Chapter 8: Got to run

 Oh, shit. This is the only thing I can think of, as my bus lands at the bottom of a ravine. I don't know where I am, but I know I am the only survivor. No one else has a pulse, and I drank my fill of blood from the corpses. 

...call an ambulance, doofos. - killyourself89. 

I am just as speechless as you are, killyourself89. I can't be found in here, with all those corpses with their bite marks. On the bright side, it seems that I am in some sort of forest.

 I can easily hide. I am certain that someone will call the police to deal with all the bodies. But before that, I can take whatever it is that I can. It is night, and the cars are driving up on the road. No one is noticing the broken off chunk of the safety. 

I go to the best dressed person in the bus, and then search him throughout for his wallet. I find Euro in there, and pocket them. Just a couple of fifty Euro bills, but that is a good find. Then, like a thief in the night, I get out of the bus, after I figured which button was for opening the doors, and go out into the forest. 

It is dark, and I see that my wounds are healing quickly. Huh, so this myth is not a myth? What are the chances that I will find a coven of aristocratic vampires in this forest? What are the chances that they will speak English, or German, and not Hungarian? No answer to that. I think I have lost more readers. I sigh at that. 

After traipsing in the forest for what feels like hours, I find a paved road. Deciding to follow it, to find something I can use to charge my phone, seeing as the battery is at 20%, I hasten my steps. Soon, I am before a cottage. It has a mowed lawn, and the cottage is made of wood. I feel hope well up in me, that I can find an outlet in there. 

The door is locked, but I have vampire strength, remember? I break the door open, and invite myself in. The place has only three rooms. A living room-bedroom mix, a bathroom, and a kitchen.

There is a shack connected to the hut, and that is about it. There is no bed in the house, but the couch looks promising. But, first things first. Let us see if I can't charge my phone. 

 People died before you, and you think about your phone?- dragonfly94.

I don't have the battery to answer, seeing as my phone turns itself off. In a panicked state, I go hunting for an outlet, the phone in my left hand, and the charger in my right. Do you know that feeling you get, when you are addicted to something, and then you are deprived of it?

 I am feeling the same right now. I find the outlet in the kitchen, and then plug the charger and then the phone to the charger. The lovely icon that shows that the phone is charging shows itself, and I turn on the phone, and type all about my panic attack. 

See a shrink. - killyourself89. 

I pause at the suggestion, and promise myself I will face my fears. Not now, however. In the morning. I leave the phone on the counter, and go to the couch. Snuggling into the blankets, I fall asleep soon after. The pink hens and the orange roosters are back. Strange. I have never had a fascination with chickens before. 

The morning rays woke me, and I found that there was someone sitting on the chair next to the couch. I blink, and strain my ears. No, no heartbeat. The man smiles at me, and shows his fangs. I take a good look at him. Well-dressed, a stylish ponytail to the side, pale blonde hair, green eyes, skin without any blemishes! 

"An aristocratic vampire!" I yell, and the man chuckles. I run to the kitchen, and type all of this in the blog. 

Took you long enough to find one. Now what? Training montage? - killyourself89. 

I hope so, killyourself89, I hope so. I feel someone peering into my phone from behind my back, and see the aristocratic vampire behind me. 

"I apologize for breaking and entering. My bus crashed, and I just wanted a place to spend the night in," I begin, but the vampire just yawns at me. 

"No worries. I am always ready to help the newbies," he says in the most melodic voice I have ever heard. He speaks English with just the bare hints of an accent. But it is not Hungarian, I have Hungarian, or I had, coworkers, and I can recognize their accent anywhere. His accent is British. 

Oh, of course the vampire you searched for will be British, and not Hungarian. What is this now, you doofos? A romance novel? - killyourself89. 

"What is that?" My, hopefully, future mentor asks, after he reads killyourself89's message. 

"A blog thread with a chatroom feature," I tell him, and he nods. 

"For how long have you been a vampire?" He asks me, and I sigh. 

"Well, a couple of weeks. I staged my death back in Algeria," I say, and then he hums. 

"Smart. But you will need to ditch the phone," he takes my phone, and then turns it off. 

I don't dare to gainsay him, and so, I begin to monologue in my own head. He seems to be noticing this, so he just shakes his head. How I wish I could ask killyourself89 if Hungarians shook their head for yes? Wait, the accent is British. Right, silly thought to peg my mentor as a Hungarian. 

"Uhm, where are you from?" I ask, since the curiosity is killing me. 

"Hungary," he tells me, and that surprises me. 

"But, your accent," I begin, but he just places a finger on my lips. If I still had a heartbeat, then it would be going wild right now. 

"You will take a bit of work, but I think we can get along just fine," he tells me, and I see stars, as he nuzzles our noses together.