by Darren Shan
We ran in that way for a few minutes, Sam and the wolf-man way in front and out of sight, me trailing behind. My legs were beginning to get really tired, but I forced myself on.
I thought about what I’d do when I caught up. There was no way I could beat the wolf-man in a fair fight. I could smash him over the head with a stick or something, but probably not. He was strong and fast, and had the taste for human blood. He’d be pretty much unstoppable.
The most I could hope to do was throw myself in his path and take Sam’s place. If I offered myself instead of Sam, maybe he’d take me and Sam could escape.
I wouldn’t mind dying for Sam. I’d given up my humanity for one friend; it wasn’t asking so much more to give up my life for another.
Besides, this way, if I died, it would be for a good cause. I wouldn’t have to worry anymore about drinking human blood or starving to death. I could go down fighting.
After a few more minutes, I ran into a clearing and realized where Sam had led us: the old deserted railroad station.
It showed he was still thinking clearly. This was the best place to come, with plenty of hiding spots and lots of stuff — chunks of metal and glass — to use in a fight. Maybe neither of us would have to die. Maybe there was a chance we could win this battle.
I saw the wolf-man pause in the middle of the station yard and sniff the air. He howled again, a loud spine-shivering howl, then sprinted toward one of the rusty train cars.
I ran around the back of the car, moving as quietly as I could. I listened for sounds when I got there but couldn’t hear anything. I lifted myself up and looked in one of the windows: nothing.
I lowered myself and slid along to the third window over. I couldn’t see anything when I looked inside again.
I was lifting myself to peek in the next window, when I suddenly saw a metal bar moving toward my face at high speed.
I twisted to my side just in time to avoid it. It whistled by my face, scratching me but not doing any serious damage.
“Sam, stop, it’s me!” I hissed, dropping to the ground. There was silence for a moment, then Sam’s face appeared in the round window.
“Darren?” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“I followed you,” I said.
“I thought you were the wolf-man. I was trying to kill you.”
“You practically did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For God’s sake, Sam, don’t waste time apologizing,” I snapped. “We’re in big trouble. We’ve got to think. Get out here quick.”
He backed away from the window. There were soft shuffling sounds, then he appeared outside the car door. He looked to make sure the wolf-man wasn’t around, jumped down, and crept over to me.
“Where is he?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “He’s around somewhere, though. I saw him coming in this direction.”
“Maybe he found something else to attack.” Sam whispered back hopefully. “A sheep or a cow.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said. “He wouldn’t have run all this way just to abandon the chase at the very end.”
We huddled close together, Sam covering the right with his eyes, me the left. I could feel his body trembling, and I’m sure he could feel mine shaking, too.
“What are we going to do?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Any ideas?”
“A couple,” he said. “We could lead him into the guard’s house. He might fall through the rotten floor-boards. We could trap him down there.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But what if we fall through, too? We’d be trapped. He could jump down and eat us whenever he liked.”
“How about the rafters?” Sam asked. “We could climb out into the middle of a rafter and hang on, back to back. We could take sticks with us and beat him off if he attacked. There’d only be one way for him to come at us up there.”
“And somebody’s got to arrive from the Cirque Du Freak sooner or later,” I whispered, thinking it over. “But what if he decides to snap the rafter at one end?”
“They’re set pretty deeply into brick,” Sam said. “I don’t think he could break them with his bare hands.”
“Would a rafter hold the weight of three of us?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sam admitted. “But at least if we fell from that height it’d be over quickly. Who knows, we might get lucky and fall on the wolf-man. He could break our fall and get killed in the process.”
I laughed weakly. “You watch too many cartoons. But that’s a good idea. Better than any I can think of.”
“How long do you think it’ll be before the people from the Cirque get here?” Sam whispered.
“Depends on when they realize what’s happening,” I said. “If we’re lucky, they’ll have heard him howling and might be here in a couple of minutes. Otherwise we might have to wait until the end of the show, which could be another hour, maybe longer.”
“Do you have a weapon?” Sam asked.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t have time to pick anything up.”
He handed me a short iron bar. “Here,” he said. “I had this for backup. It’s not very good, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Any sign of the wolf-man?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
“We’d better get going before he arrives,” I whispered, then stopped. “How are we going to get to the guard’s house? It’s a far hike, and the wolf-man could be hiding anywhere along the way.”
“We’ll have to run for it and hope for the best,” Sam said.
“Should we split up?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I think we’re better off together.” “Okay. Are you ready to start?”
“Gimme a few seconds,” he said.
I turned and watched him breathing. His face was white, and his clothes were ripped and dirty from running through the woods, but he looked ready to fight. He was a tough little character.
“Why did you come back tonight, Sam?” I whispered.
“To join the Cirque Du Freak,” he answered. “Even after everything I told you about me?”
“I decided to risk it,” he said. “I mean, you’re my friend. We have to stick by our friends, right? Your story made me want to join more, once I’d recovered from being scared. Maybe I could have helped you. I’ve read books about personality disorders. Maybe I could have cured you.”
I couldn’t help smiling in the middle of this horrifying moment we were in. “You’re a moron, Sam Grest,” I whispered.
“I know.” He smiled. “So are you. That’s why we make a good team.”
“If we get out of this,” I told him, “feel free to join. And you don’t have to worry about me eating you. That was just a story to frighten you off.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” I said.
“Phew.” He wiped his brow. “I can rest easy now.” “You can if the wolf-man doesn’t get you,” I said with a grin.
“Ready yet?”
“I’m ready.” He squeezed his palms and prepared to run. “On the count of three,” he whispered.
“Okay,” I replied.
“One,” he began.
We faced in the direction of the guard’s house. “Two.”
We got in position to sprint.
“Thr—”
Before he could finish, a pair of hairy hands darted out from underneath the car, where — I realized too late — the wolf-man was hiding. The fingers wrapped around Sam’s lower legs, grabbed him by the ankles, and dragged him down to the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sam started to scream as soon as the hands tightened on his ankles. The fall knocked the breath out of him, silencing him momentarily, but after a second or two he was screaming again.
I scrambled to my knees, grabbed Sam’s arms, and pulled as hard as I could.
I could see the wolf-man underneath the car, spread out on his hairy belly
and grinning wildly. Drool was dripping from his jaws.
I pulled with all my might, and Sam slid toward me. But the wolf-man came with him, wriggling out from under the car, not loosening his grip.
I stopped pulling and let go of Sam. I grabbed the iron bar that he’d dropped, jumped to my feet, and began pounding the outstretched arms of the wolf-man, who howled angrily.
The wolf-man released one of his hairy paws and swatted at me. I ducked out of the way and struck at the hand still holding Sam. The wolf-man yelped with pain and his fingers came free.
“Run!” I screamed to Sam as I yanked him to his feet.
We sprinted toward the guard’s house, side by side. I could hear the wolf-man scrambling out from beneath the car. He’d been playing with us before, but now he was furious. I knew he’d come at us with everything he had. The games were over. There was no way we’d make it to the guard’s house. He’d have us before we were halfway across the yard.
“Keep ...running,” I gasped to Sam, then stopped momentarily and looked back to meet the charge of the oncoming wolf-man.
My actions took him by surprise, and he ran into me. His body was hairy and sweaty and heavy. The collision sent both of us flying to the ground. Our arms and legs were all tangled up, but I quickly freed myself and whacked him with the iron bar.
The wolf-man roared angrily and swiped at my arm. This time he connected, just below where it joined with my shoulder. The force of the blow deadened my arm, which became a useless lump of flesh and bone. I dropped the bar, then reached for it with my other hand.
But the wolf-man was quicker. He snatched up the bar and tossed it far away, where it fell with a clang, lost to the darkness.
He stood slowly, grinning nastily. I could read the expression in his eyes and knew, if he could speak, he would be saying something like: “Now, Darren Shan, you’re mine! You had your fun and games, but now it’s killing time!”
He grabbed my body by the sides, opened his mouth wide, and leaned forward to bite my face off. I could smell the stench of his breath and see bits of meat and shirt from R.V.’s arms stuck between his yellow teeth.
Before he could snap his jaws shut, something hit the side of his head and knocked him off-balance.
I could see Sam behind him, a heavy chunk of wood in his hands. He hit the wolf-man again, this time making his hands let go.
“One good turn deserves another!” Sam screamed crazily, slamming the wood into the wolf-man for a third time. “Come on! We have to —”
I never heard Sam’s next words. Because as I started toward him, the wolf-man lashed out blindly with one of his fists. It was a wild shot, but he got lucky and it slammed into my face, knocking me backward.
My head almost exploded. I saw bright lights and huge stars, then slumped to the ground, passed out.
When I came to a few seconds or minutes later — I don’t even know how much time had passed — the railroad station was eerily quiet. I couldn’t hear anybody running or screaming or fighting. All I could hear was a steady munching sound, a little way ahead of me.
Munch, munch, munch.
I sat up slowly, ignoring the hammering pain in my head.
It took my eyes a few seconds to readjust to the darkness. When I could see again, I realized I was gazing at the back of the wolf-man. He was crouched on all fours, head bent over something. He was the one making the munching sounds.
The dizziness from the punch meant it took me a while to realize it wasn’t a something he was eating . . . it was a someone.
SAM!!!
I scrambled to my feet, pain forgotten, and rushed forward, but one look at the bloody mess beneath the wolf-man and I knew I was too late.
“NO!” I screamed and punched the wolf-man with my one good hand, attacking senselessly.
He grunted and shoved me away. I sprang back and this time kicked as well as punched. He growled and tried shoving again, but I held on and pulled his hair and ears.
He howled then and finally lifted his mouth. It was red, a dark, awful red, full of guts and blood and pieces of flesh and bone.
He rolled on top of me, forcing me down, and pinned me with one long, hairy arm. His head shot back and he howled up at the night sky. Then, with a demonic snarl, he drove his teeth toward my throat, meaning to finish me off with one quick bite.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
At the last possible moment, a pair of hands appeared out of the darkness and grabbed the wolf-man’s jaw, stopping his plunge.
The hands twisted the head to one side, causing the wolf-man to shriek and fall off me.
His attacker climbed onto his back and held him down. I saw fists flying faster than my eyes could follow, and then the wolf-man was lying unconscious on the ground.
His attacker stood and pulled me to my feet. I found myself gazing up into the flushed, scarred face of Mr. Crepsley.
“I came as soon as I could,” the vampire said somberly, turning my head gently to the left and right, examining the damage. “Evra heard the howls of the wolf-man. He did not know about you and the boy. He just thought the creature had burst free.
“Evra told Mr. Tall, who canceled the rest of the show and organized a search party. Then I thought of you. When I saw your bed was empty, I searched around and found your trail.”
“I thought ...I was going to . . . die,” I moaned, finding it hard to speak. I was bruised all over and suffering from shock. “I was certain. I thought ...nobody would come. I . . .”
I threw my good arm around Mr. Crepsley and hugged him hard.
“Thank you,” I sobbed. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank —”
I stopped, remembering my fallen friend.
“Sam!” I screamed. I let go of Mr. Crepsley and rushed to where he was lying.
The wolf-man had torn Sam’s stomach open and eaten a lot of his insides. Amazingly, Sam was still alive when I got to him. His eyelids were fluttering, and he was breathing lightly.
“Sam, are you okay?” I whispered. It was a stupid question, but the only one my trembling lips could form. “Sam?” I brushed his forehead with my fingers, but he showed no signs of hearing or feeling me. He just lay there, with his eyes staring up at me.
Mr. Crepsley knelt down beside me and checked Sam’s body.
“Can you save him?” I cried. He shook his head slowly. “You have to!” I shouted. “You can close the wounds. We can call a doctor. You can give him a potion. There must be some way to —”
“Darren,” he said softly, “there is nothing we can do. He is dying. The damage is too great. Another couple of minutes and . . .” He sighed. “At least he is beyond feeling. There will be no pain.”
“No!” I screamed, and threw myself onto Sam. I was crying bitterly, sobbing so hard it hurt.
“Sam! You can’t die! Sam! Stay alive! You can join the Cirque and travel with us all over the world. You can . . . you . . .”
I could say no more, only lower my head, cling to Sam, and let the tears pour down my face.
In the deserted old railroad yard, the wolf-man lay unconscious behind me. Mr. Crepsley sat silently by my side. Underneath me, Sam Grest — who’d been my friend and saved my life — lay perfectly still and slipped further and further into the final sleep of an unfair and horrible death.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After a while, I felt somebody tugging at the sleeve of my left arm. I looked around. Mr. Crepsley was standing over me, looking miserable.
“Darren,” he said, “it will not seem like the right time, but there is something you must do. For Sam’s sake. And your own.”
“What are you talking about?” I wiped some of the tears from my face and stared up at him. “Can we save him? Tell me if we can. I’ll do anything.”
“There is nothing we can do to save his body,” Mr. Crepsley told me. “He is dying and nothing can change that. But there is something we can do for his spirit.
“Darren,” he said, “you must drink Sam’s blood.” I went
on staring at him, but now it was a stare of disbelief, not hope.
“How could you?” I whispered with disgust. “One of my best friends is dying, and all you can think about ...You’re sick! You’re a sick, twisted monster. You should be dying, not Sam. I hate you. Get out of here.”
“You do not understand,” he said.
“Yes I do!” I screamed. “Sam’s dying, but all you’re worried about is blooding me. Do you know what you are? You’re a no-good —”
“Do you remember our discussion about vampires being able to absorb part of a person’s spirit?” he asked.
I was just about to call him something awful, but his question confused me.
“What’s that got to do with this?” I asked. “Darren, this is important. Do you remember?” “Yes,” I said softly. “What about it?”
“Sam is dying,” Mr. Crepsley said. “A few more minutes and he will be gone. Forever. But you can keep part of him alive within you if you drink from him now and take his life before the wounds of the wolf-man can.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You want me to kill Sam?” I screamed.
“No,” he sighed. “Sam has already been killed. But if you finish him off before he dies from the bites of the wolf-man, you will save some of his memories and feelings. In you he can live on.”
I shook my head. “I can’t drink his blood,” I whispered. “Not Sam’s.” I glanced down at the small, savaged body. “I can’t.”
Mr. Crepsley sighed. “I will not force you to,” he said. “But think carefully about it. What happened tonight is a tragedy that will haunt you for a very long time, but if you drink from Sam and absorb part of his essence, dealing with his death will be easier. Losing a loved one is hard. This way, you need not lose all of him.”
“I can’t drink from him,” I sobbed. “He was my friend.”
“It is because he was your friend that you must,” Mr. Crepsley said, then turned away and left me to decide.
I stared down at Sam. He looked so lifeless, like he’d already lost everything that made him human, alive, unique. I thought of his jokes and long words and hopes and dreams, and how awful it would be if all of that just disappeared with his death.
