The hot, Mexican sun beat down on the assemblage. The Sonoran
Desert was relentless, even in the early mid-morning, the heat was unbearable.
Sun rays glistened off the helmet that Francisco Coronado carried under his
arm. Sweat beaded on his forehead but not necessarily from the heat as the
conquistador paced nervously on the raised ledge. His advisors, huddled in
the scanty shade of the stone, scowled at his reluctance to give a new edict
to the troops assembled before him.
The contingent, consisting of 300 volunteers, 100 Indians and
more than 600 servants, quietly observed, milled, and waited for him to begin.
Coronado started speaking and his words drifted over the masses.
In this new found silence, Miguel could hear the sentry's sword
clank against the armor leggings as he walked picket near the officers' hobbled
horses. Miguel watched Coronado gesture grandly and expound the latest great
plan to find the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola, El Dorado, the City of Gold.
Coronado had lured most of the men into this folly with visions and promises
of newfound wealth and was now, in a feeble attempt, trying to once again
rally them.
Miguel didn't need the gold or the jewels. He only needed to
distance himself from the city temporarily, to lose this identity, then create
a new one. Timing was everything.
There had been many months of marching, as Coronado was predisposed
to call it. In reality, it was wandering almost aimlessly the arid stretches
of land, chasing this legend's rumor, then move on to another rumor. They
had trudged on, enduring unbearable heat, not to mention the attacks from
the local natives. Then there was the strange deaths of some of the men by
some ubiquitous and unknown creature, but presumed to be a snake. A few had
been bitten by rattlesnakes during the day, but theses had been attacked during
night, small puncture wounds on the legs with barely any dried blood.
Miguel smiled at that thought. Strange snake, indeed. If only
some idiot had investigated the death a little further, they'd have discovered
the true cause. This trek had taken its toll on Miguel and he needed to keep
his strength. Not only were there small snake wounds near the ankle area,
but also gapping punctures on the neck, hidden discretely under the tied neckerchief.
Miguel reveled in the pleasure of knowing that he'd been able to conceal his
identity this long. The truly hard part was finding the rattlesnake and getting
it to bite the dead victim in the dark of night.
His veins warmed at the memory of last night's blood-letting
and he could feel the flush of change begin. His canines pressed against his
tightened lips to extend and assert themselves, his eyes dilated wider for
night vision, forcing him to squint in this bright light and his breathing
deepened. He knew he had to pace his breathing to stop the oncoming change.
"Miguel," Gomez said. "You've been quiet. What are your thoughts
regarding this?"
He turned and stared at Gomez: moderately rotund, disheveled
hair, ill-fitting uniform which was also soiled and was permeated with an
unmistakable body odor.
"My thoughts?" Miguel finally said between labored breaths.
Gomez eased back from the dark gaze. "I only wished to engage
in a light conversation, Miguel," he said. "Coronado babbles his dreams. Do
you still believe him?"
"Silence, Gomez," Juan hissed at them. "You should be listening,
not talking during our leader's speech."
Coronado's words came in segments between Gomez and Juan's
petty verbal attacks: split up; not a snake; walking dead, two groups. These
words concerned Miguel and now he wished that Gomez and Juan would be quiet.
A hiss and dark glare from him and the two fell silent.
"Therefore by splitting up we can accomplish three goals: locate
El Dorado, chart twice the amount of land and uncover our hidden assailant."
The words echoed inside Miguel's mind: hidden assailant. He'd
been discovered and the assembly would be divided in a feeble attempt to locate
him.
"In the morning," Coronado continued, "I will lead squad one
north and east toward El Dorado. Squad two will travel northwest with Garcia
Lopez de Cardenas. Squad three can decide individually which group they wish
to travel with. All will share in the wealth of El Dorado and all the treasures
found by both groups."
Miguel thought quickly. He was a member of squad three and
could therefore go with either group. He felt confident that the larger group
would be Coronado's, yet he knew there were those who wished only to return
home. They might force Hernandez to reconsider and that could be the larger
contingent. This self imposed purgatory could end and he thought he could
possibly return to civilization and a bigger population.
Anonymity existed in greater masses. The decision regarding
which group he would join became a point of contention and anxiety for him.
"Miguel, you are an odd person," Gomez said while slapping
him on the back. "Still, if you travel with me and Coronado, I'm sure we will
see this El Dorado."
Miguel could see the greed in Gomez' eyes and smell the lust
that he exuded over his body stench. Gomez truly was on this excursion for
the gold, any gold.
"Coronado says we will share our treasure with the others,"
Gomez said, his eyes shifting to see who was near then leaned inward conspiratorially.
"But I tell you, what falls into my pockets will be mine; mine alone." The
words were but a whisper.
"You would cheat Coronado and the men?" Miguel asked.
"He has enough gold, already," Gomez replied. "I want the gold
and jewels so I can enjoy my days when I return to Spain. Do you want to follow
this idiot the rest of your life?"
Miguel smiled at the thought of still being alive when both
Coronado and Gomez were dead and forgotten dust.
* * * * *
Miguel had spoken with Hernandez hoping to ascertain exactly
where the group would go. The answer wasn't what he expected. Hernandez was
going to make a name for himself, even if it meant the death of every man
under his charge. Miguel had no problem realizing that Hernandez was not going
to be thwarted into going home.
Miguel worked quietly in the shadows, pushing the foodstuffs
into his bag. Then he felt it.
"I feel your gaze," Miguel whispered into the darkness. "Come
see what I'm doing."
He felt his incisors grow, his blood rushed through him, beating
its hypnotic tempo at his ears. When Miguel's eyes had finally dilated to
pierce the darkness, he could already hear the steps of the stranger coming
behind him. He tensed for the moment.
"What..."
The words were stopped in mid-sentence as Miguel turned and
sprang on his victim. The fangs gouged, moving quickly through the soft flesh
to silently pierce the wall of the jugular vein.
Gomez's eyes widened in shock then glazed as the blood quickly
pumped from him. Miguel inhaled strongly between dredges and clenched his
arms about Gomez to keep the limp body from falling to the ground.
Not a drop of blood was wasted and Miguel didn't bother to
locate a rattlesnake. They already knew about him. He lay Gomez on the ground
then grabbed what stores he had already secreted and staggered into the night.
Two consecutive nights of blood-glutting now left him sluggish.
* * * * *
Miguel watched from the distant hilltop while the two segments
marched away; Coronado to find his fortune, Hernandez probably to his death.
He also knew that both groups of men departed hoping that the
assailant was with the other contingent. Gomez had been found, but still none
would utter the word: vampire.
Miguel had realized that the only solution was to not travel
with either segment. Each would soon think that the assailant was with the
others. He knew that his comrades in each detachment would think that he'd
taken the other choice.
Dropping from existence had become quite simple for Miguel
over the centuries. Only in the last fifty years had the population gained
the knowledge to quickly realize when his kind were in the vicinity or residing
nearby.
Miguel smiled at the sacrifices he'd made over those centuries:
gaining the ability to exist in daylight and being able to eat real food.
He'd not been able to lose the thirst for blood, but he no longer required
it on a nightly basis. He'd found that he required a blood-glutting only once
a month and he normally used the darkness of a new moon for his feast. The
fact that he was able to walk in broad daylight assured local residents that
he was not the terror, the beast of the night. He was set apart from his kindred
brethren, yet locked eternally with them in living death.
The hardest and most dangerous sacrifice had been coming to
the new world. He'd taken some of his home dirt and placed it in small boxes
which he had carried aboard the ship. By sprinkling a little bit of it on
his hammock, he's been able to transverse the ocean. Still, Miguel had been
made sick and weak by this action. The others on board the ship ascribed his
illness to sea-sickness and Miguel was left alone to fight his nightmares
during the voyage.
Miguel stood up from the rocks and shrieked in joy to the sky
above him. He was free. Free of living in the darkness. Free of nightly blood-letting.
Free of his homeland dirt. There only remained the final freedom. Ultimate
death.
Miguel mused his current situation. He was alone and had few
supplies. He hadn't wanted to blood-glut Gomez. When he realized who his victim
was, Miguel had, for just a moment, considered instead the kiss of living
death. Miguel quickly determined that Gomez would become more of a hindrance
than accomplice as a vampire. There was no saving the man.
Suddenly fear overcame Miguel. He was alone and he had no idea
where the nearest human would be. He was glutted for now, but as the days
wore on, he'd become weaker and weaker and more and more in need of blood,
human blood. Animal blood was acceptable but didn't have the same restorative
powers of human blood. It would take large amounts of animal blood to sustain
him for any length of time.
Miguel considered following one of the marching groups but
then threw caution to the wind and headed north. There were nomad Indians
in the area; they would suffice.
* * * * *
The sun scorched down and Miguel licked cautiously at his burnt
and chapped lips. The meager moisture on his tongue seared when it touched
the dried lip. Miguel huddled against a large saguaro, crouching in its minimal
shade.
He could sense the animal but was too weak to re-act. There
it was. A big wolf which skittishly watched him from the maze of saguaros.
Miguel could sense the animal's tensed muscles.
They had been playing hide and seek for the last four days.
He'd attempted to catch it, but the creature was always able to elude him.
It was uncanny how it could disappear so quickly into the night. Even Miguel's
heightened and keen eyesight failed him. The blood of an animal that size
would definitely review him.
The wolf jerked back then padded silently into the brush and
disappeared.
Miguel had caught two large rabbits during the night and glutted
on their blood, but he was still weak. The new moon had passed five nights
prior. His strength was waning.
Miguel needed human blood!
* * * * *
He awoke to the taste of blood being forced into this mouth,
but not human blood. His fingers clawed at the vessel and he gulped the liquid
down. The hand he'd felt pulled away.
Miguel stared at her as she motioned for him to drink more
from the clay bowl. She stood by a jar that he could smell also contained
blood. There was no human blood but she had a large quantity of mixed animal
bloods in the container.
He drained the liquid feeling his strength grow. The amount
she had available would definitely revive him, if he was allowed it all. Miguel
would be able to move and once again hunt.
He scrutinized his benefactress and wondered how she'd come
to have all this blood and knew that he needed it.
He offered her the bowl and she poured more of the blood into
it. A simple smile crossed her lips and she appeared happy that he was alive.
Miguel stood up and moved toward her. She eased back from him,
a sudden panic in her eyes.
His first instinct was to attack and glut on her blood, but
he was intrigued more by her uncanny knowledge of him and his need for blood.
"I won't hurt you," he said. He lifted his hands up to show
them empty. He could sense her muscles tighten and knew she would flee without
much provocation.
She set the jar down and moved away from it and him. Making
a quick gesture that it was his, she turned and disappeared into the maze
of saguaros.
Miguel picked up the jar then devoured the blood in large gulps,
draining it quickly. He wiped the small amount of blood from his lips on his
sleeve. There was no need for caution; he was alone and she obviously knew
about him.
Once again his curiosity was piqued. Who was she? She was beautiful
and human.
His blood heated and he could feel the change begin. His eyes
became more keen and he focused on the bright sand. Tracks! Her tracks.
Miguel followed the faint footprints, weaving back and forth
among the cacti. His shadow moved from right to left and he quickly realized
that this woman had circled around him. He stopped and listened. Behind him
he could hear the sand shift under a foot as she stopped abruptly.
"I know you're behind me," he said while turning to her direction,
raising his hands. "Come out."
She made a sign in the air before her then fell to her knees.
"Pi ha huhugetham," she whispered into the sand.
Miguel approached and stroked her hair. "I won't harm you,"
he said.
The Indian maiden gently pulled back from his touch. "Pi ha
huhugetham," she said.
"Miguel," he said while pointing to himself. "Miguel." Then
pointing at her he attempted repeat the words she uttered..
"Miguel pi ha huhugetham," she replied and pointed at him.
"Miguel," he repeated, pointing to himself. "Pi ha huhugetham,"
while pointing to her.
"Ihtha hedai gith," she said and touched her chest. "Ihtha
hedai gith."
Miguel pointed at her and said, "Ihtha."
* * * * *
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