It’s a starless autumn night as many nights are here in St. Minsbri. A bitterly cold breeze cuts through my coat with ease. I should’ve bought a new coat years ago, but shit happens that makes you forget stuff like that. I’ll need to buy one before the winter, but rent and food come first. So for now I endure the cold as I walk to my graveyard shift. 

I cut through Flynn Park for a shortcut. There are barely any lights and tons of shady shit has gone down here. But it takes a few minutes off my walk to work, and I truly do not care if something happens. What little light there is lets me see my breath as I trudge along. 

Off to the side, I hear something moving quickly, rushing past me in the blink of an eye as it goes off into the dark. 

It looked human-sized, might’ve been a person. A second later I hear and barely see another one, this one I see a bit more clearly. Definitely a person, maybe hopped up on something, chasing the first one. 

They didn’t do anything to me, so it’s none of my business. Both of them ran unsettlingly fast. I’d feel bad if something terrible happened and I heard about it on the news later, but I’m not sure what I could do anyway. Besides, my manager is fiending for a reason to get all over my ass, so I’m not going to give him one. 

A few minutes later I make it to my place of employment, the All In One store. Rather than have that as a sign, whoever owns this franchise decided to go with an infinity symbol turned vertically inside the number one. Absolutely no one gets it, most people call it the 81 store. Others call it the 18 store. 

My paycheck can’t make me care enough to correct them. 

My manager is just leaving the store as I walk up. 

“Enjoy the shift, Felix Claret,” he says while handing me the keys. I don’t know why he feels the need to say my full name every time he sees me, but I think in his mind it’s some kind of power play. 

He walks away, leaving me to my solitary confinement. This place is open 24 hours, one of the few in St. Minsbri. There’s no reasonable justification for a 24-hours store in a city that winds down at around 8 p.m. But the checks clear, so who am I to argue?

Only one person comes here in the later hours with some regularity. A woman whose name I don’t know. She always buys an energy drink or coffee with a bag of chips. I imagine she has to go to some horrible job she hates too. We’ve probably only exchanged 6 words with each other. But she only comes on Wednesdays, so I’m all alone this Friday night. 

I change out of my ineffective coat and go to stand behind the register for hours on end. At times I wish I could say I’m mentally writing the next great American novel. That as I stand here, there is a world-changing piece of art being crafted in my head. But honestly, I’m just counting the hours hoping it’ll blur by faster or I’ll go completely insane and end up somewhere interesting. 

I can’t even sit down since my manager has such a hard-on for making sure I’m following the rules.  He fast forwards through the security tape to see if I was standing the entire shift. 

Maybe an hour and a half go by, not a soul has entered the store. Except maybe some moths, but I hate moths ever since they ate my favorite sweater. 

A thunderous crash comes from the doors, breaking the glass and sending shards all over the place. 

 At the site of the destruction is a man, dressed like five very different people picked his clothes. There’s a severely deranged look about him, he’s frenetically looking for something as if his life depends on it. There are bruises and cuts all over him. He struggles to get up to his feet before another man comes in after him. 

This man is laser-focused on the one on the floor. Not a scratch on him, he strides in with contempt in his eyes. 

Everything about him looks like he was built for fighting. Rippling muscles that his long-sleeved shirt barely contain. The way he carries his broad shoulders and stocky build, makes me think he should be in a boxing ring. Or maybe a low-budget action movie. 

He’s wearing a thermal shirt that definitely doesn’t look like it’s warm enough. And possibly a size or two too small. 

With the door broken gusts of cold air flood in to steal what little heat the store had. 

The man on the floor looks at me with desperate hunger. He rushes at me with insane speed, before I can react I see his mouth open wide; his canines are much longer than they should be and far sharper. 

His breath reeks of blood. 

The only reason he hasn’t bitten my face off is because of the other man. He has a strong hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place. I didn’t even see him move. 

He turns and throws the desperate man clean across the store into the beverage fridge. More glass shatters and now all kinds of sodas, juices, and beers spill all over the place. 

The impact would’ve knocked out a regular guy, but clearly, he isn’t normal. The bruised-up man gets to his feet, hisses like a snake, and lunges forward. 

The two of them start at inhuman speeds, thrashing each other all over the store, causing more destruction. 

As I watch them fight and wreck the store, I think about a realization I’ve known about myself for years now: there’s something deeply wrong with me. 

Watching them fight, I’m not scared, shocked, or even happy for some excitement. I’m not feeling anything in particular, except the same numbness I’ve felt for years. 

The only thing I can think is if I survive the fight, how I’ll have to get another job because I’ll surely be fired. 

The one in the thermal expertly dodges the insanely fast jabs and hooks that the other man throws. He waits like he’s looking for an opening. He sidesteps the deranged man and grabs the back of his head to slam his face into the coffee machine. I’ve burned myself on the damn thing just walking by it, he’s bashing this guy’s face into it until the entire machine breaks. Boiling hot coffee spills all over the floor. 

How the other guy is still standing, let alone willing to fight is astonishing. He hasn’t gotten a hit in this entire brawl, a sensible person would book it. But whatever frenzy has taken over his mind compels him to stand and attack. 

The deranged man rushes at his opponent again. The man in the thermal shirt flips clean over him, grabbing his head and bringing it down hard over his shoulders. I can hear the neck snap from here, the force with which he does it tears the skin; taking the head completely off. 

I’m expecting a river of blood to flow out but instead where there was once flesh quickly turns to dust. 

Ash. It scatters and makes a small mess indistinguishable from the rest of the chaos. I wouldn’t believe there was another person here if I hadn't just seen his head get torn off. 

The man in the thermal shirt heaves a little breath as if that was just a bit of exercise. 

He looks at me like he just noticed I’m here. 

“Are you gonna clean that up?” I ask him. His confused look becomes bewilderment. 

“You’re not…scared?” He asks me with an accent, it’s African but I can’t pin down where he could be from. 

“I’m annoyed honestly, you knocked over pretty much everything, and now the warm air is escaping.”

He stands up to his full height and saunters over to me. His pecs jiggle with each step under his ineffective shirt. He has a mean looking frown on his face. At first, I think he’s trying to intimidate me, but his expression softens when he sees that mine doesn’t change. 

I should be scared but can’t muster the energy to care. 

By the time he walks up to the counter, he has a look of worry on his face as he examines me. He’s shorter than me, but so are a lot of people. 

“You’re not wondering why he turned into ash?” He asks.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious, but I’m mostly relieved I don’t have to clean up any blood.”

A soft crunch of glass lets us both know someone walked in. We turn to look at the entrance. 

It’s that one customer who occasionally comes here. A short white girl with copper hair, freckles, and a pointy nose. She looks at the beverage fridge to see it smashed, the coffee machine broken, and all the snacks crushed. She comes to the very reasonable conclusion that there is nothing for her here. 

“Bye,” she says, quickly leaving. 

It’s me and this guy alone again. 

Now that he’s not destroying my place of work I can get a good look at him. 

If I had to guess his height, I’d clock him at around 5’7. People always ask me about my height of 6’4 so I make it a point to try and guess others. He’s rather handsome, but not in the way celebrities are: chiseled and angled, but more classically pleasant facial features. It’s hard to describe but he’s easy on the eyes. Lavish lips, wide nose, and a strong chin that’s shaved clean. 

 

He has a dark caesar fade, his hairline is sharp and crisp like he just got it cut. His skin is as dark as a chestnut, like mine. 

His eyes, which look me over as I look him over, are a strange shade of brown. They look somewhat red. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you it's rude to stare?” He asks. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to wreck a store?” I ask back. He turns around to look at the destruction he caused as if it hadn’t occurred to him. 

“In my defense,” he says “I truly didn’t think there would be anyone in here. Most people are asleep at this hour.” 

There’s something strange about his teeth, from my height I can barely see in his mouth, but they all look pointy. 

“Well, most people don’t work this wonderful job,” I note. “But don’t worry, I won’t have it for much longer now that all this happened I’ll definitely be fired. So you can smash up the place all you want.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, I only imagine that guilt compels him to say,

“I am sorry, I wouldn’t have brought my fight in here if I had known.”

I shrug.

“It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened here lately. And you won, so there’s that.”

“Are you going to call the police?” He asks. I can’t help but laugh a little. 

“When have the police ever helped someone who looks like us?” I ask him in return. He nods in understanding. 

“I’m going to fix this, I promise you this,” he says. “When does your boss come in?”

“At regular human hours,” I answer. He blinks at me. “Around 7:30 or so,” I elaborate. He puts his hand to his chin in thought for a moment. 

“I can fix this, I’ll make this right, I swear!” 

Before I can ask for any details on his plan he runs off at an insane speed. 

“Typical,” I say to no one. I go to find some garbage bags to tape over what was the door. Then I start to clean up the disaster the strangers left. Well, one of them anyway, I guess the other guy is a part of it now. 

I put back up whatever shelves are still intact so that’s a grand total of 3. Pretty much anything that could be smashed is pulverized. So most of the clean-up is just sweeping shit. I mop up all the drinks that were spilled. The only area I don’t clean up is where the ash lies. I kneel down to inspect it, not entirely sure why I bother. I’m not whatever kind of scientist knows about ash. There’s so much of it. Hard to believe that this is what’s left of a man.

If I ever see that other stranger again, I’ll have to ask what the fuck is going on. Chances of that are slim to none though, I’m definitely getting fired when Dave sees what happened to the store. 

I finish the cleaning and the rest of my shift. Thankfully no one else came in and tore the place to shreds. No one else came in at all. Thank God.

With the lack of a door I can’t lock up, so I just go home where it’s no longer my problem. 

I sleep like I always do, not well. Especially when I’m expecting a call from my manager firing me. A call from Dave comes at around 7:50 a.m. I pick up immediately since there’s no point in waiting. 

“Hello?” I answer. 

“Hey Felix,” a rare occasion where he doesn’t use my full name “the police told me about what happened. It was weird that there was only one officer, but I guess it’s a small case. Anyway, I guess the store will be closed for a couple days while everything is repaired. Take it easy, yeah?”

I didn’t call the police so I have to believe this is the result of the stranger’s help. I’ve never  been one to talk myself out of a benefit. 

“Okay, see ya.” I end the call. 

I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t have to job hunt now. It’s a mystery how the stranger convinced Dave whatever it is that he convinced him, but I won’t lose sleep over it. 

My stomach grumbles. I already know there’s nothing in my fridge, and not getting fired is a good enough reason to treat myself. 

If I cared more I’d consider the sadness of that last thought but it is what it is. 

With my useless coat on, I head outside to go to my favorite deli. 

And who else should I see waiting outside my apartment building than the stranger? 

He smiles like he’s genuinely happy to see me. Little off putting. 

He crosses the street without looking both ways. 

“Good morning,” he says. This man is wearing another thermal shirt that simply can’t keep him warm. 

“Mornin’,” I reply. I don’t see what’s so good about it. “Seems you kept your word, I didn’t get fired. Which is good cuz looking for a job is mad annoying. You saved me a lot of headaches…” I realize he didn’t tell me his name. 

“Abayomi,” he supplies. I choose not to comment on the mononym. 

“Felix Claret,” I supply in return.

“Your boss is really easy to trick, Felix.”

“I know, I tricked him into thinking I’m mentally healthy.”

He doesn’t laugh at my hilarious joke, his only reaction is to make a visibly concerned face. 

“Well, I’m glad all the same,” he says “I’d hate to think you’d lose your job because I was careless in mine.”

“Speaking of, you still haven’t told me why that guy turned to ash like that.” 

Abayomi looks around to see if anyone is within earshot. Even if there was someone I doubt they'd care. 

“You have to keep this a secret, okay? You can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t tell my thousands of close friends?”

Abayomi blinks at my sarcasm. 

“I’m being facetious. No, I won’t tell anyone.”

He sighs. 

“That ‘man’ last night was a ravenous vampire, too far gone in his bloodlust. I exterminate vampires to keep the rest of us safe.” 

I blink at his usage of “us”. Almost like he can read my mind, he shows me his teeth. Each one of them is razor sharp and long. 

I wonder if it’s too late for Dave to fire me. 

Ch. 1 End.