Disneyland (3)

1

"We have to give it a shot at least," Damien said, thinking he should make the most of the fleeting self-control he had managed to gather. "While Dracula is at Disneyland... Damn it, I can't believe I just said that... We have to get out of this city ASAP. We may not achieve anything, but one thing's for sure, our situation won't improve if we sit idle."

"Joachim, what the hell are you doing?" Mark said, his voice choking. Understandably so.

When Dorian followed his gaze, he saw the damn lunatic had climbed onto the kitchen counter, wielding a butcher knife. But the greatest danger wasn't in the knife, it was in his eyes, telling him he had lost control of himself.

Though frightened (he might have stopped being human, but still felt just as vulnerable), he had to admit this was exactly what they had brought upon themselves by openly discussing leaving him high and dry.

Anyone would have exploded. What was truly surprising was that it had taken until now.

Well, now they had done more than just talk about it. They had made a decision. So, once again, he was wrong. It wasn't strange, and surprisingly, this was the right time to act.

"Come on, be reasonable," Damien said. "It's not a pleasure for us either, but you know he'll pursue you, that he's too stupid to shrug and go look for another like you in one of the dozen pizzerias around here."

A very reasonable speech. Too bad that wasn't synonymous with persuasive. Joachim's expression didn't change a bit, and Damien backed off, scared. He didn't even need to come closer to do something stupid. Joachim could throw the knife from there and hit, even if it was by sheer luck.

They probably wouldn't die so easily.

Not only had they stopped being humans, but they were also vassals of the greatest legend among vampires, Count Dracula. By the way, it was still incredibly shocking that these thoughts weren't part of some tabletop role-playing game. They enjoyed all sorts of role-playing games, not just the classic Dungeons & Dragons, but they had never faced a scenario like this. Well, anyway, nothing could have prepared them for this.

Where was I?

Ah, yes, he doubted that a crappy little knife would be enough to kill a vampire. But he didn't want to test that assumption. And the pain... it was painful.

If he didn't die after being stabbed a dozen times with that, it would be almost worse. Because he would have to be alive to experience that agony.

A strong friendship bound him to the others, all except Joachim. But Dorian considered turning around and running away. Clearly, no one would be able to talk sense into him. For starters, he wasn't wrong. His actions only seemed unreasonable from their point of view, worrying about ending up as pieces of meat on the cutting board. Joachim could try to escape on his own, of course, but he wouldn't get far like that.

Everyone looked out for themselves mainly...

But Dorian didn't move. There were more important things than mere survival.

Joachim jumped down, in complete silence, except for his heavy breathing, like a car engine warming up. He kept moving, still walking, but it felt like he was ready to bolt at any moment, to shoot off like a damn bullet.

Something inside him screamed, collapsed, and he wondered if he still had time to rethink things.

"Be reasonable," Mark said. "If you were in our place, you'd do the same."

Joachim stopped.

Had it worked?

Joachim shrugged.

"Yeah, but I'm not."

No, of course not.

Screaming at the top of his lungs (he figured it didn't matter anymore who heard them, that everything was already screwed up), Joachim lunged at them, waving the knife over his head.

For some reason, he went for the first one.

Dorian backed away, barely dodging, suddenly filled with adrenaline. He wasn't very athletic, but the desperate desire to survive could take you far.

It could, but in his case, it didn't.

Because as he dodged backward, he stumbled over the small table next to the sofa and fell loudly, knocking over the lamp.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Ouch," Dorian complained as if he hadn't just fallen at the feet of a lunatic with a knife or hit his head pretty hard, but caught a finger.

Dorian and Mark took a step forward, raising their hands above their heads in surrender.

"Okay, okay. You just want us to take you with us, right?" Dorian asked.

Joachim stopped dangerously close to his jugular. And nodded.

"Well, okay, better that than killing each other. We'll figure something out. Hopefully."

Joachim, thankfully, put away the damn knife. At least for now.

"See? It wasn't that hard."

Deep down, we make a good team, and there's no need to break it up so soon.

Yeah, maybe he was right.

Deep down.

Very, very deep down.

The only thing Dorian knew for sure was that he would need years of therapy and the money to afford it in the first place. If he survived openly challenging that monster, of course.

That's only if he survived, if he didn't get turned into pulp.

Seeing that Dracula was heading to Disneyland, they could rule out the possibility of dropping dead if they strayed too far from their master or something like that. That didn't make things easier for them. Nor harder. It just put them at the starting line, telling them they could at least try this shit.

2

"Shit, that damn kid is nowhere to be found. How am I supposed to find him when there are nothing but brats around here? And their parents acting the same way."

Good questions for which he had no answer.

He was getting fed up with this.

Which was only slightly better than boredom, and anyway, it would end up in precisely that if something didn't change soon. Dracula sat on one of the benches, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully, trying to concentrate although with that infernal noise everywhere, one could barely hear even their own thoughts.

There had to be a way. If it was another attraction, and what else could it be?, then it was designed to be solved by humans. Inferior and stupid creatures.

It was a matter of pride. They couldn't let them beat them.

Sure, they lived in this era and had more information, more context. But that wasn't an excuse.

Dracula was determined to win, damn it! He would find that damn kid before anyone else, even if it wasn't fun at all. Then he would collect his prize because there had to be a prize, right? You couldn't call saving just any kid a prize, more like a torment, something you had to endure in return.

And then, well. Then he would probably eat him.

Finders keepers.

Sometimes humans came up with good phrases, you know.

3

Justin and the rest crossed the city limits. They didn't drop dead on the spot, they didn't suddenly feel weakened. In short, nothing happened.

They had overthought it. He supposed they should have worried more about the lunatic in the back seat who had threatened to gut them with a butcher knife than Dracula, who was miles away.

He hadn't specified which Disneyland, but one way or another, it was far away, that's what mattered.

Actually, it was fitting. A giant bat against a giant mouse, both with hearts full of pure evil, the difference being that one sucked your blood and the other just wanted your money. At least Dracula hadn't left him dry. That wouldn't happen, but he hoped they would kill each other and leave the world alone.

"Guys, I have a feeling this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Joachim said, spreading his arms to pass them over Damien and Mark's shoulders.

Of course, they were only there in the back because they had lost at rock, paper, scissors. If the flames in his eyes burned through the headrests of his and Dorian's seats, they would have a huge hole. And their heads probably too.

Justin shrugged. As if to say: it's all a matter of luck.

"As long as this is some kind of beginning and not a violent end, I'm fine with it," Dorian said.

Exactly.

4

Behind a pirate attraction from some place called The Caribbean (nothing that interested him too much), he found Mickey Mouse hovering over a child who was looking between his legs, vaguely surprised. This was because his pants were down. The reason escaped him. In any case, he didn't care. Ah, he thought. I understand what's going on here. The widened eyes of the mask made him look perpetually surprised. In this case, he could bet he was. Surely, he wouldn't have imagined he'd encounter a competitor at this stage of the game, just when he was about to cross the finish line. But no one outsmarted Dracula or fooled him, no sir. He was going to teach him a lesson. That is to say...

"I may not have found him first, but I'll take him when I've beaten you."

"Listen, there's no need to turn this into a problem. I haven't done anything yet."

"Of course, and that's the point. Make sure it stays that way." Dracula shrugged. "Are you stupid or are you stupid? It's not that hard to understand."

"I'm not going to let you ruin my life..."

"Well, it's not that big of a deal. You test it a bit, squeeze out all the fun you can, and then you leave."

Mickey Mouse trembled.

"So you're like me?"

"What? No, how dare you compare yourself to me? What an ego you have, little one. Listen, maybe in this era you're an entertainment icon, but I am the damn Prince of Darkness." A pause. "And I have the feeling we're speaking a different language."

"Tell me about it, assh..."

"But enough talk. Have at you!"

Dracula summoned his sword, which promptly shut the oversized mouse's mouth. He even pulled up his pants, as if to hide his own sword, haha. Well, it was good that he knew when to give up. Too bad he didn't care a bit. He was going to give him a good beating and take the prize no matter how much he cried. Nobody beat Dracula! And certainly not a dirty, repellent human. How could he allow him to win at a game of intellect? Poorly designed, because he hadn't had a single damn clue to work with, beyond a general description. But what could be expected from the limited intellect of the human species?

Oh, yes.

Enough talk, that included the internal.

Dracula practically flew towards Mickey Mouse. A smooth glide, and...

And nothing. He did nothing. Somehow he dodged the blow, which left him speechless, and fled. But he didn't get very far. He couldn't with his pants down to his knees.

He tripped and fell headfirst, naked from the waist down in front of thousands of people. Too many people looked at him surprised. It wasn't something pleasant, obviously, but it was as if they had never seen the village idiot decide that the beer was already giving him enough warmth.

The child, that is, the prize, approached him.

"Why does Mickey Mouse have two tails?"

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What? Are you stupid? Well, stupid or not, you're coming with me. But where to? Those incompetent organizers didn't even say where I have to take you to receive my prize."

Disneyland (3): FIN