Dead Matter

by Anton Strout

  “So you just keep this one caged like this?” I said, examining the creature behind the bars. “He can’t just, you know, go all poof and mist his way out of there?”

  Brandon shook his head. “We were wondering the same thing when the problem first arose. We weren’t sure how we were going to contain any of them. I had Nicholas working on a new containment system immediately, but apparently we don’t need one in the later stages of their transformation. Whatever’s happened to them, they seem to have lost some of their abilities. They can’t change form.”

  “Well,” I said, tapping the bars, “I still think you may need a better containment system. After all, I wasn’t attacking myself in your forest.” I turned back to the cage. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, it was easier to examine this one than when I had been out in the forest fighting them. The skin looked like raw meat and the teeth stuck out of its mouth at more severe angles than I had thought, all of them yellowed with age and coated with blood and bits of something I didn’t want to figure out. “Ugly little thing, isn’t it?”

  Aidan blurred into action as he rushed toward me. I braced for an impact, but Brandon headed him off, slamming into him.

  “What the hell?” Aidan cried out.

  “Easy,” Brandon said. He turned to me while keeping Aidan at bay, holding him by the back of his hoodie. “Please bear in mind . . . all of these creatures were once part of my family, our family. Some of us are more sensitive than others about the issue.”

  “Sorry,” I said, looking at Aidan.

  Aidan relaxed and Brandon let go of him.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said. “I guess I’m just sensitive, too, since they tried to eviscerate me.”

  “Let’s just all take it easy,” Connor suggested. “We’re all a little wound tight, given everything that’s going on.”

  I looked back in the cage. The creature had stopped its predatory pacing and was watching us. I stepped back toward it.

  “So this is Patient Zero, eh?”

  “As far as we can tell,” Aidan said, starting to lose some of the anger in his voice. “Perry went missing a while back, then suddenly showed up again one day.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Perry . . . the vampire?”

  Brandon held up a hand, his face a bit sad as he spoke. “He was at another one of my Saturday night Beverly Hills, 90210 viewing parties. Was a big fan of Luke Perry. Hence, Perry.”

  I wanted to laugh, but given the gravity of Perry’s situation these days, I couldn’t.

  “So what happened to him?” Connor asked, moving closer to examine the creature.

  Aidan shook his head. “He looked normal a few months ago, but he wasn’t quite the same vampire when he suddenly reappeared. He wasn’t really all that coherent about where he’d been, either. Kept on raving about ‘the box’ and not much else. Eventually, he stopped being able to change between his human and vampiric form. Eventually his vampiric state started to mutate, and then it degenerated into what you see before you. By then, the outbreak started showing up in others.”

  “Outbreak?” I said. “Like a virus.” Allorah had mentioned viral aspects to her research when she laid all those file folders on me the other night. I wondered if I’d get extra credit with her if I claimed my near death here tonight as lab hours.

  Aidan nodded.

  “Don’t your people heal things like that?” I asked. “Isn’t that one of the perks of being undead?”

  “It is normally . . . a perk, as you say,” Brandon said, “but whatever this is, it isn’t a normal virus by any stretch. Think of it as the vampire form of a virus . . . unique, undying.”

  Connor snapped his fingers at the creature, trying to get its attention, but it was ignoring him.

  “Don’t get too excited, Simon,” he said, “but I think our friend here has a crush on you.”

  It was true. No matter what was going on in the room, the creature kept its focus on me. Unlike the other ones I had encountered, this one was docile in comparison, content to stare at only me.

  “No offense,” I said, “but Perry’s creeping me out a little.”

  Despite wanting to flee, I stepped up closer to the cage. I examined its face, then had an idea I might know why it was looking at me the way it was.

  “Do I . . . know you?” I asked the creature.

  The creature’s breath quickened, the sound of wet rasping breaking its silence. It started moving around its cage, bobbing up and down.

  I looked over at Brandon, who was standing there staring in fascination.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to agitate him.”

  Connor put his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think he’s agitated, kid,” he said, pointing at it with his other hand. “I think he’s . . . nodding.”

  I stepped right up to the bars, my concern for safety overwhelmed by my curiosity.

  “Is that it?” I asked. “I know you?”

  The creature lunged toward the bars, wrapping its talons around them mere inches from my hands. I could see it trying to concentrate, to make its movements more precise. It took in a deep gasp of breath and let it out as it attempted a more human form of nodding this time.

  “How?” I asked. “Where?”

  There was frustration in the creature’s eyes, but it held tight to the bars and stared into my face. I watched it for any signs of recognizable communication. After several minutes of struggling, it managed to get its lips around its tangle of teeth. The creature struggled like a little kid trying to make his first word.

  “B-b . . . box,” it said. The effort must have taken a lot out of the creature because when it was done speaking the single word, it lowered its head.

  “What does that mean?” Connor said.

  Aidan sighed. “It means . . . box. That’s all he says now.”

  “I don’t know what it means,” I said to the creature, but it appeared defeated now, still hanging its head as it labored for breath after raspy breath.

  “Well, think, kid,” Connor said.

  I turned on him. “I am,” I said, snapping with testiness in my voice. “That’s all I’ve been doing since you went on your somewhat-permanent mental vacation last month. I’ve been the one who’s had to keep it mentally together because you decided to check out.”

  “Whoa,” Connor said. “Easy.”

  “I’ll take it easy when I know why everyone seems to wants me dead.”

  Connor held up his hands in surrender. “It was a simple question.”

  Aidan stepped forward. “Can the mortals calm down a bit? The two of you getting your blood up is making me thirsty.”

  That stopped both Connor and me in our discussion. We both turned to Connor’s brother.

  “Mostly kidding there, guys,” Aidan said. “But seriously . . . I think my brother just wants to know how many vampires you knew before stepping into the Gibson-Case Center?”

  “I didn’t know any vampires!” I said.

  The four of us fell silent as Connor and I tried to calm ourselves. I was starting to feel better, when I noticed Connor looking at me funny.

  “Well, that’s not entirely true, now, is it, kid?”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t know any vampires.”

  “What about the report you filed about your ex-girlfriend?”

  “Who?” I said. “Mina? She’s not a vampire. She’s just a wannabe fan girl of them. It’s why she chose the stupid name.”

  “Do I have to remind you where you saw her last?” Connor asked.

  I thought back. “The last time I saw Mina, she and Jane had been beating the hell out of each other.”

  Aidan gave a little laugh. “Is your girlfriend an ultimate fighter?”

  “No,” I said, giving him a look. “They were in this subterranean area of the Guggenheim. This recently thwarted cultist named Cyrus Mandalay had set up this insane art show there full of exhibits meant to torture all his old foes through paranormal means.�
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  “Sounds like an ultimate fighting championship to me,” Aidan said. “Who won?”

  “Jane,” I said. “Sorta. Thing is, they never even would have had to fight if I hadn’t just freed Mina from one of the exhibits. She was encased in this clear coffin device, surrounded by this red mist that was constantly being stirred up so it couldn’t form . . .”

  “A vampire,” Brandon said, his face grim.

  “In a box,” I said, looking at the creature. I remembered the fight in vivid detail, how I threw my weight into the structure, feeling it shatter beneath me as I freed Mina. That meant I had freed the vampire, too. I even remembered the strange sensation that had washed over me when the red mist seemed to stop and take stock of me before fleeing from the chaotic scene.

  “You think this is him?” Connor said. “You sure?”

  “No,” I said, “but there’s only one way to be sure.”

  I pulled off my glove and reached for the creature’s fingers that were wrapped around the bars of the cage. As I was about to touch it, Connor grabbed the sleeve of my coat and pulled my arm away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he said. “You remember what happened the last time you touched another person directly? Touching Faisal Bane nearly put you down and out for the count.”

  “True,” I said, “but that cultist ass was a living person. We’re not dealing with living creatures here. I’m thinking that maybe these . . . things . . . are more like objects. Maybe I can read them.”

  “And if you can’t, kid?” Connor said.

  “Then I’ll just add to this wicked headache I already have,” I said, “but I have to try. I have to know.”

  “Fine by me,” Connor said. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

  I reached for the creature again, and then paused. “Oh, and one more thing. If I pass out, do not let either of these two feed on me.”

  Connor smiled. Aidan and Brandon looked a little offended.

  “I’ll try, kid. But you heard my brother before . . . He was feeling a little thirsty.”

  I looked at the two vampires. “Look, I don’t buy into this whole ‘chosen one’ crap, but let’s just say, to be safe, that I am him. It’s in your best interest to snack on Connor before you go for me, got it?”

  “Jesus,” Aidan said. “Did it say anything in the big book about the chosen one being such a pain in the ass?”

  “I seem to recall something about that,” Brandon said, scratching his chin, “but I can’t be sure.” He turned and looked at me with stern eyes. “You are trying to help us with our problem, Mr. Canderous. No harm shall befall you from the two of us.”

  “For now,” Aidan added. “I can’t promise I’m not going to knock you through a wall later . . .”

  “Aidan . . .” Brandon said.

  “Sorry,” he said to his master, lowering his eyes. He turned to me. “Have at it. Enjoy holding hands with Patient Zero. I’d go easy on the heavy petting if I were you, though. Claws and all.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said, then grabbed hold of the creature’s hand.

  Tapping my psychometry into the creature was unlike any sensation I had ever encountered. I tried to think of it like any other object I had ever pushed my power into. I’m only holding a book, an ashtray, someone’s old bowling trophy, I thought to myself, trying my best to control the squick that came from holding on to the rotting vampire. As I pushed harder into its past, its scrambled thoughts tried to tear into my mind in jagged pieces of mental metal. I wasn’t prepared for the sensation. Most objects I read psychometrically didn’t fight back this way. In defense, my mind’s eye formed a shield and raised it. The resistant mental jabs from the creature fell away and I continued sorting back through the demented and erratic thought patterns in its head.

  The experience was a lot like flipping rapid fire through channels with half of them dead air. My own face came into this mix with such sudden resolution it took my brain a second or two to slow things down. I was looking at myself from the creature’s perspective, only I possessed his vampiric level of sight. It was like having a high-definition television feed of that night at the Guggenheim when Jane had rescued me and I had in turn rescued Mina. Pulling back further in time I watched the feral vampire revert to the handsome human vampire known as Perry. He had short, messy black hair and I watched him fighting for his life during what must have been when Cyrus and his army of necromanced undead subdued him. I watched in horror as the vampire was forced into the glass coffin that Mina would also eventually be held in as well. I watched several moments over and over to get a sense of the passage of time by watching the movement of the zombies and Cyrus before Mina and I had been captured. When I pulled myself out of the psychometric vision, the creature’s mind fought to hold on to me, and it took all of my mental strength to pull away.

  I stumbled back from the cage. The creature had been somewhat slack-jawed when I came out if it, but roared to life as the connection between the two of us broke. Connor reached out and steadied me.

  “Well, kid?”

  I took a couple deep breaths as I pulled myself together, trying to shake off the disorientation of freeing myself from a somewhat living mind.

  “He’s the one,” I said. “Cyrus and his zombies overwhelmed him. They got him in the coffin, forced him to turn to mist form, then started up that strange pump to keep him from re-forming again. From what I can tell, I’d say he was kept in that noncorporeal form for well over a week.”

  “A week!” Aidan said.

  “That’s not the worst of it,” I said, turning to Brandon. “His mind is gone. It’s just a mess from everything he’s been through. I could barely make sense of his thoughts. They’re scrambled. I think it’s a type of madness that set in from not having any corporeal form. It changed something in Perry’s blood. I’m sure of it.”

  Brandon closed his eyes and shook his head as if in mourning. “We’ve never tested the true boundaries or limitations of how long one can maintain a vaporous state,” Brandon said. “A natural . . . instinct, I guess you’d call it, keeps us from ever going that long.”

  “But this poor bastard never had a choice,” Connor said.

  “None,” I agreed. “Cyrus kept him in this form far too long and he came out of it . . . changed.”

  “And now it lingers in his blood,” Aidan said. “He’s the host. Anyone he’s shared blood with or been exposed to in a prolonged manner is at risk of infection.”

  Connor stared at his brother in surprise.

  “What?” Aidan said.

  “Nothing,” Connor said. “Just wondered when you went all mad scientist.”

  “I read a lot of Michael Crichton,” he said. “And you keep forgetting I am older than you.” He turned to Brandon. “I don’t think there’s a way to reverse it. Our best bet is to hunt them down and kill them before the virus has a chance to be passed.”

  Brandon shook his head, grim. “I won’t kill my own people.”

  “You may not have to,” I said. “Me and one of my . . . colleagues were working on some lab results after Jane and I were attacked by one of these a few nights ago.”

  “You’ve seen these creatures before tonight?” Brandon asked.

  “At least one of them,” I said. “And from what I’ve been hearing, they’ve been spotted around town, but I think I may be able to help. I’ve been assigned to work with one of our more science-minded experts. She’s not the most vampire-friendly woman I’ve met, but she does have her own lab coat. I bet if I can get her a sample of Patient Zero, I can get her working on something to reverse it.”

  “Your only other option is to kill every one,” Connor said. “Killing the infected would be merciful. This virus is what’s killing them, slowly, and the longer you let it linger because of sentimentality tied to who these ferals used to be, the longer you put all your people at risk. Sentimentality is what’s going to leave the Gibson-Case Center a ghost town . . . er, building. You ever watch zombie m
ovies?”

  “I am familiar with the genre,” Brandon said. With the amount of movies and boxed sets up in his chambers, I bet he was.

  “I love ’em,” Connor said, “but what happens in all of them? In every damn one of them you have a group of friends trying to escape the zombie hordes. Inevitably, one of them gets bitten and then spends the next half hour convincing everyone they’re going to be all right. It’s only a scratch, they say.”

  “But it never is!” Brandon said, the movie buff in him coming out. “They always turn into zombies, sooner or later. Then”—Brandon’s face turned dark—“everyone dies.”

  “Exactly,” Connor said.

  “I appreciate your candor . . . and your honesty,” Brandon said. He looked at Aidan. “Prepare a sample of Patient Zero for Agent Canderous. As for hunting down the rest of the ferals that escaped into the city, I fear that will have to wait. It’s sunrise in the real world now. How we go about it, however, is something I must discuss with several members of my council.”

  “Okay. And how about you discuss how we can get my girlfriend back, too? Don’t forget about her.” My shoulders sagged. With all that had been going on, I hadn’t realized how drained I was from my recent vision. I felt faint and leaned up against the wall to steady myself, letting out a sigh.

  “You okay, kid?”

  “Just a little worn-out,” I said, contemplating my next step once I had the sample in hand. “Nothing that a few hours of sleep and some Olympic-class lying won’t take care of.”

  22

  I left Castle Bran and the Gibson-Case Center, surprised to see that, like Brandon had said, it was morning when I stepped out of the artificial world and into the real one. I took the sample of Patient Zero, grabbed the subway, and headed back down to the Village with the morning rush-hour crowd, for once embracing the crush of humanity and not vampires around me as everyone packed like sardines into the car. It beat being crowded by the undead, especially if they had gone feral.