Synopsis: Willie earns the honorary title of the Comeback Kid.
Willie opened his eyes. He was in his bed, buried under the sheet. It was pitch black, disorienting the young man because he usually left his oil lamp to burn all night.
That had been a horrible dream, calling to Maggie, reaching out to her as she fired round after round into him. They had locked eyes. She recognized him, but with trance-like determination, continued to cock back and shoot until every shell was spent.
He tossed aside the cover and attempted to sit up, groping for the night table. Instead his head came in contact with hard, cold metal. This was not his bed. Willie's hands moved above him, then to the sides, where he realized he was in a very small, enclosed space. Okay, stay calm. There could be any number of reasons why he was locked inside a metal box, however none of them were desirable. Willie knocked, then banged on the steel plate above him.
"Hello!" He had no idea what else to say. "Uh . . . help?" Silence. Darkness.
Willie didn't want to waste what little air was in this confinement so he lay still and closed his eyes. His next thought was to call to Barnabas for help, and his mind took him to the mental corridor he shared with the vampire. Sometimes the candles shone brightly, sometimes dimly. Now they were extinguished and Barnabas' door was closed.
Willie turned to his own door, which was closed as well. He threw it open to reveal a brightly lit room with metal tables. A woman in a lab coat stood at the counter writing notes on a clipboard. It wasn't Dr. Hoffman, this was a sturdy, broad-shouldered blonde in her late twenties. She walked over to a wall of large metal drawers and pulled one out.
At first the light was blinding. Willie squinted and looked away from the ceiling, shielding his eyes. Then slowly he sat up and looked around. He was in some sort of lab or operating room, sitting in a human filing cabinet, wearing nothing but the sheet that covered him and a tag tied to his big toe.
The lab assistant looked up from her notes and gasped, "Oh my God!" The two stared at each other for a moment, Willie clutching his sheet in fright and bewilderment. The woman cautiously approached him.
"It's alright," she said slowly and soothingly. "You're in the Eastern Maine Medical Center in Bangor. You were pronounced dead on arrival—" she referred to her notes, "—two weeks ago. Don't worry, that happens sometimes, very rarely, a person can be in a deep coma and seem dead."
The woman checked her clipboard. "You're William Loomis?" Willie nodded; his eyes were like saucers. "Hi, I'm Kate. You're in a state of shock right now, so I want you to sit quiet and I'm going to call for a doctor." Then she did a double take at his incident form. "Wait, you took a bullet to the heart and one to the lung. You were definitely dead."
Willie looked down at his chest where shredded skin had been crudely sewn together with thick, black thread.
He shrugged. "I feel okay."
"Wow. Wait until Dr. Simmons sees this." She reached for the door.
"No, wait, don't go." He started to climb off the slab and Kate rushed back to grab him.
"Sit still. You shouldn't move till the doctor comes, but I have to leave to get him. And I'll bring you a hospital gown to put on. I bet you're cold."
"No, just kinda hungry." He untied the tag from his toe.
Kate put her hand to his forehead. "You feel like ice. I'm going to call for some blankets—"
Overcome by a strange, new instinct, Willie grasped her hand and held her still with a penetrating stare. He took the lab assistant by the shoulders, laid her down on the slab and climbed on top. Kate resisted initially but with no conviction; the large-framed girl seemed entranced; she was subdued with surprising ease, and his newly formed canines grazed her neck until they found their target and he penetrated. The fledgling vampire withdrew his fangs and bolted upright with a sharp gasp as an intense shudder ripped through his entire body.
The young woman went limp, her blue eyes staring ahead, spellbound. At least she wasn't whimpering like Maggie had when Barnabas bit her, or kicking and yelling like Willie himself was known to do. How could anyone resist this? It was the most pleasurable sensation he had ever known. The new vampire gathered the victim into his arms and ran his tongue along her neck to capture the dripping blood, then feasted lustfully from the perforations.
Stop. Stop now or she'll die. Willie forced himself to withdraw when every impulse pulled him to bring the act to its natural conclusion. The blonde woman lay peacefully in his arms, not conscious but still breathing. He lay his hand on her chest and felt her slightly elevated heartbeat. She looked beautiful, like a Viking princess. Willie removed her lab coat and put it on himself. Time for a hasty exit, as Jason would say.
Willie stopped to read the lab assistant's report. He had four gunshot wounds, resulting in tissue damage, a fractured clavicle, lacerated heart and lung. The fall caused a cervical fracture as well as a fractured femur, spine and skull. Sure sounded like dead. Barnabas and Dr. Hoffman had identified his body and released it to the authorities who sent it here for autopsy. Julia had signed the death certificate, which he pulled out, folded and stuck in the coat pocket. Willie finally had a piece of legal documentation with his name on it.
He also grabbed his toe tag and peeked out into the hall.
Willie wheeled an empty gurney down the corridor, hoping that would hide the fact that he had no pants or shoes. But no one seemed to take note of him. He pushed it out the emergency room entrance and slipped away into the early morning.
The young man was at a loss for what to do next as he wandered the deserted street. He was 50 miles from home with no car, no clothes and no money. Oh, and he was now a vampire, which meant he better come up with a plan before sunrise.
What would Barnabas do?
Willie knew the answer: his master would never be in this situation. He'd have his servant pick him up in the truck, he'd have his gray wool suit on and a pocketful of cash. No, wait. He would change himself into a bat and fly home.
Hot damn! He was going to fly. This vampire thing might turn out to be not so bad after all. The only problem was, he didn't have the slightest idea of how one might go about becoming a bat. Willie squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on metamorphosis.
Think of the happiest things.
It's the same as having wings.
Think of all the joy you'll find
when you leave the world behind
That was a failure. Peter Pan's method did not work in this instance, and daylight was fast approaching. Willie ducked in the State Street subway station. The cashier was engrossed in a tabloid magazineandtook no notice as the vampire vaulted silently over the turnstile and sprinted nimbly to the platform. There was a homeless guy asleep on the bench some distance away on the opposite track. Willie could not only see him clearly, he could smell him and hear his raspy breathing. The young man went in the other direction.
Now he was stuck in the subway for the entire day. People would come soon, boarding trains to work and school, and Willie would have to disappear, which was another thing he didn't know how to do. There has got to be a class for this, or a book, or something. He would ask Barnabas when he got home.
Willie jumped down onto the train tracks and walked into the tunnel. He could see clearly in the dark: doorways to maintenance areas, cat walks, alcoves where equipment was stored. There was an assortment of rats, bats and mice, every surface was filthy and water dripped from the ceiling. Just like home. The young vampire settled in a cozy niche where he could spend the day unobserved, dozing and watching trains thunder past him.
I guess Maggie did remember everything after all. She must really be mad at me.
Willie was forced to remain in hiding well past sunset. Despite a persistent, gnawing hunger, the first point of order was going to be to get some clothes since he looked like a flasher in his filthy lab coat. During the day and early evening, the vampire had formulated a plan for accomplishing this and, around midnight, he came up onto the street via a workman's emergency exit.
The young man remembered the first night Barnabas was released into the modern world. He had returned to the mausoleum in a gray three-piece suit and wool coat. Without money, the vampire must have just walked into shops and taken what he wanted, which made the esteemed Mr. Collins no better than a common shoplifter. Well, that was something with which Willie had skill and experience, but for once his wardrobe was not coming from Woolworths and Goodwill. He was going to Macys.
Maybe Willie couldn't fly yet or disappear into thin air, but he sure as hell could climb up the side of a building. Availing himself of a third story window, the vampire explored the various sections of the store. There was no need to turn on lights and the security cameras did not acknowledge him.
Willie left the retail area and checked out the administration offices. Attached to the president's office was an executive washroom—with a shower. Without a moment's hesitation the vampire gratefully shed his grimy garb and washed away a day's worth of subway soot and the antiseptic hospital smell. He flipped on the light to check himself out in the mirror. Oh, right. Never mind. He would have to assume he looked like the same old Willie Loomis except sewn together. The wound in his chest was still badly scarred but in the process of healing itself. He decided to keep the stitches there anyway because they looked badass.
Macy's presumably first naked shopper then proceeded to assemble his new wardrobe from scratch. Item one: black Jockey briefs, like John Travolta wore. Item two: Calvin Klein Jeans, boot cut. Boots! He wanted those Italian black leather ankle boots, like Barnabas wore, and left a small mountain of discarded shoe boxes before locating a pair that suited him.
Next he invaded the shirt department in search of the same sort of silk button-downs he wore in Panama. They came in rich shades of teal, gold, emerald and his favorite, burgundy, which is what he selected. Willie got a gold-buckled belt and cashmere socks before the grand finale: a $300 black leather jacket. The only downside to this exclusive shopping spree was that he couldn't see how he looked in all this incredible stuff.
Climbing back down the wall, head first, was a lot more unnerving than going up, and Willie proceeded with trepidation. He also had his new clothes to think about; nobody wants a scraped jacket or scuffed shoes. He was almost at street level when he remembered. Holy shit!
Willie scrambled back up the wall, where the rough masonry ripped the knee of his jeans. He climbed back through the window and bolted up motionless escalator steps to the executive offices. The dirty lab coat was still on the floor under a discarded bath towel. He rummaged through the pocket and retrieved his death certificate and toe tag. He also found a pen and lipstick. That was a close call. Willie was about to dump it all in the trash can then reconsidered, thinking it best to take the evidence with him. He revisited the men's casual section for a new pair of jeans, tossing the damaged ones on the floor, then found himself a suitable satchel into which he stuffed the coat and, once again, took his leave.
Willie was now prepared to hit the street and engage in some serious blood sucking. The sidewalks were deserted so, as he was in Bangor, there seemed only one logical place to go: The Vampire Club.
It was a light night at the establishment; Grandpa Munster tended bar.
"Hey, Gramps," Willie looked around. "Where's Vampirella?"
"You mean Stephanie? She gave her notice. That girl was taking college classes during the day and just graduated. Now she's going to be an actuary." Willie looked bewildered and Grandpa shrugged. "I don't know what it is either. What can I get for you?"
Willie was already gone. He had spotted a familiar face across the room and, in a flash, was sitting at the table, causing the Countess Elizabeth Bathory and her scrawny girlfriend to scream.
"You scared the shit out of me! Who the hell are you?"
"It's me, Igor, the vampire slave?"
"Oh," she examined him more carefully in the atmospheric light. "You're—different."
"You mean my new clothes?" he asked smugly.
"No, your skin's so pale and your eyes are weird; is that makeup?" Willie balked at the suggestion. "And what's with the hair? I like the spiky cut, but it's almost white."
He ran fingers through the cowlick mop. "I don't know what I look like. I don't have a reflection anymore."
Bathory's dark shadowed eyes bugged even larger. "You mean you're—"
"Yeah, I'm one a' those bloodthirsty demons from hell." The vampire nodded as he leaned in. "And I can't stop thinkin' about you."
The countess slurped her drink. "Do you seriously expect me to buy that line?"
"Swear to god. I want you so bad right now, I can taste it." Willie turned her face to his. "You gotta look into my eyes so I can put a spell on you. Can we go outside?"
"Slow down, buster. Buy me a drink first."
"I don't have any money, I'm a fuckin' vampire." He put his arm around the girl. "C'mon, I need you, baby, please . . ."
"I'm not going outside, it's too cold." The countess rose. "I have a better idea. Come on, Mina."
"No, can't she wait here?" Willie whined.
"I am bringing my girlfriend. If you don't like it, tough."
The vampire and the countess did it on the sofa in the ladies' lounge while her companion guarded the door. Then the girls switched places, and Willie got a double shot, taking extra care to use portion control. Afterwards he felt exhilarated, with a sense of confidence he hadn't known for a very long time. Elizabeth examined her neck wounds in the mirror as Mina styled the vampire's hair with a little brush from her handbag. The countess jumped when, not evident in the reflection, Willie was suddenly behind her.
"Don't think I do this with just anyone. You better buy us drinks next time."
He put his arms around the raven-haired victim. "And the next time, and ev'ry time after that." He kissed her neck wounds. "But I gotta ask ya a big favor right now."
"I'm not giving you money."
"No, not that. I, uh...need a ride home. It's really important."
"Why don't you fly? That's what vampires do."
Willie almost blushed with embarrassment. "This just happened to me yesterday, ya see, and I-I don't know how."
Elizabeth burst into laughter, Mina joined her, then so did Willie. "Igor, you're a scream. Alright, let's go."
The trio piled into the countess' Ford Pinto and cranked the radio. Mina tapped him on the shoulder.
"Igor's not a good name for a vampire," she said at a volume only a vampire could hear.
"You're right." Willie wasn't a good monster name either. It did not evoke fear and awe. "How 'bout Mercutio? He was a fun guy right up till the time he died. Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man. Get it?"
As per his request, the girls dropped him off on the outskirts of the village and Willie, full of energy and impervious to cold, jogged up the hill to the Old House.
A glimmer of light peeked through the drapes of the second story laboratory window. Good. That would make a fun entrance. Willie scaled the wall and quietly unlatched the tall window. Then he stepped gingerly inside and whipped back the velvet curtain with a flourish.
Barnabas and Julia spun around in shock. Dr. Hoffman emitted the gravelly contralto version of a scream as Barnabas leapt to his feet. Willie, with his new clothes and white hair, stood poised on the window sill, twirling the toe tag on his finger.
"Honey, I'm home!"
