The Ultimate Dracula by Anthology

Author:Anthology [Anthology]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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It took him less than a half-hour to establish that Vlad was not among the members of the work crew. Nor was he back in the bunk at barracks 52. That afternoon he had the woman, Olga Helsing, brought to his office. “Where is Vlad Tepes?” he asked her, leaning forward across his desk.

“I do not know, sir,” she answered, touching her lips with one hand as if remembering his blow.

“How long has he been gone?”

“Many nights.”

“And the young Gypsy who works in his place?”

“He was incorrectly reported to have died in barracks 44. We moved him to our barracks and he took the place of Vlad Tepes.”

“Has the man escaped?”

“I do not know.”

“Perhaps a night in the dungeon will refresh your memory. Life is very cheap here. Your body would make fine food for the pigs.”

“I am an old woman. I do not frighten easily.”

He nodded sadly. “Return to your barracks. I will tend to you later.”

After she’d been taken away he sat for a long time staring at the opposite wall of his office. He heard another train arriving on the siding below, but did not bother to look. They were coming in twice a day now. The pace was beginning to pick up. Soon there would have to be another shipment to the extermination camps. Bergen-Belsen was treating them too well. Too many were adjusting to the routine, even on starvation rations. Adjusting and surviving.

He left his office and went to the officers’ club at the far end of the camp. There was a small library off the dining room, with a good collection of German and English fiction. He remembered having seen a copy of Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula there. That was what he needed.

Schellenberg spent the rest of the afternoon pondering over the volume, frequently consulting an almanac on one of the other shelves. The ending of the book interested him the most—the part where Jonathan Harker and the others pursue the Gypsy wagon bearing the box of dirt containing Dracula, and slay him just at sunset. Using the dates given in the text, together with the phases of the moon as reported in the almanac, he could come to only one conclusion. The death of Dracula had taken place on November 8th, 1887.

It was the very date that Vlad Tepes had claimed for his birth.

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The captain dined at the officers’ mess that evening, and it was growing dark by the time he left the building and headed back to his quarters. He had never studied abnormal psychology, but the idea that one of the Gypsy prisoners could imagine himself to be the character from a novel was difficult for him to comprehend. Would this man Vlad have followed Stoker’s novel to the point where he was attacking guards after sundown and sucking the blood from their necks?

He’d spent time in the small library seeking other explanations, even reading an article on vampire bats. But the small creatures were native to the tropic zones of

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