Bitten

by Matt Shaw

  I have to confess, the temptation to take Jen’s car was nearly too much to handle but I managed to talk myself out of it. Can’t exactly pass her death off as an accident if people realise her car is missing! Besides which - she only has a Fiat. Hardly the nicest of great escape vehicles to make my getaway in. It would have possibly been a different story had she had something decent - like a Jag or Aston Martin.

  I’ve just realised I am in her underwear drawer. A lot of big pants, I notice. Funny - all these years as friends, I always had her pegged as a thong girl. Maybe even a slinky little g-string? Bottom drawer is home to something I hadn’t considered encountering; a pink Rampant Rabbit sex toy. I couldn’t help but pick it up. A flick of the switch and the top starts spinning at an alarming speed. Hardly the most realistic penis I’ve ever seen. Not that I have seen too many. Best add that. I flicked the switch again, thinking it would turn it off. The spinning motion did cease but now it started to throb in my hands. Not an entirely unpleasant sensation. Another flick of the switch and the throbbing sets to a faster speed. No wonder these things are so popular amongst the ladies. Another button press and a faster speed still. Jesus. I press the button again wondering whether it’s going to explode, taking my hand with it, but thankfully it stops. I dropped it back into the drawer after a quick internal argument with myself about whether I should take it with me or not. Not for any other reason than to save her embarrassment when her mum or dad come to clear her house out and stumble across it. Not my place to get involved. I’m sure they have seen worse. For all I know, they probably own worse too. I pushed the drawer shut and did my best to put the thought from my mind.

  This is ridiculous. She must have had a purse. At the very least something to put her credit cards in. I looked around the bedroom. That was the final drawer in here and all the surfaces, including the windowsill, are near enough clear. Certainly nothing big enough on them to hide a purse, or any money.

  I left the bedroom. I didn’t close the door behind me as I hadn’t needed to open it when I first went in. Across the landing was the spare room where I had previously rested. I suppose the purse could be in there. I don’t remember seeing it earlier but, to be honest, I wasn’t exactly on the lookout for it then. When I was in there, I hadn’t planned on killing Jen - by accident, I hasten to add. I certainly hadn’t contemplated stealing from her.

  Stealing? A bit of a harsh word. It’s hardly stealing if she is dead. More like - not wanting to waste opportunities.

  I went into the spare bedroom regardless. Hardly anything in here. In fact, it’s probably one of the cleanest spare rooms I’ve ever seen. When I was growing up in the family home, my mother used to use the spare room as nothing more than a dumping ground. She’d only ever clear it out at Christmas when the Mother-in-law came to stay. And even then she would sometimes leave that until the last possible minute in the hope the mostly-unwelcome guest would tell her not to worry about it. There was everything in there; clean laundry, a separate pile for the dirty laundry, the ironing board, the iron, old photographs capturing supposedly perfect family moments, even older board games which were shoved under the bed and forgotten about. Chances are, if something was lost in the family home - it would appear in the spare room.

  In Jen’s spare room there is a bed, a bedside cabinet and a closet. Everything clean looking as though she was ready for a guest at any minute. It made me pause to contemplate how many people would treat her home as a bed and breakfast. Unless - maybe she kept it like this in the hope someone would want to stay over? After the underwear drawer discovery - clearly she was lonely.

  I didn’t bother opening the closet and soon wish I hadn’t opened the bedside cabinet as I was hit by an avalanche of various envelopes and bits of random paperwork. Clearly this little cupboard is her dumping ground. No purse though. I started to pick the paperwork up so I could put it back in the cabinet when I suddenly spotted something; a letter from her bank showing her new pin number. My heart skipped a beat. This could be useful. For all I know, when I find the purse, there could be no money in it. There is bound to be a card though. All I’d need to do is take them all to a cash point and try them with this number. I could get lucky and discover the card that matches this pin. I could get even luckier and find there’s available cash to withdraw. Jen wouldn’t mind. I’m sure she is looking down at me now, well aware that what had happened had been an accident, urging me to find her card and use it. It’s not as though she will have to pay it back. I folded the letter and slipped it into my back pocket. I just need to find the purse! Still!

  As I got to the top of the stairs I heard her mobile ringing from somewhere downstairs. I hurried down the stairs and followed the ringing through to the kitchen. Hanging on the door handle, on the kitchen side of the door, was Jen’s jacket. Funny, I remember seeing her wearing the jacket when we first bumped into each other on the doorstep but I don’t recall her taking it off. No sooner had I laid eyes on the jacket did the phone stop ringing.

  I patted the jacket down to try and find her phone. Inside pocket. I reached in and pulled out her flip-phone. She must be one of the only people I know who didn’t own an i-Phone or Blackberry. Jesus, this thing is practically antiquated. I flipped the lid open to see who had been calling and instantly felt a pang of guilt as I saw it was her mother. In a day, maybe two, the mother will be receiving a call no mother wishes to receive and it was my fault.

  The feeling of guilt turned, all too quickly, to one of relief. If I really were turning into a monster, I wouldn’t be feeling guilt. There’d be no feelings there whatsoever.

  Human, after all.

  I lifted the jacket ever so slightly to help me slip the mobile back into the pocket I had taken it from. The coat feels heavy. I gave it another pat down, keeping hold of the mobile, and realised there was something else in one of the other pockets. Reaching in, I found what I had been looking for - her purse. Another wave of relief. It was almost as though it was meant to be.

  I dropped the phone into the inside pocket before I turned to open the purse. The first smile, which hadn’t been caused by wind in as long as I can remember, crept across my face as I opened up the note department and saw a number of banknotes. Well they’ll come in handy, that’s for sure. My smile stayed in place as I then spotted a number of various credit and debit cards. Happy days indeed. One of them must surely belong with the pin number I stumbled across upstairs. Of course, it would have helped had they been with different banks but sadly they’re all with the same establishment. Had they been different banks, it would have helped me narrow the matching card down a little further.

  A thought suddenly popped into my mind as I remembered what I did with my own bank cards. I reached back into her jacket pocket and took out her phone once more. A few clicks down, in the contacts section, there was a contact called ‘bank’. I smiled as I clicked into the contact. A long number - certainly too long to be a telephone number. My smile turned into laughter when I recognised four of the digits, from near the middle of the number, as the pin number I had earlier stumbled upon. What’s the betting the other numbers belong to some of the other cards? I’ll find a pen, before I go, and make a note of the long number. That way I don’t have to take the mobile with me. I’m sure I read, God only knows where, that police can trace people via their mobile phone. Even if the information is not correct - it will be for the best if I leave it. Just in case.

  For the first time in ages - I have to say - I’m feeling pretty damn positive.

  * * * * *

  I had spent so much time looking round Jen’s house, for things which might be of benefit to me that I hadn’t realised that night had turned to day and was close to fading back to night again. Within a few hours, if not sooner, I would have to leave the warmth of her home to try and find somewhere else to hole up whilst I try and decide what to do. It’s a shame it turned out like this - not least because I have no idea what I’m going to do, or where I am going to go, but because I
have lost a good friend too.

  I was standing in the doorway of the living room. Without even realising it straight away I had found myself having a non-blinking competition with Jen. I had a feeling she was going to win this one.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. An apology unheard despite being genuine. I pulled the door shut and walked back into the kitchen where I had, earlier, placed a sports bag on the kitchen worktop. The bag itself was large enough to hold a fair amount of items in it. It also looked fairly manly - what with it being a sports bag - so wouldn’t necessarily get many people looking at me should they happen to glance in my direction. Could have been a different story had they seen me walking down the road, hiding my head under a blue hooded jumper I had found in her cupboard, clutching onto a handbag of sorts.

  Inside the bag was a different matter entirely though and one, I have to confess, I’m not entirely proud of; a selection of her larger underwear. My mind wasn’t contemplating any kinky mind games, as I grabbed the assorted pants, but was more focused on keeping myself fresh and clean smelling. My current shorts have already served me a couple of days - at least - and I’m sure they’ll soon be giving a noticeable aroma, if they aren’t already. At least with the larger of her underwear, I have options to put something clean on. Just hope I’m not caught with the bag, or the women’s underwear on. It won’t help my case when I tell them I’m not the pervert they’re looking for.

  And, of course, I can always buy some underwear from a shop when I know where I’m going to be staying...Actually, regardless of where I am staying, how am I going to go shopping? With the news bulletins showing my picture - I might get recognised. Probably be a good idea to grow a beard. Shit. That’s something I’ve never been very good at. They usually grow in patchy plots around my face - hardly a decent beard with which to hide behind. I don’t have a choice. Will have to try and grow one regardless. Besides it has been so long since I tried - maybe this time it will be okay? A proper beard? Worry about it as and when. No sense thinking about it now. And as previously mentioned at least I have some of her larger garments of underwear I can step into in the meantime.

  I went around the kitchen taking as much food as I could squeeze into the available space of the sports bag. Once filled I lifted it off the kitchen top with my hand to test the weight. Yep - it’s heavy. I won’t bother taking anything out to make it lighter though. There’s no point. I doubt it will be long before I eat any of the food in the bag - and doing so would immediately make the bag that little bit lighter.

  With the bag filled to its capacity, I sealed it shut with the zipper. Again, I lifted the bag from the worktop and carefully lowered it over my shoulder - taking care not to catch the wound on my neck which was still stinging.

  A quick look around the kitchen to make sure I had closed everything behind me. Everything was as it should be - just as I had found it. More or less anyway. Obviously her dead body was out of place. It shouldn’t have been there at all. Nothing I can do about that now though and I need to stop beating myself up about it.

  I guess there is no sense waiting around for the cloak of darkness to help me disappear without being seen. The back of her house is surrounded by woods. I may as well just head for them and keep off the roads completely. And the more I think about it, the more chance there is of someone, like her mother, stopping by to check in on Jen. I can’t be here for that. I need to be gone. Long gone.

  I walked over to the backdoor and used the key which was already in the door lock to let myself out. I closed the door behind me. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t lock the door back up again. It’s not as though anyone can prove Jen had kept it locked. Once outside I took the rubber gloves off my nervously shaking hands and slipped them into the top of the sports bag. Don’t need them now but don’t want to leave them here. I’m guessing they’d be covered in my DNA and I’m sure people would think a pair of rubber gloves, sitting in the middle of the garden, would be out of place. Better safe than sorry. Take them with me.

  A quick look from left to right at the two houses attached to Jen’s. There are no lights on and, although it isn’t properly dark yet, it isn’t light enough to be sitting inside without any lights at all. A good time to leave her home. Early enough to mean they possibly aren’t home from work yet. Even so, I put the hood over my head before I stepped further into the garden - and more into the open. Without running, which would have drawn attention to me, I walked towards the woods and whatever kind of life is waiting for me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A light rain shower gently drummed on the roof of my tent; a sound I took some comfort in as I snuggled down into the warmth of my sleeping bag feeling all secure. Up until this shower, the day had been dry. I’m thankful the rain held off until I was ready for it. By doing so it enabled me to get everything into the tent without it getting soggy first.

  A medium sized battery operated lantern, in the corner of the tent next to where my head would lay, illuminated everything perfectly. A sandwich, under a cling-filmed plate, was to my right, ready to be consumed. Next to that was a book I had opted to bring with me to help fend off the loneliness of my current situation and encourage me off to a hopefully comfortable sleep after I had read a few chapters.

  Speaking of loneliness the teddy bear I had brought with me was doing very little in the conversation stakes so I had thrown it towards the other end of the tent - out of my way - to keep the top half less cluttered. In hindsight it probably wouldn’t have hurt to have left it behind.

  Just as I reached for my sandwich I became alert to the sound of footsteps outside. Distant to begin with, I froze as they came closer and closer until they were directly in front of my tent. They stopped. My heart stopped. The zip, on the entrance of the tent, opened up as someone pulled it from the outside. I didn’t move. I just remained still in the hope they wouldn’t notice me and would turn away. As soon as the zip was at the top my father leaned in.

  “You sure you’re okay out here?” he asked.

  I nodded. Of course I knew it was him. What else was it going to be? Some terrible monster from the worst of my dreams. They don’t exist. He told me so. He had promised me, in fact, one night when I woke up screaming the house down.

  “Well if the rain gets any harder,” he pointed out, “we’ll come and get you...But...As long as you’re okay...”

  “I’m good, thanks.” I smiled at him. My young gappy smile - still waiting for my adult teeth to grow through.

  He smiled back, “Okay. Well don’t stay up too late!” he reminded me.

  “I won’t!”

  He smiled again as he wished me a good night. “Your mother will check on you later,” he said as he pulled his head out of the tent. Seconds later, he closed the doorway back up. “Night, son.” he said as his footsteps grew fainter.

  * * * * *

  I woke up from a short, uncomfortable sleep - surrounded by the nature I had buried myself with. I’m surprised to see the sun is up. I’m also thankful to note I’m still as human as I ever was. It was dangerous of me to sleep, exposed in the woodlands, and it certainly wasn’t intentional. I only closed my eyes for a minute because they were stinging from tiredness. That could have been disastrous; the shortest known life of a vampire. Short and embarrassing. At least, out here, no one would have been around to witness my epic failure.

  I sat up causing the ‘twig-and-leaf-blanket’ I had made to slip off me - onto the dusty earth beside me. In my mind I was meant to fashion something with the raw materials which would have rivaled something Robinson Crusoe would have created. In reality I had simply covered myself with shit. Not the best of starts to my life in hiding.

  My head is pounding - no doubt because of the rough night. It’s the first time it has pounded like this for a while and it made me realise I forgotten to pack any pills from Jen’s house. I’m not cut out for a life like this. I bet any other person would have remembered to pick up some tablets. I bet any other person would have
picked them up first!

  Don’t be so hard on yourself. You had a lot to think about. Couldn’t leave any trace of ever having been there. You did well. Can always pick up some tablets from a garage or something. Besides which a couple of days ago you were hit by a car. Hardly surprising you are having difficulty in thinking. There could be some permanent damage there.

  I had left Jen’s house and walked for as long as my feet would carry me. My mind flitting between Helen of Troy, Jen’s dead body, my wife and - rather randomly - the fact that I kind of wish I had had some better shoes with me. At least a pair of my own shoes anyway and not the stranger’s shoes from the hospital. These aren’t exactly fitting me well and I can already feel blisters beginning to form.

  I remember sitting down against a tree thinking I deserved a quick rest. I had walked deep enough into the woods to make it highly unlikely that anyone would discover me. I was right too - as no one had passed me or I’m sure they would have given my body a little kick to check I was still alive. After all - not many people willingly bury themselves with branches and leaves in an effort to stay warm and a little more comfortable during the night. As I shift uncomfortably I came to realise that a few of the smaller twigs must have slipped down the top of my trousers and into my shorts. Brilliant. It’s no wonder homeless people opt for newspaper blankets and shop doorways.