Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor
Page 25
He didn’t know what he would say when he got to her. Whether or not she’d be mad, most probably, and exactly how he’d convince her to come with him, but one way or another she’d come. He didn’t know if he could live without her, go on to the new life he now contemplated without her not so gentle urgings. Having seen these things he felt obligated to try to be more, at least for Maria. Maybe he couldn’t go back to being as Donald called it, normal, again but he could live better. He could stick to blood donation and even animal blood, if he had too. He could start trying again.
Harold stopped at a gas station to fill up the car and buy a handful of carnations for Maria. Maybe he could offer to marry her if she came with him. Harold needed a ring. There would be time later. They just needed to move now. Get away from the familiar carnage of this place.
Harold pulled up to their apartment. Its normally burning lights were dark. As usual the neighbors were up too, he could see them screaming at each other through their naked front window, but it didn’t bother him. He even took a minute to knock on the glass and wave goodbye at them. They responded with a small one fingered wave of their own. It’s nice to see people doing things as a couple.
He didn’t bother knocking as he unlocked the door and went in. Harold called out to Maria, as he bounded up the stairs, hoping to catch her off guard and therefore in a better mood to agree to go with him.
“Baby, I’m home,” Harold called at the top of the stairs, he pushed open the bedroom door and saw no one in their bedroom. In fact, he saw nothing in their bedroom but the bed, stripped of blankets and sheets and an empty dresser, which previously held Maria’s clothing. One completely empty drawer leaned against the dresser, having falling in someone’s haste to empty it.
He had trouble comprehending the sight before him at first. It was so far outside the realm of possible in his mind. His girlfriend gone. Perhaps, with everything which happened tonight, he’d also slid into the Twilight Zone.
It all fell into place, the G-men and their laughter, Maria’s odd behavior the last time he saw her, the little piece of paper sitting on the mattress.
Harold sat on the bed and read the note. It held all the same platitudes and apologies as any other goodbye. She decided to go back home to her family. Harold wouldn’t meet her halfway. He used the disease to keep her at a distance.
The apartment echoed her sentiment. No more heartbeat to keep him company. Harold fingered the paper’s edge with a bitten, busted finger. He pocketed the note, standing to take stock of the room. He still planned on leaving. Maybe later he could track Maria down… ask her to, to what exactly? Give him another chance?
Harold put the spilled drawer back in its place, shutting it slowly but firmly in place.
After a moment, he went to his dresser and emptied it of clean underwear. In the closet, he pulled down a small metal box, dulled with age, but clean with well-oiled hinges. The remnants of his previous life.
Harold grabbed his packed bag and left, not bothering to lock up the apartment. The landlord could do what she liked with the place and whatever stuff in it had value. He needed to get out and get away, something he should have done long ago.
Though it was not dawn yet, he could see an imperceptible brightening in the sky which signaled the coming sun. Harold had a couple hours driving time before sunrise, enough time for him to get out of town and whole up somewhere for the day. Immediate needs first and he’d go from there. Harold knew one thing though, he wasn’t going to do what anyone else wanted him to do. From here on out he would be calling the shots about his own life decisions. It was a whole lot less painful that way and less time consuming.
Harold realized he’d backtracked through town towards where Mephisto chased down Donald. Not a good place to be right now. Who knew how many feds were prowling the area for the van. They had to know it was missing by now. He made a point of taking side streets headed in the opposite direction. He half-feared the phantom would stand out like a sore thumb on these empty roads, but the early morning traffic started picking up again. He opted to follow the flow of traffic and let it lead him to safety.
Harold was ruminating on the suckiness of life at a red-light when a familiar figure loped along the crosswalk. Rufus, looking frightened and confused and bloody from his last meal. Shit. Harold hunkered down behind the wheel, not wanting to deal with another crisis. Too late. Rufus halted, sniffing the air and locked eyes right on Harold. He actually smiled, wriggling his tailless bottom and made straight for the car. Shit, shit, Harold willed for the red light to turn green so he could peel out of there, but it didn’t happen.
Rufus pressed his face against the windshield. “All right, Harry?” he asked, slapping the glass, “I need a ride.”
Oh god.
Harold pretended not to hear. It was much harder than he expected to pretend Rufus wasn’t slobbering blood all over his windshield.
“Come on Harry, those agents are everywhere.” The wolf man slapped the glass again.
Hmmm, let a bloody wolf man into my nice car or leave him for the feds. Tough call, Harold thought darkly, then again he went through the bother with Rufus earlier. Harold sighed and unlocked the car doors.
“Thanks,” Rufus said, slamming the door harder than necessary as he got into the passenger seat. Harold could already see his vintage 1962 upholstery being ruined by blood, gore and claw marks. Such was the problem when associating with flesheaters and bloodsuckers these days. You could never take them anywhere nice.
Rufus saw what Harold was oh so pointedly looking at and wiped his hands on his tattered pants. “Sorry,” Rufus whispered, “about the blood. So where are we going?”
“I’m headed out of town,” Harold said, stepping on the gas when the light finally changed.
“Goody, I love car trips,” Rufus said, returning to his cheerful demeanor.
“Oh no,” Harold said.
“No?”
“No.”
“I love car trips,” Rufus repeated.
Harold opted to focus on the drive out of town and the problem of finding a place to spend the next day. Traffic around them steadily picked up with cars and SUVs and other early morning commuters with nothing more to worry about than their bills and trying to spice up rather routine, but normal lives. In the midst of it all, a low-riding, black Phantom rolled through the city with three souls, each trying to stay ahead of the sunrise.
End.
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