Blood Day (7 page)

“Vampire juice,” said Deacon.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Yeah.”

“How did she die?”

Mike felt his eyes go hard. He looked at his hands.

“There was no blood. I mean, there was some, but the bastard had ripped her goddamn throat out. A piece of her was gone, half of her soft, beautiful neck. Just ripped away. I could see inside of my wife, but it just looked like meat. She was just meat.”

Mike closed his eyes, remembering. Kyra on the ground, cold, so cold. He never should have left her alone, never should have left her. Mike gasped for air, blinking tears away. He thought he had used up all the tears, but here he was, crying in front of Deacon. Deacon had already said it best. How the hell had they gotten here?

“They tore out her throat and left her on the kitchen floor,” Mike said. “The only blood they left was from the bottoms of their shoes and a little that sprayed on the walls. She was goddamn blue. They stole her blood and left her for me. I don't think they knew who I was or who she was. That was just the way they were back then. Do you remember how it was? Before Conrad came in and got them all hopped up on science? Do you remember the bodies? The fear?”

“I remember,” Deacon said quietly.

“Before the Blackout, even,” said Mike. “Before the children disappeared. No one knew.”

“We know now.”

“The Revs killed my wife,” said Mike. “I knew later, but back then, no one knew. I was inches from prison when the Blackout happened. And when the lights came back on, our government was run by monsters. Not political monsters like before, but real ones. And in the beginning, everyone was afraid. No one cared about me anymore. No one cared about anything but surviving. So many people died. Everything was chaos. And then, we all just accepted it. We got on with our lives. We gave blood, we went to work, we didn't go out at night. You want to know how we got here, Deacon?”

“Tell me, Novak.”

“We got here because we let ourselves get here. We stopped fighting. We accepted it.”

“What do you suppose we should do about that, Mr. Novak?”
 

Mike paused for a moment, puzzled. “How did you know I was coming?” Mike said.

Deacon smiled again. “I think you know. Think about the Revs. Then think about someone worse. Have you met anyone like that lately?”

“Joshua Flynn,” Mike breathed.

“He's not like us, Novak,” said Deacon. He leaned forward. “You have to understand what you're getting yourself into here.”

“What does he want from me?” said Mike.

“Same as he wants from any of us,” said Deacon. “He wants to use us. But this time it just might be in our best interests: He's waging a war that isn't going to end pretty. It's going to be violent and a lot of people are going to die – or worse – before this is over. ”

“Will he protect me?”

“From the Revs? Yes. But who's going to protect you from Flynn?”

“Is he one of them?”

“I don't know, Novak. I don't know what the fuck he is. I only know that I am one scary motherfucker. I've killed people in more ways than I can count. Some were good people, most of them were bad. I've broken legs, ruined lives, I've killed entire families just to prove a point. But I'm an innocent babe compared to Flynn.”

“What if I refuse?”

“You don't have a choice,” said Deacon.

A shadow crept toward them. The room darkened and a strange sense of air being pulled out the room left Mike slightly dizzy. The fog of cigarette smoke was replaced with a smell of dust and old books and earth, filling his nostrils. Joshua Flynn didn't so much walk into the room as he seemed to be carried by his own shadow. His feet moved, but his movements were too smooth. He was silk in water, he was like an eel through the now-murky room.
 

“There is always a choice,” Flynn said. And then he was right beside him and when he stopped moving he looked so human that he took Mike’s breath away. He was vaguely handsome, but in the way that men in old tintype photographs were vaguely handsome. His lips remained just as red as before, but his cheeks were more flushed than they had been the first time Mike had seen him. He realized it had been earlier that day. It seemed like years.

Mike started to stand up, but a hand suddenly on his shoulder pushed him back down. He turned to see who was behind him, but there was no one there.

“Gentlemen,” Flynn said. He rested his sharp, dark eyes on Mike and he felt cold. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “Mr. Novak. So nice of you to come.”

“How did you know?” Mike said.
 

“I know many things,” Flynn said. “I understand that I am something of a mystery to you.”

“I didn’t—”

“Calm yourself, Novak,” said Flynn. “I mean only to educate. You know that I am not like the Revenants. You know that I am not just a man. So what else is left?”

“I...don't know,” said Mike.
 

Flynn suddenly smiled, splitting his face with a ghastly grin. “Only me,” he said. His red lips looked almost clown-like, and his perfect white teeth only reminded Mike of the sharper teeth resting just above them. Flynn's dark eyes danced, shining even in the dimness of the shadowy room.
 

“I think what Novak wants to know,” said Deacon, “is what do you want him to do. Assuming he's interested.”

 
“Is that what you want to know, Mr. Novak?” said Flynn. He was ten feet away, but Mike swore he could feel hot breath against his ear. He shivered and Flynn smiled. Mike preferred Deacon's smile.

Mike watched Flynn for a moment, narrowing his eyes. He thought of Kyra, dead on the floor. He thought of the hospital, Sia the junkie strapped down, vomiting all over herself. He thought of Tess, of the newspaper he'd dedicated his life to, the woman he'd worked with for decades. He thought of watching shadowy figures taking everything he owned out of his apartment. He was a ghost now. He didn't exist except to bleed.

“I want to know one thing,” said Mike.

“Which is?”

“Are you going to hurt them?”

Joshua Flynn smiled. Mike felt something like a finger caressing his arm. He shook the feeling off.

“We are going to obliterate them,” said Flynn. “They will be dust under our boots.”

Mike nodded. “Fine. Tell me what to do.”

“See there?” said Deacon. “That's how we do business.”

Flynn looked from Mike to Deacon, his lip curling distastefully.
 

“I'm afraid, Mr. Deacon, that this business does not involve you. It is strictly between Mr. Novak and myself.”

“Fuck you, Flynn,” said Deacon, heaving his weary body forward. “I set this up. You do not want to piss me off.”

“Don't I?” said Flynn. Something else besides amusement, besides revulsion passed over his face. Something like hunger. A whisper in Mike's ear sent a shiver down his spine. “Please leave the room, Mr. Novak. Wait for me in the theater.”

Mike stood, looking warily at the monster who was his new employer. Flynn was saving his life. But Mike knew what was about to happen. He looked at Deacon. The old man, for the first time, looked afraid. His rheumy eyes looked from Mike to Flynn and back again.

“Sit your ass back down, Novak,” said Deacon, a quaver in his gravelly voice. “I will kill you if you leave this room. You'll wish you went as fast as that wife of yours. Her death will seem like an answered prayer compared to what I'll do to you.” The knife flashed in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” said Mike. He didn't look at Joshua Flynn as he left the room. He didn't look back at Deacon. He closed the door behind him.
 

He glanced at the hulk, Matthew Blake, who was still smoking outside the door.

“Run,” said Mike, echoing Joshua Flynn's warning back at the office. “Just run.”
 

Mike could barely hear the old man's scream when it came. He paused on the stairs, and the scream stopped almost as quickly as it started. Mike covered his mouth with a hand to keep from screaming himself. He forced himself to continue up the stairs. He was in the theater, trying not to shake, when he saw Blake run out the door.

Mike waited in the theater for his malevolent benefactor.

Six

Viv got off the bus at the grounds of the Munson Experimental Hospital, looked up, and froze. Her eyes stopped blinking, her legs stopped moving, and even her breath stopped in her lungs for a moment. The building was as imposing as when it had been a mental institution, and the new towers and outbuildings extending beyond the original building gave it the air of a fortress.
 

Viv's eyes watered and she finally blinked, wiping away tears in the frigid wind. She took a gasping breath, and then another. She willed her feet to move, one in front of the other, until she was standing in front of the guard station.

A man in his sixties, portly, with gray hair and pudgy, ruddy cheeks looked cheerfully down at her.
 

“Can I help you?” he said.

“I...don't know,” said Viv.
 

“You're the new gal, aren't you?” said the man. He smiled and Viv couldn't help but smile back, though nervously.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” said the guard.
 

Viv broadened her smile, willing herself to ignore the
sweetheart.
The sly little nicknames to remind her that she was
just
a woman. She was
just
a black woman, no less. The nicknames were as pointed as a barb, even if the men didn't realize it. She was once outspoken about it. She was once outspoken about a lot of things.
 

It was a good thing they couldn't read her thoughts the way some claimed they could. Viv straightened her shoulders.

“Dr. Genevieve White,” she said.

“Doctor, eh?” said the guard, raising his eyebrows. “Good for you.”

Viv ground her teeth. “Thank you.”

He flipped pages on a clipboard. “Ah, here you are. Identification?”

Viv passed her ID. He pored over the picture, looked up at her face, eyes narrowed in concentration, then looked back at the card.

“I assure you that it’s really me,” she said, trying to sound friendly.

The guard looked up at her, smiling again. “Sorry, miss. It's only that we've had some...trouble lately. Just have to be thorough.” He passed the identity card back to her and she slid it into her wallet. “My name is Sidney Kearns, but everyone calls me Sid.”

“Nice to meet you, Sid.”

“And you, Dr. White.”

“Everyone calls me Viv,” she said.
 

Sid handed her a clipboard. “Sign next to your name, then, Viv.” He smiled when he said her name. She signed. “Okay!” he said, taking the clipboard and initialing by her name. He passed a bulky yellow envelope through the window. “This is for you, your badge and a key. The badge must be worn at all times inside the facility. If you lose your official badge, you will be detained and questioned before a new one is issued. Same with your key. It will open most doors in the hospital. Of course you won’t be able to access classified areas, but anywhere you need to go, your key should work. Do you understand?”

Sid's face had gone from genial to intensely serious. He studied her with bright blue eyes.

“I understand,” she said. She felt something hollow in the pit of her stomach.
 

“You will need your key to enter or leave the building,” Sid said, more cheerful again. “You’ll need your badge, so you may as well put it on right now.”

Viv took out a heavy rectangular card on a scarlet lanyard, and hung it around her neck. The front showed her name, some codes that no doubt denoted her job title or something similar, and her picture. It was the same picture from her identity card. Everything was governmental these days.
 

“You'll also find an employee manual and a map of the facility in the envelope,” Sid went on. “You are assigned to H-block.”

“H-block?” said Viv, smiling. “Sounds like a prison.”

Sid frowned. “Each department is separated into blocks. You are assigned to H-block. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Viv.

“You are not to enter any other block unless specifically requested by an administrator on that block. Even though you, yourself, are an administrator, you will not be able to request any interdepartmental consultations until your probation period is over. Do you understand?”

“Er, no,” said Viv.

“What?”

“I don't understand,” said Viv. “You said I'm an administrator. That can't be right.”

“It’s written right here,” said Sid. “No mistake.”

“I thought I was just doing...I guess blood testing, like I did at my last job. I was told I’d be a head researcher, not the administrator.”

“Congratulations on the new job,” he said. “Sounds like you're moving up in the world.” Sid's face slid back into cheerful mode. He grinned, showing a dimple on one pudgy cheek. “Good for you, Viv.”

At least he didn't call her sweetheart.

“I don't know about this,” said Viv.

“Relax. You'll do fine. Now. You have everything you need. If you look at your map, you'll see that the entryway for blocks F through J is just straight through and to your left.” Sid leaned out the window and pointed. “See that door?”

“Yes.”

“Go through that door, and follow the hallway to the left until you reach H-block. Your badge should get you in.” He smiled again. “Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred dollars.” His eyes crinkled at his joke. Viv made her mouth smile.

“I was told a General Lawrence Davies would be showing me around,” she said.

“Davies is no longer with us,” said Sid, narrowing his eyes.

“Did he get fired?” she said, smiling.
 

“It’s none of your concern, to be perfectly frank,” said Sid. “All you need to know is that Mr. Davies was a very curious man.”

“Oh,” said Viv.

“But we won’t have to worry about you, will we, Viv?” he said, smiling again.
 

“Thanks,” said Viv, wanting to scream. “I’ll try to mind my own business.”

“You're welcome, honey. Good luck.”

Viv felt the smile fall off her face as she walked away from the guard station.