Evolve Two: Vampire Stories of the Future Undead (19 page)

A yellow sign with flashing lights advised of the last convenience hub for 400 kilometers. Linh slowed to take the exit. The change in pace woke Tau.

“Where are we?” he muttered groggily, yawning. “Oh, good. I’ve gotta go.”

Linh eased into a parking stall just outside the store and Tau jumped out. Once he disappeared, she popped the trunk, assembled the spout mechanism on a full jerry-can, and lugged it out to pour a bit of gas in the tank. Not too much; she wouldn’t have time to fill it before he got back. Her hand shook with the beginning of drug-induced jitters.

Through the window she saw Tau emerge. Hastily she screwed the gas cap shut and re-stowed the jerry-can. She slammed the trunk lid before Tau looked inside.

“You brought your own gas?”

And other things.
Things he didn’t need to think about right now.

“Uh, didn’t want to use my fuel card. CS might figure out that I didn’t show up at work today. Could trace me. See I’m out of town. Might put two and two together.” A weak story. Containment Squads were undermanned and overworked, unlikely to throw resources after a single, escaped Toxic — at least, not right away, not unless they had a reason. But she hoped he’d buy it.

Tau considered this a minute then nodded and grinned. “Got you something yummy!” He tossed her a pack of
Sweet ‘n Sours.
“Jesus it’s hot.”

Linh noticed soaked circles around Tau’s armpits.

The question she was about to ask— How did you pay for these? —died on her lips. He didn’t have any money. He stole them. And it wasn’t hot, though the fresh adrenaline radiating from her stomach could’ve tricked her into believing it, too.

“Yeah, stifling,” she lied. “I’m just gonna run in for a sec. Why don’t you turn on the air conditioning?”

“Naw, I’ll come with you. We should eat. Might be a while until we get another chance.”

A long while. Never.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Linh’s stomach churned at the thought of food.

Rather than circling around the outside in the
heat,
they went back into the store and followed the curved hallway of the complex through a casino, salon, and an arcade before arriving in a dumpy, retro pub appropriately named
Culture Shock.
Three patrons occupied its gaping hollows. Linh wondered how the place stayed in business — any of these places. Government subsidies maybe. Preservation of small towns and rural life or some BS.

The place
smelled.
Wafts of stale cooking grease briefly masked the sour aroma of spilled beer and the trio of customers all puffed away on cigarettes — former ex-smokers, she assumed, celebrating last year’s cure for cancer. Linh and Tau grabbed a corner booth with red vinyl seats that hadn’t been wiped in her lifetime.

The menus were paper in plastic, not the computerized touch-screens they were used to. A real-live-waiter approached to take their orders. He was slight. And blond.

“My name’s Gary and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you?” Somehow he managed to say this like it wasn’t scripted. Like he hadn’t said it a hundred times before.

Linh looked around the nearly empty space; maybe he
hadn’t
said it a hundred times before
.

“I’ll have the crispy noodle rolls with corn and olive salad,” Linh said. “And a liter of your house red.”

Gary raised a brow and recorded her order. Cute little dimples pressed in his smooth cheeks.

Linh glanced at Tau.

“Triple vodka press, neat. What do you recommend for food, Gary?”

It was his cute voice. His vulnerable, oh-my-God-I-love-you-and-want-to-buy-you-a-house voice.

“I eat pretty plain,” the waiter replied, jamming a hand in his jeans’ pocket. “The potato and venison pie’s good. And you can’t go wrong with the lamb cannelloni.”

Tau studied the menu and nodded. “Bring me one of each. I trust you.” Smile.

Gary beamed back and collected the menus, hand brushing Tau’s — on purpose? —before he hurried off to input their orders. Or pass the cook a hand-written note, or just tell him there were suspicious people out front.

“Close your mouth,” Linh said. “And, you
do
realize you just ordered two meat dishes, right? What’s up with that? We haven’t eaten meat for twelve years!”

“Yeah, but I’m
ravenous.
Veggie quiche just isn’t going to cut it, you know? Did you
see
him? I mean, what are the chances? We stop in some nowhere place and I meet the world’s hottest farm boy! Almost makes me believe in God or karma or—” He stopped.

An awkward moment as they both contemplated Tau’s fate and whether or not God gave a shit.

“I’ve always thought it would be cool to live in the country, you know?” Tau continued softly. “Sit on a veranda, swing on one of those swings, look out at my … goats or whatever.”

Linh giggled as expected but inside her heart tore. She wanted Tau to snuggle on a swing with Gary; wanted to hang out with the two of them on a hot summer day, drink Ruby Red grapefruit punch, and barbecue vegetable skewers — normal people things.

“You’d go nuts. I mean, this is it, the heart of the action.” She gestured to their dim surroundings. The jukebox played
John Denver
of all things. “Gary would probably bore you in five minutes.” How she wished he would’ve found someone boring earlier; found Gary.

“What’s that?” Gary approached with a tray balanced on his shoulder. “Did I hear my name?”

Tau snorted at Linh then said, “Just saying how cute you are.”

“Oh!” A dark blush bloomed on Gary’s face and crawled down his neck in shades of purple. He fumbled with their drinks, the wine carafe rattling dangerously before arriving on the table. “Well, thanks!” He darted a look at Tau, then scurried off.

Shit
. She hadn’t counted on Gary being smitten, too.

“You can’t do this.”

Tau ditched his red straw and gulped down half his drink. “Do what?”

“This. Gary. Flirting. It can’t … go … anywhere.”

“Oh really? Thanks for reminding me. It’s not like this bite on my leg is driving me
fucking insane
or anything. I kinda forgot for a second.” His features were suddenly sharp, eyes hot.

Is he going to cross the table?
Linh sipped her wine and resisted the urge to back away.

Tau chugged the rest of his drink. “God, sorry. Just ignore me, Linh.” Under the table he clamped his thighs around one of her knees and squeezed. “You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Not like this.

Linh rubbed her foot against the back of his calf.

After Gary returned with their orders, she picked while Tau scarfed, shoveling in food so fast Linh was surprised he could breathe. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto his plate but he didn’t seem to notice. His lips, usually a deep, black-brown, were pale tan.

“Uh, all done there?”

Gary was back.

“I’ll just clear those dishes for you.” He stacked plates on the next table. “Um, anyway, I … well, um, here.” He handed Tau a neat square of paper. His cell number or email.

Tau clenched the note in his fingers like a prize, a brief flash of joy crossing his face as he looked up at Gary. Then he slumped. Vomited. On the floor. On Gary’s feet. Food, vodka, all that meat, spewed, spattering the waiter’s white runners.
Too late, Gary jumped back. “Uuuuh!” He shook his foot as though the liquid paste would fall off like dried mud.

Tau stood, stumbled, pushed past Gary for the washroom.

“I’ll clean this up,” Linh mumbled, mopping ineffectually at the puddle with her napkin, smearing it more than anything. After a useless moment she threw the thing down and went after her friend. Everyone stared.

The reek of urinal pucks and mint assaulted her. Tau had smashed the plastic display window on a wall-mounted vending machine and was drinking packets of mouthwash. His face and shirt dripped with water from splashing himself.

“God dammit!” A wrenching sound and then he couldn’t talk; he supported himself on the cold edge of the sink.

She went to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her head between his shoulder blades, where his unicorn was; she could feel the bumps against her cheek. She held him as he sobbed.

He spun to return her embrace and she was wrapped in hard muscle, his strength, as though he were comforting her and not the other way around. They stood, locked tight, hearts thrumming unnaturally fast, hers from the uppers, his from whatever was going on inside, until he pulled back, grasped her cheeks and slammed his mouth to hers; those pale lips, burning hot, a taste of mint and salt and bile.

They parted. She wiped her mouth; checked for blood,
her
blood. None.

“Come on,” she said. “We have to go.”

On their way out she tossed bills over her shoulder.

Someone yelled, “Hey, stop! What’s wrong with that guy? Is he—”

Tau turned and screamed, an enraged, rasping bellow that raised the blood vessels on his face into prominence against the bone beneath. He upended a table, knocking over chairs in a clattering heap. Linh grabbed his arm. He whirled, teeth bared.

“Tau! It’s me!”

Fury drained from his face and his lips curtained teeth now whiter, now sharper, than before.

Linh dragged him to the door. Together they half ran through the parking lot to the car and didn’t look back to see if anyone followed.

Four hours and thirteen precious minutes. The sun hung low on the dusty horizon, giving up its fight against the somber gloom of approaching night.

Tau wasn’t drinking anymore. Instead he stared out the window. Or at her. She could see him in her peripheral vision. Once, she tried staring back; saw that he wasn’t blinking and his irises had deepened to black soulless pits against his dusty brown-gray skin. And he didn’t seem to register her. She poked him and, after a moment, his eyes shifted back to the scenery. For a minute or two.

Run like hell,
her instincts screamed
.

But she couldn’t run. They were running together. She couldn’t just abandon the plan, her friend, even if he wasn’t quite himself anymore; even if she no longer trusted him. But she had to do something. The quiet had become predatory.

There were trees now. Clumps of verdant bush dotted the rolling landscape, hiding rusting pump-jacks, abandoned farm equipment, a deer. Linh watched the ditch alongside the road and, when it deepened, pulled to the shoulder. Thick weeds and tall grass brushed the underside of the car.

“Need to stretch my legs,” she said, puncturing deep silence. “Why don’t you stretch yours?”

Tau didn’t reply but obeyed in a robotic fashion, pulling the door handle, half falling down the slope. When Linh pulled the door shut behind him from the inside, he was too low to see in the window.

From beneath her seat she retrieved a flat box, what might be called a “rape kit” if she were a sexual predator or serial killer. She tucked the contents in her waistband and pockets — easily reachable places — and exited the car. Tau stood in the ditch listing like an unmanned boat.

“How’re you feeling?” Linh asked, tone light, hand at the ready behind her back.

“You’re my best friend, Linh. I … I love you. Just wanted to say it.”

The words pierced her heart as surely as a well-aimed arrow.

“Don’t do it. I can control it. I
can.
Just hide me. Please. I can do it. For you.”

Tau’s pleading eyes focused on her,
really
focused, for the first time in hours. The weight of their shared history, his plea, pressed on her lungs. Her hand fell to her side, empty. She could almost believe him. That he’d master the sickness in ways other hadn’t. Hide him in some crumbling barn and everything would be okay.

Movement across an open expanse of field snagged her attention. A vehicle, a
van,
vivid chartreuse, the color of warning, still discernible in the disappearing daylight, on a road parallel to their own. Just a glimpse, then her view was blocked by a tree stand.

Containment Squad.

Gary.

Gary, or someone, must’ve reported them.

Linh whirled back to Tau, still standing with a lost puppy look. She whipped her police-surplus taser from her waistband and zapped him. He dropped, thrashing and screaming. The front of his shorts darkened as his bladder emptied. From her pocket she withdrew a syringe and a vial containing dissolved sleeping pills. Her hands trembled as she struggled to fill the fragile thing and jam it into Tau’s massive, jerking thigh. At this new pain, this further betrayal, he lurched up and grabbed for her, but she jumped back and his fingers grasped only air. After what seemed like an hour but was only a few seconds, his chin dropped and he slumped to the side, rolling a bit more down the steep embankment. Linh scrambled after him while fishing hard plastic zip-ties from another pocket. She looped them around his wrists, linked in a figure eight or symbol of eternity behind his back, then tried to do the same with his ankles, but the ties weren’t long enough.