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Blood Harvest

Page 15

by Michael Weinberger


  “We’re not immortal Chris; in fact, we’re not even ageless.”

  “Then how do you explain it?”

  Steve shook his head. “In Alphonso’s case, I can’t. Try to remember that everything I’ve told you is more legend than hard fact. I would be remiss however, not to mention that there are some factual aspects of being a vampire, some that are pure fiction, and some areas that are quite…grey.”

  “So the facts are?”

  “Well, we all have Porphyria and need to take in human blood products in order to survive without going mad and dying in extraordinary pain. We are all exceptionally long lived if our condition, or something else, doesn’t kill us first; however, our life spans are not outside the realm of what a normal human could attain. We are also extremely hard to kill, but this has more to do with our unusual blood chemistry than anything supernatural. That’s basically it. Those are the things we know about ourselves; the facts of us would-be vampires.”

  “So the fiction would be the stuff about turning into bats, smoke or demons.” Chris volunteered.

  Steve chuckled, “Yep, but that’s only the beginning of the fairy tales. For example, crosses, holy water and the like, are all bogus. Some of the people I grew up alongside are quite devout and wear crosses and other religious paraphernalia on their person at all times. Garlic is one of my favorite foods, and the reason a wooden stake through my heart would kill me is simply because someone thrust a wooden stake though my heart.”

  “Fair enough,” Chris said, “so what are the ‘grey areas?’?”

  “Okay, here is where it does get a little weird.” Steve seemed to notice something up ahead as the H2 was traveling. “Get on the I-10 going east.”

  Confused, Chris asked. “We going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, but it will take a while to get there and I need to make a stop at my apartment first.”

  “Sounds like you have a plan.”

  “Not really, but I know where Alpha and Lei are going to take the woman.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “Home, Chris. I swore to myself I never would, but I’m actually going to have to go home.”

  Chapter 23

  The needle on the RPM meter of the H2 fell just under the red zone as the engine growled like an angry animal speeding down the highway. Chris tried to coax more speed out of the massive V8 engine, though already moving at full speed and nearly overtaxing the H2’s capabilities. The sun was still behind the horizon and despite the fact that the highway was practically abandoned at this early hour, the road seemed endless and monotonous as the miles crept along.

  They had made their stop at Steve’s apartment over an hour and a half ago. Steve had rushed from the vehicle and returned minutes later with a large flask in one hand and a dusty army duffle bag over his shoulder. After throwing the duffle bag in the backseat he jumped into the front passenger seat and the two were once again underway on the I-10 east. The freeway was still practically empty as they reached the I-15 north connection in record time.

  “I-15 north? Please don’t tell me we’re going to Vegas.”

  “Just outside the city limits actually.”

  “And that’s ‘home?’”

  Steve only nodded as the H2 continued to hurl its mass down the paved road.

  “So what are those ‘grey areas’ we spoke of earlier?” Chris asked literally out of nowhere.

  “You don’t let up do you?”

  “Nope. Too interested.”

  “And afraid?”

  Chris turned from the road to give Steve a sarcastic frown. “Please, if I were still afraid of you I’d have abandoned you in LA.”

  Steve smiled, “Fair enough.” He cleared his mind and thought about how to best answer Chris’ question.

  “Remember that thing I said about our blood chemistry making it difficult to kill people like me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you wonder what I meant by that?”

  “Of course, but you were on a roll; I didn’t want to break your train of thought.”

  “Okay, well the reason why we are so hard to kill is actually because we heal so quickly. Now

  the reason we heal so quickly is because our blood chemistry isn’t a compatible environment for viruses and harmful bacteria to survive in.” Steve paused to let that sink in before he asked,

  “Understand?”

  “No. What does that mean?”

  Steve laughed. “I thought you were supposed to be a doctor?”

  “I am and I understand what you said, except for the small fact that it’s impossible!”

  “Not in our case.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that you have complete immunity from all viruses?”

  “And most harmful bacteria as well.”

  Chris looked like his head might explode with the prospect of that information.

  “How…how is that possible?”

  Steve shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. I don’t know the science behind it, but if I were to take a guess I’d say it’s some kind of evolutionary thing. I mean, how could my kind have survived on human blood down through the ages of non-existent sanitation, not to mention times of plague and other disease, if we weren’t able to develop some type of immunity? Those of us who didn’t develop a natural immunity to the cesspool people lived in probably died off. They must have succumbed to the diseases they contracted from their victims, but those who weren’t susceptible lived on and passed those traits on to their children in the same way as any other species on the planet.”

  “This sounds suspiciously like theory as opposed to fact.”

  “My take on the origins of our immunity is completely based on my opinion, but the fact that my people are still immune is exactly that…fact. Remember when you recently said to me how you’ve never seen me sick a day in all the time we’ve known each other. That’s why.”

  “And the bullet wound?”

  “Think about it in simpler terms. If you cut yourself it takes a certain amount of time for the wound to heal. If you tend to the wound and keep it clean it heals faster. If you apply anti-bacterial cream to the wound on top of that it will heal faster still. Now imagine how efficient the body could work if it didn’t have to deal with any bacterial or viral infiltration at all.”

  Chris could only shake his head. “Wow.”

  “It’s not instantaneous by any means, but it is far faster than what is considered to be normal.”

  Chris began thinking out loud. “So, unless the damage to the system is lethal at the onset…”

  “We will be able to recover from virtually any injury.” Steve finished Chris’ thought.

  Chris stared ahead at the seemingly never-ending road ahead when his eyes suddenly went wide.

  “Steve…” Something about Chris’ voice was disturbing to Steve but he answered without letting it show in his voice. “Yes?”

  “How old are you?” Chris said almost meekly.

  Steve began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. “Why?”

  “You told me your people are extremely long lived. If what you just told me about your immunity is true then your longevity would be a result of your body having undergone significantly less cellular damage over time. This cellular damage is what the anti-aging docs think is the cause of aging in the first place.”

  Chris turned and looked at Steve’s relatively wrinkle-free face before turning back to the road. “I always thought we were around the same age.” Chris waited. When Steve didn’t answer right away, he said, “I’m thirty eight.”

  The time dragged as only the sound of the H2’s engine and the tires on the road filled the interior of the vehicle.

  Then, quietly, Steve said. “I’m seventy three.”

  Chapter 24

  The sound of Steve’s cell phone ringing erupted within the interior of the vehicle.

  “Who’s calling you at 6:00 in the morning?” Chris asked as Steve removed the phone from his pocket.
/>   Steve frowned as he looked at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number illuminated within the small rectangle.

  “Jacobs here.”

  “Jacobs? It’s Paul Meyers.”

  Steve stiffened. “Yes, Captain.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Oh boy,” Steve thought. He knew the fact he was on his way out of town without letting his superior know ahead of time was not going to go over well.

  “Sir, that’s a long story….”

  Meyers sighed on the other end. “Never mind; just make your way to the airport. You and Barnes will find tickets at the security desk for the first flight to Las Vegas. Whatever happened at The Inferno just happened at some strip club out there.”

  “Uh…sir?”

  “What?”

  Deciding there was no good way to get around the reality of the situation Steve simply said, “Chris and I are currently driving toward Vegas at the moment. I estimate we are just over two hours out from the city limits.”

  “What?!?”

  “Yes sir. Some events occurred tonight suggesting the need for us to do some investigating out near Las Vegas.”

  “And you were going to inform me of these “events” when exactly?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t want to wake you, sir?”

  “Don’t get cute Jacobs.” The acting Captain sounded more flustered than angry as he mumbled something under his breath. “All right, they have some victims from the scene this time. When you get to Vegas have Barnes go to the hospital and start working with the docs there. See if he can learn anything about what we are dealing with. I want you to coordinate with locals and see what information you can get from the crime scene.”

  “Sir, the lead I am following is on a timetable and I need to follow through on that before I check in with local law enforcement.”

  Meyers was silent for a moment then said sternly, “I would very much prefer it if you were to tell Las Vegas Metro who you are and what you are doing before you run off and get caught up in something that wouldn’t shine well on this department.”

  “If it makes you feel any better Sir, the lead is outside of the Las Vegas city limits, therefore, outside of their jurisdiction. I won’t be stepping on any toes checking it out ahead of time.”

  Meyers seemed to consider that before he said, “All right. Can you send Barnes ahead to make the introductions?”

  “That should work.”

  “Tell him to behave.”

  Turning to Chris, Steve said. “Chris, behave.”

  Chris rolled his eyes and raised his hands momentarily skyward. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

  Chapter 25

  About fifteen miles outside of Las Vegas Steve had Chris pull off the main highway and onto a dirt road leading west toward a small mountain range. Chris had some difficulty keeping the H2 from sliding around on the loose gravel of the desert floor and the bumpy terrain bounced them around inside the vehicle. The road ended when a large log, possibly a telephone pole at some point, blocked any further travel the H2 could manage along the dirt path.

  “We need to find another way around?” Chris asked.

  “Nope.” Steve unbuckled his seatbelt, “We’re here.”

  Chris raised his eyebrows as he surveyed what appeared to be nothing more than the undisturbed flora and fauna of the Mojave Desert.

  “Steve I don’t think we are anywhere.”

  “That’s exactly the idea. I have to hoof it for a quarter mile.”

  “What happens in a quarter mile?”

  “There’s an entrance to an abandoned silver mine.”

  “A silver mine?”

  “Yep, Home Sweet Home.”

  You mean to tell me your people are all living in an abandoned silver mine less than fifteen miles from Las Vegas?”

  “And have been for over fifty years. It was the perfect place really. Access to utilities and water had been created for the miners; the tunnels were all pre-dug and several large excavations several stories deep into the ground were pre-made for us. These mines are all over southern Nevada but once we found one large enough to meet our needs all we had to do was make it livable.”

  Chris didn’t seem convinced. ‘You sure you’re going to be okay out here?”

  “Absolutely, stick to the plan and see what you can find out from the local authorities and the victims from the incident at the strip club. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “Might be as long as twenty four hours; keep your cell phone with you in any case.”

  “I don’t like this; you’re on your own out here.”

  “I’ll be fine. Really!” Steve pulled his duffle bag out of the backseat and placed his flask in a pocket along the side of the bag. Then he removed his Glock and his back-up pistol and checked to assure both were loaded and ready.

  Chris watched and shook his head. “And everyone says I’m the nut bag.”

  Steve smiled as he closed the door then slapped the side of the H2 as Chris began to back the vehicle away from the log and turn around to head back to the road.

  Steve watched as the H2 raised a dirt cloud behind it as Chris drove away, then he slung the duffle over his shoulder and started walking along a path he had committed memory decades ago.

  Steve had only walked for about ten minutes when he saw the sign he knew would be there, accompanied by a picture of a male restroom style stick figure falling above a skull and crossbones below him:

  DANGER!!!

  Do Not Enter Abandoned Mine!

  Area unstable and trespassers risk severe injury!

  DANGER!!!

  As Steve had told Chris, southern Nevada was once a major source of silver. It has an enormous network of silver mines surrounding its outskirts. Most of these mines were supposed to be empty of any worthwhile amounts of silver and had been abandoned decades ago. Adventurous hikers or treasure hunters who were prone to try their luck in the mines ended up falling into the open mine shafts where they suffered severe, if not fatal, injuries. As a result signs like this one weren’t uncommon to happen upon in the wilds of the southern Nevada desert. For Steve however, this was like seeing the mailbox in front of the family home where he grew up. He carefully walked to the mineshaft opening and peered down through its mouth and saw only darkness in the abyss.

  Steve stepped back a few paces and pulled the duffle bag off of his shoulder. He quickly removed his flask and put it in his back pocket then removed a series of rock climbing necessities including a rope, harness, clamps and leather gloves. Moving to the warning sign Steve found the concrete reinforcement securing the sign into the earth. He tied the rope through the torso harness checking to make sure it was secure and attached the other end of the rope to the base of the sign. He proceeded to remove and check the special flashlight he had stored in his duffle bag. The lantern had been created for those in the pest control industry with a high intensity halogen flashlight on one end that could burn through the darkness like a laser beam. The other feature of the lantern was a pair of long ultraviolet light bulbs housed in the body of the device. The purpose of the UV light was to reveal the Desert Scorpion indigenous to the southwestern United States. Although he might be immune to bacteria and viruses, Steve was not immune to the venom of these small arachnids, potent enough to potentially kill human beings.

  Shining the flashlight down into the mineshaft Steve could see the base, which appeared to be scattered with plastic grocery and trash bags. Decaying food and the silver metallic wrappers of protein bars were evident all around. Apparently the nature lovers who hiked the area considered these mineshafts good places to dump their garbage. Then again, he was in the middle of nowhere. Who would be hiking out here?

  Carefully, Steve moved to the edge of the mineshaft opening. The ground groaned and began to slip away from under foot as he reached the edge. Quite suddenly, all the earth near the edge collapsed and fell into the
shaft taking Steve down with it. Desperately he pulled on the rope trying to stop his free fall into the abyss. The rope went taut with a snap and Steve was thrown into the side of the shaft from the momentum.

  He dangled like a spent yo-yo for a few moments as he fought to control his breathing. It was very clear why so many people were hurt or killed when wandering too close to the old silver mines. Dirt and debris fell on top of him as he remained suspended on the line. Then a faint case of claustrophobia had him scrambling to switch on the lantern. The dark, close quarters were playing tricks with his mind. Steve imagined dozens of scorpions crawling all over his body and a wave of panic began to wash over him. In the seconds before he ignited the UV lantern Steve had the ghastly fear of the lamp revealing a living, swarming mass of the poison barbed arachnids maneuvering their way around his body and crawling underneath the base of his jeans then up his bare legs underneath. Certain that, at the very least, the bugs would be covering the inside of the mineshaft like a ghostly ant hill of fluorescent white, a nauseating chill passed through him. He laid his finger on the switch.

  The fear became so intense and palpable Steve had to shake himself of the mental images filling his mind. Waking from his arachnophobic daydream, he looked up the thirty feet he had fallen to the mineshaft opening and the blue sky shined above. The sight of the sky calmed him and in this more relaxed state, gave him the strength to switch on the lantern. The UV bulbs gave off a low-level purple-blue illumination which filled the shaft with enough ambient light to see details within the ancient excavation.

  Surprisingly, no fluorescence shone back at him. No scurrying, or crawling, or even stationary critters were anywhere to be seen. The white plastic grocery bags glowed with a spectacular brilliant white-blue, far brighter than any glow given off by the little creepy crawlers he dreaded to see.

  Crawl factor, negative. One critter down and one to go.

  Strangely, Steve didn’t dread the presence of the far more dangerous rattlesnakes he expected to find nearly as much as he did the scorpions. This was strange, because the venom of the desert rattlesnake was far more potent than the sting of scorpion’s tail. Life in the caves had taught him to bring along another tool for the vipers; Steve removed the telescopic snake stick he had clipped to the harness. Given the ample pre-strike warning nature had provided for the snake and his experience at having handled an abundance of snakes in the past, he would rather deal with the snake than the scorpion any day.

 

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