Read Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor Online
Authors: HC Hammond
Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor (30 page)
Harold left them
to figure out their ending. He had his and he knew exactly where he wanted to
be right now. In the arms of someone who cared and who didn’t have a guilty
conscience.
Once out of the
alley, Harold trotted back towards the halfway house. He took it slow, but not
too slow, he had no idea what time it was and the sunrise could be getting
closer than he thought. He intended to get his car back and wanted to give the
G-men plenty of time to clear out before he got there. A drive taking only
minutes in the van took Harold three times as long, in his estimation anyway.
He ached all over by the time he got to the right street.
Harold stuck to
the shadows, trying to avoid the streetlamps where he could and kept an eye out
for marauding feds, but it appeared most were gone now. The trucks and vans
hauling prisoners had left and only a couple of vehicles sat in front of the
house. Inside the lights were off, so Harold could only assume they’d cleared
it out too and were keeping the place under watch in case other group members
came back tonight. He worked his way down the street and slid into his car.
He put it in neutral and pushed it away until he felt safe to start the car
up. Harold drove straight to Maria.
He didn’t know
what he would say when he got to her. Whether or not she’d be mad, most
probably, and exactly how he’d convince her to come with him, but one way or another
she’d come. He didn’t know if he could live without her, go on to the new life
he now contemplated without her not so gentle urgings. Having seen these
things he felt obligated to try to be more, at least for Maria. Maybe he
couldn’t go back to being as Donald called it, normal, again but he could live
better. He could stick to blood donation and even animal blood, if he had
too. He could start trying again.
Harold stopped at
a gas station to fill up the car and buy a handful of carnations for Maria.
Maybe he could offer to marry her if she came with him. Harold needed a ring.
There would be time later. They just needed to move now. Get away from the
familiar carnage of this place.
Harold pulled up
to their apartment. Its normally burning lights were dark. As usual the
neighbors were up too, he could see them screaming at each other through their
naked front window, but it didn’t bother him. He even took a minute to knock
on the glass and wave goodbye at them. They responded with a small one
fingered wave of their own. It’s nice to see people doing things as a couple.
He didn’t bother
knocking as he unlocked the door and went in. Harold called out to Maria, as
he bounded up the stairs, hoping to catch her off guard and therefore in a
better mood to agree to go with him.
“Baby, I’m
home,” Harold called at the top of the stairs, he pushed open the bedroom door
and saw no one in their bedroom. In fact, he saw nothing in their bedroom but
the bed, stripped of blankets and sheets and an empty dresser, which previously
held Maria’s clothing. One completely empty drawer leaned against the dresser,
having falling in someone’s haste to empty it.
He had trouble
comprehending the sight before him at first. It was so far outside the realm
of possible in his mind. His girlfriend gone. Perhaps, with everything which
happened tonight, he’d also slid into the Twilight Zone.
It all fell into
place, the G-men and their laughter, Maria’s odd behavior the last time he saw
her, the little piece of paper sitting on the mattress.
Harold sat on the
bed and read the note. It held all the same platitudes and apologies as any
other goodbye. She decided to go back home to her family. Harold wouldn’t
meet her halfway. He used the disease to keep her at a distance.
The apartment
echoed her sentiment. No more heartbeat to keep him company. Harold fingered
the paper’s edge with a bitten, busted finger. He pocketed the note, standing
to take stock of the room. He still planned on leaving. Maybe later he could
track Maria down… ask her to, to what exactly? Give him another chance?
Harold put the
spilled drawer back in its place, shutting it slowly but firmly in place.
After a moment,
he went to his dresser and emptied it of clean underwear. In the closet, he
pulled down a small metal box, dulled with age, but clean with well-oiled
hinges. The remnants of his previous life.
Harold grabbed
his packed bag and left, not bothering to lock up the apartment. The landlord
could do what she liked with the place and whatever stuff in it had value. He
needed to get out and get away, something he should have done long ago.
Though it was not
dawn yet, he could see an imperceptible brightening in the sky which signaled
the coming sun. Harold had a couple hours driving time before sunrise, enough
time for him to get out of town and whole up somewhere for the day. Immediate
needs first and he’d go from there. Harold knew one thing though, he wasn’t
going to do what anyone else wanted him to do. From here on out he would be
calling the shots about his own life decisions. It was a whole lot less
painful that way and less time consuming.
Harold realized
he’d backtracked through town towards where Mephisto chased down Donald. Not a
good place to be right now. Who knew how many feds were prowling the area for
the van. They had to know it was missing by now. He made a point of taking
side streets headed in the opposite direction. He half-feared the phantom
would stand out like a sore thumb on these empty roads, but the early morning
traffic started picking up again. He opted to follow the flow of traffic and
let it lead him to safety.
Harold was
ruminating on the suckiness of life at a red-light when a familiar figure loped
along the crosswalk. Rufus, looking frightened and confused and bloody from
his last meal. Shit. Harold hunkered down behind the wheel, not wanting to
deal with another crisis. Too late. Rufus halted, sniffing the air and locked
eyes right on Harold. He actually smiled, wriggling his tailless bottom and
made straight for the car. Shit, shit, Harold willed for the red light to turn
green so he could peel out of there, but it didn’t happen.
Rufus pressed his
face against the windshield. “All right, Harry?” he asked, slapping the
glass, “I need a ride.”
Oh god.
Harold pretended
not to hear. It was much harder than he expected to pretend Rufus wasn’t
slobbering blood all over his windshield.
“Come on Harry,
those agents are everywhere.” The wolf man slapped the glass again.
Hmmm, let a
bloody wolf man into my nice car or leave him for the feds. Tough call, Harold
thought darkly, then again he went through the bother with Rufus earlier.
Harold sighed and unlocked the car doors.
“Thanks,” Rufus
said, slamming the door harder than necessary as he got into the passenger
seat. Harold could already see his vintage 1962 upholstery being ruined by
blood, gore and claw marks. Such was the problem when associating with
flesheaters and bloodsuckers these days. You could never take them anywhere
nice.
Rufus saw what
Harold was oh so pointedly looking at and wiped his hands on his tattered
pants. “Sorry,” Rufus whispered, “about the blood. So where are we going?”
“I’m headed out
of town,” Harold said, stepping on the gas when the light finally changed.
“Goody, I love
car trips,” Rufus said, returning to his cheerful demeanor.
“Oh no,” Harold
said.
“No?”
“No.”
“I love car
trips,” Rufus repeated.
Harold opted to
focus on the drive out of town and the problem of finding a place to spend the
next day. Traffic around them steadily picked up with cars and SUVs and other
early morning commuters with nothing more to worry about than their bills and
trying to spice up rather routine, but normal lives. In the midst of it all, a
low-riding, black Phantom rolled through the city with three souls, each trying
to stay ahead of the sunrise.
End.