The Glass Vampire

by David Page

  "Why would you trust me to do this?” Richard dared to ask.

  "We have ways of keeping you honest." Frederick’s lip curled. He turned to the mirror and snapped his fingers.

  The door opened slowly and three people in white radiation suits, their faces completely obscured by their masks, entered. Each of them held a briefcase. They stopped next to Frederick and turned their filtered snouts towards him.

  "What are you doing?" Richard managed to keep his voice steady, but fear wrapped his chest, pressing in on him. This was not going to be pleasant.

  "Give him the transponder." Frederick ignored his comment and motioned to the first white-clad figure.

  Although the person’s face was concealed, the figure beneath the radiation suit was clearly that of a woman. She tilted her head in acquiescence, opened her briefcase and removed a large syringe. Strangely, it lacked a needle on the end, appearing more like a small muzzle. Richard held his breath as the underling slowly crossed the room. Frederick had called it a transponder. Obviously, it was a secondary tracking device of some kind. Even if he could get Beth to remove his bracelet, he would still have that to deal with.

  "Is this going to hurt?" Richard already knew the answer.

  "Yes." Frederick grinned.

  Richard gritted his teeth as the anonymous woman grabbed his right arm, pulled back his shirt and pressed the device against the meaty part of his forearm. There was a hiss followed by a sharp biting pain. Richard gasped, forcing back tears. The woman retrieved her briefcase and stepped back.

  Frederick took a step closer. "That was a small tracking device she just lodged in your muscle. It will allow us to follow you even if you are underground independently of your regular tracking bracelet. Beth and her people will never be able to detect it and I highly recommend you don’t tell them about it. If they find it, they will kill you. And if reveal it to them, we will kill you. Your only chance is to do exactly as I say."

  "I understand the situation, Frederick." Richard met the other’s stare. A determined calm settled over him. He would have vengeance… somehow, some way…

  His nemesis' eyes widened. It was the first time he had used the man's name in years. Richard took some small consolation in the fact that he had gotten a reaction out him. He could still push him off balance, even now.

  "Next package." Frederick regained his stoic façade. He snapped his fingers at the second white-clad figure.

  The second white-clad person, a man judging by his height and stance, opened his briefcase and retrieved what looked like a tooth. He held it outstretched in his hand as he walked towards Richard.

  "Open your mouth," Frederick instructed. "This tooth is your signaling device. When you locate their operation and find Radovan, break it. This will send out an emergency transmission to let us know when to move in."

  Richard reluctantly obeyed. The man reached a gloved hand inside his mouth and jammed the tooth over one of his back molars. This done, the anonymous individual retreated to the back of the room. If his situation had not been so dire, Richard might have found their spy-craft amusing. They had clearly seen too many movies.

  "And now, the grand finale." Frederick sneered. "Give it to him."

  The third, broad-shouldered man removed a syringe from his briefcase and drew close. Richard had been able to stay mostly calm up until now, but his survival instincts took over. He pulled against his restraints as hard as he could, his face reddening with the effort but could not budge them. He delved deep inside himself, searching for a way through the viral shield blocking his powers, but could find no crack in its viral surface. A bead of sweat trickled down his face causing his cheek to twitch. He relaxed and then thrashed back and forth against his bonds again.

  “Stop!” His vision swam as panic seized him completely.

  Frederick motioned to the first two white-clad people. They ran forward, each one gripping one of Richard’s wrists and pinning him while the third white-clad man pulled Richard's left shirtsleeve up to his elbow, found a vein, and injected the fluid into him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. Slowly, he calmed himself down.

  "Well done, Richard.” Frederick waved his minions away. “You can go."

  The three white-suited servants nodded left the room. When the door had shut, Frederick knelt in front of him so that they were eye level. "Now, old friend. Let me tell you what we just gave you.” He pointed to the needle’s insertion point on Richard’s arm. “This is a wonderful little thing our scientists came up with to change our preexisting virus in your bloodstream. To put it simply, in four days, you will die."

  "Bastard!" Richard tried to spit at him, but his mouth was dry with fear and all he managed to do was blow air in his direction.

  “If you could only see yourself as I see you right now.” The agent got to his feet and chuckled. "How the mighty have fallen."

  "I would not make such comments so lightly, Frederick. All things come full circle." Richard hissed.

  "There is no circle for you; only a straight line.”

  “If I only have four days to live, why would I help you?” Richard asked, trying to ascertain just how hopeless his situation was.

  “Because, we have an antidote. If I choose to give it to you, it will save your pathetic life.” Frederick replied.

  A cold dread child Richard to the bone. He knew with certainty that Frederick had no intentions of removing the poison from his blood. He would allow it to work its course until it killed him. Richard held onto his calm like a man clinging to a life preserver, but beneath the surface, panic nearly overwhelmed him. Four days was all he had left now, four days to find his own cure, five days to learn the truth about the woman in red. As his thoughts churned and his soul screamed for vengeance, a realization came to him. He no longer had anything to lose by fighting and that meant for the first time in a decade, something had changed. The Department had made their first tactical mistake since introducing the virus into the population. Everyone knew a rat was most dangerous when cornered.

  “How do you expect me accomplish this task in four days?"

  "That's your problem. You've got a thousand years of experience to guide you. I'm sure you'll think of something. Or you'll simply solve one of my other pressing problems." The remote control reappeared in his left hand. "Good night, Richard. Good luck."

  The last thing Richard remembered was the man's self-important smirk.

  8

  The light from the meager street lamp did little to penetrate the darkness in the alley. Richard cursed the building management again for insisting that he use the back entrance. A particularly large drop of rain hit him in the side of the face, but he hardly noticed. He was in more danger than he had been in since his capture. He was caught like the proverbial fly on paper between two groups, both possibly hostile to him. The threat posed by the teenagers who continued to harass him suddenly seemed pale in comparison.

  He clenched his fists reflexively, and glared into the inky blackness of the alley. If those young men and women awaited him, they would find his attitude different now. There was no point in trying to play nice at this point. Not after what Frederick and his men had done to him.

  Richard’s fangs unsheathed reflexively. He had awakened mere hours ago to find himself on a park bench on Third Avenue. After regaining his wits, he had slowly made his way back towards his pathetic home. His muscles ached from his battle and subsequent flight from the thugs Frederick had first sent after him, and his arm throbbed where the first of the white-clad minions had implanted the transponder.

  Damn them all to hell. They had given him four days to infiltrate Beth's organization, locate their headquarters and figure out who their leaders were. He doubted it could be done and he was old enough to know that they had no intention of giving him the antidote, even if he could accomplish their mission. He was damned either way unless he could beat them both.

  He stepped into the alley and marched straight to the back door of the building.

&n
bsp; A bottle rattled against the pavement behind him.

  Richard spun towards the sound, ready to defend himself against the upstarts, but found only emptiness behind him. The dumpsters and trashcans lining the sides of the alley remained in place and no shapes detached from them.

  “Who’s there?” he asked finally.

  No one answered.

  After another moment, he gave up and made his way up the rickety back stairs, finally arriving at his small home. He half expected his door to be smashed open, but it stood closed and untouched with each paint chip in its proper place. He could hear his neighbor's television blasting through the walls on the right and his other neighbors screaming at each other in Spanish on the left. Everything was as it should be.

  The door opened smoothly. He hurried inside. After discarding his overcoat, he grabbed another blood packet and collapsed on his bed. He thought about his encounter. He had detected fear in Frederick’s voice as he discussed his desire to stop Beth and her group. There was more going on than either he or Beth was telling him.

  His skin itched beneath the tracking bracelet. He glanced at the clock on his shackle and realized that it was nearly eleven PM. He had mere minutes to get to work before he would be declared late. Despite what had just happened to him, he had to act normal at least until he could contact Beth’s people. And that meant he needed to get to work on time. The last thing he needed was for Joe to learn that he was late again. He sighed, grabbed his coat, and ran from his apartment.

  ***

  “Be swift, be swift,” Richard hissed. He stood in the elevator lobby waiting for any of the six lifts to arrive. He was already seven minutes late and doubted that his absence had gone unnoticed.

  “Richard.”

  Richard turned to find Ray standing in the lobby a dozen feet away.

  “Come on.” Ray motioned for him to follow. “Joe’s on his way down. I logged onto your machine as you, so he thinks you got here on time, but if he sees you….” He moved out of sight towards the back corner of the marbled lobby.

  Relief flooded through him. He followed swiftly, navigating around the massive potted plant at the edge of the elevator hallway, and following him through the leather couches in the sitting area. They stopped at the north stairwell’s door. Ray opened it and darted inside. Richard hurried after him, taking the first three stairs in a single leap and bounding up two at a time after that. His momentum slowed as he climbed and by the time he reached the tenth-floor landing, his breathing was labored.

  “Thank-you.” Richard paused to rest.

  “No problem.” Ray halted a few steps ahead of him. He leaned on the metal railing but did not seem out of breath. “Do you mind if I ask you a question though?”

  “Not at all,” Richard managed between gasps.

  “Is everything all right? Anything I can help you with?” Ray pressed, his eyes mirroring his concern.

  “Unfortunately, there is little you can do to help me. I do, however, appreciate the offer.” Richard wished to accept the offer of assistance, but inviting the one person he considered a friend into his chaos would be wrong.

  “It’s no problem.” Ray smiled broadly. “Come on, we’d better get up there.”

  Turning, he continued up the stairs.

  ***

  Richard took his seat and activated his phone. Beth would get a hold of him as soon as she could, of that he was certain. She needed him as much as he needed her now. He forced himself to breath normally. With the Department listening and Beth keeping tabs on him as well, it was vital that he act normal. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on his monitor, using the black portion of its desktop to watch the shadowy reflections of his coworkers behind him.

  His phone rang. He frowned as he read the ID: Unknown Caller. The last time Beth had contacted him, her name had appeared there. He wondered if she had found a more secure way to talk. He thumbed the Receive button.

  "Big River Help Desk, this is Richard."

  "Richard, this is Annette at reception. You need to sign for a package down here,” she informed him in her usual nasally voice.

  "I'll be right down." Richard took a slow breath and steadied his calm as he pondered what else could possibly happen to him.

  ***

  The single surviving fluorescent light flashed on and off like a strobe at a discothèque, causing shadows to continuously advance and retreat from the dark corners of the bathroom. A torrent of water raged through a urinal that appeared to be locked into a continuous flush cycle. The sound reverberated through the small chamber the way the roar of rapids bounced off the walls of a river canyon. Richard did not like it. He tensed, ready for an attack, but none came and as he grew more confident, he searched each of the three toilet stalls and discovered that he was alone. He shook his head, chiding himself for allowing a simple breakdown in maintenance, typical of Big River, to scare him.

  Shaking his head, he entered one of the stalls. He closed the door, lowered the toilet seat, sat down, and turned the videotape-sized package over in his hands. In the return address slot, it said simply: Open in Private. He wondered how many people had seen the package and its instructions. It was light whatever it was. He carefully opened it. Inside, he found several pieces of crumpled newspaper on which the name Questor Corporation appeared prominently. Beneath them, he discovered a black wristband made of a cotton type material, but with a tough Kevlar-like lining sewn into the underside. In addition to that, he found an expensive looking ballpoint pen in a small case. A note within the pen's case read:

  Richard, it is time to decide what you want. If you are going to help us, put this band on your left hand and stretch the material so it covers your tracking bracelet. This will block its signal. Turn the pen counterclockwise to activate a duplicate signal and leave it where you wish the Department to think you are. If you are ready for this, then meet me at Gas Works at 1:30 AM.

  It was signed: BETH.

  Richard crumpled the note and slid it under the seat into the toilet. So, Beth had made her move and the time for action had come. He removed the pen from its case and put it in the breast pocket of his black, crew neck shirt along with the wristband. With all the technical gadgets he had amassed, he felt like he was in a bad Mission Impossible episode. He shrugged as he exited the stall. He tossed the empty package into the trash and stopped in front of the mirror. Of course, there was no reflection, nor had there been in almost one thousand years. If not for painted portraits, he would not remember what he even looked like. The empty mirror told him one truth; even a glass vampire was still a vampire. All he had to do was find a way to purge the Department’s viruses from his system and he would be whole again.

  Oh, is that all? With the wristband and pen safely on his person, and the determination of the condemned man, he strode out of the bathroom.

  9

  With thoughts of the woman in red, Frederick, and Beth, fighting for center stage in his mind, Richard left the Big River office building behind, hurrying down the quiet city street. Unusually large water drops spattered against him, driven by the wind. He pulled his shoddy overcoat tightly about him.

  With the exception of Ray, everyone wanted a piece of him. He thought of asking him for counsel, but did not wish to drag the one person who had treated him with respect into his chaos. His throat tightened. Storm clouds of dark misery were fast approaching and he had somehow found his way into the middle of them. He thought about running, but knew that it would be pointless now. His only choice, other than death, was to figure out what was really going on, then to fight back. With the proper leverage, Frederick might be forced to give him the antidote, if one even existed. He looked down at his wet sneakers, wondering if he could possibly accomplish what was necessary in four days and if he would have the strength to fight when the time came.

  He thought of the woman in red and again wondered at her place in all this. There had to be a reason for his long-lost memories resurfacing now. And in that lost chapter of his
life an answer waited for him, perhaps the answer to the mystery of his rebirth, perhaps more. Wiping the rain from his eyes, he spied a bus as it pulled up to the curb near him. Without looking to see its destination, he climbed aboard, swiped his pass through the card reader and shuffled down the aisle, ignoring the looks from two other passengers. He took a seat near the back.

  "Jonathan Duffy was a moron to use all his resources on this cancer cure. It's his fault that Questor’s declaring bankruptcy." This came from the man wearing the blue suit in the seat in front of him.

  A similarly dressed man seated across the aisle from him shook his head vigorously. "Duffy knows what he's doing. He'll find a way to keep the company together."

  Richard did not care about Questor or its CEO any more than he cared about the bus’s destination. He ignored the men as they continued to debate the finer points of corporate politics and leaned over to press his face against the cool glass of the window, staring out as the bus pulled away. Buildings blurred past. Pedestrians moved about the streets with a sense of smug security. None of them would help. He banged his head on the window gently. He was on his own.

  “Fremont,” the driver announced in a monotonous droning voice sometime later.

  Luck, had brought Richard near to Gasworks Park. He exited on the corner of the two main streets in the Fremont neighborhood. The large vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing in the rain. He moved back under the blue and white striped awning of a local Greek restaurant and looked around.

  On the far side of the street, a long row of little shops and restaurants curved around to the northwest. Dozens of young people passed by, laughing, joking, and generally enjoying themselves as they sought their destinations in this trendy part of town. This could have been another prime area to feed had his powers been intact. Turning away, he headed up the street. The shops on his side were all closed at this time of night, their windows dark.