Blood Bank

By Thomas M. Malafarina

Ken Hawkins thought his Halloween night blood donation would be full of light-hearted scares and vampire costumes at the local blood bank. But as the spooky theme quickly escalates into something far more sinister, Ken realizes he's in for a nightmarish ordeal that has nothing to do with playful pranks.

The young, strong, healthy man had regularly donated blood at the local blood bank for many years. Most of the time, he scheduled his donation for the daytime. However, this year, upon learning the bank’s calendar was full, he had no choice but to schedule his donation for Halloween night. Ken Hawkins assumed the phlebotomists would like to take advantage of the spooky Halloween theme, being a blood bank and everything. Ken was always up for a good gag and figured the place would be decorated like a graveyard, and all the techs would be dressed like vampires. 

That Halloween night, as he approached the front door of the blood bank, he was not disappointed. Fake spiderwebs adorned the entrance, and the window was blacked out, so you couldn’t see inside. As he turned the doorknob and stepped onto a mat inside the entryway, he heard a mournful howl and someone saying, “Enter at your own risk.” Ken knew that was a prerecorded chip thing that activated when his weight pressed down on the mat. “Nice touch,” he thought.

They had even tricked out the fluorescent overhead lights, so most of them were out, and the few that remained flickered like those in every bad horror movie he had ever seen. Always safety conscious, he wondered about the potential tripping hazards of such poor and strobe-like lighting but supposed that was not his problem. As Ken cautiously approached the receptionist’s desk, he saw a woman he didn’t recognize from previous visits. Typically, a sweet, older, probably retired woman was at the receptionist station, but this woman was much younger. She was dressed all in black; her face was ghostly white with some sort of pancake makeup. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and fake blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. 

She smiled sheepishly and said, “Can I bite you? I mean, can I help you?”

Ken was momentarily taken aback by the gag, then said, “I’m Kenneth Hawkins, and I have an appointment to donate blood.”

She said, “Yum, that sounds delicious.”

“Excuse me?” Ken said, still not completely embracing this strange new holiday theme.

“Oh, nothing, Mr. Hawkins. Please take a seat over there, and someone will be out to drain you; I mean, see you shortly.”

Ken started getting creeped out by this whole situation. Getting into character was one thing, but these folks seemed to be taking things a bit too far. He sat for a few minutes, waiting for the next step in the process. It was the mandatory requirement he hated, the one that made him feel like a criminal. One of the blood techs would come out and take him into a private room where he, or more often she, would ask Ken a ton of embarrassing questions such as, “Have you ever had sex for money?” or “Have you ever paid for sex?” or the always uncomfortable, “Have you ever had sex with another man?” 

Once, Ken tried to be funny when asked, “Did you ever pay for sex?” and he replied, “I’m married; I pay for it every day.” His feeble attempt at humor went unappreciated by the stoic-faced questioner. They always asked these questions and others while putting labels on bags that would eventually identify and hold his donated blood. Unfortunately, it was all part of the process, and Ken always felt that if he had to be subjected to a few annoying questions to help someone in need of blood, then so be it.

After a few minutes of sitting in the dimmed waiting area, Ken saw a tall, shapely woman in a long black, low-cut, slinky Morticia Adams dress slither around the corner and ask, “Kenneth Hawkins?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He managed to eke out. This woman was nothing like the usual techs he was used to dealing with. Not to suggest he found the regular female staff members unappealing, but this woman was light years ahead of them on the sexy scale.

She asked, “Do you mind if I call you Ken?”

“No … No, not at all,” Ken replied. The fact was, as far as he was concerned, a woman that hot could call him whatever she wanted and any time she wanted.

“Ok, Ken. Please follow me.”

As they walked slowly down the darkened corridor with barely enough flickering light to illuminate their way, Ken again thought of how unsafe it was and how very strange the barely lit hallway was. Ken noticed they were walking past the doorways to the small rooms where he usually went through the humiliating question-and-answer session. All the doors were shut, and Ken thought he had seen some dark liquid oozing out and pudding at the base of one of the closed doors. He assumed maybe someone spilled something or dropped a bag of blood. Ken supposed such an accident could occur, but being aware of safety requirements, he realized if blood had accidentally been spilled, there would be all sorts of hazmat protocols in place, and it wouldn’t be permitted to remain. He decided it was probably a spilled soda or something. That was still sloppy and unsanitary, but not worthy of his freaking out about it.

Ken asked, “Miss? Ma’am? Aren’t you going to take me into one of these rooms and ask me all those questions they usually ask me? You know, like, do I have HIV or Mad Cow disease?”

The woman smiled sensually, winked, and asked, “Well, Kenny. Do you?”

“Um … No. No, I don’t.” He was taken aback momentarily again. She called him Kenny. This hot chick was really starting to turn him on.

“Well, Kenny, if you say you don’t, that’s good enough for me.” She reached down and gently took his hand, leading him further into the darkness. Ken was momentarily stunned by how cold the woman’s hand felt against his.

“Now, let’s get you a drink before we get you all comfortable. Does that sound good to you?” She asked.

“Yeah, I suppose, but usually, they offer me a can of soda, some apple juice, or a bottle of water afterward. And sometimes cookies or crackers. But as I said, that’s usually after I’ve donated.”

“Tonight, we’re doing things a little differently. Would you like a ‘before donation’ cocktail? We have a fully stocked bar we brought in for the night.”

Ken was simultaneously confused and thrilled. He said, “A cocktail? Before donating? Wow! That sounds like an awesome idea to me. But won’t that affect the integrity of my donation?”

“Oh no, not at all. It might change the taste ever so little, but I’m sure it will be fine. In fact, it will probably be better than fine.”

Ken said, “Wow, you folks are really getting into this whole Halloween role-playing thing. But hey, who am I to argue? Bring on a Long Island Iced Tea, and make it strong.”

Ken sat on a chair in the darkened waiting area, which he had always considered the snack bar or kitchen. He thought about how very unusual this entire donation experience had been. It was by far the strangest and simultaneously the most interesting encounter he had ever experienced. As the sexy tech returned, emerging from the darkness and handing him his drink, she said, “Hopefully, this will be strong enough to suit your needs. But honestly, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Kenny, old boy. I mixed this baby up myself, especially for you and I’m sure it will send you for a loop.” 

For a moment, Ken wondered about the logic of drinking a strong drink, Being weak from donating blood, then getting behind the wheel of a car and driving away. Then he decided, “Why not?” and took a long chug of his cocktail. Ken realized instantly that his hostess was not exaggerating. He felt its effect immediately, and suddenly, it seemed like he was moving through air as thick as maple syrup. Ken was certain he was about to pass out. “Wah …” Was all he managed to say before he felt four strong arms lift him and place him into one of the donation recliners. His shirt was ripped from his body, and he felt scissors cutting his pant legs. He couldn’t move as someone had tightened two leather straps around his wrists and two around his ankles. 

He managed to get a brief look at the two assistants who had lifted and secured him into his chair and could barely believe his eyes. They were dressed in some sort of demon costumes that were more realistic than Ken had ever seen. The pair were short, no more than four feet tall, but were bulging with muscles. They looked like naked, sweat-covered shaved apes with long, ram-like horns protruding from their skulls and sharp tusks rising up from the bottoms of their thick-lipped, impossibly large mouths. Ken was certain he was hallucinating because no Halloween costume could be this incredible. 

As the fluorescent lights blinked like strobes in the almost black collection area, Ken looked around and noticed for the first time that several other collection chairs were occupied. It was then he heard the soft, sad moaning of helpless, barely conscious people. In the flickering lights, Ken saw a face he recognized. It was a woman, a former blood tech he had seen on a previous visit. What was her name? Jane? Janice? He couldn’t recall, but Ken was certain it was her. She was strapped to a chair as he was, but what appeared to be dozens of crimson plastic tubes extended from her body and connected to far too many collection bags for any normal donation.

What in the name of God was going on, and what was happening to him? Then Ken saw the two demon creatures lift another person from a distant donation chair and carry him past Ken down the darkened hall, where they unceremoniously dumped his body into one of the small questioning rooms. It was a male tech that he recognized from a past visit. Ken was certain now that what he had seen earlier was blood pooling on the floor. He looked up through glazed, bleary eyes and saw the sexy tech who had given him the cocktail. She was smiling at him, but no longer in the sexual, flattering way she had done earlier, but with the insane, wider-eyed look of animalistic, insatiable hunger. 

When she smiled, her mouth opened much too wide and appeared to spill over with hundreds of shark-like teeth. Blood dripped from between those razor-sharp fangs, and a foul stench of rotten meat came from that horrible gaping maw. Ken struggled against the straps that held him in place but to no avail. The two hideous demon creatures roughly shoved needle after needle Into Ken’s forearms and exposed legs, connecting them with plastic tubes to collection bags.

With the horror that comes with the realization that one’s fate is out of control and sealed, Ken stopped struggling as he felt his life’s blood leaving his body. The once beautiful, sexy tech, now having turned into some sort of vampire demon, leaned down next to Ken’s ear and, with a hoarse, rancid-smelling voice, whispered, “We thank you for your donation, Kenny. Oh yes, and Happy Halloween.”