The Source

by J B Stilwell

  I sit at the computer and turn it on. Thankfully no username or password is needed for access, so I don’t have to bother Ms. Montgomery again. Weird. Doesn’t seem like information or technology security is a concern. I would have thought otherwise for a government research facility.

  I take a long drink of my Coke then set it aside before placing the disc into the computer tray. The screen prompts me to play the footage, which I promptly x-out of. I find the movie editing software, open it and begin reading through some of the Help pages on how the program works. Sure it might have been quicker just to have Ms. Montgomery show me, but given she isn’t exactly the chatty type, making that request might put me on her bad side. I definitely don’t want to do that especially if she’s typing up a personal report on me. Last thing I need on my record is a report stating “don’t hire this scientist, she’s too needy.” We may get that fifty thousand dollars, but I still need a job after this project is completed.

  As I am reading through the introduction, the door opens and Rick walks in. Walking with a purpose, he goes to the center island and picks up the remote as if he is going to watch more footage. He is so focused that he doesn’t even see me sitting at the computer. I turn in my chair and watch him for a moment before clearing my throat and saying, “Rick?”

  He turns to me and his rigid hard frame relaxes just a little. He puts the remote back on the island and walks back to the computer area. Pulling a chair up beside me, he sits and just looks at the computer without saying a word.

  I whisper, “Are you okay?”

  He looks at me and says rather sarcastically, “I’m peachy. Why are you whispering?”

  I look over his shoulder at Ms. Montgomery before looking at him again. “We might want to be careful about talking about certain things in here,” I whisper again. “I think Ms. Montgomery is recording more than just her observations of our work.”

  “I’m fine. What are you doing now?”

  Sighing I say, “I’m reading about this movie editing software because I want to zoom in on the footage to get a better look of exactly how the skin responds to sunlight.”

  He nods, his lips in a thin slash across his face.

  “Okay, let’s take a walk,” I say.

  I start to get up as my legs brush against his knees and he catches my wrist in his hand. “Stay. You shouldn’t be alone with me right now.”

  Tilting my head to the side I say, “Well, I can’t exactly work with you right now either. You’re so distracted by something that you’re not going to be able to think straight. You need to deal with it, then get back to work. You can do that alone, or we can do it together. Like a team. Like we said, remember?”

  He closes his eyes, making a strange gritting sound with his teeth. “I’m angry right now. I can be unpredictable when I’m angry.”

  “Then let’s go to the cafeteria. A room full of people might help stave your anger. It would be better than staying here and having her create a transcript of our entire conversation.”

  He frowns. Taking a deep breath, he gets up to leave as I slowly follow him. I still need to ask him about that breathing stuff. Either he needs the oxygen or he’s got it down pat for dramatic flare. Rick, the vampire drama queen.

  As I step out into the hallway and close the door, he’s leaning against the wall waiting for me. He has his hands in his jeans pockets, his head tilted down, hair swept back so that you could just make out his lavender eyes under heavy lids. Ninety percent of the time he is frustrating. But one hundred percent of the time he is like sex on a stick, just waiting to be dipped into something hot and creamy then devoured as the heavenly delicacy that he is.

  Okay, back to my question.

  “So, do you breathe or what?” I ask.

  “Excuse me?” he asks with wide eyes.

  “Do you need oxygen? On a couple of different occasions you have sighed or exhaled deeply. Do you actually need the air or is it just a habit left over from before the turn?”

  He slightly shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind. “Um, no I don’t need oxygen. Everything we get is from blood. And even if it’s a small amount, our bodies have adapted so that we either don’t need the element in question or we can survive on significantly smaller amounts. Why does your mind fixate on these trivial things?”

  Exasperated, I throw my hands up. “It’s an uncelebrated talent. Now follow me.”

  I turn and start walking down the hall, feeling sure that he would follow. When I don’t hear his footsteps, I glance over my shoulder to see that he is indeed right behind me. Face blank, he stares straight at me, his hands still in his pockets. I turn back around and mentally tell myself that I don’t need to know what he is thinking about when staring at me like that. It could have been that he wanted to wring my neck, figure out what makes me tick or have me for dinner. The last wouldn’t be that bad if it included whipped cream.

  Hah! Must stop thinking. Well, like this anyway.

  We arrive at the cafeteria. There are very few people there. The ones that are milling about are obviously staff, only one or two customers actually sitting at tables. Regardless, I choose a table that is farthest away from the door and all of the others, patrons and workers alike.

  Rick takes his seat and drops like a pile of bricks. He clasps his hands in front of him, resting them in his lap as he makes every attempt not to look at me. I tuck stray hairs behind my ears, gathering my thoughts. After a few moments of fidgeting, I finally get my nerve, “So, where did you go?”

  He looks at me, holding my eyes. “To talk to Mr. Caulfield.”

  I wait for him to continue. When he remains quiet I ask, “About the footage?”

  “It’s taken care of. I got my answers.”

  “Then why are you still so pissed off?”

  “Pretty talk,” he raises his eyebrows.

  “Cut the crap. I cannot work under these conditions. It’s bad enough that I have to put up with Tucker, now I have to try to work with a pissed off vamp. So, do me a favor. Spill your guts, pat your inner child and get over it.”

  He runs his hand through his hair as he glances away from me, “Who’s Tucker?”

  “Stop deflecting. I need to know everything that is going on with our project. How else can I work? From the beginning you have suggested that I needed to know more.”

  “Not about this,” he shakes his head. “What I talked to Caulfield about was personal. It doesn’t have anything to do with the project.”

  I slump back in my chair, “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I take a deep breath. “But if it’s going to shake you up so much, you need to deal with it or you won’t be able to focus on the project.”

  “I’m handling it,” his lips thin into a tight smile. “Now, who’s Tucker?”

  I return his smile, “It’s personal.”

  “Hey, Rick.”

  I am so engrossed in my conversation with him that I don’t even see her walk up to the table. She is tall, thin, long blond hair. She’s wearing a knee-length black skirt and red floral top with short sleeves showing off her bronze complexion. Her makeup looks expertly done, but not overdone. She looks classic, not cartoonish. And she calls him by his name.

  Rick looks up at her with a small smile, “Hello, Rita.”

  She glances at me, and then looks back at him. “When I saw you come in, I thought you were going to pay me another visit.” She smiles sweetly, subtly pouting her lower lip.

  “Ah, sorry for any misunderstanding. Emma and I just needed to get away and talk about the project. Um, Rita this is Dr. Emma Burcham. Emma, this is Rita Mayslip. Rita is an administrator.”

  I nod at her. She responds with an overly pristine, toothy smile. “It’s nice to meet you Emma. I trust you’re not the reason that Rick had to come find me earlier.”

  I look questioningly at Rick who is busy rubbing the back of his neck. I glance back up, “Somehow I seriously doubt that.”

  She grins. “Good. No need to get h
im all worked up when he’s trying to work.” She looks at him. “Let me know if you need anything else, Rick.” She says his name as if holding the sound in her mouth could make holding him between her lips a reality. She makes me want to throw up.

  As she slinks away, I look at Rick, willing an explanation from him. I know it’s probably none of my business, but hey, given that I was just somewhat accused, I feel entitled.

  I tilt my head down, trying to look into his face. He won’t look at me so I say, "What was up with that?"

  He continues to stare straight ahead. "In her administrative position she assisted me earlier."

  I practically snort. "Yeah, I got that. It just seems rather seedier than that with the way she was acting."

  Rick shakes his head and finally looks at me. "When vampires get angry, the predator within tends to make an appearance. There are certain ways to control that. That's how Rita helped me." He turns slightly away from me, crossing his legs, resting his arm on the table.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. It's obviously your business and something that you don't want to talk about. I don't need to know how you relieve your stress," I say. "I just didn't like thinking that I may have been the cause of it."

  "No, of course you're not. If anything, I feel calmer around you. You have an amazing ability to kill my predatory inclinations. Usually."

  "I don't know if you just gave me a compliment or if you're saying that I'm the vampire equivalent of a libido downer."

  He finally laughs. Score one for the country girl. "It was a compliment. If I don't have those feelings, then I can focus more on the simple things. Like doing work or just having a conversation." He looks at me with a brief smile, his face softening.

  After a few brief moments he takes my hand in his, holding it lightly. "Thank you for your concern. I'm sorry that I stormed out earlier. The footage just hit a little too close to home. I knew I was getting crazed and I didn't want to hurt you."

  I inhale deeply as my pulse speeds up and my heart feels lodged in my throat. I can’t speak. The only thing I can do is silently hope that my hand doesn’t start sweating. I look down where our hands rest. I can’t help but think that it looks just as good as it felt. He is fairer than me, sure, but our hands fit together perfectly. I must stop letting my mind wander.

  I slide my hand from his and smile up at him. "I'm glad to hear that you don't want to hurt me. It's rather comforting."

  "Well, I would hope so. Besides, I need you to help me get that fifty thousand dollars."

  I whack his arm as I look up and catch the sight of Tucker coming into the cafeteria. He quickly looks away from us and maneuvers amongst the food stations. I can’t help but watch him as he gathers items onto his tray, keeping his head down. His clothes still look disheveled and his hair appears to be fighting gravity. I’m fighting the urge to feel sorry for him. I can relate in that I've yearned for someone that didn't want me. It's heartbreaking and enough to make the sanest person check themselves into a mental ward. But there are boundaries. I wouldn't have invaded the person's privacy. Or should I be excited by the fact that he likes me that much? I shake my head to clear my thoughts because I am starting to think like a crazy woman.

  "Earth to Emma," Rick snaps is fingers in front of my face.

  I look at him. "Yes, what?"

  Tilting his head at me. "Are you okay? I've been talking about our next steps with the project and you are in some kind of trance." Rick looks over to Tucker's table. "He’s one of the archivists, isn't it? Do you know him?"

  Trying to smile. "Not really. I've seen him around." I SO do not want to get into this conversation. I really don’t want to relive the humiliation of everything that has happened.

  He raises an eyebrow. "Maybe interested in getting to know him?"

  "Not hardly," I say, slightly rolling my eyes, not wanting to wax too juvenile on the subject. "Well, we better get back to the suite. If you're not wanting to talk about the things that angered you, we should get back to work." Distraction from my issues is my middle name.

  Rick grabs my hand. "I meant what I said. I don't want you to think that just because I keep certain things to myself that it means that I don't trust you, or like you, or...want to spend time with you." He stands up, still holding my hand, giving it a slight shake. "You go ahead back to the suite. I need to make some arrangements with Rita, then I'll be right there."

  I nod as I slide my hand from his once again, feeling completely perplexed and somewhat satisfied. It's nice to know that he doesn't want to attack me. Even nicer that he might actually enjoy my company. This pleasant discovery made in front of the viewing audience of Tucker, my clueless admirer. Hopefully it won't give him any ideas. That is if he even saw anything.

  I walk quickly out of the cafeteria and down the hall to our suite.

  When I get there, I’m surprised to see that Ms. Montgomery has packed all of her things and left. Maybe she got tired of our lack of work. My gain. I can actually relax now without feeling like I am being scrutinized under a microscope.

  I go back to the computer and stare at the screensaver. I wish I knew what makes Rick tick, aside from a hunger for blood. Ick. I know that something is bothering him, but he won't talk about it. And at the same time he appears to be getting increasingly friendly with me. Holding my hand? Sheesh. When had that happened last? I remember the first of only a few times that a man held my hand. Actually, he was a boy as I was still in high school. I felt as awkward as he acted as he took my hand. We spent at least five minutes looking at each other, wondering what to do next. His name was Billy Somethingoranother. I don't ever remember being friends with him. I just remember that someone had told me that he liked me, so I jumped at the chance. Didn't know him. Didn't even find him attractive. Someone was showing an interest, so I couldn't let it pass by.

  See, what Billy didn't know - and Rick has yet to figure out - I'm the girl who is the good friend, not a girlfriend. I'm the girl who listened when guys complained about other girls. I would nod, ask leading questions and tried to use a Jedi mind trick to get them to notice me as date material. I never was a good Jedi. My control of the Force was only good enough to get accepted as "one of the guys" when I really wanted to be one in a million.

  Billy never did figure it out. We continued to fumble around with our unsteady status as "steadies." I wouldn't break up with him because I couldn't bear being the girl without a boyfriend, as relationship status became a mark of general worthiness in high school. We had nothing in common. And after getting to know him, I didn't even really like him. I had seen movies where big, gorgeous guys would come in and rescue the broken-hearted damsel in distress, so I put on my best Scarlet facade and treated Billy in such a way that he wanted to dump me. No boys came running to comfort me. Actually, it further reinforced my identity as a dating pariah because even one of the school's "losers" didn't want me.

  Not an easy lesson to learn, but I'm still waiting on someone to rescue me. And it's too much to hope for Rick to be that person, but the possibility is exciting. I just wish I knew if he were flirting or just being nice. It's so hard to tell the difference sometimes. Maybe I should just come right out and ask him. Yeah, because that would show just how sophisticated I am. Forget it. Better to just accept that Rick, like so many others, sees me as the girl who's a good friend.

  I jiggle the mouse to get the screensaver to quit saving and resume reading about the movie editing software. Once I get through the basics, I feel comfortable enough to guide myself the rest of the way through the program.

  I select the first video, the one of the vampire who was apparently walking into the sun on purpose and click play. When I get to the point where it appears that smoke is rising from his body, I pause the footage and zoom in on one of his exposed arms. The zooming made the resolution look warped so I use the editing controls to refine the quality as much as possible. I’m able to get the image to appear somewhat clearer, but still with a slight digital peach fuzz encircling the
vampire's arm. I go ahead and push play again, setting the speed to slow motion. The skin appears to change color and darken. I can only guess at this point since the footage is in black and white. The vampire's arm began to tremble, something I had not noticed before. The skin then began to wrinkle like a paper bag before breaking off into pieces then collapsing into a pile of mush.

  In this video, there is no indication of fire anywhere on the vampire's arm. I decide to go through this same process with the video that was actually in color. There may have been small flames and I didn't recognize it because of the lack of color. I decide to review the last video we saw, the one of the female vampire in the white room.

  Before I have a chance to click play, Rick walks back into the room and resumes his seat beside me. He doesn’t say anything and his face is completely blank. I just look at him, waiting for him to say something. He smiles at me. "So, what do you have?"

  Okay, Mr. Secretive Rendezvous. I nod to the computer. "Well, I used the software to zoom in on the first piece of footage. I couldn't get the resolution to be completely clear and the black-and-white made it difficult to discern, but it appeared that the vampire's skin changed color, wrinkled, then fell apart."

  "Hhhmmm. Not exactly consistent with symptoms of an allergic reaction."

  "No," I agree, "nor did I see any indication of fire which would rule out that the sun causes vampires to catch on fire."

  He nods, "Sure, but these are a lot of assumptions to base on one observation. What if what you saw was only symptomatic of this particular vampire's reaction and not representative of vampires in general?"

  I smile as graciously as possible. "I thought of that. That's why I'm going to view the last piece of footage since it's more recent and in color."