Wild (2 page)

“Well, let’s get started.”

I sat down on the chair she pointed out to me.

“This is a genetic study and will require a blood draw. I’ll need to ask you a few questions to determine which group we can put you in.”

She went through all kinds of questions about my medical history and I answered truthfully. I had never had any major medical problems.

“Now to your background: are both your parents still alive?”

“No, both are deceased.”

“Cause of death?” She looked up and gave me a pitiful glance.

“Accident.”

“Any siblings?”

“None.”

She marked her questionnaire.

“Will you be able to come in for four more follow-up appointments spaced one week apart starting next week?”

“Sure,” I lied. I would be gone by tonight and she had no way of tracking me down and demanding the money back which she would pay me shortly.

“Excellent. Let me just run this by my PI next door and I’ll be right back.” She got up and stepped into the office behind her pulling the door shut. I heard low voices: hers and that of a man, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It would be gibberish in my ears anyway, all medical jargon.

The door suddenly opened and Elaine stepped back into the room. I caught a quick glimpse of the man in the other office before she shut the door. He had met my gaze only briefly. He looked like he was in his late thirties, of a light complexion and surprisingly for his age had almost white hair.

“Turns out, if you want to, we can enroll you in both our studies simultaneously,” she said with a smile.

My interest perked up. “Does that mean double the money?”

Too desperate?

She didn’t seem to notice.

“Actually, yes. So, the first study just involves the blood draw. Let’s do that first. Here are the forms you need to sign. Just the usual waivers.” She shoved the forms in front of me and I signed them blindly.

While she started on the blood draw, she continued speaking.

“The second study involves a small injection of a contrast liquid we’re testing. No side effects. You’ll just have a dark spot under your skin for a few days, like a tattoo.”

I didn’t really want to show up at my aunt’s house with something looking like a tattoo. I had enough trouble. She had to have seen my doubtful look.

“Not to worry – it’ll disappear in a few days. Besides we will do the injection in your upper thigh.”

Fat chance of my aunt seeing my upper thigh any time soon.

“Okay then.”

She had filled the vial with my blood and pulled out the needle from my arm. She placed a small band aid at the injection site.

 “For the injection I’ll have you lean over the bench here and just take down your jeans a little.”

I opened my button, pulled down the zipper and dropped my jeans down to my knees. I was turned away from her, facing the wall, and heard her pulling something out of the refrigerator. When I glanced in her direction, I saw a huge syringe and instantly regretted my decision.

Suck it up already, chicken!

With the eighty dollars I would get for the two studies I could afford to eat on my way back to Des Moines. So I clenched my teeth together and waited for the syringe to prick me.

It was painful, but Elaine rubbed the spot instantly and I felt better.

“You’re done.”

I got dressed. She handed me a little card.

“Here’s your appointment for next week, Friday at 2pm.”

“And the money?” I panicked for an instant.

“Of course, sure.” She opened the drawer, took out four crisp twenty dollar bills, handed them to me and had me sign a receipt. I shoved the money and the appointment card into my front jeans pocket.

“Thanks. See you next week,” I lied again. I felt like running out of the building just in case she had seen through my lie and would want the money back, but I remained calm.

When I got outside, it was almost dark. I waited at the bus stop. I wasn’t able to get on the first bus since it was completely packed. I overheard waiting passengers saying the N-Judah Muni line was out of order and therefore everyone was trying to get onto a bus instead.

I looked at my watch. I still had plenty of time to get to the station. The money burned in my jeans. This was probably the most dishonest money I had ever earned. I wished I could have done it differently, but I just didn’t know any other way.

When I finally got onto a number six bus back to Transbay Terminal, it broke down about four blocks before its destination.

“Sorry, all passengers off, please. I’ve called for a replacement bus. It’ll be about fifteen minutes,” the bus driver announced. I knew what it meant when a Muni employee said fifteen minutes. It would be more like half an hour. I could walk the rest of the way in a much shorter time. As I got up out of my seat I felt a little bump on my thigh where the injection site was.

An allergic reaction? I felt it through my jeans, but it didn’t itch. Never mind, it would disappear. I had participated in enough clinical trials to know that most of the stuff they gave you was harmless. Half the people received placebos anyway.

I stepped out of the bus and started walking. It was dark now and the street lights had trouble penetrating the fog and the darkness.

I took a shortcut from Market Street through to Mission Street and regretted it after taking the first ten steps. I was in an unlit alley. The alley was narrow and surrounded by high buildings on either side. I had taken it many times during the day and it had never bothered me, but it was quite different at night. I could see the light at the end of it where it was connecting to Mission Street, but I could also see the shadow of a person coming toward me.

Something about the person’s demeanor told me I would not want to be too close to him. I turned and started to run back to where I had come from, promptly tripping over an unevenness on the sidewalk. I fell and hit my knees. It was painful, but I had to get up. The footsteps came closer and closer. Their sound was menacing in my ears.

“Want some company?” I heard a male voice behind me and shrieked. I started running, but before I could make two steps his hand grabbed me.

He slammed me against the wall before turning me around. He was Caucasian and in his thirties or forties.  I could smell the alcohol on his breath. His grin was evil. While he held me against the wall his free hand tried to rip my jeans open. For once I was glad I wore my tightest pair.

“Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I struggled, beat at him with my firsts, but it felt like my hands just bounced off him without doing any damage. I tried to pull free, but he was strong and towered over me. I was no match for him.

He was still trying to pry my jeans off, but seemed to become more and more frustrated when he realized he didn’t make any progress. Maybe he would just let go. I wasn’t that lucky. He got angrier and angrier.

“You little bitch!”

Suddenly he pulled out a knife.

“Somebody, help me!”

I remembered the self-defense class I had taken in my freshman year at college and frantically tried to remember any of the moves they had taught us. I wore trainers so the defensive move I remembered about stepping firmly onto the top of his foot would have had no impact – high heels would have hurt him, not trainers. Wasn’t there anything else I could remember?

Kick him in the balls!

I jerked my leg up to kick my knee into his groin, but too late noticed his hand holding the knife. It interfered and cut my motion short of reaching its intended goal. The knife drove deep into my thigh.

I had never felt a more intense kind of pain before. My stomach turned and my body twisted in pain as I found my voice again and screamed in agony. He pulled his knife out of my leg, twisting it as he did so and lunged at me again. In mid-movement he abruptly pulled back.

He stared at me in shock, and then I saw them: the claws which had seized him from behind. Before I fell, I saw a set of amber colored eyes behind my assailant. As I tried to hold the gaze of those eyes I felt a strange familiarity.

Take me home
.

Suddenly I knew I would be safe.

2. Vince’s Dilemma

The girl stared right at me. As her eyes locked with mine I discovered no fear in them. I barely felt her attacker struggle in my grip. I was too fascinated with her, unable to understand why she did not erupt in fear when she had clearly seen my amber eyes and observed my claws around the man.

She was undoubtedly going into shock. Then, as if in slow motion, I noticed her knees buckle. With one swift move I flung the man into the wall and heard several of his ribs crack. While he tumbled to the floor I leapt toward the girl and caught her in my arms before she hit the sidewalk.

Glancing at the man on the ground I verified that he was knocked out cold for a while before turning my attention to the girl in my arms. She was unconscious, her thigh bleeding profusely. I looked at her angelic face.

What I did then was contrary to all the rules I had put in place for myself. Even later I could not explain why I did it. Maybe it was because she had seen my eyes and not shown any fear. Maybe it was just fate. Whatever the reason, I would perhaps never know for sure, I knew that I didn’t want to leave her there. The right thing would have been to bring her to the main road, call 9-1-1 and make sure she was picked up by an ambulance. Even though she was injured, my experience as a physician told me she would make it if she got taken care of within the next hour.

It was irresponsible of me to not follow my modus operandi. I had saved many women from their attackers and always made sure the police or an ambulance would take care of them. I had always been cautious so they couldn’t see my face and would never know what had saved them.

It was different with this girl. Had I reacted as usual she would not even have seen me nor had a chance to stare into my eyes, but as soon as I had gotten a glimpse of her, something had made me hesitate for a fraction of a second. In that fraction her eyes had locked with mine and I had felt unable to tear myself away. All I had been able to think of was to take her home. It was in my head:
Take me home.

I looked down at her wound again and knew I had to make a decision. So I ran. In the storefronts I passed I saw my reflection. While my torso had remained that of a man, my hands had turned into sharp claws, my shoulders and neck had bulked up to give me more strength and my jaw had widened to accommodate the large razor-sharp teeth of a wild animal. My eyes glowed amber, a sign that the beast within me was in control. I was a frightening sight to behold.

I kept her as still in my arms as I could as we crossed Market Street and entered the Financial District. Only minutes later we arrived at my front door.

The reason I had chosen to live in the Financial District was the fact that it wasn’t a residential area. Very few people actually lived there, and those who resided in one of the high rises didn’t spend much time outside. It made it easier for me to remain unnoticed when I entered and exited my place at night. Not having nosy neighbors was essential to living anonymously.

During the day the streets teamed with office workers who didn’t take much notice of anybody. They just wanted to get to work. It was the ideal place to live beneath society’s radar.

I had no direct neighbors. The building was in an alley off Sansome Street. Its entrance was easily overlooked. There was no mailbox, no address, no door bell. For all anybody knew it was a fire exit for one of the office buildings on Sansome Street. Even though the office building behind my little warehouse was much taller, it had no windows on this side, which afforded me the privacy I craved.

The warehouse I had turned into my home was of red brick construction, originally unreinforced. However, in the first year after I had bought it, I had retrofitted the place so it would withstand the frequent earthquakes the Bay Area had to deal with. Steel bracing and reinforcement as well as sheer walling would make it possible for the building to at least withstand a 7.5 magnitude earthquake. The ’89 earthquake which had rocked San Francisco and lead to a collapse of a portion of the double-decker Bay Bridge, had not caused any damage to my home.

Instead of taking her upstairs, I walked through the door underneath the stairs. The motion sensors detected me and all lights turned on instantly. I stood in an enormous room equipped as a laboratory. Stainless steel benches, industrial size refrigerators and freezers, microscopes, centrifuges, I had it all. I was better equipped than many commercial labs.

Gently I placed her onto the surgery bench and noticed with relief that my claws had turned back into hands. I took off my bloody shirt and grabbed one of the lab coats hanging over a chair and put it on.

I wanted to look as normal as possible when she woke up so I wouldn’t frighten her.

So I wouldn’t frighten her?

What the hell was I thinking? I had taken her and brought her into my lab. I was alone with her and she had no means of escaping. I was a stranger to her, and I was a man, a natural predator. What made me think she wouldn’t be frightened?

I’m a doctor.

What? My lab coat would make her fear me any less? I shook my head.

Vince, what are you doing?

I looked at her again and reminded myself that I had to take care of her wound first and deal with the consequences later.

I took off her trainers first then freed her from the tangled strap of her handbag. Her jeans were tight and the only way to get them off without moving her excessively was to cut them off. As I sliced through the fabric inch by inch I revealed more and more of her beautifully formed legs. Her skin was smooth, and every time I touched it while cutting her jeans, it felt like a lightening bolt went through my body. Nobody else had ever had an effect like this on me. I had carried other women to safety and never felt anything other than making sure they were safe. I had never been tempted to take any one of them with me. But when I looked at this girl, all I could think of was to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her, to make her mine.