Roy
by Laura Cherri

   Alexander Hyde worked the night shift as a male nurse at the Barstow mental institution. He went upstairs and began to walk slowly along the hall. The usual inspection tour to make sure all the patients were sleeping. One wondered what kind of dreams would germinate in their heads. It was half past nine, and nobody was screaming or banging the head against the wall, so on the whole, it was a quiet night. Some of the guests were surely dying to do such funny things, but the containment straps with which they were tied to their beds would keep them from hurting themselves. It came natural to Alexander to think about John Taylor, a guy whose favorite pastime was to wound himself. Even with a teddy bear. Not that he had one, but he would manage to do something interesting with it anyway. Johnny was inside room number three, zonked out by sedatives.

   Alexander had always thought that it was ridiculous to call such places rooms, but the new director tended to gild the pill invariably, therefore the institution wasn't a prison, but rather a place where people were nursed; there were no cells, but rather rooms. Perhaps the fact that doors were always locked was a detail he had missed or had decided to ignore on purpose.

   Alexander came up to Johnny's room and looked through the small window. Johnny was tied to his bed, sound asleep. He walked to room number four and peered inside. That patient was sleeping too. When he reached room number five he gave a deep sigh.

   Inside room number five there was Roy. Roy thought he was a vampire. Closed subject. He had been there for just one week, and everybody was already fed up with his particular neurosis. The situation had gone from bad to worse when the psychiatrist had diagnosed an acute form of hypersensitivity to daylight. A good news, wasn't it?

   Alexander searched his pockets, fished out a bunch of keys, chose the right one, and looked through the window. The bed was empty.

   "You idiot," he grumbled. His eyes shifted on the wooden chest placed beside the closet. By day Roy curled up in there, and there was no way of dragging him out. Since he was a short man, he wasn't so cramped in there after all, but what worried Alexander and the other male nurses was the air. He could barely breath inside that piece of furniture. Still, he refused to come out, the masochist man. Alexander's evening job entailed to drag him out before he had a fit or suddenly realized he suffered from claustrophobia. The psychiatrist had declared himself against the removal of the chest. According to the doctor, the piece of furniture was a kind of safety valve for his phobia towards sunlight. He was sure that Roy would soon stop hiding in there, because the therapy he had worked out expressly for this case would solve the problem. Alexander very much doubted it. How was it possible to cure a patient who attended the daily therapy inside a chest? It couldn't be done. Roy would keep on behaving like that until somebody would forget to drag him out his hiding-place every evening. And that was the real point. The would-be vampire never became aware the sun had gone down. What fun.

   Alexander opened the door and stepped into the room. He inspected the place with alert eyes searching for anomalies. You never knew what could be waiting for you behind the door of a lunatic's room. Everything was in place this time. He walked to the window, opened it, checked automatically the bars (you never knew), and then reached the beautiful finely inlaid wooden chest. He was about to raise the lid, but then he stopped. He wasn't accustomed to Roy's requirements yet. The evening before he had made the fatal mistake of raising it abruptly, and the aftermath had been disastrous. Roy had thought it was still daytime, and had begun to scream like a... well, like the raving mad he was. Even though Alexander had closed the lid at once, Roy's deranged mind had already left for Disneyland. Alexander's colleagues had joined him in no time, and together they had tried and finally managed to calm him down. It had taken twenty minutes to them to make him stop yelling. He was there, closed in a chest, untouchable, screaming he was burning, my God, burning, he was going to die, he was done, better dying with a stake thrust into his heart than this. The three male nurses had bore the whole thing trying not to lose their temper. Such a pity there were no stakes within reach. Alexander shook his head to chase the awful memory away, and knocked gently on the lid of the chest.

   "Who is it?" asked a suspicious voice from within.

   "Van Helsin," he answered giving a half-smile.

   "Alex, you fool, I know it's you."

   "It's a starry night, my friend, come out of your coffin. You must set out to look for victims," the male nurse jeered him as he sat on the bed and folded his arms.

   The lid of the chest lifted a little. Alexander fluttered his fingers in a kind greeting. "Hey, is there anybody in?"

   The lid raised. A short man, as thin as a rake, about forty years old, his long brown hair hanging over his shoulders, sprang up. He wore black jeans and shirt. That was Roy's favorite color. No such sunny tonalities as orange or yellow for him. He looked out the window and gave a smile of happiness and satisfaction. He started when a howl was heard in the distance, and raised his arms in a V in a comical theatrical gesture.

   "Listen to them, the children of the night," he cried. "What a music they make!"

   "What you just heard was the watchdog of the nearby storehouse. He feels lonely," said Alexander tiredly. "And that was a Bram Stoker's sentence, you thief. Try and be more original."

   Roy let his arms drop. He got out of the chest and joined the male nurse on the bed.

   "Are you thirsty, Roy?" asked Alexander.

   Roy nodded.

   "What about a bloody mary?"

   "You fool."

   "Do you know what I had for dinner? Garlic bread."

   Roy stood up abruptly and walked to the window. "You fool," he repeated morosely.

   "C'mon, Roy. Don't get so upset. I was only joking. Cross my heart."

   "I'm not going to talk to a common human being like you," grumbled Roy, and turned his back to him.

   "Why? Why don't you bite my neck and turn me into a vampire?"

   "Because you're not worthy of the Dark Gift."

   "You got this one from Anne Rice. I've read all that stuff about vampires too. You should know it doesn't work with me."

   Roy scowled at him briefly and didn't replied.

   "Do you know what your real problem is, Roy?"

   "Do tell me."

   "You don't have a style on your own."

   "What do you mean?"

   Alexander got on his feet, came up to him, and looked out the window. Fresh air, bright stars, a white crescent moon. Despite the bars, the night was an enchanting view.

   "Watch the night, Roy," whispered Alexander. "Tell me: what do you see?"

   "I see."

   "Yes?"

   "I see..."

   "C'mon, Roy. What do you see?"

   "Well, actually I can't see a thing. It's pitch dark."

   Alexander put a hand on his shoulder. "Now you understand what I mean when I talk about style? You're standing here, reciting some sentence you read in a book, and when I ask you to talk about the night you don't know what to say."

   Roy lowered his eyes sadly.

   "A real vampire would tell me that the night is his kingdom," said Alexander. "He would tell me he can hear stars throbbing, and human beings' breathing as they sleep in their beds. He would tell me he can hide himself in a cat's supple shadow to enter the bedroom of a young sweet-smelling girl to steal her life. He would tell me..."

   "Yes, yes! Exactly, exactly, that's just what I was thinking!" Roy cried, goggle-eyed, his hands gesturing frantically. "Stars throbbing, sure, and the story of the cat and the shadow, sure, yes, the sweet-smelling girl..."

   "Shut up, Roy."

   "I can hide myself in a cat's apple shadow, I..."

   "Supple, Roy. The word is supple, not apple." Alexander was looking at him with pity. Roy opened his mouth to add something else, but in the end he closed it and gave a shamefaced little smile.

   "How do you know you're a vampire?" the male nurse asked him.

   Roy lifted his head like a student who had finally heard the only question he could answer to. "Because I can't bear daylight, Alex. You know it's true."

   "Yes, it's true. But tell me: when exactly did you become a vampire?"

   Roy stared into space for a while. His brain was a labyrinth without a center, and his madness was the little mouse looking for the inexistent cheese. Alexander watched him floundering, asking to himself whether he was encouraging an already thriving psychosis.

   "My Maker came to me from far away..." said Roy with his usual theatrical emphasis.

   "Let's say from the Carpathians?" suggested Alexander.

   "Yeah, that's right, from that place. He talked to me, he said I had to wait for him. And I waited for him."

   "I see."

   "One night I opened the window, and I pressed my face against the bars to look down. And then I saw him! He was creeping along the wall, towards me, catching hold of the juts like a..."

   "Like a lizard?" Alexander suggested again. He remembered far too well those scaring pages of Jonathan Harker's diary. "Flapping cloak and all the rest?"

   "Yes! With his flapping cloak! His hands like claws! He crept! He crept towards me!"

   "I see. Now just calm down, Roy."

   "My Maker is a powerful vampire! I am as powerful as he is! I'm immortal! He gave me the Dark Gift!"

   "How old are you, Roy?"

   "Forty-two. Centuries."

   "Yeah, sure. And I'm Batman."

   "Why don't you believe me, Alex?"

   The male nurse closed the window and put an arm around his shoulders to guide him gently towards the bed.

   "You're not a vampire, Roy. I'm not Batman and you're not a vampire," he said as he helped him to slip under the blanket. It was no use asking him to wear the pajamas. "I don't even know why the hell I'm standing here talking with you."

   "Because you're fascinated by the Dark Gift."

   "Yeah, as much as I could be by a dead fly."

   "I wish I could prove to you I'm a vampire. I real vampire," said Roy.

   Alexander stopped tucking in the bedclothes. The sick idea showed up on the stage of his mental theatre, and began dancing and singing and screaming until he accepted its invitation. He just wanted to have some fun with that curious little man and his deranged mind that night. All the patients were sleeping. His colleagues were downstairs watching a baseball match on TV. No witnesses. So why don't try a good drastic therapy? A shake-up to Roy's cerebral neurons for a change.

   "You'd like to give me a proof, Roy? Really? You'd like to prove to me you're a vampire?" he asked, looking fixedly at the patient.

   Roy, quite confused by his interlocutor's sudden U-turn, only managed to nod weakly.

   "Follow me then," said Alexander and began to walk backwards. "C'mon, Roy. This is a unique chance, don't miss it! Show me you're a real vampire. Get out of bed and come with me."

   Roy was looking at him with suspicion.

   "C'mon, Roy," repeated Alexander finally reaching the door. "Don't be afraid. It's now or never. Come over here."

   Roy pushed the sheets aside and stood up. He walked slowly to the door, and there he squinted at the male nurse as thought he was trying to read his mind. The moment Alexander put his fingers on the door handle Roy seized his hand to stop him.

   "What are you doing?" he cried in a lightly scared tone. "I'm not allowed to leave my room! I can't! Not at this time!"

   "Ssst! lower your voice." Alexander shook his arm to get rid of Roy's hand. "You can, if I'm with you."

   Roy looked down and seemed to think it over. Then he lifted his head again and whispered: "Where are we going?"

   Alexander frowned and gave a nervous smile not to show he was puzzled. Lit up by the cold neon light, Roy's pale face looked mysteriously unlined. And there was something else in those shining eyes. The demon of madness danced in his irises, but for a crazy moment Alexander thought that the little man was speaking the truth when he said he was a vampire.

   "Do you want to show me something?" Roy asked in a less plaintive voice. He was no longer scared.

   Alexander's smile tottered for a second. An ominous shiver made him want to stop playing that stupid game. He was giving a lunatic plenty of rope, and that was a dangerous thing to do. He opened the door to recover his self-confidence. He took a peep at the empty hall, and felt a little better. Nothing bad was going to happen. He only wanted to satisfy his morbid curiosity. Roy's mental health wouldn't improve nor get worse. He would probably burst into tears when asked to show he was a vampire. No regression, no progression. He got out into the hall. Roy followed him closely as he walked past room number four, and stopped before number three. There the male nurse looked through the window.

   "What are you doing, Alex?" Roy asked.

   "I'm watching Johnny sleeping. Would you like to meet Johnny?"

   Roy craned his neck and tried unsuccessfully to look inside room number three in turn. His short height didn't allow him to make sure Johnny the Sleeping Beauty wasn't really Johnny the Ripper looking for someone to quarter. In the end he gave up. He looked at Alexander, at the door, back again at Alexander, uncertain how to behave.

   "I'm not sure I want to meet Johnny," he said scratching his head to vent his frustration.

   Alexander watched him intently. A lunatic that feared another lunatic. The secrets of psychiatry. He had often noticed that the patients suffering from less serious pathologies kept carefully away from dangerous subjects, and they didn't even know why. It was their look, was Alexander's guessing. Their essence was right there, in their eyes. If you looked at them straight in the eyes long enough, you could see the evil looking back at you. Friedrich Nietzsche was dead right.

   "Don't worry," he said to Roy. "Johnny is sleeping like a log. Nothing could awake him up, not even a grenade, believe me."

   He unlocked the door, and they stepped into the room. John Taylor was tied to the bed and rested quietly. He hadn't been so quiet an hour before, when he had tried to gouge his own eyes out with his nails. What a creative guy he was.

   "Well, what are you waiting for?" Alexander pointed to the sleeping man whose chest lifted and lowered rhythmically.

   Roy cast a questioning glance at him.

   "The victim," Alexander explained. "I got you a victim to quench your thirst. You need to drink some nourishing blood. Now you can have a proper meal."

   Roy kept staring at him. The little mouse running inside the labyrinth had finally found the cheese, but refused to eat it.

   "Show me you're a vampire, Roy," said Alexander. "Bite his neck. Give him the Dark Gift, or just kill him, I don't care. Here is some blood for you. Fresh blood."

   "Sure, sure, fresh blood," repeated Roy without conviction.

   Alexander thrust his hands into his pockets and waited.

   Roy was playing for time. Perhaps he was thinking up a good excuse to back out of that situation. Within a minute he would collapse on the floor and fake a heart attack. Since the experiment was slow to take off, Alexander pushed him gently towards the bed.

   "We can't stay here all night," he said. "Do it. Bite him. Bite his neck."

   "What about his wrist?"

   Alexander rejoiced at that question. The experiment proceeded.

   "I don't know," he replied. "Where do you bite your victims usually?"

   "Mmm... the neck. Yes, I'd say the neck."

   "Then have a go at it, champ."

   Roy shifted his eyes on him and seemed to weigh the word 'champ' trying to understand whether it was a compliment or an offense. Alexander shrugged and smile at him innocently. Johnny's breathing was the only sound between them. They could hear the air hissing in and out his nostrils. Roy leaned over the sleeping man, and there he paused a moment.

   "Don't you remember how to do it anymore?" Alexander teased him.

   "Of course I remember," replied Roy in a annoyed tone. "But I wonder..."

   "Yes?"

   "What are you gonna do with the corpse?"

   Alexander shivered involuntarily. The experiment was clearly taking a turn for the worse. The serious expression on Roy's face made him thought it was better to stop before it was too late.

   "I'll leave him here," he answered in the face of his own thoughts. "They'll think he died in his sleep."

   "But..."

   "Well, sure, I'll go and open the coffin after the funeral service is over, I'll thrust a stake into his heart, I'll cut his head off, I'll fill his mouth with garlic, and then I'll turn him face down. What else? Oh, sure, if he doesn't turn into dust, you must throw the coffin into running waters. 'Salem's Lot' is a great book. As you can see, I'm prepared. You feel better now?"

   Roy nodded and got closer to Johnny's neck.

   "Remember to stop before his heart stops beating," Alexander advised him. "Or else..."

   "Shut up," Roy ordered him in a strange voice. He opened his mouth and applied it to Johnny's neck.

   The male nurse goggled, and watched the scene holding his breath. Disbelief soon became compassion. Two very sick people were involved in the pitiful show going on before his eyes, and one of them was even unconscious. That was sheer madness, literally. He was as crazy as the people he was supposed to nurse. He decided it was time to stop playing and hurried to put an end to that absurdity. As soon as his hand touched Roy's shoulder the would-be vampire thrust his elbow hard into him. Moaning with pain, Alexander stepped back and looked at the little man who was still there, doing something to Johnny's neck. The way he moved his head... It looked like... Yes, it looked like he was sucking. Alexander charged again, both scared and disgustingly amused. Roy didn't let go.

   Desperate diseases must have desperate remedies, thought Alexander. He seized Roy's narrow shoulders and hit him in the back with his knee. Roy let out a hoarse cry and moved back.

   "I'm sorry, but you forced me to," murmured the male nurse. He leaned quickly over Johnny's body to inspect his neck, searching for those two little holes he had seen so many times in horror movies about vampires.

   I must be out of my head, he thought. Why am I doing this?

   There was nothing on Johnny's neck. No, just a moment. There was something. There was definitely something.

   "Oh, my God," he said. He turned to Roy and then again to Johnny. "I can't believe this."

   "You fool," grumbled Roy from the corner where he had found shelter. He was massaging his back and grimacing with pain.

   "That's a hickey," said the male nurse. And there he was, laughing and gigging madly, covering his mouth with both his hands not to make too much noise.

   "You didn't give me enough time," Roy complained.

   "Hey, Johnny," whispered Alexander trying to control his laughing, "I know you won't believe this one, but your friend Roy just sucked you dry. And this is your first date!"

   "Stop it," said Roy.

   "What are you gonna tell my colleagues tomorrow, Johnny? You'll tell them that the tooth fairy wasn't interested in your tooth at all?"

   "You're nothing but a fool. I want to go back to my room."

   "Yes, just give me a second. I think I nearly died of laughing here."

   "I hate you."

   Alexander kept on giggling savagely until they stepped again into room number five. Roy sat on the bed with his hands joined, silent picture of grudge. The male nurse set the alarm for five and showed it to Roy for him to check personally. Roy didn't even glance at it. Alexander put it on the bedside table. He had won the challenge and they both knew it.

   "It'll ring before the sun comes up," he said. "You'll have plenty of time to have your breakfast and then jump into that damned chest of yours. And don't breath a word to anyone about what happened tonight, understood?"

   "You didn't give me enough time," Roy said.

   "Shut up. Go to sleep."

   "You didn't give me enough time. I was about to bite him when you intervened."

   "That's all nonsense. You certainly didn't give him the Dark Gift; you gave him a beautiful big hickey. I saw it, you saw it, and Johnny saw it too. Well, he didn't saw it really, but he sure felt it!"

   "I'm a vampire. Let me prove it to you," said Roy.

   Alexander shook his head. There was no hope for that poor sick human being. Now he was back into his room he could resume his raving as though nothing had ever happened.

   "I'm a vampire, a vampire, a vampire," he said.

   "Knock it off." Alexander took a few steps towards the door.

   "Why don't you believe me?"

   "Go to sleep."

   "Why don't you believe me?"

   Alexander spun round and retraced his steps as quick as lightning. In the space of a second Roy had his nose almost touching the male nurse's.

   "I don't believe you because you're not a vampire," hissed Alexander sneering like a demon and showing his sharp white canines. "But I AM!"

©2002 Laura Cherri