across his own hand, to make sure the spectrum hadn’t changed somehow, and had to yank his hand away when the skin started to burn.
His achievement brought a smile to his face. Heloved science, loved the process of experimentation and discovery. Losing his humanity hadn’t taken away that pleasure.
He now waited for the day to break. In one of the old man’s kitchen drawers, he found a ball of rough brown twine, and he tied a loop in the end, fed the rat through the loop, and tightened it around the creature’s middle. With the string on it, he could feed the rat enough to walk out into the sun, and could reel it back in if it tried to go where he couldn’t keep an eye on it.
Opening the back door, he stood back from the encroaching sunlight and let the little guy go.
The rat darted out so fast Larry almost lost the ball of twine. He fumbled with it, hung on to it, and slowed the rat’s progress by feeding string out at a more measured pace.
The rat twitched its whiskers, glanced up as if checking to be sure the sun was high enough in the sky, and kept going. Its fur didn’t burst into flames, or even smolder. Larry could feel the grin spread across his face as he watched the rat go farther and farther into the light.
Then the rat froze with its front paws elevated just off the ground. An instant later, Larry heard the reason why. A dog, snarling and barking, bounded toward it with teeth bared. The rat held its ground as the dog neared, and at the last second, when it looked as if the dog would chomp into him, the dog hesitated. Larryhad the twine taut, ready to yank the rat back if need be, but he was curious now. What had given the dog pause? The fact that the rat hadn’t tried to retreat?
Larry gave the rat a little slack, and the rodent charged the dog, a spaniel easily three or four times its size. The dog yelped and then launched into a snarling, crooning wail, shaking and pawing at the rat, but the rat had a grip on its throat and wouldn’t let go. Larry fed it as much twine as it needed.
A minute later, the dog was still, lying on its side in the grass. Larry gave a gentle tug on the twine, to bring the rat back so he could look it over.
The rat pulled back. Larry tugged harder, but the rat jerked the other way with enough force to snap the twine. Suddenly free, it tore off faster than Larry’s eye could even follow.
You’ve earned your freedom, buddy,
he thought.
Go and prosper.
You may be the first of your kind, but I’m guessing you won’t be the last.
8
T HE NEXT MEDIA PERSONALITY to die was Marlene Beljac, an editorial writer for
The New York Times
who had, the day after James Callahan’s death, published a piece entitled “If They Walk Among Us, Why Don’t We Know It?” She argued that the uproar about vampires was almost certainly manufactured by some human faction—subtly suggesting, although not outright claiming, that Islamic terrorists were to blame. Had vampires existed all along, she reasoned, they couldn’t have remained hidden from the world’s mainstream population. Therefore they weren’t real and the only thing to get worked up about was finding out what set of thugs had actually murdered the TV pundit.
Beljac’s husband, who slept in a separate bedroom, found her when she didn’t get up at her usual time in the morning. Her legs and hips were on her bed, torso and arms hanging off. Her head had been savagely torn from her body. The room should have been flooded with blood but there was hardly any there.
After that came Madison Keller, a liberal news show host who had invited four vampire “experts” on her show, but then shouted down the right-wing guest whocalled vampires “Dempires” and claimed they were led by undead members of the Kennedy clan. In return, Keller suggested that someone exhume Prescott Bush and make sure he was still in his grave. Keller’s drained body was left in the walk-in cooler of an all-night grocery in SoHo, discovered by a clerk
His achievement brought a smile to his face. Heloved science, loved the process of experimentation and discovery. Losing his humanity hadn’t taken away that pleasure.
He now waited for the day to break. In one of the old man’s kitchen drawers, he found a ball of rough brown twine, and he tied a loop in the end, fed the rat through the loop, and tightened it around the creature’s middle. With the string on it, he could feed the rat enough to walk out into the sun, and could reel it back in if it tried to go where he couldn’t keep an eye on it.
Opening the back door, he stood back from the encroaching sunlight and let the little guy go.
The rat darted out so fast Larry almost lost the ball of twine. He fumbled with it, hung on to it, and slowed the rat’s progress by feeding string out at a more measured pace.
The rat twitched its whiskers, glanced up as if checking to be sure the sun was high enough in the sky, and kept going. Its fur didn’t burst into flames, or even smolder. Larry could feel the grin spread across his face as he watched the rat go farther and farther into the light.
Then the rat froze with its front paws elevated just off the ground. An instant later, Larry heard the reason why. A dog, snarling and barking, bounded toward it with teeth bared. The rat held its ground as the dog neared, and at the last second, when it looked as if the dog would chomp into him, the dog hesitated. Larryhad the twine taut, ready to yank the rat back if need be, but he was curious now. What had given the dog pause? The fact that the rat hadn’t tried to retreat?
Larry gave the rat a little slack, and the rodent charged the dog, a spaniel easily three or four times its size. The dog yelped and then launched into a snarling, crooning wail, shaking and pawing at the rat, but the rat had a grip on its throat and wouldn’t let go. Larry fed it as much twine as it needed.
A minute later, the dog was still, lying on its side in the grass. Larry gave a gentle tug on the twine, to bring the rat back so he could look it over.
The rat pulled back. Larry tugged harder, but the rat jerked the other way with enough force to snap the twine. Suddenly free, it tore off faster than Larry’s eye could even follow.
You’ve earned your freedom, buddy,
he thought.
Go and prosper.
You may be the first of your kind, but I’m guessing you won’t be the last.
8
T HE NEXT MEDIA PERSONALITY to die was Marlene Beljac, an editorial writer for
The New York Times
who had, the day after James Callahan’s death, published a piece entitled “If They Walk Among Us, Why Don’t We Know It?” She argued that the uproar about vampires was almost certainly manufactured by some human faction—subtly suggesting, although not outright claiming, that Islamic terrorists were to blame. Had vampires existed all along, she reasoned, they couldn’t have remained hidden from the world’s mainstream population. Therefore they weren’t real and the only thing to get worked up about was finding out what set of thugs had actually murdered the TV pundit.
Beljac’s husband, who slept in a separate bedroom, found her when she didn’t get up at her usual time in the morning. Her legs and hips were on her bed, torso and arms hanging off. Her head had been savagely torn from her body. The room should have been flooded with blood but there was hardly any there.
After that came Madison Keller, a liberal news show host who had invited four vampire “experts” on her show, but then shouted down the right-wing guest whocalled vampires “Dempires” and claimed they were led by undead members of the Kennedy clan. In return, Keller suggested that someone exhume Prescott Bush and make sure he was still in his grave. Keller’s drained body was left in the walk-in cooler of an all-night grocery in SoHo, discovered by a clerk
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