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So there was indeed blood to be drank, Art’s blood to be exact. Though Oscar promised it would be a cure for the infection, the boy still couldn’t help but wonder, was he the last man on earth? Hell, if it kept him from becoming a zombie, because wasn’t that what the vampire meant by ‘infection,’ then he’d take it. Nothing would be worse than finding himself on the same level as Jake. The boy felt his wrist being lifted, but it wasn’t something that registered. He was lost in some fever dream that bridged the past and the future. It was important to stay in the moment, ‘stay here,’ as the vampire Oscar commanded, but it was much easier to drift away. He couldn’t even feel the pinch of the vampire’s fangs as they pierced the soft flesh of his arm.

As the blood was slowly stolen from his burning body, it became easier and easier to swim off into the darkness. There were no more visions now, no more shades of the past, just black abyss. Though there was certainly a crevice to which he was headed. It was a flicker in the darkness that set it apart from the rest of the endless nothing around him, like a crack in a wall, or maybe a hole in a pipe, the black water he swam through being forced towards it, pulling him out to some vast unknown space. It was too black to be the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, though it's enticement was nearly irresistible. It screamed, “Come to the darkside, we have cookies! And Naps! And all kinds of fun!” As far as Art was concerned, it was the place to be right now.

Then he was pulled upward and he felt his head roll back with a nearly, lifeless, snap. But his head soon followed suit, prompted by a voice that wasn’t quite a voice, and a strange, bitter taste filled his mouth. At first it was like sucking on a penny, but thicker, like a metal ooze. Soon though, it became sweet, delicious, like liquid chocolate, coopery chocolate, but utterly satisfying nonetheless. The darkness was shifting around him now as he took in more and more of the delightful drink. The boy hadn’t realized it, but both of his hands were clutching tight to the vampire’s cold wrist. It had happened without any discernible dizziness and enough feeling in his bad arm to move it again. The cool ooze slid down his throat and seemed to spiderweb throughout his body. And it did the impossible, it cooled the heat that had nearly consumed him. Art couldn’t feel the initial shivers, but they vanished quickly anyway.

His head was just breaching the gloomy waters now. He couldn’t get enough of the vampire’s blood, though Art had yet to realize what it was he was truly doing. Then it all came crashing down, then he couldn’t help but stop. The boy all at once released the vampire’s wrist, blood dripping from both sides of his mouth and down his chin. Add that to the pale hue of his skin and you’d think Art was already a zombie. He fell backward again, backward into a sort of convulsion. His body quaked for what seemed like an eternity before it stilled. He would have screamed out in pain if he had been able to. It was excruciating, touching every single nerve just as the blood had. Art would later reflect that this was the reason Oscar had initially apologized. One of the few things he would recall in the hours prior to his turning.

The boy was in the void now. Instinctually he knew it was the place where he’d been sucked towards, the place that had called out to him. He floated, lifelessly, in the darkness. It seemed to whip around him, like a harsh windstorm he could neither hear nor feel. Maybe it was because he wasn’t truly flesh here. The swirling shadows seemed to reach out to him like the smokey, tendrils of a great kraken. They twisted around him and snaked down inside of him, filling him with a cold rejuvenation. He wanted to gasp for breath, but he didn’t have to. The overall experience was disorienting, yet preferable to wasting away on the pantry floor. The shadows even seemed to have a protective element to them. True they were rushing through him like a river, but still, he found them comforting, like a cool blanket in the heat of the summer.

It was over just as it started. Art felt himself sucked from the void and thrown back into his body. He was heavy with darkness, but cold. Even though it made his skin feel clammy, it was such an utter relief to feel cool. Speaking of, his skin seemed to detect everything in the stale summer air. He exploded in goose pimples as he felt it wash over him. It was as if he had never experienced the touch of it before. He was lost in the sensation, so much so that Art hardly noticed that his arm had nearly healed completely. The boy even forgot about the vampire above him, until he opened his eyes.

Kira frowned, well that wasn't much help. No matter. She didn't want to go through the trouble of using a ritual to find him so she used the tracking powers she had. She quickly made her way to the area. She never thought about those living around the QZ. It would be highly dangerous for them. She had joined that group that killed the undead that ended up outside the QZ. Selling zombie ears to them was a way to make quick money too.

She looked around the empty streets, the houses cold and dark. What were they planning on doing? Could they expand the QZ and trap these things back behind a wall. She hadn't heard anything about it. How far the rift had expanded.

She stopped moving when the body on the ground started to move. She wasn't sure if it was already hurt or was it smart enough to lay in wait. She took out a dagger and quickly took it out with a stab to the head. She cleaned her weapon on what was left of it's clothes before moving on.

What drew her attention was the writing on the sidewalk. Survivor Inside. Was this it? The poor man took the time to write a message while he was dying. Were they related? The father?

Kira quickly headed inside the house. "Oscar?" she called out. She looked around, this was what she saw. This had to be the right house. The smells were mixed and confusing. Bad blood and she smelled Oscar's blood too. He already turned the boy didn't he?

She went into the kitchen and saw the pair. She stared for a moment, she literally had a grandchilde and it was a child child. She moved closer, kneeling down next to the pair. "Hi...my name is Kira. I'm his sire, the one that made him into a vampire." she said. She really didn't have much experience with children so she felt awkward.

A voice was the reason his eyes shot open. It sounded so strange to his ears, almost musical, though he’d heard the same voice only a few minutes earlier. It was the voice of the Dr. Who! No that wasn’t right, he hadn’t been watching the TV. He looked up at the man and it came back to him, Oscar, the vampire. Even though it was dark in the Delgrosso kitchen, the boy’s eyes didn’t need to adjust at all. He was able to see the man who’d found him quite clearly. In fact, Art was able to make out minute details in the man’s features that he hadn’t seen before. Shades of white and smooth miniscule indentations, it was all very strange. He tried not to stare, he knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it. It was almost as if he were seeing for the first time.

They weren’t alone now though. There was a woman in the room with them. Art wondered when she had arrived. Her voice, too, had a musical quality to it, though it was something all its own. Art was quite sure he could feel energy radiating from her, something his sister would have termed as ‘spreading positive vibes.’ Her hair seemed to glow golden in the darkness and he found him still staring again, awed by the two of them. It sounded as if she were a vampire as well. He wondered if all vampires looked as heavenly as this pair. Both had a peculiar otherworldly shine to them, something the boy was rather taken by.

Then Oscar asked him for his name. It took Art a few moments to realize that he had been addressed, but as soon as he did, the boy began to rifle through his pockets. It was then that he noticed his arm. It wasn’t burning, it wasn’t numb, it didn’t even throb, though it was still covered on gooseflesh. He jumped up off the floor and waved it around in circles, a bit madly, as if he had never moved it before. It was completely amazing and seemed a miracle, but he had his arm back. A goofy smile was plastered on his lips.

He felt more than one-hundred percent and jumped up and down a few times just out of the sheer excitement of being able to do so. Then he remember he wasn’t alone and his eyes fell back to the pair of vampires again. He began to once again dig through his pockets, but it seemed his notepad was missing. This type of thing sometimes happened to Art and the results were generally mixed. He frowned and thought for a moment. Waving in greeting to the pair, Art tapped his hand over his mouth and shook his head in the negative. He then outstretched his right hand and began to make a whirling notion with his left index finger as if playing to write something on it. He hoped that the vampires would catch his meaning.

Grandsire? Kira wasn't used to that term. It seemed weird, expressly this grandchilde was a mere child. This would take some time getting used to. Oscared asked if the boy could stand. The boy did more than that by jumping up and moving his arm around. She tilted her head, what was he doing? Had his arm been injured? She supposes that would be a good reason for such a reaction. He must have been feeling pretty good since he jumped up and down.

She smiled and laughed, "Feel different? Much better? From the way Oscar was talking, you sounded bad off." she said. He still didn't speak though, he looked through his pockets for something. Then by his next actions, she figured out why. "You're unable to talk?" she said. "Hmm, guess not all things are cured by being turned into a vampire." she mused. It did seem he can hear though. "Do you know sign language?" she asked.

She dug into her pocket for her phone. "Here, this will help." she said. "Can either use the pen to write on the screen or type, I guess." she said, taking out the sPen which brought up a page that would be written on. She used it a lot for lyrics that popped into her head, sometimes she would doodle. She lived the phone for that instead of finding a pen and paper.