Chapter 9 - Fangs For Nothing

    In a deep sleep, Martin barely moved a muscle, not even when bright sunlight began shining directly onto his face. Finally, mid-afternoon, he began to stir. He stretched, yawned, sat up and opened his eyes. For the first time in days, he felt refreshed and energized. In other words, he didn’t feel like blowing his brains out. It felt good to be alive.

    Then he remembered the cemetery, Adriana, the blood, other bodily fluids, the wolf. Had any of that really happened? It couldn’t be anything more than a bad dream. He was in too good a mood now for the last two days to have been real. Vampires and werewolves! Nonsense.

    There was no pain in his neck, which Martin thought was a good sign. He stood, looked in the mirror, saw no marks on his jugular. Lifting a hand to touch his neck made him feel somewhat silly, but, the simple gesture reassured him that everything was normal.

    “Vampire bites heal quickly, Martin.”

    He whirled around. Adriana stood near the door, smiling at him. “Whoa! How the heck did you get in here?”

    “I snuck in. Vampires are very sneaky. That’s why I wore sneakers today.”

    Martin looked down. “Chuck Taylor’s. Very nice. So really, how did you get in?”

    “Your mother let me in. She told me to go upstairs and wake your lazy ass up, make sure you’re still alive. Then she went back to work.”

    “I don’t think she said, ‘lazy ass’.”

    “No, but she implied it. She was surprised you were still asleep. She’s a little worried about you, you know. Wandering around all night, coming home late, sleeping all day. She says that’s not like you.”

    “Well, no, I guess that isn’t like me. Things have been a little weird the last couple of days.”

    “Yeah, I’ll bet. Two suicide attempts and a hot chick turns you into a vampire.”

    “And I think I met a werewolf, too.”

    “You think you did? Seems like something you would be sure about.”

    Martin sat down on the edge of a recliner and stared at the floor. “I don’t understand anything anymore. Reality doesn’t seem to exist.”

    “Reality is just different from what you thought it was.” Looking around, Adriana sat down in the nearest chair. It was blue and shaped like a hand. She smirked and said, “A hand chair. How very stylish - if you were a teenager and this was 1975.”

    He ignored the sarcasm, preferring to sit silently while looking confused.

    “Listen, Martin,” Adriana continued, “I’m sorry about losing my control last night. I had never intended to turn you.”

    He gave her a blank stare. “You know I think you’re nuts, don’t you?”

    “Still not a believer, eh? A vampire bites your neck, you see a werewolf, and you’re still not convinced that there’re things out there that most people have no concept of. That’s okay, I don’t blame you. It’s hard to accept this stuff. But life is going to be different for you from now on. That’s just a fact.”

    “What’s going to be different? I don’t want anything to be different. I want my life to be back to what it was.”

    “You want your life back? Then why did you try to get rid of it?” Adriana stood and walked around his room. “You know, you’ve got it pretty nice here. Look at all this stuff. TV, mini-fridge, microwave.” She looked out the window. “I see your neighbor likes to sunbathe topless. She’s got a nice rack for an old broad.”

    Martin nodded. “That she does.”

    “You ever go over and visit? You ever hit that once in a while?”

    “You’re being disgusting. Miriam is like a hundred years old. I help her with her gardening once in a while, go to village council meetings with her.”

    “Yeah, whatever.” Adriana laughed. Martin rolled his eyes.

    “How about some coffee?” she asked. “You look like you need a caffeine injection. Let’s go to Mama Maria’s. We’ll take a walk, get you some air.”

    Martin pondered long enough to give Adriana an opening. Before he knew it, they were out the door, walking at a brisk pace toward downtown Arbor Woods.

    “Think you can keep up with me, Marty?”

    “Martin,” he corrected her. He hated being called Marty. It sounded so common, and he liked to think he was anything but. “Yes, I can keep up with you. No problem,” he said as he was having trouble keeping up with her. She glided blissfully along; he was at a near gallop, sweating and gulping for air.

    She decided to show mercy on him. Her pace slowed, allowing Martin to catch up and walk alongside her comfortably.

    “It’s the shoes,” he said. “I’m not wearing my running shoes.”

    “You have running shoes?”

    “”Yes. Good ones too. Expensive. Probably because they’re American made.”

    “Do you ever run in them?”

    “Well, no. But they are very comfortable. Great walking shoes.”

    When they reached the bookstore, Martin was still sweating. His shirt was damp and the beads of perspiration on his expansive forehead gleamed under the lights. At the cafe counter, he ordered an iced coffee. Joanie, the barista, narrowed her eyes when she saw the condition he was in. “Are you okay, Martin? You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.”

    “I’m fine. Just a little warm outside.”

    Uncharacteristically, Joanie reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I hope so. I worry about you.”

    “You do?”

    “Oh yeah, absolutely.” She looked him up and down. “You seem different today. Are you wearing cologne or something?”

    “No. Perhaps it’s my natural manly musk.” Normally the result of his attempting humor in conversation with a woman was a silent stare on her part, followed by Martin feeling stupid and self-conscious.    In this case, Joanie responded by saying, “Oh Martin, you’re so funny sometimes. Well, enjoy your coffee. I put a little extra sugar in there for you. I know how you like it.”

    Martin joined Adriana at a table in the back.

    “What’s wrong, M? You look a little confused.”

    “This is the first time Joanie has ever really spoken to me. It’s like she was coming on to me a little bit. It’s odd. I always thought she was on the other team.”

    “Oh, she’s definitely on the other team. I mean, look at her! For cryin’ out loud. She’s got a tattoo on her bicep that says ‘Dad.’ That doesn’t mean she might not dig you a little bit, for reasons unknown to her. Vampires give off a sensual vibe without even trying. No one is immune. People who wouldn’t normally be attracted to you will start falling all over you, wanting to be near you and not even know why. Of course, I had that before I became a vampire. But, like I said, things are going to be different for you now.”

    “Really? Why, because you’re a nut job who thinks she’s a vampire and you tried to drink my blood?”

    “C’mon now, Martin, be polite. For one thing, I am not a nut job. I’m unique, I can get wild on occasion, but that does not mean I am a nut job, as you so eloquently put it. For another thing, I didn’t try to drink your blood, I really did drink it. Made me sick, as it turns out, but that doesn’t make me any less of a vampire, nor does it make you any less of one now that you’ve been turned.”

    He guzzled down his coffee, the icy liquid cooling down his whole body. “Okay, I’m a vampire. I drink blood now. So, where’s my bloodlust? How come I’m not out on the prowl for a little strange plasma? Where’s my bloodlust, damn it?”

    She gave him a cool stare. “There’s no need for sarcasm. You will have a taste for blood sooner or later. It will come eventually. But there’re things you need to understand first, so you don’t go transforming just any Tom, Dick or Harry. There’s some unwritten rules to follow. I’ll make it my job to help you through this period of your life. Especially since I’m the one who caused this period to happen.”

    “Do you have some kind of instruction manual for me? It seems like that would be helpful.”

    Adriana’s eyes lit up. “You know, you’re right, that would be helpful! I should write a vampire instruction book. You can help me write it. We can call it You’re a Vampire! Now What? Or maybe Transformed: What to Expect When You’re Expecting to be a Vampire. Or maybe one of those books for idiots, you know, like The Complete Dummy’s Guide to Being a Vampire. I think there are a lot of possibilities with this subject.”

    Martin swallowed the last of his coffee. “I still think you’re nuts.”

    “Fine, be a doubter. That will get you nowhere. You’ve got the potential for eternal life now, and you’re going to need my help.”

    Ice was melting in his cup and Martin slurped it up through the straw. “Well, I do have many questions.”

    “That’s good. I’d be happy to help you - but only if you stop that freakin’ slurping!”

    Martin looked at her innocently while making an incredibly loud slurping noise.

    Adriana gave him a look. “Apparently, I should have transformed someone with better table manners.”

    “Apparently,” he replied. “I noticed when you were in my room that I could see your reflection in the mirror on my dresser. I thought vampires couldn’t see their reflections.”

    “That’s a myth. There’re many myths about vampires. All those books and movies over the years, people see them and believe that stuff. Like we can turn into bats and fly around. I wish. That would be pretty cool if we could do that, don’t you think?”

    “Absolutely. I also noticed you didn’t mind walking around in the bright sunshine. You didn’t melt or turn into a heap of vampire dust or anything. You just went on your merry way like everything was hunky-dory.”

    “Where do you get these phrases from? Who says ‘hunky-dory’ anymore?”

    “You didn’t answer my question.”

    “Okay, smart guy. The sun doesn’t bother vampires. If it didn’t bother you in life, it’s not going to bother you in the afterlife. Or whatever you want to call this. I just call it life.”

    “So you’re not dead. Or the undead.”

    “Wouldn’t undead imply that I was once dead but now I’m alive? That sounds more like a zombie, and there’s no such thing as a zombie.”

    “So I’ve heard. Where’s your coffin?”

    “My what?”

    “Your coffin. You know, the thing you sleep in.”

    Adriana grew frustrated when she heard that. “I never understood why a vampire would have a coffin. Like I said, we’re not dead, so why have a coffin?”

    “Don’t knock it, it might be comfortable.”
  
    “Sweetie, I have a king size bed at home. It has one of those remote things so I can control how firm the mattress is. Now that’s comfortable.” She shook her head, laughing. “Coffins? Who the hell wants to sleep in a coffin? I get a little claustrophobic, so that would be awful.”

    “I get claustrophobic too.”

    She looked at him with a soft expression. “See, we’ve got so much in common. We both get claustrophobic, we’re both vampires, we, uh, huh, yeah, well, we don’t have that much in common, but still, it’s something.”

    Martin slurped up the last of the melted ice. “So, we’ve established you, or should I say we, don’t sleep in coffins, unless of course we really want to, we can walk in the sun, maybe even go to the beach, and we can’t turn into bats and fly away. Have I got that right?”

    “You do.”

    “Anything else I need to know?”

    “Plenty, but I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to hear it.”

    He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps you’re right about that.”

    “You know, the more I think about it, the more I like the book idea. We could sell it to a publisher as a spoof, or a parody, or whatever the correct literary term is, but it would really be a valuable guide to the newly transformed. It would be an underground classic.”

    “Yeah, I’ll mull that over.” He glanced over his shoulder. Joanie was smiling at him. Returning the smile, his cheeks began to turn crimson, then he shyly turned away.

    Adriana was grinning at him. “I told you, you’ll find that the ladies are more attracted to you, now that you’ve got that ‘vampire thang’ goin’ on.”

    “Had I known all I needed to get women was a ‘vampire thang’ I would have been bitten a long time ago. If I had I been able to meet a real vampire, of course.”

    “Of course.” Adriana stood. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. I know you don’t like to be out of your room for too long.”

    Joanie watched them walk out together, wondering just why it was she suddenly found Martin so appealing.

    The experienced vampire and her newly minted protege strolled in the direction of Martin’s home. While Adriana spoke constantly about the book idea, he tried to ignore by looking at the sky, the trees, the gardens they passed. That’s when he saw Amelia sitting in her yard again. He turned toward Adriana to tell her of how women like Amelia always seem to look through him, but found Adriana had disappeared. Dumbfounded, Martin stopped to look around for his missing companion. By this time Amelia had made her way across the lawn.

    “Hello, Martin. You look like you’ve lost something.” She was a blonde now. A loose fitting plain white t-shirt blew slightly in the breeze while madras shorts offered a fine view of her legs. So simply dressed, yet Martin found her stunningly beautiful.

    “Lost something? Yeah, well, no, not really.” Even though he felt like he was making a fool of himself, he noticed she was not only engaging him in conversation but making eye contact with him as well. It was a turn of events he found both pleasing and disconcerting.

    “Did you get a haircut or something?” she asked. She thrust a hip to one side, ran a finger over her lips. “You’ve changed something, I just don’t know what.”

    “I’m pretty sure I’m the same old me.” Okay, he thought, I really suck at making small talk. Really.

    “Oh, you’re so amusing, Martin,” she said as she touched him lightly on his arm. He thought he would faint. The spell was broken when he realized he had absolutely no intelligent comments to make since there wasn’t enough blood going to his brain.

    “Uh, I need to, uh, go. Home. Yes, home. I need to do you. I mean stuff, I need to do stuff. At home. Now. Go.”

    She giggled, touched him on the arm again, then brushed windblown hair back from her forehead. It was the sort of thing that made his knees buckle. “Well,” she said, “stop by again. Maybe next time you can come inside.”

    Martin was definitely dizzy now. “Huh?” was all he could say.

    “You know, come inside the house and visit for a while. See you.” She gave him a little wave, she giggled again, then spun around and walked back to her front door. Martin watched every step Amelia took until she was inside the house. When he could no longer see her, he stared at the space she had been in.

    “I told you things would be different.” Adriana was standing only a foot away from him.

    Startled by her sudden appearance, he almost screamed at her, “Where did you come from?”

    “I was around. Matter of fact, I was here all the time. You need to work on your social skills. You are not good at small talk. Let’s walk and talk.” As they did, she explained how vampires can use the power of their minds. “For instance, I simply focused my thoughts on your little blonde friend. I influenced her to focus on nothing but you and your sexy self. My thoughts combined with your newfound vampire groove  made me seem invisible to her.”

    “You were invisible to me, too.”

    “That’s because you were thinking how nice it would be to see her naked. I could have sung the National Anthem at the top of my lungs, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

    “I wouldn’t say that’s exactly true,” Martin stammered.

    “Bullshit.”

    “You’re right.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Will you teach me how to use that mental focus thingy? I’m not real good at thinking straight sometimes.”

    “Oh, so you’re coming around to the whole vampire concept, are you? Especially now that there are chicks involved.”

    “I’m not saying I think that I’m a vampire, or that you’re a vampire, I’m just saying you may have some things to teach me, that’s all.

    He looked to his side. She was gone again. “Hey, I know you’re there. You haven’t really disappeared. You have to show me how to do that.”

    “Are you talking to me, Martin?” It was Catherine Clover. Having parked her Lexus in her driveway, she had just taken a bag of groceries from the trunk of her car when she heard him.

    “Who me? Uh, no, I was just, uh, talking on my cell phone.”

    “Slick,” Adriana said in a barely audible whisper. His eyes darted from side to side, but he couldn’t see her. “You know you don’t have a cell on you.”

    “It’s one of those new cells, nothing but an ear bud.”

    “Good attempt, but you don’t have an ear bud, either,” Adriana whispered.

    “Oh, I don’t even see it. It must be tiny,” Catherine said.

    “I think she’s insulting you,” Adriana said.

    I’m going to kill you, Martin thought. Can you hear that, Adriana? No reply.

    “Can I help you with the groceries?” Martin asked her.

    “Hey, maybe she’ll give you a little reward, if you know what I mean.”

    Trying to drown out Adriana’s voice, Martin attempted to concentrate on Catherine. He set the bag of groceries down on the island in the center of the kitchen.

    “Thank you, Martin.” She drew near, closer to him than she had ever been before. A whiff of her perfume wafted over, he could feel the heat her body threw off. She tilted slightly toward him, allowing him to note that there was nothing beneath her blouse but skin. It all made him physically weak again. Leaning up against the island, he tried to appear casual rather than faint.

    In a low voice that was sexy without meaning to be, she asked him if he was all right. Truthfully, he didn’t have a clue. The dreams he had of the women around him were on the verge of becoming real. Pleasant, this possibility of satisfaction on the horizon, but he didn’t understand why it was happening. He was the same person he had been last week, and the week before. What was different now?

    “You have the force of the living dead now.” The voice of Adriana’s was no longer even a whisper, it was something Martin only heard in his head. “But like I said before, calling us the living dead is really a misnomer.” Inwardly, Martin used his force to tell the voice to shut up.

    “I’d better be going, Catherine.” He wasn’t sure why, but Martin just wanted to leave. If only his legs didn’t feel like jelly.

    “What’s the rush? Nash won’t be home tonight. We could have a little dinner, share a bottle of wine.”

    “I promised Mom I would help out at the store tonight, so I just need to change my clothes and get over there.”

    “Need any help? You know, changing your clothes?”

    “I think I can handle it, thanks.”

    She put her hand on his chest. “Okay, Martin. Another time. Nash spends an awful lot of time away from home. I do get lonely, you know.”

    “And only you can cure her loneliness, big boy,” Adriana said, chuckling.

    When he had safely made his way out of the house, Martin looked despondent. Adriana was waiting by the front door of his house. “Why so blue, my friend? Are you finding out your dreams aren’t really what you wanted after all? That can be kind of a bummer, having to figure out what you really want out of life. At least you’re doing the right thing so far.”

    Martin didn’t get angry, visibly angry, often, but now he was furious. He spoke in a low, husky tone of voice that had more impact than yelling. “Who the hell are you to tell me what the right thing is? Quite frankly, who the hell are you? You come out of nowhere, turn my life upside down with these stupid stories of vampires and the force, like you think you’re in some Star Wars movie for blood suckers. You know what?”

    He was standing erect now, instead of with his normal shoulder hunch, glaring at Adriana. “I don’t believe in any mental force, or vampires, or werewolves, or any of that. I want you out of my life. I never want to see you again.”

    Just then, he spied a squirrel digging in a flower patch. Martin felt as if his blood was literally boiling. His skull was going to explode if he couldn’t get some sort of release. Eyes closed, he began to pant. Feeling heavy, his lungs too now wanted to explode. The inside of his mouth was horribly painful, as if he were growing new teeth. Which he was. His lips formed a sneer, his tongue ran over the newly born razor sharp fangs.

    “I have had it with these squirrels digging up my garden!” Quicker than a lightning flash he snatched up the squirrel, squeezed it tightly in a death grip. Martin Van Buren now felt a lust unique to his kind. He was about to have his first taste of another creatures blood.

    Before sinking his fangs in, he froze. “Holy shit. I really am a vampire.”

Chapter 8 - Something's Bugging the Old Man

    Augusta Potocki put her hands on her hips and gave the old man a stern look. “Archie, are you eating spiders again? That’s disgusting!”

    Archie Greenway feigned deafness to avoid answering the question of his caregiver. Sitting in his favorite chair, a dark green recliner that dated back to the Eisenhower administration, he attempted to stare vacantly into space, but his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn directly to Augusta’s ample bosom.

    She told him what she had so many times before when he leered at her, “My eyes are up here, old man.”

    He didn’t bother to avert his gaze as he continued his deaf act. “What? What’s that? I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” A sheepish look crossed his face as he soaked in the roundness of Augusta’s breasts, and the cleavage displayed by the low cut of her blouse.

    “If you don’t stop looking at my chest I’m going to get that ivory letter opener off your desk and gouge out your eyes.”   
   
    His eyes darted upwards.
   
    “Oh, you heard that did you?”

    “What?” Archie responded loudly. “I can barely make out what you’re saying. Speak up, for Christ’s sake.”

    “I am speaking loudly enough, you’re hearing is no worse than mine. And by the way, if you take the Lord’s name in vain one more time in my presence, I’m going to strangle you with my rosary.”

    Truth be told, Augusta was not a particularly religious woman, but she didn’t take kindly to foul language, especially if God’s name was invoked. She felt dragging Him into any conversation using vulgar words was bad luck. Nor did she actually carry a rosary, having lost her green glow-in-the-dark version in a poker game years ago. But a death threat with Catholic overtones seemed like it would have some gravitas to it. Indeed, it did. Archie was silenced. He hung his head and stared at the floor, possibly feeling contrition, possibly looking for more bugs to eat.

    Augusta had been a caregiver for the elderly for many years, but this was her first client who ate bugs. Despite his creepy lecherousness, she liked Archie and was genuinely concerned for him. She knelt down in front of him, took his hands in hers and asked him, “What’s wrong, Archie? Why are you eating insects? The other day you were catching flies in the air and popping them in your mouth like candy.”
       
    “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

    Augusta was adamant. “Yes, there is. It’s not normal behavior. Little children who don’t know any better eat bugs. Adults should be eating healthy things like turkey burgers and chicken breasts. I know you like breasts, Archie.” She winked at him.

    He smiled and simply said, “Yeah.”

    “Maybe you need some more protein in your diet. Is there something special you want? Steak, maybe?”

    “No. You don’t need to make me anything special.”

    “Then why the insects? You might make yourself sick, eating those things. You don’t know where they’ve been. I mean, flies land on dog poop, eat it, and then you eat the flies. That can’t be good for you.”

    “Yeah, that’s true. I didn’t think of that. I won’t eat flies anymore. I was never all that crazy about them anyway. I’ll stick to spiders.”

    “But spiders eat flies.”
   
    “What are you? Some kind of killjoy? Listen, I have my reasons, so let’s just leave it at that.”
   
    “Well, I can’t leave it at that, Archie. It’s my job to take care of you, to make sure you’re healthy. If you keep eating things like bugs, I’ll have to call Sheila, the director at my agency. You know what Sheila’s going to do when I tell her you eat bugs? She’s going to send over a psychiatrist. Is that what you want? To talk to some head shrinker?”

    Looking off into the distance, Archie went quiet again.

    Augusta tugged at his hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Archie.”

    He looked at her with a hard glint in his eyes she had never seen before.

    “You want to know what’s wrong? Well, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Once I was a strong man. People feared me when they realized who, and what, I was and what I could do to them.”

    Archie paused, drew a deep breath, then continued. “Long ago, I was a headsman, the best in all of England. Henry VIII asked me to take care of his wife, so I did. Splendid job I did, too. Later, there was France. The guillotine. What a wonderful invention. Best thing the French ever came up with. Cooking everything with butter and garlic is nice, escargot is a delight, but the guillotine, now that was something. I was the finest executioner in France. Always had them build a sturdy scaffold, always kept my blade sharp, always knew where to place the head. See, you had to place it just so in the lunette, otherwise you might have to cut twice. No one wants that. In fact, I came up with that adage, ‘measure twice, cut once.’ Same for executioners as for carpenters. Ah, the Reign of Terror.” Archie leaned his head back, closed his eyes and sighed. “Good times. Only good period in history to be a Frenchman, if you ask me.”

    Augusta let go of his hand and gave him a quizzical look. “Archie, what the hell are you talking about?”

    His eyes popped open as he raised his head. “I thought you didn’t like swearing.”

    “I don’t, but you’re frightening me. Well, as much as a feeble old man can frighten me, but still. What’s bringing on all this crazy talk?”

    “Crazy talk? I’m trying to tell you my history. And your history too. Your American Civil War, that was really something to behold. Gettysburg, Shiloh, the Wilderness. Those fields really were bloodbaths. Hell, at Little Round Top and Cemetery Ridge, those places were carpeted with the dead. Blood soaked my shoes and pants up to my ankles. And those Army doctors, cutting off limbs left and right. That’s when it dawned on me, I should become a surgeon. Turned out to be a profitable career move. That’s how I was able to live so well for so long. Doctors make good money.”

    “I have to ask again,” Augusta interrupted, “what the hell are you talking about?”

    She was standing now. He looked up at her. “Don’t you understand? I went where the blood was. Where there is war and violence, there is blood. And when there was no war for me to go to, I found individual people to offer up their fluid to me. Women usually. As you’ve noticed, I have an eye for the ladies. But men too. I was never above transforming a man. Hate the feel of a man’s stubble on my lips, though. Yech.”

    Augusta was staring at him now with a mix of curiosity and revulsion.

    “I’m a vampire, Augusta. The living dead. Which is a bit of a misnomer really, because we’re not really dead at all. Hell, we have eternal life. Well, somewhat eternal. We can die. Sometimes we even want to die. I got old because I got tired. It’s so depressing, the way humans live, the way you normals treat each other. The ignorance, the unkindness. After all these years that I’ve been around, I thought the human race would have improved more, but no. It’s gotten to be a bit much. I wasn’t enjoying my gift anymore. There’s no point to living forever if there’s no good reason to stick around. So I stopped feasting on humans. I’ve been waiting to die. It’s just taken longer than I expected. It’s been years now. I was much stronger without blood than I thought I would be, but I could feel myself fading. And then I thought to myself, maybe I should have one more adventure. Not sure what, really, but go out and do something, instead of just sitting here, watching you and your breasts. You’ve got a nice ass too. Anyway, I’ve been eating bugs, sucking the blood out of them, trying to get stronger. Didn’t think you’d notice though. I thought I was being discreet.”

    “Digging around in the garden on your hands and knees while shoving worms in your mouth is not exactly the height of discretion.”

    “I suppose not. Well, that’s my story. What do you think?”

    “I think I need to make a phone call.”

    Augusta headed toward the kitchen to use the phone when he heard him shout,“No!” His voice was strong and deep, unlike he had ever sounded before. She whirled about. Archie was still in his seat, but his eyes had turned blood red, his lips parted to reveal fangs. Before she could scream, he lunged at her.

Chapter 7 - Good Lovin' Gone Bad

    Martin Van Buren slowly regained consciousness. He struggled to open heavy eyelids. Once he could part them, he was looking at the world through the eye of a needle. When he was able to open them wider, the world appeared normal. The sky was blue velvet, yellow stars twinkled, a bright moon sat impassively. He closed his eyes again and wondered why he was sleeping outside, why he felt like he had the most terrible hangover ever, and why his neck hurt so much. There was a sound nearby that he couldn’t place, sort of like a garbage disposal with something stuck in it. Martin lifted his head, opened his eyes again and squinted in the direction of the noise.

    It was her. She was making that noise. The crazy woman who bit my neck.

    It was true. Adriana Swanson was on all fours and very loudly vomiting a thick red substance onto the grave marker of one George Krakas, beloved father and husband. For her part, Adriana felt as if the hand of God had reached down her throat and was ripping out her insides. This was definitely not her normal reaction to drinking human blood. She was supposed to get a little rush from it, then have a pleasant, relaxing high while her victim either died, if it was a small animal, or, if it was a human, transformed into a charming and delightful vampire like her. Instead, Adriana’s intestines were trying to escape her body by way of her mouth. Finally, her volcanic eruption slowed to a trickle, then ceased. After a moment of blessed stillness, Adriana sat back on her haunches.

    Through bleary eyes she saw Martin lying on the ground. Instantly infuriated by the sight of him, she screamed, “There is something really wrong with you!”

    “Me?” he screamed back as he attempted to sit up. “There’s something wrong with me? You bit me on the neck! You actually broke the skin of my neck with your teeth! You bit another human being! And you say there’s something wrong with me?”

    She calmed down slightly, and responded icily, “It’s what I do, you moron. I’m a vampire.”

    Martin had managed to get himself into a sitting position. “Why am I not surprised the crazy lady thinks she’s a vampire. Apparently you really are a complete nut job.”

    Adriana’s eyes flashed a fiery red, but she kept her cool, which wasn’t that difficult as she felt nauseous and chilly. She spoke in an even tone of voice that sounded more formal than normal for her. “I am not a nut job. I am a vampire. I have been drinking the blood of humans for years now and I have never, ever once gotten sick from it. Okay, there was that one time with a guy who looked like Keith Richards. His blood made me a little woozy, but that was the only time.”

    Martin attempted to glare at her but he just didn’t have the strength. “You are completely whacked,” he said, sounding despondent. Then he thought a moment. “You don’t have any diseases, do you? If you really do go around biting people, you’re liable to catch something. Have you been tested? You don’t have rabies, do you? Oh God, I don’t want to have to get rabies shots.”

    “Of course I don’t have rabies, you idiot!” Then she thought about all the squirrels and other woodland creatures she had bitten. “At least, I don’t think I do. I really should get a checkup. Can you recommend a good doctor? You know, a good family type physician, but not too young, because they always think they know everything. A middle aged guy, or girl, someone who’s got a little wisdom. You know what I mean. Although, I’m not really sure vampires need a checkup. It would have been nice if there had been an instruction manual when I got transformed. All this time I’ve been a vampire and I still have questions.”

    Martin looked blankly until her rambling ceased, then spoke in a subdued tone. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?” He was exasperated with Adriana, and drained of energy. “Listen, did you drug me or something? I feel hung over and really, really tired.”

    Adriana stood up, placed her hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel so good myself. No, no drugs. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction before. It’s bizarre.”

    “Yes, how bizarre that trying to drink someone’s blood would make them sick.”

    “Oh Martin, I don’t know how to convince you of the truth and right now, I have to admit I just don’t give a crap about trying. I feel lousy. I need a good stiff drink or something. You don’t have any booze in that knapsack of yours, do you?”

    He wordlessly shook his head.

     She looked down at the grave marker and gently poked at the bloody vomit with her foot. Thankfully she was wearing closed toe shoes this evening. “Sorry about that Mister Krakas. Maybe it’ll rain and wash away all that goop.”

    Wiping her shoe clean on the grass, she looked over at Martin. His head was in his hands, his eyes closed again. “I’m sorry this stuff happened. I’m going to go now. I’ll see you again some time.”

    When he looked up, Adriana was gone. His mind swirled with questions. How did she disappear so quickly? What in the hell is happening to my life?

    Martin sat and thought for a while. He came to the conclusion that he was a failure at suicide as well as every other thing in his life. He got his things together and thought about leaving. Instead he scooted along the ground and leaned against a grave marker. Overcome with exhaustion he tilted his back against the marker, shut his eyes and thought he just might sleep the night here. The cemetery finally felt like the restful place it should be. Even the wind was still. Peace had descended upon him. Briefly.

    Suddenly, there was the sound of fluttering wings and Martin opened his eyes to see what seemed like every bird in the cemetery quitting the trees and hurriedly leaving the area.

    Looking around with groggy eyes he spotted someone approaching. Though some distance away there was no mistaking that it was the curvy figure of a woman or a really hot cross dresser.

    The woman drew closer. Martin could see a bright, fierce look in her eyes and feel an intense heat emanating from her.  Walking along she slipped easily out of the clingy champagne colored dress she was wearing, revealing her naked body, then flung the shoes from her feet. Moonlight made the rivulets of sweat running along her dark skin glisten and her whole body shimmered like asphalt on a hot summer day. Her pace slowed until she fell back upon the ground, grasped at her head and writhed around soundlessly.

    Transfixed as he was by this bizarre sight of a beautiful naked woman rolling around on the grass, Martin was also immobilized by fear. The events of the last twenty-fours had been so strange that he no longer felt  as if he were living his own life anymore, but rather watching a foreign film with no subtitles and an absurd plot. At this moment, he had no idea what to do, if he should try to help her or attempt run away.

    As Martin pondered his options, the woman’s body became rigid, yet appeared to be changing somehow. Hair sprouted all over, her hands and feet grew large, becoming the paws of a large animal. Then, what had been a petite nose above a full set of lips projected outward, transformed into a muzzle, no longer human, more like that of a giant dog. Or a wolf. Indeed, the hot naked lady was now covered head to toe in beautiful silver-grey fur. Standing on all fours, she hunched back a bit, raised her head at the moon, bared razor sharp teeth and let loose a sustained, loud howl. With that out of her system, she seemed content. Her long, full tail was wagging rapidly.

    In his mind, Martin understood that his death may be imminent, but all he could think of now was Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.”   

    Fixing her now golden yellow eyes on Martin, the wolf trotted up to him until he could feel her breath on his face. Too close for his comfort, “Werewolves of London” stopped playing in his head and his bladder released a small amount of pee. Thankfully, he hadn’t had much to drink that day.

    The she-wolf gazed at him for a short time, sniffed the air, then, with the silky voice of a young woman, spoke: “Hey. What’s up?”

    Believing he had finally gone insane, Martin closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, then opened them again.

    “Yeah, I’m still here,” the wolf said.

    “You...you can talk.”

    The wolf rolled her eyes. “You just saw a fine looking woman turn into a wolf and you’re surprised that I can talk?”

    “Huh? Sorry. I’ve had a rough night.”

    “I’ll bet.” The wolf glanced at Martin’s neck. “Looks you’ve got a nice little hickey there.”

    “Yeah, someone thought it would be a good idea to bite me. It wasn’t.”

    “Sorry to hear that. My name’s Colette. Nice to meet you. I usually don’t see anyone in the cemetery at this hour. Usually just some chick getting a little too intimate with squirrels, but who am I to judge? I’ve never seen anybody else though.”

    Martin looked at her, dumbfounded. Could she be talking about Adriana?

    “This is the point in our conversation where you tell me your name,” Colette said.

    “You can’t be real. None of this can be real. I must be hallucinating. Adriana must have slipped me a mickey.”

    “ ‘Slipped you a mickey’? You know you’re not in a 1930s gangster movie, right?”

    Martin turned his head away, talking to himself. “I need to snap out of this. I must be dreaming. Or having a nightmare.”

    Hearing that, Colette made a little leap, set her front paws on Martin’s lap and ran her tongue over the side of his face, leaving it covered in werewolf slobber.

    “That real enough for ya, buddy boy?” she said, sitting back down again.

    Martin lifted up his shirt to wipe his face. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty real, all right.”

    Colette looked at the two small puncture holes on Martin’s neck. “Maybe that’s not a hickey. I think you may be joining the ranks of the undead.”

    He gave her an incredulous look. “What?”

    “The bite marks. On your neck. Did you forget about those?”

    He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as vampires.”

    “There’s no such thing as werewolves either, right?”

    “You have a point. I think. I’m not really sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

    “Are you sure about your name?”

    “Hmm? What? Oh. My name is Martin Van Buren...”

    Colette interrupted. “Martin Van Buren? Isn’t that the name of a cartoon character?”

    “No, you’re thinking of Milhouse Van Houten on ‘The Simpsons’.”

    “I thought Milhouse Van Houten was in the Manson Family.”

    “No, that was Leslie Van Houten, and he was a she.”

    “A transgender person? In the Manson Family? Are you sure?”
   
    “No, no, the person you’re thinking of was a woman, not a man.” Martin shook his head in exasperation. “Look, it doesn’t matter. All I know for sure is that I’m having a really weird night and my neck hurts.”

    “Well, then, you should probably get on home and get some rest. You look like you’ve had it.  Me, I’ve got a hot date.”

    Again, Martin was incredulous. “Oh, so there’re other werewolves in town?”

    “Who said anything about other werewolves? I just said I have a date.” Colette winked at him. “Good to meet you, Martin. You okay getting home by yourself? I could give you an escort if you need me to.”

    Touched by the offer of being walked home by a werewolf, Martin softened his attitude. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”

    “All right, well try not to get attacked by zombies on the way home.”

    His eyes got wide. “Zombies? Are there really zombies?”

    Colette chuckled. “No, I’m just messing with you. Zombies. That’s just crazy talk.” She scampered away and said over her shoulder, “See you around, Martin Van Houten.”

    “Van Buren. It’s Van Buren,” he said, not loud enough for her to hear as she faded into the distance. Martin thought about the night he just had. “I really do not have any idea of what is going on anymore.”