by Day, P. J.
“Mr. King, this can’t be true, can it?”
My hyperventilation continued uncontrollably.
“I don’t believe your kind exists.”
I looked up. I felt tremendous amounts of sweat trickling down my face, seeping into my eyes. A feeling of a hundred bee stings pulsating their venom deep into my cornea. Everyone in the room stood completely still with blank stares. A couple of workers ran to the double doors and closed them.
I wanted to get up. I wanted to escape. I wanted to leap straight at Yi’s neck and rip his jugular clean off of his scrawny, misshapen, pencil neck, but I couldn’t.
I stuck my arm out at Rebecca and Alan, desperately pleading with them, “Please, help me...”
Yi bent down on one knee and grabbed my chin. He used two of his fingers to pry my mouth open, exposing my teeth. “Amazing... incredible,” he said with a look of bewilderment.
He stood up and pointed at one of the workers and ordered him to go up to the wall and press a large green button. Suddenly, I began to feel a slight burning sensation on the back of my head. I looked up and saw a large piece of glass attached to the ceiling with a long crease of bright light in the center. The crease grew larger, the heat and light intensified.
I began screaming, “Help me... please!”
The light overwhelmed the room. A scalding, powerful energy began to overtake every inch of my body. I felt the threads of my clothes begin to fuse with my skin by the sudden onset of heat. The intense sunlight from the outside world splashed straight into the cavernous concrete breach, my tortured state of being helpless and dead-center.
With the little energy I had left, I looked up at Alan and Rebecca. Rebecca had tears running down her cheek. Alan had a look so distraught, it can only be described as the first time a man looked death straight in the eyes.
“Why have you done this to me?!” I screamed.
A scream so painful, so horrifying, it could only come from someone who was burning alive. I felt my heart racing; my nerves suddenly became numb to all outside stimuli. I collapsed into darkness, nothingness, just the slow, deliberate pants of my dying breath.
***
Samuel, I hope that your continued mission of saving the world from torture, enslavement, corruption, and war is coming along splendidly. I really wish you the best in your endeavors; there are few men in this world who have a voice like yours. I won’t lie, I’m slightly envious of your position in life. Being someone who has lived through almost four lifetimes, seeing countless wars unfold over the pettiest of reasons, seen discrimination, famine, and considerate amounts of needless deaths and suffering, I wish I could do more. You are sincerely my last chance and hope at acceptance and I am highly appreciative of our correspondence. Hong Kong is beautiful; however, there is a seedy underbelly about this place. There is a level of distrust that permeates throughout the city and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe I shouldn’t put it all on the city; it could be the people I work with and the situation I’m in.
There is a girl lying down next to me. She passed out drunk before we attempted to do “stuff.” She is one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met and things are going well with us. I am starting to care deeply about her, but she doesn’t really know what I am yet. I’m tucking that part of me away for now. She either will never know what I am and we’ll end up going our separate ways, or I am going to be so kind and good to her in the future that she will have no choice to accept me for who or what I am. But that is how fairy tales work and my life has been anything but. Well, I’m off to bed. I have a long day ahead of me with our client. Also, I don’t want Holly to wake up and get weirded out at seeing me use her laptop for correspondence without permission. Also, I think I hear Alan knocking on my door again. The crazy bastard knows where I am at all times. How did he know I was staying with Holly?
Chapter Six
I started streaming in and out of consciousness. I heard the faint beeps of a hospital-grade heart monitor in the background.
I faintly overheard Alan’s voice in the background.“No one’s email is safe from you guys. You’ve actually made me paranoid about my own account.”
“Alan? How did you get in here?” I asked in a slight breathy whisper.
“Jack?” Alan asked, his voice filled with dread. “Rebecca, please get Yi to send medical staff down here now!”
“Why, Alan? What’s going on?” I said, slowly opening my eyes.
“Your sedatives are wearing off,” Alan said.
“I took Ted’s sleeping pills?” I asked.
“Shh... close your eyes, Jack.”
I could hear other voices in the room.
“What if he wakes up? What do we do?” asked a voice with a German accent.
“Does he have enough energy to break free?” asked a female.
“No, we’re fine,” added Alan. “In fact, if he’s semi-awake, we can open his arm and see how his blood flow actually works.”
“Will he feel any type of pain?” I heard the female ask.
“Maybe, but he is so drugged out of his mind... I don’t know—Rald, hand me the scalpel,” Alan said.
I tried opening my eyes, but I couldn’t. I was so weak, I was practically paralyzed. Then I heard Rebecca enter the room again.
“I’ve instructed the staff to put him under more sedation.”
“Why? Can’t you see that if he’s in this state, his blood pressure is somewhat normalized? We can learn so much with him like this,” Alan stated.
“No, Alan. I didn’t sign up for a process of slow torture. This is starting to resemble some sick Dr. Mengele shit,” Rebecca stated emphatically.
I felt a needle prick my arm. A sound like a crashing wave overtook my auditory senses. Within the vacuum of silence I found myself in, a familiar squeaky voice reemerged.
“Jack, how’s it been?”
“I can’t move, Milton,” I said.
“It ain’t me this time, my friend.”
“Then who is it?” I asked.
“Well, if I told you, you’d probably panic.”
“Okay, what do I do?”
“Well, the good news is we’re near you.”
“How so? You’re just a stupid dream.”
“Oh, Jack,” Milton said, patronizing me. “We’re here to help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not the only vampire in that facility...”
“What!?”
Milton said, “Open your eyes, now!”
Chapter Seven
I woke up.
Everything was foggy, nothing was clear, just shadows; nebulous shapes were the only patterns I could make out as the room slowly came into focus.
My wrists and ankles were tied down with hard, steel cuffs. I would feel my skin unglue itself slowly from the cold, metallic table every time I committed to a small movement or two.
“Hello, is there anyone there?” I asked into the empty cold air.
I heard someone or something punching what sounded like a piece of meat in the echoing, far reaches of the room. I lifted my head so I could make out what was making the beefy, grotesque sounds.
“Rebecca? Alan? Is that you?” I asked. My faint voice bounced off the seemingly large, concrete walls in the room.
As my eyesight slowly focused, the first image that caught my eye was that of a broad-shouldered, thick man clubbing the shit out of somebody who was suspended, naked, from the ceiling. The poor soul, who was hanging from his hands, looked completely skinned from head to toe. His body was covered in blood, the skin porous and burnt, each exposed ligament in his neck vibrating with each punch, like stretched-out guitar strings that had been tuned to the highest pitch. I couldn’t tell if he was alive since there were no screams or groans or spastic movements as the savage beating continued inside a fully transparent Plexiglass cube.
I felt pain as I watched the beating and realized that it was my pain. I focused my eyes on my throbbing forearm—a straight, s
even-inch row of stitching ran down the back of it. It seemed that I had been dissected alive. I instinctively let out a loud moan as the realization hit me that something as barbaric and inhumane as vivisection had been done to me against my will.
My howls of agony caught the attention of the shirtless strong man as he ceased his weighted wallops and looked at me through the glass. Like a jaguar identifying its prey through the brush, his eyes made sharp eye contact with mine. He squared his body and exposed his muscular, tattooed physique. His chest was emblazoned with the image of a long-beaked black bird with outstretched wings. The middle of the bird’s throat looked squeezed, as if choked tightly with string.
“Can you please let me out of here?” I asked politely, mercifully, hoping to break the monotony of pain. He stood completely still, without expression, his knuckles slit and bloodied.
As my eyes cleared further from my delirium-induced haze, I slowly realized that the brutal savage was an enraged Havens Ling. His chest heaved in exhaustion, his circulation coursed with rapid fluidity as a rush of adrenaline pumped into his maddened, bloodshot eyes. His bulging muscles and veins, his inked body, and seemingly war-like state, confirmed my suspicions that this man was no scientist or engineer, but a mutilator of men.
“Mr. Ling,” I yelled. “This is a big misunderstanding. Please be kind and call Rebecca and Alan?”
Havens didn’t say a word and smiled as he smeared blood on the glass, blood that he had gathered on his hands from his series of torrential hay-makers. I didn’t know if he was mocking me or somehow reveling in his psychopathy.
Behind Havens, the pendent victim began to move his head slowly. He carefully cocked his head back and opened his mouth, revealing a set of beautifully sharpened canines. I could tell the vampire was male; his scrotum, luckily, hung untouched from his lower extremities.
Before I woke up in my grotesque reality, Milton had said something in my dream about a cormorant with its neck squeezed. I had no idea what a cormorant was, but I think it was what Havens had tattooed on his chest, and surely enough, the neck was tied, too. Milton was also right about there being another of my kind present within the facility; however, it was obvious that he was of no help and was in the same horrendously emasculated state I was in, but much worse off than I was.
Havens opened the clear door that led into the glass cube and began slowly walking toward the table I was laying on, all the while maintaining an intense and predatory look about him. I began hyperventilating, my heart started racing uncontrollably. I was jettisoned into a sudden state of panic. In an act of unrealized futility, I began tugging my wrists and ankles away from the cuffs. I felt the dull metal edges begin to dig into my skin, as I did everything I could to escape my imprisonment.
“You’re going to let me go, right?” I asked in a panicked tone. “Cause if you’re not, I’m not going down without a fight.”
My pathetic attempts at negotiating had no effect on Havens as he continued to approach me like an enraged gorilla.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the concrete wall reveal a door-sized opening. Two men and two women in lab coats walked into the room. Yi, Alan, Rebecca, and an unrecognized young Asian woman stopped a few feet away from Havens and me.
Yi snapped his fingers, which caught Havens’ attention as if he were a trained chimp. “Havens, please step away. We like Jack,” Yi commanded, with a general’s posture.
Havens pursed his lips and gave Yi a frustrated look. His tense posture relaxed a little, as his massive shoulders drooped, and he stepped away from the group that were all looking at me like I was some type of science project.
“Jack, it’s good to see that your sedation has worn off; how are you feeling?” Yi asked.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” I yelled.
“Are you going to remain hostile? Do you want me to let him continue?” Yi said, motioning at Havens.
I laid my head on the table and let out a deep sigh. I was trapped and there was nothing I could have done that could have alleviated my situation. I had no choice but to submit any sense of outward pride.
Yi sat on the leather office chair that was next to me. He gave me a slight grin and a look of superiority. His cologne was strong. I held back a sneeze. I noticed his forehead was full of perspiration. I sensed nervousness, but he was doing a good job of hiding it.
The rest of the group stood behind him without expressions. Alan had a tablet in his hand, Rebecca and the other girl had notepads in theirs. Yi leaned in to me and adjusted his tie.
“Jack, I’m sorry we had to do this to you, but believe it or not, you are doing good work for mankind and science.”
I didn’t respond. I just looked straight up at the ceiling, refusing to give Yi the pleasure of eye contact.
“Jack, I know you’re very upset.” He paused and rolled his chair closer to my face, giving me an intense stare. “However, by studying you and others like you, we can hopefully cure many of humanity’s ailments.”
I continued looking at the ceiling and said, “What? By torturing me? By making me suffer? There is no reason to have me tied down to this table.”
Yi backed away from me while in the chair. He crossed is his arms and wrinkled his brow. “We might untie you, but you need to comply with some interviews... do you think you can do that?”
I rolled my head in the direction of the group and scanned each set of their eyes, hoping to identify a flinch or a small movement that indicated deceit.
Yi continued, “The other one like you, which was captured a few hours after you arrived, is being a little uncooperative.”
“Can you uncuff me now?” I calmly asked.
“After the interview,” Yi responded.
Again, I really had no choice in the matter. I paused and took a deep breath. I relented and gave Yi and the group a nod of resignation.
“Rebecca will conduct the interview; be friendly and cooperative,” Yi said, as he got up from the chair. He proceeded to put his cold, wrinkled hand on my shoulder. “My advice to you is... just be nice,” he said, flashing me a condescending wink.
Yi, Havens, and the rest of the group exited the large room, leaving Rebecca behind. Her eyes drew down in a flash and had a look of unease as I gave her a cold stare from the table. They probably thought that leaving me alone with an attractive female they would get more information out of me. Truth was, I was in no mood to play games with anyone, no matter how pretty she was.
Chapter Eight
Rebecca sat down on the same chair Yi had used. She took a recorder out of the pocket of her lab coat and placed it on top of a small metallic table that was next to my head. She gave me an awkward smile as she pressed the large, red record button. She leaned closely into the recorder and spoke in a slow methodical way. “Friday, March 18th, 2012. Day One of interviews with Jack King, American Vampire... subject number three.”
She tucked some of the loose strands of her long, curly brown hair on the side of her head behind her right ear, before settling into the chair.
I gave Rebecca a stinging look.
“You and Alan aren’t genetic engineers, are you?” I asked.
Rebecca had a somber look on her face and her eyes got lost into the empty pages of her notepad. She took a deep breath and responded, “No, we’re not, okay? I’m sorry for deceiving you. If you want the truth, Alan is a primatologist and I’m a behaviorist, a leading one in my field.”
“Hmm... okay...” I said, calmly. “A primatologist, huh? Am I monkey?”
“Well, biologically speaking, we’re all primates, so yes, we’re all kind of monkeys... well... apes, to be exact.”
“I was joking. You know, I’m just too trusting. You’d think someone with my lifespan would have learned by now.”
Rebecca flashed another uncomfortable smile.
“Well, now I feel like an idiot for not researching both of you a little more thoroughly. I shouldn’t have trusted the written words of another ma
n.”
“Jack, I wouldn’t feel bad. These aren’t our real names either. You wouldn’t have found anything about us on the web.” Rebecca pressed the button on the top of the ballpoint pen and cleared her throat. “Let’s move on, shall we?” She then asked in a clinical tone, “Is Jack King really your name?”
“So far it is,” I responded.
Rebecca made a quick note on her yellow pad, making sure she didn’t make eye contact with me. It was obvious she was still mildly uncomfortable.
“Rebecca?” I asked.
“Yes?” she said, still avoiding eye contact.
“Can you please cover me with a sheet or something?”
“Sure.” Rebecca got up and grabbed a bed sheet from a set of cabinets that were behind me. She unfolded the sheet and placed it over my naked body with gracefulness and care.
“Thank you,” I said.
She grabbed the notepad she had left on her seat and proceeded to sit back down. She exhaled deeply and continued her questions, “How old are you?”
“Very old,” I said. My curtness agitated her, as she huffed a burst of air to get a strand of hair away from her face.
“Jack, please. This is extremely difficult. Please work with me, and I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you aren’t in this position for long.”
I closed my eyes and said, “I’m 145 years old and I have forgotten my true name.”
“You don’t remember your real name... how can you not remember your own name?” she asked.
I continued to keep my eyes closed.
“Every time I try to recall my name, I just see the blurry patterns of my parents’ faces... a field or a meadow... a stream? I don’t know... I don’t really remember my childhood—honest.”
“Interesting,” Rebecca said, as she continued to scribble on the notepad.
