Clint floored the clutch and break as he pulled to the curb. He had the largest knot in the pit of his stomach and it was punching its’ way up his throat. His vision was starting to narrow into a tunnel. He turned the ignition key and threw open the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk relying heavily on his hands to support his balance. The car rolled slowly down the slightly inclining street. He must’ve left it in neutral and forgotten the parking break. Sam had stepped into the street from the passenger street; she absently placed a hand within the door frame preventing the car from rolling any further. It didn’t look like any effort was expended – two tons of steel was simply held in place. She didn’t even lean into the car. Clint shook his head. This was not the first unreal display of strength he’d seen from her; but it was the reason why the nausea was coming on. She was a fucking vampire.
Every time Clint witnessed the evidence it was like witnessing a tear in the fabric of reality. She’d put his hand on her chest through the v-line on her tanktop. Her skin was so cold – freezing. Even near the armpit where he’d expected some warmth at least. There was none. -And her skin was too smooth; like frozen silk. People have the tiniest oily moisture perforated to the surface. Something one wouldn’t have noticed until touching the bare skin of a freakin’ vampire. Worse still was the absence of a pulse – a heartbeat. Marrow-deep fear had shot through his body at the realization; rattling every cell of his being. He’d barely managed to not run away in terror. That was the second time he’d felt it. The first time Clint had broken down the door to Sam’s private room in the basement of the youth house when gangsters had pulled up and riddled the house with bullets. Sam had not reacted as he called for her through the thick door and it wouldn’t budge at an acceptable rate as he tried kicking it in. Clint had then gone to get the fireaxe from the trunk of his car and proceeded to hack off the door’s hinges. He’d found Sam inside the little room lying on a thin cot on floor.
“Sam, wake up!” There’d been the faintest hint of dread in Clint’s voice even before he realized she was dead. It was as if he’d “sensed” it as the desperation to reach her had set in. Clint kneeled next to the still form, shaking her shoulder gently, trying to rouse the young woman. When there was no response he laid his ear to her chest and witnessed the absence of a heartbeat for the first time. The sinking feeling in the pit of Clint’s stomach suddenly dropped like a rock and he was overwhelmed with despair. He had not exactly loved her but he’d crushed hard enough to fill his thoughts with her for the past week or so. There’d been a glimmer of hope awakened and it was all the more painful now that it was suddenly snuffed out. Things had been extremely dark and very superficial for way too long. Something about Sam had made him feel something real for a change. A handful of minutes must’ve passed before he came back to his senses again and the pale girl was blurry in his vision as he stood up and gave her one last look.
“You’ll have to drive…” Clint said as he stood on the curb with his hands on his knees supporting his balance. He felt like throwing up. “I need moment here.” He staggered to open the trunk of the voluminous Dodge Charger, pulled aside a grey thermo blankett, reached in next to the spare tire and pulled out trusty Jameson. He needed a drink if a trace of sanity was to survive the night. Clint gulped down several mouthfuls from the green bottle. It burned going down but he didn’t have the mental capacity to bother wincing. The glass bottle rattled on the steel of the car as he put down the bottle. Clint looked down at this hands and then he noticed he was shaking, violently – all over his body. He took one last swig of the bottle, put it pack in the trunk, locked it and tossed Sam the keys. “I wont be operating any more heavy machinery for a while!”