The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): The Trailer Park Of Dracula part two

The Nick Of Time

(and other Abrasions)

The Trailer Park Of Dracula

part two

Brides Of The Trailer Park Of Dracula

by
Al Bruno III



He was almost fifty and he still carried the lessons of Vietnam with him; the lessons of war, the mysteries of the gun and the ability to glimpse the secret pathways. Once again he was on a poorly planned out adventure at the request of his old friend Jason Magwier, in truth he wouldn't have it any other way. He just wished that the man had left his new girlfriend behind. She was nothing but trouble...

*


The Seven were crooning blasphemies in the moonlight, beseeching the dark gods for protection and power. One by one they cut themselves to let blood spill into the shallow brook that bordered the forest on one side and the Frosty Acres trailer park on the other. Even by the light of the dwindling it was obvious there was something unnatural about them.

Prayer- the last refuge of scoundrels and monsters... Zeth thought as he stood in the shadow of a nearby tree keeping half his attention on the rites of the Seven and the other half on Magwier and his new sweetheart.

The damn fools were too close, too close to the action and too close to each other. Zeth glared at them half crouching, half-snuggling behind a dead tree. Bad enough Magwier had broken Rio's heart but to have done it in anticipation of Lorelei Miller?

The chanting stopped. He heard a muffled cry from Magwier's girl and a bird-like squawk from the man himself. Zeth reached for his sidearm knowing he had only seconds to react. A dark shape dropped onto him from the treetops.

*

It wasn't the first time Zeth had awoken to find himself bound, stripped to the waist and about to be beaten- but it was the first time it had ever happened with a Typo O Negative mix tape playing in the background.

The blows that landed on him were from fists wrapped in bands of leather and barbed wire. Each hit was well placed and well timed, just enough to hurt, not enough to kill.

At least for a while.

Between the flashes of raw red pain Zeth took stock of his surroundings. His wrists were tied with a length of nylon rope and that rope was looped through a hook set into the ceiling of the trailer.

Looks like they've done this kind of thing before. Zeth thought.

His tormentor struck again, knocking the wind from Zeth and pulling the skin of his gut away in tatters. The impact set Zeth rocking in place; the hook set in the ceiling creaked on its moorings.

Interesting...

He was in a trailer, a dingy-looking double wide affair with a stained linoleum floor and a threadbare couch; the windows had blankets hung over them and the stove had been uncleaned for so long that it was streaked with black.

The radio blaring the best of Bloody Kisses was the only clean looking thing in the place, and that included his captors.

Another punch this one caught him in the bicep but cut deep. Zeth swung backwards again, his feet slipping in drops of his own blood.

There's my guns. he noted. On the stove.

“Why don't you say something?” the man with barbed wire gloves said. He was pale, with snow colored hair and milk white skin. He was shirtless and gleefully blood-spattered. Three women sat on the couch behind him, watching intently and licking their lips.

“I'm not really the begging type.” Zeth explained, trying to keep his tone causal. He knew the man by reputation, he called himself Fenris and always kept three beautiful women with him- each of them human and eager. Zeth never understood why otherwise rational people would romanticize the undead. It was like having a fetish for tick bites.

“Oh you'll beg.” Fenris grinned, “Ladies, give him some pleasure to sweeten the pain.”

He stepped back and the three women surged forward and began licking at the wounds on Zeth's chest.

“Mmmm salty,” one said.

The other laughed, “He's got a Budda belly.”

“But broad shoulders,” the third's lips were red from the wound on his bicep, “I like broad shoulders.”

“Ladies, please don't bother.” Zeth smirked at them, “I'm gay.”

“What?” the woman lapping at his chest backed away.

Another one of the women joined her, “You’re a queer?”

All three of them retreated back to Fenris. Zeth raised an eyebrow, “It seems a little bit late to be embracing conventional morality.”

Fenris came at him again but this time Zeth kicked him in the chest sending the shirtless man sprawling backwards into his brides. Then Zeth put all his weight on his bonds and pulled.

Roaring, Fenris launched himself at Zeth catching him in a clumsy tackle. The hook pulled from the ceiling in a shower of broken tiles. As Zeth fell backwards he grabbed at the top of the stove.

The entire trailer rattled when they hit the floor. Fenris raised himself above his prisoner, his mouth open, his teeth flashing. Zeth shoved his .45 automatic into the man’s mouth and pulled the trigger.

Gore splattered everywhere. Zeth kicked free of the dying monster thanking the saints of gunpowder and the firing pin that creatures like Fenris were so much more delicate than their Hollywood counterparts. Zeth stood; his hands were still bound but his grip on the pistol was steady. The three women were cowering on the bed.

Zeth shot each one of them in the stomach and before turning to go he said, “Now that is what a mouthful of blood tastes like."

*

Throwing on his coat Zeth ran outside calling Magwier’s name. The pain was starting to dig in now, weakening him but he tried to put it aside. His best friend needed him.

A trailer door flew open, Zeth raised his gun but it was just Lorelei, blundering out in a cloud of smoke. She did a double take at the sight of him, “Are you all right?”

He surveyed the trailer park, “Do you know where Magwier is?”

She crossed her arms, “No.”

“Then come on,” Zeth turned to one of the other trailers. There was a kind of resignation in his voice, “We have a long night ahead of us.”

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