Creep

The ten mile drive from London to St. Vincent seemed longer than ten miles. Maybe that was my nerves. Maybe it was that I was not supposed to be driving these ten miles and I thought that surely, at any minute, I would be caught. I wasn’t sure by whom, but I was just certain I would get caught. It was dark but it was cloudy, and when the moon poked out from behind the clouds it was so bright that I had to shield my eyes.

There was a large gate around St. Vincent, like a gated community, or a prison. Standing on either side of the gate were two guards, holding large guns and sporting smug looks on their faces. When I pulled up, the one on the left approached and I rolled the window down. He was older, maybe in his fifties, and he looked tired. That made sense. It was past midnight; I wondered if he stood guard here all night.

Most likely. The whole community would function at night, wouldn’t they? I thought I’d heard that they actually were allergic to the sun. It wasn’t as if they would burn up, but it caused them to become very, very sick. Sun sickness, I thought it might have been called. The guards would have to stand here all night, and I could imagine them coming to the rescue—or was that a rude way to put it—if a resident should try to escape.

Then I pictured that resident being my mother; someone else’s mother. I shuddered.

“You going in, miss?” he asked. As he did, he shined a light right into my eyes. I winced. Maybe he was checking to see if I was a human or not. Maybe he was just a jerk.

“Yes.”

“May I ask what your business is inside?” I wondered if they got many visitors. I couldn’t imagine so. I had never met anyone before who had any interest on being on a reservation; people were scared of it, and it was considered a bad place to be.

“My mother. Sandra Bluth,” I replied. I hoped my voice wasn’t shaking. I was absolutely horrified. I didn’t know what to expect inside the reservation. Would it be nice, or as horrible as everyone said it was? What would my mother think when I knocked on her door?

“Hold on one minute,” the office said. He went back to his little booth and flipped through some sort of large book. He found what he was looking for, and came back.

“You’re free to go in. Be careful. Our number is 861 if you need us.” Would I?

I nodded. “Thank you.”

They said it was dangerous on the reservation. Vampires hated humans, but I had to take my chances.

--

It didn’t look as bad as everyone said. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to live in this town, but it honestly was not awful. And then again, I was seeing it in the dark; it was always seen in the dark.

It just looked old. The houses were all quite small, and the yards did not have grass quite yet—some had it in patches, but never more than that—and the main street square was actually pretty nice. There were street lamps all around and small shops and restaurants, and people were walking about the square. They all looked normal, but it was dark and I was looking from a distance.

I drove until I found 456 Oak Street. It was easy to find, there weren’t many houses. The house looked like all the rest. One story, small yard, thin driveway, and the house itself was yellow.

I parked the car out front and walked up the driveway. In my mind, I was picturing what my father would say to me if he knew. Oh, he would be furious. All my life I had always obeyed him, and the time I chose not to, it was in such a big way. He would consider disowning me, surely, and the thought wasn’t that upsetting. I kept walking.

The steps were cracked. I knocked on the screen door three times, very loudly, and then waited. The wait was forever.

A minute or so later, as I was still considering leaving, she pulled the door open. In the year since I had seen her, she had not changed. We started at each other for a minute.

I was wrong. She had changed. Her hair was the same, long and brown, but her eyes were much darker. They had been brown, but now they were almost black, with little flecks of red all around. Her skin was paler. I imagined she hadn’t been in the sun for a year. And when she finally smiled, there were the teeth.

For a second, I wanted to run away. I wanted to get back in the car and drive away, but this was my mother, even if my dad had insisted hundreds of times that she wasn’t at all the same person anymore. I could hear his voice. Your mother is dead. Leave it alone!

“Harriett!” she exclaimed. She pushed the screen open and I stepped out of its way. She rushed forward and wrapped me in her arms. She was still wearing the same perfume she always had. The smell brought back thousands of memories. Mum. “I can’t believe you’re here! Come inside, please.”

She took my hands and led me inside. The house was nice. She had decorated it the way I had imagined she would, with wood and light colors, and she had made it her own.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said again, the look of astonishment on her face not wavering.

“I just… missed you. Dad didn’t want me to come, but you’re, just, you’re my mum, so, I came.”

She looked as if she was about to cry, and I wondered if that was possible for her. There was just so much I didn’t know about her life. “I’m so happy you’re here! I tell Tom every day that I miss you. Don’t I, Tom?”

She turned to the living room and then I saw him. He was sitting in an arm chair in the lounge, a book in his lap. His hair was blonde and short and his eyes, though dark, were still lovely. He stood up, and I noticed his height. He had wide shoulders and a broad chest. He looked at me as if he wanted to hit me; the anger burned in his eyes.

“She does,” he replied, closing his book and standing up slowly, as if to pounce. His voice was low and cold. I stepped closer to my mother as he stepped closer to the pair of us. She held my hand tightly in hers.

“I have tea, do you want tea?” she asked. She had tea? I knew for a fact she couldn’t drink it, which meant it was entirely meant for a human. What other human would visit her? It was meant for me. I fought back tears. How could I have waited so long to come see my mother?

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

She smiled. “Neither are we. We’ve just had tea. Sit down, please. Let’s talk. Are you tired? You must be, it’s so late for you!”

I shook my head once more. “No, I’m fine.”

“Tell me about the city. I miss it.”

“It’s the same as always. I live in a flat with Emma now. It’s really nice. I’ll send you some pictures.”

“And you still work in that store? That record store?” she asked.

Tom sat down at the table with us, staring straight at me.

“I’m the manager now, yeah.”

She reached out and touched my hair. It was braided over my shoulder; it almost always was, and it was a bright blue-green.

“Your hair, darling,” she said with a smile. Mum had always been very easy going and relaxed. Some mothers would have been upset at a daughter with lots and lots of blue hair, but not my mum.

“I know. It’s sort of crazy, but I really like it.”

“It’s lovely. It makes your eyes look so bright. Say, would you like to see around? Go around town a bit, see where I work and all?”

I nodded. “Yeah! That would be nice. I’m curious.”

She looked to Tom. “Would you take her around, Tom? I’m so tired, and I can have something ready for you to eat when you get back.”

He furrowed his brow, and she nodded at him in encouragement. I’d been given that nod before it meant, ‘I don’t care if you don’t want to do it, do it.’ I hoped he would refused.

He turned to me and gave me the first smile I’d seen him give, and it scared the hell out of me.