The Big Machine Eats by Beau Johnson

Author:Beau Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

I had gotten used to Flat Stan’s snoring. Not that I had much choice in the matter, with him sleeping most of the time. When he did awaken we would talk about the old days, when the grass was greener and all that jazz. During these conversations I was usually somebody else, a Johnny or a Duncan, sometimes a David. This didn’t bother me, and poor Flat Stan never knew the difference. I think he did come close to the surface once, as there was a pause and then the question of how I ended up in the wheelchair. When I began to tell him my story he asked me what I was talking about and whether I thought mother would approve. At this I was back to being Duncan, the older of his two sons. This was how my relationship played with Flat Stan—two parts sleep, one part conversational window into his past. Realizing this forces me to acknowledge that Alzheimer’s is not unlike the creature that stalks me, that both are draining forces of utter destruction, time and method the only differences I can find between them.

It was the very night I came to this realization that the vampire awakened me—overrode the snores to which I had adapted. Rising to consciousness, I came to know of the sucking sounds Emil had spoken of months ago, the ones that now replaced Flat Stan’s exhalations. Poor Flat Stan—there would be no more stories concerning Johnny or Duncan, or sometimes a David. I am certain the man was dead before I turned on my reading lamp. In doing so I bear witness to the thing I am writing about, to that which has been preying upon us here at Resty Acres. I can’t say for sure it’s a vampire, not in the truest sense. What I can say is it shares a lot of the same characteristics that you and I have been shown in movies and on TV. Not all, but some. Other things reminded me of leeches, similar to the ones I used to fish with.

Big doesn’t do it justice—the thing was massive, six-five, I’d guess, from head to boot. It was wide, as well. Bent over, its mouth and chin were buried in the middle of Stan’s chest as it drank, its throat bulging until I thought it might burst. You would think my turning on the light and sitting up would make it notice me, yes? You would think I’d be screaming my fool head off for help, no? Both of these things should have happened but neither did. I watched as if hypnotized, stared as the vampire exsanguinated my roommate completely, listened as it sucked and swallowed and drank. Only when the draining was complete did it turn to me, then and not a moment before. I remained silent as it regarded me, lost within the caverns of its eyes. They were black like oil, those eyes, black like death, nothing of white at all. It moved toward me, touched me, a finger to my paunch.

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