by Cheree Alsop
“They have protected the human race, yes, but fear of the monsters created by the fallout has kept them from exploring our new world, advancing knowledge, or seeking to reclaim that which has been lost.”
At his pause, Everett asked, “What’s been lost?”
Adrielle threw him an exasperated look.
“Satellites, my boy,” Dr. Transton replied, stalking back toward them with a fervent light in his eyes. “We took so many steps backwards in the age of technology that we’re stuck with corded phones and computers that no longer have access to what they used to call the Internet. Our stream of information is limited to books.” He looked at the ceiling as if wishing he could find the answers written there. “The nuclear explosions in the atmosphere during the ending War produced electromagnetic pulses stronger than anything humans were prepared for. The pulses surged through everything even remotely conductive, antennae, pipelines, power lines, and satellites, frying every electronic object with so many volts of electricity that they were beyond repair. We lost so much we don’t even know where to start.”
“With honeybees,” Everett dared to say.
Dr. Transton looked as though he was ready to laugh.
“Come on,” Adrielle said, tugging on Everett’s arm.
“Wait a second,” Everett said. “My dad’s busy experimenting with honeybees. He’s convinced that if we can create species strong enough to withstand the diseases that resisted the fallout, we can begin to farm again. Farming leads to a new life.”
Dr. Transton nodded with an enthusiastic smile. “People will realize they can take their lives into their hands again. They don’t have to live on bioengineered food products made in top floor growing chambers. They can do more than sit in offices and live from nine to five. Families could camp.”
“What’s camping?” Everett asked.
“I have a book about it,” Dr. Transton told him. “It shows going to the forest and sleeping in a tent, which is some sort of a canvas triangle, on a matt, by a campfire.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Adrielle said.
“Dangerously wonderful,” Dr. Transton replied. He put a hand on Everett’s shoulder. “I’d love to meet your father. He sounds like a very enlightened individual.”
“He is,” Everett replied with a smile.
Dr. Transton’s hand fell off his shoulder. He stared at Everett and his face twisted.
Everett took a few steps back.
“Vampire,” the doctor breathed in a voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Vampire!”
Adrielle jumped in front of Everett. “Dr. Transton, I can explain. Everett tried to save my life and got hurt...” Her voice fell away at the hatred in the doctor’s eyes.
“Get out of my asylum,” Dr. Transton growled.
“Dr. Transton—”
The doctor cut Adrielle off. “Get. Out. Now!”
Adrielle grabbed Everett’s hand and ran to the far end of the white tiled room. Their footsteps sounded harsh to Everett’s ears. Adrielle hit a small button with an arrow pointing to the floor. They waited for two seconds that felt like an eternity. Everett didn’t dare look back over his shoulder for fear that the man was coming after him with a stake. When the elevator finally opened, he lunged inside and Adrielle hit the button. The last glimpse Everett had was of Dr. Transton glaring at him from across the room, his hatred so palpable everything else fell away but the anger, confusion, and hurt in the doctor’s eyes.
There was a door on the other side of the elevator. Everett realized through the adrenaline causing his heart to thunder in his chest that it meant there was a whole other side to the Asylum he hadn’t seen along with the other floors above the white tiled level. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought with the lingering bellow of ‘vampire’ ringing in his ears.
The elevator opened at the small, dark hallway.
“You’d better go,” Adrielle said, her voice small and eyes downcast like a disobedient puppy caught eating off the table.
“Adrielle, I—”
She cut off his apology with a shake of her head. “It’s my fault,” she said, her words monotone. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” She motioned toward the door at the end of the hall. “Xander will let you out.”
“Are you sure?” Everett asked.
At Adrielle’s nod, he stumbled out of the elevator. She pushed a button and the door closed, leaving him alone with an ogren at the end of the dark walkway. Only the sound of Xander’s deep, rattling breath was audible while he made his way to the door. Despite Everett’s misgivings, the ogren didn’t so much as blink an eye when he reached the door and pushed it open.
The door shut behind him with a resounding thud. Everett stared back at the rusted metal and wondered if everything he had seen had been a dream.
Chapter Seven
Everett walked home in a fog. He kept seeing Dr. Transton’s eyes over and over again, filled with hatred and fear along with hurt that Adrielle would break his trust and bring such a horrible creature into his asylum.
It was illegal for monsters to be within the walls of the five cities. Everett’s family had kept his secret, but if they were ever found out, the heavy fines and punishments would destroy the Masterson family.
Somehow, despite all that, his mom and dad had protected him from most confrontations regarding being a monster. When his vampirism became too evident, they homeschooled him with Bran and Annie. He was still able to walk to the mall with his siblings, go to the movies, and do other things suitable for fourteen year olds.
Dr. Transton’s pure hatred had been the first time he had truly felt the full effects of his differences. He couldn’t shake it.
“Rett, do you know what time it is?” his dad asked when he walked through the living room.
“Yeah, sorry, Dad,” he mumbled. A glance outside showed the sun rising. He hadn’t even noticed during his walk home that he was pressing the boundaries of safety for a vampire to be outside.
Everett made his way through the kitchen to the stairs. He followed them to the basement feeling as though he had seen far too many stairs that day. The light blue curtains hid the boards his parents had put over the windows to keep the sunlight out, and the recessed lighting made the room seem as if it wasn’t shut away like a coffin, though Everett felt it at that moment more than ever when he collapsed on the bed.
He wasn’t sure how much time he had spent staring at the ceiling when his mother called, “Everett?” When he didn’t answer, she hurried down. “Your father said...oh, Everett.”
She sat on the side of his bed and smoothed his cheek with the back of her hand, wiping away the tears.
He rolled away from her, shoving his face into the pillow so he wouldn’t have to see the concern in her eyes.
After a few minutes of silence had passed, his mother said, “Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong.”
Everett didn’t want to say anything. He knew he couldn’t hide the hurt he felt, and he was afraid of the words that would come out of his mouth, but he had to know the truth.
He turned to face her and asked, “Mom, do you ever wish I wasn’t a vampire?”
“No, Everett,” she replied, honesty clear on her face. She smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “I know it’s hard on you, and there have been challenges, but you are you, Everett, and I love everything about you.”
He sat up, pulling the faded yellow and blue checkered quilt she had made over his knees. He picked at one of the yarn knots. “But what if not having me meant you had a normal baby?”
His words hung in the air like a ghost, haunting the space between them.
His mother broke them with her reply. “All of my children are normal,” she said. “Would I give away Annie or Bran with their special needs? Would I give away Finch and Gabe because they’re hyperactive?” She paused, then asked, “Would I give away Hadley because he pretends to be a dog?” When that didn’t bring a smile to Everett’s face,
hers fell away and she met his gaze with a seriousness he only saw when she opened herself deeply. “Everett, if normal means I can’t have my children, then I don’t want to be normal. I would rather live outside the walls then not have a vampire child. You are my little boy.”
He repeated what Hadley always said. “I’m not little.” It succeeded in bringing the ghost of a smile to his lips when he thought of the little five year old stomping his foot and putting his hands on his hips with all the seriousness the redhead could muster.
She replied with an answering smile of her own, “You’ll always be my little boy.”
“Even if I have to drink blood?” Everett asked.
“You mean your vitamin drink?” she replied with a wink.
He smiled. “Thank goodness Celeste isn’t squeamish around blood.”
Mrs. Masterson smiled back. “As soon as we found out about your vampirism, she insisted on being the one to make sure you got your drink. She was only fourteen, but she decided that meant she needed to take care of her younger brother.”
“She loves to take care of everyone.”
His mom nodded. “She has a big heart, just like you.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Are you going to tell me what happened today? Did it have to do with Adrielle?”
Everett hesitated, then shook his head. “It wasn’t her. I-I met someone and accidentally smiled. When he saw I was a vampire, he was so afraid he shouted for me to leave the room.” Everett met his mother’s gaze. “I’ve never seen anyone so afraid in my life, and it was me he was afraid of.”
He didn’t want his mom to know that there had been more hatred than fear on Dr. Transton’s face. Despite everything he had been through, he wanted to shelter her at least that much. It felt like the least he could do for all of her kindness.
“Fear comes from ignorance,” she told him. They were the same words both she and his father had said all during his childhood. “People fear what they don’t understand. You’re just different, Everett. We can’t expect everyone to accept that because they don’t know you like we do.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said.
She gave him a warm smile. “Feel better?”
Everett nodded. “Thank you, Mom.”
She kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, my little boy.”
He smiled and leaned his back against the wall. “I think I’ll spend the day down here. I could use some sleep.”
She rose and made her way to the door. “Want me to turn off the lights?”
At his nod, she leaned against the doorframe. “Your heart is as big as your sister’s, and that’s saying a lot. Because of that, it’s easier to get hurt. You know you have a safe place here where you’ll always be loved no matter what.”
“I know,” he answered gratefully.
She flipped the light switch and closed the door behind her.
Small pinpricks of light shone down from the ceiling. In order to make up for the fact that he couldn’t be in the sunlight, his father had crafted an entire solar system in the ceiling that turned on whenever the lights were switched off. It wasn’t bright enough to keep him awake, but made it feel as though he was outside during the times he couldn’t be.
Everett stared at the constellation of Orion as he thought through his mother’s words. His family didn’t fear him because they knew him. Maybe Dr. Transton just didn’t know any vampires. Everett had been in Pentagrin his whole life and had never run into another one, mostly because it was illegal to be within the walls, but still, it might help the doctor change his views on vampires if he understood them.
His mind made up, Everett could barely wait until sundown. He ate dinner with his family and sipped the blood Celeste served in his special cup without tasting it. He caught his mother’s worried look and realized he was too withdrawn for her to believe that he was fine. He tuned in to the conversations around him.
“We could build an atrium for actual birds,” Donovan said.
“If computers and machines could actually run the world, what need would there be for humans at all?” his father asked.
Donovan smiled his usual half-smile. “The only things humans offer to a post-labor society would be creativity. Machines can’t create from the soul.”
“Your face is a soul,” Finch said.
“That makes absolutely no sense,” Donovan replied.
“Your face is no sense,” Gabe shot back.
Donovan rolled his eyes and turned back to his father. “Think about it. You can teach a robot to draw pictures already programmed into it, but it can’t create from nothing. Could it draw a dragon?”
Finch grinned. “Your face is a dragon.”
“Dragons don’t exist,” Celeste said, leaning over to scoop more mashed potatoes into her bowl.
“Exactly,” Donovan replied. He waved his fork at their father. “So the machine couldn’t draw it.”
“You’d rather play life away than to go school or work?” Mr. Masterson asked with a doubtful tone.
“Uh, yeah,” Donovan replied. “Wouldn’t you? You could take a break from bees.”
Mr. Masterson was quiet for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. “I’m so tired of bees.”
Shocked silence flooded the room and everyone stared at him.
Mr. Masterson laughed. “What? It’s not like I’m done working on them, but the little beasts are difficult enough that I’m ready to turn my attention to worms.”
“Your face is a worm,” Gabe said.
Mr. Masterson sighed and nodded. “Yes, Gabe. My face is a worm.”
Everyone laughed.
“You’ve mentioned that people are defined by the jobs they do, right?” Everett asked.
His dad gave him an interested look. “Yes, that’s true.”
“Then how would they be defined if they weren’t working?”
Mr. Masterson’s bushy eyebrows rose. He scratched his forehead and nodded at Everett. “That’s a good question. A person’s place in society also gives them their sense of self. Knowing where you fit into the scheme of things leads to contentment and security.”
Donovan smiled. “Said like a true psychology major.”
“Sociology, actually,” Mr. Masterson said. “Psychology was more of an interest.”
Mrs. Masterson laughed. “An expensive interest. I’m glad you settled on botany.”
“Me, too,” Mr. Masterson agreed. “I just don’t know how I got roped into entomology.”
“That’s what you get for telling Professor Mojat your views on pollination,” his wife reminded him.
He winked at Donovan. “I’d recommend psychology.”
Everett’s brother laughed. “Point taken.”
By the time dinner was over, Everett was anxious to be outside. Contemplating his own place in society left him with a metallic taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the pig’s blood, though he made a mental note to ask Celeste how old it was. It had tasted flat enough that he left half of it in the cup. They were probably getting to the point that they needed to visit the butcher again. Luckily, he was willing to trade real tomatoes for all the blood they needed without questions.
Everett hurried through the tunnels with a sense of urgency. If he could just talk to Dr. Transton, he was certain they could work through the man’s worries over having a vampire in the building. Everett was anxious to see what else the Monster Asylum held. The rooms he had seen showed far more of the monster world than he ever knew existed. He felt like there was so much more outside his sheltered life, and he couldn’t just turn his back on it.
Everett tripped on one of the vines in the tunnel and landed on his knees.
“The jungle won’t give up,” he said quietly, pushing himself back to his feet. He had seen the buildings on the outskirts of Nectaris, and remembered the one time his father had taken him to the wall of their city. The massive vines that snaked from beyond to wrap around the buildings were wider around than he was and looked li
ke some prehistoric creature climbing from the jungle.
“It’ll never give up,” his father had explained. “We destroyed our own world, now the earth wants us gone. We have to fight to survive. It’s good for us to remember. I think we got too secure in our position, and too sure that we owned the earth, not the other way around. The jungle will keep trying, and it grows back as fast as we build. Adapt or die.”
“Adapt or die,” Everett whispered.
A moan in the darkness answered at the same time that the scent of blood hit Everett in a wave. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had only finished half of his serving. By the scent, he could tell it was human blood, and fresh. Intense yearning settled over him.
“Help me,” a voice said with such weakness he barely heard it.
Everett swallowed and took a step into the darkness untouched by the faint lights that lined the top of the tunnels. The toe of his sneaker squished in something. He knew with a certainty that it was blood.
“Don’t leave me here to die.”
The speaker’s voice was a bit stronger. Everett squinted and made out the form of a boy close to Everett’s age. He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to drop to his knees and lap at the blood like he so desired.
“What happened to you?” he asked, keeping his eyes closed and wishing he could shut off his sense of smell as easily.
“M-monster,” the teenager replied with less strength than before. “Claws and black teeth.”
Everett thought through all the monsters he knew of. “That doesn’t sound familiar,” he said.
“Metal on glass,” the voice said, falling away at the end.
Everett could hear the speaker’s harsh breathing. There was pain in the sound as if each breath cost him greatly. His senses focused on the sound of the speaker’s heartbeat. It was weak, much weaker than a human’s should be. The blood loss was too great; the teenager was about to die.
Everett dropped to his knees. It took all of his willpower to grab the boy instead of scooping up the blood like he so wanted to do. He channeled his strength and rose back to his feet. He carried the teenager into the light. Everett glanced down, and his heart fell.
