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Good Monsters
by Michael Channing
Chapter Five: "Kinda Freaked Out"
I drove in a daze. Past the old house. The comic book kid must have climbed down from the tree and settled into dreamland. Past Cemetery Hill. I used to trudge my bike up that hill, sweating and toiling for the thirty second thrill of zipping down at light speed. I thought about driving up and seeing how Dad was doing.
There wasn't any place around that welcomed me. So I headed home.
I sat down and emptied a few cartons of movies on the floor. Dracula, Son of Dracula, Daughter of Dracula, Dracula meets various wacky and retarded inappropriate characters. Horror or comedy, Universal or Hammer, Drac was never the good guy. He always ended up on the wrong end of the stake or bathed in the acidic rays of the sun.
Speaking of.
I checked my new apartment for windows. There were only two. Bedroom, living room. They were the roller kind you pulled down with a cord. I drew them closed. Just in case. Yeah, I know, Joseph pulled out his own goddamned heart and showed it to me. But I wasn't ready to accept vampirism as my fate.
Back to the search. There was Michael in The Lost Boys. He helped kill the other, full-on evil vampires. But was only half vampire himself. Didn't count. Vampire Hunter D. But again, he was a half-breed. There was Elvira. Was she even a vampire at all? Can you consider someone a monster if you use to whack off to her as a kid?
There were no true heroic vampires on film. Alright, alright, there were the goddamned Twilight movies. But I was looking for a role model, not a fucking date to the prom.
A knock on the door. Almost 4:30 and I had a visitor. You know what kind of person knocks on your door at 4:30 in the morning? Me either.
There was no one there. My Dawn of the Dead DVD lay in the hallway, yellow sticky note attached. Written in flowing, loopy cursive: "Sorry. Call." Followed by a phone number.
I went back inside, turned to my good friend Frankie. "The last one slipped by you, buddy. This one ain't exactly starting off on a sane foot. You gotta keep those yellow eyes peeled."
I sat on the bed and entered her number into my cell phone.
Women are like movie monsters. They're alien when you meet them. Do they come in peace? Are they there to destroy and rob you of your resources? Impossible to tell. Sometimes the radiation of their own lives has poisoned them against the world, and you just happen to be in their path. Sometimes they wear masks, and you know full well the madness underneath. But you open the door for them anyway. And sometimes they look at you--and start screaming.
I pressed dial on the phone.
"Is this John?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in the middle of something. Can I call you back in about fifteen minutes?"
"Sure." I clicked off and stretched out on the bed.
Sometimes, there is no monster.
My eyes opened. When had I closed them? How long did I sleep? Did I miss her call? Why was I wet?
I had spilled something, and my shirt was sticking to me. No, I take that back. I hadn't spilled anything on myself. I was bleeding profusely.
I stripped off my bloody shirt, felt for the cuts I knew had to be there. But the skin was unbroken. Blood was leaking out of my pores. It ran from my scalp like a clown's bad dye job. Trickled down my back. My palms showed stigmata, only without those unsightly nail holes. I checked the bathroom mirror, and to be perfectly goddamned honest, I looked pretty goddamned cool.
That's when the phone rang.
"Sorry about that," Pin said. "I just had to finish something. You still up?"
"For a while." I sat down in the bathtub.
"You must be a night owl like me. I work at night. I don't like the, uh... I like it when it's cool."
"Yeah. Me too." Blood dripped into my eyes, and I wiped it away. With one hand I began to untie and remove my shoes.
"I'm sorry I freaked out earlier," she said.
"It's okay." My socks were soaked red.
"No, it's not. It was mean and weird, and I'm sorry. I just don't... I don't do the whole touching thing."
"The whole touching thing." I parroted her words because I had none of my own. I was watching blood pour down my legs and into the drain.
"Yeah, you know. I just... It's a thing with me. It freaks me out. But I didn't mean to insult you."
"You didn't. I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You sound kinda freaked out yourself."
No, nothing wrong with me. Just came down with the Red Death. I'll take some Robitussin and sleep in. "I think I might be getting sick."
"You know what works just when you start to get sick? Oolong tea. You want me to bring you some? It really works."
"No, that's okay. I'm gonna go to bed in a little bit here." Right here in the bathtub.
"Okay. I'll let you go. Maybe we can watch another movie sometime. I really do like scary movies. You ever seen Let the Right One In?"
Right then my heart skipped a beat.
"I like that one a lot," she said. "It's about this... It's about these two kids. And one protects the other one."
My heart tripped again. Then it stopped altogether.
"You still there?" she said.
"Yeah."
"I'll let you go. You sound tired. I'm gonna read a little while then go to bed myself. I usually get up around six if you wanna drop by before I go to work. I never asked: What do you do?"
"Not much right now."
"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry I keep talking. I'll let you go. See you around."
She clicked off, and silence caved in on me, like an old TV screen shrinking to a blip of light then blinking out entirely. My heart didn't move. I wasn't breathing. I listened to that nothingness for a long while.
Then I stripped off the rest of my clothes and stood under the shower till the water ran clear.
I was still there in the mirror. Hair plastered to my head, eyes kind of empty. Pathetic. I toweled and dressed. Got the cushions from the couch. Took them and Frankie into the bathroom with me. Closed the door. Stuffed a rolled-up towel under the door. Made a little bed of couch cushions in the tub. Laid down in the windowless room.
Frankie stood on the edge of the sink. But now was he keeping the monsters out or in?
