Josh Gas knocks on the second-floor motel room of Jack Herrington. “Hey, you in there, it’s urgent.”
No response
“Jack, you know the deal the ranch has with Jim’s Gas. Open up; we need to talk.” Josh beats on the door again. ‘Why isn’t there a guard in the hall? ‘Is he not in?’ he thinks to himself.
No response
“You have to be joking; this is life or death,” Josh yells at the door.
“He’s not in there, you know,” Jack Harrington says to the exasperated Josh.
Not turning his head, Josh beats on the door again. “Harrington, I need to speak to you.”
“What did the poor door ever do to you?” Jack Harrington says, rubbing his forehead.
Josh stops his hand mid-knock and turns his head to look at Jack Herrington. “Why didn’t you say it was you?”
“Why didn’t you turn your head and look?” Jack asks. “Let’s go into my office and talk.”
Jack Harrington walks to the motel room next to the one he sleeps in and walks inside. The desk is flanked with the American flag and the Nebraskan flag. Then partially hidden behind them are the flag of the United Forces and the Sol Federation flag.
Shirtless and in swim shorts Jack Harrington sits at his desk and pulls out a cigar. He cuts the end and lights it on a lighter made to look like one of the lions from the New York library.
He puffs the ember to life, then looks at Josh. “What can I do for you?”
“There is a rogue vampire trying to capture my friend,” Josh says in one jumble of words, his normally spotless uniform splattered in mud, fear, and red slush.
“Oh, that is serious,” Jack says, pressing a button on the desk. “Trevor, fetch Trisha.” He lets go of the button. “Tell me everything that happened.”
“… next thing you know, I am throwing a slushy at his face and hitting him in the chest, and then he takes off,” Josh finishes, Jack Harrington nodding his head as he processes it all.
“That is serious; I will get some men around to help deal with it in the meantime,” he says, taking a long drag of the foul-smelling cigar. “Where is the door?”
“I have no idea it ran off. I don’t think it could go anywhere other than here or the gas station,” Josh says, looking around to see if the door was hiding in plain sight. “I really just don’t know.”
“Did you figure out what the rubber duck would have done?” Jack Harrington asks, waving the cigar back and forth.
There is a knock at the door. Josh turns to look at it. Trisha walks through the door, her albino skin smooth and white as a china doll. Her makeup style is from another time, making her eyes look vibrant and colorful.
She watches Jacob’s face as his eyes light up at her sight. She breathes in the smell of him. His blood filled with vitality. She smirks, then moves her gaze to Jack Harrington and cringes at the mass of chest hair, the slicked-back hair, and the reek of chlorine and cigar. His blood is permanently tainted. She frowns. “Why have you called me here, Jack?” She stands next to Josh, resting a hand with purple fingernails on his shoulder. She feels a thrill as she feels his heartbeat through his shirt.
“One of your kind is coming awfully close to becoming a problem for the United Forces and the United States of America. Josh can fill you in on the details. Why don’t you and he have a conversation and see what can be done about it?”
“And what would you like me to do about it?” Trish says with one eyebrow raised.
Jack Harrington looks at Josh Gas. “Preferably make the entire situation go away,” he then adds, “Thank you,” when no one moves to leave his office.
The vampire stiffens. She looks at Josh standing next to her. “What a waste,” she sighs. Her fangs felt dry, and her hunger flared up. “If you insist.”
Jack Harrington rushes to correct himself. “Josh is part of the community; there is no reason to do cleanup,” He feels a prickling sensation up his bare back as he watches her smile warmly.
“At least there is some good news.” She looks up from Josh and looks at the most powerful man alive, who is busy playing the world for a fool. “Can I count on you if this gets unpleasant?” she asks.
“Anything you need, tell the staff, and it’s yours.” Jack Harrington holds his arms wide.
“Thanks, Mr. Harrington,” Josh says.
Jack Harington makes a dismissive gesture. “You’re welcome, Josh. Why don’t you head to the bar and discuss what needs discussing?”
Josh stands up and leaves the room. Jack Harrington sighs and blows a smoke ring. “This is going to get messy before it gets better.”
Josh closes the door behind him. “So what are we going to do about the crazy person? I shot him 5 times with a trench gun, and he laughed it off.”
Trish looks at him solemnly. “We will discuss this in the bar,” she says as they enter the elevator.
“5 shots to the chest with a shotgun, and it didn’t even make him flinch,” Josh adds.
She looks over at him, sweet and innocent and so young. ‘I could drain him till he passes out; he will stop talking.’ She smiles. “Oh, Josh, Josh, Josh, like I said, let’s talk in the bar. I need a drink to calm my hunger.”
Josh looks over at the creature of the night, who is trembling, holding herself in check, and decides to follow instructions.
The bar is mostly empty. The cat waves them over, but Trish waves him off. She sits at a corner booth, motioning to the fox-eared waitress to come over.
Josh sits in the secluded booth, his “I am in danger” meter busted from earlier today, or there is no way he would be this close to something that might eat him, especially when they were struggling with hunger in the elevator.
He watches the fox-eared woman approach. He listens to Trish order a hot blood, then looks at him and says, “And what would you like?” He swallows painfully. “Hard lemonade,” he says to the waitress, and she smiles at him and rushes off.
“Well, we need a plan,” Trish says, watching Josh’s expression. She leans forward, her hunger showing its ugly face.
“Yes, we need to get the vampire to leave the door alone,” Josh says, thinking about his movie buddy and wondering what he is doing—if he is cheating on him with someone else or watching a daytime rerun of Squish: The Alien Wars, the movie, or its sequel, Alien Wars: The Return of Squish, without him.
“But how do we do that?” she asks, her fingertips reaching out to touch his pretty face. The fox-eared waitress arrives with her tray. Trish grabs the glass and drinks it with delight. “Where they find the donor for this, I have no idea, but they are something special. They must feed them only pineapples; the blood is so sweet.”
Josh watches as she changes; her features become less gaunt, and her eyes sparkle. Her face moves with a more carefree expression. He stops and takes a long look at her, his heart beating faster, but not out of fear.
“We need to ask some questions to see who knows what. I suspect the cat might know something; he always knows something,” Trish says, her long tongue licking the glass clean.
Josh says with uncertainty. “At the very least he might know where the door went.”
“Josh, if he is as hell-bent on finding this door as it seems, I think we may have to kill him to get him to stop,” she says, her head lowered over the empty glass held in her hands.
Josh tilts his head as he looks at the vampire sitting in front of him. She is beautiful, intelligent, and deadly—the worst combination. He gets a shiver down his spine. “I won’t do it; I won’t kill him; there has to be another way.”
“But what if there isn’t?” She says, running her finger around the lip of the empty glass.
