In the morning, when you wake, you decide to write again, in case you should get another opportunity. But again a surprise, again a shock! Every scrap of paper is gone. So is the suit in which you had traveled here, and also your coat. This is some new scheme of villainy!
Suddenly, you hear outside a cracking of whips and pounding of horses’ feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard. With joy you hurry to the window, and you see two large wagons, each drawn by eight horses. The wagons are driven by Slovaks.
You run to the door, hoping to join them in the main hall. Again a shock, your bedroom door is locked from the outside. You run to the window and cry to them. They look up at you and point, but then one of the gypsies says something to them, and they all laugh. After that, nothing you do will make them even look at you.
You notice that their wagons contain large, square boxes, with handles of thick rope. These appear empty by the ease with which the Slovaks move them.
Fifty boxes are unloaded into a great heap in one corner of the yard. Shortly afterward, the Slovaks and their wagons depart.
5. Dracula’s Lair
At night, the Count leaves you early, and he locks himself into his own room. As soon as you dare, you run up the winding stairs and look out the window, which opens south. You will watch for the Count, for there is something going on. The gypsies are staying somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some kind. You know it, for you hear a far-away sound of digging.
You see something coming out the Count’s window. You draw back and watch carefully, seeing the whole man emerge. It is a new shock to find that he is wearing your clothes! This is his scheme of evil. He will pretend to be you and allow others to see you, as they think. There will be proof that you left the castle.
For a long time, you watch at the window for the Count’s return. Eventually you begin to wonder if it is wise to remain any longer. You flee and feel somewhat safer in your own room.
In the morning, when the sun grows high, your fear falls from you. You must take action. It has always been at night that you have been in danger. You almost never see the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that he may be awake while they sleep? If you can only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. You have seen him crawl from his window. Could you do the same and go in through his window? You risk falling to your doom, but the key to the castle door may be in his room. Can you scale the wall as he did? Will you try? Or is it better to wait and hope for a safer opportunity to come? What will you choose to do?
Climb to the Count’s window.
Wait for a safer opportunity.
The sunlight has made you brave, but it has not made you foolish. It would take an expert climber to scale the castle wall. If you were to try it, you know that it would mean certain death. You decide to wait for a better, safer opportunity.
You remain in your bedroom for much of the day, deciding on another course of action. You consider your options, but time and again your thoughts drift back to the Count’s room and to the key. You decide that you must get into his room, and there are only two ways to do so: through the door or through the window. You have already ruled out the window, so your only hope is to check the door each night and to pray that he leaves it unlocked.
It is a dangerous plan, for time is not on your side. However, you can be patient—you must be!
Each night, you return up the winding stairs to the window that opens south. You watch for the Count to leave. Then you rush down the stairs and hurry to his bedroom door.
Each night, your plan is thwarted. You turn the knob and press against the door with all of your might. The door does not move. You cry out in frustration. If you can only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is locked.
Days pass into weeks. Your time grows shorter. One night, you find the door locked—and your patience reaches its end. You thrust your shoulder against the door, again and again.
You hear the wood crack.
You step back, and you kick. The wood splinters again. You pedal backward to the opposite wall, and you charge, flinging your full weight against the ancient door. It bursts open, and you tumble into the Count’s private chamber.
The room is empty. It seems to have never been used. The furniture is covered with dust. The only thing you find is a great heap of gold in one corner.
At another corner of the room, there is a heavy door. You try it, hoping to find the main castle key. It is open, and it leads through a stone passage to a circular stairway, which goes steeply down.
You are about to descend when suddenly you hear a voice boom from behind. “How dare you!”
Your muscles tense. Your hair stands on end. The blood in your veins freezes. You have been caught.
You slowly turn to face your captor. He glares at you from the window across the room. His look is one of pure hatred, eyes that burn with rage, a snarl that reveals the Count’s deadly teeth.
Then he is no longer there. In the blink of an eye, the Count is upon you. He lunges at your throat, and you feel his fangs pierce your neck. After that, you feel nothing more. Not ever again.
Try again.
You decide to take the risk. You go straight to the window on the south side and at once get outside. The stones are big and rough. You take off your boots and venture further out. You look down once, but after that you keep your eyes forward. You do not feel dizzy as you make your way downward. You are too excited. The time seems short until you find yourself standing at the Count’s window.
You bend down and slide feet first in through the window. Then you look around for the Count, but with surprise and gladness, you make a discovery. The room is empty! It seems to have never been used. The furniture is covered with dust. The only thing you find is a great heap of gold in one corner.
At another corner of the room, there is a heavy door. You try it, hoping to find the main castle key. It is open, and it leads through a stone passage to a circular stairway, which goes steeply down.
You descend, stepping carefully in the dark. At the bottom, you find a tunnel-like passage, through which comes a deathly odor of old earth newly dug. As you move through the passage, the smell grows heavier.
At last you pull open a heavy door and find yourself in an old ruined chapel, which has evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof is broken, and there are steps leading to two tombs. The ground has recently been dug over, and the dirt has been placed in those great wooden boxes that were brought by the Slovaks.
There is nobody there, so you search over every inch of the ground. You even go into the tombs, although to do so is a dread to your very soul. In the first, you see nothing except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust. In the second, however, you make a discovery.
You have again counted fifty great boxes in all. There, in one of them, on a pile of newly dug dirt, lies the Count! He is either dead or asleep. You cannot say which, for his eyes are open and stony. His cheeks show the warmth of life, and his lips are as red as ever. But there is no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart.
You bend over him and try to look for any sign of life—but find none. You think he might have the key on him, but when you move closer to search, you see his dead eyes. In them, there is such a look of hate that you wonder if he is aware of your presence.
Should you keep looking for the key, or should you flee? What will you choose to do?
Keep looking for the key.
Leave the tomb.
The Count is asleep. He cannot know you are here. You will carefully, quietly search his pockets. The key is your best chance for escape, and this may be your only opportunity to retrieve it.
You slowly slide your hands into the coffin, and you gentl
y pat the Count’s chest. His breast pockets feel empty. You glide your hands along the sides of his body, but the key is nowhere to be found.
He is so cold to the touch, and he remains so still. For a moment, you wonder if he might truly be dead. You glance at his face, and his features remain as still as a painting. Until his eyes move.
They jump to your direction. They focus upon you with a hateful glare.
Too late, you realize the danger. You try to leap away from the coffin, but the Count grabs your wrist and squeezes with his vice-like grip. You cannot help but scream at the sharpness of pain.
“How dare you!” he booms. He rises out of his coffin, never letting go of your wrist, lifting you into the air like a toy doll. “My own private tomb, and you dare to enter—to disturb my sleep!”
You want to answer him. You want to speak in your own defense, but no words escape your lips.
The Count growls. “If you wish to come into my lair, then perhaps you wish to stay.”
You remain helpless as he drags you out of his tomb, along with one of his boxes. You kick and punch at him as he pulls you back into the first tomb you entered. But you may as well be a fly, for the Count does not seem to notice the blows you strike against him.
He stops and thrusts you into the great box. “Farewell, my young friend,” he hisses.
“No,” you cry. “Don’t leave me here. I’m sorry!”
You catch one last look at Count Dracula’s hateful face before he closes the box and seals you in darkness. It is the last sight you ever see.
Try again.
You flee from that place and leave the Count’s room by the window. You crawl again up the castle wall. Returning to your room, you throw yourself panting upon the bed and try to think. You remain there, alone, until the next evening.
It is June 29, the date of your last letter. You have again seen the Count leave the castle by the window, and in your clothes. You dare not wait to see him return, for you fear seeing those weird sisters. You go back to the library and read there until you fall asleep.
You are awakened by the Count, who looks at you grimly. He says, “Tomorrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work. Your last letter home has been sent. Tomorrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the gypsies, who have some work of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you and shall take you to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.”
You ask him, “May I go tonight?”
“Dear sir, my coachman and horses are away.”
“But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.”
He smiles, such a smooth smile that you know there is some trick behind it. He says, “And your baggage?”
“I do not care about it,” you answer. “I can send for it some other time.”
The Count stands and sweetly says, “You English have a saying which is close to my heart. ‘Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.’ Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going.”
He leads you down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stops, and you hear the howling of many wolves. It is almost as if the sound springs at the rising of his hand. After a pause of a moment, he proceeds to the door, draws back the bolts, unhooks the heavy chains, and begins to pull the door open. To your surprise, you see that it is unlocked.
As the door opens, the howling of the wolves grows louder and angrier. Still the door continues slowly to open. It strikes you that this might be the moment and method of your doom. Are you to be given to the wolves outside?
You face yet another terrible choice. Should you venture out of the castle and take your chances against any number of wolves? Or should you remain here with the Count and those evil women? What will you choose to do?
Leave at once.
Stay in the castle.
You stare out the door, then look back at the Count. You look out again, and you make your decision. The beasts outside seem less deadly than the one beside you.
You thank the Count and step out of the castle. You feel a small sense of satisfaction, as surprise flashes across his face. But your moment of triumph does not last. The air is cold, and you are without a jacket. The thought occurs to you that the Count might grab you and pull you back inside, so you start to run.
As you dash down the roadway, the moon ducks behind a cloud, and you are plunged into total darkness. It becomes difficult even to see the path beneath your very feet.
You do not get far from the castle before your side begins to ache. Your throat tightens as you gulp the frigid night air. Sweat pours from your forehead but quickly freezes onto your skin. You are not much of a runner, and the symptoms of tiredness grow even more severe. You are soon forced to stop.
You fall to your hands and knees, gasping for breath. Your body shudders against the cold mountain air.
“This was a mistake,” you groan.
You turn back, considering a return to the castle, but you are far too tired. Your only hope is to seek shelter from the snow and wind within the trees.
You step into the forest as quickly as you dare, arms extended. Your progress is slow, and your hands often scrape against the cold, rough bark of a tree. Twigs snap beneath your feet. Leaves rustle all around you.
And then you hear a low, soft growl. The sound seems to be in front of you. Then behind. To your left. Your right. Then everywhere at once. The wind picks up, and you shudder. Not from the cold, but from the dreadful realization that you are surrounded by wolves.
You scream in terror, “Help me!” And you run.
The wolves are waiting. You hear a snarl just before the first one is upon you. He leaps against your chest, knocking you down. A second and a third join the attack. Then another, and another, and more after that.
In the darkness, your attackers appear as living shadows, but their teeth are real enough. Mere minutes after you stepped into the forest, you are nothing more than a meal for a hungry pack of wolves.
Try again.
You cry, “Shut the door! I shall wait until morning.” You cover your face with your hands to hide your tears of bitter disappointment.
In silence, you return to the library, and after a minute or two, you go to your own room. The last you see of Count Dracula, he smiles at you with a red light of triumph in his eyes.
When you are in your room and about to lie down, you hear whispering at your door. It is the Count.
“Back! Back to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! Tonight is mine. Tomorrow night is yours!”
There is a low, sweet ripple of laughter. In a rage, you throw open the door. You see the three terrible women licking their lips. As you appear, they all join in a horrible laugh and run away.
You go back to your room and throw yourself on your knees. Is it so near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help you and those to whom you are dear!
6. Fight or Flee
You sleep until just before the dawn, and when the sun finally rises, you feel safe. With a glad heart, you open the door and run down the hall. You have seen that the door is unlocked, and now is your chance to escape. You unhook the chains and throw back the massive bolts. But the door will not move.
Despair seizes you. You pull and pull at the door, but it has been locked again by the Count. You must obtain the key at any risk.
You rush up to the east window. You scale down the wall, as before, into the Count’s room. You go through the door in the corner, down the winding stairs, and along the dark passage to the old chapel.
The great box is in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid is on it. You raise the l
id, and you see something that fills your soul with horror. There lies the Count, but looking as if his youth has been half restored. The white hair and moustache are changed to gray. The cheeks are fuller, and the white skin seems ruby-red underneath. The mouth is redder than ever. Even the deep, burning eyes seem stronger.
You shudder as you bend to touch him, but you have to search. The coming night might see you as a meal for those horrid three. You check all over the Count but find no sign of the key. Then you stop and look at the Count. There is a mocking smile on his face, which seems to drive you mad. This is the being you are helping to move to London, where, perhaps for centuries to come, he might do great evil.
A terrible desire comes upon you to rid the world of such a monster. There is no lethal weapon at hand, but you grab a shovel that the workmen had been using to fill the cases. You lift it high to strike at the hateful face. But as you do, the head turns. The eyes look upon you with a blaze of horror.
The Count is awake, but you have the advantage. You hold a shovel, and he remains on his back. You need only swing your weapon down upon him.
However, you have felt the Count’s great strength and seen his lizard-like abilities. Do you dare continue your assault? Or should you retreat and hope he does not follow? What will you choose to do?
Continue your attack.
Run away.
With all of your strength, you force the shovel down toward the Count. As the makeshift weapon swings through the air, you allow yourself to believe that you will be successful. But at the last moment, the Count’s hand leaps upward and blocks your attack.
Dracula (Can You Survive) Page 4