Apparently I had become some sort of minor celebrity.
The press, labeling me a hero wanted interviews which my spokesperson, whomever that was, had been refusing due to my "critical" condition and I noticed that my door was guarded. Even my parents, who had flown over on an emergency visa, had not been allowed to visit me for more than a few minutes a day and had never been alone. So I was startled when on my last day in the hospital a young woman breezed past my guard and entered my room alone.
I studied her as she quietly closed the door behind her. She looked to be in her early 20's, was dressed in a man’s business suit and carried an unquestionable air of confidence and authority that can only be bred by generations of elitism and class consciousness. There were no preliminary niceties; she came directly to the point.
"We have to decide what to do with you."
"Oh?" I said trying to sound casual but suddenly very apprehensive. I had recognized that voice at once. She was the angry shadow figure who had stood in my doorway and seemed to resent my not being dead.
"Yes." she said. "Here is the problem. As far as the public is concerned, the theater was attacked by an obscure sect of religious zealots bent on bringing on the end of days by massacring a large group of innocents. These zealots, who were armed, would not surrender. Several civilians had already been killed. The remaining hostages were in immediate danger so the police were forced to open fire. None of the suspects survived. Those who weren’t shot committed suicide. It’s truly a wonder more people weren’t killed."
She paused, locking gazes with me. "If it weren’t for the actions of a brave few, who kept their heads.......Who knows how many more would have died."
I stared at her in disbelief, mouth open no idea what to say. Surely no one would believe this story. People had been torn apart! And eaten!
She seemed to read my mind. "This is, anyway, what we have told the press and they are running with it. ‘Slaughter of the Innocents’ they are calling it. ‘Cult of Death’. Very heady stuff. Still making front page news I’m afraid."
"But, witnesses, surely..."
"Most of the survivors were not in there very long. They were frightened and confused. It was easy enough to convince them they saw guns and knives. After all, there are no such things as ghouls and vampires. What sane person would believe in that these days? No, they are no problem. They don’t want to believe the truth and we can control the press but you, you are a problem. You were exposed for far too long and saw too much to be convinced our cover story is true."
"Then, there is whatever it was that Alucard did to you. We're not even certain if you are still human. You are quite the liability."
Frightened and angry I blurted out, "I am so sorry that my not dying has interfered with your ridiculous little cover story! I don’t know who you are or what government agency you're with but I do know when someone is trying to intimidate me. Too many people would miss me if I just disappeared and if you had wanted me dead outright, an air bubble in this IV any time over the last week or so would have worked just fine. I did not ask for any of this, so stop trying to scare me and tell me what you want!"
The woman narrowed her eyes. ‘Oh my God she is going to kill me’ I thought. Then she relaxed slightly and said. "I am simply stating the facts." She paused to light a small cigar, exhaled and smiled sardonically. "Of course you are correct in that if we had wanted you dead, you would be so already. Still, we can't allow you to jeopardize public safety..."
‘Who is this woman?’ I thought.
"I want to be sure you understand you position before I make this offer."
"Offer?" OK, here it comes.
"Yes. We don’t wish to detain you against your will but we can't allow you to leave our care until we are sure you are not a danger to others."
"Danger to others?" I asked, completely taken aback.
"Alucard seems to think you may be of some use to us." She continued, ignoring my question.
"Danger to others?!" I shouted.
"I don’t think you fully comprehend what has happened to you. You have survived a vampire attack. You suffered injuries from which you should not have recovered. You have been brought back to life by the powers of the undead but seem to have become neither a ghoul nor a vampire. We are still not certain what precisely it was that Alucard did to you. We are not even sure that you are still human."
"What! Have you lost your mind? Of course I am human!"
"How do we know you’re human?"
"Look at me! I’m human! Don’t you think I would know if I wasn’t human?"
"Not necessarily. You could be unaware or in denial of your state."
"No!"
"How can we know you’re still human?"
"I’m telling you, I would know!"
"Ah, but would you tell us if you weren’t? After seeing what happened to the other undead?"
"After seeing what the undead did in that theater, I wouldn’t wait for you to kill me. I would do it myself. "
"An admirable position" she said smiling tightly though a thin could of smoke. "But how do we know it is a true one?"
"Ask your monster, what was his name again?"
"Alucard"
"Alucard. Ask him what I said when he offered to save my life. When I thought he was going to make me like him! Like that, THING that killed those children!"
The woman made a noncommittal gesture. "Nevertheless..."
"I flopped back on my pillow panting with pain and anger. "So what is it that you want from me?"
"I’d like to offer you a job."
"A job?"
"Yes."
"A job?"
"Yes."
"What do you mean ‘a job’?"
"A job is an assigned task or tasks for which one often receives monetary compensation."
Ha, ha, ha. I thought, giving her my best "Yes, you are a funny bitch." smile but said nothing.
She opened a file folder up that she was holding and flipped through the contents. "I see you have worked in both public and academic libraries and have some customer service skills, supposedly." She glanced at me quizzically.
I said nothing. Just sat there with a fixed smile on my face, concentrating on trying to make her head explode.
"I thought perhaps we would offer you a position in the library, re-cataloging our private collection."
"Really?" I asked perking up a bit. "What kind of catalog system are you currently using? Dewy decimal, Library of Congress perhaps?"
She made an annoyed gesture. "That’s not important. The library job is just a story for the press to keep everyone happy. We just want to keep you under observation for a few months. There is no real job!"
Damn her. Why isn’t her head exploding?
"You may want to dress. There is a press conference scheduled in one hour where we will announce your decision to stay in London for six months while you recover as a guest of your new employer. Your bags have already been sent from the hotel to the estate and arrangements have been made for your family to return to the United States this afternoon. You leave the hospital in two hours."
"I haven’t even agreed to ‘work’ for you yet."
"You have a choice?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do!" you evil non-head exploding... "As you say, the press will be here in an hour, so it is important that I say what you want me to say. I made a promise back in that theater. A promise to uphold his end of whatever bargain was made that night. I do not intend to break that promise but..."
"But?"
"But, I made that promise to God and that man, NOT to you. Frankly, I don’t like your tactics and I certainly don’t trust you so I will only agree to your ‘offer' on two conditions."
"Which are?"
"First, I want to speak to the American consulate.
"We have anticipated this. A representative from the embassy is waiting outside."
"Wait! There is a specific person I want to speak to."
"And this would be?"
I racked my brain. What was his name again? Oh yes! "Bloomfield, Richard Bloomfield."
She glanced down into the file. "Ah yes, the clerk who helped you with your visa stamp error when you first arrived. I see you do not trust us to provide you with an authentic emissary? "
"Not really."
She glanced again at the folder, smiled smugly then reached over to put out her cigar in an ashtray sitting on the table by the door.
An ashtray in a hospital? Where had that come from? I could have sworn it had not been there before.
"Yes," she said "Walter anticipated this also. Mr. Bloomfield is waiting outside with the ambassador."
Walter?
"Your second condition?"
"I want to talk to my family, alone. I want to try to explain to my son...I want to talk to him, see him before...I want him to know I am not abandoning him. I will tell him why, not you."
"Your...?" She stopped herself, frowned and looked in the folder. "You will not tell them the particulars of what happened?"
"Do I look like a woman who would jeopardize the lives of my family? Do I look that stupid?"
"Very well."
"And I want to be able to promise him that I will call him every night before his bed time. Every night, no exception."
"Fine. If that’s everything then." She snapped the file shut. "I will send for the ambassador. You really should get dressed. You don’t have much time."
"But."
"Something else?"
"The clothes I came in are covered in blood and my bags have been forwarded to um..."
"The Hellsing estate."
"The Hellsing estate (Hellsing, are you kidding me?) What am I supposed to wear?"
"We thought you might want something other than a hospital gown to wear when you left so Walter selected an outfit for you when we moved your things. It’s hanging in the bathroom."
Who is this Walter person?
"So if there is nothing else?"
I ground my teeth, defeated. Her head was just not going to explode, but mine was getting close.
"Yes actually, there is miss...miss..."
"Hellsing. Sir, Hellsing actually.
Sir Hellsing. Of course you are. "If I do, in fact, turn out to be... well, undead."
"Yes?"
"I ask that you kill me right away. Don’t observe me or run tests. Don’t allow me to become like those things in the theater. Don’t let me...just, kill me."
She seemed slightly taken aback. Perhaps even a little less smug. She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, nodded then strode out the door lighting another cigar as she went.
