CHAPTER 4 :
Snacks and Consequences
The summer months passed in a blur during which Michael had had to feed twice more. Once Michael stumbled upon a lone fisherman. Wading along , fly fishing among the mangroves. Michael watched him for a while. Remembering his grandfather doing the same.
Lost in a reverie Michael watched as his body moved acting without his direction. Hell! His body was acting without him even being there in it. Instincts had seized control. The fly fisherman never had a chance.
His first clue that something was wrong was when Michael rose up out the water. Michael watched, detached as his body, his teeth, tore open the mans throat to lap at the squirting arterial blood and enjoyed the more sedate flow of the blood from the veins. Taking his time, enjoying the meal, Michael remembering bone fishing with his grandfather, until the corpse was drained.
Michael let go of the corpse, leaving it to drift. As he waded away, he glimpsed the body floating, snagged in the mangroves. The thought occurred to him that leaving bodies to drift haphazardly was most likely not a good idea. He turned back, then proceeded to tear the drained corpse apart. Taking time to use his teeth to savage the pieces. Then hurled them seaward as far as his strength could manage. If found, it would appear as if gators or sharks or what have you had feasted. Michael felt nothing , no more than he would after eating a chocolate bar and throwing the wrapper into the trash.
When he reached the campground and the safety of the bus. He sat and thought about what had happened. Michael had been feeling sick for a few days. He went for a walk this morning, then...Damn, he had fed without thought and he had no control over the need or his actions. That could be a big problem. So far he had a trail of nine bodies. It would not be long before these last two were found and connected to the others.
Michael decided he had to leave. He did not want to be here when the bodies were found. With any luck the Gators and fish would disguise the fishermans brutally torn apart body. Hopefully if found, it would appear that a gator had gotten a hold of some dumb tourist. Michael hurried back to the campground where he hitched up his little samurai and pulled out as quickly and quietly as he could. Sometimes Discretion is a choice part of valor.
Driving north, then turning east on Alligator alley, the Tamiami trail. Ft Lauderdale seemed as good a destination as any. As he took the long turns onto Alligator alley, Michael wondered why he was going to Ft.Lauderdale. Shouldn’t he be headed deeper into the thousand Islands? Maybe Key West? Didn’t he want to avoid people? He knew he should stop and turn around, yet he continued driving east. He was compelled to do it. It was as if he were only along for the ride,a passenger in his own head.
Michael drove through the rest of the day hitting Ft liquordale ( as they called Ft Lauderdale that spring break a few years back.) Just after sunset. He had made good time. Michael decided to park the bus in the parking lot across from the old Sears town. There at the corner of U.S. 1, Dixie highway and Sunrise blvd.
That spring break they had partied with band mates at this house just down the street. He unhitched the samurai, after he decided that he wanted a drink. The drive through the New River tunnel and along Los Olas blvd brought back fond memories. Wondering if the Elbow room was still there on the strip. Michael was pleased to see that it was.
Just as small and dingy as he remembered. The candy store was gone. Summers looked the same though Plenty had changed over the years. Of course he couldn’t find anywhere to park , so he headed down Sunrise, looking for a parking spot. Pulled into a strip mall, parked and walked back to the strip. As he walked up to the corner, Michael noticed the Parrot lounge was still there just down that side street. That was as good a place as any. The last time he had been there, he had been trashed and fell off the balcony. Lucky for him, he had landed on a couple of equally drunk spring breakers. Michael resolved to avoid that balcony this time.
Naturally, he found himself sitting at the small table on that balcony. Inside, it was too much. Too many voices, so many heart beats, so much sorrow. So many flavors on the air. Michael retreated to the balcony for refuge. Sitting, sipping his rum, neat. He had never appreciated the subtleties of the Kraken before. All of the complex nuances were very pleasant. He went through four doubles, straight up and neat. Michael quickly found himself slightly buzzed.
He sat, sipped, enjoyed the breezy fresh sea air and watched people move along the side walk, it was like, watching a herd moving on the plains. Thoughts arose unbidden. Assessments made, potential prey categorized. Without a conscious desire. Michael did not like that this was outside of his control. While it was quite natural for his unnatural state, being Out of control, no power over his own mind or his thoughts was something he could not tolerate. In fact it was really pissing him off.
Long term, survival would mean, finding self control. Before Michael was aware of the decision, he had moved, leaping from his chair, over the side to land on his feet on the sidewalk. A few drunken college kids were startled when he dropped into their midst.
Michael ignored them. Walking briskly towards Sunrise Blvd. Turning right he headed towards the beach. As he stood at the corner waiting for the traffic to let up and cross to the beach. Something began happening to him, happening in him. It was as if he could feel the weight of eyes upon his skin.
Michael had noticed that when he walked in public, most people ignored him as if they did not see him. People would step around him, move to avoid him as he walked or stood still. It seemed that people only perceived him when he chose for them to, otherwise they ignored him.
It was sort of like what he had imagined being invisible would be like as a child. This feeling of being watched, of actually being seen was exhilarating. Adrenaline flowed, Michael began to clumsily focus his senses on locating the source of that gaze. However, he could not see anyone reacting to his presence let alone staring at him.
Michael crossed the street, walking onto the beach, at the waters edge he turned north, walking towards the Park , which was closed for the night.
Michael did not think about it, letting whatever this awareness was guide his steps. There were no people on the beach here. Behind him were where the crowds were.
Something was drawing him. Something in the shadows. And then there she was. Seeming to materialize in front of him. The mysterious woman, demon spawn, hell bitch or goddess or whatever, the one he had been looking for. The one that started all of this, the one that had bitten and infected him.
Michael was startled by her sudden appearance. She seemed, different yet the same. More vibrant with shimmering flames surrounding her. The same blood red hair. The same mesmerizing frozen emerald flames of her eyes. She was dressed in tight leather jeans, with the same jacket as before. She held a pair of boots in one hand, Walking barefoot in the sand.
" So, you survived.” She said cocking her head to the side looking him up and down. She took her time in looking him over. Until she finally smiled. “Well, come on then.” She said as she turned about, walking north along the beach. Silently Michael followed her. Watching her move, sinuous , graceful, relaxed yet powerful.
Abruptly she stopped turning to face him. Moon light caught her eyes. Glittering emeralds with silver flashes on the facets. ” Will you just be rude and silent as you stare at my arse or will you speak? Speak your mind boy!” her voice shook him from the trance he had fallen into.
“It was rude of you to bite me and throw me away you know! What was that, dine and dash? And You wanna talk about being rude?” Some of the old Michael breaking through. His anger clear in his tone. She tilted her head and smiled as she began walking. ” Good to know you have some spirit.” She tossed over her shoulder back at him.
" Come on lad, keep up.” Then she began to run. She was fast! She had already taken several running steps before he had see her move. She became A blur kicking sand up as she ran. Michael followed suit marveling at the way his body worked. It was almost like flying. Ok, so he has no idea what flying without a plane would be like, but he imagined it was something like this. Michael did know, it did not feel like sky diving. That was nothing close to flying, that had been sheer terror and falling. This, this was exhilarating.
In his rush to catch up he did not think of anything beyond catching up to her. As he began to catch up, Michael saw that she no longer moved in a hazy blur.
He could see her clearly, see her arms pumping, the play of muscles across her back, her legs. Those leather pants accentuated every movement. Her boots clutched firmly in her hands, her bare feet seemed to barely touch the sand. She left no discernable foot steps, merely little twirls of sand that left no trace of her passing.
She stopped abruptly. Michael tripped over his own feet trying to stop. Tumbling across the sand a good few yards before coming to rest face down, face buried in the sand. Michael was slow in recovering, rolling over to sit up slowly. Her laughter assaulted his pride.
She approached, offered her hand. He gazed up at her. The realization of what he had just done drove out any embarrassment. They had run for about Five minutes he estimated. Now they were several miles north of where they had started.
They had left the commercial and public beach fronts behind. There were concrete walls that lined the beach. Michael knew that there were some very expensive homes beyond those walls. Grasping her wrist as she grasped his she heaved him to his feet.
" Who are you? What are you...” The anger had been replaced with a confused wonder. Her laughter cut him off. She shook her head. The sea breeze lifted her hair, which seemed to float around her face as if magical spiders had spun webs of flames around her face. Damn, Michael could feel himself falling into her eyes. He knew she was deadly dangerous, fully aware of his impending destruction Michael wanted to get lost in those crystalline emerald depths. Run his fingers through her flame tinged hair, to touch her. Michael did not care what the consequences would be. It would be worth it.
What the hell was happening to him? He could see himself enraptured, aware of the besotted state he displayed yet could not stop it. It was as if he were in two places simultaneously. One Lost in her eyes, the other drifting just over head watching.
A string of softly accented consonants flowed from her. The language was , Welsh? Irish? Mixed with an oddly pronounced Latin. Several words ending in rix, whole lines without vowels. It sounded much like Sindarin, the Elvish language from the Lord of the rings movies.
Michael was only partially listening to Morgan.
He was mostly focussed on how intensely she was affecting him. Or was it afflicting him? An internal debate began , which ended with the decision that Morgan was a WMD. A woman of mass destraction. Or was it Woman of mass destruction? A fresh internal debate began. Michael began to chuckle at his own internal wit.
Morgan paused, observing that Michael was not in fact paying any attention to what she had been saying. With a heavy sigh, she tracked his eyes, as they focussed on various anatomical details of her physique, then briefly unfocused as he became lost in that thought. Discerning the nature of those thoughts, Morgan shook her head in irritation. Just as Michael registered that she had stopped speaking Morgan slapped him in the face.
The pain registered before the sharp crack that echoed off of the sea wall. “Pay attention!” Morgan snapped at him.
Michael, seriously surprised that she had slapped him, wondered if she had read his wandering thoughts. Morgan quirked an eybrow. Michael nodded , ” Umm, I was.“ Feeling a bit angry that she had hit him. Michael struggled to maintain his temper. Rolling her eyes She snapped ” Ye damned well know what I mean! Words boy, my words not my teats!” Michael nodded, ” Yeah, I guess I can only think about one thing at a time and they are so damned entrancing. Theres only enough blood for one head at time.” She considered slapping him again. When that cheeky grin spread across his face, she couldn’t help herself and slapped him again.
This time Michael was ready. Blocking and catching her arm, Michael brightened his smile as he dropped and rolled pulling on her arm. She sailed over him and slammed into the sand on her back with a loud ” Oooofff”. She was not happy with this. No she did not like this what so ever.
She is also drop dead gorgeous when she is angry. Michael saw no down side to any of it. Never tempt fate! Grab her arse, slip her the tongue, She will either set you on fire or kiss you back. Either way, it will be hot, and, you will be well and truly screwed!