Larry looked at David's hand on his arm. David released his grip and Larry turned to face his former student. "Very well then. What the fuck were you mumbling when I came in the room?"
"Do you really want to know?" David asked as his head bobbed angrily up and down with each word.
"Yeah, I want to know," Larry snapped back.
"Okay, I will tell you then. Maybe I am starting to think that I need to get out of this game of human and undead chess while I can."
"It is not a game," Larry snapped.
"Bullshit Larry. That is complete and utter bullshit. If it isn't a game, then why do you keep saying that we need to work as a team to defeat the queen?"
"It is a metaphor, David, and you know that."
"No, what I do know is that it doesn't feel like a team at all. I feel like I am a pawn in a damn game of chess that never ends. The only way out of this game is to die. Guys, like Myles, die before their time and we are left to fight on with no end in sight," he retorted as tears welled in his eyes.
"What do you expect David?"
"I would expect that you or Chris to shed a tear for a friend," David snapped.
Larry put his hand on David's shoulder but David slapped it away. The pain of disappointment filled Larry's eyes. "I do mourn the loss of Myles as does Chris…"
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"I have mourned and I have grieved but what defines our lives forces me to move on quickly."
"And what would that be?"
"War," Larry said.
David rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "War," he said with a laugh. "A war that only a select few know that we are fighting. A war where there is no parade to honor those who have died. A war with no sides."
"The sides are the most ancient of all," Larry corrected.
"Care to enlighten me?" David asked sarcastically.
"Good and evil," Larry said.
David grabbed his suitcase and brushed by his friend. "Yeah and I am wondering if I am on the right fucking side."
Larry watched David disappear through the door. He knew that he had to quell his friend's anger. A warrior who distrusts his leaders isn't very effective in battle. They are prone to act recklessly or foolishly. Those acts, more often than not, have resulted in death. Larry sighed.
"I cannot lose another," he said.
He stared at the door.
* * *
Nestled between Public Gardens Park and Royal Artillery Park on Spring Garden Road, not far from the historic Dalhousie University campus, were the offices of Chief Medical Examiner Stephen Muranko. The tall, thin man, who had been trying to kick his two packs a day habit, drew in another long drag off of his cigarette. His temples had started to show the stress of his daily life. He watched the students shuffle along the sidewalks as the wind whipped the red, yellow, and orange leaves of late autumn in Nova Scotia through their paths. He took another drag off of his cigarette and blew the grey smoke out through his nostrils.
He flicked the end of the butt and the ashes were caught up in another blustery attack of Mother Nature. He had been trying unsuccessfully to kick his habit that he had started during high school. As a member of the medical profession, he knew the dangers that were contained within each toxic puff. Part of his problem was his love for Tim Horton's coffee. The dark brown and reddish-brown cup, which was as common a sight in Canada as the red poppies worn on the lapels of jackets to honor Veterans on Remembrance Day, held his precious brain lubricant that helped him make it through each stressful day. His morning coffee and its accompanying cigarette were part of his daily routine. The black lid eased its way to his lips as his addictions traded locations. The dark, bitter liquid danced over his tongue. He liked it to retain its original bite, so he refrained from any cream or sweeteners.
He inhaled another drag off of his cigarette and he let the still glowing cigarette butt slip from his fingers. As he exhaled through his nose again, he crushed the cigarette butt with the heel of his well-worn leather shoes. The ashtray, which looked like an ancient cauldron, stood only a few paces away. Like many of his fellow smokers, he knew that the ashtray was on his way back inside, but old habits were hard to break; just like his smoking. He took another long sip from his coffee before he pulled his collar of his overcoat up to his ears. A rogue leaf slapped him in the face before he discarded it to blow along Spring Garden Road with its fellow displaced brethren.
Muranko opened the backdoor to his office building. The warm air immediately attacked his face. His cheeks burned as the warmer, climate controlled air, battled with his numbed cheeks. He loved his Eastern Canadian home but not when the seasons began to change. Halifax, unlike many of the cities in Nova Scotia, had a more temperate climate. There were moments when winter's full wrath could be felt, but more often than not, Halifax was besieged by rain instead of snow. However, Muranko grumbled as the air temperature was supposed to be fifteen degrees Celsius, but the wind chill was closer to only three or four degrees above freezing. He couldn't understand with all of their technology why meteorologists couldn't decide just how cold it was outside.
"FUCK ME IT'S COLD!" Muranko exclaimed.
"Not even if it was hot," John Perry, one of the two full-time coordinators who assisted Stephen Muranko, retorted.
"What if it was more like Miami?" Stephen asked as he removed his jacket.
John rubbed his chin. "Um no, you'd look like shit in a bikini with that scraggly beard of yours."
"Fucker," Stephen retorted as he tossed his jacket onto his desk.
"You wish," John replied.
Stephen cracked his knuckles and his neck. The sudden change in temperatures had caused his entire body to cramp. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. The first body from the incident at the airport had just been prepped for their investigation. The body, which was laid on an examination table, was covered with a white sheet. Unlike many of the other large urban centers, Halifax rarely had many major crimes. Murders were uncommon. When Stephen was notified that there were four dead bodies on a private jet at the airport, he nearly choked on his coffee. After several hours at the airport, they had transferred the bodies back to their office.
John handed him a mask and a medical hat to cover his hair. Stephen slipped on his protective glasses. He pulled a pair of blue medical gloves on his hands and he held his hands up in the air like the surgeons seen on television.
"Everyone ready?" he asked.
"That line might be popular in prison, but it does nothing for me," John quipped.
"If you keep up your smartass comments, I might send you back out to the airport with Janine," Stephen mumbled through his mask.
"Don't threaten me with a good time," John replied.
Stephen rolled his eyes as he approached his instrument table. He pulled back the white cloth, which covered his instrument table, and sighed. Some days he felt like a butcher. On the long metal table, several medical instruments were laid on top of a white sheet. Everything that he needed from scalpels to bone saws were laid out for him to use. He wheeled the long table next to the covered corpse. He placed his clear splatter shield on his head and he lowered the visor in place. He picked up a scalpel and sighed.
"Time to go to work," he sighed. "Care to reveal the patient?"
John had placed his own splatter shield on his head and he lowered the visor. "No time like the present," he stated as he grabbed the sheet and pulled it back.
"What the hell?" Stephen asked as he stared at Mikhaeli.
John shook his head. "Are you sure that this is the right victim?"
"Fucking positive," Stephen said as he glanced at her toe tag. "Yeah, stabbed to death with a steak knife."
"Well, where are her wounds?" John inquired.
"I know. She's flawless."
Mikhaeli open her eyes and smiled. "Why thank you," she said sweetly.
John and Stephen screamed. Stephen took a step backwards and tripped over the medical instrument table. He
fell to the floor and banged his head. A small trickle of blood stained the white floors of the examination room. Darkness consumed him as his eyes rolled back into his head. John stared. He was too frightened to move.
Mikhaeli stretched. Her hands caressed her naked breasts. "So good to be out of that nasty little room that you had put me in." She swung her legs onto the floor. "Fuck!" she exclaimed. "Does this country ever have heat?"
"W…W…W…" John stammered but he couldn't form words. He had processed her body an hour ago and she was dead. However, obviously, appearances can be deceiving.
"What's wrong?" she purred. "Are you scared of little ol' me?"
"I…ah…"
She giggled sweetly and she began to approach the terrified medical assistant. "Oh, you didn't seem too frightened when you undressed me. I loved it when your hands touched me. They were so strong and manly as they moved me."
"Ahh…er…" John, still frightened beyond words, continued to backpedal.
She pressed onward. "Admit it. You liked touching me. You can't even take your eyes off me right now."
"Yes…er…no," he stammered.
"No?" she pouted as she backed him into a corner. "You don't like what you see?"
"I…er…"
"Touch me!" she ordered as she pressed her naked body into his trembling frame.
Without realizing what was happening, his hands cupped her breasts.
"Ooooooo," she purred as she lifted his splatter shield, "So warm and strong."
"Y…You're cold!" he exclaimed.
"Hmrmph," she squeaked. "And all this time I thought that I was the hottest thing that you've ever seen."
"No, your body is cold," he corrected.
She pouted and sighed. "Well, I will just have to fix that!"
Her face switched to its demonic vampire visage. John screamed and she giggled with delight. She pulled him forward and his lips met hers. She forced herself into his mouth and she viciously ripped out his tongue. He tried to scream in both fright and agony but he was mute. She spat the quivering, bloody tongue onto the floor.
"Now, for a quiet dinner," she hissed.
She viciously drove her fangs into his neck and thrashed. Like a frenzied shark, she ripped open his neck. He tried to scream again, but his blood sprayed everywhere. Mikhaeli greedily drank every drop. She pressed her mouth on the squirting wound and inhaled. His eyes displayed his frightened soul. His breath escaped him and his body shriveled. She had gone nearly an entire day without feeding and she had lost her own blood during her ruse. She had to be replenished. Several minutes later, she released her grasp and the shriveled and gaunt figure that had once been John Perry slumped to the floor.
Mikhaeli licked her lips and stretched. "Ummm, that was a good one. A little too much coffee I think," she said as she started to get the caffeine jitters. "Hmmm, what to do, what to do?"
She spied the unconscious body of Stephen Muranko. She strolled over to him. She licked her lips and giggled. She threw her head back and laughed. A few minutes later, Stephen awoke. He was stripped of his scrubs and he was tied to the examination table. Groggily, he glanced around. Mikhaeli sat at the end of the examination table wearing his scrubs.
"Morning sunshine," she said. "Nice of you to join me today."
"What…What is going on?" he asked as he tried to focus.
She giggled and held up his vibrating electric Stryker saw. She powered up the device and it shook in her hands. "Now, you didn't think that I would let all of these wonderful toys go to waste, now did you?"
He screamed.
CHAPTER 18
The trip to Denver International Airport was filled with the standard late afternoon commuter angst and frustration. As the late autumn sun had rested for the evening, the highways were illuminated by headlights and far too many taillights. Larry had insisted that they move quickly to avoid rush hour. David readily agreed, but Chris couldn't leave the house without his necessities: His MP3 player and comic books for the trip. Unfortunately, Chris reverted to comic geek mode and he began archiving his collection. After forty-five minutes of impatient waiting, Larry had discovered their problem: Chris had become completely absorbed in his collection.
Larry, fortunately, had been able to break his comic induced spell by promising that Chris would be able to read his collection on their plane. Chris disagreed because he wouldn't have any privacy on a large airliner. Larry was again fortunate to have a friend that worked for a private jet company. When Chris learned of their flight, he carefully gathered up his comics that he had set aside to read and he left his collection for another day.
The delay had added an extra hour and several dollars to their trip. Larry insisted on using a taxi service because of the unknown length of their trip. He hoped that they would only be in Canada for a day or two at the most. However, he was a realist. They were chasing the vampire queen and they could end up being in Canada for only a couple hours before they were jetting off to another unknown location. He didn't want to leave his car in the parking garage. He believed it would be safe but it could end up being towed if they didn't return in a timely manner. Alas, he still spent a small fortune as they had stared at the red taillights for the better part of the last hour. Chris, who had brought his book light, was blissfully unaware of the passage of time. He was lost in his superhero world.
After almost an hour and half, they were strolling onto one of the smaller runways at Denver International Airport. The private jet hummed as the trio of warriors approached. David and Larry dragged a large suitcase filled with Chris' comic book collection as their friend read another comic while he mindlessly walked to the plane. He had only looked up when he had bumped into the pilot who had valiantly tried to get his attention.
"Pardon me," Chris said mindlessly as he ascended the stairs and disappeared into the plane.
The pilot glanced at the two other men who struggled with their luggage. "He seems a little distracted," the pilot said.
"Yeah, he's lost in his own world," Larry said.
"Yeah, the tenth century," David grumbled as his tired arms pulled his suitcase and Chris' oversized luggage.
"Would you like some help?" the pilot asked.
"Have a forklift?" David asked sarcastically.
David stopped and he stood the suitcase on its end. The extended handle stood at attention. David stepped aside as the pilot extended his right hand and grabbed the handle. He tilted the suitcase and pulled. His right shoulder protested at the sudden exertion. He felt a twinge in his muscles.
"Wow," he complained, "What the hell is in here?"
"Light reading," Larry quipped.
"Light?" the pilot asked incredulously. "It feels like a library."
"Yeah, the guy that bumped into you likes to read during his flights. He requires a dark, quiet corner."
"That I get," the pilot said as he struggled to pull the suitcase towards the stairs. "It is the light part that I don't get. Just what is in here?"
"Comic books," David replied.
"Comics? Does he always carry his entire collection?"
"No," David replied, "That is just this past week's worth. His collection would need a seven forty-seven to carry it."
The pilot glared at David. "Okay, what is really in here?"
Larry patted the pilot on the shoulder. "He's not joking. Let me help you. It will take the two of us to get it into the plane."
"The cargo hold has a…"
"We need it inside the cabin," Larry added
"That is against protocol, sir," the pilot replied.
"Our friend will be the worst passenger ever without his comics. With his comics, you won't even know that he is there."
The pilot glanced at David and he nodded. "Yes, it is a pain in the ass, but he'll be quiet the entire time."
"What is he? An overgrown kid?"
"Worse," David replied.
"Worse?" the pilot asked as he and Larry struggled to pick up the suitcase.
; "Yeah, a geek," David replied.
The pilot chuckled and nearly dropped the suitcase. The two men struggled to carry the suitcase up the short set of stairs. Once they reached the top step, Chris was waiting. He grabbed the suitcase by the handle and pulled. It slipped easily from their tired arms. The pilot stared at Larry who shrugged. Moments later, all three men were in the plane. The flight attendant was pouring Chris a glass of soda, but he was blissfully unaware of the attractive flight attendant's presence. He already had his suitcase open on the seat in front of him. He removed a sizeable stack of bagged comic books and placed them on his table. He closed the suitcase and he buckled it in the seat. He sat down and carefully removed the first comic. Seconds later, he was lost in another story.
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