Bite Shift

51

The stairwell was emptier, and quieter, than I ever realized they were. A lot of staff members use the stairwell for peace and quiet. You can take a phone call without interruption or gather your thoughts without someone screaming "Hey, nurse!"

I looked down the steps and flashed back to the last time I had walked down them. I had been going to the bottom, back door, to eat my cold spaghetti next to the graveyard. I had wanted 20 minutes of solitude but had gotten an eternity of nighttime instead.

You died.

I sat down on one of the steps and tried to think. I knew that the dream had been more than a dream. I felt it deep in my gut. It was a warning but from who? From God?

Does God care about vampires? That was definitely a question for another time.

I also knew, deep down, that the person I was hunting may very well be in this building; be someone I know. So far, no one looked particularly shocked to see me "alive". That didn't really mean anything.

I tried to go back to that night and remember who had been working. Rhys. Kitchner. Monica. Stewart. Camilla. Who else? I don't know. I can't remember.

"Dammit," I said to the empty stairs.

Do I really believe that someone I know killed people... tried to kill me?

You, mean, did kill you. Don't forget, kiddo. You're dead.

"Shut up. That is not helping."

"What isn't helping?" It was a voice from the floor below. I heard heavy footsteps coming ascending the flight and coming towards me.

I stood up and thought about what to do. Go towards them or run away? I didn't get to move before Stewart came around the corner and faced me.

"Kate! What are you doing here?"

Was that surprise in his face? It could be or it could be relief or joy or gas. Who knows?!

"Hi, Stewart. I am heading down for blood."

"I haven't seen you for a few days. I thought maybe you were on vacation or you left."

He had on his heavy security jacket so he had probably just come in from outside or was heading outside. He waddled up the steps in a way that only a bad knee can make you move. He held out his arms and I realized, with a jolt, that he wanted a hug. Before I could protest, his bulk was wrapped around me and he was squeezing tight. His hair smelled like salami and I wanted to squirm out of his grasp. He let go after, what seemed like, minutes.

"What was that for," I asked. He had never hugged me so I was genuinely confused.

"I don't know," he replied. "Just needed to feel that you were real I guess."

"I'm real," I said with a chuckle that sounded forced, even to me.

"Hey," he chirped. "I'm going outside around midnight, to the picnic tables, to eat some leftover pasta my wife made. Want to enjoy the last few days before winter kicks in. I got more than enough. Want to join?"

No fucking way!

"No, thank you," I responded. "I am never eating pasta again."

"Bad experience?" he asked.

"You could say that."

"I hear you. That red sauce gives me some wicked heartburn but I can't stop. Find me if you change your mind."

With that, he continued his climb and brushed past me. I moved out of the way and watched him walk to the 5th floor door. He may not have been expecting me to be watching because he looked back at me with an emotion I could quite pin. Then, he opened the door and disappeared.

Is that really a killer? I don't know. But I did know one thing.... I was NOT eating Italian, with him, outside. I may be harder to kill but I can still die.

I gathered my courage and continued my walk down to the bottom floor. When I reached the last step, and stood on the basement level, I looked to my left and to my right. The left side of the hallway stretched down into darkness. At night, on the floors without patient rooms, the overhead lights are set to motion activated. Until you walked down them, they stayed dark. I knew this way passed the morgue, the laundry room, the supply room and ended in a door. That door opened out into the back of the hospital, where graves sat silently, and I had eaten my last meal. I closed my eyes. I could, instantly, hear Holst in my ears, smell the cucumber, sense the night breeze on my face and feel him tearing my skin and muscle away from my neck.

I opened my eyes and looked at the door. It was just a door. I was here and he was not. I had survived. Rhys had saved me. That was what I held onto. I turned to my right and walked down the hallway, away from the door, and towards the sounds of Rhys' office. Tonight, he was listening to Queen. Ironically, the sweet lyrics of Who Wants to Live Forever hit my ears.

Screw you, Universe. Stop messing with me.

I had the sudden thought that Freddie Mercury may have known a vampire and been singing about them. Had that vampire offered to turn him and he, wisely, said no? Had he wanted to be turned but the vampire said no? What if he could have been spared and the world could have continued to hear his music? What if a vampire could have saved him? Would they have?

Shit, Kate. Being a vampire has made you deep as Hell. You have enough to think about and need to focus on Rhys. Forget about Freddie Mercury. You can't save him.

I was seriously starting to feel crazy. I had to get control of my thoughts and pay attention. Anyone could walk up and take me out while I was trying to figure out if my blood could cure AIDS and saved the great artists of the last century.

The light above me snapped on as I walked underneath it. It was bright and I shielded my eyes. All I need to do is hiss and I will look like the vampire stereotype in every movie.

"Stop!" I said out loud, to my thoughts, and kept walking.

"Kate?"

It was Rhys in his room. He had heard me and knew I was coming. I knew he was coming, too. I heard him walking through his office, to the door.

Now or never. Go see if your vampire maker is also you attempted murderer.