He watched his mother obey the command. Her head rested against the wall behind her.
“Don’t hurt her. This isn’t her fault.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because of this.” Barry displayed the gash on his arm.
“How did that happen?”
“The guy with the knife cut me when I didn’t have any money.”
Barry sensed the vampire’s impatience.
“I was so caught up in finding those punks and getting away from the police, I didn’t notice. I could’ve brought you straight here.”
He watched her put on some latex gloves, take out a vial and a syringe, and go to work. “This is a painkiller. It’ll numb the area while I fix you up.”
Barry felt a slight sting when she stuck him with the needle. After the drug took effect, the vampire disinfected his wound with Gluconate before bringing out the rest of the surgical tools.
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“I do,” she said as she made the first suture.
“What’s your name?”
“Can’t you read?”
Barry looked at the nametag displayed on her uniform. “Nurse Jane Smith? You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” she continued to work.
“You know my name.”
“Look, boy. This isn’t a movie or a comic book. I’m not giving up my secret origin and before you ask, no, my skin doesn’t sparkle. I don’t have a diary; the only things original to come out of Louisiana are Mardi Gras and the New Orleans Saints, and if you mention Abraham Lincoln or the Civil War, I’ll throw you through the wall. So don’t push it.”
Barry apologized. “You’re right. I understand. You can’t be too careful. All you’ve done is save my life and now you’re fixing my arm. Not like you have a reason to trust me.” The look in the nurse’s eyes told him he had struck a nerve. He decided to try another tactic.
“At least tell me why you saved my life. You didn’t have to do that.”
The vampire took a moment before making up her mind. “You know what rape is, kid?”
The question puzzled him. “Yeah, I know.”
“A week ago, those pieces of gutter trash put a friend of mine in the hospital. She volunteered here on the weekends.”
“Why didn’t you let the police handle it?”
“A broken arm. Cracked ribs. She was in too much pain and too scared to talk.” Another stitch was finished. “And she wouldn’t press charges.”
“If she wouldn’t talk, how did you know who to look for?”
A cold, green-eyed stare was Barry’s answer. “Oh, right. Stupid question.”
“The only stupid questions are the ones that don’t get asked, but yours was the exception.”
“How is she?”
“Better than when I found her. At least she won’t have to go through years of therapy.” She was almost done.
“Sounds like you should go into counseling.” Barry thought he saw a slight smile on her lips.
“What’s your story?” she asked. “Your mother seems a little overprotective.”
“She has a right to be. Things haven’t been the same since my dad left us.”
“Alcohol or drugs?”
“Neither,” Barry defended. “Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“I’m sorry.”
Barry felt her concern was genuine.
“Was he a veteran?”
“Two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan before he was discharged. One minute we were having dinner. The next he was choking me and accusing my mom of working with the Taliban. After he came out of it, he packed a bedroll and left.”
“How long ago?”
“More than two years now, going on three,” he answered.
“Have you tried looking for him?”
“Mom filed a missing person’s report. Not much the police can do.”
“I get that a lot around here,” she replied, putting a bandage over the stitches. “How’s that?”
Barry flexed his arm and moved his hand. “Pretty good. Thanks.” He became worried when she produced another device and a vial.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
“What’s that for?”
“Tetanus shot. No telling where that knife has been.”
After she swabbed his arm, Barry flinched as the needle pierced his skin.
“Relax. We’re all done.”
Barry pulled down his sleeve and asked the obvious. “What now?”
“I was thinking about that myself.”
“This is stupid. I’m not going to tell anyone, and you’re not going to kill me.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“That I won’t tell anyone?” he asked.
“That I won’t kill you,” she replied.
Barry didn’t know what to do. It was clear she wasn’t going to budge, so he decided to throw her off guard. “When do you get off work?”
“Excuse me?”
“What time does your shift end?”
“Are you hitting on me?” The nurse appeared insulted.
Barry became nervous. He tried to remain calm, but felt an asthma attack coming on. “No. It’s just that I—”
“Look, kid—”
“Barry. My name is Barry. Not ‘kid’.”
“Okay. Barry. I’m a little too old for you.”
“Funny, you look about the same age as me.” Her smile told Barry he might be getting somewhere. The compliment softened her mood.
“That’s sweet of you to say, but I was twenty-three when I was brought across. I’ll be fifty-something in June.”
He had expected an additional two or three hundred years to her answer. “Then that makes you pretty young.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“How long have you lived here? Are there others like you in Fort Worth?”
She became more serious. “Haven’t seen any and if there were, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I was just wondering—”
“Stop!” she interrupted. “You know too much already.”
Barry knew he’d blown it.
“This has to be the last time I see you. I don’t want you coming around here anymore. Forget about me and forget about this clinic.”
“That’s the problem. My mom made arrangements for me to volunteer down here and clean up the place.”
At the mention of her name, the sleeping woman started to snore.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix that, but let’s be clear about this. Stay away from me. Understand?”
Disappointed,