On the Edge of Humanity (3 page)

When he finished stitching, I let out a sigh, thanking God Dr. Case hadn’t done more harm.

He placed a clean bandage over the cut. “You’re lucky there’s no major damage.” He deposited the needle in a plastic bag hanging from the nurse’s cart. “No sudden movements for a few days,” he said.

“Thanks.” I made a mental note not to move my jaw too much. The last thing I wanted was the taste of blood filling my senses. I wanted to ask him if he knew anyone who wasn’t adverse to the taste of blood, but he would probably think I was crazy and call for an orderly to wrap me in a straightjacket.

“Did you say my blood type was ‘AF’ negative?”

His eyes widened. “The lab must have made a mistake,” he said.

Again, his expression didn’t match the words rolling off his tongue. It didn’t seem he was telling me the truth.

He gathered the bandage wrapper off the nurse’s cart and crumbled it in his hands.

“Is there such a type?” I asked.

“Aside from the typical A, B, O and AB variations, there are some rare blood types in this world.” He paused and took in a breath, then he continued. “For example, there are people who have Pk type blood and some who have CDE blood types.” His voice quivered and he kept looking at the door. “Blood types are classified by the antigens, which are specific substances on the red blood cells. There are more than six hundred other antigens that have been identified around the world. I wouldn’t worry though. You’re normal.”

I chuckled. The word normal resonated in me and I trailed off thinking,
What’s normal?
My life had never been normal. Foster homes, bullies in school, cops, attempted rape and now this—blood fascination, eyes that change colors and abnormal blood type.
What’s next?
As my brain belted out the last two words, a bright light blurred my vision.

Dr. Case had a penlight in his hand. “I’m going to check your eyes.”

“My eye color is unusual,” I said.

He gently grabbed the bottom of my left eyelid and moved the light from side to side. “You’re right. Your eye color is different. But even more surprising is how your eye color changes.” He repeated the same move on my right eye.

“My eyes have always been silver. I wasn’t aware they changed colors though.”

The door opened and Nurse Grey walked in.

“Here’s the diazepam, Dr. Case.”

“We don’t need it now,” he said.

Nurse Grey looked at me and then at the doctor. She let out a deep sigh and placed the needle and the sedative on top of the nurse’s cart.

Dr. Case finished my eye exam.

“Get some rest, Ms. Mason,” he said. “I will be back to check on you in the morning.

Nurse Grey followed Dr. Case to the door.

“What about her blood?” Nurse Grey asked.

“Send the sample of her blood over to Patrick...”

They left the room and I couldn’t hear the rest of the name as they left the room.
Who was Patrick?
He must be the lab guy.

Alone in the room, I poked around for the remote to lower the bed. It had fallen between the rail and the mattress. I plucked it out and as I did, the door opened. The swishing of leather grew louder as the cop approached my bed.

“Good evening, Ms. Mason. I’m Officer Bradley and I need to ask you a couple of questions about this evening.” He pulled out a notepad and flipped it open.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I blurted out.

The EKG machine beeped faster as my heartbeat accelerated.

He looked at the monitor then at me. “I didn’t say you did. Tell me what happened.”

I wasn’t sure where to begin. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to tell him anything. But it was probably best to get this over with.

“The asshole tried to rape and kill me. What more do you want to know? He’s a pervert.”

“What about your brother? Mrs. Birch said he tried to kill her husband.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? My brother tried to save me. Where’s Sam?”

“We don’t know. Mrs. Birch said he disappeared after the ambulance left the house. We need to ask him some questions.”

“Is the pervert dead?”

“No, but Mr. Birch is unconscious at the moment.”

I let out sigh. Secretly, I wanted him dead, but I didn’t want my brother in jail. Cliff should be castrated for what he tried to do to me. How many others before me did the asshole try this with? It figured Hilda was blaming this on Sam and probably me as well.

Officer Bradley snapped closed his notepad. He pulled out a business card and left it on the table next to the bed. “If you can think of anything else or where your brother might’ve gone, my cell phone is listed on that card. I’ll be outside until my replacement shows up.”

“Why do you have to stand outside my door if I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Because you’re in foster care we have to wait for the state to send someone over in the morning. It’s just a formality since you don’t have a guardian.” He turned on his heel and walked out.

I lay in bed, anger building. Hilda was accusing Sam of trying to kill her beloved, asshole husband. Was she serious? The cop also said the state would be here in the morning. There was no way I was going to another foster home. I would rather live on the streets than be shipped off to another stupid family.

My eyes were getting heavy and I wanted to sleep, but I was worried about Sam. Where could he be?

I tried to make sense of what happened. But all that kept flashing in front of me was Cliff with the knife in his hands staring at me, telling me how beautiful I was, and how he liked my silver eyes. Ugh! I hated the color of them.

Then another picture flashed by, and this time my eyes were closed. My head was tilted back. Blood was flowing out of my nose into my mouth. I shook my head once. The image was still vivid. I shook my head again and another slide flashed. This time Sam was swinging the bat at Cliff. I shook my head violently this time and mumbled, “Stop, stop, stop.”

“Stop what?” a voice asked as a hand touched my forehead.

I opened my eyes and Sam was standing at my bedside.

“How did you get in here?” I asked.

“Shh.” Sam raised a finger to his lips. “I was in the bathroom.”

“This whole time?”

“We need to go.”

“There’s a cop outside. They’re looking for you.”

“No cops. Not right now. They’ll throw me in jail,” Sam said.

He was right. The last time my brother was in trouble, the police were called to the school after he knocked out Blake Turner for pushing me up against a locker. After that incident, Blake’s dad decided to press charges and Sam spent the night in jail. That fight was nothing compared to what Sam did to Cliff.

He walked over to the window and peered through the blinds. He touched the window casing to see if it opened—no luck. He walked back to the bed and sat down.

“Hey, are you okay?” He raised a hand and gently touched my bandaged cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.” He let out a heavy sigh.

“What now?” I hiccupped, trying to swallow back the emotions that were about to overwhelm me.

“They bandaged you pretty good, but you’re going to have one nasty scar.”

“Bad enough to scare people?” I hiccupped again.

“Hopefully it will. Your pretty face got you into to this mess. It always does,” Sam replied.

I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue. “Ow!” I shouldn’t have done that. I touched my left cheek just to be sure I hadn’t damaged the stitches.

“The cop said that they’re sending someone over tomorrow from the state. I’m not going back to another foster home.”

“We’re not,” Sam said. “We’re getting out of here.”

“But shouldn’t you talk to the cops? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You know how that’s going to go. I talk to the cops, maybe go to jail, then the state comes in and then what? Another home, another asshole to fight off you. No way.”

Sam traipsed into the bathroom and came out with a paper bag. “Here, put these on.” He tipped over the bag and a pile of clothes fell out onto the hospital bed. He walked to the door and peeked out.

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

He glared back at me, a scowl forming on his forehead.

“Never mind.”

The jeans looked new and the sweatshirt looked as if it could fit a gorilla. I slipped on the jeans first, then removed the hospital gown. I inspected the bandage around my chest. It was wrapped tightly and I figured I would leave it for now. As I pulled on the sweatshirt, a hint of musky cologne drifted in, filling my senses.
This is definitely a man’s sweatshirt.

“Um…Sam, where are the shoes?”

“Sorry, you’re lucky I found the clothes.” He kept watch like a soldier guarding the president.

“It’s cold outside. You expect me to walk in my bare feet? You’re out of your mind.” Glancing around the room, I didn’t see anything I could use on my tootsies.

As I tried to do something with my hair, Sam stepped back from the door and pulled out a cell phone from his jean pocket along with a sticky note, which had a phone number on it.

When he punched the first button, a loud bang sounded in the hall. Sam froze.

I tiptoed to the door and gently pulled on the handle. Through a small crack, I peeked out. A tall man wearing a blue bandana around his head had Officer Bradley pinned up against the wall. The cop was squirming, trying to reach for his gun. Then the tall man jerked his head in my direction as if he sensed my stare. His pitch-black eyes bored into me as his mouth curled on one side, exposing a long canine tooth.

I gasped as I slammed the door. Maybe I was seeing things. I swallowed and cracked the door open again. This time the beast was smiling, showing not just one long canine but two. I couldn’t move. One of them was stained red. My brain tilted. There was something about him that screamed predator, something far more monstrous than human. I shook my head a few times, trying to remove the cloak of fear that blanketed me. Did I just see a man—with fangs? No, I didn’t! No way. My mind was playing sick games.

I blinked several times. When I cleared the picture from my brain, I stole another glance. The large beast of a man threw the cop down the hall. I closed the door with shaky hands as my heart slammed against my chest. What was he? He looked human, but there was something otherworldly about him.

“Um, Sam, we need to get out here. Like, now.” I rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt, blowing out all the air in my lungs.

“I know. Is it a guy wearing a blue bandana?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” I couldn’t tell Sam what I just saw. He would never believe me. Heck, I wasn’t sure I believed myself. Maybe it was all the sterlising alcohol in the air making me hallucinate.

“After the ambulance left the house and the cops were questioning Hilda, I heard her accusing us of trying to kill that asshole, so I snuck out. When I got to the hospital, that guy was in the ER asking which room you were in.”

I didn’t want to tell Sam the man I just saw looked like he had just stepped out of a vampire movie.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “You ready?”

What the fuck is going on? Can this night get any worse? Can my life get any worse?

The noise stopped outside the door. I prayed the cop was okay and we didn’t run into that man—or whatever he was.

Sam peered out. “They’re not there.”

“What? Where’d they go?”

“We probably have a second to get out of here. Come on,” Sam whispered. “Take my hand.”

“Wait.” I scurried over to the table, grabbed the cop’s card and shoved it in my pocket. I didn’t know if I would need it, but if anything, I could contact him later to make sure he was okay.

Sam looked both ways as we left the room.

I glimpsed at the clock in the hallway. Both hands rested on the twelve. A gurney sat outside in-between my room and the next.

I turned around. The hall was empty. What happened to the cop? Were the nurses okay? It was eerily quiet.

In the distance ahead of Sam, a red sign above the double doors spelled the way out. We walked at a fast pace. The exit seemed miles away. It was as if we were walking against the wind, pushing our way through every step.

Sam pulled me and my body screamed in pain, my lungs burning every time I inhaled.

“Faster, Jo.”

“It hurts.”

Footsteps broke the silence. Shit!

I glanced back and a shadow crept along the floor and up the wall. I didn’t know if it was the cop or the bandana guy stalking our way.

“Jo, we need to run. Don’t let go of my hand.”

Sam squeezed my fingers as we ran through the double doors—our destination unknown, at least to me.

Chapter 3

H
ighland Memorial Hospital spanned four
city blocks. It was situated in an area of the city steeped in history with opulent mansions and shingle-style homes that overlooked Mt. Hope Bay.

We made it outside and the cold air stung my face, seeping into my lungs and burned as it filtered down. I gasped trying to catch my breath. As for my feet…

An empty police car sat parked at the curb next to a metal post that displayed a large red and white sign that read,
No Parking
. I shook my head a few times—cops get away with all kinds of crap.

The street was dark with the exception of a neon sign that hung from a medical supply building on the other side of the street. As I looked down the sidewalk to my left, the road ended with a security fence towering over the back of the hospital, and to my right a major street intersected with a traffic light at the corner.

“We’ll go this way,” Sam said, pulling me toward the traffic light.

“I can’t breathe and my feet are on fire.”

My bare feet were going to be frostbitten in about three minutes.

“Keep moving and you won’t feel it.”

“You have shoes on. What do you care?”

“Do you want to find out what happens when that guy shows up?” Sam pointed to the door we just came through.

I shook my head.

“I think the place is around the corner,” he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about or where we were going. My face hurt, my lungs were on fire, the bandages around my chest were constricting my airways, and, oh, my feet were stuck to the frozen ground. Just what a girl wanted to do on a Friday night—run for her life.

Wherever we were going, I was praying that we would get there fast.

We walked at a brisk pace around the right side of the hospital, stopping at the edge of a long alley. Sam and I both glanced behind us before we continued. I took a deep breath then let it out. No vampire guy. I silently laughed at my reference to the bandana beast.
Vampires don’t exist
. The absurdity of it made my lips curl at the edges.

“Something funny?” Sam asked.

“No.” I didn’t want to tell him I was thinking about vampires, at least not right now. I had to be sure it wasn’t the effect of any drugs—or a dream.

Sam tugged on my arm and we began walking down the alley. A parking garage sat opposite the hospital building and, at this time of the night, there were a handful of cars parked on the first floor.

I surveyed the road ahead. Several doors punctuated the side of the hospital building. The first one was marked
Employees Only
. A yellow light sprayed down from above the door, casting a glow over its immediate surroundings and the keypad illuminated to the left of the frame.

As we passed the first door, a noise rustled near the dumpster. I stopped and Sam’s hand slipped from mine.

“Come on, Jo,” he whispered. “Keep moving.”

He approached the dumpster and stepped around it. “It’s nothing,” he called out.

I walked faster and dodged the loosely formed ice patches that dotted the alley ground, letting out a screech every time my bare feet broke the thin layer of ice. As I made it to where Sam was standing, my right foot landed in an ice puddle. I squealed and jumped to a dry spot ahead of it. The pain from my ribs took over and I almost fell. After catching a burning breath, I continued limping behind Sam.