The Late Night Horror Show (17 page)

1987,
Monroe thought.
I am definitely in 1987. Somehow. God help me.

He tried to think of any reasonable way of explaining his current situation. Other than time travel. Nothing immediately presented itself. Then his brain tripped across a random fact he found immediately perplexing. He had been bitten numerous times. His flesh had been fucking ripped into. So he should still be in some degree of pain, right?

Right. Fucking-A, right.

But he wasn’t in pain. At all. In fact, despite still feeling a touch groggy, he actually felt pretty damn good.

Well, shit. That’s weird.

He started probing at his flesh with his fingers, feeling for places where he clearly remembered being bitten. There should be holes. Gashes. Wounds still weeping blood. But all he felt was perfectly smooth flesh.
Weirder and weirder still
. In the course of his probing, he also determined he was wearing a garment of some sort he hadn’t been wearing before. The texture of the material was all wrong.
 

He lifted his head slightly and saw that he was wrapped in a blue bathrobe with the sash cinched shut at his waist. He also saw his bare feet sticking over the edge of the small bed. He couldn’t help noting how very pale his feet looked, with a faint tinge of blue around his toes. This made him frown again, because his first thought was of autopsy scenes in television crime shows. Tie a tag around one of his big toes and he’d be a dead ringer for a corpse splayed on a stainless steel autopsy table. Because those feet definitely looked like the feet of a dead man.

This triggered another memory flash, Tom Cruise telling him he was sorry but they had to…had to…

Monroe gulped.

They had to kill me before turning me into a goddamn vampire! Oh Jesus! Oh shit! I’m a goddamn bloodsucking fiend!

This thought obliterated the remaining vestiges of his stupor, and he sat bolt upright in the bed and screamed. And then screamed again. The sound resounded explosively in the little room, making him cringe. He regretted the primal reaction immediately. It was so loud it would surely bring some other undead denizens of the fucking night running in here to check up on him.

I have to get out of here,
he thought.
Have to escape.

But before he could turn his thoughts to the practicalities of making that happen, he was distracted by another sound in the room.

A whimper. Somewhere off to his left.

He frowned yet again. The sound was small and pitiful. Barely audible at all. And short-lived. He immediately recognized that whoever had made the sound was striving hard not to make it again. Something else odd struck him. He could smell the person. Not just their scent, but their fear, too. It was rolling off her in waves. Yes, it was a female. Somehow, he knew that without even looking at her.

He turned his head and saw her cowering in a rear corner of the room. She was nude and she was chained to the wall. She was slim, but with a nice figure, hips that swelled pleasingly and breasts that were large but not quite into porn-star, double D territory. Her lank blonde hair hung to her narrow shoulders and looked like it had not been washed in days. She had a pretty face. The kind of face that looked beautiful even without makeup. Big blue eyes, striking cheekbones, and full, ripe lips that practically begged to be kissed. She was trembling. Her whole body was. It made her look like an animal trapped outside in the cold. She was in a squatting position, with her back pressed hard into the corner.
 

Monroe’s mouth hung open as he stared at her. His mind went sort of blank for a period of time as he drank in everything about her. It was only when he felt thick droplets of drool collecting in the corners of his mouth that he snapped out of it. But he remained entranced by her. Not just by her physical beauty, but also by her obvious terror of him. He was disturbed to discover he found her fear arousing.

He glanced at the closed door and frowned, surprised that his screams had brought no one running. There could be no doubt someone out there had heard him, yet they were choosing to leave him undisturbed. Which caused him to wonder whether this whole scenario might be some kind of game the other vamps were running. Some kind of twisted initiation rite.

He looked at the girl again.

She cringed and let out another helpless whimper.

What he was thinking made sense. In a fucked up way, of course. She was a gift to him. He was meant to take her. To use her as he saw fit. Which, being a vampire, likely included a wide array of unsavory and depraved acts.

Part of him
really
wanted to do depraved things to her.

He felt a reflexive pang of guilt at this realization. But it wasn’t as sharp as it should have been. The change had done something to his conscience. He believed he still had one, but it felt weakened at the very least. It made him angry. He hadn’t asked to become what he was now. It was better to be human. Better to have compassion. Better to be normal and live in the sun, than to be some skulking night predator.

Wasn’t it?

He rose from the bed and crossed the room to squat in front of the cowering girl. She cringed again and tried to press herself farther into the corner. An effort in vain, of course. There was nowhere for the poor thing to go.

He peered curiously at her. “I think I’m sort of meant to, uh, you know…rip your throat out and feast on your warm blood, or some shit like that.”

Sudden tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. “Please…”

Monroe felt a twitch at his crotch and had another disturbing revelation. The begging of a helpless victim was also a turn-on. He supposed this was a common thing in all vamps. It was messed up as hell and he did feel a slightly more intense stab of guilt at the knowledge—but the guilt didn’t make the feeling go away.

He wanted her.

In every way possible.

He wanted to fuck her.

And he wanted to tear her apart and wallow in her blood.

But he wanted to scare her some more first.

He touched her chin, relishing the way she jerked away from him.

Then he thought of Kira.

And the warped smile gave way to yet another frown.
Kira. Jesus.
He had almost forgotten about her in the midst of all this madness. She was still out there somewhere. And perhaps was going through something very similar to what he was experiencing. Except maybe she was on the other side of the equation. Maybe she was naked and chained up in some other room, cowering and crying while a vamp sadistically toyed with her.

He stared at the crying girl in front of him, feeling very cold inside now.

It took a tremendous effort of will, but he made himself stand up and walk away from the girl. He sat on the edge of the narrow bed and looked at her again, this time feeling little of the lust that had nearly overpowered him moments ago.

She sniffled. “Please don’t kill me.”

Her voice sounded very small and frightened, almost like a child’s. Its fragility made him wince. He shrugged. “Part of me really wants to kill you. Like, really, really bad. But I’m gonna try hard not to.”

This sent more tears sliding down her face. “Please…”

“Don’t beg!” His voice made her flinch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so sharp. It’s just that the begging makes it worse. The craving. Look…what’s your name?”

She sniffled again. He saw her throat working as she struggled to speak. The tenderness of the flesh there was excruciatingly tempting. He couldn’t help thinking of how it might feel to take a bite out of it. She apparently sensed the direction of his thoughts because she at last managed to push out the words. “Marnie! My name is Marnie. Please don’t kill me.”

“Jesus. What did I tell you about that? No begging. Not if you want to live.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shit, girl, don’t apologize either. None of this shit is your fault.” He frowned. “Also, try really hard to stop crying, okay?”

Yet another sniffle. “I…can’t help it.”

“Yeah. I get that. Just try, okay?”

She met his gaze for a long moment and at last managed a small nod. “Okay.”

Monroe couldn’t help savoring the exquisite lines of her body again. She really was quite a beauty. It’d be a shame to destroy such a work of natural art. The vampire part of his nature would delight in it, of course. He would have to work very hard to hold the beast at bay.

But why?

This is what I am now. I can’t change it. Why fight it?

His desires and cravings would only intensify over time. He understood this instinctively. This girl’s only chance for survival depended on him somehow getting her out of this place very quickly and then sending her on her way, urging her to get as far away from him as she could, as soon as possible.

The effort was almost certainly doomed to failure, but he had to try.

Right?

The voice of his vampiric nature whispered insidiously again.
Wrong. So wrong. Kill her. Fuck her. Rip her apart!

Monroe screwed his eyes shut and cried out as he slapped his hands against his ears.
“Shut up, you bastard, and get out of my fucking head!”

Some moments later he opened his eyes and noted Marnie’s startled expression. “Um…sorry about that. I’m having some…issues.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Monroe gave his head a hard shake. “Okay. Okay. I think I’ve got it under control again. For now. Can’t make any guarantees for ten seconds from now, but I give you my word, I’m doing my fucking best.”

Her demeanor underwent a drastic change. She sagged against the wall, allowing her shapely butt to slide to the floor. “I believe you. I do.” He heard the deep resignation in her voice and knew almost word for word what she’d say next. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s like you said. You’re meant to kill me. They won’t allow anything else. I’m fucked.”

Yep,
he thought.
Total truth.

The girl was fucked as fucked could be and there was no getting around it. And yet he still felt compelled to make the effort. Why, he couldn’t say. Or maybe he
did
know. An image of Kira formed in his head again. Kira and Marnie even sort of looked alike. Blonde. Similar body types. He just couldn’t hurt this girl. It’d be like killing Kira by proxy.

“Maybe you’re right. Probably. Shit, I won’t lie. But I’m gonna try to help you anyway.”

She shook her head. “But why?”

“Been asking myself the same question. I don’t have a good answer, except that you remind me of a friend.”

Marnie grunted. “I guess I can buy that. Makes as much sense as anything. So…how do you mean to help me?”

“I haven’t the faintest fucking idea.”

“Great. Awesome.”

Monroe glanced at his lap and fiddled for a moment with the sash of the bathrobe. Clearly he couldn’t make his getaway attired so goofily. He stood up again and began a further examination of the room. In another corner near the desk was a closet with an accordion-style door. He pulled this back and peered in at an assortment of clothes. T-shirts dangling from hangers. Multiple pairs of jeans, folded and sitting on a shelf. He checked tags on both and they were close enough to his size for comfort. He grabbed one of the pairs of jeans and pulled a Butthole Surfers T-shirt off a hanger. He also grabbed a battered pair of Nikes from the closet floor.

Marnie stared at him curiously as he pulled the jeans on up under the bathrobe. A corner of her mouth quirked in amusement. “What? Couldn’t get naked in front of me?”

Monroe’s own expression was deadly serious. “Don’t tempt me.”

Marnie sobered at once. “Right. Sorry.”

Monroe removed the bathrobe and pulled on the vintage rock shirt. Then he sat on the edge of the bed again and shoved his feet into the shoes, which were a little tight for comfort but not excruciatingly so.

Then he looked at Marnie again. “Right. Well. I have no idea what to do next. I mean…I’m just one guy and…” he waved a hand at the closed door, “…and there are all those undead fuckers out there. The odds are, well…kind of long.”

She made a face at that. “No kidding.”

He scratched his chin. “Let me think. There’s gotta be something…some kind of way…if only…”

Marnie cleared her throat and coughed. “Um…well…I can think of one way you might be able to save me.”

Monroe’s face crinkled in confusion. “Say what now?”

Marnie managed a small smile, but there was a deep, obvious sadness in it. “I’m telling you I have an idea. A solution. Something that could really work.”

Monroe’s confusion deepened. “Huh. So what is it?”

She hesitated only a moment. “You can turn me into a vampire.”

Monroe laughed. “You’re kidding.”

But Marnie was shaking her head. And her expression betrayed a disquieting earnestness. “No. I’m not. Think about it. You’re totally right. There’re too many of them and only one of you. You could never fight your way through them all, and they sure as shit won’t let you just walk me out of here.” She leaned toward him a little, her expression becoming more severe as her voice took on a more intense edge. “You have to kill me. And then you have to turn me. Just like they did to you. Just like they did to my friend Lisa. It’s the only way I can survive.”