Brad was my killer and my resurrector.
It had been one of those flower-picking late July days, where the bees swum in humidity and the thick smell of wild roses, daisies, black-eyed susans, and purple thistles filled my nostrils. With my bouquet clutched in my hand and singing "Sunshine on my Shoulders," I didn't hear the puke green Bug until it was too late. The last thing I heard as a human was the screech of tires.
I awoke in the woods, my wildflowers scattered at my head, their aroma now faded. I lay under a canopy of leaves and realized I wasn't far from home, just a few hundred yards. I recognized the old oak with its gnarled bark and warped branches determined to deny death. The sunlight splashed through its thick blanket of leaves.
My eyes focused in on a pale, angelic face of a man, no older than 25. A thick mane of blond hair fell to his denim-clad shoulders. I lost myself in his gray eyes and felt his blood flow through my veins, pump through my heart, race through my brain. Memories that weren't mine hit me hard and fast. I curled up in a fetal position, screaming my confusion, his pain. His life unfolded before me like a movie in fast forward. I saw what he saw, smelled what he smelled, felt what he felt.
I knew him when he fought for the North in the Civil War. I knew him when he ran bootleg moonshine in the '20's and flew a bomber in W.W.II. I knew him when he dodged the draft in the 60's and 70's; he was tired of fighting, tired of war. I knew that he changed his name every couple of decades. Got a new Social Security number. Moved to a new place. Made new friends. Then moved on when they started getting older and he remained young. I knew everything about him. The loneliness, the emptiness, the craving for more, for the beyond, for death.
Fear was replaced with a red-hot anger. He knew the pain and suffering he had gone through and he thrust it on me. I was never known for my calm disposition; being an Irish redhead, I lived up to the saying and then some. But when I grew nails from hell and fangs that nipped my lower lip, my anger turned to disgust... and acceptance. I cowered beneath the big oak, crying red tears.
Brad reached out to me. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you until it was too late." His voice caught and I saw my death in his eyes. He had taken the turn too sharply in his little VW and he hit me. I was a thing of beauty as I flew through the air, my wildflowers flowing around me. I looked like a woodland fairy. The illusion was blown when I hit the pavement with a sickening thud.
I was still conscious when he picked me up and carried me into the woods. "Lay me beneath the oak," I whispered. And it was in that moment before death-assaulted byfear of the unknown, the regret of things left unsaid...undone-that I drank from him.
"I didn't think it was your time," he said.
I pulled away from him and leaned my cheek against the craggy skin of the oak tree. "My time will never come."
He was silent and I looked up and saw he was crying. His tears were as red as mine. "You are my first child in decades," he said, wiping his face with a dark blue handkerchief.
"What a privilege."
"I didn't hear you complain when you sucked from me."
"I was dying! You took advantage."
"What is done cannot be undone. You must accept who you are and live the best way you can. I will take you to others like us. They'll show you the vampire ways."
I stood up and glared at him. I could feel my fangs butting up against the soft underbelly of my lips, but I didn't care. "I'm not going anywhere. I have a life here, a boyfriend, friends, a dog. Just because you decided to turn me into one of the undead doesn't mean I don't have bills to pay!" A patch of sunlight touched my freckled arm and I scrambled into the shade again.
Brad laughed and walked into the sunlight. It danced around him, his blond head thrown back as he soaked it up. "It's not the sunlight you have to worry about, Marion, it's the skin cancer it causes. And, let me tell you, eternity with skin cancer...well let's just say it sort of kills your social life."
"But, I thought...."
"If everything that was written about vampires were true, then you wouldn't need teachers now would you?"
"So, does that mean I don't have to drink blood?" I asked, drawing my knees up and quivering at the thought of taken another life, be it human or animal.
"That one is true...at least in part. Yes, you do have to drink blood, but you don't have to kill. You do not have to feast on human flesh every night to stay alive. Or kill rabbits or rats or any other creature to survive. You need just a small amount of warm blood a day to keep the sickness away."
"If I refuse, then do I die."
"I wish." Brad sat down next to me. "If it were that easy, do you think I would still be here? No, the sickness is madness, pure and simple. It's there that the stories come from, of vampires attacking humans and draining them of blood. You revert to an animal stage of life, your fangs and nails grow long, your mind becomes feral and you want to hunt and hunt and hunt."
Images flashed through my head, of a young boy running through a field after a rabbit and catching it. The rabbit's screams were silenced when the boy bit deep into it's neck.
"My first child," Brad said as he read my thoughts. "He was too young to understand the importance of what he had become and I was too preoccupied to keep an eye on him and make sure he had his daily dose. I hunted him down and killed him myself. The hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I learned from my mistake. Stay away from the young ones, they can't understand the importance of their own immortality."
The day waned and I turned my head at the sound of my name being called from the road beyond. "That's Michael, he's looking for me."
I stood up brushing dead leaves off my jeans and picking a couple out of my hair.
"What are you going to do?"
"Go home."
Brad's blue eyes narrowed. "Haven't you been listening to anything I have been saying?"
"Yes," I snapped. "But, I don't want to leave."
Brad grabbed my shoulders and stared down at my freckled face. "It won't work. It never works out. You will stay young and he will grow old. He will start to resent you. It's best that you leave. Cut him loose so he can be with his own kind."
"I am his kind," I whispered.
"Not anymore. It's best to make a clean cut. You need to be with your own. You need to be taught or else you won't make it. As I am your father it is my responsibility to make sure you are taken care of."
"But, I love...."
Brad put a long, cold finger to my lips. "I know, I have been there and I understand. If you love him you will let him go to live a normal life. He'll get over you, it's human nature, and you'll have centuries to get over him."
"Well, since you put it that way." I pushed away from him. "I'M HERE!" I called to the distant Michael and started toward him.
"Marion?"
I turned toward my new father, who worea pleading look on his face. I smiled ruefully. "I'll meet you here in a couple of hours. There are a few things I want to keep me company over the years. Plus, he deserves an explanation of some kind."
Brad nodded. He had read my mind. I felt him in there looking to see if he felt a lie. But I had spoken the truth even though it felt like a stake to my heart. "Wipe your face, or you might have to explain more than you care to." He handed me his handkerchief and I scrubbed my face clean. "I'll be waiting," Brad said, settling himself under the oak.
I ran through the woods and was almost mowed down by my husky, Mariah. She stopped a few inches before me and cocked her head as she stared at me. "Hey, Ri," I smiled at her. A frightened growl ensued from her throat. "It's me Ri-Ri," I pleaded in a quivering voice. Riah sniffed at my outstretched hand and a tentative lick clinched our relationship again. I may smell a little wrong, but I was still her mama, the one who fed her every day and scratched her belly at night before bed.
"Hey." Michael came into view, a worried look in his blue eyes. "Where'd you get to?"
"I sort of got turned around." I lied knowing he would believe that. I got lost in a parking lot.
"City girl," he said, hugging me. "Hey, you're cold." He drew away.
"It's a little chilly in the woods." I fell in step beside him, Mariah dashed ahead of us toward home.
My mind raced as to how to approach the subject. I was never a person to beat around the bush. I figured the quickest cut was the most painless cut. "I have to leave." I said, not looking at him.
He stopped. I stopped. "What?"
"I was doing a lot of thinking while I was aimlessly walking around the woods and I have to leave."
"Why?" Strangeness came into his voice.
"Because... because, I'm not happy, that's why," I said a little too quickly and blushed deeply (and yes, the undead can blush).
Michael raised my head up with his hand and made me look into his troubled eyes. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You are too. You can't lie, Marion. You stammer and blush each time you try."
"Look, you won't understand. I just got to leave." I ran toward the house chiding myself for handling that so well.
I heard Michael yell after me as the screen door slammed behind me. I rushed into our bedroom and, grabbing my old backpack, started stuffing it with underwear and socks, two essential items whenever you are running away - and that was exactly what I was doing.
I heard the screen door bang and stopped in mid-stuff as Michael entered the room. "What's going on?"
"I told you, I have to leave."
Michael took the backpack out of my stiff fingers and turned me toward him. "Why?"
I sighed. "You wouldn't understand," I said softly. "Just know that I'm doing it for you. This doesn't mean I stopped loving you; it means that I just can't be with you. You'll get over me and find another girl."
"I don't want another girl." His lower lip quivered as he fought back the tears. He lost. I tried to forced mine down for fear that he would see the truth, but I couldn't. His sadness turned to concern, as bloody tears steamed down my cheeks. "Marion, what happened to you?"
I sat on the edge of the bed pulling him down next to me and told him of Brad and the accident. Of course, being a realist he didn't believe a word I said until my temper got the better of me. He yelled at me to stop lying and tell the truth. I yelled back that I was, and the fangs grew from beneath my upper lip. "Believe me now?"
He stumbled away from me and hit the wall, his eyes growing wide with fear and disgust.
I turned away from him, calmed myself and continued packing... an extra pair of jeans and a couple tee-shirts, my favorite gray sweatshirt.
"Take me with you," he whispered, his hands around my waist, stilling my hands. He pressed his lips against my ear, and his moustache tickled me, sending shivers down my spine.
I shuddered and then shrugged him off. "I can't. You aren't part of my world anymore. You're human and I'm... whatever I am. Just let me leave."
"No, I mean make me like you and take me with you." Michael reached out to me.
"Are you crazy? No!" I cried. I moved past him, making sure to avoid his outstretched hands. I went into the living room and thrust a picture of my family in my backpack...how was I going to explain this one to mom? I added a few of my favorite fantasy books, my rune stones and my incense holder. I was ready to face my new life.
Michael blocked my way. "Marion, I don't want you to leave. Make me like you and we can learn together, be together...."
"Drink blood together, oooh won't that be fun. We could toast each other every night over a nice dinner with a warm glass of blood fresh from the hog, or wherever the hell they get it." I pushed him out of my way. One thing the legends got straight is vampires do have extra-human strength - a detail, Brad had failed to mention. I threw Michael straight through the living room window and into my irises.
"MICHAEL!" I jumped out the window, not caring that a shard of glass cut open my palm. He lay there on his back, not moving as I knelt beside him. He didn't seem to be bleeding, or worse for wear. I brushed his long blond hair out of his face. "Hon, are you okay?"
"I will be," he said, grabbing my hand and drinking of me.
I could have pulled away before he was able to drink more than a drop. I could have stopped him, but I didn't, because I didn't want to be without him, either. I was selfish. I was in love.
I didn't remember the pain of the change, but Michael sure does. His body convulsed and he clutched his stomach saying his insides were on fire. This went on for at least a half-hour. Thank god we lived out in the middle of nowhere. I simply knelt beside him, rocking slowly back and forth and muttering, "See, I told you it's no fun being a vampire."
Suddenly a shadow fell over us and I looked up into the angry eyes of Brad. He was not too pleased with my first hour as a vampire. But, like he said, what's done can't be undone.
Brad helped us pack a few things and to shut the house down because he said it would be awhile before we would be back. He was right. We haven't been back in over ten years.
For more information about Paula M. Payton, read her bio. You can reach her by email at ppayton@umich.edu
© Paula M. Payton
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