Night Shift

It all started one wintry night. I was waiting to cross a busy intersection on Oxford Street in London’s West End. My workday had just ended, and it felt good to be out of that stuffy office. I had been feeling warm all day and hoped I wasn’t coming down with a cold or flu that regularly permeated the office environment at this time of year. Joining the throngs of people heading for the underground trains on their way home, I breathed in the crisp air that usually had a ruffled chill to every month of January, and was looking forward to getting home, switching on the telly, and putting my feet up for the evening.

Whether it was the cold night air invigorating my lungs or just getting away from my desk, I felt a heightened sensation bordering on elation. Even my sense of hearing had become acute to conversations in the crowd around me. More interestingly, my stomach began to rumble like it hadn’t eaten for days, but I distinctly remember eating a large portion of Steak Tartare for lunch.

Watching the animated green walking figure appear at the traffic light opposite, I stepped onto the road, but something immediately caught my attention. The people crowding around me were glowing – that is, their necks were glowing crimson. Even the ones wearing scarves appeared to be radiantly red, like they had twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around their heads. A sudden downpour of heavy, wet rain brought me back to my senses – which was fortunate for me, as I was about to kiss a strange woman’s neck. This surrealistic impulse that I almost acted out, panicked me. Never had I been attracted to a woman so much, that I felt like blatantly accosting her on a street. I was happily married – for goodness’ sake - and not interested in other women.

The more I searched for a reasonable explanation, the more I broke out in a cold sweat. It had alarmed me to a level of fright and flight, so I rushed headlong down the escalator stairs at Bond Street Station and jumped onto the Jubilee Line to take me home; however, it was rush hour and I found myself stuffed into a train carriage like sardines in a tin. That’s when further urges tormented me. I could smell a sweet metallic pungency all around me and it was intoxicating, alluring, and simply irresistible. I realised I needed to control myself, because part of me argued it was immoral to feel the strange growing urges building up inside me. So, I closed my eyes and chanted an unrecognisable verse in my head in an attempt to distract me from my pulsating desires. It didn’t help, because the words I recited only increased a compelling hunger that needed immediate feeding.

Feel the hunger deep inside,

A tormenting thirst to be denied,

When the scent of blood is in the air,

Eat here, drink there, gorge everywhere.

Unable to control my urges, I found myself exiting the train two stops early at Swiss Cottage. The rain had stopped and left a misty haze dampening the ground. Car headlights cut through the fog, creating halo effects around pedestrians crossing the road, making them look like they were glowing from head to foot. It was best that I could not see clearly. It would speed my passage home without any temptations.

Taking a short cut down an old alleyway that connected to a quicker way home, I hope to shave several minutes off my hike. The alleyway was poorly lit with lampposts approximately fifty meters apart – most of them inoperative from damage done to them.

As I picked up my pace, I heard a sound like someone slipping on a wet surface, then a cracking sound like a hard part of them had hit the cement pathway. A yell followed by an expletive told me that the person I was descending on, had fallen and hurt themselves.

“Are you okay, Miss?” I genuinely asked on my approach.

“I’ve cut my chin,” the young woman stated. Do you have any Kleenex tissues or paper towels?”

It was then that the enticing aroma of freshly released blood wafted under my nose. Gently cupping her chin, I leaned in and…

“What are you doing?” The policeman demanded to know, as he shined his bright flashlight on me.

I was frozen in place, my eyes the only moving part darting towards the constable, then darting back at the young woman whose chin I was tightly attached to with my mouth. Logic escaped me, but flippancy did not. Quickly recalling something my mother used to say at the dinner table, I blurted it out with clenched teeth.

“I would like to explain, Constable, but my mother always told me to never talk with my mouth full.”

Either the constable had no sense of humour, or he was tired of dealing with flippant replies to his standard police enquiries, he pulled out his truncheon and began to attack me about my head with his nightstick. One swift rip of his neck with pointy-sharp claws I didn’t know existed until that moment, caused him to slump to the wet ground in dead weight. Witnessing this unexpected act, the young woman screamed a blood-curdling shriek that sounded like music to my highly acute hearing. Attempting to escape, I counted to three, then an impressive light of foot sprint had me overtake her in seconds - where I despatched her to the same place as that bullying policeman.

Needless to say, I was horrified at my involuntary actions and needed to get home as quick as I could. I managed to cover the last mile in two minutes flat. Another surprise that shocked me, because until that moment, any form of exercise I participated in, running was never my best activity.

“Hello Darling,” my Eloise greeted me as I unlocked the door to the safety of our welcoming abode. “How was your day?”

Without a word, I unintelligibly grunted and shook my shoulders, before hurrying up the stairs to the bathroom.

“You okay?” Eloise called up the stairs.

I was too shaken to answer. How could I explain a happening so bizarre and an anomaly so incomprehensible. It was too surreal for words but remarkably, it had left me tingling with an unexpected surge of excitement.

“Don’t forget the Fortescues are coming for dinner, Darling. They insisted on a weekday. Some money-making opportunity they want to present to us.”

Freddie Fortescue was always scheming to make an extra buck here and there - since his wealthy, stuck-up parents had practically disowned him for spending all his trust fund on get-rich-quick schemes. He had mentioned this one in passing, the last time we got together, but I told him that pyramid schemes only made money for those at the top. It was obvious that saying no to Freddie was like saying no to happiness, so he probably had his wife, Bunty, put pressure on Eloise to allow him to pitch the idea over a Wednesday night dinner tete-a-tete. The very night I seemed to be at a disadvantage in mental faculties.

Damp from the evening’s events, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and grabbed a towel from the rail, then proceeded to dry my face and hair of the excess blood splashed on me during my outrage. My body trembled at the memory of what I had just done, and a soft painful cry escaped my lungs. Moments later, the bathroom door swung open, and Eloise rushed in – a look of worried concern on her face.

“What’s wrong, Darling? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know where to start,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Eloise softly reassured me. “Calm yourself.”

Tears filled my dry eyes. Something horrific had happened to me. I felt like my insides were re-mapping my DNA.

“I feel like my body is changing, El. Like I’m a teenager again going through puberty. It’s such a strange feeling, bordering on an energising sensation of euphoria. I’m sweating but I don’t feel hot.”

Gently caressing my chin until our eyes locked in comforting gazes, El pressed the back of her other hand against my forehead.

“You do feel rather on the cold side, Darling.”

“I have done something horrible, El.”

“Come on,” Eloise requested. “A nice glass of red downstairs will set you to rights. You can tell me all about it after you change clothes.”

Ushering me from behind, Eloise nudged me from the bathroom. I felt both confused and elated at the same time. But how would I be able to explain it to El? Snapping me out of my inward thoughts, El held up the cravat she wanted me to wear. Then, produced the most exquisite red velvet jacket, while helping me on with it. It was a tad kitsch, but she has always loved seeing me dressed up in 1970s Hugh Hefner-styled clothing. She said seeing me in a velour way, caused her to purr like a kitten and that it always added a little excitement to the evening. Besides, the Fortescue’s sense of fashion always seemed to tease at the edge of tackiness. It would be rude not to indulge our guests on this dark, wet, and atmospheric night.

No sooner had El dressed me, Freddie and Bunty were ringing our doorbell. As I opened the door to let them in, I decided to put on a brave face and try to act normal. This was helped by Freddie and Bunty gliding into the hallway dressed in a similar 70s revival fashion – good company for my velvet jacket. Freddie’s wide lapel suit with platform shoes made him look taller than his small stature, but Bunty looked deliciously attractive in a rainbow-striped halter top and brown flared pants. Luckily for her, the faux-fox fur coat she wore as she entered our home, had kept her cozy and warm in the outside fog of the evening. It was a much-needed distraction from my earlier experience, so I told myself to just get through dinner, then confess all to my loving Eloise.

Throughout the evening, conversation from our guests had been jovial, but I remained slightly reserved still trying to come to grips with my sudden change of character. It wasn’t too noticeable, as Freddie took centre stage and entertained us with quips and jokes of an era gone by. You know, the borderline racist and sexist one-liners that matched his dress code. Bunty shyly giggled at Freddie’s off-colour humour but managed to correct him when he went too far. Eloise had seated me next to Bunty and opposite us, she sat next to Freddie. Soup was the starter; however, my appetite had escaped me, so I didn’t partake in eating any of it. Trying to suppress flashbacks of the evening’s earlier slaughter, coupled with my adrenalin level still high, acted as a natural hunger suppressant. Eloise noticed my introverted behaviour and flashed a concerned look at me across the dining table, but I smiled and nodded that I was okay.

During the main meal, Eloise served up some medium-rare fried steaks with Pomme Frites - that although smelled enticing, I just played with mine until I became bored. So, topping up everyone’s wine glass, I settled into listening to Freddie open his sales pitch on why we should attend his pyramid parties. He explained how getting in early guaranteed us a big pay day and that we could repeat the process multiple times.

Illegal as his idea was, it was tempting, nonetheless. I was on the verge of agreeing when all my senses suddenly heightened beyond containment. It was as if I could hear Bunty’s pulse beating like a drum struck methodically in cadent rhythm. Chillingly, it sent me into a form of stalking mode, instantly attracting my devoted attention. Beguiling me with its seducing sound, I soon realised it was the incantation of Bunty’s blood being pumped through her soft veins. Studying her pulsating neck closely, I was immediately overcome with the oddest desire to kiss her, so I leaned in toward her and…

“Darling!” Eloise abruptly demanded my attention. “Where are your manners? We should always feed the guests first.”

I turned my head sideways to respond to El and was bemused at the expression on Freddie’s face. A look of sheer shock and horror stretched across his entire expression. As I removed my face from snuggling into Bunty’s neck, she unexpectedly fell face down into her caramel flan that Eloise had served for dessert, staining it blood red with every pumping beat of her open jugular vein. I was flabbergasted at the sight before me, but before I could cry in shock - and more importantly – before Freddie could run screaming from the house, Eloise quickly bit down onto his large-collared, silk-shirted neck, draining him of a large amount of life-giving blood. Not to be upstaged, he too imitated Bunty’s reaction and slumped with his nose buried in his dessert.

“Before you freak out,” Eloise halted my panic. “We need to talk.”

My gut reaction was to scream; however, the satisfying sensation that coursed through every fibre of my body, sat me relaxed back into the comfort of my chair. Everything became clearer. This is was to be the new normal – my newly-formed ideology argued. What surprised me the most was my Eloise. It was obvious that she was like me, but had been so for a tad bit longer than I. It was also apparent that she was the one responsible for my predicament.

“When did you?” I sincerely enquired.

“Sunday night, Darling,” she replied – cutting me off in mid-question.

“Why?”

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m selfish and I couldn’t bear the thought of living through eternity without you.”

Her candour was admirable and her expression of love for me was so sweet, that I immediately forgave her. She did it out of love, I reasoned - with the lucidity of a madman. However, there was still one question remaining to be answered.

“El, who turned you?”

“Nigel, at the company Christmas party.”

“The one where partners weren’t invited?”

“Obviously for a reason, Darling. The world needs more vampires, apparently. It’s all the rage.”

Somehow, I had missed that memo at my own place of business. El’s answer certainly explained the increasing numbers of sickie days my colleagues took before never returning to work. It also explained my wife’s sudden rush to buy thick black velvet curtains that she kept drawn during daylight hours. I simply thought blocking out the intermittent English sunshine helped ease her migraines. What created a conundrum is that she chose to convert me without any prior discussion. But I suppose that would have been a difficult topic to broach. Darling, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I will live forever. The bad news is you won’t, so I need to bite your neck and drain your blood.

I may have run for the hills, if she had explained it in that manner; however, the way I felt after ripping through bountiful Bunty’s porcelain flesh, was too intoxicating to argue with any rational thought. I was now a night crawler, a citizen of the undead. My world had changed. It was up to me to live with it and learn to sleep by day, because from here on out, I was going to have to work the night shift.

Still trying to process events, I didn’t hear the front door being broken in, the heavy sets of footsteps piling into the hallway, and the police helicopter hovering above our roof - shining its blinding searchlight beam through the open curtains. I must have been recognised on my mad dash home at the speed of a fast-moving city car.

Angry shouts ordering the two of us to lay on the floor face down accompanied guns pointing directly at us. Eloise remained calm, but I was still processing the intrusion and trying like an idiot to protest at the eight heavily armed members of the CVS – the Counter Vampire Squad.

“Gentlemen,” I began. “Couldn’t this wait until after dinner? We still haven’t opened the Port.”

An over-aggressive policeman frustrated by my words, hit me in the head with the butt of his assault rifle, but it had no sensory impact on me. He might as well have just blown air in my face. He obviously had not seen what I had done to the last policeman that attacked me.

“Darling,” Eloise softly called. “It’s time.”

“Time for what, El?”

“Time for us to find somewhere else to live.”

In a speedy blur resembling life at fast-forward viewing, Eloise swiftly overpowered every member of the vampire squad, beheading each one of them before they could react. Once again, I was shocked at the carnage, but in parallel, oh so proud and in awe of my wonderful El. In time, I would most likely possess those unworldly skills, but for now, I remained in a state of marvel at her ability to nullify an overwhelming force that had threatened to overpower us.

“Bravo, El,” I congratulated her – my compassion for the dead non-existent and my grasp of reality rapidly slipping from any semblance of sanity.

Quickly grabbing our coats, El pulled me by the hand and led me down the hallway and through our broken front door.

Turning to take a final look at the home we had to immediately vacate, the whir of the hovering helicopter above our house reminded us that time was of the essence. Putting a loving arm around my beloved El, I flipped a defiant juvenile-inspired middle finger up at the pilot, then guided El out into the foggy night.

“What now, Jeremy?” El sentimentally asked, as we fled at top speed to avoid the chopper’s searchlight.

“Let’s eat first,” I replied. I’m starving…”