The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

"So X," I turned my head to look at him as we walked. He was about 5'11 and had a strong stature. He could have ripped me apart if he wanted to, "Where do you live?"



"Close," he looked back at me, "in an abandoned factory."



"Oh..." my face must have began filling with disappointment because he squared his shoulders and looked forward.



"'s there somethin wrong with that?" X balled his fists as he walked.



"No, no," I shook my head, looking forward as well, "I was just hoping for a place with heat, thats all."



"Oh, we got heat," he smiled, "and electricity too. We need it to run our..." he paused. "Our, lets call it an operation."



"What kind of operation?" I couldn't help but fill my voice with worry.



"Don't worry, Alex," he put his hand on my shoulder as we walked, "You'll see soon enough."



I couldn't keep my mind from going over all of the different possibilities an 'operation' could be. My thoughts went from an actual manufacturing buisness, to drug production and selling and prostitution.



"K," was all I could manage to say. X just smiled a wide grin, and turned on the next street.



We walked for another several blocks, taking turns here and there, until we ended up on a dead end street.



13th and 21st street was about three blocks long, and lit by a single street light at the end. There we're no store fronts facing the street, only brick walls. All the way down. Allies marked each length of a block as we continued to the dark, looming building. They were filled with all manner of people. It was almost as if these alley ways were open air apartments. Each person had his or her own 'apartment', that nobody messed with. At the entrance to every alley, there was an oil drum, filled with fire. These drums illuminated a circle of people conjugating around the fire. Both for warmth and company in the chill of the night.



As we passed, every person looked up at me, then to X. After their eyes hit X's body, they quickly looked away.

It seemed as if every person moved to the opposite side of the fire as we passed, then reformed their circle after we were gone. I felt all of their eyes boring into my back as we continued down the street; everybody was watching me, as if I was the next victim.



I couldn't stop myself before the thought slipped, "You must be pretty important in this 'operation' of yours." X just chuckled.



"Yeah, you could say that," and then silence until we reached the end of the street.



The building looked like something something out of a movie. Standing at least four stories tall and having a sloped roof, it gave off a menacing feeling. Skylights dotted the roof, giving out beams of light only strong enough to be seen from right infront of the building. Across the front, there was an old iron sign, which hung crooked. In fading letters the sign read, "Os'minog Maslo i Petrolium," a russian factory. How ironic.



"Who would name an oil and gas company after an octopus?" I asked X as we neared the doors.



"A fuckin crazy russian," he chuckled and nodded his head at me.



"Oh ha. Ha," fake humor filled my voice, "Very funny."



"Dont get offended," he laughed a deep belly laugh, "It was a joke."



"Ya," I said shortly. He just scoffed. "Anyway, what is this place? Where are we?" I stopped and waved my hand over the building.



"This is home," X said as he grasped the handles on the sliding doors and flung them aside. They both rooled open at the same time and stoped at the ends of their tracks with a satisfying clang.



The end of the street was bathed in a warm light, as if given off by candles. The air was filled with the smell of incense, Nag Champa, I think. And then the warmth hit me, like being hugged by a warm blanket.



I leaned my head back and took in these sensations. They were the best feelings I've had in a long time. I only realized my skin was numb after the warmth hit me. X just stood in the door way, arms crossed and smiling.



"Well, you comin in? Or you just gon stand in the freezing rain all night?" his face was plain but I could tell he was joking.



I came back to reality and looked at him, "I'm comimg, I'm coming." I wallked through the doors and into the large open room. My senses buzzed again, everything was even stronger in here.



X and I stood in the center of the seemingly empty warehouse. Slowly, I began to see faces, then bodies, appear out of shadows and doorways. All if them holding weapons of some kind.



Rusty pipes, crowbars, and hammers. Wooden and aluminium bats. And even guns. Desert Eagles, Glock 9s, TMPs, and even a 50 Caliber Sniper Rifle on the second floor.



A circle of men and women began to form around us. Each one holding some kind of weapon. X just smiled and crossed his arms again.



Here, in the middle of this circle, surrounded by people I didn't know, with weapons that could hurt me severely, I was scared. Even more so than before.



I held my breath and fished for my knife again. It wasn't much, but it was something. The only true comfort I had any more, was in that 7 inch piece of metal.



I was ready to defend myself to my last breath. This day had already been stressful enough. I wasn't going to let myself be killed without a fight.



And besides, you don't get into a knife fight with a Russian.

On my tenth day without significant food or water, I ventured out of the safety of my shanty and into the night. I had to risk the little I had left to make it on my own. So I did.



I took the first left out of current residence. The alley on 36th and third street. I walked down the street through the rain and the fluorescent lights. Not three minutes after I left the safety of home, I was plunged into the first real danger of the city at night.



"Hey kid, you lookin for somethin?" a tall black man asked me from a boarded up storefront I was passing. I ignored him and kept walking. He didn't like this, "Hey punk, I'm talking to you," I heard him start walking after me, "I swear kid, if you dont get yo little white ass back here, I'm gonna beat you bloody."



I knew trouble was coming, but I just kept walking. The man sped up to a jog behind me, which made me fish in my pocket for my knife. The man grabbed my shoulder and whipped me around.



"I'm talkin to you kid," he said. I stood my ground and grasped the knife in my pocket.



"I know you were. But I don't really feel like talking," I said with a hint of anger.



"You got some balls boy," the man smirked, "Whats your name?"



"Sa-" I hesitated. With a name like Sasha Chenkov, I wasn't going to be taken seriously.



"Hello? I fuckin axed you a question. You gon answer me or not?" he balled his fists and smiled.



It took me a another second to come up with something that I could carry with me. "Chenkov," I said.



"You got a first name, 'Chenkov'?" he began to get closer, so I took a step back.



"Alex," I said finally. It wasn't a great name but it would do.



"Alex Chenkov, you russian?" the man asked. I couldn't help but smirk. "Somthin funny?" he asked getting even closer, so I shook my head.



"Da," I shook my head again, "Yeah, I am."



"Well 'Alex', we don't get many russians round here. You got anything?" he looked me up and down.



"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Why do YOU care?" I looked him up and down too.



"Cuz if you got somthin, I want it. And I'll get it wether you give it to me or not." now the man pushed me up against the brick wall of the alley.



"I don't have anything. But if I did, I wouldn't give it to you anyway," I spat in his face. He just stared and blinked at me. He was so close I could smell his breath as I dangled above the ground. Cigarettes and liquor.



He held me there for what felt like minutes. Breathing, blinking, and staring. He clenched his jaw as if he was making a decision.



He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on my shirt, making me inhale too. Then he dropped me.



"I like you kid," he picked me up off the ground and put me on my feet. "You can call me X," he smiled again, "You got a place to crash tonight?"



"Not really," I said, wiping the mud from my jeans.



"You can crash with me tonight. I'll get you set up," he started walking down the street again. "Well?" he turned, "you comin or what?"



"Yeah," I jogged up next to him.



"Word of advise," he said as we walked, "be careful on the streets, there some real sketchy characters round here."



"No shit," I said smirking.



"What the fuck does that mean?" he stopped and glared at me.



"Nothing, nothing, it was a joke," my voice quivered. I put my hands up apologetically.



"'s what I thought," we kept walking through the rain. Not paying any attention to the people around us. Just the road in front of us.

Being a runaway, you meet a lot of people. People from everywhere. Fellow runaways, highschool dropouts, and failed buisnessmen. These were the nicest of my new people. They were also the smarter of these people. When the sun began to fall and the temperature began to drop to almost freezing, they hid away. Snuggled in their shanty towns and makeshift lean-tos.



The real outcasts of society came out when it got dark. Drug dealers, ex-prostitutes, murderers, thieves. The people who might have made it in the world at one point, but have fucked themselves so bad that they will never find their way back. Although these people weren't the most educated in school, they were street smart. They could protect me.



But my protection came at a cost. I had to prove I was worth something to them. That I wasn't just some tag-along who would cause trouble and waste valuable resources.

The initial rush was amazing. I was on my own, fending for myself.



Nothing anybody though mattered. I wasn't a disappointment anymore. I wasn't just a bastard's son. I was me. Just me. Free to grow. Free to make mistakes and learn from them, without being chastised for the rest of my life.



And then reality hit. My money wasn't limitless. The need for food and drink became ever more prominent as the days went on.



By the end of the third day, I was 50 miles from home and stuck there. Sleeping in alley ways and on top of buildings. Digging through trash cans for the only food I could find. Half eaten burgers, moldy bread. No none of my meals were ever fresh or warm. Not even my water. It came from the rusty park water fountains that dotted the city around me. But it still didn't bother me. I was free to roam the world without worry.

I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't pretend to be happy for one second more.



One bag in hand. Some clothes, a notebook, my favorite book, my knife, and all the money I could scrounge up. Thats was all I had when I walked out the door. No phone, no food, no water, no keys to a secret hide away. Nothing but what was on my back and in my bag.



"Vere ze fuck do you think YOU'RE going, mister?" my mother asked.



"I'm leaving mom. And I won't be coming back," I replied.



"Like hell you are. You have no vere to go. Nobody vants you, youre a disappointment. A bastard's sun. Vorthless. Pathetic," she hissed through her teeth at me.



I turned and opened the front door. "Thanks mom. Love you too," I said over my shoulder.



"Shasha Chenkov if you valk out zat door don't ever expect to come back," she tried to stand up but knocked over her vodka bottle. "BLYAD!" she swore in russian. I just sighed, shook my head, and walked out the door. "Good riddance!" my mother shouted after me.



And like that I was alone. I just left. The air was frigid. Rain fell like knives, piercing my skin, as I walked down the dark street. Wind blew in gusts like waves, chilling me to the bone. It was a living hell. But I didn't care. I was finally free.