Draculas

Aw shit. Adam was bleeding.

Randall

A headless dracula dropped in front of him, adding to the pool of blood, and Randall realized that there was nothing left to kill. As if sensing this, the chainsaw gave one last sputter and died.

A helicopter landed on the roof.

Rescue.

But not for him.

Bloodblood...

He gestured to the helicopter with his dead chainsaw, then staggered toward the door. More draculas would be coming through it. He'd kill them. Saw them up even without the chainsaw ru

When he reached the door, his legs finally gave out and he collapsed.

He sat there, chainsaw on his lap, trying to blink the blood out of his eye, too exhausted to use his hands to wipe it away.

He couldn't stay human in his mind for much longer, but he didn't need to. He didn't have long to live as a monster or a man.

If he could just stick around long enough to see Je

But Je

Instead, she began to walk his way.

All Randall could think about was the day she left him, and how his one wish--the one thing that kept him sober and sane--was that one day she might come back to him.

Her timing was ironical. Not only was he dying, but he was a dracula, and she was putting herself in danger instead of getting the hell out of there.

But at that moment, when she reached down for him with tears in her eyes, Randall Bolton was the happiest guy on the planet.

Adam

HIS mind raced as he headed toward the helicopter, shielding Daniella from the wind-blasting rotors. He hadn't steeled himself to look at his arm. It hurt badly, and he thought he felt the evaporative cooling of blood on his skin, but maybe, maybe, please God--maybe he was imagining it.

He glanced down, saw the shimmer of blood on his left forearm with every flash of the KREZ helicopter's LED strobe.

The fangs had punctured skin.

God, no!

Why?

He looked over toward the door to the hospital. Randall sat alone with his chainsaw amid a battlefield of gore. Nothing trying to come through the doors at the moment. Just a few dismembered demons squirming on the concrete.

Couldn't be sure, but Randall looked injured.

By the time he reached Clayton, he knew what he had to do, knew there was no other choice. Randall seemed to be controlling his will in the face of the infection, but what if he couldn't? What if Adam harmed his own daughter?

Adam sidled up to Clayton, who'd just loaded the last child onto the helicopter.

Clayton looked at him, at his arm.

"You get bit?"

Adam nodded.

"Shit."

"I've been praying that I'll be protected from any--"

"Keep praying all you want, preacher, but you will be a full-blown fucking land shark in T-minus ten minutes."

Adam tried to fight back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of this lawman, but he couldn't help it.

"Is there room?" Adam yelled in Clayton's ear.

Clayton's brow furrowed. "For your daughter, absolutely."

"What about...?"

"You know I can't let you off this helipad."

Adam nodded. He looked down at his daughter, tugged back the blanket that shielded her face. Somehow, she still slept. Adam, crying so hard he couldn't see, spoke into her ear, "May the Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you and grant you peace. Your daddy loves you, Daniella, and he always will."

"It's time!" Clayton yelled.

Adam handed his child to a young woman in the helicopter wearing a pair of headphones, who was already extending her arms to his baby.

He passed Daniella to her, yelled, "Her name is Daniella!"

"What?" the reporter yelled.

Adam stepped up onto the skid, yelled into her ear as she lifted the headphone. "This is my daughter! Her name is Daniella Murray! Her mother's dead, and I will be soon! Please take care of her!"

The woman nodded and Adam felt a hand drag him back from the helicopter--Clayton's--and then Clayton signaled to the pilot and the rotors wound up and the skids eased off the helipad.

Adam stood watching in disbelief as it flew his daughter away from him into the night.

She's safe now. These demons can't touch her.

That piece of news was the only thing in the world keeping him from sprinting toward the edge of the roof and taking a swan dive into the parking lot.

Randall--now a bloody mess, was on his side, surrounded by the monsters he'd slaughtered. Adam watched the nurse, Je

Then he looked at Clayton, something roiling inside of him. Anger. Fear. Confusion. All wrapped up in a single emotion with a clear objective--kill.

"I want your gun," Adam said.

"What?"

"Your gun. Show me how to shoot it. I'm going back into the hospital to kill as many of these things as possible."

Clayton nodded, his eyes twinkling. "You hold that thought, padre, but I may have a better one."

"What?" Adam said.

"If you're go

"How?"

"You still got all that blood in your backpack?"

"Yes."

"Run and get it, and meet me over by the door."

Je