The Fall: Sanguine Series: Book One Read online

  He went back into the bedroom and rummaged through his luggage until he found the multitool. Bringing it back into the bathroom and closing the door, he stared long and hard at this rail-thin stranger looking back at him from the mirror. His leg was still on fire, and the deep breath he took while he was contemplating what he was about to do sent fresh waves of pain out from his busted ribs. It wasn’t like he couldn’t attend his meeting in an hour and a half with cracked teeth, however, so he had to get them out now and give the new ones time to come in. When he’d finally worked up the nerve, he put the pliers on the first cracked tooth, took a deep breath… and there was a knock on the door. “Room service.”

  Mason sighed and put the pliers back on the sink. “Just leave it in the room please.” He heard the door unlock, the cart get wheeled in, and heard the slight delay as the busboy hoped there’d be a tip. It was regrettable, etiquette-wise, but Mason had bigger fish to fry right now, and his present appearance would be a bit too memorable to exit the bathroom just for the sake of being polite and giving the man a gratuity. “Thank you,” he said through the door, hoping to spur the busboy on. As the busboy exited, Mason smelled the food and it gave him a good rush of adrenaline. He needed to pull the teeth before eating, and the smell of that food was all the motivation he needed.

  He grabbed the first tooth with the pliers a little too eagerly and winced from the pain. White-knuckling the sink, he tightened the pliers so they wouldn’t slip when he pulled. Spots were appearing in his vision, but he focused on the steak that was waiting for him and pulled as hard as he could. It actually came out easier than he had been expecting and clattered around in the sink, with a trail of crimson. He spit the blood out and moved on to the other two.

  When it was done, he slowed his breathing, and limped back into the hotel room proper so he could set to work on the food. The wheeled cart was in front of the television, along with four sets of wrapped silverware. Mason chuckled to himself as he unwrapped a set that the size of his order had apparently confused the wait staff on exactly how many people this would be feeding. Once he had the utensils in his hand, however, he was all business. The ice cream felt good against his still-angry teeth sockets and did an excellent job numbing them for the food he ate next. Looking at the massive amount of expensive food he’d ordered, he made a mental note to have the front desk make sure this meal went on his personal card.

  When it came to the steaks, he had no time for utensils and was just eating them as finger food, barely chewing and using the milk to wash it down; if he could just get his body the energy, it would figure it out from there. When he was down to one steak, he picked it up and started tearing pieces off with the teeth he had left while he walked back into the bathroom and grabbed his phone from the counter. The porterhouse was already halfway gone as he lowered himself into the tub. A lot of his healing had been slowed down while he insisted on staying active, but he was finally going to give it time to work. He set an alarm on his phone for forty minutes later, finished the last of the steak, and let himself slip into unconsciousness.

  9

  Rebekah stood in the hallway of her sister Gwen’s floor, still working up the nerve to knock on the door. The doorman in the lobby had needed a lot of time reconciling the picture he had in the system with what she looked like now before buzzing her into the lobby, so she had no misconception about appearing presentable for this conversation. Once she entered the lobby, memories of the place came flooding back. It was a nice building, with its granite tile flooring in the lobby barely showing its age, though the wax had worn off long ago. There was a lone couch with a small table in front of it. There were a few books for visitors to read if they had to wait, probably donated by the residents. In fact, Rebekah thought she recognized one of Gwen’s old hardcovers. It was probably less sparsely decorated in years past, but the only other feature of the lobby was the doorman, very visible in his bulletproof enclosure and the similarly bulletproof staging area for residents and visitors to pass through and gain entrance to the apartments. The only entrance to the doorman’s enclosure was on the other side of that staging area, and as a result, the entire setup was quite secure.

  Rebekah had known the man’s name when she lived here with her sister, but it escaped her now and it’s not like he’d be wearing a name badge; these men could be targets when they went out in public. They were the gatekeepers to the dwindling number of people still doing alright, and that made them very interesting to criminals who would like the key to that gate. Everyone who worked the front desk would live in the building to eliminate their travel time, but there would still be periods when they’d be exposed out of the building whether it was getting groceries, or if they were feeling very bold, travelling for recreation.

  It was comforting for Rebekah to see it was the same man and have that sense of familiarity. She told the man who she was here to see and why, so he could buzz her sister. The pause after he’d explained her visit to her sister, but before her sister approved her to come up had hurt. She knew things weren’t exactly great between them, not after their last meeting, but she’d been hoping for at least a little excitement on Gwen’s part to see her. The doorman had ensured the front entrance was secured before placing the millimeter wave baton in his pass-through box. Once he had relocked his side, she was able to open hers and took the baton out. The doorman looked back at the screen in front of him. “Ready,” he said, signifying that she could begin passing the baton over herself. After instructing her to pass it over a few areas that hadn’t been imaged well, he was satisfied and had her put the baton back in the box. Once he had it back on its charging pad, he unlocked her side of the staging room. She entered and closed the door behind her. The only way to open it back up would’ve been for the doorman to unlock it, so now that he had a full layer of protection between him and the lobby again, he exited his enclosure and opened the inner door, allowing Rebekah through.

  The two of them walked down the hallway past the deactivated elevator bank and the guard began unlocking all the various bolts that secured the four-inch thick steel door. Any exterior fire escape had been removed and the windows barred at buildings like this long ago, so this door was the only way up. It presented a substantial risk in case of fire, but these residents were worried about being burgled, not burned. While she waited, Rebekah glanced over her shoulder at the elevators. There was no security reason for them to be deactivated, most likely, they’d just stopped working and without being able to justify the expense to repair them, now merely served as a reminder of how much more convenient things used to be. The doorman had given her a nod as he held the door open for her as she’d thanked him and begun ascending the stairs.

  Now she was in front of Gwen’s door, going over her lines in her head before knocking. She wanted to make sure she knew what she was going to say once her sister could move the security bar and unlock the deadbolts. She was still thinking when the door opened. “I got tired of waiting,” was Gwen’s hello. Rebekah surmised Gwen must have already removed the bar and unlocked the locks; a testament to how good this building’s security was. Now that she saw her sister in the flesh, how long it had been since they’d been in the same room really struck her. She’d called a few times, asking for (always rejected) favors, but hadn’t seen her in a couple years. Her sister looked visibly older than that and had lost weight. Gwen was taller than Rebekah’s respectable 5’6”, but it had always looked good on her. Now, she was lanky and gaunt. A bit of sibling concern welled up in Rebekah and she went to give Gwen a hug.

  Gwen took a few steps back and held her arm in front of her to keep Rebekah at bay. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. What do you want?” she asked.

  Rebekah was snapped back to the reality where she was the disheveled, homeless, drug addict standing on her sister’s doorstep and realized she needed a little more to break the ice before attempting a reconciliation. “I want to get clean.”

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Her sister was doin
g that thing she did where she was screaming without raising her voice. “And now you what, think you can just show up at my door and crash here?” It was all in the tone; it might not be any louder than regular conversation, but it made your ears hurt. Rebekah knew it was going to be an uphill battle when she’d decided to come to her sister for a place to stay, but she’d expected a little more smugness, a little more self-satisfaction that her baby sister needed her help. She’d been prepared to play into that air of superiority, to intentionally appear meek before what she had assumed would be her sister’s holier-than-thou lecture. Instead, she’d gotten nothing but vitriol. Rebekah had never actually considered that her sister might not let her stay, but with how red her sister’s lean face was now, it seemed she was dangerously close to just that. She needed a different strategy.

  “Please, Gwen, just for a few days. If you don’t want me here after that, I’m gone.” Begging wasn’t usually Rebekah’s style, but she didn’t have much choice if she wanted off the street in a hurry. The church she’d told Mason about was a roof over her head if she needed it, but hardly a permanent solution. So here she was, arguing with Gwen in the doorway of her apartment. It was a lovely place, if a bit small. Behind Gwen, Rebekah could see the kitchen and dining room on the left, living room on the right all joined together as an open concept area. The hallway was straight ahead from the front door, with closets on either side of it. The hallway ended at the bathroom, with the doors to the two bedrooms recessed out of view on either side. You could almost take in the entire apartment from the front door, but being on the fifth floor, it was a little safer even though that meant a longer walk up the stairs; at least you wouldn’t have to worry about a criminal with a ladder. Her sister always had been the prudent one; it’s what kept her in this apartment years later, even if she could afford bigger. There were plenty of unrented apartments in the buildings that hadn’t been completely taken over by squatters, but Gwen had a good thing here, and Rebekah knew her sister would never leave just for more space.

  “Yeah, along with my jewelry or something,” Gwen muttered.

  Now that pissed Rebekah off. “Oh, screw you, Gwen. I’ve never stolen from you and you know it.” When Rebekah had arrived, she hadn’t even made it inside the apartment, and they’d been having this entire argument at the doorway but the minute she’d raised her voice, a tiny little head peeked into the hallway behind Gwen. Rebekah squealed, “Oh my gosh, Louise, is that you? Look at how big you’ve gotten! What’re you now, four?” This wasn’t an act; Rebekah was genuinely excited to see her niece. Either Louise could tell it wasn’t an act, or didn’t care, because the question got her to step out into the hallway, now beaming with pride at being the center of attention.

  “Five. Are you a friend of mommy’s?” She held eye contact with Rebekah the entire time she was talking to her. Rebekah noticed that Louise had her father’s eyes. Gwen was glaring at Rebekah, and paused for a moment before sighing and stepping just slightly to the side so she could turn and face Louise.

  “No, honey, this is your aunt Rebekah.” She turned to look at Rebekah again. “Well you might as well come in now.” She made a half-hearted gesture to beckon Rebekah into the apartment, but it was something. Rebekah had learned a long time ago that one of her gifts was convincing people to do what she wanted. She only needed that initial crack in the armor and she was in.

  She spent that next hour getting a tour of the house, ‘meeting’ Louise (though Rebekah had seen her when Louise was too small to remember it), looking at pictures on the walls, and generally trying to appear as gentile as possible. She realized this was in stark contrast to her unwashed clothes and having not showered in weeks, but she had to show Gwen that she could do this; that she wasn’t some irredeemable vagrant destined to roam the streets until she died an early death. Now they were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee while Louise had retreated to her room for a nap. Rebekah decided it was the right time to use her ammo from earlier. “She has Greg’s eyes.”

  Gwen sighed and took a sip of her coffee. Rebekah knew she’d hit her mark. “She does.”

  “That must be hard for you.” She needed to bait Gwen into talking about her dead husband, and Rebekah could use genuine (albeit situationally convenient) compassion to soften her sister up before pressing the issue on a place to stay again.

  “It was at first. Now it’s a nice reminder. I like to think he can watch me through her eyes.” Rebekah had to suppress the eye-roll that was almost instinctual when she heard something that corny.

  “That’s a nice thought.” She took a sip of her coffee to keep herself from laughing. “Look Gwen, I get it if I can’t stay here after last time, but do you think I could swing by to take a shower and wash my clothes once in a while?” It was a gamble to bring it up again this early, but Rebekah hoped that by catching her sister off guard after an emotional response, she could take advantage of some of that empathy.

  Gwen sighed again and wouldn’t make eye contact. “I know what you’re doing, Rebekah, and if I didn’t have Louise, I would let you do it,” she waved off a protest from Rebekah, “but I have to think about the environment she gets raised in. Mom and Dad left us enough money that I can give her a good home and I’m lucky enough to be able to stay here with her full-time, but I don’t know what good any of that is if she’s raised in the same house as a junkie.” Rebekah looked shocked, but Gwen cut her off again, “Let’s call a spade a spade.” She paused, “But that being said, I would like to be able to make sure you’re OK occasionally. And you certainly can muster up some good behavior at least for short periods of time, so I will answer the question you actually asked, and say that yes, it’s fine for you to come by every now and again.”

  They both sat in silence for a minute realizing that what had just happened was a huge shift in their relationship. Before now, Rebekah had been the screw-up younger sister, aimless and wasting her potential, but Gwen had been firmly entrenched as the older sister that they had both assumed would be there for her when she really needed it. Now that had shifted. Gwen was a mother first and a sister second, and ironically, maybe not having anyone there that believed Rebekah could clean up her act would be what finally made her do it. She was working without a net now and Rebekah was suddenly trying to figure out what that meant.

  “Well I guess I’ll go take that shower. Do I still have some clothes here to change into?” The question came out more hurt than she had meant it to.

  “Rebekah, I didn’t mean-,” Gwen began, but Rebekah waved her off this time.

  “No, you’re right, Gwen. Maybe when I get my shit together we can talk about it again.”

  Gwen smile. “I’d like that. And yes, you still have clothes here.”

  “Anything nice?” Rebekah realized that at some point she’d decided she would go to the movie after all.

  “Why, you got a date or something?” Gwen asked jokingly.

  “Actually, yes.”

  10

  Alexander pulled his car into the hangar and waited for the door to close completely behind him before exiting. This had been an old government installation for housing prop planes for the Department of Fish and Wildlife if Alexander’s memory served. Things like that were some of the first to get axed when the government slashed its spending, and Alexander had purchased it under one of his aliases for quite a deal, though truth be told, he probably could’ve just taken it. It’s not like anyone would come out here to check on it. He took a moment to survey the interior. It was strange that nobody had come to greet him when he arrived. Especially since he’d arrived just an hour or so after sundown.

  His Lincoln Navigator had heavy tinting on all the windows, heavy enough that he could have driven during the day if he’d wanted to, but he never did. The one time he had, he had worried over some errant pebble being kicked up by another driver and shattering his windshield. Or what if he’d gotten into an accident that compromised his protection from the sun? No, he preferred t
o drive at night, even in times like this, when it meant a delay in what he wanted to get done. Waiting to exit the vehicle until the door closed, however, was a much more practical habit. You never knew who was watching out there.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Alexander was a little more brazen when he fed while travelling; it was difficult to avoid. At his home he could take his time, bring them to some place more secluded where no one could see, before draining them and leaving their corpse where no one would ever find it. Here, he’d had things to do, and spending the whole night setting up a meal had not been on the agenda. He’d hunted in Oakland last night, before driving into the mountains to this facility, choosing from among the dregs of the city someone that wouldn’t be missed. He’d walked through streets, almost completely abandoned at night, half expecting to feed on an unlucky mugger who chose the wrong person to rob, but he was not accosted.

  He came across a skyscraper with what had been a large entrance. All glass, it was shattered now and the lobby was picked clean. Thieves had even managed to pull the door off the bulletproof glass enclosure for the doorman and steal everything not nailed down out of there as well. The safety enclosure meant that this building had been used after The Fall, but it was tough to imagine how it looked in those days when it still had paying residents. Most likely, the building’s occupancy rate had dwindled to the point of it not making sense for the owners of the building to continue running it. And once the security was gone in a place like this, open season on its contents quickly followed. Alexander was looking at the evidence of that now: most of the walls had been torn out for their copper piping and wiring, and what still had plaster had almost every available inch covered in graffiti. This lobby might have felt cozy when it had been well-appointed, but without a stick of furnishing in the entire first floor it felt cavernous.