A gavel strikes a sound block, bringing the many voices to a hushed silence.

“This meeting is now called to order,” declares the figure behind the podium.  “Let's get started; We don't want to be here all night, do we?”

Chuckles and nods of agreement are scattered throughout the room.

“First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to come to this meeting.  Some of you have traveled a great distance to be here and I appreciate it.”

The speaker pauses, then continues, “Today we are faced with a very serious problem—one that threatens our very existence.  Fundamental to the success of this latest pestilence, other than scientists' failure to eradicate it, is our inability to recognize it.  It leaves no identifiable symptoms upon its victims.  No discoloration of the skin or eyes, no lesions, no sores, no tell-tale marks of any kind.  Why, even we leave tell-tale marks.”

More laughter circulates around the room.

“Some of you will remember how society used to inadvertently help us by segregating the sick—those with leprosy, bubonic plague, and other such diseases—so we knew to stay away from them.”

A few nods are exchanged among some of the older attendees.

“Yet even in those days if mistakes were made, the result, although unhealthy, was seldom deadly.  Not so with this new affliction.  I'm talking about HIV, the Human Immunodeficiency Virus.  It's reaching epidemic proportions among the population and every time doctors come close to finding a cure, it mutates, rendering their work obsolete.  They seem to be unable to stop it or even stem the tide of its onslaught as it continues to spread.

“To understand the severity of the situation for us, it is necessary to know what this disease does.  It travels through the blood stream and attacks the immune system.”

A murmur moves through the crowd.

“Yes,” the speaker responds, “I see that you understand the significance of that.  It's our immune system that keeps decay at bay.  Without it, we can't stop the process of decomposition.  Moreover, once damaged, no amount of "good blood" will repair it and the end is inevitable.  One may as well stay up and watch a beautiful sunrise.”

No laughter follows this remark.

“What are we to do?” asks a voice from the audience.

“Well,” the speaker responds, “I believe we have to help them find a cure.”

The motion is made, seconded and carries.  The meeting closes and the attendees disperse into the night to feed and to hunt for a cure for this dreaded disease.

“What a disappointing day.”

My assistant looked tired.  It had been a long day.  “Why don't you go on home and get some rest,” I suggested.  “I'll document today's test results.”

“You sure?” he asked wearily.

“Yeah, go ahead.  I'll be leaving soon myself.”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his brow.  “I really thought we had it this time.  Good night.”  He gave me a nod as he donned his overcoat.

Alone in the lab I ran through the events of the day in my mind.  The test subject, a rhesus monkey, had shown marked signs of improvement.  The virus was in remission and the T₄-cell count was actually increasing although the treatment had been stopped a week earlier.  It seemed that the short-term aggressive administration of AZT along with ddI had given the monkey's immune system the upper hand and that with this boost he was on his way to recovery.  Our hopes had been dashed today when the subject succumbed to the virus which had come roaring back.  Perhaps if we had continued the treatment a while longer...

My thoughts were interrupted by the perception of movement behind me.  I turned, expecting to see Janson returning for some reason, but what I beheld instead was a shock to my system.  It stood taller than my six feet and five inches.  Its face was porcelain white, framed by black hair that hung about its shoulders.  Its eyes were two empty voids; It had no eyeballs.  Still, I felt that the thing was looking at me.  Its bright red lips formed a hideous grin which displayed eye-teeth at least an inch long.

“Good evening, Doctor.”

“Wh-Wh-Who are you?” I stammered, unable to move.

“I thought you were going to ask 'What are you', but of course, a man with your credentials recognizes death when he sees it.  My name is Gaston Kohl.”

“Wh-Wh-What do you want?”

“Relax, Doctor.  It's not what you think.  I'm here to help you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to control my quivering voice and my shaking hands, “Help me?  How?”

“You're searching for a cure for HIV, are you not?”

“I'm working on a treatment plan.  There is no known cure,” I replied.

“I have one.”

“You have one?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” the creature affirmed.  “You may well imagine that this disease of the human race concerns my kind greatly; So much so that it has been decreed that doctors and scientists such as yourself are "off limits" so to speak.”  The ghoul displayed a smile no doubt meant to put me at ease but I found it disturbing just the same.

“It was also agreed,” the vampire continued, “that we would do whatever we could to help find a cure for this horrid killer.”

“And you say you've got one?” I questioned.

“Yes,” the monster nodded.  “Most people don't believe we exist—those who find out are often unable to pass on the knowledge—but we are legion.  We are old and our memory is long.  This HIV is not very old itself, but it has an ancient ancestor which reared its ugly head some 700 years ago.  The Bubonic Plague.”  The speaker paused.  “Yes, the Black Death which killed four out of every five people it touched and depopulated Europe was very much like HIV.  It turns out that the survivors developed an antibody—a genetic mutation, actually—that gave them immunity against future attacks.  This same antibody provides protection against HIV infection as well.  I scoured England where the pestilence struck in 1348 to find someone who contracted the disease and lived through it.”

“And?” I asked with interest.

“Doctor, I present Abbot Thomas of Birmingham,” the vampire produced a tiny vile of liquid, “plague survivor and savior of mankind.”

I was still at work when Janson arrived in the morning.  Obviously my evening visitor was gone.

“Didn't you ever go home?” Janson asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Couldn't,” I replied, “We've got a breakthrough.”  During the night I had been able to determine how the mutant antibody worked and was able to explain it to my assistant.

“This antibody resembles a T₄ cell.  The HIV penetrates its membrane and enters its nucleus where it expects to find the cell's DNA.  It begins the process of reverse transcriptase, converting its RNA to DNA which it intends to attach to the cell's DNA in order to replicate itself.”

“Yeah,” Janson said, “Once that's done the virus becomes part of the cell's genetic makeup and the infection of the cell is complete.  A T₄ will then produce viruses instead of healthy cells.”

“Right.  But what the cell's nucleus contains is not DNA but RNA which it somehow infuses into the viral nucleus, replacing the RNA that is already there.  So the reverse transcriptase actually builds an antibody instead of a virus.  This thing uses the attacking virus to reproduce itself.”

Janson nodded his head to show that he understood.  “Sort of like, 'You think you're gonna come in here and turn me into you?  I'm gonna turn you into me.”

“Exactly,” I said.  I found myself imagining a human mutation whereby if a vampire attacked, instead of the human turning into a vampire, the vampire would become human.

“But how did you find it?  Where did you get it?” Janson asked.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” I assured him confidently.

Further tests proved the antibody's potency in destroying the HIV.  It also served to immunize those subjects who were not already infected.  This deadly and dreaded disease was rendered completely harmless by the vaccine developed from Abbot Thomas' DNA.

When I excitedly passed this terrific news on to my boss I was told not to release any information about it until he'd contacted the funders of the project.  “I want the CDC involved in any announcements we may want to make,” he had said.  I expected that he would want some independent research to confirm our findings before going public.

I did not expect the two men who came to the lab the next day.  Clean shaven, young, neatly dressed in suits and sunglasses, they looked like federal agents.  They flashed a couple of badges and identified themselves as such, Boyer and Ellison of the CIA.

“Have I broken some law?” I half-joked.

The men were humorless.  “We understand you've discovered a cure for AIDS,” Agent Boyer remarked.

“Well, I've got a vaccine that wipes out HIV,” I replied, “the virus that causes AIDS.”

The agents exchanged glances.

“Let me explain, Doctor,” said Agent Ellison, “It is not the government's wish to wipe it out.”

Agent Boyer added, “We want to control it, not kill it.”

My confusion must have been evident.  Ellison spoke again, “It took years to develop a retrovirus that would infect a human.  Working through the NCI, our first attempt resulted in Ebola, a horrible disease that kills within ten days of infection.”

“At least HIV has been known to keep the host alive for ten years,” added Boyer.

Agent Ellison continued, “Yes; Developed at Fort Detrick, Maryland, HIV is a "slow" virus, first tested in Africa, where it was administered through our smallpox vaccination program.

“Our next tests involved prisoners at the Holmesburg State Prison in Philadelphia and children at the Willowbrook State School for the Mentally Retarded here in New York, where we used a vaccine for Hepatitis-B.”

“Prisoners?  Mentally retarded children?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“Excellent test subjects,” explained Agent Boyer, “It's justifiable to inoculate them for Hep because of the environment they're in, and since they're under constant supervision, it's easy to keep tabs on them and track their medical progress.”

“Of course,” Ellison admitted, “it wasn't so perfect when the press got wind of it.”

“Yes,” Boyer agreed, “There was an uproar and those tests had to be discontinued, but we were able to give the vaccine to homosexual men in the city who volunteered for our Hepatitis-B inoculation campaign.  Some of those test subjects are still alive ten years later.”

Agent Ellison interruped, “But that's not enough to justify mass injections.  We need the life-expectancy to be much longer.”

Agent Boyer added, “We need treatment that doesn't have long term toxicity and that doesn't build up the resistance of the virus.  Treatment without side effects that are so severe that patients give up taking it.”

“The ideal situation,” said Ellison, “would be asymptomatic carriers.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” I asked, looking from one agent to the other.

Agent Boyer gave me a questioning look, “Do you believe in vampires, Doctor?”

The question came as a complete shock.  Did they know about Gaston Kohl?

Agent Ellison asked, “Are you aware that there's a war on?”

“The war on terror?” I asked, not answering the first question.

“No,” he replied, “the war on vampirism.”

The look on my face must have belied my attempt to appear surprised.  They did not try to convince me of the existence of vampires.

“The government has an obligation to protect its citizens,” explained Ellison.  “The goal is to develop a virus that humans can live with but is deadly to vampires.”

“HIV destroys them,” Boyer interjected.

“Unfortunately, it also kills us.” Ellison said.  “But if we could find a way to keep it under control, we could infect an entire generation through our mandatory childhood vaccination program and force the vampires to find other prey.”

“They would learn very quickly that humans were too deadly a food supply.  They would become afraid to attack us,” Boyer added.

“But if you develop a serum that destroys our best weapon...” Ellerson's voice trailed off.

“Do you mean to tell me,” I asked, “that you would infect a whole generation of Americans with a deadly virus in order to control vampires?”

“Not just Americans,” answered Boyer.

“Not until the virus could be controlled,” Ellerson stressed.

“What we want you to do, Doctor,” explained Agent Boyer calmly, “is hand this "cure" over to us and continue your research into a viable long-term treatment plan that can give people a reasonable life-expectancy.”

I gathered up the vials of vaccine that I had made from Abbot Thomas' DNA and gave them to the agents.  As they thanked me politely and left the lab, I couldn't help wondering which menace was worse, the threat of vampires or the plans of my own government.

Gaston Kohl returned the following evening as he had said he would.  Although I was expecting him, his sudden appearance startled me and the sight of him was unnerving.  I could not get used to his lack of eyes.

“The government seems to know all about you,” I informed him.

“Me?” he asked.

“Well, your kind at any rate.  They intend to use HIV as a weapon in their "war on vampirism".”

He listened attentively as I told him about my visit from agents Boyer and Ellison.

“How do they intend to deploy this weapon?” he asked when I'd finished.

“Initially through the DPT inoculation for American children.  After that I'm sure they'll use the World Health Organization to get to Europeans and everybody else.”

“And how do they propose to get people to accept the virus?  They can't exactly tell everyone that they are in danger of vampire attack.  No one would believe them.”

“They don't intend to tell anyone.  People will believe there is some sort of disease going around, like the flu, against which they need vaccine.  They won't know the vaccine is tainted with HIV.”

“What happens when they start getting sick?  There will be an uproar.”

“If the government has its way, they won't get sick.  They'll just carry the virus around.  But what the Feds don't seem to realize is that this virus mutates.  It cannot be controlled and it will not stay dormant.  There is no way to make it "safe" for humans.”

“You realize, Doctor,” Gaston pointed out, “that their solution will kill far more people than we ever will.”

“Yes, but how do we stop them?”

“Do you think government officials would infect themselves?”

“Somehow I doubt it,” I replied.

“Not even to save their own necks?” Gaston apparently had a sense of humor.

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, suddenly realizing that he was not joking.

“Open season on American politicians,” he replied without hesitation. “We'll try to get to the men who came up with this idea.  Meanwhile, continue making your vaccine.  You'll need a load of it if the government tries to carry out its plan.  Do you need more DNA from the Abbot?”

“No,” I replied, “I didn't give them all of it.  But i'm afraid they'll be back and I get the feeling they could become a problem.”

“Don't worry about them, Doctor.  You are under my personal protection.  No harm will come to you.  Now, if there is nothing more that you require, I will take my leave.  Let there be no "bad blood" between us.”

I actually shook the vampire's hand.  As I looked at his eyeless face it occurred to me that I had never seen Boyer's eyes or Ellison's either.