Part 1: December 1978
The disease struck. Everyone knows about that. It was the kind of thing that doesn't leave survivors – 'specially since all those who were infected tried to kill just about everybody who wasn't. I like to hope there are others out there- the uninfected, that is, but doubts run high as chances grow slim. Even if I found one of the uninfected, I'm not even sure what I'd do. I'm one of those unfortunate souls trapped in a gray area- caught half way between vampire and human.
The technical term for what I am, is an "Asymptomatic Carrier": infected but you'd never know that, I don't crave blood, I like garlic, and will never remove the crucifix hanging from my neck. What that means for me: everybody wants to kill me (oh, joy).
They'll begin searching again in a few moments. They come out as soon as the sun disappears from the horizon. The sky was still light. I could wait. This time, they'd find me- I'd allow that. Tonight was a game.
After doing this for so long, sometimes you've got to have a little fun with it. If I didn't, I'd go crazy – and that's a fact. Swinging my legs as I sat on a pew where my feet couldn't quite touch the ground was something I hadn't done in sometime. Not since Christmas mass before the infection broke out. I hummed myself a Christmas carol, "The Twelve Days of Christmas"- an old favorite that I never could remember all the words to. It must have been around that season anyway.
When I got to the part about the seventh day of Christmas, that's when the banging on the doors started. I gave a cynical grin and shouted, "Keep trying all you want, heck, I'll even open the doors to you!"
One responded with a low growl and the pounding continued. I kept true to my promise pulling both doors open to see my angry brethren. Four of them were out there, grumbling and growling, all dead and wanting nothing more than blood. Their skin had reached new shades of pale since I last saw them, turning from "Wonder-bread" to "picked-clean bone". Decay disgusted me.
They reached and grabbed for me, yet never did one toe of their cross the threshold. Vampires don't take much of a liking to churches, it's like one of their Commandments: "Thou shall not pass through a holy threshold". (I don't really know the real reason…) Therefore churches make great places to crash for a night or two.
The four outside came yesterday too. Yesterday, they were real chatty, calling me just about any name you can think of. I assume it was some ill-thought out method to get me to go outside that to their surprise, did not work. New technique today- growling, you can guess how that's treatin' them.
I giggled at their frustration.
All the sudden there was another sound- this one wasn't so promising. The tiles on the floor began to rumble, groaning, and distorting.
I stopped giggling. "Shit!"
I started running, grabbed my knapsack, and the dish of holy water by the door. I glanced over my shoulder. I knew it! They'd gotten into the catacombs and were forcing their way up. A tile had already been pushed aside and the vampire was working to get up.
Now was the time where the panic started setting in. What to do? What to do?
I took the dish of holy water and threw at the ones guarding the door. Holy Water served as a good repellant, it didn't kill them, but must have hurt like hell.
I ran like mad.