Chapter 319 - Utah, One Week Ago part 4

Although coincidence in fiction is usually frowned upon, in real life it happens all the time. As luck would have it, the vampire Gon was staying in the town of Green Gulch the very day that Sydney Meadows dueled his lifelong rival. Gon was passing through on his way to Tucson. He had taken a room at the Regal Saloon and was sleeping through the daylight hours while he waited for the connecting stage. He learned of the gunfight when he arose at sundown.

Having slept through the event itself, he inquired after the victor of the duel and was told a "passel" of rotten lies, mostly by Dutch Jacobson's cronies, who were outraged that the village whipping boy had bested their hero. Dutch's stooges informed the stranger they were only guilty of some innocent tomfoolery, and that Sydney had retaliated far in excess of what their innocent prank had deserved. The yellowbellied skunk had attacked their friend with no warning, they said, giving him little chance to defend himself, and now poor widow Jacobson, who had lost her husband to cholera just this past May, was alone to fend for herself. How was she going to support herself, as her husband had left her in debt and Dutch had been the only working man in her household?

Hungry, the vampire had gone in search of the gunman, meaning to feed on the killer and return to his room before daybreak. Tracking the killer was easy for a vampire as seasoned as the immortal Gon. It was only as he was sinking his fangs into the young man's neck that he had realized his victim was an innocent man—not in the eyes of the law, perhaps, but in spirit. Yes, certainly in spirit.

He explained all this to the boy after deciding to spare his life. After that, they sat and talked, watching the campfire leap and cavort between them. The vampire found the young man, who was soft-spoken and intelligent, to be an agreeable companion. And Sydney, whose father had died when he was very young, found the strange, white-faced man terribly fascinating. This fellow, who claimed to be an immortal, seemed very lonely. That sadness appealed to the boy's sympathetic nature. Sydney found that he wanted to know the pensive creature. Perhaps he could find some way of alleviating the vampire's misery. It was unbelievable that he should feel pity for this thing, who claimed to be thousands of years old, who had attacked him just minutes before with the intention of killing him and feeding on his blood, but there was something very alluring about the ancient creature, who seemed as timeless as the desert sands. He felt that knowing this thing, befriending it, would unlock the secrets of the universe—or at least leave him wiser than he might otherwise have been.

Sydney had heard of vampires. He'd read about them in books. Of course, he'd always assumed they were make-believe creatures, like fairies and ogres and things of that nature, but now he'd met one in the flesh! According to myth, they were cruel, Satanic, bloodthirsty monsters, but Dutch's cronies had called him a mad dog and a cold-blooded killer and he was neither of those things so maybe these vampires had gotten a bad rap, too.

The vampire didn't seem very evil, despite the fact that he'd originally meant to kill Sydney and drink his blood. Still, it worried the young man so he brought it up.

Much to his surprise, the vampire only laughed. Yes, his kind were dangerous, he admitted, but they generally only fed upon the wicked—murderers, kidnappers, rapists. "Who misses evil men?" the vampire said, and then he laughed again, as if it were some private joke that Sydney, a mortal, was not privy to.

The stranger's honesty put Sydney at ease, and he was better able to enjoy the vampire's company after that.

Just an hour ago, Sydney was so exhausted it felt like there were lead weights attached to his eyelids. Now he didn't think he could sleep even if he wanted to. The vampire's attack had left him trembling with nervous energy. The creature's bizarre appearance and seemingly magical abilities had Sydney breathless with curiosity. He peppered the enigmatic stranger with a hundred fervent questions. Just how old was he? How had he acquired his powers? Was he born that way? Or had he sold his soul to the Devil? Gon, the self-proclaimed oldest living vampire, weathered the young man's curiosity equanimously. In fact, he seemed amused by Sydney's excitement, and answered the boy's questions so far as he was able to. He would not tell Sydney how he had acquired his fantastic powers. Such knowledge, he said, was forbidden to mortal men. "If I told you how our gifts are passed on," the vampire said, "I would have to kill you, or make you one of us." But he was once a mortal man, he admitted, many years ago. How long ago he did not know. Not with any certainty. "I was ancient when Khufu built his vast monument to his vanity," the vampire said. "When Seka was made the king of the Egyptians. I was old when Eridu was young. When Ahmeneptu was a babe on his mother's knee. When the god of the Christians was known as Marduk. When Marduk was called Lyet. And when Lyet was called Fain." Sydney had no idea who or what the vampire was speaking of, but he was riveted nonetheless. What other powers did the vampire possess? Could he fly? Could he transform himself to mist? Each of the vampire's answers suggested another dozen questions, until the vampire laughed and said enough. "I am no more a marvel than you, my boy," the immortal said. "Tell me more of yourself, young Sydney Meadows of Green Gulch, Texas." Before the night was through, Gon had invited Sydney to accompany him to Tucson, and Sydney, who was by then completely enthralled by the pale stranger, eagerly accepted.

Sydney thought he could talk all night with the enigmatic stranger, but eventually he tired, and he slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber. When he awoke, it was mid-morning and he was alone. He scrambled from the gully in a panic, searching the chaparral that stretched out flat and featureless in all directions, but there was no sign of his new friend. The vampire Gon had abandoned him.

Such a wave of loneliness and despair washed over him that he thought he would drown in his misery. He literally could not breathe, and all but wept in anguish. Wretched, head hanging, he reluctantly broke camp and continued west.

As the day progressed, he began to wonder if he had not dreamed up the stranger, and by evening he was nearly certain of it. If not for the wound on his neck he might have convinced himself it had all been just a dream. Maybe they were insect bites, he said to himself, probing his tender neck. Or pimples brought on by stress. He tended to break out when he was upset. He just didn't understand why his new friend would abandon him like that. The vampire had promised they'd go to Tucson together, and then maybe on to San Francisco! Had Sydney said something to offend the man? Had the stranger simply changed his mind? Maybe they were fickle, these vampire people. Sydney didn't know. He'd only met the one.

Travelling alongside the Beat Stone, he had plenty of water to drink, but by noon his stomach was growling and by sunset he was lightheaded with hunger. He found some berries to eat about midafternoon, but there weren't many so early in the season, and the tart fruit only stoked his hunger. He wished now he hadn't gobbled all the food his mother had packed for him. It didn't look like he'd be eating again for a while, not unless he shot a rabbit, and there didn't seem to be much game around. Plenty of snakes, though he wasn't sure he could bring himself to eat a snake. Not yet, anyway.

As the bloated sun sank past the edge of the world, setting blaze to the stratus clouds hovering on the horizon, Sydney dismounted and set about making camp for the night. He stayed near the river this time, where there were plenty of trees for cover and dead wood to gather for a fire.

He saw to his horse first, then made a small fire and spread his blanket beneath a thicket of birch trees. The ground there was soft with rotted leaves and grass, almost as soft as his cornhusk mattress back home. The burbling of the small river and droning insects was a soothing backdrop. He just wished he had some food. In the morning he would wade out in the river and try to catch some crawdads. Or maybe he could sharpen a stick and spear a fish for his breakfast. A nice little bluegill or crappie would make good eating.

Before lying down to sleep, Sydney strolled away from the wood and looked out across the vast flat landscape. Though it was full dark by then, the moon was bright and he could see a fair distance. He told himself he was just taking in the view. Checking his environment for threats. Really he was looking for the stranger. He was still sore from Gon's abandonment, to an extent that was somewhat dismaying to him. Enough to make him pretend that he wasn't as wounded by it as he truly was. But all he could see was the chaparral and thickets of snarled mesquite.

With a forlorn sigh, Sydney returned to camp. Black Devil greeted him with a snort, then went back to nibbling grass. Sydney lay down near the fire, wrapped up in his blanket and fell instantly asleep.