Meanwhile in the Mid-Atlantic…
Gordnauld: “This is madness Rentwich. There’s no such thing as vampires!”
Rentwich: “It seems like only yesterday I said those same words to another man… the commanding officer of my first platoon in The War… I was fresh out of basic and green behind the ears. It was an unusually autumnal summer that-”
Gordnauld: “Stop telling war stories! Flandly Overture isn’t a vampire. He was just behaving strangely because he’s been trapped here so long.”
Rentwich: “Trapped here? Eating what? Drinking what? This is a lifeless rock Gordnauld. Without rain, nothing natural could live here longer than a week. Besides… there’s something you don’t know-”
Rentwich: “-about The War.”
Rentwich shakes his head. Gordnauld had to understand. They had only a few hours before sunset to find where the creature had buried itself – and with so little material of any sort on the rock, what hope had they of fashioning a stake?
Briefly, Rentwich is reminded of the old joke about the 4 foot butcher… but this is no times for laughs, as the only meat currently on the menu… is human. And this is one restaurant that you can’t get out of without paying the bill, unless of course, you pay… in blood.
And the only Michelin stars this place has, are those that come… in a body bag.