Resurrected

  But as she pulled into her driveway, she sensed immediately that something was wrong. Caleb’s car was in the driveway. He was home from work, in the middle of the afternoon. He never came home from work early.

  She immediately checked her cell to see if she had any missed calls, and that was when she realized: her phone had been off all day. She looked down now and saw it flashing red: 9 missed calls in the last two hours. All from Caleb.

  Her stomach dropped. Caleb never used his phone. That could only mean an emergency.

  Caitlin jumped out of the car, ran up the steps, across the porch, and burst through the front door—which was ajar, compounding her dread.

  “Caleb!?” she yelled, bursting into the house.

  “Up here!” he screamed. “Get up here! Now!”

  The tone of his voice set her into a panic. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never heard him scream with that sort of urgency, never heard his voice filled with fear.

  She could hardly breathe as she ran up the old staircase, yanked on the bannister, took the steps three at a time. She raced down the hall, hearing a sound like muffled cries.

  “In here!” Caleb yelled.

  Caitlin hurried right for Scarlet’s room. The door was ajar, and she burst in.

  She stopped cold at the sight.

  Lying there on her bed, in the middle of the day, was Scarlet, fully clothed, and looking very sick.

  Standing over her, face grave with concern, was Caleb, holding a hand to her forehead. Ruth sat by her bedside, whining.

  “Where have you been?” he asked, panicked. “The nurse sent her home from school early. They said she has the flu. I gave her three Advil, but her fever’s getting worse.”

  “Mom?” Scarlet moaned, weakly.

  Scarlet lay there, twisting and turning, looking worse than Caitlin had ever seen her. Her forehead was damp with sweat and she groaned in pain, squinting with closed eyes as if fighting off some awful sickness.

  Caitlin’s heart broke at the sight. She ran over to Scarlet’s side, sitting on her bed, placing one hand on her arm and the other on her forehead.

  “You don’t feel warm,” she said. “You feel ice cold. When did this start?”

  “That’s what’s weird,” Caleb said. “Her fever’s getting worse—but in the wrong direction. She’s abnormally low: 71 degrees, and dropping. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m freezing,” Scarlet said.

  Scarlet was ice-cold and clammy to Caitlin’s touch. Caitlin’s heart pounded, unsure what to do: she had never encountered anything like this.

  “Mommy, please. It hurts so much! Please make it stop!” Scarlet groaned.

  Caitlin’s heart sank, wishing she could take the pain away. She sensed this was no ordinary sickness. Scarlet began to cry.

  “What hurts, sweetheart?” Caitlin asked. “You have to tell me. Please, calm down, and tell me,” Caitlin asked firmly, feeling desperate. “Exactly what happened to you? When did this begin?”

  “This morning, when I went to school. I was sitting in class, and my eyes started to hurt. They hurt so bad. The light—it was so bright. And then my head hurt. I went to the nurse, and she shined a light in my eyes, and it made it much worse. Everything is killing. They had to put me in a dark room.”

  “I had to close all these blinds,” Caleb said. “She said the light was killing her.” Caitlin surveyed the room and noticed the closed blinds for the first time. Her heart dropped.

  Here was Scarlet, ice cold to the touch, unable to stand sunlight. Was there any truth, she suddenly wondered, to anything Aiden had said?

  “My stomach—it hurts so bad,” Scarlet said. “I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m hungry and thirsty at the same time. But not for food. For something else.”

  “For what?” Caitlin asked, sweating.

  Suddenly, Scarlet shrieked and curled up into a ball, clutching her stomach. Caitlin was terrified.

  She had never seen her like this.

  “We have to get her to a hospital,” Caitlin yelled. “Call 911. NOW!”

  “Mommy, please, make it stop. Please!”

  Caleb turned to get his phone—but then stopped in his tracks. So did Caitlin.

  Because at that moment there came a sound that shook the entire room, a sound that raised the hair on the back of both of their necks.

  It was a snarl.

  They both stopped, frozen, and turned and looked over at Scarlet.

  Caitlin could barely process what was happening: Scarlet was now sitting bolt upright in bed, and right before her eyes, she was transforming. She let out a snarl so vicious and hair-raising that even Ruth yelped and ran from the room, tail between her legs.

  Caleb, a man Caitlin had never seen scared of anything, looked absolutely petrified, as if he were caged in the room with a wild lion.

  But Scarlet ignored them both: instead, she looked towards the open door.

  In that moment, Caitlin suddenly understood. Suddenly, she had a flashback to some place—she could not remember where—when she herself was feeling the same thing as Scarlet. A hunger pang.

  A need to feed. Not on food. But on blood.

  As she saw that look in Scarlet’s eyes, that desperate look, the look of a wild animal, somehow she knew what she was thinking: she had to get out. To escape. Through that door. To sink her teeth into something.

  It was at that moment that she knew, without a doubt, that Scarlet was indeed a vampire.

  And that she, Caitlin, had once been one, too.

  And that everything that Aiden had said was true.

  Scarlet was the last remaining vampire. And Caitlin had to stop her from spreading it to the world.

  As Scarlet began to get up, to go for the door, Caitlin screamed: “Caleb, stop her! Don’t let her out. Trust me! Just listen to me! Don’t let her out of this room!” Caitlin didn’t want to think of the consequences if Scarlet got past that door, out of the house, roamed the streets. It could change the entire world.

  Scarlet, with lightning speed, was on her feet in a single leap, bounding towards the door.

  Caleb, to his credit, acted fast. He listened dutifully to Caitlin and jumped in Scarlet’s way, blocking her path. He managed to grab her from behind and held her tight, in a bear hug.

  Normally, it would be no competition. Caleb, at six feet four, with broad shoulders, was twice her size, and it wouldn’t even be a contest.

  But to Caitlin’s shock—and clearly, to Caleb’s too—it was a struggle for him to hold onto her. It was as if Scarlet were overcome with a super-human strength. As she swayed, Caleb was thrown left and right. Scarlet suddenly threw back her shoulders, and as she did Caleb went flying across the room like a ragdoll. He smashed into the wall with such force, his body left an imprint on the sheetrock. He slumped down to the floor, unconscious.

  Scarlet turned back to the door and Caitlin acted fast: she leapt on her from behind, grabbing her in a bear hug the same way Caleb had. It was like trying to hold onto a wild bull: Caitlin was thrown all over the place, and she knew she was no match for her. After all, Caitlin was human. And clearly, she was in the presence of something that was not.

  Scarlet leaned back and Caitlin went flying through the air, crashing into a wall herself, and slamming the back of her head.

  Scarlet turned and bounded to the door, and in another moment, she was gone.

  Caitlin somehow managed to get to her feet. Dizzy, she stumbled out the room, down the hall, breathing hard, determined. She raced down the steps, four at a time, slipping, and then tore through the house.

  In the distance, she saw Scarlet running towards their thick, oak front doors; without even pausing, Scarlet put her shoulder into them and smashed them to bits.

  Caitlin ran after her, through the open front doors, and watched Scarlet bound across the lawn and leap over the high bushes. She landed deftly in the middle of the quiet, suburban street. She stood there, and leaned back. As she did, Caitlin saw fan
gs begin to protrude from her teeth, saw her eyes begin to change from blue to a glowing red.

  Scarlet leaned back and roared, and it was a roar that shook the entire block, a roar that reached up to the heavens themselves.

  It was the roar of an animal determined to kill.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Caitlin sat in her living room, eyes raw from crying, exhausted, staring out at the blood-red sunset and hardly listening to the police officers who filled her room. She was in a daze. She slowly glanced about her room, and saw that it was filled with people—too many people.

  Police officers, local cops, milled about her room, some sitting, others standing, several holding cups of coffee. They sat there with grim faces, lined up on the couches, in chairs, opposite her, asking endless questions. They had been here for hours. Everyone in this small town knew each other, and these were people who she had grown to know, who she had met at the supermarket, said hello to at local stores. She could hardly believe that they were here. In her house. It was like something out of a nightmare.

  It was surreal. It had all happened so quickly, her life had turned upside down so easily, she could barely register it. She tried to grab hold of normal, of anything routine that used to give her comfort—but everything seemed to slip away. Normal didn’t exist anymore.

  Caitlin felt a reassuring hand squeeze hers and looked over and saw Caleb sitting beside her, his face pale with worry. On the overstuffed chairs beside them sat Sam and Polly, concern etched on their faces, too. This living room was crowded—way too crowded for Caitlin’s taste. She wanted everyone in it to just disappear, everything to just go back to how it was the day before. Scarlet’s sixteenth birthday, all of them sitting around the table, eating cake, laughing. Feeling as if all was perfect in the world, as if nothing would ever change.

  Caitlin thought back to the night before, to her midnight thoughts, to her wishing her world, her life, was more than just mere normal. Now she regretted it. She would give anything to have normal back again.

  It had been a whirlwind since she’d arrived home from her dreadful meeting with Aiden. After Scarlet had burst out the house, Caitlin had ran after her, chased her down the side streets. Caleb had recovered from his blow, and had caught up with her, and the two of them had run through their little village, like mad people, trying to catch their daughter.

  But it was no use. They were soon out of breath, Scarlet completely disappeared from view.

  She’d ran so fast, had leapt over an eight foot hedge in a single bound, without even slowing. Caleb had been amazed, although Caitlin had not: she knew what Scarlet was. She knew, even as she ran, that it was a futile effort, that Scarlet could run with lightning speed, leap over anything, and that within moments she would be completely lost, out of sight.

  She was. They ran back to the house, jumped into their car, and had sped through the streets, frantically searching. But Caitlin knew, even as Caleb blew stop signs, took each turn hard, that they didn’t stand a chance. They wouldn’t catch her. Scarlet, she knew, was long gone.

  After hours, finally, Caitlin had had enough, had insisted that they return home and call the police.

  Now here they were, hours later, at almost midnight. Scarlet hadn’t returned, and the police hadn’t been able to find her. Luckily, it was a small town, with nothing else going on, and they had sent out cars immediately to search for her, and were still searching. The rest of the force—three officers seated across from them, along with the three officers standing around—remained here, asking question after question.

  “Caitlin?”

  Caitlin snapped out of it. She turned and saw the face of the officer seated on the couch across from her. Ed Hardy. He was a good man, had a daughter Scarlet’s age, in her grade. He looked at her with sympathy and concern. She knew he felt her pain as a parent, and that he would do his best.

  “I know this is hard,” he said. “But we just have a few more questions. We really need to know everything if we’re going to find Scarlet.”

  Caitlin nodded back. She tried to focus.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What else do you need to know?”

  Officer Hardy cleared his throat, looking from Caitlin to Caleb, then back to her again. He seemed reluctant to proceed with his next question.

  “I hate to ask this, but were there any arguments between you and your daughter in recent days?”

  Caitlin looked back at him, puzzled.

  “Arguments?” she asked.

  “Any disagreements? Any fights? Any reason she would want to leave?” Then Caitlin realized: he was asking her if Scarlet ran away. He still didn’t understand.

  She shook her head vehemently.

  “There’s no reason she’d want to leave. We never argued. Ever. We love Scarlet and Scarlet loves us. She’s not the arguing type. She’s not a rebel. She wouldn’t run away. Don’t you understand? That’s not what this is about at all. Haven’t you heard anything we’ve been telling you?

  She’s sick! She needs help!”

  Officer Hardy looked at his fellow officers, who looked back skeptically.

  “I’m sorry to ask,” he continued. “But you must realize, we get calls like this all the time.

  Teenage kids run away. That’s what they do. They get mad at their parents. And in 99% of cases, they come back. Usually a few hours later. Sometimes a day or two. They crash at a friend’s house.

  They just want to get away from their folks. And it’s usually preceded by an argument.”

  “There was no argument,” Caleb chimed in, forcefully. “Scarlet was as happy as can be. We celebrated her sixteenth birthday last night. Like Caitlin said, she’s not that kind of girl.”

  “I feel like you’re still not listening to a word we said,” Caitlin added. “We told you, Scarlet was sick. She was sent home early from school. She was having…I don’t know what.

  Convulsions…maybe seizures. She jumped out of bed and ran out the house. This isn’t the case of a runaway. It’s a child who is sick. Who needs medical attention.” Officer Hardy looked again at his fellow officers, who continued to look skeptical.

  “I’m sorry, but what you’re telling us just doesn’t make any sense. If she was sick, how could she run out the house?”

  “You said you chased her,” chimed in another officer, edgier. “How could she have outrun you both? Especially if she was sick?”

  Caleb shook his head, looking baffled himself.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s what happened.”

  “It’s true. Every word of it is true,” Caitlin said softly, remorsefully.

  She was getting a sinking feeling that these men wouldn’t understand. But she knew why Scarlet was able to outrun them; she knew why she was able to run when sick. She knew the answer—the one that would explain everything. But it was the one answer she could not give, the one that these men would never believe. They were not convulsions; they were hunger pangs. Scarlet was not running; she was hunting. And that was because her daughter was a vampire.

  Caitlin flinched inside, burning to tell them, but knowing it was an answer that these men would be unable to hear. So instead, she stared solemnly out the window, hoping, praying, Scarlet would come back. That she might get better. That she hadn’t fed. Hoping that these men would go away, leave her alone. She knew they were useless anyway. Calling them had been a mistake.

  “I hate to say this,” added the third officer, “but what you’re describing…your daughter coming home from school, having seizures, having an adrenaline rush, bursting out the door…. I hate to say this, but it sounds like drugs. Maybe cocaine. Or Meth. It sounds like she was high on something.

  Like she had a bad trip. And adrenaline kicked in.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb shot back at him. “Scarlet is not that kind of girl. She’s never done drugs in her life.”

  The three officers looked at each other, skeptical.

  “I kno
w it’s hard for you to hear,” Officer Hardy said softly, “it’s hard for most parents to hear.

  But our kids lead lives we never know about. You don’t know what she’s doing behind the scenes, with her friends.”

  “Did she bring around any new friends lately?” another officer asked.

  Suddenly, Caleb’s face hardened.

  “Last night, actually,” he said, anger rising in his voice. “She brought around a new boyfriend.

  Blake. They went to the movies together.”

  The three cops looked at each other with a knowing look.

  “You think that’s it?” Caleb asked. “Do you think this kid is pushing drugs on her?” As Caleb asked it, he started to sound more sure of it himself, more optimistic that he’d found a neat answer to explain everything.

  Caitlin sat there silently, just wanting this to end. She was burning to tell them all the real reason.

  But she knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  “What’s his last name?” one of the officers asked.

  “I have no idea.” Caleb turned and looked at Caitlin. “Do you?” Caitlin shook her head, and turned to Sam and Polly. “You guys?” They shook their heads.

  “Maybe I can find out,” Polly said. “If they were friends on Facebook…” Polly began, then took out her cell phone and started typing. “I’m friends with Scarlet on Facebook. I don’t know what her settings are, but maybe I can view her other friends. And if she’s friends with him….” Polly typed, and her eyes lit up.

  “Here! Blake Robertson. Yeah, this is him!”

  The cops leaned over and Polly reached out and held up her cell. They took it, handing it one to the other, looking closely at his face, writing down his last name.

  “We’ll talk to him,” Officer Hardy said, as they handed Polly back her phone. “Maybe he knows something.”