William's Tale (12 page)

Bringing her to the White House was a silly romantic notion. The truth was, he wanted to sweep Jackie off her feet and make love to her in this historic spot. But he did not want the hassle of explaining his actions in this room to his commander Raymond, who was a much bigger and more intimidating vampire than William. Video cameras monitored this room and William didn’t want that type of exposure, or to be the butt of every Green Room joke for the next decade like poor Daniel was.

Jackie stood next to him now, in this tranquil room. He watched her smile, and it looked as if she enjoyed the situation. She liked to be in control, to be in charge and have her way — and she couldn’t be sexier to him. He noticed the deep breath she took, the slightest nibble she did on her lower lip, and most of all, he noticed her soft bedroom eyes as they looked up and studied his own lips.

She then leaned forward, moving only halfway so he would need to do the same.

This was it. He would finally get to kiss Ms. Jackie Pearlman. He took a deep breath and licked his dry lips. He then leaned in and was about to close his eyes. But he paused before his lips reached hers.

A small red dot danced atop Jackie’s temple. He barely had time to block her from the window before the bullet shattered the glass and streaked through the room piercing him in his shoulder.

Pain blasted through William’s right shoulder as glass sprayed across him and Jackie as they fell to the floor. Her frightened eyes stared back at him as he lay on top of her.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

William studied Jackie's face, and thought she seemed okay, just a bit shaken up. He didn’t have much time, and definitely couldn't explain things to her right now. Not that he knew exactly what was going on.

Damn. He was in pain. It throbbed through his body, and his right arm lay limply at his side. His guessed his shoulder blade had split in two due to the massive amount of blood streaming down his side.

He was going to age in front of her if he didn't get out of the room. With this much blood loss, he may even be tempted to bite her.

Great. Now all he could was smell the blood pulsing within her veins. Shit. He needed to leave, and before the roladen shut down over the windows.

The swift hum of the window shutters became easily detectable to his sensitive ears, and he had little time before all windows of the house, as well as all public doors, were sealed in the lockdown.

“Stay here, and out of the way,” he managed to grunt out. He then made a running leap through the broken window just as a steel shutter whipped downward and sealed the room off from the outside world. Next, a team of Secret Service agents armed with assault rifles scrambled into the room. That’s when a second shot rang out.

The shots had come from the southern side of the building, the side facing the South Lawn and leading to the National Mall. William understood how many military snipers were on location in the area, but if he followed the scent fast enough, he could track down the shooter by the smell of gunpowder, and he wanted to find the bastard who had targeted Jackie.

But he was a black man, in somewhat of a disguise, running away from the White House after two gunshots. Regardless of what the sniper looked like, William knew that he too would be a target of those snipers. He'd have to run, and run fast.

With his vampire speed, William managed to track the shooter as he ran from the White House Basketball Court south to E Street NW. His shoulder ached and he could feel blood streaming down his back, soaking his white undershirt and the black Dracula costume. He had never been shot before, and the amount of pain surprised him. His body had the ability to heal and to expel the bullet from his body, but only if he was at rest. With each quickened step he took, the ripped flesh of his shoulder pulled even more, causing more damage.

Human. The shooter was definitely human. The stench of him hung in the air with the gun shot residue. William licked his lips. The scent of the blood in the man’s arteries now grew stronger. The man’s heart rate was elevated, probably due to the run, and William could tell his prey was close by. William quickened his pace, his fangs already extending wanting his next meal, and his eyes pitching black.

But even before William caught the man, he could tell his body had aged. His speed had slowed and his body felt weaker, and he knew it wasn’t just from the blood loss, but due to his body now aging decades in only a few minutes.

He was running out of time, not just because of his aging, but because the human agents would arrive in seconds. He saw the sniper running and ran to cut him off. He leapt through the air and tackled him to the ground, the two of them tumbling into some bushes.

William held the sniper tightly and forced him to make eye contact with him. “Be still and quiet.”

The man had barely undergone the compulsion when William turned his prey's head to the side and dove in for what he so desperately needed.

Jackie’s head had hit the green oriental rug with a thud as she fell over backwards after the bullet struck. She had grasped onto William as she began to lose her balance, and had taken him with her to the floor — his strong body had landed atop of hers. Years had passed since she heard a gun firing, and even then, she had never been so close as to be sprayed with glass from its destruction.

As her heart pounded, she had barely heard a word William said to her, and could not process the information. She had turned her head to watch him jump out the shattered window at a super fast speed just as a sheet of metal clamped down on the window blocking her not only from the outside world but also from William.

Now, she took a deep breath and figured she must be dreaming that someone was attacking the White House. And the speed in which William took off? She surely must have exaggerated that due to the blow she took to the head. The blow she took because of… well, an attack on the White House…

God, it could be a script to a bad horror movie. What was she supposed to do next?

When a security detail entered the Green Room, she heard another shot being fired and then the room suddenly fell dark, with only a faint red light emanating from the ceiling. Soldiers surrounded her, giving her a claustrophobic feeling in the pit of her stomach. From her position on the floor, she only saw the soldiers’ arsenal of guns pointing at her and infrared light from their helmets and weapons. She felt certain the second bullet had not entered this room due to the big sheets of metal that closed the windows of the room. She became aware of voices talking back and forth on walkie–talkies when a soldier leaned down and asked her to identify herself.

Everything seemed to travel in slow motion, just like when you are about to take a nasty fall. She raised her hands slowly to show them she was unarmed. “My name is Jackie, Jackie Pearlman.” She tried to sit up on her own, but a guard ordered her not to do so. They asked for identification and held their guns sharply on her as she searched around for her gold clutch purse. It had hung on her shoulders and now lay several feet away near where a soldier stood on the green carpet. She watched as he picked her small bag up and nearly ripped it open to find her driver’s license.

After repeatedly telling them she was a guest of William Wardell and what her own name was, she heard a confirmation from one of the soldiers wearing a headset who had confirmed her statements with the visitor guest log. She assured the men she had not been wounded, and then two soldiers grabbed her arms and helped her to her feet. Shards of glass dropped from her golden costume and fell to the floor, causing a tinkling sound over the commotion in the room. Jackie now studied the broken window, which remained on the inside of the huge metal barricade. Several panes of glass were gone and scattered on the floor where she and William had recently stood. The glass, her hands, and even her purse were tinted by the red light from the ceiling.

In the background, she could hear her name come across a walkie–talkie. She watched as the guard nodded to the two soldiers who held her, and they released their hold on her.

Her moment of relief was short lived. Two guards and the man holding the walkie–talkie marched her out of the Green Room and into the hallway, crowded with even more soldiers and men in black suits, each wearing what she now suspected were infrared headgear to see in the poor light. Not even the once sparkling chandelier reflected on the marble tiles. Everything was an eerie red.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. But the guards ignored her.

“I said, where are you taking me?” she asked again, her voice sounding more forceful. They ignored her once more as they led her away from the room.

She stood in the long entryway, a hallway she had been thrilled to be in only moments ago. Now her mind clouded over. Who could be shooting at the White House? And where did William disappear to? She wondered if she were safe in this building, and if she would be released by the Secret Service within any reasonable time frame.

Her gaze darted around the room. Where had all these soldiers come from? It looked like a small city had erupted into the house.

Her body cringed. Guns. These were not little pistols, but huge weapons. There were too many rifles to count and she felt sick to her stomach. The entire world had changed with the explosive sounds of two gunshots.

Through the dim red light, she saw an elderly man in a suit quickly walking in the background. He seemed out of place, so she watched him carefully, even though no one else seemed to notice him.

The red light made it hard to see, but she thought the man wore a brown suit, which seemed odd enough, but he used his hands to cover his face. His white hair showed his age as he walked into a nearby room. The door remained opened and she could see red paint on the walls and red carpeting — or at least they looked red since the room also had the red warning lights. The mystery man had barely taken two steps in the room when he pulled out a syringe from a cabinet drawer and jabbed it into his arm.

At first, Jackie assumed he was taking drugs as the man repeated the motion three more times. She then watched as the man’s white hair became darker and his stance straighter in only a matter of minutes. The man who now left what Jackie assumed to be the Red Room, appeared to be a man in his late thirties.

What the hell? Nothing made sense, and she thought she might throw–up. Her eyes were tricking her and obviously she had a concussion or was hallucinating. She couldn’t have seen what she thought she had witnessed.

And yet, no one else seemed concerned. She glanced from guard to guard. She knew the military could see people better in the dark with those helmets on since they showed a thermal body heat signature of people. Why hadn’t they picked him up?

The voices on the walkie–talkies brought her back to the first pressing need. Her safety and freedom. From the voices, she learned the shooter had been apprehended, and that she was to be escorted to the East Wing and interrogated.

Interrogated? What about this weirdo man injecting drugs just a few feet away? Why were these bozos not worried about
him
?

A request came over the walkie-talkie that a doctor was needed to examine her. Finally, Jackie could grasp onto something. Her mind was playing tricks on her, plain and simple. It wasn’t until she heard the soldier describing her condition to the person on the other end of the line that Jackie looked down at her dress.

Why was there so much blood all over her?

“You don’t understand!” Jackie insisted as the guards escorted her down a flight of stairs and down a darkened hallway. The same red incandescent light replaced the bright lights of the sconces, and she needed to hold onto the railing to safely follow the guards.

“William must be hurt! He was with me when the bullet broke the window.” Why weren't the guards listening to her? My God, she was speaking English, wasn't she?

“William Wardell! I was with him earlier. You need to find him,” she protested as they marched her across the East Colonnade. She kept pace with them, although she wanted to stop and slap them to get their attention. When they walked her past a row of windows in the East Colonnade, Jackie again saw the blacked out windows. The sight made her think of a prison lockdown.

She stopped in her tracks, the guards behind her nearly walking into her. “I’m no threat, and you need to stop wastin’ your time with me.” She pointed back down the hallway they had come from. “Get out there and find William!”

The guard she had assumed was in charge came up beside her. Without a word, he spun her around and placed handcuffs on her. The cold steel of the rings made her gasp as she took in the seriousness of the situation.

The guard rattled on about national security, but nothing about her right to remain silent — or any other Miranda Rights words she had heard from the television cop shows she enjoyed watching, so she assumed she wasn’t being arrested.

As she thought of what to say, or even what threat to scream at them, the man in the brown suit made another appearance in this hall, but this time his attire had changed. He now wore a dark blue suit which hung loosely on him. Jackie’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him approach, his stare focused directly on her, and she felt a horror film might play out. The man appeared to be in his mid thirties, and she knew he was the same old man she had seen disappear into the Red Room. The man brushed his hand through his thick dark hair as he flashed a badge and ordered the guards to allow him to take charge of the prisoner. The term prisoner surprised her. The White House did resemble a prison currently, and she figured until she proved her innocence, they saw her as a threat. Even more disconcerting was how the guards easily allowed the mystery man to take her, as if they stood in trances and had no choice. The armed men stepped aside as though the mystery man was the President himself.