A Little Undead Page 7

  “Ongoing missing persons cases. Keep signing. I'd like to get out of here before sunset.”

  I read through and signed another page before I had to ask, “Is that number of cases normal? It looks like an awful lot of people have gone missing.”

  Apparently deciding he couldn't trust my attention span he tapped the papers square and filed them into his desk. “Most are probably just getting out of town. If you've forgotten, we've got a serial killer on our hands, and we don't have enough resources to find every dumb kid nursing a hangover at a friend's place.”

  “But what if--”

  “If what?” Fred cut me off, more annoyed than curious.

  “What if there's a second serial killer?”

  “Fine.” He slipped a manilla file folder out of the desk and shoved it into my hands. “You can go investigate that on your own time, not mine. Now get back to work.”

  Twenty minutes later I was nearly finished. I pushed my hair back into place and rubbed at where the sunglasses rested on my nose, leaning back into my seat as I flipped to the final page.

  “What's up with the shades?” asked Fred. My pen stilled immediately, hands growing damp as I avoided meeting his gaze.

  “Nothing, they're just comfortable.”

  “Why don't you take them off for a moment while you finish reading the forms.” He seemed suspicious now, and it didn't sound like a question anymore. 'Did he catch a glimpse of my eyes?' If this sort of thing kept happening I'd have to invest in some oversized sunglasses or maybe some colored contacts.

  “I can see just fine with them on. These halogen lights always light up a room as clear as daylight.” Brighter, really, considering how sensitive my eyes were now.

  “Listen,” he said, voice stern and thoroughly out of patience. “If you don't show me your eyes, I'll have to recommend you for a drug test, and frankly I'd rather go to sleep than fill out another request to the main office. So how about you be reasonable?”

  'Oh. So that's why he's being so insistent. I wonder if entirely purple eyes with no sclera or pupils was covered in the pupil dilation section of the drug effects seminar.' I felt unreasonably guilty, but as my tongue retested the surface of my fangs I knew I had no choice but to keep him from seeing my eyes. I stayed silent, miserably silent as I signed the last page under his heavy glare. “Done.”

  “Great. Now get out.”

  I felt my stomach twist inside of me. “I'm not fired, am I?” My composure was suffering but I managed to continue hiding my fangs.

  “...No.” He tapped the stack against his deck, squaring the papers. “But even a rookie like you should know that this sort of thing doesn't look good on your record, regardless of how the test turns out.”

  I wanted to cry at the unfairness of it but I couldn't bring myself to hate him for just doing his job, no matter how much I wanted to. I settled for deeply resentful instead. “I understand.” My walk was not a lively one as I left the station, though my pulse certainly quickened as that self-observation hit me. My hand flew to my heart to take comfort in its beats. 'At the very least, I'm a monster with a beating heart, rather than some undead monstrosity. I can still have a life if I learn to control this.' I just wished I had something better to work off of than obviously flawed movie trivia.

  The street was lonely and cold, and I was loathe to leave the protection of the station's light. Cars still drove past with reasonable frequency but even this early at night there were no pedestrians, no evening joggers, no feeling of life. As armed as I was it was probably foolish but I couldn't help feel a tinge of anxiety and fear. Though new to the police force, I still had seen and read about enough tragedies to know that humans weren't always the nicest creatures on the planet, even if zombies were a rarity in Boston. More to the point, if my suspicions about the supernatural were right then a normal human mugger might be the least I had to worry about. Besides, being armed only went so far without someone to cover your back. 'Okay, taxi it is.' Making a quick call from the station phone to the cab company I settled in to wait.

  A few bats swept by as I waited for my ride. Swift and sure, they danced on the rising evening winds, a reminder that life in this sprawling city was not yet extinguished. Still, I would have preferred nightingales. Bats only further reminded me of my problem.

  'If I didn't know a place to buy fake contacts tomorrow I'd write this whole superpowers thing off as a bust here and now. Though even with the issue of Fred seeing my psycho-killer eyes fixed I'll still have to deal with my fangs, claws, partial blindness in sunlight, and disturbing fixation on blood.' My shoulders slumped, head bowing forwards. 'So be it. Try hard, then try harder, right?' Though if that didn't work it might be time for me to seek professional help. Shame the professional help would probably involve some sort of crazy Van Helsing wannabe that would alternate between trying to stake my heart and performing an exorcism. For that matter, it would probably be a good idea to start wearing sunblock, too. 'Just in case,' I thought to myself. ‘Besides, it’s good for the skin.' Rescheduling the family Thanksgiving feast to Halloween to help avoid questions wasn't a half-bad plan either.

  The taxi arriving was like a blast of fresh air. Unfortunately, it was then that I realized I'd spent most of my taxi money on that giant cup of hot chocolate earlier. A few quick strides took me around the corner and out of sight. There was only one cab company that covered this area of the capital and I had no desire to be blacklisted.

  “Hey, need a ride?” His police cruiser rolled up beside me.

  “Jake?”

  “The one and only. Hop in?”

  I hesitated. He really didn't seem a bad sort, I probably would have even called him a gentle giant if he hadn't pushed me into knifing a zombie through the eye socket. That said, I was more worried about what I might do than what he would. “Your windows work, right?”

  He blinked, then nodded.

  “Great.” The taxi cab was already driving off so I left my hiding spot and took shotgun. Rolling down the window I sighed contentedly as the cool night air blew through my hair. Oddly enough, I'd worked up a sweat signing the papers. Though whether it was from Fred staring at me or from trying to avoid thinking about the artery in his neck I wasn't sure. In truth, I wasn't ravenous, more that peculiar sort of hungry that makes you think snagging a piece of candy from a toddler when they're not looking might not be such a bad idea.

  I was glad the seat was high enough that I didn't have to strain to have my nose reach over the sill. With such a steady breeze the scent of Jake's blood through his skin was hardly noticeable – though I did note in passing that it smelled remarkably like mashed potatoes and gravy with a heavy dash of black pepper on top. Besides, I was definitely not in the mood for a booster seat joke right now. 'Planning my life out as some sort of American Vampire is ridiculous. I just need to keep Alex from interfering with my life and avoid shifts with Bruce and in a few days everything will be back to normal.' It was a sentiment that would have been far easier to put faith in if I wasn't telling Jake my address with a sleeve in front of my mouth to hide my mutation.

  But in the end I wasn't ready to fall back into the pit of despair that had gripped me in my apartment, at least not yet. Instead I simply buckled myself in, the exhaustion that had gripped me in my previous cab ride absent, though I did suffer from a vague craving. 'Maybe Chinese tonight?' It didn't sound appealing. 'Well, I'll think of something.' I wondered if I really expected to fool myself into thinking it wasn't blood that I craved. But seriously, I'd gotten by just fine with human food for at least the past eleven years, even if I did like my steaks extra rare. There had to be a way to get off the blood diet. It was possible that if I just binged on human food for a little while I'd slowly shift back to normal, wasn't it? Not that I had the money for anything beyond a few eggs and pasta, but maybe Cassandra still had some fix-it work I could do. Being short might not be much of an asset on the police force but small hands came in handy with most of the electrical repair work I
'd done for her the week previous.

  Jake cleared his throat. “So are you claustrophobic?”

  “What?”

  “It's okay if you are. My uncle always had to be near an open window too. Bit of a nutter but a nice fellow. He's dead now of course.”

  Claustrophobic. That was as good a cover story as anything right now, I supposed. “I'm sorry for your loth.” 'Argh.' My fangs had grown to full length again without me noticing. I really had to be careful with that lisp.

  “Don't worry about it, was a long time ago. Before you were born, probably.”

  “Probably,” I murmured, musing again about the various unknowns regarding my birth. After all, even if there was some vague truth to my dreams, how much of it could be real? There was no way I would eat a diseased man's leg no matter how hungry I was. And besides, if I had really been trapped in a room with a feral lunging towards me there was no way I could have survived.

  We slowed, deja vu washing over me as we sat still in front of the overly long streetlight. A solitary car drove through the intersection as I tapped a clawed finger against the car door, restless and... suddenly gut-wrenchingly hungry?

  The windshield shattered, glass exploding inwards from a fist-sized hole as the entire window spider-webbed from the force of the clawed hand thrusting inwards. Through the tint of my sunglasses the assailant was dark even to my eyes. It was a giant, dark figure limned in red light. It was just a fleeting glimpse as I jerked my head away, glass shards flying dangerously close to my eyes, but it was enough to make my heart gallop in terror. Jake's shout was cut off behind me with a deep crack that sounded suspiciously like a snapping bone. Snapping my head back towards Jake revealed only an empty seat, glass debris flying outwards from where he had been pulled through the windshield. 'No bloody way.' My sunglasses chose this moment to slip off the end of my nose.

  As I stared at where he had been just moments before I could feel the car slowly drifting into the center of the intersection. My strange night vision was working overtime as my eyes flicked down to the now elevated brake pedal before focusing on an oncoming truck. “Shit.” I didn't normally swear, and this one colorful word that had snuck out wasn't heated, or even truly disbelieving. It was more a “Wow, this is something I'll probably need a therapist for” kind of thing.

  All contemplation of my likelihood of ever riding in a car again aside, I knew I had to do something, and quick. I'd never driven a car before, and as far as my memories were concerned I'd only ever been in one a few times, but I knew those pedals were what made the car move and stop.

  I lunged towards the one I hoped was the brake but was pulled back, seat belt bruising my ribs and waist. Heart thudding in my ears I fumbled it open with my clawed fingers, light from the oncoming truck shining in my eyes. 'There's no time!' I dove headfirst underneath the steering wheel, legs sprawling in the air as my hand pressed a pedal to the floor. I could feel the car jump forwards, my spine twisting from the acceleration, a horn blaring so loud that no other sound could be heard save for the truck's shrieking brakes.

  Chapter 4: Scene of the Crime

  The crisis was very nearly curbed in the early days after the outbreak of the Animator virus. The brave and the foolish in many areas of the globe rallied and nearly drove the living dead to extinction. It was then that those among us that had hidden themselves away ran out of food. Weakened by hunger and sleepless nights of endless fear, they were easy prey for the swiftly mutating zombies. With the sudden resurgence of the ranks of the undead, combined with a rapid depletion in readily available ammo, food, and fresh water, the situation had gone beyond the point of swift recovery.

  – Where We Went Wrong.

  A man's voice grated in my ears, irritating and unwelcome. All I wanted to do was sleep away this pain. “Miss, are you okay?” Even half unconscious I knew that was a stupid question. “Just hold on, don't move, the ambulance is on its way.” My body lay wedged between the steering wheel and the stick shift, legs bent over the glass-covered dashboard while my head made rest on the dirty carpet below. My right eye burned, and I couldn't summon the will to move and relieve the pressure on it from where it pressed against the floor. My left eye, however, managed to slowly open to a slit.

  I gasped softly at the sight. In a world of black tar and cement buildings he was a veritable kaleidoscope of color, full of warmth and light. My body uncoiled, pain ignored as I pulled myself closer to this fire in the night. I seized his arm and he reached out a hand to steady me as I regained my feet. My ankles twinged as I lifted myself onto tiptoes, my breasts pressing against his firm chest. I tilted my head to the side of his neck, tongue flicking over my needle-pointed teeth and chill lips as I drew myself still closer.

  He said something then, hot breath brushing my forehead. I paid it no heed, the sirens coming ever closer a bare blip on my radar as my teeth sank into the river of fire pulsing beneath the thin barrier of flesh. My eyelids fluttered open and in that moment all thought fled. If Alex had been like candy and fine wine then this man was pepper steak and honey toast. Every fresh gulp of the substance was sweet and fiery and filling all at the same time.

  Time ceased to exist, the man's ineffectual shoves and strikes like the feeble tantrum of a small child. The more he sought to break free of my grasp the tighter I bound his arms. It was like... instinct. His feeble shaking was barely able to remind me that he existed at all beyond the feeling of his blood sliding down my throat. I could feel its power glide through my veins, cuts and bruises healing in seconds such was its strength. He swung me around in the air at first, my body no heavier for all its strength, but it didn't last. Soon his struggles weakened and it was I who was supporting him, like a lioness her strangled prey. My chilled skin heated, burning with pride, with satisfaction.

  “Take her down! Nonlethal force only!” 'What?' My mind struggled to reboot, my mouth slowing its assault on the man's blood supply. 'Where... what am I doing?' Ignoring the desperate urge to continue I released my curved fangs from the man's neck, pushing him away. Unfortunately I misjudged my strength, flinging the man a dozen feet through the air to thud against a police vehicle. 'Police?'

  I wasn't a lawbreaker. I would have stayed and sorted all this out, somehow or another, but when the flashlight moved to my face there was no more thinking, no more wondering, only instinct. I could see further into the night than ever before, but when the artificial light hit my eyes it sent pain stabbing into my brain. I jumped back, the leap carrying me ten feet or more, and then I was running. Faster and faster until my hair flew straight behind me. And then, surprisingly, I was home.

  I couldn't think about the police now. Couldn't think about that man I'd hurt so badly. They would find me or they wouldn't, but right now I needed to lie down. Regardless of how charged my body was my spirit felt ready to curl up and die. It was only luck and poor lighting that had kept them from shooting me like some mindless zombie. I'd certainly bitten into him like one.

  I wanted to cry. It was simply too much. One terrible event after another and now the apartment I'd worked so hard for didn't even feel safe. The door was still off its hinges, and with things like what had attacked Jake prowling the night my gun felt like a very paltry thing. My hard-won new home lay completely open to attackers, living or dead. It was too late to beg for nails from Cassandra, and asking someone for a place to sleep for the night was out of the question. Right now, I needed to be alone.

  The blood had nearly dried during my run, thick and tacky against my skin. The bathroom would have to be enough, I decided. Pulling together my pajamas and a pair of blankets I blocked the bathroom door with a tilted chair. Prying off my uniform I wondered if any of them had recognized what I was wearing when I bit that man. Had the darkness and blood been enough to hide my identity? I wasn't sure at the moment that I didn't want to be found, the guilt lay on me like heavy stones.

  Dry and clean to the eyes, at least, I huddled in the scavenged blankets. I wrapped them around
me as tightly as I could, pressing my back into the corner. Like this, I could almost pretend someone was embracing me. Flashes of terrors half-seen kept jerking me awake, but gradually fear gave into exhaustion.

  Strange. That's the first thing they think when they see me. It's always just small things, at first. I notice it when I enter a room, the discomfort that even perfect strangers feel in my presence. The subtle tensing of their shoulders, the half-clenched jaws and nervous ticks from tapping fingers to clicking pens or a sudden clearing of the throat. They don't know why, not immediately. They'll turn around slowly, fearfully, searching for the seven foot man with knives between each finger or the zombie in the dark. Then they'll see me. I don't meet their eyes anymore. No matter how many times I stare into the mirror I can never find it, that mark that makes me so very different from everyone else. But I know it's there.

  Shortly after I discovered this underground city I started wearing a hooded sweatshirt, purple and pink and electric blue across the back. I still haven't grown into it, its faded and worn sleeves brushing at my knuckles as I hugged Holly to my chest. I was still optimistic then, now I'm only hopeful. No matter how many times Alfonse offers me a new one I refuse, because I know it would be smaller than the one I'm wearing. It would feel too much like giving up. I've given up on too many things already.

  “Beans?”

  “Yes please,” I said, holding up my tray with eyes averted. This man was nicer than others I had met. I trust him not to pour any on my hands, or to scant my portion. I backed away quickly. If I didn't spend too much time around him maybe he would stay nice a little while longer.

  I left the cafeteria, weaving between those who refused to allow me easy passage until at last I reached the tunnel. Behind me was the cavern, massive and full of tents and the occasional permanent structure built since the Outbreak. Ahead there was only one dwelling. Few had the nerve to enter the tunnel at night, to walk past the oil slicks that were the last line of defense and through the winding tunnel that carried echos of footsteps until it seemed like an army of undead dogged you. And there, at the end, stood the shack that was our home. Beyond that was only the fire, and the night.