Her Loving Husband’s Return

Chapter 1-3

“Why do you say that?”

“You were drawn to Salem your whole life. Why Salem of all places? You felt your intuition, followed it, and when you arrived here you found James, who waited over three hundred years for you to return.”

Sarah shook her head. “I grew up in Boston, which is twenty minutes away, and yet I never made it here as a child. I married a man I never loved and lived in a city I didn’t like for ten years. It wasn’t until I was divorced I finally came here.”

“What good would it have done to come when you were a child? Even if you and James had crossed paths, he wouldn’t have looked at a girl to be the ghost of his beloved wife. Being stuck in your bad marriage, needing to get away. It gave you the impetus to make a change, and where did you go? Here, to Salem, the place you were drawn to all along. Just because you felt drawn to Salem didn’t mean you had to come. Most people don’t listen to their intuition. In fact, most people make decisions deliberately against what their intuition tells them. You could have gone anywhere, but you listened to that voice inside your heart that called you here, and within nights of your arrival you crossed paths with James and discovered your purpose, to reunite with him, and your daughter. Now you’re with Grace, and James will be home soon.” Sarah shook her head. “He will, Sarah. Then you’ll both be exactly where you should be, all because you listened to your intuition. You’ve returned.”

“James said your ancestor Miriam told him he’d return. He said it was her prophecy.”

Olivia stopped, stone solid. When she recovered herself she scrubbed the bowls in the soapy water as though nothing had happened. When the dishes were washed and dried she turned to Sarah.

“She said he would return? Miriam used that exact word?”

“That’s what James said.”

Olivia was a statue again, and for a moment Sarah thought she had fallen into a trance.

“Are you all right, Olivia?”

Olivia smiled in her warm, motherly way.

“I’m fine, dear. You know, us older folks get forgetful sometimes. Yes, he’s right. I remember now. Miriam did tell James he would return. And he will.”

Sarah turned away, not wanting Grace to see the pain she felt as a tightening behind her eyes. In the great room, Sarah flipped on the flat-screen television, turning to the children’s programming Grace loved. Funny red monsters, hungry blue monsters, orange and yellow best friends, Grace would sit mesmerized watching them and babbling along with their songs. Sarah sat cross-legged on the weaved rug and pulled Grace into her lap. She watched the television as though it were the only thing in the world to see.

Olivia returned the dishes to the cupboard, then joined Sarah and Grace in the great room. She sat on the sofa and watched television with them, laughing when Grace laughed at the puppets’ crazy antics. When the show was over, Sarah stretched her limbs, her back aching from sitting on the floor. She handed Grace to Olivia and went into the kitchen for some ice water, her mouth dry.

“Daaa!”

Sarah’s hand went to her heart. “No, Grace. Daddy’s not here now, but he’ll be home soon.”

Grace pointed at the television screen. “Daaaa!”

Sarah shook her head. “No, Grace.”

“Wait, Sarah.”

Olivia moved closer to the television. She leaned toward the flat screen, her eyes squints, her face taut. “Sarah! Come see!”

Sarah looked where Olivia pointed, to a news story about the relocation camps.

“It must be a repeat,” Sarah said. “They’ve been there nearly a month now.”

“But look!”

On the screen Sarah saw footage of a group of undead getting off a chartered bus within the boundaries of the camp that was their home for now. The prison-like nightlights were on full blast, giving an eerie glow to the blue-white men and women as they gathered near the silver-coated gate. Sarah turned up the volume and listened.

“…because this is near the location of the Manzanar camp where over ten thousand Japanese-Americans were held during World War II. When asked why this location was chosen as a detention center a second time, officials said the area, in the vast desert of California’s Owens Valley, provides an isolated location where they can keep their detainees secure. This camp is known as Camp Dracula.”

“Camp Dracula?” Sarah said.

Olivia shrugged. “It is a camp for vampires.”

The camera panned the well-secured encampment. The long, neat lines of barracks, the prison-like guard towers, the sterile blankness of the desert environment. If the footage were in black and white it could have been filmed in the 1940s. The scene cut back to their nighttime arrival at the camp. The camera panned the faces, and Sarah gasped.

“Daaaa!” Grace said. She clapped her hands and giggled. “Da!”

There he was, James, nearly a head taller than those around him, surveying the scene with his usual level-eyed calmness. He didn’t look worried. He didn’t look afraid. Sarah leaned close to the television, wanting to kiss him through the screen. Suddenly, nearly too quick for her to see, James looked into the camera with a grin on his lips. Sarah sighed aloud. It was his message for her. He was all right.

“Look at him, Sarah,” Olivia said. “He’s smiling for you.”

Sarah touched her husband’s beautiful face on the screen, his gold hair in his eyes as always. “I know,” she said. And then he was gone.

When the news program repeated later that evening, Sarah recorded it, and after Grace went to sleep Sarah watched it again, and again, and again. James was on screen for a few seconds, but Sarah didn’t care. She would watch him smile at the camera over and over until this nonsense was done and her husband was home where he belonged. Finally, when she couldn’t watch it any longer she turned the television off, walked into her bedroom, pulled out a pen and some paper, and she wrote. What was she writing? She didn’t know. First, she thought it was a diary. Then, she thought it was a letter for James she hoped would get through to him in the camp. Finally, she thought it was simply venting everything she was feeling then, which left her uncomfortably full. Letting the words leak out was a way for her to feel like she was touching James while he was three thousand miles away. It was a way to feel him beside her when he wasn’t there.

When she reread the words she had written, she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. She gave up writing, for that moment, and looked at the darkening late afternoon sky, realizing it was earlier and brighter in California. James was still sleeping. She wondered what he would be doing when he woke up later, and she wondered when he would be home.

For the record, please state your full name with your place and date of birth.

My name is James John Wentworth. I was born in London, England on April 19, 1662.

You’re three hundred and fifty years old, is that correct?

Yes.

Marital status?

Married, and I have one child.

A child?

She’s adopted.

I see. Where is your wife?

At home.

She’s?

Human.

Where is your place of residence?

Salem, Massachusetts.

And what is your profession?

I’m a university professor, formerly of Salem State University.

What do you teach?

English literature.

Thank you. I’m hoping you can help me, Mr. Wentworth.

Doctor Wentworth.

Excuse me? (Papers shuffle.) I see, yes, Doctor Wentworth. We’re trying to determine where the vampires have been getting their blood to survive. We need to be certain you’re not a threat to the community. I’m sure you understand.

What exactly are you asking me?

I’m asking where, when you were living in Salem, Massachusetts, you got your blood from, Doctor Wentworth.

I got my blood from the hospital.

The hospital?

Yes.

Which hospital?

I was getting it from Salem Hospital, and then I switched to Massachusetts General Hospital.

You took blood from the patients?

(Sighs.) From medical assistants who got it from the blood bank.

So in a way you were taking it from the patients because the blood you took wasn’t available to humans who may have needed it.

Donated blood has an expiration date. I was taking blood that would have been wasted because it was no longer useful in transfusions.

Do you have contact names for the medical assistants who acquired the blood for you?

I can give them to you if it’s necessary.

It may be necessary. Have you ever hurt anyone to get the blood you need, Doctor Wentworth?

Of course not.

Not ever? You’ve been undead for how long now?

Since 1692.

That’s three hundred and twenty years. There weren’t a lot of hospitals with blood donation facilities three centuries ago.

Animal blood works as well.

Does it?

You’re feeding us blood from slaughters here. I’ve never had a problem finding butchers willing to sell blood.

So you’ve never hurt anyone, bitten anyone against their will, killed anyone, accidentally or not, to get the blood you need?

Never.

You can be honest, Doctor Wentworth. The crimes you committed years ago are long past the statute of limitations.

I am being honest. I haven’t committed any crimes.

I have the feeling you’re being less than forthright, Doctor Wentworth. Do you have something to hide?

I have nothing to hide. I’ve committed no crimes. I want to go home to my wife and daughter. I made a mistake coming here. I was naïve about what would happen though I’ve seen enough to know better. I hoped we’d learned a lesson or two since World War II, but I can see I was wrong. I thought if I surrendered myself when the government asked I’d help to show we’re not any different from anyone else and we can be trusted.

Except you’re dead.

I’m speaking to you now.

You have no pulse.

One could argue you have no heart.

Really, Doctor Wentworth.

I’m being imprisoned without being charged with a crime, and while I’m not a law professor I know enough about the Constitution to know it’s illegal to hold people indefinitely without charging them. It’s the Fifth Amendment to be exact. I can quote it for you if you like…

You’re not being imprisoned, Doctor Wentworth. We’re simply detaining you and the others until we understand what we’re faced with. We can’t let anyone who might be a threat to society out among innocent Americans. We can’t take a chance that a…

Vampire?

Yes, that a vampire might begin feeding on innocent humans at whim.

(Laughs.) Do you think the ones who are here, the ones who willingly surrendered themselves, are a threat to society?

I’m asking the questions, Doctor Wentworth. Have you ever murdered anyone for their blood?

You already asked that question.

Doctor Wentworth, the sooner you answer the questions, the sooner we’re done here.

(Sighs.) No, I’ve never murdered anyone for their blood.

Are you certain?

Have you ever murdered anyone?

No, Doctor Wentworth, I have never murdered anyone.

Are you certain?

Of course.

There’s my answer. When can I go home?

As soon as we know how we’re going to handle this situation. I’m sure you understand this is unprecedented in history.

It isn’t unprecedented at all. You don’t understand. I need to go home to my wife. It’s too hard being here without her. We need to be together.

Everyone here misses their family, Doctor Wentworth. Assuming everything checks out, we’ll get you home as soon as we can.

It’s not as if I have a choice in the matter.