CHAPTER TWELVE: Calling Her Back
Barnabas Collins, wet and disheveled, staggered into Collinwood. Roger Collins was shocked to discover that the front of Barnabas's soaking wet shirt was red with blood. Barnabas moved about drunkenly, it seemed that he would fall over at any minute. Roger supported Barnabas by the arm and led him into the drawing room.
"Barnabas!" Maggie was horrified at Barnabas's condition.
"Help me put him down on the couch." Roger said to Maggie. Gently, the auburn haired girl helped to guide Barnabas to the couch, where he lay down.
"What's happened to him? Look, he's hurt himself! There's blood!" Maggie said, knowing secretly that Julia and Angelique must not have reached Findley's Cove in time.
"How should I know!" Roger was agitated, "He's all wet. Perhaps he got caught in the storm. It was very fierce."
"That was strange! The storm only lasted for a few minutes." Maggie went to the phone, "We should call a doctor."
"Why not just ask Julia to come down and have a look at him? Why do you think we have a doctor living here at Collinwood?!"
"Julia's not here. She went for a, a, she," Maggie tried to think of a lie, "She went to town."
"Oh yes," Roger remembered, "Julia took my car. She said she was, hmmm, to town?"
"It's not important!" Maggie said, "Hurry, we have to get a doctor!"
"No, we'd better take him to a hospital. Do you think he can be moved?"
Meanwhile, Doctor Julia Hoffman was crawling out of the cold nighttime waters of Findley's Cove. Only a few yards away, the remains of Roger's car littered the beach.
"Thank goodness none of the rubble hit me in the water," Julia thought, "I'd better get back to Collinwood and change clothes or I'll be ill, it's freezing out here at night. Ohh, without a car, this is going to take some time!"
However, Julia knew that she had to hurry. She had no idea where Barnabas was and for every moment that he was missing, his life was in greater danger.
The Collinsport Morgue was a busy place. Smith Peterson knew that very well. In his twenty years as a mortician, he had gotten more business in Collinsport than any other town in the whole of New England. Business was so good, in fact, that Smith had moved into the small fishing village for good fifteen years ago. Smith knew the reason for all the work too. Being a devout student of the occult, Smith had discovered many years ago that Collinsport, especially the Collins family themselves, suffered from a terrible curse, which returned in every generation to hurt and destroy those at Collinwood and all the people close to them. This curse was good for business, so Smith kept his mouth shut and let the bodies roll in, one by one, year after year. A Collins funeral was particularly profitable, the wealthy family seemed to have an obsession with beautiful coffins and headstones and all the things Smith sold.
At the moment, a not so profitable client's corpse lay on the table, the Collins housekeeper. Stupid old bag, no one in his or her right mind should work at Collinwood, no matter how good the pay was. It was nearly two in the morning, but Smith was a workaholic, albeit a very morbid workaholic. Vampire attack. It happened often in Collinsport.
"Oh well," Smith thought, "No danger. The old lady won't rise till tomorrow night. I can look forward to some nice new corpses once she does."
Little did Smith know that there was a vampire at that very moment outside the morgue. Roxanne stared at the place. A strange, thick fog was rising about the town, making it impossible for her long chemise to dry, so it was sticking to her body, totally transparent now. Roxanne began to speak aloud, "My servant, your reward is at hand. You have suffered much, but it will be nothing compared to the eternal happiness you shall enjoy. Come, respond to my will and awaken."
The fluorescent lights of the morgue hummed in the silence. On the table, Sarah Johnson's eyes opened. Smith Peterson screamed as she pushed him to the white tiled floor. Sarah, suddenly tall and majestic, towered above the fallen man. She was ageless now, beautiful as she had never been in life, especially in the last few days when her ugly body had been wasting away. The once wrinkled face was smooth and white, the graying hair was a soft brown, and the frumpy figure was lithe and sensuous through the baggy gray tunic that tied in the back like a hospital gown. Sarah bent down over the wailing man, revealing her new vampire fangs.
"Oh, Mister Peterson," a deep, otherworldly voice, very different from the living Mrs. Johnson, "You're not a very nice man." Smith could feel her in his mind.
Smith's body contorted in terror as the Sarah's sharp teeth gnawed at his throat until they drew blood. Sarah took her face away from his neck for a moment and then snapped his neck so quickly that Smith Peterson didn't even have time to scream again. The newborn vampire then began to drink in heavy, tremendous gulps, quickly draining the man until he was a shriveled, pale husk. She shut the bloodless body up in an empty body freezer and then left the morgue with a smile on her face.
Only a few blocks away, at the Collinsport Hospital, Maggie Evans and Roger Collins were arriving with the very sick Barnabas Collins. Maggie had found time to change out of her robe into a loose pale blue jumper and white blouse. The doctors took Barnabas to the Emergency Room immediately.
A pretty, African American nurse came to the waiting room about an hour later, where Maggie, Roger, and Elisabeth, who they had telephoned to come, were sitting. Although very upset, the stately matron looked calm and serene.
"Mr. Collins is suffering from a considerable loss of blood, no doubt due to the wound on his chest. We just gave him several transfusions. He's resting now." The nurse informed them.
"When can we see him?" asked Maggie, who was the most visibly tearful.
"I'm sorry, it won't be possible for him to receive any visitors until tomorrow at the earliest. Now Maggie," the nurse knew Maggie in high school, "Don't cry, Mr. Collins is looking much better. He has a high chance of pulling through this."
"I hope so." Maggie wiped her face with a paper napkin.
Julia finally returned to Collinwood at about the same time, which was past three in the morning. Julia was tired and wet. She banged on the door in the inconsiderate way people do when they are tired. Julia was horrified when Mrs. Johnson opened the front door for her.
Barnabas Collins, wet and disheveled, staggered into Collinwood. Roger Collins was shocked to discover that the front of Barnabas's soaking wet shirt was red with blood. Barnabas moved about drunkenly, it seemed that he would fall over at any minute. Roger supported Barnabas by the arm and led him into the drawing room.
"Barnabas!" Maggie was horrified at Barnabas's condition.
"Help me put him down on the couch." Roger said to Maggie. Gently, the auburn haired girl helped to guide Barnabas to the couch, where he lay down.
"What's happened to him? Look, he's hurt himself! There's blood!" Maggie said, knowing secretly that Julia and Angelique must not have reached Findley's Cove in time.
"How should I know!" Roger was agitated, "He's all wet. Perhaps he got caught in the storm. It was very fierce."
"That was strange! The storm only lasted for a few minutes." Maggie went to the phone, "We should call a doctor."
"Why not just ask Julia to come down and have a look at him? Why do you think we have a doctor living here at Collinwood?!"
"Julia's not here. She went for a, a, she," Maggie tried to think of a lie, "She went to town."
"Oh yes," Roger remembered, "Julia took my car. She said she was, hmmm, to town?"
"It's not important!" Maggie said, "Hurry, we have to get a doctor!"
"No, we'd better take him to a hospital. Do you think he can be moved?"
Meanwhile, Doctor Julia Hoffman was crawling out of the cold nighttime waters of Findley's Cove. Only a few yards away, the remains of Roger's car littered the beach.
"Thank goodness none of the rubble hit me in the water," Julia thought, "I'd better get back to Collinwood and change clothes or I'll be ill, it's freezing out here at night. Ohh, without a car, this is going to take some time!"
However, Julia knew that she had to hurry. She had no idea where Barnabas was and for every moment that he was missing, his life was in greater danger.
The Collinsport Morgue was a busy place. Smith Peterson knew that very well. In his twenty years as a mortician, he had gotten more business in Collinsport than any other town in the whole of New England. Business was so good, in fact, that Smith had moved into the small fishing village for good fifteen years ago. Smith knew the reason for all the work too. Being a devout student of the occult, Smith had discovered many years ago that Collinsport, especially the Collins family themselves, suffered from a terrible curse, which returned in every generation to hurt and destroy those at Collinwood and all the people close to them. This curse was good for business, so Smith kept his mouth shut and let the bodies roll in, one by one, year after year. A Collins funeral was particularly profitable, the wealthy family seemed to have an obsession with beautiful coffins and headstones and all the things Smith sold.
At the moment, a not so profitable client's corpse lay on the table, the Collins housekeeper. Stupid old bag, no one in his or her right mind should work at Collinwood, no matter how good the pay was. It was nearly two in the morning, but Smith was a workaholic, albeit a very morbid workaholic. Vampire attack. It happened often in Collinsport.
"Oh well," Smith thought, "No danger. The old lady won't rise till tomorrow night. I can look forward to some nice new corpses once she does."
Little did Smith know that there was a vampire at that very moment outside the morgue. Roxanne stared at the place. A strange, thick fog was rising about the town, making it impossible for her long chemise to dry, so it was sticking to her body, totally transparent now. Roxanne began to speak aloud, "My servant, your reward is at hand. You have suffered much, but it will be nothing compared to the eternal happiness you shall enjoy. Come, respond to my will and awaken."
The fluorescent lights of the morgue hummed in the silence. On the table, Sarah Johnson's eyes opened. Smith Peterson screamed as she pushed him to the white tiled floor. Sarah, suddenly tall and majestic, towered above the fallen man. She was ageless now, beautiful as she had never been in life, especially in the last few days when her ugly body had been wasting away. The once wrinkled face was smooth and white, the graying hair was a soft brown, and the frumpy figure was lithe and sensuous through the baggy gray tunic that tied in the back like a hospital gown. Sarah bent down over the wailing man, revealing her new vampire fangs.
"Oh, Mister Peterson," a deep, otherworldly voice, very different from the living Mrs. Johnson, "You're not a very nice man." Smith could feel her in his mind.
Smith's body contorted in terror as the Sarah's sharp teeth gnawed at his throat until they drew blood. Sarah took her face away from his neck for a moment and then snapped his neck so quickly that Smith Peterson didn't even have time to scream again. The newborn vampire then began to drink in heavy, tremendous gulps, quickly draining the man until he was a shriveled, pale husk. She shut the bloodless body up in an empty body freezer and then left the morgue with a smile on her face.
Only a few blocks away, at the Collinsport Hospital, Maggie Evans and Roger Collins were arriving with the very sick Barnabas Collins. Maggie had found time to change out of her robe into a loose pale blue jumper and white blouse. The doctors took Barnabas to the Emergency Room immediately.
A pretty, African American nurse came to the waiting room about an hour later, where Maggie, Roger, and Elisabeth, who they had telephoned to come, were sitting. Although very upset, the stately matron looked calm and serene.
"Mr. Collins is suffering from a considerable loss of blood, no doubt due to the wound on his chest. We just gave him several transfusions. He's resting now." The nurse informed them.
"When can we see him?" asked Maggie, who was the most visibly tearful.
"I'm sorry, it won't be possible for him to receive any visitors until tomorrow at the earliest. Now Maggie," the nurse knew Maggie in high school, "Don't cry, Mr. Collins is looking much better. He has a high chance of pulling through this."
"I hope so." Maggie wiped her face with a paper napkin.
Julia finally returned to Collinwood at about the same time, which was past three in the morning. Julia was tired and wet. She banged on the door in the inconsiderate way people do when they are tired. Julia was horrified when Mrs. Johnson opened the front door for her.