Casualty

by

Kit Tunstall

Max glanced over his shoulder for the tenth time in as many minutes, convinced someone followed him. Every so often, he heard the scrape of something moving, or the aborted click of a heel on concrete. So far, nothing had shown itself.

He ducked into another blind alley, almost embarrassed by his worry. Although tall and wiry, he was deceptively strong.

He could handle anything anyone threw at him, but what happened to Sylvia had shaken him, and he hadn't even begun to return to a semblance of his normal self yet. In his territory, he should have been reassured. He knew every nook and cranny of the streets in this eight-block radius. He had spent years ducking in and out of them during the hunt. He was a master of the game.

The master gave an involuntary cry when he heard the click of a heel behind him. He whipped around to confront his stalker, and his mouth fell open into an O of surprise. She was practically a child, although she was dressed like a woman. He had been followed by nothing more than a streetwalker. He forced a grin onto his lean face. "Hey."

She took another step, and her heels made the same clicking sound. She was more than a foot shorter than he was, with orange-red hair exploding in a mass of waves around her face. She bordered on gaunt and looked more like a child playing dress-up than a young woman in the ridiculously short black shirt and plunging purple top clinging to her. The sequins shone dully under the meager illumination of the streetlight at the end of the block, just like her eyes. They seemed to lack any spark of life.

She was a casualty of the streets. Max sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. "Were you following me?"

She shrugged as her heavily colored red lips puckered into a pout. "Maybe."

"Why?"

She shrugged again. "Maybe I'm lonely."

He nodded, understanding only too well how loneliness truly felt. More and more of his kind had been wiped out by them, until there were only a few scattered around the world.

Their carnage had to end, but he wasn't the man for the job.

"How much will it cost me to keep you company?"

"Twenty-five for oral." She dropped her eyes to his pants.

"Everything beyond that is negotiable."

Max's eyes fastened on her tiny breasts, and he felt a dart of guilt when he realized he found the girl-child attractive. It had been too long since he had fulfilled his most basic need. Anyone would elicit the same response. "How much to kiss you?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "You just want to kiss me?"

He shrugged. "And hold you for a while."

The girl's eyebrow lifted. "Are you freaky?"

Max laughed. "Yes."

She bit at her lip, smearing crimson lipstick on her teeth. "Ten dollars."

He searched in his pocket for the wad of bills he had placed there earlier. He extracted it, pulled off the silver money clip, and peeled off a ten. Again, his conscience prodded him as the girl stuffed the money in her bra.

She is a kid.

A kid who has lived on the streets long enough to know the score.

Find someone else.

Who? It's getting harder to hunt. They have too much protection these days. Knowledge has given them an edge. I don't want a face full of garlic spray or holy water from those hand-held canisters.

The voice obliged by shutting up, and Max reached for the prostitute, pulling her into his arms. She felt warm to the touch, and he could see the pulse beating in her neck. He pulled her even closer, until he could feel the steady thump of her heart against his black silk shirt. She melted against him, pliant to his wishes. Max touched her lips with his, grimacing at the unpleasant stickiness he found there. Why did all the girls these days wear lipstick? He much preferred them to be completely bare of cosmetics.

Her perfume was a different matter though. Max buried his face in the bend of her neck, inhaling the knock-off version of Charlie in a vain attempt to block out the smell of rotting garbage coming from the dumpster near them. He inhaled again, unable to get enough of the scent, then licked her skin.

She stiffened. "What are you doin'? You said a kiss."

"I'll pay you more."

The girl pulled away. "Cash up front, buddy. I been burned too many times."

Max's need rose as she stood there bargaining. He pulled three bills from his pocket without looking at the wad and stuffed them into her hands. "Here. Will that be enough?"
She looked at the money with wide eyes. "What do you want me to do for this?"

He glanced down, catching sight of a $100 bill. "Whatever I tell you."

She stared at him for a moment, then stuffed the money in her shirt to nestle with the $10. She looked reluctant as she went into his arms again.

Max pressed his face into her neck again, breathing in her perfume. It was the cheap stuff they sold in pharmacies for less than five bucks, but the way it interacted with the girl's body chemistry made the perfume intoxicating.

She didn't protest when he licked her neck again. She leaned against him as he nipped at the skin without drawing blood. The girl remained passive as his teeth broke through the skin.

She flinched just a little as he bit even deeper, but didn't speak. Max shifted his head so he could breathe in her scent as her blood flowed into his mouth. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. She smelled so good.

He faltered as a snippet of memory floated back to him. Last week, he had met one of the few survivors still around. They had passed an hour together at a diner on 36th Street, pretending to drink coffee.

"You heard about them kooks who are out to get us?"

Max had nodded. "Yeah, but who really believes that stuff? If the Inquirer prints it, you know it isn't true."

The other guy had shaken his head. "I don't know. I've been around a while, and I plan to keep it that way. If someone smells too good to be true, I'm outta there."

Max had laughed off the guy's paranoia after they parted, until those monsters got Sylvia just two nights later. He had arrived at the apartment to find her still as death. She hadn't responded to him, and he had run when he heard movement in the stairwell. Since then, he had lived in constant fear, trying to evade the shadows he had heard about.

Now he struggled to remember everything he had heard and previously ignored. What was it about scent that was significant? Something about genetically enhanced pheromones that were irresistible to his kind?

He pulled away from the girl, examining her with new eyes. She wore a placid smile and didn't seem at all fazed that he had bitten her and blood flowed from the wound. Her hands didn't tremble as she pressed her fingers to her neck. She seemed to realize that he hadn't taken enough to kill her--as if she had been through this all before.

Max swallowed, trying to get the cloying taste of her out of his mouth. Her blood seemed to cling to his tongue and teeth in a way he had never experienced. Rather than the usual coppery after-taste he enjoyed, there seemed to be a trace of bitterness lingering on his tongue. "What are you?"

She frowned. "Are you done?"

The question was reasonable if she was a prostitute, but her body language indicated something other than a desire to leave. She stood tensely, as if waiting for something. Her eyes darted over him avidly. She licked her lips, heedless of the nasty lipstick.

Max took a step back from her, inexplicably frightened of the child. "What have you done to me?"

She continued to watch him with an eager expression, but didn't answer.

He took another step away from her, determined to leave before any of her friends showed up like they had the other night at the apartment. Well, he couldn't be sure it had been more of them, but he hadn't stuck around to find out. The alley was a dead end, but the last building was only four stories high. He could jump that with little effort.

Max continued to ease away from her, unsurprised when she matched him step for step. She didn't seem to realize he could break her in half without straining his muscles. She seemed oblivious to any danger, which only brought terrified him more.

He was nearly at the end of the alley when a burning pain ripped through his stomach. Sweat suddenly poured off his body and down his face, leaking in his eyes and making them sting. Her blood burned his mouth like acid, and he found himself on his knees, clutching his middle. "What have you done to me?" he asked again in a strident tone.

"Freed you," she said with a lilt in her voice.

He trembled as the pain coursed through him in waves.

"H-h-how?"

The girl knelt near him. "It's all in the formula."

"Fo-formula?"

She touched his lank brown hair. "I've been taking it since I was five. I really want to help your kind."

"You're ki-k-killing me. How does that h-he-help?" Max forced out through chattering teeth.

She laughed. "You aren't dying." The girl smoothed her hand across his sweaty brow. "Your body is rejecting the change, but that phase will pass. You won't need to kill anymore."

Had that article been right? Had the government really developed a process to reverse vampirism? Max almost laughed too, as a wave of giddiness passed through him. He found himself wishing he had paid $1.25 for that rag mag last week, wondering if they had warned about the delivery system being humans.

His spine stiffened of its own accord, leaving him laying flat on the dirty street. Had Sylvia gone through this agony? He squeezed his eyes closed, struggling to focus on her image and block out the pain coursing through him. A tiny flutter of hope stirred in his breast. Could she still be alive, er, undead? Would he get to see her again?

She caressed his shoulder. "The best part is, you'll be a carrier of the antigen when your body replenishes its supply of blood the natural way." She smiled down at him. "We'll wipe out the blood-sucking scourge by the end of the year, all without any killing." She took his hand as a van pulled into the alley and stopped with a screech of brakes. "I'm so glad I found you tonight."

Oh, God. There was no going back for him. His blood would be poison to any of his kind. "What will happen to me now?" He could barely form the words.

"You'll be rehabilitated and return to a normal life. You'll be a human again before dawn." She giggled. "I know someone who is anxious to see you. She told us all about you, Max."

Sylvia wouldn't betray him. But she had, and all so he could be like the new her, and they could live a normal life. He grimaced. A normal life had never been so unappealing, but Max was unable to focus too deeply on the horrible consequences as three men lifted and carried him to the van. They were gentle as they laid him inside and transported him to whatever hell awaited. Nightmare visions of a nine to five job, a houseful of kids, and a sprawling home just like the neighbors' in Suburbia, USA flashed before his eyes before he passed out from the pain and temporarily escaped his new future.

Copyright, 2002 Kit Tunstall, All Rights Reserved.

Leave the author some feedback! Click Here