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The Protector:
BLOOD DEMON SACRIFICE
By
Sara Thacker
© copyright by Sara Thacker, November 2009
Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, November 2009
ISBN 978-1-60394-382-6
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are
of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.
Dedication:
To Mark, for supporting me through it
all.
Chapter One
"What the hell was that?" Amy Sundowsky shoved the tranq gun into
her pocket and ran the few steps down the hall towards the first of the wounded. Pain exploded in
her frontal lobe and wrapped around her head, blanketing her in a haze of nausea and throbbing. She
dropped to her knees, smacking the floor with her hands.
An awful moan rose up from down the hall followed by the loud
clang of metal. She suffered a glance, wincing from the shards of light bouncing off the back of
her cornea. Someone was dead, she just didn't know who. Blood, guts, grey matter, it all congealed
on the floor and splashed up on the walls.
A patient stood at the end of a gurney, his teeth flashed red. A
cut raked across his face exposing muscle and bone. His neck gushed blood, and he looked like the
walking dead. Totally gruesome.
Amy closed her eyes then opened them to see him spring off the
back of the gurney and run as blood splattered her face, eyes and mouth. Sick.
The wounded moaned and she sprung into action. She army crawled to
the first nurse crumpled on the hard tile. The cut along her jaw wasn't the issue, but the gaping
hole in her head poured blood like a sieve. Damn, this was tough.
Amy reached out with a shaky hand to check for a pulse she knew
wouldn't be there. Her hand was almost on the nurse when she pulled back. Protection first. One
hallmark that had kept her safe, all doctors really, were the gloves and masks she donned like body
armor. Fear skittered around her body. This was why she was here, to feel something, even
fear.
"Damn, she's dead." Amy paused to close the nurse's
eyes.
"Amy, move on. Do Janice next then check the security guard," Brad
Herlinger called over his shoulder.
She glanced at Janice and cringed. The woman looked like she'd
been hit by a car. Blood soaked her shoulder and ran from her nose, one of her legs twisted
unnaturally, her foot pointing the wrong way. Janice didn't have the best reputation with the
doctors, but Amy wouldn't wish this kind of terror on anyone.
"I've got a pulse. I need a gurney." Amy glanced at the guard
beside Janice, his face was smashed and grey matter oozed out of his skull. A laceration at his
neck no longer flowed with blood. She touched where his pulse should be, hoping to find life still
in his body, but she felt nothing. He was gone.
Amy turned back to Janice, and did everything she could to stop
the flow of blood from her chest. Someone tossed a towel and Amy wiped the blood from Janice's
face. There were no cuts around her nose, only the laceration on her head. Janice might make
it.
She called for two young orderlies who wheeled the nurse away to
an operating room where two of the best surgeons in the hospital would work to put her back
together.
The crunch of the body bags zippers tore at Amy's nerves. She
didn't want to think about the dead. Two nurses and three security guards had been taken to the
morgue. Her heart tugged in her chest as an orderly pushed the last of the dead into the elevator.
What a bad start to another long shift.
Her head ached, and her body hurt. She didn't want to be here. A
few months ago, when Brad had approached her about working once a week, she'd jumped at the chance,
now she wondered if she should have stayed in the psych ward where life was more
predictable.
On the other end of the ER the injured were being treated and
would probably spend weeks in intensive care, if they lived. Her shoulders slumped under the
emotional weight. She pulled at the protective gear, tossing it into the waiting laundry
hamper.
"Bad night," the nurse on duty said when Amy stopped off at the
desk to check the charts.
"Yeah, not good. I'm taking lunch now."
"You go on. I'll mark you down on the log sheet as out. Get
something refreshing, you look like hell."
"Thanks." Amy wandered outside, passed the smokers bench and
headed for the woodsy park next to the hospital. Normally she would hang out at the coffee bar,
sampling delicious pastries and chatting with other doctors, but tonight she needed to clear her
mind.
The megawatt lights in the park chased the night away. She wished
a few of the bulbs would go out so she could see the stars, but the over bright park was a safe
haven in the big city.
She made her way to a small bench not far from the huge gazebo.
This was the place where she'd told Brad it was over.
She didn't want to think about Brad or anything else. All she
wanted was a few minutes to recharge amongst the trees and rose bushes.
How had her life gotten to this point? She felt almost nothing at
the loss of others. Her heart squeezing in her chest as the dead had been wheeled away was a good
sign, but still there was an empty place that scared the hell out of her.
Lowering slowly to the seat, she closed her eyes, taking in a deep
breath. Someone grabbed her under the arms. Her breath left in a whoosh as her heart hammered in
her chest. Trying to remember what they'd taught her in self-defense class, Amy tried to scream but
only a squeak came out. She flailed her arms at the hands clutching her shoulders. Her fingers
slipped off his wrists and there was nothing else to grab onto. She was helpless against the hold
on her.
It felt as though she were flying through the air. She twisted
against the tight grip, but the chinch hold only intensified. When her legs finally hit the ground
tall bushes surrounded them. The walking paths were lost to her, she could have been anywhere in
the park, only the bright lights above assured her that he hadn't taken her far. The man holding
her down snapped his fingers and the lights went out, turning the park inky black.
Fear caught her breath. She couldn't see the bastard who'd locked
her in his grip and flew her over the bushes into this hellhole, but she sure as heck would make
some fist to face contact as soon as she could see his face.
Could the patient from the hall have not been as injured as she
thought? Amy scrambled to her feet. Bushes blocked her exit at every turn. There was nowhere to
go.
The sound of metal rasping against leather brought her to a stop.
Feelings of bravado fled. She was alone with a madman with no way out.
Hell, she was trapped.
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