On the Edge of Humanity

THE FUNERAL HOME HAD A large foyer, which I imagined had welcomed guests at one time or another. Now dust hung in the air and tickled my nose. I sneezed once, then twice.

"Bless you," Sam said.

A worn Oriental carpet runner, which covered the dusty wood floor, clashed with the chintzy flowered wallpaper. As we stood there, taking it all in, a spitting and rattling noise resounded.

"What's that?" I turned towards Sam.

"Sounds like Neil's tinkering with the heater," he said.

I walked over to a sofa table that butted against the wall next to a set of double doors. A black book lay open, its pages filled with signatures. This must be entries from the last wake or funeral. A slight chill caressed my skin and I closed the book. As I did, more dust bunnies flew into the air. I sneezed again, dragging the back of my hand across my nose as I made my way towards Sam who was sitting on a red loveseat.

"Don't sit down too fast unless you want more crap up your nose," he warned.

Heeding Sam's advice, I eased down onto the velvet cushion. Slowly, I leaned back and rested my head against the couch. I released a loud sigh, which echoed in the small foyer-like room.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Sleep," Sam replied.

Sleep would be great, if only I could relax. I couldn't get the image of the bandana guy out of my head. I hoped that he was still looking for us somewhere near the hospital. Not to mention that sleeping in a funeral home wasn't high on my list of favorite things to do. In fact, it was creepy. I started tapping my foot as we waited for Neil to emerge from wherever he was in the building.

"Jo, stop it," Sam said.

"What?"

"Your foot. You do that when you get nervous. It drives me crazy, especially now."

I blew out a breath and rose. I needed to do something. My mind wasn't allowing me to relax. Curious as to what lay behind the double doors in front of me, I grabbed the doorknob and pushed in the door. I rooted around the wall, found the light switch and flicked on the lights. The room came to life. Centered against the back wall was a closed, shiny white coffin. A chill infused my whole body. If this place has been vacant for over a year, what was a coffin doing in this room? Is there a dead person in it? Not wanting to linger or even think about it, I switched off the light and scurried out. I had a feeling nightmares would be visiting me tonight.

"Anything interesting in there?" Sam asked.

"Nope," I said as I sat in my original spot.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Neil emerged from somewhere in the building.

"I managed to get the heat on," he said.

Sam jumped to his feet.

I didn't move. After sitting for a few minutes, my body had grown stiff. My ribs throbbed as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and whacked me a few times.

"It should work through the night," Neil said. "Let me show you around, then you guys can get some rest."

Sam extended his hand and I grabbed it as he pulled me upright. We followed behind Neil to a set of stairs, which led to the second floor. On our way down the hall, we walked by two more viewing rooms, which had their doors open. Those rooms were empty-no coffins, thank God. The thought of dead people brought the image back of the man at the hospital with the long canine teeth. Yep, I'm definitely going to have nightmares tonight.

At the end of the hallway, we climbed a set of stairs to the top floor.

"You can crash in my dad's old office," Neil said.

When we entered the room, two floral couches sat adjacent to one another. The tackiness of the bottom floor filtered upstairs into the office. With the exception of the windowed wall and the wall of books, the chintzy flowered wallpaper matched the two sofas.

In front of the floor-to-ceiling window, a large cherry wood desk commanded the room. A pair of dark red velvet curtains covered the window, making it look as if blood were streaming down. Blood. Now that conjured up all kinds of images, but none more powerful than the tingle in my stomach right now. I wanted to slap myself. Stop thinking about all these terrifying images.

"Sam, here's a spare key in case you need it. I'll be back first thing in the morning with some food," Neil said. "One more thing. Take this." He handed Sam three twenty-dollar bills. "There's a variety store a block north of here. It opens early in the morning. Get her something that fits better."

As he walked to the door, I caught a better glimpse of the tattoo on his neck. The capital letter 'P' superimposed on top of the letter 'L' , and there was a red diagonal ring circling the black monogram letters. The ring reminded me of the planet Saturn with its outer band.

"I'll see you in the morning," Neil said as he padded down the stairs.

A few minutes later the front door shut and the lock clicked. His truck engine roared to life. Then silence.

Sam jumped onto one couch and dust flew in the air.

Ugh. I covered my nose so I wouldn't sneeze. I guess I get the other dusty couch.

"Did you notice the tattoo on Neil's neck?" I asked.

Sam leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. "Uh huh," he mumbled.

"What do you suppose it is?" I asked.

"Not now, Jo. I'm tired."

"Do you think he's working with the guy chasing us?

"No."

"Well, I don't trust him," I persisted.

"I do. Alright?" Sam took in a deep breath, and within seconds he was snoring.

"Sam?"

His snoring grew louder.

Sam had the right idea, but sleep evaded me. I was still curious if the tattoo had any meaning. As I waited for sleep to takeover, the wind howling followed the sound of Sam snoring. In-between the snoring and the howling, the heater sputtered. It was as if I were listening to an orchestra.

After a few minutes, the orchestra muted and the pounding of my pulse thudded in my ears as a list of questions scrolled across the darkness. Where are we going to go? Is the cop okay? Why is someone with long canines chasing us? Who is Neil? Why would a complete stranger help us?

As I pondered the answers to these questions, the noises around me faded, and a hot breeze caressed my neck, lulling me to sleep.

I woke up the next morning and the crick in my neck prevented me from moving it to the left. I eased my head from side to side to loosen it. The cracks reverberated in my ears and I shivered. I hated that sound. I inhaled, taking inventory of my body. The intake of air still burned and the pain in my ribs seemed more intense today than it did last night. I imagined it was going to take a while for my body to heal.

The other couch was empty. Where was Sam?

A loud bang sounded and I jumped off the couch, holding on to my mid-section as I ran out of the room. I peered over the banister.

"Sam?"

He appeared from underneath the stairs and tilted up his head. "I'm trying to get this stupid heater to work. I'll be up in a minute."

I ambled back into the office and over to the window. I pulled aside one of the curtain panels and peered out. The snow blanketed the trees, roads, and the surrounding homes. The park across the street showed no signs of life, but then again its barren appearance matched the still life in the neighborhood. The gray sky threatened as if it were about to deliver its second strike of snowfall.

I looked down. The freshly fallen snow covered the footprints Sam had planted on the walkway last night. Even the driveway didn't show any signs of Neil's truck. I stood in front of the window, staring out, wondering what we were going to do today. We couldn't stay here. Well, I didn't want to stay here. Even in daylight, the place gave me the willies.

I lightly touched my left cheek. The bandage was dry, but my face ached. Yeah, well. There wasn't much I could do about my bruises right now. I turned my attention from my Poor Me syndrome to the office space.

Five enormous bookshelves paneled the right wall. Each book was stacked neatly one against the other. I was glancing at the titles of the books on one of the shelves when the hallway stairs creaked and Sam walked in.

"You fixed the heater?" I asked as the warm air blew through the room.

Sam nodded.

"What time is it?"

Sam looked at his watch. "Six."

Ugh! I'd tossed and turned all night. I was afraid to sleep, not only because of the macabre images of the man chasing us, but because my bruises and cuts were too painful to put pressure on. Plus, I had the feeling that someone was watching us while we slept.

"What now?"

"Well, we can't stay here." Sam stared at the books.

Great answer. I wouldn't be the least bit disappointed if we never came back here.

"What was your first clue? The coffin in the room downstairs?"

"There's a coffin?" Sam asked, surprise in his voice.

"Well, we're in a funeral home."

"Yeah, an abandoned one," Sam replied.

"You think there's a dead body in it?"

"Okay, okay. All the more reason to get out of here. And we need to get some help," he said.

"Again, what's your first clue?"

He pulled back a curtain panel and stared outside. "Jo, don't get smart."

"Anyone with a blue bandana walking around out there?" I asked.

I meant it rhetorically. I hadn't seen anyone out there a minute ago. Still the hairs on my arms rose, waiting for his answer.

He shook his head.

"Well, what're we going to do?" I asked as I shuddered a breath.

If we went back to the hospital, we could be accused of beating up the cop and running. Besides, the cops still wanted to question Sam about the incident with Cliff; he wasn't out of the woods yet with the law. So the hospital was out of the question.

I bit the inside of my right cheek and sat down in the leather desk chair.

"I was thinking we could get Ben's dad to help us," he said.

"Mr. Jackson?" My jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding, right?"

"He'll understand. We don't have anyone besides Neil, and I don't want to stay here. This place is creepy."

This place wasn't creepy; it was downright terrifying. But I wasn't so sure Mr. Jackson would understand. He might be the principal of the high school, but there had been a lot of crazy shit going on with us in the last two days that I couldn't even wrap my mind around.

"I'm not so sure."

"He just needs to look at you," Sam said.

I was afraid to. Frankenstein's monster had to look better than me.

"How can he help? He can't keep that animal from finding us and the cops are probably looking for us too. Maybe they think we beat Officer Bradley."

"Jo. You heard Neil. The nurses saw the whole thing. How can we be blamed for that?" He rubbed the bottom of his jaw.

I still didn't trust the cops, although Officer Bradley had seemed nice. As I thought about the officer, I couldn't get the image out of my mind of his feet dangling in the air while that beast strangled him. I swallowed. Hope he's okay.

As Sam paced the floor, I thought about Mr. Jackson. He was always kind to me, especially when Blake and I ended up in his office. Sam wouldn't do anything he didn't feel was right. And right now, I desperately needed a shower.

I looked up from the desk chair. Sam was staring at me.

"What?"

"Jo, is that blood on your neck?"

"What!" I grabbed the right side.

"No, the other side." Sam walked around the desk. "Stand up. Tilt your head to your right."

"Is it blood?" My voiced quavered as my pulse raced.

It can't be. How did I get it on my neck? My cheek isn't bleeding.

Then the image of fangs flashed in my mind.

Sam's finger scratched my neck. "Did someone bite you last night?"

"Shut up!" I punched his arm and my fist hit his hard bicep. "Well?"

"There are two holes..." Sam's lips curled at the sides.

"No way!" I rubbed my hand over my neck. The skin was smooth and dry.

He held out his hand, laughing. "It's just the red lint from that nasty couch. It was stuck to your neck."

"You're a jerk sometimes." I took one step forward with my heart in my throat.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. You should've seen the look on your face. I know how much you like vampires."

At the mere mention of the word, I shivered.

"Listen. I didn't want to tell you, but the guy at the hospital, the one chasing us... Um, I don't know how to tell you this."

"Just say it. It can't be that bad."

He had no idea.

"When I opened the door and saw the bandana guy squeezing the air out of the cop, he smiled at me."

"So what? He smiled at you," Sam said. "You know how men are around you."

I did know all too well. In my mind, they were weird as hell. I didn't understand what their attraction was with me. Did they think I was pretty? I didn't think I was pretty.

"Shut up. I'm trying to tell you that the guy had these long canine teeth. One of them even had blood on it. I think he bit the cop," I said as I stared at Sam.

"Have you been sneaking around reading vampire books? Do you hear yourself?"

"Fine. Don't believe me. I know what I saw. And I didn't say he was a vampire. He just had these long creepy-looking teeth and really black eyes. Plus he was huge. Like seven feet tall. You didn't see him strangling that cop." I plopped down in the chair as I touched the left side of my neck. A flurry of panic surfaced. Someone had been in this room while we slept last night. I could feel it.

"Well, hopefully he's long gone," he said.

I hoped and prayed I would never see that man again. As it was, I was going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.

"I'm going to that store Neil said was down the street and get us something to eat."

"No way."

"But we need food." Sam touched his stomach.

"No. Don't leave me here alone. Isn't there a refrigerator downstairs?"

"Yeah, so? If there's food in it, it's probably nasty. I'll check, but if not, I'm going to the store."

Before I could protest, Sam turned and walked out.

I stood up and walked over to the bookshelves, reading the spines as I trailed my fingers along the edges of the leather-bound covers. Not that I wanted something to read, just anything to distract me while Sam was gone. It looked as if Neil's dad had a specific filing system. Each shelf was dedicated to certain authors. Shirley Jackson and Mark Twain commandeered one shelf while another displayed books by two of my favorite authors, Stephen King and Edgar Allen Poe.

In one bookcase over on the same level as Mr. King and Mr. Poe, the shelf had a line of books on embalming. My fingers landed on a book titled The Embalming Process. Curious, I pulled it out and skimmed the opening pages. One chapter was dedicated to arterial embalming. I read through the first few lines as the author explained how blood and interstitial fluids were...

I didn't get past the word blood. Then it dawned on me. Maybe somewhere in the sea of books I might find something on blood types. I inserted the embalming book back into its home.

I knelt down. I scanned the line of books on the bottom shelf. One caught my attention-The Science Behind Vampires. I swallowed a screech-vampires? Here we go again. The word blood and now vampires. I can't seem to get away from them.

My hands shook as I pulled the book slowly from its resting spot next to The Vampire's Life. I didn't know there was a science to vampires. Aren't vampires only a fantasy of the young generation-dark romance and all that? The books spun in front of me and my vision blurred. A chill rippled up my arms. I grabbed both books and sat down on the couch.

I opened The Science Behind Vampires first and thumbed through it. I scanned the list on the contents page. The title of the first chapter-Creating a Vampire. My gaze stilled when I read the title of chapter two-Blood Thirst. I immediately flipped to it. I took a deep breath and began reading.

Vampires require a large of intake of iron. The iron helps to gather oxygen from the lungs then provide it to all the other body tissues. Since blood has a high iron content, it's a great source of food for vampires, which is why they need it to survive. When vampires are low on iron, their hunger surfaces and they crave blood. Older vampires know how to control their hunger. They've learned to drink only what is needed to survive.

My head spun. I thought I was seeing vampires, now I was reading about vampires, not to mention how my own blood tasted like candy. Was someone trying to tell me something? This is crazy.

I re-read the page again. Huh? Were my iron levels low? Was that the reason why I craved blood? Did it mean I was a vampire? I laughed nervously, the sound stifled. Me a vampire? Yeah, right.

A warm breeze grazed my neck and I let out a low scream.

"Scary stuff in the vampire book?" Sam grabbed the book from me.

"Hey, give it back. I'm not finished reading."

"You hate vampires. Wait. You think you're seeing vampires and now you're reading about them." He touched my forehead. "Nope, your temperature feels human. You're not cold-blooded." Then he read the title of the book out loud. "The Science Behind Vampires," he intoned. "Did you learn anything?"

"I learned how to turn you into a vampire."

"Yeah? How?" he asked.

"Seriously, Sam. Aren't you experiencing any weird changes?"

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean I'm a vampire." He laughed nervously.

"I'm learning that I like the taste of..."

"Taste of what?" He sat down staring at the book.

"You know?"

Sam's head was staring at the cover of The Science Behind Vampires. He wasn't laughing anymore. He had to process information before he weighed in on a topic, unless the topic involved immediate physical reaction, then he never hesitated. I hated when he didn't speak. It always made me feel like I was crazy or he didn't believe me.

"I know because you told me." He picked up his head and a tear pooled in his left eye. "You don't remember?"

I shook my head.

"One of the last things you said to me before you passed out the other night... 'I want more blood.'" He swallowed. "My heart skipped a thousand beats when you said that to me. After I...I...swung the bat at Cliff, blood spattered everywhere. Some of it sprayed on my face and into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but it tasted...peppery. A sudden urge exploded inside me." Sam let out a loud sigh, as if he just released the weight of the world from his shoulders.

My eyes didn't move as I stared at Sam. My tastebuds perked up as he described the spiciness of the blood. Funny, I found it sweet to the taste. Focus, focus.

Silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity. I cleared my throat. "Did you know your eyes changed color?"

He nodded and combed his long fingers through his hair. "The other day I got into a scuffle with an ump. He called me out for stealing second base. We were nose to nose yelling when all of sudden he stopped. It wasn't until Ben came over to calm me down that I found out why-he asked me why my eyes were changing colors. Of course, Ben thought that was the coolest thing." Sam lowered his head in his hands. Then he rose from the couch and ambled over to the window.

A sharp pain stung my chest as I studied him. A shadow outlined his eyes, making him look as if he rose this morning out of one of the coffins here in the funeral home. Stubble dotted his face just beneath his broad cheekbones. In that moment, Sam looked as if he had aged ten years. His Pink Floyd t-shirt showed every muscle, as if he grew out of it overnight.

"Dr. Case said my blood type was 'AF' negative."

"Yeah, I heard that conversation," Sam said in a low voice.

"Do you think that means anything?"

"Well, we're not aliens or anything." He continued to gaze out the window.

"Since we're twins, wouldn't we have the same blood type?"

"I don't know."

He turned his gaze from the window to me. "I found some bottles of water and a box of crackers."

I rose from the couch and grabbed a bottle of water off the desk. Sam walked over and hugged me. "We'll figure this out. I promise."

Sam always made me feel safe. I hated that he carried the weight of the world around with him. I knew a lot of his anxiety stemmed from me. He was always bailing me out of tough situations only to get himself in trouble. He had been my guardian angel. I vowed to myself from this day on I would shoulder some of the load in our brother and sister relationship-at least, I would try.

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed as hard as I could. Tears cascaded down my face as he squeezed back. After a few seconds, he let go. I patted my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, then grabbed a few crackers.

"I called Ben," Sam said.

"And?" I bit into one cracker.

"His dad is out of town. He said we could crash there tonight and we can talk to Mr. Jackson when he gets home tomorrow. He went to a principals' conference or something for the weekend."

"How're we getting there?"

"Taxi," Sam said. "I've already called."

We finished all the water and the box of crackers. Before leaving the room, I grabbed both books on vampires and followed Sam downstairs.

No question, we were better off at Ben's than this funeral home, but I wasn't sure if Mr. Jackson would be as understanding as Sam thought. By this time tomorrow, Sam and I could be on our way to yet another foster home-or jail.