B-Movie Attack by Alan Spencer Page A

into the club. A man rose from the flames standing proud. The man, the star of Death Reject , otherwise known as Ray Hampton in the movie, moved on down the street content with his work.  
    The blonde advised him, “Tomorrow, you’ll be joined by so many more us.”
    Ray was unaffected by their talk. He hid in the alley, running from the whine of enclosing police and ambulance sirens.  
    The five vampires took flight in unison.
    There was one more item on tonight’s docket of terror.
     
    A pin drop could be heard in the recovery unit of Heart of Chicago Medical Center. The late-night shifts were uneventful, but not this dull, Nurse Sherry Miller thought. Sherry made her rounds at midnight, and then she restocked the syringes and hypodermic needles. Since she was the new girl, the seasoned staff gave her odd jobs to fill in the downtime. Pretty soon her superiors would run out of errands for her. A ham sandwich and a diet soda waited in the fridge, and her stomach was already growling.
    She reentered the main hallway. Nobody was at the nurse’s station. “What, did everybody go on break while I was in the stock room?” Sherry raised her voice. “Where is everybody?”
    Sherry moved to the main station. All five nurses were lying on the floor. Dead. Desiccated. Their flesh was like parchment clinging tight to the bones, every drop of fluid and blood absent. Their mouths were pulled back in deadly screams, their leathery tongues rolled back into their throats. The desk, the main hallway, the black and white tiles, all of it blurred together in a moving kaleidoscope as the horror sank in.  
    An ear-drum-shattering animal call arrived: “ Shraaaaaaaaaaaaah !”
    A form—no two, now three, and then five—shoved open patient room doors and casually moved about the hallway. Their heads were bent forward and their spines curved as if they could race at her on all fours at any moment. Red eyes glowed bright. Flesh and blood were embedded in their teeth.  
    Sherry ducked into the nearest room and hid. It was room 413, Wayne Carton’s room. The patient lay in bed, a cast around his pelvis. He was gutted and picked clean of anything internal. His face was the only part of him left unscathed and even that was glazed in red.  
    The door was kicked from its hinges. Sherry ducked for cover behind the bed. She convulsed in terror. Sherry cowered in the corner, paralyzed. Tears rolled down from her eyes. That’s when a warm hand caressed her cheek. Blue eyes met hers. A kind human smile. A caress she hadn’t felt in months, not since her lover, Iris, left on Peace Corps assignment to Germany.  
    “You miss your Iris, don’t you?”
    Sherry’s head snapped up at the woman. She was naked. Sherry had no chance to register the removal of her blouse and white scrubs. Flesh to flesh, warmth to warmth, their hearts could sense one another beat through the shell of each other’s bodies.  
    “I miss her so much.” Sherry wept. “She’s not coming back for a year.”
    “It’s okay,” the woman said with long flowing black hair and perfect breasts, much like Iris’s. “You can touch me. I’ll be Iris. We all will be your Iris.”
    She was enveloped by five women. They circled her. Buried her. Caressed her. Kissed her. Aroused her. Sherry melted. Fear cast aside, she was so entrenched in their bodies, she touched them back, lavished in their sex. Soon Sherry was closing in on a climax even Iris couldn’t deliver. Before she could complete her orgasm, a forked tongue forced itself through her eye and cut into her brain. Her skull was split down the middle, the others supping on what spilled from her sinuses and skull cavity.  
    The vampires left Sherry a dead pile and continued through the fourth floor until every patient was drained of their precious blood.  
    Then they flew back to Ted Fuller’s apartment.  

Chapter Ten
    Detective Vickers demanded Officer Baker drive faster. Time was of the essence. He was following