Vampire General: Intern with the Vampire

Smashwords Edition

© 2011 1889 Labs Ltd.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.

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Published by 1889 Labs Ltd.

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Other Titles by 1889 Labs

Sci Fi and Horror

Hungry For You

The Vector

The App

Typhoon

Comedy

Bears, Recycling and Confusing Time Paradoxes

Fission Chips

The New Real

The Man With the Improbable Leg

For Kids

The Pig and the Box

Xander and the Wind

Table of Contents

Hot and Cold

End of Things

The Proposal

Fish Out of Water

Interns

The Zoo

Broken People

Equipment

Gossip

Survival

Confrontations

Bad Turns

Waking Moments

Pep Talk

The Father

Deaths

Heart to Heart

Goodbyes

Faces

About the Author

Hot and Cold

Rounds start in ten minutes, said Aline, checking the time as Tim closed the door behind them. The closet was pitch black except for the light from her watch, which cast a pale blue light on his chest as he stripped off his scrubs. Can we make it?

We can make it, he said, and kissed her, pulling her close. Her hands ran down his trim sides, fighting with the drawstring on his pants and pushing them down. He lifted her up onto a shelf, knocking bandages and suture kits to the floor, and pulled off her top, kissing her neck, and then down, down…

Too much foreplay, she gasped, trying to check her watch, but he grabbed her wrist, kissed the palm of her hand.

We’ve got time, he said, and his fingers ran down her arms, down her back, down the straps of her bra, dancing there as his lips touched the soft—

A pager went off, lighting the room in flashes. A moment later, a second pager joined in, and Tim looked up at Aline, breathing heavily, and kissed her again. She held on to his lower lip with her teeth, then let go, and he moved back, fished the pagers off the floor. He handed hers over, and checked his own.

Incoming, he said.

Incoming, she nodded.

He grabbed his clothes and dressed as fast as he could. She pulled on her shirt and paused at the door until he’d done up the drawstring, given her a nod. Finish this later? he asked.

Definitely, she said, and opened the door.

The hospital was buzzing with people, even at ten o’clock in the evening. Aline and Tim ducked around passing medical students, nurses and bleeding patients on their way to the main entrance of the ER. Weston County Hospital seemed to collect the worst the world had to offer. A man vomited blood on the floor behind them, then tried to sneak a bottle of Jack Daniels from his jacket to wash out his mouth.

Dr Palmer was rushing through with two paramedics and a gurney as they arrived. The patient was coding, blond hair matted with blood, eyes closed. The paramedics were calling out the case details as they moved: Driver of flipped SUV. Clive Parks, forty-two-year-old male with multiple abrasions, BP 100 over—

Fenway, you’re with me, said Palmer, nodding to Tim. Harman, get the next one.

Aline let them pass and rushed to the emergency bay doors, looking for the next ambulance to arrive. Instead, she saw a paramedic helping a man out of the back of the existing bus. The man had short dark hair, a sharp jawline and a light blue shirt spattered with blood. He was cradling his arm as they walked him to the door, up to Aline, who tried not to gape.

You got him? asked the paramedic.

Is there another one coming? she asked, avoiding eye contact with the patient.

This is it, said the paramedic. Thanks!

Aline finally looked at the man properly. His eyes were dark, almost impossibly dark. She blinked and snapped back to reality. Is it just your arm? she asked, guiding him in to the ER, across to an empty bed. He sat down, then let himself be lowered, wincing as she took his arm away from his abdomen.

I landed funny, he said, voice low and calm. How is Clive?

Is he your friend?

Patient, said the man.

You’re a doctor?

Emergency medicine, he said.

What hospital? she asked, turning the arm over. It was bruised, and the wrist was likely sprained, but it didn’t seem broken. She looked past him, into the trauma room where Tim and Palmer were working on the other patient. The real patient.

Grace General, he said, inhaling sharply from the pain, and she realized she was turning his wrist too far.

Never heard of Grace General, she said.

Not many have, he said, looking at his arm as well. I don’t think it’s broken.

Can’t be sure without an X-Ray. Did you hit your head at all when the… SUV flipped?

I wasn’t in the car, he said. I was just nearby and came to help. It was my own fault, really. I lost my balance.

It happens, she said. My sister makes a sport of it. Though she only seems to lose her balance in front of sports cars driven by hot young lawyers. He laughed, and she motioned to his head again. Did you hit your head when you fell?

He looked at her, and the expression on his face said that he knew better than to lie, but he was going to try anyway. He opened his mouth to speak when she turned on her pen light and lifted his eyelid. She flashed the light in and out, in and out, and frowned.

Pupils are fixed and dilated, she said.

That’s normal, he countered.

No it isn’t. Are you on drugs?

No. But it’s nighttime.

It’s not dark in here, doctor…

Rocque, he said. William Rocque. Nice to meet you. He held out his hand—his injured hand—and smiled. She stared at him, trying not to glare.

I’m getting you in for a CT, she said.

I don’t need a CT. I’m fine and I just—

Aline was suddenly struck by the sound of the heart monitor shutting off, and she turned in time to see Palmer and Tim leave the operating room, throwing their gowns and masks into a bin. Tim looked at her, shook his head gravely, and carried on. She girded herself, looked back to Rocque, and tried to find her most sympathetic voice.

Dr Rocque, she said. I’m afraid your patient—

He’s dead, I know, said Rocque, pushing a button on the side of his watch. I need to see the body.

I can’t let you do that, she said, pushing him back down onto the bed. Your wrist is sprained at the very least, and I think you have a concussion or—

Dr Harman, he said smoothly, and took her hand in his. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I really do need to see Clive in the next ninety-five seconds.

She stared into his deep, dark eyes and felt her resolve falter.  He looked like he smiled often: lines around his mouth, around his eyes. Crinkly eyes, is what she called them, with her sister, looking through magazines when they were young. She loved those crinkly eyes. It was a weakness.

He squeezed her hand, sat up, and whispered into her ear: Thirty seconds. That’s all I need.

He was so close, his voice so deep it filled her head completely, and the way he sat was just so intimate, she felt like… like she had to….

She straightened, pushed hair out of her face, and almost fell backwards. I’m going to splint your wrist, get you a CT, and then you can see your patient, she said.

I’m begging you, doctor, he said. Please.

Sorry, she said. You could have a subdural hematoma and I personally can’t live with that on my—

His watch started beeping, and he turned it off with a wince. He looked up at her, sighed.

This will be complicated, he said.

And then suddenly, in the room next door, the dead man’s heart monitor came back to life.

End of Things

Aline rushed through the doors and the sight was the same: the dead man was lying flat on the table, and his heart monitor was alive. She ran to his side, put her finger on the side of his neck and felt a faint pulse.

Oh my God, he’s alive, she said. She took in a deep breath to call for a crash cart, but Rocque put his hand over her mouth before she could speak.

Please, he said. Give me thirty seconds.

She pushed him away, got ready to scream, but when she saw the look in his eyes—the sad, worried look—she couldn’t do it. Something about Rocque made her want to trust him, and her instincts about people were hardly ever wrong. He edged closer and his proximity made it hard to think. Aline checked the heart monitor again: very weak stats.

Fine, she told Rocque, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. Thirty seconds only.

Rocque nodded his thanks, then quickly pulled a bundle from his pocket and unrolled it, taking out a small needle filled with a green liquid. He popped the cap off and pushed past her, to the patient’s neck. Before she could