Forever Undead

FOREVER UNDEAD

Jacob M. Drake

Published by Crescent Suns eBooks

Copyright 2010 by Jacob M. Drake

Published on Smashwords

Formatted and Edited by eBooksMade4You

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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EDITOR'S NOTE

Please remember that this is a work of ADULT FICTION. If scenes of an adult nature (graphic sex or violence) upset you in any way OR if you are not at least eighteen (18) years of age, please read no further. This story is intended for adult readers for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to upset or offend anyone.

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Introduction

Perhaps the subject I most enjoy writing stories about next, besides superheroes, is that of vampires. These are creatures that are intrinsically evil in the very core of their being (so we are led to believe), yet have such a great potential for being a force for good. Yeah, the police, FBI and any other agency dedicated to bringing criminals to justice might not see how vampires handling criminals by draining them of blood in order to make the world a better place for everyone else as being a force for good, but then we all know so well how many within those same agencies haven't always been the good guy, either, don't we? I think the CIA would enjoy having a few of these blood suckers on their payroll, eh?

In this story this very subject is dealt with from the view not of how the police might see the vampire with a set morals, but how other vampires might view this being. Would such a creature of darkness displaying his morals be viewed as an anomaly by others of his own kind? Most likely. The question is how will the moral blood-sucker deal with all those others?

As always, when you finish reading this story you can contact me at: eternal.naturist2@gmail.com to let me know your thoughts. After all, every story has a sequel somewhere within it and this one is no different. Be sure to check out "Forever the Dark Grave", the sequel to this book "Forever Undead". This novel is currently in eBook form, but will soon be in print as well. Also check out "Darkness in the Light" for a different vampire scenario.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1,…..Chapter 2,…..Chapter 3,

Chapter 4,…..Chapter 5,…..Chapter 6,

Chapter 7,…..Chapter 8,…..Chapter 9,

Chapter 10,….Chapter 11,….Chapter 12,

Chapter 13,….Chapter 14,….Chapter 15,

Chapter 16,….Chapter 17,….Chapter 18,

Chapter 19,….Chapter 20,….Chapter 21,

Chapter 22,….Chapter 23,….Chapter 24,

Chapter 25

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CHAPTER ONE

No one has a perfect life in this world. Not in this country or any other. Certainly not me.

So why does it always seem as though my life is so much worse than everyone else’s?

So often over my years I’ve mentioned to people I know that I felt as though someone had placed a curse on my life shortly after I was born. When you consider that I almost died at the age of five-and-a-half from mumps and encephalitis, which brought about grand-mal seizures once the initial illness was over, the seizure disorder lasting the rest of my life and appearing at very disadvantageous moments over the many years, leaving me lying prone on some sidewalk, in a mall, halfway through a doorway to a restaurant, you name the place, I’ve been there involuntarily unconscious.

The same sickness at that early age also left me allergic to all animals, pollens, grass, wool, cotton, and a variety of foods, many of which I have thoroughly enjoyed consuming over the years, but which have not liked me at all. You don't even want to be around me after I've had dairy products, especially ice cream. The allergies generally induced severe asthma, which was brought on by all of the above allergies as well as exercise and/or cold weather.

Starting to get the picture of my life?

That’s only the beginning.

The past fifty-one years have done nearly nothing to disprove that view, either, since I’ve gone through three marriages already, a slew of personal relationships that mostly ended before a few months had gone by. Many of those relationships were with women who had children and as everyone who has known me during my adult life could tell you, I’ve always wanted to be a father more than anything else.

I lost my first son to divorce, never to see him until thirteen years had passed, by which time the damage had been done by his mother and my son didn’t care about having a relationship with his father. Oh, I wanted to see him throughout all those years, but his mother always did something nasty whenever I tried, or more factually, her parents, vile, evil controlling bastards that they were, and she did nothing to stop them, in fact, my ex-wife seemed to enjoy letting them take control over her life so she wouldn't have to. I’ve had more restraining orders placed on me by those people than most other people have had from multiple relationships gone wrong and all because I did nothing other than attempt to see my own son. Hand me a gun and three bullets and I’ll know exactly whose brains to place them in.

I didn't actually just say that, did I?

My second son I never did get to see. His mother and I had a very brief fling for less than two months, during which time she became pregnant, but never bothered to tell me. She went back to her former husband, who turned out to be gay, so that they didn’t stay together anyway, but raised my son without the aid of his true father - me.

Now I’m on my third serious relationship, but second marriage attempt – this one to a woman I thought truly loved me, especially since I’ve been raising the daughter we had together as well as her two children as my own since they were four and two years old, their own father not caring enough to keep in touch or build a relationship with his children, even though he lives less than an hour away.

It’s not that my current wife doesn’t say she loves me or try to present a persona that most would take to be love for me, but when you consider all the times during our marriage that she’s made comments and decisions so hurtful toward me that my emotions instantly shut down and I felt as though I’d been the victim of a mass stabbing attempt that left me paralyzed in ICU in fear of never recovering. I find it difficult to place such attitudes as those within the being of a woman who sincerely loves her husband and has genuine respect for him.

It’s that lack of respect and support that’s finally brought me to the place I was just recently where I was walking along the waterfront up in Seattle, rather than sitting at home with my wife in Olympia. I drove up there just so I could walk in peace and try to figure out what the next step should be for my oh-so-severely strained relationship.

Many would tell me to suck-it-up and settle for the fact that she’s stayed with me longer than all the rest of my combined relationships doubled over.

But is that reason enough to continue on when I sit at home night after night, do nothing more than watching TV with a woman who fails to give me the emotional support I need and crave? When at any given moment she may well do as she’s done so many times before and castrate me – figuratively speaking – so that her children – whom I’ve never really been allowed to raise as my own – I wanted with all my heart to adopt them, but their mother wouldn’t allow it – view me as less and less as a man, let alone their dad who loves and cares for them. They always end up doing what they want, regardless of how harmful their teenage desires might be for them, against my will and better judgment, their mother always backing them up against me.

That’s why I found myself walking up around the waterfront in Seattle, trying to figure out which way my life should go; most of the time it’s been out of my hands. I’ve only ended two of my many relationships. Everyone else has always ended it for me. This one is the hardest for me, just because of the fact that she’s stayed with me all these years and I have truly loved her with all my heart. Leaving her would be excruciating agony for me.

For a moment I stopped to stare out over Puget Sound, watching the sparse reflections from the moon overhead as it passed through the thick cloud cover and sparkled on the surface of the water spread out before me. As I stood there I noticed a man off to my left. I’m sure I saw him earlier about the same distance from me, which would indicate that he may be following me or as the current idiom states, stalking me, though I find that phrase decidedly overused. Or he may simply be one more desolate soul like me, who is searching for answers and directions and is walking the waterfront on this lonely, drizzly night in the Great Northwest, hoping to find just the right thing to make his mind up for him.

Ignoring my possible shadow I turned and continued my slow walk, glancing now-and-again over my shoulder to see if he was keeping pace with me. He was. So much for not stalking me.

Once I showed I knew he was following me he stepped up his pace and walked up directly behind me. He moved a lot faster than I expected him to and was directly behind me before I realized he had even moved. That was too weird, even for someone with the imagination I've always had. Not one to ignore a possible threat, though I figured he could most likely kick my ass if it came to that, I turned and confronted him. I’ve never really been accused of having as much sense as a mangled gopher run over by a Mack truck.

Is there something I can help you with? I asked with just the right tinge of anger in my voice to show I wasn't going to be anyone’s victim.

He obviously saw it differently.

Without answering or saying anything else, my shadow became my attacker and grabbed me, placing both hands firmly on the sides of my head, pulling inward, and forcing me toward him. Although I struggled, I found he was much stronger than I and knew I had lost before I had even begun to fight.

But fight I did. Even though he did the most unexpected thing I could possibly imagine and sank his teeth into the side of my exposed throat, just like a vampire would in all the movies and novels I’d grown up with, sucking my life’s blood from the wound he inflicted upon me. I mean, c'mon! How sick does someone have to be to actually drink someone else's blood? I didn’t give up. Instead, I did the only thing I could think of at the moment and sank my own teeth into his wrist, which was in front of my face, the way he had my head turned. I had hoped that perhaps doing that might inflict enough pain that he might just release his hold on me and I could at least escape.

I knew he hadn't seen that one coming. It seemed to unnerve him greatly, causing him to release his hold on my throat with his mouth and stare at me in such a way that proved he was dumbfounded by my actions. For just a moment he stared, however. In the next moment he butted his head against mine and I found myself blacking out.

So much for defending myself.

When I awoke I felt the most drained of life that I’d ever felt in all my years on this planet. Believe me, I’ve felt pretty drained before for various reasons. This was by far the worst.

A slight movement told me it was even worse than I had thought, because my movement produced waves that surged up and over my face, threatening to cover me over and push me beneath the surface of the water. Water? Where the hell had water come from?

Gasping for air I panicked, but I knew that was the wrong thing to do and tried to tell myself to calm down. I found I’m not very good at listening to myself when I’m panicking like that. My struggles grew momentarily worse, and then I started settling down and forced myself to remain calm while I assessed my dire situation.

My situation was such that I was floating in the midst of the Puget Sound in Seattle. Evidently my attacker finished with his assault and tossed me over the protective railing, hoping I would drown and sink beneath the surface, most likely to disappear for at least a little while so he could get away with his crime of murder.

Having grown up in an area known for its volume of water – not just Puget Sound, but the many rivers and lakes scattered throughout the large body of land which comprises this most northern of states along the western coastline of America, I knew only too well how to swim. I’ve never received any medals for swimming, since I never swam on a swim team, but I’ve always been excellent at propelling myself through any body of water.

So I turned myself over and began a simple breast stroke. Only I suddenly found I had no strength for the effort it required and once more found myself in danger of going under. Shit.

Seeing that turning over was a mistake, I once more forced myself to turn onto my back and looked up at the now moonless sky above me as I relaxed myself on my back and kept from drowning by floating with my face up toward the night sky.

Okay, I told myself, I can do this. I didn’t have to make any dramatic swings through the water with my arms. I could just make small movements with my legs and push myself eventually to shore. I knew it was going to take a while, but at least on my back I could stop and rest whenever I needed to. I had done this recreationally many times. Yeah, it had been awhile, since I hadn’t been swimming in any lakes for a lot of years now, but I’d done it before and I could do it now.

I finally succeeded, but it felt as though it had been a lot more hours than I would have preferred. I guessed I was further out in the Sound than I had first thought. Or maybe it was just that I was so very drained and tired that every exertion took more out of me than I thought. That would have made it seem like I was further out than I actually was.

Feeling my head as it bumped into a wooden pylon sticking up from the water to support a dock, I turned my head and saw an old, rotted, barnacle-encrusted wooden ladder not far from me. I dragged myself through the remaining few feet of water and managed, with great effort, to climb the distance from the water to the dock’s surface, then collapsed onto the wooden planks. My body felt as heavy as a pile of lead the same size as my body mass. That’s pretty heavy, since I hadn’t retained my youthfully slim shape as I aged. There’s more belly to me now than I ever hoped to see around my middle. And my thighs, which were always the strongest part of my musculature, are now the size of small tree trunks. Okay, so that’s exaggerating. Suffice it to say I’m not petite, all right?

At least I could take solace in the fact that fat floats much better than muscle does. I recalled when I was a young adult and worked out so much that I’d rid myself of almost all body fat, replacing it with taut, thick muscle everywhere. I’d gone to a friend’s birthday party out at a lake near his house. When I dove into the water and tried to float I found myself suddenly dropping beneath the surface. I’d almost drowned before I forced myself back above the water’s edge with more effort than it had ever taken for me to re-surface. That was when I realized being so lean and well-muscled wasn’t always good. Fat floats. Muscle sinks.

Lying on the boardwalk on my back I felt myself working hard to force air in and out of my lungs. Even with my worst asthma attacks, it had never been this difficult before. I could only assume that exposure to the cold water and the long period of exercise moving toward shore had caused the worst asthmatic reaction of my life.

I knew the lack of oxygen inside my system was going to make it difficult for me to move, but I also knew I couldn’t stay out here on this dock all night. Since it was late fall, my wet clothes would freeze in the early morning air. If I didn’t die outright I would catch a severe case of pneumonia, and I had no desire to die that way. Breathing had been difficult enough all my life. I didn’t need the extra added curse of dying with pneumonia.

Getting to my feet was harder than I had expected. Feeling as though my legs were as stiff as the wooden pylons holding this pier above water was even worse. I managed somehow to force my thick, stiff legs forward and eventually found myself near the end of the pier. That was when it really got hinky, to borrow a word from a movie I had seen many times over throughout the years.

An old man came out on the dock with his fishing gear. He was obviously one of those types like my now deceased Uncle George who figured the early morning was the best time to go fishing around here. The man saw me trying so desperately to walk, using the rail to keep myself upright, holding it with both hands gripped tightly. He set his gear down and came forward quickly to assist me.

That was the worst mistake of his long life and I wish I could redo it and make it right for him, but I can’t.

Are you all right, young fella? he asked me, taking hold of my arm with one hand and wrapping his other arm about my body for support. Only older men like he was referred to someone in his fifties as young fella. If I hadn't been in such bad shape I would've taken the time to really enjoy that as a compliment.

I tried to answer him, but the smell of his flesh caused me to begin salivating so hard I couldn’t get my words past my teeth. More accurately, I guess, it was his blood I smelled that caused the rest of what happened, not his flesh. At the time I thought it was his flesh, however, though I couldn’t understand why this old man’s flesh would elicit such a reaction within me.

He evidently thought I was too weak to answer. He supported me more firmly with his arms and took my body’s weight onto himself, beginning to assist me toward the end of the dock.

You’re soaking wet! Did you fall into the water? His concern was touching, but all I could do was turn my face toward the throat of my rescuer and sniff as though he was the most delectable morsel I had ever had placed before me.

Suddenly I found exactly how bizarre my life had become.

Without warning I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into the throat of this aged Good Samaritan. He realized what was happening and tried to push me away, but his efforts quickly grew more and more feeble as his body drained of the blood necessary to pump through his muscles and fight me off. He finally went limp in my arms and I dropped my rescuer-turned-victim at my feet, all but forgotten as my body suddenly spasmed in the most gut-wrenching pain I'd ever experienced. I dropped to my knees, my stomach heaving again and again, but nothing regurgitated up from it.

Finally I collapsed on the pier right next to the man I had murdered by gorging myself on his blood. I passed out and how long I was stretched out there I had no idea, but it had to have been quite a bit of time. When I woke the moon was well into the night sky where I knew from the fact that I enjoyed looking at the moon in every phase of its monthly cycle it would be only if it were later than I thought it should be.

Turning my face toward the sky just as the clouds parted enough to allow a slight glimpse of the silvery moon above - only a quarter-moon, not a full moon like I always saw in movies whenever someone looked at the moon in the night sky, I gaped in astonishment at just how bright and silvery the moon truly was. Why had I never noticed that before?

Then I closed my eyes and sniffed. The smells that came to my nostrils were many and varied, but each one was as uniquely noticeable as the others. I was able to identify each one as though the thing which was causing the aroma was right in front of my nose. How fantastic was that?

I stood up, careful as I did that I didn't stand too fast and undergo vertigo. My body felt stronger than I'd ever known it to be in recent years, possibly stronger than when I was young and worked out in the weight room of the local YMCA all the time. I held my arms up before me and looked them over. They weren't exactly weight-lifter muscular, but still, they felt as though I'd been continuing my old regimen all these years instead of having dropped it completely many years back when becoming a dad meant I no longer had the time required to dedicate to such personal body sculpting.

It wasn't only my arms that felt strong, however, but my entire body. Power seemed to flow throughout me in the form of energy. I marveled at the sensation, since not that long before this moment I had drug myself from the water, feeling as though I should be more than half dead; so much so that I had passed out. Now I felt as though I was in the fittest physical peak of my life.

I closed my eyes and examined myself inwardly. Yes, everything about how I felt right that moment was perfect. I couldn't ask to be any better than I was at that moment.

Reveling in the uniqueness I felt as those few moments passed, however, I opened my eyes and looked down at my feet. There, lying inert on the boardwalk was the man who had lost his life all due to the fact that he had attempted to assist a total stranger.

I had murdered this man whose only crime was that he was a kind, old gentleman who had tried to help someone less fortunate than himself. I gagged once more and nearly vomited the contents of my stomach, which was this man’s blood. I was surprised when nothing happened from my retching. Somehow my meal of blood managed to remain inside of me.

Horrified at what I had done, one of my hands flew up in front of my face, but it was unable to hide me from the sight of the old man lying now dead before me.

Not knowing what else to do at the moment, I turned and ran from the pier, leaving the evidence of my crime behind me.

It took a while, but I finally managed to locate the parking lot where I had left my car hours before. Finding my keys in my pocket, I was not-at-all surprised to discover that the electronic beeper failed to unlock my car’s door. Having spent so much time in the water had obviously shorted it out.

Unlocking my door manually I pushed myself behind the steering wheel and closed the door. Then I sat there for several minutes - trembling, trying to make sense of it all. Exactly what had happened to me and what had I become?

No matter how long I looked at the evidence and how I tried to rearrange the events of the night, the only conclusion I was able to come up with was that the man who attacked me had been a vampire. A real, honest-to-god vampire, though I wasn’t sure God was exactly involved in all of this. And that somehow, through what he had done to me, I had become a vampire as well.

I tried hard, real hard, to tell myself that wasn’t at all the truth, but there wasn’t anything else that fit the facts as I knew them.

Why else would that man attack me and bite my throat?

Why else would I be as weak as I had found myself to be unless I had been drained of nearly all of my blood?

Why else would I subsequently attack that poor old man and drink every bit of his blood?

Did that mean he was the next to become a vampire? Was this a vicious cycle that was going to replicate itself over and over and never end, one person biting another and being turned into a vampire who would then search out the first person he met and turn that person into yet another vampire?

No. It couldn’t be that simple. Otherwise there would have long ago ceased to be any normal humans on this planet. Vampires would be the sole sentient population on Earth. Who would they feed off? Animals? And after all the animals had become vampires, what then?

No. I stopped and thought about everything I knew about vampiric lore, hoping that ordering my thoughts in this manner might just help me in overcoming the revulsion that still tried to overwhelm me when I thought about feeding off that old man, and realized I had turned into a vampire, rather than merely another statistic of mysteriously dead bodies found floating in the water, because I had tried defending myself and bitten my attacker on the wrist. From what I could recall, drinking a vampire’s blood at the time of being sucked dry by a vampire was what turned one person into another of these blood-sucking monsters. My attacker had not intended that I become like him. It was my fault entirely. Had I not ingested however much of his blood I had, I would yet be floating lifelessly in the midst of Puget Sound.

Then having come across that older man who was attempting to help me I had sunk my own fangs into his throat in order to feed myself and sustain my – existence. No wonder I felt so strong and energized. It was all due to my transformation from the living to the undead. Vampires were stronger than mere humans, weren't they?

I opened my mouth just a little and felt my teeth with my fingers. Sure enough – my canines were longer and sharper than normal. I now had fangs long and sharp enough to puncture holes in an old-fashioned tin can or at the very least, and this is what I'm sure my newly-grown fangs were intended for, a person’s carotid artery so that I could then drain that person’s blood.

Once more I wretched, almost emptying my stomach. The thought of what I was destined to remain as long as I was alive – existed – overwhelmed me. I found it hideously appalling. How could I possibly justify sustaining my own existence by murdering others?

Then the thought occurred to me – how could I possibly go home now? How could I even think of living in the same house, sharing the same bed, with my wife, knowing that at any moment I might well grow hungry enough to feed off her blood? Or that of my two step-children. Or my own natural-born daughter.

That thought curdled the tainted blood that ran through my veins. I physically shivered, loathing not only myself and what I had become, but how I was going to have to be from here on, for however long I existed this way.

I shook my head. I had come here looking for answers, for direction on my marriage. I guess I had gotten it. My marriage was over as of this moment. I could never go home. Never explain to my wife why I had to leave her and our children, as I had come to think not only of my own biological daughter, but both of my step-children after all the years of raising them. To all them I would have to be dead.

My wife wouldn’t understand even if I tried to explain it to her. She didn’t have the type of imagination necessary to believe in such creatures as vampires, even if they were real and not merely figures out of a horror story. She would think I was making it all up just