Suffer the Children (31 page)

The current generation was doomed, but there was still a chance to save future babies and, with them, the human race.

The problem was, the world might not survive the transition.

“We’re ready for you, Dr. Harris,” said Ramona.

Mitch grinned. “We sure are.”

“One or one and a half pints?”

“One and a half.”

David nodded and slid the needle into the boy’s vein.

“
Ow.
Damn, doc. A little warning next time.”

David’s lips curled into a slight smile. The blood flowed through the tube and began to pool in the plastic bag on the floor.

Down the drain
, he thought.

Mitch fidgeted. David told him to keep still.

“So how long do I have to sit here?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Shit, you should put a TV in here.”

Ramona pulled a celebrity magazine from her purse. David wondered if it was a new or old one. He doubted new magazines were being printed anymore and couldn’t imagine people actually caring about which actress was dating which rock star, or what TV shows were being canceled. Technically, they all were. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, ignoring Mitch’s attempts at further conversation.

He wanted to think about Nadine. He thought more about Herod. How it fed.

Vampirism had existed in nature for millions of years. Vampire bats hunted in the dark. They made a small cut with their incisors and lapped blood from the wound. Some bloodsucking leeches used a series of tiny blades to incise the flesh. An anticoagulant was injected to reduce clotting. The mouth, located behind these blades, ingested the blood.

Scientists had even come up with a plausible explanation for the popular concept of human vampirism. The hereditary disease porphyria prevented its victims from breaking down old red blood cells to make new ones, resulting in anemia with very pale and light-sensitive skin, sores, and reddish teeth. Victims were even advised to stay away from garlic, which exacerbated the symptoms.

Real living human vampires didn’t exist, however—at least before Herod’s syndrome came along. Humans couldn’t live on blood for the simple reason human physiology wouldn’t allow it. The digestive system in vampire bats had evolved to process blood as food; the stomach lining absorbed it quickly to produce hemoglobin for the body. Some leeches stored up to five times their body mass in blood, which they digested very slowly; their digestive system produced an antibiotic that retarded putrefaction of the blood.

But not humans. Blood contained iron, which irritated the human stomach and digestive system. Anything more than a few teaspoons induced pain and vomiting. The human body also had a hard time getting
rid of it. Even if somebody could ingest large amounts of iron without becoming ill, over time, the result would be hemochromatosis, a condition whose symptoms included cirrhosis of the liver, joint pain, and heart disease.

Herod changed that. When the children drank blood, they didn’t get sick because they were already dead, and rich concentrations of the parasite in the stomach lining absorbed the blood directly and passed it on to its companions in the heart, brain, and nervous system, each of which performed their own specialized functions.

It was a complex and fascinating path for obtaining food, which is all it was, no matter how diabolical it looked. What was truly diabolical was how it modified the behavior of its hosts, or rather, the behavior of people who cared for the hosts.

Many parasites exerted control over the organisms they infected, and in different ways. Rabies caused the host to become aggressive and produce more saliva, so it could spread by biting. Rats infected with
Toxoplasma gondii
lost their instinctive fear of cat pheromones, which increased their chances of being eaten; the parasite spread through cat droppings. (Some infected humans became more loyal, law-abiding, and neurotic.) The
Spinochordodes tellinii
hairworm forced grasshoppers to jump suicidally into water, which the parasite needed to reproduce. The
Ophiocordyceps unilateralis
fungus turned ants into zombies compelled to climb plants so that its fruiting bodies could explode and spread spores over a large area.

Herod was different in that it influenced the behavior of its host only when it got what it wanted. In doing so, it manipulated others who loved the host to provide it. By taking this path, Herod had almost everybody on its puppet strings. Every day that David continued to draw blood, even he was doing exactly what the parasite wanted him to do.

He checked the time and inspected the bag. He had enough. He disconnected the tube and needle and dropped them into a biological waste bin for sterilization.

“How do you feel, Mitch?” he asked.

“Like shit.”

He sealed the bag. “That’s normal.”

Mitch reached for it. “I’ll take that.”

He winked at Ramona, who looked like she was about to be sick. David guessed it was dawning on her that she’d gotten what she wanted and was now going to have to pay for it.

David decided to help her get rid of at least one parasite in her life. He eyed Mitch as he pulled off his gloves. “You should avoid any physical activity for at least a few days.”

Mitch scowled but said nothing.

David next turned to Ramona and said, “We’re out of anticoagulant, so you should take this straight home and put it into your refrigerator as soon as possible. Otherwise, as you probably already know, it will start clotting. Store it between thirty-four and forty degrees Fahrenheit. It should be okay at a typical refrigerator setting.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said Ramona.

David smiled. He pitied her. She was a beautiful, strong woman weakened by inner frailties. She reminded him a great deal of Nadine. Unfortunately, she was doomed like all the rest.

“I hope I’m not being too personal,” she said, “but I understand you and Nadine lost a son. Back before Josh became your patient. I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re a parent like me. You understand. There are two types of people in the world now. People who have kids and people who don’t.”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly. “We’re all in this together. Everyone’s trying to help. But life can’t just be about the children.”

She snorted. “What should it be about then?”

He had no answer to that.

Mitch did. He stood and grinned at her. He held up the bag and shook it. “Yum, yum.”

As always, the young had their own ideas.

36 days after Resurrection

Ramona took her time leading Mitch to her car.

They had unfinished business, but she was in no hurry to pay up. The idea of touching him in a sexual way made her want to vomit. It was too late now to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She’d made a deal. She either had to give him what he wanted or give up the blood. A pint of whole blood was worth twelve hundred dollars, and the price was going up by the hour. He’d easily find another buyer, and they both knew it.

In any case, the world had changed. Old notions of right and wrong meant nothing anymore. There was only what kept Josh alive, which was good, and what didn’t, which was evil. By this simple litmus test, giving Mitch whatever he wanted was good as long as he gave her the blood.

They got into the car.

“So how do you want to do this?” he asked her.

The doctor had given her a small chance to delay it. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve lost a lot of blood. You should call me when you’re feeling up to it.”

Mitch laughed and crossed his arms. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“The doctor said you need to rest for a few days.”

“Your concern is super touching, lady. Seriously. But I feel awesome.”

“I have to get the blood home before it congeals.”

“It’s freezing in this car. It’ll keep. Come on, you’re wasting time.”

“You’re not being—”

He frowned. “Now or never, lady. Make up your mind. Yes or no.”

There was no way she was taking him home with her or going to his place. She looked at the parking lot. She’d parked near the far edge. Not quite out of sight, but if she did it fast, nobody would see.

She sighed and pulled off her gloves. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. “Fine. Take it out.”

“Holy shit,” he said with another laugh. He unzipped his fly.

If you do this, girl, you will hate yourself forever.

She did it anyway. She took him in her hand and played with it to make him hard.

“You can’t even get it up,” she said.

“Your hand’s cold,” he complained.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“It’s going to be awesome. I hear if you come while your brain isn’t getting enough air, it’s like doing a couple lines of coke. It’s supposed to be this incredible rush.”

She recoiled in disgust. “Let me just give you the money.”

“No way. Warm up your hand.”

Let me just get this over with.

She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them. Went back to work.

He reclined in his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

She stroked him until her arm got tired. She was breathing hard from oxygen starvation, which she hoped he took for excitement. The windows fogged up.

Time for the big finish, guy. Let’s have it.

She stroked harder. She gave it everything she had, trying to bring him to climax.

“Kiss me,” he said.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Do it, and you get the blood and go home.”

She did, while continuing to pump him fast and hard. He pulled back; she kissed him again, but he turned away, practically spitting her out.

“What the hell?” she asked him.

“Not on the lips. I want you to kiss me
there
.”

She winced. “No way.”

“Do it, and you get everything.”

She hated him now. Hated his sneering face, his long stringy hair, his jeans with the holes in the knees, his long-john shirt, his black leather jacket. Hated the power he wielded over her.

But she did it. Almost gagged before she even went near it.

“Make it last,” he whispered. “I want it to last.”

She hated him almost as much as she hated herself.

Think about something else. Think about anything else.

She tried to imagine doing it to Ross, but it didn’t work. Instead, she pictured hurting Mitch. Killing him. She’d hit him with the car.

“Make it last, and you get your blood. Make it—”

She yanked as hard as she could while she worked him with her mouth, but the rough treatment only excited him. He howled as he came.

“Holy shit.” He laughed. “You are so good at giving head.”

Ramona pulled away, opened her door, and spit the mess onto the asphalt.

“At least my blood’s good enough for you,” he said.

“Shut up,” she gasped. Then she began retching.

His door opened. She spit one final time and turned back, but he was already gone. The bag containing his blood rested on the front seat.

“I’m still going to kill you,” she said. She started the car. She ran her
hand across the inside of the windshield to clear their breath from the glass.

Mitch was gone.

She opened her door and threw up instead.

You did it for Josh. You’re keeping him alive. You should be proud.

She looked again at the bag of blood on the front seat. The rich, sweet blood of a young diabetic.

You promised you’d do anything to help him. You kept your promise.

Ramona rolled down the windows as she drove to let in the cold air. She squeezed the bag. Mitch’s blood rolled between her fingers. Three hours. Three hours of life for Josh.

Once home, she placed the bag in the refrigerator, stripped, and stepped into the shower with a toothbrush, making the water as hot as she could stand it. She felt diseased. Covered in slime.

After stepping out of the shower, she checked the time. Ross was coming for dinner at six. It would be their first time together without Josh since her boy had returned. Just the two of them. It was going to be a real date.

She wanted to cancel, but she needed this. He made her feel human.

Instead, she got busy in the kitchen, whipping dinner into shape in time to spend a few minutes fussing over her appearance.

She stared into her hollow eyes reflected in the mirror as she applied lipstick to cover the bluish pallor of her lips. It only made her look paler. Like dolling up a corpse.

You sucked a kid’s dick with these lips today
.

She felt an urge to break the mirror. She wanted to break every mirror in the house. She brushed her teeth for the fourth time instead.

The doorbell rang. She hurried to let Ross in.

“I brought a bottle of wine,” he said as he entered the house and removed his coat.

“And I feel like getting drunk.”

He eyed her. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing I feel like talking about. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ross followed her into the kitchen. “Smells good, whatever it is.”

“It’s nothing special. The supermarkets don’t have much in the way of selection these days.”

“Tell me about it. I filled up my tank on the way over here.
Seven dollars
a gallon.”

Ramona enjoyed the small talk. It almost felt like a real date.

The kitchen timer chimed. She put on a pair of oven mittens and slid the hot pan out. She placed it on the stovetop to cool.

“Macaroni and cheese with chopped bacon and caramelized onions. It’s got a few things in it to spice it up. Paprika, some parsley. A little hot pepper sauce.”

“It sounds amazing.” He popped the cork on the wine bottle and poured two tall glasses for them. He raised one. “Well, cheers.”

Their glasses connected, and she drank. It was sweet and cold and fizzed in her brain.

She waved him away. “Go, sit. Everything’s on the table. I’ll serve.”

They ate in silence for a while. Ramona picked at her meal. Every time she looked across the table, she saw Mitch’s sneering face. She drank most of the bottle of wine, determined to have some fun, but it only made her feel worse. She opened another bottle and drank most of that too.