REM

Malcolm

Welcome to Malcolm, reads an old wooden sign as the bus makes its way through the outskirts of the city. Population 47,851.

I remember the sign including a tagline about how brave the residents were. It had something to do with a civil war fought here, but that was hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. Degenerates probably scraped the wording off, either that, or the city removed it in an attempt to rebrand itself. Considering all the recent changes, I wouldn't blame the mayor.

The bus continued through the city streets toward the old terminal. Anticipation of old memories festering up grew, so I did my best to shield my mind from them. Returning to the city I was born in wasn't my idea of fun. My parents had named me after the city I was born in, probably so I didn't forget where I came from. I would never forget.

There was something inside me that had a direct connection, nagging constantly for me to return. And that would explain how I wound up on this dingy bus, barreling down country roads toward what I had tried to put behind me.

Malcolm, returning home to, Malcolm. It was like my spirit returning to my body after I had been pronounced dead. There was nothing warm, or welcoming about the trip, but I had to see what had happened to my old stomping grounds – the place that made me who I am.

When the bus finally pulled into the terminal, no one was there to greet me. I had my wallet, nothing more. My intentions were to arrive, wander, then leave. Staying overnight would be reluctant and forced by a friend, or family member. I wanted to keep this as quick and painless as possible, but as I knew very well, things rarely ever went that way since the introduction of vampires into society.

During the day the news stations would cover stories about violence between humans, then at night they would report on incidents between vampire gangs that would fight over territory. People locked away in their houses were rarely ever bothered, but those who dared to walk the streets at night, well they were just asking for trouble.

My expectation was to get a phone call from my mom one day, telling me about how someone I knew hadn't left when they should have. She was old and stubborn, so I knew she was content with dying in the city where she raised me. My dad could barely remember what year it was, so my mom made the best of what was left for the two of them.

Vampires, never thought I'd see the day, I thought to myself as I strolled away from the bus terminal. Most passengers walked in different directions opposite of mine. I didn't fear the city during the day, but at night, that would be different. Instead of being mugged for my wallet, I would be mugged for my blood. After all the stories I heard from news outlets and my mom, I didn't feel like becoming a pet so that someone could siphon my blood whenever they wished.

Buildings that once had colour now looked similar to a corpse after it had been drained by a vampire. There were no more red-bricked buildings, serving as irony to the introduction and nightly takeover of vampires in the city. Stories my mom would tell me came to mind, sending a quick shiver down my spine. I pushed some dark strands of hair from my field of vision as I continued to walk, forcing images of vampires licking their lips from my mind.

Wind continued to mess up my hair as I carried on with my coat draped over my right arm. My coat would be too hot to wear during a summer day, but I brought it along with me, heeding my mom's advice: 'Make sure you bring a thick, long-sleeved coat in case you're out late at night. Makes it difficult for their fangs to get into your veins.' Thanks, mom.

The main street downtown came into sight, causing an involuntary quickening in my steady pace. As much as I didn't want to draw out this visit, the excitement served as a reminder that I had been gone a long time. Things had definitely changed, but I didn't want to overstay if I could avoid it.

"Malcolm!" shouted a man from his porch. "Is that you?"

I looked to my right toward a house that was full of people lounging under a roofed porch. At first I couldn't tell who had called out to me, but as I got closer I recognized an old friend.

"Well shit, it is you!" he exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips as he stood up in a grease-stained wife beater. Bald head shining with sweat, he flashed a toothy grin at me.

It should be noted that most of my friends lost at least one tooth while growing up, so Henrick was considered one of the lucky ones.

Shaking my head, I passed through the wooden gate into his yard and ascended the stairs to his awaiting bear hug.

Releasing the big guy, I stepped back and asked, "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"What the hell are you doing coming back here?" he chuckled. "You're crazy."

I shrugged. "My parents are still here," I reminded him. "Someone has to check on them. I know you're not doing it." A sarcastic grin shot out into my left cheek.

"Yeah... got my own shit to worry about." His eyes directed me toward a man slouched in a chair a few feet away from him.

"Is that Franz?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yup, alive and in the flesh. For now..." he added the last two words in a low mumble. Franz turned toward us and raised an open hand to wave.

"Something wrong with him?" My brow uneven.

"There always has been," he laughed gently. "Nah, he got jumped one night before he got in the house. Bastards smashed him in the head." Henrick shook his head slightly in disgust. "I suppose he was lucky it wasn't vampires. A big guy like him, he'd have been a buffet for them."

Glancing over, I saw the mark on the back of Franz's head. Dried blood and stitches were bare as he sat, staring out into the street at businesses on the opposite side of the road.

Suddenly he began to get up. He moved slowly, making his way into the house. "I'm gonna go lay down," he mumbled, scuffing his shoes on the ground as the door swung closed behind him.

"Make sure you wrap that thing again!" Henrick yelled out to his twin brother. "He keeps forgetting," explained Henrick, turning back to face me. "His pillow case is almost stained completely red. If you didn't know any better, you'd walk in to find him sleeping and think he was bludgeoned to death."

I forced a slight smile at the attempted dash of humour in light of the severity of Franz's injury. It seemed that vampires weren't the only problem people were dealing with in the city. Human gangs were still present, jumping people for money, and clearly not taking any chances based on the excessive force used on Franz.

"Well, I best be going," I announced, staring across the street at a coffee shop I still remembered.

"Be safe, Malcolm," advised Henrick, wrapping his arms around with a pat on the back. "And make sure you're not out at night," he pointed as I began to descend the stairs.

"Got it," I acknowledged. "No worries, old friend." Slowly, I made my way to the wooden gate. After closing it, I glanced back at the porch and returned the quick wave from Henrick as he walked over to converse with his porch crew.

A few cars drove by before I jogged across the street to the coffee shop. Coat still draped over my arm, I entered the building and headed straight for the washroom. I opened the men's washroom door, then picked the cleanest stall. Hanging up my coat on the hook, I then unzipped my pants and began to relieve myself.

The washroom door opened and a man walked in as he spoke with someone on the phone: "Yeah, tonight." There was urgency in his accented voice. "We gotta do it sooner than later, or else those vampires will. Whoever acts first is going to come out on top. I ain't dying in my sleep. And I sure as hell hope you don't want to either."

After a quick shake and wipe, I flushed the toilet with my shoe and exited the stall with my coat over my shoulder. The man checked himself over in the mirror before glancing over at me, then left in a hurry. His black dress clothes could have fooled someone into thinking he was rich, but not in this city. People like that didn't exist. And if they were here, in my hometown, they wouldn't be for long. Malcolm wasn't a destination city, or place to retire, it was for crime, and raising tough kids – nothing else.