LITTLE GIRL LOST
by Valerie Meachum


This place was incredible!  Here it was, nearly midnight, and this 
amusement park called the Boardwalk was still in high gear.  
Swarms of people, most of them around her age, thronged the 
carnival games, rides and stores built right on the beach.

She shouldn't be here, of course.  She had left Laramie two days 
before, and had exactly $73.89 to her name; and the unspeakable 
hot dog and soda she had called dinner had already cost her three 
dollars.  And she had thought she could find a place to belong in 
California!  Just about everything here was a ripoff; but it had 
its charm, and it was as good a place as any to waste time until 
she decided what to do next.

Star wandered into a somewhat disorganized secondhand store; she 
loved some of the clothes you could find in a place like this.  
She was heading for the nearest rack when she caught a glimpse of 
herself in a warped old mirror.  What a mess!  Her curly black 
hair was tangled and tumbled haphazardly in all directions, and 
the grubby jeans and T-shirt she had chosen for "travelling 
clothes" were even worse.  She hadn't done anything about the 
makeup she had worn when she left, and the crying she had done 
since then created an effect best described as death warmed over.  
Yuck.

She hadn't been certain she wanted to spare any of her precious 
cash in this shop, but she thought she might feel better if she 
did something about her appearance.  What the hell--if she was 
dumb enough to run away from home, why not take it the whole way?  
The money would run out sooner or later anyway; and maybe if she 
looked a little less like a refugee from a modern-dress version of 
_Les Misérables_, she might even get a job.

Well, she had decided to be dumb; this pretty much clinched it.  
Star had found a public restroom, washed up, brushed her hair, and 
changed into her "new" clothes.  The result, while an improvement 
over the way she had looked half an hour before, was probably not 
terribly hireable.  She had fallen in love at first sight with the 
outfit, though; the lacy camisole and colorful, swirling skirt 
completed the Gypsy look her dark hair and eyes gave her.  It 
wasn't that she regretted the fifteen dollars she spent on it; it 
just wasn't very practical.

On the other hand...she looked around her at the hordes of 
teenagers dressed in everything from bikinis to leather to 
mismatched mishmash.  With some amusement, she realized that not 
one of them would fall into the strict category of "normal" as 
defined at her own high school.  Her ground-brushing skirt with 
its sequins she had thought so wild seemed positively pedestrian 
next to...well, for example, the weirdo with the muscles and the 
bleached-out forelock whose only article of clothing that seemed 
to be in one piece was a T-shirt screaming "Surf Nazis."

Star had never quite mastered the art of watching people 
unnoticed, and the weirdo's scruffy girlfriend began to close the 
ten feet between herself and Star, yelling, "What'chu starin' at, 
chickie?  He's taken, get one'a yer own!"  The girl was pretty 
obviously trashed on something, and equally obviously about to 
trash Star.  Not certain how to react, but knowing she didn't want 
a confrontation with some crazywoman in the middle of the 
Boardwalk, Star took a step backward and bumped squarely into 
someone.  She turned to apologize, but the guy was already moving, 
stepping between herself and the nutcase.  Star wound up turning 
all the around to follow him, and found him defusing the situation 
for her.

"Come on, Shelly, lay off," he was saying with an ingratiating 
smile.  He was of medium height and build, but his striking 
appearance more than compensated for any ordinariness there. 
White-blond hair spiked up from his head, and his 
motorcycle/rocker's attire was topped off with a slightly 
dilapidated leather jacket under the hugest black trenchcoat she 
had ever seen. But the real jolt came from a pair of impossibly 
sharp blue eyes that seemed simultaneously to appraise, threaten 
and laugh at her.

That was ridiculous, of course; he wasn't even looking at her, but 
at Shelly the wharf rat, and still speaking.  "Why don't you go 
ride the carousel before you do something dumb?" Shelly paused for 
a moment, then elected to ignore his sound advice and take a swing 
at Star, who instinctively jumped back again.  This time someone 
held up prepared hands to stop her, and she found herself 
protectively surrounded by three other rocker-type guys while the 
first caught Shelly's wrists and pulled her to face him.  "Now, be 
a good little lunatic and leave the nice girl alone, okay?"

The "Surf Nazi," whose slurred speech and bleary bravado made it 
clear that he was even more pickled than his girlfriend, finally 
noticed the scene and blundered over.  "Hey, blondie, you tryin' 
to make time with my lady?"

Star's rescuer, still calmly smiling, released the wide-eyed 
Shelly and turned to her hulking boyfriend.  "Of course not.  I 
certainly wouldn't want any trouble."  He was mocking them--Star 
could hear it in his voice, see it in his smile--and the lout 
didn't even notice!  "Much as I hate to say it, Greg, we don't 
seem to have anything to fight about tonight.  Unless, of course, 
Shelly takes it into her head to start one?"  Shelly glared at 
him, but said nothing and made no move.  "I didn't think so."

"That's good," Greg boomed, "'cause I'm not scared of you, or your 
faggot Lost Boys neither!"

"Absolutely," the blond guy answered, still calm, still smiling.  
The others around Star laughed, and she wondered just what kind of 
war whe had wandered into.

"Yeah," said Greg, apparently pleased with the way things had 
turned out, however that was.  He grabbed Shelly by the arm and 
shambled into the crowd without further ado.

The guy in the black coat, apparently the leader of these "Lost 
Boys," turned back to Star.  "They ought to keep her on a leash.  
Now, who have I just rescued from the harpy's claws?"  he asked, a 
twinkle in his eyes.  He really did have some amazing eyes.

Star laughed, as much from relief of tension as from the humor in 
the question that had broken it.  "Star.  Star Lo--"

"Hold on, hold on!"  the guy interrupted.  "No need to tell 
anybody any more than you have to.  Star's enough.  Plenty.  I'm 
David."  He held out his right hand, and Star shook it cautiously.  
Then David pointed to each of the other guys in turn.  "That's 
Marco, Dwayne, and Paul."  Each acknowledged the introduction with 
a smile for Star.  "The Lost Boys at your sevice, milady.  What 
other feats of derring-do can we do for you?"

Was he mocking her now?  She looked carefully at his face, his 
eyes.  No, couldn't be. "Thank you.  Thanks a lot, really.  I 
can't think of any other daring deeds that need doing, though."  
He had turned that smile in her direction; she smiled back a 
little nervously.  "Thanks again, really."  She intended to walk 
away, but somewhere between brain and feet the wires were getting 
crossed.

"Where are you going?"  David asked.  "The least you can do is let 
us give you a lift."

Now what?  Star hadn't the faintest idea how to answer his 
question but tried anyway. It didn't work very well.  "I'm 
going...I mean, I..."

"Don't have anywhere to go?"  Once again David knew exactly what 
she was thinking. Should that bother her?  It seemed like it 
should for some reason, but it really didn't. Something seemd 
wrong about him, but she couldn't put a name to it.  Anyway, he 
seemed genuinely concerned.  "You're a runaway, huh?"

It occurred to Star to lie, but she couldn't think of any story, 
let along a convincing one. "Well...yeah, I am," she admitted 
lamely.  What else could she do?  Nothing, except walk away, and 
that seemed rude.  Besides, it hadn't worked last time she tried.

David nodded.  "Believe me, around here you're not unusual."  He 
gestured around them.  "Some of these kids live in town, but most 
of us belong to the Boardwalk.  I don't even know where most of 
them sleep--if they do at all.  Santa Carla is Runaway Central."

Star looked around, trying to guess which among the crowd had 
homes to go to, meals to eat; and which, like herself, had 
renounced yesterday and tomorrow to do their best with today.  
Some were scruffy and half-starved, easily pegged for homeless, 
but if David was right at least half the rest were as well.  She 
couldn't quite guess who--she didn't know the place well enough 
yet--but she realized she hadn't been asked to guess, so why 
bother?  Silly idea anyway.

She turned her attention back to David, who said, "Good thing you 
ran into us.  A lot of kids turn up here one night and a week 
later they're gone.  Some of them probably go home, but the 
rest..."  He shrugged, leaving the rest to her imagination, which 
was careening into a dozen tragic fates for the lone runaway.  
What had made her think that she, 17-year-old 
Star...Star...something came after that, she was sure; but anyway, 
that she was going to get by on her own?  Yes, it was a good thing 
she had run into these Lost Boys.

"I'll bet we can help you out," David continued.  "What you need 
is a roof over your head, a place you can call yours when the sky 
starts dropping things on you or when you just need to sleep."  He 
smiled.  "You can borrow ours, for tonight anyway.  Sound like an 
idea?"

Something was still weird about him, all of them; but she was 
damned if she could figure out what it was.  Then there was this 
offer of shelter, just out of nowhere...  "What's the catch?" she 
asked, and immediately wished she hadn't.  It sounded like such a 
ridiculous, empty question.

David didn't seem to mind.  "No catch," he assured her.  Of course 
there wasn't.  "Just don't want to see a girl like you left in the 
lurch when we've got plenty of room."

Something occurred to Star, a little fuzzily.  What was *wrong* 
with her, anyway? "Plenty of room where?"  It seemed like an 
effort to get the question out, and she was rather proud that she 
succeeded.

"Why not come and find out for yourself?"

Okay, she thought she had hit her limit of stupidity in the 
secondhand shop.  But here she was, sitting on the back of this 
stranger's motorcycle, going with him and his friends to some 
unknown "home," probably a rickety abandoned house or something.  
She was crazy.

The craziest part, though, was that she wasn't the least bit 
afraid.  Four strange guys on motorcycles taking her through the 
woods along the shoreline to God-knew-where, and she wasn't 
scared.  Lord, anything could happen to her, like...like...dammit, 
she knew there was *something*!

David turned around and smiled at her again.  "We'll be there in a 
minute.  You okay back there?"

"Yeah," she yelled over the bikes' roar.  Of course she was okay; 
why shouldn't she be? She was fine.

A moment later they pulled to a rather abrupt halt atop a massive 
cliff that dropped several hundred feet to the surf below.  
Nothing of human construction was in sight except for a rickety-
looking wooden stairway leading down and to her right along the 
cliff face.  It bore a weathered sign warning "Danger--Keep Out," 
and Star looked to David for an explanation.

As she had feared, he gestured toward the dilapidated steps.  "The 
palace lies yonder, milady."  He *was* mocking her.  Wasn't he?  
"Don't worry, it's safe enough.  See?"  He led the way, and Star 
found herself following before she had decided to.  Seeing where 
the were headed, she gave a little gasp.

What a wreck!  More warning signs were planted randomly in the 
rubble strewn about the mouth of a cave that looked ready to go 
crashing into the ocean at the slightest breath of wind.

Star wasn't quite sure what to say.  Finally she gave up on the 
tactful approach and managed, "What *is* this?"

David stood in the cave entrance with a torch.  "This is our 
place."  Seeing her reaction, he laughed.  "I know, it's not much 
from outside.  But come in and see if you change your mind!"

Stepping carefully among the rocks and broken glass, Star made her 
way to the gaping entrance.  She expected to see bare rock with a 
few ratty furnishings, maybe a couple of rugs. Instead, David 
dropped his torch into a steel barrel to light a fire that 
revealed just about the last thing she expected.

This wasn't just a cave; what was left of the lobby of one classy 
hotel was in here!  The once-rich furniture and even the walls and 
floor were jumbled every which way, but it was clear that this had 
once been a high-class place.

"Impressive, huh?"  David said behind her.  "They knew everything 
about building a resort except where to build it.  Right on the 
Fault.  The Big One came along and the ground ate this place 
whole."

Her hosts, it seemed, had added a few touches of their own.  A 
jungle of draperies and mobiles hung from the ceiling and walls, 
some of them curtaining off what seemed to be makeshift sleeping 
compartments.  There was a lot of extra furniture acquired from 
who-knew-where, and a huge poster of Jim Morrison brooded on one 
wall.

Taken as a whole the place was complete chaos--but comfortable 
chaos.  It bore little resemblance to anything Star had ever 
encountered before, but nonetheless she felt she could belong 
here.  It was a lot like the Boardwalk:  maybe not normal, but 
right.  Star was truly impressed.

The others came whooping in after cacheing the motorcycles 
wherever it was they kept them.  Star jumped a bit at the 
unexpected noise; and David, who had watched her silently as she 
examined her surroundings, said, "Don't worry.  You're perfectly 
safe here.  You're our guest."

Paul jumped up on the dry fountain in the middle of the cave.  
"Don't you believe him, Star!"  he laughed.  "We're as dangerous 
as they come!"

"Stop it, Paul," David said sharply.  He turned back to Star.  
"Paul likes to joke. Believe me, nobody here will hurt you."

She believed him; she was in no danger here.  "Paul, you're 
terribly, terribly funny," she called sarcastically.  The others 
laughed, and she started to feel really at home.  These guys were 
just what she needed to replace her fractured family, and they 
seemed as willing to welcome her as she was to be here.

"Hey, you hungry?"  asked the short one--Marco, his name was.  "I 
can go get some food."

Star noticed that her stomach was indeed demanding attention.  
"Sure," she replied. "Sounds great."

"Great idea, Marco," said David.  "We can make it a regular 
party."

"Party!"  Paul whooped.  "So let's have some tunes!"  He punched 
the play button on a huge boom box and high-voltage rock blasted 
through the cave.  Paul and Dwayne did an impromptu air-guitar 
bit, then Paul ran over and grabbed Star's hand to dance.  Only 
David did not join in, but sat quietly watching as the three 
jammed around the cave.

They were interrupted by a shout of "Pizza!" at the cave entrance.  
Marco came in loaded down with three large carryout boxes and 
parked them on the floor in the middle of a quickly-formed circle.

Star pounced on the pepperoni and mushroom, vaguely reflecting 
that Marco had gotten back awfully fast, and downing half the 
slice before she noticed that the others were not eating, just 
watching her.  David had turned on her the full force of the gaze 
that had so unnerved her when they met on the Boardwalk earlier.  
It seemed a million years distant; she had completely forgotten 
she was among strangers who made her very nervous, but suddenly 
she was very nervous again.

"What?" she demanded through a mouthful of pizza.  He reminded her 
of a cobra--and she was the bird, trapped and helpless should he 
choose to strike.

David's infuriating smile didn't make her feel any better.  "What 
do you think boys, is she in?"  In what?  What was he talking 
about?  The other three put in their approval of whatever it was 
he had proposed, and he addressed Star.  "And what's your vote, 
Star?  Do you want to stay?"

"Stay?  You mean here?  Live here?"

"Of course.  What else were you planning to do?"

She didn't have an answer for that one, but she was definitely not 
sure she wanted to stay here.  "What will I do here?" she asked.  
"Just what is going on here, anyway?  Where do you get all this 
stuff, how do you live?"

"You've seen how we live."

"That's not what I mean.  You can't just party all the time.  
You've got to get money from somewhere to keep going.  The party 
can't just go on forever!"

"Can't it?"  David spoke to Dwayne without taking his eyes from 
Star.  "Let's show her what I mean.  Bring it."  Dwayne wandered 
off to some other part of the cave; she didn't notice where.

Star knew that the situation had taken a frightening turn, though 
she couldn't tell exactly when.  It didn't matter anyway; she felt 
distanced from the fear, as if it were irrational, irrelevant, and 
therefore to be ignored.  But it wasn't irrelevant, it was 
just...dammit, she couldn't think with him staring at her like 
that!  What did everything he said seem to make perfect sense when 
she knew she should not even be listening to him at all?

Dwayne returned then with what looked to be a decorated wine 
bottle.  David took it, his eyes still fixed on Star, and raised 
it in some sort of solo toast.  "Things can be forever, Star."  He 
took a sip from the bottle, eyes closed.  When he opened them 
again, they seemed clouded for a fraction of a second, but 
immediately snapped back into focus, sharper than ever, piercing 
right through Star.  He held the bottle out to her.

Star hesitated.  "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Take it."

Star complied, wrenching her eyes from the mystery man to look at 
his mystery gift. The liquid in the bottle was dark red, too thick 
for any wine she had ever seen; and and uneasy feeling settled in 
the pit of her stomach.  "This isn't wine.  What is it?"  She 
looked back at David and wished she hadn't.  The answer was on his 
face, in the dazzling blue eyes almost too sharp to be human.

"It doesn't matter.  Do you want to be one of us?"  One of 
us...the words had a bizarre ring.  Just what was one of them?

Irrelevantly, Star wondered what time it was.  She should have 
been asleep a long time ago, and here she was...  "I don't 
understand," she managed.  She was tired, her mind wasn't working 
right, and he kept *staring*...

"You don't have to.  Just take a drink."

That didn't make any sense.  What was she doing, sitting on the 
floor of this crooked cave, struggling to comprehend what was 
happening?

A word wandered into her mind, so quietly she didn't notice at 
first.  It didn't seem to mean anything; maybe if she said it 
aloud...

"Vampire."  Suddenly everything clicked into focus; it was 
impossible, but that didn't matter.  She knew what was happening; 
she knew what "one of us" meant.  

David's smile never faltered though she suspected he hadn't wanted 
her to guess.  "Our Star is bright!  So you know what we are.  
Does it change anything?"

Star thought a moment and was surprised to find it didn't.  She 
still had nowhere to go. She certainly wasn't about to go back to 
that mess her mother insisted on calling a home; she had had quite 
enough of Gina Lovell's twisted idea of raising a child.  It 
hadn't been so bad when Dad was there; but when he had taken off, 
it hadn't taken Star long to follow his example. So where did that 
leave her?  In a cave in California, being offered an eternity of 
nights like this one.  She had to admit, the prospect of always 
living like that was hardly an unpleasant one. Still, there was 
something...  "What will happen if I don't?  You'll kill me, won't 
you?"

David shook his head.  "No.  I told you, you're perfectly safe 
here.  You're a guest." His voice took on a harder edge.  "But who 
knows what might happen after you leave?"

Still something was not right; there was a point they were 
missing.  "David, this is too easy.  Everything has a price tag, 
doesn't it?"

"Yes."

He offered no further comment, and Star was more confused than 
ever.  "You're not going to tell me?"

"You already know.  You know what we are, and you must know what 
we do."

Something dawned on Star.  "And what I must do if I choose to 
stay, is that it?"

David nodded.  "That's right."

It was nearly incomprehensible; her stomach turned at the mere 
thought.  To feed on other human beings...no, that wasn't right.  
You couldn't kill "other" humans if you weren't human yourself, 
could you?

"That's it, isn't it?" Star blurted.  "I won't be human any more, 
I'll be something else." But the idea wasn't as abhorrent as she 
thought it should be.

"That's it," David replied.  "So it's all laid out for you now.  
Take a drink."

Star shook her head.  "I don't think I can."

"You can.  Just think about it."  He seemed so sympathetic; surely 
he couldn't be the enemy?  "But don't think too long; sleepy-
time's coming soon.  You have to decide."

"I can't go back once I start, can I?"

"No."

"You're so frank about it!  Why don't you lie to me, hide the 
price tag, make me think it's a game?"

"I don't have to."  David put his hand over hers on the ornate 
bottle and raised it into her line of vision.  "Don't you see?  
The choice is already made."

Star didn't like the conclusion she was reaching.  "What do you 
mean?"

"The price doesn't matter, Star.  It's still better than you have 
now.  You're just another runaway in a town full of them.  I'm 
offering you a way to be more than that, something special."  He 
released her hand, but she still held the bottle up.  "Would you 
rather be one of them...or one of us?"

He was right, wasn't he?  Still she hesitated, eyes locked on his, 
with the bottle between them; she couldn't crystallize everything 
he's said into any coherent concept.

David did it for her.  "Drink it, Star."  It was quiet, but still 
held the power of a command.  "What have you got to lose?"

Star knew the answer:  nothing.  Slowly she raised the bottle to 
her lips and tipped it up. It was salty and slightly sweet, and 
not at all unpleasant as she had expected.  She swallowed once, 
twice, three times, feeling the liquid flow down her throat to 
drown the butterflies in her stomach.

Lowering the bottle, Star met David's approving smile.  She had 
half-expected to see him revealed in some new light, now that she 
was one of his own, but he retained the air of mystery that had 
intrigued her from the beginning.  She could see why he was in 
charge here--there were secrets he had no intention of telling.  
He hadn't laid it all out as clearly as she'd thought.

"Good," he said, taking the bottle from her and handing it to 
Dwayne.  He stood and held out a hand to help her up.  "It would 
have been a pity to see you go back to being ordinary.  It didn't 
suit you."

As he gave her a hand up, the cave seemed to take a lurch and Star 
pitched forward. Her legs wouldn't support her all of a sudden; 
but it didn't matter because David would.

"Whoops!" he laughed, picking her up easily.  "Looks like the 
first thing I'm going to have to teach you is how to walk again.  
Right now, though, it's almost morning.  Time to sleep."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed as he carried her to an enormous old couch in 
a back corner of the cave.

He put a tattered blanket over her and said, "See you tonight, 
Star.  Tonight you start to find out what this really means."  
Then he was gone.

She thought she'd already found out; she could feel the new blood 
now, spreading through her body, changing her forever.  What else 
was she to learn?

Then a phrase from the conversation over the wine bottle drifted 
back into her mind: "...what I must do..."

A ray of sunlight found its way through the dust and draperies.  
It was too hot on her face; she pulled the blanket over her head 
and rolled over, wondering in the last seconds before falling 
asleep just what she had done.