Simon's Struggles - 4. Daywalker, Nightstalker

Simon hurt. A lot. His entire body felt like it was asleep, except his chest, and that was full of pins and needles. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t smell, and he wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not.

But even worse than that was the fact that he didn’t seem to be breathing.

Simon sucked in a huge breath of air, a silent whimper escaping him as he felt the agony of his lungs inflating. The needles spread from his chest through his gut, circling back up into his head. Suddenly he could hear, and the noise of the world around him was like a tornado had descended right on top of him.

Someone was screaming, and dimly he realised the voice was his, yelling in agony. A hand touched his as he curled into a ball.

“It’s okay Simon. I know it hurts. Give it a few minutes.”

A few minutes? He couldn’t stand this pain for another second. His legs and sinuses burned, and smell returned to him, the smell of blood, suddenly one of the sweetest scents in the world. He clutched the hand holding him, folding in on himself as the needles passed into his feet.

And then it was over. He gasped as he unclenched, his body shaking in the memory of the pain it had just endured.

He opened his eyes, finding Tristan leaning over him. His stomach roared and Tristan winced.

“Hey buddy, I need you to drink something okay? It will make you feel better, I promise.”

A cup was thrust into Simon’s hand, cold and full of a red ooze. The smell of blood intensified as he held the cup.

“What… What is this?” he asked, his throat scratchy in its dryness.

“Strawberry smoothie. It’s my own blend,” Tristan smiled wanely.

Suspiciously, Simon took a sip of the drink, and then a gulp. It was strawberry, and something else, something that added to the sweetness.

“What happened? I… I remember… Was I shot?!”

“Just finish your smoothie and I’ll explain, okay?”

Simon complied, gulping down the drink. The edge was gone from his hunger, but his stomach still wanted more.

Tristan handed him another cup, looking troubled. Simon began drinking again, the taste of something else, something almost coppery, nearly overshadowing the strawberry in this cup.

“The official story is there was a shooter at the mall, but he died before taking more than a single shot. Someone snapped his neck,” Tristan started.

“I was shot! Shouldn’t I be in the hospital?” SImon demanded, looking around.

He was in Tristan’s guest room. For some reason the lights were off, but he could see just fine.

“You were shot,” Tristan agreed. “I… saved you, in a way.”

Simon laughed weakly.

“Dude, you got to stop ruining my suicides…”

Tristan shrugged.

“This one wasn’t a suicide. I didn’t think it counted. If it makes you feel any better, technically you did die.”

The grin melted off Simon’s face.

“I died. So, what, the afterlife is an eternity with you?”

“Or without me. It’s up to you really. But it’s a little more complicated than that. You’re a vampire.”

Simon’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the cup in his hand. He set the drink down on the bedside table as Tristan smiled weakly.

“It’s a more palatable first feeding,” he shrugged.

“You made me drink blood…”

“Yes, but you need to drink blood or you’ll starve. And if you starve, you’ll be a danger to everyone around you.”

Simon placed a hand over his neck, feeling for bite marks.

“You didn’t bite me,” he said.

“I fed you my blood,” Tristan replied. “It was the only thing I could think of to save you. It’s not as bad as you think-”

“Not as bad as I think? If you’re telling me the truth, which I seriously doubt, by the way, you’ve turned me into someone who is cursed to drink blood and come out at night!”

“Not exactly. Yes, you have to drink blood. It isn’t as bad as you think. And you don’t have to live only at night either. You get to experience both the day and the night now. But that itself comes with a downside, if you look at it that way. You can’t sleep anymore.”

He couldn’t sleep anymore? That had been his escape from life.

“On the plus side, you don’t have acne anymore,” Tristan offered. “And your senses are going to sharpen gradually.”

“Wait. You decided to save a suicidal person by making them immortal?”

“It has a sense of irony to it. You can still die, I think. But it’s harder to do. That’s how I found out about the sunlight thing,” Tristan added quietly. “And that we don’t need oxygen. And we heal quickly.”

He stood up quickly.

“More smoothie?”

He sat at the kitchen table, glaring at Tristan.

“You don’t even look like a vampire,” he accused.

Tristan sighed, pouring himself a glass of the bloody smoothie. Simon could see a few gallons of the stuff, and he gagged thinking about how much blood must be in them.

“‘Look like a vampire’. Tell me Simon, what does a vampire look like?”

“Like Dracula. Or Lestat. Like… like…” Simon trailed off, unable to think of another vampire.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, explain the agony you just went through when you woke up. Explain why you weren’t breathing.”

He couldn’t, but there had to be an explanation, right?

“Even better, try holding your breath,” Tristan challenged.

Staring Tristan in the eye, Simon took a deep breath. He held it in, waiting for the burning of his lungs.

Frowning two minutes later, he exhaled slowly. His brain screamed that he needed to take a breath, but his lungs didn’t hurt at all.

“See?” Tristan said, drinking.

Simon inhaled again.

“This is real…” he breathed. “How could you do this to me?!”

“Hey, it was either this or let you die.”

“You should have let me die!” Simon shot back. “I’d rather face oblivion than be forced to murder for my survival!”

Tristan shook his head.

“You don’t have to murder,” he said, holding up the cup of smoothie.

“Where did the blood come from then?” Simon snapped.

“Blood bank. I snuck in and stole a few pints. It isn’t as good as fresh blood for sustenance, but this will keep you going for a couple of days. You will have to feed from someone though, and your first time is going to suck. Pun intended.”

“I’m so glad you can laugh about this,” Simon scowled.

“Calm down. You’re too focused on the negatives. Think about it this way, you’ll have plenty of time to draw or do whatever you want. I’m learning to play the guitar.”

Tristan touched Simon’s hand gently.

“Look, you were only out of it for three days. Our deal is still on.”

“Wait, three DAYS?!”

Tristan shrugged.

“Did you think it would be easy to come back to life? You have a lot to learn about yourself, first and foremost how to hunt. Or you can let yourself starve. Trust me, it will hurt more than coming back. I’ve tried.”

He looked Simon in the eye.

“You have twenty-six more days to decide. Use that time wisely.”

“Decide what? You told me we can’t die!”

“I stopped trying after the third failure,” Tristan said. “I didn’t want to live like this. But now that I have a few years under my belt, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“But, I promise I will help you with all of this. I didn’t have someone when I was turned; I had to figure it all out myself. I can help you. And… And if by the end of the month, you decide you can’t handle it, I will try to help you end it.”

He set a cup in front of Simon.

“Now drink up, or we’ll have to find you a tribute tonight. And I doubt you’re ready for that.”

Grimacing, Simon took the cup.

“Do I really have to?” he asked quietly.

Tristan nodded, and the new vampire sighed, turning the cup in his hands. Thoughts flashed through his head, thoughts of murder, of families broken by his hunger. Finally, he gave in and drank.

Simon threw his phone on his bed. It was worthless to him. The service must have been shut off while he was… dead. There was no way to call anyone. There was no one TO call. And even if there was, what would he say? Help me, I’m a vampire?

He looked out the window, the barest tinge of light appearing to the east. Frowning, he decided to test the truth of Tristan’s claims again. If there was any way out of this supposed live he was living, he would take it.

He walked downstairs, passing Tristan silently. The vampire let him go, to his surprise. Wasn’t he afraid Simon would run? Or did he know, that Simon didn’t have the courage to try and live on the street.

The door opened silently, Simon stepping into the cool predawn air. He walked around the house, marvelling at the sensation of the brick pathway under his bare feet. The man felt more alive than he had in a year. Ironic that his life might actually be over now.

He breathed deeply, his nose picking up the scent of dew on the grass nearby. A bird flew overhead, a crow, and he instantly tracked the creature as it landed on a powerline. There was something there, the same scent of blood he had caught from Tristan’s smoothies. But there was a difference to it, a sense of wrongness. And somehow he knew the bird was diseased.

Simon shook his head in disbelief. A diseased bird. What would he dream up next?

The coolness of the air was beginning to fade, dawn brightening the sky to the east. He watched the sun rise, feeling an intense warmth as the rays of light hit his skin. Simon lived on the coast, but at the moment he felt like he was living in the desert.

“You’ll want to wear sunscreen when you go out in the sun.”

Turning, Simon found Tristan standing behind him. The vampire smiled apologetically at him.

“Rainy days are better; the clouds keep most of the sunlight at bay.”

Simon sighed, shaking his head.

“Why?” he asked again. “Why me?”

“Because you deserve a second chance.”

Tristan kicked at the bricks, looking down at his feet.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice.”

“I… I’m so… lost,” Simon whispered as the sun beat on his skin.

“I know. It gets easier with time. All of it.”

Tristan’s hand fell on Simon’s shoulder gently.

“Why don’t I show you how to get ready for the day, and then we can take a walk. It’s the first day of your afterlife, and you should enjoy it.”

Simon allowed himself to be guided back inside, wincing slightly as his stomach gurgled. He felt afraid, of Tristan, and of himself. He needed to eat, and now he didn’t know if he could. To survive, Simon would have to kill.

They walked together through a parking lot, a store ahead of them. Simon could smell blood filling the air, calling to him, overpowering him. If it wasn’t for Tristan walking beside him, Simon wasn’t sure he could resist the call of the blood. And it scared him.

“Why are we here? Shouldn’t we be avoiding people?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

“Probably,” Tristan admitted. “But you need a hood. It will keep the sun off your skin. Once you feed, you’ll feel a lot better. But try not to do that yet.”

Simon smiled weakly, the back of his neck tightening in a sunburn.

“Don’t worry, I want to avoid that as much as possible,” he said.

They entered the building and Simon let out a sigh as his neck was given a reprieve from the sun.

“Just grab a hoodie in your size,” Tristan said, his eyes on the new vampire. “I got this.”

He already had his sweatshirt on, a cerulean hoodie that matched his eyes near perfectly. Not that Simon was paying attention to the way Tristan looked.

Simon worked his way toward the hoods, trying to avoid as many people as possible. It was still early on a weekday and there weren’t a lot of people around, but to him, it seemed like there were still way too many.

His hands moved through the fabric, searching quietly while Tristan waited. Hey, if he was going to be an immortal vampire, he deserved to look good.

Simon pulled out a cherry red sweatshirt that felt light in his hands. It should keep the sun off him without overheating him.

“Did you get the right colour?” Tristan smirked. “I’m not sure it goes with your hair.”

“Maybe not, but it will hide your blood if you fuck with me,” Simon said.

“Point taken. Let’s go,” Tristan chuckled.

They headed for the checkout counter, a young woman scanning the sweatshirt. She smelled delicious, her perfume adding that spicy edge to her blood. Simon stared at her throat, his eyes fixated on the slight motion of her jugular.

“Here.”

The sweatshirt was shoved into his arms, Tristan smiling at the woman.

“Thank you Cindy. Maybe I’ll see you around,” the vampire grinned, pulling Simon along behind him.

Cindy smiled back, her hand lifting in a slight wave as they left the store.

As they stepped outside, Tristan sighed.

“Okay, we need to get you some food,” he said.

Simon should have felt tired, walking through the streets. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours, yet he was wide awake, as though he had just drunk a double shot of caffeine. Just more evidence of what he was now.

The sun was down, the moon high in the air. Light shone down, his eyes filtering it near perfectly. Tristan walked a step behind him, watching the new vampire closely. A clean shirt hung out of his back pocket, in preparation for later.

Simon was supposed to be hunting, but all he could think about was having to take a life to extend his own. Tristan had already explained the mechanics to him, about letting his fangs do the work so the blood from his victim was absorbed into his system faster.

They had been inside all day, Simon trying to take his mind off what Tristan was telling him, and Tristan trying even harder to get through to him. The hunt happened at night to protect them. The last thing either of them needed was to be seen draining the blood from a human.

Simon smelled blood on the air, fresh blood. He followed his nose, spotting a teen at a bus stop, picking at a scab. His mind faded as the scent grew stronger, but a hand on his shoulder made him pause.

Tristan pointed out a police car a block away. No words were said, they merely moved on, the teen unaware of how close to death he had come.

Simon forced himself past the next person he saw, a drag queen walking home confidently. He could smell the disease in her blood, that scent of wrongness, and it earned him a surprised smile from Tristan.

“Do you know what it was?” the older vampire asked quietly.

Simon shrugged.

“Probably AIDS.”

Tristan shook his head.

“Cancer. She doesn’t know yet. In the years to come, her nights of masquerading will bring her much comfort as her body tries to destroy her from the inside out. But finally it will become too much for her, and she will be forced to give up everything that makes her happy.”

Simon shivered, looking after the drag queen.

“Is there anything we can do for her?”

“Nothing that would help immediately.”

“Fucking great. I’m immortal and I still can’t do anything,” Simon muttered.

They continued onward, Simon stewing in his emotions. He saw a man leaning against an alley wall, but passed the opportunity up. Tristan frowned, glancing back at the human, but followed Simon.

“If you don’t eat tonight, you’ll spend all day stuck in the house again,” he warned.

“Whatever,” Simon muttered.

He could feel the call of the blood, but he was too angry to listen to it, to angry to give in easily.

A sudden scream filled the air, startling them both, and Tristan blurred as he ran toward the sound. Simon followed him, surprised at how easily he ran. Maybe he wasn’t as fast as Tristan, but he was moving as fast as he ever had as a human and there was no sign that he would need to stop.

But stop he did, in front of a young woman cowering against the wall of another alley. Her arm pointed down the street where Simon saw a figure dart off the road. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but something about that figure pissed him off.

“Get him,” Tristan said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

And like that Simon was gone, sprinting after the person. He gained rapidly, his quarry darting down a side road in an attempt to lose him. But he had the scent of his blood now, like a marker drawing him ever closer to his prey.

He slowed slightly, toying with the man, allowing him to think he had escaped. He could feel the man’s fear, like a prickling hand gripping his heart. And under that was a dash of hope, that he had gotten away, that he would live another day.

Simon approached the man silently from behind, stopping when he was only three metres away. He wasn’t breathing hard, even after the chase he had just been on, and the realization both shocked and thrilled Simon. If nothing else, he was good at running.

His prey sank against a wall, digging through a denim bag. The woman’s purse, Simon realized.

“You know, it’s not nice to invade someone’s privacy like that,” Simon said huskily, almost tasting the man’s blood already.

His victim leapt up, a knife appearing in hand. The sight of the metal made Simon freeze momentarily, unprepared. He was immortal, but his mind was still human, and he just knew he could get seriously hurt by that weapon.

“Stay back. If you value your life, you’ll walk away and forget you saw me,” the man snarled.

If he valued his life? Simon had to laugh, and that laugh broke him of his frozen state.

“Dude, I tried to kill myself a week ago. I don’t really have a life to value,” he snorted, stepping closer. “Still, if you want to be the one to kill me, have at it.”

The man’s eyes darted around nervously, his bluff called. Simon felt the moment the man gave up. He didn’t know how, but he just felt the man decide he had nothing to lose.

Stepping aside just as the man lunged, Simon dodged the knife, his hand slapping the man’s wrist. He had been attacked. What he did now wasn’t murder, it was self-defence.

Lunging at the man’s back, Simon gripped his meal for the night, feeling pain in his mouth as his fangs broke through his gums. Holding the man against the wall from behind, he bit down on the thief’s neck.

Warm sticky blood filled his mouth as the man tensed up. Simon’s fangs went to work quickly as his stomach roared its approval. He had done well to feed, blood dripping from his jaws.

The man screamed and Simon immediately stabbed a finger into the man’s throat, right where Tristan had shown him. It shut the man up, his mouth unable to work around the object blocking it.

“Whatever you do, do not let them bite you.”

Panic filled Simon as he sucked the life from his victim. He was killing a person. He was murdering a living being. No matter how he tried to convince himself that it was justified, he was taking the life of a human, and it filled him with horror. But his fangs would not let go until they had finished their work, and gradually the panic faded as the man fell unconcious from blood loss.

Simon could feel the beating of the man’s heart, growing fainter as he drained him. Finally the organ stopped, no blood left to run it through its paces. Simon had killed the man.

His mind seemed to go on autopilot, following the instructions Tristan had drilled into him earlier that day. Search the body, don’t worry about fingerprints. Take the money from the wallet or the purse, leave the ID.

He found two dollars, nothing more. There wasn’t even a card in the wallet, just the man’s ID. Christopher Barlow, 23 years old. An organ donor. And now his blood filled Simon’s stomach, slowly being absorbed into his own bloodstream.

Dropping the wallet, SImon stuffed the money into his pocket before making a halfhearted attempt to hide the corpse. Straightening, the vampire checked his own body, licking the remnants of blood off his face. It was tart, a taste Tristan said was associated with excess adrenaline. Must have been because he was running, Simon thought dimly.

His shirt was a little bloody, but it wouldn’t cause too much alarm. He picked up the purse his victim had stolen and began walking back toward Tristan, no longer paying attention to the scent of blood around him.