Awakening. Body feels different. Agonizing pain shooting through
veins. Casting off slumber
like old skin. Standing. Teetering. Adjusting to the new sensations. Blood
runs cold. Heart thumping in a sardonic two-step. Matthew Leverton adjusts
to his surroundings. Darkness is overpowering him.
The sun has set. The sun means death, deader than his soul is now.
It was only two evenings ago on Queen Street that he joined the other
side. Not a career choice, mind you. The tall stranger at the bar offering
to buy him a drink. Hell, he never turned down a freebie in his
life.
Stranger mentioned a great place to meet sexy ladies. Sounded good
to him. Had two brews then went cruising. Sad thing was, cruising had
different connotations to both men.
Stranger pointed to a dark alley. "Lots of hot chicks at the back
of that building," he noted. Naive Matthew followed. Footsteps echoing
menacingly on cracked pavement as the clock struck
midnight, sonorous chimes interrupting the stillness. Matthew felt
prickles along the back of his neck, tiny hairs standing erect. Something
wasn't right here.
The stranger turned, advancing closer. Was he going to mug him?
Not quite. The stranger's mouth opened, exposing pointed teeth reflected
in the moonlight's hollow shimmer. They glistened like pearls. Matthew
froze, heart skipping beats. Bad reaction. Face coming closer to his neck.
Hickey time? No! Big bite time!
He felt the first jab. It almost tickled. Then the stranger's
teeth sank deeper into his neck, like a miner excavating for coal. He felt
warm trickles of blood rushing to the surface. Slurping noises were
deafening. The stranger was feasting on his blood! Incredible pain.
Dizziness. Head spinning like a top. Fighting to stay conscious. Light
fading. Getting blurry. Was he dying? If this was death, he could handle
it.
For over a minute, the stranger feasted on his banquet of blood,
until finally he raised his head, teeth swimming in crimson. Rivulets of
red dribbled onto the pavement in a silent symphony.
"You are as I am!" the stranger hissed. "You have given me life
again. Now you must fend for your own survival through the feast of blood.
Beware the sunlight. It will kill." Then the stranger turned on his heels,
disappearing down the alley.
Matthew slumped against a building. Unsure. Scared. He felt the
like the demons of hell had ganged up on him. A vampire attack? He never
liked Dracula movies. He knew his body had changed. He felt his cells
altered, sizzling synapses and neurons behaving indecently. Funny how life
changes in the blink of an eye.
Matthew knew he was different, one of the walking dead. Not
exactly dead. He was living and
breathing, but his bodily needs had changed. No more Big Macs of Frostee
Freezes for him, unless they were drenched in blood. He needed it for
survival. But could he actually bite some-one's neck to satisfy his
cravings, satiate his needs?
He was scared. Not of what he had become. Rather what he had to do
to stay that way. Matthew walked slowly down the street. Were people
looking differently at him? Did his body scream out, "vampire? Blood
sucking freak?" No one gave him a wide berth. No one seemed to notice he
was different. Good. If they didn't suspect anything, it would work to his
advantage.
He saw dozens of potential victims. Now what? Should he go to them
and ask, "excuse me I need blood. Care to make a donation?" He laughed
inwardly at the absurdity of that thought. It would make things simpler,
yet simplicity was not in question. It was need, his need. Blood was his
salvation. He needed it immediately. He had been awakened by the other
evening's blood letting. He wouldn't survive the night if his supply
wasn't replenished.
So many people, so many decisions. What about attacking a
transient, one of the legion of wandering souls? Would anyone care about
their fate? He felt too shy to attack strangers. If he had been shy the
night the stranger enticed him, he would never have turned into a blood
sucking vampire.
Calm down. No time to panic. So many necks. Only so much time to
suck them. It was already 2 a.m.. He had walked aimlessly for five hours.
He needed an instruction manual about now. He ran his tongue over his
teeth. The jagged canines were poised to pierce flesh. He bit his bottom
lip, drawing blood. It was salty. Too bad he couldn't suck his own blood.
Save time and effort.
Blood supply getting lower. Down a few quarts. Unlikely he could
get a transfusion at the hospital. He staggered a little, weakness like a
shroud. The thirst was overpowering. He felt like a child inches from a
locked cookie jar. No way to get inside. Matthew knew he had to get inside
or die. Case closed.
He continued toward Langly Street, noticing a petite blonde
sashaying his way. Filmy blouse. Short leather skirt. Fishnet stockings.
Gleaming pumps that drummed their own staccato rhythm.
She was gorgeous, perfect. He hated to alter the life of someone as pretty
as her. But the pound-ing of blood drove him to madness, confusing his
thoughts.
She came closer. He smelled her blood, her freshness. He inhaled
the musk of her perfume. It intoxicated his senses, teased his willpower.
She stopped inches from him. "Hi I'm Jennie," she said in a melodic tone.
"Looking for some fun? A guy like you shouldn't be alone on a night like
this."
Matthew smiled awkwardly. Here was the ideal opportunity. Could he
fight his emotions, his compulsions? He hated to harm something as
exquisite as her. Face like a porcelain doll's. Body so perfect. Desperate
times called for desperate measures.
"Come home with me," she said. "I live over on York Street. Want
to come? You won't regret it."
Matthew shuffled his feet nervously. He closed his eyes for a
split-second, wishing the madness of life would cease. If only he could
wish upon every star in the heavens, but that likely wouldn't help his
predicament. He felt his teeth boldly sharpening in anticipation of her
virgin neck. The hunger was overpowering. The deed was done. Soon she
would be his. God forgive
him for what he was about to do.
Jennie took Matthew by the arm, the two walking slowly. She
pointed toward an alley. "There is a shortcut through there to my
apartment. Get us there faster. Give us more time for fun."
Matthew nodded solemnly. Cars honked in the distance. Lovers
cursed. People spilled drunk-enly from bars. The public theater of the
absurd was being played out. Matthew's heart accelera-ted to warp speed.
He could not wait a second longer.
He held her arm. "Um Jennie, let's stop for a moment. Maybe we can
kiss or something before we make it back to your place."
Jennie nodded. "Sure. I'm kind of hot for you too. I don't do
things this impulsively with every guy I meet. Just special ones."
He saw the azure sparkle of her blue eyes as they embraced, breast
to breast. Matthew opened his mouth, teeth poised for her soft, sensual
flesh. Inches from her neck, he felt the jolting stab in his neck, a
piercing of flesh courtesy of two razor-sharp teeth. His eyes widened in
total shock.
He tried to focus, tried to fight. He was already too weakened to
react. The hunter gets captur-ed by the game, was his final thought, as
Matthew sagged against Jennie. Let her drink. Let her feast. He was free.
Once she was satiated, she dropped him like a rag doll.
Jennie licked her blood-flecked lips, towering over his crumpled
form. "Gee, I didn't think the first time would be so easy," she sighed.
"Sorry mister, but at least you didn't suffer much. Thanks for keeping me
alive."
Jennie blended in with the night, knowing this would be the first
of many nightly rituals. Now to get back home before dawn arrived.
They found Matthew's lifeless body in the morning, police assuming
he had been murdered over a drunken argument, throat jabbed with a beer
bottle, resulting in loss of blood. In the nights to come, they would
discover it was much more than that.
