Marvin didn’t feel bad about running away. Some people fought, some survived. He was determined to survive.
As soon as he was back on his floor of the tower, he slammed the door closed and started dragging furniture up to it. He had a heavy chest of drawers close to it, that went across the doorway first. Then he dragged a cabinet from the nearest room. It was good and heavy as well, but he had a better plan for it.
As he suspected, when he tipped the cabinet over, it wedged almost perfectly between the door and the wall opposite. He sat on it to force it the last little way, and it jammed into place with an expensive cracking of antique wood.
Now the zombies wouldn’t be able to get in. He would be safe in here until the craziness was done. Now he needed a drink.
For the first two years of being a vampire, Marvin had been unable to eat or drink anything but blood. For all the pleasure of feeding on humans, he had always thought of himself as an epicurean of high order. So, when his body finally adapted again to human food, he had started seeking out fine liquor and rich food. He needed some of that now.
The kitchen in his apartment was stocked with food worth thousands of pounds. There were bottles of scotch and brandy that cost even more in a glass fronted cabinet in the lounge. He went straight to the cabinet and pulled out a very old bottle of Macallan. The liquid inside was beyond the normal amber. Decades in a cask had left it a deep, rich brown.
Normally, Marvin would go through an elaborate process- practically a ritual- before taking sips of the glorious liquid. This wasn’t a normal day. He opened the bottle and took a large gulp from it. It burnt on the inside of his mouth like spices, but his enhanced senses let him dig out hints of the flavour of the oak the cask had been kept in, and all the other elements that had gone into its creation.
The alcohol calmed him, and he held back from drinking more straight from the bottle. Without any of the usual fuss, he chose a glass and poured himself a large measure. Glass in hand, he wandered back into the corridor that circled the core of the tower.
There was no sound or hint of the zombies having reached this floor yet. One of those irrational sudden fears gripped him, and he stared down the hallway at the blockage he had engineered, briefly imagining it not there. A shake of his head, and a sip of whisky, cleared his vision, and he saw the cabinet and sideboard jammed perfectly in place.
Before he had any more visions, Marvin walked away from view of the doorway. He paused to take another sip. The alcohol was blurring everything nicely at the edges, so he didn’t sense the movement of the elevator car in the shaft he stood beside.
It was only when the car stopped, and the doors opened with a ping, that Marvin realised what had happened. The horrible, cold sensation of foreboding overtook him again as he turned to see who, or what, was in the elevator.
Hungry hands reached out of the car, catching his arms and spilling expensive alcohol on the floor. He couldn’t even struggle as the zombies pulled him into the car with them, so lost in terror was he. Only as the teeth started sinking into his shoulders and neck did he start struggling, far too late.
This is the first draft of Zombies vs Vampires, each chapter posted within a few days of being written. As a first draft, there will be continuity errors, and sections that will need to be deleted, moved, re-written or expanded for the final version. Please bear this in mind as you read it. If you spot something you think needs changing in any way, don’t hesitate to tell me in the comments. I’ll give you a shout out in the published version.
Jumped in part way? Here’s a handy link to Part 1.