Melabeth the Vampire (5 page)

I was finding out that most of the legends were bullshit, like inviting me in, and sunlight burning me. I had an image in the mirror. So maybe I could eat food too?

*                    *                    *

It is so unfair; I made French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon, and here I am puking my guts out in the sink for 15 minutes.

Damn, where is someone to hold my head?  It would've been one thing if the food was nasty or smelled bad, but no it smelled delicious, and it tasted fantastic. Where's the justice? This means I'll have to go through my existence, smelling food that I once loved and be unable to eat it.

*                  *                   *

It was around 7:00 PM when I got out the door and headed down the street. I was heading for uptown, with a simple plan to catch a bus back to LA and then eat bikers.

As I walked I couldn’t help thinking of those poor people's house that I just left. First they were robbed of a gun, clothes, and cash. Then the perpetrator destroyed their bathroom with mud, leaving a ring around the tub that will never come out. Then someone threw up in their kitchen sink, vandalizing the entire kitchen and living room.

It was like a giant tornado, or a 15-year-old vampire throwing the biggest fit you've ever seen. Apparently I was strong enough to toss the refrigerator into the next room landing on the TV. The walls shattered like paper when I punched and kicked them; even the two by fours, shattered like toothpicks. I couldn't help but laugh, as I imagined how the insurance agent looked as he wrote the claim.

I was now walking down High St at 8:30 at night. Apparently this town was in the middle of nowhere. When I reached the uptown area, they didn’t even have a bus station. After walking up the main drag, there were only four little shops, and an old country hardware store.

In front of the hardware store is where I ran into a nice helpful middle aged woman. She directed me to Grand Junction City. She told me that’s where the big city was and the nearest bus station. The confrontation was strange, and she was glad to see me walk away. Apparently I did not put out a good vibe.

So now I am hitchhiking down highway 330 to I-70 to Grand Junction. At least that is the plan. Now it is awful strange that no one has stopped for me. When I was a child, me and my parents hitched around the country, and it was never more than a few minutes before someone stopped.  My dad used to say it helped to travel with girls, because, if it was just him, it could take almost fifteen minutes before someone would pick him up.

I think, but I am not sure, that I have been walking for a half an hour. A dozen cars went by, and I hardly got a brake light. Now I guess I could just run there, but that seemed like a bad idea because I was already hungry again. And it is not rocket science that motion takes energy. Finally a big, old looking Chevy Impala pulled over in front of me, so I ran up to the passenger side and jumped in the backseat; there were two men sitting in the front.

“Thanks for stopping,” I said to the men in the front of the car. I threw my bag in the empty seat next to me, and had barely got the door shut when the man took off.

Both of these men looked to be about forty; it was hard to tell. The men were both sporting beards of gray and brown hair. One had long messed up hair that he kept in a ball cap. The driver just looked like he missed his haircut by a week or so with a much neater and shorter beard to match. They were both heavily dressed for the cold with flannel jackets and jeans. The Old Spice one of them was wearing didn’t even start to cover up the smoke smell or the scent of their blood for that matter.

The passenger turned to face me and had a friendly face. “Where you going on this God forsaken night?”

“It’s not the only thing God has forsaken.” I replied with a little laugh; then I went on to say. “Need to get to Grand Junction bus station.”

The passenger gave a little chuckle at my remark. The driver turned around and gave me a quick go over. He then went back to driving before saying in a nice soft voice. “What a strange thing to say.” And, after a short pause, he continued. “You’re not running away from home or anything like that?”

“No sir; I am heading back home.” I said to the driver. There was something off about these two guys as they gave each other a quick look. Some unsaid understanding passed between them. The driver went back to looking at the road, while the passenger went back to looking at me.

“My name’s Dave” said the passenger “and this right over here is my coz Jim… what’s you go by?”

I paused; what is my name? I don’t think I should tell him my name is Melanie Elizabeth Dare. I was caught off guard; and I said the first think that came to mind “Melabeth”

“That’s a real pretty name you have” offered up Dave.

“I have never heard the name Melabeth before. Are your parents from around these parts?” asked Jim. He was definitely trying to find out a little background info.

“No sir.” I was not going to offer up too much info.

“Well it don’t matter none, Jim” Dave said as he spun himself forward in his seat. “And don’t forget my stuff at the hunting lodge; we need to get it.”

Jim gave a look at Dave, but then he looked forward to the road again. “Oh, ya, I almost forgot. No problem Dave. Little girl...”

Dave cut him off. “It’s Melabeth, Jim.”

Jim said smoothly with his soft voice. “I am sorry; meant no disrespect Melabeth; I was just sayin; it will only take a few minutes to grab Dave’s stuff. Then we will be able to drive you all the way to the bus station.”

Before I could respond, Dave added. “And you wouldn’t have to stand outside hitching.”

“Maybe never again.”  Jim said with no real emotion in that soft voice.

I wasn’t meant to hear that, but my hearing is amazing, so I just answered.   “Yep, no problem. Do what you need to; if you guys don’t mind, I am going to grab a little shut eye.” Not that I had to sleep. Far from it, I was wide awake. I just didn’t want to talk anymore with these men, and, if their intentions were not pure, well I guess I wouldn’t have to go hungry all night after all.

As I lay there pretending to be asleep, memories of my past came to my mind as I thought back to the first time
I was called Melabeth. My father wished for my name to be Melanie, something about being the music to his heart. That was the story he gave me, but it was probably the name of his ex-girlfriend. My mother wanted to name me Elizabeth, after her grandmother who had already passed away.

I guess it's better than being named after my grandmother Norma. After my mother passed away and my dad was out on his drinking binge, I lived with my grandparents James and Norma Bergman, who were the closest things I ever had to real parents. My grandfather James used to sit me on his lap and tell me all kinds of stories; after my mother died I was a little too big to put on his lap.  Too big for the lap maybe, but never too big for the stories, he used to tell me the stories every night sitting on my bed, until I fell asleep.

For a 12-year-old girl dealing with the death of her mother, it was the only thing that kept me sane. Every time my grandfather looked at me, you could see that I reminded him of my mother, his only daughter, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes that I feared would never leave him. One night my grandfather was sitting on the end of my bed, telling me a story about my mother and father. He had a great way of telling stories.

*                 *                   *

My grandfather started his story one night. “Well you see honey for years I believed you had a sister. I know I never saw her, but your father always called you Mel. And your mother always called you Beth. So see every time you came to visit, you liked to play hide and seek. And who were you hiding from? I don't know, but then I could hear your parents calling for you… MEL WHERE ARE YOU?  BETH COME DOWN TO EAT. And when you did not answer, they would call for your sister. MEL BETH, MEL BETH; and so that's when I begun to understand that your sister, Melabeth, was better at hide and seek than you were.”

As my grandfather told this ridiculous story, we were busting up with tears in our eyes. After that story, for the few short months I lived with him, he would come up to me when I was sad and say. "Hey Melabeth, everything going okay?"  And then he gave me a big old wink.

No matter how many times he did that, it brought a little smile to my face. The story made me forget about my mother for a minute or two and wonder where my sister was hiding.

My father's parents were good people but a little on the flaky side. It was on a weekend visiting them that my father picked me up and took me to California.

*                     *                    *

So here I am sitting in the back of an old Chevy Impala that was probably brand-new when they shoved me in the ground in 1975, and in the front seat are either a couple of weird rednecks or perverts. Of course pervert is also spelled lunch for vampires, and I was kind of hungry.

After a long ride down back roads, the two men in the front smoking cigarettes and chitchatting about hunting, we finally pulled onto a dirt road. Jim looked back at me, and said something along the lines. “If you're awake, we’re almost there.”

Pretending to be asleep is no longer an option. As the car rocked back and forth down the old dirt road,
between the ruts and poor suspension, I had to hold on for dear life. It was hard not to be thrown across the car.

Finally the car pulled up in front of an old wooden cabin. From the outside it didn't look to be much more than a shed with windows. It was square with four windows in the front and a small porch with antlers over the door. Boy, I didn't see that one coming; antlers, who would have guessed?

Jim shut off the car, got out and headed towards the cabin. Dave opened his door, then turned around and looked at me and said. “Come inside; it’s nice and warm. This may take a few… and I don't want you to shiver.”

Oh sure just need to grab some stuff. Of course I didn't mind going along with this. I think in another life it would have been scary, but this was exciting. So I responded, and tried my hardest to sound hesitant and a little fearful. “Okay… I guess… you guys are not going to take too long are you?  I mean I need to get to the bus stop. I am kind of in a hurry.” And then I couldn’t help myself and added. “And no one knows where I am.”

I guess I sounded hesitant and scared enough to Dave, because he was already to reassure me.  “We’ll hurry lickety-split. I just don't want you to get cold, and you'll be nice and warm if you come on in.”

“Alright,” I agreed. Wow, they must think I'm stupid.

As I got out of the warm car and followed Dave up to the cabin, I could see smoke starting to puff out of the chimney.  Probably a human wouldn't be able to see the smoke. It was a moonless night, but you have to be an idiot to believe that a cabin in the forest was already warmer before we got there.

I followed Dave into the cabin.  When I came in through the door, he shut it behind me, and I could hear him locking the door. It was cold in the cabin. Jim was standing over a fresh fire that he just started. Not only that, but I could tell from the smell and the look of things, that no one had been here for days.

Dave ushered me over to a gross looking little loveseat. I sat down, and then Jim came over and sat right next to me. At this point, it was really, really hard to keep the smile off of my face.

They may not be bikers, but for tonight they will do.

All My Friends Are In

Dead Places

I
love running through the forest at night with my hair flying behind me and wearing nothing as the cold air wraps around my naked body.

I was in a hurry; Jim was getting away. I really screwed up.

All this power and I don't know how to fight. Slipping through the trees at high speed I could feel myself losing it. I couldn’t stop worrying about Jim escaping me. I was running to fast, I jumped up onto a low lying branch.

I had my legs bent so that my butt was on my heels, my arms straight over my chest with my hands holding onto the branch. I took a calming breath and then another one. Smelling the air, I could taste the smell of Jim’s Old Spice and cigarettes. I looked into the direction of the smell; I understood what direction he went in.

Now I could tell where there was a path. Now that I have calmed a little, I can track him. I can’t make mistakes, not like at the cabin.  I started to run toward the smell.

As I ran, my mind wandered back to what happened at the cabin.

*                 *                    *

Jim was sitting next to me on the loveseat, and Dave took residency across from us in an old recliner. I guess Dave had forgotten that we were here to grab a couple of items because he was all relaxed in his chair.

Dave and Jim both cracked open a couple of beers, lit up cigarettes, and started bullshitting back and forth. The next thing that I knew they were trying to strike up a conversation with me.

It didn’t take long before the conversation became real creepy. They wanted to know if I was a virgin. I played stupid and nervous. Then they started to offer money for me to take off my clothes. Of course, I refused. And then they threatened me, so I pretended to be scared. Then I did what they asked, and walked across the room to take off my clothes.

Now I wasn’t scared; I was excited because I felt the way these men felt about hunting animals in the wild. I knew I was stronger and faster, but I was also inexperienced.

I was about to find out how much.

The cabin was basically one big room with a fireplace on one wall. There was a loft in the roof of the cabin; the staircase came down almost in the middle of the room. The bottom of the staircase came to a landing that leads to the rear of the cabin. The staircase acted like a wall that separated the cabin and made it feel like more than one space. On the other side of the staircase were a washing basin, refrigerator, stove and a few cabinets. That made it kind of a makeshift kitchen.

The bathroom appeared to be outside where an old outhouse was. This was serious rustic living. I'd never
taken into account that all my speed would be hard to use against them in such a small area.

I had never been in a fight in my life. I just had to take these two guys out fast. I'd never been around men that knew how to hunt and kill. I started off on the right foot; I wanted them off guard; that's why I stood there taking off my clothes, throwing them into the corner of the room. My nakedness would distract them, and I wouldn’t mess up my dress.

After I was naked, Jim walked up to me and put his arms around me. He kept talking about how he wasn't going to hurt me or make me do anything I didn’t want to do; he just wanted me to be warm.

When he started trying to kiss me, I knew that the game was up. I wasn't going to be able to take one of them off into another room, so I decided to take them both on at the same time.

So I spun Jim around and tried to bite the back of his neck. I was a little surprised; I was pushed back by Dave, and then all hell broke loose.

I clawed at Dave first, but he stepped back. I swung into the air. Then I took a punch to the face from Jim.

I was able to take the damage, but it still hurt. It was a full on brawl: punching, clawing, kicking, and throwing each other around the room.

It didn’t help that they still were wearing all their clothes. They were wearing thick winter jackets. Every time I clawed them, I just ripped up their clothes; my punches and kicks where softened against their heavy outfits. Even though they had the extra protection, I was still beating the hell out of them.

At the same time, I was taking a beating too. The room was too small to maneuver, and all my extra strength was offset by their weight. When I grabbed hold of one, the other one would pull me off, and throw me into the wall or the floor.

The few pieces of furniture were tossed all over the room. I picked up the recliner and threw it at one of the men smashing a large hole in the wall.

I would have kicked their asses if I knew how to fight; just watching them beat me up was a learning experience.  I was seeing all kinds of things I didn’t know: the way you swing to punch, how to use a person’s weight against them, and how to avoid a punch or kick.

I couldn’t recall how long this went on, but, at one point, I got on Jim’s back and bit his neck. He ripped me off; my fangs where still attached to his throat, causing it to tear his skin open. Blood sprayed everywhere.

He turned around and shoved me into the wall. I pushed myself off the wall to attack again when a loud noise, followed by what felt like the hand of God punching me.

The right side of my chest was hit hard. I slammed against the wall and fell down into a slump.

It took me a second to realize that Dave was standing over me with a shotgun. I lay perfectly still, while I felt my body stop the bleeding. Then it started to put itself back together again.

I knew I could get up in only a few seconds after being shot, but I thought I should play dead or take a chance of getting shot into pieces. I didn’t know how much
damage I could take before I would finish dying and wasn’t ready to test it.

This fight was not going so well. I needed a minute to revise my plan of attack.

*                    *                   *

As I was thinking of my giant screw up. I was running toward Jim’s scent. Hopefully I would catch up to him before he made it to a house or car.

I stopped running at the bottom of a tree; the forest appeared to be black and white which meant it was real dark where I was standing. It also meant that humans couldn’t see me; directly ahead of me I could see Jim hiding in what appeared to be a hideaway for hunting.

He was doing something, behind the camouflage, but I planned on being careful and not making a mistake. I can’t underestimate this man like I did earlier.

*                    *                     *

Remembering back to being shot, I was playing dead.

Dave checked to make sure I was dead, and then he went to check on Jim. I came up with a new plan to end this.

Jim had grabbed a rag and pressed it to Jim’s neck while he muttered loud curses. Dave had turned his back to me, and was holding the shotgun by the barrel; the stock rested on the floor. Dave used his free hand to help Jim, while Jim was sitting on the edge of the overturned loveseat.

Dave hovered over him saying. “Just let me take a look at it; she got you good.”

Jim replied with pain in his voice. “You fool; I can’t believe you shot her… she was gorgeous. We could have handled her.”

Dave looked at him, and said. “She was unnatural, Jim.” Then, in a whisper. “She had the devil in her.”

I had enough of talk. Time to show Jim that Dave is right and I have the devil in me. I stood up and went toward Dave.

My body had repaired everything but my right tit.  It was still missing; thank goodness that everything grows back. I hate to be uneven.

I was only a few feet behind Dave when I let out a loud hissing scream. Dave spun around in surprise; so far so good.

I could tell which leg he was putting most of his weight on. I dropped onto one knee, and with all the strength I had, my arm swung out in a large arc. It made contact with the side of his knee; the sound of breaking bones filled my ear.

He fell to the floor.

In the same moment, I grabbed his shotgun from his other arm. Once I had the rifle, I stood up. Then I swung it like a bat, right on top of Dave’s head, only I kind of missed and hit his back.

Nonetheless he went to the ground.

I swung the rifle around in my arms until it was pointing where Jim was. Jim was gone. He had dashed out the front door as I took out his buddy. I ran out the door after him; this is the part where I underestimated him again.

As soon as I stepped out the door, he slammed me in the chest with this huge hunting knife. I dropped the shotgun while I was falling backwards from the blow of the blade. He had stuck the knife right through my last good tit, right where my heart is. I landed on my back unable to breathe.

Lucky for me that’s not a requirement.

Jim wasted no time. He was already bending over to get hold of the shotgun. Using my arms I pushed up from the ground-staying vertical, and then kicked Jim in the side as I flew through the air. I heard him let out a loud yelp as he flew off the front porch, and landed on the ground.

After that maneuver; I had landed back on my back. I sat up immediately to see Jim getting back up off the ground.

Staring at me with eyes of bewilderment, he searched his pockets for something and then ran off into the woods; I figured he probably was looking for his car keys. I needed to catch him and keep him from getting away; this whole situation was so out of hand.

At that point I stood up and yanked the knife out of my chest. I heard a noise from behind me. Dave was getting back up, but this time was the last time. I ran over, jumped on his back and sank my fangs into his neck.

I fed on him until he was dead. It took me 10 minutes to finish Dave off. I didn't get to enjoy him as much as I would have liked knowing that every second gave Jim more time to get away.

*                    *                     *

So now here I am standing across the clearing as Jim readies himself.

I must be careful; if that would've been a wooden stake, I'd be dead. At least I believe I would be dead. I don't know which legends about vampires are true and not true; but, just like the blood, stakes seem to always kill vampires.

I am hoping Jim hasn't figured out what I am, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's guessed. At any rate he's liable to try a wooden stake or dynamite, anything that might finish me off. And I don't know what he has in that hideaway. It took me 10 minutes to finish off Dave and at least that long to track Jim down.

I could smell the blood from his neck but not as strong as before. So I figured he must have used some of that time to bandage himself up. The remaining time he could have been up to anything.

So I quietly moved around in the shadows, circling his little hunting hut. It's awful quiet and he's not making a lot of noise. Now that I have eaten, the healing went even faster, and I could breathe without labor. All my cuts where gone; my right tit grew back. My breasts were not big, but I would have missed one.

So, I whistled and let the images fill my mind. Also I was still hoping that human ears could not pick up the frequency. So far there was no stir from inside the hut. I'm guessing he could not hear me. My second sight could not see through the hut walls; it gave me a great 360° panorama of what was around me, but it did not allow me to see through objects. Finally I heard some movement.

In one giant leap, Jim burst out of the hut with a hatchet in one hand and a wooden stake in the other. Well I guess that answers several questions. First, he had
bandaged his wound. Second, he had been spending his time whittling, because, he had guessed what I was.

Letting out a wild cry, Jim yelled out into the woods. “Bring it on devil… I’ll send you back to hell, whore… I ain’t afraid of no hell bitch!”

I was off to Jim’s right side. Still standing in the darker shadows, I replied in a low purr. “Now, now there Jim; that doesn’t sound like a man, that’s not afraid.”

Jim spun to his right. Now he was facing me, but I could tell by the way he was straining his eyes, that he still couldn’t see me. He said with a loud mean voice, “Bring it on HELL BITCH; AND I WILL SHOW YOU FEAR!”

I giggled, and then said. “I thought we were going to have sex? Take off your clothes, and we’ll make love not war; that’s what my parents always said.”

Jim, still trying to see into the dark, spit out his reply. “You come on out of there. I will send you straight to hell where all those hippies are waiting for you. Come on whore. What are you waiting for?”

He was trying to chide me into coming out to make the first move. I had the advantage in the dark shadows. He could not see and I could. No, I couldn’t go into the field and face him. Now that I knew that I don’t know how to fight, he'll hold nothing back. I have to figure out how to get him to attack me in the dark.

I do have some time to figure this out; it's only about midnight. I shouldn't rush this and get myself killed. My mother used to tell me. “Beth, remember this; never make a decision faster than you have to. Take all the time that's allotted to you.”

Yes, I will take my time; sometimes you make fast decisions because you have to. Sometimes we make fast decisions because we choose to; those are the same decisions that we come to regret. There'll be no regret tonight.