Chapter 7 - Episode 217
Jason pursed his lips, but rose from the bed. "All right, Willie, I won't be worrying myself about it right now, but you need to get some rest. You understand that, right?"
Willie's tense body relaxed a little and he dropped his arm into his lap. Rest. Beautiful rest. The sun would rise soon. He could rest then.
Jason stretched out his arm toward Willie. The action made that frantic instinct rear up again. Willie clutched his arm against his chest and his dark eyes watched Jason as though he was an enemy. That was partly true. To the master, everyone was a prospective enemy.
Jason froze and pursed his lips. "What's wrong with you now? I only want to take yer coat."
Willie swallowed the lump in his throat, but he couldn't stop his stutter. "N-not now."
Jason held out his hands in front of him and stepped back. "All right. You just get some rest now and I'll be back to see you later." Jason left, shutting the door behind him.
Willie's arms dropped limp to his sides and he leaned his head back against the headboard. He shut his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. The instinct had left him, but he knew it was still there lurking beneath the surface, ready for any threat to him.
Willie opened his eyes and leaned his head to the left. The thin curtains of the large windows blew inward against a cool breeze. It was a fresh wind that smelled of the promise of mornings to come. Beautiful, wonderful morning with its bright sunlight.
Willie slipped down and spread himself over the bed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. A hint of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Peace finally came over the young man and he slipped into blissful sleep.
A loud shaking noise startled Willie awake. He sat up and grasped the covers beneath his hands. Jason stood at the foot of the bed in front of a chair. Willie's coat was draped over the back.
Willie whipped his head to his left. He fixed his gaze on the large windows on the wall to his left. They were the mirrors into his scarred soul. A night sky beyond their frames represented his terror, and the sun glistening on their glass signified his dwindling hope of escape from his fate. At that moment the curtains kept the secrets of the windows.
His heart quickened. He dreaded knowing the truth, but the truth had to be known. "What time is it?"
Jason walked around the foot of the bed and over to his side. "A few minutes to four, Willie. Why?"
Precious time. So little of it was left. "I gotta leave. I gotta get out of here."
Jason grabbed his shoulders and held him down in a seated position on the bed. "Now here here here. Yer too sick to go anyplace, now just lie back there. Lie back and rest."
Willie couldn't argue with him. His limbs felt languid and his heart beat so hard he wondered how long it would last. Still, with daylight there was hope. Hope to escape before the coming darkness. "Rest? No. I can't rest."
"You've got to rest, Willie, yer sick."
Willie shook his head. "I don't want to."
"Why not? What's the matter with you?"
Willie turned his face away to conceal his terrible lying. "I don't know."
"I better get a doctor."
That instinct again, that urge which demanded Willie protect the secret. A doctor would examine his wounds, would make a diagnosis. Then there'd be more of those horrible questions. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't.
Willie grabbed the front of Jason's shirt. His voice was loud but trembling. He projected all of his fear into a single word. "No!"
"Willie. Why do you always say that?"
Willie leaned back on the pillows and draped his wounded arm over his forehead. "I don't need a doctor."
Jason pointed at the bandage and pursed his lips. A look of determination slipped into his eyes. "Willie, what's under that bandage?"
"Nuthin'."
Jason grabbed his arm and drew it toward him. "I want to see."
Willie was too weak to fight back. "Oh, there's nothing there."
"Then you won't mind if I take a look at it," Jason quipped as he lay the arm across Willie's legs and untied the torn cloth. He paused and turned the arm over as he studied the wounds. "Yer right, there's hardly anything at all. Just that tiny little cut."
Relief washed over Willie. The secret would be kept. "I told ya."
Jason furrowed as studied the arm in his grasp. "Willie, yer arm looks kinda strange."
"Does it?"
"Well, I don't see any veins." Willie's eyes widened as his friend's statement brought back those horrible memories of the vampire's bite. The full physical consequences hadn't struck him until now when he saw Jason's perplexed expression. "Yer skin is a strange color. Kinda gray."
Willie's heart quickened. "What about it?"
"It's. . .it's almost as if-"
Willie knew, but he had to hear it. "Almost as if what?"
"Well, it's almost as if this arm had been drained of blood."
Willie drew his weakened arm close under his chin and stared at Jason in fear. The terror was a mix of his own and that of the new will inside himself. Both feared the truth, but for different reasons. One for his own soul, and the other for the sake of his new master.
Willie shook his head as he stared at Jason in terror. "Drained of blood?"
"Well, what I mean it looks like you lost a lot of blood. But how?" Jason grabbed Willie's arm and studied the marks on his wrist. "Certainly not from this. That's hardly more than a scratch."
Willie could see it, a way out of the line of questioning that was coming. "That's right. Hardly more than a scratch."
"How did ya get it, Willie?"
Willie's heart fell. He fumbled for a plausible explanation, but he stumbled from one untruth to another.
Jason leaned back and eyed him with suspicion. "Willie, are ya telling me the truth?"
"Sure, why would I lie?"
"Because you still haven't told me why you disappeared at all."
Willie shut his eyes against the onslaught of those terrible memories and leaned his head back against the pillow. The weight of this terrible servitude pressed down on his beaten body and worn mind. His words came out in a hushed, strained voice that revealed the depth of his agony. "I just wanted to get away."
Jason's voice was full of astonishment. "Without the money I got for ya, Willie? That doesn't make any sense."
Willie's breathing was quick and harsh as his mind wandered back to those terrible days in the secret room. "Go. I wanted to go. I wanted to get away."
"What are ya talking about?" Jason questioned him.
His head rocked back and forth, all the effort he could muster against those horrible memories and his own exhaustion. "But I couldn't. . .go . . ." His voice drifted as sleep threatened to take hold of him. "Go. I wanted to go."
"Yer not making any sense at all now."
"I wanted to go. . .but I couldn't. . ." Willie whispered.
"Ah, now you can hardly keep yer eyes open." Jason patted him on the shoulder, a true look of concern on his face. "Just like back, and just rest a while and we'll talk later."
Willie shook his head. "No. I can't rest."
"Willie." Kindness lay in Jason's voice as he gave a few curt nods of his head. "Rest."
Unbidden sleep washed over Willie and he fell back into the dark world of nightmares.
Vicki was in his room. Kind, caring, naive Vicki. She awoke him with the sharp slap of the food tray on the table.
Willie shot up from bed with a startled cry and whipped his head in the direction of the window. His eyes weren't yet accustomed to the growing darkness so he didn't recognize the figure before the glass. "W-who's there?"
"It's me, Vicki," she assured him.
Willie breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders relaxed. "Oh, Vicki."
"I'm sorry I woke you."
Willie squinted his eyes as he tried to bring her into focus in the shadowed room "What do you want?"
"I brought you some dinner," Vicki told him.
He still couldn't stomach the idea of eating, but it was her announcement of the nearing dinner hour that he cared the most about. With the dinner came the dreaded night, and he would awaken. Still, there was time, and with the daylight there was still hope.
There was also Vicki.
"Willie, can I get you anything?" she asked him as she stood beside the bed, angelic in her kindness to the formerly violent man.
Willie sat up in bed and met her gaze with his own dark one. He didn't want sympathy, he just wanted out of there. Now. "No, nuthin'."
"Are you sure?"
Willie's eyebrows crashed down and he swept his arm toward the door. "Yeah, you can do me one favor! You can get out of here!"
"What?"
Remorse. His constant companion. It softened the hard expression on his face as he met her kind eyes. "Look, please go." He made the sweeping gesture again, but with less sharp insistence. "I-I'm okay, just go."
Vicki pursed her lips. "All right." She left, uncertain whether she had seen a change in him or not.
Willie had his strength back, but his tired body still complained as he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He clutched his stomach and the foot of the bed with the other, and wiggled his feet into his shoes. His coat hung on a chair at the opposite side of the foot of the bed.
Willie stumbled over to the coat and leaned on the top. His right arm slipped over his coat and revealed those terrible wounds. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he covered the tell-tale wounds with his other hand before he shoved his arm into his coat. He glanced back to the window and shuffled over to the small table in front of the paned glass. The dimming light of the sunset provided hope.
"There's still time. Still time," he announced to himself with relief mingled with glee.
Willie turned to the door. The entrance opened and Jason stepped inside. His expression was one of fury. "What are you doing up?" he hissed as he stalked up to the young man.
Willie tried to slip past him, but Jason was wilier than him. A brief exchange of words-in which Willie was always the loser-and Jason grabbed the back of his coat. Willie would be staying.
"What's the matter with you, anyway?" Jason scolded his young protege as he tossed the coat onto a chair near the window.
"Nuthin's the matter," Willie argued as he shuffled over to the bed and dropped himself onto the covers.
Then Willie did the unbelievable: he successfully lied to Jason, faking going back to sleep. It wasn't the best theatrics, but his pallor and strange antics no doubt helped the scene. Jason left, and the click of the door signaled Wilie's victory. He waited a few moments for Jason's footsteps to recede before his eyes flew open.
Willie sat up and looked around. Nothing was heard. No one was seen. Now he could get away, and if Jason wouldn't take him out of town then he'd have to drive himself out of there. He slid off the bed and grabbed his coat, but the window caught his eye. The light, that faint hope, was gone.
Willie stepped up to the window and drew aside first the curtain and then the window. A garbled cry broke from his dry lips.
"It's too late. It's dark." He bowed his head and pressed his cheek against his left side. Soft sobs escaped his throat. His voice was rattled, his soul shaken, his future hopeless. "It's too late, too late."
A pulsing sound came out the night. It traveled on the heels of the darkness and penetrated his soul.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
Willie slowly raised his head and looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were wide and his body stiff.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
Fear took hold of his heart as he narrowed his eyes and gave a slight nod. "I hear ya."
Thump thump. Thump thump.
He trembled and a look of grim terror passed over his face. "I hear ya calling me."
Thump thump. Thump thump.
"I hear." His expression changed. The terror slipped away, replaced by determination as he stiffened his jaw. The master called him. That was all Willie heard. It was all he knew. And he knew he had to obey it. "And I'm comin'."
Willie stepped backward and dropped his arms to his side. The curtain fell and all was silent.
