Bitten

by Matt Shaw

  “Why are you telling us this?” the old man asked.

  “I’m not a bad person,” I said, “I don’t want trouble. I just want to clear my name. Don’t know how though...This woman...I think...I think she was a vampire...”

  “I think you should get that bang on your head seen to,” said Frank. He shifted uneasily. “You know how ridiculous this sounds?” he continued. The sternness in his voice reminded me of my own father once again.

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “You’re crazy. You’re really crazy...You know that?”

  “Please don’t say that. I’m not crazy...Just sensitive.” I said. “I didn’t do anything. She attacked me...”

  “A vampire? You attacked her. Why else would she report you to the police for it? If she really were a vampire like you suggest...She wouldn’t go to the police. She’d disappear. She wouldn’t want people...”

  “I know all this. I’ve been through it in my head a million times! Probably why I’ve had such a headache. She wouldn’t go to the police. She’d disappear. But what if she wants to finish me off? She attacked me...Infected me...Started the process of turning me into whatever she is...Maybe...Just maybe...She reported me so I’d be taken into custody. An act which meant she would know where to find me so she could come and finish me off. I know it’s all unbelievable but...It makes sense if you think about it.”

  The old man looked at me as though I were crazy, “The only thing I know is...You’ve tied my wife and I up and are keeping us hostage...Not exactly the actions of an innocent man.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I’m sorry. I need somewhere to lay low. Just for a while. I need to try and figure out what to do. This whole damned thing is a mess. “

  Frank didn’t say anything. Just like me he was at a loss as to what to do to make everything okay and that, in actual fact, there was very little anyone could do to put things right.

  “So what now?”

  I shrugged.

  Part of me had hoped that saying it all out loud would help me formulate a plan but...Nope...Nothing.

  * * * * *

  By the time morning came and the sun shone brightly through the bedroom window my hand was completely healed - as though the knife had never sliced through the pale looking skin. No marks of any kind. In fact, looking into the small make-up mirror again, I’ve never looked so good. At least not for as long as I can remember. No marks, no blemishes, no wrinkles, no bags under my eyes. It’s a shame I have to hide this pretty face away from the public. Hell - looking like this - even my wife might have started to fancy me again.

  I walked out of the bedroom ignoring the pitiful stares of Frank and his wife. It appears the cut on my hand isn’t the only thing to have vanished during the few hours I was asleep. My humanity is also one step closer to being all but gone too. The guilt I once felt for keeping the elderly couple hostage was gone. They were nothing to me now. Had it not been for the fact that I needed them - just in case someone came round - I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if they were to die. Not saying I want to take their lives; I’m not that kind of monster yet and I’m not sure if I’ll ever become it. They just don’t figure in my life. If I were to leave them now by tomorrow I’d have forgotten what their voices sounded like. A day after that and their faces would be nothing but blurred images too as my memories struggled to piece them back together again.

  With my newly healed hand - at least I knew what I was now. At least I knew I was becoming whatever she was. The bite slowly turning me with each passing day. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know how any of it works. I just know that - in time - whatever I was...It will be gone and a new soul will be dwelling within my body. The way I’m feeling today - good, better than I ever have - I’m looking forward to welcoming it. What was I ever worried about? Considering the trouble I’m in at the moment this could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s not as though my life was really going places before all this occurred.

  Yes, I’m most definitely looking forward to greeting it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Going through the kitchen cupboards looking for something to eat - I need to feed myself and my friends upstairs - it feels strange going through their belongings helping myself to whatever I fancy - which at the moment isn’t a lot - but needs must and besides which I’m doing it for them too. After all - they must be feeling pretty hungry as well.

  Thanks to his shopping trip the cupboards are full with nearly everything a person could want. It’s just - I don’t seem to want any of it. Nothing here grabs my fancy or makes me think ‘ooh, I must eat that’. There’s only one thing going through my mind at the moment. An insatiable thirst. For blood, I guess. I’m not sure whether that’s because my body is needing it now - the final stages of the change - or because I’ve convinced myself it’s what I want. Regardless I can’t seem to shake it from my thoughts. Gone are the days of wishing I had tuna fish sandwiches or some healthy salad. Here are the days of dreaming of necking warm blood.

  Funny really considering I used to hate blood. The slightest hint of a glimpse and I’d be on my ass feeling faint. Something my late father used to taunt me about when I was growing up. I wonder what he’d think of my thirst for it now. Proud his son has manned up or disgusted at what I’ve become. Who knows. If my immortal life ever comes to an end - I’ll track him down in the afterlife and ask.

  Immortal life. That’s a point. I wonder if I am now living for an eternity, supposedly cursed to walk the earth forever feeding upon the weak?. Whoever said that’s a curse obviously hasn’t seen how life really plays out. People grow up chasing their dreams, they secure them only to die years later after a forced retirement. That’s a curse. Surely it’s better to live forever with all your dreams accomplished. An unlimited time to really enjoy your success. Although - that being said - I probably need to find a way out of my current predicament before I can start to enjoy myself.

  The more I dwell upon what I’m to become the better it sounds. I just wonder how many others are out there like me? I wonder if there’s a way of tracking them? Joining their elite group and becoming accepted as one of them - despite the way I was blessed with this gift. An accidental bite. Scary to think I am like this simply because I am the meal that got away.

  I pulled a cucumber from the fridge and put it on the side. A cucumber sandwich. Who doesn’t like that? And I’m sure they’ll just be grateful for anything to eat at this point.

  I looked around the kitchen and spotted a bread bin; a brown wooden box not too far from the microwave. Perfect. I walked over and opened it up to see a nice fresh loaf of bread waiting. A quick ‘squish’ test showed it to be nice and soft. Still don’t fancy it though. At least their sandwiches will taste good. Fresh.

  Once I started with the slicing of the cucumber - the sandwich preparations didn’t take very long at all. A little bit of butter on each slice of the fresh bread, some slices of cucumber spread evenly amongst them - bang the two pieces of bread together - and hey presto...Job done. I put them onto two plates and took them up the stairs towards the bedroom.

  On the way up the stairs I could have sworn I heard a stomach rumble from the room. Must have imagined it though. Even had they been absolutely starving, there’d be no way I could have heard the rumbling from all the way down here.

  I stepped into the room where the elderly couple were still on the bed. Both of them were still looking at me - no doubt trying to determine whether I was going to kill them or not. I guess, given how things appear, they have every right to doubt my intentions.

  I put the two plates on the bedside cabinet before turning to address them both, “I’m going to untie you now...Just your arms...So you can eat...I’d be really grateful if neither of you tried anything funny. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be hurt. Okay?” I waited for them to nod in agreement before undoing the tape which bound their arms and mouths. I started with Frank’s wife be
fore doing the same to Frank’s restraints. Once they were freed, with the exception of their ankles, I handed them a plate each. “I guess cucumber is okay,” I said. Of course it was - if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t have had it in their fridge. Once again they both nodded.

  Frank’s wife was the first to tuck into her sandwich. Frank just looked at it as though he had something on his mind. I waited for him to ask his question but he didn’t ask it.

  “What’s wrong?” I felt as though he needed a prompt.

  “Not hungry,” he said. He set the plate to one side. But that wasn’t what was on his mind. There was something else. It was written on his old, wrinkled face.

  “Something else on your mind?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. Either old age had made him forget or he was too afraid to ask it for fear of a truthful answer.

  “Soon,” I said. “I’m not sure exactly.”

  Frank looked at me. He hadn’t forgotten his question. He was just too worried what my answer was going to be. He wanted to know how much longer it would be before I let him, and his wife, go. I’m not sure how I knew what he was thinking but - the more I stared at him waiting for the question...It just popped into my mind. Even when I heard it get asked, in the forefront of my mind, I heard it as though it were Frank’s own voice - as though I was wandering, unnoticed, through his old mind.

  I continued to stare Frank in the eyes to see if it had been a fluke or just a lucky guess. As it turned out - he was wondering the same thing. He was also worrying about what was going to happen to him. Surprisingly he was also worrying about what was going to happen to his wife. I smiled. The way he spoke about her, the way he denied any love or positive feelings - just a show. I wonder, with the way he openly speaks about her, who is he trying to impress? I’m sure most people would be more impressed to see their love had lasted the test of time. I know I would have been. Emphasis on ‘would have’. Now I honestly couldn’t care less.

  “Eat up,” I urged him. His wife had nearly finished her sandwich and Frank was still yet to take a bite. Perhaps he thinks he is staying untied for the rest of the day now? He thinks wrong. When I’m ready to leave the room again I’ll be tying them both up. Slowly Frank started to eat his sandwich only to be interrupted by a hard knock on the front door. Panic rushed through me, “I thought you said you rarely had visitors.”

  Frank looked at me, “It doesn’t mean we don’t have visitors.”

  “They’ll leave,” I said, trying to remain hopeful.

  Frank’s wife piped up, “It might be Laura.”

  “Laura?” I quizzed her.

  “Our daughter,” said Frank. “She normally comes by at least once a week.”

  “Well just keep quiet.”

  “She won’t leave,” Frank’s wife continued, “not with both of the cars outside of the house. She knows we’re in. Besides, if she wants to - she has a spare key.”

  “A spare key?”

  “To let herself in if she has reason to. I’d say no answer despite both cars being in the drive...It could be a good enough reason to come in,” his wife continued.

  Frank shot her a look. A look which suggested it would be a wise idea for her to shut her mouth. Even if the look hadn’t been obvious - his thoughts were loud and clear inside of his mind. Loud enough for me to hear with minimal effort. Clearly I couldn’t leave her on the doorstep.

  I walked across to the bedroom door and turned back to the elderly couple, “If you call out - or try and warn her something is wrong - I’ll snap her neck as though it were a rotten twig.”

  “You said you weren’t going to kill us,” Frank protested.

  I smiled at him, “Things change. Keep quiet, let me get rid of her and everything will be fine. Mess with me, I mess with you.”

  I left the room and walked down the stairs towards the front door. Another knock pointed out that the mystery guest was still waiting; hopeful someone would answer the door. I opened it and was confronted by a girl in her early thirties. Her puzzled expression was enough to tell me she wasn’t expecting to see me on the other side of the door but, even without that, her thoughts echoed through my own mind.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  “You must be Laura,” I said. I extended my hand, which she took. She was a pretty girl. Her face made-up with the minimum of make-up; light eye shadow and her lips looked as though they may have been glossed. Big, brown eyes and dark hair. A classic beauty about her.

  “And you are?” she shook my hand.

  “Pleased to meet you. Frank has told me so much about you...” I stepped back, pushing the door open with my back on the off-chance she wanted to come in. I hoped she wouldn’t want to. I hoped the sight of a stranger would have been enough to put her off coming in. Hopeless wishes on my part. It was obvious she’d want to come in and investigate who I was and, more importantly, where her parents were.

  She stepped into the house. I cast a quick glance into the driveway to see if she was alone. Thankfully she was. Her car, empty, in the crowded driveway. I closed the door and, slyly as I could, locked the latch down.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I didn’t catch your name,” said Laura as she walked through to the lounge.

  “I’m John,” I said, desperately hoping it was the same name I had given her parents earlier in the day when I had first introduced myself. Foolishly I hadn’t even thought about needing to remember it. I didn’t think more people would be asking or that continuity would be an issue. I didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know she wanted a little more information from me, “I moved into the village, down the road, a little while back...Just here to do some work your mum wanted done.”

  “And where are my mum and dad?”

  She still didn’t believe me. Or trust me. I smiled. A quick look into her mind; my smile hadn’t helped secure her trust. Pity. I’m sure she’d be even prettier if she weren’t looking so suspiciously at me.

  “Out back. In the garden, I think.”

  “The garden?”

  I nodded, “Some kind of project your mum was wanting your dad to start...Not that he sounded very interested.”

  A wise thing to say as I heard her thought, ‘Sounds like dad all right...’

  I laughed, “Thinking about it, I probably should have gone with them as I’ll probably end up doing the job anyway - not that I mind...”

  “How much are they paying you?” she asked. Had I not been able to see what she was thinking, I could have been caught off guard by this question but - hearing all of her thoughts, I could tell it was nothing more than a test; a test I’d answer with flying colours.

  “That’s the funny thing,” I started, “I said I’d do it for nothing...Well, I say nothing but...You know...A couple of drinks put behind the bar for me to collect at some point...But your father...Frank...He said he didn’t trust a man who’d offer to work for free. He said that he always believed there would have to have been an ulterior motive. You know, the possibility to call for a favour at any given time just because they believe you owe them one. I guess his logic makes sense, even though I’m not that sort of person. Still...Needless to say...It’s a fair price for the both of us.”

  Laura smiled. The perfect answer indeed.

  A bang from upstairs interrupted the pair of us. Didn’t need super-hearing to hear that one, sadly.

  “What was that?” asked Laura.

  “What was what?” I asked. Hopefully playing dumb would be enough to put her off any further lines of enquiry as to what banged. I knew, before I even asked the question, it wouldn’t be enough.

  “The bang...Sounded like it came from upstairs...”

  “Maybe your mum and dad came back in?” I suggested. “Could be possible that I just didn’t see them. I’ve been backwards and forwards between rooms all morning...Or that damned dog.”

  “Mum? Dad?” Laura called out to them as she walked towards the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t wait for an answer before she st
arted to walk up only to stop halfway. She tilted her head as though it helped her to hear better. “Mum? Are you up there?”

  It’s weird. Usually in high pressure situations my heart would be beating hard and fast but I could barely feel it in my chest despite my nervousness. Ignoring that, for a moment, I only hoped my word of warning to my captive audience upstairs was enough to ensure they didn’t call out to their daughter - to warn her of the danger she was in. They were in.

  “I guess it was nothing,” I said from the bottom of the stairs. “Windows are open up there - could be something falling over in the breeze?” I suggested.