Chapter One - Friday, September 25

Three friends are in an accident - which leads to them becoming a vampire. Now with the help of the man that turned them they must fight a vampire war that has been raging for centuries...

 Chapter One

Friday, September 25

I’m lying on my bed, my blind eyes staring up at the ceiling tired but unable to relax.  As I lay there I listen to the sounds of the house which assure me that everything is fine.  In the bedroom next to mine I can hear the light snoring of Richard Raines.  Grace Collins’ bedroom, across from mine, is noiseless but I don’t expect anything from it. 

If Grace was home on a Friday Morning then hell would have frozen over.  This is because she always finds a random man at night and goes home with him.  The next morning she always slinks in at about dawn. 

During the week we barely communicate though she is one of my only friends.  Richard, Grace, and I grew up on the same block though we had exponentially different lives. 

Richard was the youngest of five children whose parents barely made it by.  They were in debt up to their eye balls and lived life lavishly.  What stress they did feel they took out on their sons, beating the hell out of them.  When they got into their abusive streaks Richie always snuck off.  He either went to Grace’s or my house so as to get a good night’s sleep and away from the bruises.  In high school Rich was the star quarter back, a hero on the wrestling team, and a track god.  He was the jock, the handsome guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. 

On the other hand, Grace was the spoiled rich girl.  Her mother is and was a multimedia mogul.  She owns a number of record labels and television studios.  Grace’s father comes from old oil money.  To say they are rich is an understatement.  That doesn’t mean she had it any easier.  When Grace was six, her parents divorced and moved just down the block from each other sighting ‘love of the neighborhood’ as a reason to stay.  Neither parent had the time of day for Grace who started acting out trying to gain attention from her mom and dad.  In high school she was, to put it as mildly as possible, the s**t.  She slept around and everyone knew it. 

Then, to finish off our little trio, there is me.  I am younger than the other two as I am only twenty while they are twenty-one.  I also had two loving parents for the longest time.  Mom worked as some sort of business woman traveling the globe while dad ran a very successful restaurant and a popular night club in the area.  They spoiled me rotten until the accident which left me blind.  I was ten and everything went dark.  That was when my mom seemed to drop off the face of the earth.  My dad continued to raise me until he died of an aneurism when I was seventeen.  That’s when I moved in with Grace.  In high school I was the blind nerd.  I refused to go to a special school or take special classes.  I bought my own books in brail; I ended up getting better grades than anyone which earned me the spot as Valedictorian.  I was the freaky nerd... what can I say?

We have always been three very different people.  That never changed.  Now we live together and seem well made to inhabit the same space.  You wouldn’t think it looking at conservative me, promiscuous Grace, and obviously athletic Rich but we work. 

A sigh escapes my body moments before I sit up, pulling my knees up to my chest so I can rest my chin on them.  While my left hand holds my legs I use my right to nimbly unlatch my watch.  Then I lift the glass cover so that I can feel the surface.  The numbers are in brail and it reads four fifteen in the freaking morning. 

My head shakes at the idea.  I’ve never been what you would call a morning person.  I never really was.  Mornings suck naturally but early mornings like this really suck.  I know there is not a fat chance in hell I’ll get back to sleep.  With that in mind I quickly move to the edge of the bed and let my feet come to rest on the soft carpet. 

Grace, when she picked it out, told me it was cool grey, just like I use to love.  It’s soft, expensive.  Grace really loves to spoil me.  I ignore that while standing up and walk across the room.  I count my steps as I move towards the closet. 

Seven steps. 

Once there I open the door and step in.  My hands reach up into my well organized closet.  My closet is full of gray, white, black, and blues.  That’s how I organize my clothing.  Each color has its own area which I have memorized.  I know the colors thanks to Grace who chooses the colors based on my taste while I choose the fashion.  It’s a method we worked out early on.

Sitting there I wonder what color I should wear.  I eventually settle on a gray shirt so I reach into the far left area.  There are three sections on that top rung just like on the bottom rung. Anyways, I start searching for something conservative.  I find a short sleeved turtle neck and shrug my shoulders. 

Then I reach to the center of the bottom rung.  That’s where my blue jeans are hanging.  I grab a random pair since all of my blue jeans are the same.  From there I walk the five steps to my closet to the bedroom door.  I open it and walk to the bathroom. 

Five steps.

My hand touches the doorknob and I clench my fist around it.  I take a step in and then pull out the shower knob.  That starts the shower.  I don’t even flip on the light.  Normally I would, if I knew Grace and Richard were awake and moving around.  It’s just a way to tell them that I’m occupying the bathroom.  But neither are awake �" or at least wandering around the house. 

Slowly I strip the tee-shirt I always wear to bed, and underwear, off of my body.  The showers steam fills the air and I can already feel it clinging to my flesh.  With a sigh I check the bathroom door, making sure it is closed �" just in case.  Then I step beneath the shower spray. 

The water is excruciatingly hot as it licks and runs down my body.  I stand there with my eyes closed and my nose pointed into the spray.  I ignore my complaining flesh, feeling it as each droplet splashes against my skin. 

Slowly I scrub my body, feeling as my fingers rub over my scarred flesh.  My body, despite the accident, has few scars. I barely survived since shrapnel and burns had been all over inside of my young body.  There are no cut scars that I can feel.  I have no remaining marks from any of the shrapnel.  The burns on the other hand, they did scar though they are mostly concealable. 

Still, I flinch every time I touch them knowing how horrendous they must make me appear. 

I complete the shower and slip on my clothing.  From there I go to the hallway, running the tips of my fingers down the walls.  I step down each stair counting to the bottom landing which is the twentieth step.  From there I know there are two steps down which lead to two very different rooms. 

The room to my right is the living room and the room to the left is the kitchen.  I chose right and moved down those stairs in silence.  At the bottom I move around, using my hands to find my way around, picking up the mess Grace and Richard have left.  It’s not much of a mess though �" just a popcorn bag on the table, a couple empty pop cans, Richard’s socks under the couch near his normal seat, and a paper plate though what it used to be I’m not sure. 

I take the garbage to the trash then I get out food and pots and pans.  Then I grab measuring cups, feeling the brail on the handle.  It’s my way of assuring myself that I’m making it right.  Soon I’ve mixed the pancake batter and pour some of it onto the skillet I have set out. 

It’s not long before the pancake seems done.  I have to rely on my other senses which can be a bit tricky.  When I first started cooking everything was either still runny or burnt.  Slowly I figured out how to fix things properly by the sound, smell, and weight in my hand. 

Just as I have the food separated onto three plates, one wrapped up and in the fridge, I hear footsteps upstairs before water runs through the pipes.  I smile to myself as I then pull out the carton of orange juice but find it moved. 

I grumble under my breath knowing Gracie was the one who moved it.  Ever since I was little I’ve been a bit Obsessive Compulsive.  It was fine… then the accident left me blind and I had to learn to control my surroundings.  In comes my obsessive compulsive streak.  Now things need to remain where I left them. 

They don’t have to be completely in place but the general vicinity would be nice.  I just reach around, finding it on the bottom area.  I sigh before pulling it out and pour two glasses.  Then I put the carton back in the right place before taking the glasses to the dining room table.  I return for the plates which I carry to the table.   I hear the stairs creek telling me Rich is on his way down. 

That’s also when a car pulls up the gravel drive way.  As I sit down Gracie runs through the door, stumbling her way in. 

“Morning Gracie,” I call. 

“Crap,” she mutters while tripping.  “Morning Jodie.” Then she’s on her way again.  Just then Richie hits the bottom steps into the kitchen and I hear them hesitate to pass one another.  They walk past but I can hear how slow their steps really are. 

In my mind’s eye I remember how they use to look.  In many ways I still see them like that.  That’s why right now I can imagine two children looking at each other as they pass one another.  His footsteps stop and I know he’s looking at her as she heads up the stairs. 

Then once she’s up the stairs, out of his view he makes his way to his seat.  I eat silently for a bit as I hear the water start in the pipes.  After a few minutes of silence I speak. 

“You should tell her,” I start.  He cuts me off.

“Zip it,” he states and I smirk while taking another bite of pancake.  Soon I’m finished eating and drinking.  That being so I carry my things to the sink where I wash the dishes.  Richard follows a short time later and dries the dishes for me. 

From there he puts away the dishes while I finish up.  Then I wipe up the stove before we head out.  I carry my bag out to Richard’s vehicle.  Country music is playing over the radio as he starts it up.  I gag and he laughs.

“My ears are bleeding,” I complain and I can all but hear his eyes rolling.  Moments later it turns to a classic rock station.  Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap is just starting, the lyrics aren’t even playing, and he turns up the station. 

“Better?” he asked and I nod.  “Good.” 

That’s when the music starts and I sing along with the lyrics.  After that song Whitesnake’s Here I go Again began to play.  Once again I sang along with the lyrics.  Rock you like a Hurricane came on after that and that’s when we pulled into the college parking lot. 

As he parked the car I reached to the backseat and pulled my cane forward.  Then I slid from the car.  Richard walked with me to the sidewalk then I walked to my classroom. 

At first I attend my math class.  I spend most of class doodling or working from my brail copy of the math book.  Then my phone went off alerting me to the end of class.  Everybody left and I went to my psychology class. 

The teacher, Mrs. Queen �" a woman with a thick Australian accent �" talked about memory using the TV Show MONK at random and completely irrelevant moments throughout the class.  She is completely obsessed with that syndicated television show. 

After a while I found myself droning her out.  That class ended and I headed three doors down to my final class of the day.  Where the other classes were only an hour this class is two hours long. 

I move into the classroom and sit in the seat closest to the door.  It’s where I always sit.  This way I always know exactly where I am. 

As I sit there I hear people walk through.  They talk and chat happily.  I hear Christopher Walters, enter the room.  His gaggle of happy, ditzy women follows in his wake.  I hear the way women, and a few men, talk about him.  I hear the way they react.  This lets me know that he’s a very handsome man. 

He sits down at my side and I hear the other women in the class murmur in protest, while taking their own seats. 

‘What could he see in that scarred up blind freak?’ one of the women says and I automatically reach up to touch my facial scars. 

‘Charity case,’ one says supplying. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Christopher says.  His voice is smooth, rich.  It’s a sound that could make most women melt.  I’m not most women though. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t listen to snippy cheerleader types,” I tell him.  He snickers while another whisper fills the classroom.  That stops when the professor walks into the room. 

We all take notes as he gives the lesson.  I listen to the man, a total klutz.  He swears as his coffee spills.  The liquid drips loudly against the tiled floor.  He scrambles about.  Then,  at some point he trips over something as I hear the sounds of scuffling. 

By the end of the class he’s dropped five things, spilt his cup of coffee after having dropped his tie in it, tripped six times, and hurt himself about twice.  You could easily say that he is a walking, talking, disaster zone, and not be wrong. 

As I stood up, collecting my books a voice spoke up. 

“Hey, Jodie.”  It was Christopher. 

“What’s up?” I ask while zipping my now fully stocked bag. 

“I was wondering, would you like to have dinner with me?” Christopher asked.  I stopped in my tracks. 

This couldn’t be happening... at least not to me.  The hottest, most popular guy in town could not be asking ME out.  As juvenile as it is I still feel like the freaky nerd I was in high school.  Besides, I’m scarred up. 

“I would love too, but, my friends and I have plans this weekend,” I tell him, lying slightly.  “Sorry.” 

“No problem, rain check?” he asks as I put my bag on my shoulder.

“Sure,” I tell him noncommittally. 

“Great,” he says and I feel slightly guilty.  Maybe he really does like me.  Chances are he doesn’t. 

That being said I’m on my way again.  I use my cane to make sure I don’t run into anybody or trip over anything.  I can hear it clicking against the tiles. 

“Here you go,” somebody says opening the door for me.

“Thank you,” I tell them. 

“No problem,” they say as I walk out of the building towards the parking lot.  It’s an uphill incline.  Soon I’m at the edge of the sidewalk so I wait for Richard. 

“Jodaya,” Richard calls and I flinch hating my full first name. 

Jodaya Heather. 

My mother must have been stoned when she chose the name Jodaya.  Heather... well, there wasn’t much she could do in that area since it was my father’s last name. 

“Richard, what have I told you about calling me Jodaya?” I ask.  I can all but hear the smirk on his face. 

“Sorry,” he says though his voice sounds anything but.  “Let’s head home.”

“Lead the way,” I say holding out my elbow.  He gingerly takes it and leads me through the parking lot to the vehicle.  Once there I crawl in and we quickly pull off down the road. 

We catch the tail end of Everlast’s What it’s Like which turns into Invisible Touch by Genesis.  I ignore the radio after that.   By the time we pull up the drive my watch reads two o’clock in the afternoon. 

I can’t help but wonder if Grace will even be awake yet.  As soon as the car starts I’m answered by Grace’s voice calling me. 

“Jodie.”

“Hey Grace,” I say crawling out of the vehicle.  I hold my arms open and brace myself for the impact.  Soon enough she collides with me as she squeezes.  Like always she feels the need to show how she feels through physical contact. 

“Oh, I think the three of us should do something tonight,” Grace says leading me inside enthusiastically.  I hear Richard following behind us girls.  Once inside I go to the Dining room table and sit at one of the four sides.  My seat is the one nearest to the big windows.  It allows me to feel the warmth of the sun on my back.  I hear Grace sit to my left and Richard walks around the table so that he can sit at my right. 

“So, are we having a trio night?” Richard asks, referring to the name we gave nights when we hung out. 

“Definitely,” Grace states.

“Sounds great,” I tell him.  “But what will we do?”

“Give me a second,” Grace says before sprinting from the room.  I count silently to myself.  About a minute later she comes in with her laptop turning on, probably in her arms.  Then I hear her sit down once more.  “Let’s see, Fridley Theatres in Muscatine, Screening.  Ooh, they’ve got that new action flick we’ve talked about seeing.”

“Sure,” I say.  Most people would get selfconscious at using the word ‘seeing’ around me.  They’d worry about insulting me accidentally and walk on eggshells.  I don’t flinch at those sorts of things anymore.  I did in the beginning but you can’t live your life in the past.  “Then we can go out to eat.”

“There is that new club that just opened up �" the one that admits anyone over the age of eighteen,” Richard states and I smirk.  I might not be one for big get together �" too much action, too many ways to accidentally hurt myself �" but I know Richard and Grace like going out.  They’d love the club and I might even have fun. 

“Sounds like a plan,” I tell them.  “What time is the movie?”

“It starts at four,” Grace says with a smile in her voice.  “Let’s get ready.”

I don’t argue.  Instead I go upstairs and slip on a pair of hoops into my lower ear-piercing.  Then I brush my hair back into a high ponytail.  Then I gently line my eyes with mascara, using my sense of touch to tell me if I’m putting it on right. 

About an hour later I hear Grace enter my room as my finger runs along the lettering in my book.  It’s a brail copy of Edgar Allen Poe �" one of my favorite poets, my favorite Gothic Poet.

“Honey, let’s get you changed,” Grace says one minute before going to my closet.  “Let’s see, I have a great little green top that would make those emerald eyes of yours really pop.”

“Grace,” I say and I hear her chuckle.  “I don’t wear green.”

“You will tonight,” she says and I sigh.  She runs from the room and comes back throwing a one shouldered little shirt into my arms.  I sigh before slipping it on.  The material is very soft and I can’t help but wonder how much this shirt cost.  Grace does have the tendency to indulge, a lot. 

“How do I look?” I ask and she squeals before sitting me down.  Then I close my eyes as she does my make-up.  What can I say?  I’m her life size barbie. 

I’m not sure how long it takes but then I hear footsteps on the stairs. 

“Guys,” he calls towards the top.  “We really should be going soon.”  He steps in the doorway and stops.  “Whoa.”  His voice is quiet, barely audible. 

“Is that good or bad?” I ask while  Grace finishes up on my makeup.

“Good.  I’m going to be the envy of all the guys tonight with two beautiful women on my arms,” he says and I chuckle. 

“What a playa,” I retort and they both laugh.  “Now, should we be leaving?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Grace says and we all head for the stairs.  Grace  and Richard are ahead of me chatting about their lives.  Grace talks about how the party last night was beyond extreme and that she doesn’t remember much of it.  Then she  talks about waking up in some random guys bed �" again. 

She doesn’t hear the increase in pressure coming from each and every one of Rich’s steps but I do.  I sometimes wish they weren’t so oblivious. 

In the car they turn on the music.  Walk this Way begins blaring over the radio and I smirk.  Soon us girls are rocking out, bouncing our heads with the classic rock song.  Black Sabbath comes on next with their song Heaven and Hell. 

We sing along until Don’t Fear the Reaper begins to play.  By the time that song ends we are at the mall �" or what’s left of it. 

When we were young the mall was full of stores, full of life.  Slowly it has dwindled down to a few remaining locations. 

“So, we have forty-minutes to wait.  What should we do now?” I ask, feeling the hands on my watch.  “J.C. Pennys?”

“No,” Richard says.  “Nah,” Grace says in unison.

“They are way out of date,” Grace tells me.  “How about Elder Bierman?” 

“Sure,” Richard and I say in unison.  Then we walk while talking to the store.  We end up going through the perfume area which is full of strong scents.  Then we go to a clothing area.  The three of us laugh while Grace tries on clothing. 

Rich explains to me what each outfit looks like.  Some I tell her yes about others I don’t really think my friend would look good in.  At the end Gracie picks up two outfits then we go and buy our tickets. 

Inside Fridley Theatre we get three large popcorns �" mine with extra butter.  I also get a diet dew.  Then we go to our theatre and sit in the middle.  It’s fairly empty to begin with but I can hear it filling up while Grace and Richard subtly flirt. 

Not that either would ever do anything about it.  For some reason they are both deny the attraction �" ignoring it as if it does not exist.  Soon the movie starts. 

I might not be able to see it but I can still hear and there is a lot to hear.  There are loud booming explosions, stunning car chases, fight scenes with lots of gun fire, and lots of dialogue.  Then there is also the reactions of the viewers; gasps, awkward giggles, a cell phone vibrating or two, three times Grace jumped, and a couple whispered No’s reach my ears. 

By the end I am pleasantly surprised.  The theatre is full of chatter as we leave.  We go to the vehicle then drive just a door or two down where we go to a Chinese restaurant called Peking.  There I order Beef with Broccoli and an order of egg rolls.  Richard orders Mongolian Beef with no onion and an order of Crab Rangoon.  Grace bought Sweet and Sour Chicken. 

We laughed until food came out.  Then the relationships turned to Richard and My love lives. 

“So... I haven’t seen Vivian around in a few days,” Grace said.

“That’s because we broke up,” Richard states and I sit up straighter.  I thought those two were serious. 

“What happened?  I thought you two were in love,” I told him and I hear him freeze for a moment before he takes his bite.

“Not really,” he states.  “She was getting too clingy.  Besides, she wasn’t my Mrs. Right.”

“Whatever,” Grace says sounding semi-relieved.  “What about you, Jodie?  Are you ever going to lose it?”

“Lose what?” I ask as footsteps approach.  The server takes my empty plate and I thank her before turning back to Grace. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Grace says before her voice turns to a whisper.  “Your virginity.”  I shake my head.  “You have to be the last twenty-year-old virgin in the country.”

“Not true,” I argue.  “We are just rare commodities in this day and age.” 

“What are you waiting for �" a ruggedly handsome man with a mysterious past to come and sweep you of your feet?” Grace asks knowing how I dream my perfect man would be.  She just forgot the fact I wanted him to be older than me by at least five years.  “Honey, those types of men don’t exist in the real world.  No heroic man is going to come in.  Besides, when was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

“I was ten �" right before a firework blew up in my face,” I say dryly and we grow quiet.  What a way to put a dampener on the mood, huh?  After several moments I decide to change the subject to something more upbeat, lighter if you will.  “So... when we get to the club tonight what will we do �" specifically?”

“You and Grace will dance, Grace will drink some while I stay sober, and we will all have a great time,” Richard states and I smile.  The conversation takes a peaceful turn.  Soon enough we finish eating and go out to the vehicle. 

We drive out of town, an hour and a half to get to the club.  That’s using the high ways which are heavily patrolled �" not the gravel roads that are rarely patrolled.  The others are always trying to get me to go to this club.  Normally I say no but today feels different. 

Soon enough we arrive at the club.  I can hear booming music coming from the building.  It’s about ten thirty already. 

The three of us walk into the club.  The music vibrates beneath my feet, through my body.  It’s a loud bubbly music.  Grace pulled me onto the dance floor.  It smelt of sweat, alcohol, and perfumes.  It felt full of body heat. 

Soon we were moving in rhythm with the music.  Guys kept coming up asking Gracie and I to dance... a few revoked their offers when they realized I was blind but most still kept the offer on the table. 

Every so often I’d go to the bar when Gracie needed a new drink.  Gracie’s phone rang as midnight arrived. 

 

Author's Note

I am sorry for any problem you find in the writing... I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Also, I apologize for the length.