DRACULAS (A Novel of Terror)

considered it, she was jumping toward him, her claws outstretched, screaming with pure joy at the thought of sinking her pretty new teeth into the man’s—

A metal trashcan connected with the side of her head and she slammed into the elevator doors.

She cry-hissed. Why was he—

The trashcan crashed into her head again.

She screamed, “Stop hurting me!”

The man hit her again.

Why was he beating her? She only wanted his—

That third blow was the hardest. Felt her skull crack open.

She blacked out and came back as the elevator doors were closing, the big candy-filled orderly gone.

All she could think about was her thirst for that candy, her head throbbing with her need for it.

She leapt to her feet.

Heard noise coming from the emergency room, and she wanted to go back, but it was full of adults.

Adults were strong and mean. They would fight her, maybe hurt or even kill her.

Her black eyes fell upon a placard between the elevators:

3rd FLOOR

Cardiovascular Services

Endoscopy Registration

The Birthplace

The words were too big for her to read except for the last line.

T-h-e B-i-r-t-h-p-l-a-c-e.

She smiled, and her huge teeth split her cheeks the rest of the way to her earlobes.

Maybe there would be babies there. Smaller, yes, not as brimming with red candy as adults, but…

How could they fight back?

Randall

AS the doors closed and the elevator began to ascend, Randall frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.

“The elevator music. I think it’s a Metallica cover.”

She listened for a moment, then nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“When did it become okay to do that to Metallica? There’s no more decency in the world.”

Jenny didn’t reply.

Honestly, Randall didn’t care about the elevator music—he was just trying to distract himself from the fact that his feelings were hurt.

Yes, in a hospital full of flesh-eating, blood-drinking creatures, moments after being responsible for a bludgeoning death and a decapitation, Randall’s feelings were hurt. So what if he couldn’t spell pediatrics? He could spell most of the word, and even in a time of crisis, even after he saved her life, Jenny seemed to go out of her way to make him feel dumb.

Of course, Jenny had never made fun of him before he started drinking. He guessed that was the only way she could get back at him. Since the divorce he’d tried to smarten up. He’d read books— real books—but he had to admit that while he sort of understood them while he was reading, the words weren’t staying in his brain.

But just like getting sober, he kept trying. Because he loved her.

He’d always love her.

And maybe someday—

The elevator doors opened.

Focus. Time to save the kids.

Randall held the non-running chainsaw out in front of him. He could hear screams coming from several different places, but at least there weren’t any draculas in the hallway.

A dracula ran around the corner into the hallway.

“Get behind me,” said Randall, though Jenny had already done that. The dracula was absolutely drenched in blood—it even dripped from his hair—and he wore a black leather jacket and a pair of jeans that you could sort of tell had once been blue. He clearly wasn’t a patient or a doctor; it was probably somebody visiting a friend or relative.

The dracula rushed down the hallway toward them, mouth wide open.

The elevator doors started to close. It was hard for Randall to believe that he was in a situation where he didn’t want heavy metal doors to close between him and a bloodthirsty monster, but those kids needed to be saved. He bumped the doors with his elbow and they slid back open.

The dracula extended his arms and opened its mouth even wider.

“Hold this,” said Randall, handing Jenny the chainsaw. As she took it from him, he slid the hatchet out of his belt. Though he wanted to shout a battle cry and rush to meet the creature, he couldn’t run on his injured leg, so he clutched the hatchet tightly in his fist and steeled himself for the creature’s approach.

He let out the battle cry.

The dracula let out an animalistic screech.

Randall stepped forward and swung the axe as hard as he could. Perhaps he couldn’t spell “arterial spray,” but he could sure as shit make it happen. The blade of the hatchet wasn’t large enough to completely sever the dracula’s head, but Randall’s aim and the force behind the swing were inarguably fantastic. The blade went completely through the dracula’s neck, bursting out the other side, and its head flopped to the left, dangling by a small strip of meat.

The dracula was knocked off its feet, landing hard on its back.

Randall slammed his good foot onto its head, crunching through its skull. Its body twitched. He stomped it again to make the twitching stop.

“F-U-C-K Y-O-U,” he spelled out.

So, the draculas had a weakness: they didn’t know how to duck out of the way of a goddamn hatchet.

He glanced over at Jenny to see whether she was amused, horrified, or impressed. She was horrified. Not because of the gore, but because two more draculas—one in a hospital gown, one in a dress shirt—were running toward them.

Randall stepped forward to keep Jenny out of harm’s way and out of the splash zone. He ignored the jolt of pain in his leg, let out another battle cry, and swung the hatchet so hard he thought he might have popped his shoulder out of socket. The blade slammed into the dracula’s chest and smashed the creature into the one behind it. The bloody handle popped out of Randall’s grasp as both draculas hit the floor.

The first dracula got up more quickly than Randall would have anticipated or hoped. It stood, blood pouring down its chest. Randall yanked a screwdriver out of his utility belt. A very small screwdriver. One designed for screws instead of skulls.

The second dracula grabbed the first dracula’s foot, pulling it to the ground. It wrenched the hatchet out of the first dracula’s chest wound, tossed the weapon aside, and then bit down into the bloody gash.

Randall knew that he shouldn’t be standing there, staring at them in horror, but he couldn’t help himself. Those bastards would drink each other’s blood, too? That was messed up.

Jenny nudged him forward. “Let’s go!”

As the two draculas wrestled on the ground, Randall and Jenny rushed past them, with Randall quickly grabbing his hatchet on the way. There would be more draculas to chop up, that was for sure.

He winced as they ran.

“How’s your leg?” Jenny asked.

“Crappy. But I’ll live. Where’re the kids?”

“Just around the corner.”

There was a terrible scream as they rounded the corner, but Randall couldn’t see the source. His leg was really, really starting to hurt. If he wasn’t careful, they’d have to find the place where the hospital kept its wheelchairs.

Jenny pushed open a door marked “Pediatrics.”

Randall was an optimist at heart, and he wasn’t one to envision ghastly scenes of carnage. That said, he fully