But Rafa has become death itself. And I’m caught between fascinated and scared shitless as he smoothly moves in front of the elevator and shoots whoever is left inside, cold, executioner-style. Then, face still blank, he jams one of his stakes into the bottom edge of the open elevator door, right at the corner of its recessed metal floor track, which locks it in place.
Meanwhile, I’m still running. I’m only about halfway down the hallway at this point.
And Collin is running next to me. “Alvin, blocking the elevator is not going to stop them. And if you try to go back to the sewers, theywillget you. We need to goup!” One of his glowing arrows appears above the stairwell doorway at the end of the hall next to Rafa. It blinks. Urgently.
Well, crap.
“Rafa!” I yell, squeezing out the words from my strained lungs. “The spirits say the sewers are a death trap. The only way out is up!”
The Monster Hunter doesn’t question the crazy logic of that. He just gives me a quick nod, cracks open the door of the stairwell, and glances in.
“Clear enough,” he says. “Let’s go!” Then he’s already through.
I haven’t even gotten there yet. Sweat stings my eyes, and I’m huffing and puffing to the point of nausea.
I dig deep, trying to will my stubby little legs into overdrive. Right before the stairwell, I glance into the elevator. Another dead vamp is splashed crimson againstthe painted white enamel back of the car. I press on and try my best not to think howIwould feel at the end of Rafa’s gun.
Rafa is already a half-flight ahead. I grit my teeth and push myself to my limit as I pound up the steps, trying to keep up with him. But the sprint down the long hall already has me completely gassed, and my legs rebel against the extra lift of a stair climb. I hear more footsteps above. Can’t tell how many. But despite my terror, I’m not getting faster. I’m slowing down.
The Monster Hunter notices I’m lagging, and frowns. He stops to let me catch up.
I’m going to get us both killed.
“Rafa, I— I can’t do it! I’m sorry! Just go!”
He doesn’t react—just purses his lips, twists his torso, cranes his neck, and fires a shot into the stairwell shaft above, like a young god wielding lightning. A body from a couple flights up tumbles down. It hits the rails of the void with four bone-snapping clunks before it lands, crumpled, in front of us.
Then without a word, the Monster Hunter smashes his shoulder into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I don’t even have time to freak that he’s somehow figured me out because, in one smooth movement, he gets under me and lifts me up into a fireman’s carry. And then he’s racing back up the stairs, shotgun in one hand, me and my ass bouncing over his opposite shoulder like I weigh almost nothing.
(I do not weigh almost nothing.)
He fires a few more times ahead of us and, once we pass the first sub-basement, he starts shooting behind aswell. More bodies drop. Then we burst out into what must be the ground floor of the Benevolent Society, to some kind of service hallway.
I might have needed to be carried like a hot, sweaty sack of potatoes, but Collin of course hasn’t had any trouble keeping up. I see him right under me, as I continue to flop and bob on top of Rafa’s back.
“Tell him to go down the hall to the left! That’s the only way out!” he yells.
Rafa’s shoulder holster is now jabbing me in the throat, but I choke out that instruction as best I can, and he careens us in the right direction. Since I’m literally hanging over his back, I see six vampires race out of the stairwell we just came from, skidding on the tile floor, swift as hyenas. And by the time we round the corner to that left hall, they’re all over the place—the floors, the walls, even clawing along the ceiling like hopped-up lizards, each one raring to make the first kill. Rafa’s shotgun is a heavily modified semi-automatic, but even with his extra magazines, he wouldn’t be able to get all of them. He’s already used a ton of ammo.
The Monster Hunter seems to have come to the same conclusion, so he full-on sprints to the fire door in front of us, no longer turning and firing. The door is closed, but he has so much momentum, he knocks it half-off of its hinges with just his elbow.BANG!It hangs, askew, shuddering as we whip past it.
The doorway leads to a large cavernous lobby of marble and wood. Rafa nimbly spins, taking in the new surroundings. No corporate office or industrial dungeon set here. It looks like what you’d expect the lobby of awealthy, hundred-year-old philanthropic society building to look like. There are glass doors into conference rooms, wide stone steps leading to the upper floor, a gold art-deco elevator, and in the center of the room is an elderly female receptionist in a pilled pink wool top who I clock as pure human. She gasps with terror and ducks under the desk. Opposite from where we are, I take in the backside of the massive metal front doors I saw from the street.
Collin’s big glowing arrow shows that’s where we need to go.
But we aren’t going to make it. A dozen vampires spew out through the door behind us, some racing along the floor while others scramble around the top of the doorway. Rafa’s not going to outrun them, especially not carrying me. He fires back one more shot into the wrecked entrance to try to discourage these monsters, and then I’m unceremoniously dumped as he takes a knee so he can rip off his night-vision goggles and reload with a thick metal magazine from his belt. But the wild shot only slows them for a tick, and God knows how many more are on the way. We’re going to need something that changes the rules of this game, or we’re toast.
Luckily, some of the stuff you see in monster movies is actually true.
While Rafa takes another shot, I race for the doors. They’re big, they’re heavy, but it’s still business hours and, as luck would have it, they’re not locked. Just as the bloodsuckers are about to overrun Rafa, I rip one of the doors open with a desperate pull and the whole lobby floods with light.
It’s late afternoon in San Francisco and okay, maybethewestpart of the city has fog. But we’re downtown in early November, so it’s clear skies all the way. Even at the beginning of sunset, there’s still enough ambient sunlight to do real damage. Two vampires who had swooped around to flank Rafa immediately shriek and start pinwheeling back, red smoke billowing from their skin. The others in front of Rafa raise their arms to block the purifying light reflecting off the polished marble floor. And after a second, they, too, start to crisp just from the spill. Then all are in full retreat.
But apparently bloodsuckers like to keep their friends close. A completely human security guard I totally missed in the corner moves toward me, hand on his baton.
“Rafa! Let’s go!” I call out.
The Hunter, gulping in air himself now, heaves himself back to his feet, leaving the goggles behind. He swivels, sweeping his shotgun over the guard. It stops the man, hands raised, as Rafa passes. Rafa grabs my arm, and then we’re outside in the open air, running down the street.
