From the perspective of Chase Cringle.
Moments later, I found myself sprawled on a thick mat of dead, cracked leaves. I was parched for oxygen, so I inhaled a deep breath. And then another, and then another. My skin was freezing cold, and my whole body was numb. I pinched myself to test my pulse. At least I have a pulse, if only faintly.
"That's weird," I said to myself. "Why can't I remember last night? I couldn't have been drinking."
I couldn't remember last night, but I could remember the moments leading up to how I became a vampire. I served the Hart Clan, and Gene Hart was my lord. I was to serve as the Hart Clan's sole recruiter.
The sun creeped down below the horizon. Copper-red bled across the sky. I was surrounded by a dark, dense forest. All around me, there were trees of oak, maple, birch, beech, poplar, elm, juniper, pine, and black walnut, as well as ferns, mosses, lichens, grasses, weeds, and vines.
My head spun while my eyes adjusted to the light, and, when I gathered my bearings and rose to my feet, my legs throbbed and ached. I stumbled forward, falling over a female corpse. I'm so damn clumsy.
I looked up to see the woman's ghostly pale face; I couldn't recognize her, but I had the sensation that I knew her from somewhere. A bloody dagger laid beside the woman's body. Her chest and hands, as well as the forest floor, were all speckled with dried blood. Her throat was slit with precision. Her right arm was stretched out, swaying gently with every small breeze. 'Adalyn' was written in blood on her open right palm. Her left hand, clenched into a tight fist, was held close to her chest. Wrapped around her left ring finger was a 24 karat gold wedding band with an oval cut midnight-blue sapphire surrounded by tiny circle cut white diamonds. She wore navy blue skinny jeans, a loose navy-blue V neck shirt, a jet-black moto jacket, and spiked black leather moto boots. Her hair was curly, bright fiery orange, and her eyes were like glistening emeralds, her cheeks brimming with freckles.
This 'Adalyn' seemed like a normal, ordinary young woman. Why would someone murder her? I can't understand such a thing. I closed my eyes in anger and disgust, but I also felt anguish. I wanted to avenge Adalyn, and I wouldn't stop until I knew who killed her. I couldn't have possibly killed her. I'm not that evil.
I reached for Adalyn's fist, her fingers bone-chilling to the touch. I took the liberty of prying open her clenched fist to discover a magical acorn shimmering like a glossy fire opal cabochon.
"What do we have here?" I asked myself, inspecting the opalescent acorn. It's not a gemstone, and it's no ordinary acorn. What the hell is it?
I didn't dwell on the thought for long. I stashed the acorn in my left blue jean pocket, I heaved Adalyn over my back, and I treaded lightly from out of the ominous twilight woods and back to civilization.
The black of night drew near as I approached a four lane highway with Adalyn's body in tow. Upon reaching the highway, I glanced down the road. I spotted the flickering light of a faulty red neon hotel sign. The stars above shone through the electric blue sky. The twilight was losing to the night.
I had a burning desire to bring Adalyn back to life, to see her alive. I'm a vampire, aren't I? Can't I just turn her into a vampire? I thought about it for a moment while my heart was brimming with fear.
My thoughts turned into action. I hopelessly drove my fangs into my wrist. I waited patiently for my ebony blood to begin to drip. Precious moments passed. Finally, my blood began to flow and trickle down my hand and down my fingers and into Adalyn's mouth.
No response.
Okay. Alright. I would just wait a little longer, then.
So I waited a few more seconds, and a few more seconds after that. There was no change. My blood didn't work.
"Work, blood, work!" I yelled in frustration, nearly coming to tears. "JUST FUCKING WORK ALREADY, DAMMIT!"
Still no response.
I fell to my knees. I was defeated. I was too late. I laid down on the highway beside Adalyn's body and I held her close for a few minutes while I sniveled and cried. I then let go and I wiped away the tears. I got back on my feet and I trudged down the road to the hotel with the moon and stars overhead.
At the front door to the hotel's office, and with no other sensible choice, I gently laid down Adalyn's body at the doorstep of the hotel. I took one good look at her one last time, then I turned away and I trudged onward down the highway even as I felt guilty of abandoning her body.
My objective became clear: I would search and secure shelter for the night, maybe find some food. Then, in the morning, I would plant the opalescent acorn. It seemed like a great plan.
My eyes were reeling from a lack of energy, my body still rigid and feeble. Being dead for twelve hours in the woods then walking for miles was like waking up with the worst hangover ever. My stomach rumbled and my whole body quivered. I needed a sip of blood, water, anything, to quench my thirst.
What a beautiful night it was, to be completely alone in the great outdoors. Normally, light pollution would make it impossible for any creature to see the Milky Way in all its glory.
The year, from what I can remember, is 2056. It's been 20 years since humanity fell victim to White Blight, a savage, deadly disease. It nearly brought the world to a standstill.
In 2036, I was only a tiny child, no more than three years old. I lived in Lexington, Kentucky with my mother Laura, my father David, and my older brother William. My dad, David, abandoned me and my mother and older brother the day when reports surfaced of a deadly strain of super mold, completely unknown to science, surfaced and began infecting and killing nearly all who were infected. White Blight infected not only people, it infected several species of commercially important plants as well, which led to a sinister famine worldwide. The mold, whose miniscule spores spread through the air, would infect a host, and the host would suffocate to death and, less than a day later, they would begin to grow forth a powdery white mold. Nothing could stop the spread of White Blight except for fire. It took six years for scientists to finally eradicate White Blight, but I fear the savage white mold could return one day.
At the same time, vampires and other non-human creatures suddenly became known throughout the world. Not only did people have to fear White Blight, but they had to fear the Vampyr Virus which lives in all vampires and spreads through water and body fluids. It was a horrendous time to be alive, for humans.
The origin of White Blight, though, is not clear. Scientists believe the white mold mutated from a relatively harmless strain of powdery mold. As a result, almost all of the world's human population disappeared in less than eight months. Miraculously, somehow a small percentage of the world's human population survived, myself included.
My mother, Laura, died from White Blight. It consumed her from the inside. She suffocated in her bed. Before I ran from home, my older brother went missing. Outside, I was found by my neighbor, Philip, an older gentleman with no family of his own. I told him my mom wouldn't wake up and that my older brother went missing. Philip discovered my mom dead inside our home.
Philip must've felt sorry for me; He took it upon himself to raise me, until I reached the age of sixteen. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday Philip got sick, so sick it made him weak. He couldn't get out of bed and he wouldn't eat. He, too, died in his bed. There was nothing I could do to help. I do know it wasn't White Blight that killed him.
The nightmare of the White Blight didn't end there, it altered the DNA of nearly half of the initial survivors of the outbreak. Those people, over the course of several months, slowly began to morph and degrade into hideous creatures. People called these creatures wendigos: insatiably hungry vampire-like monsters with leathery, wrinkled, rotted black skin and bloodshot eyes that never blink, and they never sleep.
I saw a wendigo once. This encounter was before I became a vampire myself. I recall the year: 2051. I was 18 years old. I was alone and I was returning home from a long day of foraging. My home was a treehouse that I made myself, in a glade deep in a forest. I was casually strolling along, thinking of a tune in my head. The sky was a dull, solemn dark gray, the air was chilly and crisp. Suddenly, I heard a crack of a twig, then a rustle. There was a silhouette of a standing creature. Upon closer inspection, to my horror, it was a menacing, black-skinned wendigo hunched over, feeding on a piece of foul-smelling rotting flesh. The stench was putrid and gut-wrenching and made me gag. The wendigo heard me. When the wendigo's gaze met mine the creature immediately dropped its meal and fell onto all four of its limbs and rushed at me faster than I could register what's happening. The sickly, ferocious wendigo howled as it charged toward me. I ran away as fast as my feet could carry me. If I'd stopped or slowed down the beast behind me would have eaten me alive. So I continued to run. I ran through briars and spider webs, I ran up and down steep wooded hills, I ran across a four lane highway, I ran through muddy streams, I ran over rocky ridges. All in a desperate attempt to escape the horror that was chasing me.
I outran the wendigo. I couldn't believe it. I was sweating like a professional football player after a ridiculous long game, ready to fall flat on my face from sheer exhaustion, but I kept running for more than a mile after that. I made sure to put plenty of distance between me and that wendigo. I never returned to the place where I built that treehouse of mine, fearing that the same wendigo is still there.
The memory escaped my thoughts as I wandered along the desolate highway under the brilliant moonlight and starlight. I'm the apex predator now.
After walking for a couple hours or more along the highway, I saw an apartment complex further down a sideroad, so I sought refuge there. All the units in the apartment complex were vacant, with absolutely no sign of any human activity. The moon was incredibly bright. Crickets and cicadas were exploding with vigor.
I was interested in sleep, something most vampires never have to think about. But before I went to sleep, I had to consume some real food. Human food.
I entered a single two bedroom apartment that I myself deemed hospitable; The front door was wide open.
Inside the apartment, I could see well enough from the moonlight filtering through the dusty windows. I shut and locked all the doors. I wandered around the inside of the apartment to cure my curiosity. It was a small, modest apartment, the kind of apartment you would find yourself in if you lived below the poverty line. I uncovered many interesting antiques and trinkets, as well as dusty ornate furniture a quarter of a century old, but I didn't have the desire to pilfer anything.
I raided the pantry for any non-perishable food items that may have been left behind.
I got lucky: one can of asparagus, one can of SpaghettiOs, three cans of chicken broth, and one can of mixed vegetables. That's it? At least the pantry wasn't completely empty.
"Mixed veggies and spaghettios," I solemnly whispered to myself. "It will have to suffice."
I searched for a can opener in the kitchen. I opened several drawers until I came across a worn, faded flathead screwdriver and an incredibly sharp pocket knife with a slick, polished sardonyx handle. I then looked for a fork, which was found in the next drawer over. I used my new knife to cut a three inch hole in the top of both cans of mixed vegetables and spaghettios. I stood to eat, but at a slow, grateful pace, savoring each bite.
With my stomach full, and my mouth no longer dry, I stepped outside onto the back porch. I rested on an aged, soot-stained white lawn chair, gazing beyond the margin of trees that separated the premises from the dark, expansive, rolling fields beyond. It was then that I wished I had a joint to smoke. Smoking couldn't possibly hurt my lungs, I thought.
I sat outside on the lawn chair for a few hours, pondering the mysteries of life, enjoying the night. I couldn't keep my eyes open much longer and I had no interest in staying awake until morning.
I went back inside the unit and I locked the back door. In the living room, beneath the only window in the room, I passed out on an old, stained twin mattress.
Not even an hour later, it seemed, I awoke to a symphony of beastly howls outside the unit. I opened my eyes, scanning the room. The unit remained undisturbed.
I gently raised my head and I peeked outside, pulling aside the wine red curtains, to observe a horde of werewolves roar like savage, beastly wolves. I ducked my head down. I dared not move. I wasn't ready to die a second time tonight. One fledgling against a horde of werewolves seemed like suicide. Why are there werewolves outside? Did they sense my presence?
My stomach boiled with queasiness, and my cold sweat lingered on. I thought about Adalyn's body that I left at the hotel by the highway. How criminal of me, I thought. Then I thought rationally. Someone would likely find her by tomorrow and bury her.
I eased my mind by thinking about Adalyn. I pondered how she lived, and how she died. Soon I fell into a deep, paralyzing slumber, dreaming of the endless possibilities of the following day.