Night Runner (6 page)

“That's crazy talk,” I said.

He smiled, but then his face went flat and serious.

“Crazy talk? Perhaps.” He looked around the room. “But here you are, living in this dreadful place, totally unaware of what is really wrong with you. Isolated and alone. If you ask me, this is crazy, but it is also the truth. The crazy truth of your life. So, who says the truth can't be crazy?”

He moved forward again, his elbows resting comfortably on his knees, his hands clasped together.

“I believe your father was right about the truth. It longs to be discovered. And some truths, once discovered, cannot be ignored. Your father and I hunted vampires. I understand this must come as
a shock, but it was vital for your father to keep it a secret—for your protection, as well as ours. It is the reason you and I never met. Sadly, it is also the reason you never learned the truth about your father's death. Or, rather, about his murder. But let me assure you, the truth of this is very important, because the vampire who killed him is looking for you.”

My uncle leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes watching me. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I almost asked him to leave right then and there, but I wanted to hear him out before I spoke to Nurse Ophelia. She had known my father well, but she had never hinted that there was anything unusual about what he did. And she had never mentioned my uncle. Or vampire hunting. Or murder. It all sounded like hooey. Then I remembered that she'd wanted to talk to me. That she'd been keeping secrets. Could this have been why?

“That doesn't make any sense,” I said.

“And your condition, does it make sense?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Well, it makes perfect sense to me. But that is how life is. It makes sense. And if it doesn't, you haven't thought things through well enough. Or you don't have the right information.
That
is your problem—you are lacking the right information. You are fortunate that I am here because I can tell you everything you need to know to make sense of your life and why you are here.”

He stood and opened the door. The light was faint now. The day was dying. He checked the hallway and then closed the door again.

“I have to go shortly, and I need to make certain no one will hear any of this. It is for your ears only.”

He sat back down and leaned forward, shifting his head to the side just long enough to smother another cough with the back of his hand.

“Your father and I were hunting a vampire, a Baron, who called himself Vrolok. That was why your father spent a few weeks lecturing
in Budapest the year before you went to Libya. Vrolok was hiding in Hungary. I discovered him there and brought your father in to help me. Vrolok fled, but none of us knew where.

“When he surfaced in Libya, your father followed. He tracked Vrolok to those Roman ruins. The Baron was using one of the temples as a hiding place. When your father discovered this he moved in. I wish that he had waited for me, but he didn't. Still, he did remarkably well on his own. Vrolok was cornered. It was daytime, and he was weak and tired. Your father nearly finished him, as far as I can tell. But a vampire is not easy prey. Vrolok caused the temple to collapse. It was a desperate gambit, but it paid off. It killed your father. But it also forced Vrolok into the light. He would have perished had it not been for a small boy who happened to run past.”

He paused. We were thinking the same thing, my uncle and I.

“I was bitten by a dog,” I said. It was barely a whisper.

My uncle shook his head and mouthed a silent “No.”

“Perhaps your memory is faulty. The mind can be like that. Tell me what you remember.”

I told him. There were eyes in the shadows. I moved closer and the dog crawled out and bit me. It happened so fast . . .

“And tell me,” he said, “when you remember this, do you see it as a movie, or do you see it as though it is really happening to you?”

“I don't understand,” I said.

“Hmmm.” He paused to think. “When you look at me now, you are seeing me through your own eyes. You don't see yourself. You see me, the chair, the desk, the mirror on the door, the wall behind me. When you see the dog in your mind, when it bites you, is it like that, do you see the dog and only the dog? Or is it different? Do you see yourself, as well? As though you are watching yourself in a movie?”

That was an easy one. “I can see us both. Like a movie. We're both in the picture and I'm looking from above.”

My uncle nodded. “That means it isn't a true memory. Your mind has recreated the scene and you see the recreation. If the memory were real, you would see only the dog, just as you see only me when you look across the room. Of course, it wasn't a dog, was it. It was the Baron Vrolok. He must have been close to death. Very close. But he drank your blood, and it gave him the strength to survive. To dig deep into the earth and wait for darkness.”

When he finished saying this, I stared up at him. It was as if I were seeing him clearly for the first time. There was truth in his words. I could see that. And I also saw another truth. One he had implied. I had been bitten by the Baron Vrolok. I had been infected by a vampire.

And so I was a vampire, too.

M
y uncle was right. Some truths could not be ignored. Not when they rolled over you like the dinner trolley.

I was a vampire. How could I have not known? It was the only thing that made sense. I couldn't go out in the sun. I needed fresh blood every few months. My body didn't like food. It made me wonder what Nurse Ophelia had been putting into those brain cocktails. I began to doubt it was strawberry syrup.

It also made me wonder how much of this she knew. I probably should have asked my uncle about it, but another thought had come to mind—something of much greater concern. After all, this man was a vampire hunter.

“Are you here to kill me?” I asked.

He smiled. His hard features softened and he looked down at the ground for just an instant. “No,” he said. “I came here for an entirely different reason. I came here to take you away from this place.”

“But don't you kill vampires?”

He shook his head once, slightly, with his lips pressed together. “Not always. In some cases your father and I left vampires alive because they agreed to help us, and because we were convinced they posed no immediate threat to humanity. You must understand, Zachary, vampires aren't very different from normal people. They have choices to make, just as you will have choices to make. They can choose to be good, or to be something that is less than good. I suppose the hunger for blood makes the choice more difficult for vampires, but it remains a choice.”

Well, I had no doubt in my mind what I would choose. I would be good. I certainly wasn't a threat to anybody. I didn't even believe in mousetraps. But I was thinking that maybe there was another way out of this.

“Can I be cured?” I asked.

My uncle took a deep breath and put his hands on his knees. Then he pushed himself up and got ready to leave. In a second, an umbrella was hanging over his arm and a briefcase was in his hand.

“There is no known cure for vampirism. Your struggle here is proof enough of that. But there are ways of coping, obviously. You have done a remarkable job of it here, and you ought to be congratulated. In the meantime, I have set about the business of trying to adopt you. It won't be easy. Because medical science can't make sense of your condition, it will be difficult for me to prove that I am capable of taking care of you. But we will find a way . . . assuming that is what you want. You don't have to make your mind up right away. I'll come back, and we can spend some more time talking. I have an appointment right now and I can't be late. I'm on the trail of another vampire, but I'll be back to see you tomorrow. In the meantime, don't do anything to put yourself at risk. I noticed the police outside. I'm assuming there was an accident of some kind?”

“A man crashed through the doors with a stolen motorcycle,” I said. Then I told him the rest.

When I was finished, my uncle stared at me for about ten seconds without saying a word. It was as if I'd just disconnected his brain. Then he snapped out of it.

“Tell me again, what exactly did he say?”

I ran through it as best I could.

My uncle looked down at the floor. He was whispering, “Thank heavens . . . Apocalypse . . .” Then he looked up at me with the same intense expression I'd seen on his face before. As though this was the most important thing in the world.

“What exactly did he look like? Describe him to me.”

I started with the old man's hair and his top hat and overcoat, and finished with his eyes, but apparently I missed a lot, because my uncle asked me a lot of questions I didn't have clear answers for. Like the shape of his nose and his cheeks and how thick his neck was.

“And his voice, was there anything unusual about it?”

I shrugged. I didn't think so.

“And they shot him twenty times?”

“More or less. It was a lot. There was blood everywhere.”

“Did he mention any names?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” my uncle concluded, “I think I might know who the culprit is. I'll do some digging and find out for certain. It isn't Vrolok, that's the good news. And the police are here now. I recommend never straying from where they can help you.”

“He told me to stay away from the police,” I said. I'd forgotten to mention this.

My uncle smiled. “I think you can ignore that part, Zachary. They're usually the good guys.” Then his smile tightened and he nodded a quick goodbye. “I'll try to be back before the sunrise. If not, I'll contact you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said.

I suppose I should have stood up and shaken his hand, or said thank you, or done something like that, but I didn't. I'm not sure why. I guess I was still pretty shocked. And truthfully, I wasn't used to that kind of good news—that I might soon be living in a real home with a real uncle. It wasn't as though my life was bad—I wasn't starving in some war-torn country with flies buzzing around my eyes—but it wasn't a bowl of cherries, either. So I just said goodbye.

The moment he was gone I felt a great emptiness inside. I almost jumped up and chased him down the hall. A zillion questions popped into my head. Things I should have asked him. My mother—what was she like, and how had she died? My father and his work. And about Vrolok. Was he really looking for me? Is that why the crazy old man had shown up on a stolen motorcycle? Did he know about Vrolok, too? I felt a bit ridiculous. There was so much to find out and I hadn't really asked him anything. But at least I'd met a person who might have some answers. Maximilian. Uncle Max. I liked the sound of it. And he looked tough enough to survive an alien invasion. I liked that, too.

A
fter my uncle left, I checked the time again. It was almost eight-thirty. I was still expecting Nurse Ophelia to arrive shortly. I was anxious to talk to her about all that I had learned. And Charlie. I imagined his jaw hitting his feet when I told him I was a vampire and that I might soon be adopted by my uncle, Maximilian, the vampire hunter. I had so much restless energy in my bones I could have run to the North Pole without taking a breath.

I paced in my room until the sun went down, then I headed straight for the nurses' station. Roberta was already there with one of the security guards. She was trying to get the Chicago Man to go to bed. He was doing his usual routine, spinning and waving his arms to music only he could hear. He would often stop his dancing to clap out a rhythm and sing, but his voice was just a mumble, and the only word you could ever make out clearly was “Chicago.” I guess he was born there. Unfortunately, because the women all
stayed on a separate floor, he never had anyone to dance with, except the staff. Nurse Roberta clearly wasn't in the mood.

“Do you know where Nurse Ophelia is?” I asked her.

As soon as I spoke, the Chicago Man turned around and started to spin in front of me, clapping his hands and laughing. I knew just what to do. I took both his hands and we turned a few lazy circles. Then we bowed to each other. It gave Nurse Roberta a chance to slip her hand inside his elbow.

“I'm a little busy right now. Can't you tell?” she said.

After several attempts, she managed to get him pointed in the right direction, and then, with the help of the security guard, started guiding him to his room. “This way, Mr. Butterfield.”

I waited for Nurse Ophelia in the reception area for about five minutes. A work crew had been in during the day to replace the shattered doors. Part of the frame had been restored, but the glass was still missing, so tarpaulin had been stretched over the opening. Two policemen were there, and I noticed extra security guards, too. A few were helping the other nurses move people out of the dining hall and into their rooms.

I waited at the nurses' station for another twenty minutes. By this time, everyone was in bed, and Nurse Ophelia still hadn't arrived. With no one around to talk to, I started to get restless.

“Why don't you go blow off some steam in the fitness room?” Nurse Roberta suggested. She was filling in forms behind the counter. “I'll tell her where you are when she arrives.”

It seemed like a good idea. I was feeling very irritated. I had to tell her the news.
I was a vampire
! But she must have known. She prepared my meals. Why hadn't she told me?

I suddenly felt very frustrated. How was I going to get answers if she didn't bother coming to work? So I hurried back to my room to get my sneakers. A few minutes later I was on the treadmill, running. It was the one thing I was exceptionally good at. And it didn't matter
if I felt lonely, mad or just plain bored. To get my feet moving when the sun was down always did the trick.