit that pressure plate and BOOM! It rocked the MRAP straight up in the air onto its two back wheels. Freakiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen! The mine roller was toast. Ripped metal everywhere. The MRAP wheels were spinning in mid-air. The rest of the convoy slammed their brakes on. Guys were running to the MRAP, opening the side doors and the gun turret to get our guys out.