Cold Blood is Thicker

“And don’t come back!”

Orri yelped as he felt his body hit the pavement. He cursed as he lifted himself up off the ground and got to his feet. He clutched the side of his face where a big bruise would surely form in the next day or two. Turning around, Orri sneered at the bartender who had now shut the door on him. The fight wasn’t even his fault, nor was the fact that he had won it. Eric was always in the bar picking fights with people he couldn’t win against, and the bartender just happened to be his over-protective uncle. That night, Orri was the lucky one who suddenly had a short, stubby, hairy-knuckled man asking him, “what the fuck are you looking at, faggot?”

Orri walked away, figuring Eric was already trying to beat up someone else he thought was looking at him funny. Though Orri did have to admit he was pretty funny-looking. At the age of twenty-three, he looked much younger, and was always asked for ID wherever he went. Even that night at the bar, the bartender found it hard to believe Orri was the age it said on his driver’s license. On top of that, his skin was as white as paper, his irises a light pink shade, and his hair was so blonde, it almost matched his skin. When Orri was born, his parents were told there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it. He did make it, but he would forever lack pigment in his skin, hair and eyes. He had always been this way, and just like that night at the bar, he was always picked on for it.

Perhaps it was time to go home; home was usually okay. Orri lived in a medium-sized apartment with his roommate Sunny. Sunny was one of the few people on Earth who actually cared about Orri. Orri wasn’t the kind of guy who really cared about having friends; his whole life very few people wanted to be his friend because of how he looked, so he was used to it. Sunny was a short girl, though not much shorter than Orri, from a Brazilian decent. She worked as a nurse, while Orri worked as a clerk in a hotel. It was something to do as he went to university for a Bachelor of Science in pharmaceutical chemistry. Orri always had a passion for science, specifically things that blew up. Though there weren’t a lot of jobs that let someone do that all day, so he figured he got the next best thing.

Orri was walking along the sidewalks of the city looking for the bus stop, the snow crunching under his feet. It was not a good idea to walk around the streets of downtown Saskatoon at night, even when it was winter. The city had the highest crime rate of all the major cities in the country. Often times if he ever came across someone who looked shady, they would run away in fright. It was depressing. Orri had struggled to even live on his own with his appearance. He had been more than qualified to do simple part-time jobs, but someone else much less qualified always got hired because they met the skin pigment requirements. He knew it was that way, too, because whenever he walked into a job interview, the employer always gave him a look of utter shock when they saw him. He was lucky that the last employer wasn’t prejudiced and gave him the job. It was a rather high-class job, and Orri supposed she saw the desperation in his pink eyes and gave him something to work for.

Orri stopped when he came across a closed shop with a large boutique window. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass and saw that his lip was bleeding. He hadn’t even noticed. Sunny would probably be mad at him for getting in a fight again. Staring at his reflection for a moment, Orri sighed. He was white as a ghost – what was new? Turning around and walking again, Orri reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a metal cigarette box. He opened the box to find two lone cigarettes. He had quit about two years ago, finding that the high school vice wasn’t as great as it was in the beginning. He still occasionally smoked, but he was off the hook of true addiction. He would allow himself one smoke now, since he felt it was fitting. Orri dug around the other pockets of his winter coat until he found a lighter. It was an old-fashioned metal lighter with embossed decorations on the sides. He got a spark on the lighter and watched as the small flame lit the end of his cigarette. He put the lighter and cigarettes away in his pockets, and enjoyed a much-needed puff on the smoking cancer stick.

“Howdy, stranger.”

Orri almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice behind him. He turned around, his eyes wide, but relaxed slightly when he saw that it wasn’t a gang or some other danger of the urban night. There was a single man standing about two metres away from him, smiling from what Orri could see in the dark. There weren’t any corners around, so he had no idea how he hadn’t noticed the man earlier. Orri stood still, slightly dumbfounded with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to spare a light, would you?” the man asked.

“Uh…” Orri searched for words. The man seemed safe, and all he wanted was a light. “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay.”

The man walked towards him, cigarette in hand as Orri pulled out his lighter.

“You okay boy? You look white as a ghost.”

Orri paused, savouring the irony. He didn’t say anything, and struck the lighter, holding it up to the man’s cigarette.

“Thank you very much, uh…?” The man raised an eyebrow at Orri, asking him his name.

“Orri.” He had no idea why he had told the man his name - maybe just out of courtesy.

“Orri? Never heard that name before. It’s almost like the cookie.”

He nodded. He had heard that one before. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Charlie. Nothing too uncommon there.”

“No.” Orri started walking again.

“Man, the fucking gangs around here, huh?”

Turning back for a moment, Orri smirked at Charlie. “Yeah, you’d think it would be different in Saskatchewan. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nah. Just passing through.” The man walked up beside Orri, basically towering over him. Orri was short, skinny and all-around little, and this man was rather tall.

“I’m not really from here, either. I’m from some small-town in Québec.”

“Oh, a Frenchie, huh?”

Orri laughed. “Foutes le camp. Where are you from?”

“Well, that’s hard to say… It’s been a while since I’ve been there. A really long time.”

“How long?”

Charlie didn’t say anything at first. “I’d say a good hundred years…”

Orri was silent. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? He looked down at the ground, frowning. Maybe the man was insane, or maybe he was just joking around. Either way, it was a pretty strange thing to say. Orri just inhaled on his cigarette again, blowing the smoke out his nose like a dragon.

“I’m here from Texas.”

“You don’t sound like you are,” Orri blurted. He didn’t care if it was slightly rude; he just wanted to change the subject.

Charlie only smiled. “Like I said, I haven’t been home in a very long time.”

Orri was silent again. There was something extremely unsettling about Charlie.

“Listen,” Charlie said, his tone turning serious. He lightly brushed back his shoulder-length black hair and sighed. “Believe me when I say that it’s been that long.”

Orri looked at Charlie with a look mixed with confusion and irritation. “What the fuck are you on?” Orri walked slightly faster, turning a corner, but he didn’t get a chance to go any further. As soon as he turned the corner, a body had jumped on him, taking him to the ground. Orri didn’t get a chance to even see what was happening, but there was someone – or something – violently trying to keep Orri pinned down. Orri could only see the dark sky as the thing kept his head back, and his neck stretched out. He tried to say something, but his throat would not allow any sound to escape. Then he felt a slight prick on his neck.