Maxim Darko: The Greatest Gift of Evil. A Vampire Chronicle

BOOK TWO THE BOOK OF MAXIM DARKO EUROPE 2017

Chapter Fourteen

Frankfurt, Germany 2017

A sudden rush of recent events overwhelmed Maxim's fog filled mind. His pulse quickened. The sound of his beating heart filled his ears. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! Breathe, breathe, relax, his sub-conscience mind commanded, as it took control of the situation. To help slow his pulse, he took a few deep breaths. Awaking too rapidly from his coma induced state, could cause permanent internal damage to his organs. When his heart rate was under control, he focused on the images forming in his brain. The airplane was in a thin layer of clouds, allowing only a weak light to penetrate the interior of the wheel-well. Through blurry eyes, he could make out the strut, and main landing gear wheel. Somewhere in his mind, he recalled the dark mist with glowing bronze ruins, and the comfort of his Dark Mother's voice.

Slowly, the horrific events of the last week came back to him. His mind was working to fill in the blanks. Visions of his archenemy Ciril flashed in front of his eyes. His anger grew. "Ciril. How did he find me?" he asked with a thick tongue. The question was lost in the noise of the swirling wind seeping into the wheel-well. Somehow, Ciril's master, Mustafa and his network of spies had located Maxim, and his vampire cell in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

A few tears ran down his face, when he recalled the devastation Mustafa's vampire hunting team had wrought on his cell. I did everything right. What or who gave me away? Feeling sorry for himself he asked, How can I handle the loneliness again? Or being on the run again...my entire life on the run. It had taken him years to establish trust, and meaningful friendships with his cell in Albuquerque. "Now they are gone...all my friends. Gone forever." Tears were now uncontrollably streaming down his face. With unbridled rage, he pounded a fist hard on the wall of the wheel-well. The force of the blow left an indentation in the aluminum. "I will destroy them, and their families. All of them, down to their youngest child. Mustafa, Mangata, and Ciril will no longer be free to hunt, and hound me."

The plane continued its steady descent towards Frankfurt Airport. When the air pressure became too much to bear, Maxim opened the slits of the scales covering his ears. SCREECH! A hydraulic motor came to life. The cowling of the wheel-well eased open into the slip-stream. The full force of 240 MPH wind entered the wheel-well. The incoming rush of wind tried to rip him out of the plane. Instinctively, Maxim hugged a beam that secured the struts to the airplane's body. With all his strength, he lifted his legs, and wrapped them around another beam. With a loud, whoomph, the huge airplane landed. Maxim's body was thrown upwards and ricocheted off the aluminum wall. The smell of burning rubber invaded the wheel-well. Jet black runway rushed below him at 120 MPH. On a sudden impulse, he was tempted to leap onto the runway. He relaxed his grip on the beam, but then thought better of his idea. If he jumped onto the runway, the airport control tower operators would spot him running across the open ground, and alert security. The plane was slowing, and in a moment would turn onto a taxi-way. He knew his best bet to minimize his exposure, was to wait until the plane stopped at the gate.

Maxim tuned his mind to listen to the pilot's conversation in the cockpit. After a moment he heard the co-pilot say, "Roger Frankfurt ground control. Taxiway Bravo."

The radio call cemented his decision not to make a run for it. Germany. I can easily blend in here. Be incognito. Blend in, it's safer. When the plane neared the end of the taxi way, he commanded his translucent scales to change color. Go light like a German. Almost instantly, his scales became slightly more translucent, to match the typical pale skin of a German. Painfully, Maxim rubbed the frost-bitten imprint of a crucifix on his chest. Even after all the centuries, his scales were still thin around the area where the Priest's cross in Dubrovnik had burned his skin. The thin scales were one of his known weaknesses...it scared him to have a weakness.