Читать книгу Barry and the Vampire in the Rosedale Encounter - Darrell Bartell - Страница 7

Barry sat in front of the computer terminal staring at the screen. His thoughts drifted back to last night and the clinic. Good to her word, he knew it was for his own protection and for Nurse Smith. “Guess there is a rule about vampires and mortals being friends,” he muttered. “Even when you’re at the top of the food chain.”

“How’s your research paper coming along, Barry?”

The librarian’s question brought him back to the present. “Fine, Mrs. Rutherford. Just fine.”

Beatrice Rutherford, a petite woman in her late fifties, enjoyed helping eager students when the opportunity presented itself. “I’m looking forward to proofreading your paper. The topic sounds very exciting.”

“Thanks.”

“What happened to your arm?” she asked.

“I had an accident on the way home last night.”

“Lucky you didn’t get caught in that gang fight.”

“Gang fight? What gang fight?”

The librarian used Barry’s computer terminal to access the local newspaper’s website and bring up the headline: “Three Gang Members Killed in Turf War.”

Barry read the article. The details were vague and fictional to say the least. Nothing about how the three thugs died, but the authorities were asking for the public to remain calm.

“Wow! I didn’t know. Guess it happened after I got home last night.”

“Are you sure? You left here about fifteen minutes before they were found.”

“Mrs. Rutherford, I’d know if I saw a gang fight,” he replied.

“If you say so. I thought you might have seen something.”

Barry thought her inquiry was odd.

“I’ll leave you alone for now.” She started to leave, but turned around. “You’re not going to change your mind about your topic, are you? I have to ask because so many dual-credit students tend to do that when the deadline approaches.”

“No, ma’am. Missing persons and unidentified victims. I won’t change my mind.”

“Because of your father. That’s commendable. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I will.”

“And don’t forget. We’re closed during spring break,” she reminded him.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Barry watched out of the corner of his eye to make sure the librarian returned to her desk. The teenager didn’t understand her interest in the slayings, but he filed the conversation away in the back of his mind for later. He typed away, checking his email, then loaded up a flash drive containing his term paper and started pecking at the keyboard.

Barry tried to stay focused on his assignment, surfing the missing persons’ networks on the Internet, taking notes and reading every article he could find. He was about to call it a night when he came across a new report on the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. He read the information to himself.

“Kelly Westland. Age: 16. Height: five feet, six inches. Weight: 110 lbs. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Green. Status: Runaway, last seen a month ago outside of Lubbock.” The high school junior wouldn’t have given it a second thought, until he saw her picture.

“That’s impossible.” He double-checked the information. “Date of birth, age, time she was last seen was a month ago. Got to be a coincidence,” he mumbled. Then he noticed an additional web link attached to the case listing a runaway back in the seventies. Barry didn’t recognize the name or the case, which appeared to have been put into the system at the same time as Kelly’s. He clicked on the web link and her picture popped up on the screen.

His throat went dry. He felt the blood leave his face and his hands shook with fear. He thought he was seeing double. Barry clicked on both Kelly’s web link and her aunt’s to make them smaller and compared the pictures side-by-side.

“Dear God, they could be twins,” he whispered. After printing out the information, he gathered up everything, picked up his backpack, and thanked Mrs. Rutherford before racing out of the library. The night sky had already enshrouded the college campus.

Barry knew he was putting his life in jeopardy. Her message was clear: “Stay away!” But he felt she had a right to know that she had family out there still looking for her and, most of all, a family who still loved her. He owed her that much.

He cautiously approached the free clinic and waited outside. Okay, Einstein. What now? he thought to himself. Five minutes passed and soon ten. Trying to figure out a way to tell her what he knew, without endangering his own life, wasn’t going to be easy. With the file containing the printouts in his hand, he took a deep breath to muster up the courage to go inside. His courage took a vacation when he heard her voice.

“This better be good.”

Barry turned around to see her dressed in hospital scrubs. “Hi . . . uh . . . nice night for a walk?”

Her eyes rolled up. “Lame. Real lame.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted.

“I’ll say it again: this had better be good.”

“It is. I promise. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Barry stood there with the file in hand, oblivious to the time.

Finally she spoke. “Well, I’m waiting.”

He handed her the file.

“What’s this?” She opened it to Kelly’s picture.

“I thought you should know or I thought you’d want to . . . .” Before he could finish his sentence, Nurse Smith quickly grabbed him around the throat and slowly lifted him up into the air. His backpack dropped to the ground. He watched her green eyes turn crimson red and her mouth opened wide to display a terrifying set of teeth. No doubt she would put them to good use.

“You meddlesome fool. How dare you,” she hissed. “What gives you the right to pry into my life? Where did you get this picture of me? Tell me!”

Barry tried to breathe, but her grip was too tight. He used both hands to grab her arm and try to loosen her grip before he passed out. “That’s why I’m here,” he gasped. “That picture. It isn’t you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s me!”

“Please! You’re choking me! I can explain!”

Nurse Smith tossed him to the ground. Grateful to be alive, he massaged his neck to get the blood circulating. He reached inside his pocket for his inhaler to take a quick breath and sat up, but stopped short of standing when she leaned over him. Her expression hadn’t changed, and she was beyond pissed.

“You’ve got five seconds to live,” she informed him. “Make them good.”

Barry knew his life was over if she didn’t like his explanation. “I was doing research for my paper and I came across this case. It’s a missing person’s case. Her name is Kelly Westland.”

She opened the file again to look at the information. “So why bring it to me? Why should I care about some runaway?”

“Because I thought you’d want to know.”

“Know what?’

“About your niece!”

Barry thought he saw her face soften a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a niece.”

“You do if your name is . . .” he paused, wondering if this was the end. “If your name is . . . Casey Appleton.”

Barry didn’t know if a vampire could feel fear, but she appeared terrified.

“What did you call me?”

“Casey Appleton. That’s the other reason I’m here. Kelly’s family—your family—also put your information into the system. It’s the next missing person’s case in the file. It was attached to your niece’s. Said you ran away back in ’77. Just look, it’s all there.”

Barry watched her read over Kelly’s information. Her face returned to normal when she turned the page to see her mirror image starring back at her. Then a tear started to roll down her cheek.

“A trip down memory lane. Just what I needed,” she wiped away the moisture from her eyes. “Get out of here.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He stood up to apologize. “Don’t you understand? You’ve got a second chance.”

“A chance at what?”

He hoped her teeth wouldn’t come back. “To see your family again.”

“My family? Have you lost your mind?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re unbelievable. Get a clue, Sherlock. I’m a vampire. I kill to stay alive. You think my family wants to see what I’ve become?”

She was right. Barry wasn’t thinking straight. If she didn’t want him around, why would she want anything to do with her own family? “Casey.”

“Don’t call me that,” she scowled.

He was pushing it. “Jane, I haven’t seen my dad in almost three years. I wake up every day hoping he’s going to come home. I don’t care about his post-traumatic stress or what happened over there in the Middle East. He’s still my dad and I love him. I want him back. You’re lucky to have a family that wants you back, too.”

“You meant well.” She closed the file and gave it back to him. “Now get out of here, while you’re still breathing.”

“But don’t you see?”

“Goodbye, Barry,” she ordered. “If I see you again, I’ll drain you dry.” She turned toward the clinic.

“There’s another reason I had to show you this.”

“Not interested,” she pretended to ignore him.

“You should be.” Barry saw her reach the door. “Could the same thing happen to Kelly?”

She stopped and turned her head over her shoulder to ask. “Could what happen?”

“What happened to you.” It wasn’t a question. “Could the same thing happen to her?” Barry knew he had her attention. “It says she went to Los Angeles to become an actress. That’s what you did, wasn’t it?”

She didn’t answer.

“Could the same thing happen to her?” His question fell on deaf ears.

Nurse Smith opened the door and disappeared into the clinic. Defeated, Barry picked up his backpack, stuffed the file inside, and left. He looked back to see the illuminated sign above the free clinic before turning the corner for home.