I suppose I should have been happy about sleeping in a shed. It was better than turning into charcoal when the sun came up. But there were two windows—one in the door and one above the workbench—and they made me very nervous, even though Charlie had taken a staple gun and nailed garbage bags over both of them.
Around noon the next day he knocked and walked in. I refused to come out of my sleeping bag until he’d closed and locked the door.
“What is it?” I asked from behind my pillow. I was using it like a shield.
Charlie didn’t answer, but I heard a racket, like someone dropping a whole bag of silverware down a flight of stairs. I peeked out from behind the pillow. Charlie was holding up his traps, with a triumphant smile on his face. Each had a red squirrel inside. They were making more noise than a marching band.
“What am I supposed to do with those?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Hey, this is your thing. What did you expect? Was I supposed to serve them up with some spider goulash?”
He said he’d come back after sunset, and closed the door behind him. I tried going back to sleep, but the squirrels were trying to escape. I was worried the sound of their frantic scurrying would reach the far end of the lake. I considered putting them outside, but I couldn’t risk it. The summer sun was strong. And now that I was awake, and there was food in the room, my stomach started barking orders.
You can guess what happened next. I don’t want to go into detail, but if you’ve ever eaten meat, you can’t hold this against me. And if you are a vegetarian, well then, I’m really, really sorry. I cried afterwards. I couldn’t help myself. I’d never hurt anything before. I’d seen nature shows on TV. Survival of the fittest and the law of the jungle—these weren’t new to me. I needed blood to live. And to heal. But knowing this stuff didn’t help. Reaching inside a cage to kill a defenceless animal just felt wrong. I swore right then and there that I wasn’t ever going to fish for my dinner in a rodent trap again. Preying on the helpless was out. There had to be a better way.
I fell asleep feeling distraught.
Charlie came back just after the sun went down. He was carrying a flashlight and a newspaper. When he opened the door, I could hear other voices coming from the cottage, but I didn’t recognize them.
“Dan’s back with his kids,” Charlie said. “He said there were cops all over the marina. They were passing around photos.”
“Of me?” I asked.
“Probably. Dan just said it was a kid. I guess it’s lucky he hasn’t seen you in a while or he might have told the cops you were a friend of mine.”
“How did they get here so quickly?” I asked.
Charlie shrugged. “Must have been the cabbie,” he said.
It made sense. If he’d called the police after we took off without paying, he might have identified me.
“Did you hear back from the ward?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “but I’m going to try again. I thought I’d wait until Dan is asleep. It won’t be much longer. I’ll come back when the coast is clear.” He passed me the newspaper and smiled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
Charlie crouched down in front of me. I was sitting with my back against the shed wall. He reached over and opened the paper. Several pages in was a caption that read “Escaped mental patient still at large.” There was a small photo of me beside it.
“Zack,” he said, “you’ve been stuck in the nuthouse for eight years. You’re out on the weekend for the first time in your life. Did you think you’d be this famous already?”
I folded the newspaper up so that the article was easier to see. Charlie handed me the flashlight.
“Try not to get too bent out of shape about it. Suki’s family is here. You can meet Luna. There’ll be a party somewhere we can crash. It’s time for you to live a little. Have some fun. Whatta you say?”
I nodded. I sure needed something good to happen.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said. Then he slipped quietly out the door.
I turned on the flashlight and read under my sleeping bag. The article was short on detail. It explained how I had escaped from the Nicholls Ward with the help of another man who was involved in a suspected arson downtown. It referred to a second article. I made a mental note to look at that one too, then kept reading. Apparently, I was pretty much guilty of every crime but treason. I’d stolen a car, some hospital supplies, assaulted police officers, resisted arrest, destroyed private property and been an all-around bad person.
I flipped to the other article. “Fire levels Salvation Army: Arson suspect killed in blaze.” There were before and after pictures of the Salvation Army. The first one showed a red-brick building with flowers blooming in beds near the door. The second one was a photo of the charred remains. Beside these was a thumbnail sketch of Mr. Entwistle. It made him look like a drugged-out hobo. Underneath was a caption that read, “Do you know this man?” along with a number for Crime Stoppers.
According to the paper, the fire had started shortly after nine o’clock, about the same time Mr. Entwistle had left the safe house. The fire had spread quickly to all four corners of the ground floor, so the Fire Department was pretty sure an accelerant was used. I figured that meant gasoline or something. The article didn’t say. But it did say that a few witnesses saw Mr. Entwistle entering the building just before it caught fire and collapsed. He was one of three people crushed or burned. The other names I didn’t recognize, but they were apparently Red Cross volunteers.
I read and reread the article, hoping there was something in there that would say for sure what had happened to him. I had to know if he was really dead. But there was nothing in there about finding his body. And no one had actually seen him die. At least, it didn’t say so. They didn’t even know his name. But there was a reference to the first article about my escape from the Nicholls Ward and his role in that, so they knew something about him.
I couldn’t believe he was dead. A man who’d lived for six hundred and fifty years wasn’t going to die in a fire. What was the point of having visions if you couldn’t see when the building you were in was going to collapse?
I put the paper down and lay back. I didn’t want to read any more. I needed to take my mind off things. I was getting sick of getting bad news everywhere I turned. Fortunately, Charlie came back less than a half hour later, so I wasn’t stewing by myself for too long. Even before his hand touched the door I could smell something funny. It was either cologne or bug repellent.
“I have some good news and some bad news,” Charlie said. “The good news is, I have Dan’s BlackBerry. We can use it to get a number for Iron Crown Enterprises.”
“Iron Spike Enterprises,” I said.
“Whatever.”
“What’s the bad news?” I asked.
“We’re out of squirrels,” he said. “Just kidding. I got in touch with someone from the Nicholls Ward. Nurse Ophelia hasn’t been to work since you left.” Then he said something about the woman who’d answered the phone that I won’t bother repeating. “She said if Ophelia doesn’t show up today she’s getting fired.”
“Has she called in?” I asked. “Has anyone spoken to her or called her house?”
Charlie shrugged. “The way it sounded, no one has spoken to her.”
“What about her last name? Did you find out what it is?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. That stuff is apparently confidential, and the woman wouldn’t tell me. Maybe if you called she’d tell you. I don’t know.”
I tipped my head back against the wall. My heart must have known what my brain was thinking, because it started to pick up the tempo. “I think something’s happened to her,” I said.
“I hope not. I’ll call again tomorrow and see what I can find out.” He sat down and let out a long sigh. “Does she know you’re a vampire?”
I shrugged. “I think she must.”
“I wonder why she didn’t tell you.”
I wondered that, too. But mostly, I wondered if she was okay.
Charlie put his hand on my shoulder to push himself back up to his feet. Then he offered me his hand and pulled me up from the floor.
“Why would she go back there anyway?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. If she knew you were missing, she’d look for you. She wouldn’t go in to work knowing that you might be in trouble. As long as you’re gone, she’ll be gone.”
This made sense. Sort of. Nurse Ophelia wouldn’t go back if I were missing. But she’d disappeared before I had, so she might not even have known I was gone. I didn’t mention this to Charlie. I figured it would only make him worry more.
“My uncle can help,” I said. “Mr. Entwistle said he’s the most feared vampire hunter in this part of the world and that he has contacts everywhere. If anyone can find her, he can.”
Charlie took out Dan’s BlackBerry and started searching for my uncle’s business number on the Internet. We tried all the major cities we could think of. Charlie eventually got a hit in Montreal and dialled the number. As soon as it started ringing he handed me the BlackBerry. No one answered. It made me wonder if he’d disappeared too, just like Ophelia and Mr. Entwistle. Then his voice came on and told me I could leave a message.
“It’s Zachary,” I said. “I’m at a friend’s cottage. Please call back as soon as you can. There’s been a lot of trouble, and I need your help.” Then I left Charlie’s number.
“Now what?” I asked.
Charlie took the BlackBerry from me and crammed it into his pocket. “Now?” he said, clapping me on the back. “Now it’s time to experience the true joys of having no adults around.”