Vigilare (13 page)

“You got it, Sarge,” Marks consoles.

Chapter 8

VANGUARD GENERAL HOSPITAL. Tony sits at Gina’s bedside. She rests in the Cadillac of hospital rooms, safe and secure from the rest of the ward. As per Detective Gronkowski’s request, two armed guards monitor the hallway and entrance to her room. She is listed as Jane Doe, in accordance with hospital confidentiality adherence with Vanguard Police Department in the event of an officer shooting.

She lies still, restrained in the oversized hydraulic medical bed, to which she is shackled at every joint on her body, a safety precaution upon report of her superhuman strength. She is stabilized after the medical team worked on her for half the night. It is now four in the morning. A hematologist lurks in the room, Dr. Godfrey. He is a short, thin man who wears a white lab coat suitably adorned with a pocket protector. His bifocals, way overdue for an adjustment, cause him to continuously scrunch his nose to keep them at an appropriate level to his eyes. His rolling metal desk contains a plethora of slides, tubes, and other blood testing paraphernalia. He loads a slide with a smear of Gina’s blood onto his microscope, peering through the tiny lens.

“How come you guys have been taking so much blood from her?” Tony asks. “Thought you were trying to replace that. And are the shackles really necessary?” the disdain resonant in his tone.

“The most peculiar thing,” Dr. Godfrey answers. Lifting his head from the microscope, he peers over his bifocals at Tony. “She is a mystery.”

You can say that again
, Tony thinks to himself.

“Her blood is undetectable. Most humans have one blood type accompanied by one Rh-factor. O, A, B, or AB, and Rh-positive or negative. Her blood registers as none of the above. Yet, when it’s broken down to its most basic of components there are traces of O-negative, AB-negative, and B-negative. That is unheard of. Come have a look.” He motions Tony to the microscope.

Tony squints with his left eye focusing his right down the barrel of the eyepiece. “Doesn’t look like anything, doc. All I see is a bunch of circles.”

“That’s it. Those are her blood cells. You see how the center of those little discs are clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Notice how the cells move around within their own space, gently bouncing off neighboring cells, but never sticking to them or overlapping?”

“I guess,” Tony answers, focusing on the tiny round discs as they move under the microscope.

“That’s indicative of healthy blood. The
terrain
of her blood is good. The
toxic load
is slim to none. Unhealthy blood, symbolic of an illness or depressed immune system would be sluggish in its movement. It would stick to the other cells, sometimes overlapping.”

“So, this is live blood? How can blood survive outside the body?” Tony suddenly feels like he is ten years old again, in his grade school biology class.

“Oh yes. Blood can survive outside the body for several days. A
hearty
little thing—blood.” He chuckles at his own dry humor.

“Yeah,” Tony says with a weak smile, unimpressed.

Dr. Godfrey clears his throat. “Back to my point.” He takes the slide out from under the microscope, replacing it with another. “Now, see here.”

Tony peers down into the lens, acquiring an instant headache with the task of keeping up with the amount of little round discs and the momentum with which they move. A faint, sparkling emerald green hue reflects through the glass. He jerks his head up from the microscope, rubbing his eyes. “What kind of blood is that?”

Dr. Godfrey pats him on the back, smiling. “That my friend, is inhuman. Not of this world. Super blood.”

“And that’s her blood? Gina? My partner?” He returns to his chair beside her bed, sinking down into it, sitting forward his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. “But I thought you said the first slide was her blood. How can she have two different kinds of blood?”

He waves his hands in clarification. “She has only one
kind
of blood, as we all have only one. What makes her unique is that she has three components, three different traces of blood types in her one
kind
of blood,” Dr. Godfrey attempts to keep his explanation layperson-friendly. “The last slide is her blood, as was the first slide. The key, oxygen.” Dr.Godfrey’s eyes light up, excitement exudes out of his every movement, unable to contain his imagination. “When her blood is exposed to oxygen, external oxygen, that which is outside the body, something magical happens.”

“Super blood,” Tony states flatly. “Like Superman. Superhuman. Don’t tell me you believe all this shit about Vigilare.” He gets up out of his chair frustrated and pacing. “I’ve known this girl for almost a year. She transferred to the department from Chicago. She’s a hell of a detective. Not some Vigilare, super freak. She’s a goddamn human being!” He kicks the side of his chair.

Dr. Godfrey walks to Tony, gesturing for his right hand. Reluctantly, Tony turns his hand palm side up. “You held pressure to her shoulder while waiting on the ambulance?”

Tony nods.

Dr. Godfrey notices the cut on Tony’s palm. “You know the term blood brothers? Native Americans started that tradition. They would cut into the flesh of their palm and press it against another, believing that if they were blood brothers their blood would mesh, smoothly, one into the other. No reaction. No clotting.”

Tony pulls his hand from Dr. Godfrey, dissatisfied with the topic.

“The clumping that occurs when Rh-negative blood mixes with that of Rh-positive is visible to the naked eye. Did your blood react to hers? Clump? Clot?”

Tony’s mind flashes back to the scene at the apartment when he pulled his hand from Gina’s shoulder, tingling and covered with blood, a mixture of his and hers, and how tiny beads clumped together at the incision site of his cut. “What’s that prove? That we’re not
blood brothers?
That I don’t carry the gene for ‘super blood,’” he accentuates with air quotes, fully annoyed. “Since when did compatibility come down to blood types?”

Dr. Godfrey smiles. “Ah, I see. Your relationship to Vigilare, far exceeds that of work partner.”

Tony turns swiftly to him, grabbing him by the collar of his lab coat. “Don’t call her that.”

“Gina,” he quickly corrects.

Tony releases his grip, walks to Gina, and looks her over limb to limb. Her exposed arms display goosebumps. He pulls the blanket up over her, tucking it in around her body. “What’s Rh-negative and positive?”

Dr. Godfrey is silently pleased with his question, proof that he has an interest, even if it battles with his pride. “Rh is a blood factor. The type of protein found on red blood cells. Most of us are Rh-positive, meaning we have that blood protein. Eighty-five percent of the world’s population is Rh-positive. The term Rh stems from the Rhesus Monkey, linking us to primates.”

“Evolution,” Tony says.

“Exactly!” Dr. Godfrey excitedly walks around the other side of the bed, across from Tony. He looks down at Gina, as if she is some priceless, rare thing. “But what evolution has yet to explain is the remaining fifteen-percent of the population who have Rh-negative factor. Like our Gina here.”

“What’s to explain? If Rh stems from a monkey, we’re all descendants of primates, right?”

“Rh-positive factor links us to the primate. Rh-negative factor has yet to be scientifically determined. Rh-negative blood is of unknown origin. Not one scientist can give a single reason for its existence. Other than to speculate it is a mutation that occurred tens of thousands of years ago.”

“What does it matter, really? In the grand scheme of things? Blood is blood.” Tony paces at the bedside. “When do you think she’ll wake up?”

“If all mankind evolved from the same ancestor, their blood would be compatible. Where did Rh-negative factor come from?” Dr. Godfrey makes his way back to his rolling metal desk, firing up his centrifuge, its purpose to separate blood densities. “Rh-negative blood is found nowhere in nature, except in humans. It nearly acts as though it doesn’t belong here. And, consider this scenario: When an Rh-negative mother is pregnant with an Rh-positive fetus, her body builds antibodies to get rid of that fetus, as if it’s a foreign invader to her body, an alien so to speak.”

“So, now we’re bringing aliens into the mix. Superheroes, super blood, vigilares, aliens...what’s next, predators?” Tony scoffs.

“Why would a mother’s body reject her own offspring? The only place in nature where the same scenario occurs is in mules—a
crossbreed
between a horse and a donkey.”

“Ah man.” Tony interrupts. “You’re reaching here, doc. Go ahead. When she wakes up, feel free to tell her she’s kin to a jackass. See how far that gets ya?” He shakes his head, chuckling.

Doctor Godfrey laughs heartily, scrunching up his nose, causing his bifocals to come to rest nearer to his eyes. “My point...that fact alone says there may be a distinct possibility that two similar yet genetically different species were crossbred creating the Rh-negative factor in the blood. You see, when breeding livestock, animals of any sort, really, some believe crossbreeding creates an optimal breed, a hybrid, if you will. Taking the dominant traits of one species and crossing them with the dominant traits of another, you get the best of both, creating a stronger, more intelligent, elite species.”

“Well, Gina is all those things. Cream rises to the top,” Tony agrees. “But it’s not because of her blood. It’s her attitude, her heart, her try. That’s just who she is, Doc.”

“But imagine the possibilities,” he says, intrigued, his mind racing. “No one has ever been able to explain where Rh-negative people come from. What is their origin? Is it a true mutation? Or do they descend from a different ancestor? If so, who? Take it back to the Native Americans.”

“Back to blood brothers,” Tony huffs, throwing his hands up in the air, sitting down in the recliner beside Gina’s bed.

“They declared their ancestors were of cosmic origin,” Dr. Godfrey continues. “Were they the
ancient astronauts?
The missing link between the earth and the stars? The missing link between primate and extraterrestrial? The hybrid man, or woman,” he motions in Gina’s direction.

“Extraterrestrial? Extraterrestrial?” Tony squints, attempting to make sense of this highly educated individual standing in a hospital room justifying aliens. “You’re comparing my partner to E-fucking-T?”

“Well, yes, that might be a good example,” Dr. Godfrey indulges. “Not exactly, but take for instance the premise that his finger glowed. Remember he touched it to Elliot’s cut, and the cut healed?”

Tony shakes his head, disbelieving and disturbed.

“Now, hear me out. That one scene from a science fiction movie has some truth to it, and has in fact propelled the research and use of light therapy in modern medicine. OLEDS (organic light-emitting diodes) are effective in treating skin cancer.” He puts his pen down from which he has been making aggressive notes on Gina’s blood and its components. “It’s just as easy to believe there is some truth to ancient lore as it is to believe it is untrue.”

Tony remains quiet, pondering Doctor Godfrey’s opinions. Chills run down his spine as he remembers the sparkling emerald green light cascading from Gina’s eyes in the apartment. Locked into his gaze, rendering him incapable of closing his eyes, or pulling them from hers. He kicks his ankle up over the knee of his other leg, settling back into the recliner. “Alright, Doc. What else you got?”

“Crossbreeding. Some hypothesize the Neanderthals were a completely separate species from modern humans...guys like you and me, said to be descendants of Cro-Magnon Man. Legend has it Neanderthals were bigger, stronger, maybe a little dense. Whereas Cro-Magnon was more civilized, of regular stature and intellect.” He continues his work effortlessly while theorizing with Tony. Tony watches him, quietly impressed. “Now, consider the Basques in Western Europe, believed to be descended from Neanderthals. Some scientists will argue Cro-Magnon. Or quite possibly a crossbreed of the two.”

“Your hybrid,” Tony concludes.

“Exactly. The elite species. Do you know the Basques have the highest percentage of Rh-negative blood of any human population? They do. In addition, they are a physically distinct group—early maturation, bigger, fairer, large eyes, high foreheads, some are even born with extra vertebrae—a cauda, or ‘tail,’ if you will. A reptilian trait. Are you a Christian, Detective?”

Tony stammers a bit. “I...I guess.”

“Some believe Basque could have been the original colony on earth. The original language of the book of Genesis.” Dr. Godfrey shrugs his shoulders. “Blood is symbolic in Christianity, often of purity, and it’s mentioned in most versions of the Bible over four hundred times. There are theories circulating that Jesus Christ could be the true descendant of the ancient astronauts. Far-fetched? Maybe. Then again, to believe, one acknowledges that He had powers beyond those of mortal man. Which brings me back to Rh-negative factor. It is also believed that Jesus had AB-negative blood, found on the Shroud of Turin.
The blood of the gods
. The rarest blood type, representing only one percent of the world’s population.”

“So, you’re saying everybody who has AB-negative blood has superpowers. If that’s the case, then why don’t we have superheroes? Why do Superman and Wonder Woman only exist in the pages of a comic book?” Tony challenges.

“One percent of the world’s population may seem very minute, but it is staggering. The global universe is such that one percent of the world’s population is over sixty-seven million people. We can’t have sixty-seven million super humans,” he answers so matter-of-factly.

Tony chuckles. “Well, go ahead. Why don’t you warp the logistics. Bend it and mold it, until it suits your imagination.” He kicks his foot down off his knee, sitting forward in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. “You can’t have it both ways, Doc. Either it is or it isn’t.”

Dr. Godfrey smiles, pleased with Tony’s participation. His curiosity engaged, the wheels of his mind in action. “Now you’re thinking.” He raises his pointer finger in the air. “Therein lies the problem. We spend so much time and resources researching things that are concrete, proof positive, that we have no understanding of the unknown.”