by J B Stilwell
“What do we do now?” I ask him.
He tilts his head to the side and shrugs, “We go see what they have come up with, challenge them where we can, suggest something better if what we’ve been working on seems more viable,” he pauses, “and be happy that someone has found a solution to this problem, if indeed they are successful.”
I stare at nothing in particular while still facing him. “How did you get so professionally mature?”
The corner of his mouth upturns. “Oh, about seventy-seven years of practice. Give or take a few months.” He reaches out and takes my hand, lightly squeezing as if to infuse me with the strength I will need to walk into the conference room with my head held high.
I really don’t need it. I can feign strength when I need to, which is often. I can get along much better in my career by acting like an accepting professional when deep inside I want to rage against the fact that someone beat me to the punch or outsmarted me. Accepting defeat with grace is the most common artificial behavior that “successful” people develop. I learned very quickly that the great secret to surviving in a competitive workforce is to act like a team player when I’m actually plotting the downfall of all my nemeses. Everyone does it, we just don’t talk about it...it’s not the professional thing to do.
I squeeze Rick’s hand and give a small smile. Get ready for one hell of a performance. Meryl Streep would be proud.
Chapter 18
Rick and I sit toward the front of the conference room, but far enough away from the front that whoever will be presenting will not see the glimmer of wetness in my eyes. I can act, but damn this is hard. Fifty thousand dollars gone. Facing the rest of my life paying off student loans for an education that brought me here so I could not win fifty thousand dollars. There seems to be a cruel irony there, but I would wait until later to wax philosophical on my bad luck.
Mr. Caulfield steps up to the podium that has been set up for the occasion. I close my eyes as he begins to introduce the winning research team.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m quite excited to be standing before you to see the results of one of the teams that has developed a solution to the criminal element within the vampire community. To tell us more about their work and provide a brief demonstration, I introduce Drs. Bree Vinh and Abhilash Krishnamurthy.”
Everyone applauds as Bree and Abe take the stage. I slowly clap my hands together as I look over to Rick, who doesn’t return my gaze. Before I turn away I catch Tucker’s eye. He purses his lips and tilts his head at me before turning to face the stage. I look down at the floor, blinking to relieve the welling in the corner of my eyes before I turn to see Bree smiling at the audience. Abe is standing quietly by her side. Of course she will be the one to speak, power-hungry fame whore. Whoops. Must not think such things as it can cause my facade to crack. The corners of my mouth twitch as I try not to smile at the thoughts swirling in my head.
“Good morning. As we began this project,” Bree states, “the first thing we focused on was the different ways that vampires could die. Of course, there are many ways that are similar to humans, but for the protection of the human population it only made sense to study the ways that were specific to vampires.”
My spine becomes rod stiff. I only hear every other word that she says as she begins detailing the research that she and Abe have done, which sounds a lot like the work Rick and I have done. The synchronicity is uncanny. I glance at Rick long enough to see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he grinds his teeth. I look back at Bree as she continues to explain how the sun was the source of the solution, causing an accelerated form of dehydration in vampires. She and Abe have developed a pepper-spray-like device, which includes vampire effective dehydration-inducing elements. The idea is to spray the mixture into a vampire’s eyes so that it will absorb into the body quickly, then within moments the vampire will rapidly dry up and fall to its untimely death. The mixture is simple, nothing more than a concentration of saline and alcohol at elevated levels and mortuary-grade formaldehyde. The theory is that once the liquid hits the blood vessels, preferably in the eyes, the blood cells within the vampire will begin attacking neighboring blood cells to obtain the moisture needed to remedy the dehydrating effects of the spray. Actually the process would only spread the drying effect as the cells literally suck the life out of one another.
“Now a demonstration,” Abe announces.
Two men in white medical jackets move a cage on wheels into the conference room. Of course trapped within the bars is FOHVA’s favorite vampire guinea pig, Thalia.
I look at Rick as the podium is moved and replaced by the mobile cage. Rick still doesn’t look at me, but slowly takes my hand into his. It’s as if he wants to comfort me, but doesn’t trust himself to look into my eyes. Maybe he’s just has upset as I am, but his seventy-seven years of practice have perfected his stoicism.
Thalia paces back and forth, completely unaware of what is getting ready to happen. Bree walks up to the cage with a metal canister in her hand. Thalia sneers at her as she stalks up to Bree, doing her best to look intimidating. Without fanfare, Bree squirts the solution into Thalia’s eyes. Thalia screams as the skin around her eyes begins to dry, looking like worn shoe leather. She digs her fingers at her eyes as the drying begins to spread over her body before she collapses onto the floor.
And that’s it.
Looking like an extra from “The Mummy Returns,” Thalia rubs her eyes with her knuckles then looks up to scan the audience, waiting for something else to happen.
Bree’s head twitches back as she faces the crowd. Abe raises his eyebrows, watching Thalia as if he is waiting for the solution to complete its job.
Thing is, it already has. Thalia is still alive. Dehydration is evidently not the way the sun kills vampires. I look at Rick who finally meets my gaze, a questioning look in his eyes.
I lean toward him, whispering, “Maybe that’s why the blood seemed to re-animate the dead cells. They weren’t completely dead in the first place. Just damaged.” I turn my head back toward Thalia. “I guess that’s another vampire mystery. Dehydration that would kill a human only weakens a vampire. I would be willing to bet that after one or two feedings, Thalia would be good as new.”
Suddenly Thalia falls face forward, her body completely still. Gasps resound throughout the conference room. Mr. Caulfield nods to one of the white-jacket men to open the cage. The medical assistant kneels beside Thalia, resting two fingers against her throat then one of her wrists. He exits, locks the cage again then approaches Mr. Caulfield, whispering in his ear and gesturing to the body lying on the floor.
Turning to the room of researchers Mr. Caulfield says, “Thalia is still alive. She is weakened, but she still lives.” He regards Bree and Abe. “It is possible that she is weak enough that her body will eventually give out, but we cannot predict when or if that will happen. Incapacitation is a good first step, but it’s not good enough. If Thalia would regain her strength through feeding, then it’s possible that she would still be a threat.” He turns to the side of the stage. “Allison.”
Allison nods and accompanies the medical assistant back to the cage. Once the door opens, Allison enters as she removes a small bottle from her coat pocket. She turns Thalia’s head to the side and quickly empties the bottle of red liquid into her mouth then quickly exits the cage, the medical assistant re-engaging the lock.
Several moments pass before Thalia opens her eyes and raises her head, slowly looking around the room in an apparent daze. Her skin begins to look softer, as if an old shoe has been oiled back to its healthy sheen.
Mr. Caulfield’s lips quiver as he turns back to Bree and Abe. “And it is so. A vampire sprayed with the weapon you developed could still pose a threat.” He nods, his steely gaze unflinching. Bree looks away to glance at Abe before meeting Mr. Caulfield’s gaze again. His thin lips purse together, his tone dismissive, “Try again.” And with that he turns and leaves the conference room, promptly followed by Allison and the
white jackets as they push the cage from view.
I stare aimlessly at the floor as people slowly start to mill about, moving toward the door. When the room is almost clear, Rick turns to me. Putting his hand on my shoulder he says, “Come on. We should probably get back to the suite.”
I look at the clock on the wall and inhale deeply. “It’s about time to go home. Maybe we should just try to get some rest and start fresh later tonight.”
He agrees. “Okay. But let’s talk briefly, preferably in a less public place. Like the suite.” He gets up, stretches his long legs and waits for me to collect myself. I finally rise from the chair and follow him to the door. Before I get into the hall, Tucker taps my arm.
“Hey, Emma. Do you have a moment?”
“Sure,” I respond. “A brief moment. What’s up?”
Rubbing his hands together, “Well, I wondered if you had changed your mind about going to the abandoned mine yet.” I start to interrupt him when he continues, “I know, I know. You said no, but I had an idea. If you’re up to it, I thought maybe we could get something to eat and then stroll around the area. And if not there, we could go to the park and walk, just relax and enjoy the morning air. Help to relieve the pent-up stress of the whole project almost ending tonight.”
I wriggle my nose as if smelling something rotten. “Not the mine. A walk would be nice though. I could use the distraction.”
Tucker smiles, nodding as he continues down the hall. I turn to see Rick standing a few feet away, his eyebrow cocked as if he is aiming a hundred questions at me. I ignore him and start walking to the suite in silence, trying not to glance in his direction. I almost feel like if I look at him, I will have to suffer his recriminations - as if avoiding his eyes will keep him from saying anything. Not so much.
“A walk with Tucker as a distraction?” he asks as he follows me into the suite.
I try to subtly ignore him as I walk to the whiteboard, posing as if I were diving right back into work. He stays behind me and the quiet lingers.
“In a way I’m happy that they went first. We were on similar tracks and if we had finished first, I would be the one embarrassed right now.” I make a big show of studying the whiteboard.
“Nice re-direct,” he says. “And why be embarrassed? How else would you know that it wouldn’t work unless you failed? Speaking of things that won’t work, back to Tucker. I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Or did he and I have a chat for no reason at all?”
I turn to him. I can’t decide if he is genuinely concerned about my choices or if he is just miffed that his efforts were a waste of his precious time. I drop my hands to the side, at a loss for words. Rick just watches me as if he is waiting for me to unveil some great mystery. I exhale quickly and walk over to the center island, my eyes darting around as I grasp for a way to explain things. I really shouldn’t have to, but I had acted as if Tucker put me off to the point that Rick felt the need to intervene. Not my problem, by the way, but still the way things are. Although I didn’t ask him to do the things he had done, he seems to feel entitled to know what is going on.
I shake my head. “If I hadn’t said yes, he would just continue to ask. Maybe by going this one time, he’ll get over it. He’ll see that there is no need to pine over me, and I’ll have the opportunity to emphasize that I just want to be friends.”
He crosses his arms, his jaw twitching. “By being alone with him. A man that has so far shown that his elevator sometimes doesn’t reach the top. Sounds like a safe plan. And by the way, by going with him so he’ll stop doesn’t work. If anything, you’re encouraging him. I’m a man. I know these things. If I were him I would be excited as hell because if you agreed this time, then the walls must be coming down and I’m close to getting what I want.”
I look at him, my eyes widening a bit. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But I’m sure everything is going to be okay. We’ll be at the park. It’s a public place. I’ll tell him that I’m not interested, and that will be the end of things.”
He lets out a gush of air in apparent exasperation and places his hands on my shoulders. “Emma, never doubt what a man in lust is capable of. Even a human male has a piece of the hunter in him, and once he gets a taste, he will do anything to get more. And if he’s a man with no morals or sense of reason, that can turn dangerous very quickly.”
I just look into his eyes as they move back and forth over my face, my lower lip quivering. I would normally step away from him, afraid to have my mind influenced, but I can tell that my thoughts are my own. There is no tingle of psychic invasion, just the tingle of burning tension building low in my body. He seems to care more about me than his wasted effort, and damn me if it so is not feeling like brotherly concern.
He suddenly removes his hands, smiling. “Besides, if something happens to you, then I’m going to be seriously hurting with the project. Not much luck for me to win it on my own.”
I slowly close my mouth, trying not to let any of the moisture escape from the corners of my eyes. Of course. The money. The project. That’s what he is concerned about, not me specifically.
I step back. “I think I’m going to call it a night like I suggested. A lot has happened. Should just regroup and start fresh tomorrow.” I walk to retrieve my jacket and purse while he stands, unmoving, in the center of the room.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I walk past him, slightly smiling. “No thanks. A nice girl like me shouldn’t walk around outside with a predator, right?” I turn my head and quickly walk from the suite before he can respond.
Yeah, great plan. If I can’t ignore it, run from it - and pray that it doesn’t run faster.
Chapter 19
At round noon Tucker calls to see if we were still meeting to walk in the park. He asks again about getting something to eat, and I tell him I have errands to run and would just meet him at the park. Adding a meal just makes it seem too much like a date, and Rick is right about not wanting to give him the wrong idea. It’s hard to appreciate the wisdom of someone when you’re trying so hard to be angry with him. I guess that’s what being mature is all about. Boy, it sucks.
I meet Tucker at the Lieutenant George Robert Stevenson Memorial Park. Lieutenant George was from the town of Rowan and was killed in combat in Desert Storm. One thing the people of West Virginia are proud of is the fact that the state has had more soldiers involved in every war than any other state in the U.S. Unfortunately that also means the need for a lot of memorials. West Virginians do not take honoring their fallen soldiers lightly, and the Lieutenant G.R. Stevenson Memorial Park is just one example.
I arrive at the park at 3:30. I want to make sure that it is close enough to work time that I won’t have to make any more excuses for not going to lunch or an early dinner. A little over an hour should be just enough time for him to realize that he will only ever be my co-worker. Embrace the awkwardness.
“Hi,” he says with a broad smile on his face.
I close the door to my car and walk over to him to stand on the gravel path, trying not to smile too much. “Hi.”
“I’m glad you came.” He tilts his head toward the path and starts walking. “I thought that after everything that had happened you wouldn’t agree to a walk.”
I briefly close my eyes. Such a telling statement, screaming at me that Rick was without a doubt right when he had said that Tucker would get the wrong idea.
“To be honest,” I begin slowly, “I wasn’t going to come. But I thought that this would be a good time to talk about things.”
He nods, putting his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. I look up to see that his head is tilted down, eyes looking at the ground. I quickly look around, suddenly wanting to make sure that there are other people in the park. I struggle to say the words that I need for him to hear. His head rises.
“You are not the least bit interested in me, are you?” he asks.
I look at him,
my heart sinking. Regardless of the circumstances, I hate hurting someone. Even if that someone is a potential bat-shit crazy stalker. I try to be as nice as possible with crushing his ego. Maybe a little fluff would soften the blow.
“Tucker, you seem really nice. The type of nice that I would want to be friends with...but that’s it.”
He smiles although he is pursing his lips, twisting his face into a morbid mockery of joy. “So, was it the stuff from before? Me finding your phone number then saying those hateful things when you got upset about it?”
I stop, not feeling comfortable enough to walk any farther. Taking a deep breath that I hope gives me strength, I counter, “No, it’s not that. I do not feel that connection with you.”
He turns to me, a look of mixed hurt and anger in his eyes. I take a step back just as an evening walker passes us, bumping into Tucker, causing him to lose his balance.
“Hey! Why don’t you watch where the hell you are going?”
The walker, a rather tall man with short curly blond hair, turns around and walks back up to us. “I would say I’m sorry, but you are the one stopped right in the middle of the walking path. You know, the path used for walking? If someone runs into you because of your own rudeness, don’t get mad at me, asshole.”
Tucker walks up to the guy and pushes him. I jump out of the way, suddenly too aware that Tucker may not be the safest person if he gets crazy-angry-violent so easily.
The walker swings at Tucker, his fist connecting with the center of Tucker’s face. Tucker falls flat on his back on the ground, not moving. I look at the blond-haired man as he straightens his back. He looks at me for a couple of beats then turns and walks away.
I don’t know whether to get out of there or try to help Tucker. I hesitantly walk over to his still body, seeing blood all over his face. I stand beside him, trying not to get too close.
“Tucker? Are you alright?”
His eyes snap open. “I bet you find this very amusing,” he accuses.