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The 1930 Ford 5 Window Coupe rolled along slowly, with Jason
sitting smugly behind the wheel. Not many could afford to keep a car on the road
these days, and even fewer could have afforded to buy a new one, but Jason's
fortune kept his cars new, his clothes trendy and his life mobile. The car was
light blue, with shiny rims that were factory new and a chrome bumper that
seemed to catch the glare of the sun even on a cloudy day approaching dusk such
as this.
The sun went behind the clouds as the Coupe took a slow left
onto Cedar Avenue and strolled past slightly dilapidated houses that would soon
be worse for wear than they now appeared. Neighborhood children stood outside
the homes, some playing with small rubber balls which they bounced off the high
concrete walls, while others simply stood around, seeming to have already become
their fathers. Most of the children stared at the shiny new car that rolled by,
almost as many pointed. They had seen this car in this neighborhood recently,
and some knew that the driver was renting a small apartment at the end of the
block. But, aside from the idle gossip of the street parents, not much was known
of the newcomer. He looked and acted wealthy, seeming to carry an air of
superiority that rubbed more than a few the wrong way entirely. But, what
bothered the people on Cedar Street most about the new stranger wasn't that he
seemed to be doing so well while most were not; it was that he appeared to think
it was their fault that they were having a run of bad luck. Many of the men on
Cedar Street were fond of saying of their new resident, when the hour was late
and the liquor almost gone, that they would like to see this man outside his car
or home someday, and then see what kind of a man he was really. But, this was
just drunken chatter and idle threats, because as Jason's Coupe drove past the
children of Cedar Street, this was to be the last time that any saw Jason again.
The Coupe stopped in front of a small white apartment
building numbered 462. It was in no worse or better condition than the others on
the block, but the winos and the children stayed away, and the steps were clear
and clean on most days. Jason didn't require that his home reflect his wealth
during his little errands, but he refused to live like the people he found it so
easy to deceive.
Fighting the urge to skip up the stone steps leading to the
large oak door, Jason couldn't control his grin as his key hit the lock and the
door closed the darkening night out of the hallway to 462 Cedar Street. In a
moment, he was at his door at the top of the three floor building, using his
last of three keys to enter his apartment. He entered the room, closing the door
behind him with his foot and walked quickly into the den to find his only true
travel possession aside from his small, yet expensive clothing. At the back of
the den, to be seen after turning a corner and positioned between the two
windows, was a wooden rocking chair that Jason couldn't live without. It was in
his fathers office at home, never to be sat in by any of the children, and it
was the only thing that Jason took with him when he left the mansion and sold
the house. The chair was now his favorite possession, and every evening, when he
returned from his daily habits, he would sit in the chair, maybe smoke a cigar
and listen to the radio.
As he turned the corner, he stopped suddenly, his mouth open
in an "O" that would have appeared humorous at any other time rather
than now. In his chair, staring straight at him while smoking a cigar and
rocking slowly, was a man the likes Jason had never seen.
The man in the chair wore a dark grey suit, most likely
tweed. He was slim, but looked strong. His hair was longer, hanging below the
neck and splashing onto the shoulders. It was dark and curly, and impeccably
clean by the rich shine. His face was pale, but flush in the cheeks and lips.
His eyes were green, with the slightest tint of yellow, almost like a wolf. The
intelligence behind those eyes was evident and intimidating. He wore no facial
hair, and although he looked to be in his mid to late twenties, his face had the
smooth look of a man who didn't shave and didn't need to bother with the daily
routine.
He appeared to be tall, maybe an inch or two over six feet,
but his arms suggested his height as somewhat closer to six foot six. And his
fingers were long, as long as any Jason had ever seen. They seemed to stretch to
beyond five inches in length, which each finger ending in a long and perfectly
manicured nail. Both hands lay wrapped over the ends of the arm rests, the right
one tapped lightly.
The chair rocked forward smoothly, as the strange visitor
said nothing, just simply sat staring at Jason as if he was not the intruder in
this home.
The silence in the room was absolute, broken only slightly by
the soft noise of the chair rocking, but this sound was faint and constant,
becoming white noise that disolved into nothing.
From outside, the sound of children playing resonated
throughout the room. The noise seemed to snap Jason from his trance. He stepped
forward, hand reaching behind his back. He removed a small pistol and pointed it
at the stranger.
"Who are you, and what do you want here"?
The stranger continued to rock slowly, seeming to see the
weapon but regarding it as next to nothing.
Jason pulled back on the pistol, hoping the sound of the
weapon a trigger pull away from being deadly would rouse the stranger, but
already he sensed the danger this man seemed to exude.
"I said, who the hell are you, and what do you
want," Jason said, trying his hardest to control the quiver in his voice.
The long fingers stopped their tapping, and the stranger
ceased his rocking. His eyes didn't change in the slightest, and it seemed that
he was going to say nothing. For a moment, the room lay in silence, Jason
holding the gun towards the stranger, the stranger sitting idle in the chair,
unmoving and menacing. Just as Jason was preparing to repeat his question again,
the stranger spoke.
"I had supposed that a man who made his living bilking
others out of their slight savings would have taken better precautions against a
possible threat, but not much about you surprises me anymore. I understand that
you think that nobody is your equal, and naturally, none would be your superior
and that in turn would mean none would catch you and none would be here to find
you. Such as I have so easily".
Jason studied the man for a moment, letting the words sink
in, trying to understand what was being said, and more importantly, what the
stranger meant.
"Did my family send you? My mother possibly? I didn't
think they would bother, but maybe I was mistaken," said Jason.
The stranger smirked.
"I didn't not come looking for you; you found me. You
see, this is my city, where I have lived and survived for decades. It is you
that are the newcomer to this area, and it is you that I have to deal with
now."
A large knot was forming in Jason's stomach, seeming to do
its best to drop to the floor. Goosebumps chilled his arms, and the gun began to
feel slippery from where his hand was sweating.
Jason stepped a foot or two closer, seeming to thrust the
pistol forward, reminding the stranger that it was a weapon, and the advantage
was his with this weapon.
Jason tried to find some steel in his backbone, hoping it
would steady his nerve and more so, his voice.
"Listen, I don't know who you are, and I don't know what
you want, but I want you to leave. You can go now, easily, or I can drag you out
of here with holes in you, friend"!
A small smile danced on the strangers face, as the threat
passed between the two men. He nodded, and began to rock again.
"Did you hear me, frien.."
"I am not your friend, charleton! I am the enemy to all,
such as you. Those who harm others who do not deserve it. Your punishment has
long been put off, but I am here to correct that now," the stranger said
calmly.
Although the threat was spoken without great force, it only
seemed to add to its dire seriousness. Jason felt his testicles slowly
retreating into his stomach, and the urge to defecate suddenly seemed almost
overwhelming.
Before Jason could clear his throat to speak, the stranger
stop rocking the chair and spoke again.
"Although you are the lowest form of humanity I have yet
to encounter, and although I may not look that old, believe me when I say that
by saying this, I am saying something!. In case you don't understand what I am
saying, I will end the suspense and tell you. I am one of the undead, a feeder
of the blood of those such as you. A vampire!. And, although the blood that
pumps in your black heart is the same as others, I would not degrade myself to
have what flows through you, in me. But, despite this, I do need you."
Jason had begun to understand a little more what he was
speaking to, and the mere thought made him tremble. He had heard his grandfather
speak of a creature such as this, but he had never believed. But now, faced with
this great evil, he came into full understanding that vampires did exist in this
world, and one had found him. But, despite knowing the finality of his situation
and the hopelessness of the attempt at confrontation, Jason was stubborn, and
was willing to risk angering the vampire, to try his luck at escape.
The vampire rose from the chair, seeming not to use his arms
or his legs to propel himself upright, rather to simply float from sitting to
standing. He stood perfectly still, his eyes remaining locked on Jason.
"I tire of your stench, Jason, and need to finish with
you now, so I will surmise my reason for being here. I need your money, and to
some extent, your life. You see, you have money to travel, and squander it to
harm others, so I will take it, and use it support myself throughout my extended
undeath. While this may seem unfair, which I agree it is, I feel no regret because
for years you have prided yourself on doing the same thing. I have seen
it in your mind, your desire to ruin others who began less fortunate than
yourself. Your evil desire to make those who claw their way up to the middle,
scramble back to the gutter again. So, I have decided not to kill you, simply to
even you out. Bring you where you have brought so many others. So, now that I
have explained myself, I would like you to tell me the combination to the safe
in the trunk of your car, and if you would be so kind, the keys as well."
Jason stood in total disbelief, unable to comprehend what
this vampire was saying. But, the important part, the part where his fortune
would be gone and his way of life ended struck home immediately with full force.
Jason raised the pistol and fired three shots into the vampires chest.
The reports echoed loudly through the room as the bullets
tore into the chest of the vampire, burning through the outer coat and into the
white shirt and flesh beneath. The impact of the bullets caused the vampire to
move not an inch, or even a single centimeter. The smell of the gunpowder was
heavy in the room as the smoke faded and the echoes died out. Jason raised the
gun again, trying to convince himself that he had missed all three shots,
although he saw the bullets strike home, and could see the holes in the clothing
of the vampire.
The vampire raised his arms in disgust, seeming to sigh
loudly in frustration and disappointment. He fingered the hole in his chest
where the bullet struck home but did no damage. Pulling the shirt from his torso
by the small hole with black char marks still ashy, the vampire shook his head.
"In an act that I believed to be of obvious generosity,
I was fully prepared to leave you some of your dignity, and allow you to leave
with the clothes on your back. But, I guess you saw to that well enough."
Jason raised the gun again, seeming to still not comprehend
its utter uselessness in the situation. "You son of a bitch. I will kill
you before you take what's mine," he screamed before clicking the trigger.
The gun never fired. Almost too fast for his eyes to see, the
vampire was at him, lifting him off of the ground and heaving him against the
wall hard enough to shake the ceiling and knock plaster to the hardwood floor
below. The gun was knocked to the ground, out of reach of Jason's hands which
lay stationary by his sides.
The vampire looked at Jason as he lay against the wall, a
barely conscious hump covered in white plaster dust. Jasons eyes finally met the
vampires, pleading without saying a word.
"Why me. Why do you do this to me," Jason asked
desperately. Still not understanding that this day was a day of well deserved
justice for all those Jason had deceived and whose lives he had ruined for sheer
pleasure.
The vampire walked towards Jason,
crouching down over his victim and smiled. He spoke slowly and clearly, wanting
to be understood, and understanding that this conversation would be the longest
and most personal he had had in decades.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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