now. Making his way back to the lab, he started backing up all his files on disc, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom as he packed them and the notes he’d made with Mia into his bag. Put them in a safe place, he figured, just in case. The air conditioning dripped, plop, plop, like water inside a cave. In the dim light, the equipment cast strange skeleton shadows on the walls. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t leave now. Setting his watch alarm, he leaned back in the chair and dozed off.
The alarm pinged at four a.m. Stomach acids churned and growled. He hadn’t thought to eat anything since the previous morning. He rubbed his eyes, rising stiffly from the chair.
Making his way to the lounge, he surveyed the choices available in the snack machines. Honey-roasted peanuts and chips weren’t going to do it. There were better offerings upstairs in the cafeteria machines. He could grab a dry sandwich or wilted salad, at least.
He pushed through the doors into the corridor, passing the cells on his right, trying not to imagine Mia and Kurt behind the closed doors. Drawing each other’s blood, fucking like rabbits, or both?
This strange connection between blood and brain was deeply disturbing, yet spurred his curiosity. No instrument could test this. It was something he’d personally never understand even if he studied them for a century. As Mia said, the only way to understand was to experience it. He’d have to find a way less dangerous. But if Leisha took them away, how would it affect his research? He’d done rudimentary neurological tests, the usual scans, but he needed to study them over time. Would he ever get the chance?
At the elevator, he stopped and listened— no sound, either in the corridor or above his head, only the omnipresent air-conditioning, humming and dripping from the ductwork overhead. The door opened and he stepped inside.
The doors opened on the lobby. Joe looked across at the guard desk. Strange, it was empty. Usually, at least one guard was seated there. Perhaps they’d just gone on rounds or to the restroom. His heartbeat accelerated as a burst of adrenalin hit him. Sweat broke out on the surface of his skin, leaving his shirt damp, sticky, and clammy against his back in the artificially chilled air. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Then halfway across the terrazzo floor to the employee cafeteria, he saw the blood.
A large pool with bits of brain matter lay spattered beneath his feet. A sticky maroon trail led off in the direction of the cafeteria. Joe flattened against the wall, sliding his way stealthily to the swinging doors to peer in. Soft, power saving, after-hours lighting glowed overhead.
Its back was toward him, clad in black leather, with long, pale hair flowing over its broad shoulders like a cape. It was bent over a mass of wires attached to a box, a bomb. Nearby, mangled bodies of three security guards lay in a bloody heap, brains and guts spilling onto the floor. Joe broke out in a heavy sweat, willing himself not to breathe, or make any sound as he slid backward toward the elevator and flashed his id card at the scanner. The electronic voice betrayed him.
“Good morning, Doctor Ansari, please move forward for identification.”
Joe threw himself toward the retina scanner. The intruder roared, running toward the elevator at lightning speed.
“Identification complete.”
The doors opened and Joe fell inside the elevator. A dark shape hurled itself toward the doors. Just as a withered hand reached in between, they closed. Joe grabbed the fire extinguisher, swinging it with all his strength at the probing fingers between them. A painful howl erupted from the vampire, as the bleeding fingers drew back and the doors shut completely. The elevator swiftly descended underground and Joe fell out running as soon as they opened. He flung himself against the outer door of Kurt’s cell and went through the security procedure, cursing the delay. As the outer door opened, Joe stumbled to the next, banging frantically on the glass and buzzing the intercom.
Kurt’s voice called out, “Go away!”
“Kurt, it’s Joe,” he panted. “There’s a problem.”
Kurt came to the glass, totally nude, hair damp and body covered in sweat. Tiny streams of blood ran from the corners of his mouth, and small wounds on various parts of his body. Joe turned away in shock, and explained the situation. Kurt cursed, calling Mia to get dressed. Joe