THIRTY-FOUR
The belief that sunlight will cause a vampire to
immediately disintegrate, or burst into flames, appears to have
originated with the film Nosferatu (1922). It should be
noted that this idea does not appear in the folklore of vampires
until after the film. Rather, vampires in folklore were vastly
weakened during the day—and a full day of exposure to direct
sunlight was often considered the way to kill a vampire. Our own
investigations bear out that hypothesis. Direct sunlight
debilitates the subject, causing him great pain and increasing
weakness. (Simulated UV lights will weaken but not completely
incapacitate him.) The proteins in the subject’s cells that
ordinarily repair damage appear to switch off, and prolonged
exposure would most likely result in subject’s blood and tissues
desiccating and breaking down completely, causing coma, total
bodily shutdown and irreversible death. However, even out of direct
sunlight, subject’s abilities are reduced during the day. His
strength wanes to that of five men (bench press = 1,000 lbs.), and
his reflexes are only twice as fast as an average human’s. In
addition, if he does not rest in a comalike state in complete
darkness for at least 12 hours roughly every seven days, he will
grow steadily weaker.
—BRIEFING BOOK: CODENAME: NIGHTMARE PET
Zach woke on the bed. He hadn’t reset his
watch since D.C., so he had no idea of the time.
He rolled over—and saw Cade standing there. He
snapped up, limbs flailing. “Jesus Christ!”
“We’ve talked about that,” Cade said.
Zach eased himself back to the bed. “Maybe it would
help if you didn’t loom over my bed while I’m sleeping.”
“I heard you wake up. Your breathing
changed.”
“Well. That makes it all better. What time is
it?”
“Daytime. Let me know when you’re dressed,” Cade
said. “You’ll need to get to the clinic and watch Konrad
again.”
“Yes, sir,” Zach muttered.
Zach squinted at his watch again, did the math . .
. it was barely past ten a.m. He’d been asleep for less than four
hours.
With a grunt, he heaved himself out of the
bed.
The phone rang. Cade picked up. “What?”
It wasn’t Griff. “Nice manners,” the female voice
said. “Rude much?”
The not-DHS agent from the night before:
Holt.
“I wasn’t expecting your call,” Cade said.
“Don’t tell me: you’re an old-fashioned guy. You
don’t think the girl should call so soon after the first date.”
Cade could hear the pride in her voice. No one was supposed to have
this number. Her resources surprised him. Again.
But he wasn’t about to rise to the bait. He
waited.
“Who is that?” Zach asked. He wandered closer to
the phone, grazing from the cereal box again.
Cade gave him a look.
“Fine, sorry, never mind.” He went away.
“Tough room,” Holt said, when it became apparent
Cade wouldn’t answer. “I guess I should get to the point. Leave the
doctor alone. He belongs to us.”
“And who are you?” Cade said. “You’re not CIA.
You’re not Homeland Security.”
“Need-to-know basis, and you are not among the
needy. This is about keeping America safe. Surely you can
understand that.”
“I’ve heard it before. Usually just before a lot of
people die.”
Holt snorted. “You should be more worried about
yourself.”
Cade was bored. Sometimes it seemed ridiculous,
talking to humans. Their slow thought processes, their short,
fragile lives.
“This no longer interests me,” he said. “You said
you know me. Then you know I won’t stop. Whatever you’re going to
do, you might as well do it.”
“Yeah,” Holt said. “I figured as much.”
Cade heard a tone in the background. The noise of a
plastic button being pressed.
He dropped the phone in the same second he realized
what was happening. Stupid. Calling during the day. When he was
slower. Weaker. When his senses were dulled, down almost to human
levels.
When he was less likely to hear a detonator being
triggered by a radio signal.
He was moving now, too slow. The phone hung in
midair. Zach appeared before him, standing in the doorway. His face
registered surprise.
The cereal box dropped out of Zach’s hand, flakes
falling in a comet’s tail after it.
“What—” Zach said, before Cade tackled him, picking
him up.
He felt a rib in Zach’s chest crack with the
impact. Still too slow.
The explosion began at the far wall, sending the
concrete ahead of it. Cade could see each piece of rubble break
free and take flight.
The steel entry door was locked. No time to open
it. No time at all. He kicked it down.
The explosion was at his back now, the blast wave
like a giant fist swinging for him. He accelerated. The glass door
of the entrance dissolved into fragments.
Blazing daylight, and his speed and strength
vanished. The heat caught him on the side, as he did his best to
shield Zach.
He felt the blast lift them both, the fist of the
explosion connecting, knocking them out onto the pavement of the
parking lot, and a sound like a jet engine hit them just after
that.
Zach was no longer in his arms. The light was
burning him, and his head felt too heavy to move ever again, and
all Cade could think was, Too slow.