Vampires Anonymous: Special Delivery
 
by Susan M. Garrett
 
 
        "Anything else I can get for you, Dr. Lambert?"
        Natalie forced a smile at the engineer the hotel had
loaned to the conference, then ran her eye over the
equipment.  The slide projector was in place, as was the
media projector that would let her laptop display run on
the screen at the front of the small auditorium.  The small
refrigeration unit seemed to be working--she lifted the lid
of the unit and sighed, noting that all her blood samples
were still cold.
        "Everything seems to be okay, here," she said,
managing to fight down the nervous tremor in her voice.
"I don't think there's anything else you can do to help.
Unless you believe in divine intervention?"
        The engineer laughed as he started down the steps
to the stage.  "When the messenger shows, I'll send him in
here."
        "Thanks."
        After the man left, Natalie turned and faced the
empty auditorium.  She didn't mind giving the occasional
lecture at a conference--this one happening to be the North
American Conclave of Forensic Pathologists and Medical
Examiners--but she <did> like everything to be ready.  Her
speech was so well rehearsed she knew she could wander
from the topic to add spontaneity and <still> be right on
track a moment later.  The machinery worked--thanks to
the hotel engineer.
        But her slides and her computer presentation were
sitting on Nick's kitchen counter, in Toronto.
        The conference, unfortunately, was in Chicago.
        She'd phoned Nick not three hours ago, after
frantically searching her suitcases for the missing items.
Thankfully, it was just before sunset and he was still home.
        "Nick Knight--"
        "Nick?  This is Nat--"
        "Good, you made it.  How was your flight?  Your
speech is scheduled for--?"
        It wasn't like her to be rude--well, not <that> rude-
-but as this was an emergency . . . .
        "Is there an envelope on your kitchen counter, or
the couch, or something?" she asked, her voice fraught
with a mixture of hope and panic.
        "An envelope?"  There was a pause as he'd looked
through his apartment and she'd tapped her fingers on her
bedside table.  "Yeah--right here, in the kitchen.
        "Oh . . . damn."
        "Lemme guess--it's supposed to be with you?"
        "That's the bulk of my presentation!" she'd wailed.
"I was so worried about getting the blood samples across
the border and through Customs that I completely forgot--
"
        "When's you're talk?"
        "Tonight, at eight.  But there's no way you can get
them out to me.  If it was just text, you could fax it, but
the slides and then the presentation--"
        His voice had been calm, smooth, a little amused.
"I can get these to you, don't worry."
        "I guess I can see what Dr. Sanger has.  It won't be
the same.  If worse comes to worse I can just can--"  She'd
been stunned, her mind still whirling through every option
and contingency plan she could come up with to cover the
loss of those items, so that she'd barely heard him.  "What
did you say?"
        "I'll get them to you.  I have the address of the
hotel.  Your room number is--?"
        "415.  Although have them call from the desk,
because I'll probably be setting up the--Nick, there's no
way you're going to get those out here on time!"
        "Nat--trust me on this, okay.  Now get off the
phone, I have to make some arrangements.  And call me
later, I want to know how your speech went."
        "Yeah.  All right.  Thanks.  But I just don't--"
        The line had gone dead.
        Logic told her there was no way even Nick would
be able to come through on this one.  Logic said she
should 'fess up to the chairman of the presentation
committee and have him announce the cancellation of her
speech.  Logic said--
        Logic had a big mouth.  Logic wasn't one of fifteen
women at a conference of three hundred male forensic
pathologists and medical examiners.  Logic wasn't one of
three women scheduled to give presentations.
        So she'd continued as if everything was there.  And
everything <was> . . . except for her slides and her
presentation.
        A sound at the back of the room caused her to look
up.  There was a young man at the door.  "Dr. Lambert?"
        "Yes?"
        "I have a package for you, ma'am?"
        Natalie felt like leaping off the stage and yelling
'goodie!" at the top of her lungs.  Instead, she managed to
keep her smile down to a blinding gleam and stayed where
she was.
        The messenger was dressed in a black uniform,
which was accented with silver piping.  He carried an
electronic clipboard and a long, flat black parcel, which
couldn't be anything other than her presentation materials.
        She almost snatched the package from his fingers
as he handed it to her, then proceeded to tear at the little
'pull here' slip on the outer envelope.  Inside was her large
envelope.  And her disks.  And her slides.  And a note
from Nick, asking if she'd seen a doctor lately about her
lapses in short term memory.
        Smart-ass.
        "If you'd sign here, ma'am?"
        Natalie took the clipboard from the messenger and
scrawled her name in the space with the stylus.  Relief
flooded through her--this wasn't going to be the disaster
she'd imagined.  Thanks to Nick.
        After handing the clipboard back to the messenger,
she placed both hands on the envelope and sighed.  But
then she looked at it.  <Really> look at it.
        It could have belonged to any express delivery
company--the envelope a rich black, the company logo (a
package with bat wings) and motto in silver.
        'Vampire Express'
        'We don't need no stinkin' planes'
        For some reason, she gulped.  Then she looked up
at the young man.  He hadn't left yet.  Of course he hadn't
left yet--he was waiting for a tip.
        Her purse was up in her room.  With her wallet.
And her cash.
        Natalie looked down at the envelope in her hands
again.  Vampire Express?  Maybe she <hadn't> imagined
that slightly gold cast to his eyes.
        Very calmly, she walked over to her refrigeration
case and withdrew one of the normal, human blood
samples she'd brought with her--it was a small bag, plastic.
        "Thanks," she said, handing over the bag, ready to
pretend that this was all a big joke, if she'd guessed wrong.
        She hadn't.  His eyes opened wide as he took the
bag and he smiled, the edges of his fangs showing.
"Thanks ma'am.  Hope everything goes well for you."
        "I'm sure it will, now that I've got this."
        She was certain he hadn't heard her, as he tucked
the bag inside his uniform jacket and headed for the door .
. . and, no doubt, a discreet place in which to savor his
'tip.'
        Natalie, however, dove straight into her work,
booting up the laptop and then arranging the slides, not
really wanting to think about it.  Although she did know
that she would absolutely, positively, never <ever> forget
to bring her presentation with her again.
        And if she did . . . she'd rely on something more
mundane than Vampire Express.
 
***********************************
 (Don't blame me, I was taking a shower.)
 
SusanG2522@aol.com