6.30.2011

Book: The First - Part: Two - Chapter: 6 - Installment: iii


        Despite his best intentions to get some shut-eye, morbid, self-indulgent curiosity got the best of him, and Scott turned on the television before he lay down to get some sleep. He wanted to get some more perspective – to see what the news was saying about the incident at the hospital.
        The Canadian News Network was carrying non-stop coverage. It was getting solid play on the American channels as well. Scott wasn’t surprised that such a bizarre and grisly event was the news story of the day. Add to the bloodshed that a disease was involved and he was actually a bit surprised that it wasn’t getting non-stop coverage everywhere, but it fit what he had become used to from the Americans when it came to insularity.
        Then again I could be exaggerating the gravity. I am pretty close to the story.
        That was a laugh. He practically was the story at this point. He’d been at the forefront of the investigation of the elder Meyers, and he had personally saved Carly from her mother. His ‘partner’ was the virus victim responsible for the rampage and Scott had been witness to much of it, and now he’d kidnapped Carly and was on the run, feared to be infected on the rampage himself and spreading the hideous disease throughout the city.
        Can News Net wasn’t declaring his escape with Carly a ‘kidnapping.’ But his face was front and centre – they must not have yet found a photo of the girl. The recommendation was to be watchful for him and stay distant – preferably in the sunlight, better behind locked doors.
        At least there’s no need to convince anyone of the danger anymore.
        Footage of the hospital was impressive. The entire building was barricaded by police and military reserve. Soldiers armed with automatic rifles were stationed in a line spaced less than twenty yards apart. Beverly herself made a report from outside the police lines.
        “Concerned loved ones ring the facility, all awaiting news of who is alive, who is dead and who may have been infected by Detective Francis Shale during his rabid twenty minute massacre. But the men ringed outside the building are here for a more disturbing reason than to keep desperate family members out, they are here to keep the infected and the potentially infected in. CDC officials are working as I speak to try and establish a protocol for separating the potentially infected from the healthy until such time as symptoms become apparent, but for now everyone inside the hospital is considered a biological hazard. The military outside has been instructed to shoot anyone trying to leave the premises.”
        The anchor cut into her report.
        “Thank you, Beverly. Is there any indication how long this vetting process could take?”
        “Not as of yet. Reports from the early cases suggest that the infected become symptomatic relatively quickly, with the escalation to the rabid-stage coming in anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. We know so little about the disease at this time that there is no indication as to what the cause of the varied timeline is.”
        “And what of the escaped CDC patients? Any news of them?”
        Okay Bev, moment of truth.
        “No word at this time, but last report had them both reporting as asymptomatic.”
        Good girl.
        “But could they have been infected by Detective Shale? They were both in the same ward as him.”
        Bev paused before answering at a measured pace.
        “It seems that in Shale’s final minutes he wasn’t leaving anyone he attacked alive. If he had passed on the disease via a wound he would have been just as likely to have killed them outright and we simply haven’t found the bodies yet.”
        Nice. Excellent cover.
        She continued. “If Detective Shale got to them they would have been amongst the first victims of his rampage. He would have had time to finish any job he started, unlike later when the heroic orderly, Bishop, was attacking him.”
        “This is all new information. Where is it coming from?” 
        Come on, make it good.
        “This is all speculation, Peter. It wouldn’t be fair to my source to put them on the line. For now we should just chalk it up to good logic, but the public had best stay on the alert.”
        The next segment moved on to profile Bishop. He was rightly being identified as the hero of the day. Scott tuned out the teary interviews with Bishop’s widow and parents and the capsule of the dead orderly’s life. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel compassion, but seeing the fallout of the last few days of his life on national broadcast set Scott to introspection.
        What the hell is going on?
        It was the second time his life had been turned upside down by his job. The last time it had cost Elisabeth Lancaster her life. He had been lucky to keep his job back then. And then, living in the haunting umbra of his culpability in Elisabeth’s death he forced his family away. He drove Franti to the point where Janne was better off without a father. What kind of human-monster was he?
        What am I doing? Elisabeth is dead and Janne is… God knows where Franti took her. And now I expect I can be responsible for another little girl’s life?
        Bev was absolutely right. This was kidnapping. No matter how you looked at it, he had no right to take Carly under his care. Even if she herself had requested it. She was a ward of the state until the chain of custody could be worked out according to her parents’ wishes. An Aunt, Uncle or Grandparent was most likely the expected guardian for her now. It had probably already been established, but there was no reason for him to be in the loop, so he wasn’t.
        Once again, I play the irresponsible idiot.
        He pulled himself from the couch and muted the television. By now an expert on virology from Simon Fraser was speculating on how the World Health Organization and Centre for Disease Control would deal with the situation and keep the public safe from an outbreak. He knew that he was front and centre of their concern right now, but he didn’t want to think about it for the moment. He really wasn’t eager to think about anything.
        He opened the door to the converted bedroom where Carly slept. She was curled up and appeared to be sleeping deeply. The only thing that betrayed the stress of the last few days was the way she gripped the blanket. Balls of fabric gathered together around each fist as she hugged the entire thing around her – embracing herself in independent defiance of how alone she now was in the world.
        She was so small. So defenseless.
        No one has bothered to ask her what she wants. Not even me. But she told me. This is what she wants. So long as it’s still in her best interest, I’ll make sure she gets it. Her life is fucked up enough. And just because I’m fucking up my life doing so, doesn’t mean that I can’t give her the escape she needs most right now. It’s not like I can undo the damage I’ve done to myself now anyhow.
        He bent down to her and whispered. “Carly, I promise…”
        Promise what?
        “…I promise your safety and happiness will never be less important than anything else so long as you are under my protection.”
        God. What is this? Your own contrived attempt at redemption? Can’t save Elisabeth or do right for your own daughter, so you’ll be this little one’s saviour?
        Carly took in one shuddering breath, like one might after sobbing uncontrollably. There were no tears, but Scott could only wonder what was going on in her small head after all she’d seen. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. Carly twitched as if startled, but didn’t wake up. He spread his fingers out across her back, pressing down gently. With another breath she released untold tension and rolled over, letting go of the blanket as she did.
        Scott pulled his hand away as she turned, but Carly reached out and found his hand in her sleep. She grabbed his thumb and pulled his hand close to her chest. It was done with unconscious familiarity. Scott could picture her doing the same with her parents. Trapping them happily at her bedside. Beyond his own bidding Scott pictured his own daughter, Janne, in Carly’s place. He had no analogue. He had never sat at Janne’s bedside.
        I never had the opportunity. He told himself.
        It wasn’t so much that it wasn’t true, as that somehow, in the time he and Franti had been parents together, he had been too occupied. Franti had been the Mother, and he had taken it all for granted, distracted by a combination of vicious-circle obsessions with work and the bottle. Pressure from work made him drink, drinking made him drop the ball at work with only himself to pick up the pieces and make it right without giving away that he was drinking again. One problem feeding the other in a seemingly endless cascade of failures as he repeatedly dried himself out and fell off the wagon again and again. The only possible end was a life-changing shock to the system. He had to hit bottom.
        Surprisingly, Franti running away with Janne hadn’t been the bottom. It had however been the express elevator down. Franti had had the good grace to wait until he had rebounded before she left, but leaving had sent him spiraling again. 
        The fall had been fast and hard. He had only just got himself to a point where he felt as if he was on the path when Franti left. He left one morning for work, put in a long day to make up lost ground and when he got home and found Franti’s brief and largely uninformative letter, her flight had already landed in Prague. She had clearly planned it and had wasted no time. Once he was out the door she and Janne must have followed within minutes. He had spent some time cursing his bad habit of not calling at least once mid-shift to say ‘I love You,’ but he knew that it wouldn’t have helped that day – at worst he would have wondered why Franti never answered the phone.
        He began his investigation into where they had gone with a double rum and coke. Two days later he was unconscious in the hospital and had found no more than her flight and destination. By the time he was functional again the trail was cold. The only thing he had done right was to take an immediate leave from the force with the explanation that he needed some personal time off to resolve some family issues.
        He had completely blown it. Any chance there had ever been of keeping the trail of his family had been lost in the funky miasma of the deepest stupor of his life. He’d lost control, he had no control. His sickness had driven his wife and daughter away and then scuttled any chance he had of finding them again, possibly forever.
        Scott heard the shaky breath of a suppressed sob again and realized that this time it was himself. Carly was contentedly sucking on a thumb. His. With his other hand he wiped his eyes. They were moist. He wasn’t crying, but in his reflection he had come as close as he ever did. Like the little girl in front of him he played tougher than he really was.
        Okay, Carly. You win. To hell with this “so long as you are under my protection” qualifier. We both need surrogates. I’m sticking this one out to the full extent of my ability. Everything in my power is at your disposal so long as you should need me.
        He was weeping freely now.
        He bent down and kissed her forehead.
        For her part, Carly sighed contentedly and bit down on his thumb a bit harder than Scott cared for, but he had given her his pledge, so for now he bore it.


6.24.2011

Book: The First - Part: Two - Chapter: 6 - Installment: ii

        The key was under a planter where she said it would be.
        Bev, Bev, Bev. Templeton may be getting to be a nicer place to live these days, but it’s still a high break in area. A planter is the first place a burglar will look for a key.
        Scott figured that he could give her some security tips as part of his repayment of the favour.
        It was a toss-up. The single level home was more homey than the hospital, but it was clear that Bev didn’t have a lot of time or will to keep it tidy. 
        There had once been an uncountable number of homes like this one between here and Burnaby. They’d been put up quick and cheaply according to common plans as veteran’s housing after World War II.
        His grandmother had lived in one for nearly fifty years until she moved into a nursing home. The house had been bought by an Indian family, torn down and replaced – as so many houses like it had been – by a monstrous single family home that filled the entire lot except for the carport and a small ‘yard’ of crushed gravel. The design was derisively referred to as the ‘Vancouver Special’ and they were long-since more numerous than the soulful bungalows that they replaced. Scott had driven past “grandma’s old place” once. It had made him sick to see the boxy fortress that had taken its place. He had never gone back.
        Bev’s place gave him a fuzzy nostalgic feeling that seemed, after the last few days, to be the most comforting feeling in the world. It wasn’t messy in a dirty sense – at least not very. But it was clear that Bev only ever got around to putting stuff away on an intermittent basis. Scott was well acquainted with the habit. He guesstimated that her cycle was about once every two weeks – roughly his own pace.
        Just like home.
        It was small. Inside of one minute he had the layout sussed. Kitchen and living room made one large area – divided by a supporting arch. A back door to the kitchen led to the overgrown backyard. Grandma had kept a thriving garden in her analogue. A short hallway led from the front to a bathroom and a pair of bedrooms – Bev was using the smaller one as an office. A pull-out couch indicated that it doubled as a guest room. He decided that Carly should have the room. He could do with the couch for a few days. He couldn’t count the number of times he had passed out on the couch during his drinking days. It would be another level of nostalgia.
        “You must be hungry.” He asked the young girl.
        She nodded her head sleepily, but emphatically. According to the clock it was approaching Noon. Scott wasn’t surprised that she was hungry. He wasn’t surprised that she was tired either. She played tough, but like him, she couldn’t have been sleeping well – quite possibly even worse – and he had pulled her out of bed before sunrise.
        Feed her. Give her a nap. Both of us a nap.
        The refrigerator was in better shape than the rest of the house. If it had been his fridge he could have expected it to be nearly empty and that fully half of the food within would be spoiled. He found some fresh vegetables and some milk that hadn’t met its best before date yet. Some bread from the freezer, defrosted in the toaster, built the foundation for a pair of cheese and tomato sandwiches. He found some hot chocolate mix in the cupboard and warmed the milk up to make some cocoa the way his mother used to – flagrantly ignoring the instructions to use water – for a creamier answer to the classic cold-weather warmer.  He figured that the warm milk would also help serve to get Carly to sleep more easily.
        They sat at the kitchen table and munched on their late breakfast.
        “Whose place is this?”
        “A friend.”
        “Your friend?”
        It seemed like a child’s question, but now that it was asked it struck him that it wasn’t so impertinent. He hardly knew Bev. That had been part of the logic for coming here – they wouldn’t get traced here. But for all he knew, as soon as she’d hung up she’d called the police.
        No way. They’d have been waiting for us to show up. As soon as we got in they would have swept in on us.
        It appeared as though Bev was true to her word and could be trusted.
        “Yes. My friend Beverly.”
        “Oh. Is she pretty?”
        Again. The child had a knack for taking his mental legs out from underneath him.
        “I suppose she is. Yes.”
        “Good.”
        And that was that. Carly seemed satisfied. Scott smiled. He wished he could recall a time when his perspective was so simple, so black and white – if flawed. Attractive people were trustworthy, disfigured people were evil.
        The phone rang.
        Scott’s instinct was to answer, but he stopped himself. He winked at Carly.
        “We’ll let the machine get it.” He told her as though they were getting away with something by doing so.
        Carly nodded in agreement, giving him permission to be so ‘irresponsible.’
        On the fifth ring, the machine picked up. “You’ve reached Bev. I’m not home, so leave a message or try my cell.”
        Again with the poor home-security practice.
        The machine beeped.
        Scott if you’re there, pick up. It’s Bev.”
        He got up and looked for the phone while Bev continued to beckon him. “Hello? Oh come on. You’ve got to be there by now -”
        “Hey.” He picked up the receiver.
        “‘Hey’ yourself.” She said. “Just making sure you have everything you need.”
        “Yeah. I figure. We’re both pretty beat. I think we’re going to bed.”
        “There’s blankets in the bedroom closet. If the kid needs something to sleep in there’s some t-shirts in there too.”
        “Thanks.”
        “I’ve got a question.”
        “Yeah?”
        “Ummm… the girl. Who is supposed to be looking after her? Aren’t both her parents dead?” Bev asked.
        “I don’t know. I don’t really know if that’s been looked into yet. The quarantine took precedent.”
        “Okay, so… is this – I’m not accusing, I know it’s not your intent – but, technically, isn’t this kidnapping?”
        Shit.
        “I suppose in a sense it is. Look, Bev, if you’re calling the police, tell them they can find me on the couch. I’ve got to get some rest.”
        “I’ll see you later tonight.”
        “Thanks.”

     Installment iii
    

6.18.2011

Book: The First - Part: Two - Chapter: 6 - Installment: i - PAST VERSION


        There was little doubt in Scott Edmond’s mind that his own apartment would be one of the first places that would get checked once his absence was noted. They would know that he would be too smart to stay, but they’d be fools not to check it for clues as to where he went – assuming that he would at least stop there briefly in the window of time he would have while chaos was still the order of the day at the hospital. They had to also know that he’d give them little to go on.



        He and Carly were not in his apartment a full five minutes, just long enough for him to collect a credit card – which would not be useful for long if they were determined to find him, fill a bag with clothes, grab his address book and some toiletries.
        From his apartment he went directly to an automated teller and took the biggest cash advance his card would allow. He didn’t expect that he and Carly would be on the run for long – it would soon be obvious that they were uninfected, but he wanted to be sure that he didn’t have to use the credit card again before they gave themselves up. He figured that the police would know he’d returned to his apartment and know roughly when it had happened, so giving them confirmation of both by withdrawing from a machine less than a block away would only nominally improve their information.
        They then got on a bus across town to put some distance between themselves and the inevitable ‘location of their last-known whereabouts.’ It also gave him some time to sit and relax enough to think about what to do next.
        “Where are we going?” asked Carly after they had been on the bus for about twenty minutes.
        “That is a good question.” He had thought about it. He didn’t have enough money to stay for long at any hotel or motel that he’d be comfortable taking the young girl. He had no ID for registration in any case, which limited his options even further, and sent them deeper into the category of ‘places no child should have to stay the night.’ Which was to say nothing of the fact that it would only be so long before their faces were on the news. Any decent manager would turn them in – which was to say nothing of the fact that the manager would likely be even less impressed – scared likely – of having an allegedly infected pair of quarantine escapees holed-up on their premises.
        Friends. He didn’t really have any friends who weren’t police officers. Even if he could convince one of them to take them in, it would only be a matter of time before the obvious and likely ones would be questioned and have their homes searched. It was not something he could do to a friend. Which left him with one possibility, and it was a stretch. Bev.
        “Well, first I have to make a phone call.” He told Carly. “And I don’t have my cell, so we’re going to have to find a payphone.”
        “A what?”
        Wow. They’re becoming so rare that kids don’t even know what they are. Un-believable.
        “Well, we aren’t going to find one on the bus.”

#

        Bev Williams speaking.”
        “Very professional.”
        “It’s called etiquette. And who is it who is failing to display some of his own?”
        Not a good start.
        “Sorry Bev. It’s Scott.”
        Scott? Scott who…? Edmond? Oh my god! Where the hell have you gone? Is the girl with you?”
        It’s official. They’ve noticed we’re missing. The press knows.
        Bev. You need to promise me something.”
        “You seem to think I owe you a favour.”
        “Hey, just because I’ve ended up on the advantaged side of your little quid pro quo arrangement, doesn’t mean it’s null and void.”
        “That was before you became a fugitive bio-hazard.”
        “I’m clean. So is the girl. Carly. Neither of us has any symptoms. It’s been two days. We’re fine.”
        “If you’re fine then turn yourself in.”
        “’Turn myself in?’ I’m not a criminal.”
        “Whatever.”
        “Look, Carly is scared, and neither of us really likes the idea of being confined to a hermetically sealed room any longer. That hospital is going to be a zoo for god knows how long. We need a place to hunker down for a few days.”
        “And what’s the difference between that and the hospital?”
        “We can leave when we want to. I can go to the store for some juice. And I’m guessing you’re a better decorator.”
        She let out a single bark of a laugh.
        “Or maybe you aren’t.” Scott conceded.
        “Okay. Here’s the deal. There is no way I’m going to be able to get home anytime soon. I’ll give you the address and tell you where I hide the spare key. But in return, I want the story.”
“Deal.”
     “Everything, Scott. Not that bullshit you pulled yesterday.”
     “You won’t be able to release it without implicating yourself.”
     “I’m gambling that it’ll be big enough to be worth it. Hell, it’s not much of a gamble the way I see it. You should see this place. The biggest hospital in the region closed for an indeterminate time… and potentially infected patients on the run. This is scary stuff. The virus… well you’ve seen it, right. Your partner’s body – they had to clean it up with a wet vac.”
     “Jesus…  I’ll tell you everything I know when you get home.” He assured her.
     “I’ll be late.”
     “It’s not like I’m going to sleep before Christmas.”

Book: The First - Part: Two - Chapter: 6 - Installment: i - Revised

        There was little doubt in Scott Edmond’s mind that his own apartment would be one of the first places that would get checked once his absence was noted. They would know that he would be too smart to stay, but they’d be fools not to check it for clues as to where he went – assuming that he would at least stop there briefly in the window of time he would have while chaos was still the order of the day at the hospital. They had to also know that he’d give them little to go on.
        He and Carly were not in his apartment a full five minutes, just long enough for him to collect a credit card – which would not be useful for long if they were determined to find him, fill a bag with clothes, grab his address book and some toiletries.
        From his apartment he went directly to an automated teller and took the biggest cash advance his card would allow. He didn’t expect that he and Carly would be on the run for long – it would soon be obvious that they were uninfected, but he wanted to be sure that he didn’t have to use the credit card again before they gave themselves up. He figured that the police would know he’d returned to his apartment and know roughly when it had happened, so giving them confirmation of both by withdrawing from a machine less than a block away would only nominally improve their information.
        “Where are we going?” asked Carly as he took her hand and led her away from the ATM.
        “That is a good question.” He had thought about it. He didn’t have enough money to stay for long at any hotel or motel that he’d be comfortable taking the young girl. He had no ID for registration in any case, which limited his options even further, and sent them deeper into the category of ‘places no child should have to stay the night.’ Which was to say nothing of the fact that it would only be so long before their faces were on the news. Any decent manager would turn them in – which was to say nothing of the fact that the manager would likely be even less impressed – scared likely – of having an allegedly infected pair of quarantine escapees holed-up on their premises.
        Friends. He didn’t really have any friends who weren’t police officers. Even if he could convince one of them to take them in, it would only be a matter of time before the obvious and likely ones would be questioned and have their homes searched. It was not something he could do to a friend. Which left him with one possibility, and it was a stretch. Bev.
        “Well, first I have to make a phone call.” He told Carly. “And I don’t have my cell, so we’re going to have to find a payphone.”
        “A what?”
        Wow. They’re becoming so rare that kids don’t even know what they are. Un-believable.
#

        Bev Williams speaking.”
        “Very professional.”
        “It’s called etiquette. And who is it who is failing to display some of his own?”
        Not a good start.
        “Sorry Bev. It’s Scott.”
        Scott? Scott who…? Edmond? Oh my god! Where the hell have you gone? Is the girl with you?”
        It’s official. They’ve noticed we’re missing. The press knows.
        Bev. You need to promise me something.”
        “You seem to think I owe you a favour.”
        “Hey, just because I’ve ended up on the advantaged side of your little quid pro quo arrangement, doesn’t mean it’s null and void.”
        “That was before you became a fugitive bio-hazard.”
        “I’m clean. So is the girl. Carly. Neither of us has any symptoms. It’s been two days. We’re fine.”
        “If you’re fine then turn yourself in.”
        “’Turn myself in?’ I’m not a criminal.”
        “Whatever.”
        “Look, Carly is scared, and neither of us really likes the idea of being confined to a hermetically sealed room any longer. That hospital is going to be a zoo for god knows how long. We need a place to hunker down for a few days.”
        “And what’s the difference between that and the hospital?”
        “We can leave when we want to. I can go to the store for some juice. And I’m guessing you’re a better decorator.”
        She let out a single bark of a laugh.
        “Or maybe you aren’t.” Scott conceded.
        “Okay. Here’s the deal. There is no way I’m going to be able to get home anytime soon. I’ll give you the address and tell you where I hide the spare key. But in return, I want the story.”
“Deal.”
“Everything, Scott. Not that bullshit you pulled yesterday.”
        “You won’t be able to release it without implicating yourself.”
        “I’m gambling that it’ll be big enough to be worth it. Hell, it’s not much of a gamble the way I see it. You should see this place. The biggest hospital in the region closed for an indeterminate time… and potentially infected patients on the run. This is scary stuff. The virus… well you’ve seen it, right. Your partner’s body – they had to clean it up with a wet vac.”
        “Jesus…  I’ll tell you everything I know when you get home.” He assured her.
        “I’ll be late.”
        “It’s not like I’m going to sleep before Christmas.”

Installment ii

6.12.2011

Book: The First - Part: Two - Chapter: 5 - Installment: ii

        The Lazarus had acquired much scattered real estate for their purposes, amongst the properties was an old bank building, complete with two separate functional vaults. They had arranged to have one of Lancaster’s companies – a property management company to display ‘For Lease’ signs as an ongoing cover, yet keeping the terms of lease far out of range of what was remotely reasonable for the property. 
        As they drove up it occurred to Marcel that it had been years since he had last been to this location and that the unreasonable lease ruse was likely getting stale.
        They used the vaults as cells for holding n-positive recruits until they could be disposed of. They had long since dispensed with the notion that they might ever need to hold a true Class One for any reason. But now, after years of fulfilled expectation, they were in fact imprisoning a true nosferatu.
        Sylvette, Jacob and the latest successful recruit, Simon, stood in front of the cell. Echoing within the confines of the second vault would be the strained gurgle of an insane n-positive, inaudible behind the closed door, and locked away from the world of light for the brief remainder of his wretched life. Salim, the night guard on duty in the holding block, also stood nearby. He was taking no chances. Despite the presence of two agents, he had armed himself with a flame-thrower, and wore the thick plasteel armor that he would wear if handling an n-positive.
        Little had been done to the vault to convert it onto a cell. Three holes had been sunk into the concrete floor outside the door, all in one line extending at an acute angle from the hinge. Each hole had a solid metal bar that fit snugly into it together the three would prevent the vault door from opening more than a sliver. The narrow slit was the only way to access the cell directly – either to sedate n-positives for transport or, more often, to provide them with nourishment.
        There were cameras sunk into the upper corners of each vault, beyond access, but there was no way to communicate to an inmate without opening the doors. There had once been speakers and microphones, but with the paucity of communicating prisoners they had not been deemed necessary to maintain. For the first time this was seeming to be a poor decision.
        There was no furniture in the vault. N-positives were too insane to care, and only destroyed anything that was left for them in any case.
        Marcel stood before the crack in the door at a close distance so as to give him the greatest degree of angle of vision. It was still a narrow field, as the door was not open wide enough for an arm to pass beyond the wrist.
        The nos’ stood nobly in the centre of the room. His clothes, while refined were torn from his evident dust-up with Sylvette.
        It had been many years since Marcel had personally been in the presence of a class one. This one looked very much like a man – they all did under normal circumstances – paler, certainly, but with the teeth retracted there was little reason to suspect that he had left his humanity behind, lord knew how long ago.
        Instinctive revulsion welled up within Marcel. He wanted nothing greater in the world than to rid it of the nosferatu. If it were not for his curiosity and the hope that this unprecedented surrender might actually provide his organization with some unexpected advantage, he would have ordered the infernal thing executed on the spot. But he had the presence of mind to set his hatred aside for the moment, and do his best to play gracious host.
        “I apologize for the limited accommodations.” Marcel opened.
        “I’m of no illusions. I didn’t expect to be treated as a royal guest. Certainly not at first.”
        “You think we shall come around?”
        “I have time to wait upon your gratitude. It took you quite some time to find me. I’ve been trying to get your attention for a very long while. But then again, your existence is merely rumour, for all I knew I was merely screaming down a dead connection. Cette numero n’y as pas de service.” The nosferatu smiled.
        “Rumour.”
        “We notice, of course. We are aware when those of our own kind come to an end, when they disappear. But you are very good. You cover your tracks remarkably well. You are the bogeyman… or…” He paused and shifted his gaze down the narrow slit of the opening to look past Marcel at Sylvette, “she is. The bogey woman. We tell the childer about the one nearly as strong as ourselves – stronger than many. The Stalker. Well, now I have a name. Sylvette.”
        “I am surprised, but pleased.” Said Marcel, stepping between his daughter and the demon. “I assumed that our existence would be more than conjecture. You realize there is no way we would allow you to take this confirmation back to your own kind?”
        “I am well aware. But I was once human. I look human. I breathe, I eat, I sleep, I fuck like a human. I still have morals. Do not underestimate my capacity for compassion-”
        “What are you driving at, vampire?” Marcel cut him off.
        “Must we make what I am an epithet? If I were black, would you call me ‘nigger?’ You spit it like an insult. I am not what I am by choice, nor love. It is merely what I am. You know my name. Let us advance towards respect, shall we? It will be both easier, and serve both of our needs better.”
Sylvette spoke up above her father’s drawing breath. “Can we dispense with the ‘arch’? What are your needs, Nikolai?”
        The nosferatu snickered, and smiled with an air of recognition. “Hmmmm. There is a certain insufferable need to fit into a role, isn’t there?” He paused, choosing his words. “I am unhappy. Many of us – most of us – are. Not so much unlike you, are we? The self-loathing, the hatred of what we’ve become. No end to the horror of our drive, no will to end it. I doubt there is one of us who doesn’t – or at least hasn’t at some time – considered our loathsome needs without disgust, but we carry on. We justify it. Blah blah blah food-chain. The arguments are all obvious and hoaried. We kill as we must to feed, just as you do. But does a cow talk back? Are there any great works of literature penned by a chicken? Do sheep make you laugh with their pithy wit?”
        “Your point?”
        “I am weary. I love you, my former brethren. To ‘arch?’” He cocked an amused eyebrow at Sylvette, then with exaggerated melodrama clenched his fists and shouted skyward. “There has got to be another way!”
        Sylvette scowled for the class one’s benefit and muttered to Marcel. “It’s nearly sunrise. I say we chain him to the roof.”
        Marcel’s instincts drove him towards a similar place. He would not rest until he lived in a world without nosferatu, but the unique nature of the situation weighed heavily upon him.
        No doubt the nos’ has an agenda – an angle. But just because his intent is to use us doesn’t mean we cannot use him in return. If keeping him alive means the chance of destroying countless more of them….
        “No. Not yet, in any case. He isn’t harming anyone where he is.”
Nikolai spoke up again. “I merely want to find a way we can all live together without all this subterfuge and sin. I want to eliminate the fear of my kind and the slaughter of yours – I can’t carry on living in the figurative shadows, though I will never leave the literal ones. Together we can let the world know that my kind are here.”
        “You yourself called us a rumour. We are not here in the eye of the world ourselves. We have no influence.”
        “We can find a way.” Pleaded the vampire desperately, “How hard can it be to demonstrate? Nosferatu are not the myth we are thought to be. It could be a brutal awakening – my kind will not allow it to happen easily – but you aren’t the suspicious and superstitious people of the past. When hiding became a necessity for us, it was simple to cast doubt upon our existence through reason. Now, in this modern information age, reason can be your ally. Our ally.”
        “What do you really want Nikolai?”
        The vampire swept to the door and pressed his face close to the opening in the vault, where only half of his face could been seen as he hissed his words through the gap, “I am telling you the truth. God knows why I expected you to trust me. Look, I know things that you can’t. I can help you carry on as you are – tell you things that will help you do it better. We can formulate a strategy for disclosure to the world. Believe me. The equilibrium is not where the nosferatu wish things to be. They want dominion, and if you do not act, they will win. I am not evil. I’m not. I can’t continue living this way. So, use me or kill me, and then live with the consequences.”
        For the first time in the conversation, Nikolai let his words hang. He had clearly spoken his piece. He back away from the door staring Marcel in the eye as the Lazarus leader poured over the widening view of the vampire’s face – looking for some sign, some indication of body language that might betray its purpose.
        “I will consider.” He said, and nodded to Salim who stepped to the vault door and leaned into it.
        As the door picked up speed and the gap closed, Nikolai called after them. “Make your decision soon. I’ll be worth more to you out in the world. If you keep me long, my absence will be noticed – in both our worlds-”
        The words were cut off with a soft clang as the door found it’s seat, cutting off all sound from within the vault as completely as if the occupant were not there at all.

#

        “No one is to go in there without my express permission.” Marcel spoke directly to Salim. “Treble our guard presence in the outer-block, yet no one but the six of us is to know what we have in there.”
        “What about Li?” The guard asked, referring to his superior, the head-guard of the holding block.
        “For the moment, no. I’ll speak to him, send him on mandatory leave. For the time being, you are in charge here. Password protect all surveillance to that cell. Only yourself and I are to have access.”
        They had retired into the guard’s room, a former office in the bank. Two closed-circuit screens sat on the desk beside a cable fed television used primarily for keeping the duty guard occupied during lengthy shifts. It murmled away on the desktop, still tuned to the Canadian News Network, which Salim had been watching when Jacob, Simon and Sylvette arrived with their unlikely prisoner.
        “You are going to let him live?” Henri.
        “Until I make a decision. I expect he is right. No matter what I decide we won’t be keeping him in there for long.”
        Marcel turned to the television.
        “And no distractions for now. That will have to be removed.”
        All eyes turned to follow his finger as on the screen a developing news story unfolded, drawing their attention. They all listened as the young reporter on screen outlined details of a scary incident unfolding at Vancouver General Hospital – a crazed patient had been shot to death after going on a bloody rampage from the Disease Control ward through an entire wing. The entire hospital was now under quarantine, as the man had been feared to be infected with a mysterious disease that had been reported in scattered cases over the past weeks. It had been temporarily classified, as Cannibalistic Porphyria, but the horror of the latest incident had prompted the News Network to emblazon the banner-line with the headline “Vampire Virus Outbreak.”
        Henri was the first to speak up.
        “Does this concern us?”
        “Pray not.” Answered Jacob.
        “We can’t afford to assume it doesn’t.” Marcel firmly responded. “This is going to be a long day.”

     Chapter 6
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Necropolis by Kennedy Goodkey is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Canada License.
Based on a work at necropolisnovels.blogspot.com.