Free Blood by Stephen Fox Page A

his with a quiet thanks.  He took a sip and grimaced.  The station’s coffee was legendary around the city.  Underwood swore they got most of their confessions after the suspect was subjected to the bitter brew.
                  The suspect set his cup on the table.  “Next question, gentlemen.”
    .              West was the first to ask, “Why the blood?  What does this bathing in blood do for you?”
                  “Haven’t you guessed?  Look at me!  I’m already ten years younger than I was yesterday, and I’m getting younger by the minute.  This ‘blood bath’, as you choose to call it, is the legendary Fountain of Youth.”
                  Underwood, watched through the observation glass.  His finger rubbed circles on the sill.  A worn spot where the paint had been rubbed away spoke of the many times he had observed from that room.  His thoughts revolved faster than his finger.  Did the suspect really believe this stuff?  He did appear younger this morning, but the light of day and a good night’s sleep could account for that.
                  The interrogation continued.  “So you can stay young forever?”
                  “Well, not young, but we can theoretically live forever.  After our, do I dare call it, ‘treatment,’ we age normally.  But as we approach old age, something changes.  Apparently something in our blood.  I don’t know what causes it.  I’m not a doctor.  But we feel a change.  Perhaps it’s our version of menopause.  Whatever it is and whatever causes it, we begin to get a craving.  Most of us fight it for a time, but it grows stronger each day, until we have to satisfy it.”
                  “By feeding on human blood.”
                  Patrick folded his arms to his chest. “Hardly.  I told you we are not the vampires of folklore.  They could only sustain themselves by drinking blood, and had to kill often.  The Chosen are human except for a few minor improvements. Many of us are even vegetarians.  We don’t have to satisfy our blood thirst as often as those fictitious monsters, and we don’t drink blood the way the legends claimed.  But we do have to spread human blood over our body to cause the renewing process to begin.  No one knows why.  Somehow fresh, human blood is needed as a catalyst for the change to take place.  Many of the Chosen are studying the problem, but no one has found any answers yet.
                  Cappazoli jumped in.  “You say you can live forever.  Does that mean that if you get the death penalty we have to drive a stake through your heart?”
                  An annoyed look came over Patrick’s face.  “Let’s not be silly.  That’s merely one of hundreds of myths about my people.  In truth, it would work, although I cannot envision your Supreme Court allowing that particular form of punishment.  Our bodies work like yours, aside from a few improvements.  A car wreck or other calamity can kill one of the Chosen.  But if it doesn’t kill him outright, his body has tremendous powers of recuperation.  From wounds that would be fatal to humans, the Chosen can usually recuperate within days.  Broken bones are repaired in hours; deep cuts in minutes.  I even saw one of my companions with his skull split open with an ax.  We removed the ax and watched the wound repair itself.   Within hours the wound was healed externally.  The man regained consciousness by the next morning.  It took several days for all the synapses to fully restore themselves, but a week later you would never know he had been injured.”
                  West shook his head.  “And you expect us to swallow this story?”
                  Patrick laughed.  “I truly don’t care whether you find me believable or not.  I am not trying to persuade you of anything.  Your belief or disbelief