by Bill Myers
She had just finished telling Z about their failure at trapping the vampire and how the monster had turned into a bat. Still, despite all of this evidence, Z insisted there were no such things as vampires.
She was more than a little frustrated and wasn’t sure what to type next.
Z saved her the trouble.
Did you see him turn into a bat?
I told you he disappeared.
Z remained unimpressed.
Disappeared where?
Becka could feel her ears growing hot with anger. Why was he giving her the third degree? Couldn’t he just accept that he was wrong? Furiously, she typed back:
He either disappeared into thin air . . . or else he turned into a bat!
There was a long pause. Becka drummed her fingers on the desk, waiting impatiently for Z’s response.
Finally, it came:
Look for another explanation.
Becka’s fingers flew over the keyboard:
I GAVE you the only explanation!
The reply slowly formed on the screen:
Don’t you find it strange that no one has been seriously injured? Vampires are supposed to be violent, vicious creatures. Their lust for blood is unparalleled. As is their strength. Would not a real vampire have killed someone by now?
What’s that supposed to mean?
The only true power this enemy has is the power of fear. Doesn’t the pattern seem familiar?
Becka stared at the screen, trying to understand. Z went on:
Occult activity — whether real, imagined, or counterfeit — is always based on fear. In every case, it becomes a matter of choice to either trust in God’s power and experience his love or to believe in the enemy’s power and live in his fear.
Becka read carefully, beginning to understand. Suddenly, Z changed the subject:
How are Jaimie and Ryan doing?
Becka felt anger surge through her. Talk about having your buttons pushed! Almost before she could stop herself she punched back:
We’re talking about vampires, not Jaimie and Ryan.
Z’s answer returned:
It’s the same enemy.
Becka caught her breath. Z did know something. But what was he talking about? What did he mean, “It’s the same enemy”? Quickly she typed:
Explain.
Your fear is leading you to make wrong conclusions about the “vampire.” Your fear of losing Ryan is making you jealous and unable to love Jaimie.
Becka’s mouth hung open as she reread the words. But Z wasn’t finished:
Remember, “God did not give us a spirit of timidity.” As you love and trust God, your fear will vanish, allowing you to think more clearly about this so-called vampire. As you ask God to help you love Jaimie, your jealousy over her will also disappear.
Becka continued to stare, barely breathing. He had done it again. Almost effortlessly, he had cut past all the surface issues and gone straight to the heart of the matter.
More words appeared:
Please check in with me once a day so I won’t worry.
Becka frowned. If Z was so sure there was no vampire, then what was he worried about? As if he were reading her mind, the answer appeared on the screen:
Danger comes in many forms. Remember Christ’s words, “I am with you always.” This you can believe. Z
Rebecca disconnected and shut down the computer, her mind spinning.
Media people swarmed the set at nightfall when Becka finally stopped by. By now the major TV stations had caught the buzz and had sent crews to Transylvania. Everywhere Becka looked, she saw a camera or a microphone.
“Excuse me?”
Becka turned. A handsome man in his early thirties approached. “Are you connected with the film?” he asked.
Before she could answer, he continued. “I was hoping I could get a few comments for American television about this vampire business.”
Becka shook her head. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be seen by a zillion people. After all, she was Becka Williams, the girl who did her best to blend into the wallpaper whenever she was in a crowd.
When she didn’t respond, the reporter moved on without so much as a nod. Clearly Becka was of no use to him, so he acted as if she didn’t exist.
Becka only shook her head, marveling at the rudeness.
The crowd was largest near the food wagon, and as Becka made her way to the counter, she discovered why. There, in the center of about twenty reporters, sat Jaimie. Ryan stood right next to her, trying to act as if he really belonged.
Becka bit her lip and closed her eyes. How could she fight off her jealousy when every time she turned around something like this happened?
Finally, she turned to the man behind the counter. “Mike,” she asked, “can I have a cheeseburger?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, got nothing left. Media people cleaned me out. It was even worse at lunch. Unless you want a microwaved burrito or a pepperoni stick.”
Becka rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He nodded and chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
She threw another look to Ryan, hoping to get his attention, but he was too busy playing Mr. Hollywood to see her — or, as far as she could tell, to even care that she existed anymore.
Trying not to feel sorry for herself but failing miserably, Becka headed over to the set of the old mansion where they were finishing up the scene she’d watched yesterday.
When she arrived, Van Helsing was about to confront the vampire.
“Excuse me, sir,” Van Helsing said to the vampire, “but I noticed you made a rather quick exit from the drawing room. Is there something wrong?”
“No, Dr. Van Helsing,” the vampire replied. “Everything is fine.”
“I am at a disadvantage,” Van Helsing countered. “You seem to know my name, but I do not know yours.”
“Everyone knows of the great Dr. Van Helsing,” the vampire retorted. “Your reputation is well known here in Transylvania. And as for being at a disadvantage, sir, you are more right than you could ever imagine.”
With that, the vampire turned and raced for the door.
“After him!” Van Helsing shouted. “He’s the one!”
The men bolted after the vampire, and Dirk Fallon yelled, “Cut!”
Everyone relaxed, and the director shouted, “Okay, once again. Places everyone. That was just a little stiff.”
“I thought you wanted stiff,” Steve Delton said.
“I want stiff, Steve,” the director called, “but not dead, all right?”
As the actors took their positions, Becka caught a glimpse of Ryan and Jaimie arriving. Apparently they had just finished the interview. Reluctantly, she raised her hand to get their attention. “Ryan, Jaimie . . .”
“Quiet on the set!” Fallon shouted, and Becka wondered if he meant it especially for her. Feeling a little embarrassed, she moved around the outside of the group until she met up with Ryan and Jaimie. They stood next to one of the soundmen, who was wearing headphones and watching the meters on a tape recorder.
“Hey, Becka,” Ryan whispered. “Where have you been?” He was his usual good-natured self, as if nothing had happened.
“I . . . I talked to Z,” Becka said, although she didn’t really want to discuss it in front of Jaimie.
“What’d he say we should do?” Ryan asked in excitement.
Becka shook her head. “That’s just it . . . He says there’s no such thing as a vampire.”
“What?” Ryan seemed surprised. “Didn’t you tell him about the bat?”
“I told him about everything,” Becka said sharply. “But he said that no one has been seriously hurt, so — ”
“What about the attack on Jaimie?” Ryan interrupted. It was obvious that he was upset. “If Tim hadn’t come by then, she’d have been a goner.”
“I know, I know,” Becka said. “You don’t have to convince me.”
Ryan set his jaw and scowled. “Well . .
. then we’ll have to figure out how to beat this thing without Z’s help.”
“Quiet, please,” the soundman said, motioning to the scene that was about to begin.
As before, Van Helsing confronted the vampire, but this time Dirk Fallon yelled “Cut!” before they even finished the scene.
“I’m not buying the vampire running away like that,” Fallon said. “I want him to turn slowly and walk toward the door. Then let’s have one of the men, the guy in the blue waistcoat, grab on to the vampire’s cape. I want the vampire to swat him away, like you’d swat a bug, and then just walk out into the night.”
“Do I still shout out that ‘After him!’ line?” Steve Delton asked.
Fallon shook his head. “No, tend to your friend instead. After the vampire smacks him, he falls into that big wooden cabinet and onto the floor. Can you do that, Blue Waistcoat?” he asked. “Bang into the cabinet and fall to the floor?”
The extra in the blue waistcoat nodded.
“Okay, then,” Fallon said. “When he falls to the ground, everybody crowd around while Van Helsing attends to him. Clear?”
Everyone nodded.
“All right, then, let’s go.”
“Quiet on the set,” the assistant director yelled. “Have we got tape?”
“We’ve got tape,” the soundman replied.
“Okay, roll it!” he shouted to the cameraman.
“Rolling.”
The clapboard indicated the scene, and Fallon yelled, “Action!”
As requested, the extra in the blue waistcoat leaped ahead and grabbed the vampire’s cape. The vampire turned and grabbed the man’s hand. Then, with one great toss, he flung the man backward into the cabinet. Only, instead of slamming against the cabinet and falling to the floor, the extra hit the cabinet too hard, causing it to rock backward. As it did so, one of the doors flew open.
And out toppled a dead man.
Two large bite marks showed on his throat, and he appeared to be totally drained of blood.
8
The crew gasped, and Jaimie screamed as the dead man tumbled out of the cabinet and onto the ground.
The “It’s Tom Kadow,” someone shouted.
“Who’s that?” Becka asked.
“He’s a key grip . . . over the rigging crew.”
Jaimie explained in a shaken voice, “He disappeared the first week of shooting, before you came. We thought he just couldn’t take the country and quit. Everybody who knew him said he’d never walk off a set, but he didn’t have any family to contact, so we never knew . . .”
“He didn’t walk off the set,” Ryan said. “He must’ve been in that cabinet.”
“Please,” Jaimie said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“C’mon, Jaimie.” Ryan took her arm. “I’ll walk you back to your trailer.” As he passed Becka he added, “Guess this blows Z’s theory to smithereens.”
“What do you mean?”
“Now we’ve got ourselves a real victim.”
Becka nodded slowly, her eyes still riveted to the corpse.
She did not follow Jaimie and Ryan but waited with the others as the doctor arrived to examine the body. Everyone appeared fairly shaken. Everyone but Dirk Fallon.
“Listen, Doctor,” the director said. “I know examining the body and so forth can take a while. Would you like me to have someone help you move it to the medical tent or — ”
“Disturbing the body might obscure something vital to my examination,” the doctor replied.
Fallon nodded impatiently. “Well, I should think the cause of death is somewhat obvious . . . The man doesn’t have a drop of blood in him.”
“That will be up to the officials at the morgue to decide. But it does bring up a curious problem, Mr. Fallon.”
“What’s that, Doctor?”
“Where’s the blood? It’s not in the cabinet, it’s not on the floor, and it’s not in the man.”
“If you’re asking me if I want to go on record suggesting that a vampire did this, the answer is no, Doc. But then, that is the only explanation, isn’t it?”
“I don’t have another at this time,” the doctor said.
“Then can we get it out of here and go back to making our movie?”
Once again the doctor appeared shocked at the director’s lack of compassion. “Mr. Fallon, a man has been murdered.”
“And the only way I can stop there being more murders is to get this film finished as fast as I can and get us all out of here,” Fallon said.
The doctor obviously did not approve of Fallon’s attitude, but he agreed to move the body while he waited for somebody from the morgue to pick it up.
Minutes later, Becka watched as they hauled the body away. She felt a cold, numb knot in the pit of her stomach. In all of her encounters, no one had ever been murdered.
Until now.
“Enjoying your visit with us, Rebecca?” Dirk Fallon said as he walked past her without waiting for a response.
By now the crowd had started to break up, preparing for the next shoot. Since it was getting late, and since she really didn’t want to be out here in the dark, Becka decided to go back to the hotel. It would have been nice to have some company, but Ryan obviously had other obligations.
Once again, she thought of Z’s suggestion to love Jaimie with God’s love. But seeing that corpse and realizing how wrong he’d been about vampires . . . well, couldn’t he be just as wrong about handling Jaimie?
Then again, Z had never been wrong about anything before.
She wasn’t sure if it was her fear of walking home alone or her concern for Jaimie. Maybe it was both. In any case, she decided to swing by Jaimie’s trailer to see how she was doing. Besides, maybe Ryan would be ready to go back with her.
Becka navigated her way through the production trailers toward Jaimie’s. She was about halfway there when, off in the shadows, she thought she saw movement.
She slowed to a stop and peered into the darkness.
There it was again. A black form moving through the shadows behind the trailers. A black form that looked a lot like a black billowing cape. A black billowing cape that she recognized all too well.
Becka went cold. It was the vampire.
Quickly she ducked for cover behind a truck. Then, ever so slowly, she peeked around the corner.
He was moving away, heading into the darkness.
Becka’s first impulse was to scream, to shout out an alarm, to run in the opposite direction. But she knew that that would accomplish nothing. The vampire would simply disappear again and prepare to kill another.
Then, suddenly, a thought struck her. This was a golden opportunity. If she followed the vampire and found out where it lived, maybe they could come back in the daylight when it was asleep and destroy it. After all, vampires were supposed to be powerless in the day.
At least that’s what all the legends said.
A wave of fear shuddered through Becka at the thought. Follow him? Was she insane? With a vampire’s keen senses, there was a good chance he would spot her. And an even better chance that she would lose sight of him in the darkness.
Then again, when would an opportunity like this recur?
She took a deep breath to try to clear her mind.
“Dear God,” she whispered, “I’m really scared. But I know you sent us over here to help Jaimie. I’m not sure what to do now, but you promised to protect us, and you’ve never let us down before. So . . . well, please, just be with me. Oh, and God, I’d sure appreciate it if you wouldn’t let me get killed.”
With the hesitant prayer — and with just a fraction more confidence — Becka moved away from the trailer and started following the creature.
The dark form moved effortlessly past the remaining trailers and into the nearby village. Becka did her best to keep him in sight. Maintaining a safe distance, she followed him down one, two, three alleys before he made a turn and headed to the edge of the town and out into a nearby field.
Becka nearly quit her pursuit at that point. After all, to hide behind trailers or alley walls was one thing; to be seen out in an open field with no cover was quite another.
But, remembering her prayer and the helpless look of fear she’d seen so often on Jaimie’s face, Becka pushed forward.
She was no longer doing this for herself. She was doing this for Jaimie. That’s what God had wanted. And if that’s what God wanted, she’d rely on him for protection.
She moved from the cover of the wall and headed out into the field. Fortunately, there was a full moon and she could see the vampire’s shadow, which allowed her to stay back a little bit farther.
He cut toward the right and began moving much faster. Faster than she could keep up.
She began losing ground.
Off in the distance, in the moonlight, she saw some kind of an iron fence. She thought the shadowy form had gone inside, but she was too far away to be sure.
A horrible thought struck. What if he decided to turn into a bat? No way could she keep up with him then. Or worse yet, what if he flew back and spotted her out here in the field? All alone, without any protection.
“I am with you always.”
The verse Z had quoted rang in her mind, and she felt a little more peace. Why was she so afraid? She had the best protection anybody could have. And yet . . .
Beyond the large iron fence were what looked like short, tiny pillars. She caught a glimpse of the vampire’s form moving past those pillars. But, as she squinted into the darkness, she realized that he wasn’t moving past pillars. He was moving past tombstones.
He had entered a graveyard.
Surprisingly, the graveyard didn’t frighten her. Maybe it was the prayer; maybe it was past experience. In any case, she was not afraid of the dead for the simple reason that she knew they were not there . . . just their bodies. And fearing dead bodies was like fearing somebody’s old discarded shoes. Nobody was in them. Not anymore. People had used them once, but now they were left behind.
All she’d have to do was wait until daylight and then show up with some wooden stakes to drive through his heart, just like in the movies.
