Chapter 2
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Sheila was surprised to discover that she actually enjoyed army life. Being a vampire, she wasn't bothered by the canteen food (she only ate from her plasma packs), the tiny bathrooms, or the early wake-up bugles. She did have to slather on the sunscreen before going out on parade, but the sun's effect on her merely made her as clumsy as all the other recruits rather than outstandingly agile.
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Sheila soon rose to the top of her class. She loved practicing with the robot; she could go all out with it and not have to worry about breaking an arm or knocking out a few teeth.
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The scenery around the base was stunning, too. Sheila would go out for a jog as the sun was setting and come back pleasantly tired.
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But then one day her world was turned completely upside-down. "I don't understand," she told her CO. "Why am I being given compassionate leave?"
"You'll have to ask your Aunt Bethany about that," she was told.
A call soon came through from Bethany. "I don't want to talk about it over the phone," she whispered. "I'll pick you up as soon as it gets dark."
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While Sheila waited for her aunt, she went outside. An odd plant seemed to beckon to her, and Sheila bent down to speak to it. "I don't like the sound of 'compassionate leave,'" she told it. "That sounds ominous." When she stood up again, there was a bright red fruit nearly at eye level. Sheila knew it wasn't plasma fruit, but she picked it anyway.
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"I've got some really bad news, honey," Aunt Bethany told her. "Your dad's apartment was fire-bombed."
Sheila was prepared to hear that someone was sick, but this was way beyond what she'd expected. "Are Dad and Unc okay?"
"No," said Bethany. "I brought you here to the museum because I thought you might like to see them the way they used to be, and also because hardly anyone ever comes here, so we can talk.
"You see, we're putting out the word that you died in the fire, too. The police have agreed to it. As soon as you decide on a new identity, we'll get a passport for you."
"But why would anyone fire-bomb our apartment?" Sheila asked.
"You'd have to ask Big Bugsy Seagull that," said Bethany. "The police think that your father was rising too high in the organization, that he might have been considered a rival."
"But Dad was an import-export dealer," Sheila protested.
Bethany shook her head. "No. That was what he told you. He didn't want you to know that he was a criminal."
"He told me that he and Unc were going to open a little shop in Newcrest when they retired. That they would sell curios and things."
"He did have some money for you," said Bethany, handing over a packet. "And several years ago, he asked me to make sure I could find a safe place for you in case something like this happened."
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"It's a trailer park in Del Sol Valley," said Bethany. "I think you can continue with your career as an actress, especially if we change your name and hair color. After all, your only previous gig was that commercial where you were a voidcritter, so no one knows what you look like.
"The trailer park is owned by another comedian I know from work -- Johnny Zest. He's really nice; I think you'll like him."
Sheila wasn't keen on the idea of living in a trailer park, but at least the trailers were larger than the ones had been in Strangerville. And given the housing prices in Del Sol Valley, a trailer was probably all she could afford.
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She changed out of her army fatigues, added a hairpiece -- temporary, until her own hair grew -- and returned to Bethany. "I've decided on my new name," she said. "It's Sheil. Sheil Bogue -- Bogue being similar to Marsh, but not obviously."
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Johnny was still at work, but when he came home, Bethany introduced them. "You said you were looking for a new tenant," she said. "Well, I found one. She's a rising young actress named Sheil Bogue."
"I don't know," said Johnny. "I was thinking maybe another guy. Maybe someone not in the business. You know."
"Now, now," said Bethany. "Here in DSV, everyone's in the business. She's got an agent already, so I'm sure she'll be able to pay her rent, if that's what you're worried about."
"Yeah, I could use a hand with the bills," said Johnny. "Okay, she can stay."
"You wouldn't need a hand if you learned to play the guitar, like I told you," said Bethany. "No one can make it on jokes alone. You know that."
"Bethany," Sheil hissed at her. The last thing she needed was for her aunt to talk Johnny out of taking in a tenant.
"Well, I'll let you two crazy kids get to know each other," said Bethany.
Sheil and Johnny rolled their eyes simultaneously.
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Alone in her trailer, Sheil decided to start practicing. She had an idea for a play. It would be about a high school cheerleader who discovered that her father and uncle had been murdered, and who wanted to avenge them. She worked on one scene -- "As the Watcher is my witness, I swear their killer will die!"
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When she got tired, she went to the other trailer to talk to Johnny. "You really shouldn't eat grilled cheese sandwiches," she told him. "They're very unhealthy."
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Over the next few weeks, Sheil and Johnny began to spend more time together. Sheil had to agree with her aunt -- Johnny really did need to practice more on the guitar. And also -- "You're fairly good-looking," she told him one evening, "but you really should try to develop some muscle."
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She took him outside to practice sparring with the robot she'd bought with her earnings from her latest Voidcritter commercial. When its arm came back and hit him in the face, Johnny protested. "That might not happen if I could see what I was doing. Why do we have to practice at night?"
"It's too hot during the day," said Sheil. "But if you want to put in a few hours when I'm at work and catch up with me, that's fine."
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Johnny took her up on her suggestion and began to make some progress.
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At work, Sheil found that a short meditation before going on stage worked wonders. She had already added a pirate maiden advertizing Salty Suds to her repertoire. And she had a few ideas about how to get back at the killer of her parents. Aunt Bethany might say that she should leave the culprit to the police, but Sheil was pretty sure that the police were only concerned about catching Big Bugsy Seagull. She wanted to get her hands on the guy who acted on his orders, the one who lit the match. And she had a pretty good idea who that was.
