Free Thirst No. 4 by Christopher Pike Page B

Sandy nods vigorously.
    “We have to get the blood,” she says.
    Being a vampire, I’m not unfamiliar with blood banks. I know the variety of forms doctors store it in. A common one is blood plasma, which I’ve sampled in the past with disastrous results. Plasma is blood with the red cells centrifuged out of it. When it comes to vampires, it would seem the red stuff is essential.
    Yet straight blood platelets are of no use when it comes to satisfying my thirst. I need whole blood, preferably from a healthy donor.
    Sandy leads us into a long narrow room packed with exceptionally large refrigerators. The room is warm; the coolers give off heat. It’s not hard to identify the refrigerators that hold the blood that’s been tested for diseases. Everything in the space is clearly labeled. Opening the cooler nearest the door and seeing row after row after row of plastic baggies filled with dark red fluid, I feel a rush of excitement that is almost sexual. I have to restrain myself from ripping open a bag and downingit in front of Sandy. The fewer disturbing images I put in her mind the better. Also, blood tastes much better warmed to body temperature.
    I’m fortunate there’s a large metal cart in the room. With its wheels and steel compartments and narrow crossbars that are ideal for hanging filled baggies, I know I’m looking at the very tool the hospital uses to make blood deliveries. I quickly load it to capacity—about ten gallons’ worth of whole blood—before covering it with a couple of white sheets I find in a closet. The sheets help give the cart the vague appearance of a gurney.
    We leave the hospital without incident. Just stroll right out the front door and no one asks us a single question, although almost everyone says hello to Dr. Sandra Treach. Yet I worry about leaving Gary Stevens lying unconscious on the floor. He is the worst of loose ends. He will assume I helped steal the blood. He will wonder at the amazing punch I gave him. He will almost certainly end up talking to the police.
    But the thought of snapping his neck, before leaving the hospital, repulses me. For years now, centuries actually, I’ve striven only to kill those I consider evil. I’ve not always succeeded with the vow but I have drawn a line at murdering the completely helpless. And quietly sleeping off my right uppercut, Gary could not be more helpless.
    And since I no longer desire to kill the Treaches, my idea is to plant the most powerful “FORGET ME” hypnoticsuggestions I can summon in both Sandy and Bill’s minds. Yet my plan has two weaknesses. I have drugged Bill heavily. I’ll have to hang out at least until morning to take care of him. Plus my powers are questionable. Actually, they are pathetic and Bill is very strong-willed. He won’t be easy to control.
    Of course I could call for Matt. He would help his dear love Teri Raine in an instant. I’ve no doubt he could make the Treaches forget their first and last names. But running to him for help will reinforce his belief that I’m too weak and inexperienced to be left alone. With the important trip to California coming up, that’s the last thing I need.
    Inside Sandy and Bill’s home, I plop the good doctor in front of the TV and turn the channel to the Shopping Network and order her to enjoy herself. Then, after checking on Bill to make sure he’s breathing easily, I heat up a quart of blood and sit on the back porch and slowly sip it. The blood may not be fresh from a human vein but it goes down awfully smooth.
    I instruct Sandy to get ready for bed and when she’s finally ready to slip beneath the sheets, I have her sit on the edge of the mattress. Her pupils swell in size as I focus my eyes on her. She appears much more relaxed now that she’s back in her bedroom.
    I kneel beside her and speak in a quiet but forceful tone.
    “You’re to forget me, Sandy. You’re to forget everything that happened after I came to your door. You never met anyKim or Teri or