by Morgan Rice
The entire drive home, Caitlin was sick with worry. She felt there was no rational person left in the universe. She had thought that driving into the city and speaking to Aiden would calm her, would make her return home feeling better, with everything explained and back in its rational order.
But he had just made everything a million times worse. Now she wished she’d never visited him—and more than anything, she wished she’d never gone to the attic. She wished she’d never had that dream, and had never seen that journal. She wished she could just make it all go away.
Just yesterday, everything was perfect in her life; now, she felt that everything was upside down. She almost felt that, by going to the attic, and opening that box, opening that book, she unleashed something horrible into the universe. Something that was meant to be kept locked away.
A part of her still told her that all of this was ridiculous. Maybe Aiden had lost touch with reality after all these years of teaching. Maybe that book was just some weird relic of her childhood, some collection of fantasies she had scrawled as a young girl. Maybe she could just put that book back in the attic, put today out of her mind, and everything would be fine, go back to normal, just as it always was.
But another part of Caitlin, a deeper part, felt an increasing sense of foreboding, one she could not shake. It told her that nothing would be fine again.
Caitlin’s hands trembled as she finished her two hour drive back and pulled into her idyllic village. She pulled down her quiet side street and hoped the sight of her house would calm her, as it always did.
But as she pulled into her driveway, she sensed immediately that something was wrong. Caleb’s car was in the driveway. He was home from work, in the middle of the afternoon. He never came home from work early.
She immediately checked her cell to see if she had any missed calls, and that was when she realized: her phone had been off all day. She looked down now and saw it flashing red: 9 missed calls in the last two hours. All from Caleb.
Her stomach dropped. Caleb never used his phone. That could only mean an emergency.
Caitlin jumped out of the car, ran up the steps, across the porch, and burst through the front door—which was ajar, compounding her dread.
“Caleb!?” she yelled, bursting into the house.
“Up here!” he screamed. “Get up here! Now!”
The tone of his voice set her into a panic. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never heard him scream with that sort of urgency, never heard his voice filled with fear.
She could hardly breathe as she ran up the old staircase, yanked on the bannister, took the steps three at a time. She raced down the hall, hearing a sound like muffled cries.
“In here!” Caleb yelled.
Caitlin hurried right for Scarlet’s room. The door was ajar, and she burst in.
She stopped cold at the sight.
Lying there on her bed, in the middle of the day, was Scarlet, fully clothed, and looking very sick. Standing over her, face grave with concern, was Caleb, holding a hand to her forehead. Ruth sat by her bedside, whining.
“Where have you been?” he asked, panicked. “The nurse sent her home from school early. They said she has the flu. I gave her three Advil, but her fever’s getting worse.”
“Mom?” Scarlet moaned, weakly.
Scarlet lay there, twisting and turning, looking worse than Caitlin had ever seen her. Her forehead was damp with sweat and she groaned in pain, squinting with closed eyes as if fighting off some awful sickness.
Caitlin’s heart broke at the sight. She ran over to Scarlet’s side, sitting on her bed, placing one hand on her arm and the other on her forehead.
“You don’t feel warm,” she said. “You feel ice cold. When did this start?”
“That’s what’s weird,” Caleb said. “Her fever’s getting worse—but in the wrong direction. She’s abnormally low: 71 degrees, and dropping. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m freezing,” Scarlet said.
Scarlet was ice-cold and clammy to Caitlin’s touch. Caitlin’s heart pounded, unsure what to do: she had never encountered anything like this.
“Mommy, please. It hurts so much! Please make it stop!” Scarlet groaned.
Caitlin’s heart sank, wishing she could take the pain away. She sensed this was no ordinary sickness. Scarlet began to cry.
“What hurts, sweetheart?” Caitlin asked. “You have to tell me. Please, calm down, and tell me,” Caitlin asked firmly, feeling desperate. “Exactly what happened to you? When did this begin?”
“This morning, when I went to school. I was sitting in class, and my eyes started to hurt. They hurt so bad. The light—it was so bright. And then my head hurt. I went to the nurse, and she shined a light in my eyes, and it made it much worse. Everything is killing. They had to put me in a dark room.”
“I had to close all these blinds,” Caleb said. “She said the light was killing her.”
Caitlin surveyed the room and noticed the closed blinds for the first time. Her heart dropped. Here was Scarlet, ice cold to the touch, unable to stand sunlight. Was there any truth, she suddenly wondered, to anything Aiden had said?
“My stomach—it hurts so bad,” Scarlet said. “I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m hungry and thirsty at the same time. But not for food. For something else.”
“For what?” Caitlin asked, sweating.
Suddenly, Scarlet shrieked and curled up into a ball, clutching her stomach. Caitlin was terrified. She had never seen her like this.
“We have to get her to a hospital,” Caitlin yelled. “Call 911. NOW!”
“Mommy, please, make it stop. Please!”
Caleb turned to get his phone—but then stopped in his tracks. So did Caitlin.
Because at that moment there came a sound that shook the entire room, a sound that raised the hair on the back of both of their necks.
It was a snarl.
They both stopped, frozen, and turned and looked over at Scarlet.
Caitlin could barely process what was happening: Scarlet was now sitting bolt upright in bed, and right before her eyes, she was transforming. She let out a snarl so vicious and hair-raising that even Ruth yelped and ran from the room, tail between her legs.
Caleb, a man Caitlin had never seen scared of anything, looked absolutely petrified, as if he were caged in the room with a wild lion.
But Scarlet ignored them both: instead, she looked towards the open door.
In that moment, Caitlin suddenly understood. Suddenly, she had a flashback to some place—she could not remember where—when she herself was feeling the same thing as Scarlet. A hunger pang. A need to feed. Not on food. But on blood.
As she saw that look in Scarlet’s eyes, that desperate look, the look of a wild animal, somehow she knew what she was thinking: she had to get out. To escape. Through that door. To sink her teeth into something.
It was at that moment that she knew, without a doubt, that Scarlet was indeed a vampire.
And that she, Caitlin, had once been one, too.
And that everything that Aiden had said was true.
Scarlet was the last remaining vampire. And Caitlin had to stop her from spreading it to the world.
As Scarlet began to get up, to go for the door, Caitlin screamed: “Caleb, stop her! Don’t let her out. Trust me! Just listen to me! Don’t let her out of this room!”
Caitlin didn’t want to think of the consequences if Scarlet got past that door, out of the house, roamed the streets. It could change the entire world.
Scarlet, with lightning speed, was on her feet in a single leap, bounding towards the door.
Caleb, to his credit, acted fast. He listened dutifully to Caitlin and jumped in Scarlet’s way, blocking her path. He managed to grab her from behind and held her tight, in a bear hug.
Normally, it would be no competition. Caleb, at six feet four, with broad shoulders, was twice her size, and it wouldn’t even be a contest.
But to Caitlin’s shock—and clearly,
to Caleb’s too—it was a struggle for him to hold onto her. It was as if Scarlet were overcome with a super-human strength. As she swayed, Caleb was thrown left and right. Scarlet suddenly threw back her shoulders, and as she did Caleb went flying across the room like a ragdoll. He smashed into the wall with such force, his body left an imprint on the sheetrock. He slumped down to the floor, unconscious.
Scarlet turned back to the door and Caitlin acted fast: she leapt on her from behind, grabbing her in a bear hug the same way Caleb had. It was like trying to hold onto a wild bull: Caitlin was thrown all over the place, and she knew she was no match for her. After all, Caitlin was human. And clearly, she was in the presence of something that was not.
Scarlet leaned back and Caitlin went flying through the air, crashing into a wall herself, and slamming the back of her head.
Scarlet turned and bounded to the door, and in another moment, she was gone.
Caitlin somehow managed to get to her feet. Dizzy, she stumbled out the room, down the hall, breathing hard, determined. She raced down the steps, four at a time, slipping, and then tore through the house.
In the distance, she saw Scarlet running towards their thick, oak front doors; without even pausing, Scarlet put her shoulder into them and smashed them to bits.
Caitlin ran after her, through the open front doors, and watched Scarlet bound across the lawn and leap over the high bushes. She landed deftly in the middle of the quiet, suburban street. She stood there, and leaned back. As she did, Caitlin saw fangs begin to protrude from her teeth, saw her eyes begin to change from blue to a glowing red.
Scarlet leaned back and roared, and it was a roar that shook the entire block, a roar that reached up to the heavens themselves.
It was the roar of an animal determined to kill.
CHAPTER THREE
