Thea (Book 2): A Vampire Story

by Steven Jenkins

  “Yeah.”

  “Well they lead directly into the pathology waiting room, which leads to the blood bank. The staff would have gone home by now, so the doors will be locked.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Normally the doors have pretty basic locks. If no one sees me then I should be able to get it open.”

  “Really? Rip it off like Superman?”

  Nodding, Kate turns to me. “Well, I suppose I could if I had to, but a broken lock is too obvious. I’m going to do it the old fashioned way.” She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a long piece of thin metal.

  “Do you think I’ll be able to do that one day?” I ask her.

  “Of course you will. It’s easy to pick a lock.”

  I shake my head. “No—I mean rip a lock off with my bare hands.”

  Kate smiles. “Soon enough,” she replies, grabbing an empty rucksack from the back seat. She then opens the car door. “Whatever happens—”

  “Yeah, yeah—stay put. I got it.”

  She climbs out. “Good girl.”

  “But what if you’re caught?”

  Kate shakes her head and fires off a confident stare. “I never get caught,” she replies.

  Famous last words.

  Nerves start to take over my body as I watch her walk towards the double doors. I can’t tell if it’s just the fear of getting caught, or the horror of not getting fed. Don’t think I can take another day with this pain. After licking dried up blood from a floor, and digging up a dead body, God knows what I’m capable of.

  Just before Kate enters the building, she glances back at me. Is she worried? No way. She doesn’t seem the type.

  If she is worried—then we’re completely screwed.

  I slide down in my seat, hood up, scanning the area like a common criminal staking out a bank-job. There’s a part of me that loves the thrill of doing something illegal, but the other part just wants this to be over with.

  I was half expecting her to say the classic cliché: If I’m not back in five minutes, just go without me. But I doubt that’s her style. I bet shit like this is nothing to an experienced vampire. You don’t get to hide from the world without breaking a few laws. It’s a shame that psychic control only works on me. Slipping past a few security guards would be an absolute breeze.

  She’s only been gone about five minutes and already I’m getting anxious.

  Should I go check on her?

  No. She’ll only end up shouting at me, and then we’d have no chance to swipe the blood.

  I groan, fidgeting in my seat, the wait killing me, my stomach even more so. These moments alone are hard, but they do help with my memory. Maybe Kate is the one clouding it, messing around with my head. After all, I still can’t remember my address, or the name of my best friend. I see a girl’s face, brown hair tied back, thin cheekbones, but nothing else. Even Mum seems like a distant relative.

  Give it time. It’s only been a few days. Another week and I’ll remember everything.

  Kate exits the hospital and then paces towards me.

  I sit up, hand grasping the door handle, pulse elevated. “Did you get it?” I ask her as she enters the car. The sight of her sagging, empty rucksack on her lap answers my question.

  “I couldn’t,” she replies, shaking her head. “There were too many porters in the corridor.”

  My heart sinks. “What are we going to do now?”

  Shrugging, she looks at me with disappointed eyes. “I don’t know. We could try another hospital, or wait until tomorrow.”

  The hunger pain shunts me, causing me to clutch my belly, almost as if the awful news has triggered it. “Could you just knock them out or something?” Did I really just suggest that?

  “No. If the hospital finds out that a vampire robbed them, they’ll send a huge search party out for us. One of the first places they’ll look is an old, boarded-up farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. We can’t risk it.”

  “Haven’t the police got better things to do?”

  “It’s not just that; the government has promised that the world doesn’t have a vampire problem, so whenever there’s a report, no matter how small, they have to act on it—fast.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “I know. But the police aren’t the only problem. Vampire hunters are everywhere. They get together on social media. So if they get wind of us, and if they find out where we’re hiding, then we’re in a whole heap of shit. They won’t be subtle like the cops. They’ll take great pleasure in ripping us limb from limb, or watching us burn in the sun—without a second of hesitation.”

  “Even a kid?”

  “Yes. They have no idea how old you really are. For all they know you could be older than me. They don’t give a shit.” She starts the car. “So let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

  “Let me try!” I blurt out, my brain on autopilot.

  “Try what? I told you that the door is too heavily guarded.”

  “What if one of us distracts them, gets them away from the door? Then one of us can slip past them.”

  “No, that’s stupid,” Kate replies, firmly. “I can’t risk you being seen.”

  “Okay then, you distract them and I’ll get the blood.”

  “Even if I agreed, there’s no way you’d get the path lab door unlocked—plus, you’ve got to find the blood bank.”

  I slam my fist down onto the dashboard. “I’m hungry, Kate! I can’t go another day without blood!” I start to sob. “We have to at least try.”

  Kate looks at me with sympathetic eyes, and then rubs her hands over her face and hair. “Maybe there’s another way.”

  Sniffing loudly, my eyes widen with hope. “What is it?”

  She points over by the double doors. “See that grey metal shutter over there?”

  I see it straight away and nod. “The garage door?”

  “Yeah. Well, that leads to the morgue, and there’s a good chance that it’ll have an entrance to the path lab from inside.”

  “Are you sure it’s a morgue? Why would it have a garage entrance?

  “It’s not for cars. It’s just used for easy access for stretchers to move in and out. And if it has a lock, then I should be able to pick it.”

  “That’s perfect! You should have thought of that first.”

  “Give me a break. I only thought of it now. I’m not Jessica Fletcher.”

  “Who the hell’s Jessica Fletcher?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “The shutter might be remote powered, so there’ll be nothing for me to pick.”

  “It’s worth a look, though.”

  Kate nods. “Yeah, definitely worth a look. Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “No, I won’t. Don’t worry.” I definitely will.

  Holding her rucksack, Kate climbs out of the car and jogs over to the shutters.

  I should feel a knot in my stomach, but the hunger pains are too strong.

  I can’t resist opening my window to get a better look at Kate. She’s at the shutters, scanning for people. I do the same. Luckily the place seems quiet, no porters, no security, just an eerie hum of machinery in the distance. At the centre of the shutter, Kate drops to her knees, pulls out her lock-picker and shoves it into something. That’s got to be a lock.

  I watch her fretfully, waiting to see the shutter slide open. Come on, Kate. You can do it.

  After about a minute, Kate grips the rim of the shutter and starts to pull, but it looks as if it’s jammed. “Shit,” I whisper in frustration. “Use your super-strength for Christ’s sake.”

  She pulls and pulls, but still nothing. From here the gap looks ten or twelve inches. Too narrow for her to slide under.

  But not for me.

  Opening the door, I climb out of the car and start to jog towards her.

  Kate turns to me, eyes wide with shock. ‘Get back in the car!’ I hear her scream inside my head.

  It
’s too late, though, because I’m already by the shutter.

  “What the hell are you doing, Thea?” Kate whispers through gritted teeth. “Someone might see you.”

  “Look, I can get under the gap,” I say, lying on the concrete, inspecting the opening. “I’ll just about squeeze through.”

  “No way.”

  “Then use your strength to get the shutter open.”

  “It’s stuck, and if I pull it any more then it might break.”

  “Okay then, well you’ll have to let me do it. Maybe I can get it open from inside.”

  Kate quickly checks the area for people and then nods. “Okay—but be quick, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I will,” I reply as I begin to worm my body through the gap. It’s tight, but I just about manage to get inside.

  In the darkness, a control panel on the wall catches my eye. I’m not sure if it’s connected to the shutter, but it’s worth a shot.

  “Have you found it?” Kate asks from the opening.

  “I think so,” I reply as I walk over to it. It’s a small, plastic box with a thick wire coming out of the side, leading to the shutter. I think it must be electric as well. I don’t see any buttons though.

  I hear the sound of rushing blood in the distance, followed by voices. They’re coming from outside.

  Oh shit!

  “Someone’s coming,” Kate whispers with urgency. “Quick! Get out of there now.”

  My eyes dart around the room, looking for something to open it. “Just give me a second.”

  “Move your arse, Thea!”

  “Okay,” I reply in defeat.

  The gap disappears as the shutter comes down. What the hell is she doing?

  ‘They’re here,’ Kate tells my head. ‘Stay quiet. I’ll be back for you when the coast is clear.’

  Body tense, I listen as the voices stop right outside. Crouching down behind a cabinet, I try to work out what they’re saying. Have they spotted Kate? Are they planning to call the police?

  But when I hear laughter and half a conversation about a night out, I realise that they’re most likely on a cigarette break.

  I sigh with relief.

  The room is about the size of a standard classroom. In front of me, there are two doors about four metres apart. At the centre of the room, there are three steel, port-mortem tables, and the left wall is made up completely of steel, like a giant cabinet of drawers—and I’ve seen enough movies to know what I’ll find if I pulled one of them open.

  Don’t be scared. They can’t hurt you. They’re dead. Zombies aren’t real.

  But vampires are.

  It’s been at least ten minutes and I can still hear those bloody people outside, yapping.

  I look at the two doors again. Should I try to get the blood myself?

  I wait for Kate’s voice to appear in my head, telling me to stay put, but it doesn’t. She’s probably too busy hiding, or maybe she’s out of range.

  My stomach growls.

  Fuck it! I’m getting it myself.

  Over at the left door, I try the handle. Locked. Bloody hell. Just below the handle I notice that it has a twist-lock. No keyhole. I smile—finally a little luck! Opening it, I feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead. The bright light of the corridor hits my eyes. Wrong door. Quietly, I close it and lock it.

  I glance back at the shutter. It’s still down. Should I wait a little longer?

  No. I don’t need her.

  Pulse speeding up, I twist the lock on the second door and gradually open it. Inside I see no staff, no patients, just a dark waiting room. At the far end of the room is an open door, and next to it is an alcohol-gel dispenser and a ticket roll. To the left is a large set of windows that look out onto a car park, and to the right there’s a reception desk. I sniff the air, hoping that my nose will guide me to the blood like a hound. But there’s nothing, just a familiar smell of hospital disinfectant.

  I tiptoe over to the open door, just to make sure that it doesn’t lead anywhere. The room is in darkness. It’s small in size, with just a few shelves of swatches and bandages, and two chairs next to the wall. No fridge, not even a locked cupboard—definitely no blood. This must be where they extract blood from patients. I wince at the thought of a needle.

  Next, I make my way over to the reception desk. It’s basically a hole in the wall, like a window, sealed off by a pulled-down steel shutter. There’s a door to the left of it. I try the handle. Locked. I tut in frustration—God knows why I expected it to be open. Maybe I can get the shutter up instead. Working my fingers underneath it, I try to pull it up. It doesn’t budge. “Shit!” I whisper too loudly. What’s the point of being a vampire if you can’t even get a reception shutter open. It’s pathetic!

  I give it a second attempt, this time with even more force. I know I could break it, risk drawing attention to me, but I can’t help it. I want the blood.

  I need the blood.

  Squatting, I pull as hard as I can, using every muscle to bursting point. The shutter starts to move. I keep pulling. There’s a gap of about four inches. Just a little further.

  It jams at about ten inches, but it’s wide enough. I climb up onto a narrow desk, which is more like a windowsill, crawl under the gap, and then drop down into another room.

  Inside, there are two computers, a few filing cabinets, bags of empty sample containers, and a fridge.

  It has a padlock on it!

  I’ve found it!

  Crouching down, I examine the lock. I’ll never get that off without breaking it.

  I feel a sharp pain running up my spine, and a voice telling me to rip the lock off, to fuck the consequences, to drink every last drop of blood.

  Is it Kate’s voice?

  No. It’s not her. She’d never be so reckless. It’s me. It’s my own mind giving in to the craving.

  But I can’t let it. I have to be strong.

  I need to pick the lock.

  On one of the desks, there’s a pot of paperclips. I grab one, straighten it out, and then push it aimlessly into the keyhole. I prod and twist, but nothing happens. I keep trying for several minutes before my hand gets sweaty and I drop the paperclip. “Shit,” I mutter as I scramble on the floor for it. Just as I find it, my eyes catch the window. I recoil in fright when I see a face looking back at me.

  It’s Kate.

  Hand over my racing heart, I slip the paperclip into my pocket, and let out a long, relieved breath. I get up off the floor, unlock the window and open it. Kate quickly climbs through and closes it behind her.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Kate whispers. “You should have come when I called you.”

  “I’m sorry. I ran out of time.”

  “You could have been caught, you silly girl. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go under.”

  “Look, we’re here now—it worked,” I point to the fridge, “so let’s pick that lock, get the blood, and get back to the farm.”

  Kate shakes her head. “This isn’t the blood bank, and that’s certainly not the fridge.”

  “Of course it is,” I say with a frown. “Why else would it be locked?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s too small, and there’s no smell. It’ll be much bigger than that.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” I ask. “Maybe you should at least try.”

  “No,” she points to a door on the opposite side of the room, “it’ll be through there. I’ll know when I see it.”

  Kate clutches her stomach and flinches a little. I know that feeling all too well. She hasn’t fed since Darren. “Come on, then,” I say with urgency, “let’s get moving.”

  We walk over to the door. It’s locked, so she pulls out her thin knife and pushes it through the keyhole. I try to take in her method, but from here it just looks like a lot of twisting and stabbing. Does she even know what she’s doing?

  The lock makes a clicking sound. “Of course I do,” she says with a smug grin. She turns the handle and opens the door.


  “Where did you learn how to do that?” I ask her as I follow her down a dark corridor.

  “Where do you think I learned it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Prison?”

  Kate stops by another door and glares at me. “You cheeky bitch. I haven’t been to prison. I learnt it from YouTube.”

  “Oh right. Sorry.”

  I stay close to her as she enters the room. Kate takes a quick glance around, sniffs the air, and then shakes her head. “Not this one.”

  Like a lamb, I trail behind her to the last door at the end of the corridor. Kate tries the handle. Locked.

  “It’s this one,” she announces, proudly.

  She picks the lock in seconds and we step inside. There’s a buzzing sound and a strong smell of copper coming from the back of the room. I track the noise and scent to two huge, steel fridges—and then my eyes broaden in awe. I feel like Indiana Jones finding the Lost Ark, or The Goonies finding One-Eyed Willy’s treasure. But this is much better than gold, better than money.

  This is blood.

  And I want it right now.

  There’s a padlock fixed to each fridge door. Kate tries to pick the first one, but the blade is too thick. She jabs at it, trying to force it in, but it’s no use.

  “Shit!” she mumbles. “It won’t fit.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I grab the paperclip and hand it over to her. “Will this work?”

  Turning to me, Kate beams. “You’re a star, Thea.” She takes it from me and pushes it into the keyhole with ease.

  Within seconds the lock pops open. Kate clutches the fridge handle and pulls it open. A bright light spurts out, blinding me. But then the glare fades and I see the contents of the treasure chest. Shelf after shelf of blood bags, filling my heart with excitement.

  Finally, something to celebrate!

  Kate unzips her rucksack and puts just five blood-bags inside, one from each shelf.

  “Is that all we’re taking?” I ask; a deep grimace spread across my forehead. Take the whole lot, my stomach says.

  She quickly rearranges the other bags on the shelves so that there are no obvious gaps in the stock. “We can’t, it’s too suspicious. We have to be smart. They won’t miss a few bags.” She then goes over to the other fridge, picks the lock, and removes another five.