My Apocalypse Mate

3- FRIENDSHIP (Laura)

        The dungeon smells like mold, s**t and blood. With a few steps in, I can see the cause of the stinking: my vampire prisoner. In my first week in the island, I captured the only vampire here. Everyone else were dead, even the monsters. They had started to feed on each other after they ran out of humans. I found him almost dead. He must have starved for months, and it wasn’t very difficult to drag him to the fort and chain him behind the bars. I still don’t know what to feel about this whole situation. As a human who grew in civilization, I knew it wasn’t right to make random prisoners and torture them for any reason. But as a woman with a beast soul and several losses in her back, alone in the middle of a f*****g apocalypse, I felt like I had no choice. My only comfort was Andrômeda, who promised me we would bear this guilt and face any consequence together.

        For the last two years, the vampire has been imprisoned in my basement. I experimented on him to discover vampire weaknesses and questioned him about anything I thought could be useful. So far, I found out that they can be seriously injured by the sun, fire and hot liquids, while garlic and holy stuff don’t work against them at all. Curiously, they really don’t like water, but it doesn’t hurt them. It seems just an irrational fear acquired the moment they turn. Their heart and neck are the most vulnerable areas, but it doesn’t differ from any other living being. They don’t need air as they don’t breathe anymore, but they can still smell blood from a huge distance, and the other senses are also strong. I still don’t know how long it takes for them to die of starvation. They are quite strong and fast, but I think I could defeat them with heavy training. As my vampire was turned in the island, and he was a normal fisherman before, I don’t know if they have some kind of authority who can orquestrate coordinated attacks and order them around. Also, observing I’m still alone and alive, he can’t communicate through thought with others of his kind. I also learned his name is Victor. Victor, the vampire.

        Since the moment I heard his name, we had come to some kind of agreement. He would be a good boy and I would take care of him and don’t hurt him too much. He would give me information and behave while I would treat him with respect and give him daily doses of my blood. Oh, and my blood seemed to be the most nutrient and flavorful to him, I discovered that too. Animal blood was the worse for him, and the human blood was in the middle.

        We have lived for a long time with this sick, twisted kind of friendship. I’m always careful to leave him in the dark regarding my fort enhancements and anything related to my current life. Although I know he can hear a lot and guess what’s happening from the dungeon. Suddenly, I realize I have been staring silently at him for quite some time. Victor just stares back at me, but I can see some amusement in his eyes. It must be so boring to be imprisoned that surely, I am the most interesting part of his day.

        “Hello, Victor. How are you today?” I ask cheerfully.

        “As good as always. How are you, darling?” he answers and I chuckle.

        “Same thing. Are you excited to feed?” I ask and the moment I say the word ‘feed’ his brown eyes become totally red, with endless bloodthirst burning in them. The funny and harmless guy turns into an insatiable beast. This is the only moments I know there isn’t any way we could coexist. He doesn’t harm anyone solely because he is contained with the chains. With my dagger, I cut my wrist and let the blood flow into a chalice I leave in the dungeon’s table for him. In ten seconds, my wound has already healed. It must be Andrômeda’s doing. I take the chalice, open the cell and walk to Victor. He tugs at his chains and hiss at me, and I can see his fangs growing, craving his meal. I let out a sad sigh while holding the cup to his lips.  We could have been great friends in another life. When he is finished, I check his restraints and pat his head, murmuring how great he did and congratulating him for being such a good boy. But he doesn’t listen, he wants more blood, blood he’s not going to get. I walk out the cell, locking it cautiously, place the empty chalice in the table and head back to the soldier’s house, as I know it will take almost an hour for him to get back to normal. Whatever ‘normal’ means these days.

        Since it’s already night, I decide to get some sleep. Tomorrow I want to fix some shielding in one of the walls, which has been damaged by a summer storm three days ago. I need to make stronger bases, which means dragging more wood and metal through the beach, a very exhausting activity. Survival is exhausting. I wish Andrômeda good night, curl myself around the pillows and fall into a dreamless sleep.