Appearances Are Deceiving
“They say half a pint of blood is enough to sustain a vampire for a week. Is that true?”
The nurse adjusted the drip rate and stared at Albie.
“More or less, yes. That’s about it.”
“Oh. That’s a lot of blood.”
“Haemophagues do not exclusively gain sustenance from, blood, you know,” she admonished.
“Yes, yes, sorry,” Albie apologized. “It’s only… it’s my first time. It feels… kinda weird.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“You volunteered, didn’t you? You signed the permits?”
“Yes, yes, I did. I… oh, please forgive me. You know how it is… I was raised in the farmlands. Vampires are not so common over there. I’m sorry I come across as a provincial ignorant.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said.
“No, you didn’t, but it’s true nonetheless,” Albie said. He looked ashamed. “Not the first time it happens.”
She didn’t reply. She checked the drip again, extracted the first full bag and placed a second one.
“OK, just stay there for a few more minutes and I’ll remove the IV. Then you rest for five more minutes, just in case. Call any of us if you need something, right?”
“OK. Thanks.”
***
Albie walked home in the twilight. After his donation, he had gone for dinner. A sandwich and coffee, to which he had added, almost as an afterthought, a portion of apple pie, when he found he had been hungrier than he thought.
As usual, before unlocking his door, he checked the apartment directly in front of his. The lights were on: she was already awake. She must be getting ready to go to work.
As he entered his home, Albie didn’t notice the two shadows lurking in the alley.
***
Albie felt guilty, but he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed his binoculars and switched off the lights, then he sat by the window and peered outside. Hating himself, he raised the binoculars to his eyes.
There she was, still in her pyjamas. He saw her go through her waking-up rituals: she filled the espresso coffee-pot with water, then put the coffee grounds in, sealed it, and placed it on the stove. She then opened the upper cupboard and filled her cat’s bowl, and he saw how the animal promptly jumped and started eating off it. She stroked it distractedly, and the cat raised its tail, without taking its nose off the bowl.
Albie almost thought he heard the coffee pot whistle as she took it off the stove and poured some of the liquid in a mug. She grabbed a bottle of milk, finished filling the mug and put it in the microwave oven.
Albie caught a brief glimpse of the blood bags inside the fridge when she had opened it. He could only hope: perhaps one of those was his?
Then came the crash from downstairs, loud bangs on his door, and shouts. Alarmed, he dropped the binoculars and rushed down.
Two men, faces hidden with balaclavas. One held a bat, the other a bar. Albie felt his stomach bowl.
“There’s the bastard! Get’im!”
“Leech lover! Leech lover!”
Albie turned and tried to run, but he felt a hand grab him by his shoulder. He fell and knocked his head. The pain was nothing compared to the first kick that landed. Then a second. As if from far away, he thought he heard something snap, and a needle of agony burned in his side.
“Beat’im! Lemme hit’im, man!”
The explosion was deafening in the reduced space of his hall. Albie could barely see her shape on the threshold. A badge shone on her hip. A gun-holder under her right armpit, the gun still smoking.
“Police”, she said. Her voice was colder than ice. “If I were you I’d step away from that man slowly.”
The two men turned and charged.
“Make my day,” she said. And she bared her fangs.
~~~~
This is my entry for the Weekly Writing Exercise: November 16–22, 2015 on the Writer’s Discussion Group in Google+. The challenge Amy Knepper presented us with this week was:
Focus on creating a hook for your beginning that will make us want to keep reading, and then give us a last line we’ll remember.
Amy apparently enjoyed my opening line quite a lot. It’s funny, because that line was the first thing that appeared in my mind, almost in its definitive form, when I saw the picture. And from there it was relatively easy, because the world where the action takes place is one that has been taking shape in my imagination for quite some time. A world where vampires share their lives with normal humans, and where I have several works in progress.
So I used a character I had created before and a new one, and I weaved a story where the protagonist is not really a good guy (at best he’s snooping, at worst he could be a stalker), and the vampire turns out to be a cop. I had a great time writing it.
The version here is slightly longer than the 600 words allowed at the WDG. And in case you’re nitpicky and have noticed that comma before the word “blood” in the fifth paragraph? It’s there on purpose. That nurse is a pro and a tough nut: she pauses for effect in there.
