Dreams That Burn In The Night (25 page)

Dr. Vada made rapid
lateral incisions. Dropping the scalpel on the tray, he grabbed the edges of the incision with
both hands and laid back the skin with one quick tearing motion, exposing the en­tire chest
cavity of the corpse.

The green-faced
freshman in the second row doubled over in his seat. Dr. Vada glared at him. The freshman tried
to lift his head, to pretend that nothing was wrong, but it was too much for him. He
fainted.

Someone at the back
of the room rose to his feet, dropping his books with a crash. He exited at great speed with one
hand clamped over his mouth. The sound of someone vomiting in the hall outside came back
clearly.

Dr. Vada scowled.
"Why must I be plagued with constant in­terruptions?"

Several students
moved to help the one who had fainted.

"Leave him alone!"
snapped Dr. Vada, hands still holding the
split halves of the chest. "The fool isn't hurt and we've no time to waste on his kind."
The students returned to their seats.

"Ah, the blood,"
said Dr. Vada, almost worshipfully. "And this, the poor, flawed repository in which it streams."
He moved so they could get a better view.

Bellamy muttered
something else to the girl in the seat beside him. Dr. Vada caught some of it, a fragment of a
particularly dirty joke. The girl blushed but did not seem overly offended.

This Dr. Vada could
not ignore. It almost amounted to sacri­lege.

"Bellamy." Dr.
Vada's voice crashed through the hall. "Come here, Bellamy."

Reluctantly,
Bellamy rose to his feet.

Dr. Vada kicked a
chair in the first row, turning it so it faced the students in the auditorium.

Vada motioned at
the chair. "Sit."

"But, Dr. Vada, I
was only . . ." began Bellamy with a smirk.

"Sit down and shut
up." Bellamy did both.

Dr. Vada nodded to
his class, almost apologetically. "Young Bellamy here is in his usual form today. And because he
is"—Dr. Vada's hands clamped on Bellamy's neck, pushing him against the back of the chair—"our
Mr. Bellamy is going to provide us with a special treat."

Bellamy winced. The
old doctor's hands were surprisingly strong.

"I don't want. .
."

"Silence."

Dr. Vada took his
hands away and moved to the trays beside the dissection table. He returned with a large syringe
and a length of thin rubber tubing.

"Thank you for
volunteering to give a blood sample." Dr. Vada's smile could have dispensed ice.

"I'm not
volunteering for . . ."

A hand on his
shoulder cut him off. Bellamy shuddered. The strength in the old man's hands was really quite
incredible. The look in the old man's eyes was something else again. He resisted the impulse to
stand up, to take a swing at Vada. How can you hit an old man?

"Roll up your
sleeve." Dr. Vada hovered over him, as if daring Bellamy to defy him. I'll get you later, you
bastard, thought
Bellamy as he rolled
his sleeve up past the elbow. You're going to regret you ever laid a hand on me.

"Pay careful
attention, class," said Dr. Vada, resuming the role of professor. "Observe as I tie this length
of rubber tubing around his upper arm." He did so.

Dr. Vada unwrapped
a sterile glass syringe, sunk its plunger into its barrel, placed a sterile needle on the end,
and turned to face Bellamy with it.

"Make a
fist."

Bellamy
did.

The needle got
closer. "Aren't you supposed to swab it with alcohol first?" asked Bellamy.

"Only if one wants
to lessen the pain," said Dr. Vada, jabbing the needle into Bellamy's outstretched arm. "Notice
how smoothly I inserted the needle," he said, once again speaking to his class. "Many of you will
find this part difficult. Sticking a needle into someone's skin, like dying, must be done quickly
or it becomes a rather messy experience."

When the syringe
was full, Dr. Vada pulled it free of Bellamy's arm with a jerk. Bellamy cried out in
pain.

Dr. Vada turned to
his class with a smile. He held up the syringe for all to see.

"And now we have
it. One of the unsung beauties of man. Blood."

Dr. Vada had a look
of rapturous contentment on his face. "But does this fragile beauty last?"

Dr. Vada held up a
small glass beaker. He emptied the syringe into it, holding it carefully in front of him so that
all might see what he had trapped there.

"No. It does not
last. Within five minutes, surely no longer than ten, this beautiful ruby-red liquid will change
into a solid brown mass. If I were a fool"—he glanced significantly at Bellamy, who was rubbing a
sore arm—"and not a scientist, per­haps I might think that this wonderful bit of living matter I
have removed from a human body could now blindly live on as if it had never left its home. If I
were a fool."

Dr. Vada's face
became melancholy. "If only there was a way to keep it as you see it now, in its pure
uncoagulated state."

Dr. Vada stared off
into space as if he had forgotten where he was and to whom he spoke. "For thirty-five years I
have sought
the answer to this mystery.
I have spent my life trying to stay this coarsening, this destroyer of natural beauty ... for it
was my dream . . . my dream always . . . that my own blood should flow eternally . . . that even
at my death the red liquid would . . ." Dr. Vada jumped. He looked around him uncertainly. The
puzzled, almost frightened rows of faces stared back at him. At his back, Bellamy silently
mouthed the word "lunatic."

Dr. Vada turned
pale, licking his lips nervously. He passed his hand across his face, as if wiping it clean of
expression.

"Class dismissed,"
said Dr. Vada. Students sat and stared at each other. Class dismissed an hour early? The doctor
set the glass beaker down on his desk and stalked out of the room. At the bottom of the container
lay a thick brown mass of coagulated blood.

Bellamy rose with a
look of pure malice on his face and fol­lowed Dr. Vada. He caught up to him as Dr. Vada prepared
to enter his office in the basement of Steiner Hall.

"Yes? What is it?"
snapped Dr. Vada. "I want to be alone." The old man opened his door and tried to enter, but
Bellamy blocked him.

"I wanna talk to
you," said Bellamy. "Now!"

"Another day! I
must be alone with my . . ."

Bellamy pushed Dr.
Vada through the door and stepped inside behind him. Dr. Vada staggered, recovered his balance,
and turned and stared coldly at the angry young man in front of him. The old man seemed neither
surprised nor particularly upset.

"Do you intend to
beat me?" asked Dr. Vada. "If that is your intention, I cannot defend myself. I have a weak
heart."

"You're not going
to get off that easily, you old bastard. What's the idea of using me for a guinea pig anyway!"
Bellamy rubbed the spot on Ms arm where the needle had gone in. "You think you can get away with
that kind of crap around me? You're going to be sorry you ever . . ."

"And what do you
intend to do about it?"

"I mean to see you
fired. Not only that, I intend to see to it that you never get a university position anywhere
else either."

"Your father is not
that powerful, I think," said Dr. Vada calmly. "Besides, how do I know he would do anything to me
anyway? Surely your word cannot be all that honorable even in your father's eyes."

"Gloat, you
miserable bastard," said Bellamy. "Do you re­member Dr. Saygers?"

The old man nodded.
"A pity. A very old and dear colleague of mine. His suicide was a very great shock to
me."

"He did it because
I got him canned," said Bellamy with a note of triumph in his voice. "I shagged him. Just like
I'm going to shag you."

Dr. Vada went to
his desk and sat down. "You sit here and brag that you are responsible for the death of Dr.
Saygers?"

Bellamy
laughed.

Dr. Vada stared at
the top of his desk. There was no expression on his face. He simply looked tired.

Bellamy leaned on
the edge of his desk. "What's the matter, pops, all your stuffing leak out?"

Dr. Vada opened a
cigar box on his desk. His hand was hidden by the box lid. "Does the perfect anticoagulant
interest you, Mr. Bellamy?"

"Only your
disappearance from the university interests me," said Bellamy. "You're senile and should have
been put out to pasture a long time ago."

"A pity," said Dr.
Vada. "Quite a fascinating subject. After blood leaves the body, prothrombin becomes converted to
throm-bin. When enough thrombin has formed, it converts fibrinogen to fibrin. I've tested
hundreds of serums, perhaps thousands. I've never discovered anything that could reverse or
totally inhibit that process." Dr. Vada sighed. He seemed abstracted, almost dreamy.

"You're mad, you
know that? Still rattling on about your fail­ures." Bellamy smiled. "Hasn't it sunk into that
decrepit brain of yours that you're finished here?"

"Of course it has,"
said Dr. Vada. "Did you think I did not take you seriously? I assure you I do."

Bellamy stood up.
"You'd better. Maybe you should resign. It'll look better than being booted out."

Dr. Vada just
smiled. "Resign? I have no intention of resign­ing. I still have a new serum to try. Not much
hope of success, I'm afraid. The proteins involved are impure. Always my greatest
problem."

Angrily Bellamy
leaned over the desk, opened his mouth to speak.

Dr. Vada struck.
His hand came up from the inside of the cigar box. The hypodermic stabbed into the young man's
chest.

Bellamy staggered
back, eyes wide open with horror. He stum­bled on a fold in the carpet and fell. The hypo was
jolted free by the impact of the fall and landed in his lap.

"Help!" screamed
Bellamy. "Help!"

Dr. Vada consulted
the battered timepiece in his vest pocket. "Well, I underestimated the dose. Bit cramped and
awkward doing it one-handed. I had hoped you wouldn't be able to scream."

Bellamy tried to
rise. His arms and legs stiffened, refusing to obey. He was numb from the neck down. Paralysis
was slowly creeping upward. Already his jaws and face felt heavy. His eyes rolled in terror,
veins in his neck bulging horribly as he tried to move himself.

"Eleven seconds,"
said Dr. Vada. "Not a poison, Mr. Bellamy, so you needn't look so horrified. I wouldn't poison
anyone. That would be inhuman."

"What are . . . you
. . . doing to me?" The words came thickly from Bellamy's throat.

"You are in your
usual form today, Mr. Bellamy," said Dr. Vada. He held a scalpel in one hand. "And because you
are"—he moved to Bellamy's side—"you are going to provide me with a special treat."

"No! No!" whispered
Bellamy.

"Our Mr. Bellamy
has volunteered to participate in an an­ticoagulant test." Methodically, the old man began
slicing through the shirt and pants, cutting away the clothes. He removed socks and shoes,
undergarments. With a quick flip of the scalpel he snapped a gold chain that had encircled the
young man's neck.

"You . . . can't. .
. doesn't work . . . you know it won't work . . ." Bellamy was almost inaudible.

"Relax, Mr.
Bellamy." Dr. Vada lightly scratched the carotid artery with the sharp point of the scalpel. His
hand was sure. "Trust me. I know my serum probably won't work, but don't let it concern you. I
won't let it discourage me. Like all scientists, I'll just keep trying."

"You . . . please
... I won't . . . pleeeeeeasssseee." Bellamy could no longer control his vocal cords.

"A very effective
drug, is it not, young Mr. Bellamy? Are you comfortable?" Dr. Vada smiled solicitously. "I know
you are paralyzed. But you can still hear, still see, Mr. Bellamy. You'll be aware at all times.
I find that a rather nice touch."

Bellamy neither
moved nor spoke. A tear trickled down one cheek.

Producing another
hypo, the old man injected 20 cc's of an­ticoagulant.

"Keep your fingers
crossed," said Dr. Vada with a laugh. "Can't cross them? Pity." He took the scalpel, held it
gently to Bellamy's neck. With a firm, decisive stroke, he severed the ca­rotid
artery.

A bright arterial
flow of blood gushed forth to pool on the floor at Dr. Vada's feet.

"Beautiful!
Absolutely beautiful! Oh, beautiful, alarming trea­sure!" There was a look of pure delight on Dr.
Vada's face.

"Do you hear it, my
boy? Can you see the great rushing red glory of it?" Dr. Vada sighed. "But of course you can. At
least for a little while."

There was silence
in the room. Bellamy on the floor in a bright red pool of blood. Dr. Vada back at his desk,
dreamily eyeing the red area. If only the beauty could last.

Ten minutes crept
by. Bellamy had passed hearing and seeing. Forever.

"Alas," said Dr.
Vada.