Chapter 2
Draculoids being blasted away left, right and center and the sight brought some long-forgotten feeling to my tired, worn-out heart. It took me a fraction of a second to figure out what it was. Hope. It had been a long time since I'd felt anything like it. I would have cried with ecstasy if tears weren't already streaming down my face. My vision wavered and blurred as the tears left streaks through the thick layer of blood, dirt and grime that coated my skin.
Blinking through the tears and squinting through the dust that still hadn't settled, I could see four human-shaped shadows moving through the haze. Straining my eyesight, I could make out an old, weather-beaten muscle car, its engine still running. The bright paint had faded, through too much exposure to that big ball of radiation in the sky no doubt, but I could still make out bright red stripes up the side and, clearer and more definite than anything else, a jet black spider silhouette painted smack bang across the bonnet.
A dark shadow fell across me and, looking up from my sprawled position in the dirt, I raised my eyes to see the mask of the draculoid that had noticed I was still alive although maybe not so kicking. It raised its ray gun (standard issue), savoring the moment. I stared down the dark barrel, knowing there was no way I could escape death this time. The draculoid's finger tightened on the trigger, I waited for the sound of it being fired any second, when BAM!The next thing I saw was the draculoid sprawling much like me in the dirt, only not so much like me it was dead. I could quite clearly see the smoking hole in its back. Once more, I looked up (how many times had I done that today, scratch that, in the last hour, no, in the past couple of minutes?) to see another figure replacing the late draculoid. He was looking down at me, his bright neon-red hair glinting under the hot desert sun. His face was hidden behind a bright yellow eye mask, but under it I could see he wore a curious expression. I quickly took in his blue racing jacket and a smoking yellow gun in one hand and reached two conclusions: one: that this mysterious masked man had saved my life and two: he had my unending gratitude for it.
Before I could even utter a word however, I felt two strong hands around my waist, lifting me off the ground (good, I was beginning to get a crick in my neck from looking up all the time) and half-supporting me, half-carrying me, God knew where. I fought against the iron grip holding me but all I could do was twist and flail in the mystery person's arms. All I could glimpse of the man who had a hold of me was a mane of dark, crazily corkscrewing hair. I felt a sudden burst of pain in my arm as I moved and, looking down, I saw that I did get hit after all. Blood was blossoming out of a steaming rip in my left sleeve. Ouch. You'd think I would've noticed it at the time, but I guess I was a bit preoccupied what with the shoot-out and all. Clasping my grimy right hand around the wound just below my shoulder, I tried to break free of the man's grasp. He just held on tighter, probably trying not to drop me, but I didn't like being carried like a kid, it felt like I'd regressed back to childhood and the grown-ups were keeping me out of harms way. I was suddenly jerked to the left as the fro'd man dodged to avoid a charging draculoid whom the red-head quickly dispatched of. Around us the battle was still going on and the air was filled with rays being fired and the sounds of people dying, the owners of the screams unable to be seen through the thick layer of dust that covered everything like fog, making any details impossible to make out. Not that I really had any time to hang about, seeing as the two men were on the move, carrying me with them.
It was as we were headed towards the car that it happened. The guy who was carrying me tripped and we both went sprawling headlong in the dirt. Rolling around to see what had happened, I could see a dying draculoid holding the guys ankle. Must've grabbed it as we went past to try and stop us. As the two of us were lying there, more of the creeps came running, not surprising, seeing as we'd given them a more than easy target. The red-head masked guy charged at them, gun raised, closely followed by the dark-haired guy who'd been carrying me. Almost out of my visual range, I could see a skinny blonde guy running to help, raising his crimson gun.
That was the last thing I saw. Well, almost the last because next second I saw a big black boot headed my way, a knife almost too big to be real glinting from the toes. My vision seemed to be in slow motion as I watched the boot swing an almost graceful arc before it impacted. The pain as the knife made contact with my face was unbearable. I felt the slice of metal, warmed by the desert sun, pierce soft tissue as it plunged into my right eyeball, the pain exploding like an atom bomb. Hot blood blossomed from the deep wound and flowed freely down my face. I couldn't see anything! The knife had gone right into my freaking eyeball! I couldn't see anything out of my right eye and anything worth seeing with my left was obscured by the blood now pouring in a bright red waterfall down my face. Fury was flowing through my veins as I clutched both hands to my face yet still hauled myself up from the ground, intending to give that draculoid what was coming to him. The pain in my head was building from unbearable to excruciating, the world tipped, my vision spun exposing the blackness that was waiting if I dared pass out and all around me I could hear yells mixed with the sound of ray guns being fired. My vision was totally gone now and the pain was coming to a climax so I didn't see what hit me, all I felt was a sharp blow to the chest and the world being turned upside down before I fell into darkness...