The Vampire's Rival

The past and other stories we tell ourselves

I used my free right hand to open the restraints that pinned my left hand, then pulled out all the woodwool inside me and carefully closed up the flaps of open skin on my chest exposing my insides. I took a moment to breathe, feeling a million times better as the dead blood drained from my system and I was able to draw air through my throat again.

Stumbling out of the gurney, I knew that I needed blood! It was all I could think of. However, I was just past the edge of starvation, barely able to move, the Venom bubbling in my blood, filling my vision with its blue haze, starting the transformation into my manic form. I fell to my knees, unable to move forward, fighting to hold back the Venom. If I turned, I would kill Hadley! I would kill every living being I found.

Suddenly, Hadley was by my side, having moved without me noticing. She helped me to my feet and led me towards the door that led to the cellar. It could have been seconds, minutes, or days before we got to the bottom of the stairs, I couldn't tell you. Time flexed and stretched endlessly, along with the blue haze obscuring my vision.

"Jamila!" I gasped when we'd made it to the bottom of the cellar stairs.

Jamila's looked up at us, her eyes half opened and without hope. She was in a cage, her body strapped tightly onto a chair with a hole in the seat and a bucket underneath it filled halfway through with bodily fluids. The basement's smell was a sledgehammer to the face. There were two intravenous bags connected to her. One was above her head and connected to her right arm, dripping what looked like saline into her veins. The other intravenous tubing was connected to her left arm, dripping blood into a blood bag. The same type of blood bag as the one Mrs. Smith would use to keep me fed.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Jamila's head was forced backwards by tight constraints, her face towards the ceiling. A tube ran from a funnel at the top of the cage, into her mouth, down her throat, into her stomach. The funnel had old, crusted tomato sauce on the rim.

I wished Mrs. Smith was still alive so that I could kill her again!

Hadley gently lowered me to the ground, hobbled over to the cage, grabbed the blood bag, and walked back over to me with it. I was proud of myself for carefully accepting the bag and not snatching it out of her hand. As I downed the blood, a few drops seeping through the healing flaps of my throat, I watched Hadley free Jamila from the cage, pulling out the funnel and tubing and gently laying her on the ground next to the cage. Jamila lay unconscious, likely wiped out by her ordeal. Hadley smoothed out her hair and cleaned her up a bit, then staggered back to me. She checked on my wounds, which were healing.

"Is it over?" Hadley asked, her eyes begging me to say yes.

"Yeah, Hadley," I replied. "It's over."

"Good," she said, nodding her head.

She stood up, took two steps towards Jamila, then collapsed.

*

"How is she?" Jamila asked from the tent flap, like she had every day since we left Mrs. Smith's cabin.

"She's alive." I replied, leaving the tent and joining her outside.

The steam from the hot springs was visible through the trees in the bright moonlight tonight. The camp was busy, as always. Teroi and Jael were making spears. Crystal and Billy were cooking a catch of fish that Teroi and the last remaining Progeny, Juvan, had brought in. A few people from Trisca's camp had joined the group, including the two pregnant women who'd escaped Trisca's cave of horrors. They steered clear of me for the most part. Being the only child still alive, Drew sat alone next to a campfire, sharpening a small branch into a spear with a penknife that Jael had given him.