Vampire Manifesto (28 page)

Time, linear as it is, stood still as the next few seconds stretched out for eternity. My first instinct was for the fire extinguisher, yet even as I tried, moving with this increased agility afforded to me now, my mistake became self-evident almost immediately.

The fire extinguisher was in the kitchen. Between me and it was a living room bathed in early morning sunlight. My body, from the waist down was blackened and charred to an unfathomable degree, my nerve endings sending sporadic amounts of intense pain throughout my entire body. Mentally, I was able to block it off, force the pain into my own little personal Pandora’s Box, as I darted towards the kitchen.

That was my first mistake.

As soon as I entered the living room, even moving at blinding speed, my entire body burst into flame, the fire enveloping me completely, so intense the air itself seemed to protest.

I screamed in agony, collapsing into a fiery fetal position.

That was my second mistake.

As I lay, a bright fireball, seemingly burning from the inside out, the flames raced along in every direction, consuming everything in its path. In a matter of seconds almost everything was ablaze, the couch, the drapes, the ceiling, everything was burning, little streaks of flame working its way across the carpet, playing an arsonists game of tag with everything it touches.

Now one would think that trial by fire would be quick...

That was my third mistake...

I'm not sure how long I was there, burning quietly in the early morning sunrise, my mind had turned itself inward by this point, the pain unbearable. At some point the roof in the bedroom collapsed, of this I was dimly aware, but I couldn't recall exactly when it happened, I just knew that it did. I wasn't frightened of death. I never have been. Not since the accident at least. It's just the cycle of life. So no, I don't fear death and death, of this I'm certain, was waiting...

So I accepted my fate, not that I'd given up mind you, my body had simply shut down, refusing to acknowledge my commands to relocate back...back in...hard to...shower. Move....now? Plea...se move, pretty bells. Hells bells a ri...nging....Tulips for....pancakes now...fresh burgers. No...mamma green...eggs and ham mean...mold...can't be broken. Blood....blood...bloo...kiss. Mine...mine…mine.... give...no...take...mine…yours...mine...now...blood...

Mineminemineminemineminebloodbloodbloodblood!

I came too suddenly, had I blacked out again? My mind was pristine, my body pain free. Someone was screaming. The fire was everywhere around me, a prison of fire. Something was in my arms. More yelling. Wait...not something, someone. A man. Late thirties.

His throat was torn out.

Oh God, his throat is torn out! What is he...yellow uniform...helmet. Man. Fire. Fireman. He's a fireman. There was more yelling, angrier this time and a lot closer. God, did I do this? Did I do this to him?

“
..uck away from him!"

My head snapped to the left. There was another Firefighter waving his firefighters axe menacingly in my direction. God, what have I done? Did I kill this man? Did I rip his throat out and gorge myself on his blood?

The inferno still raged around us, yet my body itself was no longer burning. In fact most of the burns had healed across a good portion of my skin. It was the blood. It had to be and yet somehow this man, this perfectly innocent human being, who risked his life charging head first into burning buildings only finds deaths embrace waiting for him.

I rose, dumping the corpse of a man I had been cradling to the ground.

My strength had returned somewhat, yet in the end it would be too late. The burning ground beneath my feet collapsed suddenly, and I began to fall. After that...blackness.

When a dream dreams a dream of itself dreaming, is it still a dream? Or have we just come full circle only to begin to dream again? Would that still be considered a dream or would that be considered nightmare?

I awoke to pain and darkness. No, let me rephrase that. I awoke to intense pressure against my body and the encompassing darkness that comprises it. Initially I tried to stand, but unseen weight held me in place, huddled close in the tight confines of blackness. I tried again, this time putting more effort, pushing upward with all my strength at the forefront, determined to free myself from the all-encompassing prison of nothingness.

It wasn't hard, displacing the weight that held me stationary. Suddenly I could see again and with that, my hearing returned as well. With the return of my senses came the astute awareness that I was buried alive, deep beneath the burnt down rubble of what used to be the apartment complex where Connors safe house was located. It was destroyed of course, burned to a shambling husk of a thing. A normal woman would have died.

But I am not a normal woman anymore.

I pulled myself through the rubble, yet even with my increased...everything, it still took me considerable time to claw my way through the charred debris. The site had been quarantined off, the broken beams and blacked chunks of concrete still searing to the touch. These things burned themselves into my flesh as I maneuvered my way towards freedom, yet I still managed to emerge relatively unscathed.

The city was alive, backlit by a stunning full moon which lit up the sprawling metropolis with an almost eerie illumination. As strange as it should have been, the sight of a nude girl crawling her way out a burnt wreckage raised hardly any eyebrows at all.

I needed clothes. Immediately. I ducked into the adjoining alley, passing a group of teenagers standing on the corner, smoking blunts and freestyling in a small circle. They laughed, made snide remarks and lewd gestures. Someone gave me the finger. Someone else threw a half full 40 ounce bottle of beer at me.

Just before it struck the back of my skull I turned and caught it, drained the bottle fully, then let it drop to the concrete, the empty beer bottle shattering against the alleyway blacktop. The small crowd of kids erupted in laughter as I ducked further into the alley, beyond their human line of sight and found what I was looking for.

I reached down and picked up a small piece of broken cinderblock, flipping it over and over in the palm of my hand, testing its weight and then used it to smash in the driver’s side window of a nearby vehicle. Sorry baby! I opened the car door and climbed inside, wiping off the broken bits of glass that covered the front seat. I popped the trunk, then headed towards the rear of the automobile.

Someone yelled out from their apartment window that overlooked the alleyway.

"Hey! Yeah you, the stupid naked bitch braking into peoples shit! Yeah you buddy, I called the Cops! Put some fucking clothes on, them titties ain't that nice! I got kids up here for Christ sake!"

Awesome...

Like I needed another run in with law enforcement. Whatever. By the time they get here...even if they get here, this is Oakland after all, I'll be ghost by then, especially since I found what I was looking for. In the trunk was a spare set of clothes, nothing extravagant mind you, just a shirt that was a size two small and a pair of jeans a size two big. Wish there were some shoes as well, but it wasn’t like it hurt to walk barefoot.

I got dressed quickly and then I ran. Fast. Really, really fast. It was utterly amazing, the amount of speed I could garner.

Now I wasn't Barry Allen, Bart Allen, Speed Force fast, nothing that quick, but I was able to move unnoticed among the populace that was out an about. I learned that if I ran, then came to a dead stop next to someone, it was as if I just materialized next to them, appearing as some maligned apparition from nothing. Freaks people the hell out.

Pretty good for a laugh though.

I was faster than the cars rice-rocket racing down International Blvd, passing them with ease, the drivers never even taking notice. Unconsciously made my way towards San Francisco, back towards Goodwin’s Townhouse to see if I could pick up any trace of Connor. I began to slow my speed, coming to a more...respectable pace as I neared Pier 39, blending in with the night life. My thoughts were turned inward, plotting my next move and how I should approach the Werewolf Den without them catching my scent or revealing my…

“
When was the last time you spoke?"

I paused, realizing the question was aimed at myself. I was in the middle of Pier 39, a quaint little shopping area tucked away within eyeshot of the infamous Alcatraz prison. There was a man, elderly by anyone’s account, British, though his English was somewhat…different. I cocked my head at an angle that wasn't altogether humanly possible and made my way towards him. The question intrigued me because it was true; I hadn't spoken since, well, since before...everything.

The man spoke again: "How many people have you murdered tonight...Vampire?"

The last word hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.

"Is that what I am?"

"Yes, Vampire, that is what you are and forever will be."

I was dumbfounded, yet not surprised. The signs were all there. The aversion to sunlight, the blood craving, the ambiguous feeling I had after killing that Cop. The man smiled at me, nothing insidious, yet it wasn't warmth inducing either. We locked eyes for the briefest of moments and a hint of familiarity overtook me before he stood from his wicker chair and walked into some small, mom and pop, hole in the wall bodega behind him.

I just stood there, uncertain of my next move. Vampire. Yes, that is what he said. Vampire. That’s what Connor did to me. That’s what he was turning me into when my mouth filled with blood. I didn’t know it was his blood! I brushed my hand against my stomach where the stab wound should have been.

I wanted to follow the old guy, questions abound, yet curiosity killed the cat. However in this case, am I the cat or am I the killer?

More than likely, both.

No one heard our conversation other than myself, the world around me continued to carry on, content on fulfilling the next-next in their ever mundane lives. Yet my life was anything but mundane, rather it was its polar opposite, a topsy turvy ride with no seat belts, no brakes and no one at the helm.

I hesitated, not sure what to do next. My first compulsion was to follow after this white haired British man, to gain the answers locked away in that brain of his. Even as outlandish as his claims would appear to the uninitiated, his words struck a cord and now there was nothing left except to listen to the tune it played.

Casually, I made my way into the shop, a bell ringing inside the store when the door opened. I wasn't sure exactly what it was the bodega sold being that there wasn't any price tagged items to be bought within eyeshot. Candles burned everywhere, the scent intoxicatingly potent. Books lined the wall and one could tell without any educational prowess that the texts where ancient.

"Why have you followed me...Vampire?" The old man sat at an intricately detailed mahogany table towards the rear. He stared at me with cold black eyes awaiting my response.

"Who are you?" I asked, not moving from the front of the door.

"And why would I tell you that?" He fired back from that decrepit little chair he rested in. He was wary, as well he should be. If a Vampire stood between me and the only exit, I might be a little cautious as well.

"If you could explain...anything at all about what is happening to me, I would eternally be in your debt."

His face softened somewhat, however his voice remained harshly accusing. "Forever is a long time, girl."

"Then consider yourself lucky I can't die." I replied.

The door behind me opened, a young couple, no older than twenty stepping inside. I closed my eyes involuntarily, the scent of their blood instantaneously overpowering, their heartbeat echoing in my ears. I tried to block it out, to fight the blood craze that was burning in my throat.

It was happening again, the uncontrollable urge to kill, to drive my teeth into their neck and let their blood flow into me like some obsidian fountain of youth whose black waters promise life in exchange for death. It was stronger than I'd ever felt before, stronger than the urge to kill that Fireman at my apartment, stronger then when I drained that Cop dry and left his battered, broken body discarded like last night’s leftovers. The couple seemed oblivious to what was going on around them, ignorant to the fact that they stumbled upon deaths doorway and someone had left it ajar.

"I told you this wasn't the place." The young woman stated to her companion. “Looks like they only sell books here.”

"I’m telling you, this is it." He countered.

"Does it look like they sell shrimp here, Johnny?" She replied sarcastically.