At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head by Philbrook Chris

Author:Philbrook, Chris [Philbrook, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-04-18T07:00:00+00:00

*****

It took Geoffrey two full weeks of sleepless days to build up the courage to approach Mr. Bradley. He knew it had to be done, and the only man who Geoffrey thought knew enough about Edison's… condition, to be of any assistance.

Geoffrey couldn't fail in this, or Edison would kill him. And drink him.

Mr. Bradley sat in his office, his hat resting on the top of the spike filled cane in the corner. Mr. Bradley wore only his vest, and he was sweating profusely. The early summer heat had risen dramatically, and the assembly line was even hotter. Several of the immigrant workers—those Mr. Edison hadn't drained of blood—called the sweat den the devil's den. Mr. Bradley wiped his brow with a white handkerchief and shuffled some forms on his desk, looking for something in the numbers and words.

"Mr.-, Mr. Bradley?" Geoffrey asked from the doorway. Geoff had come into work far earlier than usual, specifically to meet with the man about Mr. Edison, and his... needs.

Bradley looked up from his sweat stained paperwork and assessed Geoff. "You've gotten a bit pale Geoffrey. All these late nights with Mr. Edison have taken a toll on your complexion."

Geoffrey laughed nervously, "They've certainly taken a toll sir. Speaking of which, I was wondering if I could steal a few minutes of your time? Regarding Mr. Edison and the… condition you spoke of?"

Bradley sat the paperwork down and stared at Geoffrey. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence, and Geoff thought Mr. Bradley might've forgotten what he was referring to, or wanted nothing to do with the conversation. Finally he motioned for Geoff to take a seat in the hard wooden chair near his desk.

"What is it you need to talk about?" The plant manager asked, pulling the bottom desk drawer out and producing two tumblers and a bottle of scotch.

Geoff watched him slowly pour a finger in each tumbler, mesmerized by the brown, oaky liquor splashing up the sides of the glass. Finally he spoke as Bradley pushed the drink across the desk to him.

"Mr. Edison has changed sir. Before I started to work with him, something dire happened. Something I think you've suspected all along."

Bradley downed the finger of scotch and immediately poured twice as much into the glass. He swirled it around and licked his lips, "What can you tell me young man? Make no statements that aren't fact. In this manner I suspect there's precious little we can afford to guess on."

"I believe Mr. Edison is a vampire, Geoff said quietly, looking over his shoulder at the open office door. He felt a bead of salty sweat trickle down his cheek. He couldn't tell if it was from the sweltering humidity, or from nerves.

"Where did you learn that word?" Mr. Bradley asked, sipping at the scotch.

"I read it in a book. Mr. Edison also said it a few times. It caught my curiosity so I did a bit of research," Geoffrey replied, sipping at the harsh liquor. It burned his throat as it slid down, and he wondered why anyone would drink it.

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