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Adam's Story

H.M. Swift



  Adam's Story

  The Calloway Chronicles

  Book One

  by

  H.M. Swift

  Copyright 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-4660-6877-3

  Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.

  *****

  Prologue

  There are many distinctive qualities about vampires that are widely known and used with such infinite finality that they are regarded as nothing less than absolute fact. Most of these incredible truths, while being imaginatively tantalizing, are nothing more than glorified myths.

  That being said, please allow me to disclaim some of the lore that does not directly pertain to the story I am about to relate. Anything I leave out will most likely be described in detail during the tale within.

  The first item I would like to relate to is our physical appearance. We real vampires - I say "we" because I am in all actuality a real vampire - do not look much different than human beings. In fact we are human beings, only less alive. Since we are not wholly dead, we do not have the sickly blue-white complexion of a corpse as some think, but our skin is of a paler color than it was when we were 'normal'. That is due to our low heart rate and the insufficient oxygen content in our bodies. My heart, during normal daily activity, pumps blood at a rate of approximately twenty beats per minute. The speed can increase or decrease based on the level of exertion just like everyone else.

  The low heart rate and slow stream of blood through a vampire's body is also what makes our skin cooler to the touch than a non-vampire's. And what helps us to survive extreme climates that a human could not possibly survive. The weather doesn't affect me the way it does you. I could be perfectly comfortable in the Arctic or the Sahara wearing nothing but jeans and a tee shirt. My internal body temperature would remain at or close to thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit. However, the warmth or coolness of my skin does fluctuate occasionally.

  Which brings me to my next topic: a vampire's skin. It is much tougher than a humans. We are not impervious, but more insensitive to epidermal harm. We do not burn in sunlight or even tan. Nor do we suffer from any common skin condition that can afflict humans. Such as acne. I was eighteen when I was changed. I didn't have much of a problem with acne before, but I have since had no problem with it. I haven't even got razor burn - a disorder that plagued everyone who used a straight razor. And I do have to shave if I don't want facial hair. Even a corpse's hair and nails grow.

  Vampires also have limited regenerative capabilities. Our cells build and repair at an alarming rate compared to a human's. If a vampire does manage to get cut, it will heal within seconds, or minutes depending on the severity of the wound. It would take a traumatic injury to kill a vampire.

  As for respiration, which controls the oxygen saturation in blood and plays a large factor in skin pigmentation, mine is normally around one or two breaths per minute instead of the average ten or twelve. Breathing is not just something vampires do to appear normal. We do have to breathe. Yet we can go for longer periods of time without air. I believe the longest I have ever held my breath was fifty-seven minutes and nineteen seconds. Impressive, but I believe Vampirism is an automatic disqualification in world record contests. I would have to check the rules more carefully.

  Eyes are a different matter. It's hard to explain a vampire's eyes. I can tell you that mine were vivid brown in life but are now more of a hazel color. They have a rusty ring close to the pupil which gets redder after I've fed. I suppose that's from living on the blood of others. I have seen others with a darker color but as I said, it is hard to explain.

  Coffins. I loved watching Bela Lugosi dramatically climb from his coffin as much as everyone else, but that's just a movie. I do not sleep in a coffin. The four hours I use to escape the monotonous affairs of everyday living are spent on a queen size four poster bed with a pillow top mattress. It's an antique and I love it. It matches the rest of my room.

  One other common misconception about vampires is our libido. A subject I don't broach often because of it's delicacy. I was raised during a time when sex was not discussed openly as it is today. But I will say that we do not suffer from insatiable lust - at least I don't - yet we are perfectly capable of performing the same as everyone else. And - again, for me - the drinking of blood is not always an erotic experience. Though many of my donors have considered it the equivalent of intercourse, I have never seen it that way. For me, it's just the way I continue my existence. Not much different than having lunch in a crowded restaurant.

  Also, vampires are completely incapable of reproduction. We are not able to procreate amongst each other or humans. All vampires are sterile.

  That being said, I will waste no further time exposing lore and move into the tale I wish to be told. I will start at the beginning...

  *****

  Chapter 1

  I was born Monday November twenty-seventh, 1916 in the small town of Magee, Mississippi. My mother christened me Adam Benjamin Calloway then died when I was three days old. No one knew who my father was so I was taken in by Sister Mary Williams of St. Augustine's Cathedral. She had cared for my mother when her family had disowned her because of her condition.

  Sister Mary was a strict woman who wore the constant face of someone that had just tasted a lemon and looked older than the hills to my child's eyes. She didn't like me much and I honestly can't blame her. I was a holy terror in my youth and she took the liberty of reminding me of it every chance she got. Sister Mary carried around a wide, wooden ruler everywhere we went. If I got smart, she would whack me on the ear with it. That happened more than a few times in a day.

  It was my firm belief that an old crow like Sister Mary had no business raising a young boy and I was determined to get away from her and Magee as soon as the opportunity arose. I was destined for New York where my fortunes lay in wait for me. I think I had dreams of finding my father there. I am not sure how I would accomplish this since I didn't even know my father's name, but I dreamed of our reunion every day until I was six years old. A dream Sister Mary considered foolish because I was never going to get out of Simpson County much less Mississippi.

  The answer to my years of prayer finally came in the spring of 1927. I was almost eleven years old when the Mighty Mississippi River flooded leaving thousands of people without homes. Simpson County was too far east to get the high water but we sure got the drifters. Dozens of people wondered in and out of Magee going to or coming from one place or another. It was the most excitement I had ever experienced and I would have enjoyed it more if I had not been made by Sister Mary to help in the church where a shelter was set up.

  During all the commotion I was able to sneak to the depot where I hid aboard the northbound train a few minutes before it departed. I smiled as the scenery of the town I hated most swept by at a hundred miles per hour. I had no clothes, no food, and no money. All I had was fierce determination. For a boy of my age that was enough.

  *****

  The first time I stopped outside the Mississippi state border was in a town called Middleton, Tennessee. I stood with pride at my accomplishment of what Sister Mary had deemed I would never do. I had escaped the harsh, firm grip of my hometown and looked beyond toward the city of New York.

  I had been traveling for about a month at that time. Hopping trains, hitchhiking and mostly walking. I was dirty, smelly and my body yearned for a home cooked meal.

  In my quest for food I entered a small, whitewash store on the corner across from the train station. It was my great fortune when I was caught trying to steal a moon pie by the
proprietor. His name was Mr. Turner and he was in need of a young man to help out around the store. Why he took pity on me gave me the job I'll never understand, but will always be grateful. The pay was room and board plus fifty cents a week. I gladly accepted.

  Mr. Turner lived in a small apartment behind the shop with his wife. They were a kind elderly couple whose four sons had grown up and gotten lives of their own. Their oldest son, Elroy, had stayed in the country to care for the family farm while the two middle boys, Curtis and Frank, joined the army. John, the youngest, had went off to college with dreams of becoming a lawyer.

  Though I was anxious to get to the city, I was in no hurry to leave the Turner house before the holidays were over. I contented myself to stay until warmer weather and with excitement accepted an invitation to join them for Christmas dinner. It turned out to be one of the best days of my life thus far. The food was incredible and I even got a couple presents. A tradition that was new to me as Sister Mary never gave me anything for any holiday.

  It was also the day I got my first kiss. Her name was Louisa. She was Elroy's oldest child and one year my junior. Louisa was such a tomboy it never really entered my mind that she was a girl. We had loads of fun that fall and winter climbing trees, exploring the woods, fishing the creeks and causing mischief. Before that I had never known what it was like to be a child.

  It had snowed for Christmas that year and Lou and I would not be kept inside. We ran around all day throwing snowballs, trying unsuccessfully to skate the partially frozen creek and building lumpy snowmen. We were in the middle of a third attempt to build a snow fort when I remembered Lou was a female. I looked down at her as she flopped to her knees and began scraping snow in a pile. Her nose was bright red from the cold, there were clumps of wet brown hair stuck to her face and tufts of white clung to her like cotton.

  Lou looked at me with shocked anger when I quickly brushed my lips against hers. “Whatcha do that for?”

  “Just wanted to.”

  I saw Lou's face struggle to achieve the same shade of red as her nose before she turned away from me and back to her mound of snow.

  I was sorry to have to leave Middleton, my childhood and Louisa. I promised Louisa before I left that someday I would come back and take her to New York to live with me. Breaking that promise is one of the only regrets I have had in my long life.

  I made more stops on my road to the city but none stand out in my mind like that one, even though some lasted longer. I consider Tennessee the end of my innocence.

  *****

  In the fall of 1929 I made it as far north-east as Athens, Ohio. I didn't stay there long, only until after my thirteenth birthday. It wasn't the town I was opposed to but a group of boys a few years older and twice as big as I was that picked on me nonstop from the time I arrived in late October until I left in early December. I spent that Christmas shivering in a run down barn somewhere on the West Virginia-Pennsylvania border dreaming of Mrs. Turner's homemade biscuits.

  A few days after the start of the new decade, I found myself in Philadelphia. It was a hallmark in my adventure, a turning point one city closer to my dream. But I could find no work there. The economic collapse of Black Tuesday had left thousands without work and there was no room for a drifter like me.

  The state of The Depression hit me with the force of a sonic boom. I had left Mississippi in a dream where everything went forward to emerge at what I hoped to be a solid step in my victory yet was nothing more than a cold, bitter taste of reality. I began to give up hope. I was never going to make it to New York and I was too afraid of the disappointment I would face there to try.

  That's when I met Mr. Sullner. Or rather he met me.

  *****

  Chapter 2

  I had never seen a Ford Model A before and was fascinated when a brand new black one pulled up to the general store where I was loitering. There were two men inside, one driving and the other sitting in the back seat. I watched intently as the driver opened the door for the passenger and held it open as he got out. The man was older with gray hair underneath a black satin hat and beady dark eyes. He wore a suit, shiny shoes and a large warm coat that I would have traded everything I owned to wear for just a minute. He carried a black cane with a silver eagle on the handle.

  I heard him ask the driver to stay with the car and avoided his gaze as he entered the store then went back to staring at the black beauty sitting in the gravel drive. The driver noticed me and gave me a warning look. I wondered if I could sneak past him and just touch it for a second. I inched closer and the driver gave me another look.

  “Haven't you ever seen an automobile before, boy?” he asked causing me to jump.

  “Not like that one,” I replied pointing.

  To my great surprise he smiled. “Of course not. It only came out last year. Are your hands clean?”

  I looked down at my grimy palms in despair as the driver laughed and took a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He dampened it slightly in a puddle and wiped my hands until they were moderately clean. He then motioned for me to touch the car. I smiled as I ran my hand gently over the curved fender, then frowned when I saw I had left a streak of pale dirt behind.

  I backed up quickly and blurted out an apology as the driver again laughed and wiped the spot clean.

  “I see you've made a friend, Tom.”

  I spun and stared in horror as the owner of the car walked calmly toward me. My heart was pounding as thoughts of a boy's home filled my head.

  “Adam, isn't it?” I nodded too scared to speak. “The shop keeper tells me you've been out here all day. Why aren't you at home?”

  I stuttered and tried to think of a good lie as the man looked at me with a patient gaze that made me think he knew everything about me. The next words he spoke made me sure he did.

  “You are not a very good liar are you, Adam?”

  My face turned scarlet and my ears burned and I looked at the ground. “No, sir.”

  “I was just on my way to Ann's for lunch,” he said naming the local eatery. It was really called “The Railway Cafe” but everyone called it by the owner's name. “Why don't you join me?”

  I looked at him as though I had misunderstood. “Sir?”

  “You must be hungry, a boy your size. Come and have dinner with me. I'll even let Tom join if it makes you more comfortable.”

  I looked from one man to the other. Neither seemed dangerous and I was very hungry so I said sure. Tom opened the door and after a minutes contemplation, I got in and sat easily and still in the back seat. The man got in beside me then Tom got behind the wheel and started the engine. I watched him with great interest.

  “Robert J. Sullner.”

  I looked at the man and realized he was introducing himself. I shook his hand.

  “Adam Benjamin Calloway.”

  Mr. Sullner smiled. “That's quite a name. You must be a very remarkable young man.”

  “Not really, Mr. Sullner.” I was never ask to call him Robert and never did. “I can't even read that good.”

  “'Well',” he corrected me and I felt like a fool. “It's never too late to learn.”

  We arrived at the diner and Tom opened the door for Mr. Sullner and me. As we went in the heat warmed me through my ragged overalls and patched flannel jacket and made me feel like I belonged there.

  A chubby waitress with a kind smile ask me what I wanted and I looked at Mr. Sullner with embarrassment. I had no money. He told her to bring me a hamburger, fries and a Dr. Pepper and got only coffee for himself and Tom.

  When the waitress left I whispered Mr. Sullner's name. “I don't got no money, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrow at me. “You haven't got any money, Adam.”

  I lowered my eyes mumbling sorry.

  “Sit up, Adam.” I did as I was told. “Eye contact is an important way of conveying respect when speaking with someone. And no one can understand you if you do not speak clearly. As for money, you are my guest and I will be p
aying.”

  For some reason I felt like crying and had to force myself not to. It wasn't because Mr. Sullner had corrected me and scolded me but because he had taken the time to pay attention to me and notice my shortcomings. I had never had anyone take an interest in me before and the feeling was indescribable.

  “How old are you, Adam?”

  “Thirteen, sir.”

  Mr. Sullner looked at me critically. “You're tall for thirteen. Where are you from?”

  “Miss'ippi, sir.” I cringed expecting another lecture but Mr. Sullner just smiled.

  “That explains your accent.”

  I wasn't sure how to take his comment so I just ask where he was from since he had an accent also.

  “I was born in London,” he said. “I lived there until after college when I moved to the States. I am currently residing in New York.”

  My mouth dropped and I knew my eyes must have gotten huge because Mr. Sullner gave me a look of reproach. I pulled myself together and told him that's where I was going forgetting my resolve of failure less than a month ago.

  “Indeed,” he said as the server brought my food. I ate in virtual silence so that I couldn't be accused of being rude again. Inside I was dying to ask Mr. Sullner to tell me everything about the city.

  When I was finished eating, Mr. Sullner began to question me about my upbringing. I told him what I could about my life in Mississippi leaving out any mention of my father. He gazed at me inquisitively, but did not inquire about the omission.

  “Your caregiver, Sister Williams, is she not concerned with your well-being?”

  “I don't think so,” I replied. “She don't like me much.”

  Mr. Sullner stared through me, lightly caressing the handle of his coffee cup with one thumb, and quietly stated, “Yet she remains your custodial guardian.” Then focusing on me, “Adam, how were planing on completing the last leg of your journey to New York?”