An Immortal Forgets. Lost Chapter
The sun has moved closer to Earth and humanity is dead. Except Us.
As I swim with Kevin in the boiling waters, 750 years of memories flood back. My morality was always a question. Am I good or evil? Answers became blurred as time moved on. I’ve killed many vampires and humans recently, thinking that Kevin was dead. I no longer cared about life. If I could, I would’ve ended mine too.
But, my first crime was accidental. I was learning how to survive as an immortal.
In the 1920s, I met Jada (Sheila), Ellin, and David and we were thriving together. I was singing every weekend and working as a maid with Jada during the week. We’d spend every night together playing poker and drinking cheap booze. But, we all understood that our time in Harlem was temporary. I did not quite understand how we were supposed to hide after living among people who’d recognize us.
But, Jada (Sheila), who is over a century older than me, began teaching me and telling me how she’s survived with different identities. I’d always ask her, “Do you have a hard time leaving the old one?” After I was “killed” with Kevin by overseers, I missed the plantation terribly. I knew I could never go back to my old life, but I still yearned to be there. My feelings were the same after my family in the Reservation was killed. Each person I lost, I felt a little less safe, less human, less alive, even though I was still breathing. Jada’s answer was: “No one that I know is alive to care”. Sometimes, her harsh truths stung. But, Jada was right, her missing her old life did not matter, she had to move on from it. There were no other options.
Jada’s ways of hiding have worked through changing identities in different areas in the world. Jada’s will to survive without being detected was most important to her. Eventually, Jada’s fears became my fears. What if people discovered our immortality? What if they discovered that our wounds heal in seconds and that we never aged. We may stop breathing if we are shot in the head, but bullets are removed from our bodies and we live again. Our immortal lives would be full of experimentation and imprisonment. We all understood that would not be a life worth living. Since we could not die, we would be tortured for an eternity. Changing identities was the only way to prevent this.
Jada’s first lesson in changing identities was to change our names. Jada’s name was Sheila at this time but my name has always been Tara. Eventually, my name will catch up with me if some old geezer remembered a slave name Tara in the 1800s. We decided on my new name, which was going to be Jean Johnson, born January 1, 1900 in Savannah, Georgia. Both parents died at the age of 5, I lived in an orphanage until I moved to Harlem. We also decided that I sang in church and received an education there from church groups. In the 1920s, your presence in a community was everything, so becoming a part of the club community with Jada was enough. So, I thought.
In 1925, I was making a great living as a singer and maid. Jada, Ellin, and David all took care of each other and me. I began thinking about saving some of my earnings. When we leave this life, we should not struggle with money, even if we move to different countries. Jada thought this was a bad idea; her fear was that we’d be easily tracked in history. I did not think we would be noticed in history at all. I was wrong.
One day, I walked into a local bank to open a savings account. The bank teller asked me to fill out forms and provide proof of work and residence. After giving the teller what was needed, she asked me to repeat my name. My response was Jean Johnson. When the teller asked my date of birth for confirmation, I responded, March 15, 1948. The date of my assumed birth is Tara. I immediately corrected myself, laughing this off and said; “I’m giving you my mother’s birth date, silly me.” The teller looked at me suspiciously and said “I’ve never seen you before, are you sure these documents are correct?” Surprised at the response, I said “I’m obviously not in my 70s, the information is correct on my forms, ma’am”. The bank teller grabbed all of the documents and said that she had to consult with the boss before opening the account. I knew that I was in trouble. Besides Jada, Ellin, David, there was no one else that could verify my existence before 1920. Smiling while waiting, I was approached by 2 large men and asked to follow them to the back.
After hours of questioning, the bank teller and the 2 armed men decided to call the authorities. The authorities walked in and immediately recognized me from the club. The cop that arrived looks at the bank teller and says “This woman is Jean Johnson. There are countless people at the Flap Jack club 2 blocks that way that can verify her because they see her every weekend singing. The owners Ellin and David are great friends of hers. Let this woman have whatever she wants. See you this weekend, Jean”. I collected my documents and opened a savings account there.
David and Ellin made fun of me while we played poker that night. Jada shook her head and said, “Rookie mistake, you are just a bad liar, but you will learn, girl”. Jada was right. Through time, I became a skilled actor and liar. Survival was always the motivation.
As I’m now floating and holding Kevin in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I wonder, “What is next”? With no human life left and my true identity intact, who will I become next? Does she still exist?