PART IV: MAX

I wake up in a storage closet in an all-night laundromat. I used clean sheets found in a dryer to make myself a bed. If anyone entered the closet during the day, they must have simply taken what they needed and left, ignoring me. Otherwise, perhaps nobody came in at all.

I take a moment to get my bearings. It’s night, and I’m in New York City. I imagine someone’s found the body of the woman who drove me here. I think of Catherine. She must have died over a hundred years ago. I still remember the last time I saw her in the woods near her home.

The storage closet is dark. I pull the string attached to the light. I reach into my coat pocket and take out the book, my favorite story from when I was a boy. I study the initial pages and see that this edition was printed in 1981. The only person who knew I loved this book was Catherine. If it’s now 2018, this book was printed less than forty years ago. Could it be that Catherine was still alive forty years ago? In the last two hundred years have there been medical advancements that allowed for this sort of longevity?

If my sister is still alive, I must find her. If she’s dead, I must find out what happened. My only clue is this book and the namesake of its origin. I’m determined to get to Rhode Island and find Howe’s Books. It is my hope that the proprietor of that establishment will know the fate of Catherine Howe and will be able to give me some clue as to how this book ended up on my person.

My clothes are dingy and dirty, and my flesh smells horrible. I exit the closet and begin looking inside the laundry machines. In one machine I find a washcloth and towel. In another I find a long coat and a pair of black pants and a turtleneck. Back inside the storage closet, I strip off all my clothes and push them into a plastic garbage bag. I run hot water into the deep industrial-size sink. I pour soap onto the washcloth and scrub my entire body. I turn a laundry basket upside down and use it to climb into the sink. I squat, rinsing the soapy detergent off every part of myself. When I’m done, I dry with the towel and dress in the found clothes.

I set out for the night, walking around the city. It’s early evening. The sun has set, but most places are still open. I’ve never been to New York City. The buildings are frighteningly tall. There are lights on every sign, and people are everywhere.

I pass a theater advertising a play called Dracula. Printed on the poster outside is the image of a pale man in a long black cape. He’s holding a woman who appears to be passed out. The man’s mouth is open, and he has fangs like my own. He looks as if he’s ready to bite the woman on the neck. The poster is red, and the letters appear to drip like blood. I walk over to the ticket seller’s window and inquire as to how much a ticket is. I reach in my pocket and pull out the cash I have. The cost of the ticket is more than what I have left in my pocket. I ask the ticket taker where I can find the library. She gives me directions via the subway system. I tell her I’m from England and this is my first time in the city. She tells me how to get to the subway and assures me that I have enough money to ride.

I follow the signs underground to the subway and find it’s no different than a train, although it appears to run without steam or coal. It’s a modern marvel. The ride is relatively smooth and, although the train car is crowded, it’s oddly relaxing. In the light of the subway car, I’m able to get a closer look at the people in this strange new world. Most people appear to have plugs of some kind in one or both ears. They are all either holding a small box or are always only seconds away from pulling one from their pocket. The women of 2018 are amongst the most beautiful I have ever seen. Their hair ranges from every color of the rainbow. I’ve never before laid eyes on such vivid tones. There are Africans and Asians and Hispanics. All these people, living together in peace. It’s a miracle.

The subway arrives at the destination. I follow the crowd out of the train car and onto the street. The library is like a cathedral. I’m immediately overwhelmed. I seek out a librarian and ask her where I can find information on Dracula. She takes me to a section with books about vampires. It is here I begin to learn what I am.