Sam balled his hands into fists and ground them into his red, swollen eyes. Adeline was fading. She knew it, and he did too. She was all he had, and now she was dying. He couldn’t fix her no matter how hard he tried. They were both exhausted. It was just a matter of time—weeks, maybe, if they were lucky—but if he was a realist, probably only days. Sam was angry. Life for the last twenty years had been cruel and unfair.
Another threatening letter had arrived that day. Power would be turned off soon, and he knew eviction notices were on the horizon.
Fix this, fix that, pay the overdue bills—blah, blah, blah.
He was sick of it and threw everything into the trash can, but the threats lingered in his mind. He couldn’t sleep at night.
Sam pulled the wooden lever on the side of the recliner and dropped the footrest. The back came forward, and he rose. With soft steps, he walked down the hallway to Adeline’s room and listened to her labored breathing as she slept. He knew Kristen and Bethany didn’t have long to live, either. He could tell they were in a severely weakened state after the last blood draw that evening. He was lucky to have found viable veins. His own energy was dwindling from lack of sleep, and he didn’t have the ambition to go out and hunt for another woman. Adeline couldn’t be left alone for any length of time. With the cold night and blustery wind, he wasn’t prepared to roam the streets in hopes of snatching a woman walking in the elements.
Sam returned to the chair with his laptop in hand and powered it up. He needed to sell the remaining blood in the refrigerator so he could buy food. Sam pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and typed a URL into the search bar. While at the library earlier that day, he had written down the URL of a local vampire rave site. As foolish as vampires sounded to him, Sam was desperate to find someone to sell the blood to.
He clicked on the images, the home page, and the member information. He’d have to fill out a form and be interviewed by the head person, someone who went by the name Massimo, if he wanted to join their clan. He’d have to create a log-in name to go much further into the site.
I don’t want to join your stupid clan. I just want to sell blood to you, if you really even deal with human blood.
With a tap of his index finger, he clicked on the profile for Massimo and began reading. The man’s written words were nonsense and way too deep. Massimo’s talk of the underworld and his spiritual gibberish nearly bored Sam to death. He was impatient and ready to look elsewhere. As he was about to click off the site, his eyes fell on a paragraph about human blood and how it nourished Massimo’s body and restored his sense of well-being. The man wrote of how he needed it on a daily basis. It was his drug of choice, but he didn’t have access to it as often as he liked.
Sam perked up and read that part again. His interest was piqued. He’d have to be careful with his words and show merely a vague interest in selling blood. He’d ask more questions first. He began typing then stopped. He didn’t want to use his personal computer for something illegal like that.
Sam kept that tab open and scoured the Internet for any of the area’s all-night coffee shops that had a business center. He found one only five miles from his house. Apprehensively, he slipped on his shoes and coat, raised the hoodie over his head, and grabbed the van keys off the kitchen counter. He climbed into the van and left.
I’ll make up some vague log-in name and send a quick note directly to Massimo’s contact page, offering to sell blood. Then I’ll wait until tomorrow to see if he responds.
Sam hoped to be home within the hour. He’d head to the library in the morning and check for a private message.