“The lab results came back.” Cheryl paused gravely. “I’m sick with the Flue.” Icicles rattled at the condo’s windows as if shaken. “And all these gashes? They’re infected with Blood Lust.” Cheryl wore the golden skeleton mask as purple light poured from slashes on her neck and blue light seeped from her eyes. “Do you still love me?” The purple and blue light beams singed Stan’s flesh as he backed away in terror.
A hairy werewolf arm shot out from the wall and pulled Stan backwards. “You’re needed back at the lab,” Elizabeth Dracula said, wrapping Stan in a silk blue sheet with silver stars.
Elizabeth lunged forward across the pitch black highways while carrying Stan. They only occasionally passed the illuminated neon green bones of an abandoned motorcycle or tongue car.