Resurrected Page 7

  “Mrs. Paine,” he began slowly, “with all due respect, I work in the medical profession. And medically, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your daughter. In fact, I heartily recommend that she go back to school today, and put this whole incident behind her as soon as she can. And as far as your…ideas…I don’t mean to be patronizing, but may I ask: are you currently seeing anyone?” Caitlin looked back at him blankly, trying to understand what he meant.

  “Are you currently in therapy, Mrs. Paine?”

  Caitlin blushed, finally realizing what he was saying. He thought she was crazy.

  “No,” she answered flatly.

  He slowly nodded.

  “Well, I realize today is about your daughter, not about you. But when things settle down, if I may, I do suggest that you talk to someone. It can help.” He reached out, grabbed a pad, and started scribbling.

  “I’m giving you the name of a top-notch psychiatrist. Dr. Halsted, a colleague of mine. Please, use it. We all go through stressful times in life. He can help.” With that, the doctor suddenly stood, holding out the paper to Caitlin. She and Caleb stood, too, but as she stood there, looking out at the paper, she couldn’t get herself to take it. She wasn’t crazy.

  She knew what she saw.

  And she wasn’t going to accept the paper.

  The doctor held the paper out there, awkwardly, his hand trembling, for way too long, until finally, Caleb reached out and took it from him.

  “Thank you, doctor. And thank you for helping her daughter.” CHAPTER EIGHT

  Caitlin and Caleb walked down the hospital corridor together, to the waiting area. Scarlet needed a few minutes to gather her things and get dressed, and they wanted to give her privacy. Caitlin could not believe how fast she was checking out: they would be out of their before 9 AM. Caitlin really wanted her to stay home and rest, but Scarlet insisted on going to school for the day.

  It all felt surreal. Just hours ago Caitlin had been awakened by Ruth, wondering if her daughter was dead or alive. Now, by 9 AM, she was seemingly fine, and heading off to school. Caitlin knew she should be thrilled for the return to normalcy. But nothing felt normal to her anymore. Inside, she was trembling, sensing that far worse things could be coming down the road.

  As they walked into the hospital atrium, a large, glass waiting room with soaring ceilings, huge shoots of bamboo, sunlight pouring through the glass and a large bubbling fountain in its center, Caleb seemed as happy as can be. She could sense he was determined to put all this behind them, to insist on things going back to normal. And that bothered her. It was like he was pretending that nothing unusual had happened.

  “So is that it then?” she finally asked, as they crossed the huge, empty room, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. “We just drop Scarlet off at school and pretend nothing ever happened?”

  Caitlin didn’t want to start a fight, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t just let this go.

  “What else are we supposed to do?” he asked. “She said she’s fine. The doctor said she’s fine.

  The nurses say she’s fine. All the tests show that she’s fine. She doesn’t want to go back home. And I don’t blame her. Why should she sit alone in her room all day, lying in bed, when she wants to go to school?

  “And frankly,” he added, “I think it’s a good idea. I think she should get on with her life. I think we all should,” he added, looking at Caitlin strangely, as if giving her a message. “It was a terrible day and night, not knowing where she was, or what really even happened. But she’s back to us. That’s all that matters. That’s all I care about. I want to put this behind us, and move forward. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t think it’s helpful for Scarlet to, either. I don’t want her to get some kind complex, to start worrying about herself, if she’s normal. I’m just so grateful that she’s back to us, and that she’s safe and healthy. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” As he stopped and turned to her, the morning light lit up his large brown eyes; in them, Caitlin saw hope, desperation, and a pleading for her to say that everything was fine again, that they would put it all behind them.

  More than anything, Caitlin wanted to. As she looked into those eyes, she just wanted them to be happy. She really didn’t want to argue. But as much as she wanted to just shove this under the rug, she couldn’t. Her daughter’s life, her health—her future—was at stake. And so was the future of mankind. As unpleasant as it might be, she felt she had to get to the bottom of it.

  “I don’t think she should be rushing back to school so quickly, regardless of what she says, or the doctor says,” Caitlin said, hearing the determination in her own voice as she tried to stay calm. “I think she needs further testing. This doctor is a part of the establishment. Maybe she needs to see an alternative doctor. A specialist.”

  “What kind of specialist?” Caleb snapped back. “What kind of testing?” Caitlin shrugged. She wished she knew. She wished there was someone who could give her the answers she wanted, someone who could prove to her that she wasn’t crazy. As Caleb looked at her, she could see in his eyes that he, too, thought she was losing it.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” Caitlin said. “I’m not an expert. But there might be people who are.”

  “An expert in what?” he pressed, impatient.

  Caitlin was beginning to feel upset as she looked back at him.

  “How can you just stand there and pretend that nothing happened in that room? You can tell the cops, and the doctor, whatever you want, but between you and me, between the two of us, you know what happened. You know what you saw.”

  Caleb turned from her, impatient.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “Oh yes you do,” Caitlin said. “You saw what happened to our daughter. You heard her snarl.

  She threw you across the room—and there’s still a dent to prove it!”

  “So what!?” he snapped, at the end of his rope.

  “How do you explain it?”

  “You heard the doctor. Conversion syndrome. People get into altered states. They can do anything. It’s like a fit of hysteria, like he said. You hear stories of adrenaline rushes, of what people can do. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  “That was no adrenaline rush! And that was not Conversion Syndrome!” Caitlin shot back, his voice rising.

  “She had a high fever. She was in an altered state. It was like a form of sleepwalking,” he pleaded.

  “That was not sleepwalking!”

  “It doesn’t matter what you call it. Why harp on it? There is nothing wrong with our daughter!” Caleb yelled back, his voice rising several levels. His voice echoed in the big empty chamber, and the few people standing on the periphery turned their way.

  Caitlin saw them looking, as did Caleb, and they both turned and looked away, embarrassed.

  “I wish I could believe that,” Caitlin said, softly. “I really do. She might be okay for now. But she’s not okay. She needs help. And I’m going to find it for her. No matter what you say, or what she says.”

  “Help for what?” Caleb retorted. “What exactly is it that you think she needs help from?”

  “You know what it is. You know what I said. You can choose not to believe it, but you know it’s true.”

  She saw hesitation in Caleb’s eyes size, but still, he pressed the question

  “What is true?”

  Finally, Caitlin lost it.

  “OUR DAUGHTER IS A VAMPIRE!”

  Caitlin’s shout rose to the glass ceiling, echoed throughout the room—and every person turned and stared.

  Caleb turned and looked at them all, then lowered his head, embarrassed. Finally, he stepped up, and looked at Caitlin, right in the eyes. She stood there, shaking, rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do, how to feel.

  Slowly, disapprovingly, he shook his head.

  “The doctor was right,” he said. “You do need help.”

  *


  Caitlin, in a daze, drove slowly, Scarlet in the passenger seat, as she took her to school. Caleb had left for work, leaving Caitlin to drop her off, and she and Scarlet had been driving in silence for the last few minutes, as Caitlin watched the road, trying to process it all, while Scarlet sat in the front seat, glued to her phone, texting with several of her friends.

  “Major damage control, mom,” she said. “I so wish you hadn’t called all my friends,” she sighed.

  Caitlin didn’t know how to respond.

  Scarlet checked her phone again. “I can still make second period,” she said. “That’s perfect. I don’t have my first test until fourth. I’m staying late today, don’t forget—soccer,” she said in a rush, as Caitlin pulled up before the main doors of the school.

  Scarlet leaned over and kissed Caitlin on the cheek, as she opened the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really. Whatever it was, it was no big deal. Love you,” she said in a rush, jumping out before Caitlin could respond and rushing up the steps to the front doors of the school.

  Caitlin watched her go with a sinking feeling in her chest. She felt so sad, so helpless, so terrified.

  There went Scarlet, her only daughter, the person she loved most in the world. She wanted to protect her. And to protect others.

  She watched her go, all alone, up the steps to the empty school, and she wanted more than anything to believe that things were normal. But deep down, she knew they were not. As Scarlet closed the doors behind her, entered that building filled with thousands of kids, Caitlin couldn’t help but wonder: were those other kids in there trapped with her? How long would it be until the plague of vampirism spread?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Scarlet ran across the wide stone plaza and up the series of steps to the front doors of her school. As she did, she clutched her light, fall jacket to herself. She wish she’d worn something warmer; just a few days ago, it was like 70, but now, it felt more like 50. October was so unpredictable, she thought. Especially now, at the end, with just a few days before Halloween. She made a mental note in her head that when she got home, she would have to go down to the basement and switch out her late summer wardrobe for her fall one.

  Scarlet glanced over her shoulder as she grabbed the front doors, hoping her mom had left. It was so embarrassing, her sitting there like that, watching her, as if she were still in second grade. She cringed as she saw her mom still watching. She hoped that no other kids were watching this, especially given that the school was empty, everyone already in class. She felt so conspicuous.

  She didn’t really blame her mom for watching her like that, and felt sorry she had scared her—

  but at the same time she just wanted to put it behind her. Her mom worried too much, and she just wanted her to realize that she was fine, that she was always fine. That even though she was just 16, she was basically a grown woman now, independent, and more than capable of handling herself.

  Scarlet burst through the front doors and ran down the hall, her footsteps echoing, her sneakers squeaking on the brightly-polished tile. Her heart raced as she glanced down at her watch and realized second period was almost over. She was so embarrassed: it looked like she’d have to enter class with just a few minutes left; she could already feel the stares. But she didn’t have much choice.

  She couldn’t exactly hang out and wait in the hall, especially with the hall monitors patrolling. And she did want to at least make an appearance and maybe grab the homework assignment for the night.

  As she hurried down the hall, she wondered once again about what exactly had happened the day before. It really freaked her out, what her parents had told her, that she’d left the house; she couldn’t remember that at all. She put on a brave face for everyone, telling them she was fine—and she did feel fine. But inwardly, she was terrified. She was so nervous that she had no memory of it, of where she might’ve gone. It was terrifying, also, to wake up in the hospital like that. It really shook her. She couldn’t stop obsessing over the black hole in her consciousness, over where she went, what she might’ve done, why they couldn’t find her for so long. Had she done anything stupid? Had she seen any of her friends? Had she seen Blake? Why couldn’t she remember?

  Scarlet felt her cheeks flush as she suddenly recalled what her mom had said: that they’d called the police—and even worse, that they’d called her friends. How mortifying. Who did they call exactly? What did they say? And how would she face everyone? What would all her friends think?

  And how would she explain it to everyone? She didn’t even really understand what had happened herself.

  This day would not be easy, she realized, as she neared the classroom door. There’d be a lot of questioning—and she didn’t have any answers.

  Scarlet finally reached the end of what felt like the longest hall in the school, came to the last door, and grabbed the knob. She braced herself and took a deep breath, clutching her books in one hand, and opened it.

  “The algorithm for a triangle that does not exceed—”

  Her math teacher stopped writing on the chalkboard, and turned and looked at her. Every other kid in the class looked up at her, too. There were about 30 kids in here, the most boring math class Scarlet had ever had, and luckily, she wasn’t friends with most of them.

  But there were a few girls in the back that she was friends with, including her best friend, Maria.

  Scarlet was relieved to see that Maria had kept her seat open for her. Maria was like a sister to her, like the sister she never had; they had known each other since childhood, and were hardly ever apart.

  Hispanic, with long, brown curly hair and brown eyes, Maria looked a bit, Scarlet always thought, like a young Jennifer Lopez. She was always there for Scarlet when she needed her, and Scarlet was always there for her, too.

  But also in the back of the room, Scarlet noticed with dread, were two of the mean, popular girls, including her arch-enemy, Vivian. Scarlet got along with almost everyone—with one exception.

  Vivian. Five foot nine, with perfectly straight blonde hair, mean blue eyes and a perfect chin and nose, Vivian strutted around the school as if she owned it. A year older than Scarlet, 17, one of the oldest girls in the class, she looked down on everyone. She always wore some kind of variation on a silk blouse, with a small necklace of real, shining pearls. She had pearl earrings to match, and always had perfectly manicured fingernails, in some shade of pink. As beautiful as she was on the outside, she was equally ugly on the inside: she never missed a single opportunity to giggle at someone else, to make fun of them, to take advantage of any moment of weakness.

  As Scarlet took another step, right on cue, Vivian let out a loud, mean giggle. That giggle spurred several others to giggle with her, mostly her little group of mean friends. It made a bad situation for Scarlet even worse.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Scarlet said to the professor, who was still looking at her with wonder.

  “You’re more than late,” he snapped. “The class is almost over. I can’t mark you tardy—I’m going to have to mark you absent.”

  “Fine,” Scarlet snapped back at him, then turned and strutted down the aisle, taking the empty seat next to Maria. She hated this math teacher. He was as mean as he was boring. Sometimes she wondered if he and Vivian were distant cousins.

  Math was her least favorite subject anyway. She loved to work hard, but if she wasn’t interested, she found it really hard to find the motivation. Her favorite class, by far, was English. She loved to read, and lately, she was finding she loved to write, as well. And her English teacher, Mr. Sparrow, was as nice to her as could be. The complete opposite of this math jerk.

  The teacher cleared his throat loudly, conspicuously.

  “As I was saying,” he snapped, “when you’re dealing with a triangle, the equation between…”

  “What happened?” Maria whispered, the second Scarlet took her seat.

  Scarlet looked around, waiting for everyone to stop looking at her. Finally, they
all turned back to their notes. All, of course, except Vivian: she stared at Scarlet, a condescending smile on her face, as cold as ice. Vivian then leaned over and whispered in her friend’s ear, who put her hand to her mouth and giggled. Scarlet could only wonder what she’d said.

  “Nothing,” Scarlet whispered back to Maria. Scarlet hated hiding anything from her, but she really didn’t want talk about it—especially not here, with the teacher waiting to pounce.

  Scarlet suddenly felt a vibration in her pocket. She looked down, glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and slid up her cell phone, holding it under her desk. She looked down.

  U ok?

  It was from Maria.

  Scarlet saw Maria furtively holding her phone under her desk with one hand, texting with her thumb, and pretending to take notes while she stared at the blackboard.

  Scarlet smiled. She copied Maria, raising one hand and pretending to take notes, while with her thumb, she typed back:

  Am fine. Thx.

  Scarlet had just hit the send button, when suddenly, the bell rang out.

  “Okay class, don’t forget, I want chapter three read by tomorrow. And our first quiz is Friday!” the teacher yelled out over the din, as all the kids jumped up, collected their stuff, and headed to the door.

  Scarlet got up, collected her things, and walked with Maria out the room.

  “OMG, what happened?” Maria asked immediately, barely able to contain herself. “Like, your aunt Polly called me last night. Said they couldn’t find you.” Scarlet’s heart raced, as she debated how to respond. She didn’t want to lie—especially to Maria, who she never held anything back from. But at the same time, she really didn’t know what to say, and she needed to diffuse the situation.

  “Yeah, they like totally overreacted,” she said, thinking quick. “I just went out for a few hours, I forgot my phone, and they couldn’t find me.”