Dom got to his feet straight away. He knew he didn’t have much time before the guards got back to their posts. He had to get the body to his car, then over to Beauchamp’s for him to see that the vamp was actually dead. If he didn’t, he might hold back on his ransom. And Dom couldn’t afford to risk that. But, something else then came up. He just now remembered that his car was parked in that garage across the street.
He grabbed his forehead. I haven’t planned this well at all. How am I gonna carry a body across street to the trunk of my car without risking anyone seeing?
Then it hit him like a fully charged stun gun.
The rug on the upstairs landing.
He could wrap Dracula up in that, so if a car rushed by him or someone walked past on the sidewalk, at first glance, they’d just see some guy carrying a rug on his shoulder. Even if they did think of looking twice, the body would be nicely hidden from view.
Good idea, buddy, now get going before tweedledum and tweedledee come back.
He stuffed his dart gun in his belt and before leaving the room. There was enough light spilling out of the room he was just in to put the landing in gloom. He could make out the stairwell, where the rug was. He went straight for it, no longer concerned by the noise the floorboards made. The house had been cleared. Another good thing was that the annoying tingling up and down his spine had stopped. That made things easier. He reached the rug. Before he picked it up, he poked his head down the stairwell. Sleeping Beauty was still catching Z’s. Nice. He turned back, grabbed the edge of the rug and rolled it up. He grabbed it and then took it back to the vampire’s bedroom. Once in there, he slung the rug down next to his dead body. It hit the floorboards with a thwump! Dust was sent raining all over the vamp. Dom then unraveled the rug. The two lay next to one another, one waiting for the other.
Your carriage awaits...
The vamp’s dead face stared up at him as Dom went and stood over him. His eyes were black, like the eyes of a shark. They totally lacked that ‘icing’ glimmer. They looked freaky; nasty. Dom shivered. He went to pick him up but felt repulsed; he didn’t wanna lay a finger on him.
Come on, buddy. You gotta get that body in that rug and over to Beauchamp’s. Now, stop pussying out and pick him up!
Dom swallowed, even though his mouth was dry. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He composed himself, then reached down and grabbed the vamp under the armpits. He groaned. It felt horrible; heavy, cold like a joint of meat ready for the barbeque. He looked away in disgust, nausea suddenly rising in the pit of his stomach.
Am I actually lugging around a dead body?
Yeah, you are, bud!
I think I’m gonna throw up.
He glanced down; the vamp’s head lolled back and his dead, blank eyes stared up at him. Dom immediately turned away, not wanting to stare into those dead eyes. His nausea got worse; it was like picking up a dead rat. His stomach churned.
Get it together, buddy!
He became still and repeatedly puffed his cheeks while he waited for his nausea to pass. He tried to make his mind go blank, forget about the body in his grip. He closed his eyes. Okay, buddy. On three.
One.
Two.
Three.
He opened up his eyes again and lifted. The body came away from the floor. Dom stood upright, the bare heels of the vamp the only thing now touching the floorboards. He was surprisingly light considering how tough he was. Dom wasn’t about to question that; the lighter, the better.
He turned his head to the side, his eyes fixed on the rug. He headed for it, dragging the body over. The whole time he had a creepy feeling that the body was gonna come to life in his hands. It triggered that nausea again.
Don’t think about crap like that! Just get him on that rug!
He yanked the body across; his heels now touched the rug. He dropped him. He fell in a heap across the rug, arms splayed. Dom caught his breath. He looked down at his hands in disgust. They were dirty, sweaty. He wiped them on his pants, feeling like he’d caught some kind of disease. He looked down. The vamp in the robe was sprawled across the rug. He went and neatened him up; shoved his legs across, brought his arms down. He even crossed them over his chest so he resembled an Egyptian mummy. He nodded. Now he just had to roll him up.
He bent down, grabbed the edge of the rug and lifted it up the side of the body. He then grabbed it from below and pushed. At first it wouldn’t go, so he applied more pressure, his teeth clenched. Slowly, the body lifted up onto its side. He put more into it, and finally, he hit that sweet spot. The vamp and the rug began rolling away, momentum taking them across the floor. Dom got on his haunches and helped it along, rolling it over and over. The body wrapped nice and tight inside it as it rolled. He ran out of rug to roll; the loose flap came out on top. Dom trapped it and bought everything to a stop. Job done.
Good work, buddy.
Dom let out a satisfied sigh and dusted his hands. He grinned to himself. The body was nicely concealed inside. The top of his head was still visible, but as his hair was black and the rug was a very dark color itself it wasn’t so easy to spot. When he went over and checked the other end. Luckily, the rug was just the right size; you could only see the soles of his feet if you looked really closely...
Dom thanked his lucky stars for the rug being there. Without it, the next and final part of the job would’ve been much harder. Snug as a bug in a rug.
He shivered.
He checked the time again: 1:54. He should still be okay to get out before they came back. He smiled. After a hairy start, things worked out okay in the end.
He stood astride the rolled-up rug and put an arm round each side of it, getting it in a bear hug. He steadied himself, then heaved it up with a groan and stood upright, the whole thing coming with him. He gave himself a second to catch his breath while preparing for the second part of the lift. When ready, he flipped it up onto his shoulder in one smooth motion. He teetered this way and that for a second or two while he adjusted to the new load.
Easy, buddy!
He managed to steady himself, his free hand held out to the side. He gave himself a confident nod; the rug and its contents were pretty easy to handle from there. Now it was time to leave. He plucked his Zippo from his pocket, sparked her up, then headed slowly back out to the corridor and toward the stairs, the package safely on his shoulder. On reaching the stairs, he slowly began to make his way down them, being extra careful to plant a solid foot on every step. When he eventually reached Sleeping Beauty, he eased carefully past him, doing everything possible to keep his balance. He still slept like a baby. Once that hurdle had been negotiated and he was back in the entrance hall, he stopped, and then slowly placed the rug down onto the floorboards so he could rest for a second. He placed his hands on his knees and exhaled.
Man, that was tiring.
Don’t worry, buddy. You only gotta go across the street now...
He groaned under his breath. He then grabbed his jacket from the floor where he’d left it when he first came in. He put it on and zipped it up. He dusted it down. Just a regular Joe, carrying a rug to his car. That’s all I am.
He was pretty confident he could get away with a quick glance. A twinge of excitement suddenly flittered through him. I might just get away with this! What a mastermind!
Now reenergized, he hopped over to the package and picked it up once more, hoisting it back up on his shoulder. He steadied himself, then went to leave. He grabbed the metal sheet/door to pull it away. An abrupt voice outside stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes widened.
“There it is!”
Dom froze his ears pricking.
“In the deckchair like last time, huh?” came another voice.
“Yeah, it must’ve fallen out my pocket. It’s these frickin’ jeans, man. The pockets probably got holes in em.”
“It ain’t the jeans that’s got the holes, dude; it’s your brain!”
They stopped talking for a second. Then:
“Shall we check on Drake?”
Dom instantly reached down with his free hand and grabbed the rubber mallet he still carried in his belt. He lifted it up by the side of his face, his chest tightening. If they came in, he would have to fight. He’d have no choice.
“Check on Drake? Why?”
“Dunno. Got a weird feeling. Can’t explain it but something ain’t right.”
Dom’s eyes bulged in alarm, his heart shooting up to his throat.
“You’re imagining things, man. Nothing’s wrong. Marlon can handle any trouble.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right...”
A sigh of relief bolted from Dom’s chest. He put away his mallet. He wiped the sweat now dripping off his forehead with the back of his hand. He gave them a few seconds to start talking again, but they didn’t. Only the odd caw of a crow could be heard. He turned his attention back to the unconscious guy on the ground. Marlon. At least he now knew for sure that there really were three guards. That and the vamp’s name was... Drake. He rolled his eyes to the side to be met with the rug on his shoulder (Snug as a bug in a rug!).
“Nice to meet your acquaintance, Drakey boy!” he whispered to it.
He took a small sidestep and eased his neck around the edge of the metal shutter. Through the crack, he could see the two assholes now sitting in their deckchairs again.
He huffed. They came back early... The first time in four frickin’ days, they decide to come back early. Today of all days! Why? Maccy D’s out of Double Quarter Pounders? His mind began to work hard, making his head hurt. He couldn’t walk out the front now, not with them sitting there. Yeah, he could just imagine walking past them with the rug on his shoulder, giving them a wave and a story about him being the ‘removals service’ they’d called for earlier. No way; he needed another way out. He stared up the stairs and instantly shook his head. Where would he go once he got back up there? He sighed as he scanned the corridor.
His eyes fell on the kitchen.
There had to be a back door in there; one leading to a back yard that he could hit the street from. He nodded; it was his only choice. But what if the back door’s blocked up like the front windows? Well, he’d just have to pray...
He didn’t waste another second. He got moving through the hallway with quick, but quiet footsteps until he entered the gloomy kitchen. He went past an old fridge that smelt funky, bare cupboards, and a sink full of dirty, broken dishes. When he reached the end of the kitchen, his Zippo lit up a door. The windows had been nailed over with pieces of wood to keep the sunlight out. He put his lighter away and then reached for the handle, briefly closing his eyes and praying for it to be unlocked. He turned the handle. It clicked in his hand. The door came open, a glorious sliver of light shining through. Relief shot through him. He swung the door open fully; it went with a creak. Dom allowed himself a chuckle; maybe his luck was turning...
He stepped through the doorway. The air outside was so fresh compared to the house it was almost like breathing for the first time again. He closed his eyes for a second or two and took it in, enjoying the sense of freedom, relieved to be out of the confines of the house. He was nearly in the clear...
He opened his eyes and took a look around, a faint smile now on his face. When he did, the mild euphoria he’d been feeling instantly crashed and burned.
The back yard was a neglected jungle of weeds and grass.
From his position on the porch, he could see nothing but a wall of tall pampas grass. It felt like being in the Land of the Giants. He tiptoed to get a peek at the neighboring yards, only to see similar scenes on both sides; he couldn’t even see where any of the yards ended as the grass was too tall. As a result, he had no idea how far away they stretched.
He huffed. “How the hell am I gonna get through this?” he snapped to himself in a hoarse whisper. “Any ideas, Drake?”
Drake didn’t answer.
The only implement Dom had that could be of any use was that metal stake from Home Depot. He groaned; it would have to do.
He pulled it from his belt, hitched Drake up further on his shoulder, then took the crumbling concrete steps down into the jungle. He stopped and stood ahead of it all; the aroma of grass flooded his nostrils. He breathed in, tightened his grip on the stake, and then began hacking away at the long grass with long strokes. Luckily it was weak; it bent and moved to the sides, creating a big enough space for him to enter. He was like Moses parting the Red Sea; well, maybe not as dramatic, but something like that.
He hacked away at the grass some more before he began making his way into the undergrowth, feeling like some kind of explorer. The grass made a rustling sound as he pushed his way through it. Some of it was getting in his eyes and it tickled his face making him want to sneeze. A bunch of stinging nettles hidden away in there scraped across his hand and he winced at the pain.
Goddamn stuff!
He hacked away more and more grass with angry swipes as he delved deeper and deeper into field of green. In no time, he found himself lost in it all. It tangled and curled all around him and the rug as if trying to eat him. He tried to look back, but he was surrounded; it was like the grass was alive and had closed around him on purpose.
Great! Where the hell am I?
Panic began to take over. He hacked away at the grass with more ferocity, his teeth clenched, as if fighting it off. He was pretty sure that he had gone in a straight line so far, so the back of the garden should be right ahead of him. All he had to do was follow his nose. But the more he cut, the more he hacked and slashed away, there was more grass waiting. And now it was getting itself tangled up with the stake as if it was purposefully trying to snatch it from his grip. Drake was starting to get heavy too and a dull throb was going off in his shoulder.
Man, I’m really earning this bounty! I don’t think I’ll ever be so happy to see my crappy car.
He wished he could be back at his apartment, kicking back with a cold Bud. But instead he was tangled up in grass, weeds and stinging nettles. “I should’ve Google Street-Viewed this mofo first...” he said to himself with regret.
He yanked his arm back, tearing the blades of grass wrapped to it from their roots. He shook them off, freeing himself of them. Now he could go ahead. He hacked away at the grass in front of him, beetles and lice crawling everywhere; going in his ears and mouth. He spat them out in disgust. Something nearby scampered away; a rat, or a cat, or a dog, or some other feral creature that he didn’t wanna cross paths with. He ignored it and carried on. More grass came away. And then more. And then more still.
Arrgh, when does this crap end? Huh? WHEN DOES IT END?
His head started spinning; he had about of dizziness. It was like he was having a flashback. The grass around swayed from side to side like it was dancing. Then he saw it was doing the Hula. The green, green grass of Hell, tangling him up, swallowing him up, its tendrils wrapping around his neck nice and slow and pulling tight. Then he heard the Grassmen speaking. ‘Chill out, man,’ they were telling him. ‘Soak up some rays. Sip on a cocktail or two. We’ll take care of the rest…’
And the grass tightened around his neck some more...
Keep going straight, buddy! a voice erupted in his mind, severing the weird trance he’d just entered. And screw the grass people!
So he did just that. He hacked away at the grass with more force, a groan escaping him every time he swiped his arm around because it was starting to hurt, and Drake was beginning to get heavy.
Goddammned Beauchamp! Sitting on his regal ass, while I’m here, in the freakin jungle!
He threw the stake forward with an angry grunt as if he were a lunging fencer. His arm jarred on something solid, sending a mild shock running up his arm. A twinge of excitement gripped him and he laughed. It was a wall. A wall! He never thought he’d be so happy to find a freakin wall! He frantically cleared the grass ahead of him and soon could see old, dirty-red bricks. He laughed louder. It’s a frickin’ wall. A wall, yeah!
His eyes rolled upward. His joy was abruptly cut short.
The top of the wall was lined with razor wire.
His laughter stopped dead. He stared at the razor wire with a slack jaw. It quickly turned into a grimace of hate. He smashed the wall with the stake, enraged, a jolt of pain jarring up his wrist. He managed to choke a scream, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
How the hell am I gonna get over this now?
What’s going on today? Did I run over a black cat on my way down here or something?
He growled and looked around. All he could see was the Grass People surrounding him. His first thought was to follow the wall along to the next yard, jumping into that and then finding a way out from there. But what if that wall was wired too? a voice piped up in his mind. Or worse? Or what if it was too high to get over? At least this wall was a couple of inches above his head, meaning he could get over it pretty easy, it was just the damn razor wire that was the problem. He tried to look back the way he came, but the Grass People had appeared to move over into the furrow he’d created and covered it back up, thus eliminating his pathway. It was eerie. Like they were alive...
He shivered.
He shook it off. Now there was no clear way back, he was stuck. He faced the wall again.
Why is there goddamn razor wire on this wall, anyway? he asked himself in disbelief.
He hacked at the wall again with the point of his stake, chipping off brick and red dust.
Okay. Okay. Think, Dom. There’s a way out of here, there always is. You would’ve been a dead man a loooong time ago if there wasn’t. He let his mind go blank again, trying his best to focus on a solution, instead of letting the panic rising in his stomach overcome the whole situation. He assessed where he was at. Okay. Wall. Stake. A shitload of grass. Vampire corpse. Rug.
His eyes lit up. He clicked his fingers, nodding his head in unison as the puzzle began to unravel in his mind.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s it, buddy. The rug! It’s pretty thick. If I can lay it over the razor wire, it will flatten the crap out and make it safe to cross.
That’s great, Dom. But what about Drake?
Arrgghh... He grabbed his clammy forehead.
I’ll just have to unwrap him (snug as a bug…), lay the rug out over the wire, throw him over, climb over myself, then pull the rug down, roll him up again (…in a rug) and run like a crazy mofo to the car.
Great. Now stop talking and get going!
He got to work straight away.
He lowered rolled-up-Drake to the ground head (or foot, he didn’t know which anymore) first, leaning him up against the wall; the rug crumpled slightly in the middle but held upright. Now relieved of the pressure, Dom’s shoulder screamed at him; he winced as he grabbed it, twisting his arm around in the socket to get the blood flowing again. While he did that, he watched helplessly as the bend in the middle of the rug deepened as gravity worked on Drake’s dead weight; it all crashed to the ground, flattening surrounding grass.
Great...
Dom huffed, reached down, grabbed the flapping edge of the rug, and yanked. He instantly strained, a groan shooting out from between his clenched teeth. He managed to pull a bit of rug out from under Drake, but the vamp was acting like a paper weight and was clamping it down. Dom placed one foot on the wall to get a bit more leverage and tugged upward with all his strength, his muscles trembling. Bit by bit, Drake began to spin on the spot like a paper roll spindle as the rug came away from beneath him. Dom now grabbed the rug a little further in and yanked with all his might, all the blood rushing up to his head; it felt like it was about to burst. He pulled some more until there was a soft thud and the rug came away freely; it flopped over Dom’s head, the momentum from his exertion sending him back into the wall. He hit it with a painful thud.
He growled in anger, the rug now over his head. Great plan, Dom, great plan, he scolded himself.
Down by his feet, he could see Drake’s crumpled body; his dead, black eyes were staring at him.
But something was happening and it was happening fast.
He watched in horror as Drake’s face rapidly began to redden in big blotches. In the next instant, the redness became pulsing blisters. They burst, spraying puss all around.
“Jesus Christ,” Dom exclaimed, recoiling. His mind worked. Then, he realized what it was. Daylight. The sun. It was burning and flaking Drake’s skin. In no time, his whole face was dark red and blistered.
Then it caught fire.
Dom’s eyes bulged. “Oh, crap!” he yelped. He threw the rug off his head, bent down and began blowing on Drake’s face. Don’t burn, don’t burn, no, no, no, don’t burn!
If he burnt beyond recognition, Beauchamp wouldn’t have a vamp to identify.
Dom snatched handfuls of nearby grass and flattened it down over Drake. Now, snugly wrapped in grass, he was protected from the effects of the sun. The cool grass killed the flames and the hot sizzling petered off. Dom faced the gray sky; he breathed a sigh of relief, the astringent stench of burnt hair and flesh caught in his nostrils.
Now he knew what the next problem would be: getting Drake over the wall and back into the rug uber fast before he burned. He huffed and turned his attention to the rug once more; it was concertinaed against the wall. He went ahead and grabbed the nearest edge, before throwing it over his head again. He eased it down his back until he reached the far edge; it now trailed behind him like some kind of exaggerated Bride’s train. He steadied himself, eyes fixed on the top of the wall. He lifted his arms as high as they’d go, the edge of the rug still in his grip. He had the rug way higher than the razor wire; now he just had to get it over and down.
Okay, buddy. Let’s do this...
On the count of three, he propelled his arms forward with a grunt, allowing the edge of the rug to fly over the wire. Even though he put all his force into it, the heaviness of the rug coupled with the hindrance of the surrounding grass meant that it didn’t go as far as he’d hoped. The edge he threw forward went a little way beyond the wall, before the next section of the rug got stuck to the razor wire. As a result, the edge he’d thrown was brought down midair. It ended up hanging just over the other side of the wall like a very short tongue. The opposite end of the rug slapped him in the back and stayed where it was. He came out from under the rug and it flopped against the wall. He put his hands on his hips and weighed up the results.
Hmm, not bad. Not great, but not bad... Doable.
Might be better if you doubled it over.
He nodded. Good idea.
He swiped the sweat from his brow before he lifted up this end and threw it in a way that made it fold over itself, doubling it up. He dusted his hands. Nice job.
He’d now created a thicker and heavier barrier that flattened the razor wire further, leaving a clear path for his escape.
He reached up and put his weight on the rug; it went down, but the razor wire didn’t break through. He hoisted himself waist height over the wall. He scanned the area beyond, making sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. He found himself surveying a thin alleyway littered with trash and old dumpsters; it ran further away into the distance both left and right, ultimately leading around to the front of the house. Opposite him were more brick walls, sans razor wire. Typical, his mind vented. But the most important thing was that the alleyway was quiet and empty. He grinned to himself before dropping back down and dusting his hands. He stepped over to the spot where he’d stashed Drake. He carefully pulled the grass covering him to the sides, conscious of the sun. The awkward position in which Drake fell back pushed his chin into his chest, jutting his jaw up. It now looked like he was grinning.
“Yeah, I bet you’re enjoying watching this from wherever you are now, ain’tcha?” Dom asked him. “But I’ll enjoy it much more when I’m counting them dollars I’m gonna get for your ass, buddy.”
Dom reached down and grabbed the belt of Drake’ robe and yanked it free. He then slipped it underneath both Drake’s armpits, and around his back, creating a lasso. And then it was time to go. Dom dragged Drake from out of the grass and up to the wall as fast as he could. On reaching the wall, he propped Drake’s back up against it. Now exposed to the sun, he began to burn again. Dom let out an agitated huff before he pulled some grass back over him as best he could to block the rays out.
Sun tan lotion; another thing I forgot to bring. Stupid...
I’ll remember for next time.
Dom then turned back to the wall. He was all set. He nodded his head and smiled, his tongue buried in his cheeks.
Almost there. Almost there. I’m not forgetting this day in a hurry, I swear to Christ.
He wiped his hands on his pants and reached up to the rug. He hoisted himself up, hooking his knee and then pushing down on it to lever his other leg up onto the wall. Once there, he stayed low, now squatting on the rug, razor wire either side of him. He took a look back. The derelict house he was just inside stared at him like a beat-up sentry. A sudden feeling of triumph suffused him; it was a sensation of release as if an ongoing nightmare was finally over. He had overcome. Beaten the enemy and made it out.
All right, all right, buddy, he told himself once reality set back in. Hold your horses. You’re not in the clear yet…
It was true.
He still had to get Drake up there with him...
He rolled his eyes. Then looked down to see Drake obscured by grass. “Okay, buddy, let’s go...” he stretched his arms down, just about able to grab hold of the belt he’d wrapped around Drake. He planted his feet down on his haunches, sucked in, and then pulled. His eyes widened in surprise at the strain. Drake stayed where he was. Dom released the tension. “Okay. That’s how you want it, buddy?” he said down to Drake, licking his lips. “Let’s try that again.”
He wrapped the belt around his palms to get better purchase. He puffed up his chest and pulled again, this time with more force. Chords on his neck popped out. His teeth crunched. He yanked harder still, coming back on his heels. Finally, Drake started coming up the wall.
“Come on! Come on!” Dom urged between his clenched teeth.
Drake slid up the wall, his head lolling down. Dom wrapped the excess belt around his hands as Drake came up. He watched him rise in pleasure, even though he was straining. He could feel the blood pulsing in his head. The girdle of his back began to hurt but knew he had to hold on, couldn’t let go, not now as he was halfway there. The last thing he wanted was to go back to square numero uno.
Drake’s arms came up to meet him, then the top of his head. And that was where it started to get difficult. Dom managed to catch a quick breath before he was straining again.
Don’t let go! Whatever you do, don’t let go!
A little more and the bulk of the body would be over the lip of the wall. A sizzling sound started up; Drake was melting again. Dom groaned.
Never mind that. Just get him over the goddamn wall!
Dom quickly looked behind him. He was on the edge of the wall, with only the width of the rug to maneuver. As Drake came up, he took on more of his weight. With nowhere to shift his weight to other than backward, the sudden realization that he was about to topple hit him like a sledgehammer.
He snapped his head back around. The concrete floor behind him suddenly appeared like a bed of spikes.
Drake came up some more, his weight transferred straight to Dom.
Dom felt his body swerve back in a vicious, ominous arc.
“Oh shit! What have I done?” he snapped in alarm.
But it was too late. Drake came fully up into his arms. The momentum sent Dom reeling. His eyes widened in terror. “Woah!” Drake’s weight pushed against him and they both became airborne. The world flashed by in a second. Before Dom had a chance to scream, he smashed painfully into the concrete below. Pain seared across his back. In the next instant, Drake landed straight on top of him, bouncing off his ribs. “Ow!” He instantly seized up as he took the heavy blow. Drake hit the concrete next to him and became still. Dom curled up in pain, the breath stolen from his chest. He groaned and writhed in agony, the gray sky zoning in and out.
Oh man...
That hurt...
He grabbed his forehead and his chest at the same time. Both ached.
He just wanted to die. Right there and then. To just die. This was the worst day of his life, and he wanted to just die.
Come on, man! Get up! Get up quick before he burns in the sun!
Dom groaned. “Do I have to?”
YES!
He tried his best to roll to the side. He was met with Drake’s red and blistered face. Both his eyebrows and eyelashes had been singed off. But his blank eyes still glared at him. They were like shark’s eyes. Dom cringed. He didn’t like staring so close at them. He caught some of his breath and scrambled to his feet, pain making its own version of love to his body. He limped over Drake and kicked his head back upright. Now Dom was glaring down at him.
“You enjoying the ride? Huh?” he asked him in between short, sharp breaths. “What d’ya think of my great escape?” He threw a hand toward the wall they’d just scaled. Drake just stared at him with his dead eyes and sunburnt face, his fangs poking out of the bottom of his blistered and melted top lip. “Yeah, speechless, huh, buddy?” Dom mumbled to himself as he turned to the wall, grabbed the end of the rug, and gave it a long, hard tug. It peeled away from the razor wire with relative ease, getting caught slightly, but popping off the tiny blades like they were clips. He didn’t waste any time in laying out the rug on the alleyway floor. He then went over to Drake and picked him up from under the armpits.
“Back in there for you, buddy,” he told him. “Snug as a bug in a freakin rug!” He went to drag him over to the rug when a weird sensation suddenly hit him. It was like... he was being watched. He frowned, then snapped his head to the right. His stare fixed on the upstairs window of a house on the other side of the alley. There was a wrinkled face in there. An old lady was staring back at him, her mouth agape. She took off her glasses, craned her neck forward, and then squinted her eyes to get a better look. Dom froze. He had a guilty glance from her down to the mutilated vampire in his arms. He looked back toward the old dear, who was now staring at her glasses in disbelief. She breathed on the lenses, wiped them on her cardigan, then put them back on; now she was scrutinizing him closer, her face literally pressed against the glass.
Dom nodded his head. “Hi” he said, with a toothy grin. He grabbed Drake’s arm and made him wave at her. “He says ‘hi’ too...”
She just carried on staring, her jaw slack.
“Holy crap, I’ve been caught,” Dom sang to himself through clenched teeth.
Forget her, dude! Just get the hell outta there!
He got to work. He dragged Drake over to the rug and dumped him down onto the edge of it. He then proceeded to roll him over just like back in the house. Once he was rolled up like a Swiss roll and snug as a frickin’ bug, he bent down, picked him up again, and hitched him up onto his shoulder. He didn’t even look back to see if Gramma was still watching him.
She’s probably on the phone to cops by now anyway, buddy...
Stop thinking like that!
He got going down the alley, staggering under the weight and pain, grit and bits of broken glass snapping beneath his sneakers. He headed for the end of the alley. From there, he needed to turn into the side alley that led back out onto the street where 1428 was located. He moved past derelict dumpsters, old shopping carts, abandoned kitchen appliances; ovens, refrigerators, and the like. The whole alley was like one big junkyard. It offered good cover. Anyone seeing him would just think he was adding a beaten rug to all the other crap. He didn’t have to worry about that; the place was quiet as a morgue.
The end of the alley came in sight and he upped his pace.
He grinned. Almost there. Almost there, buddy!
Excitement began to usurp any pain; his breathing became hot and frantic. He tripped on a bump in the concrete. He veered off to the left, reaching out to steady himself on a pock-marked wall. He didn’t wanna fall and injure himself at this late stage in the game. He steadied himself and got going again, this time at a steady, even pace. He reached the end of the alley. He looked left. He could see sidewalk at the end of the side alley. And that’s where he headed. He put his head down, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
I seriously hope no one can see this bastard wrapped up in this rug.
Relax. Have faith. Just a little…
He reached the end of the side alley and finally, finally, his sneakers touched sidewalk. Something he never thought could feel so good. He breathed a sigh of relief, then took a look up the street. In the distance, he could see the garage forecourt, his battered Ford sitting there waiting for him. He smiled. I’m coming for you, baby...
His eyes then focused in on the front yard of 1428. There they were. Sitting there. Watching the street. He still had to get past them before he could get to his car. The good thing was that they still hadn’t checked in on Drake. If they had, they’d be scouting the area for sure. So seeing their profiles siting there, catching rays gave him the small boost he needed to make it past them.
He looked both ways; the street was still quiet. He nodded. Let’s go, buddy...
He composed himself, then set off on the final leg of his mission. He crossed the street first, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the guards as possible. Besides, he didn’t think his heart would survive walking straight past them both...
He walked at a faster than average speed, wanting to get to his car quickly, but not too fast that he looked out of the ordinary. He was just some guy carrying a rug home from the store, that’s all. Just a normal guy. Just going home. So look the other way.
He brushed past the trash in the street, getting hit with blasts of paranoia. He felt exposed as if a million eyes were on him. He could see wrinkled faces in dirty windows pointing at him. ‘Look, everyone, there’s a man with a dead vampire on his shoulder. Call the cops!’ Butterflies floated freely in his belly. Comeon, comeon, comeon, keep it cool! He soldiered on, every step closer to safety. He hit the sidewalk again and turned to the left. The rug was on his left shoulder, meaning it obscured his face from the guards. On the one hand that was good, meant they wouldn’t be able to read anything on his face like terror or paranoia. On the other, it meant he couldn’t see them. Couldn’t see if they snuck up on him...
Stop thinking that stuff, buddy!
He puffed his chest out as best he could, trying to look natural, nonchalant, easygoing even though he felt like he was being watched under a microscope, or like he was completely naked and people were lined up, gawking at him. He was sure he’d reached level with the front yard of 1428; he swore he could feel their eyes on him.
Look the other way, he urged. The other way. Hey, isn’t that Michael Jordan over there?
He put his head down, staring at his sneakers, Drake riding with him on his shoulder. He prayed that he was still as snug as a bug in his rug and not about to give the game away.
Just get past them and we’re in the clear, buddy. This ain’t nothing, just a stroll in the park, that’s all. Just treat it the same as that. They don’t know shit and they won’t find out shit either!
He knew he was now going past 1428 and he couldn’t turn back. This was it. He made sure to keep his head down, not to give them a hint that he was even aware of them both sitting there. He kept his mind focused on his car, just forty, fifty yards away. The sound of the crows punctuating the silence became his friend and he listened to it, concentrating on it and not those two in the deckchairs. Those butterflies whipped up again and began fluttering like crazy in his belly. Keep cool. Keep cool. He could feel their eyes on him. Feel their stares burning into him like x-ray vision. They’d be looking right at him, right now. Wondering who he was and why he was carrying that rug on his shoulder. They’ll know straight away it was the rug from upstairs, the one they most likely laid down. ‘Why’s it on this guy’s shoulder?’ they’ll ask. ‘And what was that wrapped in it?’
A loud caw cut through the air and Dom flinched. His heart leapt up into his mouth and his feet screamed ‘run’.
Keep it cool, they don’t know shit!
Silence took over again. It was just one of those damn crows flying overhead.
He managed to resist the temptation to run and instead hitched Drake up again, his mind itching him to turn and check the guards; make sure they weren’t looking at him, just to put him at rest. But that would give him away. It would destroy everything. Even just a glance. He strained to keep his pace even, feeling their eyes burning into his side, hearing every one of their negative thoughts aimed right at him. They know. They know everything.
They don’t know shit!
His heart was thudding against his ribs one second, then he could taste it in his dry throat the next. Bile was shooting up and down from the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to collapse.
Hold it! Almost there.
He took another few steps on jelly legs; he could see the garage forecourt was near, meaning he’d likely passed 1428.
Almost there. Almost there.
Straight away, his heart began to ease, his paranoid thoughts melting like ice in the desert.
Almost there...
He didn’t dare look back. Instead he looked straight at the garage, and more specifically, his car. It was now just a few meters away. He wiped his clammy face and allowed himself a smile. Almost there. His heart began to flutter.
Almost.
There.
*****
Some dirty, sweaty guy carrying something on his shoulder came into Craig’s view from across the street. Craig frowned. What was that he was carrying? Craig waited till the guy was closer and squinted his eyes to try and get a better look. A rug? What the hell? There’s all types of nutballs around here. And he looked like a real dirtbag as well. Filthy, sweaty, and messed up. I mean where the hell is he going? And why is he carrying a rug? He was walking funny too, kind of too upright and unnatural like he was trying not to attract attention. Craig knew all too well about that kind of walk from his bad days, carrying all kinds of illegal substances around while out of his gourd. The sort of stuff that could get you a long jail sentence. Nah, this guy was definitely up to something.
Craig scrutinized him closer.
His pants were scuffed with dirt and what looked like grass stains. But it was that damn rug on his shoulder that was bothering him, there was something…
…yeah, something familiar about it.
He stood up from the deckchair and walked to the end of the yard, his eyes fixed on that guy. By then he’d gone past the house. Craig squinted his eyes. Was there something wrapped in that rug?
He recoiled in horror. Jesus Christ, I think there is!
His jaw dropped. It was a... pair of feet? What the hell?!
Craig’s mind began working crazily.
Then, a terrible reality hit him; his eyes widened in terror. “Get the hell outta here!” he growled to himself in total disbelief.
He raced over to his deckchair, bent down and picked up the flashlight he kept beneath it. He then ran toward the house, racing past Jeff, who was now sitting up in his chair.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Craig in a concerned voice.
“That dirty guy!” Craig shouted over his shoulder before shoving open the metal shutter. He stood in the doorway and stared, frozen. His eyes locked onto Marlon’s body at the foot of the stairs. “What the...” he gasped. His senses slammed together; he made for the stairs. Nothing better have happened to Drake, his mind feared. Christ, how could we have been so stupid to leave him? I thought he was just being paranoid the whole time…
He raced up the stairs, flicking on his flash.
By then Jeff had entered the house. “Marlon!” he snapped. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”
Craig just shook his head, dumbstruck. He reached the top of the stairs where his flash lit up bare floorboards on the landing. In his mind’s eye, he could see the rug on that guy’s shoulder. Then, he could place it. That rug, it used to be here! It’s supposed to be right here!
His wide eyes flicked over to Drake’s bedroom door; it was open, light was spilling out from inside. Craig’s mouth suddenly went dry; dread rose rapidly inside him. He darted through the corridor and jumped into Drake’s room. He pulled up and scanned the place with frantic eyes; they locked onto Drake’s bed.
It was empty.
“Drake? Drake?”
There was no answer.
Jeff then came to the door and looked around, a puzzled expression on his face. “Where is he? What’s going on?”
Craig turned to face him. His eyes were wild with concern “That guy!” he exclaimed, pointing at the door. “The one with the rug on his shoulder. He killed Drake!”
*****
Dom licked his lips in anticipation; a smile spread across his cheeks. The sanctuary of the garage was within his grasp. He thought about making a dash for the final meters; he was nearly there, why not? The two assholes in the deckchairs was why not. If they saw him suddenly start making a break, they might get suspicious. No, it was best to stay cool, keep the steady pace going. He’d get there before he even knew it. But it wasn’t easy to stay cool. His legs were itching to run, so was his heart. Just a little more, buddy. You’ve come this far, just stay cool for a little while longer.
He puffed his cheeks and stayed focused, ignoring the threat of the fangheads, ignoring the burn in his shoulder, ignoring the itch in his jelly legs. It was a test. All a test. And, man, he was passing with flying colors. Just a little more to go...
He brushed past more litter on the sidewalk. His Ford drew closer...
Come on, come on. He felt like a dog that was having a fat steak dangled over it just high enough that it was out of its reach. He was so close, so close, so—
“HEY! YOU! ASSHOLE!”
Dom’s heart kicked. He spun toward 1428. His eyes bulged. The two guards were running his way. They were in a mad panic, their faces twisted in anger.
Oh, crap...
Dom didn’t hang around. He immediately turned and began pumping his legs. It wasn’t easy; Drake’s weight was slowing him down. There was no way he could hit top speed. In no time, his legs and chest were burning, and he’d hardly got anywhere. He pushed on as hard as he could. Just one final effort, buddy! Just make it to that car! JUST MAKE IT!
He saw a small trash bag at the last second. He managed to hop over it just in time, clipping the top of it with the front of his sneaker. If he’d tripped...
Forget that!
He regained his balance with his next stride, fear and adrenaline juddering through his veins. Behind him, he could hear their rabid panting, their feet beating on the sidewalk like a tribal drum.
He kept going, that garage drawing tantalizingly close.
“Stop! Hey!” he heard one of them shout in between breaths. “Stop!”
Dom didn’t stop. Instead, he pumped his legs and free arm ferociously, his own breathing hot and ragged.
“Come on, Jeff!” Dom then heard one of them say.
“I’m tryin’, dude!” Jeff said back in a wheezy voice.
Dom realized Jeff wasn’t up to the chase. It gave him hope.
He put more juice into his limbs. He groaned under the strain, then hit the glory of the garage forecourt. His heart jumped into his throat again. His car sat there, waiting for him like a long lost brother. He pulled up, throwing out a hand. He managed to pop the trunk; the lid flew up. The empty trunk was waiting.
Dom went to dump the rug in there when the horror of a hand landed on his shoulder. He yelped. He spun instinctively toward it. For a split second, he was fronted by the guard that wasn’t Jeff, his face pinched in anger. That changed once the rug swung around and smashed into the side of his head with a dull thud. The fanghead grunted; the force of the blow sent him reeling across the sidewalk. He smashed headfirst into a streetlight with a comical dang! sound. He hit the floor in a painful heap, groaning, and rubbing his head.
Dom grinned at the irony. “Nice one, Drake!” he said to the rug, giving it a quick pat with his free hand. His eyes then zoned in on the street; a huffing and puffing Jeff was making his way up to them both. He held out a tired hand. “Hey!” he managed.
Dom didn’t wanna give him a chance. He dumped Drake into the trunk. One end of the rug stuck out the side. Dom huffed. He squashed it in with his hands, then stamped on it with his foot, squeezing it in as best he could. He brought the lid of the boot down. It wouldn’t close. “Come on! Come on!” He stammered through clenched teeth as he pushed it down a few times. Then, finally, it clicked shut. “Snug as a bug!” Dom said as he made a dash for the driver’s seat. Before he got in. He checked on the guards. The one he floored was making his way back up to his feet. Jeff was now a few yards away. He seemed to be picking up a second wind. Dom threw his car door open and jumped in. His keys fumbled in his hands; he almost dropped them and if he had, they would’ve got him. Instead, he got the final bit of luck he needed. The key jabbed smoothly into the ignition. He yanked it around; the engine jumped into life. He cranked into reverse and slammed the gas; the tires squealed. The car shot back onto the street, the unnamed fanghead now on his feet. He jumped out of the way in the nick of time. Dom spun the wheel; the car swung around with a screech. He hit the brakes. He came to an abrupt stop. Jeff had finally caught up. He was in the middle of the road, fronting Dom. He stood with his arms out to the sides like a Sumo wrestler about to lunge.
Dom honked his horn. “Get outta the road!” he screamed. Jeff stayed where he was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dom saw the other guard heading toward the car, rage stamped all over his face.
Dom slammed the gas. The tires screeched across the tarmac. He shot forward, playing chicken with Jeff. “It’s you or MEEEEE!” Dom shouted, pushing his foot down harder.
He saw the whites of Jeff’s eyeballs before he chickened out and jumped out of the way. Jeff smashed the side of Dom’s car as he shot past. There was a loud crack. Dom flinched. He hit the gas harder, switching through the gears, picking up speed. He checked his rear view with frantic eyes to see both fangheads, Jeff on his ass in the middle of the road, getting smaller and smaller. He checked the road ahead, then checked his rear view again. Now they were tiny specks in his mirror.
And he’d made a clean escape.
A wave of relief surged up into his chest, almost causing him to collapse back in his seat; he just about held on. He wiped the grimy sweat from his face as he shot through the streets. That was so freakin intense, I think I’m gonna have a heart attack! He let out a rueful chuckle and his heart calmed to a normal beat.
Thank God that’s over!
He grabbed his chest and rubbed it.
Now, he thought. Now to get them hard earned dollars. He put his foot down, keen to get out of the inner city, where he’d hit the highway up to Beauchamp’s mansion. He wound down his window and sucked in the polluted city air as it rushed into the car. Right then, it felt like Heaven.