She had run out of willingness to argue with him. To point out it might not be a vampire, and, even if it were, one criminal vampire didn’t make them all bad. He never donated anyway; he was happy to pay the opt out fee and live without the extra credits offered. His choice.
Something made her stop on the steps of the Donation Centre. Something made her look up into the driving rainy darkness of the night. The same something kept her silent and frozen as her eyes followed the passage of a figure down the steps about ten metres away from her.
It was him. She knew it was. Knew if he turned, she would see brown eyes, brown hair. If he turned.
She wanted to move, to go to him, to shout for his attention. She needed to touch him again, to thank him for catching her.
But she didn’t. She just stood. He reached the bottom of the steps. Halted, face raised to the night air. He seemed to breathe deep. But he did not turn. And he did not see her. Emily watched him head off in the direction of the tram. Once he was out of sight, and only then, could she move.
Her feet led her up the steps, but they could have led her after him. Her brain nagged at her, even while she was registering at reception, giving her details, even while she was avoiding watching the Blood Technician puncturing her arm. Why hadn’t she?
It was only later, as she lay back on the padded bed, her blood collecting in the donation pouch, that her brain legitimised it. It hadn’t been him. It was too much of a coincidence, them both being here, same day, same opportunity after work, especially as she had nearly missed this appointment anyway. It just couldn’t have been him.
But in Recovery, as she watched her credits being swiped onto her card, her heart silenced her head. She knew it was him. And she’d missed him.
What she’d also missed were several calls to her mobile from Simon. She toyed with her phone as she stepped back out into the night. She couldn’t not call him. She had to get over this – he’d been the model boyfriend since Rachel’s death. The problem obviously lay with her. She’d always kept him at arm’s length, and he’d simply responded. It was only now, when her guard had been forced down, she’d let him in and he was doing all she could have wished for. It had to be her. All she needed to do was try harder, be a better girlfriend.
Using her teeth, she pulled a glove off and returned Simon’s call. He answered on the first ring.
‘Hi,’ she answered with a mouth still full of glove.
‘Are you ok?’ The concern was sharp in his voice.
‘Fine. You?’
‘Good thanks. Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Just outside the Donation Centre. You?’
‘Just outside the Donation Centre actually.’
‘What?’ She circled round warily. Had he come to meet her after all? ‘Where?’ she questioned.
‘Just by the doors. Look up.’ His concern had mellowed into a ripple of humour. Emily did as she was bid, returned his wave and then began to climb the steps once more, determined to make this evening all that it could be.
Simon planted a kiss on her cheek amongst the rain drops and pulled her under the shelter offered by the Donation Centre.
‘Were you waiting to make a donation with me? Only I’ve already been. If I’d known you wanted to, I would have waited you know.’ Emily could not dampen the hopeful edge to her voice. Maybe he was changing. Changing for her. She reached up and kissed his cheek.
‘That’s funny, Emily.’ His laugh sealed her rapid descent back to normality. ‘No. I’m here on business actually.’
Emily said nothing.
‘Three suckers failed to turn up for work here tonight. It’s the closest to a pattern we’ve had yet. Not what I want to be working on, but they’re still going missing so got to cover it. Still news, I suppose.’
Emily swallowed the acidic burn of the comment her brain served for her. She was trying to play the good girlfriend after all.
‘Oh,’ was all she allowed herself to utter into the night. She looked back into the lights of the Donation Centre. ‘It could still be a coincidence though?’
‘Could be, but might not.’ Even Simon seemed shocked at the shine of glee in his own voice for he lowered his tone and added, ‘It could be what we need to catch this killer. It could be his first mistake.’
Emily nodded. She couldn’t really believe that the vampire disappearances seemed to have diminished in importance so much since Rachel’s death. It was good that Simon was still investigating.
‘How long will you be? Maybe we could get something to eat afterwards?’
‘Probably about half an hour. Can you wait that long?’
‘I expect so. I’m sure they won’t mind me waiting inside.’
‘As long as they don’t try to take any more of your blood,’ Simon said as he held the door open for her.
‘And you watch they don’t want you to make a donation in exchange for information too.’
‘No chance of that.’ Simon deposited her in a chair. ‘I’ve an appointment with the Chief Technician representative. No danger of being stuck.’
Emily allowed herself a little smile as she observed Simon, half facing her, perfecting a nonchalant lean over the desk as he chatted to the Reception Technician. What Simon didn’t know, as he’d probably never been there before she realised, was that everyone who worked in any Donation Centre was trained to take blood. And what he’d also not counted on was that at this time of night, everyone working here would be a vampire. That was satisfaction enough to sustain her until he was done. She settled back to wait.
Half an hour turned into three quarters and when he reappeared, she fully expected him to be sporting a purple pin prick that would match the one in the crook of her own arm. She rose to meet him, hope renewed.
‘Did you donate?’ His frown was all the answer she needed.
‘No, I did not. Let’s go. Sorry I took so long. Took me a while to find out what I needed. Cagey people these representatives. You wouldn’t think I was actually trying to help them.’
‘And? What did you find out?’ Emily was surprised at her curiosity; it chased thoughts of Rachel away at least.
They were outside once more. The rain had stopped, but only recently she guessed; puddles still littered the pavement.
‘It’s later than I expected.’ Simon said. ‘Let’s go back to mine and I’ll cook. I’ll fill you in over a glass of wine.’
‘Sounds great.’ Emily slipped her hand into his and tried to stop her brain calculating excuses already for not being able to stay the night with him.
As it turned out, there hadn’t been much to tell. Names, jobs within the centre, details of housing blocks. Simon clung to the idea that these victims showed a true indication of the killer’s intent. There had been no break in the disappearances of the vampires. He managed to avoid using the word ‘suckers’ all conversation. Emily could see it was an effort for him, but did appreciate it.
If anything, he said, there’d been an escalation after Rachel’s death. He was convinced that this was the killer showing his hand, was sure that the next death would be another blood technician. He had said as much to the Technicians’ Representative. Had tried to get him to warn all the employees in all the districts. Simon had transferred his info to the Security Forces. To Emily’s disgust, he’d received a polite but standard ‘thank you for your information’ type email in response.
There had been no further news in Rachel’s case. Emily told Simon that she had an appointment at Security Forces House on the coming Friday. The thought of it broke the dam that had been restraining that day’s tear flood.
‘I was doing so well,’ she sniffed. ‘I thought it was getting, you know, a little bit easier. Not better, just easier.’
‘It will,’ he said and kissed her tears.
Emily lay in the darkness. Eyes fixed on the ceiling. Simon, next to her, was breathing deeply, evenly. She had played her role in their love making with the right amount of encouragement, enjoyment even. But
now, as she wriggled out from Simon’s sleep heavy embrace, and felt satisfied as he rolled back to sleep facing away from her, she knew it was only an act.
Maybe, just maybe, if Rachel hadn’t happened… all this would be okay. She could have worked through any doubts.
But, it had happened. And, she trapped a sigh that might wake Simon, would things really be that different? She knew all couples had things that they disagreed on – that was normal. But there was surely a fundamental gulf between them. A gulf filled by the entire vampire kind.
The closing of her eyes squeezed out the rain of tears that were falling. They tracked silently down the window pane of her face. She didn’t brush them away. Instead she savoured their cold saltiness, their regularity. She opened her eyes once more and set herself up for the night. Simon wasn’t her company; the inevitable picture of Rachel’s dead body was.
Thirty Four
I fear I have been a tad careless with my chaos. A little research has led me to realise that my random nature has not been as unpredictable as it should be. They’ll call it a pattern. Gloat and claim it as a victory. Shout it out as a step towards finding me.
They’ll be wrong. It will simply work in my favour. They’ll predict from it. Think they can use it to control, to trap me. They’ll fail.
Time to lie low now. They’ll see it as a sign of fear, no doubt. Only you and I will know it’s part of the plan, always has been. A time to refocus, before the real killing starts. You’ll recognise my work, I’m sure. But they won’t.
They’ll have to start all over again.
Thirty Five
Security Forces House was a white castle against the bitter chocolate darkness of the early evening. In direct contrast to the anonymity of its employees, this building had clearly been designed to stand out, and although it did not quite intimidate, it did dominate and clearly command the whole area.
Pausing on the pavement outside, Emily wondered what went on in the buildings that surrounded the Security Forces’ base. She had never been to the Security District before; she was glad she’d never had cause to.
It was on the western-most end of the tram system. The whole district wasn’t huge, or so Simon had informed her, but beyond it, the world was wasted. Untouched since the blood plague. Emily shuddered, the coldness of such abandonment seeping into her. What would it be like if she wandered there, curiosity lending courage? Shaking her head, she pulled her coat tighter. Not today. Not ever.
Turning back to Security Forces House, she wondered when it had become necessary. When had the post epidemic population needed Security? It looked as if the whole area had been built at the same time. And even the thought of it actually being built felt wrong. It was all too regular. All the buildings were the same, same stone, all symmetrically perfect. Door in the middle, an equal spread of rectangular windows. These buildings surely had just appeared, fully formed, ready to protect the world.
Lights shone from behind the windows, which were made sightless by blinds. Emily mused on whether they had to be switched off in a set pattern to preserve the symmetry. The lights probably never went off at this time of year. Still, that was good – they had a murderer to catch. And here she was, stalling about going in to help with that search.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself forward into the mouth of Security Forces House. Once through a door so large that she was dwarfed into an appropriate level of subservience, her feet took her across a grey marble floor, polished regularly to preserve its perfect shine.
She was faced immediately with a wall of glass. At equally spaced intervals behind the glass sat four Security Forces officers. All men. All with the same black uniforms, silver detailing the only break towards the light. The men could have been clones at first glance. Same neutral expression, same clipped haircut. She wondered if they were trained to breathe in unison.
Their similarity had halted her. What did she do now? How did she pick which one to go to? The officer on the far right solved the problem for her. A slight inclination of his head was enough to ripple the waters and draw her forward.
She approached. Closer inspection revealed differences from his companions after all, in the shape of his face, in the splatter of freckles, the colour of his eyes.
‘Emily Gregory,’ he said. It wasn’t a query, she realised as she opened her mouth to respond. He was simply stating the fact of her existence and presence. ‘Please step to your right.’ Emily did as instructed, not enjoying the too heavy beat of her heart.
A glass panel slid open, seemingly leading nowhere. She surveyed the black floor that was now revealed in front of her.
‘Step forward, Miss Gregory. The TravelTrack will take you through our security scanner. Please place any bags that you have onto the TravelTrack too.’
She stepped forward once more and placed her bag on the floor. As she did so, silver lights blinked through whatever material the floor was made of. It felt spongy beneath her feet. There was no sound. Emily fought the urge to grab her bag and run backwards, out into the welcome disorder of the normal world. As if sensing her thoughts, the glass door slid closed behind her. No escape. She fixed her eyes straight ahead and concentrated on the relief that she was only a witness. She had nothing to hide.
The seconds that the scan had taken had seemed to fill the entirety of the remainder of her life. The TravelTrack stopped. Emily released the breath she’d been all too aware that she was holding and fish-gulped for air.
A glass door, with no obvious coloration yet totally opaque, slid open to reveal a different Security Forces officer.
‘Miss Gregory. Allow me to take your coat.’ With clumsy haste, Emily tried to remove gloves, stuff them into her bag and then struggle limbs that felt disobedient out of her coat. She gave it to the officer. And immediately wished she hadn’t. It had been a barrier; now she was defenceless.
In a deft move that he seemed to combine with the handing over of her coat, the officer leant forward and attached a silver bar to her top. He stepped back, and tried on a smile that was nearly genuine. Emily found that hers mirrored it.
‘You may not be aware that every part of this interview will be recorded.’ He paused. Emily was just about to interject when she realised that she was being treated to another Security Forces standard speech; the pause was just long enough for breath to be drawn. ‘This is to protect you and your status as witness in Crime X32786. Please follow me.’
Crime X32786? Do you mean the murder of my friend? Emily wanted to demand of his black and silver uniformed back as they continued across more polished marble. This corridor ran parallel with the entrance, she realised. The back of the TravelTrack for all the entry points obviously deposited people here.
The corridor that they were in now took a ninety degree right turn into an almost identical one. The only difference here was that doors and narrower corridors split both side walls. More impossible glass. More perfect symmetry.
She followed the neat clip of the officer’s heels and counted doors to keep her mental balance. Past a door, left, right. Past a corridor, left right, past another door, left and right.
A sharp turn to the right launched them into a much narrower corridor, here only doors disrupted the side walls. To the right of each door was a narrow bench.
Emily had seen no one except Security Forces officers since her arrival. Yet now she saw the impossible. Another person. Another definite witness to Crime X32786. A person she knew, and yet didn’t. And he’d seen her too.
She had to pass him. The unswerving steps of the Security Forces officer continued past. Emily’s eyes were laser-locked. Her heart clamoured, her brain demanded, then begged, that she stop. That she reach for him. Like she had that night. Her face was suddenly immobile. Too frozen to offer him a smile, to offer even that as the smallest gift that she knew him, that she wanted to know him.
Then they were past. The officer hadn’t wavered. But she had. She stopped. Turned. He was still there, his gaze on her:
He knew her too.
But the officer drew her on, away like a magnet. She only had to quicken her pace slightly to catch him. Her stop had been brief, clearly, but surely that meant that time had halted. Been switched to stand by just for her. Just for them.
The officer had stopped outside another glass door. He swiped a card and the door slid open. Inside – two chairs, separated by a table. They catapulted her back to the reality of where she was with such a force that she staggered, swayed, had to focus on finding her centre.
She realised that the officer had reached out a hand to her, not to touch her, but just in case. She had to breathe. She could do this.
He indicated a chair. She sat.
*
‘Oh,’ was Emily’s only comment as the Security Forces officer bade her good night and offered formal thanks for her help. He had led her out of the interview room, down to the end of the corridor and then had operated another glass door that gave no indication that it led to the outside world. She turned back to the door that had already resealed the building behind her and repeated the exclamation, surprise still toning her voice. She had expected to end up where she had started, but slowly she realised she’d been released at the side of the building at the top of a set of steps.
Inevitable tears had left her face a crumpled piece of paper and she took a few deep breaths of night air to rebalance and refuel herself. Rubbing her eyes would make no difference; she’d spent so long in the interview wiping tears away that her hands surely had to be close to dissolving.
‘Excuse me?’
Emily frowned. Whoever it was and whatever they wanted, they had better appreciate what she had just been through. She turned. Words of demand, of query died in her throat. The speaker continued,
‘You don’t know me, but …’
‘Yes. Yes I do. I do know you. You were in the club. That night.’ She was about to add ‘you saved me’ but her brain clamped shut the drawbridge of her mouth.
‘I was.’
Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller Page 16