Oh...my...God...I...am...SORRY. -melts into a puddle-
I didn't mean for this upload to take SO long! I seriously had it all written down on paper but my computer went all pukey! Anyways, it's all better now and running like a cheetah with a fire lit under its ass. ^_^ Well not that fast...more like a fat guy shuffling after a twinky but you know...-_-
I transferred this all onto the computer today on this day that the snow has decided to come and rain down in little fluffy white flakes. I lack slippers and there's no heater under my desk so you, my dear Frog-loving readers, better damn well appreciate this chapter! XD I mean I sat here with freezing toes just for you! No matter how many pairs of socks I put on, my toezies are still coldzies! This was for you! Enjoy!
And don't kill me...(You'll get why you could possibly ever want to kill me as you read...)
Alan heaved a sigh. Sam looked back down at his comic and flipped a page, his eyes scanning the words and the artwork. Alan rested his chin in his palm, "So what's been going on with you lately? We haven't talked."
Sam looked up at Alan, and shrugged, "Nothing really. Mom works all day. My Grandpa's a weirdo. And apparently Mike's drifted into a 'typical teenaged phase' as my mom calls it."
Alan cocked a questioning eyebrow at Sam.
Sam snorted, "Yeah, he's starting to really act like a weirdo too. He sleeps most of the day and goes out on his bike to hang with who knows who."
Alan cocked his eyebrow again, and lifted his chin from his palm, now interested. "Sounds like vampire habits to me." Sam studied Alan for a moment. The side of his lip crossed his cheek in a disbelieving gesture. He turned sideways and leaned his hip against the counter, "Whatever Alan."
Alan rolled his eyes.
"Mom told me that she went through it when she was his age too. She said I'll go through it to." Sam said. He glanced sideways at Alan, with a smart glint in his eyes. Alan curled his lips inward and shrugged. "Okay then, Sam. You're the expert."
Sam smiled, and turned to lean his elbows against the counter again. He flipped a page in the comic, "Seriously though, I definitely know that Mike's been going out partying and getting smashed. Wasted. And baked like a potato."
Alan lowered his eyebrows, his lips frowning. He mouthed silently, "Baked like a potato…?" He stared across the counter at Sam who had not noticed the gesture.
"A couple days ago or maybe a few…I can't remember, he woke up late and came down in his robe. He looked completely hung over. Then he said something about Chinese food that looked like maggots." Sam said. He glanced up at Alan. "He had salt stuck to his feet."
Alan cocked an eyebrow silently.
Sam smiled and chuckled, "Yep. Obviously he's been mixing in with late-night people on the beach or something."
Alan grimaced, "Surf Nazis?"
Looking down at the comic, Sam said vaguely, "Nah, Mike can't surf worth shit." Alan licked his lower lip and then sat back. Alan decided that Sam's brother probably wasn't in on a vampire cult. From what Sam had told him, it was all too fucked up, even for vampires.
Alan heard the VCR click behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as the TV screen became blue. He realized that the movie had gone completely through again and the credits had finished rolling. He turned around on his stool and leaned down. His dog tags clinked against one another. He reached down a hand to press the rewind button.
He stared at the VCR and listened to the tape rewinding for a few moments. Then he turned back around to face Sam again. He reached up and grasped his dog tags.
Sam looked up at Alan's faraway face. "Where are you, Al?"
Alan looked into Sam's eyes. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. Sam rolled his eyes. "As in, what's going through your head? You're starting to look like Louis Lane when she,"
He stopped talking when he saw two pretty girls walked into the shop. The taller one had a fluffy mane of teased brown hair with a white flower pinned into it. The shorter one had blonde hair had equally fluffy hair except there were a few small braids in her hair. Alan's eyes became lazy and he rested his chin on his knuckles, "What were you saying about Louis Lane, Sammy?"
Sam turned his back to Alan, leaning against the counter. He watched the two girls go to the back of the shop, looking with smiling, curious faces. Alan looked at the girls. Sure they were pretty he supposed, but he wasn't in the mood to woo. He rolled his eyes and turned around to hit play on the VCR. "Folks, it seems as if Sam Emerson might actually lose his virginity tonight." He said in a radio-jockey mock voice.
He felt Sam hit him in the back with the comic and he started laughing. He leaned back against the counter until he was lying across it. His head hung over the counter, his messy raven hair falling away from his face, his dog tags clinking next to his ear. He was still laughing. Sam glared down at Alan. That just made Alan's lungs bounce with further laughter.
It felt good to laugh again; to laugh without having a serious cough-attack which made Alan feel like he was hacking up a lung. He knew if Edgar were here then…
Alan's smile faded and he pressed his lips together. He sighed through his nose. With his upside-down vision he saw the two girls come from behind the shelves with a couple of Wonder Woman comics in hand. They tilted their heads at Alan and then erupted in a small fit of girlish giggles.
Alan sat up and spun around on top of the counter, sitting Indian-style. The girls looked at him again, smiled and giggled again. Sam leaned against the counter, trying to look as cool as he thought Alan looked.
But he knew that Alan didn't have to try. He just was with his dark, stony eyes, his black hair and his muscles that were easily seen considering most of his shirts had no sleeves. He had a pair of genuine dog tags. On top of that he wore combat boots.
You can't beat a guy with combat boots. Sam thought dejectedly to himself. He glanced at Alan and didn't notice the disinterest in his eyes for he didn't know him well enough. He just saw the usual stoic look cast about his eyes.
The girls went up to the register that sat beside Alan. The brunette smiled cutely, "You work here?" Alan nodded silently.
The blonde smiled as well, "Mind ringing us up?"
Alan glanced at the two comics and then typed up the amount on the cash register for them to see. The brunette retrieved some cash from her pocket and held it out in a way so that Alan's fingers would have to brush against hers.
He took the bills and put them in the drawer of the cash register. Then he pressed the change into the brunette's palm. He watched the girls' eyes twinkle in deep interest as they took in Alan's form.
The blonde asked, "What's your name, huh?" Alan glanced at Sam and then looked back at the blonde. "Alan. That's Sam." Sam lifted a hand curtly in a hasty gesture to get a little of their attention.
The brunette held her hand against her sternum, her painted nails shimmering bright red, "I'm Melissa, and this is," "Amy." The blonde interrupted.
Alan's mom muttered something incoherent from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was readjusting her position slightly to get more comfortable. She smacked her lips loudly and let out a long sigh, becoming still again.
Sam moved a little closer to Alan's side to try and become part of the girls' interest. The blonde seemed to take notice to Sam and she offered him a smile.
The brunette asked, "When do you get off work? Maybe we could ride some rides, hit the concert?" The blonde looked away from Sam and nodded at Alan with a smile, "Yeah."
Alan pressed his lips in a straight line, "I'm sorry girls. I'm tied up for the night." The two girls frowned and made girly groans of disappointment. "Awwwww…"
"But Sammy here is free." Alan said. He leaned forward slightly, "And he just got his allowance." The brunette and the blonde exchanged looks and then shrugged. Melissa said, "Well, maybe some other night then, Alan. C'mon Amy."
The two girls turned with their comics and walked toward the entrance. Sam watched their hips sway for a second and Alan quickly held up a hand to silence his defeated string of curses. The girls paused and looked over their shoulders. The blonde asked, "Aren't you comin', Sammy?"
Sam's eyes widened and he nodded, "Yeah. I'm comin'!" He started after them, tossing a wide-eyed grin over his shoulder at Alan. Alan nodded a farewell and watched them leave. He knew he could have left if he wanted to. His parents had been taking care of the place for a while so of course he could have gone with them. But he didn't want to. A night on the Boardwalk was nothing without his loud-mouthed, cordial brother.
He ran a hand through his hair and then drew in a long breath. He let it out in a long groan and lowered himself so he was lying across the counter on his back. He bent a knee, settled one hand on his stomach and tucked the other hand behind his head. Ah, Edgar…
Alan stood up on his bike and pedaled a little faster to make it up the small hill without any trouble. It was dark and the night was lined with streetlights and the moon. The long time he'd spent at the comic shop had been so desolate and lonely that he'd given in about two hours earlier than normal. He couldn't believe how different his life was without his brother around. He had never really been apart from Edgar so he couldn't have possibly known before now.
Alan had to dodge around a guy who was standing on the corner of the sidewalk at the top, smoking a cigarette.
"Watch it, cunt!"
Okay, it was a girl.
Alan kept pedaling, ignoring the raunchy word, "Sorry."
"Yeah you'd better be s-HEY WATCH IT!"
Alan glanced over his shoulder.
"What the hell is this? Bicycle central? YA PUNKASSES!" The tomboy yelled.
Two more people on bikes dodged around the boyishly dressed girl. When they passed under the streetlight, Alan saw their determined eyes trained on him. Alan recognized them. They were the two boys his mom and Fido the American Bully had scared out of the shop earlier that night.
Alan quickly turned forward, his hair blowing across his eyes. He pumped his legs, pedaling furiously.
"Go, man!" He heard one of them shout behind him. He heard them pedaling swiftly after him.
Shit, shit, shit. He started chanting in his head. He saved his breath. He was going to need it. The voices of his pursuers hollered and yelled behind him. He didn't know for sure what the two chasing him exactly had in mind, but he knew that he was outnumbered; it was dark; and without the usual company of his brother on the ride back home, he was completely on his own.
He turned his bike quickly around a corner, kicking up dirt and cigarette butts. He kept his eyes forward. He couldn't go home. Only Edgar was there and a house with two boys in it, one of them sick, wasn't very intimidating. He had to lose them somewhere.
Alan veered left, his boot scraping across the ground to help him turn. He pedaled swiftly down the street. He could hear his followers behind him. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest and the adrenaline pumping angrily through his veins. He turned sharply left again, this time down an alleyway with a fence across the exit.
He jumped from his bike and he heard it grind against the blacktop. He heard on of the boys behind him, "Get him!" He jumped onto the chain link fence and climbed.
If loosing his chasers meant having to go back for his bike, then that's what he'd do. When he reached the top of the fence, he threw his legs over the side and jumped down to the other side. He bent his knees hard when his boots landed and sprung into a run. He heard them rattling the fence behind him, still yelling.
Alan sprinted down the alleyway and turned the brick corner on the right. His dog tags rattled metallically against his chest. He tore down the next alley. He climbed on top of a dumpster, making the metal boom under his boots, and jumped up. He grabbed a hold of the fire escape ladder. He hurriedly clambered up. He got onto the second landing and dove through the glassless window pane. His hands scraped across the dusty floor and he turned quickly, throwing his back against the wall beside the window. He grabbed his dog tags to still them, halting his breathing.
Engulfed in the shadows he peered outside. He watched the two boys ride into the alley. They'd thrown their bikes over the fence.
"C'mon! I saw him go this way!"
Alan watched as the two pedaled furiously down the alleyway. His dog tags were cutting into his palm. Then they pedaled out the opposite end of the alleyway and out of sight. He heard them pedal away and things became entirely silent.
He let himself pant after holding his breath. He turned away from the window and sunk against the wall. His heart pounded madly, coming down from the adrenaline rush. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, wetting his pipes. He stayed still in the shadows of the abandoned building he'd taken refuge in. His breath was a whisper in the hours of darkness.
Alan closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He let go of his dog tags, his hand sinking to the floor beside him. He lost himself in the feeling of his body. He listened to his heart beat and he felt it causing the pulse in his neck, his biceps, his wrists, his thighs, his calves and in his ankles. He listened to his lungs expanding in his chest; slowly gathering the musty air with calmer ease. He felt the ache in his muscles that had suddenly been forced into vigorous exercise, almost abused.
His eyes snapped open and he tensed again. Alan's hand went to the stake in his boot. What sounded like a small colony of bats passed overhead in the sky, hidden by the impending darkness.
It was silent again. Distrusting, Alan pulled the stake from his boot and waited in the darkness. He sat there for the longest of times. The alleyway was now lit up by the moon that now sat directly overhead, casting precious light.
Alan took in a deep breath and looked out of the window. The alley was deserted. He was alone. He leaned out the window and looked upward. The only thing up there was the moon that seemed to smile down at him in its waning dominion. He was alone.
Alan climbed carefully from the window and out onto the fire escape, crouching low. He cast his gaze around. He was alone.
He was alone. He was alone. He was alone.
Alan took in a long breath through his nostrils and let it out silently. He closed his eyes and imagined Edgar crouching beside him on the fire escape with a thoroughly sharpened stake in one hand and a holy water gun in the other. He imagined Edgar looking back at him with a reassuring nod, "Damn, that was a close one."
One side of Alan's lip upturned despite himself. He opened his eyes and jut out his chest, letting his shoulders back so he could slide the stake into the waistband of his pants. He took a hold of the fire escape ladder and descended.
"C'mon Bro, let's get the hell outta here." He imagined Edgar saying from below him.
He let himself down onto the dumpster and jumped down to the ground; going down to a crouch to keep from cracking anything as he remembered Edgar had once learned not to do the hard way.
He walked calmly down the alleyway, his eyes downcast as he chuckled quietly in remembrance.
They'd been out in the brightest time of day, searching some other cavern that Edgar had grown suspicious of. "Another possible bloodsucking nest complete with coffins and creepy crawlers!" Edgar had said.
After leaving the cavern, slightly disappointed that nothing was inside, but still enjoying the thought that they were still badass monster-bashing vampire hunters, Alan hopped down from the ledge. He bent at the knees and then stood back up. He turned to wait for Edgar to hop down, listening to his rant silently as he usually did.
"Man, I was absolutely sure that this damn place was a for-sure lair for the damned! You know if we'd found any coffins in there, I swear to God I was gonna stake me some bloodsucking," Edgar jumped down from the ledge and didn't bend even slightly at the knees. "OW! SON OF A BITCH!"
Alan had cocked an eyebrow as he watched his brother hop and limp and curse as loudly as he possibly could. "SHITSUCKING FUCKER! GODDAMNED BRACHIOEROTISISMIST SUCK MONKEY FROM HELL!"
Alan had been impressed with Edgar's creativity and extensive vocabulary.
Then he went forward and wrapped his arms around Edgar before he plunged to the rocky ground as he had lost his balance from all of his hopping.
Edgar had tilted his head back and looked up at Alan. Alan had simply patted Edgar's collarbone, "You gotta bend at the knees."
Alan bent at the knees on the other side of the chain link fence and then went toward his bike. He leaned down and took a hold of the handlebars, taking it up to its wheels again.
Something crunched. His ears pricked and his eyes jumped up from the ground. He saw the boy coming at him, his red hair flashing in the moonlight. "AHH!" The redhead let out a yell of pain as Alan lifted his bike from the ground and pushed it forward with his boot right into his attacker.
"Nice move, Alan!"
The boy fell backwards onto the ground with Alan's bike on top of him. Another one came from the darkness, his pale hair bright in the moonlight. Alan threw back his fist and his knuckles cracked hard against the boy's jawbone.
The blonde staggered back, but returned with a punch. Alan nudged it to the left, narrowly avoiding a strike to the nose.
"Damn good block!"
A knee came up and caught him in the stomach.
Alan coughed and pain bloomed where a fist had been applied firmly to his cheek. He hit the ground and threw up his boot, shoving the blonde away from him before he could leap atop of him. He clambered to his feet as the redhead had seemed to have recovered, "You son of a bitch!"
Alan hit him hard right between the eyes, taking the angry kick to the soft side of his stomach. The redhead reeled back and fell onto his backside. The blonde came at Alan again.
Alan lifted his left foot from the ground and kicked the blonde sharply in the ribs with the toe of his boot. He watched the blonde's eyes widen and heard him gasp, and the ribs crack. The blonde was shoved forward unwillingly. Alan took the full force of the blonde's weight and fell back onto ground.
He punched the blonde in the ribs he'd injured and he heard him cry out in pain. He shoved the blonde off of from him, just in time to see a shadow cast over him.
Hands grabbed Alan's collar and dragged him upward. It was a redhead, but not the same one. This one was bigger. There were three now. Alan's back was slammed into the chain link fence. The bigger redhead growled, "You made my little brother's nose bleed."
Little brother...
Alan felt the hard fist slam mercilessly into his gut. The air was driven from his lungs as his diaphragm was assaulted. He gasped desperately. The fist smashed into his belly again, driving a gasp and a cough from Alan. He drew the stake from his waistband and stabbed the redhead in the thigh. The big redhead yelled out in agony and dropped Alan onto ground. Alan grabbed at his stomach, gasping and hacking, saliva falling from his parted lips.
"Get up Alan! Please get up!"
He heard a sickly sucking sound and then his stake hit the ground with a wooden echo and rolled away.
"You goddamned punk." He heard the big redhead growl. He felt hands slip under his arms and pull them back. One hand grasped his left bicep, and another grasped his right bicep, locking his arms in place. He was dragged upward and his boots left the ground.
"C'mon, Dotson. He's all yours."
Alan lifted his head up and saw the smaller redhead standing in front of him, holding his nose. He let his hand down and Alan saw blood smeared all over his upper lip, and down his chin. "You asshole." The blonde struggled up to his feet, holding a hand against his chest, "My fuckin' God, I think he broke a rib!"
The smaller redhead glanced at the blonde and glared back at Alan, "Oh, you are so dead."