Page 15 of To Save a Vampire
“You’ll always have me,” he whispers. He slowly pulls away, kissing my hair before grudgingly turning back the way he came.
Four
Where Our Journey Ends
Forty-four leadsour way as we jog through the thick woods for an hour, taking short breaks for me to catch my breath.
A roar of an engine halts our movements in an instant. Just behind us, a vehicle drives past on a road we crossed just moments ago. The vehicle flies by us, but then stops and reverses back to where we are, the dark forest shadowing us from any onlookers.
At the first sound of the unseen vehicle, Forty-four and my mother start running again. The fear I see in Forty-four’s steely eyes is enough to tell me how to react. I run the fastest I’ve ever ran in my life. My once aching legs and lungs are now on fire, a fire I refuse to acknowledge until we’re safe again. They’ll kill him if they find us.
They’ll kill us if they find us …
Though I never hear anyone following behind us on foot, I don’t stop until Forty-four does. Shaking terror controls my pace more than my mind now. The woods come to a clearing that opens to a small village.
Is this our destination?
I’ve never been outside of our camp and it surprises me how similar the village before me is to our own. The dirt roads are vacant and a few government-owned businesses providing food and clothing and basic household goods are in the center along with a small clinic. The village center is surrounded by houses on all sides.
Back at home, our camp is on one side of the housing development and the school on the other. The compound takes up the majority of our village, though. This village lacks a compound and somehow emits a cleaner feeling just from the absence of the building.
We haven’t exited our hiding spot within the trees, but I can tell my mother is anxious to make our next move. To get as much distance between us and whoever was in that vehicle miles back.
After a few minutes, it becomes apparent to me that we’re waiting for Forty-four to lead us. As always. My mother tilts toward him, silently waiting. Even Ky waits for direction.
It’s strange depending on someone who has been locked away for God only knows how long. Does Forty-four know where we are? What we’re doing here?
He looks to the village. A dim street light reflects in his eyes, sparkling like he holds the galaxy in his gaze.
After assessing the village, he glances around the wooded area where we stand. His breathing is quiet. He tilts his head slightly to one side as he narrows his eyes on something I can’t see in the distance of the forest. Then he’s gone. I can hear his steps as leaves and branches break under his footing, but I only catch blurs of movement. I strain my eyes to find him but it’s useless in the dark. Even in the daylight, I wouldn’t have been able to follow his quick actions. And, in that moment, I remember how unhuman he is.
He could murder us all, and we wouldn’t even see it coming. He’s a midnight monster and this is the perfect time for hunting.
My mind races but my heart never fears. It beats in time and no matter how many terrible thoughts slip in, my heart doesn’t understand.
Or more terrifying, it does understand but doesn’t believe.
A few seconds pass, and he returns with something in his hand. It makes a small noise and struggles against his strength. Ripper is instantly on high alert at my feet, growling and sniffing the wind. Once Forty-four is close enough, I realize he’s holding a small brown, frantic squirrel.
The little animal protests against his captor and my breath catches out of fear for the squirrel. Is Forty-four going to eat him, drain his blood? If he is, I don’t want to see it. I make to turn away, but then Forty-four lifts his bag off his shoulders and unzips it enough to push the squirming animal inside. The bag shakes violently—well, as violently as a tiny, angry animal can.
I look to Forty-four, then to my mother to question why we are keeping squirrels hostage now, but they both just walk forward into the village. I stand alone in the dark with only Ripper for company among the trees as I watch them trudge on. I’m just a spectator unaware of what will happen next in my own life. I consider turning back, unsure of where I would go. At least I would be included in the decision.
Forty-four signs something to my mother and she stops. Her brows pull together when she sees me still rooted to my spot. All three of them look back at me. My uncertainty is holding up the trip, practically begging for whoever was in that truck to catch up to me.
We’re here to help Forty-four … That’s all I know and it’s enough. Because I do want to help him. They would have put him down at the compound. Shaw would have loved to see him put down. And I won’t allow that to happen.
I take a long, shaky breath and follow after them.
We stay in the darkness as much as possible, walking behind the houses and avoiding the main road. After a few blocks, we sneak into the backyard of a small house. The yellow paint on the house is peeling, a few windows are broken, and the small porch is sunken with rot. It looks to have been abandoned for decades, but the remains of a life are still evident all over the property. Starting with the little flower pots that now lay empty and broken next to the unhinged door and ending with a rusting sign that is falling off the porch that reads “Home is wherever I’m with you.”
A sad and uneasy feeling sinks to the bottom of my stomach. I notice all these things. I also notice the way Forty-four looks at the house. Hesitant and respectful. Like he, too, is a trespasser on remnants of lives long gone.
We all carefully follow Forty-four up the broken and weak porch to the back door. His stride is assured against the rotting boards. I pick Ripper up, afraid he might fall through, but I’m probably more likely to take us both down on the crippled porch.
Forty-four turns the faded brass handle, yet the door handle doesn’t move. It must be locked.
My mother signs something to Forty-four, making him halt his effort and glance around at the houses on each side of us. One is also vacant while the other appears to be lived in. There are no lights on in the neighboring house, but there is a child’s bike outside and all the windows are intact with pretty blue curtains. Forty-four watches that house with intensity like he can will it to remain oblivious to us.
