Guys...I know this isn't a new chapter, sorry! I'm trying to find out why
FF.net has dropped my story out of its catagory and hopefully fix it
without reposting and it won't let me upload a tiny file, go fig. I'll
try and get a real one out next week...
Rose
Thanks for the reviews, they're greatly appreciated! This bit gets a smidge gory. I actually do have a place to go with all of this, and I'm here for the long haul as long as people keep reading. ;)
Chapter 2 -- You Expected Dinner?
Before Natalie could think of a suitably witty reply, a crash stopped her from the direction of the lab. "Zombies and vampires, what next, elves?" she muttered as she rushed back through the insulated doors, completely ready to ream a clumsy orderly and secretly thank him for a timely distraction.
"No, of course not, it's zombies again. How do I rate?" The John Doe was upright, standing naked by the examination table, torso still open from top to bottom, the triangular part of the traditional Y-shaped autopsy incision flopping down over the chest cavity. Natalie was hysterically reminded of a holiday turkey, all the giblets safely removed so it could be stuffed. The body shuffled a little, legs still tangled in the sheet that had recently covered him. Focusing on her, it moved more quickly, headed toward her. The mouth worked, but only a wet sputter came out, bloody spittle running from the lips. She had an instant of wondering what one did at a time like this, with the back of her brain yelling "Run!" with all its might when a discolored arm reached out at her with a speed that made her pull back before she could think what she was doing.
The clouded eyes. So much anger in them, a hatred she could touch.
I didn't know. I didn't kill you, really, I didn't. You were already dead. I know these things, I'm a doctor, you see . . .
None of it made it to her lips, frozen as she was with her back against the far wall. Weapon, weapon, who's got the weapon? Oh, he does. She saw the scalpel in the corpse's hand, wet with blood. But I clean my tools, where did the blood come from?
A metal table rolled away from her as she banged into it. Why aren't there any scalpels on this side of the room? Too neat, Lambert. Have to fix that. If you survive this. She grabbed an empty tray off of the table and threw it. It landed with a solid thunk on the forehead but didn't even slow the advance.
The corner showed up quicker than she'd thought it would. The body was between her and the door now. Between her and the rest of the room for that matter, and closing in fast, blade at the ready. The fact that the hand that held it was weaving only made it worse. The gaping opening showed glimpses of spine and ribs in the back, flaps of skin hanging like curtains around an empty theater.
Hands reached out from around the livid face in front of her and for a moment she thought it was some new thing out to get her, when they closed around the head and wrenched it sideways. A muffled cracking noise that sounded like it was underwater filled the suddenly still room.
But the body was still thrashing on the ground, and she heard a louder, hollow popping, and wetter sounds. Hadn't she already removed the brain? But the legs and arms stilled. Crouching over the body, a gore crow in a battlefield in his black clothes, LaCroix removed his hands from the now oddly misshapen head and wiped his hands on the sheet that was still trailing from one of the bare feet. Dark stains on the white cotton, making bruises on it.
He was turning toward her and she could see his eyes glowing amber, fangs slightly visibly. She started back against the corner and started to move away again when her legs wobbled and she let herself slide down the wall rather than fall on her face. He'd just have to kill her right here, the shock was setting in and she wasn't going anywhere. And Nick would at least yell at him about it, wouldn't he?
She could already imagine the sensation of blood flowing out of her body when the ancient vampire drained her. It would be like when she gave blood, but harsher, deeper. No pain yet, just a growing empty feeling. Her heart beat, but it wasn't centered in her chest. How had it escaped? Losing it, Lambert. Eyes growing heavy, she watched him come closer.
Why fight like a fiend to escape one monster and fall right over for this one? Well, at least he's familiar. Killed by the familiar. No one has to wonder; it's common, really.
Wait, was he saying something? Sound had receded, her ears were stuffed with cotton. They used to do that to corpses, she reminded herself with a bitter inner laugh. Put some in my eyes and mouth too and I'll be safe. Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil. More laughter bubbled up, but she wouldn't let it out.
"Dr. Lambert? Natalie? I have to help you now. It's all right, he can't hurt you again," he told her quietly like you would a child.
Yeah, but you can, you bastard! Wait, did he say again? She still felt like she was turning liquid and draining away, but LaCroix's eyes were becoming blue again and he was reaching for her arm, the same as the John Doe had. Looking down to where his hand went, she wondered when she'd changed into a red blouse. Hadn't she worn a white one today? Oh, that's right, she had. The sleeve was wet and the fabric stuck to her arm, flying in tatters from a deep cut in her arm. How deep, she couldn't tell with the blood coating it and still running freely down her hand. Did she see white for a moment there at the bottom? No, don't look again. Her head was spinning when LaCroix grabbed her arm tightly across the wound and pulled it roughly over her head. He moved around her so the arm holding hers went around her shoulders and slipped his other under her knees, lifting her out of the pool of red that was forming around her.
Her vision went to his pale hair. Somehow a smudge of red was on his temple, coloring his hairline candy red in that spot. Natalie couldn't imagine how it had gotten there. She reached up to brush it away, but couldn't. Oh, yeah. Arm. Her other one was around his neck, clinging weakly. Still didn't hurt, but it felt like her heart was beating right under his hand. That's where it had gotten to! Cool hand on her hot skin, flushed with the heat of the blood trying to escape the severed veins.
Strips of light flowed quickly by, end to end, so bright they made her eyes water.
Next: The Fine Art of Smacking Vampires Upside the Head, or Nick Shows Up. | | | | | | | |
Rose
Thanks for the reviews, they're greatly appreciated! This bit gets a smidge gory. I actually do have a place to go with all of this, and I'm here for the long haul as long as people keep reading. ;)
Chapter 2 -- You Expected Dinner?
Before Natalie could think of a suitably witty reply, a crash stopped her from the direction of the lab. "Zombies and vampires, what next, elves?" she muttered as she rushed back through the insulated doors, completely ready to ream a clumsy orderly and secretly thank him for a timely distraction.
"No, of course not, it's zombies again. How do I rate?" The John Doe was upright, standing naked by the examination table, torso still open from top to bottom, the triangular part of the traditional Y-shaped autopsy incision flopping down over the chest cavity. Natalie was hysterically reminded of a holiday turkey, all the giblets safely removed so it could be stuffed. The body shuffled a little, legs still tangled in the sheet that had recently covered him. Focusing on her, it moved more quickly, headed toward her. The mouth worked, but only a wet sputter came out, bloody spittle running from the lips. She had an instant of wondering what one did at a time like this, with the back of her brain yelling "Run!" with all its might when a discolored arm reached out at her with a speed that made her pull back before she could think what she was doing.
The clouded eyes. So much anger in them, a hatred she could touch.
I didn't know. I didn't kill you, really, I didn't. You were already dead. I know these things, I'm a doctor, you see . . .
None of it made it to her lips, frozen as she was with her back against the far wall. Weapon, weapon, who's got the weapon? Oh, he does. She saw the scalpel in the corpse's hand, wet with blood. But I clean my tools, where did the blood come from?
A metal table rolled away from her as she banged into it. Why aren't there any scalpels on this side of the room? Too neat, Lambert. Have to fix that. If you survive this. She grabbed an empty tray off of the table and threw it. It landed with a solid thunk on the forehead but didn't even slow the advance.
The corner showed up quicker than she'd thought it would. The body was between her and the door now. Between her and the rest of the room for that matter, and closing in fast, blade at the ready. The fact that the hand that held it was weaving only made it worse. The gaping opening showed glimpses of spine and ribs in the back, flaps of skin hanging like curtains around an empty theater.
Hands reached out from around the livid face in front of her and for a moment she thought it was some new thing out to get her, when they closed around the head and wrenched it sideways. A muffled cracking noise that sounded like it was underwater filled the suddenly still room.
But the body was still thrashing on the ground, and she heard a louder, hollow popping, and wetter sounds. Hadn't she already removed the brain? But the legs and arms stilled. Crouching over the body, a gore crow in a battlefield in his black clothes, LaCroix removed his hands from the now oddly misshapen head and wiped his hands on the sheet that was still trailing from one of the bare feet. Dark stains on the white cotton, making bruises on it.
He was turning toward her and she could see his eyes glowing amber, fangs slightly visibly. She started back against the corner and started to move away again when her legs wobbled and she let herself slide down the wall rather than fall on her face. He'd just have to kill her right here, the shock was setting in and she wasn't going anywhere. And Nick would at least yell at him about it, wouldn't he?
She could already imagine the sensation of blood flowing out of her body when the ancient vampire drained her. It would be like when she gave blood, but harsher, deeper. No pain yet, just a growing empty feeling. Her heart beat, but it wasn't centered in her chest. How had it escaped? Losing it, Lambert. Eyes growing heavy, she watched him come closer.
Why fight like a fiend to escape one monster and fall right over for this one? Well, at least he's familiar. Killed by the familiar. No one has to wonder; it's common, really.
Wait, was he saying something? Sound had receded, her ears were stuffed with cotton. They used to do that to corpses, she reminded herself with a bitter inner laugh. Put some in my eyes and mouth too and I'll be safe. Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil. More laughter bubbled up, but she wouldn't let it out.
"Dr. Lambert? Natalie? I have to help you now. It's all right, he can't hurt you again," he told her quietly like you would a child.
Yeah, but you can, you bastard! Wait, did he say again? She still felt like she was turning liquid and draining away, but LaCroix's eyes were becoming blue again and he was reaching for her arm, the same as the John Doe had. Looking down to where his hand went, she wondered when she'd changed into a red blouse. Hadn't she worn a white one today? Oh, that's right, she had. The sleeve was wet and the fabric stuck to her arm, flying in tatters from a deep cut in her arm. How deep, she couldn't tell with the blood coating it and still running freely down her hand. Did she see white for a moment there at the bottom? No, don't look again. Her head was spinning when LaCroix grabbed her arm tightly across the wound and pulled it roughly over her head. He moved around her so the arm holding hers went around her shoulders and slipped his other under her knees, lifting her out of the pool of red that was forming around her.
Her vision went to his pale hair. Somehow a smudge of red was on his temple, coloring his hairline candy red in that spot. Natalie couldn't imagine how it had gotten there. She reached up to brush it away, but couldn't. Oh, yeah. Arm. Her other one was around his neck, clinging weakly. Still didn't hurt, but it felt like her heart was beating right under his hand. That's where it had gotten to! Cool hand on her hot skin, flushed with the heat of the blood trying to escape the severed veins.
Strips of light flowed quickly by, end to end, so bright they made her eyes water.
Next: The Fine Art of Smacking Vampires Upside the Head, or Nick Shows Up. | | | | | | | |