Read Online Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor by HC Hammond - Free Book Online

for
help.
                “Sir, your friend
is fine,” the officer said; stopping his forward movement, hand outstretched,
“We need to take some blood.”
                “I can’t be here.”
The man whispers backing further away.
                “Sir.”
                “No.”
                Zeke turns and
runs for the nearest exit, far outpacing the cop in speed, but the patrolman
doesn’t even try to run after the guy.  He pulls his Taser gun and hits the man
in the back as he reaches the exit.
                He tenses,
falling to the ground in seizures, a quick duh, duh, duh erupting from his
mouth.  A nurse screams with delayed panic and suddenly everyone in the ER is
backing away from them in the hurry.  For a few moments, Harold relieves his
own experience with a Taser gun.  The jolt, the way every muscle in his body
spasms and shakes at once. The sharp, electric almost pain of 50,000 volts.
                The patrolman
leaves the Taser on far too long in Harold’s opinion before running up to the
guy.  His partner is behind him, Taser gun also drawn. 
                Zeke gets one
more quick shock for not rolling over fast enough for the cop’s preference.  He
finally gets on his belly, gasping for air, eyes wide and they slap cuffs on
his wrists, pulling him up on wobbly legs and dragging him back to his bed.   
                Seconds later,
the patrolman comes out of the partition and calls to Harold.  “You.  Blood
samples.”
                The emergency
room returns to its former quiet chaos.  A drunken and sedated Bill sleeps it
off, while handcuffed to the bed.  Nurses and doctors disappear back into the
woodwork from where they’d just appeared.  An orderly is called to clean up the
mess Bill made. 
                Harold took a
deep breath and retrieved his kit.  He followed the cop to the next partition
where Zeke sat on the bed, sobbing.  No recognition showed in man’s dull eyes
and no marks showed on his neck.  He was too focused on the fate those
confirmed blood tests would bring.  A vampire, in an accident with a recently
bit man and running from the cops.  It didn’t take a genius to connect the
dots.
                Harold drew the
blood.  He finished up with the man and told the cops a report would be ready
in about half an hour. Harold left, eager to get away from Zeke.
                The husky cop
nodded at Bill’s prone form on the bed, “You know, it is strange the guy
reacted so strongly to having his blood drawn,” he rubbed his scraggly chin
with a hand, “almost like he was scared to death of you.”
                Harold tucked his
gloves into a hospital waste bag.  “He’s probably afraid of needles.  You know
how people get.”
                “Vamps, you
mean.  Not people.”
                “Yeah.”  He left
the emergency room before the deputy could continue the conversation, blood
samples in hand and a cold sweat trickling down his back. 
                Harold slipped
down the hall, making random turns, not stopping until he reached the
administrative offices, with their dark rooms and locked doors.  Sweat
continued down his back and under his arms, staining the pits of his scrubs a
dark blue.  No one chased Harold from the ER.  No voice came over the intercom
signaling a hospital emergency in code.  Nothing, but a man crying in the ER a
few hundred feet away. 
                He was an
incredibly lucky bastard. 
                After the
adrenaline stopped pulsing through his veins and his pits were mostly dry, Harold
backtracked to the lab.  The immediate danger to himself over, but every person
who passed him in the hallway seemed to give him a distrustful look or wide
berth.  By the time he got back to the office where David played solitaire, a
new anxiousness