Shanna

SHE stood by Clay's suburban, watching the dark, blocky mass of the hospital. A faint, faint glow lit some of the windows, probably backwash from the emergency lights in the hallways, but for the most part it looked dead and deserted. But looks were deceiving. She knew it crawled with--what had Jenny's ex called them? Draculas. Right. Jenny and her ex were in there--still human, she hoped--and so was Clay.

She prayed for his safe return. Yes, she was going to break his heart when he did, but she wanted him back. Because somehow the world seemed a better place with Clay than without him.

Ten minutes ago the army had roared in and heavily-armed soldiers had piled out of their trucks. A large black trailer had followed the soldiers into the lot but had parked away toward the rear. The people who had emerged were civilians.

And then something scary: The army set up spotlights at the emergency entrance, around the main entrance, and at each stairwell exit. Then they'd positioned soldiers with flame throwers at each point. Looked like they'd been convinced it was contagious. She'd expected officialdom to scoff at the stories of what had gone on in the hospital, but she guessed the recording Clay had insisted on making had convinced them.

Well, she'd never said he was a dummy, just not on her wavelength.

Just then, to her right at the corner of the building, flames lit the night.

Screams echoed, died.

Her heart stumbled over a beat. That was the door she and Clay had used to escape, the door he'd re-entered. They wouldn't have burned him by mistake, would they? No...those screams had had an unearthly quality. Had to be draculas trying to escape the building. Still...