Nightmare at 20,000 Feet: Horror Stories
walls head first.
      He told the Count not to worry. He'd soon be out. Then, together, they could go all around and drink girls' blood.
      One night Jules pulled the wire out and crawled under it into the cage.
      It was very dark.
      He crept on his knees to the little wooden house. He listened to see if he could hear the Count squeaking.
      He stuck his arm in the black doorway. He kept whispering.
      He jumped when he felt a needle jab in his finger.
      With a look of great pleasure on his thin face, Jules drew the fluttering hairy bat to him.
      He climbed down from the cage with it and ran out of the zoo; out of the park. He ran down the silent streets.
      It was getting late in the morning. Light touched the dark skies with gray. He couldn't go home. He had to have a place.
      He went down an alley and climbed over a fence. He held tight to the bat. It lapped at the dribble of blood from his finger.

      He went across a yard and into a little deserted shack.
      It was dark inside and damp. It was full of rubble and tin cans and soggy cardboard and excrement.
      Jules made sure there was no way the bat could escape.
      Then he pulled the door tight and put a stick through the metal loop.
      He felt his heart beating hard and his limbs trembling. He let go of the bat. It flew to a dark corner and hung on the wood.
      Jules feverishly tore off his shirt. His lips shook. He smiled a crazy smile.
      He reached down into his pants pocket and took out a little pen knife he had stolen from his mother.
      He opened it and ran a finger over the blade. It sliced through the flesh.
      With shaking fingers he jabbed at his throat. He hacked. The blood ran through his fingers.
      "Count! Count!" he cried in frenzied joy. "Drink my red blood! Drink me! Drink me!"
      He stumbled over the tin cans and slipped and felt for the bat. It sprang from the wood and soared across the shack and fastened itself on the other side.
      Tears ran down Jules's cheeks.
      He gritted his teeth. The blood ran across his shoulders and across his thin hairless chest.
      His body shook in fever. He staggered back toward the other side. He tripped and felt his side torn open on the sharp edge of a tin can.
      His hands went out. They clutched the bat. He placed it against his throat. He sank on his back on the cool wet earth. He sighed.
      He started to moan and clutch at his chest. His stomach heaved. The black bat on his neck silently lapped his blood.

      Jules felt his life seeping away.
      He thought of all the years past. The waiting. His parents. School. Dracula. Dreams. For this. This sudden glory.
      Jules's eyes flickered open.
      The inside of the reeking shack swam about him.
      It was hard to breathe. He opened his mouth to gasp in the air. He sucked it in. It was foul. It made him cough. His skinny body lurched on the cold ground.
      Mists crept away in his brain.
      One by one like drawn veils.
      Suddenly his mind was filled with terrible clarity.
      He felt the aching pain in his side.
      He knew he was lying half naked on garbage and letting a flying bat drink his blood.
      With a strangled cry, he reached up and tore away the furry throbbing bat. He flung it away from him. It came back, fanning his face with its vibrating wings.
      Jules staggered to his feet.
      He felt for the door. He could hardly see. He tried to stop his throat from bleeding so.
      He managed to get the door open.
      Then, lurching into the dark yard, he fell on his face in the long grass blades.
      He tried to call out for help.
      But no sounds save a bubbling mockery of words came from his lips.
      He heard the fluttering wings.
      Then, suddenly they were gone.
      Strong fingers lifted him gently. Through dying eyes Jules saw the tall dark man whose eyes shone like rubies.
      "My son," the man said.

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