The Cure

by Loren Schechter

  Finkelstein offered her a reassuring nod. “We still pick up students at the airport,” he told Bunny. “And you think I didn’t know we were followed? I always lose the followers in the mountains.”

  “I don’t believe a word you say.” Bunny’s voice was hoarse and cracking with anger. “There was no way you could get four kings without dealing off the bottom of the deck.”

  “After twenty years, it still bothers you, darling?” said Finkelstein. “Doesn’t immortality have enough problems without clinging to little grievances?”

  “Save the guidance shit for your students. Losing my hunting territory was not small potatoes. If I ever figure out how you cheated, I’ll barbeque your liver. Meanwhile, get me to the school ASAP. You stink like rotten fruit.”

  Oh God, what will she do to me when we get out of the car? Hunching her shoulders, Kathy put her hands on the back of her neck.

  Finkelstein smiled. “I remembered your charm, Bunny, but not your sensitivity. I’ll keep the privacy partition closed.” He gunned the engine and the limo roared forward. Kathy was pressed back into her seat.

  “Still in NASCAR mode, are you?” Bunny’s tone lightened. “Do you still wear that pansy yellow uniform?”

  “You said I looked good in yellow.”

  “I said it matched the color of your spine.”

  “You said both; I liked the first part better.” Finkelstein raised a hand off the wheel as if to show the futility of arguing with her. “Not all of us can be Army Rangers and look like heroes in olive drab.”

  She was a soldier? Kathy felt for her knife. No, I won’t stand a chance.

  “The Army screwed me,” said Bunny.

  “And the V.A., and your stepfather, your brother, your ex-boyfriend and the Man in the Moon,” said Finkelstein. “Somehow I remember most of your list.”

  “Don’t mess with me, Isadore. Familiarity doesn’t buy you a free pass.”

  “Forgive me, darling, but if you don’t want counseling, don’t tell the counselor your troubles. I have enough with my students.”

  “Sorry. I’ve had a hard week. I’m glad Edna sent you to pick me up.”

  “You didn’t fly?”

  “Hitchhiked. The asshats are looking for me at every airport and bus station on the East Coast. As far as I know, they don’t have my full name or a good description, but that could change quickly if they think to use facial recognition software on old army records. How are things at the school?”

  Kathy pressed a fist against her mouth. Impossible with you here.I shouldn’t have come. She bounced as the limo bumped across railroad tracks without slowing.

  “Some things at school are good, some things not so good,” said Finkelstein.

  “Very informative.” Bunny’s sarcasm had an undertone of threat.

  “What should I say? I’m describing undead life in a nutshell.”

  “What’s Bart and his Satanic Legion up to, these days?”

  “You think your maniac brother confides in me? What I know is that four warm-blooded students were invited to school so we could show diversity to Department of Education inspectors. We’re a charter school now, and we applied for a federal grant. Your brother and his nasty Satanic Legion made things difficult, but we’re finally getting the money. Months late, but that’s government, right? Anyway, the girls escaped; one boy stayed behind as Mr. Vendetta’s violin student, and your brother took a fancy to a Latino he’s sucking the life out of in the dungeon.”

  Kathy flashed him a pained look, but Finkelstein’s eyes were fixed on an upcoming ramp to the highway.

  “You object to that?” asked Bunny.

  “Who am I to object to another vampire’s feedings? But as a guidance counselor, how can I feel good about my students being killed before they graduate?”

  The limo surged forward. Kathy sank back in her seat. Red brake lights flickered far ahead.

  “Does my brother know I’m coming?” asked Bunny.

  “I don’t think Edna told anyone but John Harrow and yours truly. She didn’t even tell me why you were coming back after twenty years. You want to teach again?”

  “No, something more important. Who took my place in Phys Ed?”

  “We have a putz named McGruder who coaches the boys. He brought in a lovely assistant for the girls. They used to coach at Shady Valley High.”

  Kathy pressed her hands to her temples as she visualized Coach McGruder biting into the neck of Miss Fletcher in the old mine.

  “Just how lovely is this assistant?” asked Bunny.

  “Don’t be jealous, darling. Beauty is only skin deep. Of course, now she’ll keep it forever and that’s nice for those of us who admire beauty, but she can’t match your skills as a teacher, as a leader, as a — ”

  “Troublemaker?”

  “That, too. You coming to hide out from the police?”

  “No, I need some help from the school.”

  “You darling? You’re a one woman wrecking crew.”

  “The wrecking is over. At least for the moment. What I need is a girl.”

  Finkelstein glanced at Kathy. “A girl? For a light lunch?”

  Kathy shivered.

  “For a mission. You have a bright, engaging vampire student I can borrow?”

  As if a headshake wasn’t warning enough, the guidance counselor extended one thumb downward. “I’ll think on it. But I can pick better if I know what you want her to do.”

  “I want her to go with me to a chi-chi boarding school in Massachusetts, make a particular friend, and suck a secret out of her. Fear alone won’t do it. The kid may not even know she holds the secret. So our girl has to be very sharp; she has to make the little mark trust her, all the while hiding the fact she’s a vampire.”

  “And what secret is she after?”

  “If I tell you, it’s no secret.”

  “Please!” Finkelstein sounded offended. “I hold all sorts of secrets in confidence.”

  “Not mine. I’ve been betrayed too many times. But here’s a question for you: if you could go back to the way you were before you were turned, would you give up immortality?”

  “Impossible.” Finkelstein scratched his head. “You can do this?”

  “No, but just imagine if vampires had a choice – not to have blood lust.”

  “To be fully human again? It would be a terrible choice. All my family, my friends, have passed. How could I go back?”

  ”I’m not saying you can.”

  “But there might be a way? And for this secret the government is chasing you? How does the girl in the boarding school fit in?”

  “They’re chasing me because I killed a creep, maybe two. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I tell the Council.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it. But getting the Council to support you may be a problem. I assume Edna told you that your brother’s one of the three councilors.”

  With a trembling hand, Kathy tapped Finkelstein’s shoulder. Get her back to the girl’s secret in the boarding school, she said with her eyes.

  Finkelstein brushed her hand away.

  “Half-brother,” said Bunny. “He’s been a Johnny-come-lately from birth. I’m sorry he got a job there. If someone had asked me, I’d have said that Bart’s a power-hungry glop of slime. That and fluency in five or six languages doesn’t make a teacher. Edna says she’ll vote to back me.”

  “Bart’s often outvoted. That doesn’t stop him and his Satanic Legion from making trouble.”

  “Is that what you expect?” asked Bunny.

  “With you coming back and your half-brother here? With all your deep feelings for each other? In all honesty, Bunny, I expect disaster.”

  6

  Hector

  Hector was awakened by the metallic scratching of someone fiddling with the locks outside his cell. His paper gown rustled in the dark as he struggled up to sit on the stone slab bed. Every part of his body ached.

  Baneful again? It’s too soon. I can still taste the
nasturtiums he forced me to eat a short time ago. Without the strength to stand, he planted his feet on the stone floor and his back against the wall.

  The upper lock clicked open, then more scratching, another click and some fumbling until the deadbolt slid back. A spark of hope penetrated his despair. The door creaked open and a penlight beam sought him and made him blink.

  “You okay, Hector?” whispered Lionel. The African-American boy appeared as a wide blur behind his penlight.

  Hector laughed hysterically. Okay?After seeing a woman on a hook bled like a pig? After days of Baneful using me as a sippy-cup? “Having a blast here,” he said. “Lower the light, dude. It hurts my eyes. What took you so long to get to me?”

  “Lionel had to learn to use Vendetta’s lock pick.”

  Arvin’s voice. And the stink of his cologne. Peering into the darkness, Hector made out Arvin’s gangly figure behind Lionel. It was no surprise that Lionel had brought the teen vampire for backup. No student was a better scrounger than Arvin. He’d get or give almost anything for a cup of blood. “You here, too, Arvin? You guys come to bust me out?”

  “Can’t do that,” said Arvin.

  “Fuck you can’t.” Hector knocked his head back against the wall. “What is it? You guys chicken?”

  “Calm down — not so loud,” said Lionel. “We have no way out of the school.”

  “Sorry.” Hector fought back his tears. “Can you get me something sharp?”

  “So you can off yourself like Conrad?” asked Lionel. “Give us some time — we’ll get you out.”

  “Time? How much?” Already broke my promise. Can’t make it home to Berto any better than Papi could from Afghanistan, or Mami from heroin. “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

  “Edna LittleHawk is working on a plan,” said Arvin. “But it’s complicated. Everything’s on lockdown since Kathy escaped. We only got in here because Baneful suddenly booked it out of the school after his Legion assembly. I heard him tell Ken Wurchler he’d be back in four hours.”

  Hector’s heart skipped a beat and raced forward. “Kathy made it?”

  “Yeah,” said Lionel. “So did Soo and that Idaho girl. All because of you, man. I feel terrible we can’t take you out of here right now.”

  “No worse than me, guey. At least the girls got away.” He smiled through his pain. “Don’t feel guilty. You can only do what you can do.”

  “We warmed up a mug of chicken soup that Finkelstein made for you,” said Lionel. “He said not to drink it too fast.”

  “How’s your blood holding out?” asked Arvin.

  “Not now,” Lionel chided. “Give him the soup.”

  “Yeah, dude, give it here.” Hector extended his hand. “All Baneful will give me are those nasty nasturtiums. If I get out of here, I swear I’ll never look at another flower.” The thermal mug slid into his hand with a fleeting touch of cold fingers. “Why are you doing this, Arvin?” Without waiting for an answer, he popped up the lid and gulped lukewarm soup. He’d never eaten anything as good.

  “I try to help my donors stay alive.”

  Hector burped. “And?“ Without waiting for an answer, he took another swig of soup.

  “And I hate people being abused.”

  “That’s his better nature talking,” said Lionel. “Fess up, man.”

  “No, I mean it. Before I was turned, I was a fucking altar-boy. You know — ” Arvin cleared his throat. “But I did get a small donation from Lionel recently,” he said. “No offense to your Mayan ancestors, Hector, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to taste the blood of African kings.”

  “My people were kings?” The chubby boy’s voice cracked.

  “DNA doesn’t lie,” said Arvin.

  “But most vampires do,” said Hector. “If Kathy made it out, why hasn’t Baneful killed me already?”

  “He’s waiting for her to come back,” said Lionel.

  Hector snorted. “Fat chance.”

  “No, she really is coming back. Finkelstein said she was doing it for you.”

  “Oh, shit!” Bowing his head, Hector slapped it twice. “Didn’t she understand I did this so she could avoid dying here?”

  “I’m sure she understood perfectly,” said Arvin. “She either thinks she can save you or is willing to die with you. In the words of a great poet, she’s a romantic asshole. She’s putting our whole network in danger.”

  “Mostly herself,” said Lionel.

  “What network?” asked Hector. “Vampires do their own thing.”

  “We can have common goals,” said Arvin. “That’s why Finkelstein made you the soup, and Mr. Vendetta trained Lionel to use the lock pick. Some of us want to screw Baneful and his Satanists, even if means keeping you alive…I don’t think I said that quite right.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m grateful for the help. You picked the lock, Lionel?”

  “Yeah.” Lionel’s tone was proud. “Mr. Vendetta taught me. He said that hands nimble enough to play the violin can learn a lot of skills. He told me it was really a lot easier to be a hit man than a violinist, but audiences are smaller and less appreciative. I mean he really does love music, but he’s very practical. If I got caught here, he’d claim I stole his lock pick. I got to get it back to him soon, and the mug back to the kitchen.”

  “And I have a pickup to do,” said Arvin. “Some lady teacher that used to work here.”

  “Let me finish the soup. Any chance you can get to Kathy and tell her not to come, that I don’t need her?”

  “No way,” said Lionel. “All messages to the outside are forbidden right now. With all the media attention to the kidnapping, the vampires are worried that the FBI will find the school.”

  “Before you finish the soup, swallow these.” Arvin shined the light on a small vial of pills.

  “Tranqs?” asked Hector.

  “Garlic and a probiotic. We have to make your blood taste like shit.”

  “I smell that way, anyway. A hole in the floor doesn’t cut it.”

  “Your body odor doesn’t mean diddly to a thirsty vampire,” said Arvin. “How your blood tastes is everything. Yours was like high-test Acapulco Gold, man. I don’t know why Baneful wants to crap it up with nasturtiums.”

  “I wish to hell he didn’t.”

  “Sure,” said Arvin. “Unfortunately, there’s no accounting for taste.”

  7

  Drop-off

  Two hours of inactivity in the back seat of the limo were bad enough without Finkelstein’s offerings of disaster, so Bunny put her feet up, told him to stifle himself, and stared out the window. In the moonlight, the jagged caps of the Sawtooth Mountains seemed as oppressive as the fangs in her mouth. She dreaded going back to the school, especially because her half-brother taught there. Bart would relish humiliating her.

  Wouldn’t have needed any help had I turned Quintz into a vampire before the feds caught on. But how could I when he threatened to quit working on a cure? As a vampire, he couldn’t get the Nobel Prize. Nothing else motivated the man. I should’ve known I couldn’t pry him out of his lab.

  * * *

  The limo eased to a stop at a turnaround on a mountain road.

  “This is the drop-off point,” said Finkelstein over the intercom. “Your mule is waiting.”

  Bunny didn’t move her head from the seatback. Let them wait, she thought. If Finkelstein remembered her as a whiner and grievance hoarder, the others probably felt the same way. They had more than a decade of teaching with Bart. Why wouldn’t they take his side?

  “Bunny, we’re here,” said Finkelstein.

  No matter how much I need their help, I won’t let Bart humiliate me. Still, she knew it was better not to go in itching for a fight. Her temper had resulted in too many deaths.

  “Don’t nag me,“ she told Finkelstein. “You coming?”

  “I have to park somewhere safe. The FBI has been searching around here since the kidnapping.”

  “Hijacking that gymnastic team
? I followed it on TV.”

  “You watched it, but we lived it. It was a trial in more ways than one. Now please go.”

  She opened the rear door and stepped out into a chilly breeze that carried odors of spruce and mule and another God-awful cologne. “One step backward to go forward,” she muttered.

  Two mules and a teen who looked too innocent and malnourished for the Satanic Legion were waiting on a rise in a copse of evergreens. The trees were dwarfed by the dark bulk and snow-topped peaks of the mountains behind them. Bunny strode from the packed earth of the turnaround onto softer, more irregular ground. The weeds seemed to slither aside lest they be trampled beneath her army boots. The mules pulled against their leads but a branch of a small tree held them fast. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” the teen was telling them.

  Bunny walked up to the nearest mule and put her hand on its muzzle. “Shh. No one’s going to hurt you.” The mule dropped its head and stood still. The second mule also seemed to sense the easing of tension. Bunny turned to the boy.

  “You have a name? What’s that stink you’re wearing?”

  “‘Wizard’s Harem,’ ma’am. I’m Arvin Chudkher. It’s spelled with an h after the k.”

  She closed on him. “Listen up, Arvin. I’m Bunny. I’m not ma’am, Miss Bunny or ‘hey, lady.’ Got it?”

  His round head bounced up and down as if spring-loaded. Straw-colored hair flopped over his eyes. “Yes, Bunny. No problem.”

  “Next time you see me, you’d better not wear your fantasy life in front of my chemically sensitive nose. And I don’t need a spelling lesson any more than you need a smack across the head. You know why?”

  “Because you’re smart?” ventured Arvin.

  “That should go without saying. But you, Mr. Crudup with no h and no k, are standing three feet from me in over 200, 000 acres of unspoiled Idaho wilderness. You think I’ll mail you a letter?”

  Arvin shrugged. “I don’t get out much, and I’ll need some recommendations for college from outside the Academy.”