The Cure

by Loren Schechter

  “Right now I’m estimating the size of your coffin. Get out of my way.”

  Finkelstein shrugged and moved aside. “You won’t have any privacy with a student in there.”

  “You think I had privacy in Army latrines?” Bunny pushed the door open. Portia Underlude stood with her back to the sinks, smiling.

  “Oh Christ!” said Bunny. “From the Jew to the Faithmonger. Hello, Portia. You cleaning for penance?” Finkelstein was crowding in behind her. “Go get LittleHawk,” she heard him tell Arvin. No matter. All three of them together couldn’t match her strength.

  “Bunny! What a wonderful surprise.” Portia Underlude stepped forward, arms open for an embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  She wants to tie up my arms. There are lights on behind her in crappersville. Bunny put a hand to Portia’s chest to fend her off. “Hang a minute, babe. What’s happening here?”

  “Just the usual,” said Portia.

  Bunny took a deep sniff and screwed up her face; a gargoyle looked back from a mirror. The odor of shit was nasty and expected, the lavender air freshener was sickly sweet, but Finkelstein’s rotten fruit cologne was mixed with a warmblood sweatstink of fear. She glared at the guidance counselor. “Did you bring Miss Godspiel here a little something to prey on in private?”

  Finkelstein’s wide-eyed look of innocence convinced her she was right. These religious types won’t share the time of day with a non-believer, much less a cup of blood, thought Bunny.

  “You’re way off base,” said Finkelstein. “Edna will be here in a couple of minutes. She’ll explain.”

  “She in on it, too?” Bunny pushed Portia aside and headed into the room with the toilets. “Well, I’ll take my share now. It’s common courtesy to serve guests first.”

  Finkelstein stayed hot on her heels. “This isn’t what you think. Portia and I are too old for gang-fangs.”

  “Good. Then there’s more for me.” Bunny kicked open one stall door after another. “Where are you hiding it?” She saw the arch to the shower room. “Oh.” She strode into the darkness and tore a shower curtain from its hooks. Empty. She dropped the curtain and stepped to the next stall. She sniffed. Smiled. It was as if they’d gift-wrapped her prize. Fangs bared, she ripped the curtain back. “Got you!”

  The girl stood trembling in her boots, her face almost as bloodless as a vampire’s. She was tall and pretty, with strawberry blonde hair down to her backpack. Her ski jacket was unzipped and both hands were tucked beneath her sweater as if she were dealing with heartburn.

  “What’s your name?” asked Bunny.

  The girl licked her lips. “Kathy.”

  “Well, Kathy, it’s dinner time. You can make it hard or easy. You don’t have to suffer through the entire meal. What’s it to be?”

  “Don’t do this,” pleaded Finkelstein.

  “Easy,” said Kathy.

  “Then step out of the shower like a nice little pudding.” Bunny retreated a couple of steps to give the girl room.

  Kathy stepped forward. “Mr. Finkelstein, please – ” Her voice quavered. From beneath her sweater, she brought an empty hand out in desperate appeal. “Please tell my parents I was eaten by a bear.”

  Bunny’s laugh died when she saw Kathy’s knife plunging toward her chest. The vampire pivoted and brought her forearm up to block.

  “Oww!” yelled Kathy.

  “Fuck!” said Bunny, as the knife lodged in her forearm. Wood, she thought. The kid meant to kill me. “That’s it for you, babe,” she snarled.

  “Stop!” shouted Finkelstein.

  “Get lost,” said Bunny. “I ought to kill you for bringing this assassin up here.”

  “Wait! I’m not an assassin.”

  “Oh, no?” Bunny looked at the knife in her arm, then back at Kathy. “Then who or what the fuck are you?”

  Kathy swallowed hard. “I’m your girl.”

  10

  Council Meeting

  Kathy sat in John Harrow’s office waiting for Dr. Baneful to arrive. Her head was bowed, her body numb; her heart still pounded as if she were into one of her five-mile runs. Every few minutes, she shuddered as if she was again behind the shower curtain with the vampire ripping it away.

  None of the four vampires sitting with her in the biology teacher’s office had offered any comfort — not that she’d expected a kind word from Bunny. She’d hoped for support from Finkelstein or Edna LittleHawk, who sat stone-faced on either side of her. The Shoshone teacher of “Ethics for Bloodsuckers” had laid into both of them in the shower room – Bunny for her violent behavior, and Kathy for returning to school. She’d threatened to kick them both out into the wilderness if they continued to make trouble. Not only had LittleHawk sounded like she meant it, but she’d dressed for action, forsaking her indoor moccasins and beaded doeskin outfits for work boots, jeans and a black tee shirt. Her braids were coiled atop her head and fastened with pointed hardwood sticks that could easily be slipped between ribs. Still, with Bunny more than a head taller and probably fifty pounds heavier than LittleHawk, Kathy doubted that the Ethics teacher could have enforced her threat. Especially with Finkelstein already on the floor, having been sent flying by one punch from Bunny. “The kid’s wearing your rotten cologne, you stinking Fink,” Bunny had raged. “You had her in the limo with me!”

  Kathy stole a glance at the wounded vampire. With the elbow of her bandaged forearm planted on Harrow’s desktop, Bunny was still glaring at Finkelstein.

  At least she’s not paying attention to me, thought Kathy. Never had she been so scared or talked so fast as in the shower room. “Wait!” she’d shouted as Bunny grabbed her. “I’ve gone to boarding schools and I don’t have fangs. I can get what you want from that boarding school girl easier than any vampire kid. You need a girl like me.”

  “We’ll give him five more minutes,” said John Harrow from behind his desk.

  Kathy grit her teeth. Despite his gray hair and grandfatherly face, the Chair of the Administrative Council wasn’t in her corner. As the judge elected to try her for murdering Conrad, Harrow had been furious she’d escaped before the jury could render a verdict. “I’m glad you came back,” he’d said when Edna LittleHawk had marched her into his office. “Now we can finish the trial.” Both her fate and Hector’s rested on Harrow’s vote, so she’d kept her mouth shut.

  With a sharp sniff, Bunny straightened in her chair. “Behold,” she said, “the Prince of Darkness comes.”

  Within seconds, the door flew open and Dr. Bartholomew Baneful posed in the doorway so all could be impressed, if not by his handsome features and haughty expression, then by the black cape he thrust forward with his forearm to display the red and yellow flames reaching up from the hem. Beneath the cape, he wore a black tuxedo, frilled white shirt and bow-tie.

  Kathy stiffened. He looks like a magician.He’s killing Hector. He wants to kill me.

  “Thank you for waiting.” Baneful’s hand drifted toward his shirt. “Forgive my formal attire. I’ve come straight from a fundraiser for the Satanic Legion. Quite a sacrifice, believe me.” He sniffed. “And quite a stink here.” He looked warily at Bunny. “Barbara, what a pleasant surprise. No ‘hello’ for your charming half-brother? No words of welcome? Not even a smile?” He moved to the empty chair in front of Harrow’s desk.

  “If I had my way,” said Bunny, “the Sing-Sing band would be greeting you, playing ‘Hail to the Thief.’ He had our parents sign over everything to him before he bled them to death,” she told the group.

  Dr. Baneful put the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, my. How sad. You’re still harping on those old and unfounded grudges. I thought you came here to suck and make up. I was quite expecting your apology.” He looked down at Kathy. “I see another lost sheep has returned to the fold. What is this warmblood doing at a Council meeting?”

  “Observing our foolishness,” said Edna LittleHawk.

  Baneful’s gaze shifted to John Harrow. “A snack shouldn’t
be present unless it’s to be offered around.”

  “Bunny and Edna say the girl is crucial to the proceedings,” said Harrow. “I’m inclined to give them a chance to explain.”

  “And the Jew?”

  “As the girl’s counselor, he’s here to advise her of her rights.”

  Baneful sighed. “This isn’t a court, John. Even if it were, a snack has no rights. It’s not like a vampire or a corporation.”

  “True,” said Harrow. “You’ll have to leave,” he told Finkelstein.

  Kathy felt a squeeze in her gut. She looked at Fink.

  “Council rules,” he murmured. As he rose, he gave her a sorrowful look and jerked his head to lead her eyes toward Edna. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

  Kathy bit her lip and stared at her lap until the door clicked shut.

  “You’ve won your point,” said Harrow. “Now please sit down so your sister can tell us what’s so important that we have to meet after midnight.”

  “Half-sister,” said both Banefuls.

  Harrow nodded. “I’m glad you agree on something. Bunny, you have the floor.”

  “Thank you.” She clenched her jaw and glared while Bart made a show of removing his cape and getting settled. “Okay. Three years ago, I read about Dr. Carson Quintz, a famous geneticist doing research on the human genome, looking for DNA abnormalities that cause rare diseases. I cornered him – ”

  “Forgive me,” said Edna. “I took high school biology almost a century ago. What’s a genome?”

  John Harrow cleared his throat.

  Bunny heaved a sigh. “Go ahead, John. You teach this stuff.”

  “The genome is all the genetic information in a particular individual,” said Harrow. “I’m sure you learned that genes pass on distinctive traits and features from one generation to the next. Well, genes are segments of DNA, the chemical strands which store hereditary information like a blueprint so that proteins and cell structures can be made and regulated. The amazing thing about – ”

  “Got that, Edna?” Bunny interjected. “Thank you, John. Anyway, I cornered Dr. Quintz in his lab late at night. I told him I meant him no harm, that I’d come to offer him a unique challenge. If he was successful, he’d be enshrined in the history of science and undoubtedly get the Nobel Prize in Medicine. He’s been nominated before but never won.”

  “You turned him?” asked Harrow.

  “No. I just threatened to kill him and his family if he told anyone that vampires exist. Once I got him over his shock, he got hooked on the idea that vampirism was a genetic mutation and that he could be the one to prove it. He was eager to take cell samples that night and to begin mapping my vampire genome. But I told him that wasn’t my goal.”

  “It wasn’t?” Kathy wilted beneath Bunny’s glare. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “I said that if he found the mutated segments of DNA that produced our abilities to heal ourselves and live forever, perhaps they could be separated from unfortunate side-effects like fang growth and blood lust. Imagine the profits from patenting and selling a therapy that could deliver automatic healing and eternal life.”

  Kathy blinked. They’d sell immortality? Without religion?

  “Future riches don’t outweigh the risk of being discovered in the present,” said Harrow. “We’ll be hunted down and wiped out as if we carry the plague.”

  “We can’t let that happen.” Dr. Baneful thumped Harrow’s desktop. “We’re Satan’s children, destined to rule the earth in His name. We have to kill this Quintz and anyone he’s told we exist.”

  “Too late,” said Bunny. “The government knows we exist. They probably have for a while. The gun I took from a Department of Homeland Security agent in the hospital had brass-jacketed wooden bullets. DHS doesn’t want to admit we’re out there because it will panic the warmbloods. I don’t doubt that the President and a few other bigwigs know. But if word gets out, walls and locked gates will go up everywhere. Neighbor will accuse neighbor. It’ll be worse than the witch hunts in Salem.”

  “It would be like that all over the world,” said Edna. “In this country, people of color will be accused of having vampire genes. Anyone with buckteeth will be attacked on the street. No one will go out in the dark.”

  Harrow nodded. “Think of the environmental consequences. Bats will be massacred; mosquitos will breed uncontested; leech farming would disappear.”

  “So would Halloween,” said Bunny. “Candy and pumpkin sales would plummet. The economy would suffer. Ammo factories would have to convert to producing wooden bullets and the price of lead would drop like — plutonium.”

  Dr. Baneful rubbed his chin. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Things could become chaotic. Maybe we should advertise ourselves in the Wall Street Journal.”

  Bunny’s lips twisted downward. “I’m not after chaos or riches. The prospect of future patents and sales was only to get venture capital vampires to fund the research.”

  “Then what is it that you’re really after?” asked Harrow.

  “A cure. Viruses are being used to change the DNA of cells. Once the faulty DNA combinations are identified, it may be possible to correct those errors by inactivating the bad gene segments or inserting normal ones by using viruses.”

  “A cure for bloodlust?” asked Harrow. “In a nasal spray?”

  Bunny’s opened her palms to him. “My goal is to enable the undead to return to normal life. I’m more than willing to be the guinea pig.”

  “You’re worse than a guinea pig. You’re an abomination.” Dr. Baneful spat out the words. “You’re threatening our very existence.”

  “Let’s not exaggerate,” said LittleHawk.

  “Let’s not be blind,” countered Baneful. “The newvees who come to us hate what’s happened to them. They hate their fangs and their blood cravings. They are instant outcasts. They believe they’re freaks or that they’re being punished by God for their failings. As educators, we try to teach them more than hunting and hematology — we try to convince them they’re not at fault, that they’re not inferior. You all know how hard that is. The Satanic Legion gives them pride and fellowship and a common cause.”

  “To kill indiscriminately and create chaos?” LittleHawk scoffed.

  “I preach what I believe. Genes or no genes, Satan created us not only to survive, but to prevail. We are superior humans, the next wave in evolution. The warmbloods will go the way of the Neanderthals. We’ll save enough of the best-blooded to serve our needs and breed their replacements like they’ve done with other animals.” Baneful shook his head. “It would be terribly cruel to give any of Satan’s children the illusion that we can return to the warmblood world. How do we know these viruses won’t leave us weak and demented, or shrivel us older vampires into dust? Bunny’s notion is beyond cruelty. It’s heresy. How many will desert the True Way and die trying to be lesser beings? My half-sister is half-heretic, half-traitor and fully loathsome.”

  Bunny’s nostrils flared. She leaned toward Dr. Baneful, her fangs and fingernails ready to attack. Kathy shrank back in her seat.

  “Don’t do it!” LittleHawk touched Bunny’s arm ever so lightly. “He’s trying to provoke you. Don’t lose sight of your goal.”

  Still seething, Bunny pulled herself back in her chair. She took a deep breath and turned to John Harrow.

  “Bart’s view of the future makes him a lesser being,” said Bunny. “If the experiments are successful, vampires will have a choice. Every conscious being deserves to choose her future. As for Bart’s irrational concern about viruses – ”

  Dr. Baneful came halfway up from his seat. “Don’t you dare talk about that!” he snarled.

  Bunny smirked as if she’d bested him. “Didn’t intend to. I was about to say that Dr. Quintz believes our bodies will start up from the point our aging was interrupted. Shriveling is Hollywood’s nightmare, not our reality.”

  “I hope so,” said LittleHawk. She focused her gaze on Harrow. “I believe it would be uneth
ical to deprive vampires of the choice of going back to start a normal life again. Most of us are unhappy with perpetual hunting and killing. How far has the work progressed, Bunny?”

  “My genome and that of a few other Boston vampires have been mapped and some common genetic faults identified. Dr. Quintz worked with a virologist to assess possible retroviruses that might be used. Rat trials were successful. Safety studies on larger animals and vampires were about to begin.”

  “Were?” Harrow’s tone was sharp. “What happened?”

  “Someone in Quintz’s lab connected the unusual genomes to vampires. That warmblood blew the whistle and government goons moved in.” Bunny backhanded the air. “I was extremely careful. No emails, no written communication. I delivered the samples to Dr. Quintz personally, always late at night. We had an emergency procedure using Craigslist. Last week, Quintz placed an ad that said J. Mendel had to sell his pea plants. They needed to be picked up immediately. The cost was eighteen dollars and eighty four cents per plant.”

  “Which meant what?” asked LittleHawk.

  “Mendel was the father of genetics,” said John Harrow. “The first laws of genetics came from his experiments with pea plants.”

  “His name was Gregor,” said Dr. Baneful.

  “Don’t instruct me about Mendel.” Bunny’s tone was as haughty as her brother’s. “I worked in the Cold Harbor Lab during college. Mendel was worshipped there. His birth name was Johann. Not using the G in the ad was a signal the government was hiding behind it. Picking up the plants was code for ‘come get the data.’ And 1884, the date of Mendel’s death, told me that I might be marked for death. I responded with a coded message that told him I’d come the following night to his office. When I got there, government agents were waiting. They’d confiscated his data and they tried to terminate me. All I came away with was a blank flash drive on which the doctor had scratched Rose Blood. ”

  “I never heard of that type of blood,” said Dr. Baneful, “but I’m glad the data will be destroyed.”

  “Don’t be so sure that the government will destroy it,” replied Bunny. “It’s more likely they’ll try to weaponize gene transfer technology. ”