{"id":172,"date":"2023-12-13T20:17:00","date_gmt":"2023-12-13T20:17:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/?p=172"},"modified":"2024-02-20T21:24:38","modified_gmt":"2024-02-20T21:24:38","slug":"blood-debt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/blood-debt\/","title":{"rendered":"Blood Debt"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This story is by EC Dorgan. It is appearing online for the first time here, but was originally published in The Dread Machine <\/em>Issue 3.3, available in paperback<\/a> and Epub<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The doctors call it bad blood, but you know you\u2019ve stumbled on something bigger. And so you find yourself in front of a steakhouse, lips parched, juices releasing, anticipating aged steak, the best Malbec, a full stomach, and a reckoning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The steakhouse is in a strip-mall. You have to cross the railroad tracks to reach it. Hold your breath while you drive by the graveyard. You pass the lonely gas station with the old fashioned pump. Then the pipe-fitter, the plumbing supply shop, and the reseller of dishwasher parts. You go round to the back, and you park amongst Porsches. You walk into the steakhouse, and you don\u2019t think about your brother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was born a minute before you. He was one hair taller. You were one hair rounder. Your head fit the curve between his chin and his neck when you slept, four legs entwined. You still remember lying skyward in that crib, head resting in your brother\u2019s nape, looking up at grasping fingers. You don\u2019t know if they were your hands or his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You shared a dorm room in university. He had the bed on the left. You had the bed on the right. You both studied engineering\u2014him civil, you electrical. He married a month before you. Your wife got pregnant sooner. His little girl was born premature. Yours was one week late. When your parents had the accident, he got the land and the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You know that electrical engineers make good money, but you find out the hard way, the price of an education isn\u2019t cheap. You assume an electrical engineer who graduates with honors and gets hired by a top firm can afford a house. You expect your twin to share his inheritance. You\u2019re wrong on all counts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your brother gets a job at the same firm. You\u2019re both promoted the same week. Your wives are again expecting. Your brother spends his salary on hockey classes for his kids. He hires a designer and remodels his kitchen. Your kids play hockey too. You\u2019re proud of your nephews\u2019 trophies. You\u2019re truly blessed you all get along. Though you can only manage a DIY remodel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You stay up nights, building cupboard contraptions. You see perfection in your mind, you just need the right fastener and hinge. You blow two credit cards at the hardware store. You build a special nook for the cookbooks and trinkets. Your wife doesn\u2019t like it. You refinance your house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your brother gets a promotion and year-end bonus. You can\u2019t make your loan payments. Your brother landscapes the front and back yard. Your wife leaves you. When you and your brother go to the steakhouse, your brother, discreetly, gets the bill. He pays for your kids\u2019 hockey classes. And when you get a warning at work, your brother vouches for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They find the bad blood on a check-up. They call it an \u201cincidental\u201d discovery. The doctor says it\u2019s a fluke, that everyone has their oddities. It\u2019s probably nothing\u2014but you should come back next month. One month later, the doctor frowns at your tests. He checks more boxes on the form, and sends you back to the lab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One night, when your brother is paying for your dinner, you ask if he\u2019s ever had odd blood. He says no, and you start to understand\u2014between the two of you, the world isn\u2019t fair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time of the diagnosis, you\u2019re dealing with a different doctor. The first one avoids you\u2014when you see him at the clinic, he makes a micro-grimace and says he\u2019s late for an appointment. Your new doctor gives you pamphlet after pamphlet. You don\u2019t have enough hands to hold them. You do a lot of nodding. When he asks if you have an appetite, something in your gut awakens, and walking back to your car, you realize you\u2019ve just birthed a new hunger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You stand in front of your perfect landscaped house. You say out loud, \u201cThis is the definition of curb appeal.\u201d The definition of curb appeal looks back at you. Your brother steps outside and waves. You stare, and wonder if the hand is yours. Then you remember, the house is your brother\u2019s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When you tell your brother about the bad blood, his face shifts. If you weren\u2019t twins, you\u2019d miss it. He doesn\u2019t have to speak. You\u2019re twins, you know his heart. You feel his empathy, his sadness, and under that, relief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, you\u2019re in your basement, your cupboards are almost done, the hinge contraption is finally sorted, and you\u2019ve almost saved enough to buy knobs. You think of your brother, and you\u2019re back, nestled in the crook of his neck, staring at grasping hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You go back to the house in the dark, and you fumble under landscaped bushes and new windows. You climb in through a screen, and endure the alarm system, screaming. Your brother waits, wordless\u2014you know each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You expect it to be easy to cut out his heart, but you\u2019re out of breath before you know it, grip straining, marveling at the layers. You\u2019ve never seen so many hues of tissue. You hold his heart in your hand and you cut it in half.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your brother doesn\u2019t speak when you put his half-heart in your chest. You slice into your own chest, and give him half of yours. Your two half-hearts beat, good blood mixes with bad, and things feel fairer, already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now, you walk into the steakhouse, and you\u2019re not thinking about your twin, but he\u2019s already seated and waiting. You can\u2019t remember if he\u2019s a civil or electrical engineer. You\u2019re not sure if he has a brand-new kitchen or knob-less, DIY cupboards, held together by a contraption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You reach out with all your hands. Your white shirts are both crimson. They\u2019re dripping all over the place settings. For a moment, you both hesitate. You don\u2019t have a clue whose hands are whose. You call to the waiter for aged steak and the best Malbec. You\u2019re on the cusp of embracing or strangling each other. But you\u2019ll eat your two steaks, first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When you\u2019re done, the waiter will stand back, respectful, while you grapple. He knows that, no matter how this grotesquerie ends, one of your credit cards is good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

About EC Dorgan
<\/strong>EC Dorgan loves plants, bingo, and the weird. She lives and writes on Treaty 6 Territory in Alberta, Canada.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This story is by EC Dorgan. It is appearing online for the first time here, but was originally published in The Dread Machine Issue 3.3, available in paperback and Epub. The doctors call it bad blood, but you know you\u2019ve stumbled on something bigger. And so you find yourself in front of a steakhouse, lips […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":30,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_eb_attr":"","_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","ph_site_tiers_settings":[[{"Price":"1.00","Tier_name":"Steadfast Supporter","Tier_id":"prod_PaAF3yLFLYGcEN","Selected":true,"Tier_status":"publish"},{"Price":"2.00","Tier_name":"Devoted Disciple","Tier_id":"prod_PaAHc7tOOYhGVR","Selected":true,"Tier_status":"publish"},{"Price":"3.00","Tier_name":"Arcane Advisor","Tier_id":"prod_PaAJ2JwZ9uMwgJ","Selected":true,"Tier_status":"publish"}]],"_ph_post_tiers":["prod_PaAF3yLFLYGcEN","prod_PaAHc7tOOYhGVR","prod_PaAJ2JwZ9uMwgJ"],"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[12],"class_list":["post-172","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/172","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/30"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=172"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/172\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":414,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/172\/revisions\/414"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=172"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=172"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/on.patronhunt.com\/thedreadmachine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=172"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}