Hot and Cold (PG-13, Mick, Champagne Challenge #124)
Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 5:44 pm
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This story was written for Champagne Challenge #124, "It's Cold." It takes place during "Fever." Excerpts from the episode were written by the wonderful Jill Blotevogel.
Hot and Cold
I knew that guy was trouble from the second he walked into the diner. Said he was Victorville PD, but he was wearing a Sheriff’s uniform. And he had a heavy coat zipped all the way up, even though it was over a hundred degrees outside. I could smell blood on him, too… even though I couldn’t see it.
“Must be hot in that jacket,” I said.
He shrugged. “I never get hot.” In this weather? Yeah, sure. He must’ve had visible spatter on him.
I bared my teeth in a fake grin. “Cold as ice, huh?”
He laughed. “Somethin’ like that.” Bastard.
I knew I had to get Leni out of there, and his cruiser seemed to be the best shot. Yeah. Great plan, St. John. Steal the black-and-white with the big number on top. Should’ve known an arms dealer would send a chopper. This is not good, not good at all. No cell service, and we can’t risk going back to the diner to use a pay phone, or trying to take the Benz. Every instinct in me is screaming, Don’t leave the road! But what other option is there? I swore to protect her, and the cops can’t be trusted.
* * *
After half a mile or so, Leni says, “I’ve gotta stop for a sec.” She sits down on a rock and takes off one of those silly cowboy boots. She’s got a nasty blister forming.
“You OK?” I cross my arms to hide my hands from the sun.
Leni turns her boot upside down and shakes it. “Yeah, I just had a rock in my boot.” She smoothes her sock and puts the boot back on, and then looks up at me. “Do you think they’re following us?”
I scan the horizon. No movement, only the shimmer of heat waves. But I can still hear lots of activity back at the wreck. “We can’t wait around to find out.”
She stands up and ties her sweatshirt around her waist. “OK.” We trudge on. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe in this hot, dry air.
As I walk along I keep looking at my phone, hoping for bars. I need to let Beth know what happened. There’s a leak, all right, and if they don’t find it fast… well, it might already be too late. I pull my phone out again. Still no service. Crap, it hurts like hell to reach into my pocket. My skin’s breaking down badly. I’d give anything for a dark cave and a bag of cold A-positive right about now.
* * *
It’s getting harder to pick up my feet as I walk. I’m focusing on Leni, staying a few feet behind her. I can see sweat staining her armpits, but my sense of smell is screwed up. All I can smell is her blood. I pull my cap down farther and try to curl my fingers up inside the sleeves of my jacket. But I can still feel the sun burning me through the cloth.
How long have we been walking? I didn’t look at my watch when we started. I squint up at the sky. It feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t moved much. It’s still the middle of the day. Got to keep going. Follow Leni. I’ll never last till sunset if we don’t find shade.
* * *
When I was still human, I survived the Battle of the Bulge. Six weeks in a trench in the Ardennes. Coldest winter I'd ever felt.
The casualties of that campaign were enormous. Nearly ninety thousand Americans wounded, nineteen thousand killed. Sometimes I can still hear the sound of gunfire and mortars, the moans of the injured and dying. But the worst part was the cold. I was from Los Angeles; I didn’t know a thing about winter. The only snow I’d ever seen was the time my granddad took us up to Big Bear Lake so we could slide down the hills on borrowed sleds. The weather in Belgium was brutal – worst Christmas weather anyone could remember. There was nothing we could do to get warm. We stood shivering, teeth chattering, with our hands stretched out over a roaring bonfire, and we could hardly feel the heat. One of my buddies – a guy I met over there – lost a foot to frostbite. Perfectly healthy guy, never got shot – but his foot just rotted, and they had to cut it off.
There were two guys who had this great idea to keep warm while they were on guard duty. They made a tent out of blankets next to a generator, and they found a bottle of wine somewhere. They had themselves a little party in there. They died from breathing the exhaust.
Funny – back then, I thought I was in hell. But now the thought of that frozen landscape makes me bite back a groan of longing. To be cold, actually cold…
My boot hits a rock and I stumble. Leni glances at me, but I look aside so she can’t see my face. I can’t stop my fangs from sharpening anymore.
“You look dehydrated. Do you wanna stop for a while?”
Oh, man. How can I explain? Dehydration’s not the problem. It’s not water I need, it’s blood.
I shake my head. “We can't.” I start to walk again. Her heartbeat is thundering in my head, hers and the baby’s. Maybe if I stay in front of her, I won’t be so tempted.
* * *
Back in the bad old days, some guy at a party was telling a story about the time he drained a pregnant woman, and then hacked her open and drank the blood of her unborn child. Nectar of the gods, he said. It turned my stomach. I was about to throw him out on his ass when Coraline walked up, hips swaying, and licked her carmine lips. Mmm… sounds like a fun date. She’d been in one of those moods that night, the kind where she loved to push my buttons. I didn’t say a word, just left the house. Didn’t come back for a month.
Step. Lurch. Another step. It’s hard to lift my head, so I watch my boots scuffing through the gritty dust. I have no idea how long it’s been; the clock in my head’s all messed up, boiled away by the sun beating down on us. I don’t even remember Leni giving me her sweatshirt. It helps block the sun – some – but it’s too little, too late. I can taste ketone in my mouth. My body is dying.
Ha – big joke. I’m already dead. The laugh turns into a cough, and I nearly fall.
“You OK?” Leni’s arm is around my waist, keeping me on my feet. What a sweet girl she is, trying to do the right thing and still protect her baby. Trying to make a life for both of them. And after all she’s been through, she still worries about me.
Poor kid. If we don’t get out of this, and soon, I’ll drain her. I won’t be able to stop myself.
No, don’t think about that. Think about frosty air caressing me as I pull the freezer lid down, cool blue light surrounding me. That peaceful moment just before sleep when I let all the human stuff go. Watching my last breath wisp away like smoke. Shutting my eyes and feeling my heart slow. Letting all of it… just… stop.
I stumble again, and she catches me. Big mistake. Those twin heartbeats are so loud they drown out everything else. My face turns toward hers… a web of veins pulsates under her glistening skin… her head is tilted, her neck exposed, just like the freshies do it…
Do it…
“Mick – Look –”
I drag my eyes from her neck and peer into the heat-distorted distance.
Buildings. Shade. Wait… it’s a motel!
Maybe it’s not too late. If I can get cold… maybe I can save her.
Maybe there’s an ice machine.
<>
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This story was written for Champagne Challenge #124, "It's Cold." It takes place during "Fever." Excerpts from the episode were written by the wonderful Jill Blotevogel.
Hot and Cold
I knew that guy was trouble from the second he walked into the diner. Said he was Victorville PD, but he was wearing a Sheriff’s uniform. And he had a heavy coat zipped all the way up, even though it was over a hundred degrees outside. I could smell blood on him, too… even though I couldn’t see it.
“Must be hot in that jacket,” I said.
He shrugged. “I never get hot.” In this weather? Yeah, sure. He must’ve had visible spatter on him.
I bared my teeth in a fake grin. “Cold as ice, huh?”
He laughed. “Somethin’ like that.” Bastard.
I knew I had to get Leni out of there, and his cruiser seemed to be the best shot. Yeah. Great plan, St. John. Steal the black-and-white with the big number on top. Should’ve known an arms dealer would send a chopper. This is not good, not good at all. No cell service, and we can’t risk going back to the diner to use a pay phone, or trying to take the Benz. Every instinct in me is screaming, Don’t leave the road! But what other option is there? I swore to protect her, and the cops can’t be trusted.
* * *
After half a mile or so, Leni says, “I’ve gotta stop for a sec.” She sits down on a rock and takes off one of those silly cowboy boots. She’s got a nasty blister forming.
“You OK?” I cross my arms to hide my hands from the sun.
Leni turns her boot upside down and shakes it. “Yeah, I just had a rock in my boot.” She smoothes her sock and puts the boot back on, and then looks up at me. “Do you think they’re following us?”
I scan the horizon. No movement, only the shimmer of heat waves. But I can still hear lots of activity back at the wreck. “We can’t wait around to find out.”
She stands up and ties her sweatshirt around her waist. “OK.” We trudge on. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe in this hot, dry air.
As I walk along I keep looking at my phone, hoping for bars. I need to let Beth know what happened. There’s a leak, all right, and if they don’t find it fast… well, it might already be too late. I pull my phone out again. Still no service. Crap, it hurts like hell to reach into my pocket. My skin’s breaking down badly. I’d give anything for a dark cave and a bag of cold A-positive right about now.
* * *
It’s getting harder to pick up my feet as I walk. I’m focusing on Leni, staying a few feet behind her. I can see sweat staining her armpits, but my sense of smell is screwed up. All I can smell is her blood. I pull my cap down farther and try to curl my fingers up inside the sleeves of my jacket. But I can still feel the sun burning me through the cloth.
How long have we been walking? I didn’t look at my watch when we started. I squint up at the sky. It feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t moved much. It’s still the middle of the day. Got to keep going. Follow Leni. I’ll never last till sunset if we don’t find shade.
* * *
When I was still human, I survived the Battle of the Bulge. Six weeks in a trench in the Ardennes. Coldest winter I'd ever felt.
The casualties of that campaign were enormous. Nearly ninety thousand Americans wounded, nineteen thousand killed. Sometimes I can still hear the sound of gunfire and mortars, the moans of the injured and dying. But the worst part was the cold. I was from Los Angeles; I didn’t know a thing about winter. The only snow I’d ever seen was the time my granddad took us up to Big Bear Lake so we could slide down the hills on borrowed sleds. The weather in Belgium was brutal – worst Christmas weather anyone could remember. There was nothing we could do to get warm. We stood shivering, teeth chattering, with our hands stretched out over a roaring bonfire, and we could hardly feel the heat. One of my buddies – a guy I met over there – lost a foot to frostbite. Perfectly healthy guy, never got shot – but his foot just rotted, and they had to cut it off.
There were two guys who had this great idea to keep warm while they were on guard duty. They made a tent out of blankets next to a generator, and they found a bottle of wine somewhere. They had themselves a little party in there. They died from breathing the exhaust.
Funny – back then, I thought I was in hell. But now the thought of that frozen landscape makes me bite back a groan of longing. To be cold, actually cold…
My boot hits a rock and I stumble. Leni glances at me, but I look aside so she can’t see my face. I can’t stop my fangs from sharpening anymore.
“You look dehydrated. Do you wanna stop for a while?”
Oh, man. How can I explain? Dehydration’s not the problem. It’s not water I need, it’s blood.
I shake my head. “We can't.” I start to walk again. Her heartbeat is thundering in my head, hers and the baby’s. Maybe if I stay in front of her, I won’t be so tempted.
* * *
Back in the bad old days, some guy at a party was telling a story about the time he drained a pregnant woman, and then hacked her open and drank the blood of her unborn child. Nectar of the gods, he said. It turned my stomach. I was about to throw him out on his ass when Coraline walked up, hips swaying, and licked her carmine lips. Mmm… sounds like a fun date. She’d been in one of those moods that night, the kind where she loved to push my buttons. I didn’t say a word, just left the house. Didn’t come back for a month.
Step. Lurch. Another step. It’s hard to lift my head, so I watch my boots scuffing through the gritty dust. I have no idea how long it’s been; the clock in my head’s all messed up, boiled away by the sun beating down on us. I don’t even remember Leni giving me her sweatshirt. It helps block the sun – some – but it’s too little, too late. I can taste ketone in my mouth. My body is dying.
Ha – big joke. I’m already dead. The laugh turns into a cough, and I nearly fall.
“You OK?” Leni’s arm is around my waist, keeping me on my feet. What a sweet girl she is, trying to do the right thing and still protect her baby. Trying to make a life for both of them. And after all she’s been through, she still worries about me.
Poor kid. If we don’t get out of this, and soon, I’ll drain her. I won’t be able to stop myself.
No, don’t think about that. Think about frosty air caressing me as I pull the freezer lid down, cool blue light surrounding me. That peaceful moment just before sleep when I let all the human stuff go. Watching my last breath wisp away like smoke. Shutting my eyes and feeling my heart slow. Letting all of it… just… stop.
I stumble again, and she catches me. Big mistake. Those twin heartbeats are so loud they drown out everything else. My face turns toward hers… a web of veins pulsates under her glistening skin… her head is tilted, her neck exposed, just like the freshies do it…
Do it…
“Mick – Look –”
I drag my eyes from her neck and peer into the heat-distorted distance.
Buildings. Shade. Wait… it’s a motel!
Maybe it’s not too late. If I can get cold… maybe I can save her.
Maybe there’s an ice machine.
<>