American Blood: A Vampire's Story Read Free Page A

minutes. It seemed a strange place to take her, a place to heal the living. He wondered if it would even be possible to keep her alive, or maybe the better question is: could they keep her undead? He finished getting dressed, quickly fussed with a comb and toothbrush, and left his quarters. Even as he closed the door his cell phone beeped. He glanced at the number—the Director was unbearably impatient. He also noticed that only four minutes had passed since the intercom message.
     
    R yan had never been inside this part of the facility before, and when he walked into the small waiting area he felt relieved. It was nothing more than an emergency clinic used for immediate life saving medical treatment for agents injured in the line of duty.
    A tall, thin woman with short black hair streaked with grey greeted him. She wore a white, freshly pressed clinic jacket and had a blue spiral notebook in her left hand.
    “I’m not a medical doctor,” Ryan said as he walked up to her. “I don’t think I can be of any help to you—to her.”
    The woman smiled and motioned for him to accompany her. “Not to worry,” she said. “Your expertise is exactly what we need now.” Her voice had a low timbre that was pleasant to Ryan’s ear.
    “And how’s that?”
    She smiled again but didn’t say anything. He followed her along a short hallway and through a double door where they were met by two armed agents. They made a quick left down a longer hallway and finally came to a stop in front of a large, closed, steel door that reminded Ryan of a bank vault. He didn’t really want to pass through and have it close behind him. Not that he was claustrophobic—it just seemed out of place for a small government emergency medical center.
    “Doctor Ryan.”
    Ryan looked away from the door. “What is this?”
    “Please present your ID badge to the locking mechanism.”
    Ryan observed a stainless steel cylinder sticking up out of the floor to the side of the door. A glass window formed a small rectangle on the cylinder’s top. Ryan unclipped the ID badge from his jacket and passed it in front of the glass pane. He found it amusing that grocery store technology controlled the door’s locking mechanism. Amused, but not surprised. He also used available off the shelf technology to keep costs down on occasion. After all, these were thrifty times, even for the government. The door silently opened and the woman led him inside. And just as he feared, the door closed behind him with the same silent efficiency as when it opened.
    Ryan paused as they entered a 1980s biohazard unit similar in design to the facility at the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. The ambient lighting had been turned down and the ultraviolet disinfection lights were off.
    “This unit has been in stand down since 1994,” the woman said. “We only use it for occasional isolation measures if there’s an immediate need.”
    “What kind of need?” Ryan asked and continued walking.
    “Nothing sinister,” she replied. “A public center like an airport or government office might get something suspicious in the mail, or a package is found all by its lonesome. There’s no active research taking place.”
    “You mean not until today,” Ryan said.
    The woman stopped and offered her hand. “I’m Siri Lei.”
    “Okay, Doctor Lei,” he said, grasping her hand. And Ryan discreetly looked at the woman. She appeared to be an Asian mix and nearly as tall as he was at six foot one. He couldn’t begin to guess her age, although her facial expressions revealed a gentle dignity conveyed through her dark brown eyes.
    “I know who you are, of course. I’ve reviewed all of your reports to the agency.”
    Ryan considered this. “All right, Doctor Lei what—”
    “Please call me Siri.”
    Ryan half smiled at her. “Okay, Siri . . . so what is your involvement with this project?”
    “I was a staff epidemiologist with the World Health Organization