Willie left for Bangor early the next evening, anticipating more heavy traffic from Black Friday and the holiday weekend. The Vampire Club was open, but there were very few cars in the parking lot. When he sat at the bar, the other customers moved away. Only Vampirella would come anywhere near or speak to him.
"What's goin' on? I got stood up tonight," Willie said looking at his former fans, all of whom now declined to make eye contact. "What do I got, plague or somethin'?"
"Yeah, looks like the party's over." Willie turned back to the bartender. "It's because Gene is sick in the hospital. People are thinking that he got some kind of blood disease from your vampire, so now they're running like rabbits. Look at this place: Friday night and only a handful of customers."
Willie got the man's last name and the location of the Eastern Maine Medical Center and took off. If this guy caught something that could be traced back to Barnabas, they were all screwed.
Visiting hours were almost over when Willie arrived but he slipped in anyway and found Gene sitting up in bed. He recognized the delicate young man from a week ago, maybe two, but now he looked extremely pale and thin, like a skeleton covered with skin and hooked up to a bunch of monitors and an IV.
"Hi, Igor," Gene smiled weakly.
Willie ignored the patient's sickening appearance and flashed a broad grin.
"Hey, buddy, I hear you're not doin' so good. Prob'ly just got the flu or somethin'." He moved the boy's food tray and sat in the chair next to him.
"They don't know, but there's something in my blood."
"You'll be fine," The visitor looked around for eavesdroppers, then confided quietly. "But those doctors won't be able to figure it out, so they'll call it a disease."
"I feel so ill; I can't eat."
Willie remembered how Vicki Winters had helped him take nourishment when he was nauseated.
"I can fix that; watch." he put a bendy straw in the juice carton and covered the opening with his hand. "Don't smell it, just drink." Gene waved him away. "C'mon, ya gotta have somethin' or you're gonna die. Now, ya don't want that to happen."
The young man grasped Willie's hand. "I'm scared."
"I know. I was sick too at first, but I got better, see? It's gonna be okay, 'cause ya got me to help ya out."
Gene's eyes started to water. "I thought I was all alone."
"No, 'course not." Willie looked away as his leg started to twitch. "I-I mean, ya got your family, right? And friends who care about ya."
"My aunt put me in here. My parents don't speak to me; I haven't seen them in years, and my friends won't come—they're all afraid…"
"Well, they're stupid." Chimes sounded in the hallway, as the visitor jumped to his feet. "Listen, time's up, I gotta go, but, uh…I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Lemme know what ya need."
"A hug."
The young man stiffened. "…Okay." Christ, I hope he's not contagious. Willie was not good at the hugging thing but he did his best. "Get some rest, will ya? And take some drugs or somethin'. I'll see ya later."
Willie collapsed on the first bench outside the hospital and took a deep breath.
Barnabas, I can't come home tonight. There's a problem.
Can you remedy it?
I dunno; I'm gonna try.
Do whatever is necessary.
The young man lit a cigarette and stared at the neon light from a bar across the street. Barnabas didn't even inquire as to the nature of their dilemma. Just fix it, Willie. It's all on you. The first thing he deemed necessary was a double rum at the Recovery Room Tavern.
Willie spent a restless night in a nearby motel and the next morning went to the bank and withdrew $2,000 from his boss's account to pay the hospital bill. He spent the remainder of the day at the boy's bedside, feeding him, watching him sleep, holding his hand.
A staff nurse came by periodically to take vital signs. She sneered at the couple, drawing her own conclusions, but Willie didn't care about what the nasty bitch thought; he had to do this. For some reason, Gene reminded him of a sissy kid he once punched in the school yard, and it was payback time.
But he was really afraid of what Karma was going to do to him for tricking dozens of innocent people into becoming the vampire's victims. What if it was a disease, and it was contagious, and they got sick too? Just because he had been a stupid jerk, how many others was he prepared to drag down with him?
By the end of the day, Willie knew he had to return home to the Old House, where a whole other problem awaited: how was he going to feed the vampire now that his ingenious plan went belly up? Just like the chicken shit he was, Igor ducked out while Gene was sleeping, leaving a note to say he would keep in touch. Willie wanted to think that was the truth, but he knew better.
He stopped at the coffee shop for a newspaper on the way home. It was after Maggie's shift but he went anyway. The grumpy girl behind the counter was on the phone complaining about having to work a double. Maggie must really be sick, Willie thought. Nobody has a hangover for two days.
"You did what!" The master examined Willie's expenditures for the previous 24 hours. "You paid that man's hospital bill? He has an unidentified blood disorder and you linked him to me. Are you insane?"
"Nobody'll know. I-I paid cash, and that hospital don't know us from Adam. Neither does the guy, Gene." Willie smiled sheepishly. "He thinks my name is Igor."
"I cannot believe you took it upon yourself to withdraw money from my accounts. The bank just handed it to you?"
"I had a withdrawal slip that you signed."
The boss looked confused for a moment. "Am I to understand you forged my signature to a document?"
"Well, yeah, I do it all the time. How do ya think I pay your bills?" Barnabas' anger escalated at the audacity of his servant. "Look, they're all right here." Willie pulled a stack of bank statements from the bottom drawer of the writing desk.
Barnabas perused the pile of cancelled checks. "You obviously have taken great pains to hone this unlawful skill," he replied sharply.
"Yeah, I even do the swirly things at the ends. You know ya write like a girl."
The vampire tossed the papers aside. "I gave no such permission, and I do not approve of you mishandling my funds."
Willie pouted. "I didn't steal nothin'. I wouldn't—'cause you would know. But ya can't pay for stuff just by throwin' pieces of old jewelry at me and puttin' it down in your book. Somebody has to be practical around here." The boss looked increasingly frustrated. "Fine, so you write the checks from now on. I thought ya didn't wanna be bothered; you're always so busy. Doin' what, I dunno."
Barnabas slammed the ledger closed. "Boy, you are the most insolent servant I have ever owned. This is what comes of trying to rehabilitate a hardened criminal."
Willie backed away. "Don't be pissed—sir—I was just tryin' to help."
"By plundering $2,000 of my money?"
"Do whatever is necessary. That's what ya said."
The servant continued his retreat, but it was Barnabas who was cornered by his own words. He was reluctant to let this misdeed go unpunished but, in all honesty, the vampire was preoccupied with another matter. Soon Willie would find out what that was.
