Dead by Dawn

by Wellman, Bret

  Dr. Bennet’s foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk and he stumbled to keep from falling. “But still,” he said, regaining his balance. “What relevance does a book of fiction have to do with this place?”

  “In a world where myth blends with reality,” said Smith. “I imagine you would be a pretty handy man to have around.”

  Smith turned towards one of the buildings and had to flash an identification badge to get inside. The guard eyed Dr. Bennet, but let him pass without further inspection.

  Inside was a small waiting room with a fully decorated female soldier sitting behind the receptionist’s desk. She stood and saluted the moment she saw Smith.

  “At ease,” said Smith. “Are they ready for us?”

  “Yes sir, they’ve been waiting.”

  Smith went to the elevator and pressed the call button. The button lit up in a blue halo.

  Bennet cleared his throat as they waited. He didn’t have to cough, but his nerves told him he had to do something.

  A few seconds later the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.

  “This way Dr. Bennet.”

  Bennet gave a nod of thanks to the receptionist before getting on the elevator with Smith.

  As soon as the doors closed, the feeling of claustrophobia crept in. He was thankful that there were no mirrors inside. Being able to see the intimidating General out of the corner of his eye was bad enough.

  “Relax Doctor, we’re on the same side.”

  Bennet brushed away a bead of sweat that was running down his forehead. He wondered how bad he must look. Will it cost me the job?

  Bennet felt their momentum slow before the elevator doors opened.

  They were standing at the entrance to a long hallway. As they began to walk, he could see rooms on both sides. Glass windows allowed him to see inside. They appeared to be different types of laboratories. There were men and women inside working in lab coats.

  Dr. Bennet was disturbed to see soldiers in full gear standing at the doors.

  Who are they waiting to shoot? He wondered.

  At the end of the hall was a heavy door that required Smith to crank a wheel in order to open. The door took them into a small, pressure sealed room. On the right wall was a bunch of plastic, white, jumpsuits that they were required to put on before continuing.

  Dr. Bennet didn’t like the jumpsuits. They made him feel even more claustrophobic than he already was.

  Once in full dress, Smith took them through another pressure sealed door.

  They came out into a curving hallway that was made entirely out of glass. The hallway wrapped around the outer wall of a large laboratory. It circled the entire room, offering a 360-degree view of the lab.

  Fluorescent light bulbs cast gray light down on a random assortment of equipment. There was a metal desk with a computer on it. Not far from that was another metal desk. On top of this one was a random assortment of microscopes. Bennet spotted a small cart with scalpels and saws spread out across its surface. His eyes were drawn from there to the very center of the room, where he saw a metal operating table. Atop the operating table, draped under a white sheet, appeared to be a body.

  Dr. Bennet felt a chill run through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Is that a dead body?” asked Dr. Bennet.

  Major General Smith opened the one glass door at the far end of the room, allowing Dr. Bennet to step inside.

  “Something like that,” said Smith.

  The only reason Dr. Bennet entered the large room was because he was afraid of what might happen if he pissed off Smith. If it were up to him, he would turn tail and run for daylight.

  “Do you remember the recent story of Jonathan Q. Harbor?”

  Dr. Bennet thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t say that it rings a bell.”

  “He claimed his dead son was visiting him in the night.”

  “Oh yes, I remember that. They said he had footage that showed a vampire.”

  “More importantly,” said Smith. “Jonathan went missing the night that video was uploaded.”

  “Yes, which was odd because the video showed his son diving through the window to attack him. That meant he was attacked and then uploaded the video, only later disappearing. Which I personally think backs up the vampire story. He would’ve had some time before turning.” He stopped, realizing he was probably beginning to sound crazy. “Which is just a fun musing considering the circumstance.”

  “Anyway,” said Smith. “We found him.” He grabbed the sheet that was draped over the body and yanked. The sheet flew off, revealing the man underneath.

  His arms and legs were locked to the table by silver straps. His neck, waist, chest and forehead were as well. There was a muzzle strapped over his mouth. He was so pale that Dr. Bennet would have thought him dead. At first he did, but then his dark red eyes parted and began shifting back and forth.

  “What the hell!” Bennet yelled, stumbling backwards. He kept going until his back hit the wall, jarring him to a stop.

  Smith didn’t even flinch. “Using various documents pertaining to the myth of vampires, one of which was your book, the CIA was able to devise a trap. They used pure silver and were able to capture and contain the former Jonathan Q. Harbor.”

  “What the hell!” Dr. Bennet repeated, still not moving away from the wall.

  “They sent him here to be studied, so we can understand just what exactly the hell is going on.”

  “Why is he strapped down like that?”

  “Because he's a vampire Dr. Bennet.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. And if you would calm down you would see it.”

  “This isn’t right, you can’t keep him down here.”

  Smith crossed his arms. “We can.”

  “He has rights. This is against the constitution.”

  “He lost those rights when he died.”

  “What? I, I… I can’t breath.” Dr. Bennet was beginning to wheeze.

  “Pull yourself together Doctor.”

  He tried, but his heart was already pounding out of control. He felt like he was dying, he was sure of it.

  “Get me out of here, I have to get out of here.”

  “Doctor.”

  “Get me out of here now!”

  Smith closed his eyes and sighed before leading Dr. Bennet back into the pressure-sealed room. Dr. Bennet felt like his skin was crawling and his heart might explode.

  “Here is fine,” said Bennet when they reached the other side of the door.

  They were in the white hallway again. Dr. Bennet sat on the ground and leaned against the wall. Smith stood over him, looking down.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Dr. Bennet took a deep breath to steady himself. He was shaking.

  “What did I just see General?”

  The General stood there for a moment, letting some silence fall between them.

  From the sounds coming from the adjacent rooms, and what Bennet could see from the floor, it appeared they were still setting everything up.

  How long has this place been here? Now that he thought about it, he could smell raw construction materials.

  “Like I said before, you saw the former Jonathan Q. Harbor.”

  “Who is now a vampire?”

  “We believe so, yes.”

  Dr. Bennet let out a laugh that did not look too appreciated by Smith.

  “Or rather, we believe something strange and unnatural has happened to Mr. Harbor. We can’t say exactly what it is. That’s why we’ve contacted you. What we do know is that he appears to have fangs, and incredible speed and strength. Also, the only thing that can hold him is silver, and on the night he disappeared he claimed to have been visited by his dead son. Also, That son was caught on one camera, the only camera that didn’t use mirrors. You draw your own conclusions Doctor.”

  Smith reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bunch of photos. He dropped them in Dr. Bennet’s lap. Bennet pulled out hi
s reading glasses and began shuffling through them.

  “That’s one of the only tests we’ve run so far.”

  Every photo was of the operating table in the other room. There were ten photos and nine of them showed the table as empty. In only the tenth photo could he see Jonathan Q. Harbor.

  “Each photo was taken on a different camera,” said Smith. “Only one, the Canon EOS-M Digital Camera was able to capture Mr. Harbor. Do you know why?”

  “Because the camera didn’t have a mirror,” said Bennet, fascinated by the photos.

  “Because the camera didn’t have a mirror,” repeated Smith.

  “And this is one of the only tests you’ve run so far?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “And the silver? How did he react to it?”

  “It irritated and burned his skin, but he got used to it. The less he pulls against his restraints, the less it burns. At this time they aren't leaving much more than a rash.”

  “Amazing,” whispered Dr. Bennet.

  “I assure you, it is.”

  “What of the boy, his son, have they found him?”

  “As far as I’ve been told, they have not.”

  “Have they discovered any others?”

  “No.”

  “That’s troubling news General,” said Bennet.

  “Do you want the job or not Doctor?”

  Dr. Bennet reached out a hand and Smith took it, pulling him up to his feet.

  “You’re asking me to dissect a vampire?”

  “Your country is asking you to study a vampire. You will be in charge of the project therefore it’s up to you as to how you want to go about it. Within reason of course.”

  “Of course,” said Bennet.

  “We believe there might be more of these things out there and if that’s the case, we want to know everything there is about them. You’ll be leading a highly qualified team. We have the countries top Cytologists, Epidemiologists, Ethologists, Geneticists, and we can get whomever else you might request. All you have to do is ask.”

  “You have my attention General, but I still have one question.”

  “And that is?”

  “It’s more of a hypothetical dilemma. Let’s say you’re the number one predator in the world. You’ve lived for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. All this time you’ve lived in secrecy, because your preferred prey is the smartest living organism on earth. One day you wake up to find that your prey has discovered your existence.” Smith looked impatient, but kept quite. “You also learn that your prey has captured one of your own, presumably to gain insight into your kind’s weaknesses.”

  “Your point, Doctor?” Smith nudged.

  “How would you react?”

  Chapter 5

  Joe groaned as his eyes struggled to adjust to the sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. He usually beat the sun up in the morning. He didn’t normally get hangovers, but it was looking like today was going to be the exception. Whenever he went to the bar with Keith it usually ended up this way, especially since he didn’t drink as much anymore.

  The dog had kept him up all night with its barking; finally stopping right around the time Joe was about to get up and do something about it. That was good for the dog because if Joe reached the front door it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  He glanced out the back window as he fried his morning eggs. The corn was a little over waist high.

  Ahead of schedule, he thought.

  It was his fault for planting so early.

  He thought about his livestock as he stood there. He would probably want to sell a few of his cows before the harvest season came. His time would be spread thin enough as it was. He simply wouldn’t have time to milk all of them and bring in the harvest.

  Sure he could hire a little help, but he liked his one-man operation. Keep it simple and work hard. As long as the bills got paid he would keep doing things the way he was doing them.

  Joe took a big whiff of his freshly brewed coffee before pouring it into a mug. The scent filled his nose and woke him up. He took it without sugar and sat down to eat his eggs. It was too bad the morning paper hadn’t arrived yet. It was one of the downfalls of living way out in the country.

  As he sat there eating, he glanced up at the clock. It was just passed six.

  “Damn dog,” he mumbled.

  When he was done he washed, dried and put away every dish he’d dirtied. After that, he slipped on his old red ball cap and headed out to milk the cows.

  He was feeling pretty good when he opened the front door of the one-story farmhouse. The sun was shining, the summer air was fresh, and it was looking to be an easy day. Then he saw the blood.

  It was everywhere.

  There was specks of it dotting the grass at the edge of the corn field and coagulated on the stalks of corn. A smear of it ran across the bark of the big oak tree that overshadowed his driveway. There was a trail of it caked through the grass, leading to the dog house. The chain he had hooked his yellow lab Beau to the night before was there, Beau was not. His fur was mixed with the excessive amount of blood all around the dog house and covering the chain.

  Joe stared out at the scene for about a minute, sipping his coffee and thinking. When he was done, he went back into the house and grabbed his 12-gauge shotgun from under the bed.

  He checked on his chickens first. They were safe inside the henhouse. The rooster, on the other hand, lay limp under the fence post. Its skull had been crushed.

  It wasn’t until he made sure the rest of the animals were safe that he followed the trail of blood.

  He started at the edge of the cornfield, inspecting the stalks as he worked his way to where the blood was more concentrated. It was smeared from the bottom to about a foot high. It made a trail inward.

  Joe spotted a piece of yellow fur and cursed under his breath.

  What the hell happened?

  He began tromping down the path, paying no mind to the corn stalks he was destroying under his heavy boots. If his dog was out there he was going to find it and put down any animal that got in his way.

  He was waist deep in a sea of green, with only the rows providing him with a narrow line of sight.

  The blood began to thin the farther he got into the field. It crossed over two rows and he almost lost it for a minute. He picked it up again after about twenty feet and continued to follow it until the end.

  He found Beau’s leg first. It had been ripped off at the thigh, the fur peeled back. He found the body next. The dog was torn open from its neck all the way down to its tail. Something had dragged it with its intestines trailing behind. The head was missing.

  Joe stood over the dog’s body a moment, chewing over his thoughts. When he was done, he picked up every piece of Beau and carried him to the back yard. His clothes were stained red by the time he reached it.

  He grabbed a shovel from his tool shed and spent the next hour digging a grave. He buried Beau right in the center of the yard. He used his tractor to haul a large stone and placed it down at the head.

  With the dirty work done, he changed his clothes, leaving the bloody ones in the sink.

  He sighed, any trace of the good mood he had woken up with was gone.

  The cows would be getting angry soon, they really needed to be milked. He would head out there soon, but first he had to make a phone call.

  He only had a house line and that phone still used a cord. He wouldn’t be able to walk very far with it so he sat down at the kitchen table.

  After dialing the number he wanted, he waited while it rang on the other end.

  “Hello?” came the shaky voice of an old lady.

  “Mrs. Finnegan?”

  “Yes? Joe is that you?”

  Joe smiled, picturing his neighbor’s face. She was a sweet lady who lived less than a mile away. The edges of their farms actually ran against each other on one side. She and her husband had been good friends with his parents and in a lot of ways, reminded him of
them. He had known them all his life.

  “Is Charlie there?” he asked.

  “He is, but I’m afraid he’s fallen ill. Is it important?”

  “No, go ahead and let him rest. Is he okay?”

  “Oh don’t you worry about him. Caught a cold is all. No matter how hard I try and make him rest, he refuses to stay in bed. He’s a stubborn donkey of a man. I just don’t need him having another excuse for getting up.”

  “Who is it?” Joe heard Charlie call.

  “Get back to bed. It’s no one.”

  Joe thought of the cows again and felt a little guilty. “Mrs. Finnegan?” he said. “I have to go, can you let Charlie know we've got a pack of Coyotes running around? And he should make sure all the animals are locked up at night.”

  “Yes dear, I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay, you take care of yourself now.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  Joe hung up the phone and got up to go relieve the cows of their milk.

  Just as he had suspected, there wasn't a cow in the barn that was happy with their udders being stretched all morning. Joe grabbed a bucket and went to work, starting near the door and moving inward. It was hard work for the average man, but Joe had worked up wrist strength over the years. He was able to power through and began making up for lost time.

  He was just finished up with five of the twenty cows when he saw a shadow fall across the door.

  “You know they got machines for that now.”

  Joe looked up to see Charlie Finnegan walking over with his hands in his pockets. The man was as white as a ghost. He was wearing the large black glasses he had gotten from the optometrists that did nothing to help his cause. He normally looked old, but now he looked ancient. Joe felt worried for him.

  “Now how the hell did you slip past Rose?” asked Joe.

  “You younger generations let your women push you around. It wasn't like that back in my day.”

  Joe stopped milking and looked at him.

  “She thinks I’m out back lying in the hammock.”

  Joe shook his head and laughed. “She’s gonna kill you when she finds out.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t.”