The Cure

by Loren Schechter

  Bunny crawled down the corridor, away from the elevators. She saw a man’s legs just inches away. The agent stepped forward and bumped her head. She shot him in the knee and rolled aside as he fell screaming. His partner made the mistake of saying “Jack?” She fired two rounds at the voice; the partner grunted. Through the haze, she saw him fall; the sprinklers were drowning the smoke. She got up and ran. Shots rang out and bullets splattered the wall behind her as she turned a corner and raced toward the red exit sign that marked another staircase.

  They’ll be at every exit! She whipped off her goggles and hurtled up the steps. Drops of water falling from her coat left a clear trail until she reached the twelfth floor. She kept going.

  On fifteen, she found a ladies’ room. Locking the door, she set the gun, goggles and flash drive on the sink, then shed her coat and wig. She used liquid soap, her Oust sheets and paper towels to scrub off her make-up. In the mirror, her skin looked blanched, but it was clean. A military cut of brown hair was a lot different than the blonde wig.

  Bunny bent over and unrolled the legs of her green scrub suit. Backing up for a larger view in the mirror, she let her shoulders sag and pushed her tummy out to appear less military, less muscular. She put on the picture ID badge Quintz had provided for her midnight visits to his lab. The severe hairdo, broad forehead and sharp nose made Barbara Rawlinger a tough-cookie nurse. All she had to do was avoid opening her mouth.

  She used paper towels to scrub her fingerprints off her equipment, wrapped everything in the trench coat and crammed the lot into a waste can. Only then did she examine the flash drive. On the black plastic, Quintz had scratched nine tiny letters. Bunny’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  The message was “ROSEBLOOD.”

  2

  A Vampire Cometh

  There was no way to avoid introducing her mother to the vampire.

  As soon as Kathy emerged from the hotel bathroom, her mother rose from the desk chair to emphasize the points she’d made many times over. “I don’t like you going back to that school at all. And I certainly won’t let you drive off at night from a foreign city with a strange man.”

  Kathy locked her arms over her chest. “We’ve been through that. He’s okay. I’m going.”

  “I don’t care if he is your guidance counselor. After everything that’s happened, you’re not going until I talk with him. That’s final!”

  Kathy’s lips tightened. She turned away and stuffed her toothbrush and toothpaste into the backpack on her bed. “I hate to break it to you, but Boise is still in the United States.”

  “I know that.” Above the collar of her brown turtleneck sweater, Abigail Campion’s face turned red. She reached behind her for the chair and sank into it. “I meant to say with a foreign man in a strange city.”

  “Mr. Finkelstein has lived in this country a lot longer than I have.”

  “More than sixteen years? And he still talks with that accent? He sounded like a Russian gangster.”

  Kathy rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge him by the way he sounds, or looks. He’s been very nice to me.” I’d have been bled and dead if not for him and Edna LittleHawk, she thought. Without their protection, I’d never have survived seven months in a high school for vampires.

  Abigail peered over her reading glasses. “Why shouldn’t he be nice? That’s his job. But he didn’t prevent you from being kidnapped, did he?”

  I wasn’t kidnapped. Soo and I escaped, “It’s not Mr. Finkelstein’s fault. He helped me a lot.”

  “I still want to talk with him. I’m sure he’d agree that colleges would understand if you took the last couple of months of your junior year off and went to summer school.”

  Kathy sighed. “I thought we settled this. I’m not going to spend my summer in the black hole of Greenwich High while you go off to help Syrian refugees. I only have a short time to finish up at the Academy.” One day, maybe two, to get Hector out of there.

  Abigail smoothed her red bangs. “Still, your school shouldn’t have let you and that Korean girl go camping alone. And if you’d come home for spring break, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”

  “Dad was going to Geneva and you were in Little Rock at that pig waste protest. What was I supposed to come home to?”

  Abigail stiffened. “That’s not fair. I would’ve come home.”

  Kathy looked down at her hiking boots. “I’m sorry. I know it was a shock when the FBI called you.”

  “Shock? Your father and I were frantic. All the way out here. You’re very lucky nothing worse happened to you. Did you see this newspaper article, ‘Kidnapping Mystery Deepens?’” Abigail grabbed a newspaper from the desktop. “I hate the media trying to scare us all the time.”

  Oh, God. What now? Kathy bit her lip.

  “Listen to this: ‘It’s been two weeks since kidnappers released sixteen members of the Shady Valley High School gymnastic team after allegedly killing the seventeenth, Olympic hopeful Frank Turpley, but the FBI seems no closer to finding the kidnappers or the team’s coaches.’”

  Kathy grimaced. The image of Frank being ambushed and bled by two teen vampires as he stepped from the escape tunnel brought an ache to her chest.

  “’No explanation has been offered by authorities or any of the survivors as to why the Shady Valley coach and his female assistant disappeared prior to the release of their team. Their letters of resignation have been deemed authentic by handwriting experts, but the coaches did not leave forwarding addresses and never moved their possessions from their homes. FBI spokesman Augustus Boyle would not speculate whether the two are dead or may have fled because they were allied with the kidnappers.’”

  Abigail looked up from the newspaper. “I didn’t particularly like Agent Boyle.”

  “Me, too. I’m sorry he wasn’t more reassuring when he called you.”

  “I can’t blame him, I blame the schools. Shady Valley never should have allowed their team to travel so far from home after dark, and your school shouldn’t have let you go camping.”

  “Right.” Kathy walked to the window and stared out at the snow-capped mountains. So many lies!Lying’s easier than running away. Living the lie is harder. She looked back at her mother. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mom. I make my own decisions. I’m going back.”

  How could she have told Mom and Dad they’d sent her to a school run by and for vampires? Their disbelief would have turned to anger in two seconds. They’d never admit they were so angry with her and so pleased by the scholarship offer that they’d blindly shipped her off to high school hell. Even if they’d believed her, if they spoke up, the vampires would kill them. Dad would never have stayed silent. He would’ve made her confess everything to the FBI. They’d have increased their efforts to find the school and wouldn’t have let her go back. Meanwhile, Hector would die there. Who knows what Doctor Baneful’s done to him already?Bleeding him and what else? She shuddered.

  She glanced at the clock radio on the night table. Two more hours to kill. Why couldn’t Finkelstein have put on some sunscreen and come before dark? Can’t stay cooped up here, listening to Mom.

  “How about getting out of here for an early dinner?” she asked.

  “That would be nice. Too bad your father couldn’t stay one more day. I’m sure he would’ve wanted to speak to Mr. Finkelstein, too.”

  “Yeah, too bad. I guess the Federal Reserve can’t get along without him.” There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

  “Well, it can’t be helped. I can fill him in after your counselor and I chat.”

  “Sure, but don’t be disappointed if Mr. Finkelstein’s on a tight schedule.”

  “I’m certain he won’t want to miss the opportunity of meeting and talking with me in person.”

  “Right.” Turning away, Kathy rolled her eyes..

  While her mother prepared to change from slacks and turtleneck into a dress, Kathy took a slim package and a roll of adhesive tape from her backpack and returned to the bathroom. She pu
lled off her bulky black sweater and hung it on a door hook. Her hands trembled as she tore open the wrapping paper and taped the sheathed dagger to her side. She’d found the fourteen-inch Hawaiian dagger in the Get a Grip Weapons store on Main Street. It wouldn’t be as useful as the Marine Corps survival knife confiscated by the school. Still, the dagger was made of Koa hardwood, more effective than steel for terminating vampires.

  Not that there’s much of a chance I could kill one. Even the smallest kids at the Academy were stronger and faster. But the knife was better than nothing. Certainly more protective than the necklace charm Soo had given her. Kathy brought the jade tiger to her lips and whispered “Good luck, girl.” Getting Soo’s mother back to Korea wouldn’t be easy.

  Slipping on the sweater, Kathy draped it over her jeans to hide the knife, then checked in the mirror to see that it didn’t show. She picked up her hairbrush but stood lost in thought.

  Why did Mr. Vendetta say I’d make a good vampire? Did the vampire hit man see something really dark in me? She bared her teeth to the mirror. Fangs would be disgusting. Am I crazy for going back? She compressed her lips into a thin line. Hector would do it for me.

  “Will you be long in there?” Her mother’s impatience penetrated the door.

  “I’m sorry. You have to go?”

  “No, I want you to see something.”

  Bowing her head, Kathy rubbed her forehead. “Okay, in a minute.” Only two more hourswith her.

  She checked herself in the mirror. She reached for the lipstick, then withdrew her hand. It would be better to have the vampire kids focus on her long nose rather than on red lips. Or her neck. She brushed her hair down over her collar. No, I’m not anything like them. The vampire kids were whiter and had bonier faces. A few had blue eyes, but none had red hair; and besides, she couldn’t kill anyone. She didn’t even like to see blood; drinking it would make her puke. Why did Vendetta think I’d make a good vampire?

  Coming out of the bathroom, Kathy stopped short. Her mother was in low heels and a navy dress that was far too revealing. “What’s with the fancy dress? The guy’s only coming to drive me to school.”

  “Don’t you like it? I found this at a boutique here.” Abigail’s hand caressed the silk fabric from breast to thigh. “Who would’ve thought you could find something this charming in Boise? I’d have to pay double for it in Greenwich or New York.”

  “It’s elegant, but – ”

  “I thought since Mr. Finkelstein’s driving more than a couple of hours down here to get you, we could wait and ask him to join us for dinner before you start back.”

  Kathy’s stomach knotted as she imagined Finkelstein biting into her mother’s neck, his skullcap and graying curls buried against her mom’s cheek and red hair. “I don’t think so. Let’s go eat now. I want to get back to school before it gets too late. Don’t you have a scarf to go with that dress?”

  “We don’t have to go out. We’ll eat in the hotel and I’ll put it on our bill. It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation.”

  “No, we can’t.” Kathy shook her head. “No way!”

  Abigail shrugged. “Why are you getting upset? I can at least invite him. Let him decide.”

  “No, don’t. And wear a scarf. It’ll look great with that dress.”

  “But why don’t you want me to invite him? Are you afraid of what he’ll tell me?”

  “No. The thing is he – he’s kosher,” she lied. “Inviting him to eat out puts him in an awful bind.”

  “Kosher in Idaho?”

  “He’s from New York City. He gets his food shipped out here.”

  Her mother raised her pencil-darkened eyebrows. “Really? A New York Jew? No wonder he talks that way.”

  * * *

  The black limousine with the Sawtooth Mountain Academy logo on the front door crept past the glass entrance of the hotel lobby.

  “He’s here!” Kathy sprang from the sofa and grabbed her ski jacket with one hand, her backpack with the other.

  “Wait.” Her mother reached up to stop her but only grabbed air. “Let him come in.”

  “He won’t. He doesn’t like pit stops. He used to drive in NASCAR.”

  “A race driver? On mountain roads? I certainly do need to speak with him.” Her mother rose to her feet.

  “Mom, you don’t have your coat. It’s freezing out there. Let me hug you good-bye here.” Maybe the last hug we’ll ever share. Holding her arms out, Kathy swallowed hard.

  “Not yet.” Her mother breezed by, motioning for her to follow. “It’s in the forties. I won’t freeze to death.”

  Kathy let her arms fall. Mom does care, she’s just not a hugger. Dad had once said Mom had been raised by a pair of goldfish. Not that he was Mr. Huggable.

  “Freezing is not what I’m worried about,” Kathy muttered, hurrying to catch up. Would Fink be very thirsty? Try to keep him in the car.

  “I wish you’d worn your coat,” she said, following her mother through the sliding doors.

  Finkelstein had stopped the limo well beyond the hotel’s floodlit entranceway. The crisp April air was refreshing. Beyond the flower beds and line of arborvitae trees, cars zipped along, headlights on, engines and tires humming.

  Taking the lead, Kathy approached the driver’s darkened window. The tinted glass slid down a couple of inches. “Excuse me, Mr. Finkelstein, my mother would like to talk to you.”

  “Understandable, darling. I wish I had the time.” Finkelstein’s voice was gruff, but his tone was friendly enough for a vampire. “Ask her to drop me a note or an email.”

  Nudging Kathy aside, her mother tried to peer through the dark glass. “Mr. Finkelstein, please put down this window. I’d like to see you.”

  “Mrs. Campion, I presume. I apologize for my rudeness in not getting out to meet you, but I have another passenger to pick up and I’m running late. As for the window, believe me, I’m not much to see.”

  “Be that as it may, Mr. Finkelstein, I have a few things to say, and I’d much prefer saying it to your face. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “Absolutely, dear lady. A guidance counselor is trained for such parental moments.” The window whirred down. Finkelstein wore a chauffeur’s cap pulled down so low that the brim almost touched his glasses. He coughed twice into a handkerchief that he kept poised in front of his mouth. “Sorry. Asthma acts up in the spring. May I say that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing?”

  “Thank you.”

  Standing behind her mother, Kathy smiled. Finkelstein didn’t need glasses, didn’t get sick and, unlike some vampires, didn’t lie. The very first time they’d met, he’d said that lying added to his guilt. Both then and now, he misdirected with the skill of a professional magician.

  “Unfortunately,” said Finkelstein, “while I am spellbound by polka-dots, that scarf won’t protect you at all – from the cold. You should go inside the hotel before you catch your death out here.”

  “Yes, it’s cold,” said Kathy. “Stay in the car, Mr. Finkelstein.”

  “I’m warm enough,” said her mother.

  “Forgive me for saying so, but tonight you outshine your daughter, who has been a bright star at our school.”

  “A star? I know Kathy’s bright, but in the past two years, she never enjoyed school enough to stay in one. This is her – ” She glanced at Kathy. “How many?”

  Kathy sighed. “Six, if you don’t count Greenwich.”

  “In all modesty, lovely lady, I must tell you our school has changed your daughter’s outlook. She made some good friends and met every challenge our faculty has thrown at her. She’s a shining example of the Type A positive student we love to attract. Indeed, her classmates are salivating for her to return.”

  “That’s almost unbelievable. She never did that well or made friends at her other schools.”

  “Mom.” Kathy nudged her mother’s back. “It’s getting late.”

  “I don’t understand why,” said Finkelstein. “Her best friend
at school is dying for her to come back.”

  Hector’s dying? Kathy stiffened. She poked her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, I have to go.”

  Her mother didn’t budge. “That’s wonderful, but my main concern is Kathy’s safety. Will you drive her back to school very carefully? And will she remain safe there?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?” asked Finkelstein. “Some things go without saying. But I do recognize anxiety when I hear it from a parent, so I will tell you in all candor that, like the Holy Father, I’ve never had to file an accident claim. Your daughter is safe with me.” Finkelstein cleared his throat. “Kathy, darling, come sit up front. An empty limo is a lonely place, and I want to ask you about the kidnapping and the FBI.”

  “Mom, I’ve got to go.” Kathy opened her arms for a hug.

  Abigail turned and embraced her gingerly. “Your father and I are so glad you found a school you like and do well at. We love you, dear. Please don’t screw this one up.” Letting Kathy go, she returned to the car window.

  “You’re sure she’ll be safe? No more kidnappings?”

  Kathy ran around the front of the limo to open the passenger door.

  “Kidnappings, no.” said Finkelstein. “But who can be sure of anything in today’s world? I’ll do the best I can.” He glanced at Kathy, who’d dropped her backpack on the bench seat between them. “Buckle in,” he said as Kathy slammed the door.

  “Don’t let her go camping again. Keep her in the school. That way bad things won’t happen.”

  “Good-bye, Mom.” Kathy blinked back tears.

  “Lovely to meet you,” called Finkelstein. He powered his window closed, stuffed his glasses into a pocket of his chauffeur’s jacket and gunned the engine. With a squeal of tires, the limo hurtled onto the street. A horn beeped from behind as the limo careened into the left lane.

  “You’re sad to leave?” asked the vampire.

  “It may be the last time I ever see her.”