Konrath, J.A. - DRACULAS (A Novel of Terror)

It’s a morgue, goddamn it. Where’s a goddamn scalpel?

A choking sound from the creature. Winslow dared a glance. It had bitten off and eaten all of its fingers, and was jamming its own stump down its throat, gagging obscenely. Then, suddenly, it twisted around and began gnawing at the taut loop of intestines tethering it to the drawer.

Winslow got onto her knees, opening up another drawer.

There. A trocar.

It was heavy. Sharp. Formidable. A hefty metal tube, hollow and pointed on the end, used for aspirating body cavities. This was a large model, wide as a garden hose and close to eight inches long. Winslow gripped the base and faced the monster, which had gnawed its way through its own entrails and lunged toward Winslow, its mouth so wide it looked like it could almost swallow Winslow’s head.

She thrust the trocar upward, using both hands, punching the razor tip through the creature’s ribcage and into its heart.

Blood immediately sprayed out the base like a spigot, drenching Winslow’s clothes as the monster flopped onto her. But instead of latching onto Winslow’s neck, those hideous, snapping jaws kissed the floor, a mangled tongue lapping at the tile.

Blood. It’s licking up its own blood.

The creature hoovered it up as the red stuff pumped out of its own chest, smearing it across its face, sucking it in with a sound like slurping soup.

But it wasn’t quick enough. Winslow watched, horrified, transfixed, as the creature’s blood output overtook its input. The trocar was too big, pumping out blood faster than the mother could take it back in. The crimson pool grew ever wider, even as the thing’s frenzy increased.

Eventually, it toppled onto its face, limbs splayed out, tongue still licking feebly at the sticky floor, until finally even that was still.

BANG.

Winslow’s head spun at the sound.

Another drawer. Something alive inside.

BANG!

BANG BANG!

And another one.

BANG BANG BANG!

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!

All of the drawers were shaking, rattling, the cacophony so loud it drowned out her wail of fear. Then the hissing started, spliced with that horrible shrieking, Nurse Winslow’s brain telling her to move, get out, but by the time her legs received the message the first door had burst open, and along with a blast of cold air, a clown popped out onto the floor, landing on all fours. Awful teeth, black eyes, fright wig, its fangs already chomping as it stared across the room at Winslow.

Now, finally, Janine’s legs were moving, and she was sprinting toward the exit. She collided into the door and jerked on the handle out of pure instinct, but it didn’t budge.

Behind her—

SQUEAK.

SQUEAK.

SQUEAK.

The clown, on its feet now, its comically oversized shoes fitted with joke squeakers, which got louder as it plodded closer.

Winslow’s fingers found the lock, and as she turned the deadbolt, pulling the door open, she heard a flurry of squeaks as the monster ran at her, crushing her with its bulk, and her last thought as its fangs sank into her face…

I’ve always hated clowns.

Benny the Clown

FOUR hours earlier, Benjamin Jamison Southwick had been sitting in a cheap motel room, a gun in his mouth. Most clowns were crying beneath their painted-on smiles, and Benny the Clown was flat-out suicidal under his.

After deciding that, yes, he was finally going to do it this time, Benny the Clown had spent a while trying to figure out if he should do it in his clown costume. It would get a lot more attention if he did. Local Clown Blows Brains Out, Declared Unfunny. But he came from a long line of clowns, and did he really want to disgrace the Southwick name?

He’d thought about it, weeping much of the time, and then decided that yes, he would kill himself in his clown suit.

But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pull the trigger.

Just like the last three times.

Finally he’d checked his watch. He was scheduled to do a birthday party in half an hour. Might as well keep his commitment.

Getting bit by the birthday girl made him sad.

Having her braces get stuck in him made him sadder.

Sitting in the hospital with the girl and her awful mother, Benny the Clown had never been so sad in his life. If he’d had the gun with him, he thought he could have pulled the trigger, no problem.

He didn’t remember any of that now. Because now, with the taste of blood in his mouth and much of the nurse’s cheek between his teeth and no thoughts beyond how to get more more more MORE MORE MORE, Benny the Clown was happier than he’d ever been.

Oasis

WHY had Mom never told her that people were filled with delicious red candy? It was better than jelly beans. Way better. She’d only gotten a taste of it, but she needed more. Right now. That mean, brown-skinned nurse had punched her in the face when she’d bitten her arm, and then everyone had rushed out, leaving Oasis alone in the treatment room.

She looked down at her hands—they weren’t really hands anymore. They looked like monster claws.

The pain in her face was going away.

She could hear a lot of screaming on the other side of the door.

Screaming meant people.

People meant warm red candy.

Oasis jumped down off the gurney and opened the door.

Candy everywhere! On the walls, the ceiling, people covered in it, and straight ahead, two monsters were licking it off the floor by the nurses’ station.

She bounded over and crouched between them, but she hadn’t even touched her long, spongy tongue to the puddle when one of the monsters hissed at her and swung its claw at her face.

The blow knocked her back into the wall, and Oasis screamed, It isn’t fair, you stupid dumbhead! But the words came out as a loud hiss, and now that monster was moving toward her.

She leapt away and exploded through a pair of double doors, sprinting now—faster than she’d ever run before, faster than she imagined possible—down a long corridor.

She came around a corner and skidded to a stop.

A man in pale blue scrubs stood before the closed elevator doors, pushing the UP button over and over and saying bad words.

When he noticed Oasis staring at him, he said, “Holy fucking shit,” and backed away.

Oasis asked him if he would share some of his candy, but again, her words came out hissing, and the man screamed, “Get the fuck away from me, little girl!”

She was moving toward him now. He was so tall and big she figured he probably contained more red candy than most. She could smell it through his skin, and the odor made her legs crouch, and before she’d even 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.