“Hmm… looks like we got ourselves another skeptic,” Greaves grumbled, looking down at the floor and shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t say that. I know what I saw. Whatever it was, it was fast , and it managed to kill at least two armed officers with its bare hands. The thing is, just because I know what I saw, it doesn’t mean what I saw was a vampire. There has to be another explanation.”
“What happened to all that talk about CGI?” a smug smile appeared on Greaves’s face. “Keep in mind , though, stunts and magic tricks take lots of time, practice, and money. Why would we go through all that just to grab one guy’s attention?”
“Maybe…” Asher started to protest, now out of answers.
“If we were some kind of criminal enterprise or other organization that was wantin’ to manipulate you, wouldn’t you think we would try to keep it simple?” Greaves was ready to fly into a rant. “Why would I insist on stickin’ to some crazy story about vampires? That don’t make much sense.”
“OK, I can understand that, but it still doesn’t mean you can’t be involved with the vampires.”
“I suppose I’ll have to give you that, though I don’t think you’ve thought it through.” Greaves shook his head once more. “If we were with the vamps, why wouldn’t we just hand you over to them? You’re a cop, and their organization is criminal. You’re natural enemies. If we were doing the recruiting for them, don’t you think we would approach only criminals? Why involve the cops at all?”
Greaves stopped, waiting for Asher’s objections.
“Might be a good place to stop.” Greaves knew he had won the argument for the moment. He raised his arms above his head to stretch, revealing rippling muscle. “To be honest, I didn’t think we could convince you tonight, much less get you to join the Legion.” He yawned, lowering his arms back to his sides. “Think once you have some time to mull it over, you’ll change your tune. You hit me as somebody who became a police officer for a reason, as someone who wants to help people.”
“Sure like to think so.” Asher barely suppressed a smile.
“Not sure if this will help or not, but here it goes.” Greaves took a deep breath. “When we looked you up, I couldn’t help but notice a few things. A few terrible things. Father died when you were too little to remember, both brothers died in the last two years, mother in the asylum. Stop me if I’ve gone too far.”
“I’ll admit it stings,” Asher shrugged. “Haven’t done anything but state facts, though.”
“OK then. Anyway, your life reads like a tragedy with nearly all your family gone. Bad as it sounds, it gives you an advantage over the vamps that not many of us have.”
“And what would that be?” Asher felt his rage begin to simmer once more. He was starting to take offense.
“You’re unattached. You only have so many things to live for now. It makes a man dangerous, having nothing to lose.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to just throw my life away.” Asher frowned, managing not to snap at Greaves. “There’s still the future.”
“Maybe.” Greaves thoughtfully placed his hand under his chin. “How much of a future do you think anyone is gonna have with the vamps running amok? Even though vampirism doesn’t spread all that easily, their numbers are still on the rise. The crimes they commit on the increase. Eventually, we won’t even be able to keep their existence a secret. The police will get it the worst, right at the front lines fighting the vamps, only they won’t be equipped for it. Who would you like to stand with then? The police, who will die by the thousands if something ain’t done, or would you rather be with the Legion, trying to kill the vamps before things get out of hand?”
Greaves stopped, an awkward silence filling the garage.
“Just something to think about.”
Asher was unsure what to say, nearly expecting Greaves to request he join the Legion once more. Instead, the commander wordlessly pulled a business card from his back pocket and shoved it into the front pocket of Asher’s uniform.
“Well, here’s my card in case you change your mind,” he said. “Just give us a call, and we’ll send someone to pick you up and bring you back to base. No reason to ask you to join up with us until you’ve thought it over.”
“You going to get rid of this zip-tie now?” Asher shifted around, trying to escape the bonds around his wrists once more. “I’m tired of being tied up.”
“Sorry, son.” Greaves shook his head. “That I cannot do. Now that the sedatives have worn off, what’s to stop you from taking a swing at one of us? We did abduct you.”
“I can understand that,” Asher spoke with a lack of enthusiasm.
“You won’t be tied up much longer anyhow.” Greaves picked up the black sack lying beside Asher. “We’re gonna take you back now. Drop you off close to the police department, though not too close. Don’t want too many people seeing the drop-off. Would somebody bring me some more duct tape and another zip-tie?” Greaves turned away from him, yelling out into the darkness.
The man in tactical gear emerged from the depths, approaching Greaves with a roll of tape.
“I need you to stay here in case he still feels like resisting,” Greaves told the man. “Not that I think he will, but you can’t be too careful. Hold out your ankles.” Greaves turned back to Asher, quickly binding his ankles with the zip-tie. “I’m going to tape your mouth shut again.” Greaves tore off a piece of tape and placed it over Asher’s mouth. “Got to cover up your head again. All of this is just protocol. I think we can trust you, but we just can’t afford the risk. Don’t want you to know the way back.” Greaves placed the sack back over Asher’s head. “You going to scoot back, or do we need to drag you? I need to close these doors.”
Asher pushed against the floor with his feet, scooting himself back into the van and away from the doors.
“Good,” said Greaves, simultaneously closing both doors.
Asher could hear the sound of the van starting up again, the driver turning around in the garage before heading back up the winding ramp. Thoughts of somehow being double-crossed danced around in the back of Asher’s mind, but he decided to dismiss them. He could do little to prevent such things at this point, and delving into it would only drive up his anxiety. Regardless, Asher was happy to leave the garage. He was confident he was making the right choice.
* * *
The van lurched to a stop, throwing Asher’s upper body forward.
“Stand up so I can cut your hands loose,” said the man behind Asher, grabbing him by the back of his uniform and helping him onto his feet. “Open the doors!” The man ordered one of the others with him, simultaneously cutting through the zip-tie that bound Asher’s wrists. “Jump!” commanded the man, pulling the bag off his face just before pushing him through the van’s double doors.
Asher landed on hands and knees, striking his bare palms against the cold, bare asphalt. His ankles held together by the second zip-tie, he had nearly lost his balance and fallen. Though his face was free of the bag, he found himself incapable of gazing up toward the sun, the morning light blinding.
Asher looked down to find his gun and a box-cutter lying on the ground, tossed out by the man in the van. He sat down on the asphalt and picked them up.
The van suddenly sped away, causing Asher to flinch and nearly fall over.
“So much for goodbye,” he grumbled, leaning forward to cut the zip tie with the box-cutter, freeing himself and then rising to his feet. He shoved his gun back into the holster, shielding his still light-sensitive eyes from the rising sun as he scanned his surroundings.
He recognized the area, finding himself in a snow-cleared but oddly empty parking lot a few blocks away from the station. He presumed they dropped him off just far enough away to avoid any overly curious eyes.
Asher trudged back to the police station as quickly as he could, his trek made difficult by the still snow-saturated sidewalks. He wore only his police uniform, realizing his choice to go without a coat had b
een a mistake, the temperature dropping overnight. Regardless, Asher refused to let the cold take precedence over his agenda. He passed through the station’s glass and metal-framed doors several minutes later, immediately making for the front desk.
“Hello, I needed to ask about Officer Aaron Pritchett’s condition,” Asher told the officer at the desk, a woman he didn’t recognize. “He was injured last night, and I need to know if he’s OK.” He frowned, unsure if he should be giving objectively sensitive information to someone he didn’t know. She could be a Legion plant. He wouldn’t dare say anything about Nelson or Hernandez.
The officer was hesitant to answer him; wide-eyed with shock, her gaze focused on his uniform.
Asher looked down over himself, finding he had forgotten about all the dried blood splatter on his clothes. Deciding to ignore it for the moment, he returned the other officer’s overly concerned look with one of severity.
“Officer Pritchett was taken to Barnes- Jewish with a cracked skull. He was in the emergency room but has probably been moved by now,” she answered at last.
“Is he going to be OK?” asked Asher, his suspicions eclipsed by panic. He had no idea what a cracked skull meant in terms of recovery.
“Officer Pritchett should recover.” She smiled, putting an end to Asher’s worry, though only returning him to his slightly less panicked state.
“That’s good to hear,” said Asher.
He stood beside the desk for a moment longer, curious to see if the officer would volunteer any information about Nelson or Hernandez. The receptionist either didn’t know about the fallen officers or was hiding something.
Asher walked around the front desk, leaving before things became awkward. He continued through the station and into the locker room, seeking both a change into street clothes and his truck keys. He moved quickly, giving his fellow officers little time to approach him. No one seemed to have heard any news regarding the six dead officers.
Asher dressed as quickly as he could, though he was careful not to move too hastily lest he raise suspicion. He barely remembered to take Greaves’ card out of his shirt pocket, retrieving it from his uniform and shoving it down into his jeans pocket to prevent anyone from finding it. He exited the station doors minutes later, strolling through the parking lot to find his truck.
* * *
Asher entered Barnes-Jewish at around 8:30 AM. The rising sun fully revealed the extremely square-shaped behemoth that was the hospital. The building was so large it was nearly a city within itself. Asher was familiar with the layout of the place. Both of his brothers visited this same hospital multiple times over the years due to various health concerns. Unfortunately, this didn’t save him from the confusing layout of the parking lot. His truck finally parked, he made his way to the front desk to ask for Aaron’s room number.
The elevator bell rang, announcing Asher’s arrival onto Aaron’s floor. As he drew nearer to his destination, he was surprised by the lack of people waiting near or outside the room. He was confident he would at least meet a few of Aaron’s family members or a fellow officer or two.
The barren, bone-white hallway was nearly void of nurses as well. Asher spotted only two as he walked down the white-tiled floor. It made him suspicious, thinking Greaves had somehow jammed the lines of communication, keeping the happenings of last night secret from everyone but him. He even wondered if anyone at the central station knew about Nelson and Hernandez’s gruesome deaths.
Asher cautiously stepped into Aaron’s room, finding his friend alone, reclining in his hospital bed as if he were sleeping. His room looked like every hospital room Asher had ever seen, sparsely furnished, the only source of light coming from one overly tinted rectangular window. He took a closer look at his injured friend, relieved when he found only a bag of saline hanging from the IV pole.
There was a great contrast in how Talon had looked on his deathbed, his brother connected to nearly every machine and type of medication imaginable. The medical staff had shoved a breathing tube down his throat and equipped his pole with a multitude of IV drips.
Asher had been very apprehensive about visiting any hospital ever since. He made his way over to Aaron’s bed as though he were walking over broken glass and leaned over him.
“You OK, man?” he asked, surprised when Aaron suddenly opened his eyes.
“Huh, well, I’ve been better,” said Aaron, a gleeful hint of sarcasm in his voice, slurring his words somewhat.
“They said you had a cracked skull, so I was kind of worried.”
“It’s just a linear skull fracture, which I guess is actually not a big deal. They don’t do a whole lot for that. Everything stayed intact, so no bandages or head wraps or anything. MRI showed that I have a concussion , though. They’re gonna keep me here for observation, but they say I should be leaving today. Gotta get plenty of rest, so maybe I’ll get a good amount of leave for this. Don’t ask me about important dates or birthdays or anything. I’ve been having a hard time with memory. What about Nelson and Hernandez?” Aaron asked after a long pause. “Can’t remember much with this concussion, and no one wants to tell me anything.”
“You mean you can’t remember any of it?” Asher asked, trying to conceal his relief.
“Nope, can’t remember much of anything. They told me both Nelson and Hernandez are dead, so I know that much, at least. I can’t remember anything after we entered that house. I assume Nelson and Hernandez were shot by some kind of assailant, right?”
Asher hesitated, uncertain how to answer the question. He hadn’t bothered to prepare earlier, believing Aaron would still be unconscious when he arrived. Asher wanted to tell him the whole truth but felt it was not an option now. Ultimately, he didn’t want to incur the wrath of Greaves and the Legion by saying things he shouldn’t.
“Yeah, they were both killed by the same assailant,” he lied.
“You bring him down by yourself?” asked Aaron in astonishment.
“No, not exactly. You helped before you got knocked in the head by the other guy.”
“So you’re telling me there were two assailants?” Aaron was confused.
“Yeah, there were two. The other one took us by surprise somehow. He hit you in the head and ran out the door before I could put a shot on him. My magazine was empty.”
Asher knew his lie was becoming more evident by the second. He hoped Aaron’s concussion had sufficiently numbed his senses.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Aaron relented. “Only way they could have killed two of ours.” He paused, his thought process slowed by his injury. “Those guys must have been really fast and good at hiding. First guy was one cold dude, dropping two of us before we could put a shot on him.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” said Asher, wincing when he recalled the vampire’s predatory stare.
“I’m going to miss Hernandez.” Aaron shook his head, about to tear up.
Asher tensed, barely holding back his own grief. The familiar hand of sorrow was upon him once more.
“He was a heck of a cop and a good man,” Aaron continued. “Got bossy sometimes, but it was never a big deal. He didn’t deserve to go like that, and neither did Nelson. Shame to lose two good cops like that.” He stopped, fighting against the impulse to sob.
“Listen, Aaron, do you have someone who will stay up here with you?” Asher placed a hand on the railing of Aaron’s bed. “I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself if I can help it.” He pushed his pain aside for the moment, deciding that helping the living was of greater importance.
“No, I think I’ll be alright. My parents should be back soon. They went down to the cafeteria for breakfast. I’m only here for observation. Probably be released soon.”
“OK, so long as you’re not by yourself. I just have a hard time trusting doctors.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. You should probably go home and get some sleep, Ash. I bet you’ll probably get some good leave for this too. You had to see a heck of a lot.”
Aaron smiled at him, displaying a degree of delirium. “I probably ought to get some rest now. Not many ways to treat a concussion, but the doctor says rest helps.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Hopefully, I’ll see you back at the station real soon.” Asher paused to look out the window. “See you later, man.”
Asher leisurely made his way back to the parking garage, finding himself wide awake despite his lack of sleep, his mind in a new state of chaos. The trauma of seeing Nelson and Hernandez torn to bits heavily weighed on him, but what Greaves had said occupied most of his thoughts.
Asher stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground floor, feeling a sudden urge to go outside for air before returning to the parking garage. He needed to clear his head, and the hospital environment made him feel claustrophobic.
Asher passed through the sliding doors of the emergency room, undeterred by the cold as he had retrieved his jacket back at the station. He ambled down the recently cleared sidewalk to stand beside a streetlamp, barely noticing any passersby.
All of the Legion commander’s claims seemed genuine, Asher having confirmed Aaron was safe and only slightly injured. Though he was unwilling to admit Greaves was correct during their interview, Asher knew what he had seen and didn’t have any other answers.
Vampires were real.
Asher had always had an affinity for helping others, but the commander was asking for a lot. He knew how empty his life was now that most of his family was deceased. He had little to lose at present. If the rest of what Greaves’ said were true, Asher’s career as a police officer would be changing very soon, and his life made exponentially more dangerous with the rise of a race of near-invincible monsters.
Asher had grown tired of losing, tired of being incapable of keeping death from reaching the innocent. Greaves was the only person offering him what he truly wanted: a chance to stop death from stealing away his friends and loved ones. He took a breath, hoping he wouldn’t regret what he did next.
Fall Prey: The Hunt Page 4