Cara MIA - By Book One of the Immortyl Revolution - By Denise Verrico Page 0,5
human.”
Joe corrected him. “Doctor.”
The sergeant’s face worked as he digested Joe’s comment. “It looks like a nice little girlie but its every instinct is to kill. Don’t let down your guard for a minute.”
At the end of the corridor another guard, a young, open-faced, African-American, sat in a chair between the doors leading to the two cells, also clutching a large caliber weapon in his hands.
The sergeant nodded to him. “Any change?”
“Howlin’ like a banshee when I checked on her ‘bout half-hour ago. Pitched a real fit at chow time. Turned the intercom off so’s we didn’t have to hear. “
Joe frowned. “Chow time?”
“She wouldn’t… eat. They transfused her,” explained the sergeant. “We’re going in. Get on the horn— have three more men stand by.”
“Three?” Joe asked. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
The guard and the sergeant exchanged looks. A trickle of sticky sweat rolled down Joe’s backbone. His polo shirt clung uncomfortably to his body. Was it his imagination or was it ten degrees hotter down on this level? He wiped his damp forehead and noticed a smudge of black ink on his damp palm from the notebook Lydia had given him. Damn it. He rubbed it off on his jeans.
The corridor was oddly quiet. Most of the staff already had gone home for the night. Only the constant drip of the malfunctioning air conditioning provided ambient sound. Joe wondered if the guards could hear his hammering heart. He chided himself for irrationality but couldn’t help wonder if she could hear it through the thick concrete walls. Did they listen for fresh heartbeats? For fresh blood? Nausea pitched his stomach.
The sergeant opened a keypad by the door. “Got your clearance code?”
Joe nodded, noticing a mangled mass of metal that had once been a chair near the door.
“It records whoever makes a visit to the cells, and when. Flash your ID first— then punch in your code. When the light blinks put your palm in the reader. The outer door will open. Inside is the observation door. Just the palm there.”
“And to get out?”
“Fingerprint on the inside pad— if you need to get out fast. Didn’t help the shrink though— she was all over him in a second. See that chair?”
Joe glanced at the twisted metal. “Yeah?”
The sergeant looked vaguely amused. “Imagine it’s your spine. Left it to remind us what we’re dealin’ with.”
Joe had no idea what to expect. Everything he’d been told up to now wasn’t exactly comforting. In his research into neurological roots of anti-social behavior he’d dealt with dangerous individuals with all manner of bizarre conditions. But this thing? Never in his wildest imaginings could he have ever have conceived of this. Vampirism? Not some goofy Goth kid who dressed in black and drank animal blood as part of some ridiculous adolescent rebellion. Not a victim of porphyria, necrophilia or any garden-variety psychosis, but an honest-to-god, human blood-drinking, immortal being. Apparently stronger and faster than humans to boot. Yet he was expected to go in there and talk, even reason with a blood-sucking monster out of a nightmare?
“Ready?”
A shiver passed down Joe’s vertebrae. He flashed the blue security card at the sensor and then deftly punched in the code. A series of beeps, reminding him of some old girl-group song from the early sixties, issued from the keypad. A small green light blinked. He placed his palm on the reader. A white painted door made of heavy steel, slid open. They passed through quickly as it closed behind with a whoosh and preceded to the next with its thick glass window. He saw nothing. The room was dark. It was below ground and there were no windows. Joe ran his palm over the smooth, cold surface of the glass. “Obviously she didn’t have any luck here.”
“That’s three inch bulletproof glass— even so— she’s not that big. Neither is he. I’d hate to run into a really big guy. If there’s two there’s bound to be more. Like roaches, for every one you see there’s ten thousand more crawling around in the walls.”
Joe chose to ignore the analogy. “Where is she?”
“On the bed— tied up in a neat little package. Flipped out the minute we put her in without him. Lerner tried to talk sense. When we finally pulled her off him, Dr. Loy gave her the shot to calm her down. Took five of us to hold her. Knocked her flat in a second. Slept a long time, but when she woke up she started cussin’ everyone