by M. Lorrox
Thinking of my closest family.
I couldn’t have done this without you!
“Oh, I been watching you, I’m gonna get you high.
The things I do to you, gonna make you cry.”
-Big Data
Hector Reyes scans his security card and enters his small but lavish apartment. He sets his tablet in the living room and heads to the fridge. He grabs a beer and a pitcher of blood, pours a glass of each, and brings them to the living room.
He sets his drinks down without coasters, then wipes his hands over his face and head. His buzzed gray hair bristles against his palms. It feels softer than usual, and it reminds him that he should trim again. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after… As soon as these sixteen-hour work days end.
After a sip of each beverage, he shrugs off his sport coat. He slips out of his shoulder holster and sets it, pistol and all, beside him on the couch.
As he takes a sip of his cold beer, the blue light that glows from behind the curtains on one side of the room catches his eye. He swallows and frowns, then glances at a slim black obelisk beside the television. “Esther, disable environmental simulation.”
The window goes dark.
“Play music. Guitarra Española.”
Through his living room’s 7.1 surround sound system, the sounds of an acoustic guitar emanate from one corner of the room, then another guitar joins in from the other side. The two simulated instruments fill the room with an upbeat and moody tempo.
He picks up his tablet and checks it one last time for the night. What a fucking day, but it went almost exactly to plan. The tau-strain and serum worked better than expected. Got to hand it to old Doc. Kyllinglår for that piece of work… He and the plane will be back by morning. Zaman took out Flaxman, but at least we got Wollstone… All teams on schedule… He taps to write a note to his fully-rested, morning self:
@Hector, check with dept. heads that teams aren’t asking questions. Get Vaeir attack timeline update from Lars.
He takes another sip of his beer, swallows, and reveals a smile. Yeah, let’s get Erica over here. When he taps over to their messages on the tablet, his smile fades. That’s right, she’s on the plane too. Fuck.
He sighs, backs out a screen, and sees an earlier note from Anne. He shrugs. Third time’s the charm? He sends her a message:
@Anne, are you still up? I forgot something… Can you swing over to my apartment?
“Esther, lower lights.”
He sips his beer in the dim living room, and he doesn’t have to wait long before there’s a knock on his door. Outside it, he finds Dr. Anne Kirchner, the head of the Virology team.
She’s in her pajamas and holds her hands on her hips. “Hector, what do you want?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s been a hell of a day, and I just wanted to check in.” He turns and steps away from the door, leaving it open. “Come on it. Can I get you some blood, a beer, or maybe some tequila?”
She steps into the doorway and leans against the frame. “Hector, it’s late. Let’s make this quick.”
The fridge door closes, and -kiiish- a beer opens. “Oh, just relax and make yourself at home. These new ambers out of Auckland are pretty good. It’s too bad the world’s on a ticking clock now. Maybe when this is all over we could—”
“My team’s status is the same as it was when I sent my end-of-day report. We’re ready to receive Lars and his samples, and we’re ready to start production.” She nods, and her tone changes. “I guess there is another update… I heard that the broken inkjet bioprinter has been fixed. So, yeah, we’re all set as soon as Lars and Michael get back.”
That’s right, you had a thing for him… Well, you better move on now before you learn he’s been killed. Hector steps in front of her and extends a cold beer. “Glad to hear the news.” His lip curls with a hint of seduction.
Anne shakes her head. “I’m not staying, Hector.”
“I mean, we could put something on TV, or—”
“No thanks.” She turns halfway around, then says over her shoulder, “Maybe another time.”
-choonk-
Hector stands in front of his thick, closed door. I wish Erica was around… “Esther, raise lights. Call Tim.” He makes his way back to the couch.
-ring-
“Mr. Reyes?”
“It’s Hector tonight. Come on over here and help me drink this shit, will ya?”
“What, none of your women around?”
He grumbles. “Not tonight. Just get over here, the door will be open.”
“Alright, we’ll be over in a couple.”
-click-
We? Probably more grunts like him. Hector sighs, sets the freshly opened bottle of beer next to his poured glass of beer, and picks up the glass of blood. The cool, thick liquid slides on his tongue. Soon, all this work will be finished, and I’ll live like a king. Even Tim and those fools will—we’ll all be kings. He smiles, then raises his glass to the only picture on his walls: a painting of a woman posed nude beside a piano. “This week, we found our weapon. Next, we take the whole fucking planet.” He dips his head. “Salud.”
He sips and smiles, reclining further into the couch. It is beautiful here in New Zealand, but it’s nothing like Patagonia. He nods. I’ll build my capital there.
After a few minutes, Hector hears Tim, one of machinists, and another man talking in the hall. Maybe they’ll have a woman with them. He sighs and glances to his side. He moves his coat, shoulder holster, and pistol to his bedroom, and he’s back in the kitchen and pulling out the remnants of two six packs when his front door opens. “Hey Tim, who’d you invite along?”
Tim holds the door open as a half-dozen vampires stumble into Hector’s apartment, each holding a bottle of one kind or another. “Ah, just some of the crew from The Foundry. Kazumi said shit’s gonna get real tomorrow, so tonight we’re gettin’ fucked up.” Tim glances at Ytarra as she enters. “Ain’t that right? You met Mr. Hector Reyes?”
The petite vampire with olive-colored skin swigs expensive whiskey from a bottle and looks the gray-haired vampire up and down. He’s that security boss… She smiles. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Reyes.”
Hector lays on the charm. “The pleasure is mine, but tonight, you can call me Hector.” He motions to the bottle in her hand. “And if you’ve got whiskey’s number, I’ve got a whiskey that’ll do a number on you.”
She chuckles. We’ll see about that. She follows him into his living room and scoffs at the atmosphere. “Esther, import settings, Ytarra, Swank-Shit-Six. Load lights and music.”
The guitar music fades as the lighting LEDs flicker and flow between colors, filling the room with a pulsing, club-like ambiance. Techno-style electronic drums and a siren raise from the speakers, and a repeated voice saying “Duro,” joins in. Finally, the bass kicks, and the dancing begins.
On the G-650 jet, soft LEDs glow along the thin walkway that travels the center of the main cabin. Dr. Lars Melgaard wakes up and checks his watch. Six am, like clockwork. He sits up on the couch and stretches. Across from him, the two men from Væir’s security detail sleep on a pair of reclining chairs. One snores while the other drools onto his shoulder. Each is covered by a blanket that bulges below the shoulder—where their pistols are.
Lars gets up and slips his pants and dress shirt back on. Directly forward from the main cabin is a bathroom and the cockpit. Immediately aft is the private room he has set up as a rudimentary lab. He walks in and checks that the equipment and samples he brought along are still safely stowed. He retrieves the organ-transportation device that Michael built. He pushes a button installed beside the microc
ontroller, and the readout on the LCD changes. Battery at 57%, CO2 filter at 78%. Good. The batteries should last until we land, but I’ll change them when they dip to 30%. He returns the augmented cooler to the cabinet and secures it in place. He walks another few steps aft and knocks on the door to the last room toward the tail of the plane. He can hear rustling through the thin wall.
“One second.” In the light coming from Mary Wollstone’s heartrate and IV monitors, Erica Wakkana climbs off the partially-inflated air mattress beside Mary’s bed. She was told that she could only bring a handbag on this trip, so she didn’t bring any change of clothes. She slept in her underwear, and she grabs a sheet to cover herself.
She attempts to open the door, struggling for a moment against the air mattress, which blocks it. When the fog of sleep clears enough, she slips a toe between the door and the air mattress to create enough room to open the door a crack. Her frown softens when she sees that it’s Dr. Melgaard who has woken her. “Sir?” She runs a hand through her dark, tightly-curled hair, taming it some.
“Good morning. Once you check on our guest, I’ll need your assistance in the lab.”
She yawns and glances out the unblocked window beside Mary’s bed. It’s pitch black outside. She checks the time on Mary’s monitor. Eleven-o-five pm. “Morning? Are you kidding me? I just went to sleep like an hour ago.”
“That’s irrelevant. It’s six am Eastern. Until we land in New Zealand, you’re on my time. Get dressed if you must, but meet me in the lab in two minutes.”
She groans and shuts the door. Big wig or not, that guy can be a real dick.
She enters the lab at ten after six, Eastern Standard Time. “Ms. Wollstone required a new set of IVs. I got here as soon as I could.”
Lars looks up from his papers and laptop. “Very well. Put on gloves. I need your help making some bone marrow cultures.”
She grabs a pair of latex gloves from a box but waits to put them on. “How many gel plates should I grab?” She motions to a small fridge and yawns, her white teeth in stark contrast to her dark skin.
He shakes his head. “We’re not going to be growing the cultures on gel—we’re going to be using fresh blood.”
The sun washes through the windows at INOVA Fairfax Hospital. June feels its warmth on the back of her neck and shaved scalp, and she smiles.
For the first time in almost a week, she had a natural, rejuvenating night’s sleep. Not even the fancy hotel suite’s luxurious bed could grant her rest, but yesterday’s events—starting with being drugged and knocked unconscious by Dr. Melgaard and Michael Turner—changed her, and a simple chair beside the window was comfortable enough for her to sleep in. She woke an hour ago when the sky started to bloom with the day’s light, and she has sat in front of the window in deep reflection since.
She watches over a hospital bed where her father lies asleep. His leg is raised and wrapped in bandages; his femur’s compound fracture required extensive surgery. A thin ray of sunbeam slices across the room toward Skip’s head. The anesthetic should wear off soon, and he’ll wake.
She remembers how he looked when he first saw her after he arrived at the hospital. He was being carted off to surgery, but he insisted on seeing his daughter first. He quaked when his eyes looked over her, then they filled with tears. The doctor told him June had been beaten and medically molested, that she was harvested for her blood and bone marrow, and her ovaries were surgically removed. Skip screamed and jumped out of the stretcher toward the doctor—only to further drive his broken femur’s shards through his quadricep. He collapsed on the ground and passed out. June and the doctor lifted him back onto the stretcher, and he was rushed away.
June sighs. He’ll freak again when he sees me the way I am now. It’s going to be very hard on him… He won’t understand. I died yesterday. That’s that. June is no more, but I am... Who am I?
The light hits Skip’s closed eyelids, but he doesn’t move.
Is he even still my dad? Do I even have a dad, or a family? Now that I’m so different, it feels like I’m completely alone… She looks down at her hand and imagines the wolf-paw and claws she felt last night. She remembers tearing into that boy who hurt Eddy’s friend, Enrique, then thinks about her change in front of the Costanzas. I am a lone wolf now, a pack-less, fearless, animal.
Alone.
A shadow crosses the window, and June turns around and squints. Dew covers the grass, and slight wisps of steam rise from the green blades as the moisture evaporates in the early sun. At the tree line, she sees something move.
Rusty walks out, shaking dust off his body.
June smiles and taps on the glass. Rusty looks up and wags his tail. June stands and looks at Skip again. “I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry you got hurt. But I can’t be sorry any more—it wasn’t my fault.”
Skip lies motionless, the sun now warming the side of his face. June leaves the room to retrieve Rusty.
Sadie, Eddy, and Minnie all sleep in another hospital room. Minnie shakes violently in her sleep, and she crushes Valentine, her stuffed unicorn, tight to her chest.
Her shaking rouses Eddy, who shares a small hospital bed with her, and he groans awake. “You alright, Minnie?”
Startled, she wakes and sniffs. She pouts. “Scary dream.”
He rubs her head. “Forget it, it wasn’t real.”
“Yesterday was real.”
Eddy gives her a hug and yawns.
Sadie wakes and stretches her long limbs from the room’s other hospital bed. Minnie hops down and runs over to her side. “Mommy, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Sadie motions with her head to the door across from her in the hospital room. “There’s one right there, dear.”
Minnie pouts. “Will you go with me?”
Sadie blinks some consciousness into her eyes while she considers why Minnie wants company.
“I don’t want to be alone in there.”
Sadie nods and gets up, then walks with Minnie to the bathroom. “Eddy, hit those vending machines and try to find some food for Minnie. Get something healthy.”
Eddy shrugs. “Easier said than done.”
He returns with the vending machine’s entire supply of trail mix, then helps Minnie eat some of it alongside a tall glass of blood.
Sadie finishes washing her face in the sink, then steps out of the bathroom. “Okay, let’s get your dad up. Today’s going to be a busy day.”
Minnie runs over to her. “Can we all stay together today? That way we’ll be safe. If we split up, we won’t be.”
Sadie smiles down at her golden-haired angel. “Sometimes we have to take risks. Let’s go wake Daddy up.”
Minnie snakes her hand into Sadie’s, and she squeezes it hard.
To be nice to Charlie, Sadie suggests they bring him coffee. In the lounge, they get the world’s worst coffee from a vending machine for a dollar. At first, Sadie doesn’t see the to-go coffee lids, but they’re stacked on top of the machine. She puts one on and gray steam rises through the tiny oval hole in the white cover.
Charlie asked to be placed in the room with Enrique, and as Sadie, Eddy, and Minnie arrive, he is sipping a latte from a large mug. On a tray covering his lap are a number of plates, including one with a full stack of buttermilk pancakes covered with whipped cream, sliced strawberries, and maple syrup.
Eddy shakes his head to remove the hallucination from his eyes, but his dad, smiling and enjoying delicious-smelling food remains. “Where did you get all that good stuff?”
Sadie sighs and takes a sip of the shit-coffee, then grimaces and spits it back through the little oval opening and into the cup.
Charlie wipes his mouth with a napkin. “This hospital food is really good! Did you get the pancakes or the frittata?” Minnie jumps up onto his bed and hugs onto her daddy’s legs. She shakes the bed, and Charlie grabs the tray with his meal. �
��Careful Minnie! Don’t make me spill my juice!”
She nuzzles into the covers. “Sorry, Daddy.”
“It’s okay, dear.”
Sadie turns to leave. “I’ll go find...a server.”
Charlie takes a quick sip of his latte before calling after her. “Get me some hot sauce, will ya?”
Enrique grumbles himself awake. “Why’s everyone yelling?”
Eddy steps over to him. “Sorry man, just breakfast.”
Enrique takes a deep inhale though his nose. Pancakes, syrup, sausage...of the turkey variety, fruit, coffee and milk. He smiles. “Yeah, I think I’ll have what he’s having.”
Charlie pops a piece of melon into his mouth. “No can do, buddy. You got stabbed in the guts remember? The knife cut your intestines. You’re on a blood-only diet for a couple days.”
Enrique sighs, realizing the dull soreness he feels in his stomach even through his painkillers. “Blood is good too.” He looks at Eddy. “So man, what’s up? Did they catch those assholes last night? What’s the deal?”
Eddy swallows. That’s right, they pumped him full of morphine… Eddy clears his throat. “A couple things happened last night after you were stabbed... For one thing, June woke up.”
Enrique’s mouth drops open.
Eddy nods. “Yeah.”
Minnie helps her dad finish his breakfast while Eddy tells Enrique the rest of the news, how the tour group and vampire kids were saved, how Captain Sarkis died, how—according to Steve—June attacked him and gave him a variety of injuries, and that Li Chen got away. “Steve said Li Chen took your phone with him.”
Enrique looks forlorn and sighs.
Eddy frowns in response. “We’ll figure out the ring thing, don’t worry about that.”
Enrique shakes his head. “I thought I did a good job with the fake, but I obviously didn’t. And then that Steve guy stabs me, and I’m bleeding everywhere, meanwhile your friend who we all thought was dead, kicks his ass, stabs into him with her hands, and scalps him?” He shrugs. “I thought I was tough. I feel like I’m an imposter.”