When you’re in a fight with a vampire, you don’t have a lot of advantages. My vampire had this I’m-invincible-so-I-can-toy-with-you-for-a-bit-before-killing-you thing going. It wasn’t much, but in the end it was enough.
Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. I didn’t want to be stuck at home alone, but had nowhere else to go. So while little monsters and princesses where getting their fill of candy and slutty nurses were throwing back shots, I was still at my desk working on TPS reports.
The sound of lips smacking in the silence of the office rang out like a clap of lightning. I looked up to see a man in a slate grey suit sitting on the edge of Harold’s desk. His black silk shirt lay unbuttoned at the top revealing skin as smooth and pale as milk. Wavy black hair fell perfectly in place, nearly to his shoulders. The way his dark eyes stared at me immediately gave me chills.
I was so shocked by his presence that I could not speak. (Though I may have squeaked out a very short high-pitched scream.) A list of questions flew through my mind, but before I could pick one to ask he spoke in a low rasp that made the hair on my arms stand up.
This was not the kind of guy you could ever forget meeting. So how the hell did he know my name? How long had I been watched? What else did this stranger know about me? My voice cracked when I finally found the nerve to speak.
“How did you get in here? And how do you know my name?”
A small smirk lifted the edges of his mouth. He raised a finger and rubbed his lips for a moment before slowly pointing to the front of my desk. I looked down and saw my nameplate sitting there. Idiot! Maybe I was overreacting a bit.
“Oh… Well, what are you doing in here? You scared me half to death.”
A low rumble of a laugh rose from his throat, but never split his lips.
“Excellent. Then you are halfway to where you need to be.”
“Look man, just tell me why you’re here or I’m calling the cops.”
I tried to sound forceful, but I could tell that the tremble in my voice did not exactly strike fear into him. At least it didn’t crack again.
“Fair enough. I have come to kill you and drink your blood. I’d prefer to terrify and torture you a bit first because adrenaline really enhances the flavor and because it’s fun.”
You know how in the movies when a bad guy tells his plan and the good guy says something sarcastic and witty, then the bad guy gets mad because of how calm, cool, and smart the good guy is? That didn’t happen. I’m pretty sure I said, “Umm…”
The good news is that while he was waiting for my snarky retort, I was formulating a plan in my head. Clearly this guy was nuts and probably dangerous. My plan was simple. Call the police and get out of there.
I picked up the phone on my desk and dialed 9-1-1, flicking my eyes up to watch the psycho between each number. He dusted something off his perfectly pressed pants and slid off of Harold’s desk. I backed up. I heard about half of the first ring before his fist slammed through the keypad, sending bits of the phone across my desk like shrapnel.
Survival instincts took over and I started doing things without even thinking. I ripped open my desk drawer and grabbed a letter opener. Without taking my eyes off of him I kicked my chair away and backed up holding the letter opener out in front of me. After switching my makeshift knife to my left hand I dug my cell phone out of my pocket with my right.
Creepy guy had not moved since obliterating my desk phone. When my foot kicked the filing cabinets behind me and knew I had run out of space. The exit door was on the other side of the freak, but at least I had about twenty feet and my desk between us.
I dialed 9-1-1 again quickly in one glance and waited for the ring with my eyes locked on the crazy guy. He seemed unnaturally calm as if he had done all this before. I must have looked down a the floor for a split second. Suddenly I felt the icy grip of a fist around my wrist. No one could move that fast. No one. And without a sound.
My heart began to pound against my chest. I looked up and saw that this guys eyes were completely black. If eyes truly are the windows to the soul then nothing but death lived in this man.
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held me with a gentle strength, like a parent controlling a small child. Fear began to shake my body in small tremors. I did the only thing I could think of and drove the letter opener into his wrist hoping he would release my hand that held the phone.
He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he smiled and when he did I saw his fangs for the first time. Two long spikes of death curved down to his lower jaw. My knees gave out for a second, but his grip on my wrist held me up. He waited patiently for me to regain my legs before reaching up and extracting the blade from his wrist.
As he pulled the tip free of his flesh his skin melted like wax back into place, leaving no sign that I had just shoved a metal spike through his arm. He dropped the letter opener and with his other hand pulled the cell phone from my hand.
“Do you have the new Plants vs. Zombies on here?”
I shook my head. He seemed genuinely disappointed as he released my wrist and crushed my last hope of rescue between his hands.
I had always wondered if I was more of a fight or flight guy, but after seeing what he could do to a phone I decided that flight was easily the best option. I juked left and took off around him to the right. As far as I know he never even tried to stop me. I was intent on not making any classic horror movie mistakes and never looked back as I bolted for the exit.
I was shocked when I made it to the door without being tackled and impaled from behind. My hand shot as soon as the door was within reach and grabbed the handle. It turned smoothly in my hand, but when I pulled it wouldn’t open. I pulled again with all my might, but the door wouldn’t budge. That’s when I heard the cruel chuckle from above.
I looked up to see my torturer crouched on the wall above the door. He was holding the door closed with only his middle finger and smiling like a little boy who knows he won’t get in trouble.
In that moment I felt so powerless. It’s a feeling I’ve experienced often and hated my whole life. I know it sounds weird, but I suddenly cared more about being humiliated than dying. My fear peeled away leaving behind a thick layer of anger. I stepped back, curled my hands into fists, and screamed at him.
From his perch above me I could see his eyes widen in surprise. But like any good bully he knew how to remind me of my place in our little game. Without a sound, he dropped down in front of me and poked my forehead.
I realize that being poked doesn’t sound that bad, but remember that this is a vampire poke. His razor sharp fingernail split my skin open like wet paper, leaving a 2-inch gash that started pouring blood down my face, while the force of the poke sent me flying backwards as if I had just been hit with a sledge hammer. So yeah, not your average poke.
Sometime after I hit the ground, I saw that he was leaning over me. His eyes were closed and his face was tilted to one side. After a deep inhale his eyes popped open. For a second I thought he might be far sighted because he wasn’t quite looking me in the eyes, but when he spoke I realized what he had been looking at.
“Oh Dave! Your blood smells fantastic. Maybe just a touch more adrenaline…”
Dental hygiene must not be a big priority for vampires because his breath was nasty. It smelled like something had died in… Actually, that makes more sense now.
As much as I hate to admit it, lying there on the cheap carpet of our office floor, I gave up.
“Just kill me already.”
“Dave, Dave, Dave… That’s no fun! You should take time and enjoy your food. Make it an experience. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Help me enjoy this meal and I won’t eat your wife and kids.”
I never thought being inept at love would ever make me so happy, but I was truly grateful for being single as this monster tried to threaten me.
“I’m not married. And I won’t help you enjoy eating me.”
He snarled and when he did his fangs grew longer. As hard as I tried to stay calm, I couldn’t help my heart from racing at the sight of those two white spears. The snarl slowly turned into a wicked smile. A fist grabbed my shirt and he whipped me off the floor and to my feet. His thumb wiped off some of the blood still seeping from my wound and he rubbed it between his fingers just beneath his nose.
“Dave, you disappoint me. We live in the age of Facebook and Google. Everybody has somebody. Parents. Siblings. Friends. I could eat them all.”
My fist shot out and caught him across the jaw.
“That’s what you want, right?”
He smiled and licked his lips.
“It’s a start. But you’ll have to do better than that to save your friends.”
My mind was racing with ever movie fight scene I had ever seen. Holding up my left hand I said, “My left is actually my stronger…”
That’s when I kicked him in his vampire nuts. I was really hoping he would go down long enough for me to run, but he just started laughing.
“Good one! Maybe you should try a weapon? I’ll close my eyes and count to 30.”
The first time I went to see The Sixth Sense I heard an usher explaining the ending to a friend on my way in. I’ve struck out in softball with the winning runs on base. One time I was ditched in the middle of date for our waiter. But I have never been more frustrated than being toyed with by this cocky bloodsucker.
I knew that there was nothing I could do to hurt this guy, but if it would save my friends and family then I might as well try. Like most offices, ours was not stocked with weapons. After a quick scan I decided that the janitors closet was probably my best option.
I sprinted to the grey door, praying that it wasn’t locked. The handle turned in my hand and unlike the exit, this door swung open freely. It was dark inside, but enough light from the office filtered in that I could see I really only had two options, spray him in the eyes with Windex or hit him in the face with a mop. I knew that Windex had a greater chance of being effective, but something about the idea of slapping this jerk in the face with a dirty mop made me smile. I grabbed the mop and turned around as he reached “twenty”.
It only took about ten steps to get back to where the monster was standing with his hands over his eyes. I gripped the mop like a bat and swung with all my might. He didn’t even open his eyes, but his hand flew out and grabbed the handle just below the mop as my swing neared his face.
His eyes opened and he looked at me with a wrinkled nose.
“I could smell this coming from a mile away. Hitting is fine, but I will not let this filth touch my Armani.”
With a flick of his wrist he snapped the mop head off the handle and tossed it aside. Our eyes both gravitated to the sharp wooden spike that was left in my hands.
As quickly as I could I pulled it back and stabbed at him, but he stepped aside easily and grabbed my makeshift spear with both hands. The crack of wood splitting made me flinch as he snapped the handle in half and ripped the pieces from my hands. I let out a yelp when the frayed end of one the pieces left a sizable slinter in the top of my thumb.
The sight of me in pain must have heightened his anticipation of what was to come. He licked his lips and stepped closer, slowly inhaling my scent.
“You smell delightful.”
“Well you smell like rotten fish. And your suit looks like a knockoff. Are you sure you didn’t buy it out the back of a van?”
Fire flared in his eyes. He snarled as he snatched me off the ground with one hand and threw me through the window of my boss’ office.
I tried to lay still. Everything hurt. Not only had I tumbled over my boss’ desk and slammed into a file cabinet, but it felt like I had a thousand paper cuts.
Dracula’s bastard was ranting about how he would let his food get away with a lot of things, but an attack of his sense of fashion blah, blah, blah… He seemed pretty pissed which made me smile, even though it hurt.
Part of me just wanted this whole thing to end. If I was gonna be vampire sushi then so be it. But a bigger part of me decided that if I was going to die, I would like to go down fighting. I tried to sit up and found that my left arm was no longer working. The pain that shot through it when I tried to move convinced me that something was broken.
With a series of wiggles and help from my unbroken arm I managed to sit up. There was not too much around that would help me make a final stand other than a fake plant and some broken glass. I reached up and pulled out the center drawer from the desk. It came crashing down on my thighs.
A quick inventory of the contents didn’t give me a lot of hope for an epic comeback. The drawer was mostly filled with the kinds of things you would expect in an office drawer. Pens, scissors, tape, paperclips, etc…
As I slid the drawer off my legs I heard the high-pitched tink of metal on metal. I grabbed the back of the drawer and tilted it up. A small pair of tweezers slid to the front of the drawer.
My first thought was, “What kind of guy keeps tweezers in his desk?” But as I sat there laughing at my boss I got an idea. A wicked smile spread across my lips. MacGyver would be proud.
I almost didn’t finish in time. The crunch of glass told me he was approaching just as I put the last piece of tape on. His dark eyes peered down on me a moment later.
“Get up Dave. I’ve tired of our game and I’m hungry.”
I tried to look as miserable and helpless as possible. It wasn’t hard.
“I think my arm is broken.”
He sighed and walked around the desk as if I was being selfish by making him take an extra five steps to come and eat me. His hands wrapped themselves in my shirt and pulled me up to my feet. Instead of simply letting me go he ripped off my shirt as he pulled his hands free which really pissed me off. I loved that shirt.
It was now or never. What I was about to do was going to hurt like hell, so I took a deep breath. A girlish scream filled the office as I plunged the piece of glass in my right hand deep into his chest. My hand turned to fire as the glass sliced through my skin.
He looked down at the glass sticking out of his black silk shirt with a smirk.
“Oh Dave… I thought we were done wi…”
His face froze mid-sentence and then twitched in pain. It was exactly what I was hoping for and I was ready. I fumbled for the stapler I had half hanging out of my pant pocket. As soon as I pulled it free I swung with all my might and drove the glass deeper into his chest.
My torturer roared in pain and stumbled back against the desk behind him.
“What have you done!?”
For a while I didn’t speak. If this was what it felt like to gloat over someone who was powerless before you, I could understand why this dying vampire enjoyed it so much. I watched his strength fade and decided I wanted him to know how he had been defeated before he died. (Or re-died? I’m not sure what the proper terminology is for killing someone who’s already dead.)
“I saw how much you disliked the idea of getting stabbed with that mop handle and thought there might be some truth to the whole stake through the heart thing. Well I didn’t have a stake, but I did have a little souvenir from the mop. I knew I couldn’t stab your heart with my splinter, but thought that maybe all I needed to do was attach it to something that could get in there. Some clear tape and a glass shard later I had a vampire killing weapon.”
He was coughing up blood by this time, but he stopped long enough to wheeze, “They will come for you.”
I knelt down beside him as he struggled for each last breath.
“That may be true. But when they do I’m gonna know what to do. Oh, and I’m gonna look good.” I fingered the lapel of his suit and dusted off his shoulder even though there was nothing on it. “You look to be about my size. I think I’ll keep this.”
His eyes went wide with horror. A garbled breath rose from his throat. I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure he was trying to say, “Nooooo!”