Eighty paces to freedom.
She ran. As hard as she could, she ran.
The forest was only a few feet away. If she could just make it there, she might have a chance.
She burst into the trees and continued her mad dash without slowing down. The trees were thick, and the moonlight couldn't penetrate the leafy canopy. But that didn't matter – she could see perfectly well even in near total blackness. She jumped over stumps and gnarled roots hidden in the thick leaves on the ground, even as she continued her breakneck sprint. She knew they were still behind her, and she couldn't let them catch her. She knew what would happen if they did.
Over stones, under branches. Finally, she found a hollow under a half-dead sycamore. She tucked herself into the smallest ball she could and huddled inside.
This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a simple, easy night. She'd been downtown, stalking in the shadows. A man was walking past the streetlamp and she'd followed him. She didn't know why she'd done it; she knew it was foolish. Rumors of witchcraft had been flying around town, and hadn't they just finished the trial for that Sarah woman from up the hill? What had she been thinking?
The answer was obvious: she'd been thinking about blood. She'd been thinking about the sweet, metallic taste and how nice it would be to have his blood coursing through her veins. She hadn't been thinking about how Old Mrs. Williams would be peering through her window, trying to figure out which of the neighborhood boys had been stealing the fruit from her apple tree each night.
She heard the shouts from the mob and saw the glow from their torches as they closed the distance. She pushed herself further into the hollow. Mentally, she prepared herself, hoping her trial would be shorter than Spinster Sarah's. The mob grew ever louder, and she could see the torch flames flicking through the trees. She was sure they would discover her. But they didn't. Somehow, they passed her by, still screaming about the demon who'd attacked poor Mr. Jefferies.
She stayed there, curled under that tree long after the shouts had faded away, not daring to move. It wasn't until she noticed that the sky was just the faintest shade lighter that she got up; she had to be home before the sun rose.
She looked around, getting her bearings. She was deep in the forest. She estimated it to be about half an hour out of the trees to her bedroom window if she sprinted as fast as she had last night. But she'd be lucky if she had half that amount of time before the sun was shining ominously over the valley.
She rushed through the forest, trying not to think of how this had somehow seemed so much easier in the adrenaline-fueled pitch-black. As she broke through the tree line, she could see the ashy gray of a predawn morning. The sun would be up shortly.
So now, it was decision time. Did she run back into the woods? Find a place to hide and hope the sun didn't touch her? Would the trees even hide her? What would she do if the shadows weren't deep enough to shield her as the sun arched across the sky?
Or would she make a run for it across the field? Her house wasn't that far – she could see it from here, standing patiently at the edge of town. Once she was inside, she'd definitely be safe; the sun would never be able to penetrate her tightly-drawn curtains. But did she have enough time?
She decided to chance it. She didn't want to spend what little time she had left wandering the woods, looking for a hiding spot that might not even be there. And even if she did find something, would it remain in shadow for the entire day? Could she really afford to take that chance? But if she was going to go, she'd have to go now. Her odds sank with each passing second, and if she waited any longer, she'd be caught for sure as she ran through the grass. It was already going to be down to the wire as it was.
She was halfway across the field when she saw the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. She stopped, watching in a kind of fascinated horror as the sliver of sun grew. There was no point in running any more; she'd failed. The last thing she would ever see was going to be that pink-orange glow. She guessed there were worse sights.
She looked around the field at the edge of town, taking it all in one last time. She'd grown up in this house, in this town. Her father used to till this very field when she was a child. Then, her brother after him. As the rosy light warmed the earth around her, a thought occurred to her: she was fine. She hadn't burst into flames or crumbled into ash. Nothing had happened to her at all.
She thought back, trying to remember who had told her that vampires couldn't be out in the sun. Was it Joseph? Maybe it was Fredrick. It almost certainly wasn't Emma. But whoever it was, it was now painfully obvious that they'd lied. But why? What did they gain from it? Control? Joseph already had plenty of that.
She wondered if he'd lied to all of them on purpose. Maybe he simply didn't know. But how could something like that escape him? She'd thought he knew everything about this. She decided it didn't really matter if he'd lied intentionally or not: she'd never know for sure anyway. What she did know was that this opened up a whole world of possibilities that she'd thought had been locked shut forever.
She walked into the house with the air of someone who no longer had anything to fear. She glanced around the ground floor, really looking at the house for the first time in years. The furniture was dusty, the piano covered in a sheet. The room smelled musty from years of not being aired out. It looked abandoned. Had she really allowed herself to live like this?
She strode into her bedroom and rummaged through the back of her closet. She found the dusty old suitcase that had been her mother's hidden in the back. She threw it onto the bed and started packing up everything she might need.
She didn't know where she was going exactly. That wasn't the point. Now that she didn't have to be holed up in this stuffy house every single day, she was going to get out and actually see the world – no more living like she was already dead. She had all the time in the world, and she was going to put it to good use.
The sun was well above the horizon as she left the house, locking it one last time. If everything went according to plan, she'd never be back here. And by the time Joseph came to check on her tonight, she'd be long gone.
She walked down the winding cobblestone street, past vendors shouting their wares and crowds gathered around, looking to purchase. She weaved her way through the horde, marveling at how many people actually lived in the town, how alive it all was. She'd been sequestering herself for so long, she'd forgotten how crowded the streets actually were during the daylight. She found herself stopping to browse. She had no need for food any more, but the smells were intoxicating. She stopped at the window of the baker's shop, watching as apprentices rolled and kneaded dough.
She thought about going inside for one of Mrs. Clarke's famous hot cross buns, but thought better of it. She had fond memories of those buns as a child, and she was afraid that the reality wouldn't hold up. Besides, she didn't want to be anywhere near here when the sun went down. She was finally free, and she wasn't going to spend another night trapped in this little town. She could peruse the markets wherever she ended up.
A group of boys passed by her, zooming down the street on strange wooden frames, feet peddling furiously. A woman turned from one of the vendors and was nearly struck; the boy swerved just in the nick of time.
"Hey! Those aren't to be ridden in the middle of the road!" she shouted angrily after them, fist in the air. "I'll tell your father!"
The boys paid her no mind. They just continued through the town, laughing and hollering.
"Excuse me," the naïve vampire said softly, pulling the lady's attention away from the wayward youths. "Can you tell me what those contraptions were?"
"What, their bicycles?" the woman asked.
"Bicycles?" She would have to try one of those – they looked exhilarating. But that would come later.
"Should be banned, I say. Complete and utter chaos. Riding around, all over town. And what for?" The woman continued to grumble to herself, shaking her head and turning away.
The vampire continued down the street, taking in everything around her. The streets meandered lazily towards the center of town, and the buildings rose up in delicate shades of pink, blue, and yellow. She tried to remember how long it had been since she'd seen any of these buildings in the daylight. But even at night, she didn't exactly examine the city around her. Not only was she much more mission-focused then, but she tried to avoid the extra scrutiny that loitering around closed shops would bring.
The sun was high overhead when she reached her destination: the train station. It was a simple, two story brick-red building that looked suspiciously like a former schoolhouse. She walked inside, staring at the murals that had been painted delicately on the ceiling. She'd never been in here before; she'd never left the town. When she was younger, she just didn't seem to have the time. And after she'd been bitten, she'd been too afraid to leave. Even an overnight train seemed too risky. What if it broke down? What if she couldn't find a hotel room fast enough to escape the early morning sun's rays?
She bought a ticket on the first train leaving town. It was to some place out west, some village or other that she'd never heard of. But she didn't care. She wanted to travel – she wanted to go adventuring. And Greenville seemed like the perfect place to start.
She sat down on a bench, content to watch the people all around her. She saw a young couple pushing a pram, and a few young men who looked like they'd recently enlisted. Bits of conversation floated over to her, and she found herself marveling at just how much she'd missed. She'd only been bitten a few years ago. How could the world have changed so much?
A whistle blew, and she looked up. The train was arriving, smoke billowing out behind it. She boarded and made her way down the narrow corridor until she found the small, semi-private compartment where her seat was. She opened the door and saw two velvet-clad benches on opposite ends of the room. They looked so luxurious against the wooden paneling.
The cabin was currently empty, which suited her just fine. She picked a spot in the middle of one of the benches and sat down. The seats weren't quite as plush as they looked, but she didn't let that bother her. She was already going on an adventure, what more could she really ask for? She should be grateful she was even here.
Someone had left a newspaper neatly folded on the seat across from her. She leaned over and casually opened it, scanning the pages as she waited for the train to depart. There were articles about all sorts of fantastical machines that had been invented in recent years. There was a "type writer" that bragged about how it used simple mechanical principles and could take any width of paper. Then there was a mechanical sewing machine with a hooked tambour needle. But what really caught her attention was the story of the airship.
She read hungrily about the wondrous ship that floated through the sky as if by magic. And if this newspaper were to be believed, they could even travel across the entire continent. She turned to the window, watching the trees zip by. She scanned the sapphire sky, looking to see if she might be able to spot one of these airships. She now knew the first thing she'd do once she got to Greenville. Well, after she looked into whether or not they had bicycles there.
The train stopped and started, stopped and started. They traveled for hours, and she was quite content to stare out the window, bewitched by the bright world outside. They passed through forests and fields, through villages and towns. Finally, they approached the city. The door to her compartment whooshed open, and she glanced casually toward the sound. A young man in a fancy overcoat and top hat entered, setting his suitcase on the rack over the seats opposite her. His hat went next to the suitcase.
"Afternoon." the man nodded casually.
"Good afternoon." she replied.
The man sat down as the train started moving again. She regarded him with interest. She wondered where he was going, if he took the train often. It seemed so mundane to him.
"Do you travel often?" she asked him.
"Every weekend." he replied.
"Oh."
Was it the weekend? She hadn't paid attention to that kind of thing back home; it didn't really affect her. Then she added, "I've never been before."
"Really?" The man raised his eyebrows.
"Really." she nodded. She wanted to tell him all about her great plans to travel the world but thought better of it.
The man settled down with a newspaper of his own. He unfolded it with a sharp shake of his wrists and began to read. She turned to look back out the window, making a mental note of every new thing she saw.
Eventually, the man set the paper down on the seat next to him and reached up to grab his hat. He slouched down and put the hat low on his head, shielding his eyes from the light. His breathing slowed, and he started snoring softly.
She watched him sleeping, an idea starting to form in her head. Greenvale was still a long way away, and even after everything that had happened last night, she hadn't gotten to feed. Old Mrs. Williams had spotted her before she'd even gotten to pierce Mr. Jeffries's neck.
Still, she had to be patient. If she thought it would be bad to have the townsfolk catch her, it was nothing compared to the conductor. The train started a gentle slope upward, and she looked out the window yet again. They were starting up the mountain. Perfect. They'd have to get over the pass before the next stop. That wouldn't be for another half an hour least – she'd have more than enough time. And who was she to waste such an opportunity? As long as she didn't take too much blood, everything would be fine. She sat down casually in one of the seats next to the man. As they wound their way up the mountain, she leaned over and smiled, showing her long, thin fangs.124Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrYFIBprIOW
