Being on death row was something Jacob never anticipated.
But who really anticipates this—he thought.
He wasn’t a killer. Or at least he wasn’t a murderer. While the person he killed didn’t deserve what happened, it wasn’t his fault. Society was not ready for it, and like a rabid animal, he would be put down in a few hours.
The brightly lit six-by-eight-foot, white-walled, windowless room contrasted his prison-issued orange jumpsuit. Jacob’s back rested against the wall. Reclining, he sat on the thin mattress of the cot as his feet could almost touch the opposite wall. It was an early morning time for reflection. He thought about being a premed student at the University of Florida. His dad was a general practitioner in Ocala, Florida. He had thoroughly planned to take over his dad’s practice one day.
Jacob had a great childhood. As a teenager, he worked on a glass-bottom boat as a summer job at nearby Silver Springs, Florida. He loved using the microphone to entertain the tourists as they oohed at the big fish in the crystal-blue water underneath the glass.
Everything was normal for a kid growing up in central Florida. Good grades, plenty of pretty girlfriends, and everything else that makes a teenager’s life sweet. He went to Gator football games with his dad growing up and was one hundred percent a Florida Gator fan. Life had been perfect.
Ending up at the Florida correctional facility in Lowell seemed to happen overnight. Killing a plump Tri Delta girl named Delilah was not something he would have done under normal circumstances. His parents were devastated knowing that their beautiful baby boy would be executed at sunrise.
###
Jacob learned today that there are at least fifteen variations of vampirus Homo sapiens. The night after being turned, he tried his first taste of human blood. He’d met her in a downtown Gainesville bar. Lucky for her, Jacob had a bad reaction to his first blood suck. His skin started itching, red welts appeared everywhere, and he retched for a good thirty minutes in the alleyway near the bar. He felt so bad that he quickly went to the after-hours emergency clinic in the downtown area.
Jacob had become somewhat aggravated when the after-hours emergency clinic doctor informed him in a pedantic tone that his skin disease was nothing unusual for a vampire of his kind. Jacob was not particularly vicious, but now whenever someone talked down to him, he seemed to have these newfound natural urges to bite. The girl at the bar said something sarcastic; he was hungry, and getting her outside was simple enough. Sort of a clenched fist, stomp and go for the jugular reaction. It was uncontrollable the first time the feeling hit him. But now, with the doctor’s news, he would somehow have to learn to control his temper. A little surprised that the doctor knew what he was, Jacob said, “So, you know what I am?”
The middle-aged, balding emergency room physician said somewhat tersely, “You really shouldn’t be surprised. We have your kind come in here quite often to buy blood.”
Pushing things further, Jacob said, “Aren’t you a little bit scared?”
“No, not really. Dogs don’t bite the ones feeding them, and vampires don’t bite doctors that are trying to help them.”
After a pause, the doctor added, “Besides, I’m also blood type B positive.”
Jacob was unlucky; his first subject was type B positive. How the doctor said, “Well, everyone has allergies; why you’d think all vampires are the same is a really ridiculous notion.” His tone got on Jacob’s nerves. Breaking out into a horrible rash every time he drank blood type B positive wasn’t something he expected about being a vampire. Hearing it from this doctor explained why he had this awful rash but didn’t make him feel better.
“So I’m going to give you an injection of steroids to stop the itch. Get the prescription filled as soon as possible.”
Jacob was lucky. Though he was now dead, his parents still had him on their health insurance.
“Before you leave, I want to give you a pint of O negative. Think of it as a kind of flushing out.”
Jacob thought being a vampire was weird enough. He had no idea being different from other vampires was possible. Now, he would have to run a blood test anytime he got hungry.
Jacob said to the doctor, “So, you’re telling me I’ve got to say, please excuse me; I need to prick your finger before I decide if I want to drink your blood?”
“Well, yes, I guess so. Drinking type B positive will only get worse for you. It’s like a bee sting when allergic. A few more times, and you might as well go out in the sun. It’ll feel about the same.”
“Who else has this problem?”
The doctor said, “Well, I would assume your maker would be someone of Nordic ancestry. They tend to be very sensitive to B positive blood.”
###
Jacob was one of the rare ones. His maker was unknown to him. He’d gotten drunk at a fraternity party and woke up a vampire next to a funeral home. He thought, at first, it was just a nasty hangover. But the awful burning, smoking skin when staggering back to his fraternity house told him something else was wrong with him. Fortunately, he made it back to the Pike house before the sun came up entirely. Still not knowing his problem, he was stunned when he saw the fang marks and streaked blood on his neck. Not remembering anything and seeing where a lot of blood had smeared his T-shirt, he muttered to himself, “Must’ve been one hell of a party.”
He certainly didn’t need to talk to his maker to figure out he was a vampire. The fang marks and the thirst for blood seemed to come naturally. Realizing blood on his T-shirt wouldn’t look too cool, one of the first things Jacob did that morning was clean up. Having his frat brothers see him all pale and bloody would scare the hell out of them. Lucky he was naturally a pale guy, but wearing a scarf to hide the fang marks was not going to be his style.
Jacob slept most of the day. When Jacob came downstairs before going to class and a downtown bar to meet some friends, it was seemingly on cue that his best friend Tony was downstairs sitting on the fraternity’s overused, ratty couch. The first thing Tony said was “What’s with the scarf?”
“New style.” Jacob knew Tony wouldn’t buy it, but he had to say something.
Jacob was worried that Tony could tell he was a vampire when he said, “Have you turned?”
“Turned?”
Like a true frat boy homophobe, Tony said, “Yeah, stupid. Have you become a fudge packer?”
Jacob laughed and said, “Okay, you got me.”
Seeing Tony wanted more, Jacob added, “Just want to hide a hickey before going to class.”
Tony seemed to accept that remark when he said, “I know turtlenecks are out of style, but that sure would look less gay than that scarf.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lucky Jacob had slept into the afternoon. Or maybe it was vampire hibernation. He didn’t know. Regardless, having two night classes was a good thing. His parents were going to be pissed about him dropping his day class in chemistry, but he didn’t have a choice.
###
“So you coming to the party tonight?” Tony was already drinking a beer. Jacob believed Tony never went to class. He also wondered what his blood type was. Two nights had passed since his bar encounter. Jacob was hungry.
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
Jacob’s fraternity seemed to have a party almost every night. That was the good thing about being a Gator. They did party a lot. It was a good thing parties happened at night. Hanging out in the Gainesville sun made it difficult for a vampire.
Jacob didn’t know anything about being a vampire. Sure, he had heard things and seen movies. All Jacob knew right now was hunger pangs. He didn’t want to suck the blood of a fraternity brother. That wouldn’t be cool. He was smart enough to know it should be alone with someone. He decided to wait to find a drunk girl. As the night wore on, Jacob knew there would be one lying around somewhere. It didn’t matter how she looked. It wasn’t sexual or anything like that. Just a natural, inexplicable, weird kind of hunger to drink blood had overtaken every cell in his body. Somehow he would have to quench that thirst as soon as possible.
The doctor had given Jacob a blood typing kit for when the time came. He asked the doctor, “You don’t care if I kill someone?”
The doctor, in a serious tone, said, “Hey, who am I to judge? The vampires I know are generally good people. They can’t help being the way they are. But I will tell you that if you do this without consent, you run the risk of getting a stake in your heart or worse, thrown out in the sun.”
“Consent?”
“You really are new at this.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, you can usually drink about two hundred milliliters before it kills or the person turns. I would suggest you stop at one hundred milliliters to be safe.”
Fortunately, he thought, I have enough chemistry to know what is one hundred milliliters. But he wasn’t sure how much sucking that would entail. “How long do I suck? … What if I need more?”
“Well, this is a guess, but looking at the size of your mouth and the fact you’re young, you probably shouldn’t suck over a minute. As to how much? Hard to say.”
Looking impatient, the doctor added, “Being a vampire with this allergy is a tough life for sure. My guess is your maker was hungry, they went overboard. An accident is how I’d describe it.”
Getting the girl was easy. She was on the plump side. But his newfound strength enabled Jacob to get her out near the campus lake. There is a point in a night of heavy drinking where nobody sees or hears anything. Besides, he was strong enough to make it look like she was a willing participant as he walked and carried her out to the lake.
Fortunately, the directions to using the blood testing kit were easy to follow. Quickly pricking her finger, he determined his subject was blood type A negative. He had to punch her in the face hard enough to make her unconscious but not so hard it would kill her. Fresh, pumping blood was a requirement. Drinking her blood was not a problem. Stopping at one minute of sucking was impossible for a ravenous newbie vampire.
He was parched. Jacob wondered about turning her, but soon he realized she was past the point of turning. The good news was that with the lake nearby and the massive gators within it, he figured the authorities wouldn’t be able to tell how she met her demise.
Now satiated, Jacob felt awful as he watched the girl’s large body slowly slide along the shoreline and gradually slip into the deep water. There was no thrashing or splashing—just a quiet, gentle submerging caused by at least two alligators dining on a sumptuous sorority girl. Jacob didn’t consider himself a killer and certainly had never killed anyone. After tonight, he was now far removed from being recognized as most likely to succeed at nearby Ocala High School.
###
When he saw her, he knew who and what she was. It was now the third fraternity party in a row since he’d turned. Jacob had no plans to suck blood that night. The obese sorority girl had certainly satisfied his desires for a while. He was trying to get drunk sitting on the ratty fraternity couch. Killing the girl bothered him, and getting drunk seemed like the thing to do. He was working on his sixth beer when the tall, pale, beautiful blonde girl plopped down next to him and smiled demurely.
“So I see you’re doing well.”
Jacob knew who she was. Maybe he could smell it, or perhaps he read her mind. He wasn’t certain other than the fact he knew she was his maker. Blonde, buxom, and bright blue eyes were his type. She was quite the looker. He couldn’t remember it, but he could see himself hitting on her. “Afraid you won’t be able to get a buzz. No matter how hard you try.”
“Why me?”
“Would you believe I was lonely?” Jacob felt her hand rubbing up and down his thigh.
Jacob was not ready to play. “No, not really. I imagine you were just hungry.”
“Come now, sweetie. We vamps need love too, you know.” After a pause, while running her index finger around Jacob’s earlobe, she said, “Doesn’t matter now… I mean, what’s done is done.”
“I think if you intentionally turned me to be your friend…” Jacob hesitated before saying, “Or…lover, you’d have stuck around.”
Jacob could see brilliantly white teeth between the bright red lipstick and puffy lips. Looking coy, she said, “You got me. I really thought you were dead. I sort of panicked.”
“Is that why I woke up near that funeral home?”
“I had to go pee, and when I came back, you were gone. With the sun coming up, I had to get back to my hotel room.” Kind of demurely, she said, “I have a deal with the undertaker there. If I have an accident and suck too long, he lets me use the crematorium.”
“So, I was an accident?” Maybe it was a vampire trance, or he was just tired, but Jacob wasn’t angry for some reason.
“Well, you’re a good kind of accident. You’ve got to understand I had just got in town from the University of Kentucky. I was famished.” She paused before saying, “By the way, my name’s Astrid. We do need to talk about your life now.”
Jacob was sarcastic as he said, “You mean the life you ended? You know, the dead life where I would be miserable after drinking type B blood?”
Jacob wasn’t sure if the shocked look on Astrid’s face was authentic or part of an act. Regardless, she said, “Baby, I’m really sorry. You got to believe me––I haven’t turned anyone in a hundred years for that very reason.”
“Well, it almost killed me…again.”
Astrid looked concerned as she said, “I’m sorry. You’ve got to believe me that making you allergic to type B blood wasn’t my intention.”
Sitting there, Astrid began telling Jacob about her life. How when she was made in the late 1800s, her subjects were kept in an asylum by her own maker. They’d been put there out of trial and error like cattle. Things were quite dull, having to suck on the same people over and over. Before there was such thing as blood typing, vampires like her had to be careful. She said while the mortal Karl Landsteiner was credited with first identifying blood types, it was a Swedish vampire, her maker, who had figured it all out before Landsteiner’s 1901 announcement. Not to call attention to himself, Astrid said her maker gave Landsteiner all his research.
Miffed, Jacob said, “That’s all interesting, but it doesn’t do much for me.”
“Well, sure it does. You can lead a fairly normal vampire life by knowing blood types.”
Finally, she said, “Look, it’s part of our code to take care of each other. So you have nothing to worry about.”
“Did you say not to worry? I know you don’t realize this, but my parents expected me to do well in school and become a doctor one day.”Jacob said this trembling in anger.
“I’m sorry about that. But you know how hunger can take over a vampire. That just won’t work out now.”
After a long pause, she said, “You know some are grateful to be given eternal life.”
Sarcastically Jacob said, “Eternal life until you step out in the sun, get a stake in your heart, or in my case drink some bad blood.”
Smiling, Astrid said, “Nothing’s perfect, but you stick with me; I’ll take care of you. I’ve been around a long time. Life as a vampire ain’t that bad if you know what you’re doing.”
Astrid grinned and said, “And for your information, vampire sex is the best!”
###
Jacob realized he had no choice but to stay with Astrid. She told him two things to remember about being a vampire with a type B allergy. Never turn anyone and never kill anyone. If you turn anyone, you’ve created competition for yourself. That’s particularly bad for those of us who have allergies. And as far as killing anyone, that applies to all vampires. Do not call attention to yourself and risk getting a stake in your heart. Jacob didn’t tell Astrid about his plump Tri Delta girl accident.
Astrid told him the best way not to get caught is to find them drunk, test their blood type, and only suck for a minute. If still hungry, move on to the next subject. She told him her strategy and way to survive was by hitting college campuses known as party schools. She found Jacob when doing the schools of the SEC. After Florida, her next stop was Ole Miss. Ole Miss was a well-known party school, so finding fraternity and sorority students would be easy. Astrid proceeded to tell him how she had a Rolodex in her head that kept up with fraternity boys’ and sorority girls’ blood types—telling him that catching them as freshmen gave her four years without having to do any blood-type testing. The dumb and lazy ones sometimes gave her six or seven years of usage. Jacob was amazed at her memory when they showed up at a Kappa Sigma party after a football game on the Ole Miss campus. “That’s Steve. He’s okay with blood type B. That’s Suzanne. She’s great-tasting AB positive.” On and on, Astrid would point out subjects. The blood supply was so plentiful, they would not have any problem sharing what was available. Jacob just had to learn to control himself and stop at one hundred milliliters.
Initially, Astrid monitored Jacob and would have to pull him away from time to time as he went into an uncontrollable feeding frenzy. She told him to try counting one Mississippi, two Mississippi to get his timing down for when it was time to move on to his next subject. Being older, Astrid was stronger and could pull him away like a puppy sucking at its mama’s teat. But over time, she did less monitoring as he learned to control his natural urges.
Despite his improved self-control, Jacob’s first victim making the Gainesville Times created a huge problem. It turns out the alligators left her neck and head behind in their feeding frenzy. Unfortunately, Jacob’s fang marks were observable. The police and coroner knew right away that she was the victim of a vampire. While police had looked the other way at Astrid’s activities over the years, the fact this girl came from an influential family in the Florida nation presented a significant problem for all vampires in the area. Knowing that Astrid feasted on University of Florida students and knowing that this young woman was A positive blood type made Astrid suspect number one with the Gainesville Police. To Astrid’s credit and as part of that vampire code, she didn’t resist when arrested. She was soon extradited from her and Jacob’s activities in the PAC 12.
Stanford party blood was some of her favorite, and Jacob found the high-IQ blood especially delectable as well. Being pulled away because of something he did was too much to bear. Jacob would have to turn himself in to save his maker. It was part of that damn vampire code, he thought. Though a newbie, Jacob knew it was something he had to do. Besides, he knew it was a certainty the bite marks would forensically match his fangs and not Astrid’s.
###
The plump Tri Delta girl named Delilah came from old money. Her family didn’t have a problem with Jacob going out as a vampire. They were quite aware that a vampire’s second death was quite painful. They had a vampire somewhere in their family tree and knew all about the vampire way of life from their uncle Clarence.
Lethal injection, electric chair, or being staked out for the smoking, searing death of a beautiful Florida sunrise was an easy decision for Delilah’s family. There would be no body, and it would be a relatively quick execution.
The prison authorities had no problem giving Jacob a second death in the sun. It avoided stay of executions or the outside chance of a pardon. They were just not prepared to house a vampire involving a lengthy legal process. Getting this done would be best for everyone involved. All the prison guards needed was a power washer to get rid of the ashy residue. It was unfortunate for Jacob that he committed his crime in Florida. His lawyer told him, “A liberal state like Oregon would have charged you with manslaughter.”
The night before Jacob’s sun-searing death, Astrid came and visited. She told Jacob how sorry she was for what had happened. Shaking with anger, he said to her that where he was now was her fault. There was no nobility on the part of Jacob at this point. Perhaps if he had been a vampire for a longer time, there would be some sensibility to it all. But he rightfully felt that his soon demise was solely the fault of his maker. Astrid hated departing on such bad terms, but her hunger called. She did sneak a few vials of blood type A to help him with his hunger before she left.
Jacob’s parents, who didn’t know about vampires, were shocked when they visited him at the Florida state prison in Lowell—telling them what happened crushed his parents.
There was definite discrimination and inhumane treatment of vampires in the Florida prison system. The prison wouldn’t even grant him the last meal of his favorite blood type––AB positive. It was challenging to find a person of the cloth who would preside over a vampire’s execution. The idea of eternal damnation still pervaded the clergy when it came to vampires. A liberal preacher who claimed to be Baptist talked to Jacob about eternal salvation and said eternal damnation for vampires was a myth in his mind. The preacher accompanied Jacob and the twenty correctional officers as he walked out onto the prison yard grounds. Jacob figured the reason there were so many guards was in case he needed subduing. He had no plans to resist. The death of the Tri Delta still bothered him. And the outright anguish exhibited by his parents convinced Jacob this was all for the best.
Jacob could see the plump girl’s family sitting on metal chairs near the four heavy duty lag bolts with manacles that had been screwed deep into the recreation yard concrete. Jacob complied when the biggest guard told him to lay down between the bolts. There was no gentle compassion as the prison guards clamped manacles around Jacob’s ankles and wrists. The family would be close enough to smell his burning flesh and feel the heat of the fire. Jacob’s final thoughts as he saw a glint of sunlight on the horizon were about how life can be so unfair even in death.
THE END
