A Storied Man

 
Herein are several people whose lives at first do not seem connected. Their paths converge unexpectedly. This is Part Thirteen.

Parts: 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13

Part Thirteen

Blake Leftkowitz sat in a nylon lawn chair in his driveway, red Solo cup in hand. His charcoal grill stood a few feet to his left, a steady stream of smoke rising from the lid’s vent holes.

Alex and Liz walked up, each holding a collapsed camp chair. Little Reid ambled around them, alternately burying his face in their legs and smiling up at Blake.

“Smells good,” Alex said. “What are you cooking?”

“Steak,” Blake said.

Alex unfolded his chair and sat. “Have you heard anything more about the guy who carjacked us? Damn, these things are uncomfortable.”

A large passenger jet passed overhead. Reid pointed skyward and proclaimed, “Pwane!”

“No, nothing. I think somebody at my company knows but just isn’t talking,” Blake said and grunted as he stood. He lifted the grill lid and flipped his steak using a large pair of tongs. “This bad leg of mine talks to me all the time.”

“It’s a shame that guy’s probably going to be executed,” Alex said.

“He is?” Liz said as she struggled to set up her chair and keep Reid off of her.

“Most likely, babe. Juries don’t like monsters ripping up people.”

Liz directed Reid to walk a few paces out and began a game of catch. “The guy had a gun on us, and then those kids. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Flame climbed up and danced all around the steak. Blake poured water from the Solo cup. The fire hissed in protest as it died down.

“Society sometimes doesn’t tolerate heroes,” Alex said.

——-

“Wait a minute, Maxie. You’re telling me that the guy has no blood type at all?”

“That’s right. None. With the amount of bovine blood in the sample, at first we thought someone was playing a joke. The boss says he’s never seen anything like it, Wall.”

Wall didn’t need unique right now. He needed a steady stream of straightforward cases to build his reputation. Going back to the beat was not an option, but this case made him want out of the investigative division.

He switched the receiver to his other ear. “This girl told me the guy said he was a vampire. She thought he was joking. It’s ridiculous to even consider it,” Wall said.

Silence.

“Right?” he said.

“Oh, sorry, Wall. I was chewing a bite of birthday cake. You know how office birthdays are. Don’t want to refuse and look rude.”

“Politic your way ’round to helping me figure this out, pal,” Wall said.

“You obviously never had June’s pineapple upside-down cake.”

“Dammit, Maxie.”

“Sorry. On this one, we’re medically stumped.”

“If the State Crime Lab can’t help me, then who can?”

“Don’t know. Man, this is delicious cake. Must have used fresh pineapple.”

——-

Lori hated to see Doug in that orange jumpsuit. She grew sad as she envisioned him out on the Interstate highway median picking up trash, and then sank deeper when she realized that they don’t allow murderers that kind of freedom. What was she doing there talking to a killer?

He looked into her eyes. Ashamed of what she was thinking, she glanced away and noticed black paper over long, narrow windows near the ceiling.

“They put that up there for me,” Doug said. “Even though this cell block is in the basement, there are windows. I guess I’m getting the celebrity treatment.”

Lori looked down at the table. Its wood top was unblemished.

“Such a beautiful, flawless thing,” Doug said.

She turned her eyes up and saw his staring back. He blinked slowly and smiled warmly. How could that gentle mouth, which she had kissed, chew a man’s neck nearly in half?

“Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never visited anyone in jail before,” she said.

“Me neither. It must really suck.”

They both laughed.

“Doug. I’ve been wondering. Just what happened to you out there?”

“My skin’s very sensitive to sunlight.”

“I know that. I meant the whole… you know. When you attacked that guy.”

“He had just shot me and probably would have done the same to those kids.”

Lori shifted in her seat, trying to find the right words.

“I’m not here to prosecute you. I just want to know how you did that.”

Doug traced imaginary circles on the table. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but it’s a long story.”

“I’m game.”

He leaned back in his chair and Lori felt something brush against her ankle. She looked down. He had straightened his legs.

“When I saw you on campus and we had that date on the spur of the moment, I was coming off a big break-up with my girlfriend. I had sworn off women. But then I saw you and remembered all the little notes we passed in class. How you always agreed to wake me up if I needed a quick 10-minute nap.”

“I’m an incurable enabler,” Lori said.

“Whatever you call it, it was nice,” Doug said. “I just wish now I had thought about that before I …” he squeezed his hands into fists and took a deep breath.

“Before what?”

“This is very hard for me. I’ve only told one other person and she ran screaming.”

Lori wanted to hear it, but didn’t want to sound too eager, like some gossip just waiting to run off to her friends. “I’ll stay as long as they let me.”

——-

Doug had grown up an only child outside a small town, on about 120 acres of land encompassing forest and meadows. Although his family didn’t keep any animals, it wasn’t unusual for a surrounding farmer’s cows or horses to wander up to the fence trying to get the grass on his family’s side.

He knew from a young age that his mom and dad were different from other kids’ parents, but he never thought them strange because he had known nothing else. Both worked the night shift and spent all their waking hours inside their underground house. According to his parents, they had fallen in love after meeting through a support group for people afflicted with a rare condition called Xeroderma Pigmentosum.

“We were so blessed when you weren’t born with XP,” his mother told him.

The family went out together only at night. Most often they looked up at the stars and named constellations, but occasionally they went to the local bowling alley or roller skating rink. On the rare occasion they went out during the day, his parents had to wear long-sleeved shirts, overcoats, gloves, and special hats with face shields.

Despite all that, Doug typically got along well with other kids and their parents.

At age 12, things changed at school.

One day in the cafeteria, he noticed his friends had moved to another table. They sat near a boy named Terry Stark, whom they typically ignored. Terry was pointing at Doug and making the other kids laugh.

“Doug’s parents are freakazoids from planet Freakopia!” Terry said.

Crushed by his friends’ betrayal, Doug turned to reading. He quickly discovered entire universes within the pages. Worlds gone by, worlds that might one day be. And all of them peopled with characters who seemed to understand being different.

He quickly grew bored with the books his school had to offer. Confident that he could read anything, he accompanied one of his few remaining friends on a Saturday trip to the local public library. There he found a book on rare diseases and turned to Xeroderma Pigmentosum.

Everything his parents told him had been a lie. He made photocopies of a few select pages before leaving the library.

When his friend’s family dropped him off at his house, Doug leaped from his friend’s car and sprinted to the front door. He burst into the buffer room and forgot to close the door before opening the living room door.

“Doug! The outside door!” his mom shrieked as she ducked behind the kitchen island.

He turned back to close it. “Mom, where’s Dad?” he said, more demanding than asking.

His mother peeked up from behind the counter, peering over an uncut tomato on a warped, wooden cutting board. “Taking a nap. Douglas, what’s gotten into you?” She stood and set a large knife’s blade on the tomato. With a quick stroke it sliced through the ripe red fruit.

He set down his backpack and unzipped it, then fished out the photocopied pages from between his math and English books.

“You guys do not have XP!” he yelled.

“What, son? What do you have there?” his mother said. She laid the knife down.

He ran across the living room to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “Dad! Get up!” he called.

“Douglas, I think you need to sit down. This behavior is not acceptable,” his mother said.

“Here, I made copies for all of us.”

She grabbed it before he set it on the cutting board. “Careful of the tomato juice, dear.”

“What’s going on?” his father called as he wandered toward the living room.

“I need to talk to you. Both of you.” He handed copies to his father. “Mom, please read it for us.”

She shot his father a questioning look.

“Go ahead, dear. Let’s see what young Douglas thinks he has found.”

She cleared her throat, then read. “Sufferers of XP must avoid exposure to any ultraviolet light source. The DNA damage resulting from such exposure is cumulative and irreversible, and often leads to cancer. The life expectancy for XP patients typically falls 30 years short of that found in the general population.”

“See?” Doug said.

“See what, son? You know your mother and I are very careful about staying out of the sun.”

“It isn’t just the sun, though, Dad.” He held up his pages and shook them. “These people have to be careful what kind of light bulbs are in the same room. Plus, you guys heal. I’ve seen it. You might not think I remember, because I was little, but I know. That time the field was on fire and Dad ran outside without covering all his skin? These people don’t heal like you did.”

His father sighed heavily and sat on a worn leather recliner. “It’s time, dear,” he said.

“Now? But… he’s our baby.”

“Not any more. Son, come over here on the couch and let’s talk.”

Doug sat next to his mother and listened.

“First, although we are rare, we do not have a disease. I come from a long line of special men, Douglas. We must hide it from the public, but it is something of which we should be very proud. Rather than a shorter life expectancy, we’re blessed with one that never ends. Your mother has it because I gave it to her.”

“Never ends? You can’t die?” Doug said.

“Well, in special circumstances, we can. In the modern world we have learned to adjust our ways and be less conspicuous, so those opportunities seldom present themselves.”

Doug understood, but in his shock he could not speak. “You’re… you’re…”

“Vampires,” his father said.

“But vampires aren’t real!” Doug shouted. He jumped up from the couch. “No, this isn’t happening.”

His mother stood and reached out for him.

He recoiled. “Get away from me. You lied to me all my life and now you’re telling me you’re vampires?”

——-

“And then I ran to my room and slammed the door,” Doug said.

Lori sat at the table wondering whether he was crazy. She was convinced that she certainly was if she stayed much longer.

“But you were able to go into the sun when you were a kid,” Lori said. “What happened?”

“I could in college, too, until that holiday break right before you and I had our only date.”

“But the class we had together was a night class,” Lori said.

“Were you in it because the sun can melt your skin off?”

“Well, no, but, ummm.”

“Neither was I,” Doug said.

“So, what happened? How did you become one of them?”

“After my folks told me they didn’t go out killing people by sucking their blood, I learned to live with it. They had been my parents all my life. I couldn’t just leave.”

“How did they get their… you know?”

“Livestock, mostly. That kept them alive. But to stay immortal they had to have human blood.”

“I think I need to go,” Lori said and pushed out her chair.

“No, wait, just hear me out.”

She sat back down. She leaned in and whispered, “This is crazy. You know that, right? Off-the-walls, bat-shit crazy.”

Doug laughed. “Bats. If only that old folk tale were true. Then I could just fly right out of here.”

“Please don’t make jokes. I’m having a hard enough time taking all this in as it is.”

“Sorry. I don’t blame you for thinking all of this is crazy,” he continued. “I thought the same thing after they told me.”

Lori leaned back in her chair. “You have my attention. Barely. You were talking about human blood.”

“My mom worked as a medical technician at a very busy lab. She somehow found a way to bring home blood that would have been tossed as biohazardous waste. Nobody dies, and my parents live on.”

“It’s still horrible,” Lori said.

“My next six years were pretty bad. I got into trouble a lot at school. I didn’t have any friends. That all changed when I went to college, where nobody knew who my parents were.”

“You weren’t the boy from Freakopia anymore,” Lori said.

“Right. I got pretty good at socializing that first year, and fell in love with a girl my second. When I tried to tell her the truth about my family over holiday break, she left and never looked back. I got depressed and said I didn’t want to live anymore. I had just turned 20. The age of decision.”

Lori stood up and walked over to a nearby table. She leaned on it hard with both hands. “Sorry, I sit too much in my day job. What happened then?”

——-

Doug sat on his parents’ couch. A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, its top bent against the ceiling. His mother worked at draping strings of popcorn and blood-red cranberries around it. White lights among the branches blinked in synchronized time with an electronic music box hidden near the tree’s base.

“I’m sorry she left you, Doug. You know, you didn’t have to tell her the truth,” his mother said.

“I had to, Mom. How could I hide it from her the rest of my life?”

“But you haven’t chosen yet,” she said.

“I wanted her to be a part of the decision.”

His father walked over, carefully cradling a clear glass mug of apple cider. Steam drifted up from the brown liquid.

“Son, you grew up with us,” his father said. “We’ve all been together your whole life. You can’t expect someone from the outside to handle this without establishing a strong relationship based on years of love and trust.

“Immortality is not as easy to hide in these modern times. That is why we number so few now. Your mother and I want you to make an informed decision.”

“I do want to live forever. Who wouldn’t? Isn’t it what all those people in the churches are hoping for? Now I can have it, and you’re saying I should think of giving it up?”

His mother stroked his hair and drew a deep breath. “You might see it differently in 20 years. Or even 50. Or 100. It’s a long time to live as an outsider.”

“I can’t just ignore it. I want to do it. I want to commune.”

——-

Lori struggled to keep from storming over to the guard and demanding to be let out. At the same time, she couldn’t tear herself away. She walked back over to Doug’s table and sat down.

“I knew the power that came with the life, and figured if I was suffering so much trying to be ‘normal,’ I might as well change what I could control.”

“You mean you’re… immortal?”

“Except for a few notable exceptions, yes.”

(to be continued)

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 8th, 2008 at 10:44 pm and is filed under Drama. You may follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed, and/or leave a comment below.