Maybe they thought vampires were just like them.
Finally the road took me through another dead town. It was much like the few others I’d seen—empty and overgrown, buildings crumbling to rubble, abandoned cars rotting in the streets. As I passed the remains of an old gas station, I wondered if it had already been raided for food and supplies. Then I realized I didn’t need to check, which I found ironic and a little sad. The old Allie would’ve seen a place like that as a potential treasure trove. Old buildings, abandoned stores, empty gas stations—there were a ton of supplies out here just waiting to be scavenged. I didn’t need food or water or any of that anymore. The only thing I needed was the one thing that wasn’t here.
I sighed, just for the hell of it, and continued into the town.
As I passed a tree growing through the hood of a car, I caught a faint rustle in the grass and a quiet whimper. Not an animal noise, either. This sounded human.
I paused. It had been four days since the…incident…with the men on the road. Was I still a danger to humans? Could I control myself in the presence of my prey? The Hunger seemed sated for now, held in check, but I’d still have to be very careful.
The sound came again. Wary of rabid wildlife, I drew my sword and eased around the car, ready to slash at anything that came flying out of the weeds. When I saw what was hiding behind the tree, however, I relaxed.
A small, frightened face gasped and recoiled, wide-eyed, tears streaking his cheeks. He had dark hair, smudged, dirty skin, and was probably no more than six years old.
A kid? What’s a kid doing way out here, alone?
Still wary, I lowered my sword. The child sniffled and gazed up at me, teary-eyed but silent. I looked for wounds on his small body, bite marks or scratches, but he was clean. There wasn’t any blood, though he was frightfully thin, a trait that was all too common where I came from. “W-who are you?” he sniffled, pressing himself against the trunk. “I don’t know you. You’re a stranger.”
“It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sheathing the blade, I knelt beside the kid, holding out my hand. “Where do you live?” I asked gently, stunned that someone would let a child roam around these streets at night. Did they want him eaten by rabids? “Where’s your mom and dad?”
“I d-don’t live here,” he whispered, hiccuping with the effort not to cry. “I don’t h-have a mom or a dad. I live with e-everyone, but now I can’t find them!”
He wasn’t making much sense, and the last sentence had finally dissolved into a frightened wail, setting my teeth on edge. We’d never get anywhere like this, and his howling could attract rabid animals at the least. They might ignore me, but if they sensed this child, we’d have a problem.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly as the child stuffed his small fist into his mouth. “It’s all right, we’ll find everyone else. There are other people here, right? In the town?”
He nodded. “They were looking for food and stuff,” he said, pointing a grubby finger in an indiscriminate direction. “Over there, I think. I had to go potty, but when I came back they were gone.”
So, hopefully, they’d be close. Whoever they were. Probably an aunt or a relative or something, since the kid didn’t have any parents. His bottom lip trembled, and I scrubbed my eyes. “Let’s go look for them,” I said, standing up. “Come on. I’m sure they’re looking for you, too.”
What? The Fringer street rat in me recoiled, aghast. What are you doing, Allison? You don’t know this kid. Why are you getting involved?
I ignored the voice. What was I supposed to do? I certainly couldn’t leave a child out here alone. Not even I was that callous. I’d drop him off with his parents or guardians or whomever, and then…
I repressed a shiver. When was the next time I might run into humans? If I returned this child to his guardians, they would probably be relieved. They might ask me inside, offer to let me spend the night. It would be easy enough, while they were sleeping, to slip up beside them, to…
Horrified, I shut those thoughts away. But what could I do? I was a vampire, and if I didn’t keep the Hunger in check, I would revert to that snarling, mindless creature on the road. If I had to feed, at least it would be on my terms now. “Well,” I asked the boy, holding out my hand, “are you coming or not?”
The kid brightened. Standing up, he reached for my hand and clung tightly to my fingers as I led him away. He didn’t cry or even sniffle as we wove through dark alleys, between rotting buildings, and around smashed, rusty cars. Either he was too frightened to say anything, or he was used to walking around scary, unfamiliar places in the middle of the night.