The Sun Is My Night Light

The Zoltar fortune card I held felt as though the machine was mocking me. Remember, yesterday, you could not wait for today to arrive. It went on about being content and happy, and looking forward to tomorrow. Once I left the park, I’d toss it. 

“That was so much fun! I’m glad you grew out of your fears. Weren’t those haunted houses cool?!” My sister was starting to stumble around. Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady as we headed towards the exit gates and out to the parking lot. Since I could no longer drink, she’d taken her chance to try all the new cocktails the park had to offer this holiday season. 

This was the first year I went through the houses with them. Previously, I always bought the special glowing necklace that kept the scare actors from approaching, and would either find a ride or a nice quiet spot to sit and read on my phone as they explored the houses. There was nothing these mere humans in face paint could do to scare me. Hell, my heart didn’t even beat anymore, so it was impossible to make it stop or jump. 

“It was nice,” I mused, helping her boyfriend keep her right side up until we got to the car. I was officially the designated driver, since I could both no longer drink alcohol like my sister or smoke weed like her boyfriend. I dug the keys out of my pocket and let the car run for a few minutes before putting it in drive .They both adjusted the temperature to the right settings. 

“Are you staying over?” Her boyfriend asked when I stopped at a red light. It was a stupid question; we all knew the answer. 

Still, I phrased it politely. “I can’t. I have things to take care of at home.” 

I couldn’t have stayed over even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t. My sister and her boyfriend had two different reactions to what they both called ‘the situation’. My sister was concerned for my mental state due to constant isolation. She did what she could to study up about my condition. 

Her boyfriend, on the other hand, was constantly conveniently forgetting things like the fact that I could not go into the sun or my new garlic allergy. He kept inviting me to join them on trips to the beach, to go kayaking, to explore the islands on beautiful sunny days, and four out of the five times that I’d stayed for dinner at their trailer, he’d made a dish that called for garlic and put in extra for the flavor. If he were not so adamantly atheist, I would have expected him to be wearing a cross every visit. 

I focused on the silver linings of my situation during the rest of our quiet drive back to their home. I refused to let the stoner in the backseat ruin my mood. He might sleep when he got home; I still had at least six hours left before I could rest. Since the attack, I had saved tons of money. I didn’t have to buy food anymore. I no longer had to use heat, or hot water. I managed to make a massive dent in my To Be Read pile at home. 

“Your change date is coming up. Are you doing anything special for it?” He cleared his throat, breaking my train of thought as I pulled into their driveway. “I hear some…” He visibly struggled to find the best word. I swore I saw him swallow back bile, and could probably have guessed what it was he wanted to say. “I hear that it is a celebratory thing sometimes.” 

“I haven’t planned anything,” I lied, putting the car into park. “I’ll look into it. I almost forgot the day was coming up.” Another lie, a massive one. I knew the date. I would never forget the day it happened. I waited until they were both inside before I left. Some habits didn’t follow me to the grave. 

On the lonely drive home, I started to scratch at my throat. The bites had long since healed. There weren’t even scabs anymore. With the anniversary coming up, I’d been doing my best to put it out of my mind. Of course he’d bring it up. He knew what he was doing. I hate him. I hadn’t been a fan of the guy before my change. 

Change. Situation. Such nice, frilly words to avoid the truth; attack. Assault. What had happened to me wasn’t as natural as a period or menopause to be called a change. It wasn’t a situation either, like that on again, off again, call me when you’re drunk problems my high school classmates still had after all these years. It had been hard, and painful, and if vampires could cry without wasting the blood we need to survive, I would be sobbing about it much more. I didn’t feed often enough to spend even a drop on tears. There were an abundance of volunteers. I just didn’t like dealing with the majority of them. 

The kind of people the volunteered to be food for vampires could be separated into two categories; the creeps and the misinformed. The creeps involved people that found being bitten erotic and made the entire process more intimate than it needed to be. They would moan before I could even find a good place to sink my fangs. They dressed up for the event in outfits that made me blush. They would try to turn the arrangement into something more once I removed my fangs. A few times, that attempt to skid from feeding to the bed happened while I was still attached to their throat. 

The misinformed were horrifically sad. They were often sick or depressed people, seeking out vampires to either end their lives, or in hopes of it ending their suffering. They always ended up crying when I explained that a few bites every now and again were not enough to change them into a vampire. Draining them completely of blood was just a waste. I only needed a few sips of a person. For those with depression, I spent the night listening and encouraged them to seek out more help. The ill people that sought me out were hopeless, looking for a cure in every corner. I had never made another vampire. Each of them had begged me to take that risk on them, promised that whether I succeeded or killed them, they would be better off. I couldn’t bring myself to take that chance. 

From what I understood, the attack would have to be extremely violent to change the victim. The details after that were fuzzy. I remembered being grabbed, having fangs sunk into my throat and shoulder, writhing on gravel in pain, and then waking up to a stranger dragging me by the ankles into a broken down work van. She was also a newly created vampire. We lived in that van with blankets and trash bags taped over the windows while learning the rules of our new life together. She called herself Lila. Lila and I were a great pair. We figured out our limitations. We worked together to survive, for what little time we shared. Lila was killed by an unofficial vampire hunter two months after our attack. 

If she were still around, she would probably have a stupid, fun idea of how to mark the anniversary of our change date. She’d been lively despite our undead status. So far, all I planned was to visit the makeshift grave I had made for her. There was nothing left but dust when Lila was killed. I’d buried the dust in a shallow grave under a tree and marked it with wolves bane. I went to check on it every few weeks. Almost a year later and it remained untouched. 

I made it home. Well, to what I had to call a home. I lived in an apartment that was mostly underground. The windows were ground level. In addition to full blackout curtains, I had duct-taped trash bags up to ensure it stayed dark. One of my closests was a walk-in. I used it for my bed, so I had a door to close as an extra layer of protection against the sun. What none of my protection held out were guests, such as the man sitting at my makeshift dining room table in the kitchenette. I was so hard up for company anymore.

“Hello, Ryan.” 

“You could have pretended I scared you,” he complained. “I pretend for you.” 

“You aren’t pretending.” I hissed, releasing my fangs. “I do scare you. Why are you here?” 

“Courtesy call. Your maker is looking around to hire hunters again. Thought you might want help packing up this time.” 

“How much is he offering?” 

“More than enough for those that have no conscious, and just enough for those that do.” Ryan coughed. I tried to pretend I didn’t smell the blood that came with it. 

Ryan had failed every test to become a hunter. His story was that he thought he was going for a normal hunting license, to get deer and rabbits, and intentionally failed . I felt that there was more to it but didn’t push him. Ryan was the one to keep me from meeting the same fate as Lila. People that save you from certain death are allowed to keep secrets. “You take the offer this time?” 

“Didn’t even offer it to me.” He coughed again, dragging himself to the trash can before starting to hack and gag. All I had to offer him was cold tap water in a cup I’d gotten from Walmart on clearance. “Actually, my name is on the same list yours is.” 

“Oh? And what’s he offering for you?” 

“Nothing. I’m supposed to be a bonus.” He blinked, taking deep breaths and accepted the water. “People don’t have much use for a guy that failed his tests and won’t shoot a freaking duck without good reason.” He guzzled the water like a dying fish. 

“So you figured you’d make it easy for them by visiting. It’s a nice gesture. Two bullets and they get to collect a fortune.” 

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you for a favor.” He used the trash can to pull himself up into a standing position. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him. He hadn’t been in the best health that first night, and each visit since, he lost another ten pounds and was leaking a different bodily fluid. “I know you and I have talked about it before. You told me you don’t ever want to take the risk, you don’t want to do something so heartless to another person, but please, let me die with a little bit of dignity. Hunters like to play with their prey. They won’t make it fast. God knows-” He turned just in time to make it into the trash, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “This ain’t getting any better, and the doctors say it will be a long, slow death. I don’t want to be hooked up to machines and drugged out of my mind for months or years. I’ll buy you a bucket for the excess blood.” 

“Ryan, no.” 

“Fine. Two buckets. Please.” 

“If I fully drain you, you will still feel it for a bit.” 

“It cannot possibly hurt more than this.” He pressed a hand against his ribs. 

“And what about the other risks?” 

“What? That you’d turn me into a vampire?” He chuckled. “Would that be so bad? A new life without throwing up a different organ every day?” 

“You can’t drink alcohol.” 

“Can’t do that now.” 

“You won’t eat normal food anymore,” I argued, to which he only gave me a look. “Okay, okay. Well, what about the fact that you won’t be able to watch the sun rise or set anymore? You’ll be asleep all day.” 

“I wish I could sleep. You don’t even know if you’d turn me.” Ryan managed to limp over to the counter top. It gave him a better source to lean on. “If it’s the death you feel guilty about, don’t. I am asking you for this. Please. Whether I die, or I rise as a vampire, it’s better than meeting the end of a barrel from some assassin for hire or lying on a hospital bed with needles and wires tangled up in me.” He bit his lower lip and groaned in, presumably, pain as he tried to lean against the counter. “And I don’t want to die alone.” 

Alone. That was the arrow, the magic blade that struck through the mass of muscles left in my chest cavity. It had haunted me since my attack that I was alone when it happened. I was alone after Lila died. I was alone much more now than I had been before being changed. I didn’t want to be alone when I finally died, either, though I hadn’t considered that possibility until now. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll do it.” I helped Ryan over to my bed. Usually, I would feed on someone standing up, but he could barely hold himself with the support of the counter top, so we had to go for a sitting position. The process was slow. The first few sips of his blood made me sick; whatever was wrong with Ryan had turned his blood from a sweet treat to a sour and acidic. It turned what could have taken an hour into a never ending process. I thought he’d pass out eventually. He didn’t. That familiar feeling that gave me a warning about the end of my time awake started. 

“Why did you stop?” His voice was weaker. 

“Have to. The sun is coming up.” 

“Can’t you finish this first?” 

“No.” I pulled him further up on the bed. It was a full mattress, just big enough for the two of us to share comfortably. “Wolves obey the moon. I have to obey the sun. It’s my night light. It will be yours too, if you end up like me.” 

“You’re fine with getting blood all over your sheets?” Ryan accepted the blanket I tossed over his body. I didn’t get cold anymore, but no matter how long undead I was, I never outgrew the concept of comfort. The bed was a nest of blankets and pillows. “We were so close.” 

“Well, you haven’t died yet. If you’re still alive when I wake up tonight, I’ll finish.” 

“What if the hunters get you before then?” 

I closed my eyes and settled into a comfortable position. Sleeping now wasn’t the same as sleeping alive had been; my back wouldn’t hurt unless I somehow snapped my spine in my sleep, no matter how I slept. “Then at least neither of us will be alone,” I sighed. 

He would be a vampire when I woke up. I could feel it in my bones. The sensation clashed with the feeling daylight brought. Their combination warmed my soul in a way I hadn’t felt since before dying. It was like taking a nap in the sun on the beach. It just felt right. Ryan’s heart stopped beating a second before I was gone for the day, and in that last moment of consciousness, I added one more silver lining to my ongoing list. 

I will not be lonely, or alone, again.