by Mac Flynn
A few hours later found me in my car after work with the headlights of a semi truck in my rear view mirror. It was Charlie, and he was coming to my apartment to get a good night's sleep. We drove through the dark town at four in the morning and there wasn't a sign of anyone. My eyes flitted over the shadows nestled between buildings, behind trees, and under bushes. Much as I didn't believe in what the other guys had said about a phantom, I did believe Charlie's story about the strange man.
Nothing stirred, but I was glad to arrive at a parking lot a block from my apartment building. There wasn't any room for Charlie to park his truck and rig at my building, so I would take him the rest of the way. I parked in one spot and he took another only twenty yards off. He shut off the lights and scurried out of the truck as though the devil was chasing him. Maybe that's what he thought, but either way he slid into the passenger seat and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You must think I'm crazy for being this scared," he commented.
"Nope. I'm not exactly crazy about the dark myself. Had a bad experience in the dark with a mannequin," I told him.
We pulled out and drove the few blocks to my apartment building. It was one of those brick structures with metal window frames and soiled doors that hadn't been replaced since before I was born. I led Charlie up the flight of narrow metal stairs to the second floor of four. My apartment lay on that floor, and soon I was switching on the lights and tossing my keys in the basket on a small table beside the door. The rest of the apartment was sparse with a couch, coffee table, chair, and a small table with two broken chairs I optimistically called a dining table.
"Make yourself at home on the couch," I invited him, gesturing to the couch. Charlie nervously took a seat on the furniture, but didn't say anything. I rummaged through a small closet near the kitchen at the rear. When I found what I needed I turned, glanced at him and snorted. "You can take off your coat, or aren't you staying?" I teased.
His eyes flitted about the room and he sat precariously on the front of the couch. "I'm not sure about this, Misty. It's not right-" I dropped an armful of blankets on his head.
"You're staying here because I'm not driving you back to your truck. Now get comfortable because you're going to get that nice night of sleep," I told him.
Charlie dug himself out from beneath the pile and smiled at me. "You're a stubborn woman, Misty. You ever thought about making some unlucky man your wife?" he mused.
"Nope, but if I ever wanted to curse a man that's how I'd do it," I assured him. "Now why don't you spread out those-" Charlie whipped his head to his left. There was a small window across the room, and his large, quivering eyes zoomed in on the glass.
When he spoke his voice trembled with fear. "You hear that?" he whispered.
I paused and listened, then shook my head. "Not a thing. Maybe it was a branch against the window. We are two floors up," I reminded him.
"Y-yeah, I guess you're right," he replied. He didn't sound convinced, and made his bed with one eye always on the window.
Charlie settled beneath the blankets and I strode into my room. I shut the door behind myself and proceeded to undress. My mind went over Charlie's story again and again, but I couldn't understand what the fellow would want so bad to stand at a window all-
What was that? I froze and listened. I thought I heard a scratching sound at a window-my window. I turned around and looked through the open curtains. There, fourteen feet off the ground, floated a pale man. He stared straight at me with burning-red eyes. I did what any sensible woman would do and screamed my pretty little head off. My cries brought Charlie who burst into the room with a lamp in each of his hands. The face at the window floated backward and seemed to sink into the darkness beyond the light provided by my overhead bedroom fixture.
My legs turned to jello and I collapsed to the floor. Charlie rushed up to me, dropped his shaded weapons on the floor and clutched my shoulders. "Misty? Misty, you all right?" he asked me.
I winced. "I would be if you'd stop screaming in my ears," I told him.
He managed a shaky smile. "Same old Misty," he murmured.
I shook my head. "Not the same old Misty. The same old Misty wouldn't believe what you saw was something dangerous, but this Misty believes what you saw was terrifying and out to get us," I countered.
Charlie glanced at the window. The thing was still gone. He furrowed his brow. "I don't think it can get inside, not unless you invite it," he theorized. "Maybe that's why it kept asking me if it could get into my truck, and why it didn't just come in through the windows."
My mouth gaped and my eyes widened. "Charlie?"
"Yeah?"
"What you just described is a vampire."
"It is?"
"Yeah. A blood-sucking fiend of the night needs to be invited inside before it can attack someone," I told him.
The color drained from his face and his hands on my shoulder shook. "Mother of God," he whispered.
"If what we're up against is a vampire then we might need her help," I agreed. I shrugged off his hands and stood. "For now how about we make sure all these windows are closed, locked, and covered with curtains? We don't need his red eyes peeking in at me undressing, or you sleeping." We checked all the windows in the apartment and closed the curtains. Charlie also flicked on every light he could get a hold of. "What are you doing?" I asked him after he opened the microwave and left it.
"Vampires don't like light, right? If we leave all these lights on maybe he won't even come near the apartment," he pointed out.
I shut the microwave door. "Vampires don't like sunlight. A microwave isn't going to do anything other than warm him up a pot pie," I argued.
Charlie's hands clawed at one another and his eyes flitted over to the windows and the door. "I gotta do something. I just can't sit here all night knowing he might be out there," he insisted.
I sighed, walked up, and grasped his shoulders. "What you need to do is lay down on that couch and get some sleep. I'll keep the watch tonight. I'm used to staying up late, anyway. It's an occupational necessity," I told him.
"I can't let you do that," he argued.
"You will and you have no choice." I turned him around and pushed him toward the couch where I plopped him down. "Now lay down and get some sleep. I'll shut off most of these lights, but keep a few on so you can find your way to the bathroom."
Charlie reluctantly covered himself with the blankets. "You sure this is okay? The vampire isn't going to slip in beneath the door as a mist or anything?" he wondered.
I snorted and shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not a vampire hunter, but I'll bet my mother's famous pot roast recipe that he can't come in without an invite. We'll just forget to give him an R.S.V.P. for tonight's sleepover and keep our blood to ourselves."
He smiled and shook his head. "You have the funniest sense of humor, Misty. I don't know how you can crack a joke with a vampire out there."
"It's a defense mechanism. It's either cracking jokes or panicking. I prefer the jokes because it calms people down enough so they can sleep which is what you should be doing," I ordered him.
Charlie set his head down on a couch pillow and closed his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. His weary voice soon slipped into the regular, monotonous sounds of snoring. The big boy really was exhausted.
I sat in the living room for an hour before I couldn't take the orchestra that emitted from Charlie's nose. After a thorough check of the windows I crept into my bedroom with a dining table chair in my hands. I wasn't planning on sleeping. Instead I would watch my bedroom window for any signs of our uninvited guest. I plopped the chair five yards from the window and plopped my tush on the seat.
I didn't have to wait long before I noticed something float toward the window. The floating fang-boy was back, and he'd brought something with him. I jumped to my feet and opened my mouth to call for Charlie, but then I saw what he held.
The bloody vampire had
a bunch of flash cards in his hand and he held them out for me to read. There went the theory that vampires were telepathic. The writing was big and there was only a single word on each of the faces, but the flashcards were small. I grabbed the back of my chair and, keeping that between me and the window, crept over to my window to read them.
"Please. Let. Me. In," I read the words aloud as he changed the cards. I snorted. "Hell no. The blood bank is closed for the night," I told him. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on the opposite side of the flashcards, then presented them to me again. "I. Only. Wish. To. Talk. Believe me, we have nothing in common," I assured him. He was undeterred, as I noticed by his smile, and he worked his pen magic on a new set of flashcards which he procured from his coat. More reading. I felt like I was back in kindergarten. "I. Mean. You. No. Harm. But. I. Will. Leave. That would be best," I agreed.
The vampire dropped his cards on the ground and floated backwards. I hurried over to the window to see where he flew, but he disappeared into the shadows of the night. The only thing that remained of his visit were the flashcards on the yard around the apartment building. Litterbug. Didn't his vampire master teach him not to leave trash on the ground?
I sat down on my bed with the chair at my side. "Only want to talk," I repeated. I scoffed. "Yeah, right."
A small voice in the back of my mind couldn't help but wonder if that's really all he wanted.
CHAPTER 3
