Buried Secrets

Chapter 6: Introduction to a Vampire

Chapter 6: Introduction to a Vampire

I generally end my rest mid-morning, but I seldom emerge from my private space until later in the afternoon. It is not true that all vampires will perish in the sunlight; I suspect that writers of fiction created that part of the legend. For myself, I can take the sunlight, but it saps my energy. Yet, I want to be out when the young people—kids—are still around the school. The last time I spent years present in human life, Andrew Jackson was the leader of this American land and only men wore trousers. If I ever hope to mingle with the people here, I must copy the manners and dress—and the language—of these young people. And I do want to associate with someone; the daily existence of a perpetually seventeen-year-old vampire is quite lonely.

It must be time for their lessons to end, as I can hear noise and activity where their vehicles are parked during the day. I’ve grown accustomed to the roaring of these metal beasts, and enjoy watching the young girls drive away in them. Females have more freedom in this time—I like this aspect of Kentucky in the 21st Century. Someday, maybe I will drive a car, too.

I sit at the edge of my lair and watch. I have not yet become familiar with the names of any people here, except for the older man who teaches the boys to play some kind of ball game in the afternoon. They call him “Coach,” and I would like so much to learn this game from him. But it seems to only be for boys, like trousers were in Boston when I lived with Lily. Customs have changed much, but the fact that some privileges are for men only seems to remain.

One tall, dark-skinned boy with braided black hair approaches the field where they play. I think his name is Dexter, although the others usually call him Ice.

“Hey, Coach,” Ice shouts, “I got to leave early today. Sorry. Orthodontist appointment.”

I wonder what that word might be. Sounds like some sort of physician. Ice looks healthy, though, so I cannot quite figure it out. Perhaps a dentist?

Ice, several other boys, and Coach gather on the field, and I sit a bit further out, but still hidden by the tangle of vines and branches covering my cave. I am reluctant yet to be seen, although I have been out several times for clothing and supplies, and to wash up inside the school when the students are not in the hallways. Another myth: vampires don’t like water. In reality, I like to be clean—I always did, even back in Salem before I was made. And Salem, Massachusetts in the last part of the seventeenth century was not a particularly clean place.

I awoke in this town where I returned to the ground after the fiasco in Boston. I’ve been awake for three months, measuring by the cycles of the moon.

When I found my cave, it seemed like such a perfect, hidden spot, with empty ground all around, and this large empty building. Then, one morning, adults started coming in—I know now they are called teachers—and soon there were what seemed like armies of young people in the building five days every week, chattering like magpies and swarming all over the empty land with their vehicles. I find them fascinating, but still a bit frightening. Still, if I can learn to act and speak like them, perhaps I can find friends—maybe even a new love. I miss Lily still.

Most of the kids have gone home now, except for the ball game boys. This is usually my chance to find water to drink inside the school; I come out from my hiding place and run around to the opposite side of the building. No one is around, so I am able to get water from the metal box on the wall, and use the toilet in the room labeled ‘Faculty Lounge.’ It took a few days to figure out that the waste will go down into the ground, but now I know to push the handle to the left. I find this a great improvement over the outhouses I am used to.

I haven’t yet had to feed on a human, having found plenty of small creatures nearby in the fields. There are usually mice or rats by the building, especially near the door by the cooking room. I dread feeding from humans, although I learned from Lily that you don’t have to kill to feed. Before I met her, I hated the feeling of taking a life to sustain my own existence. The time may come here in this Kentucky place where I will need to find a victim, but I will be careful not to drain the person too far. And I will leave hopeful dreams in their head.

After the boys and Coach leave the field, I know from experience to wait another half hour or so before I enter through the gate. The boys go into a small brick building painted blood-red with a shiny warrior on a horse painted on the side. When they come out, they are in the clothes they wore to school earlier, and they all have wet, dripping hair. They talk and laugh and punch each other on the arm as they leave the field and head to their homes.

Now it is my turn. There is almost always a ball left on the field; it is not round like the balls for lawn bowling or croquet in Boston. Rather, it comes to a point on two sides. I enjoy using my body to hurl it through the air, pretending to throw it to another player like the boys do. Then I run as fast as I can toward the pole at the end of the field. Lately, I have tried kicking it through the poles that stick up into the air. This hurts my toes a bit, but the ball makes a satisfying thunk when it lands on the other side.

Soon, I am tired out, and I know I still have to hunt and feed. I leave the ball where I found it so as not to call attention to the presence of a stranger near the field. In the fading light, I decide to first check the brush nearby for a possum or squirrel. The mice and rats are less pleasant and have a faint smell of garbage. Yes, even vampires have some taste when it comes to dining.