Chapter 11: Training

What Alvirez appreciated most about Owen was that the child enjoyed ideas. Most people didn't like ideas. Owen wasn't one of them. This distinguishing trait rendered the boy's training not merely possible but propitious. It was a delight to teach him.

"All a person needs is love," Alvirez said. "Abby receives love from you. Therefore, Abby has everything she needs."

"Valid syllogism," Owen replied, fidgeting in his seat at the kitchen table. "The conclusion follows necessarily from the premises. But…unsound?"

"Why?" the agent asked.

"I guess because the first premise isn't true. A person needs more than love."

"Good. Next one. Time heals all wounds. Abby has all the time in the world. Therefore, all her wounds will be healed."

"Valid syllogism." Owen hesitated. "I know you want me to say it's unsound."

"It is unsound," Alvirez maintained. "Time does not heal all wounds." The agent could see Owen didn't appreciate this. "I haven't killed a soul for fifteen years, Owen. It doesn't make up for what I did. Or make it go away. Or make me feel better about it. Maybe time can allow superficial wounds to heal. Major damage requires something more."

The agent moved on. "If evolution is true, then there is no such thing as right and wrong. If there is no such thing as right and wrong, then there is nothing to feel guilty about. Therefore, the way to rid people of guilt is to convince them that evolution is true."

"Uh, valid syllogism, I think," Owen answered. "Is it sound?"

"It's a tricky one," Alvirez explained. "It commits equivocation by confusing objective and emotional guilt. Even if objective guilt is an illusion, thinking that it's an illusion does not automatically make a person's guilty feelings go away. But the argument also begs the question by assuming the truth of philosophic naturalism. That's the belief that matter, energy, time, and chance are all that exist. Tell me, what is wrong with the statement, 'I cannot speak a word of English?'"

"It doesn't make sense. If you can say it then you can speak a little English at least."

"Exactly. We say that the sentence is self-contradictory. How about this belief. The only facts we can know for certain are those facts we can prove through scientific experimentation."

"That belief can't be proved through scientific experimentation."

"Good. Now tell me what's wrong with this proposition: Reason teaches that matter, energy, time, and chance are all that exist." Alvirez watched Owen churn through the question. He found himself rooting for his student, hoping the boy would figure it out.

Owen's face brightened. "If Reason teaches it, then Reason exists – and Reason isn't matter, energy, time, or chance."

"Excellent!" Alvirez said. "You're really doing quite well at this, Owen. The fallacies were junior high material. But formal Logic is high school level stuff."

"Abby doesn't like it as much."

"Keep trying. Maybe it'll click. Part of her problem might be her lack of math. It's a shame she didn't get any taught to her growing up."

Alvirez switched books and subjects. "Today I want to introduce the concept of personality types. We're going to use what's known as the Meyers-Briggs Personality Inventory. It classifies people in four categories: Introversion vs. Extroversion, Intuitive vs. Sensing, Thinking vs. Feeling, and Judging vs. Perceiving.

"This book explains it all in about two hundred pages. I want you to give it a try, although a lot of it will probably be pretty challenging. I'm going to give you a basic treatment now using just this handout. What I tell you is going to be overly simplistic, so don't bite my head off later if you decide I left out something important."

Introversion/Extroversion (I/E) concerns how much you like spending your free time with other people. If you find yourself always wanting to hang out with others, you're an Extrovert. If you like to rest and relax by spending time alone, you're an Introvert.

Intuitive/Sensing (N/S) concerns how your mind reaches conclusions. If you are able to skip from A straight to Z, you are iNtuitive. If you go systematically A, B, C, etc., you are Sensing. Sensing people tend to be practical and hands-on. Intuitive people tend to prefer theory and ideas.

Thinking/Feeling (T/F) concerns how you make decisions. Every person thinks and feels. If you make decisions based on a rational thought process, you are Thinking. If you make decisions based on emotion, you are Feeling.

Judging/Perceiving (J/P) concerns the speed with which you make decisions. If you reach conclusions quickly, you are Judging. If you prefer to take more time gathering information before reaching a conclusion, you are Perceiving.

"Every person is assigned four letters," the agent continued, "resulting in sixteen possible personality types. It's all rather artificial, of course, but in practice it can be quite useful."

Alvirez pulled out a pencil and started pointing to each section of the handout. "Abby shuns people," he said, "which by default makes her an introvert. The second one I'm less certain about. Does she display any interest in mechanical things, or in doing stuff with her hands?"

"No," Owen answered.

"Alright. Then for now let's call her intuitive. She obviously makes decisions based on emotion. And you tend to do the planning and organizing, right? So I'm going to say she's perceiving. Put all that together and you get INFP as Abby's personality. Then you look that type up and see what the book says:

INFP – Creative, smart, idealist, loner, attracted to sad things, disorganized, avoidant, can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings. An INFP's feelings form the foundations of the individual. They are sacred and binding, in the sense that their emergence requires no further justification. An INFP's feelings are often guarded, kept safe from attack and ridicule. Only a few, close confidants are permitted entrance into this domain.

"Well," Alvirez admitted, "I'm not sure that really tells us anything we didn't already know. The types are really useful when it comes to relationships, though. You're probably an INFJ. Look at the three areas you and Abby have in common, see where that might leave your relationship with some blind spots. Look at the one area where you're different, and see how you might complement each other. The most successful couples tend to share three out four letters. That bodes well for you."

Alvirez got up from the table. "Most psychologists probably wouldn't attempt a personality inventory at your age. You're still forming, changing. Your scores could be totally different five or ten years from now. Although that raises the interesting question of whether or not Abby is even capable of change. It would be a good case study to examine her now and again in ten years, and see if her personality has altered in any significant way.

"Don't beat yourself up if you can't handle Meyers-Briggs right away," Alvirez added. "It can take some time to internalize. What I really want is for you to appreciate the fact that people are different.

"Now I realize at one level you already know this. Kids form clicks with students who are like themselves. You've seen this in practice. What I mean is that I want you to appreciate differences in people well enough that you can learn how to get along with them and work with them, even though they're not like you.

"Let me give you an example. You're in a relationship with Abby. The two of you have a lot in common, but in other ways you're different. Perhaps physical touch makes her feel loved, while time spent talking makes you feel loved. If you don't appreciate this difference and learn to work around it, it's going to create a lot of problems. You'll always be trying to talk to Abby, when all she really wants is a hug. And she'll always be trying to hug you, when maybe what you really want is for her to talk."

"So what are you saying?" Owen asked. "That I should hug her more?"

"No, what I'm saying is that there's a difference between having affection for someone and making that person feel loved. Love isn't really an emotion at all. It's more an action. To love Abby means to do something for her. The question is what. What loving act can you perform that will have the intended effect? The idea is to get to know her, and to do for her what she will appreciate rather than just doing what you wish she would do for you."

"So you're saying I really do need to learn history."

"Of course, learn history. But do you think that's the most loving thing you can do for her? Aim big, Owen. Get to know her. Find out what she most wants you to do. And remember, every person's self-knowledge is limited. She may not actually understand herself well enough to know what it is she most wants you to do. Figure it out, Owen. No matter what it takes, figure it out. Never, ever take the lazy route and settle for doing what you want her to do."

Owen interrupted him. "Are you really qualified to give relationship advice?" he asked.

"Of course not," Alvirez admitted. "I've got a bitter ex-wife to prove it. Knowing all this stuff is helpful, but bare knowledge can't get you anywhere in life. I have a superior intellectual grasp of post-traumatic stress disorder, body language, and personality types. My brilliance didn't save my marriage, though. It's not knowledge that counts, Owen. It's what you do with it. Hopefully you'll do a better job than I did."

Alvirez gathered his stuff and prepared to leave. "You know," he said, "there is something else you can maybe start helping with. It's pretty advanced, but you can try. In determining Abby's personality type, it's possible we'll actually have to develop two profiles, one for Abby and one for the monster. But what I really want to figure out is if that's even the right way to think about her. Is she two separate personalities? Or do girl and monster merge in a more complex manner?"

"When Abby vamped before attacking Virginia," Owen offered, "she said 'go away' to me. It was the monster's voice, but they were Abby's words, I think. So some of Abby was still left, even when she was in monster form."

"That's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," Alvirez replied. "Think about times when there's a definite mix of Abby and monster. How do the two interact? How do they affect or control each other? Are we evaluating two people, or just one hybrid persona? I'd really like to know."

*****

Alvirez toured his secret lab on a warm May evening. So far nine men had been granted access to the facility. Five of them were currently at work. The agent observed their labors for a few minutes, then led the senior researcher to his office.

"They seem pretty focused," Alvirez observed as he settled behind his desk.

"It is a truly unique project," Dr. Mecklenburg commented, finding a seat of his own. The lead scientist was a tall man in his late forties, with crystal-blue eyes and an overabundance of energy.

"Every time I take a look, Stan is here," Alvirez noted.

"He may not be the smartest man on the team," Mecklenburg remarked. "But he is definitely the most zealous. He does everything I ask of him."

Alvirez nodded. He had desired two senior researchers. That would have enabled him to play the doctors against each other. But Mecklenburg wielded so much more ambition than Dr. Samarth. There was no doubt in any member's mind as to which scientist was really in charge.

"I'd appreciate a progress report," Alvirez said. "It's been eight weeks."

"Our technology limits us," Mecklenburg explained. "We can't do the kind of genetic testing we want. Maybe in forty or fifty years."

"But if it's infectious, does genetic testing matter?"

"It does if the pathogen alters DNA, which it very well may. That's assuming there is a pathogen, of course. We still haven't been able to isolate a definitive infectious agent."

"You've found strange things in her blood," Alvirez noted.

"Yes," Mecklenburg granted. "But that doesn't mean we've identified them. Truth is, we still have no idea what we're dealing with. It would really help if we knew the subject's symptoms."

"In time," Alvirez demurred.

"You've told me and Dr. Samarth that the samples come from the vampire girl. But how does that bare piece of information advance our work in any way? Are we just supposed to read the tabloids and guess at the girl's presentation? We need to examine her."

"She would never permit a medical exam. It's hard enough getting her blood."

Mecklenburg leaned forward. "It seems the subject enjoys far too much freedom, given the great danger she poses to society. A compelled detention would protect the populace, while granting us additional avenues of research. We could observe her behavior and obtain tissue samples."

Alvirez frowned. He wanted to suggest that Abby's rights and wishes be taken into account, but such a line of reasoning would carry no weight with Mecklenburg. The guy was old-school: the strong survive, the weak die. And in his mind, he was the strong and whomever he felt like studying was the weak. In another generation Mecklenburg would have experimented on Jews. He wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, either.

The scientist continued his argument. "Incarceration would protect us from another risk you seem unwilling to acknowledge, namely, the risk of losing the subject. Currently what is there to prevent her escape? If she should slip from your control, we surrender the ability to continue investigating her condition. We simply cannot allow her to escape."

Alvirez wondered what to do. In Mecklenburg's mind, Abby was nothing more than an interesting animal. She should be caged and studied, end of discussion. It wasn't just that, though. The man labored under some bizarre sense of entitlement. In his mind scientists were the new philosopher-kings before whom all other creatures should bow. Mecklenburg had a right to Abby, an absolute claim upon her life and existence, simply because of what he was.

The agent wanted to argue with Mecklenburg, explain that if his naturalist worldview were true no one could be entitled to anything. But the irony of the researcher's mindset was a strange immunity to reason. Mecklenburg knew what he wanted, and the universe owed it to him. Which left Alvirez in a difficult quandary: Mecklenburg could not be controlled.

*****

Alvirez closed the blinds and showed Owen a video. He was conscious of Abby asleep in her bathroom, but it took a lot to awaken her during the day. He reckoned he could be pretty liberal with the volume and still not disturb her.

"This girl is being interviewed by an expert interrogator," the agent explained. "Focus on her facial expression as she answers this first question."

On the TV screen a middle-aged woman asked a blonde high school girl, "How did your evening go?"

The girl smiled. "It went really well," she said.

Alvirez paused and rewound. "Look at the turn of her lips," Alvirez noted. "That indicates the smile is genuine. But did you notice what she did with her arms?"

"She closed them together in front of her," Owen replied.

"Exactly. That means she might have something to hide." The agent hit play.

"What did you do at the party?" the interviewer asked.

"I hung out with my friends," the girl replied.

Alvirez paused again. "She's telling the truth," the agent explained. "But did you see the shift in her eyes? She holding something back, something she doesn't feel comfortable saying."

They continued watching. "What was the best thing that happened at the party?"

"Well," the girl offered, hesitant. "I met a boy. He was really cute. I told my friends about him and they were, like, 'No way, he's not hot.' But I said he totally was. Then they wondered what school he went to. And I said, 'Clifton,' and they were, like, 'You can't go out with a guy from Clifton.' I said it didn't matter where he went. He has a car. And they asked if I gave him my number, and I wouldn't say. But they kept pestering me, so finally I told them. And they wanted to know what I would say if he called…"

After several more minutes of this Alvirez stopped the video. "A novice," Alvirez said, "would look at this and say the key piece of information is that the girl met some guy at a party. She was trying to hide it, right? And she looked relieved when she finally divulged it. But think about what you just heard, Owen. What did the girl actually focus on during the interview?"

"Her conversation with her friends," Owen answered.

"Perfect," Alvirez said. "She certainly had a good time at the party, but it wasn't because she met a boy. It was because she got to talk about the boy with her friends. Consider how animated she became, the dramatic use of her hands as she recounted the conversation. That poor boy might have gone away thinking she was interested in him. Really all she was interested in was talking to her friends about him. The talking was the high point of her evening, not the boy."

Alvirez got up and opened the blinds. "People are complicated," he explained. "Do you think this girl really understood why she had such a good time? Do you think she could have articulated, 'The party was great because I got to talk to my friends about a boy?' If pressed, she'd probably just have said that she had a good time because she met a boy. Which means at this moment we actually understand her better than she understands herself.

"But even then, do we really understand her? Motives and emotions are multi-layered and complex. Likely there are other reasons why she had such a good time. The food could have been first rate. She might have just gotten over an illness. Maybe the college of her dreams just accepted her. Maybe she was on drugs. Maybe she got to drive on her own for the first time.

"Never settle, Owen. Never stop and think you understand a person just because you discover something they're hiding, or because you think you've got their body language nailed, or because they open up with you. There is always more. Always. You can never get to the bottom of a human being."

They returned to the kitchen table and pulled out some photocopies. "You read it all?" Alvirez asked.

"I did," Owen replied.

"The glasses you've started wearing show that your body is changing," Alvirez began. "What we're focusing on here is not outward physical change but inward mental or cognitive change. This stage stuff can be pushed too far, of course. My mother used to explain away everything I said with, 'It's just the phase you're in,' and it would really piss me off. Yet the basic truth holds: as a child grows his brain becomes capable of performing tasks that simply were not possible at an earlier stage of development.

"You've studied four tragedies with your tutor. This choice of subject material was deliberate on my part because I wanted you exposed to these three clusters of questions." Alvirez passed Owen a handout.

Child: Who are the main characters? What is the basic plot? What do the most famous lines mean?

Teenager: What are the distinctive features common to all tragedies? What are the protagonists' tragic flaws? What might the tragedy teach about the author and his time?

Adult: What is it about viewing tragedies that audiences find cathartic? How do tragedies speak to the universal human condition? Is life tragic? Why or why not?

"I know you can answer the child and teen questions," Alvirez said, "because your tutor tells me you can. What I'd like you to realize today is that your brain is not finished developing. In a few years you'll be able to deal with the adult questions. You may even want to deal with them. And I want to ask you: how important is that to you? Do you want to mature into an adult mentally?"

Owen shrugged.

"You have to wonder where Abby is," Alvirez observed. "She knows a lot more Shakespeare than you do. But is she able to engage in an adult analysis of all that information? Or is she stuck with the mentality of a teenager? Do you think she could answer this last group of questions?"

Owen studied the sheet. "I don't know," he replied, his face uncertain.

"I don't think you realize how much you've changed since you and Abby fled Los Alamos," the agent said. "You're turning fourteen this week. So much of what I've taught you you never would have been able to understand when you were twelve. You're mind is developing, and it's developing rapidly. Do you really want to halt that process? Because I think that's exactly what's going to happen if Abby turns you into a vampire."

"Maybe that's why she should change me," Owen countered. "Before we're too different to be together."

"It's a reasonable point," Alvirez allowed. "If she is going to change you, in a lot of ways it makes more sense for her to do it now rather than wait until you're older. I guess what I'm really hoping is that you recognize there are disadvantages to being a vampire besides becoming a mass-murderer. You lose the ability to grow up, to change, to mature. Maybe that doesn't matter to you. But you have to ask if it matters to Abby."

Owen's face became thoughtful. "You know," the boy said, "she mentioned once that she wished she looked like Brooke Shields. I thought she meant Brooke Shields looked prettier, which I didn't understand. But maybe she meant Brooke Shields looked older."

"That's an interesting possibility, although I'm more interested in Abby's mind than in her physical appearance. Does Abby hate being trapped in the mentality of a thirteen-year-old? Because if she does, then providing her with murderless blood isn't going to solve all her problems. She'll still be frozen on the cusp of adulthood, never capable of reaching her potential. And what, Owen, could you ever do about that?"

*****

In July Alvirez decided to bring Dr. Mecklenburg into the fifth circle. The agent sat behind his desk and waited as the scientist perused Abby's file. It took a good thirty minutes. Alvirez observed the doctor's body language throughout the process, and was very unhappy at what he saw. Mecklenburg became more and more agitated, until finally it was obvious that the man could scarcely contain his fury.

"She has to be incarcerated," Mecklenburg concluded, closing the file. "She has to be contained immediately."

"What scientific benefit would really accrue from placing her in a cage?" Alvirez asked.

Mecklenburg shook his head, clearly mystified at the agent's slowness. "She has to be held here," he insisted. "Why can't you see that?"

Alvirez could hear the incredulity and outrage in the researcher's voice. How dare Alvirez and Owen "have" Abby! She belonged to Mecklenburg. The universe owed her to Mecklenburg. She was his rightful property, to do with as he saw fit. No one could be permitted to stand in his way.

Alvirez had hoped sharing this information might mollify the doctor. In fact it had only made the situation worse. Mecklenburg was a walking contradiction, a scientist who wanted to be a sorcerer. He longed for occult knowledge, dark magic, unclean secrets. Abby was the spell book that would grant Mecklenburg the noisome power he craved.

The agent finally understood why he couldn't manipulate the scientist. The man was a Nazi. And history demonstrated there was only one way to deal with Nazis: you shot them. If Alvirez wanted to maintain control of the Society, he was going to have to kill Mecklenburg.

He realized in hindsight that this shouldn't have surprised him. The Society was a criminal organization, after all. What kind of men could it reasonably be expected to attract? It was not a secret society so much as a gang. And gangs were ruled through violence.

"We'll build a sub-basement with a cage," Alvirez suggested, pretending to give in. "It's going to have to be an awfully strong cage. Then we have to figure out how to get her in it. I reckon we'll have to do the construction work ourselves, though. I'll start ordering the necessary equipment."

Mecklenburg strode from the office, momentarily appeased. Alvirez had to kill him. No choice. But Alvirez didn't want to kill him. There simply had to be another way. Violence was the last refuge of the incompetent. The agent hated to think of himself as incompetent. Surely if he tried hard enough, he could conceive of a non-violent solution. There had to be another way.

*****

Alvirez had Owen join him in the garage, showed him the car he had obtained. "This vehicle is registered in your false identity," the agent explained. He handed the boy a packet of documents. "This is everything the two of you will need. Birth certificates, social security cards, driver's licenses, passports. It's really precious stuff, Owen. Try not to blow it."

He stuffed the documents into the glove compartment and popped the trunk. "This is a satellite phone," the agent continued. "You'll be able to talk to me from anywhere in the country. Try turning it on at 10:00 AM and 2:00 PM, Eastern Time. That's when I'll try to call you."

Alvirez pulled a revolver from a holster. "This is a .357 Magnum. It fires.38 Special ammunition, as well as genuine Magnum rounds. Use the .38 rounds to practice. They have less recoil. Once you get good enough, switch to the Magnum ammo. It'll really take some getting used to, but make yourself do it. You want the high-velocity rounds when you're in the bush."

"I have my shotgun," Owen objected.

"I'm not saying get rid of the shotgun. I'm saying keep a sidearm as well. You never know when you're going to need to defend yourself, and the old saying is true: the best gun in the world is the one you have with you." Alvirez returned the weapon to the trunk.

"Your backpacks, outdoor clothing, survival gear – it's all in the backseat. You still have your money hoard from Brooklyn?"

Owen nodded.

"If I were you, I'd stash at least half of it in here. That way you can take off at a moment's notice."

"Why are you doing this?" Owen asked.

"Because sh- happens," Alvirez answered. "Now listen to me. If I call you and tell you to bug out, you bug out. You don't pack anything, you don't wait for an explanation. You grab Abby and run whether it's day or night. Head west to the mountain states. You'll find a collection of license plates under the seat, with alternate registrations. That'll help you blend in.

"There's also a packet of names and addresses: potential targets for Abby. The men on that list are sex offenders. I don't know if that'll assuage your conscience, but at least it'll help you keep from getting caught. Such men skip parole all the time. No one will go looking for them."

Alvirez placed a hand on his student's shoulder. "Now here's the deal, Owen. You have to hide the bodies. Abby should hunt outside while it's raining. The water will wash away evidence. But then you have to bury the remains. And I mean six feet down. Bury the body at a different location from where Abby feeds.

"If you don't bury the bodies, you're going to get caught. It's as simple as that. Bury the bodies and the police have nothing but missing person reports. If she leaves her kills out for forensic investigation, she is going to be tracked, and you, at least, are going to be captured. I wasn't kidding when I told you about new technologies. The resources at the FBI's disposal are simply unreal. Am I making myself clear? Hide the bodies if you want to survive."

"I bought the ring," Owen said.

Alvirez paused for a moment to consider this. "Good," he replied. "That's real good. Just make sure you find the right time to give it to her. She's a romantic, you know."

*****

The agent realized there was a problem the instant he started checking out the lab. Every man was too formal, too friendly. Their eyes held secrets. Alvirez knew what must have happened: Mecklenburg had shared his knowledge of Abby with the rest of the Society. The researcher was doing what Alvirez had hoped to do himself: grant access to the inner circle in exchange for loyalty. These doctors now belonged to Mecklenburg. If once they managed to get Abby into the cage, Charles Alvirez was a dead man.

Alvirez retreated to his office and emptied his safe of planning documents, Abby's file, and the few precious photographs of the girl he had managed to sneak. He laid out the blueprint for the new sub-basement and tried to figure out what he was going to do.

Killing Mecklenburg would no longer be enough. Not at this point. To regain control of the Society, Alvirez would have to stage a public execution. He would have to feed Mecklenburg to Abby while every single doctor watched. That, and that alone, could restore the balance. The evil Nazi scientist would be offered up to the vampire in a ritual of dark sacrifice. And then they really would be a Secret Society.

Alvirez opened the Yellow Pages and began searching for wood-chippers.

*****

"This pyramid is called Maslow's Hierarchy," Alvirez explained, leaning across the kitchen table and pointing to the handout in front of Owen. "According to Maslow, the needs of human beings can be organized into five levels. The bottom level contains the most basic biological needs – air, water, food, shelter, sex, sleep. The second level are what he called safety needs – security, order, law, limits, stability. Third level are belongingness and love needs – family, affection, relationships, work groups. Fourth level contains esteem needs – achievement, status, responsibility, reputation. And the highest level Maslow called self-actualization – personal growth, becoming the person you were meant to be.

"Now I realize some of this sounds like psycho-babble," the agent said, "so don't over think it. The key idea is that human beings are not animals. We need things that animals don't need. The needs toward the bottom of the pyramid are ones we share in common with animals, yes. But the higher needs are more abstract: psychological, emotional, transcendent requirements unique to human existence."

Alvirez pointed at the bottom of the pyramid. "Abby has proven that she can meet these needs on her own." He pointed to the middle of the pyramid. "These are the needs she requires you to meet. And it seems like you do a good job meeting them." He pointed to the top. "What you have to learn is what other needs she possesses, and you have to learn whether or not you're actually capable of meeting them."

Owen furrowed his brow. "I don't understand any of this stuff at the top," he said.

Alvirez nodded. "That's why I call it psycho-babble. Forget about Maslow's terminology. Try to fill in the top level yourself. What do you think man's loftiest needs are, the longings he spends his life pursuing once his basic requirements are satisfied? Become a student of human nature, Owen. What does man, and man alone, have to have?"

The agent circled the top of the pyramid. "This is what you've been trained for," he emphasized. "You must take everything I've taught you and use it to discover what's missing in Abby's life. And it's not like you can ask her, of course. You have to utilize some indirect…" Alvirez stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

A man kicked in the door. Alvirez had time to recognize Stan before the doctor pointed a gun and shot him in the chest. The impact threw Alvirez to the floor. Stan reached down and seized the agent's firearm. Then he stepped over Alvirez and passed into the living room.

Alvirez rolled onto his stomach. He realized another person had entered the house. The agent assumed this had to be Mecklenburg, but discovered he was wrong. The second intruder was a woman. Alvirez did not recognize her. He watched as she pistol-whipped Owen across the face. The boy collapsed.

Abby burst from her bedroom, face patchy and discolored, eyes glowing yellow. Stan aimed his gun at Abby, but the woman dropped hers and pulled out a knife. With this she cut her skin, causing blood to drip down her forearm.

Abby sprang on the woman, biting her neck. The next instant Stan started firing, driving Abby away. Stan then hunched over the unknown woman. He produced surgical instruments from a bag and began repairing the damage to the woman's neck.

Alvirez lifted his head. He could just make out Abby, motionless and crumpled in the corner. Owen was attempting to rise onto his hands and knees. The boy glanced at Alvirez and the agent shook his head. Owen stayed where he was. Stan picked up the woman and fled the way he had come. The three of them were alone.

Owen managed to get to his feet. "Put her in the car," Alvirez croaked. "Get me the gasoline."

The boy did as he was told. He shouldered Abby and disappeared with her into the garage, returning a minute later with the gas can. Owen considered the agent for a moment. Then he started running around the house, opening up windows. He piled his books in a mound near Alvirez. So many books!

"Good," Alvirez whispered. "Be sure to close the garage. Now go," he demanded. "Just go."