You're Just My Type

                         THURSDAY 

       Minerva saw from her GPS that St.Peter's was only a half-mile away as she approached the place with dread. She lived only three miles uptown, but always liked the security of punching in her destination regardless of the distance. It was especially comforting on dark and rainy nights such as this. She thought with wry humor, “I could get lost in a paper bag.”

        Her thoughts wandered as part of her brain and the navigational system took over the driving. The task of spending another horrific night trying to persuade her French Great-Grandmother, Grandmere, to be calm and not keep the entire fifth floor awake was daunting.

        Minerva snapped back to reality as her co-pilot announced, “You have arrived at your destination.”

        She could barely see the hospital as the driving rain hit her windshield and obscured her view. She leapt up from her seat and pushed against her seat belt, shocked to see a figure clad in a black raincoat with hood, directing her to the parking garage. He repeatedly pointed with a red laser flare to guide her to the entrance. 

      “This is really strange. They haven't had a parking attendant in all my visits here,” she thought.

          As she pulled into the structure, the normally well-lit area was devoid of any lighting except for the Honda's headlights. 

       The toll gate and security barrier were gone and were replaced by an identically dressed and equipped guide -just like the one posted outside. Minerva started to roll down her window to ask what was going on, but the man held up his left hand in a “halt “ gesture and directed her forward with the red laser in his right. She was unable to see his face with the dark hood pulled all around his head. 

         As she drove forward about fifty yards at a snail’s pace, the headlights, phone and GPS suddenly went dead, bathing Minerva and the Honda in total darkness. She could hear her heart thumping in her chest and felt her pulse racing like a thoroughbred as the routine act of parking her car was turning into something more ominous. She summoned a primal scream from her brain, throat and gut. Nothing came out except a hoarse croak.

         Yet another parking attendant emerged from the darkness, this time equipped with a very powerful search light. He walked beside her car with the light acting as a beacon, guiding her slowly forward and inward to an uncertain destination. 

           Minerva's brain raced, panicking about this sudden rapid development that was proceeding at a mind-numbing crawl. 

       As she toyed with various escape plans, she couldn't get around the fact that she would have to turn around and make her way back to the entrance, with or without the Honda, in total darkness. She had no idea if the cloaked figure was armed, or what he would do if she tried to make a run for it. Minerva could feel chilly sweat under her arms and on her scalp. Instinctively, she patted a lock of her newly-touched up black hair. Her blonde roots had started to show and she sprayed black instant hair dye to cover them up a few hours ago. Minerva hoped it wasn't running down her face the same way she had once seen happen to a well-known politician. 

        An escape seemed to be taken off the list of options, as two more hooded figures joined their oddball party. Minerva meekly submitted to her fate, inching slowly forward. Even at the slow pace, she got the distinct impression they were going downward into uncharted territory underneath the parking garage. After a guesstimate of twenty minutes, a few tight turns, and a last steep descent, Minerva was at her destination.

          Minerva's three escorts lightly rapped on the Honda's front and side windows and each held up a hand with the “stop” signal. They made jerking motions with their thumbs, giving her the implicit order to exit the car. She put the Honda in park, turned the key to off, removed it from the ignition, opened the driver's side door and stepped out. She noted how her hands and legs shook without the support the car offered. 

            One of the attendants pointed at the keys in her curled-up fist. As she handed them over, she noticed his hands were huge and powerful but very pale with long fingernails. He hopped in and started it up. The headlights were now working and he performed a tight three-point turn, driving in the direction of the entrance. 

       As Minerva and her companions walked further into the abyss, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The light thrown off by the sabers and the increasing brightness ahead allowed her to better see her surroundings. The man-made structure of the garage gave way to a prehistoric cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites. Minerva temporarily lost her fear to admire their beauty. 

            When Minerva cast her eyes upward, she let out a bone chilling scream. Hundreds of huge bats hanging upside down stared at the party. They seemed to have human-like features with varying expressions of hate, greed and envy in their huge eyes. 

            Minerva sank to the ground and the two grabbed each hand, pressing their long fingernails into her wrists, almost drawing blood. They half-dragged her into the dim light. They each reached into their cloaks , pulled out sunglasses and put them on. 

         Minerva saw that she was in a makeshift emergency room, with about a dozen unconscious people who seemed to be donating blood. She had given a few times herself and this setup looked similar. Two people in black cloaks were overseeing the operation and collecting the full bags. 

         One of the figures noticed them and made his way over. He signaled her two bodyguards and pointed to two stretchers that held people who had completed their withdrawals. Without a word, they scurried off, grabbed the beds and started pushing them in the direction of the entrance. 

            Minerva saw the “Doctor “ had handsome features and blonde hair slicked back under his hood. She couldn't see his eyes as he also wore black shades. He was tall and had the large hands and long fingernails of his companions. She noticed that his teeth were unusually sharp and white. 

           He said, “I'm very glad to meet you, Minerva. My name is Boris and I'll be supervising your donation.” His voice was calm and soothing. It reminded her of the hypnotist she once visited to overcome her fear of flying. Minerva began to relax. 

             Boris asked, “How is your Grandmere? She's a feisty thing. Have you decided yet whether she's going to a nursing facility or are you going to care for her at home? The question of what to do is so burdensome.”

        Minerva smoothed her hair and was grateful for Boris’ concern.The nurses and social workers were less understanding than Boris as they impatiently pressured her for a decision. Almost in a trance, she replied, “No clear answer yet. “

           Boris said, “You're wise in taking your time. I'm going to take two pints of your blood. I believe you're AB negative-a valuable, rare type indeed. After this donation, we won't require you to give any more, unless you desire it, of course.”

          Minerva followed him sheep-like to an empty cot. She lay down and he placed a warm blanket over her torso. 

            Boris stood over the bed and said in a gentle voice, “I'll conduct the procedure in the old fashioned way." He bent over her body and pulled her hair away from her neck. 

            Minerva felt the sharp bite of Boris’ fangs but felt no fear. She lost consciousness and knew no more until morning. 

                      FRIDAY

        Minerva woke up in her own bed, with no memory of the events of the previous night. She felt tired and drained, and tried to remember if she even visited Grandmere. As she focused, she could only recall driving into the hospital entrance but nothing else. 

     She dragged herself out of bed and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. Her pale complexion was drained of color and her eyes were bloodshot. 

          “I must be coming down with something. I'll take a personal day to rest up and save my strength to battle Grandmere and the nurses later. They're probably pissed because I promised I'd visit last night.”

          Minerva grabbed her cell, checked her messages, called in sick for work, devoured a breakfast bar and went straight back to bed. 

         A brain fog prevented Minerva from remembering the night before, but also provided protection from getting upset about her memory loss. As she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of a huge dark bird carrying her above the Albany skyline. 

           Minerva didn't wake up until 6PM and marveled that she slept so soundly. She wolfed down another protein bar. but wasn't thirsty. The running water of the shower normally made her feel refreshed, but now made her nauseous. As she applied her makeup, she noticed the angry red marks on her neck. The brain fog rolled in again and she hardly wondered how they got there. She threw on some comfy clothes for the hospital, hopped in her Honda, told GPS her destination and started on her short drive. 

     Minerva pulled into the mammoth concrete parking garage of St.Peter's Hospital, drove past dozens of available spots and made her way upwards in tight circles until she was on the sixth-floor roof level. Every space was available and she parked her Honda in the place that afforded the best view of the Catskill Mountains. 

         She grabbed her water bottle from the cup holder out of habit and put it back without taking as much as a sip.

      Minerva sighed and got out of her car to take in the beauty of the Pink Moon rising as the darkness overtook the light. She remembered to reach in her glove compartment to retrieve her sunglasses as even the fading sunlight bothered her eyes. It bathed the hospital, buildings, trees, and mountains in a gentle, yellowish glow, not unlike a very low wattage light bulb. Minerva thought the effect ethereal and much preferable to the harsh light of day.

       Minerva saw an article on her phone that the full moon in April was called the Pink Moon because Native Americans associated the phenomenon with the blossoming of the Phlox subulata, a pink wildflower. 

        She wasn't too impressed with that fact but with the more spiritual aspect of its symbolism of reconnecting with the natural world and the ability of each person to do a reset. Minerva said quietly, “I'm not sure why, but somehow I feel like I've done more than a little tweaking and changing up a few things. Although I can't account for it, it's like taking a leap without a rope or safety harness, and there's no going back. “

         Two huge black birds swooped and dipped in the sky, defying gravity and using their internal navigation systems to conquer the darkening landscape. Minerva whispered, “Eagles?”

        As she studied them further, she exclaimed in a low voice, “No, much better! Turkey Vultures! They must smell the dead and dying.”

        Minerva saw them a few times in her travels. Once she saw them lined up on a barn rooftop and another time heaped on the carcass of a dead deer in a farmer's field. Their large dark bodies jockeyed for position as each fought for the lion's share of the rotting flesh. She thought them wonderful. 

          Minerva admired the fact that they don't kill the animals they feast on but only eat what is already dead-nature's great recyclers. She was a thrift store addict herself and her all black wardrobe was mostly second-hand.

         Minerva was enchanted that Turkey Vultures pee on their own legs to keep cool and ward off infection. She thought with envy of how convenient it would be to not have life interrupted constantly to make a bathroom trip or hold the urge back for long periods.

         Minerva watched the birds circle in lopsided swoops and land at the other end of the lot. She wondered why they ventured into the city and what kind of carrion they might be feasting on. The dying light even with the gentle incandescent Pink Moon prevented her from seeing more and her thoughts returned to the reason why she was there. 

       Minerva carried on a one-way conversation with herself. “What is to be done with Grandmere? Can I get a leave of absence from work while Hospice and I take care of her at home? She keeps cursing me out in French when the nursing home is discussed. I don't know what to do.”

           Minerva jumped up on the hood of the Honda and leaned back against the front window. She closed her green eyes and thought about her dysfunctional family history. 

        Grandmere was the eldest of the line and was a wizened, wrinkled peanut of a woman at the ripe old age of 100. She was a French World War 2 bride who was sent stateside by her adoring American GI Joe still in the thick of the war. He was killed in action and left her with a decent bank account, widow's pension and an unwanted pregnancy-Minerva's Grandmother, Nicole. 

              Nicole came of age in the 60's. She rebelled against Grandmere's strict rules and religion, traveling around the country for sex, drugs and rock and roll. When she became a single mother to Noel, she settled down and got a steady job.

         Unfortunately, Noel got addicted to drugs in her late teens and became pregnant with Minerva after she hooked up with somebody she met in rehab. Noel died of an overdose when Minerva was six, leaving Nicole to raise her. 

            Nicole and Minerva seldom saw Grandmere due to her unpleasant disposition. Nicole was one of the millions who died of COVID. The old peanut Grandmere outlived her daughter and granddaughter and now depended on Minerva after she suffered a mild stroke a few weeks ago.

           Minerva inhaled a deep breath of the now dark crispy air and thought, “What to do? What to do ?” Her thoughts were dark as she walked to the hospital and mentally prepared for the long night ahead. 

           Minerva entered Grandmere's room to find all kinds of drama going on. The nurses had put mittens on her hands to keep her from tampering with the intravenous hook-ups. Nonetheless, Grandmere ripped the plastic tube in half, earning the healthy respect of the staff. She was screaming bloody murder in French and sent the paper cup containing her sedative flying. The second try was a charm, and Grandmere fell asleep as the pill worked its magic. 

          The charge nurse came in and was gentle but firm with Minerva. She said, “She won't be able to stay here much longer. The paperwork for the next stage of her care must be filled out Monday.” She gave Minerva's shoulder a sympathetic pat and left the room. 

             Minerva cried quietly to herself and she never felt so alone, even though her life was lonely indeed. Generations of their line had no extended family, kept to themselves and had difficulty forming deep attachments. Growing up, Minerva envied her classmates who had parents, siblings, and lots of relatives. A sense of belonging and large support system was foreign to her experience. Although she often wanted to reach out to others, something held her back. 

           As she went to use the bathroom, she noticed the sleeping patient in the other bed was receiving a blood transfusion. Unable to control her compulsion, she ripped a hole in the bag with her key and put her mouth on the opening, sucking greedily. 

         As the thin line of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, she heard a gentle rapping at the window. It was a huge bat speaking with Boris’ hypnotic voice, “Minerva, let me in.”

           Just as Minerva was unable to control her impulsive act of a few minutes ago, she was compelled to open the window for Boris. 

          In the blink of an eye, he transformed into vampire form, still wearing his sunglasses. Eyeing the red trickle on her face he said, “I see you've acquired the taste of our lifestyle. We have colonies of followers all over the world and you'll no longer be burdened with the limits and constraints of the human race. 

          Minerva was ready to take the leap but a twinge of guilt held her back. “What about Grandmere?,” she asked. 

          Boris said, “Relax, we'll take her with us. Let's finish your transformation first.”

        Before Minerva could react, Boris grabbed Minerva and whipped off his sunglasses. His eyes were devoid of pupils and only the bright white sclera was visible. Boris clapped his long fingers over Minerva's mouth as she started to scream. His long white fangs clamped onto her neck as he drained her body of the precious blood. She fell lifeless to the floor. 

           Grandmere woke from her stupor, sensing the uproar in the room. As Boris approached her bed, she clutched her cross and yelled, “Le mal ! Evil ! “ Her heart stopped beating and she died instantly. 

           Boris surveyed her dead body and said, “ Thank God we don't have to deal with this old bat !”

          He walked into the hallway, retrieved the spare cot with wheels and pushed it into the room. He picked up the unconscious Minerva and gently placed her on it. 

        Boris put his sunglasses on, wheeling the gurney out of the room and past the nurses’ desk. 

           Charge Nurse Amy looked up from her paperwork and said, “Hello Boris ! Nice to see you again. Have a new member? “

          Boris smiled and nodded. He said, “I think she'll fit in very well. She's AB negative. By the way, Grandmere just met her maker.”

        Amy said, “Thanks so much! Peace and quiet at last!”

         Boris gave her a toothy grin as he pushed Minerva down the hall.