The Timosian Ultimatum

         He gently caressed her cheek bone with his smooth chin. The microscopic pale hairs on her smooth face rose at the freezing touch. Her piercing blue eyes matched the intensity of his blood red in midair. Time seemed to stop. It always did. She loved it.

         They were nothing alike, Cassandra and Caleb. Caleb was always freezing, compared to her stagnant warmth. Caleb was afraid of nothing, compared to her easily awakened sense of fear. Caleb was kind and protective, cold and warm, loving and aloof. Cassandra wore her heart on her sleeve, she thought too much, she cared too much, she loved too much. There was also a small difference that mattered most to their acquaintances; the fact that Caleb would live forever, the fact that Caleb was a vampire.

         Now, vampires were not an uncommon sight in Colts Neck. New Jersey had a haunted history with the past wars and bloody battles. It was no surprise that, situated in the heart of this crowded, forgotten state, was a small town full of a foreign species. These vampires are not like the ones people read about. They are neither the blood thirsty monsters that prey on innocent humans that pace the darkness at inopportune times nor the victims, the docile creatures that suck only the blood of animals. These vampires, called the Timosians, drink the warm blood of humans as much as they can. They leave the human just enough to linger through the veins, heart pumping madly, to keep them alive. There always seems to be a savior, another vampire, posing as an innocent bystander, standing nearby, on call to help the dying human. This vampire was almost always Tamyra in this clan. Tamyra was the only girl. She was almost unnoticeable. Seemingly human, she was used to bait males and to “save” them. She was calm in the toughest situations and kept her head easily, but was quick to jump to conclusions. Her long blonde hair and bright green eyes caught many a male’s attention and allowed the Timosians to have an upper hand in quenching their thirst over the competition. Caleb was the smartest vampire in the clan; he ran the circus act, as Cassandra called it. Caleb’s brother Alexander was the cunning one. His actions were sly and stealthy. No one saw him coming, ever. He was the attacker. If anyone put up an especially tough fight, like a particular subject in the southern rim of the Pinelands, Charles would have to step in. Charles was one you did not want to get angry. His eyes penetrated even the deepest of serenities. His stares could reach into the deepest of thoughts and destroy your mind. Thinking you are safe inside your mind is only true in fairy tales and television shows. In real life, nothing is that easy.

         Although Charles was easily the strongest, Caleb was the most intellectual. He planned the missions, he thought out each move, he relished in the victories, he dissected each failure, and he planned each revenge. The Timosians trusted and put their faith in Caleb. Everyone did. That’s why Cassandra loved him.

         Cassandra had been walking down a dimly lit road one September evening. The dark was creeping over the horizon and the soft, cool breeze whispered her home. Her legs quickened their pace and the familiar sound of foot falls echoed in the still air. She had forgotten her hoodie at her friend Ally’s house, I’d go back for it later, she thought. Pulling her thin arms closer to her body, her ears perked at the unfamiliar sound behind her. A warm breeze blew through her thin frame. Her five foot five body seemed to shrink inward. Cassandra had flipped her long brown hair behind her shoulder to try and sneak a sly look behind her. All she had seen was the shadow of the boy that had been there. She had shaken it off, putting it out of her mind. That was until they met again, this time at the crossroads of Lust and Certain Pain.

         Cassandra had shrunken away in fear, slipping slowly backwards as her eyes locked into the piercing stare of the intimidating size of the boy that stood in front of her. Her breath had ceased, her eyes had flickered, her skin had moistened. The moment she had opened her dry mouth to speak was the moment that saved her. There was a sudden rush of warm air, she had thought she was dying, hell reaching in to pull her under. Prayers rushed through her head. The grasp pulled her tightly and yanked her down. No, it wasn’t down, she soon had realized. It was back, back toward the frightening vampire. She had pried her eyes wider; they were soon as big as a small Jelly lid. To her astonishment, she found an utterly different sight in front of her that day. There stood the boy that would soon change her life forever. His deep brown hair stood perfectly swooped in front of his forehead as if an imaginary wind held it there, in place, for all of eternity. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue. Cassandra had found them beautiful. He had been dressed in deep blue jeans that formed a second skin around his thin legs. His feet spread outward from the cuff of his jeans, dressed in a pair of black slip-ons. His hand gripped around Cassandra’s shaking wrist tightly. Her eyes followed his hand down to the stiff shoulders dressed in a deep blue plaid shirt. It was utterly void of wrinkles. Immaculate. He had let go of her arm and introduced himself as Caleb, and she would go with him now.

         That night played frequently in Cassandra’s mind. The familiar, distant scenery was etched into her memory, impossible to forget. She saw that perfect face, that perfect body every day. It was near impossible to forget.

Caleb seemed to almost be able to read her mind. He felt her blood pressure rise. He sensed the sudden increase in heart rate.

         “What’s wrong?” Caleb questioned, his eyes reading Cassandra’s face, holding it at an arm’s distance away.

         Cassandra glanced back into eyes, wrong move, she thought, “Nothing.”

         His eyes scanned her every feature. The stressed mouth, the muscles tight around her parted lips, her eyes a smidgen wider than usual. Caleb pulled her face into his, gently resting his cool lips on her soft forehead. Leaving no trace, he lifted them and rested his icy forehead on hers, their meeting place confused with the touch. Cassandra only closed her eyes and tried to dream. She tried to dream of a different time where it wouldn’t be like this. Where it wouldn’t have it ending the way she knew it had to end; with her dead and without him.

         The Timosians resided in a ramshackle of an old house. It had been a part of the estate of a rich man, killed in the War of 2039. It had been a hundred years since the fact but nothing had changed. The environment, the ecosystems, the culture, all had been destroyed. All of the monsters, as people called them, came out to play. The creatures that stalked the shadows revealed themselves. There were no remnants of the Old Life. The new life, or the Shadow Time as it was so rightly named, was upon the country, not just the small state of New Jersey. It had all begun in Lawrence, Kansas, but this is all taught in the Old Life Remembrance classes so much detail is not needed. The old house, decrepit on the outside, with its falling, chipped, white shutters and missing siding, with its thrice patched roof and cracked sidewalk, was where the Timosians called home for the past twenty years. If one was so lucky as to see the inside of their abode, they would have been marveled at the sight. It was beautiful; taking one step inside rivaled stepping foot into the Queen’s castle in London, England. The warm, maroon paint filled the downstairs as the light from the glittering chandelier bounced off of every corner and bend. A small wooden table greeted every visitor with a large glass mirror and a straw basket of freshly picked Azaleas. The rest of the lower floor consisted of the den, a perpetually dimly lit room occupied only by a fireplace, small couch, and wooden bookshelf filled with an encyclopedia, a map, a cook book, and twenty or so Nancy Drew mystery books, a small dining room, furnished by dark-washed wood furnishings; a large table filled most of the room as the chairs seemed to hug the walls, a small cabinet hid in the corner, holding the precious crystal plates left behind by the Creators, and a small pale kitchen. This room was snow white, with a dab of the deep red of the table. It was always warm in the kitchen, the curtains never drawn. It was the room in which one of the Creators had spent most of their time. Nothing was to be changed.

         The upper floor read mostly like the lower with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, each containing a large porcelain tub, a small porcelain toilet, a large glass mirror, and a large porcelain sink. The bedrooms consisted of a large king sized bed, a small, dark washed dresser and a small closet. The walls were the same dark maroon that covered the rest of the walls in the house, the color that allowed them to feel at home.

         The period of time where vampires and humans lived together in harmony was dwindling to a close. Outside the paper thin walls of the Timosians haven heard the cries, the screams, the pleading yelps of the hunted. The world was slowly sinking into hell. Maybe hell was just rising, Cassandra thought to herself as she and Caleb sat on his supportive mattress. The black sheets tucked meticulously under the rounded corners of the bed, the top folded crisply into a small fourth, pulled back to form a small lip, where the pillows were gently laid.

         Caleb pulled back his head and sat upright in one swift motion. Cassandra knew better than to move. She watched his eyes race around the corners of his eyes, searching for answers. Caleb quickly leapt off of the bed and flung open the weak door. It smacked into the dark wall, leaving no mark. Before Cassandra could stand, Caleb had reached the foot of the stairs, watching the front door intensely as Charles held the round knob in his hands. Tamyra stood nearby, positioning herself in the square doorway to the kitchen. Cassandra stayed motionless on Caleb’s bed. This had happened once before and it had been a false alarm, but she knew not to risk it. Caleb had said if it was real, it meant certain death for her and pain for him. She was never sure what he meant by “pain.” The slow creak of the crying front door broke up her thoughts. Then came the heavy mumble of Charles’ voice followed by the melodic higher pitched voice of Tamyra, gently soothing the air. Caleb never budged. His gaze never broke, but his mind was racing; the thoughts and plans formulating in his head. Escape routes were forming in the back of his mind, just in case, he told himself, just in case.

There suddenly were heavy footsteps. Cassandra watched as Caleb swept his head to the left to follow the sound. The scratch of the wooden dining room chair against the floorboard filtered upstairs and into Cassandra’s awaiting ears. This was exactly what she had been dreading; the Visitor.

The Visitor was neither a man nor a vampire. He was not the President. He was not a dictator, he was not a leader. He was just a threat. Most like a Mafia boss. He watched over all and took care of them as he saw fit. The Timosians knew of his infamous visits, everyone did. The Visitor would enter the home of each clan, after first casing the property, then he would proceed to inspect the living quarters, checking to see all was in line and no contraband was being hidden away, like a human. Caleb had instructed Cassandra on these visits. They had planned what to do in case of an Inspection. They knew had to keep everyone safe because if they didn’t, if Cassandra was seen, she would be either killed or converted and the clan would be disbanded and disposed of. There had only been one case of that happening. It had occurred in a small town in North Dakota. A clan had adopted a twenty five year old male and the Visitor had paid them a surprise visit. It was a bloody encounter which ended in four deaths. No one survived. The news quickly swept through the vampire community. No one dared to face the Visitor lest they face the same fate at the North Dakota Four as they were referred to as.

Cassandra listened to the gentle speaking downstairs. The rhythmic tones bounced off of each other as each took their turns. Charles’ heavy speech mixed with the Visitor’s controlled bark and contrasted Tamyra’s soft, gentle tones. Caleb remained perched at the foot of the stairs. That was until the Visitor beckoned him inside the dining room. Caleb could not refuse. He shook off the worried look that splashed against his face and with a feeling of apprehensiveness; he strolled into the dark room. The talking continued, Cassandra strained to hear even the least bit of what they were saying. She remained completely still lest she reveal her position to the Visitor. The talking then escalated as did Cassandra’s heartbeat. She knew the Visitor could smell her, most vampires could. According to Caleb, Cassandra was what the vampires called a “Temptress.” Her blood sang to them and drew them in, from as far as miles away. They could smell her blood, especially in moments in high anxiety.

What happened next was a blur to Cassandra. All she remembered was staring out the dark doorway, waiting to hear the closing of the old front door, when Caleb busted though the doorway.

“It is necessary we evacuate the building,” Caleb pulled Cassandra up and towards the window, “Immediately,” he hissed.

Cassandra nodded, her mind going into shock trying to calm her racing veins. Caleb pried open the second story window and glanced below at the tidy grass below. He had just earlier raked the fallen leaves into a pile below his window. Caleb slowly crawled through the window and lowered himself to the ground. He stood with his arms open, ready to catch Cassandra as she shimmied herself out of the open window. She closed her eyes and dropped to the ground, Caleb’s cold arms bracing her fall and lowering her slowly to the damp ground.

“We need to leave. Charles can only distract the Visitor for so long. Tamyra will cover our path,” Caleb whispered, gaining hold of Cassandra’s arm.

“But, Caleb, where are we going?” Cassandra asked wildly as she was pulled toward the narrow fringe of trees behind the Timosian estate.

“Shh!” Caleb hushed, “Please! He will hear you. Just trust me, please Cassandra,” Caleb pleaded as he yanked on her arm. Cassandra nodded. What else am I going to do, she thought to herself. The dark strip of woods appeared as if intangible. No matter how far they ran, it was never closer. Until finally, their feet crunched into the light brush on the floor. They turned to face the estate and knelt to the ground to avoid being seen. Cassandra watched as the lights in the upstairs hallway flickered on to guide the unwelcome visitor through their home and into Caleb’s room where the light flickered on and then, a short time later, off.

“We need to move,” Caleb whispered, generally frightened, “Now!”

Cassandra’s heart started pounding. She knew that it took something major to scare Caleb and she was worried, very worried. They ran for what seemed like forever. Cassandra swore she saw the same branch at least five times. Caleb dragged her through the thin tree line and into the dark woods about a mile behind the estate, hoping to enter into the neighboring town where he could check Cassandra into a hotel and leave her to her fate. He felt no remorse, he did not care for her, he did not care for anyone. He just wondered why his heart felt warm when he was with her.

         A portal between tree branches opened to a view of Mapleton. Nestled between Colts Neck and Howell, another neighboring, vampire infested, town, Mapleton was the one sanctuary. The place a human could go to remain completely discreet, to hide from vampires, to survive. Mapleton seemed stuck in the Old Life. The houses stood gruesomely plain. The town seemed white washed, as if the color had been sucked out and into the eyes of those they feared. This was the only town in two hundred miles that had a hospital. Mercy Hospital, as it was ironically called, did not even admit those in a hospice state; only the humans with a chance at life could be wheeled through the twice padlocked, steel, front doors.



-UNFINISHED-