Read Her Yearning for Blood Online
Authors: Tim Greaton
Her Yearning for Blood (6 page)
“So you just happened to stumble across this secret how?”
Evan’s dark eyes drifted down to the hardwood floor as if in shame, but when they rose again I could see a combination of loneliness and sadness. Suddenly, I knew that he had been carrying the burden of
this
secret, possibly for a long time. I tried to remember
how long it had been since
he
started
pulling away from the rest of us
, his classmates
, his friends:
eight years, nine
maybe.
“You’re a vampire,” I whispered.
He nodded, his chiseled chin jutting out defensively.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him. All this time, I had been acting as though I was the one who was different, as though I was the one who couldn’t seem to fit in with the crowds. But this, what Evan had been forced to—
Damn! And now my turn had arrived
—
but I didn’t want this. I couldn’t possibly do any of the things I had seen in the movies. It made me sick to think how I had reacted to the taste of my own blood earlier.
“Is there a cure?”
“Not one that
you
would
like
,” Evan said.
I knew he meant death.
“And your aunt
?
”
I
asked
, su
specting I finally understood
her unpleasant
nature.
Evan shook his head. “She’s human but she knows about me. My mother told her just before she died. She thought
my aunt
could accept
what
had
happened
, accept me.”
“
Didn’t she?”
Evan shrugged.
“She hasn’t
given
my
secret away,”
he
sa
id
, “and she supplies me with blood from the clinic.”
“So you don’t…kill?”
“Deer, rabbits, sometimes a wolf or fox.
But, no, I don’t kill people. I wouldn’t even drink human blood except I
get
sick if I go too long without it.”
Paul Doucette reinserted himself into the conversation.
“You better get your ass down here, Evan, because I think Tony just killed Dillon.”
Evan raced out of the room so fast I could barely see him move. Since I was now free, I followed as
best I could. Evan’s house seemed even larger on the inside than it was outside.
Surprising for a vampire’s home,
there were a lot of windows through which shone a bright moonlit night.
Outside the bedroom,
I turned right and followed a long, wide hallway to the end where I had
glimpsed
the oak door closing.
Basement, I guessed.
I slipped through
the door
and hurried down a long stairway which opened into an immense carpeted room with a full set of windows along one wall.
Correction: a daylight basement.
“Let me out of here, Kayla,” I heard Paul say from a locked door to my right. I could see him banging on a small square window.
Evan
was unlocking a padlock to another room further down.
He disappeared inside.
“I told him to shut up,” one of the boys said. “I told him to be quiet!”
Evan
reappeared carrying a limp form. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.
I brushed tears from my eyes.
I recognized the tall, lanky redhead;
Dillon had always been well-mannered, quiet. He didn’t deserve this. I intentionally didn’t allow myself to consider that he might have been better off than the rest of us.
“Why were they together?” I asked.
“They were best friends,” Evan said. “They begged me not to separate them. Dillon was crying.”
“Your aunt didn’t chain them?”
“No need. The cells down here are secure. My father used to sleep in one of them. I should have known, though.”
“Hey,” I said. “You’ve been amazing…for all of us. It’s not your fault.”
“Tell Dillon that,” Evan said, shaking his head
and staring down into the lifeless eyes of our classmate
.
“I looked at Dillon
, face
tilted away from me
, b
lood smeared
across
his neck
, a huge red splotch staining the right
shoulder of his light blue T-shirt. His lips were tight with what looked like pain. His eyelid twitched.”
“He’s still alive!” I gasped.
“No he’s
not,” Evan said. There was a sad timbre to his voice. “Vampires don’t exactly die, not without help.”
“What
do you mean
?” I asked
.
Evan
carried
Dillon
to
ward
a pair of glass double doors leading outside.
“I have to burn him
,
”
Evan said. “And if I don’t cut his head off first, he’ll scream until his vocal chords are too charred to work anymore.”
“So he
’
s
still
alive
!
”
“No. Whatever part of his brain made him Dillon is gone. If I don’t
finish the job Tony started
, he’ll go on a killing rampage until his body starts to rot and fall apart. By then, half the town
c
ould be dead or turned and the Army would be back.”
I wanted to argue, to fight for the life of my friend, but the things Evan said were too horrible to imagine. My life had turned into a nightmare straight out of a horror movie. I couldn’t speak.
“Lock Tony’s door again
,
”
Evan said. “I knocked him out but he’ll
come around
soon.”
“Wh
ere…where will you do it
?”
I asked. One of Dillon’s feet jerked.
“
There’s a concrete bunker at the back of my property. My mother had it built to take care of the infected animals we found.
”
Evan stepped outside.
“Remember, lock
Tony’s
door.”
I turned to do as asked when
the
sirens
began
. It sounded
as though
both the Groacherville p
olice cars
were coming up the long private driveway to
Evan’s house.
I
turned to lock
the
room where Dillon’s body had been found, but I was too late.
Tony
had already
stepped out
side
of his cell
. He leered and
gave me a malicious
grin
. Four new fangs framed his otherwise perfect dentist’s son teeth.
His long blond hair was matted on one side with what I imagined to be
Dillon’s
blood.
Seemingly un
concerned
with
the
sirens, squealing tires or
the
sounds of car doors opening and closing
, he snarled and
sprinted
straight at me.
End Episode One
Coming
August 2012
“Her Yearning for Blood, Episode Two”
at
Amazon.com
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ALSO BY TIM GREATON
From Focus House Publishing
The Santa Shop
(The Samaritans Conspiracy - Book 1)
The Santa Shop’s Hollywood Ending
(Alternative Ending to
The
Santa Shop)
Red Gloves
(The Samaritans Conspiracy - Book 2)
Bones in the Tree
Under-Heaven
(Read a preview attached to this story)
Zachary Pill, Of Monsters and Magic
(Book 1 in the Zachary Pill Series)
Zachary Pill, With Dragon Fear
(Book 2 in the Zachary Pill Series)
Zachary Pill, Against the Troll
(Book 3 in the Zachary Pill Series)
Zachary Pill,
The
Dragon at Station End
Trilogy
Water Golems
(Two stories from the Zachary Pill Universe)
Heroes
With
Fangs
2012
A Shattered
Spooth
(Book 1 in the Wizard’s Prism)
2012
The
Pheesching
Sector
(A 6,000 word sci-fi story)
Distilled Shadows
Anthology of Short Stories
The Shaft and Two Other Stories
(Three tales of dark suspense)
For The Deposit and Two Other Stories
(Three tales of dark suspense)
Dustin
Jeckle
& Mr.
Hydel
(A dark suspense story)
The Halloween Caper
(A supernatural suspense story)
Bud’s Body Shop
Corpses Wrapped in Dirty Sheets
(How to Build) The Super Loop Airplane
Contact Tim at
Read Tim’s Blog at
Preview of
Under-Heaven
From
Tim Greaton
The sound
had barely registered on my ears when, with a twist and a jerk from a forearm that had pulled thousands of lobster traps from the briny ocean, Casey
Edd
, the
highliner
of Coldwell Bay, snapped my neck.
My soul fled that accursed house before my thin body even had time to drop to the floor…
The Angry Man
“
I told you
, I’ll handle your mother!” the gaunt, disheveled man said, smashing his McDonald’s shake down on the table. Pink liquid exploded everywhere.
Jesse froze as a thick droplet oozed from the table edge onto his sneakers. Swallowing hard, he felt dread clamp around his chest. He knew his father was only seconds away from what his mother called a “
hellava
bad scene.”
Jesse’s eyes darted around the room. No one was nearby, though a woman with a baby stroller and another family with two boys, a year or two older than him, sat on the far side of the restaurant. On the one hand, he was glad they were far enough to avoid witnessing what was about to happen but on the other, he clamped his fists; he was left being his father’s only target. His memory wasn’t very good and yet, he vaguely remembered his father getting meaner with each passing day. Try as he might, Jesse could not understand what triggered these outbursts. When he asked his mother, she would simply say, “Be glad you’re still a little boy.”
Seeing his father’s cheek muscles tighten, his face taking the shape of a bare skull, Jesse stared at the floor holding back tears. He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the hot feeling in his eyes. From the corner of his vision, he could see his father clenching and unclenching his fists. Jesse’s little body started to quake.
Then the unbelievable happened!
a
trickle of pee made its way out from down there. Terrified now at what might happen if his father found out, Jesse struggled to keep his five-year-old body under control. But when that big hand smacked loudly into the pink mess on the table, the trickle was twice as much.
“That bitch never controlled me, and I’ll be damned if she’ll start now!” his father screamed.
Frozen in place, Jesse continued keeping his eyes glued to his goop-spattered fries. From the top of his vision, he could see his father shake off the pink mess from his hand, then went on to wipe it on his already grimy green jacket.
Anger writ large on his red crayoned face, as he glared at the two families across the room.
This was the moment; Jesse’s hand flew to his crotch. It felt dry. He must not have peed much, he hoped not. He yanked his hand back up, and waited for his father’s unshaven jaw to stop grinding back and forth. Sitting there, Jesse began to regret asking his Mom to let him eat out with his Dad. Strange how it hurt when he missed his Dad. Although of late, the outcome of their meeting together was worse than missing him. He was beginning to understand why Mom would not allow his Dad to live with them anymore.
Jesse winced, as his father’s gaze returned to rest on him. Taking care to avert his eyes, he wondered not for the first time, if it was he who was to be blamed for his Dad’s outburst. His mother had assured him in the past that he was not responsible and yet, he could not help wondering. He tried to recall if he had said or done anything that morning or any other morning to make his father upset. His memory failed him yet again. He could remember no wrongdoing on his part.
Fighting back tears, Jesse wished things were as good as they were in the yesteryears when his Dad had been his best friend. He did not lack love from his mother who loved him, cared for him and always kept him well fed and warm. However, he missed having his Dad wake him up early Saturday mornings, to watch cartoons and play video games together. It tickled him to think of
how his Dad would march into his room, asking for a round of wrestle before he changed out of his work clothes. These memories lit up Jesse’s face. But then something happened to change it all; in a flicker of a moment, their cartoon mornings, video games and wrestling matches came to a halt. It seemed as if an invisible hand had reached inside his father’s chest to draw out all the fun and warmth from there. His Dad began coming home late from work and his outbursts grew angrier every passing day. Many a times Jesse never saw him, as he would already be in bed by the time his father got back. This gave his parents ample time to argue and they did argue every other day.
Now, sitting at the milkshake-splattered table, Jesse feared his Dad had disappeared, to be replaced with a dirty and angry man who scared the life out of him. His father gestured at the tray between them.
“We came here to eat, so eat.”
Hesitantly, Jesse picked up a French fry, the one with the largest blob of pink goo. At another time it might have been delicious, but now, he took only one tiny bite before poking it into his half-eaten cheeseburger. He sensed his Dad was looking at him. Fear chills climbed the back of his neck. Maybe he should have offered his money sooner.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m not mad at you.”
Surprised, Jesse lifted his head to see the fine lines on his father’s forehead had smoothened.
“I brought it, Dad!” he blurted, desperate to avoid a return of the angry mood. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a crumpled plastic sandwich bag. “It’s my piggybank money, just like you wanted.” Jesse studied his father’s face as he offered the bag across the table. His father took it, but instead of the happy expression Jesse had hoped for, his lips thinned.
“I thought you
―
”
Jesse was going to add
“wanted me to bring my money”
but his father’s hand silenced him. Dark eyes drilled into him as the bag of bills was being examined.
“You did good, Jess.” His father dabbed his eyes with the back of one hand.
Was his father crying?
His Dad took all but one bill before handing the bag back. A fast-food worked approached.
“Is everything alright?”
“We had an accident,” his father said in a gruff voice.
“I can see that,” the older boy returned cheerfully. “But don’t worry
―
”
“Just clean the fucking mess up!”
The boy’s pudgy face took on a color of red. His arm flew in defense and for a tiny Moment, it looked as if he was going to show a mean finger, instead he changed his mind, gave a weak smile and moved away.
Jesse didn’t dare utter a word.
“Useless little
prick
,” his father said. “Someone ought to fire his ass.” His head turned sharply toward the service counter where two other workers, an older man with glasses and a young woman, were talking quietly.
“Did you hear that? You should fire his pimply ass!”
The woman looked up, her mouth opening to say something, but the man with glasses lightly touched her shoulder whispering something. She gave Jesse’s father an angry glare before disappearing into the kitchen. The older man didn’t look their way again as he sprayed cleaner and began wiping the front counter with a cloth.
“Just a bunch of
friggin
’ losers,” Jesse’s father said. He was looking at Jesse again. “
Don’t quit school
, sport or you’ll wind up working here with these retards!” The last he said loud enough for
everyone in the restaurant to hear. The older man at the cash register ignored and continued washing his counter.
His father reached across the table and took Jesse’s hand. Jesse tried to push the bag towards him again.
“No, Jess,” his father said in his now friendly voice. “Put that back in your piggybank when you get home—and don’t tell your Mom. I don’t want her getting mad at you.”
Jesse nodded. He had no inclination of telling her. She was already mad enough at his father.
“Excuse me,” the older boy returned with a washcloth in hand. Jesse’s father stood moving out of the way, so the boy could clean up the mess. Jesse started to get up, when the boy waved him back. “No, you’re okay. Just move your food for a second.”
Jesse pulled his tray out of the way and in a jiffy, the boy had the table clean as before.
“I’ll be back with a mop in a minute.” His voice cracked making the “minute” come out in a girly voice.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Jesse’s father announced.
“I need to go, too,” Jesse said.
“Goddamn it then! You go!”
Jesse hesitated, fearing his accident may be visible from behind. He continued staring at his food.
“Well, you want to go or not?” his father frowned, sweat beads forming on his forehead. Dumbly, Jesse shook his head.
“You’re as bad as your
friggin
’ mother,” he heard his father say as he slid off his chair and headed for the bathroom.
“She could never make up her goddamned mind either.”
Silently, Jesse wiped a stray tear. When he heard the bathroom door slam, he quickly slid his hands under his thighs and felt his bottom. He was relieved to touch a dry backside. Thankfully, his pants were not wet. His underwear must have absorbed that trickle of pee.
The girl in the meantime had returned to the service counter. She and the older man were now profusely whispering to each other. Jesse, tried not to stare, but his gaze kept darting from the service counter to the bathroom door. He had witnessed his Dad being thrown out of enough places to know what may come next. Ignoring the dampness around his crotch, Jesse hurriedly got up to wait aside the restroom door.
“Hey,” his father swung the bathroom door. His eyes trying to focus, he asked Jesse with a goofy grin on his face.
“So you do need t’ go,”
“No, I’m ready to leave, Dad.” Jesse didn’t dare look at the workers, although he was certain they were watching.
“Sure, Jess.” His father’s anger seemed to have melted in the flush waters. He reached down to tousle Jesse’s hair grinning as he ran his fingers through them.
“Whatever you want, Jess. You know you’re my little sport.”
Jesse tried to get a grip on to his father’s drastic mood swings. This one couldn’t have come at a better time though. He desperately held on to his father’s hand as he led him into the cool air outside. Only when they were a block away, did he begin to feel safe once again.
“
So’d’ya
have a good time, Jess?” his father asked, his words slurred. He tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and yanked on Jesse’s arm as he stumbled. Fortunately, he caught himself before knocking them both down. Then he laughed.
“Yeah, it was fun, Dad.” Jesse answered watching the drool come out from one corner of his father’s mouth. Wasn’t he feeling well?
“Me and your Mom’s getting back together,
y‘know
. She’s
gonna
let me come
―
”
He stumbled again only this time he let go of Jesse’s hand before staggering off the sidewalk. Laughing heartily, he struggled back up and attempted to walk along the curb like a little kid. He took only two steps before losing his balance and staggered back down to the street.
“It won’t be long before I move back to-to the apartment.”
Jesse nodded. The chilly breeze made his damp underwear feel cold and uncomfortable.
“No, serious,” his Dad repeated, swinging his arms wildly as he tried to stay on the curbing. “I’m coming back. Your Mom loves me,
y’know
. We’re family, and families live under the same-same house.”
Jesse faked a weak smile and was thankful his father dropped the subject and stepped back up to walk in the middle of the sidewalk. He still seemed to have trouble keeping his balance, but at least they were walking faster.
Jesse and his Mom lived in an apartment up over a Laundromat where, if Jesse stood on the edge of his bed and peeked over the two-story building across the street, he could make out the very tip of McDonald’s yellow arches. It didn’t take them long to cover the short distance but his father was breathing heavily by the time they made it to the front door. It seemed not long ago that his father could easily have run the same distance. Something was very wrong.
“Karen,” his father said, a little loudly into the intercom. He waited for only a second before pounding on the button again. “Karen, we’re back. Open the fucking door!”
“Okay, I heard you,” Jesse heard his mother reply.
The door buzzed, and his Dad shoved it open.
“Bye, Dad,” Jesse said, rushing past and bolting up the stairs. He was already in his bedroom when he heard his parents fighting again. His father as usual, wanted to come in and talk. His mother refused to let him in and so they yelled at each other through the door.
Instead of changing his damp underwear, Jesse quickly crawled into bed. Then trying to drown their voices, he pulled his blanket over his head and began to cry.
* * *
