vampire inside. The VVV had momentarily escaped my mind in the thrill of discovery. “We have to go help them—”
“ My son. That is the road of turmoil, the path of punishment, the concourse of calamity to go to them. They are beyond help.”
I tried to come up with my own little metaphorical comparison. “Like...the trail of trouble...or maybe the highway of...the highway of...
“ I suggest you pay attention, because it’s all about to go down the highway to hell any moment now.”
“ Yeah. Highway to hell. That’s it.”
We waited in the darkness. A part of me wanted to help them, be with my friends and my future lover. But the sensible part of me knew they were doomed. When that would happen, I didn’t exactly know, but I had a feeling that’s what we were waiting for.
Yes, it is an odd feeling knowing your friends and future lover were in a heap of caca and you knew it was coming.
And that’s when I heard a male voice, probably, Buddy, shout for everyone to move aside while they opened it. They were so excited, they hadn’t even noticed our absence.
The professor’s grip on my shoulder tightened. I needed something to grip. I reached over to a dangling branch and, in my anticipation, squeezed all the juice and life out of it.
We were a good fifty yards from the grave. But I swear, even from that distance I heard the creaking of something very old being opened, like the doors on a ghost-town saloon.
A chorus of moans erupted in the night.
I couldn’t help myself. “Damn!”
The professor eased his grip on my shoulder.
And that’s when the sirens blasted the silent night. My heart slammed into my rib cage. Headlights suddenly poured into the graveyard through the entrance, followed by one clear, deep, unidentifiable voice: “Police! Hold it right there.”
“ Come,” said the professor, heading deeper into the tunnel of vegetation. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-six
My mind was abuzz, and not in that good way, either.
My friends were no doubt assuming the position on some squad car, with Dial in the background living it up with his buddies. They would have noticed that we were missing and would be searching for us now, no doubt quizzing my friends rather ruthlessly as to our whereabouts. I was glad they honestly did not know. No doubt an organization as far-reaching as the VVV possessed some drug that would cause my loyal friends to spill their guts and then some.
The idea of torture passed through my mind, but it was too horrible to contemplate. The image of a battered and bruised Janice blazed in my mind. I shuddered, horrified. If they split one hair on Janice’s head—
“ Hurry,” the professor whispered.
A clumpish crypt awaited us at the end of the tunnel.
Tombstone and other marble markers were plentiful, and as we cut across the graveyard, I made absolutely sure I stepped on nobody’s grave. We already had vampire hunters and cops on our tails, we didn’t need spooks and phantoms after us as well.
It appeared we were headed to the rear of the cemetery. Perhaps there was a back gate, or else we’d have to climb over the fence and take our chances in the woods.
Shouts and yells erupted behind us.
“ They might be on to us,” the professor rasped, and I realized the professor might not be able to keep this pace much longer.
So I let the old guy set whatever pace he was sure would prolong his imminent heart attack the longest, and soon enough we reached the surrounding iron fence. And, of course, there was no back exit.
“ Why would they need a back gate?” asked the professor.
“ Heck, if I were hauled into a cemetery, I’d want to make a fast exit, wouldn’t you?”
“ So one would suppose.”
“ So what now, Professor?”
“ Now we climb. Or rather you push me up and over, and then you climb.”
I was of average height and slender and muscular and basically not that bad looking, if I did say so myself. Anyway, I stooped
“ My son. That is the road of turmoil, the path of punishment, the concourse of calamity to go to them. They are beyond help.”
I tried to come up with my own little metaphorical comparison. “Like...the trail of trouble...or maybe the highway of...the highway of...
“ I suggest you pay attention, because it’s all about to go down the highway to hell any moment now.”
“ Yeah. Highway to hell. That’s it.”
We waited in the darkness. A part of me wanted to help them, be with my friends and my future lover. But the sensible part of me knew they were doomed. When that would happen, I didn’t exactly know, but I had a feeling that’s what we were waiting for.
Yes, it is an odd feeling knowing your friends and future lover were in a heap of caca and you knew it was coming.
And that’s when I heard a male voice, probably, Buddy, shout for everyone to move aside while they opened it. They were so excited, they hadn’t even noticed our absence.
The professor’s grip on my shoulder tightened. I needed something to grip. I reached over to a dangling branch and, in my anticipation, squeezed all the juice and life out of it.
We were a good fifty yards from the grave. But I swear, even from that distance I heard the creaking of something very old being opened, like the doors on a ghost-town saloon.
A chorus of moans erupted in the night.
I couldn’t help myself. “Damn!”
The professor eased his grip on my shoulder.
And that’s when the sirens blasted the silent night. My heart slammed into my rib cage. Headlights suddenly poured into the graveyard through the entrance, followed by one clear, deep, unidentifiable voice: “Police! Hold it right there.”
“ Come,” said the professor, heading deeper into the tunnel of vegetation. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-six
My mind was abuzz, and not in that good way, either.
My friends were no doubt assuming the position on some squad car, with Dial in the background living it up with his buddies. They would have noticed that we were missing and would be searching for us now, no doubt quizzing my friends rather ruthlessly as to our whereabouts. I was glad they honestly did not know. No doubt an organization as far-reaching as the VVV possessed some drug that would cause my loyal friends to spill their guts and then some.
The idea of torture passed through my mind, but it was too horrible to contemplate. The image of a battered and bruised Janice blazed in my mind. I shuddered, horrified. If they split one hair on Janice’s head—
“ Hurry,” the professor whispered.
A clumpish crypt awaited us at the end of the tunnel.
Tombstone and other marble markers were plentiful, and as we cut across the graveyard, I made absolutely sure I stepped on nobody’s grave. We already had vampire hunters and cops on our tails, we didn’t need spooks and phantoms after us as well.
It appeared we were headed to the rear of the cemetery. Perhaps there was a back gate, or else we’d have to climb over the fence and take our chances in the woods.
Shouts and yells erupted behind us.
“ They might be on to us,” the professor rasped, and I realized the professor might not be able to keep this pace much longer.
So I let the old guy set whatever pace he was sure would prolong his imminent heart attack the longest, and soon enough we reached the surrounding iron fence. And, of course, there was no back exit.
“ Why would they need a back gate?” asked the professor.
“ Heck, if I were hauled into a cemetery, I’d want to make a fast exit, wouldn’t you?”
“ So one would suppose.”
“ So what now, Professor?”
“ Now we climb. Or rather you push me up and over, and then you climb.”
I was of average height and slender and muscular and basically not that bad looking, if I did say so myself. Anyway, I stooped
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