The Night Rufus Died

1

He was old. He was tired. His existence had become redundant. He was running out of people to be; of lives to live. He had seen it; he had done it. A few times. Human life no longer held any charm or offered any mystery. After walking the earth for 3,000 years, the mundanity and predictability were becoming too much. His desire for continued existence was waning.

2

“Rufus, your order is ready!” the cute bartender he enjoyed flirting with said as she brought him his plate.

He had fallen in love with food over the millennia. It was a necessity in his vampiric infancy; he used the facade of eating a meal with friends to gain his necessary meals of blood and flesh and life. But in pretending that he hadn’t lost that part of his humanity, as the years continued, he grew to appreciate all that went into food: all the different flavors, textures, and ingredients. Existence was always more bearable when delicious food was involved.

Tonight was a carnitas burrito and a shrimp tostada, with a shot of tequila and a couple of beers. He enjoyed eating; watching the people, imagining that he wasn’t some bloodthirsty relic from a time people couldn’t understand. He had assimilated himself well enough into the always changing world; it was just… knowing what he was, he felt odd acting like the rest of them.

But… you had to do what was necessary to survive.

3

He was ordering dessert and a shot before closing his tab when he saw them at the opposite end of the bar. They were very drunk, and not paying much attention to their surroundings as they finished their drinks and pawed at each other. Inebriation and carnality distracted them, giving him the opportunity to get his second meal. As they began stumbling out, Rufus boxed his remaining churros, gulped his shot, and slowly followed them.

4

They were just outside the bar, fumbling with their phones, trying to get an Uber, when he walked by them to his car.

He didn’t know why the world had come up with some of the preposterous attributes vampires possess: aversions to garlic and religious paraphernalia; painful responses to silver; not having his visage reflected mirrors; and, of course, the classic vampire fangs. None of them were true.

Some of the wild assumptions were true, of course, and time taught Rufus the art of subtlety when exhibiting his talents.

“You know about this super exclusive party in the industrial district tonight?” he asked them. Startled by his smooth voice and unusual accent, they stumbled over their words and shook their heads.

He smiled at them. The dance had begun. He crept a little closer, releasing pheromones. “You should come with me, then. My car’s right there. You should come with me.”

They obeyed with a sloppy nod. They got in the back seat, as if in a trance. The dance continued.

5

The drive was silent. His dinner was in a drunken, hypnotized stupor. They looked out the windows as he drove, like excited dogs, oblivious.

6

Once Rufus pulled his car (a late model Audi) up to what appeared to be an abandoned and dilapidated warehouse, dinner perked up a bit. There was a low rumble of heavy bass coming from the building. Strobe lights flashed from the windows.

“Are we here?” the woman asked, as if in a dream.

“Yes. We are here.”

7

They stumbled as they walked to the door. He helped keep them upright as they stumbled and opened the door.

8

To an empty room. A strobe light was running, music was playing through a boom box, but… there was no happening party going on. The door slammed, the lock clicking audibly.

9

They were oblivious to the danger, still enslaved by the effects of alcohol and pheromones. He told them to start kissing each other as he opened his blade.

10

He had been killing people for thousands of years, finding sustenance as his victims entered an immortality he would never experience. While the couple was kissing, he moved between them, grabbing the man and pulling him closer. As they kissed, he made a small cut in his neck, severing his artery. The woman saw them slowly moving down to the floor, bodies intertwined. Rufus left him there, seemingly passed out.

“It looks like he needs a little help. Take off his pants.”

11

He came up behind her as she was pulling his pants down.

As his late-night snack began breathing their last, he wondered which version of forever he preferred: the life he had known longer than being human, or the new life he sent his unlucky prey to.

12

They tasted bad; they had consumed more than alcohol. He eventually recognized it as heroin. Everything began spinning as he was cleaning up his mess.

13

He had misjudged things; his cleanup was sloppy.

14

He took entirely too long to do as bad a job as he had done. He had just over an hour of darkness left.

15

Rufus slammed the door to the warehouse and spun around, not expecting to see the man with the shotgun pointed at him.

16

Obviously there was buckshot in the shell, but were there also… slivers of wood as well?

Rufus immediately went into shock. He was shot point-blank in the chest. He stared, dumbfounded, at the man behind the shotgun, lips contorted in a sadistic smile.

“Twenty years I spent looking for you. You got sloppy these last months. You’re either getting senile, or you’re ready to die. Which is it, accursed? Are you ready for me to deliver you from-“

17

Rufus knew he was going to die if he did nothing, and now that death had become a tangible thing, he was scared. He didn’t want to die like this, anyway.

He lunged at the man with the shotgun, catching him off guard. The man hunting him was surprised at the desperate act of survival, and Rufus took advantage. Faster than an eye blink, he tore the man’s throat out with his teeth, spitting it out and immediately began guzzling from the wound he created.

18

He drank his fill and let the dead man slump to the ground, his visage one of horrified bewilderment.

Rufus felt better, but death’s chilly grip was still upon him. To make matters worse, the black of night was transitioning to a royal blue. The stars twinkled their goodbyes.

19

He couldn’t stop bleeding; his chest spurted with every shallow breath, it seemed, his front half now stained a deep, wet crimson. He decided to stop fooling himself. He was going to die, and he needed to accept it.

20

Rufus willed his body to a nearby powder coating warehouse that had roof access, barely making it up the ladder.

21

This was it; he had minutes, at best. It was odd. He found it all… humorous. He had lived for so long; he had seen so much. Did any of it matter? Was his life of worth? Did he do good things? What, if anything, awaited him?

22

He thought of his old life, the life he lived before his transformation. Life was nothing more than moments; that was everything. That was it. It was only one thing preceding another thing. Life itself is mundane. It is a few exciting moments separated by the droll state of life. In the multitude of years, to him, this is what it boiled down to. When you approach the cessation of all being, what’s important? What makes sense?

23

It all ends. Everything. There is no such thing as forever; it is nothing more than transitory things. He missed his old life; he wished he could have it back. He wanted to fulfill what he thought was expected of him. Did he do it? Now that he was here…

Did he do it?

24

Done. It was here. He felt each breath; they were so sweet. He knew they were ending. Every one was a gift. He missed the sun. He enjoyed it so much in his different life.

Could he see it? Could he survive that long? If he could will it so, he would. What a worthy task. A taste of something human. Something… real. Something that reminded him of something else. Something that wasn’t what he had become.

25

It was cresting. The sky was a beautiful baby blue. It had been so long since he had seen a sky like this. He wished. He knew he was a horrid creature, but he hoped he had been good enough to earn this.

It was so close to rising.

Not expecting, but hoping.

26

Maybe someone up there liked him still. Because there it was. A bright ball rose high in the sky. He saw it.

27

It was beautiful. The sun felt warm.