The Fangs of Bloodhaven by Cheree Alsop Page A

had died.
    “You get used to it,” the doctor said quietly without looking at him.
    The human walked into the room, his footsteps soft on the thick beige carpet.
    Everett followed, keeping his nose plugged and breathing shallow; even so, the scent of death permeated everything.
    “Monique?” Dr. Transton called. His voice was soft and gentle. He paused near the tiled kitchenette. “Monique, sweetheart, where are you?”
    Everett stopped near him, unsure what to do. A moment later, a small groan emitted from a room that branched off of the main one.
    “That’s it, darling. Come say hi,” Dr. Transton said.
    The sound of slow, shuffling footsteps followed.
    Everett glanced at the doctor, wondering what he was about to see. The footsteps drew closer and a face emerged from the shadows. Everett fought back the urge to run.
    The girl’s features were twisted and hanging as though they had been made of wax and then left in the sunlight. Her eyes were dull and didn’t look at anything in particular. Her hair, a dirty blonde color, hung limp and tangled about her shoulders. The tee-shirt and pants she wore did little to hide the way her skin hung from the bones, gray and discolored, and in places torn and gaping.
    “S-she’s a...” Everett couldn’t say the word.
    “A zombie,” Dr. Transton completed in a voice just above a whisper. He cleared his throat and smiled. “That’s it, Monique. Good girl. It’s good to see you.”
    To Everett’s dismay, the doctor then crossed to the zombie and gave her a loose hug. The zombie made no move to return the embrace. Her arms appeared locked at the joints, able to move only slightly with a lift of the shoulders. The scent of decay rose with Dr. Transton’s hug.
    “Did you have a good day?” he asked when he stepped back.
    A soft moan replied. Her mouth didn’t move, but the sound emanated from behind her rotten teeth.
    “Good, good,” the doctor replied, patting her shoulder softly. “I’m glad to hear it.”
    He glanced back at Everett as if he just remembered the vampire’s presence. The doctor gave him a small, sad smile.
    “Everett, Monique. Monique, this is Everett. He’s the vampire I told you about.”
    Another low moan followed.
    Dr. Transton chuckled. “Yes, the one I chased from the Asylum. You were right; I acted hastily. But can you blame me?”
    Her teeth closed together with a sound that sent a chill up Everett’s spine. His feet were frozen to the floor. If she came after him, he didn’t know if he would be able to run.
    Dr. Transton looked out the closest window. “It’s about that time, sweetheart. Should we head to the roof?”
    The zombie didn’t answer, but she began her shuffling steps once more. Though the progress was slow, all Everett could do was watch as she drew near. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to run, to fight, to do anything but let her touch him or bite him. The stories he had heard about zombies after the Ending War flooded his mind, tales of terror and fear that usually ended with fire engulfing the creatures.
    His muscles tensed as his fight or flight instincts kicked in. He was about to run when he noticed the look on Dr. Transton’s face.
    The doctor watched him as Monique drew near. There was fear on his face, stark fear as though he didn’t know what to do, but the fear wasn’t for Everett’s sake. Instead, the all-encompassing worry he saw in Dr. Transton’s eyes was for the zombie. The closer she drew to him, the deeper the doctor’s fear became. It looked as though Dr. Transton feared he would snap Monique’s neck or set her on fire and he wouldn’t be able to reach them in time.
    Realization that he was filled with the same prejudices that had caused Dr. Transton to banish him from the Asylum hit Everett hard. He didn’t know anything about zombies other than what he had been told as a child. The books in his father’s library had barely made mention of them, and the only stories were filled