CHAPTER SIX

Caitlin and Caleb walked down the hospital corridor together, to the waiting area. Scarlet needed a few minutes to gather her things and get dressed, and they wanted to give her privacy. Caitlin could not believe how fast she was checking out: they would be out of their before 9 AM. Caitlin really wanted her to stay home and rest, but Scarlet insisted on going to school for the day.

It all felt surreal. Just hours ago Caitlin had been awakened by Ruth, wondering if her daughter was dead or alive. Now, by 9 AM, she was seemingly fine, and heading off to school. Caitlin knew she should be thrilled for the return to normalcy. But nothing felt normal to her anymore. Inside, she was trembling, sensing that far worse things could be coming down the road.

As they walked into the hospital atrium, a large, glass waiting room with soaring ceilings, huge shoots of bamboo, sunlight pouring through the glass and a large bubbling fountain in its center, Caleb seemed as happy as can be. She could sense he was determined to put all this behind them, to insist on things going back to normal. And that bothered her. It was like he was pretending that nothing unusual had happened.

“So is that it then?” she finally asked, as they crossed the huge, empty room, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. “We just drop Scarlet off at school and pretend nothing ever happened?”

Caitlin didn’t want to start a fight, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t just let this go.

“What else are we supposed to do?” he asked. “She said she’s fine. The doctor said she’s fine. The nurses say she’s fine. All the tests show that she’s fine. She doesn’t want to go back home. And I don’t blame her. Why should she sit alone in her room all day, lying in bed, when she wants to go to school?

“And frankly,” he added, “I think it’s a good idea. I think she should get on with her life. I think we all should,” he added, looking at Caitlin strangely, as if giving her a message. “It was a terrible day and night, not knowing where she was, or what really even happened. But she’s back to us. That’s all that matters. That’s all I care about. I want to put this behind us, and move forward. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t think it’s helpful for Scarlet to, either. I don’t want her to get some kind complex, to start worrying about herself, if she’s normal. I’m just so grateful that she’s back to us, and that she’s safe and healthy. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

As he stopped and turned to her, the morning light lit up his large brown eyes; in them, Caitlin saw hope, desperation, and a pleading for her to say that everything was fine again, that they would put it all behind them.

More than anything, Caitlin wanted to. As she looked into those eyes, she just wanted them to be happy. She really didn’t want to argue. But as much as she wanted to just shove this under the rug, she couldn’t. Her daughter’s life, her health—her future—was at stake. And so was the future of mankind. As unpleasant as it might be, she felt she had to get to the bottom of it.

“I don’t think she should be rushing back to school so quickly, regardless of what she says, or the doctor says,” Caitlin said, hearing the determination in her own voice as she tried to stay calm. “I think she needs further testing. This doctor is a part of the establishment. Maybe she needs to see an alternative doctor. A specialist.”

“What kind of specialist?” Caleb snapped back. “What kind of testing?”

Caitlin shrugged. She wished she knew. She wished there was someone who could give her the answers she wanted, someone who could prove to her that she wasn’t crazy. As Caleb looked at her, she could see in his eyes that he, too, thought she was losing it.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Caitlin said. “I’m not an expert. But there might be people who are.”

“An expert in what?” he pressed, impatient.

Caitlin was beginning to feel upset as she looked back at him.

“How can you just stand there and pretend that nothing happened in that room? You can tell the cops, and the doctor, whatever you want, but between you and me, between the two of us, you know what happened. You know what you saw.”

Caleb turned from her, impatient.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Oh yes you do,” Caitlin said. “You saw what happened to our daughter. You heard her snarl. She threw you across the room—and there’s still a dent to prove it!”

“So what!?” he snapped, at the end of his rope.

“How do you explain it?”

“You heard the doctor. Conversion syndrome. People get into altered states. They can do anything. It’s like a fit of hysteria, like he said. You hear stories of adrenaline rushes, of what people can do. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“That was no adrenaline rush! And that was not Conversion Syndrome!” Caitlin shot back, his voice rising.

“She had a high fever. She was in an altered state. It was like a form of sleepwalking,” he pleaded.

“That was not sleepwalking!”

“It doesn’t matter what you call it. Why harp on it? There is nothing wrong with our daughter!” Caleb yelled back, his voice rising several levels. His voice echoed in the big empty chamber, and the few people standing on the periphery turned their way.

Caitlin saw them looking, as did Caleb, and they both turned and looked away, embarrassed.

“I wish I could believe that,” Caitlin said, softly. “I really do. She might be okay for now. But she’s not okay. She needs help. And I’m going to find it for her. No matter what you say, or what she says.”

“Help for what?” Caleb retorted. “What exactly is it that you think she needs help from?”

“You know what it is. You know what I said. You can choose not to believe it, but you know it’s true.”

She saw hesitation in Caleb’s eyes size, but still, he pressed the question

“What is true?”

Finally, Caitlin lost it.

“OUR DAUGHTER IS A VAMPIRE!”

Caitlin’s shout rose to the glass ceiling, echoed throughout the room—and every person turned and stared.

Caleb turned and looked at them all, then lowered his head, embarrassed. Finally, he stepped up, and looked at Caitlin, right in the eyes. She stood there, shaking, rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do, how to feel.

Slowly, disapprovingly, he shook his head.

“The doctor was right,” he said. “You do need help.”

*

Caitlin, in a daze, drove slowly, Scarlet in the passenger seat, as she took her to school. Caleb had left for work, leaving Caitlin to drop her off, and she and Scarlet had been driving in silence for the last few minutes, as Caitlin watched the road, trying to process it all, while Scarlet sat in the front seat, glued to her phone, texting with several of her friends.

“Major damage control, mom,” she said. “I so wish you hadn’t called all my friends,” she sighed.

Caitlin didn’t know how to respond.

Scarlet checked her phone again. “I can still make second period,” she said. “That’s perfect. I don’t have my first test until fourth. I’m staying late today, don’t forget—soccer,” she said in a rush, as Caitlin pulled up before the main doors of the school.

Scarlet leaned over and kissed Caitlin on the cheek, as she opened the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really. Whatever it was, it was no big deal. Love you,” she said in a rush, jumping out before Caitlin could respond and rushing up the steps to the front doors of the school.

Caitlin watched her go with a sinking feeling in her chest. She felt so sad, so helpless, so terrified. There went Scarlet, her only daughter, the person she loved most in the world. She wanted to protect her. And to protect others.

She watched her go, all alone, up the steps to the empty school, and she wanted more than anything to believe that things were normal. But deep down, she knew they were not. As Scarlet closed the doors behind her, entered that building filled with thousands of kids, Caitlin couldn’t help but wonder: were those other kids in there trapped with her? How long would it be until the plague of vampirism spread?