What Kills Me (22 page)

He went to the trunk of the car, which
was already ajar, and pulled out a red cooler and a black backpack.
He opened the cooler and pulled out a packet of blood.

“Drink this,” he said, putting it in
my palm.

“You’re not having one?”

“I’m fine.”

While I drank, he walked up to the top
half of the vampire I’d bisected and cut off his head.

“Is he still alive?” I
asked.

“No, but just in case.”

He dragged the vampire body parts to
the side of the road. “They’ll burn up at dawn,” he
said.

He started to walk back to me and I
pointed to the fallen truck driver.

“Please,” I said. “We can’t leave him
like that.”

The man looked like he was sleeping on
his back with one hand tucked behind his head. I wondered where he
had been headed tonight. I wondered if he had children. Lucas
collected the man in his arms and carried him to the side of the
road. He lay the body in the grass and returned to me.

“We need to keep moving,” he said. He
put his arm across my collarbone to move me but I would not turn
from the accident site.

“Others will come,” he
said.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

I didn’t believe him.

“I want you to,” Lucas
said.

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

Lucas moved in front of me so that he
was walking backward in the road with his arms outstretched. My
sword was jutting out the top of his backpack like a bone growing
out the side of his neck. I stopped and crossed my arms.

“Hit me,” he said.

I shook my head.

“I just want to see how hard you can
hit,” he said.

“Quit bugging me or I’ll really punch
you.”

“Yes, do it. Here,” he said, showing
me his palm like it was a catcher’s mitt. “Put it right
here.”

I looked into his hand and back into
his eyes. He widened his stance and pumped his eyebrows, half
smiling. My head flopped to the side as I sighed.

“Don’t say, ‘seriously.’ Just do it,”
he said.

I made a fist with my right
hand.

“Tuck your thumb in or you’ll break
it,” he said. “Now hit me.”

I pulled my fist back and jabbed at
his hand. The contact made a satisfying slapping noise.

“How was that?” I asked.

His shoulders slumped and he dropped
his hand. “Seriously?” he said in a high-pitched slur.

“Was that you trying to imitate me? Is
that how I sound to you?”

“That was weak. I know you can do
better,” he said. He re-positioned his feet so he stood square to
me and raised his palm. He wagged it, waving like the queen of
England.

“Come on,” said Lucas. “I want you to
carry through this time. Don’t just fling your arm. Put your weight
into it, turn your hips. And don’t aim for my hand. Aim at a target
behind my hand. Punch through me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Think of everything that
you’ve been through, all your anger and your fears, and just let it
all out.”

“Oh, this is therapy now?”

“Yes. Pretend my hand is your
enemy.”

Pretend the hand is the
general.
My mind’s eye saw Noel. Saw him
fall. Saw the general smile.

I clenched my fist, wound up, and
struck out. My fist shot out, faster than I had expected, too fast
for me to soften the blow. The moment my knuckles touched Lucas’s
skin, I regretted it. He saw the speed and tried to pull his hand
back to absorb the punch. But bones in his hands cracked and the
force sent him staggering.

“Oh my God,” I said. “I’m so
sorry.”

He clutched his broken hand and did a
turn, like he was dancing.

“Lucas?”

“Just give me a minute,” he said. He
massaged the top of his hand, as if he was pushing the bones back
into place. Once he was satisfied, he turned to me with a bemused
expression.

“All right,” he said. “You are
definitely stronger than I expected.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“That was incredible. I can take a
punch from Jerome and it barely stings. You’ve been a vampire for a
week and you’re possibly stronger than vampires who have been alive
for centuries.”

We continued our trudge along the side
of the road. Lucas’s hand was healed but he kept turning it over,
flexing it, and looking at it. Then he would glance at
me.

“Stop with the funny looks,” I
warned.

“I apologize. It’s just
incredible.”

“You said that already.”

“You really need to be aware of your
strength,” he said, “especially around humans.”

Recalling the scene in the alley, I
winced.

“Your abilities develop and build with
time so you’re going to get even stronger.”

Stronger.

I kicked a rock and it disappeared in
the distance. I imagined myself oversized and destroying a city
like King Kong, knocking over buildings and swatting planes out of
the air like flies. Soldiers on the ground were firing at me, their
torpedoes plinking harmlessly against my forehead.

“You’re thinking weird thoughts. I
know by your face. Stop it,” he said.

“I’m thinking that I’m hazardous. That
I need a ‘Beware of Freak Vampire’ sign around my neck.”

“You just need to learn how to control
yourself.”

“You still think that legend about me
is just a story?”

“I think that whatever blood spawned
you has given you great power. But no, I don’t think that you’re a
danger.”

How would I be able to control myself?
Without a thought I had destroyed the humans in the alley, I
chopped a vampire in half with a door, and broke Lucas’s
hand.

The hum of an approaching vehicle in
the distance interrupted us.

“We need to take this one, all right?”
he said. “We’ve let too many pass and we need to find shelter
before dawn.”

“But…”

“We’re not going to find a stall
selling cars on the side of the road, Zee.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

I followed him to the shoulder. “Where
are you going?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Go stand in the middle of the
road.”

“Why me?”

“Just do it. They’ll stop for
you.”

Grumbling, I stomped back. “We’re not
hurting them.”

The driver had the windows down. I
could hear the bass from the stereo and a man’s voice singing along
with a ballad. He sounded happy. I blinked against the glare from
his headlights and waved. He didn’t let up on the accelerator so I
hopped and flailed my arms.

“Stop waving so fast,” Lucas said.
“Move at human speed.”

“Oh. Like this?”

“Slower. I said
slower
.”

I waved my arms, feeling as though I
was at a concert during a slow song. It was a young man behind the
wheel. He looked startled. He slowed his car and pulled over to the
shoulder. I ran over to his window.

“Hi!” I said. “Thanks so much for
stopping. I’m a bit lost.”

Before he could respond, Lucas was
opening his door, tearing his seatbelt away and pulling him out.
The guy gasped so deeply that he choked. He did a belly flop on the
pavement, his glasses, wallet, and coins scattering around him. He
flipped over on his back and lay with his limbs extended as if
ready to do snow angels.

“I’m so sorry about this,” I said,
climbing into the passenger side.

When we drove away, the man was
sitting on the road, his elbows on his knees, his head
bowed.

“Man, I feel bad,” I said.

“It’s just a car, Zee. He can get
another one.”

“Maybe he’s a student and he has to
work two jobs to pay for this car. Maybe he spent years saving for
this car so he could date the pretty girl at the tea shop. You
don’t know.”

“Why would he want to date a girl who
only likes him for his car?”

“Pfff. That’s not the
point.”

“What is the point?”

“These things mean a lot to people.
Taking them hurts them.”

“Humans focus too much on petty
things. A car is an object. He wasn’t hurt. He still has his
health, his life, his future. We didn’t take anything of value from
him.”

“To you, it wasn’t valuable. How can
you judge humans? You haven’t been one for a very long
time.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But I wish
they knew what I know now. They’d be happier, I think.”

“Are you happier knowing what you
know?”

“It’s not the same. Humans would be
happier because for them, it all ends. Everything is more intense,
more precious, when it’s finite.”

“You keep saying that we’re immortal.
But this could all end for us too. If you haven’t noticed, every
vampire on the planet is trying to kill us.”

“Try is the operative word there. They
can try.”

He was quiet for a few minutes. He
turned the music off and leaned back from the steering
wheel.

“Zee?”

“Hmm?”

“If something ever happens to me, I
want you to run.”

“What? No,” I said. I twisted in my
seat to face him but he wasn’t looking at me.

“That was too close tonight. Too
dangerous,” he said. “You should have left me.”

“I would never do that. Just like you
couldn’t leave me behind at the church.”

“If something was to happen, I need to
know that you would run away and be safe. That you would be
brave.”

I sat back. This was an intolerable
conversation about an unimaginable scenario. The thought of it made
me want to vomit.

“Be brave. Isn’t that your code for ‘I
care’?” I said instead.

He was solemn. “I have lost a lot of
people that I care about,” he said. “I can’t have anyone else
die.”

“I don’t have any plans to
die.”

He appeared satisfied by my response
but still disturbed by our conversation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I
don’t have…anyone else.”

He turned to me for the first time
since getting into the vehicle. “You will always have
yourself.”

On the dashboard a bobble-head toy in
the shape of a cat wobbled its round, grinning face. I rested my
head against the windowpane and counted the streetlights along the
highway.

“You should rest,” he said softly. “I
don’t think you’ve slept.”

He was right. I hadn’t slept in a
while. But I didn’t feel physically tired. I was only weary of
thinking, weary of feeling scared. When my mind went blank, the
marauding dread swept in. The stillness allowed the sadness to take
hold.

Lucas turned off the highway and
pulled up to a gas station. He parked in front of the doors,
fluorescent lights filling the car. As I looked into the store, my
mind’s microphone slipped beyond the door. I heard the hum of the
fridges, the laugh track from the television. The man behind the
counter was clipping his fingernails. I heard the snap and the tick
of the stray half moons hitting the floors.

“Safe to go in?” Lucas
asked.

“Huh?”

“You have this funny look on your face
when you’re listening for things.”

“I’m glad that I amuse you. What are
we doing here?”

“Asking for directions. We need to
find a hotel,” he said, turning the key in the ignition.

“You know, I could drive us in the
day. We’ll just have to put you in the trunk.”

“And how will you know where to
go?”

“How do you know where to
go?”

“Listen. I’d feel better if you
weren’t alone. I can’t help you in the day.”

I thought of the last time that I was
alone and acquiesced.

“Do you need anything?” he said,
opening the door.

“Could you grab me a bag of barbecue
chips?”

He paused, one leg outside.

“I’m joking,” I said. “Did chips even
exist in your days…?”

He slammed the door before I was
finished talking. Why did he have to be so abrupt?

I opened my door and climbed out.
“Hey. I never told you, I got super hungry in the market and ate a
fish ball,” I said.

He stopped. “And?”

“I got violently ill.”

“I warned you.”

“You did. But you said it would taste
like feet. It didn’t.”