Sunday, December 9, 2012

Sunday Flash Fiction:The Vampire Operation

By Ellis Carrington

(I've got a short flash piece with shades of futuristic, steampunk, paranormalish-ness going on. Hope you enjoy.)

"I'll miss you, Sandy," Robert whispered. The bitter cold of the stone bench seeped through his clothing as he sat by his sister’s grave. He pulled his coat tighter, his fist curled around the vial of nanites. "I'll finish the work we started. I swear. And the bastards who killed you will get what they deserve."

With a final touch to the top of her small headstone he pushed away, casting his gaze around in the dark to be sure he hadn't been followed. The vial, he shoved deep into the pocket of his pants. He fished leather gloves from his wool coat, a gift from Justin, and slipped them on as he strode briskly down the cobblestone walkway. In his hurry, he nearly tripped over one of the little gardening bots that kept the grounds tidy at night.

He whispered a prayer of gratitude that their parents had left them with enough money to put Sandy in a real cemetery with real grass. Not everyone was so lucky. Hell, when Sherriff Elliott's band of goons got hold of you, a burial wasn't guaranteed at all. In a way, Sandy had been blessed, the way she’d died.

Robert was the one stuck here in hell.

"He's due to arrive at midnight. We'll have to make the transfer happen fast before he comes out of torpor."

Robert froze behind a large, sculpted shrub. That voice. He knew that voice. Intimately. Had heard that very same rumble, deeper and gasping, hundreds of times. Laughing. Talking. Begging Robert to spank him hard and to fuck him even harder. Justin.

How long had it been, a week? Two? Robert  still seethed from Justin’s betrayal.

"What about the drug? Can we not keep him sedated until we transport him to the lab?" And that oily, twangy sound was the voice of Sheriff Elliott.

Justin and Sheriff Elliott. What in God's name. All that time Justin was acting strangely, Robert had suspected an affair. Dear God, from the sounds of things it was far more sinister.

"The drugs will only work for so long. We'll need to get the nanites working on him quickly. If they can't replicate his DNA in a speedy fashion, we'll be screwed. He'll be awake and hungry, and we'll all be in the line of fire."

Robert sucked in a breath. Holy hell. Torpor. They spoke of the newly-discovered vampire. The break-in at his lab. The stolen vials. Justin’s betrayal had been more than just cheating. All this time, had his lover only been using him to get his hands on Robert's research? To what?...replicate the last remaining vampire?!

Robert felt at his hip for the knife clipped there and prepared to follow the two men. He could not allow such an atrocity.
The harbor was dark and quiet. Robert could not believe the lack of personnel. Keeping whatever they were up to quiet was all well and good, but if they were truly doing what it sounded like they were doing, this was downright stupid.

A massive, nondescript crate moved slowly down from the ship.

“Let’s be careful everyone,” Justin cautioned.

Robert studied the man’s profile from his hiding place behind a storage building and found it hard to ignore the handsome play of shadows thrown from a nearby gaslight. Gorgeous. With his jet black hair, patrician features, and confident build, the man was a beauty to behold even as he prepared to unleash a terror on the city.

I still love him.  Which made Robert ten brands of a fool.

He was lonely. He was cold. He’d just put his sister in the ground. He could excuse this all with temporary insanity. Loneliness. This would all pass, presuming tomorrow he was still alive.

The sheriff paced nearby, observing the operation. He was a large man, perhaps even with Robert’s own six feet but broader. Softer though, too, and currently he was off his guard. That would be Robert's advantage.

He waited until most of the men were distracted with prying open the crate, and ran for the sheriff, jumping on the man’s back. Rage took Robert’s sight, and he plunged the knife, completely blind.

They wrestled. Pushed. The sheriff was a stronger man than he appeared. Footsteps, and the sheriff’s fingers around Robert’s throat. He hooked his fingers and pulled, but the back of his head met with a post of some kind. Just before the lights went out, there was Justin…
And when Robert opened his sticky, blurry eyes, Justin stood over him still. “Jesus, that was stupid, Robby.” Justin gripped his forearm and pulled him to standing. Robert’s neat suit was torn and bloody.

A quick look around revealed the sheriff and the two men who had helped to unload the crate, all on the ground, wide holes burnt in their chests. Robert’s eyes went wide as he stared at Justin, not quite clear. “What did you do?”

The plasma gun disappeared into Justin’s coat. “I killed them.” He gestured at the crate, where the great beast lay sleeping a giant syringe in his neck. “And that thing, for now, is asleep. But you need to help me board the crate up again.”

Robert’s heart thumped hard. “You aren’t— You didn’t—”

Justin leaned down. “You had to think so, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I’d planned to handle it, of course. When you pulled your crazy stunt there I had to change everything.” He ran a palm along Robert’s jaw. That was dangerous, Robby. You’re a scientist, not a fighter.

“I thought you were going to replicate the vampire,” Robert said. “He’s a danger. He needs to be destroyed.”

“I know.” Justin placed a firm kiss on his lips. “You’ll help me make sure it’s done properly?”

“Of course. We’ll do it together.”

Justin kissed Robert again, and Robert kissed back, smooth tendrils of hair curling through his fingers. Suddenly he was no longer cold. “Together.”

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! And if you like vampire stories, you might also check out my Urban Fantasy story, Immortal Valentine

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