Photo With A Vampire

By Danp Hndrsn

Craig goes to work on a normal day, only it is not going to be a normal day. He is shot by the police, chewed on by a dog and wakes up in a hospital to be told he is being charged with murder of a policeman. He gains freedom, but it will be short-lived unless he can live without being seen. To survive, he leaves everything and everyone behind, and eventually hides out in plain sight as a vampire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danp Hndrsn
• Release date: May 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370085989

Danp Hndrsn

This is Dan Henderson's first book. He frequently uses the moniker Danphndrsn, because there are so many people using the same name that it begged for some change. Dan is a retiree, from the Midwest, living in Florida. He spends his time fishing or trying to dodge yardwork. Another book is on the way- 'Buster Unk Saves The World'.

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PHOTO WITH A VAMPIRE

Dan Henderson

PHOTO WITH A VAMPIRE

Copyright 2017 Dan Henderson

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

One person kept me moving forward with this story- my wife - Betty Henderson. Writing the story came easy. Making it work as an e-book dumbfounded me, but she repeatedly encouraged me.

PROLOGUE

Craig drifted off to sleep sitting in the office chair, sleeping the fitful sleep that goes with being in a strange place and not being comfortable. He had dreamed about being back in Viet Nam, and trying to crawl through tall grass without being seen or startling a step and a half, the local deadly viper. Snakes were in a lot of his dreams, but he couldn’t shake them like he had so many other events he’d lived through. Then he was dreaming about the older lady he’d observed today, fighting back tears in the break room. In his dream, she was crying and pulling at his sleeve, trying to say something, but he couldn’t understand. There was a snake in the corner of the room, but in his dream only he could see it.

Suddenly there was an intense loud noise, right at his shoulder, and he could feel the hot breath of whatever it was, right there. He tried to jerk his body away from the noise and breath, and instantly felt a crunching searing pain on his left arm, where something had clamped down on his arm. Still too shocked to open his eyes, his hand found the letter opener on the desk and shoved it hard into the chest of the attacker, killing it instantly. As it released the bite, Craig flipped it away from him, unfortunately right at the cops standing in the doorway. One policeman reacted by squeezing off a round, which hit Craig. He fell to the ground, conscious, but unable to focus in on his surroundings and in extreme pain, gasping for each breath.

A deputy walked over Craig’s body, looked, and started to roll the man below him over, but when Craig felt something grab his wrist, he swung upward, forcing the letter opener into the man’s testicle, through it, into the pelvis. The deputy screamed and started to fall back, but the trooper spent two quick rounds: one passed through the deputy, severed an artery and into Craig. The last shot passed through Craig’s cheek and into the wall. The deputy would moan until he passed away from blood loss. Craig was thankfully unconscious, but did manage a moan when the trooper kicked him in the ribs and face.

But he wasn’t dreaming. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, then he was in an ambulance, then unconscious again. At one point, he came to briefly in a bright room; people with hospital masks, pain, so much pain. Mercifully, he heard someone say, he’s conscious!, then he passed out again. The drugs did their job for over two days, then slowly his mind came to attention.

He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Could not swallow, wanted to so bad, but couldn’t. Finally, someone was talking: Can you hear me, sir? He focused his eyes: a very dark black man wearing green, like a hospital. Why was he in a hospital?

PHOTO WITH A VAMPIRE

Craig had worked for a national food service company, Food Service Inc., for the last eight years. He found the work agreeable most days, getting to drive around a little, see the outside world and talk to different people while working, filling the machines and collecting the money as he went. Plus, it seemed that if he did a good job, it would be possible to advance to management.

The local branch of Food Service had a District Manager, Operations Manager and Maintenance Manager, all between 55-60 years old. The District Manager, Tim, was competent and well liked, having probably personally hired everyone who worked in the building. The Operations Manager was only three years out of college, and way over his head most days. College courses hadn’t prepared him for dealing with all the personalities he ran into. He was hanging on, mostly because Tim was very patient. Gino had been the maintenance manager forever, and was Tim’s longtime good friend. Craig was only 44, and as he looked around, there didn’t seem to be too many route drivers that took their job seriously. Most seemed to be there because the auto plants wouldn’t hire them or wouldn’t rehire them. Craig liked it, and the wages, although not as good as a large factory, paid well enough to keep his growing family and pay the mortgage. All in all, it was a lot better than other jobs he’d had in the 20 years since coming back from ‘Nam.

Regional vice-president Jerry Parsons had been watching one branch a lot closer than the others under his care for a few months. Parsons had been in his current position for less than a year, and felt that the money problems in the Ft. Wayne district were dragging down his entire region. Parsons best attribute was that he looked like an executive, even though most of what he did required no special skill or training. He wore nice suits, had quality haircuts, and was careful not to say too much when talking to subordinates, which he knew resulted in their thinking he was smarter than he really was.

He could see that sales and payroll were stable in Ft. Wayne, but food costs seemed to be inching up higher than any other district. Ft Wayne’s District manager, Joe Cleland, had been there several years and he seemed to have a stable workforce of 50-52 support people working under him. Parsons had visited Ft Wayne several times, discussing price increases, and going over paperwork, but the food cost kept rising to the point that the last meeting had taken a slightly nasty overtone.

Parsons was sitting in Joe’s office Tuesday morning, after driving in from Louisville the night before and checking in at the downtown Hilton. The mood had shifted to sullen, almost combative, when Parsons insisted on going over the operating reports again, for the third month in a row. Joe was primed to show reasons why his 4year old company car should be replaced with one of the new Buicks corporate was buying this year.

Numbers varied, in his mind, depending on which program the company was using, but he felt his job dictated an impressive appearance, which a new car helped provide. He already had a better desk and decorating in his office than other managers, even at Parsons level; he dressed the part and even ended his day with a cigar and brandy. He knew how to live.

Parsons didn’t want to hear it. Dammit Joe, how could your costs go up two months in a row, even after we sat here both months and went over it, page by page? We’ve incurred some costs that no-one anticipated, sir, especially the repairs to damaged vehicles and having to train new managers at the locations I told you about!

It appears that it keeps going back to food product costs, not repairs or a few extra hours. Parsons was exasperated, and couldn’t contain his frustration with having the same conversation three months in a row. Joe, it’s like this: get your product costs in line, or this conversation will become one about your resignation benefits and I’ll work with your successor about the food costs! Joe had been in his job for years before Parsons had been promoted, and believed, deep inside, that he would outlast Parsons, just like he had outlasted others before him. I’m not going to resign, Mr. Parsons. This is what I do, and I do it well! Fix the problem or the conversation will be with your replacement, do you understand that?

Joe felt a shudder creep up his shoulders. If this had been in the old west, they would’ve went outside now and drawn guns to settle their argument. Instead, he took a deep breath, stepped back from Parsons and said: I will get this situation rectified to your satisfaction, Mr. Parsons. Just give me some time; You’ve had 3 months, Joe. There’s not much time left! Whatever it is, get it under control!" Joe moved to the door, as if he expected Parsons to take the hint that they were done, and leave.

Parsons had planned on being there until lunch, then driving back to Indy, but the sudden feeling that he was being dismissed by someone that reported to him was overwhelming what diplomacy he normally tried to display. Parsons stood up, gathering his jacket, briefcase, and composure. Fix it, or I will fire your pompous ass, do you understand, Joe?"

Joe’s mouth couldn’t move, he just nodded, and pointed to the door. As Parsons left the building, Joe was grabbing his day planner, looking for phone numbers of corporate buddies that might help him get rid of his problem, which was Parsons, not product costs.--Parsons.

An hour later, Joe’s mood changed from indignant to deeply worried. Parsons might be a threat, and Joe knew what to do with a threat: Back it off or run it out. The way to achieve either goal was to get one of the friends he’d made over the years, one that had power, to intercede on his behalf. He’d done it before, and as a result Parsons was promoted after the previous problem had been transferred to another district. Joe got on the phone to once again call in favors, but this time the people he knew at the corporate level weren’t in; didn’t seem to be taking his call. Damn it!, he thought. ‘I’ll try again tomorrow. Without their help, he would have to deal with Parsons in a much different way.

Joe called Parsons the following Monday. I think we’ve got a grip on the food cost problem, he said. Parsons felt relieved What did you find? We had two cafeteria managers, both in Huntington, that, no matter what we said about food costs, were just selling things too damn cheap! It was killing the bottom line. So, what did you do, Joe? They’re both gone, as of last Friday. Any problem with them-do we need legal in here? No sir, I’ll send you the paperwork. Great, Joe. I hope this will fix your problem."

Joe didn’t hesitate to expand what he had just said; While I have you on the phone, did you give any more consideration to our getting a new car up here? My Lumina is starting to look tired, and it’s not the image I want to project. Parsons stifled back his indignation. Joe, don’t even think about asking for anything like that until you’ve shown me a few months of decent numbers. Unfazed, Joe countered: Indy and Columbus both have cars ordered, we’re no less than they are, sir. Joe, I had to threaten you to get you to manage, we don’t reward that! Silence came over the lines.

After Parsons got off the phone, he sat quietly, rehashing the conversation over and over. Something didn’t feel right-but what? It did not make sense that 2 accounts out of 45 could drag down the entire district cost so far, and it seemed strange that both of these accounts were doing the same thing at the same time. Parsons picked up the phone and dialed the corporate offices, followed the prompts and got thru to the accounting department. This is Parsons from the Ohio Valley Region. Can I speak to Robert Morry?

Robert Morry was a slight man with curly brown hair and a Jewish nose, which seemed out of place on a Presbyterian. Morry was on line quickly, What earth shattering event has happened to force the great Jerry Parsons to call the bean counter department? I thought you only dealt with the highest authority types, not lowly little accountants. Parsons smiled inwardly, he and Morry had come up together, both starting in Kansas City and moving up til Morry went corporate and Parsons had preferred to be a field man. I want to bounce a situation off fresh ears, you prick, and your ears are the freshest."

Parsons and Morry talked about the problem at Ft. Wayne and the phone call from Joe for the next half hour. Parsons felt at a loss overall, but Morry had an idea. Tell you what, why don’t I go there tonight, get a room, and pull a surprise audit on both locations and the warehouse. You could use some fresh eyes on it and I could stand to get out of the building. It’s a win-win. That would be great, but, I can’t be there until after noon, is that O.K.? No problem, I’ll show ID and be driving a company car, so they can’t balk too much, they’ll know who I am. Parsons was pleased with himself for thinking of Morry. Often, it’s not being smarter, but knowing who to call that made the difference between a VP and a lowly branch manager. Morry was the right person to call.

Morry left home at 4 P.M., driving a company car, and arrived at the downtown Hilton around 10. The next morning, he pulled in the parking lot belonging to the largest ‘problem’ cafeteria at 8 a.m. Finding the delivery door, he rang the buzzer several times, before he heard a voice Who’s there? My name is Robert Morry. I’m from Corporate accounting. Please open the door, I’ll show I.D.

There was a long pause, then the door opened a few inches, to which Morry held his I.D. badge in the space. The door opened and an older woman dressed in whites studied him. Matt didn’t tell me you were coming. Did you clear it with him or Joe? If you did, they forgot to tell me. I’m from the Home office in St. Louis. I don’t have to clear it with them! But I work for them!, she countered. Don’t know anything about a home office. The office is in Ft Wayne, and Joe runs it. Matt’s our boss, we all work for Matt.

Morry studied her for a second. You get a bi-weekly check from Food Service Inc, which is out of St Louis, as I do and Joe does. You work for Food Service, not this Matt. Joe is also an employee of FSI who reports to Parsons, have you heard of him? Yes, he was here about a month ago. Well, he requested that I show up today and audit this location, please let me in! Morry was trying to remain pleasant, but he could feel his neck flushing a little. Not until I check with Matt or Joe.

Morry was now getting pissed. If you don’t let me in, right now, I’m on the phone to Corporate and you and everybody in there won’t have a job tomorrow, do you understand? You are an employee, I’m the employer and I will not take any more of this run around. Well I don’t guess I can stop you from coming in, but I’m gonna call the boss and tell him what you’re doing here! I don’t care what you do…I’m here to verify inventory and personnel, understand? You can tell me your name and position first, then make any damned call you want to.

She was scared, and it showed, but Morry could also sense a determination in her. I’m Liz, Elizabeth McCollough, and I’m the cook and manager here. You were named manager last week, right? I’ve been here as manager for over 4 years now, sir, and I do my job as well as anybody could! Morry thought for a second, thinking that maybe Parsons hadn’t understood Joe correctly. Was Joe or Matt here last Friday or, maybe Thursday? She stared at him for a moment, then replied in a smooth, sure voice that screamed ‘I don‘t have a clue where you‘re heading’; Haven’t seen Mr. Joe Cleland in 2 or 3 months. Matt was here last Thursday to pick up his catering, as usual."

Morry was feeling pretty stupid, which didn’t set well, internally. He had poured over the Profit and Loss statement for the entire district last night in the hotel room- there had not been any revenue for catering listed anywhere on them. When you said, ‘pick up his catering’, where was this catering? I dunno. They never tell me unless it’s a big one. But we prep caterings at least twice a week for Matt. He says everyone likes our meals better than regular restaurant food. A younger girl in kitchen attire was at Liz’s elbow. Phone for you, it’s Matt. Liz smiled Good, maybe you can make sense to him, or he can set you straight! and she went to the phone. Morry couldn’t hear what Liz was saying but he couldn’t help but notice that she did a lot of talking, then a lot of listening.

He figured that the gate guard had probably called Matt and tipped him off about the ‘company’. Either that, or Matt had unusual timing. When she hung up, she quickly went to the young girl and said something in a hushed tone, at which time the girl nodded and left thru the serving door. She’s getting security, mister. You need to leave now or we’ll have security escort you off the premises. Morry was incredulous, "I already explained to you who I am, I don’t know what the hell you people think, but you’re the peons here, I’m the guy who’ll have all of you fired if you