Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

I’ll fight till my eyes shut for good, but looks like Roderick’s won. Fighting just to keep eyes open now, and it hasn’t even begun.

Doesn’t look good.

Run, Ruby, run.

Hold them off as long as I can. Fangs and claws surround me—closing in at all sides.

Dear God, Ruby, run.

Pale, pointed-tooth creatures rush past.

Their footsteps were close behind as soon as I started up the first set of stairs. Sprinted up to the second floor—ran down the hallway where I was imprisoned just a short while ago.

That’s where I peer at them now, from behind the corner of the hallway—right where I ran into Katrianna earlier.

At least a dozen of them—loud racket—running up to the third floor.

Look back to the room where I was held captive—no guards—dead or alive. Door is shut but blood covers the floor in front of it.

Maxine—hope she’s alright. Hope she struck the blood and didn’t do the bleeding herself. Have to check on her before we leave, but right now I have to follow after this unholy herd up the stairs to save Simon.

The trampling feet are off the stairs and on the third floor now—where all the noise was coming from before they started stomping up the stairs—must be where Simon is, maybe Ambrosia too.

“Aaaaaah!” squeals from my old cell.

Ambrosia—it’s her. Girl squeaks like no other. Run toward the door. Grab Ambrosia—go after Simon—get the hell out of here. Smile everyday that I wake up somewhere other than this hellish place.

I slam Ambrosia’s wrists against the wall, and holding them between my thumb and fingers, I drive my fingernails into the wall, shackling her to the sheetrock with my flesh.

Her eyes weep as she whimpers, spreading her overdone makeup down her face like she’s crying blue blood.

Her blubbering almost makes my aching body feel better after fighting Simon. Thinking of the hell he’s going through now makes me feel better. And, looking down at Ambrosia’s stomach that squirms left and right with the rest of her body, trying to break free of my hold, my senses think of what they’ll be enjoying later on—the special fix like no other. That definitely makes me feel better.

Was all too easy to grab her, stumbling clumsily down this hallway, running away from the clamor coming up the stairs toward her. Breathing on her neck, sliding my fangs across her thin skin before she knew there was anything in the darkness behind her but her fear. With a quick, “Hello, sweetheart,” a moment to enjoy the terror in her eyes, and a hand over her mouth, I pulled her in here. As easy as breathing—grabbing a scared, little thing in the dark.

“Let me go, Edgar! I have a child now.”

“You have a monster child, Ambrosia—an abomination. Something that would be better off never being born.”

Her chest pumps up and down—sadness shuts her eyes that still leak.

“What—what are you going to do?” she asks.

“Nothing much, love. Just take away something that should never have been. Who knows—if you’re a good little blue thing, you might not even have to die.”

“Share it with me,” she whimpers.

“What?” I ask.

Raising her glossy, smeared eyes to look at me, “Share it with me, then.”

Pushing my tongue to the tip of a fang, “Want a taste of the good stuff, do you? You’re a sick one…starting to like you, blue.”

“Just—just wanna know what’s worth all of this fighting. What could possibly be so good? Must be something special.”

“You have no earthly idea.”

The moonlight and flames of the fire below reflect in the myriad bits of shattered glass that fly and twirl in the air all around me.

The third-floor broken window they just threw me through looks like a jagged black hole into the white house. My shoulder slams onto the second-floor balcony—sliding toward the front edge.

Can see flames flickering and rising in the air at the front of the half balcony that remains. The tiny partial platform sags to the side at my right, and flames rise there against its edge too.

My shoulder’s slide toward the front edge of the balcony begins to slow down, and my body starts to slide down the slope into the flames to my right.

Reach up for the remnant of the wrought iron railing—too far away. Slide down deeper—feel the heat on my boots.

The adrenaline rush of being thrown through the window has awakened me a little—stirred up some panic. Won’t last, though. Poison’s too strong.

Slam my hands into the crooked, wooden balcony. Nails dig in. Heat rises up to my ankles. Tighten pressure on my hands’ grip into the wood and get enough leverage to stop my descent into the rising flames.

Pull myself up to the top of the broken balcony. Grasping the iron rail with one hand, I pat my flaming pants’ legs with the other. Patting hand sears with heat—flames on pants go out.

The entire balcony beneath me is hot—growing hotter. Smoke from the fire makes the night sky look more ominous, and the moonlight reflecting in the smoke makes it look alive. I’d welcome it if it were thick enough to keep me out of the eyes of the mob above me—glaring down at me now, but it’s just enough smoke to be foreboding and choke my lungs.

Well, if I’ve got to die, at least the smoke that will irritate me till my last breath might help cover Ruby’s escape.

Try to pull myself all the way up to the rail—too sore to do it—beat me pretty bad before they decided that throwing me out the window onto a flaming, collapsing balcony was the way to liven up their party.

Cold rush as I hold onto the rail trying to keep myself out of the flames—the adrenaline’s building up—too still—cold sweat at my brow. Only me—swear that only I would end up on a flaming balcony, about to be burned alive, and still have the cold shivers.

Hope Ruby’s escaped—somewhere safe. Knew I probably wouldn’t make it out alive—it’s okay as long as Ruby got out, but I’d go through hell twice to have this end differently. Do it just to be with her. Do it just to surely know she’s out of danger.

Have a beautiful life, my Ruby, far, far away from here.

“You have no earthly idea,” are the words that drop out of his mouth as I kick him with all my might from behind—right between his legs.

He wheezes and drops to the ground—his nails coming out of the wall and taking bits of sheetrock with them.

She saw me creeping in the door quietly over his shoulder. Don’t know how he didn’t hear me coming—must’ve been too focused on what he wants from Ambrosia to have noticed—can’t believe what he was trying to do—so disgusting to hear him talk about it. But, she saw me coming and set him up—distracting him.

I grab Ambrosia by the hand and run out the room and down the hallway toward the stairs. He’ll be after us in seconds. Don’t have much time.

Getting near the stairs—I run toward the upstairs staircase—Ambrosia pulls toward the ones leading downstairs and out of this hellhole. Can see the flames outside growing larger—lighting up the entire length of the front windows that flank the busted door.