September 22, 2015; Tuesday (22 days)
I hate adulting.
I took me an hour to find the crumpled scrap of paper the free (thank fuck) biology tutor's number was written on. I prolonged contacting him as long as I could, but the first session is tomorrow and I haven't signed up yet. The stubborn part of me keeps insisting that I don't need help, but my marks beg to differ.
I groan as I pull out my phone from my jeans' pocket.
7:32\ Matt: Is this the first year biology tutor?
I'm watching TV from my shabby blue couch when my phone vibrates.
8:02\ Unknown: Yes, this is. How may I help you?
8:05\ Matt: Do you have any openings for the tutor session tomorrow? Any time after 3 is good for me.
8:11\ Unknown: Yup. How is 4:30? I'll need your name for the schedule.
8:16\ Matt: Matt Fisher. What's yours?
8:20\ Unknown: Westley Campbell. See you tomorrow, room A327. Ask for Wes.
8:23\ Matt: Thanks
I let a breath of air escape through my lightly pressed lips, making a loud squealing noise. There, it's done. That's enough interaction for one day.
I make a new contact for the tutor then I toss my phone to the other side of the couch, slumping down as far as possible. Finally, I can relax.
During the span of the next ten hours, I get my whole three hours of sleep, watch two horror movies, clean the funky-smelling week-old dishes from my sink, and go for a bite to eat. On my walk back from my early breakfast I get another text, this one from the teenage ghostbuster.
6:31\ Juliet: Tonight, 9:00, outside town
I ignore the urge to tease her for her vagueness. She is the one that agreed to help me, after all.
The thought of why she agreed to help me sends a shiver down my spine. She's training me to become a murderer. I hope it doesn't come to it, but I have to know how to defend myself.
I hate to admit it, but without her help, I'll be dead in minutes. I don't even know how to punch properly, for Christ's sake, let alone fight off a horde of vampires - which, by the way, is the craziest thought that's ever been formed in my head.
Right now, I feel like I'm in for a whole load of crazy.
-
September 23, 2015; Wednesday (21 days)
"Do you want fries with that?"
"Yes, please." Does anyone ever answer 'no'?
"Your total is $10.65. Drive through."
Five classes, two stress-induced headaches and one fast-food craving later finds me in the drive through queue of McDonald's, awaiting an order of nuggets and a milkshake. Although they don't subdue my actual hunger, chicken nuggets are still my go-to comfort food.
I turn my radio up as I wait for the line to move ahead. I lost all sense of self-consciousness a couple years ago, meaning that I don't feel even slightly embarrassed when a lady walking by stares at me as I sing More Than A Feeling at the top of my lungs. I give her a wink before pulling the car in gear and advancing to the pickup counter. I wish the bored employee a good day as I reach up to window to retrieve my grease-stained paper bag then drive away.
I snack on the nuggets in my car as I wait for 4:30 to roll around, which doesn't take nearly as long as I'd thought. I wipe my greasy fingers before grabbing my bag and getting out of the car, locking it before I begin my trek to the A building.
The university has had so many new parts built on that they had to start labeling them. We have buildings A-F; most hold specialized classrooms for specific degrees, so I'm usually only in buildings A-C. A, the oldest, is home to the gym, cafeteria, and some classrooms. B, which is connected to A, has the library and large lecture halls. C is a stand-alone and has most of the science labs. D-F has rooms for the theatre students, environmental science students, business students, etc.
When I enter the peer tutoring room, a middle-aged woman takes my name and directs me to my tutor's bench. Unlike some of the other benches, this was a one-on-one session. I'm not sure if that's comforting or not, considering I'm not sure how this tutoring thing actually works. The guy sitting at the bench appears to be two or three years older than me, tops. He looks to be near my height, too, but way more buff. Dude, where's your gym? I could use their number right now.
"Uh, are you Wes?" I ask, standing awkwardly on the opposite side of his table.
"Yup. You're Matt, right?" He waves for me to take a seat. "What part of biology has you down?"
"Like, all of it?" I swing my long, lanky legs -- which look very feeble compare to this guy's ripped quads (jealously mode initiated) -- over the wooden bench and root through my bag for my notebook, which I set on the table. "I don't know what I don't know; everything seems fine and dandy until I take the test and fail miserably. I didn't take biology in high school, but it seems like everyone else did."
"That's fine, we can work from the ground up. We can schedule more meeting as we need them." Wes lazily combs his fingers through his short blond hair. "Let's take a look at your notes."
-
Two hours later finds me doing a worksheet on photosynthesis and cellular respiration. Ew. The tutoring session went well, I think; Wes criticized my messy handwriting and gave me a few pointers on how to better retain the information we go through in class. At the end of each tutoring session, it's mandatory to do a worksheet provided by the professor in charge to prove that we're actually doing shit and the peer tutors aren't getting paid for sitting on their asses. Wes recommended that I come for a session once a week so we can go through what was taught every couple lectures, which I'm fine with. It's not like I don't have ample free time.
I hand in my worksheet after the given fifteen minutes and make my way back to my apartment. To waste the time till I'm supposed to meet up with Juliet, I open my textbook for the first time -- who knew they were actually good for something other than supporting your TV? -- and read the chapters we've covered in class. Snore. If I ever read another word about the Electron Transport Chain, it'll be too soon.
I change into more comfortable clothes around eight then drive to the other side of town, looking for a nice quaint part of the woods to hunt in. After selecting a spot to try, I park on the side of the road and continue my hunt on foot. I'd rather be safe than sorry training with Juliet; I don't want to be around her for too long on an empty stomach. Something tells me that would not go over well.
The streetlights begin to flicker on overhead as the sky gets continuously duller. By the time I'm out of sight of the road, I can see neither the sun nor the streetlights due to the various-coloured bushy fall foliage that has all light sources blocked out. This part of the woods has more topographic features than the other areas I've visited; the others were more flat whereas this area has many hills and valleys. The brittle yellow, red and orange leaves have begun to drop off the leave-bearing trees, creating a generous blanket of litter on the forest floor with the most coming to rest in nooks and crannies of the valleys, where I'm carefully avoiding so that I don't make too much noise.
After walking for fifteen minutes straight, I crouch behind a tree trunk and listen to the sounds of the forest. For the first little while, all I hear are crickets and other insects. As my ears adjust, I begin to hear the rustling of leaves far into the distance, but nothing close enough to target. Maybe I should start setting snares for the rabbits, I think to myself, then I wouldn't have to play the waiting game.
After what feels like ages -- but is actually minutes, according to my watch -- I hear the rustling of leaves and grass on the ground nearby. From the sounds it's making, the creature is small. I ready myself to strike as I hear the animal slowly get closer to my hiding spot. When I know the creature is only a few yards away, I lunge from behind the trunk and grab the thing -- a rabbit, as I expected -- with my hands. It squeals loudly and thrashes about, trying to escape my grip. I hear a couple birds nesting in the trees near us take flight. "Sorry, Buggs" I whisper before biting the rabbit in its furry grey throat.
The ashamed feeling I have for feasting on wild bunny blood doesn't quite drown the pleasant feeling that rolls throughout my body as the thick liquid spills into my mouth. I still exercise caution as I feed on animals; I don't hunt to kill, I hunt to tame my hunger. If that means I require more than one victim, so be it. Not that I was a vegetarian before, but hurting animals resonates more now that I have no choice but to catch them and eat them raw. What if this bunny was a person? I try not to let the thought wander as I detach myself from little Thumper and set it down on the ground. I feel its pulse -- weak but still there -- before running farther into the forest. I still have time for one more bite before meeting Juliet.
Or so I thought. Just as I'm about to close in on a grouse, my phone goes off. Staying Alive plays as loud as possible in the otherwise quiet woods. I scramble to grab the phone from my jacket pocket to silence the tone but by then the grouse, and any other thing with a heartbeat, had fled. I pick up without looking at the caller ID, though I have a good idea who to expect.
"What?" I hiss, looking longingly to the direction the wildfowl fled.
"Where are you? Are we doing this thing or not?" Asks a pissed-sounding Juliet on the other end of the line.
"Yes," I say, wishing she could see my eye roll through the phone, "If you could just hold your freaking horses-"
"Hold my horses? I've been waiting for twenty minutes! I have better things to do than sit by myself out in the cold." I sigh loudly.
"I'm on my way." I hang up without waiting for a response.
-
"Finally." Juliet says, getting out of the driver's seat of a beige Silverado as I pull up alongside her in my car. We're in a heavily-wooded, grass-covered meadow about four miles from the main road. My car definitely wasn't meant to be traveling on dirt roads.
"I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind. Pussied out."
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Let's not waste time then." Juliet reaches into the backseat of her truck to pull out a handgun, a revolver. She shoulders the door shut and, in one swift motion, turns around and fires the gun. There's a hole in the red center bullseye of a target I hadn't even noticed until now. She turns back to face me, offering the gun handle-first. "Your turn."
"What the f-" If my jaw touched the ground, it wouldn't have shocked me. No preamble then. Where had this girl grown up? Who is she? I take a step back, as if the small distance gained would save me from this chick's bad-assery. I had seen her with a knife, sure, but she barely had time to see the target, let alone aim perfectly.
"If you don't shut your mouth, you'll attract flies." Juliet says with a smirk, taking a few steps toward me and offering the gun with an outstretched hand.
I take the gun from her, holding it loosely in my hand. I hold it up to my face, aiming at the target. "Don't expect me to actually hit this thing on the first try."
"Trust me, I'm not holding my breath." Juliet backs away from me with her arms folded. "Just point and shoot."
I plant my feet and take a deep breath before squeezing the trigger. I feel my hand move due to the recoil, undoubtedly flawing my aim. I inspect the board from my current position, squinting in the low light of the evening. "Did I hit it?"
"Nope. Not even close. Try again."
I fire the gun maybe three more times before hitting the white edge of the target. I pump one of my fists in the air in victory.
"Calm down there, cowboy. Most targets are moving when you have to hit them."
I roll my eyes. Of course she has to be the one to suck the fun out of everything. I lower the gun and turn around to face her.
"Well are you going to teach me any other skills? Like something that might not depend on aim and accuracy?"
Juliet purses her lips as she takes a moment to think. "Do you have anything in mind?"
"Maybe teach me to use those daggers you seem to always have handy? Or maybe hand-to-hand combat?" Forgetfulness is my middle name, so it's completely possible I'd forget to bring a weapon into battle. I chuckle to myself before a solemn thought occurs. "Hey... What actually kills a uh, 'vampire', anyway?" I ask using air quotes.
"To kill a 'vampire'," Juliet says, using dramatic air quotes, "you can behead them or stab through the heart - both of which works on just about everything - or you can inject them with dead blood."
"And dead blood is?" I asked after a moment without explanation.
"Exactly what it sounds like. Blood from something dead. Its congealed and essentially stops their hearts. I think it's like a poison and taints the rest of the body's blood, making it too thick for the heart to pump, causing some kind of heart attack. Supposedly."
"Heart attack?" I ask incredulously. "So, is my heart beating right now?" I take a second and feel for my own pulse. It never occurred to me that the long list of YA novels I read could have gotten such an important fact wrong.
"Incredibly slowly. Most times not even enough to register on an EKG. It's why vampires don't walk around rotting or seem to bleed when they're maimed."
"And a bunch of French fries won't do the same thing?" I start reconsidering my frequent McDonald visits.
"No. Vamps don't seem to absorb nutrients the same way humans do. Only what's in whole blood."
I sigh in relief. I wasn't willing to give up my chicken nuggets.
"So, what will it be first?" Juliet changes the subject as she pulls her red hair into a ponytail. "Knives or a fist fight?"
I hand the gun back to Juliet as I consider my options. A sudden memory of Juliet beheading that shapeshifter with a machete a few weeks back flashes in my mind. "Definitely hand-"
Before the words are out of my mouth, Juliet has dropped the gun and her hands are flying towards my face.
"What the-" I throw up my arms to shield myself from being struck. As soon as I feel her fists pound my forearms, I lower them to see her redirect her focus to my stomach. She gets a blow in before I can react.
"Ahh!" I stumble back and suck in the breath that had been beat out of me. I raise my hands in a defensive stance. "Some warning would have been nice!"
"There's no warning in the real world." She says, shaking out her arms and taking a step towards me, fists clenched. I take a counter step back. She turns around and before I know what's happening, her foot connects with my chest. I fall to the ground on my back.
"Do you have a secret black belt or something?" I ask, looking towards the dark sky.
"Nope." She laughs to herself. "You know what, this is fun."
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." I peel myself off the cold, damp ground and get back into ready position. "Are you going to actually teach me, or just continue showing off?"
She combs the strands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail back out of her face. "I suppose you're right." She comes to stand on my left, facing the same direction. She extends her right arm. "When you punch, start with your fist upside down. Don't tuck your thumb into you fingers - make sure it sits around them. As you extend your arm, rotate your forearm so that your fist is upright as it connects with your target." She demonstrates in slow motion a few times as she explains what she's doing.
"Always watch your opponent. Make sure you're blocking or dodging their punches, kicks, bites, whatever. Be on your toes." She makes a show of bouncing and shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. "When they make a move, dodge then counter it. Hit them when they're exposed. And don't be afraid to stomp some toes or knee some crotches. A head butt or two won't go astray, but don't worry about those yet."
"Umm hmm," I say as I test out what she's taught me so far. Punch. Bounce. Repeat. Easy.
Juliet rolls her eyes. "I see that we have a lot of work to do."
"Hopefully not that much." I say, frowning. "Remember that I only have one month until the freaky Aussie and his vamp gang comes to claim me or kill me." Juliet nods.
"You'd better clear your schedule, Twilight, because this won't be easy."
"Trust me, Obi-Wan, I know."