by Alan Spencer
“Ohhhh—it’s been too long!” She shuttered, bending forward, licking the blood from Ruden’s neck, her breathing wispy during the intake. “I-I can’t take anymore.”
He unleashed his pent up orgasm, his seed bursting out the edges of her sex. Lenora ran her tongue up and down his neck as he finished, each spurt urging another and another wad until a dozen were spent. He rested against the tub, the blood a veil covering them both. They were out of breath, their desires fulfilled for the meantime, but soon they’d recover and lust for more.
Her body was chiseled now with concrete muscle, her skin smooth and healthy again. The gray in her hair had turned crow black. Her belly was fully distended, the blood filling her up. “It's so good, Ruden, but this isn’t normal blood. You’ll give me more. Promise me you will." She dug her nails into his chest. “You’ll let me taste it again, won't you? It’s what you promised me. You swore to me. I’ve waited for you to do something, anything, to give me an indication things were coming along when you were in hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding, I was conducting research!” He snapped at her, though he quickly reigned himself back in. “I'm sorry, I’m short on temper these days. I did my best with the time I had in that deplorable bunker. I wanted to see you, but I couldn’t give up, and that’s why I couldn’t put my research down for you, for anybody, because of the others hiding in the shadows thirsty for blood."
He craned her head so he could press his lips against hers. “I would come close to a solution down in that bunker, and then nothing would result again and again. Then one day I had a revelation.” He kissed her cheek again, relishing the blood dripping down her cheeks. “It’s obvious we can’t assimilate to society, so let society assimilate to us. Our cravings will become their cravings. The government will have to regulate blood: mandatory donation, mandatory victims, and mandatory hunts. Everyone will face the dilemma of how to procure blood. I decided I had to find a way to create blood that will addict the human race. The blood will addict them without turning them into beasts like us. We will always be stronger than them."
He traced his fingers around her breasts. “This new blood will attract whoever’s left of the bloodthirsty to this town. They’ll smell it and seek us.” He felt the section of dried blood on his face crumble when his grin branched out. “It’ll be just like before we separated.”
He sensed a chill in Lenora as she spoke. “I don’t know who's still alive. Our friends and family are dead, Ruden. My father let himself starve; Mom did the same. They were miserable waiting.” She eased up on the blameful words. “You were our last chance—the only one trying to find a real solution. I don’t know how I made it so long myself. Three Goddamn years is a prison sentence.”
Ruden hung his head low. “Maybe they don’t deserve to be among us when things are wonderful again. Blood will be manufactured and distributed—it will be celebrated! Those who tested the bounds of determination and patience will reap the rewards. You'll see, Lenora. So will they."
She clung to him, his words very reassuring. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done. And I want to see your work, that bunker. What did you do down there with the blood to make it so fucking good?”
“Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll explain." He stalled her, fighting the burning pang in his body—the caught feeling. She couldn’t see the bunker. She’d never understand what he’d committed below ground to achieve his end. “I have thralls performing my work right now. Let me deal with them, and then I’ll show you what I’ve created later.”
He moved on, seeing she wasn’t creating an issue by having to wait. “They crave this new blood, the humans. It entices those who’ve never known the pleasures we have. It will bring everyone to a submissive trance without being as strong as we are. But they can only drink so much, or else they will become one of us...that’s the trick.”
“It’s still wonderful. I love you so much.”
"I love you too."
They waded in the red and shared a quiet moment. The dawn sun was peaking over the horizon to announce a new day of procuring human blood.
16
The barrel was empty, the sides licked clean, and Annie was slumped against the conveyor belt clutching her bulging stomach. Her face was at peace, those lips curved with desires fulfilled and created. Blood glued her hair together in ragged clumps, her skin shades of ruby under layers of black. The bizarre color scheme of gore continued down to her toes. Dale was gorged on the blood too, but he wasn’t ready to nap like her.
He questioned the blood’s power. What was mixed in with it that gave it its prolific bounty? The craving was deep-seeded; his heart pumped with the revised blood, his circulatory system revamped. The stock tank was brimming with red and the concrete reservoir at the end of the conveyor was a quarter full. How much blood had to be reaped before Ruden shared the knowledge that he craved as badly as the taste itself? Had the monster created this to take over the world? What would it mean for him when the job was over?—if it ever ended?
He was tempted to journey to the bottom of the wishing well and spy on Ruden's habitation, but he feared betraying the beast. Ruden didn’t rip into his thoughts again tonight, but he loomed over them at a cautious distance, and he sensed the danger in what they had done.
Annie opened her eyes, what was bright white against dark red. “You’re still awake.”
“I’m thinking about what’s really in this blood we finished off.”
She stood up, throwing out her arms, and she spun like a ballerina, though kicking a severed head across the mill in the process. “Who knows? Who cares? I’ve never felt this way. So alive. I feel so powerful.” She clenched her fists and veins snaked across her shoulders and rippled across her face. Her body was beginning to change; it was the blood at work. “I want to tear into the next barrel and finish it off too. We should. Can we? I want to!”
“Show some will power." He blocked her path to the prized barrel. “Being careful is the only way to go about this.” He pointed at her body. “We’re changing into Ruden. That means we can’t go back to our loved ones—though my loves ones are already dead.” He dared to look in the direction of the dismembered pieces on the floor. “He tore their heads from their bodies with his bare hands. We can’t fight him. He’s much too powerful. He knows more than us about this blood. Don't you understand what we're getting into?”
“Soon we’ll be just as strong as him. We’ll be the ones crushing heads.” She mimicked the action with her greasy hands. “We can fight him regardless of what we don’t know.”
“You don’t get it. We know nothing about Ruden or what’s happening to our bodies. We must bide our time and learn. Do as he says and learn, learn, learn.” He pointed at the guts and bodies strewn about the cider presses' blades. “Ruden’s unpredictable; he's more of a monster than any of us. If he finds out we drank from that barrel, who knows what will happen to us?” He lowered his voice. “We could be killed.”
“I don’t care.” She avoided the heads on the floor and strode to the stock tank of blood. She trailed her index finger across the surface and sucked the tip of her finger. “It’s close to what we tasted in the barrel...very close.”
“But it’s not the same. We should dig the hole as Ruden instructed. Appease him. Make him believe we’re on his side.”
He picked up the shovel and stepped back into the hole with a vigor unknown to his body. His fists clutched the wood so hard it splintered in sections. The steel edge pummeled the earth, the dirt coming away as soft as powdered sugar.
“Join me. Ruden’s got a plan. Whatever he’s working up to, it means more blood for us. It’s obvious we should help him.”
She peeked into the hole, discounting his words. “I’d rather steal those barrels and get the fuck out of here. Leave and go far away. Somewhere nice."
“You dumb country whore!” He picked up a shovel and threatened to dash it across her face. “He’ll know where you’ll go. We’re lucky if he do
esn’t learn of our conversation. Think about it. He’s collecting bodies. Ruden claims he’s been in hiding since five years ago. They want to secure their blood source, to tame it. If we follow along, we’ll be a part of the solution. At least holding back and learning more about Ruden will allow us a fighting chance when this is over, or just maybe we'll be included.”
He pointed his implement at the other shovel resting against the wall. “Now pick up a shovel and start digging.”
She was hesitant to lower into the hole, but she did so anyway, after selecting the tool. She welded the shovel with a firm determination, giving in to Dale’s reasoning. “I’m only doing this to see how much blood that monster bastard will make. When this project is over, we’re stealing every drop.”
Her eyes bent into mischievous slits; insect meets beast. “I’ll fight him and anyone like him for it.”
“I agree, but in the meantime, we’ll only grow stronger and smarter. Now let’s finish digging this hole.”
17
Caleb woke at seven thirty, stirred out of sleep by a truck that screeched onto the road outside their lodging with the high pitched tearing of rubber. Shannon wasn't roused, the girl in a dream so deep her face was shaped into a vulnerable child’s. He showered, knowing he’d be waiting a time before she’d wake up. He changed into a pair of jeans and a Cincinnati Bengal’s t-shirt and black leather boots. He smoked an "80’s Mild" outside and stared out at the parking lot. The front entrance was locked up with no lights on and the sign outside was also off.
Rough night for everybody.
He popped seventy-five cents into the vending machine for an orange soda and guzzled it, a sugar rush to follow up the cigarette pick-me-up. Caleb stood alone outside his room taking in the morning; the hotel was ghost-town quiet, the breeze whistling through the hedges and shaking the trees. He considered the longevity of his career; he wanted to be a reporter and travel, but he often returned to the idea of starting a relationship. He considered petitioning “The Weekly Spectacle Digest” for a partner. He was a professional, but being alone on the road alone grew taxing on his spirits.
Shannon had cheered him up. She’d opened up to him last night about her life. He didn’t blame her for wanting to leave town. He considered offering her a ride to a better place and helping her out as much as possible.
If she was really smart, she wouldn’t have gotten so drunk that Loogie would be in a position to take advantage of her. He kicked at an empty plastic bottle on the sidewalk. Ah, everyone has a right to get drunk. It’s not her fault the criminal bastard’s libido knows no morals.
A man roamed the parking lot dressed in a blue button-up shirt with palm trees and yellow shorts. He lugged a metal detector with a pair of Koss headphones over his ears. The stranger’s skin was a deep tan, a rugged “ZZ Top” beard bending in the breeze. The man lowered his headphones and smiled at him. “Hey, it looks funny, but man, I made fifty dollars last month on loose change, man.”
He went back to his search.
“That’s very interesting,” he muttered to himself.
Thomas Demken parades the streets and avenues with a metal detector in search of pennies and dimes from the roads. “A good day,” Mr. Demken claims, “is when I find quarters mostly. Bottle caps and buttons are imposters. That’s about the main conflict of my job.” The entrepreneur raked in five-thousand dollars alone last year, but now he’s hired a team who use metal detectors to stake out change in mall parking lots, between parking meter spaces, and along busy intersections and sidewalks. Now Mr. Demken’s up to two grand a month in profits, and that’s just part time.
Caleb checked his watch. “I’ve got work to do.”
He was about to wake Shannon, questioning if it’d be one in the afternoon before she’d rise, but she was already in the bathroom washing up. The sound of urine splashing into the toilet resounded for over a minute without stopping. “Don’t mind me,” she called out, sensing him in the room. “I’m getting rid of all the toxins and bad stuff. Piss it right out.”
Two minutes later, she left the bathroom wearing the black skirt from last night, his Banana Republic t-shirt, and panty-hose. She’d combed her hair down the middle, both sides in rough pig tails. She smiled, though she was exhausted. “Our time is money.”
“It can be.” He offered her a cigarette. “Smoke?”
She opened her mouth, and he placed it between her lips, then lighting it for her. “Thanks.”
He gathered his digital camera, wallet, keys, and double checking his items, he was ready to hit the road. “Are you okay to show me more stuff, or do you want to stop by your place and get some clothes first?”
“I’m not in the mood to see my family." She rubbed the sides of her head; she was suffering a powerful hangover. “Travis, by this time of the day, has already started drinking again.” She tipped an imaginary bottle into her mouth. “Hair of the dog, and it’s a big fucking dog. And Dad’s usually shacked up with Gloria; she was the woman barbequing last night at the bonfire. Fuck ‘em both, the way I’m feeling. I drank way too much.”
“So where are we going now? Is this a person or a place, your story?”
“Both; a piece of good ol' American history.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Just drive us there.” She winked. “You’ll see.”
18
They made a pit stop two blocks down from his motel at Murphy's Mini Mart and Bait Shop. The outside was designed as a convenience store. The windows were covered in displays for beer and cigarettes. Inside, the aisles of snack foods and basic car and toiletry items were barren of clerks.
“Is anybody here?” She called out, hurrying past the counter with the communal microwave. Going to the freezer section, she chose a frozen egg and sausage biscuit. Shannon heated it up, the timer on two minutes. “Usually Kelly or Murphy is here sitting in that chair half asleep or watching the game on TV. It’s weird they’re not here.”
“Crazy party last night." He thought back to how quiet it was outside the motel earlier. “The whole town’s suffering a migraine, or sleeping it off.”
“Tell me about it." She removed a box of Tylenol from the metal hook, tore open the box, and popped four dry. “Loogie definitely placed a roofie in my drink. I was waiting for his sister to get home so I could buy some weed off of her, and not that creeper shit.”
The microwave’s timer dinged. She grabbed her food, ripping open the package too soon. “Ouch, ouch, ouch.” Steam exuded from the wrapper. “Hey, make yourself one. They’re on me. You’ve been so nice during this whole ordeal, and I’m sorry again about last night.” She frowned. “I’m sure you felt awkward.”
“It’s okay, really.” He gave her his best smile. “And no thanks, I’m not much of a breakfast eater.”
She finished the biscuit in four hearty bites.
She stepped towards the back room. “Anybody back there? Did you wipe your ass and find something interesting, Murphy?—or are you whackin’ off to Hustler again?—or Big 18 this time? Kelly’s going to catch you and kick your butt.”
She knocked on the counter with both hands. “Come on, time is money for once in my life.”
“Maybe they’re out back unloading a truck. Strange nobody’s out here, though.”
A concern was building in her eyes. “Yeah, something’s up.” She walked around the counter and entered the back room. “Hey, is anybody here?”
He checked the bathrooms, coming up empty. She was right behind him now. “Murphy’s Impala is out there.” She scowled out the window. “He should be here. What the hell?”
Shannon walked out the front door, checking up and down the street. Once she returned, she pointed at the cameras, convinced they were alone. “Did you know this is the only place without a security system? The camera’s up, but it doesn’t work. Murphy’s too cheap to replace it. I caught him fuckin’ with it one time; there’s no wire hook up. I think it fried durin
g a power surge. Thank goodness the pin ball machine and Lady Pac Man still works.”
She clapped her hands together like a giddy child. “You know what this means, Caleb.”
“Um, nope.”
“Open store!” She launched down the center aisle. “You keep an eye out and tell me if he’s coming. Let’s stock up.”
He hesitantly stood vigil at the door; he suddenly turned fifteen years younger and became a five-finger discount taking, snot-nosed hooligan. He imagined a police officer pulling up for his morning coffee and glazed donut and discovering the two of them in cahoots. What would he tell “The Weekly Spectacle Digest” if they had to bail him out of jail for petty theft?
“Hurry up, would you?" His eyes kept roaming from the store to the street, store, street, store, street. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Really, what are we doing, Shannon?"
“You sound like a pansy. Bath salts, no sex, and now you’re afraid to steal. Everyone’s stolen something in their life, whether it’s been change from their mother’s purse or a candy bar—or a car stereo.”
She stuffed fifths of bourbon, rum, vodka, then potato chips, licorice, beef jerky, Cosmo and People magazine into her oversized purse, and then she reached under the counter for a roll of scratch and win tickets, and then hitting her stride, she moved on to a hair brush, hair ties, and five packs of strawberry mango bubble gum. “I’ll go easy on them this time, but next time, I’m helping myself to much more. Besides, you’re giving me a conscience.”
“Sorry to ruin the criminal’s fun." He was relieved the cops or the store owners weren’t in sight. But Shannon wouldn’t leave. She crossed her arms. “I won’t take a step out of this place until you take something.” She waved her hand up and down the store. “Take something.”
“Why? What will it prove?”
“That you can have fun. You’re always working. Loosen up. Nobody’s going to know. The camera doesn’t work, and as long as you don’t bust up shit or make a mess, nobody’s going to figure it out.”
