Old Souls

Family camping trips don’t always work out as planned.

Photo by Clément Falize on Unsplash

The late afternoon sun beat through the manzanita trees surrounding the little clearing. The dappled shade should have been cooler, inviting, but it was losing a one-sided battle with the oppressive heat.

Drops of sweat trickled down Karen’s aching back, to pool at the waistband of her jeans, wicked up by her sleeveless tee. The ribbed, white cotton stuck to her in a clammy embrace.

She muttered under her breath as she pounded the tent peg into the dry-as-dust earth. Well, barely under her breath. Fortunately, there was no-one in range to hear her.

“I know how to set up a freakin’ tent, goddammit. I’ve been going camping all my life. I did not just wander into the woods for the first time today with shiny boots and a brand-new backpack.”

She stared at the peg, disgusted. It had barely penetrated the hard-pack. Karen slammed her mallet down, emphasizing each word with a smack on the tent peg. “This. Is. Not. My. First. Rodeo.”

She gave the peg another hefty whack for good measure and cursed as it split into two short, sharp stakes. “Useless piece of crap.”

Karen sighed and stomped over to the neatly stacked, waterproof bins and dug through one for a replacement. “Thank God for extras.”

She wondered again for the hundredth time why Nick and Ronna had insisted on this particular spot. Sure, it was near the lake and handy to both dock and cook-shack, but so were a dozen other, better-shaded camp sites. All with stunning views of the lake.

“Secluded spot, my ass. Why they want to be stuck here in this dry, dusty hole in the trees…” Karen broke off mid-mutter and cocked her head.

Happy voices floated from the direction of the old dock, announcing the return of Nick and his sister.

Karen quickly stuffed the broken tent peg into the pocket of the fleece-lined hoody draped over one of the bins as brother and sister sauntered up the path to the clearing.

Two peas in a pod. Midnight-dark hair, tall, athletic, tanned, eyes so deep brown they were almost black.

Nick and his sister had traveled the world, shared so much of life. Karen sometimes felt like such a child around them. But Nick would smile and tell her not to worry — that he and Ronna were just ‘old souls’.

Karen scrubbed a hand through her sandy curls, fighting her insecurity, but feeling smaller, nevertheless.

Ronna’s dark brows winged upward. Her generous, red lips formed a surprised “oh” and then relaxed into a perfect, if insincere smile. “Having trouble with the tent?” she asked, her arch tone implying she’d expected nothing less.

Nick cuffed her shoulder. “Don’t be such a witch, Ronna. You know the ground’s like iron here.” He grinned at Karen, “I’ll give you a hand, Kare-bear.”

Nick grabbed the mallet from Karen’s unresisting fingers and deftly pounded in the rest of the tent pegs. Then, he gave the pegs she’d already set a few whacks for good measure. To add insult to injury, the pegs obediently sank in as if the ground had suddenly grown butter-soft.

Nick slipped off his tee and wiped his face with it. Flexed his shoulders to ease them.

“Never gets any softer, does it?” Ronna ran an appreciative hand down Nick’s tanned, muscular back and wagged an eyebrow at Karen.

Karen turned away, her cheeks flushed. Whether from the odd undercurrents or her feelings for Nick, she wasn’t sure.

Nick swatted Ronna’s hand away. “Stop it,” he growled. His gaze flicked to Karen, then held Ronna’s eyes, hard, warning.

Ronna stepped back. Her hands dropped to her sides. “Oh, Nicky, don’t tell me… You mean you haven’t? She’s still…” She broke off. Stared at her brother. “This must be serious then, Nicky. That’s why you insisted we come out here together.”

Ronna turned to Karen. Her dark eyes raked the young woman in a measuring look. “There must be more to you than I’d imagined.”

She tossed her long hair back and stalked down the well-trodden path to the dock, glaring at Nick over her shoulder. “We need to talk, brother dear.”

“That’s all right,” Karen called after them. “I can set up the beds and get supper started by myself. Not to worry.”

Neither paid her the slightest attention.

Karen fumed as she dragged a heavy bin down the path leading to the cookhouse. At least the view of the lake would be better there.

“Assholes. I should find some poison ivy leaves to wipe down the seats in the outhouse.”

Sounds of a heated argument carried from the dock in bits and snatches. Karen abandoned the bin on the cook-house counter and crept closer.

Peering through the dense brush, she could barely make out Nick and Ronna’s shapes on the dock as they faced off against each other.

“No.” Nick’s voice was harsh.

Ronna laughed, an ugly sound. “You’ll not deny me. You haven’t the stomach for it, Nicky, dearest.”

‘What on earth are they so pissed about?’ Karen wondered.

“I said, ‘No,’ and I meant it, Ronna. Don’t push me.”

“She’s mine if I want her, Nicky,” Ronna snapped. “It’s my right as firstborn.”

Firstborn — what the hell?

“Rights? Your rights?” Nick rasped. “I only invited you here to welcome her as family. Afterwards. You’ll not have her, Ronna.”

Have her? Who the hell are they talking about? Me?

“And who’s going to stop me, brother mine? You?”

Ronna flung herself on Nick. They crashed to the ground and rolled along the narrow, wooden dock, kicking and thrashing.

Karen gave up all pretense of spying. She forced her way through the brush, shouting.

“Stop it, you two. Nick! Ronna! Stop.”

Branches snagged her clothing, tearing, tangling, holding her back. She won free of their clinging fingers in time to see Nick and Ronna slam into one of the stanchions.

Nick lost his grip, stunned by the impact.

Ronna grabbed her brother by the throat, her arms flexing as she squeezed, sharp, white fangs gleaming behind blood-red lips.

“Nick,” Karen screamed. She cast about for a stick, a tree branch, anything to use as a weapon.

Nick twisted in Ronna’s grasp. He bucked Ronna off and forced her out over the water.

Her back arched. She tore at his hands.

Nick hauled her back onto the dock and clawed his way up her body. He grabbed her hair and gave a savage twist.

With a sharp crack, Ronna’s neck snapped. She went limp — her head flopped to one side.

Nick shifted his grip. His shoulders bunched with super-human effort as he ripped his sister’s head from her body in a horrific, sucking, crackling, rending of flesh and sinew.

A huge gout of blackish blood fountained onto the dock from her shredded neck.

Nick dropped Ronna’s head on her lifeless corpse and watched, unmoved, as she burst into flames.

A whimper behind him pulled Nick around.

“Oh, Kare-bear, I’m so sorry you saw that.” Nick gathered the shivering girl into his arms and carried her back to their tent.

Later, much later, stars twinkled in the darkening sky. The silver moon beamed serenely down. The scent of wood smoke from a crackling fire wafted through the clearing on the light, evening breeze.

And Karen clutched a fleece-lined hoody close and struggled to make sense of what had happened.

“I’m so, so sorry, Karen.” Nick had repeated it over and over, as if saying he was sorry would make Karen feel any better. Or wipe away what she’d seen.

“My God, Nick.” Karen’s choked whisper seared her throat. “Was she… a vampire?”

He nodded. “After she realized I hadn’t bound you to me, Ronna wanted you for herself.” Nick’s eyes pleaded for understanding.

“Ronna wanted me for herself.” Karen’s voice was flat, hard.

She stared at Nick, remembering the old stories about those who served the devil-count. “Wait a minute — bound me to you? You mean, like your servant. Your own little Renfield?”

Nick winced. “I’m no Dracula. Most of us don’t keep servants like that. Not anymore. And we don’t have to lurk in the shadows, either. I’m just…”

“What, Nick? You’re just what? Just an every-day, garden variety, sun-loving vampire?”

Nick made to speak but Karen held up her hand.

“So what happens now? Are you going to ‘bind me’ now, Nick? Make me your pet? Your walking snack-bar?”

“No, Karen. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“What, then?”

Nick stepped towards her. Karen stiffened but held her ground.

“I want to bring you over.” His eyes glowed, intense, holding her blue gaze. “I want you to be with me. Forever.”

Nick was so close, his hot breath mingling with hers. His mouth grazed Karen’s stiff lips then claimed them in an ardent kiss.

Her mouth softened under his touch. Warmed to his kisses.

His lips caressed her cheek and slid down her neck, nuzzling, searching.

Her body leaned in, plastered against him. Her head fell back, the slim column of her throat exposed. She was on fire. A low moan escaped her lips even as her hand fumbled in the pocket of her hoody.

Nick lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth twisted into a gaping, fanged snarl. His head thrust forward.

A shriek rent the night. Long and wavering, fading to a thin sigh, dying slowly, echoing among the manzanitas as if the trees were sighing too.

Then silence.

The only sound was Nick’s ragged breathing.

He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide, staring at the splintered tent peg protruding from his chest. “Karen… Kare-bear…” His hands fluttered to the sharp, wooden stake.

Karen knelt beside him. “I never believed Grampa’s campfire stories about vampires. Always thought he’d made them up to scare us kids. I wasn’t even sure the ‘stake through the heart’ thing would work.”

She patted his hands, moved them away from the wooden peg. “I’m truly sorry, Nick. I really liked you.”

Nick’s tongue flicked across dry lips. He couldn’t catch his breath. “Karen…”

Karen brushed a strand of dark hair off Nick’s forehead. Her palm lingered on his cheek. “Goodbye, Nick.”

She thrust the tent peg home and watched as Nick’s beautiful body blazed up and then crumpled into dust — a fine, black powder that wafted through the sheltering manzanitas and out over the the lake, carried on a light breeze which barely ruffled the calm surface of the midnight-dark waters.