Burke and the Vampire

Chapter 1-2

It had all begun four years previously when Burke had been the victim of an attack by three homophobic men who thought the world would be better off with one less fag, as a witness said they’d called him. Burke had almost died that night, ending up in a coma for two long months—at least long as far as his parents were concerned. He, of course, didn’t remember it, or the attack. Selective amnesia, his doctor had called it. As far as Burke was concerned that was fine.

Once he’d recuperated under his parents’ tender ministrations, which took another two months, he returned to his job as a software developer for a small gaming company. His boss greeted him, if not with literal open arms, at least enthusiastically.

“You’ve been missed. We have a new project for one of our clients and…” He rattled on about it as they walked to Burke’s workstation. “Oh,” he finally said, “How are you?”

“If you mean do I still have a working brain, I do,” Burke replied dryly. “I may not remember what happened, but everything else? Yeah, I’m good.”

A week later, while walking home after working very late to finish an important part of the game he was creating, he sensed something strange—or rather someone strange. He finally homed in on a man strolling slowly along on the opposite side of Chartres, avoiding the many Friday night revelers, mostly tourists, who had taken over the Quarter in the week before Thanksgiving.

Imagination. It has to be. Or something screwed up in my head as a result of the attack.

He tried to convince himself that was true but deep in his bones he knew the man wasn’t human—which was impossible.

All the stories about vampires, and ghosts, and what have you? That’s all they are—myths. Sure, the tales are rampant in New Orleans and they make tour guides rich, but such creatures don’t exist. They can’t.

Despite his reluctance to believe what he was feeling was real, he followed the man. He looked like half the other people Burke could see, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals.

He’s definitely well-built, and not bad looking from what I can see of him. But there’s something creepy about him.

The man continued walking, glancing into some of the bars along the street but never entering. When he reached Esplanade, he crossed the avenue, heading to Frenchman Street. Burke followed.

Again, the man strolled by various bars, checking them out but not going into any of them. When he got to the fence surrounding Washington Square, he leaned against it, his gaze apparently locked on the bar cattycorner across the intersection.

Bemused, but not willing to give up until he knew what was going on with the—the creature? If I haven’t gone totally around the bend, that’s what he is.

He found a spot in the shadowed doorway of a closed tourist shop where he could see the man without being seen. His wait was rewarded half an hour later when the man left his post, crossed the street, and approached a woman who was leaving the bar. Whatever he said to her, she nodded then walked docilely beside him down the dark side street to an even darker alley.

Burke hurried after them, trying not to draw their attention when he got to the alley’s entrance. Ahead of him he could barely see the pair in the dim light over a shop’s rear door. He could hear them, however. The woman was telling the man what it would cost for her to give him a blowjob.

In a husky voice, as if he was unused to talking, the man replied, “I do not want sex.” Then he gripped her chin, forcing her head back.

Burke knew what would happen next but was unable to force himself to try to save her. He watched, frozen in horror, when the creature bit her throat, lapping and then drinking the blood that flowed from the wound until she collapsed. It was over in seconds. The creature licked the wound then stared into the woman’s eyes before he released his grip on her. As she fell to the ground, he vanished.

Burke took two hesitant steps forward, then two more, before dashing to the woman’s sprawled body. She was pale and cool to his touch, but alive and breathing. There was no sign of a wound on her throat. Taking out his phone, he called 911, explaining that he’d found a woman passed out in an alley and was afraid to move her. After giving the approximate address, by cross streets, he hung up.

“They’ll be here soon,” he told her, even though he knew she didn’t hear him. Then he walked away, leaving the alley by the far end, heading slowly back to his apartment.

I didn’t see that. I didn’t. I couldn’t have. It was impossible. He wanted to believe it was, but knew differently. He was a vampire. There’s no other explanation. Why me? Why did I know he was something inhuman? No one else seemed to know. He touched his head, feeling the scar hidden beneath his hair, the only physical reminder of what had been done to him. Did the beating scramble my brain and…and awaken something deep inside which allows me to sense when there’s one of them around?

It was the only explanation he could come up with. As much as he hated the idea, he had the feeling it was the truth.

God help me if there are more around. What do I do then? How do I stop them? Is it even possible? I’m just a human. I don’t have supernatural powers. He smiled grimly. Well, other than knowing when one of them is nearby, apparently.