Blood Sisters
Chapter 2

Dr.Sarah Reed hated this part of her day. She had to will her hands tostop shaking while she placed the empty rubber topped blood-sampletubes on a plastic rack . It was the same every day, five days aweek. Put blood in, take blood out. A lot of blood. Sarah took thethree liters of bagged blood out of the warmer that she had placedthem in after taking them out of the medical freezer. Now that theblood was at room temperature it was ready, and Dr. Reed was out ofexcuses to delay any longer.

Shewas a fit, attractive and petite brunette in her late twenties. Dr.Reed had been brought on as a physician here at the Fort Miles prisonon Shay's Mountain just under two years ago. The Shay's Mountainfacility was a maximum security prison designed to hold inmates withmutations that were unable to be securely housed elsewhere; which wasmost of them.

Usuallypatients with mutations were seen by physicians who specialized in arelatively new form of medicine named mutation bio-physicswhich was usually truncated to metaphysician. Sarahspecialized in internal medicine, and had a degree in organicchemistry, but they hired her anyway. Sarah soon learned that shehad started work only shortly after she was brought here, orperhaps it would be a more apt descriptor. It wasMichaela, a “vampire-like” New Human that had finally beenbrought into custody after a long, bloody killing-spree all along theEast Coast. Dr. Reed had gotten this job right after completing herresidency, and in quiet moments she wondered why someone with herlimited qualifications and experience had been recruited for aposition like this. But in the end she could not refuse, the positionhad prestige, the pay was outstanding, and medical school had beenexpensive.

Sarahhad studied the data on Michaela. The subject was not like themythical “vampire” of folklore. Michaela was a living organism. Ahuman host body with a large parasitic infection. Where this parasitecame from, Dr. Reed had no idea, nor did anyone else that she hadconsulted on this case. The current hypothesis was that the parasiteitself was actually the source of Michaela's New Human mutation, andwas likely a mutation itself. Collecting data on the subject or theparasite was very difficult, not only because Michaela did notcooperate or consent to testing, but even the tests they couldperform revealed little data. Traditional imaging technology waslargely thwarted by the changes to the subject's anatomy and the wayit metabolized blood as its only source of nourishment thwarted mostof the other tests that were allowed.

Itseemed the anatomical and physiological changes caused by theparasite is what gave the host body its strange and deadly vampiriclike characteristics. What influence the parasite had on thepsychology of the host was unclear. There was no comparative data, sofar Michaela was the only documented case of this mutation. Noinformation had been uncovered on who Michaela might have been priorto the parasitic infection, so it was unclear if she had been aviolent, sadistic sociopath before the parasite took up residence inher abdominal cavity, and Michaela had not been forthcoming with anyuseful information.

Drawnout of her musing by the claws squeezing her gut Dr. Reed swallowedbile. Her wide brown eyes fell on a hermetically sealed, reinforcedsteel security door with “F.S.D.F. Prisoner JXT-476, Michaela”painted on it in orange letters. The two officers flanking this doorwere women, faces mostly hidden behind the shaded visor of helmets.Bodies wrapped in the riot gear they were required to wear at thispost.

Nextto the door on the wall was a bright red sign warning “No MaleStaff Allowed, NO EXCEPTIONS!” That sign had been posted afterlesson painfully learned. Shortly after her transfer here to Shay'smountain Michaela, with a glance and a grin, apparently seduced onemale officer who then killed a fellow officer in an apparent jealousrage. Ironically, it was this incident that led to Sarah'srecruitment here. Despite having the wrong specialty and being wetbehind the ears, there had been no physicians at the prison who werewomen.

Theguards gave Sarah a brief “Dr. Reed” in greeting, then opened thedoor to escort her inside. All three of the women tensed withclenched fists, a deep breath, or a dark moment of preparation behindthe shelter of closed eyes. The door hissed when its seal was broken.There, behind a thick, transparent security wall was Michaela. Shewas Lithe and stunningly beautiful, even in the prison jumpsuit. Shehad an exotic light blue shade of skin and long raven hair thatcascaded down the sides of her perfect face. Michaela's cold rubyeyes glinted with dangerous seductive allure. Viper eyes thatpoisoned the soul. Eyes that had murdered by proxy.

Sarahhated being in Michaela’s presence. Straight as an arrow, Dr. Reedliked her men athletic and amply sized. The way her body responded toMichaela made her guts churn like she had eaten rotten fish. Forthose inclined towards women... Sarah shuddered. She had seen thepictures.

Prisonofficials had tried several ways to limit Michaela's influence.Including soundproof shades in front of the security wall so shecouldn't be seen or heard by the staff when closed. Even that failed.Through some mechanism that defied any science Dr. Reed understood,Michaela seemed able to produce whatever response her depraved mindcould think up by her mere presence. Like a virus, like a nightmare,you cant see it or hear it, but it still gets you.

“AlrightMichaela, you know how this goes, stick your arm through.” Dr. Reedstated firmly. Michaela made Sarah order her to do this every singleday, it was so annoying. “Hmm” Michaela licked her lips“Lunchtime… are you sure you won’t join me Sarah?” her voicewas like fine wine and the desire it created in Sarah to be touchedby this evil creature.... rotten fish, rotten fish. “Bequiet” Sarah snapped.

Michaelasmiled widely, sharp teeth chilling the room. She finally put her armthrough an aperture in the security wall that had been customdesigned for this procedure. Once through, Michaela's arm wasautomatically strapped down securely and her hand went into a thickmetal glove designed to protect those on the far side from hertouch... or the claw like nails that could shred Kevlar.

Dr.Reed drew out three vials of Michaela's vile blood, which glowedslightly with the pale green of bio-mutant energy, willing her handsstill and drying cold sweat on her lab coat. Then hooked up the firstof the liters of blood that the subject needed to sustain itself.Giving or taking its blood required what was essentially an armorpiercing needle. A standard IV was not capable of penetratingMichaela’s tough blue hide, though it was smooth as cerulean silk.

Dr. Reed always wondered what these samples were foranyway. She never saw any testing results, and if she needed a bloodsample for her own rarely-approved diagnostics it required anadditional draw, which Michaela always resisted. Sarah knew thatthere were other blood samples like these being taken at the prison,she had seen them, but Michaela's was the only blood she handled. Allthis blood was eventually sent to a place called Atlantic LifeLaboratories in Virginia, c/o a “Dr. Tom Smith”.

Sarahsnorted under her breath, like Tom Smith is a real name shethought. Perhaps working at the prison had made Sarah cynical, butshe had a growing sense of unease about the research the governmentwas conducting here. Whenever she asked about the blood, Dr. Reed wastold that the reason for the sampling is classified. When sheprotested she was assured that proper medical procedures and ethicswere being followed. After that she was told to “just do her job.”Dr. Reed did not believe the story they fed her for a second. She letthem treat her like an idiot and she decided to play along until shepaid off her medical school debt.

Sarahhad today's samples, and the creature was being fed. She glanced upat the guards and nodded. There was no need to tell them that shewould be back in an hour and that they should replace the empty bloodbag with a fresh one every twenty minutes; the routine followed everyday. Leaving the subject alone with it's meal, the clank and hiss ofthe door let the women breathe again. Heads nodded and shook.Reassuring hands clasped shoulders under lab-coat or body armor.

Sarahwalked slowly back towards her office, the soft-sharp echoes ofclicking heels echoing in the vacant hallway. She could feel thesickly cold blood from Michaela right through her lab-coat pocketdespite being sealed in 'Dr. Smith’s' sampling tubes.

Increasinglyintrusive, unwelcome erotic thoughts of Michaela kept haunting hermind, worse today then usual. Sarah paused in the hallway, leaning upagainst the cool wall next to the ladies restroom, willing thevisions of the creature from her head. They would keep coming, that’show it was when the thoughts were this bad. She would be obsessingabout Michaela all day and dealing with the unwelcome feelings in herbody that those thoughts always caused. Sarah felt trapped, she couldtry to work through it and feel sick and distracted all day, or…just do the one thing that had worked in the past to get rid of thecreature’s influence. Sarah sighed. This seductive power ofMichaela was deeply disturbing, forcing these sexual, physiologicalresponses on a person, responses that just got worse and worse untilyou gave in to the creatures twisted intentions.

WhatDr. Reed had to do to purge the Vampire from her mind made Sarah hateherself every time she did it. She would reach into herself, and itwould dig up dirty feelings of shame from the graveyard past that shedesperately wanted to stay buried. Her eyes bit back tears. At leastonce it was over, she could move on with her day.

Perhapsthe cruelest part of the whole vampire mystique is that they areoften seen as darkly romantic, teenage heartthrobs, even torturedheroes. Once you have met someone like a vampire, you know better.They seduce you, they strip away your power, your will, and they takewhat they want.

Sarah,like so many women, had been raped when she was in college. She haddealt with that the best she could, and the wounds caused that dayhad since scarred over. Working with Michaela reminded her of therape every single day; making those scars feel fresh again. Sarahshook her head and pushed her fingertips into her temples. The lightsin the hall seemed to bright. Her body quivered under the weight ofher personal horror. Then a flare of anger threw her a lifeline.Medical school debt be damned, she so needed to replace a better jobthen this.

“Justget it over with” she told herself. In frustration, Sarah shovedthe restroom door, which protested on its hinges as it swung open.Dr. Reed walked through, feeling more and more disgusted at theunwelcome, increasing physical arousal. In some ways, this was worsethen being raped. There was no question in Sarah's mind what she did,or did not want that night, and despite the fact that there was sex,there was no confusion, the rape was an act of violence, she had theemotional scars to prove it. This... this perversion of desire thatMichaela creates is worse, because it is still rape, but it was rapewhere you lost control of your body, it was like your mind knew whatwas happening, and was horrified, but was powerless to stop it,meanwhile you are betrayed by your own body as it seeks release.Sarah closed her eyes tight against the tears, locked the door andshut off the lights.

***

Elsewherein the prison, A dead man was seething. There was not enough room topace in this 5x8' cage. He liked to pace when he plotted, back andforth like a stalking panther eying dinner. Instead, he gazed pasthis reflection in the mirror, his cold hands gripping either side ofa stainless steel sink. It was still first thing in the morning andallowed himself a moment of vanity with the mirror before startinghis scheming for the day.

VictorDavos was his name, though he often called himself Davos Muerte. Inhis earlier years he went by such nom de plumes asLazarus or The Hangman. It had been a while since he felt theneed for such colorful epithets. These days the press were doing itfor him. They started using The Dead Man a few years back. Nota bad name he supposed, if somewhat provincial.

Handsomeenough that people did web searches for his photograph and teenagegirls with more angst then sense made fan-sites of him. Victor hadwell groomed, ample light brown hair This crowned a pale NorthernEuropean visage with steel blue eyes and a hawkish nose. Tall andgaunt, though he would say “svelte”, the Dead Man had to leanforward a bit on his sink in order to face the mirror straight on.It’s too bad Jeremy Irons is getting too old he thought,Irons would have been the only actor Victor would trust to play himwhen they got around to making a movie of his life, which should haveended in 1918… and again in 1939, 1942, 1953… he’d lost countof all the times he should have died, starting with his hanging in1918. Yet here he was, fit as ever, not looking a day overthirty-five.

Beingdead would be far better then being caged at Shay’s Mountain. Afederal prison located in the middle of Ft. Miles, an army base hereto guard the prison, more properly known as The Fort Miles SpecialDetention Facility. He thought this made for a lousy acronym, andVictor was constantly reminded of it whenever he saw the F.S.D.F.lettering stitched into his bright orange jumpsuit.

TheDead Man had been here for about eight years now, transferred fromUSP Lewisburg after his second escape attempt. Other then the factthat he apparently can’t be killed, Victor did not usually considerhimself in the same category as the delusional, ignorant or tightswearing crowd here with all their New-Hum abilities strange orannoying. A fool with powers is still a fool he often thought.Of course, to Victor Davos, most other people were somewhere betweena fool and an idiot.

Shiftinghis gaze back to the mirror, Victor noticed something out of place.He froze as his high-octane brain played back his sensory memory,looking for yes… there it was. Victor had seen the reflection of asuspicious dark spot on the floor, a dark spot that was not thereyesterday. He bent down and looked closely at it, quickly coming tothe conclusion that it was the dried stain of a drop of blood. Theimplications of that ricocheted around in his brain for a second…he cleaned his own cell, every afternoon. That spot was not therelast evening when he went to bed, yet here it was this morning. Hestarted to tighten the Velcro straps of his prison shoes as a coverfor why he was bent down, knowing that he was under constantsurveillance, like every other inmate. He scuffed away the stain ashe stood.

Theodds that someone was actually looking at the screen showing his cellright this second were slim, but not slim enough. He sat down on hisbunk and mused over this replaceing, running his minds eye over his skinas if trying to feel an injury. There was something just out of reachof his consciousness, something in the depths of his memory trying toget to the surface. Moments passed with heartbeats in his ears. Hestood up again and deftly unsnapped the top of his jumpsuit, allowinghim to pull off the t-shirt underneath, which he tossed into hislaundry. He then went through the motions of washing up his leanmuscled arms and chest. Without making a pause he felt over theantecubital fossa of his left, then right arm. He felt theslightest of bumps. He quickly dried up, and stretched to get a closelook, seeing exactly what he expected. A slight wound over where themedian cubital vein flows. Victor smirked. He remembers almosteverything he ever reads, including old medical textbooks.

Heturned this awkward stretch into a yawn as a cover in case a COnoticed his discovery of the what had obviously been an venipuncturedone without his consent. His brain feasted on this information andhe smiled to himself as he lay down on his back. Victor healed, veryquickly and completely. He did not get sick from disease orinfection, and he never got scars, likely a fringe benefit of hissuspended aging and/or undying condition. Thatmeant this tiny puncture was recent, less then 3 hours old he wouldguess.

Atrace of blood on his spotless floor. An unexplained wound on hisleft arm. Add to that a dreamless, deep sleep last night that lastedwell past dawn, which for him was rare enough to be noticed. He gotplenty of sleep on his many trips to the grave, he hated sleepingwhen he was in the quick. He wondered at what drug they found thatwould work on him, and be subtle enough that he did not notice eitheringesting it or feeling an aftereffect. The Dead Man cracked hisneck back and forth, looking up at the bland gray concrete sky whichwas the ceiling of his cage. Something is up he concluded,determined that whatever was going on he would turn it into a way outof this prison, even if it killed him… again.