They Call Me Daring

Chapter 17

"Diaries are for girls." I said in disgust, grimacing down at the notebook Meg had given me. We were alone in the living room, which none of the refugees had discovered as of yet.
"Think of it as a journal." She said, swinging her legs on the stiff-backed chair that put her feet a foot above the ground.
"Still girly." I ran a hand nervously through my hair. It was still hard not to jump when I caught my icy white reflection off the metal lamps and reflective surfaces.
"I don't keep a diary."
"Yeah, see? Nobody does. This is stupid."
"Is your life stupid?"
"I sure hope not." I sighed, but I got the message. Journal=Freedom. In a manner of speaking. I picked up the pencil and scribbled down something, the scratching of the led punctuating the silence.
After a minute, Meg spoke. "What're you writing?"
"Poetry." I said sarcastically, scratching down something about the natural aversion to light.
"You gonna let me read it?"
"Do you want to?" I sighed incredulously, passing her the notebook in defeat. Her huge eyes whizzed back and forth in a blur over my chicken-scratch handwriting, and then she put it down with a sigh.
"That sucks."
"Well, sorry I'm not a nobel prize winner." I rolled my eyes and reached for the pad of paper.
"No, the writing was fine. I meant your handwriting."
"Oh." My hand flowed over the paper. I mumbled as I wrote, "Thirst... for... human blood.... unquenchable.... slow, torturous death..."
She rolled her eyes at me. "You're so full of crap."
"Darkness... surrounding me.... my waking nightmare... a haunting presence in the back of my mind... threatens to engulf me.... swallow me, drag me down into the shadows...." I looked up over the top of my notebook, my eyes sparkling with mischief. Her expression flashed from the  brief look of anxiety to incredulity. "The poison... eating away at my soul... leaving behind a black pit of.... hunger..."
"Stop it." She warned, when I grinned evilly. I shrugged, then scribbled down something else.
"My body... natural weapon... completely lethal..."
"Liam, I mean it." She raised an eyebrow, giving me a stern look. "You're not writing a novel, here. Just make some data tables or something."
"A novel...." I said slowly, playing with the word.
"Yeah. No." She shook her head. "Tables, graphs, cold hard data. They don't want a hundred pages of poetic agony, comprendavous?"
"Yeah, yeah... Tables, charts..." I repeated, ripping away the page, crumpling it into a ball, and hurling it across the room. I jammed the pencil into the paper and ground in a few hard, somewhat straight lines.
"What can I do with a table?"
"I don't know!" She almost screamed at me, but sat back and massaged her temples. "I don't know, Liam.... Just something."
"Okay, then," I scribbled FOOD, across the top of the table, and divided it into two columns, one titled CAN EAT, the other called GROSS.
"Men and food." Meg shook her head. I grinned, and scrawled, MEAT, under the CAN EAT bar. My stomach growled then, and I felt my mouth water.... The scent of Meg's human flesh wafted towards me, the smell of skin and blood... blood....
"Liam." She said sharply, and I shook my head.
"Yeah! Right, on it." I blinked a few times to clear my head, and scribbled something else down about an aversion to pickles and potato, and all other things not... meat....
"Good! You just made a table!" Meg clapped her hands with fake enthusiasm. Just then the clanging of the grandfather clock in the hall rang out through the house, reverberating through my bones... Tiredly, we counted. 1... 2... 3... all the way up to 12. It was already midnight, though it seemed like we had just come in.
"That's probably enough for tonight." Meg yawned, stretching like a cat. My eyes drifted across the room to the heaping mound of crumpled paper that hadn't been there a few hours ago. "Or should I say, this morning?"
I said goodnight and made my way up to my bed room. I tip-toed through the hall, which was crowded with sleeping bags and snoring, grunting figures. I carefully placed my feet around them, slinking silently up the stairs, the darkness surrounding me like a cloak.
I felt every nerve in my body tingling with the excitement of the freezing cold marble beneath my bare feet and the way my eyes picked out every detail of my surroundings in Hi-Def. Grinning to myself in the pitch-black, I leapt up the last fifteen or so steps, landing effortlessly, every muscle in my legs responding seamlessly to take away any force of impact, giving my landing a silent air.
I felt excited, alive. I wanted to be outside in the cold night air, the breeze against my bare arms, my feet pounding lightly on the street. I couldn't bare to lock myself up in a stuffy little room...
I slid behind my bedroom door and bolted it shut. In one stride I was already across the room and sliding open the window. A cool breeze wafted in, blowing my icy hair off my face, and the tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up straight in anticipation.
Without hesitating, or bothering to consider the twenty-foot drop below, I had flung myself up and out the window. I flew through the air for a wondrous millisecond, my adrenaline surging now, and I landed in a shoulder roll.
I didn't bother to even glance back at the mansion. I didn't know how many more days I had left to live... And if I didn't need to sleep, I wasn't going to bother locking myself up for twelve whole hours when I could be out there doing something useful.
I broke into a full-out sprint, felt my bare heels tearing the grass out of the ground as I pushed harder, launched myself off the ground, up and over the wall, to land on the street at a run.
My knees didn't even buckle as every muscle in my body cooperated, working simultaneously to take any ounce of stress off my bones and distribute it evenly all over.
The night was still and the moon was gone, and only the occasional breeze whipped through the streets. But nonetheless my hair swirled in the fierce wind created by my speed. Every movement in my body was aimed towards speed, my shoulders twisting and my arms pumping to push my body forward and take away the weight, my toes digging into the ground the mili-second they made contact, before ripping away and throwing me forwards.
I tore around corners and bends, caught in the moment, in the sheer joy of being able to enjoy something most people would never get a chance to. Not that it was much of a chance... The price for it all was one worse than I would ever had offered voluntarily... But at the moment, this almost made it worth it.
I laughed in glee, zipping through the streets, the cool air encouraging me, the darkness hiding me from prying enemy eyes. I rounded a bend and saw the awning over a small street-front store, and without even pausing to think, I sprung upwards off the ground at full tilt.
My body knew what to do.
I landed on the slippery cloth, immediately doubling over to use my hands as well to run up the slope, my claws puncturing the plastic and keeping me steady. Hands and feet, on four legs I ran up the awning like common animal.
Again, I didn't stop, but simply pushed up and off the top of the awning, catching the ledge of the roof another ten feet up, and using my momentum to hurl my legs up and over.
And then I was running along the roof-tops, back on two legs, a full-out sprint, barely stopping to throw myself up and over the gaps between buildings.
My toes gripped the edges of the cool, rough bricks, and then I was flying through the air, streets and alleys, burned-out cars and stirring zombies all passing beneath me in the blink of an eye. I knew I was running out of time, but I didn't stop.
I ran, maybe for miles, sprinting across the rooftops of the fallen city, dodging holes and places where the roofs had collapsed. And then I saw the tower.
The old radio tower stood atop on dilapidated old brick building. The tiny red light on top, far above, still flashed occasionally, like an irregular heartbeat.
I climbed it.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, my body working seamlessly, a machine built for efficiency, I climbed, hurtling upwards faster than I could fall. My fingers burned on the freezing metal bars, but it was exhilarating, and the pain reminded me of who I was.
The pain drove away the monster.
I reached the peak in under minute, and then I grabbed the highest bar with one hand, the flashing red light even with my head, and swung around to face down towards the city.
Fog floated below me-- then I realized they were clouds. Panting slightly, I scanned the darkness, wide awake, every detail vivid and sharp. I laughed a little, grinning at the tiny ants weaving their way through the massive maze of the city. A fierce wind suddenly whipped me about, but still I dangled out by my one hand, whooping with the excitement.
I cried out in laughter, my voice piercing the sound of the high winds and the thin air, ringing out in fierce, deadly laughter through the hollow streets.
"I! Am! Liam!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "And I defy you! I dare you to try and take me away!" I roared, my voice ripped from my lungs by the wind, harsh and cold and fiery. "After all!" I screamed.
"THEY CALL ME DARING!"