She nodded, wiping my forehead again, feeling my pulse with her firm warm fingers.

“ … and I decided to do it, simply do it. Oh, I know it was wrong, wrong to let him go with all the power, but can you imagine, and now you see, I can’t die in this body. The others won’t even know what’s happened to me. If they knew, they’d come … ”

“The other vampires,” she whispered.

“Yes.” And then I was telling her all about them, about my search so long ago to find the others, thinking that if I only knew the history of things, it would explain the mystery … On and on I talked to her, explaining us, what we were, all about my trek through the centuries, and then the lure of the rock music, the perfect theatre for me, and what I’d wanted to do, about David and God and the Devil in the Paris café, and David by the fire with the Bible in his hand, saying God is not perfect. Sometimes my eyes were closed; sometimes they were open. She was holding my hand all the while.

People came and went. Doctors argued. A woman was crying. Outside it was light again. I saw it when the door opened, and that cruel blast of cold air swept through the corridor. “How are we going to bathe all these patients?” a nurse asked. “That woman should be in isolation. Call the doctor. Tell him we have a case of meningitis on the floor.”

“It’s morning again, isn’t it? You must be so tired, you’ve been with me all through the afternoon and the night. I’m so scared, but I know you have to go.”

They were bringing in more sick people. The doctor came to her and told her they would have to turn all these gurneys so that their heads were against the wall.

The doctor told her she ought to go home. Several new nurses had just come on duty. She ought to rest.

Was I crying? The little needle hurt my arm, and how dry my throat was, how dry my lips.

“We can’t even officially admit all these patients.”

“Can you hear me, Gretchen?” I asked. “Can you follow what I’m saying?”

“You’ve asked me that over and over again,” she said, “and each time I’ve told you that I can hear, that I can understand. I’m listening to you. I won’t leave you.”

“Sweet Gretchen. Sister Gretchen.”

“I want to take you out of here with me.”

“What did you say?”

“To my house, with me. You’re much better now, your fever’s way down. But if you stay here … ” Confusion in her face. She put the cup to my lips again and I drank several gulps.

“I understand. Yes, please take me, please.” I tried to sit up. “I’m afraid to stay.”

“Not just yet,” she said, coaxing me back down on the gurney. Then she pulled the tape off my arm and extracted that vicious little needle. Lord God, I had to piss! Was there no end to these revolting physical necessities? What in the hell was mortality? Shitting, pissing, eating, and then the same cycle all over again! Is this worth the vision of the sunshine? It wasn’t enough to be dying. I had to piss. But I couldn’t bear using that bottle again, even though I could scarce remember it.