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  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

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  The Collapse 1

  Newsletter and More Building a relationship with my readers is the very best thing about writing...

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO BY CLAUDIA SILVA

  THE COLLAPSE

  Claudia Silva

  Copyright © 2019 Claudia Silva

  All rights reserved.

  To my family and friends.

  THE COLLAPSE

  1

  "I DON'T UNDERSTAND," Agent Reynolds said as he walked next to Dylan down the stairs to reach the basement. "I could’ve just sent you a picture of the men."

  "It's protocol," Dylan Torrence told him. "I need to see them myself."

  "I don't get it."

  "You don't have to get it."

  The two of them stopped in front of the door at the end of the stairs with the word MORGUE printed with capital letters. Dylan wondered why they sometimes felt the morgue needed to be in underground. He'd been too many other morgues to check up on victims who they reported were missing a heart or a head and his worst experiences were always in the ones that were in the basement. It was creepy, even for him.

  Agent Reynolds, a young man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, opened the door, inviting Dylan inside. The room was wide with a low ceiling, which made it feel small. The main open room had four metallic beds; dead bodies partially covered by white sheets occupied two. Behind them, Dylan spotted two doors which led to other rooms he wasn't planning to visit. From one, a man wearing a white lab coat stepped out just in time to receive them.

  "This is our medical examiner," Agent Reynolds introduced them, "John Cornish. Cornish, this is Agent Torrence."

  They shook hands. Dylan noted the medical examiner was as cold as he was, except he wasn't a vampire. He was just human. Perhaps his body temperature was low because the room itself was colder than the rest of the building. Dylan could understand the reason for that. The place reeked of death regardless of how cold they kept the bodies. Old death. The blood had long since lost its allure. Except for the two living humans in the room with him, the surrounding stench made him want to puke.

  "Reynolds says you want to see the body?" the examiner began. It was more of a question than a statement.

  "Yes, I do." Dylan noticed the two men exchange a look. "It's protocol." He couldn't explain every time they found a body missing a heart anywhere in the country the Vampire Agency needed to send one of its agents to certify the humans weren’t dealing with werewolf blood. There wasn't a way a human could tell if a body belonged to a werewolf. Only vampires could detect the werewolf scent coming out of the dead. It was a demeaning task, but someone had to do it. The vampire agents divided the dirty work between them and this time, it was Dylan's turn to take care of the job.

  At least he hadn't come alone this time. He’d brought his family with him. Dylan had married his partner a few months ago, and they had a newly adopted daughter. They’d driven together because Rebecca insisted Crystal needed to get out of her new routine. They hadn't gone far, but it was a change in scenery for the three of them. While Dylan reported to the morgue, Rebecca had taken Crystal shopping.

  Dylan walked closer to the two bodies, feeling the curious Reynolds and Cornish close behind. He didn’t need a lot of time to realize the bodies weren't werewolves, but he was interested to find out why they both had holes in their chests with their hearts removed if they weren't. It was strange, to say the least. He didn't recognize the two men and yearned to learn more about their identities even if it wasn't his job to interfere.

  "Well?" Reynolds’ loud question echoed in the underground space, startling Dylan. "What's the verdict? Do you know them?"

  Dylan took his time to answer. "I don't." Turning on his heels, he headed for the door. Nothing good would come from staying there any longer. Finding out why the two men had died was a pleasure left to Agent Reynolds - the lucky bastard.

  "Wait," Reynolds stopped him. "That's all? You're not going to... I don't know, take notes or something?"

  "No need," Dylan told him. Taking out his phone, he dialed his most popular contact. Rebecca Torrence. He liked her new name. He liked how it sounded. Only a few months ago she'd been Rebecca Sawyer. "Hey," he said after she'd answered. "I'm done here."

  Agent Reynolds started to follow him towards the door while behind them, the medical examiner began his examination. Suddenly, Dylan heard a click. Instinctively, he turned to Cornish. Something was very wrong. Dropping the phone, he pushed Reynolds down, falling on top of him and taking cover behind one of the metallic tables. A second later, a bomb exploded. Someone must have hidden it in one of the bodies.

  Dylan's ears bled from the explosive sound, and his hearing was gone. It took a second for his vampire blood to heal him. When he opened his eyes, he felt disoriented. For a moment, he didn't understand what had happened. Agent Reynolds was lying unconscious under him; they were both covered in debris.

  The muffled sounds soon became clearer as his hearing returned. "Dylan? Dylan! Answer me!" It was Rebecca. Following the sound, Dylan crawled on the floor between pieces of concrete and sheetrock until he found his phone. It was a miracle it was still working. He spoke too soon. “Dy-n. -an..." She was breaking up.

  "Becca!" he put his phone in his ear. He felt like someone had beaten the crap out of him.

  "-t hap-ned? Ar- you -ay?"

  "Becca, can you hear me?" Dylan shouted. "There was an explosion. Becca?" The phone went dead. He looked at the cracked screen and couldn't turn it on again. It was useless to worry about it. The priority was getting out of there.

  Agent Reynolds grunted - at least he was alive. He couldn't say the same of the medical examiner. He'd been next to the explosive when it went off. The poor man was dispersed around the room in pieces, mixed with the two bodies he meant to examine. Someone, somewhere, was determined to be rid of all evidence.

  "What happened?" Agent Reynolds sat up, his hair with concrete dust and sheetrock.

  "Some sort of explosive, I think," Dylan replied.

  Reynolds looked around the room. "Shit."

  Ignoring him, Dylan turned to face the door, which was somehow intact. "We need to get out of here before the whole place collapses on top of us." But, when Dylan tried to open the door, he understood it would be easier said than done. The door that opened to the staircase had pieces of wall and ceiling blocking it. No matter what Dylan tried, the door wouldn't budge. They were trapped.

  Maybe if he used his superhuman strength he could manage to open the door, but that meant revealing who he was to the human in the room. Although looking at the pieces of concrete, not even a vampire would be able to lift the heavy rock. Rebecca knew where he was, and chances were she was on her way to help him out of the mess he'd gotten himself into.

  "Someone will come. They must've noticed the explosion," said Agent Reynolds.

  Yes, but how long will it take to get us out once they find out we’re trapped? Out loud he asked, "Do you have a phone?"

  "Yeah," Reynolds reached for it from under his jacket. "It's an old one."

  "Is it giving you a signal?"

  Dylan waited a moment, but knew the answer before his new friend spoke. "No. Nothing. Must be the explosion."

  "Must be."

  For now, all they could do was wait... hope. Hope someone would find them soon; if not, they were at risk of being crushed by the building on top of them. Or worse, in a few hours, Dylan would stop being human and Agent Reynolds would be in real danger. He was trapped in a room with a vampire after all.

  2


  Dylan wasn’t worried about his own survival. As a vampire, his every cell was designed to survive. His physical body was not only immortal but had one heck of a healing factor. Even if the room ran out of air, it was unlikely he'd die. Fire, beheading or a body without a heart were the only things he was aware of that could kill him. If done right, it could be done. Difficult, yes; but possible. His life didn't worry him.

  Agent Reynolds wasn't as lucky. If Dylan thought about it, there were several ways the frail human could meet his end before the day ended. A piece of the ceiling could fall on his head, the oxygen in the room could run out, given enough days, he’d die without water. Still, none of these things seemed to matter to Dylan as much as the alternative: Reynolds could become a starving vampire's only source of food. Even now, he could smell the blood coming out of the human's every pore, and his mouth salivated.

  Dylan thought back to the earlier events of that day. Four hours ago, he’d gone with his family to a small little diner a few blocks from their hotel to have breakfast before parting ways. Rebecca ordered an omelet, Crys ordered the waffle and bacon (she was now too old for the kid's menu and had complained when she couldn’t get the chocolate pancakes). Dylan had the All-American Combo with two eggs, hash browns, sausage and bacon, and three buttermilk pancakes.

  The girls were waiting for him to go to lunch together. After the chocolate pancake fiasco, Crys earned the right to choose the next restaurant. Dylan wondered what it would be. Maybe burgers, or BBQ ribs. She loved pizza, so it could be that. Or maybe she'd go for something different, like tacos. She liked whenever he made tacos. They weren't Mexican tacos, per se, but they were tacos and she seemed to like them. They rarely went out to eat and this would be a great opportunity to-

  "What are you thinking about?"

  Dylan raised his eyes to look at Agent Reynolds. The smile that had crept on his face quickly vanished. "Nothing," he replied.

  They were both sitting on the floor across from each other. Only a few minutes had passed. It felt like an eternity.

  "What's your name?" Agent Reynolds asked this time. "My name's Nick. Well, Nicholas, but nobody calls me that. You?"

  Dylan thought about it before answering. "Dylan."

  "Married?"

  "Let's not get too personal," Dylan stopped him. If his body would eventually feed on this man, he didn't want to feel worse by caring about him.

  Reynolds nodded, pursed his lips in understanding, and looked the other way.

  Dylan looked at his watch. He estimated he could control the craving for an hour. Maybe two. After that, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

  "My daughter's birthday is tomorrow," Reynolds started again. "She's turning five. My wife, Natalie, she organized this party at our house. And you know what's the worst part?" Dylan simply stared at him. "She asked me to dress up as a clown."

  Dylan tried to remain stoic but failed. Thinking about Nick dressed up as a clown made him smile. "I'm sorry, man," he told him.

  "Nah, it's cool. You should see my little girl. She's a cutie. Her hair curls up on its own and every time she smiles she melts my heart. I swear, if my wife delivers another girl, my life will be over. They will own me. They'll do whatever they want to me."

  Dylan scoffed, "Women."

  "Is Becca your wife?" It surprised Dylan to hear her name. Reynolds must've noticed his confusion because he said, "Relax. You were all 'Becca, Becca' whenever you picked up that phone." He was right, he'd been desperate and had called her by her first name - her pet name. “Well, is she?" Dylan nodded. "You guys have any kids yet? You look young, but you can't really tell nowadays."

  Nick Reynolds was a real chatterbox. "We adopted a girl. She's thirteen."

  "Phew," whistled Reynolds. "A teenager! That must be tough."

  "It isn't. Not really. She's a good kid. Had a hard life before coming to us."

  Reynolds nodded in understanding. "Hey, I get it. I'm glad she found a stable home." Dylan didn't know what to say to that. A witch with two vampires for parents; not sure if he would call that stable. "So," Nick Reynolds said, "what do you think happened here? What exploded?"

  "Don't know," Dylan confessed. "I heard a click coming from that direction," he motioned to his left, where the dead bodies (and Cornish) were. "Next I know, something exploded."

  Nick raised both eyebrows. ”You heard? I didn't hear anything."

  "You must've been distracted," Dylan said, hiding the fact he had superhuman hearing.

  "Well," Reynolds exhaled deeply, "thanks for saving my life."

  For now, Dylan thought, just wait a while and I may end it and not even know it.

  "How long do you think this will take?" Dylan asked him.

  "Don't know. Hours, days. I hope it isn't days, I have a birthday party to get to."

  If they didn't get out in less than an hour, the only thing this man's family would celebrate was his funeral - and he wasn't sure he'd call it celebrating.

  3

  Dylan took out his mobile phone out of habit; the broken machine was still dead. Nick Reynolds had stopped talking and for the last fifteen minutes they'd been looking around the morgue, searching for a way out. Apart from the door, the windowless room had a ventilation system connecting it to the outside world, but when they tried to climb up to the vents, the ceiling trembled, so they left it alone. The last thing they wanted was to get buried under the building. Nick Reynolds wouldn't survive and Dylan Torrence would be buried alive indefinitely. Neither outcome was appealing. For now, they looked around the main room; they looked around the medical examiner's office, and even visited the filing room, to no avail. There wasn't anything there that gave them an idea on how to get out. They would have to wait to be rescued.

  There was something else on Dylan’s mind. Every time he walked next to the human agent, his mouth watered. It was getting harder to concentrate on his own thoughts. The vampire in him was yearning to come out, to take over his body. It was hungry and wanted to feed and it had a source of blood a few feet away.

  Dylan looked at Reynolds and knew what he had to do. He had to warn him. That meant he needed to reveal what he was to a human being and human beings reacted in different ways when told vampires existed. Nick looked like a centered and trusting guy, perhaps he would take it well. Even if he didn't, the alternative was he'd become easy prey. At least he deserved the chance to defend himself.

  "I'm hungry," Reynolds spoke, adding to Dylan's thoughts. "Got anything to eat?"

  While Dylan had nothing, Reynolds had something he needed. His blood. His sweet, energy-filled blood.

  Dylan considered taking only a little but knew he wouldn't be able to stop once he started. All or nothing. He was so hungry his body would take over the moment he got a taste. He was starving; he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the way his veins burned. The monster beneath was about to wake up.

  "Do you think it'll be much longer?" Reynolds asked.

  In reply, Dylan did the unexpected, surprising Reynolds in the process. "Here, take it." What he offered was his gun. He took the weapon from its holster and handed it to him.

  Reynolds' first reaction was to stare at it. “Why are you giving me that?”

  “Just take it.” Dylan was serious; his hand trembled in front of him which was unlike him. The greatest werewolf hunter alive never faltered. He was doing it now as he tried to give away his weapon.

  “I have my own gun, thank you. I don’t need yours.”

  “You’ll need it. And I shouldn't have it.”

  Reynolds looked at him in confusion, but after hesitating for a moment, he took the gun that was being offered. “I'll take it, but you're going to explain what's going on. You’re acting weird, man. You're freaking me out.”

  Weird doesn’t begin to describe me, Dylan thought. “I’m going to tell you something. You won't believe me at first, but it’s true. Your survival will depend on what you do with the information.” He turned to face Reynolds, “Understan
d?”

  “Wait, are you losing hope? Do you want to kill yourself? Because they will come for us. I know it. Your wife knows you're here for one. My superiors know. Heck, if no one heard an explosion upstairs they must be deaf. I don't doubt the building is surrounded by firefighters and police even as we speak. They will rescue us. You can't give up.”

  "It's not that," Dylan said, confused by his speech.

  "Then, what? Why are you giving me your gun? FBI agents don't just hand their guns, not even to other agents. I wouldn't give my gun to anyone. Why are you?"

  Dylan closed his eyes. “I gave it to you to defend yourself when the time comes. I think you may have to shoot me.”

  “I told you, I won't kill you. I won't shoot you.”

  “It may be necessary.”

  Frowning, Reynolds shook his head. “I won't be responsible for it. I’m not doing it.”

  “Well, you're not doing it yet,” Dylan stated. They were both quiet for a moment, trying to understand each other's thoughts. It was Dylan who broke the silence. “In a few hours - maybe minutes - I will try to kill you.”

  Reynolds immediate reaction was to point both guns at him. “What?”

  “Don’t worry. It won't happen now.” Dylan raised both hands, showing Reynolds his palms in surrender. “But I can feel it coming.”

  “Who are you?” Reynolds demanded to know.

  Dylan smiled, not because it was amusing, but because once more he'd gotten himself into a sticky situation. “You have my only weapon. You are in control,” he reassured him. “Believe me, I want you to live.”

  "Did you set me up? Were you responsible for the explosion?"

  "No," Dylan sighed. "It's like I said, I don't want to hurt you, but in a few minutes I may not be able to control what I do."

  "What does that even mean?" Reynolds demanded, both guns still aimed at the unarmed man in front of him.

  "It means in a few minutes my body will take over and it'll try to kill you."