by J. R. Rain
My mind leaps to the obvious conclusion, but I wind up laughing in my head since I’m not a character in a silly horror movie. Oh, wow, Sam. Really? I am definitely going crazy.
Danny’s got his arm around me like he usually does for ‘family movie time,’ though he keeps giving me strange glances. Mostly, he appears worried. He’d sensed my anxiety a few minutes ago, of course. He had to have. Or he noticed me faking eating dinner. I push that knot of worry aside and allow myself to savor this time with my family. Time I almost had stolen from me.
“It’s not a sad part,” whispers Tammy, peering up at me. “Don’t cry yet.”
“I know, Tam Tam.” I ruffle her hair. “Sometimes people cry when they’re really happy.”
She grins and snuggles against my side.
The movie is over all too fast. Danny and I help the kids get ready for bed, tuck them in, and drift down the hall to our room. A white elephant follows me in. I just know Danny’s going to hit me with something awkward, the only real question is if he’s potentially hurt at my not eating, worried about my not eating, or something worse is coming.
“You… look better.” Danny pulls his shirt off, his hair fluffing as it bursts from the neck opening. “All day you’ve had this… I dunno… sick air about you, but you look like yourself again now.”
It’s obviously a pure coincidence that I felt better as soon as the sun went down. What possible connection could there be for that? Since I don’t want my husband to think I’ve slid completely ’round the bend, especially since I didn’t know what to expect next, I say, “Thanks. Yeah, I do feel better.”
He wings the shirt at the hamper and sets his hands on his hips, standing there in only jeans and socks. Despite the physical hunger still swirling around my gut, the sight of his bare chest lights a fire in my soul. I shouldn’t be feeling like this and so revved up a week after I almost died. Then again, my neck shouldn’t be healed either. At the very least, I should be sporting a rather serious scar, but…
I glide across the room and grasp Danny’s sides, a wicked grin pulling my lips open.
“Sam?” Danny raises an eyebrow. “I know that look. Are you sure? It’s barely been a week. You’re… not in pain?”
My lips trace across his chest, kissing around his collarbone. “I’m feeling more alive now than I have in years. It’s like being eighteen all over again. All that energy.” I lean back and look into his dark blue eyes. “I almost lost you. I almost lost everything. Life is precious.” Again, I cling to him, my cheek against his shoulder. “Every second of it.”
He wraps me in his arms and we drift to the bed, groping each other and making out on the way. I sit on the edge and stretch out on my back, Danny sliding up beside me. His eyes radiate love, but also confusion. Feeling self-conscious, I slip away and pull my nightgown off.
“Wow, Sam, you’re so damn beautiful.” Danny flicks his belt open, shoving his jeans off onto the floor.
I grin and lay back. “You’re no slouch yourself, Danny Moon.” Looking at him, smelling his scent, is already driving me to the brink. The brink of what, admittedly, I’m not entirely sure.
He rolls closer, brushing a hand over my head and pulling me again into a kiss. His body, pressed against me, is deliciously warm, like a hot pie just removed from the oven. The coarseness of his fingers on my neck and shoulder sends a tingle down my spine. I swear I can feel every ridge and valley of his fingerprints. The sheets at my back, a legion of caressing hands, ignite my nerves. Everything is so much more intense than I can remember.
I moan into his mouth, grabbing at his boxer briefs, pushing them down while his scratchy chin glides across my shoulder toward my neck. When his lips make contact with my skin, a shudder of ecstasy runs through me, rattling the headboard. My eager hands search deeper, lower while I flatten on my back, pulling him up on top of me.
My fingers close around his length in a gentle, eager grasp; it’s so hot, tingles dance up the backs of my arms. Something’s come over me, and I can’t wait to have him deep inside.
He groans and curls up, falling sideways off me. “Oof.”
Not the reaction I was expecting.
“Danny?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Umm.” His eyes are huge, a mixture of freaked out and turned on. “Your umm. Fingers.” He rubs himself. “Little cold… and sharp.”
I laugh and roll onto him. “So now it’s my hands too? Not just my feet in the winter?”
Danny rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment before gliding it down to cradle my left breast. “It’s not just your hands. You’re a little, umm. Chilly. Everywhere.”
“Sorry.” I look down. His words hit me harder than they should, and I go from horny to crying in an instant.
“Hey.” Danny sits up and brushes a thumb across my cheek. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still the most beautiful woman I know. The kindest, most loving, caring person I’ve ever met.”
I sniffle, relaxing. He’s got too much confidence in his voice to ‘just be saying that.’ A smile peers out from under my shame. “I’m so lucky to have you, Danny.”
He leans in and kisses me. After a few minutes, it evolves to groping, and then more. He lines up and we start going all the way; a shaft of intense heat strikes through my core like a lightning bolt. My fingers dig into his shoulders; my back arches, and I let out a low moan of desire tinged with a sultry growl.
“Ngh!” Danny pulls back like someone punched him in the groin. His confusion flickers to disgust for an instant and then abject bewilderment.
The mood’s done. Dead and buried.
Sheepish and dejected, I crawl after my nightgown and pull it back on over my head. For a few minutes, I sit at the foot end of the bed, staring at the rug. Danny remains curled up on his side, cradling himself.
Eventually, the silence is too burdensome to bear.
I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s… not your fault, Sam.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my gaze still locked on the rug.
The bed jostles as Danny moves around, likely pulling his boxers back on. “I―maybe it’s just too soon. I keep seeing you in my mind all torn up and…”
He’s almost lying. Not quite. He doesn’t have to say it though; I’m not that obtuse. My heart’s beating a couple times a minute. Danny’s skin is hot to my touch. I must be corpse-cold to him, especially down there. That flicker of revulsion in his eyes was brief, but telling. Maybe this will improve with time? I have to hope I’ll get better.
Danny shuffles closer and sits beside me, an arm across my back. “Hey… I still love you. We just need to figure out what’s going on. You will recover… whatever this is.”
“I hope so.” I lean against him, grateful he’s not pulling away.
“So, I was doing a little research about that whole sun thing.”
“Sun thing?”
“You got a sunburn in a few seconds when I took you home from the hospital. I’m not sure how exactly you wound up developing a condition like that out of the blue, but it sounds like xeroderma pigmentosum.”
“Bless you.” I look up with a wry smile.
He chuckles at my sneezing joke. “It’s an autosomal disease. A genetic disorder of the skin. Usually, it manifests immediately after birth.” He tickles my side with one finger. “You know they call victims ‘moon children’ because they can’t tolerate any sunlight. Even minute exposure causes horrible burns.”
Moon children. I’d laugh at the irony if I didn’t want to curl up into a lonely dark place out of shame. Will my husband ever want to touch me again? Have I become disgusting to him?
I trace my fingers back and forth across my left forearm. “People don’t spontaneously develop genetic conditions, Danny.” Of course, it makes more sense than what I’m thinking… but what I’m thinking makes no sense at all.
“Well, something’s going on.” He rubs my back, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m not giving up on you
, Samantha Moon. Not now. Not ever.” He pulls me into a two-armed hug, forehead pressed to the crook of my neck.
A hitch in his breath tells me he’s on the verge of crying, and a lump swells in my throat, too. All the guilt I imagined at Danny learning of my death hits me again. “I’m sorry… I should’ve never gone jogging out that late. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
“It’s not your fault.” He squeezes tighter for a second, then sits up and wipes his eyes. “Even with your training and a gun, you couldn’t have done much against… well, whatever it was that came out of the woods and got you.”
A man. I felt his fingers on my flesh, his breath against my skin… his teeth piercing my neck like icepicks. Gold flashes in my mind’s eye, the dangling medallion, inches from my face. “Maybe you’re right,” I say, distracted.
He would’ve come for me anyway… and he might’ve killed my whole family had I not gone out.
No. I’m not even going to think about what might’ve happened if it attacked me at home. But it had come for me, I was sure of it. If so, then I needed to stop feeling stupid for going out alone at night. It wound up being a good thing. Perhaps by total chance, but I did save Danny, Tammy, and Anthony’s lives by doing that. I believe that with all my heart and soul.
I remember the voice again… the voice I had heard inside my head.
Hello, Sssamantha.
Yes, it had come for me, whatever or whoever it was.
I sit there while Danny goes to clean up and brush his teeth for the night. Maybe in a few days, if I’m still cold to the touch, I’ll suggest we get frisky in the shower. Hot water might help. Soon, he’s back in the bedroom and we lay in bed beside each other, cuddling under the blankets. At first, he’s stiff and a little standoffish, like a boy who still thinks I’ll give him cooties. Though, after a few minutes, the normality of the arrangement settles in and we cuddle.
Once the lights go out, Danny fades off to sleep. I remain awake and alert. Other than a distracting sense of hunger, I feel ready to take on the world―like it’s 11:00 a.m., and I’ve downed five Red Bulls or something. There’s no reason I should be this wired at almost midnight. Then again, I did sleep late. Maybe my circadian rhythm is totally jacked up since my throat had been torn open. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
Allergic to the sun.
Groggy during the day.
Awake at night.
The mirror hates me.
I healed a severe injury within hours.
My body’s rejecting everything I try to eat except for blood.
I’m cold.
I don’t need to breathe.
My heart’s beating too slow to possibly keep me alive.
…and I’m completely insane for even thinking what I’m thinking.
Get a grip, Sam. Vampires don’t exist.
Chapter Five
The Inferno
Hours drag by in a solemn march of boredom.
When it becomes clear I’m not sleeping, I slip out of bed and pace the house while Tammy, Anthony, and Danny remain lost to their dreams. Watching my kids sleep makes me smile, at least until I think about how close I came to being gone from their lives.
Hunger pulls me to the kitchen, but nothing in the fridge appeals. I open and close the door a dozen times, as if something that hadn’t been there before might suddenly appear and pique my interest.
The crunch of someone walking outside invades my silent kitchen, like I had a movie turned up way too loud. I follow the noise to the living room window and catch a few seconds’ glimpse of a man in a T-shirt and track pants. He twists toward our side of the street, a flashlight raised.
Oh, it’s Chet Perry. He lives two houses away at the opening of our cul-de-sac, and I bet he’s looking for his dog again, no doubt cursing his wife for talking him into agreeing to a Cairn terrier, which is totally a real thing. I chuckle to myself. The man always complains about it, but he’d probably jump in front of a car to save that dog. Never understood why some men express affection by complaining.
With a sigh, I retreat to the dining room and sit by Danny’s laptop to throw a couple hours at Yahoo!, hoping I can find something about insomnia. I read for a while about that, as well as that xeroderma pigmentosum business Danny mentioned. Information is somewhat sparse, but it does look like a genetic disorder that people are born with. It’s unlikely I’ve had it my whole life and only now has it become symptomatic, but a strange medical anomaly sure makes more sense than me becoming some fictional monster.
One article described a small boy who has to load up on super-strong sunscreen and heavy clothing if his parents take him out of the house during the day… even when it’s cloudy. Oh, that poor child. It’s difficult for me to feel sorry for my situation when I’m looking at a photograph of a five-year-old covered in burns he got from three minutes’ exposure to direct sunlight. According to what I’m reading, the condition also results in dry skin, hardened lumps forming, and lingering scar tissue.
Well, I burned the hell out of myself the day I came home from the hospital, but within an hour, I looked fine again… like nothing happened. I don’t like the sound of ‘keratinized lumps’ and I’m not sure what they are, but I don’t think I have them. Maybe I’ve got a new and undiscovered disease. Or Danny could be on to something. If my condition ever becomes an issue, I could always claim to have XP.
Ugh. I’m going to have to go out in the day for work. I wonder if the sunscreen method will help?
You’d think with a hundred channels on cable there’d be something worth watching… but not at three in the morning. Channel-flipping lands me on the opening sequence for a movie, and I sit there stunned by Hell Comes to Frogtown. It’s so ridiculously bad I can’t stop watching it. Days ago, I lay wounded, lamenting every second passing by as so precious… Now, it feels wrong to waste them on this.
I go back to the laptop and check the web for any information about my attack, but find little other than a mention that the suggested coyote hunt got called off after an ‘unknown source’ determined the animals weren’t to blame. Hmm. I’ve never been an unknown source before. Makes me feel like I’m in a spy movie. At least no one hurt the poor animals. They really did have nothing to do with it.
With a sigh, I get up and roam down the hall to Tammy’s room. There, I sit on the floor by her bed and watch her sleep for a while. I drift into Anthony’s room next, idly picking up a few toys. He stirs at my approach, but doesn’t wake. A huge smile forms on his face, which is probably a reaction to something in his dream, but I can’t help but believe he knows Mommy’s here to protect him.
Eventually, I find myself back in the kitchen staring into the fridge.
Still the same stuff. Plenty of food… but as soon as I think of eating anything, I go from hungry to nauseated.
“Ugh,” I mutter, and shut the door.
Since it’s 5:40 a.m., I decide to give sleep one last shot, and crawl back in under the blankets next to Danny―who, as it turns out, snores. He doesn’t rattle the windows, just makes these little soft snorts like a dog having an exciting dream of chasing chipmunks.
Nothing that’s happening to me makes any logical sense. Ideas and theories circle my brain like buzzards waiting for something to die. Or maybe something already is dead. Me. Totally not a good thought when you’re trying to sleep. Like, at all.
They say intelligent people have a more difficult time falling asleep at night because their minds won’t shut down. I find myself thinking about this theory, which either proves it… or proves that I’m a glutton for punishment. When it comes to my family, I might be on the smarter end of the spectrum, which didn’t necessarily say much. (Hey, at least I’m not a narcissist.) Anyway, I figure my brother Dusk’s probably smarter than me, but he’s been cursed with our father’s lazy gene. I wonder how his European wandering is going. What else does one do with an art degree other than teach or roam the globe? I guess he could like work at a gallery or something. Mary
Lou and I are probably about equal, but I bet she considers herself a little smarter than me. That’s fine. I’ll let her have it, and hey, maybe she’s right after all. My sister didn’t go jogging at midnight, alone. I can’t help but note how quickly Danny always seems to fall asleep. Does that say something about my husband’s intelligence? I doubt it; I mean, he’s a lawyer, right? Probably more a statement about how exhausting his days are.
Finally, I start to feel tired, like sleep might be a possibility, so I clear my mind and try to think of nothing at all.
The next thing I know, I’m sitting on the beach with the sun bearing down on me. Tammy’s nearby, burrowing a hole in the sand while Anthony is shoveling it bit by bit back into the hole. Danny’s maybe thirty feet away, closer to the water, and talking to a light-haired woman in oversized sunglasses, an orange bikini top, and a sunflower-patterned wrap.
I have the strangest feeling that Tammy’s about to punch Anthony on the nose, but I can’t pull my attention away from my husband. He’s having an innocent-looking conversation with that woman, but I find myself hating her. Jealousy rises out of nowhere, a toxic darkness saturating my emotions. Who is this bitch and why is she smiling at Danny? Why is he over there with her and not with me and the kids?
Livid, I grab the armrests of my beach chair and start to get up, but freeze in terror at the sight of smoke wisps peeling up from my hands. What? It’s a perfect day with a clear blue sky, and I adore the beach, sunbathing every chance I can get. My arms are… burning.
The instant the word ‘burning’ crosses my brain, my legs and stomach go bright red and blistery. Small black spots on the backs of my hands expand to smoldering patches of char. I’m no longer sitting in the sun; I’m sitting under an unforgiving ball of flaming death.
Agony like nothing I could’ve imagined paralyzes me.
I let off a weak, whispery squeak, my body in too much pain to even scream.
“That’s not good fire,” says Anthony.
Tammy lifts her gaze from her excavation and peers at me. Utterly calm, she tilts her head like a bewildered puppy. “Promise you won’t give up on me? Or Anf-nee.”
