Page 23 of Before We Burn

I groan and look to the stairs—the one place I truly didn’t want to go. I can only imagine the type of torture chambers and devices that are up there. Like one of those horrific blood houses we used to bust when I was a cadet.

There was no chance of me getting out of her…bedroom? It was such a weird thing to think about—vampires with bedrooms that seemed to belong to a human woman in their early-to-mid twenties. I sigh heavily, and my legs move before I consider all my options—not that there are many. If there are traps upstairs, I’m a goner. I have no weapons, and my hand-to-hand combat is rusty at best. Marzana is a vampire after all. They tend to live in packs.

I slowly make my way up the stairs, my steps light and fluid in each motion. I don’t want to second guess what I’m doing, because if I’m being honest, I would pussy out and just wait for her to come back.

Once I reach the top of the stairs, I peer out the door and see nothing but a dark empty hallway. I stand there watching and waiting for something—anything—to convince me to bring my ass back down stairs. But there is nothing and no one. I need to find a way out of here fast.

My first instinct is the windows. I check them, even though I know there are panels on them like the ones downstairs. I check the living room, which is surprisingly normal, with a grey sofa, a projector, and a small fireplace that looks like it had been used recently. I can’t help but wonder if this vampire—if Marzana—has assimilated to human life. From the looks of it, she is living how I want to live.

There’s an upstairs, but I can’t bring myself to go up there. Not yet, at least. Small steps are better than big leaps.

I stand there dumbfounded, trying to figure out my next step after my search comes up empty. I think about all the stories I’ve heard from other soldiers—about their grandparents and all the places they would hide things. There was only one thing that seemed to never change throughout each story, and it was this weird need for humans to have a place to put all the junk.

“The kitchen junk drawer.”

I move with purpose, a confidence I don’t deserve to have since I have been wrong at every turn, yet it’s a confidence I need, because getting the fuck out of here means my survival.

I rip open all the drawers and cabinets, finding most of them empty besides one with a bunch of wine glasses. I can only imagine what was in them before they were washed. I turn around in defeat, already dreading I will have to go upstairs and search there. I begrudgingly pull out the one drawer I haven’t yet opened, and there—right on top of random junk—is a Pod phone. I sigh in relief as I pick up the piece of metal and turn it on.

It’s old, fully charged, and only has one number dialed out. I don’t even bother to snoop, even though the thought is there.

I quickly dial Benny’s number—our Pod phones are always on us, even though we never use them—and the ringing is loud and obnoxious. The entire house echoes with the sound.

“C’mon Benny!” I groan, as the phone continues to ring before Benny’s face finally appears in front of me, pixelated and static-like. I breathe a sigh of relief as his eyes widen and he looks around.

“Where the hell are you, Everett? Josh, come here! Trace this for me!” Benny screams to our roommate—he’s the only one of us who actually understands technology. His dad was apparently some big investor in it.

“A vampire took me, patched me up, and is now keeping me at her…” I trail off, not sure what to call this place. It’s a home—one I would love to live in. It’s quiet, comfortable, and large. It looks like one of those places you see on the mailings—those vampire-free places where raising a family is recommended.

“You’re in a fucking dungeon man?” Josh’s voice echoes from the back, and Benedict groans.

“Focus, Everett. Where are you? What do you see?” I know Benny means well, but he should know calling him was a last resort.

“I have no idea where I am. There are UV-blocking steel panels on the windows. I’m calling you to help me figure that out.”

There’s an extended period of silence. I see Benny turn his head, but the pixelation and bad connection make it hard to tell if he’s speaking to Josh or looking away angrily.

“We can’t trace you. There’s a blocker. The vampire that took you is smart. Did you try the front door?”

Benny is my best friend—my brother—but right now, I want to wrap my fingers around his neck and shake him.

“Of course I checked the god damn front door. Do I look like I’m new here? Everything is locked. There’s a steel gate blocking the front. Even if there wasn’t a steel gate, leaving a vampire's house using the main entrance, not knowing if there are more vampires around, is stupid.”

Benny cusses like one of those sailor soldiers off the east coast. I look around helplessly, trying to figure something out. There are no knives I can use as a weapon, no guns laying around, and absolutely no way I am getting those UV protectors off the window.

“Oh shit, it’s Major Hendrix!” Josh squeals, and Benny’s face gets closer to the scanner on the Pod, his nose and eyes the only things I can see.

“I have to go. Keep trying, and call me if you get out.” The phone goes dead without another word.

My heart races. If Hendrix knew I was talking to Benny, he could be labeled a traitor by association. I punch the butcher-block countertop as frustration bubbles under my skin. If Benny was going to put himself at risk to try to help me, I can suck it up and go upstairs.

There could be numerous things up there I won’t want to see. A dead body draining, or a dismembered body that has already been drained and is ready for disposal. What if there’s some weird vampire orgy going on upstairs, and they didn’t care to bother me because I couldn’t get out?

I shake my head, the images of an orgy instead of dead bodies making it easier for me to push myself to walk up the beige, carpet-covered stairs. I force myself to take one step after another until I reach the top. The carpet moves through four rooms, all decorated differently. One room is full of canvases, drawings of faces and massacres covering them.

The next room is filled with plants, the floor covered with some type of black plastic lining I recognize from the survival kit we got when we went through training. We used it beneath our tents to make sure water from the ground wouldn’t seep in. It’s cooler in there; I feel like I can breathe better. The room next to that one seems to be an office. There’s a white board, a desk, and even an old computer with a screen saver playing on a loop.

It’s like this place was never involved with the war. Like someone was collecting things and saving them.