by Craig Zerf
‘It ain’t right,’ said Banton. ‘I mean, Stakkie was an otherwise SOB but every man deserves to be buried with his head.’
‘My boy,’ said Don Dada. ‘We had no choice. You guys left his head at the club. What else could we do?’
Banton shrugged. ‘Nothing. I’m just saying, it ain’t right.’
‘Rest easy, Banton,’ continued Don Dada. ‘Come the day of judgment we will all meet on Mount Zion. Praise be to Selassie.’
‘Praise him,’ agreed Banton.
Don Dada wheeled his chair over to the central table that was, as usual, covered with various firearms and ammunition. ‘So when do you reckon Emily get hold of us again?’ He asked the room in general.
Qwenga shrugged. ‘Not sure Dada,’ he admitted. ‘That Wolfman that saved our asses done took her away. He seemed mighty pissed at the time, so I reckon that she give us a call when he calms down.’
A loud beep sounded from the corner of the room and all eyes swiveled to the CCTV screens that were installed there. Samfy walked over to take a closer look. ‘There’s nothing here,’ he said. ‘Don’t know why the alarms went off.’ He carried on peering for a while, then picked up the remote control, rewound the DVD and pushed play.
As they all watched they saw a brief blur of movement that lasted for the merest fraction of a second.
‘Blood suckers,’ shouted Dada.
Everyone ran to the table and grabbed a firearm. As they did so, the window leading from the courtyard exploded inwards and a group of vampires swept into the room. At the same time the front door was ripped off its hinges and the sound of running feet echoed down the entrance corridor as more blood suckers invaded the building.
The deafening chatter of semi-auto weapons being fired in an enclosed space echoed about the building as the Yardies opened up with everything that they had.
But resistance was pointless. There were only four Yardies and the vampires kept pouring into the room. This time they had ensured that there would only be one possible outcome.
Qwenga went first, bitten multiple times. Then Banton and finally Samfy. Don Dada sat alone, his wheelchair pulled up next to the table, his pistol empty.
As the gunfire came to an end, Dada pulled a carved wooden box from a satchel attached to his wheelchair and held it to his chest.
A vampire swaggered up to the boss man. ‘So, cripple,’ he said. ‘This is how it ends.’
Dada kept quiet and merely stared back. ‘Nothing to say?’ Continued the vampire. ‘Can’t walk and can’t talk. How sad.’
There was a general ripple of cruel laughter from the other vampires. The room was full of them. Perhaps fifteen in all.
‘Everything has to end,’ said Dada, eventually. ‘We cannot live forever.’ He clumsily shifted the box in his grip, trying to hide it next to his body.
‘Actually,’ contradicted the lead vamp. ‘We can. And now it is merely a matter of time before your boys turn and then, perhaps they will also be gifted with immortality. Or perhaps not. Maybe they’ll become mere Grinders. Mindless servants. You, on the other hand,’ he continued. ‘Will have to die. I mean, who wants a crippled vampire?’
Again the laughter flowed.
‘So what do you have in that box. Old man?’ Asked the vamp.
‘Nothing,’ answered Dada. ‘It’s personal. Please, it’s only keepsakes. Mementoes. An old man’s memories.’
‘Give it to me.’
Don Dada shook his head.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, old man,’ said the vamp. ‘Give it to me or I shall tear your arms off and take it anyway.’
Dada looked at the vampire with hatred in his eyes and then he slowly opened the box and fumbled inside. ‘Here,’ he said as he held out his right hand.
The vampire leaned forward to look. The head Yardie was holding a small handful of wire rings.
‘What are those?’ Asked the vamp. Genuinely interested.
‘Nothing of value,’ admitted Don Dada. ‘Merely the safety pins for the half dozen hand grenades in the box.’
And he smiled.
The resulting explosion ripped through the building like the wrath of God, igniting the gas mains and destroying everything and everyone in a fireball of biblical proportions.
Chapter 35