A Vampire Novel: Reach Before Dawn: Inspired by a true story (A Dark And Seductive Horror Story) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Camden McInnis
it hurts. I mean, I trusted him.”
“Well, forget about him. Shit, forget about high school. How about you go out to the Gulch with me and the guys tonight and we’ll get you so fucked up that the loss of brain cells will make you completely forget about Steve for the rest of your life.”
“Yeah, sure. I think getting hammered might be just what I need.”
I give Ali another hug and try to push thoughts of her straddling me in the back of my truck out of my head.
Interlude: The Good Old Days
There are far too many of my kind who pine for the good old days.
They long for a time when this great country was nothing but miles and miles of unbroken wilderness, where you could walk for days at a time and never encounter a single living soul. They miss the times where there was nothing but them, the night sky, the full moon, and the stories the natives whispered about us around campfires to scare their children so that they would stay close to camp when the heat and light of the fires finally died down. There are even members of my own clan who speak wistfully of these centuries long past.
Personally, I think anyone who thinks about those times of superstition and disease with any type of fondness is straight up talking out of their assholes. I've been here in the Americas going on 300 years. I was here when the new world weren't nothing but a smattering of poxy Quakers running from England with their tails between their legs like a whooped dog. I remember when New York City and Boston were no bigger than medium sized towns, and when somebody got killed or went missing, the entire city knew about it and they would come out in force searching for the missing or for the person who did the killing. Sure, you had the plague at the time--particularly in the seaport towns like New York and New Orleans--where the sick and the dying made for an easy meal. But if you just so happened to find yourself in a town where the pox or the plague hadn't touched it, you needed to make your kills quick and move on before anyone notices you, or otherwise you just might find yourself staked to the ground and screaming for mercy as the dawn peaked over the horizon and the sun began to smolder your skin.
Naw, as far as I'm concerned, the good old days are exactly where they belong. Me, I absolutely love the 21st century. I love it that you can walk through virtually any city in the middle of the night and not a single soul is going to look at you cross-eyed. I love electric lights, movies, television, computers, the internet. I love all the cities where you can hunt to your hearts content and all the bodies you leave behind are nothing but a statistic, just another John or Jane Doe on some spreadsheet being kept by an anonymous city clerk.
Oh, and I can't tell you how good vaccinated, healthy blood tastes. After centuries of doing nothing but drinking the blood of the sick and dying—which was pretty much anyone my kind were able to dine on back in the "good old days”—drinking good, healthy blood is almost like a delicacy. Even the dopers, drunks, and whores are all nice a clean thanks to free clinics. But my favorite prey is the innocent, the people who’ve never known a bit of struggle. The types who live in fine houses, who go to the doctor on a regular basis, eat fat rich fried foods, and yet complain about how difficult their petty lives are. The middle class makes for a tasty meal, particularly if they’re of the track home variety.
The suburbs are like an all you can eat smorgasbord.
The cute little town of Sleepy Creek me and my clan are shacked up in ain’t exactly track home territory, but it’s close enough. All I know is, me and the family are gonna have a hell of a good time over the next couple nights. And who knows, maybe we'll end up adding a few members to the tribe?
Chapter 4: The Gulch
If you listen to Sleepy Creek's old timers, the Gulch parties have been going on
“Well, forget about him. Shit, forget about high school. How about you go out to the Gulch with me and the guys tonight and we’ll get you so fucked up that the loss of brain cells will make you completely forget about Steve for the rest of your life.”
“Yeah, sure. I think getting hammered might be just what I need.”
I give Ali another hug and try to push thoughts of her straddling me in the back of my truck out of my head.
Interlude: The Good Old Days
There are far too many of my kind who pine for the good old days.
They long for a time when this great country was nothing but miles and miles of unbroken wilderness, where you could walk for days at a time and never encounter a single living soul. They miss the times where there was nothing but them, the night sky, the full moon, and the stories the natives whispered about us around campfires to scare their children so that they would stay close to camp when the heat and light of the fires finally died down. There are even members of my own clan who speak wistfully of these centuries long past.
Personally, I think anyone who thinks about those times of superstition and disease with any type of fondness is straight up talking out of their assholes. I've been here in the Americas going on 300 years. I was here when the new world weren't nothing but a smattering of poxy Quakers running from England with their tails between their legs like a whooped dog. I remember when New York City and Boston were no bigger than medium sized towns, and when somebody got killed or went missing, the entire city knew about it and they would come out in force searching for the missing or for the person who did the killing. Sure, you had the plague at the time--particularly in the seaport towns like New York and New Orleans--where the sick and the dying made for an easy meal. But if you just so happened to find yourself in a town where the pox or the plague hadn't touched it, you needed to make your kills quick and move on before anyone notices you, or otherwise you just might find yourself staked to the ground and screaming for mercy as the dawn peaked over the horizon and the sun began to smolder your skin.
Naw, as far as I'm concerned, the good old days are exactly where they belong. Me, I absolutely love the 21st century. I love it that you can walk through virtually any city in the middle of the night and not a single soul is going to look at you cross-eyed. I love electric lights, movies, television, computers, the internet. I love all the cities where you can hunt to your hearts content and all the bodies you leave behind are nothing but a statistic, just another John or Jane Doe on some spreadsheet being kept by an anonymous city clerk.
Oh, and I can't tell you how good vaccinated, healthy blood tastes. After centuries of doing nothing but drinking the blood of the sick and dying—which was pretty much anyone my kind were able to dine on back in the "good old days”—drinking good, healthy blood is almost like a delicacy. Even the dopers, drunks, and whores are all nice a clean thanks to free clinics. But my favorite prey is the innocent, the people who’ve never known a bit of struggle. The types who live in fine houses, who go to the doctor on a regular basis, eat fat rich fried foods, and yet complain about how difficult their petty lives are. The middle class makes for a tasty meal, particularly if they’re of the track home variety.
The suburbs are like an all you can eat smorgasbord.
The cute little town of Sleepy Creek me and my clan are shacked up in ain’t exactly track home territory, but it’s close enough. All I know is, me and the family are gonna have a hell of a good time over the next couple nights. And who knows, maybe we'll end up adding a few members to the tribe?
Chapter 4: The Gulch
If you listen to Sleepy Creek's old timers, the Gulch parties have been going on
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