Vamp-Hire

by Rice, Gerald Dean

  Nick was thankful he hadn’t taken off his jacket and pulled his hood over his head as he crossed at an intersection. He walked quickly, not daring to run unless he saw a car or truck heading in his direction. It was strange to see the streets so empty. This was a major city and what he could remember of his time before, it had always been alive, no matter the hour. Now it felt like he’d stepped out of one graveyard and into another.

  It took several miles and more than a couple of dashes into dark alleys or otherwise obscured areas before he finally made it home. He’d seen two sets of yellow eyes in one alleyway and figured them to be wolves. There had been several sightings and though they were reported to not be a danger to humans, he wasn’t interested in petting one. Phoebe still hadn’t given him a key, so Nick had his own way in and out. Besides, he slept in the basement and she was deathly afraid of it at night, so she’d never know.

  He removed the board covering the tiny rectangular window and got on his belly, shimmying his way in legs first. There was a shelf pushed up against the wall and he felt for it with the tips of his shoes before going halfway through. Nick ducked his head in and replaced the pane of glass, using a fresh strip of duct tape to secure it. To anyone outside who might have passed by, if someone were so inclined, it would look no different than any of the other windows.

  He started when he saw Randy sitting on the floor in the dark. The child was odd and he had an affinity for Nick, which in itself was odd. He woke up at all hours of the night and many times Nick had heard him tramping around, sneaking in that non-quiet way unique to young children. Most times Phoebe had awakened and shuffled him back to bed. When she hadn’t, he would come downstairs and either wake Nick up so they could play together or find Nick already awake and they’d do something.

  They didn’t always play. Sometimes, they talked. Well, Randy didn’t really talk. Nick had never heard him string more than two words together at any given time. That was fine; Nick tended to use him as a sounding board for whatever was on his mind and Randy was a really good listener.

  She’d never caught them because Nick had never made the mistake of letting him stay in the basement with him. After an hour or so of whatever it was they’d been doing, he would simply look at the boy and tell him to go to bed. Randy would never complain. He would simply put down whatever he’d been holding and pad back upstairs and to his room where Nick hoped the boy slept, but could never be sure.

  It took a moment for his eyes to focus in on what Randy was doing. He was sitting next to a checkerboard, lining the pieces up on either side. Despite only being three, he was smarter than most people Nick tended to meet. He was still learning the rules and Randy never got frustrated. If he did something wrong, he listened while Nick explained it to him and more often than not, got it right every time after.

  They’d played only once before a few days ago, when Nick had thought of the game as a good means to tucker the boy out. Now he wanted to play again.

  Randy only glanced up at him as he came over, finishing with the pieces. Nick was a little worried that now he knew about his secret entrance. Then again, Randy wasn’t verbose; it was doubtful he would tell. At most, he would maybe innocently point to the window. Phoebe would never come down here anyway and wouldn’t allow Randy to. Nick’s secret was still as good as kept.

  Nick didn’t bother saying hello. He turned on the lamp in the corner and sat down across from Randy.

  “You go first,” he said. Randy looked up at him, then back down, the dark brown pools of his eyes not seeming to hold any recognition in them. He wondered sometimes what the boy thought of him. Why he liked being around Nick so much was a mystery. He didn’t like to dwell on it too much. He thought if he figured that out, Randy might not come around anymore and despite being almost eight times the boy’s age, Nick did enjoy his company.

  Nick won the first game easily, though Randy had already significantly closed the gap. He hadn’t had mercy on the boy the first time out and it wasn’t even an option in the second game. Nick lost four pieces before collecting Randy’s last and on the third game they’d stalemated.

  They were resetting for a fourth when they heard movement upstairs. Nick and Randy turned their heads to the ceiling, listening. A second later came the telltale creak of a stair and the jig was up.

  “Go, go,” Nick said, patting Randy on the arm. The boy stood up and quickly headed to the basement steps. Phoebe called to her son. From the close sound of it the basement door must have been open.

  “Randy? Randy-baby, where are you?” Nick still couldn’t figure out if that was some sort of nickname for her son; she called him that a lot. Nick slid out of his jacket, dropped it on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He could hear Randy midway up when the basement door was pulled all the way open. Nick wiped his still-agitated eyes again, realizing after the fact that this aided in helping him look sleepy.

  “Randy, there you are!” she said as Nick came to the stairs. There Phoebe was at the top of the stairs with Randy in the middle, facing his mother, which had to look like it was; that he was on his way up, not down.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did he wake you? I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, that’s okay, though.” He rubbed his eyes even more, hoping to give her the impression he’d been asleep. “I think he was sleepwalking.”

  “Yeah. He does that sometimes.”

  Nick noticed the look of suspicion for a moment. He yawned.

  She was human—just human, and they were prone to suspicion of people like Nick. Then again, she hadn’t put up a fuss about him staying here given his condition. However, the creep factor rocketed when a grown man hung around with a kid not related to him by blood.

  God, he hoped she didn’t think he was a perv.

  Phoebe met Randy on the stairs and scooped him up, retreating to where the door had swung open. She stroked his cheek and kissed him, not even glancing over her shoulder at Nick. Seeing the two of them like that tugged at him in a way he couldn’t describe. Like his own mother had held and kissed him like that before. Nick had almost no memory of his life from before and absolutely none from when he was Randy’s age.

  The kid didn’t talk much. Nick didn’t know if that was because he couldn’t or wouldn’t, and didn’t bother asking. He figured Randy must have been autistic or something and knowing for sure wouldn’t change anything. When Phoebe shut the door he remained there a few beats longer, staring at nothing at all.

  He walked over to his bed and sat heavily. Though he was physically exhausted his mind was still racing. Had he really almost died tonight? He’d have to get a hold of Lucky in the morning and tell him this was over.

  After he’d stripped off his socks there came a gentle knock at the basement door. It was Phoebe; he could feel her all the way up there, the heat of her. His senses always peaked late at night. He wondered if that thing was still lingering somewhere inside him and if he could trust himself around her.

  “Excuse me. Nick? Could you come upstairs a moment?”

  Hell. He’d have to try.

  “Sure.”

  He put on his robe for greater effect and headed upstairs. Did she know? Was she going to report him? Had Randy told her anything? The house could have been interpreted as belonging to either of them, as she had bought it at auction. However, after his parents’ death he’d technically inherited it, even though he’d been in a coma. So much had been thrown in turmoil during the Conflict that it was virtual gridlock in every court across the country they’d decided to figure it out themselves. If he were thrown in internment he could kiss his claim to the only home he could remember goodbye.

  “Hey,” Nick said when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Hey.”

  He’d been here about three weeks and though they were amiable, he wouldn’t describe them as being friends. He’d been upfront about his condition, and didn’t think that was necessarily her problem with him. It seemed more of a Y-chromosome thing.r />
  Nick sat.

  “So, what’s up?”

  He hadn’t bothered asking any details about her, particularly her age. She looked early twenties. Actually, she looked seventeen, but he figured she had to be twenty-one at least to have a three year old son. Her hazel eyes, brown-blonde hair, and bronze skin made it almost impossible to guess her ethnicity. Not that a thing like that mattered to Nick. He supposed he was a product of his environment in a world where people were put into categories as a means of satisfying general curiosity and comfort.

  Whatever was on her mind was bugging the hell out of her. She’d dropped her head into her hands and was massaging her temples with her thumbs. After a moment, she slapped her hands on the table and looked at him.

  “I’m sure I must have woke you with that phone call,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

  “Oh, that? No. I’m a sound sleeper.”

  “Oh! Okay. All right.” She pursed her lips as if struggling with something she wanted to say and dropped her eyes. “Look. I’m just gonna come out and say it. I mean, this isn’t easy.” She locked eyes with him. “I need you to leave.”

  Nick felt a momentary stab of panic and forced himself to keep calm. He knew there was more coming and waited for her to explain.

  “See, it’s my grandfather. He’s coming… here. Tomorrow.”

  From what little he knew about her family, both her parents were alive, an older sister, and a teenaged brother. Save for distant relatives, she hadn’t lost anybody at all. She hadn’t mentioned grandparents, although it wasn’t a surprise she had a grandfather still kicking. She wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with them, but had never elaborated as to why.

  “Here?” he asked as if he hadn’t understood. “Why?”

  “He wasn’t happy about the move. Or my grandmother, for that matter. I tried to convince him not to come. I mean, Randy and I are okay here. I guess for him it’s one of those things he needs to see for himself. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

  “So how long is he planning on staying? I mean, I guess I can stay at Lucky’s for a night or two.” Nick didn’t know where Lucky lived or if it would be cool to stay there and he definitely didn’t want to mess up their arrangement. He didn’t mind sleeping in the basement at all and despite Randy not really talking all that much, he was a nice enough kid. In a world filled with intolerance he found the two of them… tolerable.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, it could be a day or two. He might want to stay a week. Maybe even a month.” She put her hand over his and her palm was incredibly warm. Nick was reminded of the brief contact with Nancy and wanted to yank his hand away. Instead, he tightened his loose fist. “I’m sorry. Seriously. Maybe I can give you some money.”

  “No. Every spare dime you have should be spent on Randy. We’ll figure something out.”

  She made a face at that last sentence for some reason and pulled her hand away.

  “Okay, that’s great.” She slid back from the table and stood. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble to ask, I need you to go tonight. Pop-Pop is going to be here in the morning and he’s always early.”

  “No, yeah. That works.” The thought of getting booted out of his house this fast kind of bummed him out. “Yeah, I’ll pack a bag or something and go over to Lucky’s place.”

  She nodded. “Great. Well, I’m really tired and it’s late. I really appreciate this.”

  Phoebe left, though she hadn’t taken with her the sudden coldness in the room. What was that that had made her turn off so abruptly? She went from an acquaintance asking for a favor to a businesswoman conducting a transaction.

  The mystery of Phoebe was an ever-deepening hole. Nick headed back into the basement, pondering what he knew about her. He certainly didn’t mind family visiting and it wasn’t too huge an inconvenience for him to be elsewhere for a day or two, though this seemed like it was something more than that. Why couldn’t she tell her family she had a roommate? Even in post-Conflict days, why didn’t she want to stay with family?

  With sudden clarity he realized he had taken something basic for granted: that ‘humans’ were trustworthy. Someone like him who had trace amounts of common viral DNA with one of the greatest mass murderers in history was supposed to be scrutinized. Not a pretty twenty year old who was trying to make a way for herself and her young child.

  Until this point, Nick couldn’t have cared less about her personal life, but if she were going to live in the same house as him, he felt he had a right to know at least enough about her to be certain he wasn’t going to wind up in the Pens again.

  What would he do if he found out she was lying? What if there was no grandfather? No Pop-Pop? Unless it was something incriminating, he didn’t have any leverage to do anything except take it. And what if she were up to something illegal? What, would he really have her arrested and separated from her son? Nick decided he was going to take this thing one step at a time. Maybe it was something small, something that was embarrassing. If that wound up being the case, he would keep it to himself.

  Right now he had to focus on finding a place to lay his head for the night. He didn’t have Lucky’s phone number or know where he stayed, so that meant motelling it. All the ones in walking distance were probably on the dirty side, which was just what he needed. Someplace that wasn’t too concerned about reporting strangers coming in after curfew. He might have to pay a little extra to get a no-questions-asked room for the night.

  Nick jammed his things into a duffle bag and walked upstairs for the last time tonight and maybe the next month. He didn’t really see that happening, though. He had a registered residence and needed to be there on the off-chance an inspector stopped by unannounced. He was violating his release by leaving at this hour and compounding it by sleeping somewhere other than his home for someone he didn’t entirely believe.

  Why was he doing this again?

  Nick took one last look around, his eyes catching on the empty family room floor where he remembered sitting with his mother, making bracelets. The memory dissolved into another one, her cradling his head as there was gunfire outside. Before Nick could think about it anymore he stepped outside and into the night air.

  That thing was standing on the lawn again.

  This made the third night it was there. It looked like a shadow and stood upright like a man with what looked like long, thin branches for hair. Its eyes reflected the streetlight behind it, like the back of its head was open.

  Nick wasn’t entirely certain it was real. The first time he’d seen it emerge from the bushes it had stood in the exact same spot as now, watching the house. Watching him. It hadn’t moved then, just as it wasn’t moving now, and they’d stared at each other several minutes. The moment had been broken before when two teenage girls passed by on the sidewalk behind it. They’d been out past curfew and hadn’t seemed to notice the creature or whatever it was when they passed within a few feet. When Nick had looked back to where it had been standing, it was gone.

  He had a sense there wouldn’t be any teenagers to break the line of tension between them this time. The creature was definitely staring at him, and though it hadn’t moved, he felt something akin to aggression.

  “You’re not real,” Nick said to it as much to himself. He lifted one foot to take a step off the porch, letting it hover a moment. “You’re not real.” He stepped off, watching it the whole time.

  Nick didn’t want to walk toward it and didn’t he want to put his back to it. He cut across the lawn, keeping it in his peripheral vision, heading in the direction of an elementary school outside the subdivision. He glanced over his shoulder once he’d reached the sidewalk and it had disappeared again.

  Midway down the block he thought it was a better to ditch the motel idea and go somewhere else. He didn’t know where Lucky lived so he had to go to where he hung out. There seemed to be a lot more cruisers out tonight which would have been easier to avoid in his own neighborhood.

  A he
licopter buzzed somewhere overhead. It cast a spotlight somewhere into the subdivision to his left. He turned down a street on his right. He passed a tall figure seated on the steps of a porch wearing a hat. The red tip of a cigarette glowed, and the man said nothing as he passed. He gave a single, slow wave and Nick waved back.

  He quickly weaved through several more streets and by the time he reached the Big Pig, it was well past midnight. Nick should have been asleep by now. Part of his therapy had been adjusting to daylight hours. He was naturally inclined to be awake at night and sleep during the day and in theory that wouldn’t help him to reacclimate to society. In truth, he couldn’t get reacclimated to society because once people knew what he was they typically wanted nothing to do with him. Before his release, it had been much easier. It was still summer then and sundown wasn’t until after nine o’clock. Nick tended to be tired during the day and went to bed between eight-thirty and nine and woke up by five. He looked for all intents and purposes like an early riser, ready to take on the world. Fall had come after his release and now that the clocks had been dialed back an hour, night time came by six. He had been given sleeping pills, temporary fixes when they had worked at all.

  Plus, he’d gone through all those in his first two weeks out.

  The Big Pig was a square brick building that looked like it had been a 7-11 in its previous life. It had all its windows shuttered save for a Plexi-Glass service window the clerk could use to pass items and take cash without letting customers in. Nick hoped Lucky still worked here, he didn’t tend to stay in one place for long; he viewed a job as investment income into his own entrepreneurial endeavors. Nick didn’t know exactly what those endeavors were outside of the odd jobs he found for him.

  They’d met at the clinic shortly after Nick’s discharge, where he was dispensing meds. Out of everyone he’d handed pills to that morning, there was something about Nick that had made Lucky do more than just pass a plastic cup. It had been through his industriousness that had led Nick to Nancy.