Bloody vampires.
So, the week after I start on a novel about vampires (in my usual, scienced-up, overly nerdy idiosyncracy) (don't worry, if you had begun to, Once Bitten, Twice Fly is still happening, but it's hit my inner wall if you get my idiom) (do you know, in the midst of all these parentheses, I've lost my train of thought? Let's try again)...
So, the week after I start on a novel about vampires, a van turns up at our school to take the blood from the veins of the children.
OK, not so much children as you had to be seventeen or over to donate. Herein lies the annoyance: I wanted to give blood. My blood may well be useful: the chances are I'm O+, (also known as the universal donor as no blood-type has anti-O antibodies thus making it acceptable to any recipient's system (there I go again with the science and parentheses (within parentheses))) but the seventeen and over stopped me.
Well, seeing as I mentioned vampire novel, it would appear remiss to leave it completely undisclosed so here's a sample (including nerdy passage so you can see what I was on about (in italics in case you wish to skip it (I should really just use commas))).
“Silver?” My brain was spinning all over the place and hadn’t yet lined up with my head.
He sighed, the kind of “Make yourself comfortable, this could take a while” sigh.
“You were bitten by a werewolf. Do you remember that?”
“That bit was real?”
“Yes.”
“That was real and the boat going over a waterfall was the dream?”
“I assume so.”
“... Damn...”
“Indeed,” he supplied. “I got you in time, gave you a shot of colloidal silver and brought you here, where you‘ve been put on a weaker solution”
“Wait, wait, that’s wrong,” I interrupted; I’m a stickler for factual inaccuracies. “For one, silver was never related to werewolves until the early, mid, whatever twentieth century, no legends ever mention it.”
“True, but lycanthropy is a virus and, it turns out, susceptible to the antiviral properties of silver, accelerated by an electrical current.”
“You mean susceptive.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. So, it cures the disease it but doesn’t affect werewolves, am I right?”
“No.” He drew another long breath. “I got you early enough to destroy the virus before it took hold thus essentially curing you. Once it takes hold, it becomes integral to the structure of all the body’s cells.” He waited for me to look like I understood. Realising he’d be waiting a while, he continued, “so when it dies, so does its host cell. Hence...” he tilted his head toward the bucket.
“Can I have that back now?” He put it back in reach.
“Anyway. You said firstly?”
“Well, ‘for one’ but, yeah,” I said. “For... two? Secondly, whatever, transfer by bites doesn’t appear in any legends.”
“Not many, but some. I’ll admit, most cases were contaminated water or wearing a slain one’s skin with an open wound, which usually comes from slaying one. Bites are just easier for the wolf, what with not having to die in the process, so long as they pull back before the victim dies, so they’ve got more common since they got smart.”
There was a long pause.
“Right. Where am I?”
“Hallfield road.”
“But there isn’t a hospital on Hallfield road.”
“You’re not in hospital.”
“Touché.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. Why is everything red?”
“It isn’t. Only the window is. It absorbs UV light.”
“Why?” Had I waited but two seconds for myself to catch up, I wouldn’t have asked that question. I groaned. “UV light?” He nodded. “But -”
“But the belief of vampires fearing or being harmed by light came about in the twentieth century, yes?” I sagged and nodded. “You’re well-read, I’ll give you that. Yes, it is a later belief. Vampirism is, like lycanthropy, a virus, therefore subject to mutation. Evolution. Its symptoms change.” He walked to the window and looked out over the road.
“It started off like rabies, but airborne. The same virus lycanthropy evolved from, we believe. In the eighteenth century, it began to cause blood-lust and destroy eumelanin. Back then it first caused a coma so victims had to first dig out of their graves where they’d been mistakenly buried. In Eastern Europe, a strain evolved which caused the body to digest haemoglobin and destroy bone-marrow, which reduced bloating and aneurysms - but it also caused epidermal blood vessels to almost completely close. It had the odd effect of the bone compacting into the marrow void; it caused muscle tissue to become denser - like cardiac muscle but still subject to fatigue, causing the body and limbs to thin.
“The problem these strains had was, they were airborne and infection was easily overcome; they began to die out as the victims, now buried deeper and weakened by the early effects, couldn’t escape their graves to carry the virus. Twentieth century, a whole new strain evolved: it stopped destroying eumelanin but began inhibiting phaeomelanin production and altering mitochondria; we think it was this strain in which the usual lyssavirus characteristic of inducing a rabid rage was lost. It also increased amelogenesis - making teeth grow into fangs,” he explained as my face went from bewildered to utterly lost, “giving an easier means of obtaining blood, an unfortunate speech impediment, and paving the way for the virus we know today, transferred by biting but not draining a victim.
“You see?”
“You lost me at rabies.”
So, the week after I start on a novel about vampires, a van turns up at our school to take the blood from the veins of the children.
OK, not so much children as you had to be seventeen or over to donate. Herein lies the annoyance: I wanted to give blood. My blood may well be useful: the chances are I'm O+, (also known as the universal donor as no blood-type has anti-O antibodies thus making it acceptable to any recipient's system (there I go again with the science and parentheses (within parentheses))) but the seventeen and over stopped me.
Well, seeing as I mentioned vampire novel, it would appear remiss to leave it completely undisclosed so here's a sample (including nerdy passage so you can see what I was on about (in italics in case you wish to skip it (I should really just use commas))).
“Silver?” My brain was spinning all over the place and hadn’t yet lined up with my head.
He sighed, the kind of “Make yourself comfortable, this could take a while” sigh.
“You were bitten by a werewolf. Do you remember that?”
“That bit was real?”
“Yes.”
“That was real and the boat going over a waterfall was the dream?”
“I assume so.”
“... Damn...”
“Indeed,” he supplied. “I got you in time, gave you a shot of colloidal silver and brought you here, where you‘ve been put on a weaker solution”
“Wait, wait, that’s wrong,” I interrupted; I’m a stickler for factual inaccuracies. “For one, silver was never related to werewolves until the early, mid, whatever twentieth century, no legends ever mention it.”
“True, but lycanthropy is a virus and, it turns out, susceptible to the antiviral properties of silver, accelerated by an electrical current.”
“You mean susceptive.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. So, it cures the disease it but doesn’t affect werewolves, am I right?”
“No.” He drew another long breath. “I got you early enough to destroy the virus before it took hold thus essentially curing you. Once it takes hold, it becomes integral to the structure of all the body’s cells.” He waited for me to look like I understood. Realising he’d be waiting a while, he continued, “so when it dies, so does its host cell. Hence...” he tilted his head toward the bucket.
“Can I have that back now?” He put it back in reach.
“Anyway. You said firstly?”
“Well, ‘for one’ but, yeah,” I said. “For... two? Secondly, whatever, transfer by bites doesn’t appear in any legends.”
“Not many, but some. I’ll admit, most cases were contaminated water or wearing a slain one’s skin with an open wound, which usually comes from slaying one. Bites are just easier for the wolf, what with not having to die in the process, so long as they pull back before the victim dies, so they’ve got more common since they got smart.”
There was a long pause.
“Right. Where am I?”
“Hallfield road.”
“But there isn’t a hospital on Hallfield road.”
“You’re not in hospital.”
“Touché.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. Why is everything red?”
“It isn’t. Only the window is. It absorbs UV light.”
“Why?” Had I waited but two seconds for myself to catch up, I wouldn’t have asked that question. I groaned. “UV light?” He nodded. “But -”
“But the belief of vampires fearing or being harmed by light came about in the twentieth century, yes?” I sagged and nodded. “You’re well-read, I’ll give you that. Yes, it is a later belief. Vampirism is, like lycanthropy, a virus, therefore subject to mutation. Evolution. Its symptoms change.” He walked to the window and looked out over the road.
“It started off like rabies, but airborne. The same virus lycanthropy evolved from, we believe. In the eighteenth century, it began to cause blood-lust and destroy eumelanin. Back then it first caused a coma so victims had to first dig out of their graves where they’d been mistakenly buried. In Eastern Europe, a strain evolved which caused the body to digest haemoglobin and destroy bone-marrow, which reduced bloating and aneurysms - but it also caused epidermal blood vessels to almost completely close. It had the odd effect of the bone compacting into the marrow void; it caused muscle tissue to become denser - like cardiac muscle but still subject to fatigue, causing the body and limbs to thin.
“The problem these strains had was, they were airborne and infection was easily overcome; they began to die out as the victims, now buried deeper and weakened by the early effects, couldn’t escape their graves to carry the virus. Twentieth century, a whole new strain evolved: it stopped destroying eumelanin but began inhibiting phaeomelanin production and altering mitochondria; we think it was this strain in which the usual lyssavirus characteristic of inducing a rabid rage was lost. It also increased amelogenesis - making teeth grow into fangs,” he explained as my face went from bewildered to utterly lost, “giving an easier means of obtaining blood, an unfortunate speech impediment, and paving the way for the virus we know today, transferred by biting but not draining a victim.
“You see?”
“You lost me at rabies.”