American Blood: A Vampire's Story

by Gregory Holden

  “Do ye always make up words when defending your position?”

  “I’m not defending—”

  “Oh, come now, Doctor Ryan. I didn’t come here to debate the scientific method with you.”

  Ryan took a controlled breath and he glanced at Henry who was smiling. “Is there something you need help with?” he asked Professor Balken

  “I seem to have made another discovery,” Professor Balken said, looking pleased. “But since you are busy with your—”

  “What is it?”

  “T’is those funny cylinders of yours,” Professor Balken replied, smugly. “They seem to have a peculiar reaction under ultraviolet radiation.”

  “What kind of reaction?”

  “They disintegrate, is all.”

  “The cylinders from her skin?” Henry asked.

  “If that’s where these preparations came from, then yes, it would be from her skin.”

  “What do you mean by disintegrate?” Ryan asked. “They fall apart, crumble . . . what?”

  “They disintegrate, is exactly what I mean,” Professor Balken replied. “I was examining some cylinders on one of the electron micrograph slides that Henry had prepared with that nice little CRAIC Microspectrometer you have.”

  “So we really do have useful instrumentation here?” Ryan asked.

  “Many of the great advances in physics have been applied to other sciences.”

  “Uh huh, now back to the cylinders, please.”

  “I noticed that there was a region of cylinders, Doctor Ryan, that were incompletely plated by gold during Henry’s preparation. Fortunately, even sloppy technique can be useful.”

  “There’s nothing sloppy about my—”

  “It’s all right, Henry,” Ryan said. “You do first class work. So what did you find, Professor?”

  “I wanted to obtain a spectral fingerprint on the cylinders to fine tune the data you have already obtained regarding their composition,” he replied. “I started with ultraviolet light at three electron volts and moved higher in tenth volt increments.”

  “Can you please tell us what you found?”

  “At precisely 4.10 eV the exposed cylinders flashed into nothing,” Professor Balken replied, and then he paused for a long moment. When neither Ryan nor Henry said anything, he animatedly continued, “Something in the composition of the cylinders is extremely sensitive to UV at 4.10 eV.”

  “The untrihexium?” Ryan asked.

  “It would be the most likely suspect.”

  “So it responds to UV energies.”

  “Once more, it’s at precisely this energy,” Professor Balken replied. “I examined a second slide and found additional exposed cylinders and ran them at 4.20 eV and higher. Those cylinders remained intact.”

  “So they absorb at a specific energy . . . 4.10 eV isn’t that high. It’s one of the wavelengths that cause sunburn.”

  “Yes, but Doctor Ryan, what would happen to Miss Calida who has billions of these cylinders incorporated into her skin and perhaps her very flesh when exposed to sunlight?”

  “Professor Balken,” Ryan began and rubbed both eyes for several seconds. “I think you just discovered why vampires have a problem with sunlight. That’s remarkable.”

  “I am aware of that,” Professor Balken beamed. “Less than one percent of the UV that gets through our atmosphere is at this energy and higher. But it is still enough to destroy these creatures.”

  “It’s actually a slow process,” Ryan said. “I’ve seen how it starts. It accelerates as direct sunlight becomes more intense.”

  “So what would happen if a vampire became exposed to a higher intensity of the proper UV energy?” Henry asked.

  “It would probably be a quicker death,” Ryan replied.

  “These cylinders can’t be there just to kill the host organism,” Henry said. “They must have another purpose, right?”

  “T’is very difficult to even speculate,” Professor Balken replied. “But the answers to such questions must be part of the untrihexium mystery.”

  “The Director has taken a special interest in this element,” Ryan said. “There’s really nothing more we can do with it unless we gain access to a high energy laboratory, isn’t that right Professor?”

  “I’m afraid we would require one of those billion dollar particle accelerators that you poked fun at, Doctor Ryan, to learn anything of value on the untrihexium.”

  “I don’t think the Director would allow any of our work to move to an outside facility,” Ryan said. “He’d never give up his control of what we’re doing here.”

  “To learn about this element we’d need to smash other particles into it at high energies and observe its decay modes,” Professor Balken said. “If we at least knew how Miss Calida came in contact with it I might be able to postulate a course of study with some of the equipment here, but at this time . . . .” Professor Balken gave Ryan a strange look. “There’s a knowledge gap, I fear.”

  Ryan felt a wave of apprehension pass through his body. He ran through the extraordinary discoveries of the past few days and it all pointed to the same thing. “I think I know where it came from.”

  “And?” Henry asked.

  “You must tell us,” Professor Balken demanded.

  “It’s the stone.”

  The Director sat at the small conference table across from the two committee members. He fidgeted with his cane while he listened to the concerns being directed at him.

  “Aren’t we taking a serious risk,” Senator Pachy said. “How can you assure this committee, and I don’t want to hear any bull, that this . . . uh, what am I supposed to call it?”

  “Oh, I think Agent Villena is appropriate, Senator,” the Director replied.

  “All right, that Agent Villena has made successful contact with this Manic Dee fellow?”

  “She is most persuasive,” the Director said. “I daresay that few men would find it possible to resist her—her charms. But we have a tag that has confirmed the contact.”

  “I didn’t even recognize this was her in these photographs,” Senator Asinas said. “Her skin and hair are so dark. This isn’t makeup?”

  “Oh, no—it is as natural as if she was born that way.”

  Senator Asinas picked up one of the photographs and studied the close up of her face. “Even the shape of her face has changed. If I look closely I can’t tell it’s her.”

  “It has been determined that she doesn’t change her facial structure,” the Director said. “She cannot alter her bones to any significant degree. But she can reshape the muscle and overlying skin and make rapid changes to her hair, eye, skin, and nail color. Her ability to disguise her appearance is convincing.”

  “It’s more than convincing, Director.”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  “Can we stay on topic?” Senator Pachy asked. “Now how good is the latest intelligence on tonight’s rendezvous?”

  The Director smiled at the senator. “There is going to be a meeting tonight on his yacht with our terrorist friends just outside the harbor at Catalina Island. Miss Villena will be on the yacht and she’s been instructed on our expectations of her.”

  “I don’t abide these middle eastern types selling drugs into this country,” Senator Pachy said. “This is an ungodly heinous act.”

  “Oh certainly, Senator Pachy,” the Director said. "Terribly heinous.”

  “And she will be able to retrieve the information from them?” Senator Asinas asked. “Her ability is that evolved?”

  “Yes, Senator . . . she has exhibited exact control of both the sending and receiving of information using this—this quantum telepathy. I’ve seen the video with my own eyes and her ability is precise.”

  “And if she is able to obtain what we need,” Senator Asinas began, “how soon before we can move to our main objective?”

  “It will all depend on how successful she is with this initial phase,” the Director replied. “There’s no guarantee that she’l
l live to see tomorrow night, although I wouldn’t underestimate her.”

  “Nobody here is going to underestimate a vampire of all things,” Senator Pachy said.

  “No, of course not,” Senator Asinas agreed. “Now is being on this yacht while at sea going to present problems for her?”

  “If extraction is needed we have assets in the vicinity,” the Director replied. “That is only a last resort. If she doesn’t make it off the yacht the sun will remove any evidence unless they keep her below decks, which isn’t how they’ve disposed of bodies in the past.”

  Senator Asinas picked up a pack of cigarettes and tapped it on the table. “As we have previously discussed, this has gone all the way to the highest levels, you understand? The present administration desperately needs to rehabilitate its image.”

  “Not everything has been the fault of the president,” the Director offered.

  “I challenge anyone to identify one single serious mistake this president has made,” Senator Pachy boomed.

  “But he shoulders much of the blame,” Senator Asinas said. “9-11 was unprovoked, but the war in Iraq, Katrina’s aftermath, the Taliban’s resurgence in Afghanistan, the Abu Ghraib scandal, Guantanamo, the financial crisis, and so many other disasters can all be laid at the feet of the current administration.”

  “The good senator from Vermont would agree that because of the diligence of this administration Saddam was handed to the Iraqi people on a silver plate,” Senator Pachy lectured. “And let’s not forget that there haven’t been any attacks on our shores since 9-11.”

  “That is true,” Senator Asinas replied. “And the Director’s agency has been instrumental in removing many of these threats.”

  “I appreciate your kind words, Senator.”

  “Of course, but the president’s legacy of the last seven years is, and let’s be honest, the worst in the history of this country.” Senator Asinas looked over at the office wall where many of the pictures with him in the company of the country’s most important people were displayed. “There’s too much blood on all of our hands I’m afraid.”

  The Director quickly nodded. “Yes, we’ve bled more than our share . . . but if we meet the final objective it would be a great prize for both sides, not to mention the symbolic victory we would achieve over our enemies.”

  “Yes, it would be a prize, for all of us.” Senator Asinas sighed.

  “Let’s not cash in the win yet,” Senator Pachy chided.

  “No, but if we do succeed,” Senator Asinas began, “if Agent Villena succeeds—the administration will be able to wash the past from its hands and salvage its legacy. All the disasters it has presided over will be forgotten, or at least forgiven.”

  “The stakes are high, Senator,” the Director said.

  “Very high,” Senator Pachy added. “Now how soon will you know anything concerning this—this Agent Villena’s progress?”

  “We should know how she has fared by noon tomorrow,” the Director replied. “And if she is successful she’ll be returned to the facility for preparations to move forward with phase two of the operation. If she fails that will be the last we see of her.”

  “I have your assurances that she cannot escape our control,” Senator Asinas said. “The consequences for you, for all of us if she is able to elude our reach, would be devastating.”

  The Director patted his suit’s jacket pocket. “Not to worry, Senator, she is no more than a touch away.”

  “Very good, now about this unfortunate accident that happened at the facility . . . is the family satisfied?”

  “They have accepted our explanation and received the agency’s condolences and gratitude for their son’s service,” the Director replied.

  “And how much was this gratitude?” Senator Pachy asked.

  “It was quite small, Senator. They were more grateful for the Arlington burial with full honors than the money.”

  “That is comforting.”

  “The young man was buried a hero,” Senator Pachy said. “We should all be so lucky when our end comes.”

  “We should all be so lucky,” Senator Asinas agreed.

  After taking a long, cleansing shower, Calida decided to go with a pair of black suede ankle boots and black leather pants for her second visit to her target’s club. For a top she rummaged through her room’s closet and found a simple, dark red blouse that formed a widow’s peak in the back and exposed her stomach in the front. She gave her hair some thought and the deep auburn color became almost black underneath with streaks of subtle red highlights on the top layers. Calida allowed her reflection in the mirror. Her hair now made a better match with the blouse. She stayed with the light brown eye color, but darkened her skin into the same brown hue that she used last night. She finished the look with some large silver bangles on her wrists and a pair of simple black hoop earrings. Calida was satisfied she agreed with Manic’s taste. His mind had been easy enough to read.

  At 10:00 PM, Calida left her room. The only mess she left behind for the motel’s cleaning staff was a half naked man on her bed who had literally lost his mind while having sex with her. Calida had eaten a large, deep hole, right through his forehead. Since he wasn’t her target she decided she had kept to the spirit of the instructions from the Director. Besides, if not for the noxious odor of her food’s cologne, she might have only taken blood and left him alive.

  Calida drove Leech’s car to her destination, pulled into the parking lot across the street from the club, and found a spot toward the dark rear of the lot. She then lowered the driver’s window, left the keys in the ignition, and got out as per agency instructions. She made her way to the street and looked at the large line that already reached a half block down the sidewalk. Calida liked big crowds. She walked across the street and continued right up to the club’s entrance.

  “Hey, Sweetness,” Jamaal said. “You know I got a nice bonus from the man last night because of you. And you two didn’t even play. That’s never happened before.”

  “How big a bonus do you want to get tonight?” Calida asked.

  “Food for my kids is in your hands, Sweetness.”

  “Dawg, stop trying to pull your shit,” one of the other doormen shouted. “Don’t you listen to him lady. He ain’t got any kids, at least none he knows about.”

  “Jamaal is that right?” Calida asked with mock surprise. “You were lying to me?”

  “It was just a joke,” Jamaal replied. “Now there’s a limo waiting for you in case you showed up.” And he pointed at an extra long, white limousine parked along the curb.

  “He’s not here?”

  “No, you got to go see him on his boat tonight.”

  “He didn’t tell me about going to a boat,” Calida said, but in truth she had been briefed regarding the boat. “It screws up my plans for the evening.”

  “Saturday nights he usually stays on his boat for business.”

  “So you gonna drive me over to this boat?” Calida asked. But she could see through the dark windows of the vehicle that there was a driver sitting behind the wheel.

  “Not tonight, I’m gonna stay and make sure the line don’t cause any trouble.”

  “Dawg, you’ve been told to stay here by the man,” the same doorman said. “Now be a gentleman, walk her over to the limo, and open up the door for her. You know Frank ain’t gonna get his lazy ass out of the car.”

  “Why you keep chillin’ on my shit?” Jamaal asked. “I’m the only one here with any manners.”

  “Come on, Jamaal,” Calida said. “I need to go. I’m gonna have a busy night, I think.”

  Calida allowed Jamaal to take her arm and waited for him to open the door to the limo. As she stepped inside the car she turned toward him and said, “Now don’t expect too big a bonus tonight.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m a lady.”

  “Sweetness you’ll break my heart,” Jamaal said and jokingly clutched at his chest before he closed the door.
>
  The limousine pulled away from the curb and headed southwest out of Watts toward the Port of Los Angeles. Calida made no attempt to speak to the driver. She thought about being on a boat and was apprehensive. She wasn’t afraid of the water, but potentially going off land always complicated things she took for granted; namely, finding a safe place to sleep during the day.

  The ride to the harbor took about thirty minutes which still gave her six hours of night. As they approached the harbor terminals, the limo turned into one of the marinas where dozens of luxury yachts were nestled in their slips. There was considerable activity as nearly every yacht seemed to have a party going on that spilled off the deck and onto the pier directly adjacent to the individual slips. The limo came to a stop at the end of the marina’s parking lot. The driver got out and opened the door for Calida.

  “You just walk straight down the pier all the way to the end. The last yacht on your right is called Manic’s Pleasure, you got that?”

  “You mean you’re not going to walk with me?” Calida asked, smiling.

  “You know how many broads I bring here so they can walk down that pier?” the driver asked. “Now you get on, I’ve got to get back to the club.” The driver got back into the limo and didn’t waste any time speeding off.

  Calida watched the limo leave and noticed that another car with its headlights off had entered the parking lot and pulled into an open space in the back row. She had seen this same car over at the club’s lot, but from a distance of two hundred yards, she couldn’t make out what the driver looked like. She knew the agency was keeping an eye on her so she turned back toward the pier and started walking.

  As she made her way to the end of the pier, several yacht parties asked her to come aboard and join their fun. Dollar figures were yelled out with each subsequent party outbidding the previous one. Smiles were exchanged and the offers were only half-serious, but Calida had no doubt if she accepted an invitation she would be paid. By the time she arrived at the last yacht the final offer had made it to four figures.