Thirst No. 1: The Last Vampire, Black Blood, and Red Dice

by Christopher Pike

  “I don’t think you want to mess with her,” Guard One says. “She’s supposed to be super strong.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t tell us why she’s strong,” Guard Three says. “They just tell us to watch her. But what if she gets out? She could kill us all.”

  “Yes,” I whisper softly to myself.

  “Relax,” Guard One says. “There’s no way she’s getting out of that box.”

  “Even if she does break out,” Guard Two says. “We can stop her. I don’t care about orders, I’m opening fire.”

  “I hear bullets can’t stop her,” Guard Three says, continuing to dwell on how dangerous I am.

  I shift my focus to Guard One and send out another suggestion.

  “We mustn’t lose sight of her.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on her,” Guard One says.

  I place the same thought in Guard Three’s mind.

  “Yeah,” Guard Three echoes. “We have to be alert, keep watching her.”

  I try to put the thought in Guard Two’s mind.

  “I’ve got to take a piss,” Guard Two says.

  “Oh, well,” I whisper to myself. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

  Over the next thirty minutes—pausing only when Guard Two goes to the bathroom—I steadily build up their paranoia about how dangerous I am and how bad things will be if they don’t keep me under constant surveillance. Pretty soon Guards One and Three are talking paranoid gibberish. Guard Two is not sure how to calm them down, or even why they need to be calmed down.

  “If we don’t watch her every second,” Guard One says. “She’ll escape.”

  “And if she escapes,” Guard Three says. “She’ll rip our hearts out and eat them.”

  “Stop!” Guard Two yells. “She’s not going to escape.”

  “We know that,” Guard One says. “If we don’t blink, if we keep the lights on her, she won’t escape.”

  “But if the lights go out, we’re doomed,” Guard Three says.

  “Why would the lights go out?” Guard Two wants to know.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I slowly ease out of my deep state of concentration. I reach over and gently shake Joel. He opens his eyes and smiles at me. In all the confusion I have forgotten how handsome he is. His dark blue eyes are filled with affection.

  “What a pleasant sight to wake up to,” he whispers.

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  I lean over and whisper directly into his ear. “No. I’ve been planting the seeds of our escape. The guards outside are now terrified of losing sight of us.”

  He’s curious. “You know this for a fact?”

  “Yes. I’m going to break the lights in here, which will cause them to panic and call for help. I’m sure General Havor himself will come.”

  “Then what?”

  “I have a plan of sorts, but it’s not set in stone. Just follow my lead. Get up—get ready to act when I say the word.”

  Joel moves to the wall closest to the door. Standing in the center of the cell, staring at the overhead cameras, I give the guards on the other side of the wall one last thing to think about.

  “I’m coming for you now,” I say in a wicked voice. “You’d better run, you’d better hide.” I lick my lips. “Because I’m very hungry.”

  Then, in a series of blindingly fast moves, I shatter every light on the ceiling and plunge the cell into darkness. I see perfectly, but Joel has to reach for the wall to get his bearings. At the security station, I hear Guard One and Guard Three screaming in terror. Guard Two fumbles for his weapon, yelling at his partners to stop. I suppress a giggle.

  “Come to me, General.” I whisper. “Come, Arturo.”

  Five minutes later I hear Arturo and Havor pounding down the narrow hall, speaking heatedly. Although I have not heard the general’s voice before, I recognize it by the authority it commands. Arturo has influence within the confines of the compound, but the man with the star on his shoulder is in charge. I wonder about the details of their relationship. All about them, clutching machine guns and trying not to panic, are dozens of soldiers.

  “She’s not a danger as long as we keep the lock in place,” Arturo says to the general. “This is a stunt she’s pulling to get us to open the door.”

  “I don’t like it that we can’t see her,” General Havor snaps back. “You heard what she told you. We don’t know the full extent of her powers. For all we know she’s cutting through a wall of the cell as we talk.”

  “She’s a master of manipulation,” Arturo counters. “She talked about her unknown powers to plant a seed of doubt in our minds—for just this occasion. If you open the door to check on her, she’ll be on you in a second. You’ll have to kill her to stop her and you can’t kill her.”

  “We’ll wait and see what she does next,” General Havor says.

  “What’s happening?” Joel hisses in the dark.

  I whisper softly so that only he can hear. “The general and Arturo are coming. They don’t want to open the door, but I think I can do something to inspire them to relent. There will be a lot of noise in a few minutes. Besides creating the racket, I will be mentally projecting into the general’s mind. Please don’t speak to me during this time. I need to concentrate. Then, when they start to open the door, I need you to wedge yourself in the corner behind the door. But don’t do it until I give the signal. There’ll be gunfire, and the space behind the door will be the safest. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. You really think they’ll open the door?”

  “Yes. I’ll make them.”

  Once more I sit cross-legged on the floor, this time in the center of the room. Quieting my thoughts with several deep breaths, I project myself into the general’s mind. It is easy to locate—the psychic energy that emanates from him is like molten lava from an erupting volcano. Yet his resolve will not be so easily manipulated with a few implanted thoughts. With a strong individual, even when I can look him in the eye and whisper in his ear, I have trouble getting him to do what I want. Now, I have neither of those options at my disposal. What I am attempting to do is set up several conditions that will work on the general and prompt him to give the order to open the door. Getting the guards nervous and knocking out the lights were the first of my conditional steps. The next ones will be more difficult.

  I slip into General Havor’s mind.

  It is a black cavern, draped with the webs of poisonous spiders. When he does get my power, I see, General Havor fantasizes about raping me. He also plans to kill Arturo, as soon as the alchemist completes his experiments. There is no trust between the two. General Havor fears Arturo will alter his own DNA and then kill the general. But what Arturo thinks I cannot read. His mind is heavily cloaked—not unexpected in a partial hybrid. Anyway, I must concentrate on the man who gives the orders. General Havor must push the button that opens the door—this is all that matters.

  I reach out with my mental claw.

  “The witch will break down the door.”

  I hear the general speak to Arturo.

  “Are you positive she cannot break down the door?” he asks.

  “Even she cannot destroy this alloy,” Arturo reassures him.

  “The blood of a dead witch is as good as the blood of a living witch.”

  General Havor does not speak this thought aloud to Arturo. But I know he fantasizes about shooting me in the head, killing me, and immediately injecting my blood into his veins. It is an attractive idea to him. Arturo will not be able to stop him, or to come back at him later at an unexpected time, with an unseen dagger in his hand. It is this latter point that is the general’s primary worry. My suggestion hits home, and I watch as my mental implant expands and warps. General Havor can almost feel what it will be like to have my blood flow through his veins in the next few minutes. I give the idea another nudge.

  “Why wait for the witch’s blood?”

  Again, General Havor does not share this idea aloud with Arturo.
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br />   Still, he is not ready to open the door.

  Stretching and breathing normally, I slowly come out of my trance. Enough for mental gymnastics. It is time for brutal force. Climbing to my feet, I study the supposedly impenetrable door, then launch my attack. I leap into the air and plant three extremely powerful kicks on the hard metal with my feet. In quick succession I leap again and again, alternately pounding the door with first my right then my left foot. The door doesn’t give, but the noise I create is deafening. Outside I can hear them shouting to one another, and I know what the general is thinking. The witch is going to break out. I may as well open the door and kill her while I have her cornered. To hell with Arturo.

  I keep up the pounding.

  By this time, I am sure, Guard One and Guard Three have wet their pants.

  After five minutes, I pause. Something is happening.

  I strain to listen with my ears. General Havor and Arturo are arguing again.

  “You are playing right into her hands!” Arturo yells. “The only protection we have from her is this cell. Open it and you open the door to death—both for yourself and your men.”

  “How long do you think that door can withstand that barrage?” General Havor asks. “See, there are cracks in the walls.”

  “The cracks are in the walls that hold the metal cage! The cage itself shows no sign of giving.”

  “I don’t believe it!” General Havor snaps. “I say we face her now when we’re armed and ready. Better she die than escape.”

  “But what about her blood? We need it.”

  “There’ll be plenty of her blood lying around when I finish with her.”

  Arturo hesitates. He lowers his voice. “Plenty of blood for what?”

  General Havor does not answer. He knows there will be only enough blood left in my body for him to inject into his own veins. The more I listen to the two, the clearer it becomes that General Havor is not interested in Arturo’s hybrid. He wants to be a full-fledged vampire. That’s where it’s at in his mind.

  I return to my pounding.

  My feet ache. It doesn’t matter.

  The noise shakes the whole building.

  I imagine even the men in the perimeter towers are trembling.

  Outside the door, the guards shout to their general for orders.

  General Havor and Arturo continue to argue. I hear them.

  “We will die!” Arturo screams.

  “She’s only one!” General Havor yells. “She can’t get us all!” He pauses, makes a decision, and shouts to his men. “Stand ready! We’re going in!”

  I relax for a moment and catch my breath. “They’re coming,” I whisper to Joel. “Get behind the door.”

  “Can’t I help?” he asks, moving. “I am a vampire, after all. Not just FBI.”

  I chuckle softly. “Later, Joel.”

  Outside, I hear what sounds like a platoon of guards gathering around the red button. Each is more than a little reluctant to push it. The heavy metal door has become awfully comforting. But the general is shouting at them again to open it. Loaded magazines are popped onto M16s. Bullets are locked into firing chambers. Rifles are shouldered. I can smell the sweat of their fear.

  Somebody gathers the courage to push the button.

  The door begins to open.

  I leap up and into a corner near the ceiling.

  I don’t need to use my newfound levitating abilities. I am able to wedge myself against the ceiling by pressing the back of my neck against one corner wall, and my feet against the other. Supernatural strength has its advantages. I leave my arms free—I am a black widow ready to swoop down and snatch her prey. They are going to rue the day they decided to lock me in a solid metal cage.

  The door opens wider.

  I hear them outside in the hall. Their frightened breathing.

  You could hear a pin drop. Even without vampire ears.

  “She’s not there,” someone whispers.

  They aren’t even worried about Joel. Just me, that damn witch.

  “She’s behind the door,” General Havor snarls from farther down the hall.

  It’s good to know exactly where he is.

  “What do we do?” someone croaks. Sounds like Guard Three.

  “I’m not going in there,” Guard One moans. His ulcer must be killing him.

  “I don’t like this,” Guard Two agrees.

  The door will not close again, no matter what happens. I will not let it. But now I am faced with a decision to make. There is only one hostage who will get me to where I want to go, and that is the kind-hearted General Havor. If I abduct Arturo, the general will tell his men to open fire on both of us. Certainly, any guard I would grab would be expendable in the general’s mind. Friendly fire, they call it. Yet the general is maybe fifty feet up the hall. Between us are many soldiers. I am going to have to reduce the numbers. I need the men to panic and flee.

  I know I will have to cause pain to make that happen.

  In a move too swift for the soldiers to see, I slide onto the top of the door, reach outside the cage, grab one of the soldiers by the hair, and pull him back up into the corner with me. The man screams in my hands and I let him carry on for a bit. No doubt he feels like a victim in an Alien movie. Because he is crying so loudly, it takes me several seconds to recognize his voice.

  It is Guard Three—the one who writes science-fiction in his spare time.

  I am sure he has seen all the Alien movies.

  I take his weapon and put my hand over his mouth.

  “Shh,” I whisper. “Things are not so bad as they seem. I am not going to kill you, not if you cooperate. I know about you and I like you. The problem is, I need to scare your friends out there. Now I know they are already pretty spooked, but I’ve got to get them to the point where they want to flee, no matter what your general orders. Do you understand?”

  He nods, his eyes ready to burst out of his head.

  I smile. “That’s good. They are probably imagining that I am ripping your heart out right now. And with a little help from you, I can make them think that is exactly what I am doing. I will hardly have to hurt you at all. Oh, I see you notice I use the word hurt. To be honest, I will have to cut you enough so that I can blow the stream of your warm blood out into the hall. Splashing blood always creates a wonderful effect, especially when vampires are involved. While I do that, I want you to scream bloody murder. Can you do that?”

  He nods.

  I pinch him. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he croaks. “I don’t want to die. I have a wife and two kids.”

  “I know, and your brother-in-law is a lawyer. By the way, don’t listen to a thing he tells you. He is like all lawyers—envious of those who do honest work for a living. You just keep writing your stories. If you want, you can even write one about me. But make me a blond—this red hair is store-bought.”

  “What’s your name?” he asks, relaxing slightly.

  I don’t want him too relaxed. “I am Mrs. Satan.” I scratch him on the inside of his right arm, tearing his flesh and drawing plenty of blood. “Start screaming, buddy.”

  Guard Three does as he’s told. His performance is admirable—he believes half of it. “Oh God! Stop it! Save me! She’s ripping my heart out!” Actually, he didn’t have to get so specific, but I let it pass. While he cries to his fellow soldiers, I purse my lips and blow on the blood that trickles from his arm. I have quite the set of lungs. The blood splatters over the exterior of the wall, and onto the floor outside. I hear the men moaning in horror. This is worse than ’Nam, many think.

  They haven’t seen anything yet.

  “Now let out a real loud death scream,” I tell Guard Three. “Trail off into silence. Then, I’ll drop you behind the door where my friend is hiding. You might want to stay there when the shooting starts. I warn you ahead of time, I am going to have to kill many of your friends. When I am through, you may leave this building. Get out as fast as you can. Steal a truck if you have
to. Things are going to get awfully hot here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. You’re not going to kill me?”

  “No. Not tonight. You can relax, after you do exactly what I say.”

  The guard lets out the death scream. I spray an especially wide shower of blood through the doorway. Then I drop the guy down beside Joel, who pats him on the back and tells him to relax. I hand Joel the man’s weapon and order him to keep it handy. Several guards outside the door are crying. They have backed away, but not far enough to be safe. I reach out and grab another. He carries a high-powered machine gun, which I wedge between the door and frame. He smells of hamburger and fries. His food is probably not digesting well. I don’t know this soldier, which doesn’t bode well for him.

  “You’re going to die now,” I tell his horrified face. “I am sorry it has to be this way.”

  I kill him slowly, painfully, so that his throat-tearing screams and red blood mingle to create an image so ghastly that many of the soldiers feel they are trapped in a nightmare from which they cannot awaken. When I am done, I throw what is left of his body into the hall. It is very messy—the terror in the air is as palpable as the hard metal door that can no longer be closed.

  This last execution has disturbed me. If I am forced to kill, I prefer to do so efficiently and painlessly. I will not make another example—I don’t have the stomach for it. It is time to leave the building, with Joel and General Havor in hand. To grab the machine gun the soldier brought in, I drop from my position on the ceiling and immediately retrieve it and open fire. The men outside the door stand frozen in place. They fall to their deaths like tenpins.

  I kill eight of them before I step into the hall.

  Arturo and General Havor are at the far end. They are a hundred feet away and backing up fast. Between us there are many soldiers. I cannot allow the big boss to leave the building without me. But the bloody examples I made of the first two men have had an effect. The soldiers are pushing and crowding behind General Havor and Arturo, slowing them down, preventing them from simply leaving. Also, General Havor has lost control of his men. I stand a clear and easy target in the hallway, but no order to fire comes. In their hearts, the men do not believe this witch can be killed with mere bullets.