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                                  Andrew Roller Presents

                                    Till Death Do Us Part

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                                           Chapter Four

         Vicky is playing in the park.  We are outside the hospital.  We first 
met here and it is strange to be back.  I see two people sitting on a bench, 
under a lamp in the park, enjoying the evening air.  I listen to them talking.  
One of the voices sounds familiar.
         �It�s annoying to see one of your patients on a milk carton when you 
go to the supermarket,� a bald-headed man tells a man with grey hair 
sitting beside him.  The man with grey hair lights a pipe.
         �A milk carton?� he asks.
         �Yes,� the bald-headed man says.  �Perhaps I should call her a 
former patient.  Vicky Valhalla, age 10.  Last seen in my pediatric ward.�
         �You lost a patient?�
         �Not in the traditional sense.  She didn�t die.  Just disappeared.�
         �Oh.  That�s worse.�
         �I know,� the bald-headed man says.  �Of course her mother is 
suing.�  
         �I guess I�d sue too, if it were me,� the man with the pipe says.  
         �But there�s something about Vicky that troubles me,� the bald-
headed man says.  �It isn�t just her disappearance.  When I examined her 
she had pronounced canine teeth.�  
         �Really?�
         �Yes.  In the confusion following her disappearance I didn�t--  What 
was that?�
         �Eh?�
         I slip deeper into the shadows.  I watch the two doctors from behind.  
I can smell their cologne, the smoke from the grey-headed man�s pipe.  I 
let the sensation of their living, breathing, pulsing bodies fill me.
         �Hearing things, Doctor Westfall?  Perhaps it�s your lost patient,� 
the man with the pipe says.
         �Ah, I guess it wasn�t anything.�
         �Some child is playing over in those trees.�
         �That must�ve been it.  Anyway, I didn�t get to speak to the girl�s 
mother about her teeth.  Since then, her mother and I haven�t been on 
speaking terms.�
         �It�s nothing orthodontics can�t fix.  I had sharp canines myself when 
I was 10.  They�ve since been polished flat.  See?�  The grey-headed man 
takes the pipe from his mouth.  He opens his mouth and shows the bald-
headed man his teeth.
         �Phew!  You have bad breath, Donalds.�
         �Oh.  Sorry.  But you saw my teeth?�
         �Yes, the lamp light illuminated your mouth all too well.  I suggest 
you see a dentist, doctor.�
         �Thanks.  I suggest you see a dietician.�
         The bald-headed man lets out a harrumph.  Then, after a moment�s 
pause, he continues:  �The girl had pale skin.  It was excessively pale.  Her 
mother brought her in for excessive precocity, but that�s nothing compared 
to the diagnosis I�ve made.�
         �Oh, really?  What�s that?� the man with the pipe asks.  �Do you 
prescribe a sun tan, doctor?�
         �In a manner of speaking.  Do you remember those two policemen in 
the news, the ones who were killed?  The ones who looked like they had 
been mauled by dogs?�
         �Hmmm...� the man with the pipe takes his pipe out of his mouth and 
muses.  �I think... perhaps... there are stories like that all the time in the 
news.  What of it?�
         �What if a missing 10-year-old girl did it?�
         �A dietician and a psychiatrist, doctor.  First thing in the morning.�
         �Damn you, Donalds!  Have you ever looked under V in the surgical 
library?�
         �X and Z, but not V, doctor.  Sorry,� the man with the pipe replies.
         �Damn you, Donalds!� the bald-headed man cries.  �I�m serious.  Look 
under V sometime!  V for vampire!�
         The man with the pipe laughs.  His laughter passes through the trees 
and I feel Vicky, far down among the trees, pause and listen.  It is easier 
for me to sense now what she is doing, though I cannot read her thoughts.  
She can read mine, when she wishes to.  I try to focus my mind on her and I 
tell her not to move.  I do not wish for her to be discovered.  I do not know 
if she can understand what I am telling her from this distance.  Perhaps 
she is too far away, for I sense that she begins moving again.  She is 
chasing squirrels.
         �You like guns, don�t you, Donalds?� the bald-headed man asks.
         �Yes.  They keep business up and they�re fun to shoot besides,� the 
man with the pipe answers.
         �Go shooting out in the country too, sometimes, don�t you?�
         �Of course.�
         �Not afraid to walk in the dark, are you, doctor?�
         �Nope.�
         �Did you notice those two policemen were armed?  And that they 
both fired their weapons?�
         �So?�
         �High velocity objects pass through a vampire.  To kill one you need 
something that moves with relative slowness.  Like, for instance, a 
stake.�
         �A wooden stake, doctor?� the man with the pipe asks.
         �Yes.  Or, if you do wish to rely on bullets, doctor, they need to be 
silver.  Pure silver.  Those are the only high velocity objects that can take 
down a vampire.�
         �I�ll remember to melt down my wife�s silver when I get home,� the 
man with the pipe laughed.
         �I�m serious, doctor.�
         �I�m sure you are, doctor,� the man with the pipe answered.  �I still 
suggest you see a psychiatrist in the morning, however.�
         I move close.  I approach them from behind.  They are a juicy target.  
I dislike the lamp they are sitting under but it is night, and the lamp light 
is artificial.  I�ll kill them both and then drag them into the bushes to suck 
their blood.  Vicky will be happy.
         �Here.  Let me show you something,� the bald-headed man says to his 
companion.  As I creep up behind them he rummages in his white coat.  He 
finds what he is looking for and lifts it up.  The light from the lamp 
illuminates it.
         I feel myself scream.  Both men look startled.  Vicky, down amidst 
the trees, chasing squirrels, pauses abruptly.  The bald-headed man is still 
holding the object up, where it catches the light from the over head lamp.  
It is a cross!
         �Good Lord!  What was that?  It sounded like something from beyond 
the dead!�
         �Not beyond the dead, doctor!  The undead!�
         �You�re crazy, Westfall!�
         Looking frightened as I myself am, but more resolute than I can be, 
the bald-headed man lifts high the cross.  It shines in the light and I 
crouch in the shadows, overcome with fear.
         �Run, doctor!  Run!� the bald-headed man cries.
         �What?  I don�t see anything!� the man with the pipe replies.  His 
voice is two octaves too high and he sounds scared.
         �Neither do I!  But there�s something in those bushes-- run!�
         �Good heavens, Westfall!  I�ll have a heart attack!� the man with the 
pipe complains.  But he lets the bald-headed man hustle him along, up the 
walkway that leads to the hospital.  All the way Doctor Westfall holds 
high his cross, and I cannot follow as long as I see it. 

30

vamp game-chap 5 (or running fr mental institut?)

nobody noticed that I wasn�t breathing
mist creeping in
mortals come out to play
She can�t play, he says.  She�s too young
You�re dead.  He is told.  I cast a (blank) spell
She�s as cold as they come

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vamp4