Chapter 4

The building wouldn't last much longer. And if that wasn't much of a problem, there was also the fact that the creatures outside just kept increasing in numbers. It was a matter of time before the bolted front door would give.

Samantha paced back and forth, her hands rubbing painfully against her forehead. She looked once more at the searing walls of the embassy, its inevitable destruction just seconds away. Then, she glanced back at the door. She was incredibly lucky today, if that's what one would think of it; she managed to avoid the chaotic scene at the city square on her way to work, did not get blown to bits or eaten alive by those crazed arsonists, and the old-fashioned wooden double doors at the front kept the psychos at bay, at least for a short while.

"Damn it, now what!"

Who would've known that being an interpreter could bring on something like this? She had been at the city of Mene for about three months concerning an important trial involving the U.S. and several Romanian officials. She knew this was a one-time opportunity, so like anyone would, she accepted. However, what pissed her off even more was the fact that her job did shit to help her get the hell out alive. She could only damn herself for not being a cop or an agent or something. Then again, if that were true...

"...I wouldn't be here right now..."

The pounding on the battered door became extreme and the assailants' screams even more so. Samantha knew that going up the building was as good as jumping off a bridge, so she had to choose between a very limited lists of actions.

She ran through several hallways, most of them partially blown to rubble. Both her hands and her teeth were clenched tightly as she dashed past broken bodies of people she once worked with, but she wouldn't stop running, not even if she saw any movement. They'd all just become like them...

Finally she reached the employees' parking lot, a very risky place to go to, but if she was quick enough she could find her friend's jeep and drive off. Timothy Jones surely wouldn't need it. Puffs of dust and smoke fell gently from the lot's ceilings, mocking the danger looming in moments. She raced around, feeling dizzy and out of breath. How could this be happening? Would she die right here in this building?

VROOM!

Out of the dust flew a sleek, red car, unscathed despite the situation. It was an angel with wheels! Samantha nearly dove in front of the car, no longer caring if it would run her down.

"HEY! Please help me..."

Before she could even finish, the driver stopped, called to her and said, "In, now!" Together they zoomed out of the lot and onto the city streets. She sighed shakily and glanced at the guy to say thanks, but he broke out first.

"I'm Drake."

"Not Romanian, huh?" she said, trying to hide the terror behind her voice.

"Yes, actually, I am Romanian." He made a sharp turn and she practically fell out of her seat. He took a look at her name tag and smirked. "Sam...that's a nice name."

"..."

What an awkward man, she thought. He didn't seem phased by what was occurring. The streets were filled with yelling people and horrible monsters, and he was talking like nothing. At least he was driving the hell out, going twenty above the speed limit. If any creature, or person for that matter, got in the way, they were dead meat. Then again, those things running around weren't exactly alive. She finally looked back at Drake and asked him the question she should've asked sooner.

"...Where are you taking us?"

"Somewhere safe, of course," he simply answered.

"Well, where is this 'safe place', Drake?"

"A village just around the bend," he said casually, no expression on his face whatsoever. "Don't worry, I just received a call from a villager there. Just relax."

Yeah, just relax, everyone's getting killed and/or eaten, I'm probably trapped in this country, and I should just...relax!

The car jumped up all of the sudden, an explosion behind them as if it were just a couple feet away. Samantha didn't bother looking back, already knowing that it was the building she would've died in if it weren't for this Drake guy. She should've been grateful, but she couldn't find it in her to trust him.

"Hey, is this village near an airport or something?" she asked nervously. "I mean, this is near Transylvania, a tourist spot. There's gotta be an airport somewhere nearby."

The man's blue eyes remained fixed to the road, a somewhat blank look on his face, like everything was cool. The way he dressed seemed typical of an American: a tight black muscle shirt, a denim jacket, jeans, and boots. His jet black hair was combed slickly to the back; he was a tourist.

"Please tell me you know where we're going," Samantha asked calmly, expecting a calm reply of "yes". But she didn't get an answer. Instead, Drake stopped the car on the middle of the road, one near a large forest. He got out and looked back, then fell on his knees. The young man just knelt there, and that's when it hit Samantha.

She too got out of the car, not knowing what to do or say. Just her luck...

"Get up! Now's not the time to lose it, we have to get out of here!" she shouted. The man turned to her and got up, apparently not in shock anymore. He planted his face so close to her, she had to back up.

"Everyone's dead! Everyone! My wife, my newborn son, my brother...EVERYONE! Do you expect me to goddamn get up and escape for you're stupid ass!"

He put his hands on his head, breathing heavily. Then, he glanced from the forest to the girl's anxious face. Drake could only look at the ground.

"I-I'm sorry...I"

"Don't worry...I don't know what exactly happened to you down there, but I'm gonna have to ask you to remain calm and to clear your mind. I know that seems next to impossible, but we're dealing with armed schizophrenics who would think of us as lunch. So...will you help me?"

Drake just sat down on the asphalt, his arms wrapped around his legs like a child.

"I should've be the one saying that stuff to you, shouldn't I have?"

"..."

After an awkward silence, Samantha walked over to the car and got into the driver's seat. Just as she was about to close the door, something pulled back at it. Drake forced a somewhat bittersweet grin.

"Move over, we're getting the hell out."

S H A W N

The tunnel was very damp and chilly, causing Shawn to shiver. Supposedly, it was safer than running around up there. Why she wouldn't just take him along he didn't know, but she certainly was the only one he could trust at the moment. She was the only human alive, and she did save him.

"Damn her for making me go through this..."

A thin layer of fog seeped as he descended deeper into the cave. He readied his handgun before entering, not wanting to waste any precious ammo the Uzi's had. He couldn't help but sense there was something in the cave. The entrance was rather narrow, but the tunnel seemed to expand as he progressed. Eventually, he hit what looked like the main chamber.

"God, she better be at the other end of the cave with reinforcements, all armed with bazookas and rifles," he said to himself. The silence broken every second by the constant drops of water didn't make him feel any more calmer, so talking was his next best option.

The chamber was a decent size, the majority of it a large grove collecting water that dripped from stalactites. Whatever else was past the pond, Shawn could not see it. The darkness surrounded every nook in the cave. He took out his flashlight immediately, trying to find where the path continued.

Besides the odor of strong humidity, there was a stench so strong, one he'd grown to recognize as the stench of rot. His senses became suddenly alert, reminding him that what he smelled was that of death. The flashlight wandered toward the source, and his heart sank at the sight. There were human pieces scattered all over the ground. The most obvious piece, the hand, seemed days old, the dank cave helping the decomposition. Something was down here. A few steps closer, and he could see some other red, sticky substance near the gore. It wasn't until he saw the khaki pants stained with dark blood that he recognized it as the lower torso of the poor victim.

"Ugh, that smell..."

As he edged past the mangled parts, he noticed something next to the body. It was a block of some sort, only it had a funny-looking design on it. Upon closer inspection, he distinguished the writing from the back of it. The words were simple enough to read in Romanian, but he could make nothing of it. "Dragon's Den" was what he was certain it said.

Shawn no longer cared what it said or meant, and after procuring it, he continued down the path, his handgun in sync with his flashlight. The following chambers he found had an even denser fog, blocking his view completely. After realizing this, he was forced to stop in his tracks.

"Great, now I'll have to feel my way through?" Even as his instincts roared out in disapproval, he knew he had no other choice. Who knew if those cannibals were following him?

The path spiraled about, leading him even further down into the depths of the cavern. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse...

There was a noise from behind like that of small rocks smacking hard onto something. He veered behind him and saw only mist. No doubt, something had been following him, a predator. Human or not, Shawn did not feel like facing anything in the thick air. He quickly pulled out his arm to the right to feel for the wall, turned around, and started jogging. He knew his attempt to scurry off with muted steps failed when he heard his stalker do the same, the sound of soft, fleshy feet directly behind him.

"Gotta go, now!" he shouted in his head. He had to have run smack into six or seven walls as he dashed for an escape route. Even so, he could still here its footsteps and its sharp, quick breaths like a lion giving chase to its prey. It wasn't until a couple of seconds more that Shawn saw the mist recede, a sign of an exit.

"Thank you, God..."

The footsteps behind instantly sounded off the walls, then onto the ceiling. His pursuer chased him from the roof of the cave! A gust of air provoked him to speed up, the high-pitched "swoosh" of something sharp cutting the very air behind his neck. An opening appeared at the end of the tunnel, and Shawn dove, tucked, and rolled to lose the creature. When he got up from the stunt, he found himself about two feet away from a giant chasm. Carefully, he turned around and saw nothing but the fog.

"Gave up already?" he joked, trying to catch his breath while familiarizing himself with the new chamber. It was bigger than any of the other ones, yet there was no mugginess whatsoever. Shawn took one last deep breath and continued up the path. That's when he heard it, a shrill unlike anything he'd ever heard. He turned once more and saw his stalker lurking closer to him. At first, he thought it was another zombie creature, but when he saw bat-like wings attached to its arms and its thin, bony body, he knew it was something he could not logically explain.

"Wait...that parasite..."

It opened its rancid wings, revealing its cadaverous face. With eyes glowing a bright yellow, it shrilled once more and exposed razor sharp teeth, its incisors elongated to the point it resembled more of a vampire. It then climbed the wall and onto the ceiling, making it nearly invisible.

Shawn looked around for any alternatives to his predicament. He turned up the path toward his exit and could see light piercing through the darkness of the cave.

"Salvation," he thought. As he made his way up, he heard it again, scrambling about above him, and before he could react, it grabbed hold of his shoulders, its decaying face near his. It endeavored to bite him, but only caught some of his jacket between its peculiar jaws. In retribution, Shawn took out a spare dagger he always kept with him and stabbed it straight into its eye. The bat-like creature shrieked miserably, dropped him down, and took out the dagger and tossed it aside.

"Hasta la vista..." he said, feeling dumb for talking Spanish rather than Romanian. As the creature writhed in pain, Shawn blasted two shots from his pistol, one in its emaciated chest and another through its right wing. It dropped to the floor, violently seething in pain. A final kick and down the cliff and it went with an echoing screech that couldn't feel more satisfying.

He picked up his dagger and froze again at what he heard. A dozen more shrieks sounded from somewhere beyond the cave's walls. More of those things were approaching! And when he saw five to eight more of them fly out of the shadowy background, he could swear he was forbidden to leave.

Shawn spun and kicked down the very first one that lunged at him, sending it flying backward. Another attempted the same feat, but was rewarded with a stab to the throat. He kicked that one off the edge. The other savage monsters took more heed, fluttering in an undulating pattern, just like bats.

"Come on..."

The next one tried to swerve left to right before diving, but Shawn shot a wing and it tumbled down the walls of the cliff and into the void of darkness.

Some of them began to attack all at once, trying to take him by surprise, but he had expected that. Shawn took out his Uzi's that Eva had given him and blasted them down. In no time at all, four of the screaming things fell down dead. The remaining few actually retreated, and Shawn sighed in relief; he made it, practically unscathed, too. Except for several minor bruises and scrapes, he survived the horrors of the wretched cave.

"Very good, Mr. Brown," came a voice from his only exit.

"Who the hell..."

That voice, Shawn knew it, but it wasn't until he saw him that he shook his head in disbelief.

"Randolph, what the hell is going on!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, his face hidden again by only a scarf. "Come on, you didn't actually think that the village I led you to was the rendezvous point, did you?"

"You bastard, you planned this all out! Who are you for real!" Randolph tilted his head slightly, his long, black scraggly hair gleaming in the emanating light.

"Why, I'm Randolph, of course," he replied playfully.

At that moment, Shawn pointed his handgun at him.

"I want answers!"

"Answers? I simply spied on a couple of your pathetic American sympathizers, particularly at the one meant to take you past the Alps. I killed him after dusk, assumed his role, and was never questioned after that. After all, they did think I was 'Randolph'. Several of my fellow cohorts also did the same to the others. They're most likely dead and..."

"You son of a..."

His words were cut off as he was knocked off the ledge next to him. Shawn dangled off the ledge with one arm and saw the flying vampire that assaulted him. He struggled to pull himself back up, hoping the creature wouldn't swoop down at him.

Surely enough it came at him with razor sharp nails and fangs, but he was quick enough to pull out the gun and shoot directly between its eyes, sending it spinning down like a dead fly. He immediately pulled himself up with what little strength he had left.

"Haha, perhaps I underestimated you," said Randolph as he left, "but don't worry, we'll meet again. You can count on it."

S A M A N T H A

Again there was a silence that seemed to bother Sam as she sat anxiously beside the driver, Drake. He appeared to be more with it as opposed to before, but she couldn't find herself to say anything else to the guy.

Feeling there was no use in trying, she glanced out her window, relieved to see some nice scenery and no explosions, fires, blood, or anything like that. Perhaps it was all just an abhorrent riot started by some foreign cults. It was highly unlikely, but thinking like that was her thing; she should be relaxed and grateful that she lived and had the opportunity to leave. Sam plastered on a grin and looked at Drake, who in response smiled nervously back.

"So, do you know where the nearest airport is? I mean, I've tried calling the police, the nearest departments in other towns and all, but all communication was cut off..."

Drake began to turn pale.

"...I want to get as far away from this place as possible, so are we going..."

She trailed off at the grim expression on his face; he knew something.

"...Sam, the nearest airports have been razed. Even the airplanes were scrapped! I found out just before finding you. These people mean serious business..."

"So, we're trapped here..."

"Until we find a place that hasn't been massacred by them yet..."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the ground beneath the speeding car began to undulate. The tremor became violent to the point where they were literally five feet above the road.

"Shit!" she screamed, as the car flew into the air and crashed down onto the ground on the driver's side with a terrifying display of glass shattering and metal folding inward. Sam's eyes were closed shut for several seconds. She could only hear the sound of the glass falling all over and the silence the aftermath brought forth. However, she didn't hear any signs of Drake.

"Drake...Drake! Answer me if you're okay!" she called out shakily.

"Uhhhhh...ugh..."

She leaned over his slump body, deathly afraid to see in what condition he was in. When she did so, she immediately saw traces of blood on the wheel and dashboard.

Shit...

Sam unbuckled herself and went straightaway to the slumped body. If he was dead, she'd be not only alone, but lost and weaponless. She turned over his body, the left side of his face bloodied. With much hesitation, she checked for his pulse. He was still alive and breathing.

"Come on, Drake, you can make it," she muttered to herself and to him unknowingly. She searched for his immediate wound, promising herself that no matter how gruesome the scene, she wouldn't lose her cool.

Below his left ribs, the blood poured out in minor amounts, apparently a flesh wound. She assumed that wasn't the source. Then, she saw it. Lodged deeply into his leg was a long shard of glass, his thigh bleeding persistently. She scoffed at the smell of blood, having smelt enough at the embassy building. First, she had to pull him out. She didn't even bother to wonder what had caused the car to overturn so violently...

She managed to pull him out easily, being aware of his wounds. Sam herself had some minor cuts, but she didn't think much of them. Concentrating on how to get the piece of glass out of his leg was her next goal, but she felt somewhat uncomfortable doing it out next to where the car had irrupted for some inscrutable reason. With what happened in town, she figured pulling him somewhere safer was of great priority.

Drake was still half conscious, his breathing rapid. He occasionally moaned, which was a pretty good sign.

"Come, on, stay with me!" she muttered again, trying her best to lean him onto her shoulder and get him up. There was an old stable where she assumed a farm or ranch once belonged. It would likely be their haven for the moment. In any case, it was abandoned. Once inside, she noticed a flight of wooden stairs that led to a small, upper floor. She gained her grip on his body again and started for the stairs, feeling safer up high.

The upper floor had some old tools used in the rural areas, nothing more. There was a bench, one she could lay him on for the time being. She relaxed his body onto it, and he winced slightly.

She knew what came next. She jolted back to where the car was, certain that there had been a large water bottle in there somewhere. As she checked the vehicle for any other useful items, she began to feel wary, a feeling she learned was caused by instinct. She felt...watched. However, Drake's life was still in her hands; he could easily bleed to death, she thought.

Crouching next to his leg, Sam's hand hovered shakily above it. She knew that when she'd pull out the shard of glass, blood would begin to ooze out voraciously. She'd seen it happen on medical-related television programs back at home...

With a water bottle in one hand, she took hold of the glass carefully, her heart pounding and her body trembling. It was much harder than she imagined. Then, Drake's eyes opened, vaguely aware of his surroundings. Sam hesitated.

"Drake? I need you to do something for me..." she started. "Please...hold your breathe, or something, at least until I tell you to. She ripped a piece of her sweater off, the other portion which she'd also use to bandage the wound, and stuffed it in his mouth and closed his jaw. She closed her eyes and pulled out the glass, the piece sliding smoothly despite the depth it had entered. Sam exhaled deeply upon hearing the muffled groan Drake made. He spit out the rag and breathed desperately. Nearly every curse word flew out of his mouth as she started to wrap the wound and apply pressure to it, another good sign.

"Relax, it'll hurt more if you overreact..."

"W-what just happened?"

"Just rest," she said, looking worriedly at him, his face all sweaty from the pain. "Here, relax a bit. I still need to take care of your cuts."

He splashed water on his face, squealing in pain as she bandaged him up.

"Where are we right now?" he asked.

"In an old stable, I think," she replied. "You're lucky we had some items worthy of being called first aid."

"...thank you...for helping me, even after I was an asshole back there...UGH!"

"Easy!" she said, not able to hide a faint smile. He was too stubborn to listen to her. "You're very welcome. Besides, you're all I've got at the moment, remember?" He forced a smile back at her despite the pain and the whole situation. He figured that showing her how much pain he was in and how depressed he still felt would disillusion the girl. After all, she was a wreck.

"You'd better be thankful. I gave up my favorite sweater to wrap your damn cuts!" Drake sighed in relief, his slick hair all messy and dirty. His serene look became a grim one in a matter of seconds when he looked down the floor below them. A shadowy figure moved silently into the stable. Drake sat up, alerting Sam who only stared in horror at the stairs. They could hear the footsteps getting nearer, climbing the steps ever so slowly. And they were both unarmed, not even a canister of pepper spray to defend. Unless they thought quickly, they were dead.