Chapter Two:
Living Amongst Monsters
~oOoOo~
Carlisle's Point of View
~oOoOo~
The rain had shifted towards Chicago but it didn't surprise me. I sensed it for days; the moisture in the air and the subtle scent of freshness under more obvious odors that plagued the city. In my entirety, I had never experienced an epidemic as fatal as this one. Even the Great Plague of London wasn't as severe. Had I not been changed two years prior, I hold no doubt that I would have fallen victim to its advances. Instead, I persevered, remaining constant in a changing world…Forever a man at twenty three, unharmed by sickness and uniformed in death.
It has always been a struggle to accept this fate. To think of oneself as a monster of people's nightmares when one is anything but. Then again, I suppose I am an aberration but not evil…No. No, not evil. I have seen monsters. I have lived amongst them. They are what I will never be. For some vampires it is easy to give into instincts and draw first blood from the neck of an innocent. They accept what they are and do not work against it because it is easier to take life than suffer the pain of allowing it to endure. Blood is a terrible entity that constantly reminds us of why we exist.
I put a finger into the drapes and pushed it back, letting in the cloud filtered light. I had seen this color before on more stormy days; gray. The world was dark and bleak but I didn't mind. I was the only creature in Chicago that held out for rain. I embraced its cool nature and shadows away from the sun. It was the only time I could venture out during the day; when the sun was hidden behind the thick cover of the clouds. I needed the interaction with people. I have lived a life of solitude for more than two hundred and fifty years. Regardless of what I am, I long for the communication. The world is far too big and I am but one being. And while loneliness is not unheard of and confinement is well practiced in my world, it is not in my nature to do so.
I dressed in my clean attire and gathered my belongings that I carried with me each day. Some of my items served as an ignus fatuus; an illusion to keep my appearance without question. My bag was not a prop. Inside were notes and pieces of literature of medical nature. My over coat and gauze mask were my illusion. I didn't need either but I wore them like any other person; I was an apparition of humanity. I exited my quarters with slow, fluid movements so that I could enjoy the walk and the last remaining light that lingered on the darkened horizon. It was raining, misting lightly to the ground but it never bothered me. I pulled my Homburg hat tight on my head and made my way down the sidewalk.
I was usually avoided on the streets, receiving little acknowledgement from people that passed by quickly. I had been told once that the populace would generally avoid our kind unless they were being seduced. I believed it. People that didn't know me glanced down after looking into my eyes. It always fascinated me how creatures knew that they were the weaker. But on a day like today, no one nodded at anybody while they passed. Their heads were down and their gate was strict and quick. The weather has a funny way of changing people. The weather and the influenza made people less friendly towards their fellow man. I, however, walked with my head up, taking in the city rich in gray, fading luminance. Even through death, I could find a piece of beauty; knowing that this will pass, either by death or by time, but it wouldn't last forever. It would ravage as many lives as it could but it too would die. As long as it continued, I would aid what little ration I was given. I would learn from their sickness and address it if it arises again. The city would thrive, and I would be around to see it. But as of now, we are in the dark, humans and vampires alike.
My hours at the hospital can be harsh but I can not deny that I enjoy the work. It allows me the interaction that I desire and some humans made for interesting conversation some days. They often spoke of their homes and families, not of their pain. I studied them, even while they were dying; their movements, their words, the last breath that left their bodies. I could not recall my final human breath but I knew that it anything but peaceful. I was, however, unable to forget my first whiff of immortality. Every flame that flickered and the resentment that stole my mind were harbored, never leaving. In this day, I could, at the least, perceive what it all meant. I breathed in the chilled air, to experience the sensation that rolled into my lungs. Turning life, death and the sickly sweet tides of flesh ignited the faint glowing of embers with me. I need to hunt but I could wait until the next cover of night. I could go for extended periods without drinking and still feel at ease with humans. I have never held a strong desire to take what is rightfully theirs. Not to say that I haven't been curious to the taste because I have wondered what it would be like to feel the rich liquid purge the heat within my body. However, the desire to commit such a fiendish act has never been there to push me to do it. Thus, I am an innocent vampire, if there could ever be such a thing.
Regardless, I had to keep the golden tint in my eyes. Humans can be perceptive if given a reason and I would give them plenty. I had to be more cautious than any other vampire in Chicago since I worked within such close proximity to the dietary preference of my kind. The first slip in my routines would cause questioning amongst the nurses at the hospitals who seemed to be immune to the disguised danger. To say they were curious of my presence would be understated but the attraction was natural. They were relentless and I became increasingly aware of how utterly alone I have been. It was dangerous for them to be charmed by me. I never encouraged them though. The sheer thought of them discovering my hidden knowledge frightened and delighted me. I have never known the pleasures of women and it was an experience I longed for. I want to feel love. I want to marvel in the shadow of its complexities. But to do so would mean to take life, and I would no sooner become a monster for my selfish impurities.
The truck that took away the dead pulled away before I reached the doors of the building and it left in its wake the stench of rotting flesh. I removed my hat from my head as I entered the hospital and made my way to my office to remove my overcoat and stow my belongings. The only light came from a single window behind my desk on the far side of the room. The walls were blatantly bare, further evidence of my lonely existence. It wasn't a large room, but I didn't spend much time in here. My time was spent with the ill. Notes were taken mostly in the privacy of my home to avoid concealing one hundred years worth of medical records in the drawers of my desk.
I set out to the confinements of the women and children's quarantine. I preferred to view them first before the men. The smells were the same as usual, and if I were human, it would cause me to vomit. I had seen many nurses, patients and volunteers upchuck in this hall. It wasn't unusual. With my mask in place, I spoke to the nurses on duty for the evening, making the rounds and seeing the new patients. There wasn't anything that I could do for them that would ease their pain or take away their symptoms. All the nurses and I could do was to help them be as comfortable as possible until they were well enough to leave or died. The majority to nearly all never left the hospital. I had already lost thirty this week in the women's quarantine alone. It wasn't difficult to decipher who was more near to death amongst the patients. Once their symptoms were clear I would merely have to look at them. Death was a prominent visitor and it was easily deciphered.
It was then that I saw her. She didn't look nearly as sick as the others but still, I could sense it. The process of laconism was already working on her. Her green eyes were dull, lifeless strands of color. She wouldn't make it past tomorrow evening. Nurse Olivia was by my side when I stopped at the woman's bed. She was petite and lucid with dainty features, large hazel eyes and a kind soul. She pressed her lips into a tight line before she spoke.
"Her name is Elizabeth Masen. She arrived early today with her son Edward. I was informed that Edward is in the second phase of the influenza and we believe she is as well."
"What are her symptoms?" I asked.
"Fever, sweats, vomiting and coughing of course, doctor."
There was something else. The faint taste of it on the back of my tongue alerted me that there was more they weren't aware of.
"She's bleeding," I said, trying to keep my voice low so only Nurse Olivia could hear me. "She is in the final stage."
"We didn't discover any bleeding, doctor."
I turned to her and kindly asked, "Will you please go fetch a bowl of water and a clean cloth, please?"
She nodded faintly and left me while I approached the bed side of the sick woman. Her skin was pale, almost completely without color. Her eyes set on mine slowly and I gave her a moment to take in my appearance, as not to frighten her. To my surprise, she didn't shy away from my gaze; she only continued to stare with a blank expression through her weak lids.
"Hello, Elizabeth, I'm Dr. Cullen. We're going to make you as comfortable as possible." I pulled up a small stool that was conveniently close and perched myself on the edge of it. She followed my every move and for the first time I felt uneasy under the scrutiny of a dying woman.
"I understand you have a son in quarantine as well," I stated more than asked, remembering how people loved to talk about their families.
She came to life and nodded, a twinkle appearing in her eyes. I didn't need to possess an abnormal amount of knowledge to recognize love when it presented itself. The love that she holds for her son was obvious to anyone that would witness the gleam that I just saw. Tears began to form on her lower lid and one drop escaped onto her cheek and ran down the side of her face, disappearing into her hair. Going against my better instincts, I inched towards her slightly. She sniffled and reached for my hand along the edge of the bed. My jaw flexed when I realized what she was doing but I took her delicate fingers in mine and she exhaled a heavy breath.
"I'm sorry," she said faintly.
"For what?"
"I'm so cold," she stated, "I'm sorry I'm so cold."
I wanted to smile but I offered her something else. "It is not you. It is the building. When it rains, it tends to drop in here. Everybody tends to be more chilled, including me."
She clutched onto my hand with as much strength that her fragile body could muster and grinned weakly.
"You're not afraid of getting close to your patients?" she asked.
"I think it is more important to offer more than a look over to the unwell. Words often have healing quality, if they are the right ones," I said.
"That would be a thing for my husband to say," she responded.
"Where is your husband?"
"He is with God, where he should be."
My heart reached out to her. "I'm sorry to hear of his passing."
"Thank you. All I have left of him is my son. He reminds me so much of his father. Almost identical, those two," she said and then coughed.
"You are proud of your son," I stated. It wasn't a question, it was a fact. The tone in her voice and the precision of her voice through the disease were indicators.
She nodded. "He is only seventeen but has so much life. Ambitious."
Blood emerged from an orifice on her nose. She was in the third stage.
Nurse Olivia appeared at my side with the bowl of water and the cloth.
"I'll take care of it, Olivia, thank you," I said to her.
She set the items on the small utility table beside me and then made her leave. I instantly dipped the cloth in the water and ringed it after it was soaked. Elizabeth sighed when I touched the cool, damp cloth under her nose to collect the fluid that had collected there. I folded the blood inside the cloth and touch it to her head, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed.
"What is the push of his ambition?" I asked.
"He wants to join the military. He has dreams of becoming a pilot. Scares the life out of me it does," she said gently.
"Noble of him to serve his country." I blotted down the side of her head.
"Yes, he is brave. But I fear for his safety, especially now that his father is gone and he is all that I have left. I can't imagine living without him. A world without Edward is no world at all. It is less light and more susceptible to evil."
I furrowed my brow at her words.
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
She coughed heavily and arched her body away from me. When she finished she was still again and opened her mouth to answer, but before she could I spoke.
"Shh, save your strength. I apologize for my rude behavior; I have made you speak too much. He sounds like a fine young man—one any parent would be proud of."
"Please, doctor," she said, "The last thing I want is silence. I am facing an eternity of it."
My movements came to a halt as her words sunk in. I knew how she felt.
Speak to me,"—she swallowed—"I do not believe it is words that heal. It is your voice."
I grinned slightly and resumed blotting her skin. "What would you like for me to say?"
"Anything that you wish. Where are you from?"
"London."
"England?" she sounded surprised.
"Yes," I said with a smile.
"Am I wrong to assume that I thought you would have a different cadence in your voice?"
"After a certain period of time it was lost."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since I was twenty three. Ten years ago," I said, lying only slightly.
"What was it like?" she asked faintly.
"It—wasn't without its un-pleasantries but it was quite wonderful. I don't recall much of my time spent there. I was a young boy through most of the years I was there and the other memories have since faded, including those of my mother."
I dipped the cloth back into the cool water and ringed the excess water out. I took to her cheeks and then to her neck. When I finished, I submerged the white linen into the porcelain bowl and turned to her once more. Her eyes were dull windows again and it went against my heart to leave this woman's bed side but my time in this quarantine was up. I was due in men's quarantine at eight o'clock.
"Elizabeth, I'm sorry to have to leave you, but I must go tend to your son."
She acknowledged what I had said.
"Please, do not tell him of my condition. I do not want him to worry about me."
My lips pulled into a tight, small grin. "I am sure that if I could recall my mother, she would have said something similar. Not wanting anyone to concern themselves with her, like you. Rest. I will tell him what you have told me."
She closed her eyes and sighed heavily under the strain of her lungs. She would pass soon, it was inevitable and when she did, her son would be alone. Another common destiny that I shared with this family; an eternity of silence and a future of loneliness.
~oOoOo~
Elizabeth Masen's Point of View
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I didn't see him walk away but I knew that he was no longer present at my bed side. I have never known a man to have such compassion for another. Dr. Cullen was unexpected—different. He is not like any other man I had ever met before I came here. Fresh, flaxen-haired, pale skin and eyes made of the most luxurious gold. His voice was soothing, musical even but his touch was hard, cold—like death. Yet, somehow it was as if God, himself, carved him from the finest angel.
He was a prey of death in this building, yet he came closer to the author, only for small gestures of kindness. He had not a scratch to show for the proximity, the nearness of the putridly ill such as me. Surely, he should be lying on a bed in quarantine with the rest of Chicago but he was very much alive and not sick. I was swelled with guilt for reaching out to touch him, not considering the disease before my own wants. I was ashen with sadness that I could not be with my son. I was tormented when he showed the signs of the flu and somewhere in the back of my head, I held onto hope that he wouldn't have to lay on his death bed for many years but I was proven wrong. Or is there still prospect for his future? There can not be a world without my son. Life, even death, will have been in vain if he should pass into the next world. He had to be. Edward had to be.
