Rasputin's Prodigy

by Michael Weinberger

  It took about five minutes before the elevator doors opened and two men wheeled what looked like a hospital gurney out of the elevator and walked over to the car. The driver pointed to the back seat and one of the men stuck his face up to the window to peer through at me. I turned my head away and began rocking back and forth as if in significantly more pain than I actually was, but the presence of the gurney had sent a shiver into my spine. I hadn't expected more than a beating that would bring all the guards together to share in the momentary respite from the daily tedium. Now a new prospect had been added that I hadn't accounted for, because if they strapped me down to the gurney I would be trapped, and that lack of freedom was going to significantly alter my plans.

  The driver opened my door and launched me out of the back seat by pulling hard on my feet. I felt my upper body go airborne and then my back and shoulders violently struck the concrete. I had only barely realized what was happening in time to tuck my head and prevent the back of my skull from smacking the ground hard enough to render me unconscious. After that I felt several pairs of hands grab my arms and legs until, at last, I was lifted off the ground and dropped unceremoniously onto the gurney. I lolled my head back and forth as a belt strap was tied around my waist, but this restraint was more to prevent me from falling off than it was to truly incapacitate me. To my relief they did not secure my hands or ankles, and the gurney started rolling toward the elevator.

  When the doors opened the two men dressed in light blue surgical scrubs stayed with the gurney, as did the driver, and I listened until the ambient noise of the garage was muffled by the elevator doors closing. I felt the elevator begin to move before I began to make a choking sound deep in my throat. The men glanced down at me in an uninterested fashion before their eyes returned to the floor numbers above the elevator door. I made the sound again, this time louder and swayed my head from side to side as if in slight distress. Still the men ignored me and watched as the numbers ascended until the elevator doors opened onto the third floor.

  I waited until the cart had cleared the elevator doors and then opened my eyes as I continued to sway my head back and forth in order to survey the surroundings. The third floor opened into a large expanse, looking very similar to a hospital Emergency Room, but without any walls or separation of treatment rooms. There were cots lined along one wall and medical equipment on wheels, as well as several desks and office type chairs spread all throughout the large open expanse. I.V. racks were in abundance and several of the hanging bags were flattened as if drained of their contents, but were also stained with the remnants of dark red liquid that could only come from blood.

  Uh oh.

  Chapter 27

  I felt the butterflies of adrenaline flutter inside my stomach as the orderlies wheeled me into position next to one of the cots. I could see the ALYX blood donation machine on a small table next to the cot and an errant thought ran through my head. The ALYX machine is used to perform what is called a double red blood cell donation when people volunteer to give blood. Essentially the whole blood is drawn, spun in a centrifuge separating the red cells from the plasma before the plasma is pumped back into the donor's body to prevent dehydration. The process is repeated a second time and the end result is the donor has safely been able to give twice the amount of red blood cells than he or she would have been able to donate if they had donated whole blood. Most of the donation centers in the United States have switched to this machine because the red blood cells are the portion of the donated blood most needed in transfusions, and as a result the centers can get twice the amount of red blood cells from the same number of donors.

  In the case of my kind, vampires suffering from our particular type of Porphyria need to supplement our bodies with the “heme” part of hemoglobin, which is present in the red blood cells. My own North American collective has been utilizing the ALYX machines to speed the production of our serum from well intentioned donors so they can donate more of what we need while keeping them safe from dehydration. The machines were expensive and, given the fact that the Russian Collective still took most of their blood from unwilling vitims, I didn't think the ALYX machines were here to maintain the wellbeing of any donors. Then again, if the ALYX machines safety measures were ignored, then a donor, or victim, could technically be fatally exsanguinated in a far more efficient way than by simply opening an artery or major venous canal. The only question was, why would they bother?

  My mind snapped back to reality as my gurney came to a stop and one of the orderlies clicked the wheel brake to keep it still. I was pretty sure I could take out the two orderlies hovering over me, but the driver was still near the elevator and there was no way I could take him out before he could raise an alarm. Worse, although I hadn't noticed anyone else moving around in the vicinity, that didn't mean the driver and two orderlies were truly the only people on the floor. I felt one of the orderlies start to unbuckle the strap around my waist as I saw the other one put on a pair of rubber gloves, which told me I had to move soon. If they managed to draw any of my blood and noticed the pinkish hue that my people have as a result of our condition, then my cover was blown, and my opportunity at diplomacy would be over before it had begun.

  As soon as the strap came off my waist I started coughing and making a choking sound. The orderly who undid the strap stepped back as I hacked and gagged in his direction.

  His partner looked at him, “What happened?”

  “No idea. All I did was undo the strap.”

  The sound of English nearly shocked me out of my performance and I had to curl up into the fetal position in order to hide the surprise that I was sure was showing on my face. I also began gasping for air in between coughs and gags as if I had something caught in my windpipe.

  The guy who undid my straps just stared at me as I convulsed on the gurney, “You think he swallowed his tongue or something?”

  “How should I know?” the second orderly replied.

  “So, check him.” said number one.

  “Why me?” responded number two.

  “You already have the gloves on,” the first orderly teased, “not that you need to worry about infection in any case.”

  The second orderly grumbled as I felt his hands forcefully grab my hair, turning my face toward his and saying, “I’m not worried about infection, but the street people here are beyond disgusting.”

  I made a particularly noxious gagging sound just as the guy tried to pry my mouth open and he stepped back in fear of an imminent projectile vomit.

  “What is going on?” I heard the driver call out in heavily accented English.

  “Not sure,” one of the orderlies replied, “this guy's maybe choking on his tongue or something.”

  I could hear the driver's footsteps approaching, curiosity making him investigate. When he spoke again, it sounded like he was standing right next to the gurney. I heard the unmistakable sound of an automatic handgun’s slide ratcheting to load a bullet out of the magazine and into the pistol’s chamber so that it was now loaded into a firing position.

  “Want me shut him up?” he asked in broken English.

  Before I could react one of the orderlies shouted, “No!”

  Relief washed through me as I heard the driver chuckle, “You are afraid of gun?”

  The orderly sounded winded as he spoke, “No, of course not, but I am the one who is going to have to clean up your mess afterward... Or were you planning on doing that?”

  The driver continued to chuckle, but I heard the click of the gun's safety, as he put it back into its holster. It was at that moment that I grabbed onto the rails on one side of the gurney and thrust a heel kick into the driver's abdomen hard enough that I actually thought I could feel the kick hit the man's spine. The driver's body bent neatly in half before being catapulted through the air and landing a couple of yards back. The orderly closest to me let out a yelping sound before trying to jump on top of me, but I had used the momentum of the kick to push myself into a backward ro
ll off the end of the gurney and into the other orderly who, upon seeing me strike the driver, had tried to turn to run. I grabbed the back of his head with both hands and violently pulled up and backward, the momentum causing his body to lift off the ground with his feet swinging out in front of him. I shifted and altered his momentum to slam his head and body straight down to the floor. The back of his head hit first with a loud crack, and his body fell limply in a heap next to me.

  The last orderly was facing me, his hands up and in a fighting position, and the look on his face was one of uncertainty, as if he were torn as to whether he should stand his ground or make a break for it. The driver started gagging in response to the kick I had given him and both the orderly and my eyes flicked to him and back again. I don't know how badly I had broken him up inside, but the pale blood coming from his mouth and nose was a pretty good indication that he was out of the fight. The orderly took a slow step toward the driver, and for a moment I had the impression that he was going to check on the guy to see if he was okay. Sudden realization sparked in my brain as the orderly quickly dove toward the driver, or more specifically, for the sidearm the driver had dropped when I flattened him.

  “Oh shit!” I exclaimed leaping into motion, without even realizing I had spoken, as the orderly slid to a stop, scooped up the sidearm from where it had been lying on the floor and was twisting his body toward me as I finally slammed into him. Both of my hands grabbed the orderly's wrist holding the gun and pushed the barrel away from my body, but he took the opportunity to use his free hand to punch me squarely in the face causing my grip to loosen enough for him to gain some leverage and begin to inch the barrel slowly toward my head. We rolled, fighting over control of the weapon until I somehow ended up lying flat on my back with my hands over my head still holding onto the guy's wrists. The orderly was kneeling and using his weight and gravity to his advantage to force the barrel back toward my face... and he was winning the contest.

  I only had one chance, but I knew that if I miscalculated by only a fraction of an inch that I was as good as dead. I gave a sharp pull on the guy's wrists in what seemed like an attempt to draw the weapon in closer and pull the orderly off balance. On pure reflex he responded by shifting his weight and pulling back against my effort at which point I relaxed my arms let go of my grip. The guy hadn't been expecting it, and the force he had thought to use to counter my move was now a severe overcompensation. The guy began to tumble backward, but not before righting the gun and pointing it directly at me. I knew I wasn't going to be fast enough, but I heard no gunshot as the orderly's finger squeezed the trigger. Unfortunately for him he had forgotten that the driver had engaged the safety after threatening to shoot me earlier, and nothing boomed out of the weapon.

  I kicked both of my legs up and over my head curling my body into a backward roll before bending my legs and bringing my knees down hard on the man's stomach. He let out a loud, “Oof!” and I shot my legs out straight again kicking him with all the force I had in both of my legs, directly in the face. The orderly's nose crunched and blood sprayed as his head whiplashed violently backward and forward, and then he collapsed like a rag doll to the floor. For my part I didn't slow down until I had removed the gun from his limp hand, checked him to make sure he was truly out of commission and, once satisfied that he was unconscious, I checked on the other orderly who was also unconscious. Then I walked over to the where the driver was now lying in a curled up fetal position. I put the gun against the man's temple, but he didn't stir, and then I checked for a pulse at his neck. I didn't find one.

  Crap, so much for diplomacy.

  Chapter 28

  It didn't take me long to drag the driver's body into a corner and put each orderly onto a cot before tying them down and then gagging them for good measure while praying that no one else was going to work on this level after hours. I really didn’t need for them to be found before I had finished what I had come to do. I had tried to time my break-in after what would normally be construed as regular business hours so there were fewer people around, but then again, we were talking about vampires who thought they were living like the legends of old, so who knew what kind of office hours they kept?

  Deciding that my best chance was to move as quickly as possible, it fortunately only took me a minute or so to find my way to the top floor and the space designated as Dimitri Lagos' office. I had speculated to Chris my doubts that such an old and, for lack of a better term, stereotypical vampire would have a use for such a space, but Chris had assured me that Dimitri not only had the office space, but he had hacked surveillance video that showed the old vamp had a routine of being in the office daily, just like his nightclub routine later in the evening.

  I put one hand on the large wooden door and pushed it open. What greeted me was something akin to a reception area, with sofas against the one wall and a small desk against the opposite wall, while straight ahead was a large pair of ornate doors. Apparently I had made my way into the reception area, where a normally present secretary would have notified Dimitri that his visitors had arrived, assuming he didn't already know via the security cameras at the entrance to the building.

  I cautiously walked across the room, but froze when I heard Dimitri's voice coming from the doors in front of me, “Tell Nicholas to send as many people after the girl as he can spare!” Dimitri's voice was incredibly agitated and I felt my heart ramp up at the mention of the “girl.” Had Lei and Pha managed to escape? No, I thought, he had said “girl” singular, as if only one of them needed to be found.

  Dimitri's pause told me he was on the phone as opposed to speaking to someone in his office, “Is the other one secure?”

  Another pause before he replied, “No, we still need her. Don't kill her, but make sure she is... damaged to the point that she won't be able to make any further escape attempts.”

  Rage shot through me like an electric current and any caution or subtlety I had been employing vanished in an instant as I kicked the doors open and aimed the driver's automatic at Dimitri's head and said with a low growl, “You might want to rethink that order.”

  Dimitri had turned away from the door as soon as he had registered the sound of the wood splintering under the force of my efforts and he had rebounded from the sound by coming back up with a snarl on his face, until he registered who he was facing... as well as the gun I was holding. Mild surprise washed over his face for a second, and then it was gone, replaced by a frown as he calmly spoke into the phone.

  “Wait fifteen minutes, if you don't hear from me after that, kill her,” and then he quickly hung up the phone before I could do or make him say anything else.

  My eyes flicked down to the phone in shock, before I let out a sigh and said, “You can certainly think on your feet. That was well played, hanging up like that so if I shot you down you wouldn't be able to call back to save her life.”

  Dimitri's conversational voice was as low and raspy as I remembered from our meeting in Las Vegas as he stated, “I haven't lived as long as I have because I'm an imbecile.”

  “Of course not,” I agreed, “but what's to stop me from shooting you in the legs until you pick up the phone and give the order.”

  Dimitri smiled, “Do you think it would be that simple?”

  I considered his smile. It was unnerving to say the least, as I was the guy holding the gun and the archaic asshole across the room was the one smiling. So why didn't I feel as confident as I apparently should have? Because Dimitri was old, very old, and the fact that he had managed to live so long was a not only a sign of his being an Ancient but was also a testament to his more than extraordinarily abilty to survive.

  I flicked the gun barrel at the phone, “So let's say that instead you make that call, and I lose the gun. Would that work for you?”

  Dimitri frowned, “To what end?”

  Now it was my turn to smile, “So we can talk detente.”

  Dimitri's frown deepened, but I could also see from his expression that there was
a curiosity or at least an interest on his part. I remained silent as Dimitri looked me over for nearly a minute before his expression softened, “I never wished to start a war with you or yours.”

  Steve frowned, “You do realize yours actions speak otherwise?”

  Dimitri shrugged his shoulders, “Had you done your job and delivered the one you call ‘William’ to me we wouldn't be here now, would we?”

  I coughed out a laugh, “I think you knew that as soon as I realized your ‘property’ was, in fact, William my intentions would change. That's why you had your man take Lei in the first place.”

  Dimitri shrugged his shoulders as a confident smile spread across his wrinkled face, “Hedging my bets as you Americans say.”

  I really wanted to shoot that smug look right off his evil face, but I said instead, “Are you going to make that call or not?”

  Silence filled the room again as Dimitri let some time tick off of the clock for another minute before he raised his hands, and then reached for the phone. He dialed a number and then pressed a speaker phone button on the receiver. The phone rang only once before a voice said, “Da?”

  “I believe everything is under control here,” Dimitri said smugly, and in English for my benefit and then held out his hand toward me for the weapon.

  I lowered the gun and stepped toward the ancient vampire, before releasing the magazine and ratcheting the slide to remove the lone bullet from the chamber and then gently placed the gun in Dimitri's hand, without breaking eye contact. If that old son of a bitch even looked as though he was going to betray me with his next words I was prepared to take him down, hard! Or at least I was committed to making the attempt in any case.

  Dimitri seemed to realize my intentions, and his smile widened even more before he asked, “Is the woman still alive and unharmed?”

  The voice answered in what I thought might have been Russian and I felt my stomach lurch when Dimitri's face slightly lost its smile, and he turned slightly to peer at the receiver, before he recovered and said simply, “I see. Well, see that no…” Dimitri looked away from the phone receiver, and directly into my eyes, “no further harm befalls her. And tend to her wounds immediately.”