Chapter 6
Panic
As he usually was every morning, Rhyne awakened to the sound of the other two getting up and preparing to go to work.
Bickering about one taking longer than usual in the bathroom.
Discussing what to have for breakfast. Completely undeterred by the fact that there was another person still trying to sleep in the house.
It was a common occurrence these past few years, squabbling over minor, petty things ever since they’d rented the three-bedroom, one-bath home.
Sooner or later he’d remind them what it was like a hundred or so years ago when they didn’t have the luxury of a bathroom.
Or individual bedrooms. When they were lucky to have a roof over their heads to keep off the rain and snow, and maybe a couple of walls to protect them from the wind.
For now, he ignored them like he usually did since he always worked a later shift. He was on the verge of falling back to sleep when someone pounded on the door.
“Rhyne! Don’t forget, it’s your turn to go get the next batch of bags!” Nash reminded him.
“I did it last time, remember? When it was your time to go!” he called out. He sensed the man leaving. Sadly, Nash’s absence didn’t last.
“Hey, Rhyne? Welsh can’t do it. He’s working overtime this month, remember? And I can’t, either. I’m pulling a double.”
Rhyne didn’t try to hide his groan. “All right. I’ll go get ‘em. But you guys are gonna owe me!”
“Whatever.” No thanks. Just an acknowledgment and departure.
This time the footsteps faded into the distance, followed by the sound of the kitchen door slamming. There was the low growl of the single garage door opening before it repeated to signal its closing, leaving Rhyne to enjoy the blissful silence in their wake.
He was about to slip back to sleep when this time nature intervened. Mouthing a profanity, he opened his eyes and threw back the covers.
He stared, slack-jawed and on the verge of passing out, at his room’s multi-gray hues.
“What? No. No!”
He whipped his head around, searching for a glimmer of color, but he already knew his little miracle had ended. The world had reverted back to blacks and whites and multitudes of grays, the way it had been before he’d been given the gift of human eyesight.
Rhyne closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly, and opened them again.
The world remained dull and colorless. Dejected, he dropped his face into his hands.
“It was a treasure while it lasted, old man. There’s no way you’ll be able to regain it.
” He raised his head. “Unless you find out whose blood it was.”
He stared at the curtained window. Would it be possible?
His gaze dropped to the nightstand where he’d stored the used blood bag. Sitting up on the edge of the mattress, he retrieved it from the drawer and stared at the label adhered to it.
AB Rh NEGATIVE
Collected two months ago according to the date stamp at the nearby Harbor County Hospital.
“He’s a local.” That little tidbit of information was heartening.
There were other words and symbols printed on the label that he neither recognized nor understood, including those bar code things. But he knew who could read them.
“They have to know who donated this. If it turns out there’s something wrong with the blood, there has to be a way for the donation center to track down the donor.
Maybe to let them know they need to see a doctor, or to tell them they can’t donate anymore.
That they’ve been barred or banned until whatever was wrong with them is resolved. ”
Letting out a long sigh, Rhyne considered his options. Should he attempt to find those blood donors and try again? See if ingesting that blood restored his sight a second time?
“What if I do, but lightning doesn’t strike twice? What if this time was a fluke? A one and done?” It wouldn’t be the first time Fate had cruelly teased him like this. And as long as he lived, it wouldn’t be the last.
Common sense told him to drop the issue, but another part of him, that part which had once been human, longed for a repeat. And to keep repeating if need be.
An old saying among his kind said Follow the blood. Its exact interpretation was left up to the individual, and depended on the circumstances. In Rhyne’s case, he’d follow the blood bag.
“But first things first. Norris goes to work in the afternoon. I’m going to have to wait until later to contact him and let him know what I need for him to do. That leaves me with trying to hunt down that asshole who tried to rob me.”
Getting up from the bed, he took care of his immediate needs, dressed, and ate a quick breakfast before heading out. He knew it was a long shot, but what other choice did he have?
“If it’s a combination of both bloods, I need to find that guy.”
And then what?
He stopped his bike and placed both feet on the pavement as he considered his options. “Okay. So I find the guy, and his blood brings my color vision back. What do I do then? Ask him nicely if he’d donate a quart for a sawbuck?”
Rhyne found himself facing a different problem. “Apparently, this ability only lasts for a few days. What happens when I run out of his blood? See if he’d donate every month, and continue paying him for it?”
He knew exactly what many of his kind would do. They’d imprison the man and bleed him. Keep him alive but captive for as long as they could in order to keep their supply fresh. It was a dehumanizing and barbaric tactic that Rhyne refused to participate in.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The idea of drinking that man’s toxic mess made him seriously reconsider for a split-second whether it would be worth it to see in color again.
As he biked over to that area of town where he’d been accosted, he prepared himself for the fact that he might not be able to detect, much less follow, the guy’s scent.
Not after three days and who knew how many people walking over that same area, nullifying the track.
But there was a chance some of the nearby bars might be familiar with the guy.
Might even be able to provide him with a name.
Once he crossed the street, he started with the first booze hall on the block, Doug’s Bar None.
After padlocking his bike to the handicapped parking sign, Rhyne went inside.
He was surprised to find two patrons already in attendance this early in the day when he entered.
An older, gray-haired man was hunched over, nursing a beer at the far end of the bar.
The other in a faded pair of camouflage pants was playing a solo game of pool at one of the tables in the rear.
“Can I help you?”
He glanced over to find a husky, muscular man standing in the doorway to what appeared to be an office. “Yes. I’m looking for a guy.”
The proprietor’s eyes narrowed as he took in Rhyne’s appearance, and Rhyne could guess any number of things the man might be thinking.
To keep himself on the guy’s good side, he added, “He tried to rob me the other night. I want to find out who he is so in case he tries that shit again, I can call him out by name. Then maybe he’ll think twice about it if he suspects my friends and I’ll come after him. ”
The manager snorted. “Fat chance that’ll happen. You obviously aren’t familiar with the sort of clientele we deal with.”
Rhyne nodded. “You’d be surprised.” He lifted a hand to chin level.
“He’s a white guy, around five-ten, five-eleven.
Skinny build. Long, dirty brown hair he wears in a ponytail.
” Rhyne pointed to the side of his neck, below his jaw line.
“He has a tat here. It looks like a stylized letter or crest. Hard to make out.”
“It’s an E for Elias. Elias Treech,” the proprietor informed him. “And you’re shit outta luck getting your hands on him.”
“Let me take a crack at it anyway,” Rhyne countered. “Do you know where he lives? Or frequents?”
The guy chuckled. “I’m guessing right now you can find him over at the county morgue.”
Rhyne stared at the man as the words sank in. Seeing his expression, the manager smirked.
“Elias finally pulled a gun on the wrong victim. Somebody put four holes in his chest sometime around closing this morning. Cops pronounced him dead before the ambulance arrived.”
Rhyne managed to thank the guy for that bit of news and exited the bar in spite of his semi-paralysis. His would-be attacker, a.k.a. Elias Treech, was dead. Along with his blood supply.
Fate had never stopped laughing at him.