Dracula Unbound by Brian W. Aldiss

fall to pieces in the air one day.”
    â€œCome and see her. She’s worried crazy about Joe. You’ll have to tell her—and me—exactly where he is and what happened.”
    He made a face but was in no mood to argue.
    The Bandierante was the plane from which Mina Legrand liked to skydive. She had left it on an improvised landing field at the edge of the desert, five miles away. She had paid dearly for a rusty old Chevy in order to be mobile. They caught up with her in a mess of traffic on what had become Old John’s main street. Mina had climbed out of the car to argue more effectively with a cop trying to control the flow of automobiles, one of which had, perhaps inevitably, broken down.
    She turned an angry face to her son.
    â€œAnd where have you been? What have you done with your father?”
    He explained how Joe and Clift had disappeared in the inertial beam. There was every reason to believe that by that means they had managed to get aboard the train.
    â€œAnd where are they now?” she asked.
    â€œLook, lady,” said the cop, “now it’s you holding up the traffic flow.”
    â€œOh, shut up!” she snapped.
    â€œI been here three days, Mom, three days and three nights I waited in the desert by our flags,” Larry said. “No sign of anything.”
    â€œYou’re as big an idiot as your father.”
    â€œGee, thanks, Mom. I’m not responsible. You’re responsible—you made the news announcement.”
    â€œWhen have you ever been responsible! What do you think, Kylie?”
    Ever tactful, Kylie advised her mother-in-law to take things easy, shower, and maybe do a little skydiving, since she had her plane. Joe could surely look after himself.
    â€œWell, I’m just worried crazy,” Mina said. “You’ll find me in the Moonlite Motel in Enterprise if you want me. I can’t face going back to Dallas.”
    â€œDallas—anywhere, lady,” said the cop. “Just get moving, will you please?”
    Mina jumped into the driving seat and accelerated sharply, bashing another automobile as she left.
    The cop glared at Larry as if he was responsible.
    â€œThanks for your help, Officer,” Larry said.

5
    The institution stood in parkland, remote from the town. It was four stories tall, all its windows were barred, and many whitewashed in addition. With its acres of slate roof, it presented a flinty and unyielding appearance.
    If its front facade had a Piranesi-like grandeur, the rear of the building was meager, cluttered with laundries, boiler rooms, storage bins for coal and clinker, and a concrete exercise yard, like a prison. In contrast was the ruin of an old abbey standing some way behind the asylum. Only an ivy-clad tower, the greater part of a chapel, with apse and nave open to the winds, remained. The once grand structure had been destroyed by cannonfire at the time of Cromwell. Nowadays its crypt was occasionally used by the institution as a mortuary, particularly when—as not infrequently happened—an epidemic swept through the wards and cells.
    At this time of year, in late summer, the ivy on the ruin was in flower, to be visited by bees, wasps, and flies in great profusion. Inside the institution, where the prevailing color was not green but white and gray, there was but one visitor, a ginger man stylishly dressed, with hat and cane.
    This visitor followed Doctor Kindness down a long corridor, the chilly atmosphere and echoing flagstones of which had been expressly designed to emphasize the unyielding nature of the visible world. Dr. Kindness smoked, and his visitor followed the smoke trail humbly.
    â€œIt’s good of you to pay us a second visit,” said Dr. Kindness, in a way that suggested he meant the opposite of what he said. “Have you a special medical interest in the subject of venereal disease?”
    â€œEr—faith, no, sir. It’s just that I happen to be in the