A Lost Boys Prequel About David, Max, Star, and the Birth of the Vampire Gang
David met Max on a Tuesday, which felt like the kind of joke Santa Carla liked to make.
Tuesdays were quieter. The boardwalk still breathed, still hummed, but it didn’t scream yet. The tourists were gone. The neon lights hadn’t fully claimed the night. You could hear the ocean more clearly, hear the boards creak under your boots, hear people when they thought no one was listening.
David liked Tuesdays because they belonged to people like him. People passing through. People who didn’t owe the town anything.
He leaned against the rail near the carousel, cigarette unlit between his fingers, using it more as punctuation than habit. He watched the crowd without looking like he was watching. He’d learned that trick early. Be present without being visible. Let people reveal themselves first.
That was when Max stepped beside him.
Max didn’t announce himself. He didn’t crowd David’s space. He just appeared, hands resting on the rail, eyes on the water like they were sharing the view.
“Cold out,” Max said.
David turned his head slightly. “It’s California.”
Max smiled, polite and mild. “Still gets cold.”
David almost told him to move along. Almost. Something about Max’s voice stopped the reflex. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t challenging. It was calm in a way that felt deliberate.
“Why are you talking to me?” David asked.
Max didn’t look offended. “Because you’re watching people instead of enjoying the ride.”
David bristled. “So?”
“So it tells me you’re not here for the same reasons they are.”
David studied him now. Clean jacket. Neat hair. Shoes without scuffs. He looked like the kind of man who belonged to daylight, which made him feel out of place here.
“What do you want?” David asked.
Max finally looked at him. “Conversation.”
David snorted. “You’re bad at it.”
Max smiled faintly. “I run a video store. Listening is most of the job.”
“A video store,” David repeated, skeptical.
“Just up the road.”
“I don’t rent movies.”
“No,” Max said easily. “But you study people. Same instinct.”
That landed closer to the truth than David liked.
“What’s your name?” David asked.
“Max.”
David nodded. “Figures.”
“And yours?”
David hesitated. Names mattered. He’d learned that. But Max’s question didn’t feel like a trap.
“David.”
Max repeated it softly, like he was setting it aside. “Good name.”
They stood there a moment longer, the ocean filling the space between them.
“Careful out here,” Max said finally. “Santa Carla can be dangerous if you don’t know the rules.”
David scoffed. “I can take care of myself.”
Max glanced at him, not agreeing, not challenging. “I’m sure you believe that.”
Max walked away after that, unhurried, leaving David unsettled in a way he didn’t understand.
Max had noticed David long before that Tuesday.
Max noticed everyone eventually, but David stood out. Not because he was loud, or flashy, or obviously broken. Because he was tight. Controlled. His anger didn’t spill. It simmered.
Max had seen that kind of boy before. Boys who had learned early that power was protection. Boys who didn’t want comfort. They wanted control.
Those boys made the best leaders.
Max didn’t chase him. He waited. Santa Carla always rewarded patience.
David came into the video store three nights later, pretending he hadn’t noticed it before. Max didn’t comment. He let the bell chime and greeted him like any other customer.
“You got anything good?” David asked.
Max tilted his head. “Depends what you’re looking for.”
“Something violent.”
“People usually are,” Max replied.
David stared at him. “You always talk like that?”
“Only when it’s accurate.”
David came back again. And again. Sometimes he rented tapes. Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he just stood there, talking. About the town. The boardwalk. The bikes that roared through the streets at night.
“They don’t answer to anyone,” David said once, watching the motorcycles streak past the window.
“Everyone answers to someone,” Max replied.
David didn’t like that answer. “Not them.”
Max didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.
David met the boys on his own.
That mattered.
They noticed him near the arcade one night, laughing too loud, engines idling like animals. Paul shoved him playfully. Marko tested him. Dwayne watched silently.
The ride into the hills felt like freedom. Wind. Speed. No rules. David laughed because his body didn’t know what else to do.
The cave smelled like damp stone and old blood. Candles flickered. The boys sprawled like kings.
That was when David noticed Star.
She sat near the edge, knees pulled close, eyes wary. She didn’t laugh when the others laughed. She didn’t lean in when the bottle came out.
She looked tired.
David watched her without knowing why.
“You don’t belong here,” he said later, not unkindly.
Star looked at him, then away. “Neither do you.”
David scoffed. “Sure I do.”
She didn’t argue.
That bothered him.
Star had been there before David.
Max knew her well. She was a half-measure. A compromise. She drank blood but refused the final step. Fear kept her alive. Love kept her tethered.
Max tolerated her because she was useful. She softened the pack. Anchored Laddie. Made the group look less feral.
And then David noticed her.
That made her valuable.
David mistook Star’s hesitation for gentleness. For understanding. He didn’t realize she was holding onto the last threads of herself.
Star stayed close to David as he changed. Not because he asked. Because proximity meant safety. David liked that. He liked that she looked to him when things got loud.
He mistook dependence for loyalty.
Max never corrected him.
David drank vampire blood for the first time in the cave, laughing it off until the taste hit him. Metal. Heat. Sweetness underneath. His stomach twisted. His senses flared.
He didn’t run.
That impressed Max.
David entered the half-life slowly. Hunger crept in. Night sharpened. Sounds carried farther. He felt powerful and unfinished all at once.
He began to lead without asking.
The blond David noticed. Didn’t like it.
Paul followed volume. Marko followed chaos. Dwayne followed instinct. Laddie followed safety.
They all started following David.
Star watched him change with quiet fear.
“You’re different,” she said one night on the boardwalk, lights flickering behind her.
David smiled, sharp. “Better.”
Star didn’t smile back. “You’re losing something.”
David scoffed. “I’m finally gaining something.”
She looked at him like she wanted to argue. Like she knew it wouldn’t matter.
Max watched everything from behind the counter.
He watched David’s confidence harden into cruelty. Watched the pack realign itself around him. Watched Star hover close, unsure, afraid.
David came into the store less often now. When he did, he stood taller. His eyes were brighter. Hungrier.
“You look tired,” Max said once.
“I don’t get tired,” David replied.
“Of course,” Max said.
David looked around the store, irritated by the normalcy. “Why do you live like this?”
“Like what?”
“Quiet. Invisible.”
Max smiled faintly. “Because noise attracts attention.”
David leaned in. “And you don’t want attention?”
Max met his gaze. “I already have it.”
David didn’t understand. Not yet.
The night Max finished the transformation, the cave was quiet.
David paced, hungry and restless. When Max stepped in, David spun, feral and fast.
“This isn’t your place,” David snapped.
“Isn’t it?” Max replied calmly.
Recognition hit David hard. “You did this.”
“I guided you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were already on the path,” Max said. “I simply removed the exits.”
David grabbed him, slammed him into the rock. Max didn’t resist.
“If you wanted me dead,” Max said calmly, “I would be.”
That terrified David more than any threat.
“You’re the head,” David whispered.
Max didn’t deny it.
“I don’t take orders,” David said.
“No,” Max replied. “You give them.”
Max offered the final blood.
Star watched from the shadows, understanding too late.
David drank.
He convulsed. Fell. Died.
And then rose.
The world snapped into clarity. Hunger burned clean. Fear vanished.
Star stared at him. “What did he do to you?”
David smiled. “Nothing. I chose this.”
Max watched quietly.
David lifted Star’s chin. “I’m in charge now.”
Star didn’t pull away. But she didn’t believe him.
Max adjusted his glasses and turned toward the cave entrance.
David would lead.
Star would hesitate.
The boys would follow.
And Santa Carla would never notice the man behind the counter who had designed it all.
By the time summer arrived, David would stand at the front of the pack, convinced he was free.
And Max would watch, invisible as ever, knowing Santa Carla always needed a monster everyone could see.
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