Serum

-Twelve-

Conner was sleeping in his makeshift bed. To my mind I stood as a third party, like watching a movie. But there was this weird overlap where I also saw it through Conner’s eyes. It was a little confusing at first but I eventually began to adjust. Finally a new sound filtered through the memory. Unfamiliar ones than those I knew. They must have been strange to Conner as well because he automatically sat up, worry on his face. Quietly he snuck towards the door. When he passed me, I saw myself curled up in a fetal position in the make-shift bed, as if protecting myself from the world. A sad expression crossed Conner’s face, and he gently reached over to tug the fallen arm of my nightshirt back up over my shoulder. After reaching the door, he quietly cracked it open and slipped outside. I could see through the crack that the storm had not yet started, which was good, because I didn’t want to experience that again.

Another tumbling sensation. I believed Conner had been knocked unconscious or something. Apparently it wasn’t even clear to him what had happened. Suddenly voices sounded around him and the sound of blood running through veins filled my ears. Two humans, I could tell by the sound of their hearts as they entered the room.

“C’mon mister, we need to talk to you.” One said gruffly as he pulled Conner to his feet. Conner’s hands were bound with metal hand-cuffs.

“Careful, remember what the warrant said, “..extremely dangerous proceed with caution…” he’s supposedly attacked a lot of people. Or at least according to the anonymous source, and he’s supposed to be insane!” The other man said. The first one merely grunted and pushed Conner ahead of him out of the room.

“He’s just a little p***y cat, wouldn’t hurt a fly. I can’t believe they made us use tranqs to catch this one. Ridiculous.” The first man taunted, roughly shoving Conner down the hall. Conner had let himself go limp and loose, acting all the world like the drugs were still taking effect on him, or that he hadn’t quite recovered. Conner was pushed into a guarded room where many officers (I couldn’t tell of what type) were posted. They were all armed and ready, as if expecting Conner to try something. My heart sped up at the sight, remembering Lana’s words about being shot in a vital organ. The two men chained Conner to a chair that was fixed in place at one end of a table that was bolted to the floor. They then took up positions beside him, firearms at the ready. Within minutes another man entered the room.

“Hello Conner, my name is Jim Jenkins. I’m with a special task force assigned to bring you in. Do you know why?” The man asked. Conner mutely shook his head, making the action look sluggish and tired. I nearly snorted at the name. It had to be false. Who in the world named their kid ‘Jim Jenkins’?

“Well, we received a special tip-off from an anonymous source about you. Apparently they say that you are to blame for attacking people all over town. But these victims are unique, while many have survived, the few dead gave us clues as to your particular form of mania. You see, each victim lost several pints of blood, and it appears as though they were all jabbed twice with a very sharp object in some particularly blood-rich area of the body, particularly the neck.” Jim Jenkins answered his own question as though Conner’s lack of response didn’t bother him at all.

“Now the anonymous tip said that you were extremely dangerous, so we’ve taken extra precautions. Those drugs should last for some time, and you’ll be receiving them regularly. Now what I need to know from you is: why?” Conner did not respond, just hung his head. I was the only one who saw the movements of his feet as he gently tested the chains binding them. All of the other people in the room were staring at him in disgust, or making sure their weapons were trained on him unerringly.

“Conner, you seem to be a pretty nice young person, and sensible too. Now Conner, be honest with me, we know that you have attacked. You see, we have been watching you for some time now.” Jenkins continued. The sound of Jenkins’ voice and the way he spoke was beginning to get on my nerves. He reminded me of a bad actor trying to pull one over on Conner. I sneered. Conner suddenly jerked upright, he seemed to have made a decision about the chains binding him.

“What, even the shower isn’t safe anymore!?” He yelled. Stunned, Jenkins lost his cool composure, and a guard towards the door began to chuckle.

“This is the one we were supposed to be on guard against?” The guard stage whispered to his fellow. “He’s nuts!”

“Hush! This is a known criminal and possible murderer. Conner, look at me! Tell me who is helping you commit these crimes, they must be stopped.” Jenkins' voice had begun to be harsh.

“But you’ve got to know!” Conner exclaimed, a look of shock on his face.

“What is that?” Jenkins had gotten serious.

“Everybody on my street is a criminal. Even that sweet-looking 90 year old woman that lives next door! She repeatedly breaks in to steal my toilet-tissues!” Conner burst out.

“Be serious! You can get the death penalty for this, so tell me the truth and we’ll make it easier on you.” Jenkins responded, somewhat outraged.

“I am serious! She steals them while I’m having a shower!” Conner responded. Many of the guards had begun to chuckle or roll their eyes. More muttered comments about him being crazy were being tossed around, and they were beginning to relax their stances.

“I think those drugs have had an adverse reaction.” One of the guards said as he winked at his companion. Jenkins, apparently had had the same thought.

“Did someone check those drugs before he was given them? You idiots got the right dose? They weren’t outdated were they?” Jenkins rose from the table and approached the door. More quickly than I’d ever seen, Conner broke the chains encasing him then made a dash for the door. As it opened, he slid through and bolted away down the hallway. The room had erupted inside, the guards and others were outright astounded at Conner’s disappearing act. As Conner raced down the hall, the sounds got further and further away. The light mental touch and memory began to fade, I felt only a deep tiredness emanating from him.

“How far did you have to run to get back here!? Aren’t you afraid they’ll come back? Are you sure you don’t need some of my blood?” I bombarded him with questions as my worry festered.

“I’ll be all right in a bit. I don’t even think they know what happened to me. And I definitely don’t think they’ll try that again. Besides that, I took care of the “anonymous source” on my way back. If only my family didn’t…” Conner clammed up. “Either way, I don’t think they’ll bother us again” He finished with a tight lip.

I couldn’t help it, I moved closer beside Conner on the pew. I wrapped my arms around him, then offered him my wrist, veins exposed. He gently pushed it away, instead leaning tiredly against me with a sad sigh. I wondered if vampires ever cried.