There isn’t much to do but explore the small bit of beach I’m sitting on. I could delve into the forest, but looking at the shadows of the trees sends waves of shivers over my body. I like the warmth of the sun on my body, although the air doesn’t move through the suit as well as I would like it to. There’s a decision to make: stay out here where it’s hot or go inside where there is food. 

Food. I need food. 

I take a slow step into the forest, which is unusually thick, I think, for a forest by a beach. I can’t remember what forests by beaches look like, but this doesn’t seem too familiar. The trees are too close together, casting too thick of shadows. Standing here, I can barely see in front of me, forcing me to hold my arms out in front of me just to walk. After a few minutes, my eyes adjust, and I can walk easily, a little stooped over from the thick branches. 

Along the way, wherever I’m going, I pick up a big stick. It’s about the circumference of my forearm, about my height. While it looks like it should be heavy, it’s not. I watch the muscles on my arm ripple as I pick it up, the struggle that doesn’t communicate back to my brain. It doesn’t make sense to me that I’m strong, stronger than I think I am. Not a lot about this makes sense. I walk slowly, shoulders pulled up around my neck, goosebumps gathering on my arms. The sleeves of the suit cut off at the elbow, so I feel easily the chill of the shadows. 

While I walk, I carve the stick into a spear. I’m not sure how I know how to do that, but I do. The movement of my hands distracts me from the fact that the forest really creeps me out. Ahead, I hear boars. No, I smell boars. How do I smell animals? It’s not like I smell their waste, smell the stink of them from a distance. No, I smell their presence, their hair and their tusks. Letting out a small breath, I crouch down and follow their path. My mouth waters, the smell of them overtaking me almost. They seem to be running, and I am crawling. At this rate, I won’t catch up. 

Running. Running connects in my head with fleeing. The two words seem to go hand in hand. What would these large animals be running from? Is there something scarier than them? On a whim, I turn and head away from them, my spear held across my chest like a shield. There is something ahead. I can smell it. Flesh, from a  human, but it smells almost inhuman. That’s hard for my mind to wrap itself around. How can something be inhumanly human? As I walk, I’m getting closer. The coppery human smell gets stronger, and it hits me that it’s blood I smell. 

I can’t be sure if this person is a threat or not, but I do know that I’m walking without sound. If they can hear me coming, then they are listening hard. I crouch down behind a tree, looking around the peeling bark to see the crawling figure of a man. He’s bleeding through his orange jumpsuit, almost burrowing his way through the undergrowth. The overwhelming urge to help him hits me, but I don’t know if he is a threat yet. Is it worth the risk? My breathing slows to almost non-existant. I could follow behind him, watch him wander. But I’m still hungry. The smell of him is making me sick to my stomach, but that might just be the hunger. I can’t tell the difference. So, I follow him, watching his every move, how carefully he moves as to not hurt himself more. Ahead, there’s a clearing of light, a rare burst of sunshine in the darkness of the forest. He’s walking towards it but doesn’t seem to know. 

Why does that matter? I dig around in my head. Why does it matter that there’s sunlight ahead. Sunlight. Warmth. Life. Death. I run through the associations in my head, trying to find the missing link. Sunlight. Death. Blood. Copper. Sunlight. Blood. Vampire. That’s where the inhuman smell comes from. A rational part of my head tells me vampires aren’t real, but there’s a bigger part of me that knows different. I don’t know how I know they exist, but I do somehow. And as he crawls forward, I move with incredible speed and agility, so much so that I surprise myself. Holding my spear steady, I stand in front of him, in the circle of sunlight. 

“Stop, please,” I say, struggling to find the words in my head. “Sun. There’s sun.” The words almost don’t make sense, but they get the point across.