The Hunter

Deep in the not-so-deep woods of Sedona, there was a younger, inexperienced vampire, who had not bothered to go to the meeting of the Rummy club that night. Instead, George Harrison had donned combat boots, a rain jacket, some dark track packs, and a ski mask, and headed into the tree line of the outskirts of Sedona. Occasionally, the vampires felt the urge to feed, as some authorities refer to it as, “off the hoof”…and this adventurous young man had decided that, being semi-immortal, he could take the chance to feed off of the athletic monkeys currently barraging feces and garbage at everyone they saw. It would be interesting, at least. Humans were, unless consensual, strictly banned except in cases of emergency.

Alone in the dark, it was probably a good thing he had eaten carrots when he was younger. He had actually been ‘turned’ by one of the members of the Rummy Club – Jessie. But, contrary to popular belief, although daylight aggravated their symptoms, which made them nocturnal, those who suffered from vampirism did not have any improved sense of vision. Only night goggles could do that.

“Here, monkey, monkey, monkey…” George called into the darkness. Hearing some rustling above him, he moved slightly to his right, a good guess, as a walnut emerged from the canopy, flying out of the tree and bouncing off of the leaf strewn ground cover below.

“I know…you don’t want to come down and play with me…but it’s okay…I can wait. You’ll come closer. You’re curious, aren’t you? Want a banana?” George continued his assault on the monkeys’ sense of security with words, slowly holding out the banana he had been peeling, upwards into the darkness. He had brought an entire bushel with him, just in case.

His crazy idea’s plan had spawned at work, where he had been watching plants grow – literally. Also a member of Green Tech, he figured that if he wanted to have something to tell his kids when he grew old, “Biting a monkey” was going to be on the top of the list. Being a vampire did have some bragging rights associated with it. Green Tech had cleared his building to be released first, as it was the closest to Complex D, and the monkeys had scattered in a very short amount of time. But, as one had thrown feces, or simply took a shit all over his car’s windshield, he felt that it was necessary to extract revenge from the entire stock.

Suddenly, detracted from his memories, a dark object lunged in the dark to grab the banana from his hand. Holding on to it, as he had been expecting the tug, he quickly pulled it away.

“Nuh uh.” He admonished the monkey amid its angry chitters of discontent. “You can come give me a hug before I give you that banana. It’s a super special banana.” A moment of silence followed as the monkey ceased its arguing. He heard a brief rustling, as if the monkey was adjusting on the limb it was hanging on. He couldn’t see above him that well. “Come to daddy, Mr. Monkey. I swear I won’t hurt you……much…” George sincerely hoped the monkey couldn’t understand him. He had kept his tone light, as they had suggested in almost every animal training book and manual that he had come across.

Hearing a brief rustle above him, he tensed and raised his other hand slowly, ready to grab the monkey’s arm. The disease of his body had certain benefits – he might hate the sunlight, but the constant sexual frustration led to an excess of working out to blow off steam – which meant that he was very, very in shape. Hopefully, more so than the monkey.

Too fast for him. The monkey had lunged, and removed the banana right from the peel which had been held tightly in George’s hand. The banana’s smushed insides dripped down his arm as he swore. Seconds later, he felt something equally gooey drop onto his head. George thanked his gods and his ancestors for the invention of the ski mask: it was going to be a long, long night.

Needless to say, several hours later, George left the forest covered in monkey poo, garbage, slime, and tree leaves which they had so gently stuck to his body when he wasn’t looking. He was bloodless, slightly amused, but exhausted. And, he had forgotten his change of clean clothes in his car. Which was probably covered in monkey crap. Ah, the joys of living in Sedona.

George decided to call it a night. His craving for blood was overwhelming at this point, and he had begun to feel woozy at best. His senses were all heightened, and despite his amusement, his body was desperately craving the pounding life force that flew through the veins of the monkeys in the tree canopy above him.

Walking back towards the general direction of the trail, George was at least thankful for his attire. Although the night had proved that he could not hunt animals, he knew he could hunt humans. Jessie had turned him, yes, but she had not known that she had done so. She had fallen, drunk, one night, and cut herself. The blood that had been transferred onto the chair had gotten into a cut that had barely healed on his own hand. As he helped her to bed, he had suddenly felt violently ill.

They had been dating for three months. He had discovered her secret not two weeks before, and had been constantly hounding her for information. She hated her disease, had wanted nothing to do with it, and had refused to even consider changing him. He had not meant to get her blood into his own blood stream, but now that he had, he was loving every minute of it. Knowing what had happened to him, he immediately headed home to await the changes, calling in sick to work. Appearing three days later, paler, quieter, and stronger, George had kept the secret of his condition.

George was careful to privately order from the vampiric supply warehouse a fresh supply of blood whenever he needed it, without the knowledge of any of the Sedona villagers. If the others had discovered that he was afflicted by the same condition that they were, he had a feeling that they might not take it so lightly. They would try to get him to join their little club, and the next thing he knew, he would be deprived of his certain pleasures that he had been taking.

The alcohol in drunken people provided a sort of adrenaline rush, in addition to the alcohol level in the blood being a great alternative to actually ingesting the bitter taste of alcohol. The drunken stupor that he could achieve was unlike anything he had felt before – a weird sense of euphoria mixed with the fogginess associated with lost days and memories.

Previous Chapter: The Den
Next Chapter: The Hunted
Go Home: Go To Title Page