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

Can’t get bit. Don’t wanna turn into one of those things !

Randall scooted backward, his butt squeaking against the floor (squeaking just like that damned clown) until his back struck the wall. The dracula, several ropes of bloody drool dangling from its fangs, crawled after him.

Fuck it. He needed to make this problem go away.

Not giving a shit how bad it hurt, Randall forced himself to stand, grabbed the dracula under the shoulders, then heaved it. It bounced on the stairs twice before it hit bottom, where it lay with its neck twisted at a grotesque angle.

Still trying to come after him.

Jesus Christ. He’d just thrown a cripple down a flight of stairs. Dracula or not, Randall was pretty sure that hellfire awaited him in the afterlife.

And now he most definitely gave a shit about how bad it hurt to stand up. Wincing the entire time, Randall made his way up the second half of the stairway, wondering if any hidden cameras would see him should he decide to curl up and cry for a few days.

Finally he made it to the third floor. He stepped out into the hallway, expecting to see something that continued his streak of bad luck. Maybe two, three thousand of those things, all charging him, desperate to avenge their legless brother.

Aw, for God’s sake…

Randall couldn’t honestly say that he’d rather have had two or three thousand draculas waiting for him, but, c’mon, Clay Theel? Really? The dickhead who’d thought that his gun and badge gave him the right to stick his nose into Randall’s business?

Clay was with a frightened-looking woman. Neither had seen him yet. Randall took a deep breath. He couldn’t let that guy see him looking weak. Had to act casual. Maintain his dignity. Nothing he could do about the blood and the ass-exposing hospital gown, but he certainly wasn’t going to let Clay know that he was mourning his failure to save a five-year-old girl.

He steeled himself, tried to think of something sarcastic to say, then walked forward.

Clay

“ALL right. Let’s get you out of here.”

He put his hand on the knob but used the slit window to give the lobby another look-see before stepping out.

“Aw, hell.”

“What?” Shanna said, trying for a peek.

While they were talking, half a dozen monsters had gathered in the lobby. If Clay had only himself to worry about, he might have charged out and given it a go. But with Shanna along…no way.

He put his lips to her ear. “Let’s go back up to the second floor and see if we can find another stairway that doesn’t open on the lobby.”

He let Shanna lead the way up and covered their six, keeping his shotgun trained on the door in case one of those things decided to check out the stairwell.

But when she reached the second-floor landing, she said, “We’ve got a problem.”

Clay reached her side and peeked through the slit and saw what she meant: at least three monsters prowling the hall. One was dressed like a clown, but all its teeth were gone—shattered. Clowns looked weird enough in full light, but in this shadowy half-light, this bugger was about the most terrifying thing Clay had ever seen.

He could feel his temper rising. He sort of prided himself on being able to stay cool in any situation, but he was getting pissed.

“Are we the only people in this goddamn place who haven’t turned?”

Shanna shuddered. “What an awful thought.”

“Okay. The third floor. If it’s the same up there, I’m just gonna have to step out and do some population control.”

But the third-floor looked empty. Clay stepped out, shotgun ready. All clear. He spotted an EXIT sign glowing in the shadows at the end of the hall. He motioned Shanna out of the stairwell and pointed.

“We’ll try that one,” he said, keeping his voice low. No telling what was about and he didn’t want to attract any attention.

She nodded and gripped the strap of his duffel. They hadn’t taken two steps when a loud voice froze them.

“Well, well. If it ain’t Deputy Dawg!”

As he whirled, Clay’s finger tightened on the trigger, ready to fire. When he recognized that asshole Randall Bolton stepping out of the shadows ten feet away, he almost fired anyway.

“Stay right there, Bolton.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot?”

Clay took in Randall’s bloodstained face and hospital gown and didn’t like what he saw. He looked almost crazed.

“Absolutely. You’ve been infected. How long ago?”

“I’m not infected.”

“You got blood all over you.”

“Well, shit, you’ve got blood on you too! Everybody in this goddamn place has blood all over them! You want me to hire some guy in a white coat to scrape this stuff off me and put it under a microscope? This blood ain’t mine!”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Do you see any dracula wounds on me?”

“Maybe on your leg. Looks like that one took a lot of stitches.” Clay, of course, couldn’t even see Randall’s leg wound from the front, but he’d certainly heard about it.

Randall’s eyes narrowed. “You think that’s funny?”

“Hilarious. Whole department knows about Randall Bolton damn near cutting off his own ass. Drunk again?”

He couldn’t remember how many times Jenny had called the department to come and subdue her drunken husband. He had no respect for bums like Randall Bolton.

Randall’s face reddened. At least Clay assumed it did, beneath all of the blood. “Takes a small man to bring up something petty like that when we’re in so much shit. I been dry ninety-seven days now.”

Clay snorted a laugh. “Believe that when I see it.”

Randall took a step toward him. “You’re seeing it right now, you dumb fuck. I’m standing right here.”

“Stay where you are!” Clay raised the shotgun to his shoulder. “You might turn any second now.”

Randall stopped and shook his head. “You know better’n that, Theel. We’ve got monsters everywhere in this place, but you don’t want to deal with that, you just want to wave your gun at me like a schoolyard bully. You think you’re hot shit, but without your badge and your big bad gun, you’re just a coward.”

Clay’s temper had already been frayed when he’d stepped out into the hall. Now it snapped.

“That so? Okay. My badge is off.” He shrugged off his duffel bag and handed Shanna his shotgun and Alice. “And now my big bad guns are gone.”

Shanna stared at him with eyes so wide he could see white all around. “What are you doing?”

“Shanna, meet Jenny’s ex-husband.”

“Never mind him. Are you insane ?”

“No, just gonna see who’s a coward.”

“Clayton Theel, you stop this macho bullshit right now!”

“Sure, honey. Right after I stop his bullshit.”

He stepped away from Shanna and faced Randall, raising his right hand and doing the Bruce Lee come-hither thing with his fingers.

Randall stared at him. “Did you get that from a kung fu movie? Are you Chinese now?”

“Are you two kidding? ” Shanna said, her voice rising and getting all screechy. “We’re in the middle of a slaughterhouse!”

“If Theel wants me to knock him on his ass in front of his girlfriend, I guess the draculas can wait a little while,” Randall said.

Clay started circling. “Is that what you call them? Not bad for a dumbass.”

Suddenly Shanna was between them as they circled each other. “Stop this! Stop this now! ”

Clay looked past her at Randall. “I saw one of your draculas downstairs in a clown suit.”