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                                        Andrew Roller Presents
 
                                                GIRL PATROL

                                          Chapter Twenty-One

         ÒMaster!  TheyÕre beating on the door!Ó the ghoul yelled to Fat Arnold.  
He was already loading a Seismic Shotgun.  It could stop a vampire at 
twenty paces, and take out anyone nearby.  But against a whole city of 
vampires it was decidedly underpowered.
         ÒMake them stop!Ó Fat Arnold told his ghoul.  The racket was 
deafening.  He had been asleep when it started, lying in his big black coffin 
down in Vlad and EsmeldaÕs wine cellar, amidst priceless vintages that 
now nobody would drink. 
         ÒThey wonÕt stop, master!  TheyÕre yelling something about a 
machine!  A- A time machine!Ó the ghoul told Fat Arnold.  
         ÒItÕs the sun,Ó Fat Arnold muttered.  ItÕs heat and light had suddenly 
increased.  The whole day had been sweltering, and the night was getting 
worse, hour by hour.  The sun was sick, very sick now, and like a patient on 
the edge of death it was wobbling between life and what lay beyond, in 
this case, a giant explosion.  Somehow the denizens of Darkness City knew 
this now, and they knew Vlad and Esmelda werenÕt just away on vacation.  
Fat Arnold walked through the stone chamber that served as an anteroom 
to the front door.  There was only one door in this tower, sensibly so, as 
Vlad and Esmelda had ruled through fear, and Fat Arnold knew of no other 
way, on this dead planet, to rule himself.
         ÒLeave off the door!Ó Fat Arnold yelled.  But his voice couldnÕt be 
heard on the other side of the heavy door.  Instead the chaos beyond began 
to resolve into a chant.
         ÒTime!  Time!  Time!Ó the vampires on the other side of the door 
cried.  Nothing mattered anymore, not wealth, not even power, as Fat 
Arnold was quickly learning.  All that mattered now was getting out of 
here, off this doomed planet and into the past.  Some were leaving, amidst 
rumors, circulated since several days past, that wraith vampires beyond 
the Missup River were evacuating into the past.
         ÒFucking Esmelda!Ó Fat Arnold swore.  He looked at his ghoul.  
Impulsively he asked the human, ÒWhy would they be taking the wraiths?Ó  
The ghoulÕs eyebrows raised.  Fat Arnold had denied that there was a time 
machine, yet what was this he was saying now?  Fat Arnold grimaced.  
Someone needed to know the truth, and who better than his conniving, 
back-stabbing little blood doll?  ÒYes!Ó Fat Arnold told the ghoul in 
frustration, as the beating against the door increased.  ÒThere is a time 
machine.  Vlad and Esmelda built it.  ThereÕs another machine in the 
desert--Ó he began, but the ghoulÕs face suddenly showed doubt.  Lying was 
a way of life in Darkness City, was his master concocting something now 
in hopes of dispersing the riot?  ÒThere really is!Ó Fat Arnold yelled at his 
ghoul.  ÒBut itÕs not a time machine,Ó he admitted.  ÒItÕs just an old 
machine.  Have you found anything in the computer yet?Ó
         ÒNo, master,Ó the ghoul said.  But there seemed to be deception in 
his face now, and suddenly Fat Arnold was turning his shotgun on the 
human.  ÒTell me!Ó Fat Arnold cried.  The ghoul cringed.
         ÒThere is, master!  There is,Ó the ghoul said.  ÒBut I was hoping that 
it might be worth something--Ó
         ÒWhat?!  You were going to sell it?Ó Fat Arnold cried, meaning, of 
course, the information about time travel.
         ÒNo, master, never!Ó the ghoul said.  ÒNot without making sure you 
got paid to!Ó
         ÒDamn bastard human!Ó Fat Arnold cried.  He fired his shotgun.  
Vampires were much more powerful than humans and, being only human, 
his ghoul wasnÕt simply killed, he was practically incinerated.  Fat Arnold 
growled when he saw the waste of good blood, splattered like haphazard 
wallpaper paste over the entire floor and back wall.  Then he realized the 
knowledge was gone too, and his stomach sank.  Now he would never get 
out of here.  He would die in Darkness City, killed by the sun or the mob 
outside.

30

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