Dracula (A Modern Telling)
Page 19
It was dark and wet and Harker could feel a breeze though he knew no doors or windows could be down there. Van Helsing had flashlights and he saw that torches lined a great corridor. He lit three of them and passed them around. With enough illumination to at least see where they were walking, they began their descent.
The castle floors soon turned to earth and the breeze felt like wind, attacking the illumination of the torches. The corridor narrowed and then opened wide onto a massive floor. Chains hung from the ceiling and wooden crates filled the space, along with relics that could have come from a medieval fairytale.
DR. SEWARD’S EVERNOTE JOURNAL
October 5
I was stunned for most of the time we searched this great castle. We had just killed three of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Killed. Perhaps that isn’t the right word. They were already dead. Statues that ran on living blood. Still, the severed head of a beautiful women that only a moment before was begging for her life is difficult to take in.
The mood was tense as the sun began to set. We had a feeling, all of us, that if darkness enveloped us, we would not leave the place alive.
We were upstairs searching a room filled with paintings when Jonathan called out to us. The paintings were exquisite, but absolutely terrifying. Something about them said they should have been destroyed long ago and were in existence well past their fated time.
“What is it?” Quincy yelled down.
“We’re checking the bottom floor. Come with us,” Jonathan yelled back.
We made our way down. It wasn’t really a bottom floor, like a basement per se, it was like an escape tunnel, dug out of the earth below the great structure. As we walked down the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel what I thought was wind, but unlike any wind I had ever experienced. The air itself was warm but sent shivers up and down my body when it touched me. Van Helsing, who had blood stained into his clothing, and appeared as if he would pass out at any moment, found torches and lit them. Rather than the light comforting us, seeing the ancient brick walls and the dirt floor only heightened our fear.
We walked the corridor until we came to a massive hall. It easily looked like some middle-ages blacksmith’s floor. I could picture weapons being forged there, and armor and shields. Wooden crates took up the spaces on all sides.
We looked to each other, and without a word began opening the crates. Even Van Helsing helped as best he could with the injury he had. I had managed to stitch the wound mostly closed but we needed a medical facility immediately, as well as a massive infusion of antibiotics. The castle was filthy. Even the air seemed to carry pestilence and I was afraid too much time there would lead to infection.
The only one that wasn’t helping was Mina, who stood by the entryway, staring out like a doe at something incomprehensible.
The room was soon filled with the clatter of wood hitting the ground as we worked. I kept checking my phone, which hadn’t had service the entire time we’d been in the mountains. But I wasn’t looking to make a call. I was checking the time. The Almanac I had looked up before we came said the sun would set at 6:12 pm. It was now 5:24 pm.
I couldn’t help but think what exactly these crates were used for. There were so many, some stacked on top of others, that I thought perhaps the Count had been planning to move somewhere. Or maybe he already had and this was just what had been left over.
I took the lid from one crate and began to move it aside … and felt nothing but pain.
Something exploded out of the crate, earth and splinters and wood slamming into my face. I was thrown back onto the ground as a loud roar filled my ears. I saw only flashes of movement. Jonathan swung with his machete, hitting something.
I could see the figure now before my eyes. It was the Count, a massive wound across his throat from Jonathan’s swing. Van Helsing rushed over and pressed one of his circular tabs into the beast’s forehead. The flesh began to sizzle as the creature gasped for air. He still had to breath after all, I thought.
Dracula spun in the air like an acrobat and landed on Quincy, tearing into him like a jaguar. I heard sinew and bone ripped out of his body as he screamed. Arthur pulled out a blade and rushed him but was knocked back like some doll.
I took a deep breath, fear nearly making my knees buckle, and ran in.
Leaping on top of him, I wrapped my arm around his throat just under the chin so he couldn’t bite me. He felt like stone underneath me as he jumped into the air at least ten feet and spun around, forcing me to land on my back and absorb the blow. The machete I had in my other hand flew away from me into the darkness.
The wind was knocked out of me but I didn’t let go of his throat. I knew if I did it would mean death. Van Helsing ran at him again and pressed the tab to his lips. They burned and sizzled as the creature shrieked and flung me away from him.
The burn had weakened him. Jonathan lifted his machete.
“No!”
Mina sprinted over and threw herself in front of him.
“Mina, get out of the way!”
“No, Jonathan. Leave him alone.” She grabbed the machete that had been knocked out of my hand. She held it up, threatening us with it like she had lost her mind. She helped the creature to its feet, backing away from the men. “Don’t touch him!”
The creature was choking on its own blood as it emptied out of its body onto the dirty floor. Dracula, the great Dracula, was not immortal.
Jonathan went to grab Mina when Van Helsing stopped him. “Let her go,” he said calmly.
“She’s my wife.”
“I know, I’m sorry. But you must let her go.”
Mina helped the creature as she backed away into the blackness. I could see candlelight off to the side. I stood up, feeling pain in every inch of my body, when I noticed that Quincy was lying on the ground. We ran to him. His throat had been ripped out.
“Quincy,” Arthur gasped.
As the man died, I turned to Mina. I walked over to her and saw that the small room she was in was a chapel. The creature had kept a chapel close to where he slept. Suddenly, I felt sorry for him in a way I didn’t think I would.
Mina bent down over him, tears flowing down her cheeks onto his face.
“My God has forsaken me,” the creature said. “It is finished.”
“My love, my love. I am with you always.” She kissed him passionately and slowly withdrew her lips.
“Give me peace.”
Mina, weeping, gently laid him down, kissing him once more on the forehead, before swinging her machete with both hands, and severing his head from his body.
She collapsed onto the floor, and Jonathan ran past me to her. I turned away, and began walking out of the castle. I could hear Van Helsing when he said, “We have become God’s madmen. All of us.”
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BY VICTOR METHOS
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Earl Lindquist: Accountant and Zombie Killer
Philosophical Fiction
Existentialism and Death on a Paris Afternoon
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