The sirens blared around the corner. Men jumped off the big, red truck. Hoses uncoiled, water surging, boots tromping. The fire raged inconsolably, fed by stacks of books and gallons of gasoline.

They did not see her lying there in the dark. They shouted and ran and shook their heads, trying to tame the flame. The crunch of their boots rose above the roar for a moment, shattering the porcelain. Only a brief pause to notice its passing, but the little girl in the bushes screamed once and was gone.

Sam looked up from his blood-stained hands and stared at the mouth that had uttered those words. He could not speak, only compare the red of the lips the red on his fingers. It was dry and faded, whereas the blood was still shiny and new. They moved again, but he did not hear it. He was staring at the body again.

He wanted a mirror, wanted to see what he had become, what those dry faded lips saw when they looked at him. He wiped his hands on the body’s pants, but not much came off. Then he got up and looked around, a glint of light at the end of the hall. He moved towards it, afraid, but deeply curious.

“What are you doing? Get back here!” The lips were screaming now but he did not care.

He stood in front of the mirror, a full-length, wall-filling glass. He saw nothing, no, that was not right – he saw his shape and form, his clothes, but when he looked at his own eyes there was nothing in them. No fear, no love, no alarm. It was like his mind was no longer connected to his face. He was feeling these emotions, he was sure of it, he had made himself walk down here, but the windows to his soul were broken.

The lips appeared at his shoulder, still screaming, and he looked up. Her eyes were full of emotion. Fear, anguish, even tears. When he looked into her eyes, the mouth stopped screaming. She looked back at him through the mirror, mouth open and then backed away. He kept looking at her, watching the terror grow until she broke and ran. At least she had stopped screaming.

He turned back to the room where he had left his father, rubbing his hands together to crack off the caked blood. The body was still there, but it was alone now. He wondered if he would have run if he had looked into his son’s eyes, even once in his miserable life.

He turned the body over, crossed the arms across the chest, and opened his eyes. Looking in, he nodded. His eyes looked like that now. Eyes of the dead. Fitting, he supposed, for people to look at him and see their future. He was death, now and forever. Or so he had been told the night before.

“I like the old music. Makes me feel alive.”

“You’re dead, Jesse, we’re both long dead.”

He pulled himself to his feet and straightened his clothes. The night was just beginning and he was hungry. Jesse climbed to her feet and ran a hand through her hair. Not that it did any good, but it was an old habit, very old.

“Can we go to the movies?”
“No, you scare the children.”

“I promise I’ll be good this time. I won’t even go to a kid’s show.”

“Not tonight, I want to hit the clubs, I need more than a little drink tonight.”

“The clubs are noisier than the radio.” she muttered, but he pretended not to hear.

The went out into the night, arm in arm, just two young lovers out for a stroll. Downtown was packed full with clubbers and drinkers and people just trying to blow off steam. They headed for their favorite haunt – Galaxy. The swirling lights and constant pounding music pulled in the biggest crowd every night. They parted once the got inside, each hunting their own dinner.

Jakob stood just off the dance floor, eyes closed, mind searching. He brushed Jesse a few times, but pulled away. He wanted to find someone new, someone he had never met, never touched, never drank.

There was a couple in the corner, watching him. They were curious and attractive. Wondering why he stood so still while the music throbbed. He went to them, barely moving, seeming to float. This only intrigued them more. They welcomed him into their corner and their arms. Drunk and high, they touched his cold, smooth skin and ran fingers through his long black hair. He looked at them and they gazed into red eyes.

“Come with me.” He took their hands and led them deeper into the club, into a back corner booth.

He pulled them in on either side of him and they both kissed him. He kissed them back and their hunger rose to match his. They touched him and ran their hands over him, kissing his mouth, face and neck. He let their passion build, stroking them with care.

When they were gasping for breath, pressing against him, writhing with hunger, he gave in. He took the girl first, while holding the boy to his chest. He sank his teeth into her neck and drank while she groaned with ecstasy. Then he turned to the boy, kissing him tendering and then biting into his throat. He drained them both, and licked their wounds. It had been far too long since he had killed.

He cast about and found an impatient Jesse not far away. She was watching him, waiting for him to finish. She still wanted to see a movie, but they had bodies to hide, now. He waved her over and together they took the couple to their graveyard.