Thirst No.1

Thirst - Six (iv)

      "Excellent." I drag him to the stall. "Prepare yourself for a fun ride."

 Still holding on to Slim, I leap into the air several feet and plant three swift kicks on the wall above the toilet. It splinters and I break through whats left of it with a slash of my right arm. We enter the all-night attendant's office. Before he can turn to identify us, I strike him on the back of the head. He goes down, probably still alive. I kick open the door to the outside. The fresh air is sweet after the staleness of the rest room. Behind me I hear the bathroom door being broken down. There are shocked gasps when they see what I have done to poor Miss Germany.

       Dragging Slim, I come around the two parked limos from behind. There are men inside the rest room, more hovering at the door, still more getting out of the first limo. I raise the automatic weapon, an Uzi, and let loose a spray of bullets. Screams rent the air. Several of the men go down. Others reach for their guns. I empty the clip in their direction and drop the Uzi to the ground. I don't need it, I am a vampire. I need only my natural power.

       In a blur, still holding on to Slim, I cross the parking lot and enter the trees. A trail of bullets chases us. One of them catching me in the butt, the right cheek. The wound burns, but I don't mind. The woods are mainly pine, some spruce. A hill rises above us, a quarter of a mile to the top. I pull Slim to the pinnacle, and then back down the other side. A stream crosses our path and we splash through it. The old belief is not true; running water does not bind my steps.

       By now I have badly wrenched Slim's neck. Behind us I hear men entering the forest, six of them, spreading out, searching for us. I can hear others at the gas station, moaning in pain, the sputtering breath of still others dying. I literally pick Slim off his feet and carry him a half mile upstream, running faster than a deer in her prime, even with the bullet in me. Then I throw Slim down behind a cluster of bushes. I straddle his chest. He looks up at me with eyes wide with fear. I must be little more than a shadow in his vision. Yet I can see him perfectly. I reach around to my back side, digging my fingers into the torn tissue, I pull out the bullet and toss it aside. The wound begins to heal immediately.

      "Now we can talk," I say.

       "W-who?" he stutters. I lean over, my face in his.

       "That is the magic question," I say. "Who sent you after me?"

       He is struggling for breath, although I am no longer holding him by the throat. "You are so strong. How is it possible?"

       "I am a vampire."

       He cough. "I don't understand."

       "I am five thousand years old. I was born before recorded history began. I am the last of my kind . . . I believe I am the last. But the person who sent you after me knew of my great strength. You were carefully prepared. That person must know that I am a vampire. I want that person." I breathe on his face and know he feels the chill of the Grim Reaper. "Tell me who he is, where I can find him."

       He is in shock. "Is this possible?"

       "You have seen a demonstration of my power. Do you really want me to give you another one?"

       He trembles. "If I tell you, will you let me live?"

       "Perhaps."

       He swallows thickly, perspiring heavily. "We work out of Switzerland. I have only met my boss a few times. His name is Graham-Rick Graham. He is very wealthy. I do odd jobs for him, my people and I. Two years ago he set us searching for someone who fit your description.