The Eighth Plague: A Narrative of Sex, Drugs, and Rock 'n' Roll

Chapter 7: Riding the Elevator with my Major

"Rise and shine, happy campers!" called the voice of Colonel Van Bach.

Spade woke up with a start and looked around. The car was parked at the entrance to some building, and they were all still inside, apart from Major Collins and Colonel Van Bach.

Everyone scrambled to get out of the car, Doris Daker being the last to squeeze herself through the door.

"Welcome to the headquarters of Raffles Enterprises!" the colonel announced. "Shall we?"

They all walked into the glass front entrance to the large skyscraper. Inside was a long, single-direction blue-walled hallway covered in pictures of the company's patents, which led to a single very narrow elevator.

As they walked along this hallway, Spade recognized a few of the products. He had none of them in his own home, of course, but he had seen them advertised on television. Various runabouts and automobiles... a cameraphone... even a few submersibles and dirigibles.

Spade remembered now, perhaps hearing about this Raffles fellow before.

He had been a card sharp in South Africa, and a talented one. The story went that, during one seemingly insignificant night of victory, he had won a briefcase of blueprints for inventions off some poor opium addict named Smith or Swift or Selwyn or something like that. Raffles would have sold them, had he not decided to take a chance and actually build one of the things. Only thirteen years later and Elon Raffles had become one of the richest men in North America.

"How was it you said you knew this fellow, again, Major?" Spade asked.

The Major didn't answer. Spade noticed something off about the Major. He looked old, shrunken, and wrinkled and his eyes seemed clouded. That much was the same, but his unspoken vitality was gone, and there was now a sickly pallor to his cheeks replacing the usual burnt orange.

"Are you all right, Major?" Spade asked.

"Yes, he's just tired from driving all night," answered Colonel Van Bach, "Isn't that right, Major?"

The Major nodded slowly.

Something seemed off about the Colonel as well. He seemed younger and stronger than he had before. He stood up straighter, and walked with more of a spring in his step. His own pallor was still there, being an albino, but he did seem more vital.

"Colonel, are you a vampire?" Spade aked.

The Colonel frowned and turned around to face Spade.

"Vampire? Fucking vampire? Fuck you!" he began to yell, spittle flying.

"Do I look like a goddamn Brit to you, fucker?" he asked, as each muscle of his face strained, "Nein! Ich bin Ein Berliner! I am Vampir. Got it? I am Vam-peer."

Spade laughed. "You know your English rather breaks down when you're angry."

"Fuck you."

As the Colonel said this, the party had finally reached the end of the hallway. There was one thing, though. There was no chance in hell the very narrow elevator would be able to accomodate all eleven of them.

"Well, we'll just have to take trips," Martie said, "Spade, you and the Confederate take Collins up there. You'll go first. Then---"

"I think I could fit in the first trip!" interrupted the soft tones of the young Arab. This was the first time Spade had gotten a good look at her, or even established for himself that the Arab was, in fact, a girl. She was a small, skinny thing, looking to be in her early twenties, long black hair going down to her shoulders. She wasn't beautiful, nor even pretty, but there was an innocence and nobility to the features of her face. And she had real small tits.