Dracula Lives (36 page)

“
Do it
,” Johnny said.

The burst of fire turned Elinore’s bandages into a flaming death shroud. The waxy exposed flesh above the neck began to melt, until only a charred skull was left. The two fangs were still white and glistening in the rows of rotting teeth.

The skull made a creaking sound as it swiveled to face Johnny. Elinore used the last gasps from her soul to repay Johnny’s taunts of her husband. Staying in the spirit of the moment, she retaliated with Poe’s words from his poem to his adopted mother:

“In the Heavens above … the angels can find no term of love … so devotional as that of Mother….”

Johnny got as close to Elinore’s charred skull as the flames would allow.
“You turned on me when I needed you most! You were no more a mother than he was a father!”

Elinore collapsed to the floor. Only her skull remained intact in the center of the smoldering pile of cinders. A final burst of flame sprang up from the ashes to do a fiery dance of death on the last of her mortal remains. Rather than screams of pain, the fire brought a hint of a smile to Elinore’s frozen rictus. With another creaking sound, the mouth opened.

“I’ll be waiting for you in Hell.”

Johnny raised the spear gun to smash the grinning skull. Before she could bring it down, one of the undead slapped it away and shoved her into Quinn. The impact knocked the flamethrower from his hand. As Quinn pulled the pistol from his waistband, Markov’s loyal minion yanked the spear from his master’s chest. The others hovered several yards away, waiting to see if removing the spear would bring their master back to life.

Markov’s remains fell to the floor as a red mist. The mist quickly separated into thousands of digital bits, blinking and fluttering like the tiny eyes of a swarming horde of demons.

“Dear God,” Johnny said. “The red is blood. He’s part human, part digital.”

As Markov turned to digital dust, another horror appeared. The severed hand of the Creature from his Lagoon materialized in the pile.

Johnny spoke in a barely audible whisper. “
He was right
. His soul and the Creature’s are mingled together.”

The hand shot up and clamped onto her throat. She tried to pry it off but couldn’t.

The minion that had removed the spear started toward her. Quinn fired.

The silver bullet did its work. A look of disbelief came onto the undead thing’s face as it saw the blood and dust spilling from its chest. Seconds later it fell over dead.

Johnny’s face was reddening as she frantically tried to pull the hand off her neck.

“Move your hands,” Quinn said. As soon as they were out of the way he pressed the pistol against the Creature’s hand and fired. It fell to the floor on its back side, struggling to get turned over. He handed Johnny the pistol. “Keep an eye on them.”

Quinn pulled the hammer and a stake from the bag. With three vicious blows he nailed the wriggling hand to the floor. Finally it stopped moving. “That’s enough of that bullshit,” he said.

One of the undead charged. Johnny fired. It staggered toward Quinn. He stepped aside and it fell beside Markov’s mutated remains. Either the silver bullet had not hit a vital spot, or this one was stronger than the first, because it was still alive and struggling to get up.
Or maybe silver bullets don’t kill them.

The four others hovered a few yards away. Johnny went to help Quinn.

“Use the rest of the wolfbane and garlic,” he said. “Get it all around them while I take care of this one.” He pulled another stake from the bag. “Then we can finish the rest together.”

Johnny created a circle of wolfbane and garlic around the four remaining vampiric creatures. They backed away from the toxic fumes and huddled together in the middle.

The wounded one had gotten to its knees. A ferocious kick sent it tumbling backwards. Quinn was on him in an instant with the stake poised over his heart.

The thing’s red eyes blazed at Quinn. “Our master will not let us die,” came the defiant whisper.

Quinn leaned to within inches and returned the stare. “Your master no longer has anything to say about it.” A vicious blow from the hammer drove the stake home.

A hollow shuddering moan erupted as blood bubbled up around the base of the stake. Quinn pounded like a man possessed until the eyes closed and the abomination lay still.

He picked up the sputtering flamethrower and started toward Johnny. Odd movement along the floor stopped him. “What the—?”

Johnny followed his gaze.

Markov’s disintegrated remains were starting to re-integrate themselves. One leg started to form, then the other. The flesh knitting to cover the legs slowly crept upward. Before it got above the waist, Quinn and Johnny saw the skeleton and internal organs taking shape, as though looking at an animated x-ray.

The rib cage slowly formed. The puncture from the spear was clearly visible in the lifeless heart.

The hole began to close. The heart twitched.

A beat. Then another. And another. The heartbeat became steady. The pace of regeneration quickened. Flesh covered the torso in seconds. The mouth began to reconstruct itself. First came the gums. Slowly, two fangs pushed through.

White. Glistening.

Johnny stammered out, “Dear Christ … the magnetism…. It’s mixed with the elixir. God only knows what he is now. Part human, part digital …
part vampire
.”

The regeneration was almost complete. Markov was recognizable as himself. As he got stronger so did the undead that were still inside the circle of wolfbane and garlic. Their signs of decomposition were disappearing. They appeared younger, stronger. They inched closer to the wall of toxic vapor.

Quinn raised the flamethrower. The flame sputtered and went out. Several attempts to re-ignite it failed. Johnny had the pistol, but three rounds had been expended. The pistol held six, but Quinn wasn’t sure if it had been fully loaded. There might be three rounds left—or there might be none. However many were left, they weren’t enough to stop Markov and his four protectors if they got loose.

The extra bullets were in the bag.

“Look,” Johnny said.

Markov had fully recovered. The eyes of his four remaining minions were locked onto him—loyal subjects awaiting their command. As Markov had regained strength, their rejuvenation had continued. Now they were the young strapping physical specimens they had been in life. Markov extended an arm toward them, as though he were a hypnotist establishing control.

“My power is now in you. Come!” With his palm facing up, he drew them to him by simultaneously closing his hand and pulling it closer to himself. They left the wolfbane-and-garlic prison—not as shambling half-dead, but as sure-footed warriors going into battle. They quickly formed a protective semicircle around Markov. He drew himself up to his full height and spoke with a triumphant air.

“Do not waste your time trying to stop me. I am no longer something that silver bullets or fire can destroy. Do you remember my hypothesis, Mr. Quinn? That the magnetism seeping into me during all those years of remastering had further altered my body chemistry—which had already been drastically altered by the elixir?

“My hypothesis has been proven correct. The magnetism pulled all the animating forces inside me together to create a new life form. I’m talking about altering the molecular structure of my very
soul
. The essential It that drives us all.”

A look of satisfaction welled up from the depths of his remastered soul. “I have succeeded in both of my goals: to bring Dracula back to life, and to eliminate the boundary between movies and reality.”

He turned his attention to Johnny. “You are right, dearest daughter. I am part human, part digital—part vampire.” He gestured at the goggles and gloves. “I no longer need those. Now
I
have the power. The digital part has given me control over my body down to the atomic level. I can modulate the energy waves of my body however I wish. Even amplify their power to a superhuman level. I can synchronize them with the energy waves of the material world.

“Do you comprehend what I am saying? Through sheer will, I can adjust my wavelengths until they are in phase with wavelengths of surrounding matter. I have achieved the goal attained by Morbius’s mighty Krell on Altair 4:
creation by mere thought.
Gloves, goggles, a mouse—they are no longer needed.
I
am the input device. The ultimate interface between man and matter. I can manipulate reality with the energy emanating from my bare hands. Watch.”

On one of his editing monitors, he had frozen the confrontation in the dungeon between his Creature from the Lagoon and the Frankenstein Monster. They stood glaring at each other in a face-off.

Markov inserted his hands into the monitor and pulled them out. He plucked off their heads and put the Creature’s on the Monster and the Monster’s on the Creature, then re-inserted them into the dungeon. His expression became almost childlike.

“All the horrors ever shown in the movies will be available to me. I can cut and paste them to create any alien lifeform I wish. Think of the possibilities!

“I have created a new Dracula for the digital age! A Dracula infused with the genius of Markov—Maker of Monsters!”

His moment of triumph was cut short by the smell of smoke. It was coming from the corridor. Markov shot a glance in that direction. “What have you done?”

“Started the hellfire,” Johnny said.

They all looked at the monitor of the Garden.

The vast chamber was a raging inferno. Dozens of the undead staggered around encased in flame.

The smell of smoke was getting stronger. “This hellhole will burn to the ground,” Johnny said. “Your reign has ended.”

“My reign
here
,” Markov placed the crown on his head. “I shall begin a new reign as Vlad Dracula IV.” He gestured at the four remaining undead. “I have what I need. Two strong men and two strong women, specifically cultivated in the Garden to continue the Dracula bloodline. My breeding stock.

“Don’t you see? Bits of my soul and Dracula’s have become part of the elixir that flows through them. Their veins are conductors of our psychic energy. We have total control, because our commands don’t just come from some detached other. They flow from our mind to the mixture of myself and Dracula that flows through them. It has made the elixir much more powerful. It compels them to do whatever it takes to keep the bloodline alive. Mesmer would be proud. I have turned his animal magnetism into the ultimate mind control.”

Johnny raised the pistol.

Markov shook his head and looked at her with pity. “You still do not understand. Your silver bullets will do you no good. I am indestructible.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She fired the three remaining rounds into him. He winced as each one hit him, then pulled up his shirt to look at the holes in his chest. Very little blood came out. He calmly inserted his fingers into each hole, pulled out the bullet, and flung it at her feet.

“You are nothing if not stubborn, Johnny.” A hint of something like affection flickered across his face. “You get that from me.”

A crackling noise made them all turn their heads.

Tongues of flame were licking the bottom of the door to the corridor.

“That’s our cue,” Markov said. “We must leave you now to fulfill our”—he looked at Johnny—“you know.”

His minions maintained a protective barrier around him as he went to his editing console and made a few clicks on his specially designed mouse. “A camera on the roof has recorded the Blood Moon,” he explained, “and the cameras in here have recorded our final confrontation.” He unplugged a pocket-sized external hard drive from a USB port. “I just downloaded it all onto onto this. Along with all the other edited footage.” He held the hard drive up as though submitting it for Best Picture consideration.

“I have arranged for my masterpiece to premiere on Halloween—at the Orpheum in Los Angeles. The same theater where
Dracula
was shown in 1931. The teaser ad campaign I started weeks ago has created such a buzz they are expecting a sellout. Seating will be general admission, but of course as director I was able to reserve two seats for my guests of honor. In medieval times they would have been the King’s seats: front and center in the balcony. Just go to Will Call. To avoid confusion they are under the name Quinn.”

His need for an audience brought a trace of humanity to his expression. “I know the three of us have had our … differences, but as my co-stars, you simply must be there to see the
Citizen Kane
of horror pictures.”

The crackling noise was getting louder.

The flames had gotten inside. They would reach the door connecting the studio to Johnny’s apartment soon.

“We’ve got to go,” she whispered. “That door is our only way out of here.”

Markov saw them looking at the growing flames. “The fire is spreading and—” he pointed to the monitor showing red-tinged moonlight streaming through the windows of the great hall—“the Blood Moon is high. I feel the Wolf Man trying to get out. If he does, he will rip you to shreds. Come. We have just enough time for me to show you my last bit of movie magic.”

He shoved the hard drive into a pocket and they all hurried to the the full-sized screen at the far end of the room. Markov took center stage in front of the screen.

“My work here is done,” he said. “I can finish my final edit where no one can get at me.”

He stuck both hands into the movie screen and spread them as though opening curtains. A portal opened in the frozen image of the great hall. Markov stepped into the screen and beckoned for his minions to follow.

The four specimens he had so carefully tended and nurtured entered the portal single file. With a dramatic wave of his hand, Markov closed the portal. Quinn and Johnny pressed their hands where the portal had been, but the screen did not yield.

Markov addressed his audience of two from the safety of his movie castle.

“This is why movies are better than real life. In here I can finish my work in a perfectly controlled environment, rather than in the annoyingly unscripted real world. Go. Save yourselves, mortals. Live to see the premiere.