The Source

by J B Stilwell

  He runs his hands down my arms as he takes a step back and leans his hip against the center island. “It’s a step in the right direction. I don’t think any of us actually enjoy that part of it. If we did, vampire or not, I would have to question our mental stability. What we have to come to terms with, what we have to accept is that we’re the ones that have to make these decisions because we’re the ones who have the intellect and talent to solve these very delicate problems.

  The corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile. “Don’t feel guilty for having a great mind. That’s your gift to humanity. Feel badly that people and vampires have to act the way they do so that it makes government-funded projects like this necessary.”

  I look at him, in awe of what he is saying, the perspective he is imparting to me that I’m unsure I would have ever noticed.

  He continues, “If it weren’t for criminal behavior coupled with violent discrimination, we wouldn’t be making these decisions. Place the blame where it’s deserved. Not on yourself.”

  Before I can think of the repercussions, I lean forward and wrap my arms around his abdomen in a tight embrace. I lay my face against his chest as he slowly encircles me with his arms. “Thank you,” I murmur against him. He leans back a bit to look down at me. I meet his gaze, “For giving me a different way to look at things. For a different explanation, a different focus. It makes more sense then just trying to laugh at everything.” My fingers clinch against his back as wetness fills the corners of my eyes.

  He smiles then whispers, “My pleasure, Emma.”

  I sniffle then lean away from him, resting against the island again. “Okay, let’s develop this delivery system and schedule a demonstration for all of the project teams. I just wish we had more time.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asks.

  “Well, think about it,” I begin my thought-process pacing. “We’ve developed something that can be sprayed onto a vampire, sort of like mace or pepper spray. The goal was to come up with a solution to the criminal element in the vampire population and prevent human deaths. Just like mace and pepper spray, it all depends on having it readily available and making sure that you hit your target. Many times you have to be at a closer range to hit that target, and many people don’t want to get that close to a vampire.”

  He turns, looking at me. “Okay, fair enough. But it is a solution that will work. We can improve upon the delivery later.”

  I shrug, “I just wish we could come up with something…I don’t know. Almost like birth control. Vampire birth control or human death control or whatever. Something that humans can ingest, inject or even wear a patch so that when a vampire bites, BOOM, vampire salsa.”

  He stares at me with a cool expression on his face. Suddenly feeling like I’m under a microscope, I cross my arms over my chest, hugging myself tightly.

  “Sorry. Inappropriate humor again. But you get what I’m saying. Besides, who’s to say that we’ll get a chance to improve the delivery system later? They’ll probably just take over the project and do what they want with it anyway.”

  He walks over to me and gently rests his hands on my upper arms. With the lines on his face softening. “If FOHVA is just going to do what it wants with the project, then why not just finish it now with what we have? We can each take our fifty thousand dollars and walk away. Or we can debate and spend more time on perfecting a solution that already works, while another team comes up with an equally workable idea.”

  I feel my lips pout as I hug myself tighter, his fingers gently rubbing up and down my arms. I suddenly feel like a spastic child who is being comforted by the compassionate parent. Who just happens to have fangs.

  The sound of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” begins lightly playing. Rick cocks an eyebrow at me as I step back away from him. I pull my cell phone from my pocket as he laughs under his breath, his eyes glistening with amusement.

  “It’s a local number, but I don’t know who would be calling me.” I walk to the front of the suite to talk on my phone in semi-private. It’s Officer Davis, hopefully with some good news.

  I halfway notice Rick leave the room while I discuss the graffiti incident at my apartment. Unfortunately the Rowan police do not have any real leads and it’s unlikely that we’ll ever know who was responsible, just like I had feared yesterday.

  I put my phone back in my pocket and sit at the table near the door to clear my mind in the blissful silence. Who knows if Tucker was the one who left the message painted across my apartment door? My gut tells me it was him, but I could be wrong. I’ll probably never know. I just hope that I never run into him again. And if I do, I hope I’m not alone.

  Rick returns with a box full of supplies. He lays the box on the table, tubes sticking out of the top. It’s as if they are plastic fingers pointing in accusation at us, but I resolve not to think too much about that.

  “Any news?” he asks.

  “Nothing good,” I reply, “except for the fact that Tucker has skipped town.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Officer Davis said that given the recent, um, argument between us that they wanted to question him. When they arrived at his apartment, everything was packed up and gone. I guess no one has seen him since he was relieved of his duties as an archivist.”

  Rick hums in thought. “That’s not necessarily good news, though. Just because we don’t know where he is doesn’t mean that he has skipped town. He could still be around somewhere, hiding out. Especially if he is the one that vandalized your apartment.”

  “Gee, thanks. As if I needed more reason to look over my shoulder.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll stay with you while you’re in Rowan so you won’t ever be alone.” He smiles at me sympathetically. At least I hope it’s sympathy and not fatherly. Or in Rick’s case, grandfatherly.

  “Thanks. What’s in the box?”

  He taps the sides of the box with his fingers. “I’ve got everything we need to build a rudimentary, dual delivery system. I also got us the other chemicals that we need to go along with the vitamin D powder.”

  We walk back to the center island where Rick begins to empty the contents of the box in an orderly, organized way. I hesitate momentarily before asking another question. I just don’t want Rick to basically tell me to get over my misplaced morality over the project.

  “Um, with Thalia gone, where will we find another subject for the demonstration?”

  He looks up at me. “Just like there is no shortage of human criminals, there is no shortage of vampire criminals. I’m sure there are more in the holding cells in the other building.”

  “There are more holding cells than the one that Thalia was in?”

  “Quite a few. There’s an entire makeshift prison in the lower levels of that building. It’s one of the only facilities in the U.S. that has been able to successfully imprison vampires.”

  I look down at all of the equipment that now patterns the counter top. Various thoughts, both curious and morbid, race through my mind as if they’re trying to see which comes out of my mouth first.

  “How many?” I ask.

  “How many cells?” he responds.

  “No, how many vampires.”

  He cocks his head to the side as he watches me, probably waiting for an Emma-style righteousness meltdown to ensue. After a few moments he says, “Enough. I don’t know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Unfortunately many of my kind have a complete disregard for human life.”

  I nod in acceptance, restraining the pull in my abdomen that urges me to protest. “I guess that’s understandable considering how many humans have a complete disregard for human life.”

  Switching gears, Rick motions to the items he has systematically laid on the counter top. “Making the delivery system is really simple. We just need this split container, much like your everyday sport bottle. We put the vitamin D, diluted with water on one side and the saline, alcohol and formaldehyde on the other side. We then just use the p
lastic tubing and springs to make a trigger system on the top of the container. When the trigger is squeezed, the mixture will be forced from the container and like you said, BOOM, vampire salsa.”

  I jerk my head to look at him as he smiles enthusiastically at me. “And here I thought you were upset by that comment.”

  “Only if it were an undeserving vampire. Or if I were wearing an expensive suit at the time. Then I’d be really pissed.”

  I actually guffaw. “Now who’s making inappropriate jokes?”

  “Well, I figure laughing is better than the alternative,” he explains.

  “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way,” I counter.

  He leans toward me, with an almost menacing look in his eyes. “Not in everything, Dr. Burcham.”

  With a spurt of nerve, I punch him in the shoulder. “Right. We still disagree on what is best to have for dinner, and I don’t think either of our opinions will change any time soon.”

  He laughs heartily. “If only the entire project had held such mirth.”

  I smile brightly at him. “I guess we need to schedule the demonstration since putting the delivery system together won’t take that long.”

  A buzzing sound erupts above us before Gwen says, “I just notified Mr. Caulfield. The conference room will be ready for the demonstration within an hour.”

  Looking up at the ceiling I say, “Well, I guess that part’s done. Thanks, Gwen.”

  Loud buzzing again. “You’re welcome, Emma.”

  I look back at Rick who nods at me, “One hour, then it’s show time.”

  Yay?

  Chapter 25

  We arrive at the conference room several minutes early. The dual distribution system that Rick built worked flawlessly, even if it did look like something that was most likely held together with duct tape.

  The other researchers and archivists start coming in and finding their seats. Three seats are set on the stage behind the podium, presumably for me, Rick and Gwen. They hadn’t brought the “test subject” in yet, which makes my stomach feel like a sickening well of anticipation, getting deeper with each passing moment.

  Gwen takes a seat on the stage as Rick sets our box of demonstration supplies behind the podium. I continue to watch the door as people arrive sporadically, everyone with the same look on their faces – defeat mixed with the bitter hope that we will fail. I sympathize. I felt the same way during Bree’s and Abe’s presentation. It doesn’t feel so good when you’re on the receiving end of such pointed resentment. A part of me wants to succeed even more, sort of as a payback for their disdain. Rick would probably tell me to embrace that as motivation and call it a good thing. I think I will take his imagined advice.

  Rick walks to stand beside me. I continue to stare at the door. “Are you ready for this?” he asks.

  “Sure. Why not? We know that it works, and it does indeed kill vampires. So no need to worry, right?” I look up at him, my brow crinkled as I wait for his reassurance.

  He looks down at me as the corners of his lips twitch in a small smile. “True, but there’s always performance anxiety with things like this. Shall I speak and you administer the chemicals?”

  I snort, “You just don’t want to get vampire on you.”

  His smile widens. “I’ve actually had vampire on me before, under very different circumstances and it usually didn’t end in death.”

  “O…kay. That sounds like a story for a much later time. You talk, I’ll pull the proverbial trigger.”

  I turn back to watch the door. No sooner as I do so, two white-coat-wearing assistants pull a large cage into the room. As the full metal box comes into view, everything seems to slow down. The surface of my skin literally feels like it’s going numb. I blink my eyes multiple times, trying to focus while my brain registers all movement as scenes from a movie. I struggle to accept that what I am seeing is real and not just a part of my imagination, a remnant of a scary dream that has been safely tucked away into the dark recesses of my memory.

  As the assistants position the cage catty corner to the podium, my gaze follows every move as my mind slowly comes to terms with what my eyes already know. In the far back corner of the cage sits what looks like a ten-year-old boy. After what seems like ages, my mouth drops open, and I look back up at Rick.

  After a momentary glance at my face, Rick quickly exits the room leaving me to deal with my shock all alone. Feeling like my legs could fold in on me at any time, I shuffle to our chairs and slowly sit down. As the room continues to fill, the murmur of hushed whispers begins to crest, drowning us in a sea of uncertainty. As I look across the crowd of researchers and archivists, I notice that some seem to have expressions of sad acceptance on their faces - as if this is an evil they have known before.

  I turn to look at the child vampire in the cage. His hands are twisting in a rhythmic configuration that makes me think he’s singing “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” Tears well up in my eyes to make up for the fact that my mind can no longer hold on to this horrible scene.

  Rick urgently walks back into the room and takes the seat between Gwen and me. Mr. Caulfield enters with Allison not long after. Rick gently takes my arms while leaning toward me, “Emma, please look at me.”

  I turn my head to him, a lost yet questioning look on my face. He leans in closer, his face nearly touching mine. “I went to speak with Mr. Caulfield about this particular vampire. Any time you encounter a child vampire, it’s traumatic. For humans and vampires alike.”

  I subtly start to shake my head back and forth, like I didn’t want to hear any explanations for this…this nightmare.

  “Emma, listen to me,” Rick pleads. “That vampire is not a child. He’s one hundred and three years old.” I just continue to look at him, my eyes fuzzy as if I’m seeing him through a haze.

  “He’s a very old vampire. Not only that, he’s a pedophile. He used having a child’s body to lure human children away from their parents. He would then sexually abuse those children before killing them. He may look like a child, but he’s a monster. We can’t allow him to live.”

  I slowly nodded with my eyes wide before I turn to gaze at the monster in his cage, still making childlike hand gestures. I turn my attention back to our audience who are still whispering and motioning toward the metal cell.

  Rick places his other hand on my knee. “Emma, I’ll administer the chemicals. You don’t have to do it.”

  I shake my head, still staring out into the audience. I try to concentrate on just breathing, but even that seems like too much right now. Rick rubs his hand in circles around my knee, his voice sounding pleading, “Emma?”

  I slowly turn to him. “No, I’ll still do it. I’ll still pull the trigger.” I can feel that my eyes are still wide, almost as if I’m subconsciously willing more light into my vision to block out the darkness.

  Rick’s face softens. “You don’t have to. I can do it.”

  I feign a brave smile and shake my head again, fighting the tears that are struggling to escape. “No, Rick. I actually want to do it.” A shocked expression crosses his face. I turn back to look at the gaping crowd. I whisper, “Sometimes it’s easier to do something than it is to talk about it.”

  Rick pauses and then slides his hands from my arm and knee, slowly leaning back in his chair. It seems like ages before Mr. Caulfield finally steps behind the podium to address the twittering audience. As I stare ahead of me, I can barely hear him as if he’s speaking from a great distance. I pick up a few sentences that let me know he’s explaining this particular vampire’s crimes and why he has been sentenced to death.

  “Without further delay,” Mr. Caulfield states as he motions for Rick and I to begin our demonstration. Rick touches my shoulder as a sort of prod to get me to move from my stationary position. I stand up as he picks the box up, setting it on the empty chairs. He hands me the dual distribution system then looks deeply into my eyes. I can do nothing but slightly nod then cradle the system in my arms, like it’s a n
ewborn ready to meet the world, but the mother is too frightened to let go.

  Rick begins explaining about our vision for the project and how we were on much the same path as Drs. Vinh and Krishnamurthy. I’m only half-listening as I stand in front of the cage, regarding the bogus vampire child sitting in the corner. After a few moments, he stands up and walks slowly to the front of his cell, his eyes never leaving me for even a moment. No blinking, no anger, no fear…just a morbid resolve.

  In the background I can hear Rick summing up the findings of our research and how we developed the dual distribution system to both incapacitate and annihilate any vampire that came into contact with the chemicals. When he finishes, it’s my cue to press firmly on the trigger mechanism that will begin the agonizing rain of death on a child monster whose very existence is an abomination to human life and a blight on vampire corporality.

  I raise the container to waist level and aim the tubing at what still looks like a small child. I hesitate for enough time that the vampire begins to turn around in place, a soft murmur rising from the cage. I step forward, feeling as if unseen strings that are orchestrating an unscheduled and improper performance are pulling me forward. I strain to listen as the soft singing and twisting of words begin to make sense to my frazzled mind. He’s singing. He’s actually singing as a way of giving his last words. My whole world is condensed into this one moment.

  “Ring around the Rosy

  Pocket full of Posy

  Ashes, ashes

  We all fall down”

  I squeeze the trigger. A spray of vitamin D water, saline, alcohol and formaldehyde drench the small frame of the vampire twisting and turning before me. Multiple things happen at once. His body seems to fold in on itself as his skin wrinkles and shrinks while the vitamin D begins eating through his leather like encasing. He stops moving. Stops singing. That’s when the screaming begins.