Free Broken Heart 04 Wait till Your Vampire Gets Home by Michele Bardsley Page B

to raise his babies alone. Now, he was doing it undead.
     
    The panel in the wall that delivered my meals popped open and the tray slid out. There was a white bag, a large Styrofoam cup, and a folded note. And, thank the heavens, a copy of Reader’s Digest and of People.
     
    I removed all the items. I opened the note first.
     
     
Libby,
     
    I made you a veggie burger with lettuce, tomato, and onion. Condiments on the side. (Is mayo a “by-product”? ) Extra-large fries. Your chocolate shake is made with almond milk.
     
    Ralph
     
     
I opened the bag. The burger smelled heavenly. I loaded on ketchup and mustard because yes, mayonnaise was on my animal by-product list, and devoured it along with the fries. Hmm-mmm. The chocolate shake was perfection.
     
    It was also drugged.
     
     
When I awoke, I was strapped to a metal table. A man in surgical clothing, his face masked, bent over me. His gloved hands held a nasty-looking instrument. A big, bright light shone above me. I couldn’t make out anything else in the room.
     
    I wanted to scream, but my mouth wasn’t working. My only solace was that he was putting the tool away. Fear pulsed through me, a cold, dull throb that barely penetrated my drug-numbed senses.
     
    He seemed surprised to see me awake. I recognized him behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Stan. My lips formed his name, but there was no sound.
     
    His betrayal wounded me. I knew, somewhere beyond where the drugs could reach, that the man standing above me so liberally experimenting on my person would pay for what he was doing.
     
    We must’ve been alone. I was grateful for that, at least.
     
    BOOM! What the hell was that? The reverberations knocked Stan to the floor. The whole place shook and the big light swung wildly.
     
    I struggled to free myself, but the straps kept my wrists and ankles bound tightly. I couldn’t be sure I was moving at all; perhaps my mind only made it seem like I was trying to escape.
     
    Stan gripped the edge of the operating table and pulled himself to his feet. He ripped off his paper cap and mask.
     
    “Libby!” he yelled.
     
    Another explosion stole the rest of his words. Panic clawed at me. I was trapped. Stan would leave me. The room would cave in.
     
    I would die.
     
    I turned wide eyes to Stanley, knowing my terror showed in my gaze. He pulled off the wires stuck to my chest and removed the IV in my right arm. Then he grappled with the straps on my wrists. He freed my arms, then moved to unbuckle my ankles. Shakily, I rose on my elbows. The sheet covering me slid off, and I realized I was naked underneath it.
     
    Here it was, the end of the world, and I was gonna meet my Maker in my birthday suit. Perfect.
     
    Stanley got my left leg free, but he was Mr. Fumble Fingers as he tried to remove the strap binding my right ankle.
     
    BOOM! BOOM! The terrifying noises erupted right above us. The light flickered and chunks of the ceiling crashed around us. Stanley ripped at the buckles.
     
    “Just go!” I screamed. My voice was scratchy and weak, but he heard me.
     
    “No,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”
     
    The strap loosened and I pulled my leg out. He looked at me, triumphant. An ominous crack sounded above, and then the ceiling gave way.
     
    Stan didn’t have time to move.
     
    He was buried instantly.
     

Chapter 11
     
    “Stan!” I screamed. My mind was still foggy, but the tender hold of the drugs slipped away. I felt terrible; my mouth tasted like metal.
     
    I got off the table, my feet stabbed by broken glass and concrete shards. My legs folded, and I grabbed the table for support. Unbelievably, the light only dropped a couple of feet; it was still on, too.
     
    I lowered myself to the floor and crawled to Stan. Shards pierced my palms and knees, but the pain was dulled. Sweat dripped off my temples and rolled down my neck. The acrid smell of smoke singed my nostrils. It was familiar, that scent. Like home. Like family.
     
    I