Failure Is Not The Opposite Of Success
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“You’re not going to die,” the woman repeated as if she thought I was an idiot. “I’ve been keeping you alive since last night when it happened.”
The memory of a strange place came back to me. An underground facility with a lot of glass and machinery in the middle of an ocean somewhere off the coast of Maine. Then a man’s voice yelled, “Heal him!” followed by something that sounded like a slap on my back.
But no one had touched me for hours now. My mind reeled from pain and exhaustion. It took everything I had just to open my eyes again.
“How?” I croaked. Pain shot through me. I tried to sit up. The woman helped. She held me still, holding my hands against her chest as she looked down at them. They were covered in black goo. Black? That would mean they’d gone out into the world of the living without being drained first. And there was more than the smell of blood—something metallic burned on the air around us.
The woman turned me over and put her ear next to my lips. I didn’t know what to do so I did nothing; she must have been waiting for it because then she said, “It’ll pass. You’re going to be fine.” Her voice seemed distant but somehow comforting all at once.
Then I heard the sound of voices outside, and I realized I hadn’t opened my eyes yet or asked her name. Maybe if we knew each other’s names, we wouldn’t feel quite so much like strangers.
But before I could ask anything else, a loud knocking sounded and the woman jumped away from me. I blinked, trying to focus on her features while the woman moved toward the door in a crouch-ready position. A moment later, the door opened and two people entered: one tall man and a girl who was shorter than me even though she was carrying some kind of machine gun.
As soon as they got closer to me, the tall guy said, “Who are you and what is this?” He wore his hair long in a way I recognized from movies, with a big handlebar mustache covering the bottom half of his face.
But that was all the similarity between him and someone like George Clooney. His skin was too pale, his nose too long and narrow, and he had eyes that were too wide set for someone of his size.
This guy wasn’t a movie star. He was a monster.
The young woman stepped aside and pointed her weapon at the guy; he flinched at the sight of the thing. As a matter of fact, everyone in the room seemed to shrink a little. Even the woman behind the counter stood straighter.
I wondered how much of their fear was based on the idea that the monster might come over to eat them right there in front of them, but the rest probably went hand in hand with the knowledge that the person standing beside me had just been responsible for killing five people.
She was wrong, though. If she only knew what had really happened.
“Don’t worry about us,” she whispered as if trying to get the words past her fear. “We won’t hurt anyone. We’ll let ourselves out.”
That was when I noticed the blood all over her hands, which meant her clothes and shoes were dripping red everywhere too. She had killed five people. Five lives were taken by her hands and the device attached to them. What a horrible thing, to kill a single human being. How many times must she have done it before?
A few days ago, the news reported a huge fire in a building that housed a bunch of lowlife scum and junkies. It made sense that they were there now. I wondered why nobody had stopped them from taking their things.
But none of those questions mattered anymore. I needed help. Someone who could heal me, someone who would understand that my soul was still inside my body but it was dying fast. And this was the only place I knew where such a person was available.
But these people weren’t going to like what I wanted from them. They were killers, and murderers never cared very much about another human being’s suffering.
“What are you doing here?” the girl said as if we’d known each other forever, her voice bright and cheerful. There were no tears, no signs of fear, not even any hesitation in her movements.
“I’m helping her,” the woman replied as she wiped her hands on a towel and put them on her hips.
The girl’s shoulders shook ever so slightly, and she said, “Why would you do that? Don’t they hate you?”
I couldn’t see her eyes through the goggles, but I imagined they were big and round like mine. And she had a point: if they knew the truth, they might have hated me. Or maybe that was part of her act, her ability to hide all her emotions and pretend to be normal. She might have played a role as much as any actress in Hollywood.
Either way, she didn’t need to worry. The monsters weren’t going anywhere.
But if I told them I was a vampire, then I would be telling them something they should already know. My fangs were out, my eyes were glowing green instead of blue, and I’d probably been drinking blood since before these girls had learned to walk. I felt a little sorry for them because of that. I wondered what it was like to be alive without knowing what it meant.
“How can you be here?” the man asked as he came closer, his dark suit making him look almost elegant. “You were supposed to stay away from New York.”
“Because of your stupid rules? No thanks.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a small smile as she raised the barrel of her weapon up to my shoulder. I looked back into the mirror and saw how the metal glinted under the harsh overhead fluorescent lights, sending off sparks and throwing flashes of light everywhere.
My reflection stared back at me, but I barely recognized myself. Blood was dried in my beard, and I hadn’t shaved in three days; it was hard to tell whether my whiskers were black or purple from the bruise I had around my neck.
The bruises all over my face and chest made me appear as though I had been in a fight or maybe even as if someone had run across me with an ax—a terrible fate indeed.
And it was a wonder the young girl didn’t shoot me right there. If it had been one of them who was bleeding this badly, it wouldn’t have been long until someone got shot. These people had guns for a reason.
Instead of answering, I simply smiled and said, “Do you think you could give me some privacy, please?”
It wasn’t that they were being rude, although that was exactly what it appeared to be. I knew the answer to all those questions that ran through their minds, but I couldn’t afford for them to know everything yet. Not while they were still trying to decide if they could trust me.
They hesitated and glanced at each other. I could feel the unease radiating off them in waves. I had seen this look before. They didn’t like what was happening, but neither did they want to be the underminers. Finally, the guy who seemed to be the leader said, “Come with me.” He turned toward the door, but the girl stayed close behind.
After they left, I took off my glasses, rubbed my eye sockets, and laid down on the table to take a rest. I tried to ignore the pain in my ribs, but my whole body screamed for mercy. I closed my eyes. It would be a short nap, I hoped. And hopefully, these people would forget all about me by the time I woke up.
***
“She’s waking up!” the doctor said. “Don’t touch her just yet.”
“We need to do an exam,” the girl replied with more conviction than she had shown since we arrived, and she pushed back the chair she was sitting on so that she could move closer. When she stood up, her heels made sharp tapping noises on the hard floor.
“If you’re done playing nursemaid,” I said, “then why don’t you let me get dressed, and I’ll pay you when I can.”
When I sat up again, she backed away, saying, “No thanks. We’ve paid enough for tonight already.” Then she turned around and walked away. Her heels made another sharp tapping sound as she walked, echoing through the room, and I could hear the faint clattering of coins hitting the desk.
The doctor moved quickly to help me up, and after putting my shirt back on, he led me outside onto the sidewalk where two vans waited in front of the hospital. One van had the word “EMERGENCY” stenciled across the side, and I recognized it as the one that had brought us here from New Jersey.
The second vehicle sported a logo of a white horse head on the door, and I guessed it belonged to the NYPD. There were no police cars nearby, which surprised me; surely the mayor’s office would want to see that I was being treated properly.
I looked around, but none of the cops in the area seemed interested in us at all. They had all their attention focused elsewhere. As I followed the doctor out into the cool night air, I thought of asking him what was going on, but I decided not to make any unnecessary conversation; he wasn’t a fan of mine anyway.
As soon as he opened the passenger door, I climbed inside. The leather interior of the van smelled like it had never been used before, and a soft red velvet cushion covered the seat. The smell was strong enough to knock me unconscious.
At first, I thought that I must have missed lunch because I was so hungry, but then I realized that I had no idea when it might have been. After a moment of staring at the food that rested in plastic containers beside me, my stomach rumbled loudly and made me realize how empty it was.
There were three other men in the van beside the doctor: one with brown skin, and curly black hair cut short and parted down the middle; he wore a blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone; his tie hung loosely over the collar, and he had a thick gold chain hanging across his chest.
Another man had dark skin, and when I caught sight of his eyes, they were completely bloodshot.
He had a small scar above his right eye and his chin was slightly recessed under all the stubble, making him appear even younger than he really was. This last person was shorter than everyone else in the car, with a very pale complexion.
He also wore a button-down shirt and had a silver ring on every finger except for his thumbs. His eyes were wide open as if he had just woken up. I could feel them watching me.
Once the door slammed shut, the van pulled away from the curb and drove down the street. For a few blocks, we passed only one or two vehicles before coming upon a traffic jam. The driver slowed down and then stopped, but there didn’t seem to be any particular reason behind the delay. We couldn’t go anywhere while the police blocked our path.
After sitting in silence for ten minutes, I asked, “What’s going on?”
Neither the doctor nor the man with the shaved head spoke up to answer me. I stared at them. They didn’t want to say anything about the situation? What kind of doctor’s office wouldn’t tell patients what was happening to them?
The young guy finally broke the uncomfortable silence, saying, “You know those guys in there won’t speak a word of English unless they absolutely have to. Don’t expect too much of them.”
My mind began to turn over ideas, searching desperately for some way out of this mess. If I could figure out who these people were and what kind of power they held, maybe I could come back and get the others, and together we could fight against this thing that was hunting me … but how was I supposed to find any clues when nobody would talk to me?
The woman next to me leaned closer, pressing her face between her hands and looking straight ahead without saying anything. Maybe she didn’t know either.
One of the other men tapped on the window once, but I ignored him. I couldn’t do anything to stop them if I didn’t know where I was being taken. It might even be better for me to stay silent until we reached wherever it was that we were going. If I did that, perhaps my ignorance would protect me from being hurt.
The rest of the drive seemed endless, although I knew it hadn’t been more than an hour or so. My stomach was grumbling again, begging for its next meal. When the van came to a stop, the doctor helped me out, and then I walked through a set of doors into another room.
It was larger than the previous one, with a lot more equipment. Two large metal chairs sat in a corner near a table, and I wondered what they were for. On the far side of the room stood a desk, with a computer, phone, and several other items neatly organized in drawers. A man in white medical scrubs waited in front of it.
“Mr. Darnell,” said the doctor.
I tried not to let myself show surprise by the way they knew my name and address. The doctor was probably calling the authorities now that he had me in custody. Or worse, maybe they were going to call someone to kill me right here. No. I wasn’t going to give in to whatever was trying to control me, not until it was too late.
I looked around as I moved toward the doctor. “Who are you? Why am I here?”
He stepped forward and held out his hand, smiling warmly. “We’re very happy to meet you, Mr. Darnell. You’ve come to us at a most unfortunate time, but we can assure you that your safety is our number one priority. Your wife is waiting for you.”
***
When I heard that, I froze in place, confused by how easily the doctor had given her name and the name of my house. Had it just slipped out? Or did he want me to remember who she was? Whatever the case, I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Did my wife have a secret lover? If so, what was the connection with these strange people?
I forced myself to move again, taking my first step toward the doctor since we’d entered the room.
“Where’s my family?”
The man in scrubs shrugged. “They’ll be joining you soon enough.”
A wave of nausea hit me, and it felt like something hot burned deep inside. I wanted to vomit, but I knew there was no point. Nothing I threw up would make any difference. I just needed to get to my family and then figure out how to fight back.
But if they were going to come after me once we arrived, I wouldn’t see them again. At least until I found a way to get free of whatever was controlling me.
I stumbled forward, stumbling past the two men sitting on the metal chairs. “Tell me what you want me to do!”
The doctor raised a finger, motioning for me to wait. “First, we need to examine your injuries. That will help us determine how best to proceed.”
I turned away from him, wanting to walk away and try to figure out why I was being kidnapped while my family was still at home. This whole thing was completely bizarre, and I couldn’t think of any logical explanation.
As soon as I figured it out, I knew I would go straight to the police. But for now, I had to trust in the fact that these people were professionals. They would take care of everything. All I had to do was be patient.
But then I saw the blood-soaked bandages on my arm, and all thought went out of my head. These weren’t medical instruments. They were razor blades! Someone had cut me open with knives and left me to bleed out. How could I not feel fear or anger at that realization? And how much worse would things be when I discovered who these people really were?
After making sure the bandages were tight, the doctor put his fingers on my forehead. He closed his eyes and spoke into them, asking a question or maybe reading my thoughts. I didn’t understand what he was saying, and my mind refused to cooperate by trying to decipher the unfamiliar language.
Instead, a vision came into my head: A huge building that had walls made of glass. It was surrounded by other buildings that were mostly empty except for a few cars and trucks parked outside each door.
A group of black men ran around the grounds with guns in their hands and pointed at the sky, shooting into the air or at imaginary targets. The sky darkened and lightning shot down out of nowhere, hitting a group of men lying dead on the ground.
Their bodies exploded in red fire, leaving nothing behind but bloody pools of liquid that spread across the concrete. Then it was gone and my mind went blank.
“What did you see?” asked the doctor, his voice sounding far away.
Before I could answer, the man in scrubs stood up and walked through the wall, disappearing into another room beyond where we sat.
The End