Evil Lurks Here

A Halloween story

by: Lynda Phillips

Johnny ran in total panic, glancing back behind him as he fled. He had to get away and not let what was chasing him catch him. For if it did, it would mean he was a dead man, forever removed from all that he knew and those who were close to him. He could not let that happen. He could not put his friends through that-nor the terror he knew would follow. He could not blame anyone but himself for what happened, he had trusted the wrong person. But, he could prevent the terror from continuing, by escaping his fate.

Suddenly, Johnny tripped and sprawled face down on the ground. He tried to get up, but found that he was unable to. At the sound of his name, he slowly looked up and saw it was now in front of him. His eyes widened in terror as he was grabbed and lifted to his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut, as his head was forced back, exposing his throat, and let out a soul-wrenching scream as something sharp penetrated it.



Roy jerked awake as a sudden scream of pure terror ripped through the station. Before the scream had died and the lights snapped on, Roy was by Johnny's side, placing his hands on his shoulders and calling softly, “Johnny?” Receiving no response, Roy shook him slightly, calling in a louder voice, “Johnny?”

Johnny jerked away from Roy's grip, pushing himself against the wall behind his bed. He heard his name called and slowly turned his head toward the sound. As Roy came into focus, his breathing slowed and he looked past Roy to see the others gathered around him, concern etched on their faces. Giving them a weak smile he said, “Sorry I woke you.”

“That's okay, Johnny,” Roy said, moving a little closer to him. Reaching down, he picked up Johnny's right wrist and took his pulse. A little fast, but Roy could tell it was slowing. Glancing back up at Johnny asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, pulling his wrist away. “Just a bad dream.”

“Are you sure that's all it is, Gage?” Stanley asked in concern.

“Yes, Cap,” Johnny said defensively. Pushing back the covers, he got up and headed toward the bathroom, “That's all it is.”



Johnny flipped the lights on as he entered the bathroom, heading toward the sinks. Silently, he stood in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. His face was pale, making the marks on his neck stand out. He reached up with his left hand and lightly touched them, wondering how they got there and why they weren't healing. A moment later, he slowly reached forward and touched the mirror, drawing his hand down the face reflected there.

Lowering his hand, Johnny's attention was drawn to his hand and the scar that was on the right side of his palm. Its oddness bothered him, as it reminded him of a cross. It was as if someone had taken one, and burned it into his hand. At a movement from the door, he turned and saw Roy standing there, watching him concernedly.

“Checking up on me, Roy?” he asked, a small smile coming to his face.

“You could say that,” Roy answered, coming further into the room. “I was just checking to see if you were all right.”

“I told you I was, Roy,” Johnny answered, turning from him. “Don't you believe me?”

“No,” Roy answered, coming up behind him. “You want to tell me what's going on with the nightmares?”

“No, I'd rather not,” Johnny answered, quietly. Reaching forward he turned the water on, and proceeded to wash his face.

“Why not?” Roy insisted. “It may help you feel better if you talk about it.”

Roy watched as Johnny continued washing his face. When he thought Johnny wouldn't answer him, he heard him say, “I doubt it.” Then Johnny glanced up and said, “Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” came Roy's soft answer. At Johnny's hesitation, he continued, “I want to help you, Johnny. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

Johnny remained silent as he studied Roy's reflection. Could he trust Roy with what was bothering him? How could he explain the marks on his neck and hand, when he himself did not know how he got them? What would he think of him once he was told?

Heaving a sigh, Johnny turned the water off and slowly turned to face Roy. Leaning back against the sinks, he glanced up at him, saying, “It started when Drakowski filled in for Mike…”



One Week Ago…

Johnny ran into the apparatus bay, sliding to a stop next to Roy and almost losing his balance. Roy glanced at him, grabbing his arm to steady him, and said “You're cutting it a bit close aren't you?”

“Close doesn't count, Roy,” Johnny said, glancing around. “Where's Mike?”

“Mike called in sick, John,” Stanley said, entering from his office. “If you had gotten here on time, you would have known that.”

“I'm not that late, Cap,” Johnny protested mildly. Then at his dark look, “Am I?”

Stanley didn't say anything for a few minutes, as he watched Johnny shift from one foot to the next. Once in awhile, he needed to remind his men who the boss was, and this was one of those times. When Johnny's gaze dropped to the floor, he relented and said, “No, John, you're not. But it's becoming a habit. A habit I'm hoping you don't plan on keeping.”

“No, Sir,” Johnny said, bringing his gaze up. “Sorry, Cap. It won't happen again.”

“I've heard that before,” Stanley said, smiling to take the sting out of his words. “Try a little harder to get here on time, all right, Pal?”

“All right, Cap,” Johnny answered, with a smile. “Who's replacing Mike?”

“Getting to that, John,” Stanley said, turning as someone entered the bay. “Gentlemen, this is Daniel Drakowski. He'll be filling in for Stoker the next couple of shifts. Drakowski, this is Chet Kelley, Marco Lopez, Roy DeSoto, and John Gage,” he continued as he moved down the line.

Drakowski nodded at each one as Stanley introduced them. When introductions were completed, he took his spot next to Kelly and listened as Stanley handed out the assignments. Once in awhile he would glance at Johnny, who was paying close attention to Stanley since the slight reprimand, and knew he had found the one he was looking for. The one who was always getting into trouble. And since he was the one always in trouble, the others would not miss him.



Chet studied Drakowski as he prepared the table for lunch. There was something about the man that he didn't like. He had caught Drakowski staring at Johnny a couple of times during the shift. Johnny had almost caught him at it a couple of times, which would be the only time he looked away. The more times it happened, the more suspicious he became.

Drakowski noticed Chet's glance and realized that he had seen him staring at Johnny. Looking toward him asked, “Chet, what are you staring at?”

Chet startled, realizing that he had been caught. Clearing his throat he said, “Nothing. Why?”

“I felt for sure you were staring at me,” Drakowski said, his eyes narrowing. “I was just wondering why.”

“I wasn't staring at you,” Chet said, evasively. “I was just thinking. Sorry if I was.”

Drakowski didn't say anything as he studied Chet, wondering what Chet knew about his plan. If he did know, it would ruin the plan, and he didn't want that to happen. As Chet turned his attention toward something on the stove, he asked, “Is it me or my name that you dislike?”

Chet paused for a second, then turned back toward Drakowski. He glanced around, seeing that everyone's attention was on them. His dislike for the man increased as he realized Drakowski was tying to make him appear foolish. As Chet turned his attention back to Drakowski, the man said, “So you know. What of it?”

“It wouldn't be the first time someone disliked me because of it. I'll tell you where it originated from, if you like,” Drakowski said, the last part being directed at the whole group. At their nods, he continued, “My family name originated in Romania. Transylvania, Romania to be exact. My family can trace its family line clear back to Vlad, the Impaler.”

“Your family name was Vlad?” Johnny asked. At his nod, “Wasn't he also called 'Dracula'?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you change it?” Roy asked, curiously.

“We didn't want to be associated with him,” Drakowski answered. “When our family decided to immigrate, they changed it to Drakowski, hoping that they could erase the family connection. It worked for a while, but somehow, our neighbors would find out. We were forced to move until we immigrated to the United States. But I guess our secret followed us here too,” Drakowski said, glancing at Chet. “Satisfied now?”

“Not really,” Chet answered, cautiously. “But, hey, you can't do nothing about your name, can you?”



Drakowski glanced up from checking the gauges on the Engine and watched as Johnny crossed the bay, going into the locker room. Now that everyone knew the origin of his name and that he was related to Vlad, Chet had started to unmercifully tease Johnny about it. When the others joined in, Johnny started to get angry and Drakowski knew he had found the one he'd been looking for. A smile came to his face as he realized that they had unwittingly placed his prey into his hands. After a quick glance around the bay, he quietly entered the locker room.

Drakowski entered the room to find Johnny standing in front of his locker, muttering about the latest joke that 'The Phantom' had pulled on him and stating how much he hated Halloween. Coming up behind him, he quietly said, “John, can I talk to you a moment?”

Johnny jumped, startled by the sudden voice behind him. Turning, he saw Drakowski standing behind him, a surprised look on his face. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he sat down in his locker, saying, “Sure, Drakowski. What's on your mind?”

“I didn't scare you, did I?” Drakowski asked, studying Johnny.

“No. Why?” Johnny asked, looking up at him. At the look of disbelief on Drakowski's face, “Look, you just startled me. Roy does it all the time when he comes up behind me and I don't realize he's there. It's no big deal.”

“You just seem to be a little afraid of me,” Drakowski answered. “Especially after you found out about where my name came from.”

“It's not that,” Johnny hedged.

“Then, what?” Drakowski pressed. “Is it because of Chet?”

“You could say that,” Johnny said, standing. Turning, he reached into his locker for a clean shirt. “Chet always gets this way around Halloween. It's one reason I'm not too thrilled about it. It seems like it's open season on Gage. To see how much he can scare me.”

“He's doing a good job, isn't he?” Drakowski asked, a slight smile on his face.

“Yes, he is,” Johnny responded, slipping the shirt on. “I just wish he would pick on someone else for a change. I'm tired of being his 'pigeon' for the day.”

Drakowski glanced out the door's window and saw Chet approaching. Edging closer to Johnny said, “I think that can be arranged.”

“I'd like to know how,” Johnny answered, heading toward the door. “You have any ideas?”

“Yes, I do,” Drakowski answered, moving into Johnny's path, causing him to stop.

Johnny glanced up in surprise as he bumped into Drakowski. Before he could say anything, Drakowski shoved him into the corner, pressing him back against the wall. As Drakowski stepped closer, Johnny asked in a small voice, “What are you doing?”

“Don't worry, John,” Drakowski said, as he brought his right hand up and placed it under Johnny's jaw. “I'm not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Drakowski placed his left arm against Johnny's chest, using his weight to pin Johnny against the wall. Slowly, he tilted Johnny's head back, exposing his throat. As he leaned toward him, he whispered, “John, I am not going to hurt you.”

Johnny reached up and grabbed Drakowski's arm, struggling in his grip, trying to get free. Even though Drokowski promised he would not be hurt, he did not believe him. His eyes widened in fear as his head was forced back a little more and Drakowski placed his mouth against his throat and bit down.

Johnny jerked at the sudden pain the bite caused and a strangled grunt of protest escaped. He grabbed Drakowski's arm and tried once more to pull his hand from his jaw. This only caused Drakowski to tighten it, causing pain to start radiating through it.

Drakowski ignored the pain of Johnny's fingers digging into his arm. He was finding it hard to control himself at the sudden taste of blood. But this wasn't the time or place to do it. He had to get Johnny's trust first, so he would have the adequate time needed to do it properly. He turned his head slightly as the door opened, to find Chet standing there, staring at him.

“Get away from him!” Chet yelled, stepping forward and grabbing Drakowski by the shoulders, and pulling him away. “Just what do you think you're doing?”

“What does it look like, Chet?” Drakowski said, releasing Johnny and stepping back.

“I'm asking you,” Chet said, going to Johnny's side. Placing a hand on Johnny's shoulder, looked into his face and asked, “John, you all right?”

Johnny leaned against the wall as the adrenaline from the struggle left his system. Glancing up into Chet's concerned face said, “Yes, I'm all right.” Then nailing Drakowski with a glare, practically shouted, “Just what did you think you were doing?”

“I was just getting back at Chet.” Drakowski answered, looking between the two of them. “It was just a prank.”

“A prank?” Johnny asked, angrily, reaching up and rubbing his neck.

“Yes. You said you were tired of being Chet's 'pigeon' for the day. Thought I would help out by giving Chet a scare,” Drakowski said, looking toward Chet. “I think it worked quite well. Don't you?”

No,” Johnny stated, looking over at Chet, whose face was a little pale, as he started to calm down. “I don't. You just made it worse,” Johnny answered, making a move to go around him.

Drakowski reached forward to stop Johnny saying, “John,”

“Don't you touch me, Drakowski,” Johnny interrupted, jerking away from him. “You just stay away from me for the rest of the shift. And you better hope that Cap is more open-minded than I am.”

Drakowski watched as Johnny exited the room. Turning to Chet he asked, “He can't take a joke very well can he, Chet?”

“Oh, he can take them just fine,” Chet answered, heading out the door. “But not when the prank entails being physically attacked.”



“OW!” Johnny exclaimed, pushing Roy's hand away.

“Johnny, I know it hurts, but can you at least hold still so I can get this taken care of?” Roy asked. When Johnny complied, Roy returned to cleaning the marks. After a moment of silence asked, “Can you tell me how this happened again?”

Johnny sighed with exasperation, eyeing Roy the best he could without moving his head. “Drakowski bit me.”

“Why?” Roy asked, slightly puzzled about the reason behind it.

“He said it was just a prank,” Johnny said, reaching up to feel the bite. “In order to scare Chet.”

“Did it work?” Roy asked, curious despite himself.

“Yes, it did!” Johnny exclaimed, jerking away. Then glancing at Roy said, “You think it's funny, don't you?”

”No, I don't think it is,” Roy soothed, as he placed a bandage over the bite. “But I don't think Chet's the only one he scared.”

Johnny didn't answer at first as he felt the bandage Roy had finished applying. Glancing at him he said, “No, he wasn't. Drakowski scared me too. I didn't know what he was up to and then he bit me.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“He said it was because I was tired of being Chet's 'pigeon' for the day and it was payback time.”

“What did Chet have to say about it?”

“Chet got angry,” Johnny said, a slight smile coming to his face as he remembered Chet's reaction. “After I got through talking to Cap about what happened, Chet was right there waiting his turn. I'm not looking forward to being in Drakowski's shoes when Cap is finished with him.”

“I wouldn't either,” Roy said, as he put the supplies away. Noting that Johnny's mood was starting to improve and that the color was returning to his face asked, “You feeling better, Johnny?”

“Yeah, I am,” Johnny said, standing and looking into the mirror. “How bad was it, Roy?”

“Not too bad. It just barely broke the skin,” Roy answered, as he picked up the drug box. “You won't even notice it in a couple of days.”



Drakowski slowly entered the kitchen. It had been a long shift, and in a few minutes, everyone would be heading for home. He glanced around, noticing that the others were sitting around the table drinking coffee, talking, and reading the morning paper. He also noticed that no one was looking at him. He couldn't quite understand that, as he had seen how the others treated Johnny. Even after what had happened yesterday, the teasing had started up again and he was treated as an outsider.

He shuddered slightly at the memory of the dressing down Stanley had given him. Stanley was quite angry over the incident and had made it very clear that he was to stay away from Johnny the rest of the shift. Depending on Johnny's reaction in the morning, when he apologized to him, would determine if there was going to be a permanent record of what happened or if it would only be treated as a verbal warning.

Drakowski had to admit that he had been surprised by Stanley's reaction, seeing how he allowed the others to treat Johnny. It just didn't make sense that Stanley would be that concerned. Johnny is an outsider, the one who didn't quite fit in. The one who wouldn't be missed if something happened to him.

He studied Johnny for a few minutes, wondering if he had gone too far. He had not meant to make him mad, let alone hurt him. The fact that he had drawn blood was an accident. He had wanted to get Johnny's attention, to let him know he didn't have to remain an outsider. That someone was willing to protect him from the outside world. After another moment of indecision, he slowly approached him and asked, “John?”

Johnny glanced up from the paper he was reading and warily eyed Drakowski. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What do you want, Drakowski?”

“I just want to apologize to you about yesterday,” Drakowski said, looking around at the others, as they came up behind him. “It was just supposed to be a joke against Chet. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“If it was a joke, why didn't you tell me?” Johnny asked. “I didn't know what to think when you backed me up into that corner.”

“I know, John,” Drakowski said, forcing himself to sound sincere. “But if I told you, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. Like someone was trying to bite you on the neck…”

“You did,” Johnny interrupted. “Or did the sight of this bandage escape you?”

“No, I know now that I bit you too hard,” he answered, glancing away. “I didn't mean to draw blood. Really, I didn't. I just wanted to scare Chet and if you knew in advance, it wouldn't have worked. I realize now that I shouldn't have done that without letting you in on it. I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you. I'm really sorry, John. Really, I am.”

Johnny studied him in silence for a few moments. Something inside him told him not to believe him. But there was no reason to think Drakowski could be lying. Knowing that everyone was waiting to see if he was going to accept the apology, he heaved a sigh saying, “I guess there was no harm done.”

“Thanks, John,” Drakowski said. After a moment, “How would you like to go out for a beer tonight? My treat?”

“Why?” Johnny asked, surprise tingeing his voice.

“No particular reason,” Drakowski answered. When Johnny's expression didn't change, “It's my way of saying that I'm sorry and there are no hard feelings. What do you say?”

“What do I say?” Johnny repeated softly. After making Drakowski squirm a bit, “Sure. Why not?”

“Great!” Drakowski exclaimed, leaning toward him. “Now, I'll meet you at The Watershed at 7. Here's how to get there.”



Johnny pulled into the lot, parking his Land Rover in a space just right of the building. He remained in the car, looking around at the almost deserted parking lot. He turned his attention to the building and couldn't help but notice how creepy it looked. He wondered why anyone would want to come here, least of all for a beer. Where had Drakowski heard about this place and why was he attracted to it? He was still debating on whether or not to get out of the car when he spotted Drakowski walking toward him.

“Hi, John,” Drakowski said. “You ready to go inside?”

“Not quite,” Johnny answered, looking around warily. “Doesn't this place give you the creeps?”

“No,” Drakowski said with amusement. “It's not usually this dark, but with Halloween just two weeks away, well they try to give it a spooky atmosphere. Have they succeeded?”

“Yeah, you can say that,” Johnny answered. “Are you sure you want to get a drink here?”

“What's the matter, John?” Drakowski asked, a smile coming to his face. “You seem a bit nervous.”

“Nothing. It's just,” Johnny started, pausing and looking at the building. “Giving me the creeps. I just don't like the feeling I'm getting.”

“What type of feeling?” Drakowski asked, concern entering his tone.

“That I shouldn't be here,” Johnny answered. “That I shouldn't have come. I just don't like the place.”

“John, there is nothing here that is going to hurt you,” Drakowski said softly. “Besides, I come here all the time. Nothing has happened to me.”

Johnny didn't answer as he continued to study the building. What Drakowski said made perfect sense. After all, it was just a building and Halloween was just two weeks away. Most places like this did make the atmosphere a little spooky this time of year. Besides, the worst that could possibly happen would be having too much to drink. At the sound of his name, he turned back to Drakowski, saying, “All right, lets go in.”

Drakowski stepped back from the car as Johnny opened the door. When Johnny turned his back to him to lock the door, a smile of anticipation came to his face. His victim was finally where he needed to be in order to complete his plan. As soon as he got Johnny into the building, his life would never be the same.

Johnny followed Drakowski into the building. The place was dark and had very few people in attendance. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should just turn around and go home, that he shouldn't be here. But, if he left now Drakowski's feelings would be hurt. And it would show that he did not trust him.

“Mick, two beers, please,” Drakowski said, as they came up to the bar and sat down. Reaching forward he pulled the bowel of peanuts toward them, saying, “John, peanuts?”

“Thanks,” Johnny answered, taking a handful and popping them in his mouth. “Why is it so quiet in here?”

“I don't know,” Drakowski answered, turning back toward Mick. “Why isn't the jukebox going?”

“No one's put money in it tonight, Dan,” Mick answered, placing the beers in front of them. “That will be $6.00, please.”

“Put it on my tab, Mick,” Drakowski answered, getting up and heading toward the jukebox. “Anything particular you want to listen to, John?”

“Uh..No,” Johnny answered, looking around. He noticed everyone was staring at him, with varying looks of pity. As if they knew something was going to happen to him. As the music started, he turned back to the bar, noticing that Mick was also giving him that look. “Is there a problem, Mick?”

“Not yet,” Mick answered. “But I would get out of here, while you still can.”

“What's that suppose to mean?” Johnny asked, in puzzlement.

“Consider it a friendly warning,” Mick said, glancing up as Drakowski returned.

“Mick, what are you telling my friend John?” Drakowski asked, noticing that Johnny once again had his guard up.

“Nothing, Dan,” Mick answered, turning to clean the glasses behind him.

Drakowski studied Mick for a moment, and then turned to Johnny. “This place is really bothering you, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, taking a sip of his beer. “I don't feel that comfortable here.”

“okay, then tell you what, John,” Drakowski said, leaning toward him. “Let's finish this beer and we'll go some place else. How's that sound?”

“Do we have to finish the beer?” Johnny asked, nervously looking around. “Can we go now?”

“You really want to go now?” At Johnny's nod, Drakowski gave Mick an angry glare, saying “All right, John. We'll go now.”

“Thanks, Drakowski,” Johnny answered, taking a last sip of his beer. “I know how disappointed you are.”

“That's all right, John,” Drakowski said, easing back from the bar. “I understand, I really do.”

“Good,” Johnny answered, pushing away from the bar. “I know this great place across town. Maybe we'll meet some of the others there.”

“Lead on, John,” Drakowski said, as he followed Johnny to the door.

Mick watched as Johnny headed toward the door, with Drakowski right behind him. Secretly he hoped that Johnny could make it out the door before Drakowski made his move. But as they got closer to the door, Mick realized that Drakowski would not let his victim escape. Johnny's fate was sealed the second he had walked in the door.

Drakowski slowly followed Johnny toward the door, wondering how he could distract him. He had to get Johnny to drop his guard long enough so he could make his move. Spotting the picture on the wall, he remembered Johnny's question at the station. This was the distraction he was looking for. Turning toward Johnny, who was almost to the door, he called “Hey, John, come look at this.”

“At what?” Johnny asked, looking in his direction.

“This picture,” Drakowski said. At Johnny's hesitation, “Come take a look and then we'll leave. It won't take that long.”

“All right,” Johnny answered coming over and taking a look. Johnny's eyes widened in surprise as he saw that the picture was one of Vlad, the Impaler, better known as Dracula. Turning back to Drakowski asked, “Can we go now?”

“What's your hurry, John?” Drakowski asked, placing his hand against the wall, blocking Johnny's route to the door with his arm. “Don't you find the picture interesting?”

“No,” Johnny answered looking at it again. “I don't. Why would I?”

“But you will,” Drakowski said, as he stepped closer to Johnny.

Johnny stepped back from Drakowski and found himself up against the wall. Glancing at Drakowski asked, “What are you doing?”

“Don't worry, John,” Drakowski said, placing his left arm across Johnny's chest and his right hand under his chin. “This isn't going to hurt,” and slowly forced Johnny's head back, exposing his throat.

Johnny struggled against Drakowski's grip, his eyes going wide with fear. As Drakowski forced his head further back, he grabbed his arm, trying to pull it from his jaw. This only caused Drakowski to tighten his grip. Using his weight, he pushed against the wall, trying to ease the pressure that Drakowski was putting against his chest.

Drakowski pressed harder against Johnny. A smile came to his face as he glanced into Johnny's fear filled eyes. He could feel Johnny's fingers digging into his arm as he tried to break the deadly grip. He reveled in the fact that Johnny's heart rate was increasing as his fear deepened. It would make it a lot easier. He forced Johnny's head back further, exposing his throat more, and watched as the vein throbbed. Leaning toward Johnny, he said, “Look at me.” When Johnny refused, he tightened his grip further and in a harsher tone, commanded, “Look at me.”

Johnny slowly complied and found himself staring into Drakowski's eyes. As Drakowski's gaze bore into him, he tried to look away and to his horror, found that he couldn't. It was if Drakowski controlled him in a way he didn't understand. A moment later, he slowly stopped resisting and his head was eased back a bit more.

Drakowski tightened his grip on Johnny as he continued to stare into his eyes. He could feel Johnny trying to pull away and increased his efforts. A moment later, he gained control of Johnny's mind and as Johnny slowly stopped resisting, Drakowski eased Johnny's head back a bit more, then leaned forward and said “You belong to me now, John.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked in a dull voice filled with fear.

“You'll find out, John,” Drakowski answered as he glanced into Johnny's face and watched as the look of fear turned into one of terror. Then shifting his position a bit, he opened his mouth wide, placed it against Johnny's throat, and bit down.

Johnny jerked, letting out a strangled scream as Drakowski's teeth penetrated his throat. His grip tightened on Drakowski's arm as his teeth penetrated further, causing a moment of excruciating pain. The pain faded, only to increase as his teeth penetrated even deeper, his mouth opening as he gasped for air. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain faded, to be replaced by a feeling of numbness and light-headedness. His grip loosened as his world started to fade. A moment later, his hand fell from Drakowski's arm and he slid into oblivion.

Drakowski closed his eyes, maintaining his control over Johnny as his teeth penetrated Johnny's throat, and the blood started flowing. He ignored Johnny's feeble attempt to get away as his teeth penetrated even deeper into the vein. He tightened his grip when Johnny jerked again in pain, penetrating even deeper, causing the blood flow to increase. A moment later, he felt Johnny start to sag and he opened his eyes. He watched as Johnny's eyes slowly closed and he lost consciousness. He slowly removed his teeth from Johnny's throat, then stepped back, and released him.

Johnny remained on his feet for only a few seconds before collapsing in a heap on the floor. Drakowski knelt down and carefully turned his head to the side. Bending down, he wiped the blood from Johnny's throat and carefully studied the bite on his neck, then checked for a pulse. Satisfied with what he found, he stood and turned to Mick.

“Put him in the back room, Mick,” Drakowski ordered, motioning to the door. “When he wakes up, tell him he had too much to drink and you wouldn't let him leave until morning.”

“What if he wants to know more?” Mick asked, bending down and slipping his arms under Johnny's.

“He won't,” Drakowski answered. Then reaching over gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. “And if you ever try to warn someone away again, I will finish the job I started on you. Understand?”

“Yes, Dan,” Mick said, in controlled fear. “I understand you completely.”

“Good,” Drakowski said, as he stood and watched Mick pick Johnny up and carry him into the room. “Don't worry. John won't remember what happened in the morning.”



Johnny moaned softly, opening his eyes to find himself squinting into the sunlight. Turning his head away from the window, the realization came to him that he was not in his apartment. Slowly, he sat up putting his hands to an aching head, squeezing his eyes shut as the room started to spin. After giving himself time to adjust to the new position, he carefully stood up, taking a deep breath to calm his stomach. Opening his eyes, he spotted a door, and started toward it.

Johnny was almost there, when another wave of dizziness hit. Stumbling, he placed his hand on the table only to jerk it away as it started burning. The sudden movement caused him to lose his balance, and he fell to the floor, with a thud. After a moment, he slowly sat up and started examining his left hand. His brows furrowed as he noticed the slight burn on the lower right portion of his palm. Looking at the table, he noticed there was a deep mark in it. He studied it for a moment, and then glanced at his hand again. His gaze returned to the table as he realized the mark, which resembled a malformed cross, matched the mark on his hand. But how could something like that burn his hand and leave a mark?

Johnny's head jerked toward the door as it opened and a man entered. Watching his approach from his place on the floor, Johnny asked, “Who are you and where am I?”

“My name's Mick,” Mick answered, kneeling down next to him. “You're at The Watershed.”

“Why am I here?” Johnny asked, indicating the room as he carefully climbed to his feet.

“You had too much to drink and weren't in any shape to drive home. I told you that you could sleep here until morning. How do you feel?”

Johnny took a mental inventory of himself. Other than feeling tired and having a headache, he felt fine. Looking at Mick he said, “I feel well enough to drive home. But I've got one question.”

“Yeah?” Mick asked, moving aside as Johnny started toward the door.

“Why didn't one of my friends take me home?”

“You were alone,” Mick answered, following Johnny out the door.

“Alone?” Johnny questioned, surprise tingeing his voice. He stopped in the hallway as his eyes caught sight of the picture hanging on the wall. He stared at it, trying to remember where he had seen it before.

“Yes, alone,” Mick affirmed. Then noticing that Johnny was staring at the picture asked, “What's wrong?”

Johnny was silent for a moment, and then shook his head saying, “Nothing. Nothing's wrong,” he answered heading toward the door. “Thanks for putting me up. I really appreciate it.”

“You're quite welcome,” Mick said, unlocking the door and allowing Johnny to walk through it. “Be careful on your way home. You still look a bit unsteady.”

“Don't worry about me,” Johnny acknowledged, heading toward his Land Rover. “I'll be fine.”

Mick watched as Johnny unlocked the door, got in his car, and drove away. Shaking his head sadly, he knew he would be back and The Watershed would soon claim another victim.



Johnny woke with a start, wondering what had awakened him out of such a deep slumber. As the noise repeated, he realized that it had been the ringing of the phone. Pushing himself up on his elbow, he reached across the bed and picked up the receiver. “'Ello?” he asked groggily into the phone.

“Johnny, this is Roy,” the voice on the other end said. “You plan on coming to work today?”

“I'm late, aren't I?” Johnny asked, sitting up, groaning a little in the process.

“You could say that,” Roy replied. Then sensing something was not quite right with his partner asked, “Are you feeling all right?”

“No, I don't feel too hot, Roy,” Johnny answered, flopping back down on the bed. “But give me a half hour and I'll be there.”

“Johnny, if you're sick, just say so,” Roy stated, concernedly. “Cap will understand.”

Johnny didn't say anything for a moment. Roy knew him so well; he did not feel well enough to go to work. Reaching up and rubbing his eyes he said, “You're right. I am sick. But it's a little late to find someone to replace me.”

“Hang on just a moment,” Roy said into the receiver. After a couple of minutes, Roy's voice returned “Dwyer volunteered to stay over, Johnny, so don't worry about it. Cap says to get well and he'll see you next shift.”

“Thanks, Roy. Tell Cap I'm sorry not to have called in,” Johnny responded.

“I will, Johnny,” Roy soothed. “Now, take care of yourself and I'll see you next shift. Bye.”

“Bye, Roy,” Johnny responded. As a soft click was heard, he slowly hung up the receiver, rolled onto his back, and went back to sleep.

Johnny slept peacefully for a couple of hours. He awoke around two, very thirsty, and headed toward his bathroom. Turning on the water, he filled a glass and slowly drained it. Looking into the mirror, he noticed some odd marks on his neck. Putting the glass down, he slowly reached up with his left hand and lightly touched them. Leaning closer to the mirror, he examined them closer, wondering where he had got them. He remembered the incident at the Station, but that was two days ago, and the marks hadn't been that deep. As he lowered his left hand, he once again saw the mark on it. Holding his hand in front of his face, he carefully studied it. Once again the shape reminded him of a malformed cross and he wondered how the mark on the table could have caused it.

Johnny's gaze returned to the mirror and for the first time he noticed how pale he was. And the paleness made the marks on his neck and his hand stand out that much more. At a sudden wave of dizziness, he leaned forward and gripped the sink, hoping he wouldn't end up on the floor. When the room steadied, he turned and headed back to bed.



Present Time

“And shortly after that, the nightmares started,” Johnny said, straightening from leaning against the sinks.

“What about Drakowski?” Roy asked. “Have you seen him since?”

“No,” Johnny answered, rubbing his eyes. “After that first time, I didn't go anywhere with him.”

“Why?” Roy asked, studying his face, his concern mounting.

“Because I can't remember what happened,” Johnny answered. “I can remember meeting him for a beer, but after that nothing. The next thing I remember is waking up in that room.”

“Where did you go?” Roy asked, noting that Johnny seemed a little paler than he was a moment ago.

“I think it was some place called The Watershed,” Johnny said softly, once again rubbing his eyes. “I don't recommend the place. It gave me the creeps.”

“If it gave you the creeps, why did you go in?” Roy asked in surprise.

“I dunno, Roy,” Johnny answered, standing up.

Johnny took a step forward, when a sudden wave of dizziness struck. Gasping, he reached for the sink and missed. He would have landed on the floor if Roy had not jumped forward and caught him. Turning, Roy dragged him over to the bench and sat him down on it. Pushing Johnny's head down between his knees, Roy picked up Johnny's wrist and took his pulse.

Roy's face creased with concern as he detected a very rapid pulse, which showed no signs of slowing. When Johnny slowly sat up and started to stand, Roy placed his hand on his shoulder to prevent it. At Johnny's look he asked, “Johnny, are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered. “I'm just tired. What makes you think I'm not?”

“For one thing, you're pale as a ghost,” Roy said, stating the obvious. “You're tired almost all the time and you have a rapid heart beat. Another thing, the dizzy spells you keep having. I know this isn't the first one you've had. And you have marks on your neck and hand that you cannot explain.”

“Roy, I'm just tired and I just stood up too fast,” Johnny answered, looking up at Roy. He rubbed his eyes once again stating, “I just want to go back to bed. Is there any crime in that?”

“No,” Roy said, taking Johnny by the arm and helping him to stand. “But if you're not feeling better in the morning, I'm taking you in to Rampart. Understand?”

“Understood,” Johnny responded, leaning slightly against Roy as the room spun a bit. “If I'm not feeling better in the morning, I'll go.”



Johnny awoke with a jerk as the wake up tones sounded. He lay there for a few minutes and watched as the others got up and dressed. After catching a concerned look from Roy, he slowly sat up, saying “I'm getting up, Roy. Why don't you go get us some coffee?”

Roy studied Johnny's face for a few minutes, noting that he was still pale. “Are you sure you're feeling all right, Johnny?”

“Yes, I'm feeling fine,” Johnny answered. When Roy didn't move Johnny gave him an annoyed look and said, “Roy, stop hovering over me. I'm fine.”

“All right,” Roy said giving in to Johnny's mood. “I'll go get us some coffee.”

Johnny watched Roy leave the dorm. When he was sure he was alone, he slowly stood up and rode out the wave of dizziness that struck. He really didn't feel that good but he didn't want the guys fussing over him. He was sure that once he got home, got some uninterrupted rest, he would be fine. It was just getting there that had him worried, at the moment.

Johnny finished dressing and sat down on the bench to catch his breath. After sleeping the rest of the night, he shouldn't be this tired. Taking his own pulse, he found that it was very rapid, as if he had just completed a strenuous exercise program. That alone was enough to alert him that something was terribly wrong with him and had been for at least a week. Deciding he would allow Roy to check him out, he slowly stood and headed toward the kitchen.



Roy glanced at the clock, wondering how much longer it was going to take for Johnny to get dressed. He had already decided that he would be taking Johnny to Rampart after their shift ended, whether he wanted to go or not. Johnny was showing signs of being more than just tired, and Roy could not for the life of him, figure out what could be causing it. And there were the marks on Johnny's neck and hand that he could not explain.

Stanley silently studied Roy, noticing how nervous he was getting. He knew Roy was worried about Johnny, they all were. Johnny was pale, suffering from dizzy spells, and tired quickly. Then there were the nightmares that had more than once woke the crew. Something was wrong with him, and he needed to find out what. After another moment of silence, he said “Roy, why don't you go check on that partner of yours. Make sure he's all right.”

“Sure, Cap,” Roy said, standing and heading out the door. A moment later, Roy's panicked yell of “JOHNNY!” echoed through the station, followed by, “CAP, I NEED SOME HELP OUT HERE!”

Stanley and the others entered the bay at a run, to find Roy bending over a prone Johnny. Kneeling down, he glanced up at him asking, “Roy, what happened?”

“I don't know,” Roy said as he continued to check Johnny over. “I just found him laying on the floor. Cap, I need an ambulance; Chet, Marco, I need the bio-phone, drug box, and oxygen off the squad. Stoker, help me roll him over onto his back.”

“Right away, Roy.” Stanley said, standing and heading toward the radio.

“Got it, Roy,” Chet answered as he and Marco got to their feet, heading toward the squad.

Stanley jerked the mike off its holder, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before depressing the button. “LA, this is Station 51. We have a paramedic down at our location. Respond an ambulance. Repeat we have a paramedic down at our location. Respond an ambulance.”

“10-4, Station 51. Time out 0740.”

“Station 51, KMG365.” Stanley responded, replacing the mike and returning to where Roy and Stoker were preparing to roll Johnny over.

Roy slowly and carefully worked his right arm underneath Johnny and gently grabbed his left shoulder. Looking across at Stoker said, “I'm going to lift him a bit and then turn him over. You need to help me steady him and make sure his head doesn't hit the floor.”

“Right,” Stoker said, positioning himself on the other side. “Ready when you are.”

Roy took a deep breath, glancing at Chet and Marco as they set the equipment down. Then, giving Stoker a nod carefully lifted Johnny and turned him over. As Johnny's head rolled to the side, Stoker placed his hands under it, preventing it from striking the floor.

“Roy, any idea of what might be wrong with him?” Stanley asked, as Roy bent over and started accessing Johnny's condition.

“No, Cap,” Roy said, flipping open the drug box and taking the BP cuff out. “I don't. I just know that he hasn't been feeling too good lately. But I don't know why.”

Roy carefully wrapped the BP cuff around Johnny's arm. Placing the stethoscope against Johnny's arm, he inflated it, and then slowly let the air out. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he read the reading. Glancing up at Stoker, he saw that he had pen and paper ready. Smiling slightly he said, “Marco, you want to get Rampart on the horn? Stoker, BP is 90/80.”

Marco watched a moment, and then opened the bio-phone. Placing the antennae in its slot, picked up the receiver and said, “Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?”

“Go ahead 51,” came Brackett's voice.

“We have a fireman down at our location. Stand by for vitals.”

“Standing by, 51.”

Roy placed his hand against Johnny's diaphragm and carefully counted his respirations. He glanced across at Stoker as he picked up Johnny's wrist, saying, “Respiration is 30 and shallow, pulse 120 and rapid.” Then re-inflating the BP cuff he once again checked the BP. “No change in BP. Chet, get him on oxygen. Set it for 6 liters.”

“Roy, what's wrong with him?” Chet asked as he pulled the oxygen over and placed the mask over Johnny's mouth and nose.

“I wish I knew,” Roy said, his attention being drawn to Johnny at his slight moan. Placing his hand on Johnny's shoulder, he called, “Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny groaned again, slowly opening his eyes. Blinking to clear his vision, he saw Roy bending over him, with the others gathered around him. “Roy,” he said, smiling a bit.

“Johnny,” Roy responded, returning the smile. Then taking another BP reading asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Not so good,” Johnny answered, reaching toward the oxygen mask.

“Just leave that on, Pal,” Cap said, intercepting his hand.

“In what way?” Roy asked. Then glancing at Stoker “BP is up to 100/60.” As Stoker notated it, he returned his attention to Johnny and repeated “In what way, Johnny?”

“I'm tired, no energy to do anything,” Johnny answered, reaching up to rub his eyes. “My head hurts.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Roy asked, as he notated the information.

“Yeah,” Johnny said slowly. “I was feeling bad in the dorm and decided to let you check me out. I got up and headed toward the kitchen. Then I got real dizzy and the world sort of disappeared, Roy,” Johnny said, worry in his tone, “what's wrong with me?”

“I don't know, Johnny,” Roy answered him, patting his shoulder. “But I've got Rampart on the line and once we get you there, I'm sure Brackett will be able to find out what's wrong. Now,” Roy said, reaching toward Marco and taking the receiver he held out, “You just take it easy and let us do all the work.”

“All right,” Johnny answered.

Roy gave Johnny's shoulder another reassuring pat and lifted the receiver. “Rampart, this is Squad 51. We have a male, age 27, who has suffered a syncopal episode. He's complaining of being tired, lack of energy, being dizzy, and that his head hurts. He is also pale and has marks on his neck and hand that he cannot explain. Vitals are: First BP was 90/80, but has improved to 100/60, respirations 30 and shallow, and pulse is 120 and rapid. He is currently on 6 liters of 02. Rampart, be advised that the victim is John Gage.”

Brackett exchanged a concerned look with Dixie as he studied the information that Roy had provided. He had known that Johnny hadn't been feeling well, but hadn't realized the seriousness of the illness. After another moment, he depressed the button and asked, “51, you said patient was pale?”

“Affirmative, Rampart,” Roy answered, wondering where Brackett was going with that question.

“51, check his gums, nail beds, and inner eyelids for paleness.”

“10-4, Rampart. Please stand by,” Roy answered, handing the receiver to Chet. “Johnny,” Roy continued, turning to Johnny and carefully removing the oxygen mask. “I want you to open your mouth and let me take a look at your gums.”

Johnny didn't answer, but complied with the request. He watched in puzzlement as Roy carefully moved his lips out of the way and examined his gums. A moment later, the oxygen mask was replaced and Roy was carefully pulling back first one eyelid and then the other, and looking at them. As Roy started to examine his fingernails, he asked, “Why are you doing that?”

“Rampart wants to know if these areas are pale,” Roy answered, turning toward Chet. “That's affirmative.”

“Rampart, this is Squad 51,” Chet said into the receiver. “That's affirmative on the paleness.”

“51, I suspect he is suffering from anemia,” Brackett said after a short pause. “Start an IV, D5W and transport as soon as possible.”

“10-4, Rampart.”

“Anemia?” Johnny questioned, watching as Roy set up the IV.

“That's what Brackett suspects, Johnny,” Roy answered, carefully inserting the needle. Once he adjusted the drip, he turned back to Johnny asking, “You feeling better?”

“Not really,” Johnny answered. “I'm not dizzy anymore, but that's because I'm lying down. Don't know what will happen when you move me.”

“You let us worry about that, John,” Stanley said, standing as the sound of sirens reached them.

A moment later, two attendants wheeled the gurney over to where Johnny was lying. Johnny slowly sat up and found himself leaning on Roy as the room slowly started to spin once again. Looking up at Roy said, “I don't think I'll try to stand up.”

“I'd rather you wouldn't,” Roy said, carefully slipping his arms underneath Johnny's. “I wouldn't want to explain to Brackett why you passed out again.”

With Marco's help, Roy got Johnny settled on the gurney. Informing the attendants to take it slow so it wouldn't aggravate Johnny's equilibrium, he followed them to the ambulance. A moment later, they had Johnny loaded and were on the way to Rampart.

Chet watched as the ambulance disappeared down the street. When Brackett had said he suspected anemia as being Johnny's problem, he found himself wondering if Drakowski had anything to do with it. Johnny seemed fine until he went to the Watershed for a beer with Drakowski. Then Johnny's problems seem to have started. He stared after the ambulance for a few minutes more, then turned and entered the station. He had to talk to somebody about what he suspected.



Brackett entered the examination room, noting that Johnny appeared to be dozing. As he approached Johnny, he grabbed a stool and rolled it over to the exam table. Positioning it so that Johnny could see him, he sat down, placed his hand on his shoulder, and shook it lightly. At the lack of response, he shook it again, calling, “Johnny?”

Johnny moaned slightly and opened his eyes. As Brackett started to come into focus, he reached up and rubbed his eyes anxiously asking, “You find out what's wrong with me?”

Brackett flipped his chart open and double-checked the information. Returning his attention to Johnny said, “Johnny, it's just like I suspected. You are anemic. Now, there's nothing to worry about,” Brackett said at the alarmed expression that appeared on Johnny's face. “This is a treatable problem. You're going to be just fine.”

“What type of treatment am I going to be receiving?” Johnny asked, still clearly worried.

“Well, for this type of anemia…”

“You mean there's more than one?” Johnny interrupted.

“Yes, Johnny, there is,” Brackett answered, flipping the chart closed and leaning toward Johnny. “The type of anemia you are suffering from is Iron-deficiency. At the moment, for reasons I am not able to determine at this time, your body is not getting enough iron, is losing iron, or isn't absorbing it normally. It usually results from chronic bleeding or too little iron in your diet. Now, I'm not concerned about the latter, as I know how much you like to eat,” Brackett said, smiling a bit as the statement brought a smile to Johnny's face. “But I do suspect you have or had some chronic bleeding somewhere.”

“But you don't know where,” Johnny answered, touching the marks on his neck. “Could these marks be connected somehow?”

“I don't think so,” Brackett answered, moving Johnny's hand and studying them for a moment. “But I do intend to find out whether or not they are,” Brackett assured him. “This is how I want to treat the condition. First, I am going to arrange for you to have a blood transfusion. This will restore the normal levels of red blood cells in your system. Second, I am going to run some tests to locate where you are bleeding. Once I locate the source, I will halt the bleeding. Third, I will be putting you on periodic iron supplements until your system has had a chance to completely recover. Any questions?”

“Just one,” Johnny said, nervousness tingeing his voice. “Is there any chance that I'm going to die?”

“No, Johnny, there isn't,” Brackett said, soothingly. “I am going to find out where you're bleeding and put a stop to it. You are going to be just fine.”

“And what if you don't find it?” Johnny questioned, his eyes reflecting his concern.

“That is a rare possibility, but,” Brackett said, holding his hand up to forestall Johnny's interruption. “If I can't, I will still put you on iron supplements until we find the problem. Don't worry, Johnny. You are going to be just fine.”



“Chet, I don't know where you get some of these hair-brained ideas of yours!” Stanley exclaimed. “John is not a victim of a vampire.”

“Yeah, Chet,” Stoker agreed, watching as Chet paced back and forth in the doctor's lounge. “Just because Drakowski is related to Vlad the Impaler, doesn't mean he's a vampire.”

“And besides, there is no such thing as a vampire,” Marco added.

“Then how do you explain the marks on Johnny's neck?” Chet asked, pointing at the area on his own neck. “And the strange mark on his hand? If I didn't know better, I'd swear that mark is in a shape of a cross.”

“Chet, you're letting your imagination run away with you,” Roy said, as he shifted his position on the couch. “I can't explain the marks on Johnny's neck or hand. But I'm sure the marks weren't caused by a vampire.”

“No, I'm not!” Chet exclaimed heatedly. “Roy, I'm telling you that Drakowski is a vampire and has chosen Johnny as his next victim. We have got to do something!”

“Chet, there isn't anything for us to do,” Stanley said, rising to go and stand in front of him. “Drakowski is not a vampire.”

“But, Cap,” Chet protested. “Johnny didn't start getting sick until after he went with Drakowski for that beer.”

“That doesn't prove anything, Chet,” Stanley said softly, trying to calm him. “It was just a coincidence.”

“I don't think so, Cap,” Chet said, moving away.

“And why not?” Roy asked curiously.

“There's something about Drakowski that I don't like,” Chet answered glancing around at the others. “Ever since I met the guy, I've had this feeling that he was looking for something. Then, when I caught him staring at Johnny, I got the feeling that Drakowski posed a danger to him. And ever since Drakowski pulled that prank on Johnny, I've had a bad feeling about him.”

“Prank?” Stoker questioned, not sure of what Chet was referring to. “What prank?”

“Drakowski pinned Johnny against the wall in the locker room and pretended to bite his neck. He accidently drew blood,” Marco said, turning toward him. “Said he did it in order to scare Chet.”

“He also scared him,” Chet said, glancing toward him. “And, Marco, I think it was intentional.”

“But there is no such thing as a vampire, Chet,” Marco insisted.

“Are you so sure of that, Marco?” Chet asked. “Johnny needs our help and needs it bad. Are you with me, Marco? Roy?”

Roy didn't answer as he considered what Chet had said. Chet was right about one thing and one thing only. Johnny had gotten sick shortly after going out with Drakowski for a beer. Maybe Drakowski had something to do with it. But being a vampire Drakowski wasn't. Glancing at Stanley and Stoker, he saw they were shaking their heads in disbelief. Knowing that Marco would help Chet, regardless of how silly it sounded, he realized they would need someone who was levelheaded going with them. Even if it was just to keep them out of trouble.

“All right, Chet, Marco,” Roy said, heaving a sigh. “Count me in.”



Johnny slowly sat up, letting out a small moan, and looked around the room. His eyes widened in fear as he recognized where he was. Carefully getting to his feet, he knew he had to get out of here. He could not let it complete what it had started. He headed toward the door, staggering a bit as a wave of dizziness struck him. Fighting the urge to pass out, he made it to the door, and slowly opened it.

Johnny jumped back as a face suddenly appeared in the doorway. His fear eased as he saw it was Roy and a small smile came to his face. Roy motioned him forward and he started through the door. But as soon as he had stepped through, he sensed something was wrong. He looked up into Roy's face, trying to understand why he was reluctant to follow him. Roy wouldn't hurt him, or would he?

Johnny saw Roy beckon to him again. Johnny shook his head no, backing away from him, only to come up against the closed door behind him. Johnny turned, grabbed the doorknob, and tried to open the door. The door wouldn't open and he felt his fear start to turn to terror as he realized he was trapped. Turning, he saw that the person in front of him wasn't Roy, but what he was trying to escape.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut as it pressed him against the door. His fear increased as it forced his head back, exposing his throat. It leaned toward his ear and whispered 'You belong to me now' and a moment later it penetrated his throat. As it penetrated deeper, he let out a loud deep-throated scream of pure terror.



Carol glanced up from the chart she was checking as a scream echoed down the hallway. Putting the chart down, she hurried toward the room it was coming from, almost bumping into the nurse's aide as she also responded to the sound. Entering the room, she found Johnny sitting up in his bed, his eyes wide with fear, and staring at the far wall. She hurried to his side, gripping his shoulders and calling “Johnny,” as she gently shook him.

Johnny jerked away, trying to disappear into the wall behind him. Carol quickly grabbed his right arm, barely preventing him from pulling the IV from it. She tightened her grip as Johnny tried to pull his arm from her grasp. Retaining her grip on his arm, she reached behind him and pulled the chain, turning the light on.

Johnny threw his arm up in front of his face as the light assaulted his eyes, turning his head to the side. A moment later, in response to the sound of his name, he cautiously lowered his arm and found himself looking into the concerned face of Carol. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he settled back into the bed.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Johnny,” Carol said, relaxing as Johnny calmed down and the color returned to his face. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, allowing the aide to readjust the sheets for him. “Just had a bad dream. I didn't wake anyone, did I?”

“I don't think so,” Carol assured him, checking his IV. “You only screamed once. Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Johnny answered, after a moment of consideration. “I just want to go back to sleep.”

“All right,” Carol said, reaching behind him and turning the light off. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Thanks,” Johnny answered, watching as Carol exited the room. Turning onto his side, he mumbled softly “But I don't think I'll be having any more 'pleasant dreams'.”



Mick glanced up as Drakowski entered the room. He was surprised that he was here this early, as he didn't usually make an appearance until after 8 o'clock. Looking around, he saw that the others were also nervous. As Drakowski approached the bar he asked, “What's up?”

Drakowksi didn't answer as he looked around the room. “Good. You're all here,” he said taking a seat at the bar. “Mick, get over there where I can see you. I have something to tell you.”

Mick carefully walked out from behind the bar, the only place he felt safe when Drakowski was in one of his moods. He found himself wondering what was going on, knowing that the others were sharing his thoughts. Once he was where Drakowski could see him, he turned and faced him, making sure that there was a chair between them. As if that is going to help me if he tried anything, he thought.

“As you know, tonight is All Hallows Eve,” Drakowski continued when he had everyone's attention. “And John will be joining us. He'll be here soon and I want everything ready. Mick, you will make sure that everyone is here and the jukebox is playing. I do not want him to realize that tonight is his last night among the living.”

“Yes, Sir,” Mick answered, with a nod. “What if he should escape his fate?”

“He better not,” Drakowski growled angrily. “But if he does, YOU will take his place. It won't be what I want, but it will due. That includes all of you,” Drakowski continued, looking around the room. “You all will regret it, terribly if he escapes. Do I make myself clear?”

Mick exchanged glances with the others as they all nodded their understanding. Turning back to Drakowski, “Yes, Sir. We understand.”

“Good,” Drakowski said with a grin. “Now, get busy.”



Roy sat on the couch, staring at the far wall, as he waited for Chet and Marco to arrive. Chet had found out where The Watershed was located and had checked it out earlier in the day. According to him, it was a run down bar, on the seedier side of town, not in business anymore. The locals stayed away from it, stating that it was a place of evil and strange things happened there. The activity in the area usually increased during the weeks before Halloween and Halloween night. This year had not been any different.

Roy's thoughts turned to Johnny and he found himself once again worrying about his partner. He had picked up Johnny earlier today and had taken him home. Though Johnny looked better, he was still on the pale side but seemed to be on the road to recovery. Johnny had declined an invitation for supper and he hoped that it just meant he was tired. He knew Johnny wouldn't be returning to duty for another shift, as Brackett hadn't found out what was causing the anemia and wanted to run further tests. He had a funny feeling that Brackett would not find out the reason Johnny was anemic. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was up to him, Chet, and Marco to find out and put a stop to it. And the place to start would be The Watershed.

Roy glanced toward the door as the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and a horn sounded. Standing, he grabbed his jacket, heading toward the door. He was glad that Joanne had taken the kids trick or treating, as it made it easier to leave. His only hope was that they could get to the bottom of it before it was too late.



Johnny slowly entered the building, unable to resist the command to enter. He looked around at the people gathered and noticed their glances of pity. Despite the music that was playing, his uneasiness increased. He couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be here, that if he didn't leave he would forever regret it. He turned to start toward the door, only to find he couldn't. It was as if someone was holding him here, preventing him from leaving. A moment later, Drakowski appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

“John,” Drakowski said, smiling slightly. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes,” Johnny stammered, trying to move around him. “I don't feel so good.”

“You do look a little pale,” Drakowski said, gripping Johnny's jaw. “But I have a sure cure for that. Look at me.”

“You do?” Johnny asked, jerking from Drakowski's grip and backing up.

“Yes, I do,” Drakowski answered, as he forced Johnny up against the wall. “Remember what I told you?” At Johnny's negative answer, “Look at me and you will.”

Johnny slowly complied and a moment later, felt Drakowski's eyes boring into him. He tried to look away, but found he couldn't. Pressing himself up against the wall, he tried to escape Drakowski's gaze. When Drakowski pressed his arm across his chest, his eyes widened in fear and he asked, “What are you doing?”

Drakowski didn't answer as he placed his hand underneath Johnny's jaw and eased his head back, exposing his throat. “After tonight, you will belong to me, John. Are you ready?”

“What are you doing?” Johnny repeated, ignoring the question. His eyes widened in fear as he watched Drakowski lower his mouth toward his throat.

“You'll understand soon, John,” Drakowski said as he tightened his grip, establishing the final link between them. Then glancing into Johnny's face said, “And you will no longer be afraid.” A moment later, Drakowski opened his mouth wide, placed it against Johnny's throat, and bit down.

Johnny jerked, letting out a gasp of pain as Drakowski's teeth penetrated his throat. He gripped Drakowski's arm, his fingers digging into it as he tried to pull the arm away. His mouth opened and he gasped for air as Drakowski's teeth penetrated deeper, causing excruciating pain. As the pain faded, he realized the fear he felt was fading as well. His grip on Drakowski's arm loosened as he started to go limp and he realized that soon the pain would also be over and Drakowski would never be able to hurt him again.

Drakowski's eyes closed as his teeth penetrated Johnny's throat and the blood started flowing. He vaguely felt Johnny's finger's digging into his arm as he penetrated even deeper. After a few minutes, he felt Johnny's grip loosen as he started to go limp and opened his eyes. Releasing him for a moment, he looked into Johnny's eyes, noting that they were dull and almost lifeless. He smiled, leaning toward Johnny, and while he could still hear, said “Soon, John. Soon, it will be over.”



Roy looked out the window as they pulled in the lot, parking next to Johnny's Land Rover. Johnny had been right about the place being creepy and it had a hint of evilness about it, if a building could give off such a feeling. All he knew was that he didn't like the feeling he was getting. He jumped at the sudden tap at the window and turned toward it, to see Chet looking in at him.

“You coming, Roy?” Chet asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” Roy said, opening the door and getting out.

“I'm getting a bad feeling about this,” Marco added, coming over to the other side to stand by Roy. “Are you sure this is such a good idea, Chet?”

“Marco,” Chet said, reaching into the back of the car and pulling out a sharpened club. “Johnny's in trouble and it's up to us to help him. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet.”

“It's not that,” Marco said, looking around nervously. “It's just the most creepiest place I've seen. Why would Johnny come here?”

“I don't know,” Roy answered, wanting to know the answer himself. Especially after Johnny had told him he didn't like the place. “We can ask him that when we find him. Let's go find him.”

Roy headed toward the door, with the others right behind him. It hadn't escaped his notice that Chet brought what appeared to be a stake and that Marco had removed his cross from his pocket and was holding it tightly in his hand. Upon reaching the door, he glanced back at them to see if they were prepared. At their nods, he took a deep breath, opened the door, and entered.

Roy couldn't believe how dark the interior was. How could anyone see in here? He stopped, just inside the door, to allow his eyes to adjust, being nudged forward a bit as Chet and Marco walked into him. “Watch where you're going,” Roy said, as he started looking around for Johnny.

“You're the one that stopped all of a sudden,” Chet said, looking around the room. “Marco…” Chet's voice faded as he spotted Johnny where Drakowski had him pinned against the wall. A moment later, he realized what Drakowski was doing and yelled, “HEY! YOU LET HIM GO!!!”

Drakowski jumped in surprise, turning toward the sound of the yell, to see Chet, Marco, and Roy standing just inside the door. Knowing he couldn't fight all three of them, he released Johnny, turned and ran toward the back of the building.

“Roy, take care of Johnny,” Chet said, nudging Roy toward Johnny as they watched Johnny slide to the floor. Then grabbing Marco's arm, “Marco, you come with me. We've got to find Drakowski.”

Roy watched in shocked silence as Johnny slid to the floor. At Chet's not so gentle nudge, he hurried to where Johnny lay lifeless on the floor. Skidding to a stop next to him, he knelt and carefully rolled Johnny over. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in Johnny's pale face and open, staring eyes. Noting Johnny was having trouble breathing, he sat next to Johnny and pulled him into a sitting position, easing him against his legs. A moment later, he placed his hand against Johnny's throat and took a pulse. His concern deepened as he found it was rapid and weak. Placing his hand against Johnny's diaphragm, he took a respiration count and found it 30 and shallow. Taking a deep breath, he looked toward the ceiling, as he realized Johnny was dying. At a movement from Johnny, Roy returned his attention to him, saying “Johnny?”

Johnny's mind slowly cleared and he found himself staring up into the concerned face of Roy. He felt so weak and was finding it difficult to breathe. He pushed up slightly, trying to ease his breathing, and felt Roy pull him further up against him. Looking back up into Roy's face he asked, “Roy?”

“I'm here, Johnny,” Roy answered softly. “How are you doing?”

“I don't feel so good, Roy,” Johnny replied, looking around. “How'd you find me?”

“Chet looked this place up,” Roy said, looking around for someone to help or a phone. Not seeing either, his gaze returned to Johnny. At the look of fear on his face, he asked “Johnny, what's wrong?”

“You shouldn't have come,” Johnny said, as he tried to sit up further.

“Why? What are you talking about?” Roy asked, alarmed as Johnny's heart rate started to increase.

Johnny didn't answer as he suddenly became still. The fear had returned, even though Drakowski had promised it would disappear. It didn't take him long to realize that the fear he felt was for Roy and the others, not himself. If he died, he would turn into what Drakowski was, and he didn't want that. He couldn't let that happen. Returning his attention to Roy he said, “Roy, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” Roy asked in surprise. “Johnny, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yes, I do,” Johnny responded, trying once again to sit up further. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?” Roy asked, alarm creeping into his voice as he noticed Johnny's eyes getting duller. As if the life was draining from them.

“For what I have to ask you to do,” Johnny answered, his voice soft. “I want you to know that I am truly sorry.”

“Don't worry about it, Johnny,” Roy said, trying to ease Johnny's fear. “You know I will do anything for you.”

“Thank you, Roy,” Johnny said, giving him a weak smile. “I want you to know I wouldn't ask you to do this, if there was any other way.”

“Do what?” Roy asked, fear tingeing his voice. “What are you wanting me to do?”

“If I should die, I want you to drive a stake through my heart,” Johnny pleaded. At Roy's stunned look, “Roy, please, if our friendship means anything, do this for me.”

“But why?” Roy asked, shocked. “Why would you want me to do that?”

Johnny didn't answer at first, as he took a moment to catch his breath. It was becoming more difficult to breathe and he felt like someone was tightening a metal band around his chest. He knew how difficult this was going to be on Roy, but it had to be done. He had to make sure that Roy understood the significance of his request. For if he didn't, the terror would return for Roy. And he did not want that to happen.

“Roy, I know I might die. If you do this right after I die, I won't feel anything. But if you don't, it will be a lot harder on you and on me,” Johnny said, gasping from the effort to talk. “Please, Roy, I want the terror to end. I don't want to be like Drakowski. Please, promise me.”

“You're not going to die,” Roy assured him. “But, if you do, I don't think I can do it.”

“If you can't, have Marco or Chet do it.” Johnny said softly.

“How do you know they're here?” Roy asked, surprise creasing his face.

“Through Drakowski,” Johnny said, after a moment of thought. “I know what I know through Drakowski. Roy, please. Please promise me that one of you will do it.”

“I promise,” Roy said, a slight catch to his voice. “I promise.”

“Thank you, Roy,” Johnny said softly, becoming still.

“Now let's get you out of here.” At Johnny's nod, Roy slowly eased out from under Johnny, being sure to support his weight, and stood.

Slowly, he lifted Johnny to a standing position and eased him against the wall. As Roy started to lift Johnny to his shoulder, Johnny stiffened, becoming agitated.

“Johnny, what's wrong?”

“We're not going to get out of here,” Johnny murmured, his agitation growing. “Drakowski will not let us go.”

“We're going to get out of here,” Roy assured him, trying to calm him. “It's not that far to the door.”

“What door?” Johnny asked slowly, as he looked around.

Roy slowly turned and looked in the direction of the door. A puzzled frown came to his face, as all he saw was a wall. He looked around, as a feeling of dread came over him. The door had to be somewhere. It couldn't have just disappeared.

Roy's attention returned to Johnny as he started to go limp. Tightening his hold, he slowly lowered him to the floor. Checking his pulse and respiration, he found they were slowing. He looked around again, trying to find a way out. Once again, Roy's attention returned to Johnny as he moaned. Leaning toward him, he called “Johnny?”

Johnny slowly opened his eyes. Taking a moment to gather his strength, he glanced up into Roy's face. “Roy?”

“I'm here, Johnny.”

“Remember your promise,” Johnny said, urgently. “Remember your promise.”

“I will, Johnny,” Roy assured Johnny as he lost consciousness. “I will.”



Chet carefully moved down the hallway, keeping an eye open for Drakowski. They had searched all the other rooms and this was the only direction he could have gone. Reaching the door at the end of the hall, he motioned Marco to step to the side and carefully opened the door. Glancing around the room, he slowly stepped into the room, motioning Marco to follow him through.

“Marco, check over there,” Chet said pointing toward the far wall that had a bed against it. “I'll check over here. And be careful!”

“Okay, Chet,” Marco answered, gripping his cross harder. “You be careful too.”

Drakowski watched from his hiding place as Chet and Marco entered the room, his anger rising at the intrusion. He had been about to deliver the finishing touch, to penetrate Johnny's throat one last time and bring him the rest of the way over. Now, Johnny was in the other room, with a chance to live, thanks to his co-workers. His eyes narrowed in anger and he decided he would not let that happen. One way or another, he would finish what he started and waited for the chance to present itself.

Drakowski continued watching as Chet and Marco searched the room. When Marco called Chet over, to where he was getting ready to look under the bed, he quietly stepped from his hiding place, slowly easing the door shut a bit. When they were both kneeling on the floor, he started toward them.



Roy glanced down into Johnny's face as he moaned and opened his eyes. Johnny's eyes were duller than they had been earlier. He had hoped that Johnny would remain unconscious and slip away without feeling any pain. He realized this would not be the case when Johnny squirmed a bit. As Johnny's eyes got a far away look to them, he leaned closer to Johnny's ear and asked, “Johnny?”

Johnny didn't answer as he turned his head toward the hallway, sensing in some way that Marco and Chet were in danger. “Chet…Marco….behind you….”



Marco's head jerked up, not knowing what alerted him to the presence in the room. He placed his hand on Chet's arm and at his look, motioned him to be quiet. Slowly standing, not wanting to be caught in a kneeling position, he moved toward the back of the room, pulling Chet with him. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and saw Drakowski was behind them and he yelled out “CHET, LOOK OUT!” as he scrambled backwards.



“NO!!!” Johnny suddenly screamed, trying to stand up. “NO!!!!”

“Easy, Johnny!” Roy said, as he kept Johnny from standing. He glanced in the direction of Marco's yell, wishing he could help them. Returning his attention to Johnny, as he continued to struggle against him, said “Take it easy, Johnny. They'll be okay.”

“No, they won't,” Johnny gasped. “Drakowski….will…kill…them…”

“No, he won't, Johnny,” Roy said, trying to calm him. “They'll watch out for each other. Everything is going to be all right.”



Chet turned at the warning and saw Drakowski coming toward them. He shoved Marco behind him and brought the club up in front of him saying, “Stay back, Drakowski!”

Drakowski paused, a smile coming to his face. Did he actually think they could stop him? Johnny already belonged to him and would be his before the night was over. Moving toward them, he forced them back, into the corner, cutting off any chance of escape. His smile deepened as he backed them further into the corner and seeing it distracts Chet, he made his move.

Chet backed up, making sure Marco remained behind him, keeping the club between him and Drakowski. At Marco's sudden stop, he paused, glancing behind them, seeing they were against the wall. Realizing his mistake, he turned, quickly bringing the club up to a defensive position in front of him, as Drakowski rushed toward them. He grunted as Drakowski struck it, watching in horror as the club impaled him, his momentum causing the club to go entirely through his chest.

Chet stumbled backwards under Drakowski's weight, letting go of the club when Drakowski grabbed it and staggered backwards. Regaining his composure, Chet pressed himself against the wall next to Marco, staring in fear as Drakowski let out a scream of pure hatred.



Roy jerked as a sudden scream echoed through the room. Glancing toward the hall, he yelled “Chet! Marco! You guys all right?” Receiving no answer, he started looking around for something to use as a weapon, in order to protect himself and Johnny. His attention returned to Johnny as he suddenly jerked, saying, “Roy, I…can't….breathe…”

“Easy, Johnny,” Roy said, as he pulled him into a more upright position. Seeing Johnny's eyes widen with fear, “Everything is going to be all right.”

“I …can't….breathe…” Johnny repeated, as his back arched. “I…can't….breathe….”



Drakowski continued to stagger backwards until he hit the wall. He let out another scream, but this was one of pure agony as he tried to pull the club from his body. He felt his knees buckle as his strength started to leave him and he slid to a sitting position on the floor. “Why?” Drakowski asked, his voice filled with pain. “Why? He is an outsider.”

“He's not an outsider,” Chet said, keeping his distance. “He's our friend and we all care about him.”

“Not an outsider?” Drakowski asked, as he gazed at Chet and Marco.

“No, not an outsider,” Marco ventured. “Why did you think he was?”

“By the way you treated him,” Drakowski answered, his voice fading.

Drakowski's gaze returned to the club as he realized he had not chosen an outsider, but chosen one who would be missed. His friends had proven that. And it was his undoing.

He tried once more to pull the club from his chest, knowing that he would not be able to do it. His grip on the club tightened as he arched his back, screaming out in pain and anger. As his world started to fade, he realized that his one hope for redemption would be for him to release Johnny and the others from his control and set them free. His body stiffened, and using the last moments of consciousness said, “I release you, John Gage. I release you all,” and fell back against the wall. A moment later, his body slid the rest of the way to the floor.

Chet glanced toward Marco asking, “Are you all right?” At Marco's nod, he cautiously approached Drakowski when he became still. Reaching down, he checked for a pulse. Finding none, he turned back to Marco saying, “He's dead.”

“I wonder what he meant by 'I release you, John Gage. I release you all.'?” Marco asked, joining Chet.

“I don't know,” Chet said, turning back to Drakowski. A moment later, he jumped back asking “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

Marco didn't answer as his eyes widened in fear. Bringing his cross up to his lips he started praying as he backed away from Drakowski's body, pulling Chet with him. As smoke started forming around the body, they found themselves pressed into a corner, unable to find the way out. Pulling Chet to the floor, he continued to watch as Drakowski's body started disintegrating.



“Take it easy, Johnny,” Roy soothed, as he continued to hold Johnny in an upright position. “Everything is going to be all right.”

“I …can't…breathe…” Johnny gasped. “I…can't…” his voice trailing off as he stiffened, gasping for air. A moment later, he fell back against Roy, becoming silent and still.

“It's all right, Johnny,” Roy assured him, as he glanced down into Johnny's face. “It's all right, Johnny.”

Roy watched in silence as Johnny's eyes became clouded and slowly closed. He took a deep breath; finally letting the tears fall as Johnny's body went limp. He pulled Johnny against him as he rocked back and forth, the tears continuing to fall, not wanting to believe that Johnny was gone.

Roy jerked, looking around in alarm, as a sudden scream erupted and the building started shaking. He looked around, his fear growing, as the air seemed to get heavier and obtained a strange smell. He could hear Chet yelling out in fear and Marco yelling 'Madre de Dios!'. He could swear that he saw apparitions coming toward him and he bent forward, protecting Johnny with his body, and placing his arms over his head. Screams of terror and anger echoed around him and he felt the room temperature increase. But amid all the screams, he would never forget hearing the soft 'Thank you for setting us free.'



Chet jumped as the bed next to the wall imploded, sending flames up to the ceiling. Moving away, he looked around and saw the way to the door was clear. Grabbing Marco, he pulled him to his feet and headed toward the door, saying “Come on, Marco, we got to get out of here!”

Marco wasted no time in following Chet out the door. He tried not to let the screams unnerve him as they cleared the hallway, and headed toward where Roy was shielding Johnny. As he saw what appeared to apparitions approaching them, he knelt down and said “Roy, we got to get out of here.”

Roy brought his arms down, raising his head at the sound of Marco's voice. Looking around, he asked, “What happened?”

“We found Drakowski,” Chet said, shuddering at the memory. He jerked, instinctively ducking at the sound of breaking glass. “He attacked us and impaled himself on the club I had.”

“Then everything started going crazy,” Marco said, glancing around, as the smell of smoke got stronger. “Drakowski disintegrated, the building started shaking, and caught fire. If I hadn't of seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it.”

“Are you telling me that Chet killed Drakowski and he disintegrated?” Roy asked, his voice revealing his disbelief.

“Yeah,” Marco said, with a nod. “It's like this place was under an evil influence and once Drakowski died, it started destroying itself.”

“And if we don't get out of here,” Chet added, “We'll go with it.”

Roy nodded as he glanced around, noticing the fire had gained quite a foothold. Lifting Johnny up slightly, he wrapped his arms around Johnny's chest and slowly got to his feet. Glancing across at Marco, said “Marco, grab his feet. Chet, lead us out of here.”

Roy and Marco quickly followed Chet to the door and through it. Once outside, they could hear the sound of sirens approaching. Spotting an area that would be out of the way; they hurried over to it and placed Johnny carefully on the ground.

At the sound of an implosion, Roy instinctively ducked, throwing himself across Johnny in order to protect him from flying debris. As the sound died, he turned and looked back toward the building, watching it burn. His attention turned to Chet when he asked, “Roy, how's Johnny?”

Roy didn't answer at first as he glanced down at Johnny. His throat constricted in sorrow, as he reached down and brushed a lock of hair off Johnny's forehead. Looking back up at Chet said, “Johnny is…” his voice trailing off at the look on Chet's face. “Chet, what's wrong?”

Chet glanced up at Roy, before leaning forward to get a better look at what had caught his attention. His eyes widened as he glanced back at Roy saying, “Roy, the marks are fading. They're fading.”

Roy didn't say anything as he turned Johnny's head to get a better look and watched them fade from view. Picking up Johnny's left hand, he turned it over exposing his palm. He heard a gasp of surprise from Marco as he watched the mark on his hand slowly fade. He quickly felt for a pulse and was pleasantly surprised to find one. A smile came to his face as Johnny started to stir. Leaning down so Johnny could easily see him, said softly “Johnny?”

Johnny moaned, opening his eyes at the sound of his name. Seeing Roy bending over him said, “Roy,” giving him a weak smile.

“How do you feel?” Roy asked, returning his smile, noticing that the light had returned to Johnny's eyes.

“Better…But still tired,” Johnny answered, looking toward Marco as a movement caught his attention. Seeing the cross hanging between Marco's clasped hands, he weakly reached toward it saying, “Marco…cross…”

“Sure, Johnny,” Marco said, taking Johnny's hand and placing the cross in it. “You can have it.”

Johnny closed his hand over the cross and gripped it as hard as he could. When nothing happened, he glanced up at him saying, “I'm…free…” A moment later, his hand dropped and his eyes closed.

“What's wrong with him, Roy?” Chet asked, worried that Johnny was so tired. “Didn't we get here in time?”

“Yes, Chet,” Roy said, as he examined Johnny. Though Johnny's color had returned somewhat, he was still pale. “He's on the anemic side,” he continued as he glanced toward the sound of approaching feet.

“I'm Donaldson,” the paramedic said, as he introduced himself. “Is anyone injured here?”

“Yes,” Roy said, standing. “We need an ambulance for my partner.”

“Carter,” he said, turning toward his partner. “Get the equipment and notify the Captain. Is there anyone else in the building?” Donaldson asked, returning his attention to Roy as his partner took off.

“No, there isn't,” Roy said, knowing that he did not want to explain what happened to Drakowski. He was finding it hard to believe and he had been there.

“Thank goodness,” Donaldson said, as he knelt down next to them and started accessing Johnny's condition.

A moment later, Carter returned and placed the bio-phone next to him. Reaching over, he flipped the lid open, attached the antennae and said, “Rampart, this is Squad 88. How do you read?”



Roy watched, concern creasing his face, as Brackett carefully adjusted Johnny's IV. He knew that Johnny was going to be all right, but he couldn't stop thinking about how close they came to losing him. If they had been five minutes later in getting there, Johnny would have died. He shuddered at the image that conjured up and wondered if what Johnny had told him would have happened. Would he have turned into something like Drakowski? Had Drakowski been a vampire like Chet believed? His head turned toward the door as it opened and he watched as a nurse entered.

“Here's the report, Dr. Brackett,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” Brackett responded, taking it from her. Flipping it open, he studied the chart. After a moment, “Nurse, prepare four units of blood for a transfusion and get a room ready. I'll return in a few minutes. Roy, can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

“Sure, Doc,” Roy said. Then glancing at Johnny, “But I'd rather stay here.” At Brackett's surprised look, “In case he wakes up. I don't want him to wake up alone.”

“Very well,” Brackett answered, motioning for the nurse to leave. Once the door shut behind her, he moved the stool over next to the exam table, and sat down. Flipping the chart open again, he said, “Roy, Johnny's anemic. But I think you already know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Roy said moving over to stand next to Johnny, opposite of Brackett. Placing his hand on Johnny's arm, asked, “Is he going to be all right?”

“Johnny's going to be fine,” Brackett answered. Closing the chart, he leaned back, glancing up at Roy with curiosity. “I'm curious about something. He was still on the anemic side when I released him. But it wasn't this bad. What happened to cause such a drastic set back?”

“What makes you think something happened?” Roy asked, evasively.

“By how upset you, Marco, and Chet were when he was brought in,” Brackett answered placing the chart on the exam tray. “Now, what happened?”

Roy stood silently studying a point on the far wall. How was he going to be able to tell Brackett what happened? After a moment, he glanced down at him, saying “Doc, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Brackett answered, nailing Roy with a stern look. “I've got to know if I am to effectively treat him. You know that, Roy.”

After another moment of silence, Roy nodded and proceeded to tell Brackett what had happened. Brackett listened to him in silence, his eyes widening in surprise as the tale progressed. Roy was right; he was having trouble believing him. But he also knew that Roy, Chet, and Marco were too upset to have fabricated the story. But could it be possible?

Roy saw the look of disbelief on Brackett's face. “Doc, I told you, you wouldn't believe me. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't of been there. But can you explain, any better than I, how the marks on his neck and hand, that was there this morning, are all of a sudden gone? Can you?”

“No, I can't,” Brackett said, leaning down and examining the area on Johnny's neck where the marks had been. “And you're sure Drakowski is dead?”

“Yes,” Roy said, nervously. “When he attacked Chet and Marco, he was impaled on the club Chet was holding. You know what happened after that.”

“He disintegrated,” Brackett said, glancing up at Roy. His attention returned to Johnny at a slight groan, and leaning toward him slightly asked “Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny groaned again, turning his head toward the sound of the voice. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found a fuzzy shape hovering above him. His eyes widened in fear as he drew back, asking “Roy?”

“Johnny, I'm here,” Roy answered, tightening his grip on Johnny's arm. When Johnny turned his head toward him, he smiled and said, “You're all right. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Johnny remained silent as he slowly looked around the room and took in his surroundings. With the realization that he was at Rampart, he relaxed back against the exam table and returned his attention to Roy. In a small voice he asked, “Is the nightmare over?”

Yes, Johnny,” Roy assured him. “The nightmare is over.”

“Are you sure?” Johnny asked, still seeking assurance.

“Yes, I am,” Roy answered. Then at Johnny's look of doubt, “Here, let me show you.”

Roy carefully slipped his arm behind Johnny's shoulders and lifted him up a bit, making sure to provide support for his head. Carefully, reaching underneath the IV tubing lifted Johnny's left hand, turning it so Johnny could see the palm. Glancing back into his face said, “See, Johnny? The marks are gone. They are gone. Just look and see.”

Johnny studied Roy's face for a moment, and then slowly looked down toward his hand. A smile slowly came to his face as he saw the mark was indeed gone. Bringing his right hand across him, he felt the area, then reached up and felt his neck. Returning his attention to Roy said, “They're gone. They're really gone.”

“Yes, they are,” Roy said, returning the smile as he lowered Johnny back down. “Drakowski can't hurt you anymore.”

“Can't hurt me anymore,” Johnny repeated back at him, as his eyes closed. “Can't hurt me….”

Roy watched as Johnny drifted back to sleep. After a moment, he glanced over at Brackett and asked, “Well?”

“You're right, Roy. I don't believe you,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall Roy's interruption. “But I don't have any better idea of what happened either. Since Drakowski was the source of Johnny's anemia, with him gone, Johnny will recover completely. I just can't get myself to believe that this happened.”

“Neither can I, Doc,” Roy said. “And I was there.”



Johnny slowly opened his eyes, blinking them in the sunlight that was streaming into the room. Hearing soft snoring to his right, he turned and saw Roy sleeping in the chair that was next to his bed. Without being told, he knew he had been here all night. Leaning toward him, he placed his hand on Roy's shoulder and shook it, saying “Roy? Roy?”

Roy stirred, opening his eyes. Seeing that Johnny was awake and watching him, he sat up asking, “Johnny, how are you feeling?”

“Not as tired,” Johnny answered, stretching a bit. “But you know something, Roy?”

“No, Johnny,” Roy replied. “What?”

“It all seems like a bad dream,” Johnny answered softly, his gaze going to his tray. “That all that happened, didn't actually happen,” he said with a sigh. Returning his gaze to Roy, asked “But it did happen, didn't it?”

“Yes, it did,” Roy said, meeting his gaze. “But you're all right now. You're going to be just fine.”

“I know, Roy,” Johnny said, as he picked up the cross and started looking at it. “But, it's just hard to believe it happened.” Then, in an effort to change the subject asked, “What's Marco's cross doing here?”

“Marco gave it to you,” Roy answered. “After the 'fireworks', so to speak, you saw the cross and wanted it. Marco gave it to you and seeing that it made you feel better, let you keep it.”

“But why?” Johnny asked, looking at it. “It's his favorite one. The one he always carries with him.”

“You needed it, Johnny,” came Marco's voice from the doorway.

Johnny glanced toward the door as Marco entered, followed by the rest of the guys, and came to the side of the bed. Looking up at them, he said “Hi, Guys.” Then turning his attention to Marco, “I still don't understand why you would give it to me. It's your favorite one.”

“Johnny, you needed it more than I did,” Marco repeated. At Johnny's confused look, “When you first started coming around, after the attack, you were still very weak. You could barely talk, let alone move. I was kneeling next to you saying a prayer, when you looked over and saw the cross. You reached for it, asking for it. When I gave you the cross, you said you were free and slipped away.”

“I didn't die, did I?” Johnny asked, unsure of his memory.

“No, you didn't. And we're very glad you didn't,” Cap said giving him a smile.

“I am too, Cap,” Johnny said, returning the smile.

“Anyway,” Marco continued, “When we got you here, the cross fell from your grip. I picked it up and placed it back in your hand. When I was asked about it, I told them just what I told you.”

“That you gave it to me because I wanted it?” Johnny asked, still finding it hard to believe Marco would do that.

“Yes,” Marco responded, seeing that Johnny was trying to understand. “You wanted it and needed it. I gave it to you because you wanted it. You needed it more than I did. I hoped it helped you.”

Johnny smiled slightly as he lightly ran his fingers over the cross he held. It helped him more than Marco or the others would ever know. But he also knew how much the cross meant to Marco and he knew he couldn't keep it. Looking up into his face, he held the cross out to him saying “Marco, thank you. But I can't keep it.”

“Johnny, you don't want it?” Marco asked, not making a move to take it.

“Marco, you gave it to me when I wanted and needed it,” Johnny said, softly. “You don't know how much that meant to me. But I also know how much the cross means to you and I can't keep it knowing that.” At Marco's slight hesitation, “Marco, take it. I thank you for the offer, but I don't need it now.”

Marco hesitated for a second longer before reaching forward and accepting the cross from Johnny. Rubbing it gently, he placed it in his pocket saying, “I don't know what to say.”

“Why not say 'Thank you'?” Chet piped up.

“Chet!” Cap exclaimed, turning and giving him a small glare.

“It's all right, Cap,” Marco said, seeing the smile that it brought to Johnny's face. “Thank you, Johnny. You don't know what this means to me.”

“You're welcome, Marco,” Johnny said, his eyes sparkling. “And, yes, I do know how much that means to you.”

THE END