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Dead Bite: An Undead Story 83 George sat with his back against the concrete of his cell.  They had shipped him to the maximum security prison an hour upstate.  It smelled of piss and mold, but George knew he would not be there long.  The state was pushing for a fast trial.  He had been there three weeks, and their argument was that he was too dangerous to even consider putting back out into society. “These soldiers that were experimented on out there in Germany, they cannot come back from that life.  They are too dangerous.  As is evidence by Officer O’Ragan,” the district attorney had argued in front of the judge.  “

Dead Bite: An Undead Story 82 Hate.  Utter hate was all he could see in those eyes. George stumbled towards Jorel, dragging the Mossberg behind him.  Veins stood up on his neck and forehead like streaks of lightning, and spittle misted out of his mouth with every broken breath. Jorel hesitantly stepped forward.  “George, what’s wrong with you?” “You never loved me…I was just your plaything.”  George rushed at Jorel, but when he almost tripped over his own feet he stopped. “What are you talking about?” “You’ve been fucking around with Aron the whole time I was gone.  And now I h

Dead Bite: An Undead Story 81 It was fucking stupid to leave him in a safe house. George’s heart was pounding out of his chest.  He barely felt it but could hear it in his head.  Sweat cloaked him, but he did not feel it.  He did not feel anything physically. All of the feelings were inside him now.  And they were raging so much he did not understand how he was alive. George was staggering through the snow in a run.  He could see the bright yellow haze above, even through his clouded vision. Aron had left whatever that shit was to which he was addicted right there.  The needle felt like a twisted heaven piercing his skin, and he ha

Dead Bite: An Undead Story 80 Aron’s boots crunched in the dry snow.  He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his wool overcoat although he was not cold.  Little did the unassuming pedestrians around his realized a demon was among their midst. The yellow electric lights of a marquee halted him.  It was the sign to the Governor Hotel.  Although it had been around in New York since the 1840s, it was keeping with the times, updating its decadent rooms with upholsteries that were in fashion, new light fixtures, and contemporary furniture.  It touted itself as having running water in every room.  Not many hotels could say that at this po

There were letters “all the time” he said.  George had never lied to Jorel before, so he must have written those notes, but why had Jorel not seen them?  Surely, it was no hand of Fate that had repeatedly lost the letters in the mail.  No, someone or something else must have gotten rid of them. Jorel knew exactly who. “Aron!” Jorel yelled as he entered his home.  Damn if the maid knew that he was here now.  “Aron!” Jorel found the smug beast in a wing back chair in their bedroom, leg crossed over the other knee, his elbows propped up so that his mouth rested against his hands. “Dear Jorel, what is

It was December.  The war had been going on for over four years. George had been back in the states since the first week of November.  But he could not go home.  He could not go seek Jorel and see how much he had changed.  George imagined he would be much more handsome, his looks refined from late boyhood to emerging manhood.  How much he would be changed!  George would have changed too, but far more badly. The Irishman was sitting in the Great Hall of the institution with other patients surrounding him.  He fiddled with the chess pieces in front of him, milling over the nurse’s news that he had a vi

The Azulite War, Part 11 George’s feet stuck hard in the mud.  His ratty clothes were heavy with rain.  The dreary sky mimicked his feelings.  Luckily, his tears matched the rain, and no one would be able to tell any differently.  His head ached still, though the Dominant had taken him a fortnight ago. He could still feel the large bump in the back of his head.  Back at the drugstore, the leader shadow had ran up on George, standing the shotgun’s length away after George had fallen to his knees.  The shadow shoved the barrel of the gun up under the Azulite’s chin, forcing his head up so the shadow could see.  Even through

Dead Bite: An Undead Story 77 It was sad watching his boy-love spiral out of control.  Aron kept a close eye on Jorel as the months drifted away from George’s leave.  Despondent at first, the Italian barely left his room, and he withered without any feelings of hunger.  Then Jorel received a letter, and his spirits perked up entirely.  Suspicious, Aron scavenged through Jorel’s desk one day while he was out. Aron dug out a letter post-dated about a month before.  It read: “Dear Jorel, “My ship has made it across the Atlantic.  I still have a ways to go to get to the front line.  I hope to write you when I can.  Don