The Fearing_Book Three_Air and Dust by John F. D. Taff

Author:John F. D. Taff [Taff, John F. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Matter Press
Published: 2019-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

— 26 —

Awake in the Hospital.

Mark and Monday Picnic.

Enter Tim Jacoby.

Mark snapped awake as if a switch inside him had been flipped. He was in a bed that sat high, in unfamiliar surroundings. He found it hard to place just exactly where he was.

He heard someone calling a name, and he glanced over to see Monday. She looked down at him, smiled, called out that name again, this time a bit more stridently.

"Dr. Cunningham! He's awake!"

Mark sat up a little in the bed, a hospital bed. Inside the hospital tent. But why was he here? He felt great, fantastic.

Cunningham entered, relieved but frazzled, and stood beside Mark's bed.

"So, the hero of Camp Straggalot awakens," the doctor said, taking his wrist and checking his heart rate, searching his eyes. "Can't say I've ever been as happy to see someone awake and alive. You are alive, aren't you?"

"Sure, I'm alive. I mean, why wouldn't I be?" Mark asked. "What happened? Is everything okay? Am I okay?"

Cunningham turned to Monday. "Kiddo, you been here all night watching over him, but even angels need to sleep. Why don’tcha find someone to cook you up something, then grab a nap? You earned it."

Monday looked weary, exhausted even, but she hesitated.

"Look, don’t make me pull a 'let the adults talk' here. Go on," he nodded to her. "He's all right, I promise."

When she was gone, Cunningham plopped onto the corner of the bed, sighed heavily.

"How you feeling, Reverend?"

"Please, Doctor. Just Mark is fine."

"After last night? No sir. Reverend it's gonna be. What do you remember?"

Mark remembered bits and pieces of things that made no sense—flying things, blood, blue lightning. Then one memory rose from the rest. Dr. Gaines’s body lying twisted on the ground, blood darkening her features.

"Are you the only doctor left?" he asked.

"Yes, Margaret—Dr. Gaines—is dead, killed last night by… At least I don't have to worry much about my doctor-to-patient ratio increasing because about half the camp is either dead or missing this morning."

"What in the name of God happened?"

"You really don't remember? Vampires? Your cross? Blue fire shooting from it?"

"I remember some, but it's all jumbled. Doesn’t make much sense. But vampires?"

Cunningham chuckled, removed his glasses and polished the lenses on his rucked shirt. "Oh, yes. Most definitely vampires. Old school ones, long fangs, sucking blood, the whole thing. Are you ignoring the whole part about you and your cross and your…I don't know what…fire of God?"

"No," he said. "But I can't deal with that right now. You said half the camp is dead?"

"Dead or missing. If you think vampires were the weirdest part of what happened last night, you'd be wrong. Oh, so wrong. The vampires killed plenty, but we've got reports of, well, of things that make the vampires look tame by comparison."

"What about me? Am I all right?"

Cunningham stood. "Looks like it. Kept you here last night because, well, mostly because this is where you collapsed. But also because I wanted to keep you for observation, until we could make sure you were okay.

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