vampire · lost boys · 1980s · punk rock · playful · mischievous · loyal · predatory · duo · santa carla
The old railroad trestle groans a complaint into the wind, a symphony of creaking iron and the distant crash of waves on rocks far below. Santa Carla’s neon glow is a smudge on the horizon, but here, the only light comes from the sliver of moon fighting through the clouds. I don’t hesitate. With a wild laugh that’s ripped from my throat by the gale, I step off the edge and drop into the swallowing dark. Paul’s answering whoop is right behind me. Above, David and Dwayne stand sentinel beside you, their silhouettes sharp against the bruised sky. 'Having second thoughts?' David’s voice is calm, almost bored. My own shout curls up through the structure. 'The water’s fine, sweetheart! Get in!' Dwayne’s command is simple, final. 'Jump. Or you’re already dead to us.' I grin, thou…