Epilogue



Epilogue

Huddled in the shadows, a young homeless boy, Simon, watched with growing fascination as the battle erupted between the two strangers.
His tired, gray eyes were aged beyond his actual years of ten. His light brown hair was matted on his forehead. Its normal shiny locks were drab and greasy with weeks of filth. The back streets and alleys of Louisiana had been his home for almost two years.
Carefully concealed in the crevice of the old building, he witnessed the hatred the men had for each other. Although he'd been privy to some extreme acts of violence, he had never seen anything like this. Wondering what would make two people want to destroy each other in such a manner, he looked on with eager curiosity.
Then he saw her. She appeared from nowhere, like an uninvited banshee. Beautiful and strangely unique—Simon knew without question that she must be the source behind the feud.
His sallow eyes watched in amazement as she halted the fight and changed the rules of the ancient game of war. He didn't understand. The one man was winning fair and square. Well, that wasn't quite right; he had cheated. But still, what right did she have to interfere in the battle?
Simon's eyes widened in shock when she produced the taser from her coat and proceeded to set the one man on fire. The scene was horrific as the poor sap wailed with excruciating pain and floundered about the ground in apparent agony. Then, he just stopped and his frame became stiff and statuesque.
Fearing for his own safety, Simon squatted down into his hiding place, trying to make himself invisible lest the woman set him on fire, too. His heart pounded forcefully within his chest, and his pulse hammered through his teeth. Willing himself to be still, he tried to remember the prayer his mother always used to say when he was frightened. After several fugal attempts, he finally settled on a quick Please, God, keep me safe.
Waiting with forced patience, Simon remained quiet and undetected until she and the other man left. When they had disappeared from view, he cautiously crept from the shadows. Never taking his eyes from the charred form on the ground, he tentatively approached.
The body lay unnaturally still. The fire, no longer raging with fury, had died down to a low simmer, slowly consuming the man's remains. The air was permeated with the sickening smell of charred flesh, making him gag and retch. Holding his hand over his mouth, Simon ran over to the dumpster. He vomited quietly, letting the disgusting bile run noiselessly onto the pavement.
Simon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then tiptoed back over to the motionless body. Stopping a few inches from the grossly burned figure, he looked down upon the atrocity. Then, he nudged the form gently with the toe of his shoe.
Simon's eyes darted around nervously as he heard a soft moan drift up from the charred mass. He squatted down, peering intently at what he thought might be the man's head. The figure was so misshapen that he really wasn't sure which end was which.
"Hey, mister? Mister, are you dead?" Simon asked timidly, inching a little closer.
Excruciating pain enveloped Mikel as he grasped for consciousness. A voice invaded reality, pulling him even further into torturous awareness. Searching for remembrance, he attempted to bring forth the details of his current state.
Reaching out a tentative hand, Simon nudged the man's shoulder. "Hey, mister, I saw what that woman did to you. It wasn't fair. I saw it all. You were—"
A pained howl erupted from Mikel's throat. It sounded more like a deep bellow. The delicate tissues of his larynx were so traumatized from the fire that he was unable to make any clear sounds.
Simon jumped back as he heard the pitiful cry. He looked around the alley. Maybe he should just leave. Pretend he never saw a thing. No one would know. Nobody had seen him there.
He started to back away from the fallen figure. Yeah, Simon told himself. I'll just leave and no one will know I was here.
Memories of what happened flooded into Mikel's brain. Images of Lizbeth standing before him flashed through his mind. He saw her ignite the taser and touch it to the stream of gas. Then he was on fire once again, the pain searing and enveloping his helpless body.
Mikel screamed through a lipless mouth. Hatred filled his soul. It was her, Lizbeth. She had done that to him. The ungrateful little bitch!
Struggling to roll over, Mikel pressed against the rough ground. Raw flesh contacted the jagged gravel. His mind swooned dangerously, threatening to check out on him.
Ignoring the pain, he pushed himself beyond what he thought capable. As his weight rolled over, he could feel the cracking and tearing of his charred skin, like old dry leather. The muscles in his arms split in defiance. Exhausted, he lay panting on his side.
For the first time, Mikel noticed a presence before him. His eyes were dry and burned, his vision unclear. The fire had seared his eyelids, leaving the delicate orbs beneath unprotected, exposed.
"Who's there?" Mikel asked, his speech slurred and indistinct. His mouth was stiff and uncooperative, making the words almost unrecognizable.
Paralyzing fear enveloped him in a dark cloud. "Who's there?" he asked again, straining to make the sounds more audible.
Simon stopped his retreat. Hearing the pain in the man's voice made him feel guilty. If he left now, the man would surely die. He supposed he could help, maybe a little.
He slowly walked back to where the man lay, struggling to get up. His legs felt weak and his hands trembled as he looked into large white eyes set in a face that was scorched and blistered beyond recognition. Telling himself to be brave, Simon kneeled before the hideous mass.
"D-did you say something, mister?" he asked, pinching his nose and trying to hold his breath. The smell of charred flesh permeated his nostrils. His stomach rebelled, lurching and threatening to expel any remaining contents. Turning his head, he stifled a gag with the back of his hand.
Simon watched in disbelief as the seemingly lifeless mouth became animated, moving ever so slowly in semblance of speech. The hole was enormous, gaping and black, void of skin and other normal tissue. He leaned closer, straining to hear the words that emerged from the unsightly crater.
With a shaking hand, Mikel reached outward to the figure before him. He knew now that it was not Lizbeth or Adrien come to finish him off. It was someone else—youth, life, healing.
"Please..." Mikel attempted. The word came out in a long hiss. "Please..." he said again. Mikel's frustration grew as he continued to try and make the boy understand what he needed. Finally, giving up on speech, he painfully raised his arm over his head to mimic shelter.
Night had turned to day, and with it had come an early morning drizzle. It covered Mikel's exposed body, cooling his burned flesh. He needed time. Time to heal, time to rejuvenate, time to plan.
Although daylight had returned, the sky was dark and overcast. Clouds blocked the sun, protecting him from the deadly rays. The walls surrounding the narrow alley also served as barriers, keeping him safely sheltered. For some reason, the evil spirits were looking favorably upon him. For now.
Mikel again attempted to sit up. He pressed against the ground, but the strength in his arms had left, and he fell back down onto his side. Holding his hand towards the boy, he begged for assistance.
Taking pity upon the helpless creature before him, Simon took the outstretched arm. "Here, let me help you." Pulling the man to a sitting position, he held him gently lest he cause any more pain.
He couldn't help but stare at the grisly features of the man's face. The eyes appeared abnormally large. Devoid of eyelids, they bulged from their sockets. The nose was absent, leaving a flat plain with two small black openings where the nostrils should have been.
Simon's gaze fell back to the man's mouth. The skin had been burned away, leaving the appearance of a snarl. The gums were jutted forward, teeth seemingly crowding the inhuman face.
It was then that he noticed the sharp fangs. This thing before him was not human. Fear gripped his insides and Simon jerked backwards. His eyes filled with sudden terror and he hastily began retreating from the creature's grotesque figure.
Mikel slowly shook his head and held his arm out to the boy. He needed him. If he left, then Mikel was finished. He couldn't get himself to safety, not in this condition. He didn't know how long the sky would remain overcast. The clouds could part at any moment, bathing him in deadly sunlight. He needed shelter. He needed time. He needed blood.
Simon looked about nervously. He was unsure of what to do. Could he trust this...monster before him? He looked pretty harmless, at least right now.
"Look, if I help you, you're not going to hurt me, are you?" he questioned.
Mikel shook his head. How ironic, he thought to himself, all the years I'd helped homeless children, now it is I who must beg for the assistance of a small boy.
The rain was coming down in heavy droplets now. Although cool and soothing to his burns, it was starting to make him uncomfortable. He could already feel the beginning of his body's rejuvenation. All he needed now was somewhere to heal.
Fearing the clouds would part and sunlight would filter down upon his unprotected body, he once again held his arms over his head in attempt to portray his need for shelter. Straining to make the correct sounds, he slurred out "House."
Understanding crossed Simon's face as he finally grasped what the man asked for. "I don't really have a home," he explained. "This building is deserted, I think. If I can get that door open we can stay in there until the rain goes away."
He pointed to a door a few feet away. It looked almost impenetrable with its heavy steel exterior and old metal lock. Mikel wondered if the scrawny child before him could possibly get it open.
Spying the fallen pipe by the man's leg, Simon picked it up and walked towards the seemingly impassable door. He inspected the old security lock. It was crudely rusted, the numbers on the dial faded and illegible.
Slipping the pipe through the lock's arm, Simon pulled down with all his might. At first it didn't budge. The metal mockingly resisted the boy's youthful strength.
"Come on!" Simon yelled. "Come on you piece of—"
Just then, the lock sprang open and hung limp and defeated on the door. He jumped in the air with a victorious whoop. Smiling with satisfaction, Simon walked back to where the man was sitting.
Wrapping his arms around his body as gently as he could, he helped him to his feet. Mikel placed his arm across the boy's shoulders and let him lead him towards the open door. He had thought of using the boy to feed from, but decided it would be better to keep him for a while. He would need someone to run errands for him while he recuperated. Besides, he never harmed children. Never.