Draculas (28 page)

She prayed for his safe return. Yes, she was going to break his heart when he did, but she wanted him back. Because somehow the world seemed a better place with Clay than without him.

Ten minutes ago the army had roared in and heavily-armed soldiers had piled out of their trucks. A large black trailer had followed the soldiers into the lot but had parked away toward the rear. The people who had emerged were civilians.

And then something scary: The army set up spotlights at the emergency entrance, around the main entrance, and at each stairwell exit. Then they'd positioned soldiers with flame throwers at each point. Looked like they'd been convinced it was contagious. She'd expected officialdom to scoff at the stories of what had gone on in the hospital, but she guessed the recording Clay had insisted on making had convinced them.

Well, she'd never said he was a dummy, just not on her wavelength.

Just then, to her right at the corner of the building, flames lit the night.

Screams echoed, died.

Her heart stumbled over a beat. That was the door she and Clay had used to escape, the door he'd re-entered. They wouldn't have burned him by mistake, would they? No...those screams had had an unearthly quality. Had to be draculas trying to escape the building. Still...

On the way down, he passed the dracula he'd shot near the third-floor landing, still where he'd left him, still hissing and twitching its talons.

"Yo, Twitchy. How goes it?"

He passed him and continued down. As he approached the door to the second floor, he heard a raw buzzing coming from the far side. Almost sounded like--

The door blew open and the sound assaulted Clay. He almost fired at the shape plunging through when he recognized Randall and his chainsaw.

"Shit, Bolton! I almost--"

"Watch your mouth," he said. "Got kids with me."

And sure enough, four kids crowded into the stairwell behind him, followed by Jenny.

"Oh, Clay," she said. "Am I glad to see you."

Clay nodded. This was going to be easier than he thought.

Randall was staring at the MM-1. "Whoa. What's that? Looks like a pregnant Tommy gun."

"Let's hope we can get out of here without using it. There's an exit door just two flights down. Follow--"

A noise below, like a door slamming open, then a blast of firelight and hideous screams. Clay pelted down to the next landing and saw two flaming draculas writhing on the floor, screeching as they burned. Black, oily smoke rose, filling the stairwell. He hurried back up.

"What happened? What's burning?"

"A couple of our friends."

"What?" Jenny said. "How?"

"Don't know, don't want to find out. We need to find another way."

"Another way where?"

"The roof. I saw a TV helicopter. I'll call it down to pick us up."

"No TV copter's going to hold us," Randall said.

"The kids, then. The kids, then us."

"Yes!" Jenny said, grabbing Randall's arm. "The roof. We'll be safe up there till help comes."

Clay didn't necessarily agree with that, but the roof held their best chance.

Randall hesitated a second, then nodded. "Okay. I'll lead. But..." He was staring at Clay. "You came back...to a place like this. Why? A man like you...why?"

A man like you?
Clay was going to tell him to fuck off when he remembered. "
Magnificent Seven
, right?"

Randall's mouth twisted as he nodded.

"Oh, don't tell me," Jenny said. "Tell me you're not--"

" 'I'm afraid you've misjudged me,' " Clay said.

Randall did the pistol point. "
Magnum Force
."

"I'm telling Shanna!"

Randall gave him an appraising look. "You said you'd be back and here you are. Either you're as stupid as everybody says I am, or you're some kinda guy." He stuck out his hand.

Clay shook it. "The safe bet is stupid. Man, you look just like I feel."

Randall barked a laugh as he started limping up the steps. "
Aliens
again. You're all right, Deputy Dawg." He turned back to the kids. "I'm gonna lead the way up. Everybody stay as close together as you can. Remember not to let go of the person in front of you."

The kids stayed behind Randall and Jenny stayed behind the kids. Clay brought up the rear.

"You're not staring at Jenny's butt are you?" Randall called from above.

Well, when not checking behind him, yeah, he was. Nice butt. Not going to tell Randall, though.

"Would if I could, but this smoke..."

The draculas below had stopped screeching--at least Clay couldn't hear them over Randall's idling chainsaw--but apparently they continued to burn. Foul, stinking smoke thickened in the stairwell.

"I think I'm going to throw up," one of the boys said.

"Hang in there," Jenny told him. "Soon we'll have all the fresh air we need."

As Randall reached the third-floor landing, the door burst open and a dracula leaped through and ran straight into Randall's blade. The children screamed in panic and turned. They would have all tumbled head over heels down the stairs had Jenny and Clay not been there to catch them.

Randall gunned the saw and cut right though the thing's head. It crumpled in the doorway, keeping it from closing.

"Don't look!" Jenny said as she ushered the kids by.

Clay said, "And don't worry about Twitchy up near the next landing. He's harmless."

He'd paused at the door to kick the dead dracula back through so he could close it, when he thought he heard a very human scream from somewhere down the hall.

He froze and listened. With Randall's chainsaw buzzing he couldn't be sure--

There! Again. No doubt now.

He looked up the stairs at Jenny's butt. The way it swayed as it retreated reminded him how badly he really wanted to get back to Shanna and--

A third scream.

Shit!

"Hey, Bolton," he called. "I think someone's in trouble here. I'm gonna take a look."

Jenny turned and stared at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. What floor is this?"

"OB."

"Like babies and stuff?"

"Exactly like babies and stuff."

Double shit.

"See you upstairs. When you get up there, call KREZ and say Deputy Clay Theel wants them to land their copter on the roof. You've got sick kids that need evacuating."

"What if they won't?"

"A news station passing up the chance to be heroes and
make
news instead of just reporting it? What do you think?"

"Will do. But you be careful."

"Careful is my middle name."

Actually, Clay's middle name was Rambo, but tonight he'd make it Careful. Rambo...sheesh. His daddy loved that movie, but he hoped Shanna never found out.

"Hey, Bolton," he called. "Any shots left in that Taurus?"

Randall was out of sight but his words echoed back. "Used them all."

"Good man. Keep my baby safe."

"Um, I had to leave it."

"
What?
" Clay couldn't believe this. "You left Alice?"

"Alice?"

"My Taurus!"

"Well, it was empty and--"

"Alice is a Taurus Raging Bull four-fifty-four Casull, the most powerful handgun in the world--"

"And would blow your head clean off...I know. But it--she would've made a lousy club. Sorry."

Sorry? Sorry didn't cut it. Alice was--

Another scream from down the hall. Damn. Okay, he'd worry about his baby later.

He quickly reloaded the MM-1, making sure each of the twelve chambers in the cylinder had a live round, then headed down the hall.

"WE need to change this up," Randall said, stopping and looking back at Jenny. "Can you take the lead? I'll make sure they don't hit us from the rear."

Jenny looked a bit confused, but nodded. "Sure. Why?"

"I'm not so good with stairs right now. I don't want to fall and crush anybody."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy. If I fall, it'll be better if I'm in the back."

"All right." Jenny appeared concerned as Randall stepped out of the way and let her get in front, but she said nothing else. They resumed their ascent. Randall felt like he was slowing them down and almost told them to leave him and go on ahead...but, no, it was better to move at his slow pace if he could help keep them safe.

They'd all be fine.

Happy endings for all.

As far as Randall was concerned, if you couldn't defend four boys from a dracula invasion with a roaring chainsaw, then you didn't deserve to carry a roaring chainsaw, right? He'd get them and Jenny to the roof, no problem. Then they'd all get rescued, drop the kids off at a fun water slide, get his leg patched up, and hurry back to Jenny's place. A quick stop at the kitchen for a couple of cold beverages, and then they'd stampede into her bedroom. She'd have to be on top because of his injuries, but he could live with the bottom position until he healed up. They'd get remarried, take their honeymoon on a luxury cruise through Alaska, and have a daughter who looked just like Tina, who would go on to live a long, healthy life.

An excellent plan.

He knew it wasn't really going to happen like that. Hell, ten seconds after they flew off in that helicopter, Jenny might say "Oh, sorry, Randall, but you can't expect me to honor something I said while we were in the midst of a dracula attack. I can't be with you." Then she'd use a big word that she knew he didn't understand, laugh about his injured leg (
legs
now, goddamn it), and rush off for a Clay/Jenny/Shanna threeway.

Jesus.
What was wrong with him?

He knew exactly what was wrong. Right now, almost every part of his body hurt, but what concerned him most wasn't the parts that hurt, it was the part that tingled.

A mild, unpleasant tingle, like that moment after you'd had a filling when the Novocain was just starting to wear off.

A tingle right under his teeth.

Shit.

Why the hell had he bit the clown? What kind of stupid idiot would do a thing like that? He'd saved the woman he loved, was probably going to save a bunch of kids, and he might have irreparably fucked it up by getting caught up in the heat of battle.

Or not. They didn't know how this dracula stuff worked. They couldn't. Not this quick. Blood might not have anything to do with it. There could be some fuckin' sorcerer in the basement, waving his Harry Potter wand and creating these things. And he'd washed his mouth out with rubbing alcohol.

He wasn't necessarily screwed.

Jenny glanced back at him.

He smiled.
See? No dracula teeth.

He was fine. The tingling meant nothing. Could be anything. It wasn't even that bad. He could barely feel it unless he concentrated. No way was he going to get this far, go through this much crap, and ruin his happy ending. Randall Bolton was going to be a hero, a muscle-bound lumberjack taking out dozens of monsters with his trusty chainsaw,
not
the asshole who turned into one of them.

Or the asshole who suspected that something was happening and didn't tell anyone.

"Jenny...?"

She stopped. "Yes?"

"No, keep moving. We'll talk while we walk." His mouth had gone dry. "Jenny, I...I really shouldn't have bit that clown."

"Oh, God."

"No, no, no, don't panic. I'm not...I haven't...I think I'm fine. None of the other draculas are as big as me, and it would take longer to affect me even if I were...I think you were right, swishing around that rubbing alcohol helped, but I just...I didn't want to not say anything, in case, but I swear I feel fine."

They passed the next landing. At least there were no draculas in the stairwell. That was something.

Almost there.

Almost to the magical helicopter that would whisk them away from all this.

"I just want you to know, I'm not gonna be dumb about this if anything happens," Randall said, hoping that the kids didn't pick up on what they were talking about. "I'll never hurt you. I promise."

"I know."

He was just overreacting. He posed no danger to anybody but the draculas. Hell, he was going to get Jenny and the kids
out
of danger, not put them in--

No.

No!

He wanted to scream as one of his bottom teeth fell out.

HE came to an intersection and stopped, unsure of whether to keep going straight ahead, or take the hall to the right. A cry of pain to the right--a man's voice--firmed up the decision. He made the turn and increased his pace to a trot. At the end of the hall he came upon half a dozen draculas pounding and clawing at a door, slamming themselves against it. That could mean only one thing: live humans on the other side.

As Clay raised the launcher, he heard a loud
CRACK!
and saw the doors start to swing inward. No time to lose and he had to make every shot count. The buckshot rounds turned the MM-1 from a grenade launcher into a super-size sawed-off shotgun. He didn't even want to guess at the gauge of something that fired a 40mm shell--two, maybe? No matter. Sawed-offs were great at close range, crap at long range because the cone of shot spread so rapidly.