SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

The archaeologist recoiled from Flynn’s raised hand. “Stop hitting me, damn it!” His shaking hands tried vainly to ward off another slap. “I’ll tell you, just… please, stop hitting me!”

Flynn dropped his hand. “Okay. Start at the top.”

“Vlad. It’s Vlad.”

Gary Parks frowned. “What, as in the Impaler?”

“Isn’t that a type of car?”

“That’s an Impala, Micky, you idiot!”

“Yes, as in the Impaler. The ‘Dracula’ of legend. Only he’s very, very real, believe me.” The academic ignored the scowling, sniffling Cox and focused on Flynn and Parks. “Remember that story I told you last night? It’s true. Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. I expected to find nothing but bones, Mister Flynn, I swear!”

“Yeah, well that didn’t pan out, did it?” Flynn sighed. “Seriously. Look, sorry about your lad, by the way. That was bad.”

“So let me get this straight. We’re being laid siege to by Dracula? Are you serious?” Micky Cox’s voice was filled with incredulity. “Fuck off! That’s a myth!”

“Trust me, Mick, that thing out there, whether it’s actually Dracula or not, is no damn myth. So let’s ignore the fact that we’ve been dropped kicking and, in the case of Professor Braniac here, screaming into an episode of the Twilight Zone and figure out how we kill that fucker and get everyone out of here in one piece, copy?”

“Copy.” The two ex-soldiers nodded. Everything else was irrelevant. Myth or not, the identity of their opponent could be argued over later. They needed to focus on the reality of the situation. This was now a simple matter of survival.

“Right. So what’s the state of play with ordnance, Gary?”

“Not particularly tickity, to be honest. We weren’t expecting gunfights with angry vampires, boss. We’ve got two boxes of ammo for the Glocks and the three P90s are stocked up with subsonic rounds, with two spare magazines each. Other than that?” Gary shrugged. “I got some C4, if that helps?”

Flynn stared at his friend. “Why? Why do you have C4, Gary, why?”

“I thought it might be useful. Ya know. If we had a cave-in or something. And had to blast our way out. Hey, look. I don’t feel right if I ain’t got at least a little bit of Play Doh to bugger about with, okay?” Gary’s explanation tailed off into a mumbled, petulant mutter.

“Normally, I would be gently taking it off you and calling the men in white coats. But today, you crazy fucker, you might just have convinced me that your presence on this op hasn’t been a total waste of a plane ticket.” Flynn grinned at his friend. “Good. So we’ve got C4, some P90s and Glocks, and seriously limited ammo.”

“And that bloody cat.”

“And Rupert, yes, thanks, Micky.” Flynn snapped his fingers at the calico cat and it immediately stopped tormenting Micky and leapt back onto Flynn’s shoulder.

“It’s not enough,” a voice broke in.

All eyes focused on the archaeologist.

“What?” Flynn glared at the man.

“I said, it’s not enough. You’re not dealing with some Taliban terrorist here, gentlemen. You’re dealing with an ancient evil that has defeated whole armies and laid on banquets where his minions feasted on the hearts of his enemies!” The man’s voice was hitting the hysteria button pretty hard. “Once it gets through that door? I promise you, none of us will survive!”

Flynn grabbed the man’s collar and snarled in his ear. “Not helping, fella, not fucking helping! You’re upsetting my lads, mate! So enough with the ‘we’re all doomed’ shit, okay?” He tossed the man aside.

“I got a salami sandwich if that’s any use?” Micky held up a brown paper bag.

“How the hell would that be of any earthly use whatsoever, you tit? We’re up against some denizen of unmitigated fucking evil, not an angry deli counter server!” Gary cuffed his friend across the back of his head.

“Hey! It’s got garlic in it. Vampires hate garlic, right?”

All eyes turned again towards the archaeologist. He shook his head.

Flynn shrugged. “Right. So how about sunlight? Don’t they burst into flames or something when sunlight hits them? If that’s the case, then all we have to do is wait until dawn, old chompy out there has to retreat back to his cell, and we can get you and us out of here, seal up the doors and get the fuck out of Dodge, right?”

Again the archaeologist shook his head. “We’re underground, Mister Flynn. It could be midday and it wouldn’t make any difference.”

“Fine. So our options are we either blow the fucker into pink mist with Play Doh, or die of boredom and bad rations locked in here. Well, honestly boss? I didn’t expect to go out like this.” Gary Parks glared at the door and picked up a P90, winding the webbing strap around his arm and priming the stubby gun ready for action. “But whatever happens, at least we can go out shooting, right?”

“Reserve your ammo, big guy. Don’t get too trigger happy, okay? I’ve emptied two clips into this bugger and it didn’t even flinch. We need to find anoth—”

A massive impact made the door vibrate in its frame. Particles of masonry floated down. A second impact made the door judder again.