by Scott W Cook
Basarab sneered, “Then why keep me around, Tepes?”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Dracula replied.
“Wise,” Basarab said, coming forward, “But short sighted. It won’t help you now, tyrant. Since here you are, all alone… with no friends to stand by you. How fitting.”
The men were on him then. Dracula held his own at first. He was, after all, a seasoned soldier and Basarab and his men were cowards. However, it was only a matter of time.
Three against one were long odds, especially when the three had the benefit of being fresh and had a bit of youth on their side as well.
The first wound was a glancing blow from Florescu’s sword on Vlad’s left forearm. A small wound that dripped blood but wasn’t really that deep. The man was rewarded by a savage kick from Dracula and a much more effective sword thrust to the belly.
As Florescu went down, however, Basarab had the chance to slip around and bury his own blade into Dracula’s chest. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it did pierce the lung and slow the Prince down considerably.
Then another blow, and another.
Dracula found himself lying on his back, blood flowing from his chest, belly and his left leg. Basarab stood over him, panting.
“So it ends, Tepes,” Basarab hissed, “and I will be the new Prince of Walachia.”
“Never,” Vlad said with a cough.
Basarab growled and swung his blade, slicing off part of Dracula’s nose and tearing away a section of his right cheek. Immediately, the Prince began to choke on his own blood.
“You die, Tepes,” Basarab snarled. He enjoyed using the nickname, “Die ignominiously, defaced and drowning in your own blood. Like the bloodthirsty tyrant you are!”
“Stop!”
The two remaining attackers turned to the sound of the hollered command. They turned almost against their will, compelled by the power in the voice.
Vlad, who was beginning to fade, could barely turn his head to see who it was. Whoever might be coming to his rescue, they were far too late.
It was father Devotori!
The priest ran toward them, his sword held high. Basarab laughed as did his companion. The second man stepped forward to deal with the uppity priest.
“I’ll handle him, Prince,” This he said to Basarab, “You deal with Dracula.”
The man was quite surprised, at least for the short time he had yet to live, when the priest easily parried his sword thrust and swung his own blade with such force that the man’s sword arm was neatly cleaved from his body at the shoulder. An instant later, the man’s head went sailing in the other direction.
Basarab only stared in disbelief, as within the span of two seconds, the priest had dismembered and beheaded his closest ally.
“You haven’t won, here, Papist,” Basarab shouted. He turned to run. Before he did, however, he took a swipe at Dracula’s neck and ripped open the noble’s throat across the Adam’s apple.
Devotori made to go after him but the shouts of Joseph Moresti and a small group of men with him stopped the priest.
They’d be upon the scene in a matter of seconds. Devotori dropped to his knees beside Dracula, “It’s all right, prince.”
The sword wound wasn’t as bad as it seemed and Dracula was able to croak out the words, “I… I will not die…”
Devotori relished in this act and declaration of unstoppable willpower. He smiled down at the mortally wounded man, “No, you won’t.”
Vladislaus Dracula slipped into the blackness a moment later.
Joseph appeared at Devotori’s side, “no… how?”
“Basarab,” Devotori said, “Dracula was betrayed.”
Joseph had tears in his eyes, “I’ve failed him… a great man to whom I owed everything and I wasn’t here when he needed me. Now his body will be picked apart by crows… or worse, Basarab will come back to claim it and bring his head to the Sultan.”
“That’s exactly what will happen,” Devotori said.
“How can you say this?” Joseph flared.
“Do not despair, my son,” The Italian priest reassured him, “It will only seem to be Vlad they take. You must trust me. There’s much to do and little time to do it in.”
It was hard to tell who was more surprised when Vlad Dracula opened his eyes, he or Joseph. Probably the latter, since the man who seemed to come back from the dead in no way resembled the man he’d seen laying mutilated on the field of his final victory.
“Joseph?” Dracula asked groggily.
“Oh my god!” the soldier said, collapsing to his knees, “how can this be…”
Vlad lay on a bed in a small candle lit chamber of the Comana monastery. Ironically, the church had been founded by Vlad and wasn’t far from where he’d been killed. Or apparently killed.
The only other people in the room were a man with brownish skin, a very attractive nun and father Devotori. Joseph looked at them, “Is this witchcraft?”
“In a church?” Devotori asked with a chuckle, “No, young Joseph… it’s destiny.”
“But his wounds,” Joseph said, indicating Vlad. The wounds were still evident, although they were scarred over and seemed to be healing. Even his nose which had been cut off halfway down ended in a reddish brown scab that assumed the shape of a complete nose.
“He’s healing,” The brown skinned man said, “but he needs more, colonel. He needs your blood.”
Suddenly Joseph Moresti understood. A shock of fear coursed through him and he stepped back, “No… this isn’t witchcraft… He’s… he’s Nosferatu!”
“I am?” Vlad said weakly from the bed. It would explain much.
“No,” The nun said with a smile, “He’s not a vampire, colonel. He’s… well, he’s now immortal. Yet a small quantity of your blood will complete the process. The question is, are you willing to help him?”
Joseph’s fear subsided somewhat, but he wasn’t ready to dismiss the vampire theory. How could he? There was his general, whole for the most part. He’d even heard him say he wouldn’t die… and now he needed blood…
“I owe him my life,” Joseph said, stepping forward and rallying his courage, “if my life will save his…”
“No, my son,” Father Devotori said with a smile, “You aren’t a sacrifice. Just a donor. You won’t be harmed, I promise you.”
Joseph agreed and with a lancet, the beautiful nun opened up a small vein and filled a goblet with red blood. The brown skinned man applied a bandage and Joseph watched as the woman brought the cup to Dracula’s bedside.
“You must drink this, prince Dracula,” She said.
His face pinched in disgust and he turned away. Joseph found that odd. If Vlad was a vampire…
“You must,” the nun repeated with a forcefulness that startled Joseph. There weren’t many women of his time who could speak in such a commanding way.
Vlad protested again.
“The blood is the life,” The nun said, bringing the cup to his lips, “Trust me, prince. We all go through this. It’s far more pleasant than you might think.”
“Joseph,” Devotori said, “Leave us now. We must speak with Vlad alone for a time. I’ll come get you when you can visit again. Get some rest.”
Joseph hesitated. Now that Vlad was… alive… he was loathe to leave him. The last time he had…
“It’s all right,” Devotori said, “He’s safe here. We wouldn’t have gone to this trouble to harm him.”
Once Joseph had exited the room, Dracula did indeed drink the blood of his friend. It was surprisingly tasty. He looked at his caretakers for an explanation.
“You are immortal now,” Devotori said, “Like the rest of us. We are not, as you probably suspect, who we appear to be.”
“Who are you then?” Vlad asked. He did feel better. A lot better, in fact.
Devotori smiled, “It’s going to take some getting used to. But I swear it’s the truth. That man is Sneferu, one of the early Pharaohs of Egypt.”
> Vlad narrowed his eyes at the young priest.
Devotori laughed, “No, I’m not mad. And this nun, who isn’t a nun, is the last Pharaoh of Egypt.”
Vlad frowned for a moment. He began picking through his historical knowledge until his eyes widened, “You mean…”
“I’m Cleopatra VII,” She said sweetly.
Vlad felt his blood turn to ice as he cast his gaze upon the Catholic Priest. In a small voice that barely came out as a whisper he asked the question.
“My name is Gaius Julius Caesar,” The man said simply, “and we’d like you to join our quest.”
Chapter 25
From the diary of Tara Shafer
Dated 12/6/2019
Dear Diary,
Okay, so I had to put this down. It is a girl’s diary after all, lol.
After we’d escaped from Tampa Bay and headed out to sea, things calmed down. Honestly, it was a nice change. The past couple of days had been more than a little stressful and we were all glad for a break.
Sam said our cruise to Key West would probably take the better part of two days. Normally he said it would take like thirty hours or less if we just sailed or motored straight, but because we wanted to conserve fuel, we were sailing. We were moving along at a nice seven knots, but not straight there.
That was fine with me. It was nice to just relax on deck or watch a movie or take a nap. We also spent this first day at sea cataloging and inventorying all the goodies Sam and Andrea and Carl brought back from MacDill.
Fuck me, what a haul!
They got all kinds of stuff, including some full sets of camo gear, including boots. Andrea had been in charge of the clothes and had guessed our sizes pretty well. Plus she got extras too. She called them MCUU’s – but also said just to call them BDU’s. Sounds kind of cool – battle dress uniform.
It’s funny, because in the old days, I would never have put on anything like this. I’ve always been an outdoorsy girl, but I was also a girly girl too. I liked my styles and even if I went on a hike, it was done with a sense of teenage flare. No red neck camo shit for this chick.
But these BDU’s were pretty sweet, especially for this new world. They were military, after all, and were rugged and fit well. You could move easily and I don’t mind saying that Andrea and I looked pretty fucking hot in ours. Even Brenda did, too. And the boys looked sexy as shit. Especially mine!
And… that sort of leads me to the point of this entry…
Tony, Brenda and Carl were aboard the Sexual Heeling and Sam, Andrea, Andy and I were aboard Sorcerer. We decided to set night watches where each couple would stand a watch together while the other slept. Andy and I took first watch since we were kind of night owls, or at least we had been before the world went to hell.
So it was around two-thirty in the morning, or I guess zero two-thirty to be correct… even more correct, since we were at sea, would be to say that it was five bells in the middle watch! All these military people were starting to rub off on me.
Andy and I were snuggled up together in a bean bag chair we’d set up on the foredeck. We had to be careful, of course. It would be pretty easy to fall asleep and we were on watch after all.
“My God!” I said softly as we stared up at the night sky. It was a totally cloudless night, “There are so many stars out!”
“Yeah,” Andy said, “Being away from the lights of the city, you can really see them out here. Not that we’ve had any city lights for a while, but you tend not to pay much attention these days. Yet lying here and looking up, it’s amazing. You can really see the Milky Way, too.”
I snuggled up to his warm body even more, “this might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever done.”
“Oh yeah?” He asked, kissing the top of my head.
“Definitely,” I replied absently stroking his chest with my right hand, “I mean, here we are, lying cuddled up together on a big sailing yacht and gazing up at the stars. Even the moon is nearly full.”
Andy sighed, “Yeah, it is pretty awesome.”
“Only one thing could make it better,” I said in a low voice.
I’m not sure if he didn’t catch it or was just playing cool, but he said, “What? Bottle of wine?”
I giggled, “Well, yeah… but I was thinking more along the lines of stripping out of these BDU’s and making you holla, baby!”
He chuckled but I also clearly felt a shiver of excitement go through him. I also felt a hardening in his pants. I had my right leg thrown over him and felt him getting excited.
“Too bad we’re on duty,” he said huskily. He cleared his throat, “You know… have to be good.”
“Yes,” I said, sliding my leg off him, “But only to a point.”
Sam’s Note: There is a break in the manuscript here. The remainder of this entry in Tara’s diary is rather… graphic, as she puts it. I’ve left the rest out so as not to offend the sensibilities of the faintemore conservative of whomever might read this. I may include it in a future version of this chronicle or maybe release it separately. For now, though, let’s jump ahead a little, knowing full well that Andy and Tara made love for the first time this night…
Chapter 26
From the personal journal of Samuel R. Decker
We covered the hundred miles or so to the Northwest Passage by midafternoon. That day, like the previous day, was blessedly uneventful. We just relaxed, organized our supplies and made a list of things we wanted to find and find out in Key West when we arrived.
I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I hoped that the island city was fairly intact. Yeah, they’d have had zombies, but with only a single land access – the overseas highway of US-1 – I hoped that the residents of the town and its surrounding islands would have been able to contain the outbreak a little more effectively.
What I wasn’t prepared for was just how effectively this had been done.
“I’m picking something up on radar, Sam,” Andrea said from the helm.
I was just coming up the companionway with a couple of Coronas in my hand. I was a bit surprised by this declaration. We hadn’t seen as much as a light since leaving Tampa Bay.
“Really?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah…” She said with a little frown on her beautiful face, “And it’s… big. Possibly a ship.”
I was just pondering this when Andy called back from the foredeck, “Sir! Something on the horizon. A mast of some kind… but not a sail. Looks like part of a ship maybe.”
“I’ll be damned,” I muttered, squeezing in next to Andrea. Sure enough, on the radar display was a sizable green blob about twelve miles off. My radar was mounted high up on the mast and gave me a pretty good over the horizon view. Whatever this thing was, it was close enough to reflect a strong signature.
The VHF crackled to life, “Sammy, do you see that?”
It was Tony over on the Island Packet cutter.
“Affirmative, Heeling,” I said, switching to a more professional mode of speech. Old habits die hard, “We have it on our scope and Andy can see the mast. Probably a radar mast.”
“Which means they can see us, too,” Tony said without much enthusiasm.
I could understand that. It wasn’t like the last few days had shown us how fortuitous it was to run into other survivors. On the contrary, what we’d learned was that there seemed to be a growing number of bandits out there trying to create little kingdoms for themselves.
“Not much we can do about it now,” I said, “Except turn and run and hope they don’t follow us.”
Before Tony could reply, another voice broke into the channel, “…sailing vessels, sailing vessels. This is the U.S.S. John Paul Jones. Do you read us?”
I looked at Andrea in astonishment and saw the same look on her face, “Sam… is that really a Navy ship?”
“She’s really an Arleigh Burke class destroyer,” I replied, “Whether that vessel out there is who she says she is I don’t know… but I guess we’ll find out.”
�
��Sam?” Tony’s one word question said a lot. I knew what he was asking without him having to ask it over an open channel.
The unknown voice repeated its hail once again. They were following Navy protocol, Scanning through the channels and then sending out a call on each three times. Of course, if they’d been on our frequency, which was currently channel twenty-nine, they’d have heard some of our conversation.
“Fuck it,” I said. We couldn’t escape anyway. If it was really an Arleigh Burke class destroyer, they could go more than four times our top speed. Further, if they wanted to open fire, they could kill us from fifty miles away without any problem.
Andrea looked at me askance.
I grinned and picked up the mic, “John Paul Jones, John Paul Jones, this is sailing vessel Sorcerer, Captain Samuel Decker speaking. We’re reading you.”
I switched the chart plotter over to AIS, or automatic identification system, which was a way for vessels to transmit their I.D. so you could tell who was who from a distance. The AIS did indicate that the vessel was who she said she was. Although that didn’t mean much.
There was a long pause and another voice came over the speaker, “Is that retired Navy Captain Sam ‘Sharky’ Decker?”
The voice was familiar but I couldn’t place it right away. I said I was.
Another pause, “Former SEAL and all around bad ass? Or thinks he is?”
There was bemusement in the voice and it tickled the tip of my mind. Then the bulb finally went off, “is that you, Muñoz?”
A laugh, “Holy shit! Yeah, it’s me, and its Commander Muñoz now, Sam. I’m the captain of the Jones! What in the name of Christ are you doing out there?”
I grinned at Andrea, “I know this guy. We served together a few years back. Kind of a young hothead with more than his share of arrogance, but a good egg.”
“That really you, Octavio?” Tony asked over the radio.