Day 20
Brent knows something's wrong. He keeps asking if I'm okay. If I need help.
I've told him. I said, "I'm a vampire but I'm a really bad one"
He doesn't believe me. And why would he? I'm a joke.
I'm so tired. All the time. The ketchup packets aren't enough anymore. I can feel myself getting weaker.
There has to be a better way to do this. There has to be.
I just need to figure it out.
Simon closed the notebook carefully and set it back down on the table.
He muttered a curse under his breath. He had to find Charlie. He had to. Walking disaster that he was, Charlie would never make it by himself. He'd get himself into danger.
Simon couldn't allow that.
Not wanting to examine his motivations too closely, Simon looked around the apartment once more.
He spotted a phone charger plugged into the wall. Did Charlie have his phone with him?
He might. It was worth a try, in any case. Simon had gotten the vampire's number the same way he'd gotten his address, from the employee file the convenience store kept in a database.
Scrolling through his phone, he found it and hit Call.
Straight to voicemail. Not even a ring.
"This is Charlie, leave a message, or don't, it's fine."
Even Charlie's voicemail greeting sounded apologetic.
Simon tried again, but the result stayed the same. The phone was either dead or turned off, and given Charlie's general life management skills, Simon would bet on dead.
Wonderful. Just wonderful.
Simon pocketed his phone. He'd go back home and try to track Charlie's phone from there.
Before he left, he stopped, hesitated, and finally gave some water to Marvin.
The ride took twelve minutes. Simon's apartment building had working locks, a doorman who nodded in recognition, and an elevator that didn't sound like it was dying. The contrast to Charlie's building was stark enough to feel like an accusation.
And it wasn't only the buildings they lived in that differed, it was the insides of their apartments too.
Compared to Charlie's place, Simon's felt empty.
But Simon didn't let himself linger on that thought as he booted up his laptop and logged into the Organization's tracking system. It was one of the few perks of being their best hunter—access to resources that would make the NSA jealous.
He entered Charlie's number and waited.
The program churned through cell towers, triangulating the last known signal.
DEVICE OFFLINE - LAST PING: 10:18 PM
Five minutes before Simon had killed those vampires. Charlie's phone had died right as everything went to hell.
Typical.
