Chapter 20: Disneyland (4)

1

Justin felt good.

No, seriously. Since the lunatic they had in the back seat was the least of their problems, he had sadly managed to relax at some point along the way. Almost without realizing it. And he had managed to convince himself that, after all, things didn't look so bad.

Dracula probably wouldn't bother looking for them, and even if he tried, he surely wouldn't be able to.

The poor idiot didn't even know what a television was until a few days ago, although Justin had to admit that he had learned to use the internet with terrifying speed (for nothing in particular). Maybe he would try to catch them, but he would soon get lost in the urban chaos, decide it wasn't worth it, and find other victims to turn into his vampiric slaves.

Justin wasn't a monster.

Of course, he felt bad thinking that he was offering strangers as a sacrifice to buy his freedom, essentially, but what else could he do? They couldn't stop Dracula. If they warned people, they would end up in an asylum or worse, in some laboratory (that is, if they could somehow detect the changes in their bodies).

He didn't particularly feel like a vampire. He hadn't even felt the thirst for blood yet, and he could walk in the sunlight as if it were nothing. But it was something. He was no longer human, so he couldn't expect anyone to treat him as such if they discovered the truth.

So that was the reality.

He didn't have to like it, but his hands were tied. Dracula would continue doing whatever he wanted with or without his intervention. The only thing he would achieve by trying to play the hero would be to end up torn apart. At least someone should be saved.

Accepting all this, Justin continued driving on the road to his freedom with a smile on his face.

He was almost happy, in fact.

So, of course, it didn't last long. His ears exploded, buzzing like a nest of wasps suddenly. His head went fuzzy. And the car too, still with his hands on the wheel.

Too little, too late.

The vehicle hit the guardrail hard, and if that had been all, it would have been bad enough, being in the middle of a busy road, chaos was assured. But they didn't hinder the other drivers since the vehicle went through the guardrail, speeding down the grass on the side of the road. Through the grass and directly into the forest.

"Damn!"

His voice sounded strange, distant. As if he had his head underwater.

He gave his best effort, but he couldn't avoid the crash against the tree trunk. He was wearing the seatbelt. That's why he only went forward, hitting his head against the steering wheel, bouncing with the impact. He was groggy, more confused than he already was, but obviously, it could have been worse.

Except that...

What had happened? What was happening here?

He looked around.

"Are you guys okay?"

The water went down. His vision wavered like the surface of the water, but how could he reach the surface? A terrible pressure in his chest, as if he were drowning. Yes. He was drowning even though there was no water around (his hand brushed the seat next to him) anywhere (and the tips of his fingers came out stained) at all.

Justin froze like a statue.

He didn't want to look directly. He didn't want to admit it to himself.

But he had to. Because it had happened, and there was no turning back. To begin with, Damien was dead. With or without a seatbelt, he had flown out, crashing through the glass and hitting a tree.

His head was no longer there.

And his blood was splattered on the seat, along with the broken glass.

Okay. He was dead.

Okay.

But why had this happened in the first place? Why were his ears still ringing? The answer was also painful and cruelly simple.

Joachim had a gun. Smoke was coming out of the barrel. As much smoke as was coming out of the wrecked hood of his car. He didn't know why he had shot and didn't have the mind to figure it out. The only thing Justin knew was that the car would have crashed anyway. But it could have crashed with him dead too. That's why his ears were ringing. Because the bullet hadn't blown his brains out.

Then, Damien...

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Oh.

He suddenly understood the sequence of events. Although it didn't matter because what was done was done. The pieces fell into place suddenly, as he pushed the car door to make his way out on all fours over the blood-stained grass.

He didn't see what happened inside, who jumped on Joachim or fled like him.

In any case, he heard him scream.

"I didn't want to do that, but he jumped on me, he forced me! I wasn't going to let you leave me behind!"

Another shot.

Another death?

His legs were shaking. No, that was nonsense. His whole body was shaking. He could barely climb the small slope back to the road. He wouldn't be safe there exactly, it would only be the beginning.

Like this trip?

The beginning of nothing. Damien was dead, and now not even his mother could recognize him, even if only because he was missing his head, oh my god. My god.

As soon as he stepped on the road, his body failed him, the adrenaline leaving him, he supposed, leaving him on all fours and panting like a dog. Then he saw the state of his leg, and what surprised him was that he had been able to get so far in the first place. It didn't matter, he thought, I don't care at all. Even if I can't stand up, I can crawl.

That's what he did.

As best he could without anyone's help, even though so many people had stopped and gathered to watch the spectacle, none had time for him, of course.

More shots, more.

One or two? He couldn't even keep track of something so simple, it was nothing like in the movies, every time a shot rang out, the world itself trembled.

And he knew he should worry more about his lifelong friends, the ones still alive, at least. About the last two who could be dead or dying after that shot or extra shots. But he only had space and strength to worry about himself. He didn't want to die. Not this way, not any way. Now would be a great time for some vampiric powers or something to manifest that would allow him to survive this situation, get out of this shit that was up to his neck.

Of course, none of that happened, life wasn't that convenient.

Deep down in his heart, Justin had known from the beginning of his consciousness that the dice were loaded in favor of evil. It was obvious.

Justin kept crawling in the middle of that chaos, that unstoppable sea of people who were only there to satisfy their morbid curiosity, not to extend a hand to this poor wounded bastard who needed someone's help more than ever in his life.

2

"There is no prize."

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. Well," the woman on the other side of the table shrugged, "if you want a prize so much, how about the satisfaction of having done a good deed?"

Dracula frowned. Deeply.

"I don't feel very satisfied. Besides, that's not enough for me."

The woman seemed increasingly uncomfortable. Not that he cared a damn, obviously, he just noticed.

Like when he talked to Mickey Mouse a moment ago, he had the vague feeling that he was having two very different conversations for some reason. No matter what he tried, they couldn't understand each other.

Which was the stupid human's fault, of course. Only hers.

But it was still a problem.

"If there's no prize, why do you bother announcing so loudly that the kid had disappeared, huh?"

The woman blinked several times, mouth agape.

"So he would return to his parents?"

"Yes, okay, but kids disappear all the time, it's not worth making such a spectacle. Kids disappear all the time. I used to take them frequently."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Dracula waved his hand, hypnotizing her to forget the last five seconds. "As I was saying, totally, if I find out you're deceiving me, that you just don't want to give me the prize..."

"What will you do?"

"Well, I won't come back to this shitty place. Disneyland this, Disneyland that, lots of publicity, but then you don't know how to treat guests properly."

The woman clasped her hands under her chin.

"Well, you saved that poor child, so I suppose you do deserve a prize."

"Of course!"

"How about... you have a date with me?" she said, blushing.

White swan neck. The work uniform couldn't hide her curves or the size of her breasts, although it didn't try too hard, probably a size or two smaller, and she had to endure it. She had beautiful eyes, green like spring grass. And all that danced in the sea of her long brown hair, completing the image.

Dracula frowned even more. To the point that it would be literally impossible to go further. Nothing had gone as expected, but this was simply weird.

"Why would I want to do that?"

He wasn't even angry anymore. He offered his most sincere confusion.

Even when he slit their throats personally and drank them, silencing their voices, humans always managed to give him a tremendous headache.

Maybe they weren't worth it.

3

Dorian's head hurt. He couldn't understand how things had gone so wrong in such a short time. His world was like a painting that someone had thrown a bucket of water on, that is, it was losing shape, color, everything, everything was sliding away. Irretrievably, with no way back.

Dorian was lying in the back seat of the car. He didn't remain alone for long. A shadow appeared in that dying world, extending a hand towards him.

"Are you okay?" The voice trembled. In fact, the whole body of the stranger trembled. But still, he approached, extending his hand. "I'm sorry I didn't come closer sooner. I'll help you."

The painting of his world continued to slide away without remedy. Therefore, Dorian didn't really see his savior. It was a shadow in a world of shadows that could disappear at any moment, as soon as he blinked. Instead, he looked through the man.

Dorian's mouth opened and closed without saying anything as he breathed heavily. His lips were dry. He was thirsty.

Dorian accepted the stranger's hand. And as soon as he was pulled out of the car, he pounced on him, his fangs flying towards the jugular.

4

"So?" Dracula asked, annoyed that she was making him wait so long while she stared at him like an idiot. "Why would I want to have a date with you? I don't even know your name."

"It's right here," she said, pointing to her chest.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed. So the employees of this place wear a name tag on their chest like slaves for sale. Interesting. Are you for sale?"

The woman blushed.

"Screw you, smartass."

Disneyland (4): FIN