Dave sipped a coffee. The caffeine no longer mattered, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He was dressed in red flannel, jeans, and washable boots; seasonal camouflage that suited the hunt. He’d been heavy before and now looked deflated and sallow. A sullen kid with oversized headphones rolled past them, the clatter of the longboard roused Dave’s companion Karl.

“How about that one?” Karl asked.

Karl appeared young, not much older than the prey, band t-shirt, collarless leather jacket, skinny jeans tucked into tall boots. He had the look of a scene kid in the wrong city, stylish but somehow off a beat. They had met a few weeks ago, but this was their first proper hunt. Dave didn’t want to be difficult, but he had concerns. 

“I don’t know, what is he…fifteen, at most?. “ said Dave.

 Karl shrugged and kept his voice even to avoid drawing attention. They had set up on a bench at the edge of a failed pedestrian mall; weed shops, dive bars and PaydayLoans dotted the cobblestone lane.

‘So, less chance of disease, more vital. We’re not sending him to buy smokes; feed, kill, ditch the body, end of story.” said Karl.

 Had it been later in the night Dave wouldn’t have argued, but it was a few hours past sundown on a Saturday, so they had time and opportunity to waste. 

 

“ I mean, ideally, yeah…but when you get that flash of their life and it’s barely anything…I don’t  know, it feels a little unfair.” said Dave.

 Karl nodded agreeably, but he sounded more patient than empathetic.

“He’s veal, not a plucky orphan, don’t over think a dietary preference,” said Karl.

Dave ran his hands through his once receding hair and tried to justify his reluctance.

 “I get that, but the last teenager I hit dropped his gym bag, and a fucking Scooby Doo thermos rolled out. I got so in my head I ran off without finishing.”

 Karl paused a long beat before responding. 

“Are you sure that was a teenager?” said Karl.

 Dave raised his hand in partial defense. The kid was far enough down the street the point was moot, but he felt an explanation was owed. 

 “I don’t know, he was pretty tall, but yeah, there was some ambiguity. Either way, if he survived, there is a predator with a bowl cut and braces running around.” said Dave.

 Karl smiled, flashing ivory fangs under a full hipster moustache. 

“Allright, no problem.” Said Karl.

 Dave took another sip of his coffee and scanned the crowd. All couples and small groups, respectable sorts that would be missed in the short term. This was going poorly.

“Sorry if I am making it weird” said Dave.

 Karl shrugged and slung an arm over the back of the bench.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been there. When I was first turned I swore that I would only hunt the wicked. I used to write the reasons down in a notebook…to maintain moral clarity. It got muddy real quick.

 Karl mimed opening a small book and flipped through the pages.

 “The last few were

• Walks too slowly on the sidewalk
• Was condescending to a waterbed salesman
• Owns a horse, doesn’t ride it.

It’s all bullshit, you learn to let it go.” said Karl.

  Dave couldn’t tell what was genuine and what was colour, but he appreciated the effort. Still, it had been a year and every hunt left him shaken. 

‘So you don’t feel anything when you feed?” said Dave.

  Karl leaned forward and gestured at the thin crowd passing by.

“Hunger. Maybe triumph if I had to hustle for it. Honestly, at this point it’s like drinking a penny flavoured juice box. You’ll get there.”  said Karl.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Said Dave.

   Karl shrugged, he seemed bored by the topic. Dave was hungry, and this was his first hunt in a new territory. He tried to make amends.

“Am I talking too much? I’ve only done a few of these?” Said Dave.

 Karl turned to fully face Dave.

“It’s fine. Chatting makes us blend in. Just avoid the awkward stuff and we’re good.”

  Karl’s blue eyes were bright but lifeless. The bars were letting out and the crowds around them got louder. .

  

“As in?” said Dave.

 Karl raised three pale, well manicured, fingers and ticked the indelicate topics off.

“When were you made?

Do you miss the sun?

Politics.”.

“Ok, that’s about what I figured. I’ve heard a few versions?” said Dave.

‘Yeah, like what?” asked Karl.

“Uh, last guy I hunted with really stressed that I was not to ask about his maker, but I didn’t give a shit either way. He Just kept bringing it up like I must be dying to know .” Said Dave.

Karl bobbed his head sagely.

 ‘“The old –Don’t ask about my maker, but obviously they are extremely important- bit. That crap is exhausting. I used to tell people that I got turned by Judy Garland, just to fuck with them.”.

Dave snorted and a spray of blood shot down his flannel shirt. 

 “Christ, I would have settled for Liza Minelli. I got made by some prick at a highway rest stop. It wasn’t even an ambush, he actually had a flat tire and let me survive because I gave him my spare. Drank a little and drove off. The only thing I know about him is that his name is Wayne and he drove a fiat.” said Dave.

 Karl let out a full throated laugh, fangs bared without menace. The drunken crowd had thinned.

 

 “Fucking, Wayne! Shit. Still, classier than mine:I got turned in a Times Square porno theatre.” said Karl.

 Dave was feeling relaxed enough to ask the difficult question.

 “Uh, were you….?” said Dave.

Karl laced his hands behind his head and gazed up at the highrises in the distance.

 “A pervert? Absolutely. But I also had a projectionist gig there while I was in film school. I was closing the place down and tried to roust a straggler in a trench coat, guy had my throat open before I said a word. Security ran him off before he could drain me , but that was that. ” Said Karl.

 “Shit, that is way worse than Judy Garland.” said Dave.

 Karl shook his head to clear the nostalgia.

“Little bit, yeah.” said Karl.

  They sat companionably in silence. A light rain began to fall, slicking the cobblestones. Dave’s curiosity got the better of him.

 “You still watch movies?” said Dave.

 Karl kept his gaze up at the buildings, but he slid his hands into his jacket pockets and the ease left his shoulders..

“Not really. I can appreciate the technical side, but the performances don’t stir anything…so, what’s the point?” Said Karl.

 Dave felt like an asshole for prying. He scanned the street and found something to improve the mood. He nudged Karl and tilted his chin towards a drunk man across the street tearing band flyers off a light post. He was ill tempered, alone, and well into his forties. Karl nodded and they both rose and followed him to the next block.