Some Vampires are "Special"

“Can I help you?” I said to the tall, yet slender man who had just strolled into my lab. Tall enough, almost, to bump his head on the paneled ceiling.

The man gave me a queer and exaggerated smile, and I thought that perhaps he was mentally challenged. “This is the lab, yes?”

He looked at me expectantly and I just responded, “Yes, may I help you?”

“Well I have a bit of a problem.” I could see him fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with himself and unsure how to proceed.

“I could call a nurses’ aid if you’d like. Did you come from one of the rooms?” I almost said, from the mental wellness wing. Then, as he looked about like a lost puppy, I said it anyway. “From the mental wellness wing maybe?”

He shot me an embarrassed look and, for a minute, I thought I had hit the mark.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” He responded, more than a little flustered.

“Then what. I am quite busy. Specimens to be inspected, cultures to be observed, blood to be organized.” I tapped my pencil on the desk as I spoke, trying to show my growing impatience.

“The last one!” he said in an overly excited shout that caused a few of my distant co-workers to turn.

“The last one what?”

“Blood.” He gave out a big, toothy grin as he said it.

“What about it?”

“I came for some blood.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I was no longer debating his intelligence, clinically unsound. “If you came to donate we have a drive this Saturday which you’re more than welcome to attend.”

He spoke his next line long and slow, as though maybe I was a foreigner or some idiot assistant. “I don’t what to donate blood or drive blood, I want to have some.”

“Pretty sure you have plenty in you right now.” I said sarcastically.

“Yeah but I can’t drink it.” Again, talking to me like an idiot child.

“Excuse me?” I was no longer impatient; I had become nervous and annoyed and all to aware of how small my little lab room was. “You don’t drink blood, young man. It’s not healthy for one; and second, some people need this blood to live.”

“But I need to drink it to live.”

“Right, sure, just like Count Dracula.”

“Well no,” he said, blushing, “not exactly like Mr. Dracula. But kinda the same.”

“Oh, ok.” I spoke slowly. “Well now that I understand I just need to call the man who gives out the blood. Why don’t you sit right over there and he’ll be down in a jiffy?” I pointed to a chair across the room. He gave me another one of his big toothy grins (and did I just see fangs?) and took the seat I had indicated, taking care to run his hands across microscopes, test tubes, and yards of documents on his way.

Dialed zero for the operator. “Connect me to security please.”

The phone rang a few times and I waved to my disturbed visitor in what I hoped was a friendly mannerism.

“Security.” The voice was gruff and I was glad to hear it.

“Yea, hi.” I said in as cheerful a tone I could muster up. “This is Dr. Kyle down in lab. I have a guy down here that needs some blood. Can’t go into detail over the phone, but If you could get down here ASAP, I’d love to see him on his way.”

“Understood, sending some men down now. Would you like to stay on the line?”

“No thanks," I said. “He is coming back to the desk and I don’t want to seem rude.”

Welcome back, they should be right over.” I spoke calmly but could feel a sweat coming through.

“Who is security?” His voice was still slow, but it was laced with a harsh undertone.

“Well,” I said, trying to think on my feet, “they are the people who lock up the blood to make sure its secure.”

He seemed to morph before my eyes. Dark shadows drew across his face in areas where there should be light, the blackness of his pupils inflated till his entire eye sockets were cold and empty, and non-existenet static pulled his dark hair vertically, filling that last small gap between him and ceiling..

“You shouldn’t tell fibbies, mister.” He said and yes, definitely fangs.

The door into the lab swung shut with a loud crash, shattering the little glass window in the door slab.

“I’m sorry, young man. It’s just that, well.” Well what, I thought. Well there is no such thing as you. Well I thought you were a nut and called the big guys down here.

“Well,” I finally said, “I guess I thought you were-“

Two large men appeared on the other side of the sealed door. The sound of boots hitting wood echoed through the room. “Get out here.” Yelled one of the guards. “Keep your hands to yourself and no one gets hurt.” Called the other.

The young man looked at the two yelling guards and they instantly erupted into flames. Someone must have been standing nearby because a moment later the sound of a fire extinguisher going off drowned out the screams of agony.

“Bad men.” Said the vampire to no one at all. “Can I have blood now please, mister?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that.”

“Thank you!” And his face erupted in that same toothy grin.

“Um, any particular type?” Stupid question.

“You decide mister, I’m no good with that stuff.”

At this point, my mind just kind of buzzed as I went through the motions. Opening the fridge, grabbing a bag of the red stuff (A-Positive and choke on it you freak), and finally, handing it to the smiling undead buffon.

“Thanks again, mister!” He said while raising a hand for a high-five.

I slapped his hand stupidly. “You’re welcome.”

“See you next week. Bye.” He waved his hand wildly through the air. All light vanished for a brief moment and he was gone.

After a moment of silence I looked down at my khaki pants and said, “I think I just shit myself.”