Fear the Barfitron by M. D. Payne Page A

second, and he looked ready to feast.
    I looked around for wood to make into a stake, but there was nothing but steel and stone in the laboratory.
    “How are we going to defend ourselves?” I asked.
    “I dunno,” said Gordon. “How about this?”
    He held up a beaker labeled ACID .
    “It’s worth a try,” Ben said.
    I rummaged through a drawer of rusty old medical tools and found a scalpel.
    The door slowly creaked open, and the sound of laughter filled the laboratory. The old vampire was
giggling
.
    “Ready for dinner?” asked Gordon as he stepped forward.
    He flung the vial of acid at the vampire. It broke and the vampire started smoking, but it didn’t slow him down. He giggled even more and lunged forward. Gordon backed right into a cabinet, and the vampire pounced and held on tight.
    “GORDON!” Ben screeched.
    “Get him off me!!” yelled Gordon.
    I jumped forward and stabbed the old vampire in the throat.
    The scalpel just stuck there as the old vampire leaned in to bite Gordon. He didn’t even seem to feel it.
    “Chris! Ben!” Gordon yelled. “Help me out! DO SOMETHING!!!”
    But it was too late. The vampire opened wide and let out one more drooly, excited giggle.
    And then, right before I closed my eyes—
    FWACK! CRACK!
    The old vampire’s dentures fell out of his mouth, bounced off of Gordon’s neck, and rattled to a drooly stop on the linoleum floor of the laboratory.
    The old vampire let Gordon go and slowly leaned down to scoop up his dentures. Gordon ran out into the hall. I leaned down to grab the dentures before the vampire did.
    Neither of us would get the dentures, though.
    They started clicking…
    And took off down the hallway!
    “Gordon!” I yelled “WATCH OUT!”
    “Don’t worry, Mr. Taylor,” said a voice that was not Gordon’s, “your friend is just fine. Grigore’s dentures are just heading back to his coffin.”
    “The Director?!” I yelled.
    Sure enough the Director came through the door, dragging Gordon by his ear.
    Grigore started crying as soon as he saw the Director. He rushed over and grabbed a hold of his suit, weeping into his perfectly pressed shirt. The Director let Gordon go and he came over to stand next to Ben and me. Gordon rubbed his ear, which was beet red.
    “Mr. Taylor,” the Director said, cradling Grigore in his arms, “you have broken into the private wing. You’ve soiled my laboratory, most likely ruining weeks of research. But, most despicably, you have frightened Grigore.”
    The old vampire cried louder at the sound of his name.
    “I’m extremely disappointed in you. You were the perfect candidate. But I see now that I should never have trusted you. Certainly not today. Most likely from the beginning. I let you in after the raven tried to block you. You’ve been up to something the whole time you’ve been volunteering here. What is it?”
    “I’VE BEEN UP TO SOMETHING?!” I yelled. “What have you been up to? Sheltering monsters!”
    “Well, I don’t really think of them as monsters,” the Director said, patting Grigore’s head. “Just elderly with special needs.”
    “Very special needs,” said Gordon.
    “But,” the Director continued, “I will agree with you that I’ve been sheltering them. It is my duty to shelter and protect them. They have nowhere else to turn. And you gentlemen have stuck your noses far too far into our affairs.”
    An intercom next to the door crackled and a voice said, “Great Room secure.” It sounded like one of the Nurses.
    “Very well,” said the Director. “Meet me at my office.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Follow me, gentlemen,” said the Director, “or I’ll lock you in this wing and open up all the doors.”
    He didn’t have to tell us twice.

Ben, Gordon, and I all sat in the Director’s office with our heads down.
    Shane was nowhere to be seen.
    “I can’t believe this is happening,” whispered Ben. “They killed Shane! I think I’m losing my mind.”
    “It’s okay, Ben.” I