Iterations and other stories (collection)

An Englishman and an American had killed the Count, removing his head with a kukri knife and driving a bowie knife through his heart. When news of this reached Brancusi from the gypsies, he traveled back to Transylvania. Dracula’s attackers had simply abandoned the coffin, with its native soil and the dust that the Count’s body had crumbled into. Brancusi dug a grave on the desolate, windswept grounds of the Castle, and placed the Count’s coffin within.

Eventually, over a long period, the entire tribe had felt the Stranger’s bite directly or indirectly.

A few of the tribefolk lost their lives to ravenous bloodthirst, drained dry. Others succumbed to disease or giant cats or falls from cliffs. One even died of old age. But all of them rose again.

And so it came to pass, just as it had for the Stranger all those years before, that the tribe had to look elsewhere to slake its thirst. But they had not counted on the Others.

Weidenreich and Brancusi sat in Weidenreich’s lab late at night. Things had been getting very tense—the Japanese occupation was becoming intolerable. “I’m going to return to the States,” said Weidenreich. “Andrews at the American Museum is offering me space to continue work on the fossils.”

“No,” said Brancusi. “No, you can’t take the fossils.”

Weidenreich’s bushy eyebrows climbed up toward his bald pate. “But we can’t let them fall into Japanese hands.”

“That is true,” said Brancusi.

“They belong somewhere safe. Somewhere where they can be studied.”

“No,” said Brancusi. His red-rimmed gaze fell on Weidenreich in a way it never had before. “No—no one may see these fossils.”

“But Andrews is expecting them. He’s dying to see them. I’ve been deliberately vague in my letters to him—I want to be there to see his face when he sees the dentition.”

“No one can know about the teeth,” said Brancusi.

“But he’s expecting the fossils. And I have to publish descriptions of them.”

“The teeth must be filed flat.”

Weidenreich’s eyes went wide. “I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will.”

“But—”

“You can and you will.”

“I—I can, but—”

“No buts.”

“No, no, there is a but. Andrews will never be fooled by filed teeth; the structure of teeth varies as you go into them. Andrews will realize at once that the teeth have been reduced from their original size.” Weidenreich looked at Brancusi. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way to hide the truth.”

The Others lived in the next valley. They proved tough and resourceful—and they could make fire whenever they needed it. When the tribefolk arrived it became apparent that there was never a time of darkness for the Others. Large fires were constantly burning.

The tribe had to feed, but the Others defended themselves, trying to kill them with rock knives.

But that didn’t work. The tribefolk were undeterred.

They tried to kill them with spears.

But that did not work, either. The tribefolk came back.

They tried strangling the attackers with pieces of animal hide.

But that failed, too. The tribefolk returned again.

And finally the Others decided to try everything they could think of simultaneously.

They drove wooden spears into the hearts of the tribefolk.

The used stone knives to carve off the heads of the tribefolk.

And then they jammed spears up into the severed heads, forcing the shafts up through the holes at the bases of the skulls.