There was more crashing downstairs. It occurred to me that concepts such as 'paper' and 'clean' may not be understandable to Jeremy in his current state. Still, he was not dripping on my bedroom carpet. It then occurred to me that he would be dripping on the hall carpet, the stairs, the foyer and most probably every other room. It was going to take him ages to clean it up. But who was going to do that? Jeremy had inconsiderately become a zombie and I certainly wasn't going to do the cleaning. What was going to happen? I began to panic.
Much literature has been spent on how vampires are cool, calm, collected and sexy. I like books about vampires. The authors paint us so well and recently the vampire tends not to get destroyed by the real hero any more. Sometimes they are even the hero themselves. What is often missed out is that vampires are a little neurotic.
We are set in our ways. Much like an elderly relative, we fret, we worry when things are out of place or not as we remember or our routine is disrupted. Except we're worse. Some fly into a rage, some just start twitching, still, others throw tantrums. Myself, I am a howler. I will cry out all my rage and frustrations in one extended ululating howl. Sometimes for hours. It completely ruins the whole super sexy and suave look when you tend to go to pieces at the least little thing. Oh well, cest la mort.
That's not to say I don't have ways to deal with this. I have a calming mantra for times like this.
"I am Dracula, I am in control. I am the terror of the night. I am Dracula, I am in control. I am the terror of the night. “I am..." well, you get the idea. Dracula is my favourite literary vampire although I must say I liked Tom Cruise as a vampire in the moving pictures. Pretending to be Dracula calms me. I can be powerful. I can be the night.
"I am Dracula, I am in control. I am the terror of the night. I am Dracula, I am in control." Still, I am worried. Why did Jeremy become a zombie? What sort of life choice is that? I wondered if I had been a bad master. What could have put him off? I was an excellent master. Why had Jeremy gone off to join the deranged shambling hordes? This worried me and so I continued.
"I am Dracula, I am in control. I am the terror of the night. I am Dracula, I am in control." I continued my mantra and the Jeremy stopped crashing around downstairs. I became calmer. I remembered that in emergencies Jeremy had left me a phone number for a servant service. I got out of bed, put on my slippers and went to find my book of phone numbers. I then went to open my bedroom door and paused. I still had not received my paper. "I am Dracula. I am in control. I am the terror of the night." Yes! I was the master here. I opened my door and stepped out into my hall. I crept downstairs. The place was a mess, how Jeremy would get this, no Jeremy was now a zombie. I was summoning new servants. Because I can be Dracula and own the night.
What I did not own however was a phone. You may think I am some crazy, out of touch, technologically impaired vampire but I am moving with the times and in tune with the latest technology. Telephones are no longer large black apparatuses anchored to a wall. They are small bakelite objects in a tasteful, yet bold colour and can rest on a table or small ledge. I recall my one being red. If only I could find it. I was searching for it in the foyer when Jeremy came through the front door. Which was alarming. A good door is hard to replace. But bless him he had found the paper. It was therefore a hideous shock when his head exploded.
"Jeremy! What are you doing." I cried out. Jeremy of course did nothing but leak onto the carpet. I grabbed the paper and looked around. Outside in the garden were six humans advancing on me quite forcefully. The lead one was a young woman carrying a gun, her companions had bats and axes. They walked right into my house, pushing me roughly to the side. Two humans began dragging Jeremy outside.
"This looks suitable. Alex, Majorie, Brian. Head back to the truck, get the tools and fix the door." said the woman with the gun. She seemed to notice me for the first time and pointed her gun at me.
"You, who are you, are you still human?"
'I am Dra...', no, that would be a bad answer. "Victor Shepherd, I am the owner of this house. What are you doing? You can't just barge in here. Leave, or I will summon the authorities." I decided not to mention I could not find the phone.
"Oh, a useless." the woman levelled the gun at me. "Well, useless. We'll be staying here for a bit. No, you don't get a say and there are no authorities any more. Think of something you can do or we'll leave you behind when we move on."
I can turn into a wolf, do the crossword and play a mean hand of whist. None of which I figured this woman wanted to hear. I was also immensely strong, am excellent in fisticuffs and wrestling and can command lesser creatures which include humans. Of course, that last bit requires a clear mind on my part and I was too rattled to cow her into submission.
"I have a car and some spare tanks of gasoline," I said
"That's good. We'll be taking that too. Suhail, Mike. Find the garage. See how much there is." The other two humans walked off in the wrong direction and I corrected them, pointing out the correct way. They turned about and followed my directions. The woman continued to keep her weapon pointed at me.
"Very good useless, cooperative. Now, show me your kitchen. Let's see what you've got. You first."
I lead her towards the kitchen. She opened the pantry and began taking inventory of the contents. She then checked the refrigerator. She seemed to approve of both. Well, Jeremy was an excellent and meticulous servant. He would be pleased by, no, Jeremy had been killed, been turned into a zombie and had his head blown apart by this amazon. So maybe not.
Jeremy was gone. He had been a useful, most excellent servant who had served me for almost a century. And now he was gone. There had also been a zombie insurgency and the humans had gone feral. I trembled.
"How bad is it?" I asked the woman. She paused in her inventory.
"What did you say useless?"
"How bad is it? Out there?"
"How out of touch are you? It's over. Civilisation's gone. It's now every man for himself. Or in this case, every woman. Got a problem with that useless." she said and then turned back to the refrigerator.
"Everything's gone?" I said. She turned back to me and walked over.
"Yes, useless. Everything is gone. Society's finished. There are zombies everywhere. It's all over. She grabbed the paper out of my hands. This is the very last paper in the entire world. Do you understand?"
The last paper? No more? I also realised there would be no more amusing anecdotes either. That was it. The howl came on.
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