So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 8.8 - Night of the Vampire pt8

"Where did she go?" Dreadlocks was yelling.

"Over there!" Trenchcoat yelled. "Get her! Tear her apart!"

Dreadlocks turned and aimed at where Trenchcoat was pointing, that gigantic cannon ready to do some serious damage, his finger on the trigger. I couldn't see Beatrice from where I was, but looking at that gun, I was desperately hoping that she was staying away from it as much as possible.

It was the sound of truck engines that got my attention, the deep heavy rumble of engines revving and echoing through the entire garage. It was like a dragon had woken up and discovered that some nasty little hobbit was trying to steal some gold, and now he was pissed and ready for a hobbit snack. I would continue the analogy, but I think you've got the point by now. My point is that it was really fucking loud.

I leaned over carefully and slowly to look, making sure that nobody saw me. The other vampires also watched as the convoy of trucks roared up the far ramp, one, two, three, whooshing up and away from the violence away to whatever secret location they had planned.

"They're leaving?" Dreadlocks yelled incredulously.

Trenchcoat picked herself up with a groan and started to make her way to the van, eyes on the departing trucks. Tattoo moved to meet her, concern on his face.

"We gotta move people!" Trenchcoat yelled through her pain. "NOW!"

"What about Beatrice?" Dreadlocks yelled nervously. He looked really worried, and for just a second there I was expecting Beatrice to pop up and rip his head off like the motherfucking boss that she was. Nothing like that happened, and that worried the fuck out of me.

"What happened to Enzo?" Tattoo wanted to know. "No man left behind, right?"

"Enzo is coming, okay?" Trenchcoat was not to be deterred.

Who the fuck was Enzo?

"We'll have to kill the bitch later!" Trenchcoat continued."We gotta get to those trucks now!"

There was something about her voice that was bugging me. Something familiar, and not in the "just-killed-you-last-night" kind of familiar either.

For a second, I thought I saw Claude in one of the trucks, but it was just a glimpse and was gone too fast for me to be really sure. I could have spent all night wondering if I had really seen what I thought I had seen, but there was no time for that.

There was a sudden oncoming doppler effect of somebody yelling and shooting a gun, and it was getting closer. It was the perfect accompaniment for the escaping trucks. I turned to look, wondering what the fuck was happening now.

Blue Tie was racing down the corridor, half-turned to the door behind. There was a gun in his hand, and he was rapidly firing as he ran, desperately trying to keep his pursuers away from him.

"Hey, it's Enzo!" Tattoo breathed his amazement. "Sonofabitch is actually going to make it."

Oh, well at least Blue Tie now had a name, and now I knew who the fuck Enzo was.

Agent D'mallo had other ideas about Enxo making it anywhere. He stuck his head out around the corner, and then he exited in a tight and efficient combat roll that brought him into the corridor, gun up and aiming at the running figure of Enzo.

That was the exact moment that Enzo reached the body of the vampire who had thought she was a bigger badass than Beatrice. Reaching the body might not have been such a big deal if there wasn't a gigantic pool of blood covering the floor in what seemed to be an impossible amount. Seriously, there really shouldn't have been that much blood in a single body.

It was the perfect amount of blood to make a distracted vampire slip and fall like he was a comedy performer in some absurd movie, his legs going everywhere as he fought against gravity, the very notion of physics and the laws of comedy.

"Fucking hell!" Enzo yelled and immediately lost the battle against gravity. From the time he had slipped, it was obvious how it was destined to end: with Enzo landing hard on his back, right into the puddle of blood, completely knocking the wind out of him. His gun clattered away from him across the concrete floor, leaving a couple prints of bright red blood wherever it touched the floor.

Agent D'mallo, fired two shots at the exact moment that Enzo slipped and fell, and those precisely aimed shots completely missed the intended target. Instead, they punched two holes into the back of the white van that had almost but not quite, blocked the corridor.

Those shots got Tattoo and Trenchcoat to finally react. It had only been seconds since Agent D'mallo had emerged from the door, but things were happening fast and very unexpectedly. They pulled out their own guns. Tattoo produced a pair of Mac-10 submachine guns, the ones that look like Uzis. Trenchcoat pulled out what I thought was a Desert Eagle, but don't quote me on that. I had only ever seen guns like these in movies and stupid YouTube videos where they shoot watermelons and spray cans on highspeed cameras, so I'm hardly an expert. The guns were deadly looking and as I was about to find out, really fucking loud.

"ENZO! STAY DOWN!" Tattoo yelled.

Dreadlocks glanced back, still on the verge of panic, still not seeing Beatrice, and now he didn't know what the fuck was going on.

Tattoo and Trenchcoat opened up a world of explosions and flying lead, determined to rip Agent D'mallo to shreds. Dreadlocks, already freaked out, squeezed the trigger on his cannon and for a few seconds, all sound went out of the world.

I ducked back down, terrified that they would somehow see me behind them in the shattered Aston Martin, but more than anything I just wanted the noise to stop.

My hands hit something cold under Beatrice's seat, and after a moment of panicked fumbling, I had pulled out a pair of Glock 19 semi-automatic pistols. The magazines were already loaded. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

I knew what I had to do.

***

It was time to save the motherfucking day.

I popped up from the driver's side of the Porsche, one Glock in each hand, ignoring the fact that I had never shot a gun in my life, but confident that decades of watching violent movies and playing Call of Duty was going to be enough for me to actually hit something.

There was one of those time-going-really-fucking-slow moments and I had time to see that Dreadlocks was inching forward, the machine gun barrel a whirr as it prepared to fire. He was oblivious to my existence since he had his back towards me. I only now noticed that he had blue ear plugs sticking out of his ears, obviously a man who took job safety very seriously. I already had the first gun pointed in his direction, so I was doing okay so far!

Tattoo and Trenchcoat were firing steadily into the corridor, concrete chips flying everywhere as they tore the corridor apart. Agent D'mallo was nowhere to be seen, but they continued to fire as they moved forward toward the van.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!" Tattoo swore.

Something made Trenchcoat turn her head, and she whirled to look at me, panic rising in her eyes, and then curiousity and recognition. It was more along the lines of "what the hell are you doing here?" rather that the "oh fuck is this how I'm going to die?" variety.

The strangest thing was that I felt that I knew those eyes. I knew that look.

For some reason, it terrified me.