An Apple for the Creature

“Did. One of ’em. It ain’t easy, trust me. It, or he, wasn’t very happy being found, okay?” He remembered the manlike creature. They’d cornered it in an enormous home improvement store, of all places. Just on the outskirts of Dubuque. They’d been following him at a distance for several nights, and when they saw him drive around behind the closed store and cut a hole in the wire fence, it looked like they had him in a righteous bust. What he was doing in there they had no idea, nor why he wanted to steal instead of simply buying whatever he needed. They called for backup, and got a sheriff’s car, a state patrol car, and two Dubuque PD cars, all with a single officer. They put an officer on each side of the huge place, in case he saw them coming and made a break for it. They stationed the Dubuque County deputy near the hole in the fence, and then George and his partner went in. The vampire had apparently heard them approaching, and made for the rear exit. They’d been in hot pursuit when he’d slammed out the back door and was confronted by a Dubuque police officer. All hell had broken loose, and the city cop and George’s partner had been severely injured. George had tried to hold him at gunpoint, and the creature had decided to go its own way. He’d charged George, heading toward the cornfield behind the store, and George had shot him. Eight times. “Had to shoot him.”

“Didn’t die, though. Right?” There was sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, no. Should have died. Hit him lots of times. It was really messy, and he really fought it. But you’re right. Didn’t die, though.”

“Immortal,” said Louise.

“That’s not true. Just live a long time, and really hard to kill,” he said. “Remember the Des Moines detective, shot a guy in the chest six times, the guy strangled him while he was trying to reload? That was meth, but it’s the same sort of deal.”

“So you busted him?”

“For attempted murder and burglary. It was really strange, okay? I mean, we were having to do so many reports about shots being fired, not to mention somebody actually getting shot . . . we didn’t get to examining the store’s security tapes for three days. When we finally did, we were lookin’ for what he was actually doing in there. Found a young female employee standing back by the manager’s office. She was waiting for him. We were sure of it. I mean the store was closed, had been for hours.”

“Oh. But you got him for it?”

“Not for being a vampire. We thought about giving that a shot, but the prosecutor said we couldn’t get it to fly, and we’d just blow the investigation. The vampire just did seventy-two hours in the hospital, believe it or not. Under very close guard. Then jail, then in front of a judge, then to Security Mental Health down here in Iowa City, for his pre-placement evaluation.” He laughed. “That was a hoot! Anyway, then the Feds sort of got him on loan, all legally, and he’s the one now down at CDC in Atlanta.”

“What did his attorney have to say about that?”

“Nothing. Court-appointed. Justified, since he or it wouldn’t cough up any information regarding his finances. That would have given up his name, and he didn’t want to do that. His choice. The exam upon admission to Security Mental Health, so they can tell what institution to put him in? Well, that showed he or it wasn’t quite human, one way or another. Something extra or missing in his DNA, ya know? That’s a tough one, because we can only charge humans, okay? Everything else in the law we just turn over to animal control.” He said that with a grin. “So, anyway. We took the matter to the AG, and they took it to a judge who has a kind of confidential court. Just like the federal judges, you know? The ones who hear select terrorism cases? Like that.”

“You might need to show me a transcript of that.”

“In my briefcase, backseat. Go ahead.”

“You brought it with you?”

“It’s one of the things I would need, if I was in your position. To convince me.” He turned, and they crossed the Iowa River. “It wasn’t easy getting that out of the files,” he said, as she opened his briefcase. “Don’t lose it.”

“Yeah, right.” She began to read, and he pulled into a restaurant parking lot. She looked up. “Mondo’s? He lives here?”

“Oh, hell, no. I’m hungry, and thought we could sit in the lot while you read the file, and then go in and get something. Love their Italian sausage sandwiches. We’ve got time.”

He shut the car off, and rolled down the windows. The rain had made everything smell fresh and clean, and he liked the sound of the cars as they went by on the Coralville Strip, splashing through the puddles.

She finished the transcript in about fifteen minutes, and returned it to his briefcase.

“Redacted a lot, didn’t they?”

“You mean those black lines? Yeah. Just names and places, though.”

“I noticed the prisoner being referred to as John Doe 6822. No name?”