Chomp
Chapter 11: Red

“And then Varish said to use lemons in the bathtub. Lemons, Tanya! I just couldn’t believe how simple it was!”

I envied Bryan; he knew how to appreciate the simple things in life, and he wasn’t one to be hung up on large-scale things that were far out of his control.

“You mean, for the water stains, dear?” Tanya asked mildly, smiling in admiration from across the table.

His brown eyes were more exuberant than usual as he nodded veraciously. He said something else about the lemons—maybe about applying them to the surface of the stain—but I just couldn’t focus.

My mind was still mulling over Yacob’s words. He had been friendly enough, and sure, his message was certainly filled with hope. Yet something about it all just didn’t sit right, and it made me feel uneasy. As I stirred around some pure O-Positive—my weekly treat in the mail, courtesy of the group—my inhibitions didn’t go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Tanya asked, inclining her head slightly. “I know it’s not the cuisine this time.”

“Was that a stab at my cooking?” Bryan asked indignantly.

I shook my head. All of this was far too much, happening far too quickly, and I couldn’t explain any of it the way I wanted. “We had another vampire visit us at the group meeting.” It wasn’t the best start, but it was the best that could have been expected from someone as tragic with words as I was.

Their confusion was well-founded. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Bryan asked. “More vampires, more friends, right?”

I shook my head ever so slightly, still not sure how to explain. Yacob wasn’t just any vampire, and it was arguable whether or not he was a friend. “He was different. He wasn’t there for the session like we were. He called himself a Cainist vampire—a direct descendent, someone who wasn’t sired. But he…”

As I trailed off, I wish I had been graced with Agnes’ loquacious ability. My parents tried to look as confident as they could with a topic they knew nothing about; no doubt I had the same troubled expression on my face in the group meeting.

“He wants us to expose ourselves.”

Bryan stood up so quickly that his chair toppled over. “Where is this son-of-a-scarlett who wants to have children expose themselves to—what kind of—he and I need to have a chat!” he choked out, clearly the most flustered I had ever seen him.

“Bryan,” Tanya said calmly, dropping him the look. “I think he means he wanted them to go public.”

It was embarrassing just how much Bryan had rubbed off on me since being adopted by them. In an agonizingly slow motion, he nodded, picked his chair off the floor, placed it upright, and took his seat. His face was the colour of a tomato, no doubt in solidarity. He probably wanted someone to tell him that it was a common mistake, but I had had enough embarrassment for the day as it was.

“…Well, what did you say?”

“It—It wasn’t up to me,” I replied. “To any of us, I don’t think. Not that most people would say anything against it anyway, but he’s kind of a… leader, I guess.”

Tanya wrapped her hands around her mug, pulling it closer. “Well, how do you feel about it? That’s a very big step, isn’t it?”

“Potentially dangerous, too,” Bryan chipped in.

She nodded. “And that’s not even him being a worry wart this time, either.”

I stared down at my feet. It was hardly my right to have an opinion at this point; I had only been a vampire for what, sixteen or so years? People like Jess were far more in the right to make the decision.

“I’m… I’m a little nervous,” I admitted honestly, looking back up at them. “I mean, Yacob said it’s going to be simple, just speeches and rallies and stuff. That’s something, right?”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Tanya pointed out, offering a gentle smile. She reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder, patting it softly. “But I get it. It’s both exciting and terrifying at the same time. Just know that your father and I will be right behind you on this if that’s what you decide you want. Right, Honey?”

“Absolutely,” Bryan chirped.

“Thanks.”

The wooden stage had been erected in a courtyard surrounded by historic-looking buildings. The crowd seemed to buzz, alive with the sound of excited whispers, pushing and shoving their way to get a better view.

View of what?

I craned my neck as far as I could, trying to take in as much as possible. It didn’t seem to be a concert or even a rally; there were no protest signs, instruments, or even a microphone.

Instead, there were about eighteen large wooden coffins that stood upright against some sort of handrail. The coffins were beyond plain, something that someone would have fashioned themselves from their local hardware store using only two-by-fours. The only markings that had been made on them was a single word that had been scribbled or painted on them with what looked like blood.

Traitor.

I sniffed the air fiercely, only to find that I was completely nose-blind. My heart pounded; what was going on?

“Ladies and gentlemen!” a voice roared across the courtyard. The screeching of speakers ricocheted off the stone walls, sending the intimidating tone in every direction and a shiver down my spine. “Please put your hands together for your host, Idris Blaine!”

If anyone else had thought it sounded like a cheesy talk-show introduction, they didn’t say anything. The only thing the faceless crowd did was clap in unison.

Faceless?

I whipped around, trying to see any sign of eyes, a mouth, noses—all without success. This whole situation made the hair on my arms and neck prickle and my fangs unsheathe nervously.

A short, stocky man stomped onto the stage, reminding me of a buffalo; despite the stature, his very essence commanded charge. The full tuxedo he wore—complete with purple bowtie and matching cummerbund—didn’t seem to fit the situation at all until he whipped out a handheld microphone and top hat from behind his back.

“Welcome!” he half-sung, forcing the handheld microphone to his large lips. “Everyone having a great time?!”

The crowd roared from all around me, their voices completely incoherent yet veraciously excited. Their enthusiasm only seemed to fuel Idris, and his electric green eyes seemed to bulge from his head. “That’s what I like to hear!” he boomed, grinning from ear to ear. “Now, who’s ready for some executions?!”

My blood turned to ice as the crowd screamed, their pulses pounding.

“First up,” Idris said, gesturing toward the coffin closest to him. “We have a real blood-sucker. She’s been stealing from us for over two hundred years—what’s say we show her what we think of her choosing to live as a thief?”

Screams, hoots, hollers—I didn’t pay them much attention as four officials joined the host on the stage. One of them shoved their pry bar in between the lid and base of the coffin, forcing it open.

My heart sank as Jess crumbled down onto the floor. Her black hair was in disarray, and she crouched over, stark naked.

“Get up, filth,” Idris hissed. “Answer for your crimes.”

“Filth, filth, filth!” the mass chanted, their hums deafening.

A quick smack to the head with the pry bar wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it made her yelp. Her wince had the security guards laughing. “You heard him.”

Slowly, Jess got to her feet, revealing her humble body. Around her eyes looked swollen, like she might have been knocked around, and there was blood around her mouth. As she let out a shudder of a gasp, I realized she was missing all of her teeth.

“S-Stop!” I cried suddenly, pushing the person in front of me to the side and moving onto the next to do the same. “Stop!”

Jess’s slim eyes located me immediately. She forced her eyes shut and shook her head. “D-Don’t,” she choked out awkwardly. I started shoving the crowd aside furiously, drawing nearer and nearer to the stage.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, folks?” Idris’ voice bellowed throughout the courtyard as I reached the rickety wooden steps. “I think this protester wants to see what’s in coffin numbers two and three!”

The crowd jeered, sounding like a dangerous pack of African bees. I stopped my advance despite my body aching to continue. “Two and three?” I whispered.

As if on cue, two of the officials pried the next coffins open, the lids clattering to the floor as my parents were forced out. Just like Jess, Bryan and Tanya were naked, though their pale bodies were covered in a multitude of bruises and sores.

One of the officials pushed Bryan forward, and he fell to the floor, unable to put any weight on his one leg. Tanya reached a shaky hand out to him, spattering droplets of blood from god knows where onto her husband’s face.

As difficult as it was to look away, I whipped my head back to Idris, my nostrils flaring. His smirk suggested power, control. Maintaining eye contact with me, he cried out, “What do we hate even more than those disgusting vampires?”

“Traitors to the human race!”

A large brick came flying from the crowd, striking Bryan in the face. Blood spattered across the stage as the people cheered, but Tanya’s scream overpowered their collective voice as she fell to her knees. A large scabbed wound opened on the side of her torso, forcing more blood to gush.

One of the guards produced a gigantic axe from behind one of the other coffins. His arms were tensed from the sheer weight of it as he lugged it across the stage, closer and closer to my parents.

“That’s right.” Idris’ voice was no longer coming from the loudspeakers, not spoken into the microphone; it was a soft, firm whisper in my ear that burned sent a fiery rage into my stomach. “Traitors to the human race.”

“Traitors! Traitors! Traitors!”

“—gone rigid, Tanya. We can’t move him, we might—”

“Something is clearly wrong!” Tanya’s voice was a screech, and I felt my heart pound viciously against my chest. It was the only thing I could feel, not even the ground beneath my feet. They couldn’t do this to them; they just cou—

“I think he’s coming to,” Bryan whispered.

Suddenly, my senses kicked in, hitting me hard like the brick that had smashed Bryan’s face mere moments ago. The smell of Tanya’s lily perfume and Bryan’s sanitizing wipes. The feeling of a bed against my back and two hands pressed against my hot cheeks.

My eyes snapped open.

The courtyard vanished; as my eyes darted around the room, I had to find things to ground myself, to make sure it hadn’t been real. The mundane, popcorn ceiling—the weak lamp from Ikea that Bryan bought me—even Robin, alert and slightly pissed off as she lay at the foot of my bed.

My breaths were coming in ragged gasps that I tried to slow as my parents looked down at me. Their faces were smeared with concern, but no blood; Bryan’s nose was intact, not smashed into his face. Tanya’s blood pulsed rapidly in her neck, not smattered across a stage.

I let out a weak laugh.

“Well I’m glad you find this funny, young man,” she snapped. Her eyes sparked with anger as she removed a cooling cloth from my forehead; I hadn’t even felt it there. Through the fury, I couldn’t help but notice how puffy and red her eyes were.

Slowly, I shook my head. My hair clung to it, soaked with sweat. “Sorry, I just… It was a bad dream… You guys are okay, though…” Nervously, I laughed again.

“Some bad dream,” Bryan said, concerned. He was always concerned, though this time, I couldn’t blame him. “Anything you want to talk about? We’re right here.”

Slowly, I shuffled to a sitting position, my saturated tee-shirt still clinging to me. I dropped my eyes from theirs.

Sure: ’Your face was smashed in with a brick, Tanya was beaten severely, and oh—by the way—you were both about to be executed.’ As dandy as that sounded in my head, I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. “I—No… I think it’s okay. Just a dream. Just… very… very vivid.”

It was true, so I wasn’t sure why it felt like I was lying to them.

“As long as you’re okay,” Tanya mumbled, running a hand through her blonde curls nervously. She let out a heavy sigh. “Just—please don’t do that again.”

I smiled weakly. “I’ll schedule the next one for when you’re both out of the house…?”

The small smack to my head was well-deserved.

I knew it had been a dream, but it haunted me for the the next few days. The worry—guilt—seemed to gnaw at my stomach and put me on edge despite Tanya, Bryan, and Jess all being quite safe and sound.

The days slipped by without any sort of incident. Tanya was in and out of meetings for the hospital. Bryan tried out new recipes from Pinterest. And other than taking us out to a relaxing trip to Central Park, Jess remained the same.

Everything was as it should have been, yet I couldn’t seem to get rid of the giant knot that had made a home in my stomach.

School didn’t help to relieve it, either. The closer I had gotten to Agnes, the further I got from everyone else. It wasn’t that I particularly minded it—I had never been one to feel comfortable in a large crowd of people who pretended to be friends anyway—but I supposed that was why she called me an idiot.

“Maybe you should wear a helmet next time,” she murmured, staring at me intently from her desk. Her tuna sandwich that had been carried over from lunch remained untouched, but as the stench invaded my nose, I wished it had been long-devoured.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, definitely need a helmet.”

I frowned and put down my pen. “For what?”

“You were basically a space cadet,” she pointed out, mocking my frown. “Have been for the past few days. I figured maybe you hit your head a few too many times during training, so maybe a helmet—”

“I don’t need a helmet. Can’t I be lost in thought?”

Agnes curled her lips and let out a snicker. “Not even in the slightest. People don’t do that in real life; you’ve been watching too much anime again. Remember what we talked about yesterday? ’My life is not an anime, Marvel or DC Comic, Agnes. I will not—’”

“I know it’s not,” I replied heatedly.

“Good. Because your hair isn’t weird enough to be a main character anyway.”

“Yours is,” I shot back, nodding to her wild ginger pigtails. They were the only source of colour from her, and I had wondered many times why she hadn’t dyed her hair black to match everything she seemed to own.

She didn’t seem to find the comment insulting, for which I was glad. Instead, she fluffed one of her pigtails up, making the curls look even more unruly. “What can I say. Some people were just meant to be main characters, others were meant to be the best friend,” she chirped, waving a hand dramatically.

Best friend?

It was meant to be an ego boost to her, but it did wonders for my own. I felt a small smile creep onto my lips, though I didn’t let her see. There was a first time for everything.

“What’s got you all goofy looking?” Agnes asked, accidentally squishing her lugubrious sandwich as she leaned over to get a better look at me. “I swear to god—we can get you a special helmet if you need it. I don’t want to be responsible for any damages to your poor, weak head.”

“You’re too kind,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

As if to save me from having to explain that people could indeed be lost in thought, the bell rang to finally dismiss us. The teacher had long since finished his lesson, and we rushed past him as he sat with his feet resting on his desk, reading the latest edition of Hustler.

The American education system was a wonderful establishment.

Dropping my eyes from him, I turned to Agnes as she hitched her bag over her shoulder. “I’m surprised no one has reported that,” I whispered, jerking my head slightly in the teacher’s direction.

She opened her mouth but was immediately cut off.

“What, does it make you prudes feel uncomfortable?” a familiar voice asked. We both turned to see Zoë with Kevin in tow.

If the term was meant to offend me, Zoë had done a poor job of it. As someone who hadn’t even held a girl’s hand before, the description was quite accurate and more than fair. Regardless, she seemed to get some sort of satisfaction from it, most likely from Agnes’ livid expression.

I half expected her to snap at the other girl. Instead, she held her tongue, rolled her eyes, and yanked me by the sleeve. “Come on. We have better stuff to do.”

“Like what?” Kevin asked, sliding past her and blocking the door. He grinned down at her. “Are you grooming him to be a Twi-Hard like you, too? You guys can both fawn over Edw—”

“For the last time,” Agnes breathed, her body stiff, “I’m not a Twi-Hard. Now move.”

My head snapped back toward the teacher, wondering why he hadn’t spoken up, even to say something along the lines of, ‘It’s hard to masturbate to this, please leave.’ It seemed he was still too engrossed in his magazine.

“I bet they make out with those plastic vampire dentures you get in vending machines,” Zoë laughed loudly.

Kevin joined in, his laugh booming throughout the empty classroom. “What do you guys use for the blood though?” he asked, his fingers brushing the very end of Agnes’ skirt. Suddenly, he yanked on it, sending it south. “Do you guys just wait for her to be on the rag or something?”

Ordinarily, Agnes would have no doubt kicked him so hard in the crotch that he tasted pistachios. But with her skirt laying on the ground, all she could manage was a tiny, embarrassed squeak while Zoë squawked with laughter.

The knot in my stomach pressed into me further as I watched Agnes scramble to cover her bright green underwear. The feeling of hopelessness and dread seemed to be replaced with something else, something I had felt very little of before. My fingernails dug into my palms as I listened to Anges’ racing heart. I couldn’t have done a thing for Tanya or Bryan in my dream; but this wasn’t a dream.

I had power here.

“You guys probably smear it all over your faces,” Kevin continued, reaching out for Agnes’ skirt again. “Take old tampons and—”

I did it without thinking, without realizing what I was doing. In a swift motion, I flitted over to him and slammed the bottom of my palm up into his nose. Blood spurted from his face, and he stumbled backward into the doorframe.

Zoë screamed, high pitched and ear shattering. It was just enough to rouse the teacher from his scholarly reading. “What’s going on here?”

“W-What the fuck is—” Kevin began, spitting blood out with the words as he covered his nose. Grabbing Agnes by her arm, I sped out of the room as quickly as I could, only stopping when we were half a block from the school.

“S-S-Sorry!” I breathed, leaning against a wall. “I didn’t mean to get us in trou—and now we’ve fled the scene so it’ll be… oh crap…” I took a deep, calming breath, but it let itself out like a nervous sigh. Well, it probably was a nervous sigh. “I am… really, really sorry.”

Agnes didn’t say anything right away. Instead, her gaze bounced between me, back toward the school, and the asphalt. “You just hit Kevin.”

“I know,” I replied quickly, my heart pounding. “I didn’t mean to, I just—you were—and he just… I couldn’t—”

I faltered as she beamed up at me. It was rare to see her without a scowl, even if it was a playful one, yet she was a million times more beautiful without it.

“You’re going to get in so much shit,” she laughed; I was glad one of us could find humour in the situation. “But thanks.”

The sky would never be dark enough to cover how red my face must have been then. I made a bunch of noises, trying my best to form the words—any words at that point—but it seemed a little useless.

Instead, I settled for a nod and a weak smile.

We walked in silence toward our houses. The journey was as it had been for the past few weeks, passing the same shops, same parks, and often the same people. The city’s noise buzzed in my ear, humming like second nature.

But as we reached the fork in the road, it all seemed to change in a split second.

It was as if half the city exploded. The sound roared in my ears, and I had to steady my knees to keep myself from collapsing. A bright flash of light from the east soon followed, along with smaller explosive sounds.

“What the fuck was that?” Agnes whispered.

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