ReVAMPED | The Lost Boys

Unconventional Symptoms

Happy New Year! I splurged for Christmas and bought the Sam and Michael funko pop figures, and they are so stinkin' cute! Best wishes for 2019, and best of luck to Michael and Sammy to try and make it to sunrise.

A very special thanks for every comment, for every follow, and for every favorite. It's all for you!  -Crimsonsky132

Chapter 5

"Samantha, give me a hand why don't ya?" Grandpa called from across the room. Sammy had been curled up on the couch, trying to remember her dream, but throughout the day she could recall less and less. The only things she could remember were those piercing eyes and her hero, and they scared the life out of her. Blinking out of her daze, she turned towards him.

"If I say yes, will you change your mind about taking me to town?" She quipped, and Gramps snorted, shaking his head. Grandpa had shown Sammy his hot-rod earlier on that morning, telling stories of the good old days. He almost fell out of the bench seat when she asked if she could get behind the wheel. "I told you kiddo, this is as close to town as I like to get."

"I know, I know." She rolled her eyes and stretched out, climbing out of the couch cushions. Moving towards the kitchen, she found him rummaging around in the cabinets. "What are you looking for?"

"Hey Sammy, you're a lady, right?." He asked, still busy looking through the silverware drawer. "Do you think we've got anything around here that could pass for aftershave?" Before she could come up with an answer, Grandpa scurried over to the sink and grabbed the bottle of windex from the counter. Turning, Sam nodded her approval with a lopsided grin.

Gramps had a date. He had been cooing about it all afternoon, and Sam thought about two old-timers finding similar interests in taxidermy and root beer.

"What'd you stuff for her? Mr. Johnson?" She jumped, turning to see Mike in the doorway. Sammy didn't even hear him come down. He wore a sloppy smirk, and Grandpa's mood changed in an instant.

"Well, I'll see you too later. Sandwiches are for dinner; I left everything out on the counter." He offered one fleeting look at Mike, before turning towards the door.

'That wasn't cool, Mike." Sammy grumbled, watching the doorway as Gramps left. "Did you have a wild night? Are you freebasing? Inquiring minds want to know." She asked, giving Michael a double take. He hadn't switched his clothes from yesterday, and he was wearing sunglasses...in the house. And was that an earring?

"Something like that." He murmured, making his way over to the fridge. Opening it, she noticed his distaste as he turned up his nose and slammed the door shut.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam inquired, suddenly incredibly focused on her sandwich making skills. He looked down and rubbed his eyes. "I mean, I'd ditch the earring. It's not you; it's definitely not you." He felt his ear, a look of surprise flashing across his features.

"To be honest, I don't remember a lot of it -"

In a flash their conversation was silenced by the sound of motorcycles revving. She could have sworn she heard voices out there! The blinds were banging against the windows, and the pots and pans swung from their rack overhead. Whoever was out there, they were laughing like wild animals, and Sammy backed up, clutching to the counter.

Sammy.

She spun around, clutching her chest. Her eyes scanned the room in a hurry. Someone was there! Sam heard hoots and hollers all around her house, and they must have been outnumbered. She saw Mike grab the knife she had been using for her sandwich, and hunched forward through the doorway to the living room.