Page 23 of High Seas

Even in the cool darkness, my head and face hurt. There was a pressure building in my skull, a throbbing pain behind my eyes, and an aching sensation in my mouth that alternated between dull and sharp and made me want to tear my head off my shoulders and hurl it into the street. The myriad of vibrations was blinding and intense, making my vision hazy around the edges.

In the center of town was a church. I stumbled toward it and made my way up a set of stone steps, only to find the doors locked. There were no lights or signs that anyone was inside, so I sat on the stone steps and held my head. My face felt like it might explode.

I leaned over and aimed toward the bushes as vomit surged up my throat, pouring from my mouth and nostrils. Spider webs of drool strung from my mouth as I heaved until there was nothing left but acid. My throat and nose burned. I hung my head and closed my eyes.

Did I contract the plague and bring it back with me?

Memories of the piles of bloated bodies and their grotesque stench came flooding back, making me sick again as I pictured the black papules that climbed and spread over the skin. I needed to check beneath my arms.

Distracted by my aching gums, I reached up, rubbing my thumb across them. I winced as something sharp pierced the pad. Even in the dark, I could see the glint of blood pooling in the cut. The scent of it made my headache fade, and the pain in my gums and face eased. I watched the red liquid drip onto the church steps.

Splash.

Splash. Splash.

My heartrate rocketed.

It can’t be.

I felt along my teeth with both thumbs, slicing each open. I watched the blood again pool, and then felt my skin knit back together. Not because of the tech suit…this felt different. This came from within, not without. My heart pounded. I felt around my gums again.

This can’t be happening. Not to me. Not now! I travelled. Surely, I left Enoch’s bite and venom behind. The suit was merely accelerating my body’s healing responses...

I ran my tongue over my teeth, again finding two, razor sharp points; one on the left, and one on the right. I had fangs in my mouth.

This couldn’t be.

My eyes darted to the church doors. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed hold of the handles, and tugged, but they wouldn’t budge.

No. I cannot be a vampire. God would not forsake me. I’ve been faithful. I’ve prayed every day, multiple times a day. I’ve ever been his faithful servant, his hand against the vampires. He wouldn’t allow me to become one. He wouldn’t allow me to bear that cross.

“Not a monster, please,” I begged, jerking on the church doors. I threw my shoulder against the unyielding doors. They bowed a little, but wouldn’t part. I beat on them until my fists were bruised and my knuckles bloody, crimson smears streaking down the white painted door. I cried out for God to take this affliction away from me. “Please!”

Wind whipped mercilessly around me and lightning flashed as the rain began to fall… slowly at first, and then the sky opened up in a deluge of punishing torrents. “Please, no,” I sobbed. I sank to my knees, one hand pressed against the door in supplication. I prayed until the worst of the storm rolled away at dawn, rocking back and forth on my knees until they were abraded and raw.

At first light, footsteps approached from the muddy street behind me. The sound of the squelching loam against the soles of his shoes filled my ears. I could smell the blood beneath his skin and hear it swish throughout his body.

“Sir, do you need help?” the gentleman asked. He rushed to my side, his dark robes rustling as he bent to offer me his arm. He was a priest. A man of God.

Uncursed.

Alive.

He had not been forsaken.

He was not a monster.

A demon.

“The Church doors are always open to God’s children,” he offered as he pulled me to my feet. My eyes stung from crying for so long. “Why do you sit outside? Come in,” he urged.

I could barely see the door, but watched through slitted eyes as he pushed it open effortlessly, the doors giving way without protest. He hadn’t even used a key.

“Come in from the rain,” he urged, stepping into the Lord’s house. “Let me get a blanket for you and heat some water over the fire to warm your bones.”

He tried to pull me inside, but there was an unseen barrier that prevented my entry. His hand could pass through it easily, but mine stopped abruptly. Absolutely. An invisible shield protected him and God’s house from me. I couldn’t enter, because I was a demon now. A creature the Lord hated. An entity he loathed.

Unclean. Unworthy. Undead.

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