The Source (14 page)

Abe visibly tenses
his shoulders, “Yes, sir.”

“Now, there are
separate designated areas on the grounds for you to do your observation with a
minimal amount of distraction.”  He hands two containers to Abe and two to me
while Ms. Cooper's assistant provides us with surgical gloves.  When I hesitate
in taking the specimens, Ms. Montgomery retrieves them, seemingly without a
second thought as to what they contain. 

“When your
observation is complete, return to the front door of the facility.  Once
everyone - save Dr. Vinh and Dr. Allstedt - has gathered, you will be escorted
back to the other facility where you may return to your living quarters for the
day.” 

I slowly nod my
understanding and look over my shoulder to see that the hand on my elbow
belongs to Tucker.  He purses his lips as he nods his ascent before looking
sympathetically at me.  He slowly removes his hand from my elbow and directs
his attention to Abe.  I look at Ms. Montgomery who is as stoic as ever.  We
are really going to go through with this.  I am really going to go through with
this.  What would it say about me if I got all of this way and then didn’t go
through with it?  What would it say about me if I did?  Maybe the point is not
what it would say about me, but like Mr. Caulfield said, what would it mean to
human life in general?  One of the downfalls of human nature is our rather
self-centered world perspective.  We view everything in terms of how it will
impact us individually.  Science strives for objectivity.  I guess the ultimate
test is how objective I can be in the face of a reality adverse to my natural
self-centeredness. Or how willing I am to embrace a survival of the herd
instinct. 

I think about these
things as we walk toward the back of the facility where we will exit and take
our positions in the designated areas.  I notice that Ms. Montgomery and Abe
have both placed the specimen containers in their pockets.  Shielding from the
sunlight may protect a vampire from death, which may mean that the sun itself
is the source of our weapon and not just the heat needed to dehydrate.  Very
curious. 

We exit into the warm
fall sun and see two tents set up, approximately one hundred feet away from one
another.  I guess the distance is the best we're going to get in privacy for
our observations.  Without discussing it, Ms. Montgomery and I head to the tent
on the left and Abe and Tucker go to the tent on the right.  A table is setting
out in front of the tent, fully exposed to the sunlight.  I stand under the
shelter, collecting my thoughts on how we will begin.

"Um, I think
that we should keep one specimen in the container and take the other out to see
what type of impact a transparent covering would have on the process."  I
look at Ms. Montgomery, waiting for her agreement to my plan of action.  I
start to wonder if she had even heard me.

Finally she says,
"I'm an archivist, Dr. Burcham.  I cannot give my opinion or any direction
on how to proceed.  My job is simply to observe and record."

"Right," I
say, "okay, we will go forward with my plan.  Question, how are you going
to record any of this?  Write it down by memory once we get back to the other
facility?"

She reaches into her
right pocket and pulls out a small, hand-held digital video recorder.

"Good.  That
will actually be very helpful.  And it's fully charged?"

She looks at me,
blinking several times, "You're stalling."

"What?" I
say in the most indignant voice I can muster. "I am not."

"I'm very good
at my job and have it covered," she responds.

I nod then slowly put
the gloves on, taking extra care to make sure that they are perfectly on my
hands.  It's an odd occurrence that I have such small hands and wrists given
that I'm a rather big girl.  Okay, I am stalling.  This is by far my least
favorite part of the project and I'm not looking forward to handling the
amputated fingers of a tortured vampire criminal. 

I turn to her, hold
out my hand and simply say, "The specimens."  She places the two
containers into my hands.  Balancing both boxes, I open one and remove one of
the bloody digits then hand her the empty container.  I look up at her and take
a deep breath, "Here goes."  She pushes the on button on the recorder
and begins tracking my every move.  I walk out to the table, laying the
occupied container and naked finger out in the sun.  Ms. Montgomery kneels to
get a better look at the reaction.

Unlike what I saw on
the recordings, what looked like smoke emanated from the finger.  A vapor began
to rise while the skin takes on a pallor and extreme dryness, a rather
contradictory reaction. The finger wrinkles while bubbles form all over the
area. What is left of the digit seemingly melts while also flaking away in the
light wind until there is nothing left but small red globs. More curious.

In the specimen
container, the other amputated finger is undergoes a similar reaction only at a
much slower rate.  The sides of the container are fogging up, as if there were an
increase in air saturation.  I sit back on my heels watching the process while
thinking that the evidence of this slower reaction indicates that the
"smoke" people often saw when vampires are exposed to sunlight is
possibly an effect of fluids evaporating.  If that truly is the case and not
some type of special vampire smoke that I don't know about, then we have our
answer.  At least part of what happens is that the sun causes a
hyper-accelerated dehydration in vampires.  It evidently happens so quickly that
it causes near instantaneous death.  What doesn’t make sense is the appearance
of bubbles on the skin and the fact that the skin looks similar to wax running
down the side of a burning candle. There has to be another part of the puzzle
that would explain all of this.  We'll have to get any leftovers of the
specimens under a microscope to know for sure.

Once the encased
finger is nothing more than globules and flakes I stand and look at Ms.
Montgomery, "I think we're done here.  Unless you think there is something
else that we should do."

She tilts her head.
"I'm not saying anything." She then hands me the empty specimen jar
and a flat plastic utensil that I use to collect the exposed specimen.

Holding both
containers in my hands, I start to say something then stop. “Yes?” she asks.

“Vampires have
supernatural healing abilities. Does that mean Thalia’s fingers will grow
back?” A part of me hopes that the answer is yes. It would do wonders for my
sense of guilt at doing something so horrific.

Ms. Montgomery blinks
rapidly while staring at me, as if she doesn’t completely understand the
question. “Dr. Burcham, vampires heal rapidly, sometimes even growing new
flesh. They don’t, however, regenerate missing bones.”

I gasp. “Does that
mean limp, boneless fingers will grow back?”

She purses her lips
and seemingly refuses to acknowledge my question.

I shrug both
shoulders then hand her the containers. "Okay, let's head to the main
entrance."

As we make our way to
the front of the facility I notice that Abe and Tucker must already be done and
waiting for us.  When we arrive at the front entrance, Abe and Tucker are
sitting in chairs by the front door, talking very animatedly about football. 
They both become silent and stand as we approach.

Abe nods at me,
"Are we ready to head back?"

"More than
ready," I respond.  "Are our escorts here?"

Tucker looks out the
window, "It appears so.  The SUV is in front of the door with two
uniformed individuals in it.  I think that's our ride."

We all look at each
other for several moments as if we were silently communing over what we had
just done.  The look on Abe's face has hints of sadness along with unwavering
determination.  Tucker and Ms. Montgomery look as if they are simply waiting to
find out what they should do next.  Horrifyingly enough I am somewhat proud of
myself for going through with it.  In some ways I don’t know the strengths, and
weaknesses, of my character until I am put in a position to do something that I
abhor.  Pride in doing this is tempered with a disgust at the apparent
necessity. My shock slowly dulls that I had witnessed any of these things, when
I had actually been an active part in it.  It's easy to stand back as an
observer and say something is not right.  Your definition of "wrong"
tends to change when you have to measure it against something that's, well,
even more wrong. 

I think that what
scared me more than anything right then is the fact that above anything else, I
just wanted food. 

“Anyone want to go to
lunch?”

Everyone looks at me
as if I have grown a second head.  I am fully expecting rejection when Abe and
Tucker say that they could go for lunch.  I smile at each of them with my smile
getting bigger as I look at Abe, thankful that he would be there so Tucker and
I won’t be alone.  Things have improved between me and Tucker, but I’m not yet
comfortable with spending extended periods of time with him without a human
buffer.  It’s not like I’m using Abe.  At least that’s what I tell myself. 
It’s just highly convenient that he agrees to go.  And it’s not like I didn’t
invite everyone. See, not using him.

Once we get back to
our research facility, we make a stop at one of the research suites to deposit
the experiment specimens into a controlled-environment storage unit.  After, we
go to the parking lot where Abe and Tucker are waiting.

I offer, “I can drive
so that we’re not all wasting gas.”

Without saying a word
Ms. Montgomery continues to her car, gets inside and promptly leaves.  As we
watch her Abe asks, “Is she always like this?”

“She’s not very
sociable,” I respond.

“She just takes her
job very seriously,” Tucker states.

We continue walking
to my car as I look at him, “Do you know her very well?”

“Not really.  We have
worked on other projects together.  She’s always been the type to work and then
go home.  Work is for work, not socializing.”

Nodding I agree.
“Yes, that is very much how she has been.  Work being only for work would be
great except we spend most of our lives doing it.  For some of us it’s the only
social life we have.”

“Maybe she has a
fulfilling social life outside of work.  So, she doesn’t really see a need to
interact with her professional peers,” Abe suggests.

I open the driver’s
side door and unlock the passenger doors.  Tucker rides shotgun while Abe sits
in the back.  “Maybe.  Just a little hard for me to think of her as the dynamic
socialite.”

“First impressions
are not always accurate,” Tucker says, looking straight into my eyes before
breaking his gaze. “Okay, where to for lunch?”

“I have no idea,” I
say. “I’m not from around here, remember?”  I look back at Abe in the rearview
mirror. “Any ideas, Abe?”

He shakes his head,
“I’m not from here either.”

Tucker offers, “Well,
there is a mom-and-pop diner that is pretty good.  It’s called The Soup Spoon. 
It’s located on the main strip of downtown Rowan.”

“There’s a downtown
in Rowan?” Abe asks.

I smile. “In small
towns in West Virginia it’s considered downtown if there’s at least one stop
sign.”

Abe laughs. “What if
there are no stop signs?”

“Then the residents
do not expect visitors to stop for any length of time,” I say.

“Doesn’t sound too
friendly,” Abe states.

“On the contrary,”
Tucker says. “People in West Virginia are known for their hospitality.  They’ll
be sitting on their porches and wave at you as you drive by, even if they don’t
know you.”

I nod. “But that
doesn’t mean they want you to stay.  It’s not so much an issue of rudeness as
it is suspicion.  Some parts of West Virginia have a long and sordid history of
being exploited by outsiders, particularly coal companies.”

Abe leans forward in
his seat. “Exploited how?”

I briefly look at
Tucker to see if he is preparing to answer the question before I continue.
“Unfair labor practices, wage issues, mine safety issues.  Destruction of the
land, including removing the tops from mountains.  And all of the wealth from
this industry?  The people of West Virginia don’t have it that’s for sure.”

“There’s an abandoned
mine here in Rowan,” Tucker says.

“Really?” I ask. 
“Why abandoned?”

“From what I
understand,” he explains, “there were some suspicious deaths that happened in
the 1980s.  Several miners died.  The coal company that owned the operation was
investigated.  Not long after the investigation they packed up and left town. 
It devastated the people here because practically everyone worked in the mine,
so everyone lost their livelihood.  Until the government built the research
facilities here, there really wasn’t a way to make any money.”

We pull into the
small parking lot of The Soup Spoon, get out of the car and make our way to the
front door.  We sit at an empty table and pick up our conversation. “Was the
coal company responsible?  Is that why they left?” Abe asks.