Releasing A Vampire
SUCKERS
Prequel
Releasing A Vampire
Jacky Dahlhaus
Folla Fiction Publishing
The content and title logo of this book are copyrighted © by Jacky Dahlhaus
Published by Folla Fiction Publishing
First publication: August 2017
ASIN: B074WBGTMS
Printed version ISBN: 978-0-9956719-2-8
Book cover design by David Williams, edited by Jacky Dahlhaus
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproductions or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, without the author’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Books written by Jacky Dahlhaus:
Releasing A Vampire
Living Like A Vampire
Raising A Vampire
Short Shockers
Killing A Vampire
https://jackydahlhaus.com
Contents
Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio, Texas Friday Afternoon, May 7th, 2004
Portland, Friday afternoon, August 6th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Friday Evening, August 6th, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location Saturday, August 7th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Saturday, August 7th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Monday, August 30th, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location September 20th, 2004, Monday
Bullsbrook, Thursday, September 23rd, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location Tuesday, September 28th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
Biosafety Level 2 Laboratory, unknown location Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Friday, October 8th, 2004
Bullsbrook, Monday, October 11th, 2004
Living Like A Vampire
Suckers Trilogy
Book 2
Raising A Vampire
Killing A Vampire
Review
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio, Texas
Friday Afternoon, May 7th, 2004
Colonel Terrence J. Henderson, T.J. to his close friends, strode into the conference room with confidence. It was his second year in charge of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) and he ran the place as smooth as full-fat vanilla ice cream. That’s what was on his mind, ice cream. As soon as he would be home he’d make himself one, in a fancy dessert glass. He would put three scoops of vanilla ice cream into the glass, pour chocolate sauce over them, and put in a chocolate flake. He’d possibly pour some brandy over the whole and sprinkle some crushed hazelnut over it too. Maybe not. He’d have to see how he felt about the hazelnut at the time. It also depended if he had some left over in the pantry. He couldn’t remember.
Henderson liked eating ice cream. Not that he had a lot of time to do so. Work kept him in the office most hours and inside the building it seemed like they were trying to recreate the North Pole, not exactly the place to eat ice cream.
As soon as Henderson sat down, the room became quiet. He checked the faces of the attendees and saw the usual staff sitting around the large conference table. It was going to be an ordinary Friday afternoon meeting, with the ordinary last minute requests. They always wanted so much from him. Most of all decisions they didn’t want to make themselves. That heavy burden always fell on him. ‘Just as well they pay me accordingly, so I can eat expensive ice creams while sitting in my Jacuzzi at home,’ he thought.
“What’s the first point on the agenda?” Henderson asked his secretary.
James Brown, not the one you immediately think of but another, much less famous one, put a piece of paper in front of his boss.
“Nine items today,” James said. “Most of them to do with the new building equipment and one new project request.” He put his hands on his laptop, ready to take notes.
Henderson’s eyes drifted down to item number five on the agenda. ‘Request to start Project Duchenne,’ it read. He sat up straighter. His cousin twice removed, a boy named Boyd, had muscular dystrophy. Henderson was immediately interested in what Project Duchenne was and couldn’t wait to hear more about it.
Unfortunately, the meeting went on and on, with lots of arguing about money. Most of the time the meetings were about money. Had money not been an issue, it would have been a lot faster to get things done and the army would have functioned very differently. As it was, the spending of every cent had to be fought for.
When the meeting finally arrived at item number five, Henderson sat upright again from his position that had become slumped over the last two hours.
“Who is in charge of Project Duchenne?” Henderson asked.
A woman at the back of the room put her hand up. Henderson hadn’t seen her earlier. How could he have missed her? He took in her mousy brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, her face devoid of makeup, and her camouflage uniform that almost disappeared in the mass of uniforms in the room, as it was designed to do. ‘That’s why,’ he thought as he forced himself to be interested in this woman, who appeared to have gone through great trouble not to look like a woman.
Henderson liked women to look like women. He didn’t like it at all when they tried to look like men. He was convinced that women were smarter than men and that was why, through the ages, men had tried their hardest to make sure women didn’t realize this. Making them dress up in the most uncomfortable shoes and pieces of clothing and have them put paint on their faces was part of that plan. It had worked so far. Women who didn’t comply with this visual standard had too much time on their hand for thinking about other things. Like why they weren’t treated the same or paid as much as men. These women were dangerous to the status quo.
“Who are you?” Henderson asked the plain looking woman.
“Stephanie Bonnetti, virologist and biological weapons expert,” she replied. Without blinking, she stared back at Colonel Henderson. She knew that look on his face all too well. She had come a long way since joining the army and had seen it in many men’s eyes. It had a hint of detest and a lot of aggression. It hadn’t deterred her from becoming the best she could be, which happened to be better than most men. She had been lucky to have been born with an excellent memory and very logic thinking. In time, the men she had met had all realized her worth and hadn’t stood in her way to serve her country to her best ability. She would make an extra effort to add Colonel Henderson to her string of admirers.
“We are hoping,” Dr. Bonnetti began to explain, “to create a virus that will enhance the cellular production of a protein called dystrophin, which will result in increased muscle mass. This could be extremely beneficial to muscle dystrophy sufferers, but also create more muscle mass in healthy persons, like soldiers of the Special Forces. If we can make it work, we could also offer it to Navy Seals, the Marine Special Operations Command Officers, and the Air Force Tactics Forces as well.”
The heads in the room turned from Dr. Bonnetti to Colonel Henderson as if they were at a tennis match. Colo
nel Henderson in return turned his head and stared out of the window, letting everyone wait for his response. He didn’t care about that. He also didn’t care about the soldiers of the other forces. All he cared about were the ground troops. So often they were overlooked. Navy SEALs this, Air Force Officers that. What about the ground troops? They were doing most of the work, keeping things going in this country, doing most of the work to keep people safe. It was time to let them shine for a change. Apart from doing something that could possibly help his cousin Boyd. He faced Dr. Bonnetti again.
“How likely is it that this is going to work?” Henderson asked.
Dr. Bonnetti shuffled some paperwork she had brought and pulled a piece of paper to the front.
She studied it for a moment and when she looked up, she said, “The possibility of success is seventy-nine percent.”
“Do it,” was Henderson’s reply.
The remainder of the meeting was about where to get the money from to do it.
Portland, Friday afternoon, August 6th, 2004
The sun shone brightly and I was about to move from my parental home in Portland, Maine, to Bullsbrook, a small countryside town not too far away. I was twenty-two and had finished my teaching degree in June. I had secured a position as a science teacher at Bullsbrook High and was looking forward to starting my new life in the idyllic town. I counted myself lucky as not a lot of positions were available in towns like Bullsbrook. To get one first go was like winning the lottery. Everybody from my class envied me. Some fellow-students had even offered to trade places with me, but I had refused their bribes. Of course, I had invited them all to come and visit me once I had settled in. I was already looking forward to catching up with my university friends and exchanging teaching experiences. Moving out on my own scared me a little and the thought of having my friends over soon kept me going.
Mom and Dad had dreaded the day of our parting. Even though they had always jokingly asked my two sisters and me when we were finally going to leave so they could have their own life back, they were sad to see me go for real. I was the last one to leave, and it wasn’t a happy occasion anymore. My oldest sister, Maxine, had left years ago. She had married a naval officer and moved from naval base to naval base with him. We didn’t keep in contact much due to the age difference. Six years is a big age gap. Julie, who was two only years younger than me, hadn’t studied and didn’t get hitched but still wanted to leave home as soon as possible after she had finished high school. Mom had been adamant and very persuasive in keeping her at home for another few years, but Julie’s spirit couldn’t be tamed and she had left last year when she received a position in an office in the countryside. I never knew exactly what she was doing in what sort of office. Every time I asked her, my thoughts drifted off as soon as she started the narrative of her answer. Her habit of jam-packing her stories with little details nobody was ever interested in made your mind seek refuge elsewhere. If somebody would have mentioned the name of the office, I was sure I’d recognize it though. Whatever she was doing, she seemed happy, and that was all that was important to me. We didn’t keep in touch as often as I wanted to either, but I heard most of her stories through my parents. They were always keeping me up to date with news from my sisters.
Mom and Dad stood on their porch to wave me off. As I walked to my car, I was amazed at the amount of stuff that filled it. I had thought I didn’t own much yet my humble belongings took up about all the space safe the driver's seat. Mom had promised me a few days earlier they would come and visit me as soon as possible. She’d said she didn’t want to interfere with me finding myself in this new town, so they had planned to be over in about a fortnight. The thought of them visiting so soon had made me anxious. I had lain awake at night, tossing and turning with the thought of them coming over when my house would be a mess and my teaching preparations taking up all of my free time. With dread, I had tried my luck and asked to stretch it to four weeks. I had nearly fallen off my chair when she agreed.
Mom is the best Mom in the world, but sometimes she can be a little overprotective of her nestlings, so I thought she was very brave to let me, the last one, leave the parental house. I knew it would be so empty without any of us three living at home. The thought had crossed my mind to ask for a teaching job in the city and live at home to keep Mom and Dad company, but when this position in Bullsbrook came up, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. Mom had cried when I had read out the acceptance letter and Dad had hugged her, kissing her hair and telling her everything would be alright. I had felt like the ‘Daughter of Doom,’ but when Dad had looked at me, his eyes had told me that he and Mom would be okay. Dad never talked a lot, but I knew he loved Mom very much and I was sure that together they could withstand all storms, so to speak.
I stuffed the last item, my childhood teddy bear, in the car before walking back to say my final goodbye. Dad had his arm around Mom’s waist as they stood on their porch.
“Please drive carefully, darling,” Mom said.
“Nope, I’m going to hit every lamp post on the way, I think,” I joked as I stepped onto the porch.
“Oh, you know what I mean, silly,” and she put her arms around me in a big hug. “Make sure to give us a call when you arrive. I’ll be worried sick if I don’t know you’ve arrived safely.”
“I will, Mom, I will,” I soothed her as I kissed her goodbye. When she let go of me, I gave Dad a hug and a kiss.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid,” Dad said with a smile on his face. He never called me Kate, I was always his ‘kid.’
“Well, that basically means I can do anything I want.” I couldn’t help the huge grin on my face.
Mom poked Dad in the ribs with her elbow and gave him her angry stare.
“Ouch!” Dad pretended to be hurt. He quickly replaced his arm around Mom’s waist though. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come and help?” Dad asked.
“No, I’m sure. I’ll be alright,” I replied. Again. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.
I went back to my car and they both waved as I reversed off their driveway. I honked my horn and waved one more time out of the window before I drove off. I missed them already.
Bullsbrook, Friday Evening, August 6th, 2004
By the time I arrived in Bullsbrook, it was early evening. The trip had only been a few hours’ drive from Portland, but it had been halfway into the afternoon when I left my parent’s place. Mom had done everything in her power to keep me there for as long as she could. This included preparing a cooked lunch which resulted in me leaving later than I had planned.
I had no trouble getting to my new hometown with the help of the map on my cell phone. Once I arrived in Bullsbrook, I had to pull over to find the exact location of my new abode. It turned out I wasn’t far from it and after turning three more corners, I saw it. It was the spitting image of a house from a fairy tale. It had a black, shingled roof, white trimmings, red weatherboard walls, and an immaculate green lawn lay in front of it. It was love at first sight. It was tiny, but I knew I was going to be happy here.
The owner and landlady, Mrs. Babcock, had told me she lived next door and that I could pick up the keys from her place when I arrived. I parked the car in my driveway and crossed the manicured lawn to Mrs. Babcock’s front door. As I stepped onto her porch, I mused about her name.
Such a weird name, but it could have been a lot worse if the second ‘b’ had been a ‘d.’
I knocked on the front door, stepped back, and waited. The thought entered my mind that I should have let her know what time I would be arriving. Panic squeezed my chest as I thought of the possibility she may not be at home right now. Bingo was a favorite past-time of the elderly. At least, that’s what Mum once said, much to the annoyance of Dad who had said he’d rather die an early age than play bingo. I peered through the front window to try and detect any sign of life.
To my relief, the front door opened and I felt a bit embarrassed spying into her home. I stepped back to
the door and smiled. In the doorway stood a little, old lady who also looked as if she stepped right out of a fairytale. She didn’t look like a wicked witch, more like a fairy godmother. She had a tiny, fragile frame and wore a bright turquoise dress with a white, lace collar. Her white hair was stuck up in a huge bun on the back of her head.
Would she topple forward if her hair was cut off?
As I worked on my first impression of my landlady, the old woman did the same of her new tenant. Her eyes, that had a sweet sparkle in them, went up and down as they took me in. When they finally settled on my face, looking at me through gold-rimmed reading glasses which were balanced halfway on her delicate nose, she smiled at me.
“You must be the new teacher,” she said. Her voice was sweet and melodious with a distinct English accent.
“Yes, I’m Kate Clarke. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Babcock,” I replied and stuck my hand out.
She took my hand and shook it. Her grip felt remarkably strong for such a tiny frame.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” she said. “Come on in, dearie. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Although I liked the little, old lady, I had to refuse her offer. There was so much I still needed and wanted to do before I could go to sleep.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “but I have a lot to unpack. Some other time perhaps?” I bit my lip in anticipation of her reaction.
“Not to worry, love. You must be eager to settle in. They always are. Let me find the keys for you,” and she indicated I follow her into her home. It was very light inside. The decor seemed from the nineteen-forties, but everything was painted white. Mrs. Babcock opened a cupboard in her living room and rummaged around in it.