Musings of a Postmodern Vampire

by P. J. Day

  I opened the door wide open, making sure that anyone who walked by could see that I was the one being disturbed by the boy rather than the other way around.

  I turned to the boy. “Where are your parents?”

  “They’re downstairs,” he said without looking at me, his concentration unfazed. He seemed rather fidgety.

  He then proceeded to get on all fours and began to search under my bed.

  “I’m going to call the front desk. You shouldn’t barge into stranger’s rooms. I’m getting a hold of your parents. What is your name?”

  He continued to reach under my bed. I briefly made eye contact with the corner of his eye.

  “My name is Milton. You can call but you won’t get through.”

  I picked up the phone and placed it to my ear. There was only a busy signal.

  “What the hell is going on? Who are you?” I asked, as he stood up and proceeded to the bathroom.

  “It’s not here, is it?”

  “What’s not here?” I asked, following the boy.

  He swiftly opened the shower curtain, forcefully detaching three of its rings from the bar.

  “The vampire,” he answered, as he turned around, gazing at me with a cold, dead, pair of soulless eyes. He had one of those cliché stares that you would see in every horror movie made since The Ring.

  “Kid, are you all right? Are you schizophrenic or something?”

  Milton pushed me out of the way, again displaying his freakish strength. He then walked toward the carry-on bag that was leaning up against the curtains.

  “No... no... no! Milton, don’t you think about moving that bag!” I yelled, lunging at him, hoping to stop him from letting the mid-afternoon sunlight into the room.

  Milton grabbed the bag and opened the curtains with clear intent. The sunlight came into a room like a blazing, golden fog. All the dusty particulates floating in the room became visible in an instant as the sunlight highlighted their chaotic trajectories.

  “You little fucker!” I yelled, shielding myself from the blinding light.

  “What are you so afraid of, Jack? You are not who I’m looking for... it’s just the sun,” said Milton. With his face cloaked, only his silhouette was visible as he stood in front of the window with the radiant sun behind him.

  “I’m a vampire, Milton! Close the curtains!”

  “No, you’re not. Stop being such a wuss. There’s no need to shield yourself!”

  I slowly peered through my arms, which I used to protect myself from the intense glare. For the first time, I saw the Kowloon skyline in full radiance, against a sun-soaked backdrop. The water in the bay displayed small waves that resembled small, shiny, metallic ripples. It was gorgeous. I was mesmerized.

  “This is beautiful... the shadows. I have never seen shadows like these before,” I said to Milton, slowly walking up to the window, my eyes slightly squinted.

  Milton stood behind me. I could see his reflection in the window. He looked confused.

  “What are you talking about? Are you drunk? High on drugs? Have you been in a coma?”

  I turned to him. “No... no... I’m fine. I think I had a bad dream.”

  “Who falls asleep in the afternoon in a hotel room? Are you doing meth? Anyway, you need to help me look for the vampire. I think there is one roaming around in the hotel,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “I interviewed plenty of the hotel guests and a lady on your floor said she saw a pasty, blood-soaked weirdo go into your room this morning.”

  I continued to look out the window, surprised that I wasn’t affected. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There I stood looking at all of Hong Kong in full color. The bay had a green tint to it. For the longest time, I thought the ocean was blue. Bluish-green, anyway. But wow, it was spectacular!

  “So, she saw a vampire come into my room this morning, huh?” I said, continuing to be hypnotized by the world outside.

  I turned around and walked toward my bed. I continued to stare outside the window as I sat down. I decided to patronize Milton a bit.

  “I’ve been here all morning and afternoon and didn’t see a vampire walk into my room. Are you a vampire hunter? Vampires are dangerous, you know.”

  Milton walked toward me. His eyes were fixated on the carpet as he made his way to the bed. He sat next to me and sighed, “No, I’m not a vampire hunter. I’m a vampire doctor. I can cure vampires of vampirism.”

  I opened my eyes wide, feigning surprise.

  “So, you can cure vampires? How so? Did you go to some sort of vampire medical school?” I asked, giving Milton a playful smile.

  “This is not some sort of joke, Jack. You worked with someone who could do the same thing I could. I read about you in medical journals.”

  Milton stood up from the bed. He walked toward the door of the hotel room.

  “What do you mean, medical journals? You’re like eight years old! You should be reading comic books! Who gives medical journals to eight-year-old boys?”

  Milton turned around and looked into my eyes. I felt slight judgment from his cold stare. He clearly didn’t appreciate my patronizing.

  “Have you ever heard of Dr. Wilfredo Nunez?” he asked, his bubble jacket preventing him from completely crossing his arms.

  “What about him?” I implored with indignation, taken aback at the mere mention of Dr. Nunez.

  “You were his assistant in the journals. You know how to cure them, too. The vampire in the morning was your patient. But you don’t want to cure vampires. You’re an asshole!” yelled Milton.

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, kid. You need to go back to your parents. Leave my room now!” I barked, a slight quiver of panic filling my voice.

  The boy was unfazed by my sudden demand. He slowly turned his head and eyes toward my desk. He calmly walked to where my laptop was, and snatched my wallet like a freak-show ninja. He ran out the door in an instant. I hesitated just a bit and was surprised that he would do such a thing.

  I ran out of the room and screamed at the boy, “Milton, you get back here right now!”

  As I sprinted after him, I tripped over a small crease in the carpet. I landed stomach first onto the floor, biting my lower lip in the process. I tasted a little bit of blood in my mouth and immediately pressed my tongue on the inside of my lower lip. A metallic taste resonated all over my taste buds.

  I got off the ground and ran toward the end of our floor. Luckily, Milton didn’t make a left in the hallway where the elevator and stairs were. Instead, he made a right where only six rooms faced each other. There was a window at the end of the hallway, but it seemed as if it had been sealed shut.

  “Milton! I know you are in one of these rooms!”

  The door to my left suddenly opened. I jumped up a bit as I saw a man’s head pop out of the door.

  “Sir, quiet down, please! I’m bloody tired! I just got off a terribly long flight!” said the hotel guest, in an Australian accent. He had a weathered face, with deep wrinkles ingrained in his tanned skin.

  “I’m really sorry... I didn’t mean to...” I took a deep breath and gathered myself. “Excuse me; have you seen a boy anywhere? Wearing a baseball cap?” I asked the perturbed guest.

  “No!” yelled the man, as he shut the door, shaking the walls in the small hallway.

  I stood still and scanned the rest of the doors. They all were closed shut except for one. The last door on the left was slightly opened. I walked up to it and gave it a couple of light knocks.

  “Excuse me? Is anyone in there? Hello?”

  I waited a few seconds for an answer. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching me. I didn’t want to arouse any suspicion before peering into another guest’s room. I put the palm of my hand against the door and instantly felt an extreme cold that ran through my hand and up my arm, stopping a few inches below my shoulder. I slowly peeked through the opening with my right eye; I saw darkness and nothing else. I instantly felt the cold that had
enveloped the door instantly strike my eye like a frozen scalpel. I immediately closed my right eye and backed away. “Milton!” I yelled into the room, not giving a shit if the decrepit Aussie popped his nasty neck out from his room again.

  The Aussie opened the door again.

  “Listen, you fuckface! I asked you politely to stop yelling. Do you want me to call security?” He paused. “You know what? Fuck that! I’m going to kick your pasty American ass!”

  “Not this shit again,” I whispered to myself.

  I stood straight up, with my chest slightly puffed and confronted the old leather face. He quickly centered his body and in an exaggerated manner, swelled his chest as well. His tattooed arms lay rigidly at his side, veins popping from his neck. This old bastard was assuredly tough, but I knew he was no match for my supernatural strength. The only thought that raced through my mind was, How will I stop myself from killing him in an instant if he suddenly lunges at me?

  “I don’t want any trouble. There is a kid who stole my wallet in that room,” I explained.

  “You think you own the world, don’t you? You guys think you’re smarter than everyone on this planet? Taking whatever you want, saying whatever you like; raping... pillaging...” said the old prick, clenching his teeth while turning redder than a mandrill’s ass.

  “What’s your problem? Can’t you see that I’m after someone who stole my wallet? How much clearer do I have to be with you? You got issues, man,” I yelled at the raging beast.

  “Issues... issues? Oh, so you’re a bloody psychologist now, are you? Come here, you little fucker!”

  The wrinkly brawler lunged at me, his bronze fist connecting with my forehead. The force of his hay-maker surprised me with its sheer speed and power. A sharp pain penetrated the frontal portion of my skull, resonating in the back of my ears. In an instant, I realized I had my hands full. This man was more than capable of hurting me in ways that I had never been hurt before. Before I knew it, I was on my back in front of the room I thought Milton had gone into. My head had fallen back and connected with the door, opening it in the process. The sharp cold air that I felt when I peeked into the room immediately engulfed the hallway where the Aussie and I found ourselves tussling. The Aussie threw himself onto the floor and began to grab at my throat. I fought off his frenzied attempts at a choke hold. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets. His instinct to kill was uncharacteristic for a random guest who had most likely paid over $500 a night for his hotel stay.

  Finally, I managed to foster up enough strength to push him away. I had never had this much trouble repelling a mortal off my body, let alone someone who looked twice my age. With the little energy I had left, I sprung up from the floor in an instant and propelled myself at the attacker, wrapping myself around his upper torso. With every single ounce of strength that I could muster, I spun the Aussie and myself into the freezing, dark hotel room. I landed on top of his stomach as he lay on his back. He began pummeling my head with his fists in a disjointed manner, without proper technique, and in a frenzied panic.

  As my head continued to be bashed in for what seemed like an eternity, we both immediately felt a cold snap. The pummeling ceased and the Aussie looked up and above his forehead while he continued to lie on his back. A tall, dark, haunting figure wearing a blue silk robe emerged from the darkest portions of the hotel room. A matching hood obscured its face. The mysterious being then raised its right arm, its hand and limb covered by an oversized silk sleeve. The sleeve retracted, revealing a sharp, gleaming, three-foot Bushido sword. The blade was so sharp that the hallway light that shone through the doorway created a sublime reflection which temporarily blinded the Aussie and me.

  The robed specter gripped the handle of the sword with both hands and lifted it over its head in a pre-strike motion. My combatant’s expression went from one of unadulterated madness to a look of submissive terror. I immediately backed away and crawled to the wall by the doorway, instinctively shielding myself with my arms and hands. As soon as the Aussie got up from the floor, the sword flashed and the ghostly figure’s robe swirled. A decapitated head thudded to the floor. The Aussie’s head just lay there, its mouth agape, staring at me. His death was swift, yet cruel.

  “No, please don’t!” I pleaded, hoping to strike a merciful chord with the vengeful apparition.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m so sorry. I’m just going to get out and go back to my room.”

  The figure just stood there, sword at its side. I hunched over while grabbing my stomach.

  I got up quickly, too quickly. It was all I could do to keep my dinner down, especially with the dismembered head staring up at me from just a few feet away. With the apparition looking at me, I stumbled toward the door.

  “Jack, wait,” said Milton hastily. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I looked up at the boy. Defeated, scared, and vulnerable; these were the feelings I expressed subconsciously to Milton as I spoke to him in a withered state.

  “Milton, keep my wallet. I’m just going to see myself out,” I said faintly.

  “No, I saved your life. You owe us.”

  “Son, I don’t owe you anything. Leave me alone, please.”

  “I knew you would chase me here. We know who you are. We have studied your work for many years. We have what you are looking for.”

  I plopped myself down on the floor again. My strength, which at one time felt limitless, was completely drained.

  “Fine, I’ll talk. But first, what is that?” I asked as I pointed at the sword-wielding apparition behind Milton.

  “He is a Jiang-Shi. He is currently in his superior form.”

  “He’s a what?”

  Milton stepped behind the figure. He cocked his fist and proceeded to punch through the perceptively solid apparition.

  “See, he’s ethereal, but invincible and powerful. He is in a superior form.”

  I shook my head back and forth in disbelief and confusion. I was convinced that I was in an altered state. Was I somehow drugged last night?

  “I need to go, Milton... please let me go. I need to sleep on this... I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Milton took a few steps toward me, bending his knees into a crouched position, and placed his little face a few inches from mine.

  “Tell me about your work with Dr. Nunez.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have already told you... I don’t know who he is.”

  Milton motioned the specter to come closer by snapping the fingers on his right hand, never looking back at his companion.

  “You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes. You knew him. In fact, your exact words were ‘What about him?’ when I first inquired about him.”

  I was cornered. No strength to fight. No will to even flee. I was no longer a vampire. I felt so confused. Milton was also convinced that I was not a vampire. If he thought I wasn’t, how come he thought that I knew Dr. Nunez? Dr. Nunez had died over a hundred years ago. The disjointed incoherence was beginning to pound my head.

  “Are we talking about the same Dr. Nunez?” I asked Milton.

  Without flinching, Milton responded, “Bogota, leper colony, coagulation of blood; he was a pioneer in genetic engineering.”

  “Milton, that was over a hundred years ago. How would I know him? I’m only a human being.”

  Milton stood up. He gave me a precocious smile.

  “Do you like this state? Isn’t this what you wanted—to be human?”

  I wrinkled my brow in self-reflection. Without guilt or provocation, what seemed to be the right words began to naturally trickle out through my lips as I answered Milton’s loaded question. “Yes. The feeling is visceral—even the pain.”

  “Good. Now, Jack, tell me what you know about the doctor’s work.”

  My stomach began to hurt again. What felt at first like small cramps of gas, suddenly turned into spearing pangs. I had no choice but to curl into the fetal position on the floor.
>
  “Oh, God! It hurts... I think I’m bleeding internally!” I yelled.

  Milton crouched again by my side. He put his left hand on my head. The skin on it felt like a frozen slab of meat. I began to hear a knocking sound that seemed to grow louder every second. The inside of my eyes began to pulsate to the rhythmic nature of the knock.

  “Jack, stay with me. Tell me, are you close to a cure? I think we may know what you need for the cure.”

  The knocking began to drown out Milton’s voice. I clenched my stomach, forcefully, my fingers digging deep into my own skin. I closed my eyes and let out a scream.

  I awoke.

  I was sitting up in my bed. Sweating, itchy, and out of breath, I got up and raced to my cell phone where it was charging on the desk with the laptop. I dialed Ted’s number. It went straight to voicemail. My arms were flaky again. I grabbed my phone and took a picture of myself. I looked at the screen; my eyes were dilated. The knock on the door startled me. It was the same sound I heard pounding my head a minute ago in my dream, but not as painful.

  “Jack, wake up. It’s time to go. Can you hear me?”

  I grabbed a razor from my toiletries bag. I pressed it against my bare chest, drawing blood.

  “Alan, is that you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, are you ready? I called both your phones, but you didn’t answer,” said Alan, his voice slightly muffled on the other side of the door.

  “I was taking a shower. Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “Jack, we’ve got a problem.”

  I grabbed my suit from the closet. However, I couldn’t find my ties. Thankfully, this outfit looks just as good without one.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Ted’s gone AWOL.”

  I glanced over at the clock. It was 5:45 p.m. I had overslept.

  “Did you check his room?”

  “Yes, no one is answering.”

  I hoped that Ted was asleep. Either that or I sincerely hoped he was, in fact, AWOL. I wouldn’t want to find him overdosed. Luckily, I’d learned my lesson from the night before when I feared Ted would oversleep. I made the right move and took the spare key card to his room when he wasn’t looking.