Life as I knew it ended at half past eleven on a Tuesday morning.<br/>There were currently thirty minutes left.<br/>â€œWhatâ€™s your poison?â€ I asked my friend and co-worker Stacy on my way out of the office on a coffee break.<br/>She looked up at me from a spreadsheet on her computer screen, her eyes practically crossed from crunching numbers all morning. â€œYouâ€™re a serious lifesaver, Zoey, you know that?â€<br/>â€œWell aware.â€ I grinned at her, then shifted my purse to my other shoulder and took the five-dollar-bill she thrust at me.<br/>â€œIâ€™ll take a latte, extra foam. And one of those white chocolate chunk cookies. My stomachâ€™s growling happily just thinking about it.â€<br/>Stacy didnâ€™t normally go for the cookie action. â€œNo diet today?â€<br/>â€œFuck diets.â€<br/>â€œCan I quote you?â€<br/>She laughed. â€œIâ€™ll have it printed it on a T-shirt. Hey, Steve! Zoeyâ€™s headed to the coffee shop. You want anything?â€<br/>I groaned inwardly. I hadnâ€™t wanted to make a big production out of it since I hated making change. Unlike Stacy, math was not my friend.<br/>By the time I finally made it out of the office I had a yellow sticky note clenched in my fist scrawled with four different coffee orders.<br/>Twenty minutes left.<br/>The line-up at Starbucks was, as usual, ridiculous. I waited. I ordered. I waited some more. I juggled my wallet and my purse along with the bag of pastries and take-out tray of steaming caffeine and finally left the shop, passing an electronics store on my way back. It had a bunch of televisions in the window set to CNN. Some plane crash in Europe was blazing. No survivors. I shivered, despite the heat of the day and continued walking.<br/>Five minutes left.<br/>I returned to my office building, which not only housed Lambert Capital, the investment and financial analysis company where I currently temped, but also a small pharmaceutical research company, a marketing firm, and a modeling agency.<br/>â€œHold the elevator,â€ I called out as I crossed the lobby. My heels clicked against the shiny black marble floor. Despite my request, the elevator was not held. The doors closed when I was only a couple of steps away from it, a look of bemusement on the sole occupantâ€™s face who hadnâ€™t done me the honor of waiting.<br/>One minute left.<br/>I nudged the up button with my elbow and waited, watching as the number above the doors stopped at the tenth floor, ISB Pharmaceuticals, paused for what felt like an eternity, and then slowly descended back to the lobby. The other elevator seemed eternally stuck at the fifteenth. Another bank of elevators were located around the corner, but I chose to stay where I was and try my best to be patient.<br/>Finally, the doors slid open to reveal a man who wore a white lab coat and a security badge that bore his name: Carl Anderson. His eyes were shifty and there was a noticeable sheen of sweat on his brow. My gaze dropped to his right hand in which he tightly held a syringeâ€”the sharp needle uncapped.<br/>That was a safety hazard I wasnâ€™t getting anywhere near. What the hell was he thinking, carrying something like that around?<br/>Glaring at him, I waited for him to get out of the elevator so I could get on, but he didnâ€™t budge an inch.<br/>Behind thick glasses, his eyes were steadily widening with what looked like fear, and totally focused on something behind me. Curious about what would earn this dramatic reaction, I turned to see another man enter the lobby. He was tall, had a black patch over his left eye, and wasnâ€™t smiling. Aside from that, I noticed the gun he held. The big gun. The one he now had trained on the man in the elevator.<br/>â€œLeaving so soon, Anderson? Why am I not surprised?â€ the man with the gun growled. â€œNo more fucking games. Give it to me right now. â€<br/>I gasped as Carl Anderson clamped his arm around my neck. The tray of coffees went flying as I clawed at him, but my struggling did nothing. I couldnâ€™t even scream; he held me so tightly that it cut off my breath.<br/>â€œWhy are you here?â€ Anderson demanded. â€œI was supposed to be the one to make contact.â€<br/>The gunmanâ€™s icy gaze never wavered. â€œLet go of the woman.â€<br/>My eyes watered. I couldnâ€™t breathe. My larynx was being crushed.<br/>â€œBut sheâ€™s the only thing standing between me and your direct orders right now, isnâ€™t she?â€<br/>â€œAnd why would you think I care if you grab some random hostage?â€ the gunman growled.<br/>Random hostage?<br/>Panic swelled further inside of me. I scanned the lobby to see that this altercation hadnâ€™t gone unnoticed. Several people with shocked looks on their faces had cell phones pressed to their ears. Were they calling 911? Where was security? No guards approached with guns drawn.<br/>Fear coursed through me, closing my throat. My hands, which gripped Andersonâ€™s arm, were shaking.<br/>â€œWe can talk about this,â€ Anderson said.<br/>â€œItâ€™s too late for negotiations. Thereâ€™s more at risk than the life of one civilian.â€<br/>â€œI thought we were supposed to be working together.â€<br/>â€œSure. Until you decided to sell elsewhere. Hand over the formula.â€<br/>â€œI destroyed the rest.â€ Andersonâ€™s voice trembled. â€œOne prototype is all thatâ€™s left.â€<br/>â€œThat was a mistake.â€ The gunmanâ€™s tone was flat.<br/>â€œIt was a mistake creating it in the first place. Itâ€™s dangerous.â€<br/>â€œIsnâ€™t that the whole point?â€<br/>â€œYouâ€™d defend something that would just as easily kill you, (your character name)? Even though you can walk in the sunlight, youâ€™re not much better than the other bloodsuckers.â€ The man who held me prone sounded disgusted. And scared shitlessâ€”almost as scared as I felt.<br/>Bloodsuckers? What the hell was he talking about? How did I get in the middle of this? Iâ€™d only gone out for coffeeâ€”coffee that was now splattered all over the clean lobby floor. It was just a normal workdayâ€”a normal Tuesday.<br/>More people had gathered around us, moving backward toward the walls and door, away from this unexpected stand-off, hands held to their mouths in shock at what they were witnessing. I spotted someone from the office to my left rounding the corner where the other elevators were locatedâ€”it was Stacy with an armful of file folders, her eyes wide as saucers as she saw me. She took a step closer, mouthing my name.<br/>No, please donâ€™t come any closer, I thought frantically. Donâ€™t get hurt.<br/>Where the hell was security?<br/>I shrieked when I felt a painful jab at my throat.<br/>â€œDonâ€™t do that,â€ the man with the gun, snapped.<br/>â€œYou know what will happen if I inject her with this, donâ€™t you?â€ Andersonâ€™s voice held an edge of somethingâ€”panic, fear, desperation. I didnâ€™t have to be the helpless hostage in this situation to realize that was a really bad mix.<br/>He had the syringe up against my throat, the sharp tip of the needle stabbing deep into my flesh. I stopped struggling and tried not to move, tried not to breathe. My vision blurred with tears as I waited for the man with the gun to do something to save me. He was my only hope.<br/>â€œI donâ€™t give a shit about her,â€ my only hope said evenly. â€œAll I care about is that formula. Now hand it over and maybe you get to live.â€<br/>The gunmanâ€™s face was oddly emotionless considering this situation.<br/>â€œI knew theyâ€™d send you to retrieve this.â€ Andersonâ€™s mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his hot breath. His shaky voice held a mocking edge. â€œWho better for this job?â€<br/>â€œIâ€™ll give you five seconds to release the woman and hand over that syringe with its contents intact,â€ he said. â€œOr Iâ€™ll kill both of you where you stand. Five . . . four . . .â€<br/>â€œThink about this, will you?â€ Anderson dug the needle further into my flesh, prompting another wheeze of a shriek from me. â€œYou need to open your fucking eyes and see the truth before itâ€™s too late. Iâ€™m trying to stop this the only way I can. Itâ€™s wrong. All of itâ€™s wrong. Youâ€™re just as brainwashed as the rest of them, arenâ€™t you?â€<br/>With his chest pressed against my back, I could feel his erratic heartbeat. He feared for his life. A mental flash of memories of my family, my friends, sped past my eyes. I didnâ€™t want to dieâ€”no, please, not like this.<br/>â€œThree . . . two . . .â€ he continued, undeterred. The laser sighter from his gun fixed on my chest.<br/>Several onlookers ran for the glass doors, and screams sounded out.<br/>â€œYou want the abomination I created that goddamned much?â€ Anderson yelled. â€œHere! You can have it!â€<br/>A second later, I felt a burning pain, hot as fire, as he injected me with the syringeâ€™s contents. It was a worse pain than the stabbing itself. Then he raggedly ripped the needle out and pushed me away hard enough that I went sprawling to the floor. I clamped my hand against the side of my neck and started to scream.<br/>The sound of a gunshot, even louder than my screams, pierced my eardrums. I turned to look at the man whoâ€™d just injected me. He now lay sprawled out on the marble floor, his eyes open and glassy. There was a large hole in Andersonâ€™s forehead, red and wet and sickening. He had a gun in his left hand, which he must have pulled from his lab coat when he let go of me. The empty syringe lay next to him.<br/>The man went directly to him, gun still trained on the dead man for another moment before he tucked it away, squatted, and then silently and methodically began going through the pockets of the white coat.<br/>My entire body shook, but otherwise I was frozen in place. There were more screams now from the others whoâ€™d witnessed the shooting as they scattered in all directions.<br/><br/>(you can pick it up form here what she was enjected with was a forlumla that kills vampires when drank and it makes them crave her blood.)