THE VAMPIRE UNDERGROUND

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The growl from the corner dissipated. Then Brin saw the red glow.

“Shit,” she whispered, before jumping back up to her feet and leaping for the window. She was halfway out, when a pair of hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back inside the shack.

She tried to scream, when a large, pale hand slammed against her mouth. She fell back against the figure, right on his lap, as the two vampires still chasing after Brin approached the window from outside. They peered into the shack for a second or two, before turning around and retreating in the opposite direction. A creature in the distance shouted for them, and the two figures, walking side by side, growled loudly at each other as they departed the vicinity.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice said behind her. “Please don’t scream. If you scream, then I can’t help you.”

She breathed through her nose and nodded, feverishly.  

He slowly brought his hands down from her mouth and subtly but noticeably ran the edges of his fingers down her sides, all the way to her jeans. She was still sitting on him. She leapt forward and turned to look at him. She couldn’t see a thing—only the remnants of his bright red eyeball glow.

She stayed still. He didn’t come near her a second time. He didn’t try to suck her blood or rip her in half. Instead, the figure scooted backward, to the other side of the shack.

“It’s… it’s you,” Brin said. “You’re the one who helped me up on the hill, aren’t you?”  

She didn’t hear a response. But then, quietly, the figure said, “Yes.”

“OK.” Brin didn’t know what to say. He had saved her life, a second time. “Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Why are you helping me?” Brin tried to stay calm, but she could tell the decibel level of her voice was rising.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Please be quiet. They may come back.”

“They? Who’s they? And who are you? Are you really…”

He waited for her to end her question. She didn’t. “Really what?”

“Are you really… vampires?”

He didn’t answer her. All she could hear was his breathing.

Brin wished she could see the man, or creature, or vampire, or member of the undead—whatever it was—before her. This little conversation wouldn’t be creeping her out so much if she could actually see him.

“Well?” Brin said.

“We’re dead. We drink human blood. But we don’t prefer the word, vampire.”

“You’re dead?”

“Yes. I have been for a long time.”

Brin couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she scooted herself forward. She could tell, instinctively, this figure wasn’t going to harm her.

“Do you have a name?”

Silence for a moment. Then: “Paul.”

“Paul,” she said, “what’s happened to my friends? Are they dead?”

“They’re not dead. But they will be.”

“What about me?”

“You’re safe. For now, at least.”

The figure before her, now with a name, turned to his left, allowing the full moon from outside the window to shine against his face. She’d forgotten how youthful he looked, how innocent.

“What’s going to happen to them?” Brin said, scooting even closer.

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“Here. Let’s go down. We shouldn’t keep talking up here. They might find us.”

He started moving, but Brin didn’t want to budge. She was happy with her spot; she didn’t want to move a muscle until she saw the first sign of daylight. But she wasn’t about to stop Paul. He softly kicked open a door latch and slipped down underneath the floorboards with the grace of an Olympic gymnast.

“Uhh… Paul?” Brin said. “Where’d you go?”          

“Down here,” he said. “Scoot to the corner of the room and drop down.”

She felt scared to go down, especially after Chace went down, after Sawyer went down, after Lavender went down. Brin preferred to stay above ground. She would have rather jumped to the top of the shack for a quick chat than go beneath the floorboards.

Worst of all, darkness would overcome her, again. She wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

But she crawled her way to the other side of the room anyway. She figured she needed to trust this guy, whoever or whatever he was.

“Where’s the staircase?” Brin said, squinting, trying to see the empty space in the floor.

“Staircase?” Paul’s voice sounded fainter.

“Yeah. How do I get down?”

“You have to jump.”

“I have to what?”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s not far.”

Easy for you to say, she thought. You live here.

Brin lay on her back and stretched her left foot out. She tried to feel the open space, but the edge of her foot bounced against the floorboard and back up. She scooted farther left, to the back corner of the room. Again she stretched her foot out, straight this time, like she was performing yoga, and tried to feel for the space. Nothing.

“Did you close it?” Brin said.

“What?”

“I don’t feel where the opening is.”

She scooted her butt forward one more time.

“I don’t feel—”

The back of her head smacked the floorboard as she fell into a black abyss.