I came to a home, leveled into a pile of timbers and bricks. In the driveway was a car, its roof partly caved in by a fallen tree. With great effort, I managed to pull the tree off the hood. The occupant was dead, neck broken by a branch that had gone right into the open driver's door window, crashing into the driver. Other than the roof, the car seemed undamaged. It wasn’t gory, with a broken neck. I dragged the guy to the side of the ruined house. “Sorry, guy, but I'm gonna take your car. Not like you need it anyway.”
Some impulse— derangement caused by this accident? Am I insane? But the dead man smelled like food. My stomach rumbled with gnawing hunger. I felt my eye teeth grow. Fangs! And I knew just what to do with them. I bit into the man’s neck, swallowing still-warm blood. Fresh blood. Somehow, I knew fresh tasted better. Electric thrills ran down my limbs as I gulped the glorious blood.
When I finished, I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of the jumpsuit, since I planned to get rid of it. I felt energized, alive. I knew I was stronger and faster. More alert. I could see further, clearer.
What the hell? A vampire? But it’s daylight. Morning.
Now I had an even better reason to get away from this area. Nobody likes vampires.
I felt much better though, not tired a bit. Climbing up that crater had really taken it out of me.
There was a suitcase in the car and a cooler full of food. I dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, baggy but workable with the belt, and removed the dead man's shoes, which were a little long, but okay. I put on clean socks from the suitcase.
I may be a blood-sucking monster, but wear someone’s dirty socks? Just no!
I tossed the orange jumpsuit behind a shrub, but not before ripping off the number patch. Maybe I could use it for identity. I felt extremely full so ignored the snack foods and the drinks in the cooler.
A small backpack yielded cash and bank account information.
I searched the corpse and found the driver's license. “David Green, thirty years old, if I have the current year right. Bozeman, MT. Well, buddy, I'm gonna borrow your life for a while. Until I can remember who the hell I am.”
I peered in the rearview mirror and compared my face to the license. I was surprised to find that I was handsome, with sharp cheekbones, blue eyes rimmed in grey with long dark lashes, and curly hair the color of caramel, clipped military short on the sides in a kind of Mohawk. A square jawline. I don’t look like a blood-sucking monster. The man in the driver's license had a shaved head, a scruffy dark beard, and a goofy half-smile on his face. Bad photo, blue eyes, brown hair. It worked well enough. I could say I’d been dieting and working out because I figured I weighed about twenty pounds less than the dead guy.
As I’d changed clothes I’d been gratified to see I have six-pack abs and muscled thighs and arms. You hear about inmates who spend a lot of time working out. I must have been one of those. Being strong would probably help in this destroyed world.
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