by Bill Myers
Revulsion shuddered through Becka. What was she thinking? She could never drive a stake through —
A low rumbling interrupted her thoughts. It wasn’t loud enough to be thunder, and there was a scraping to it. Instantly she knew the sound — the rubbing of stone against stone. It could only mean one thing. The vampire was going back inside his crypt. If she didn’t see where that crypt was now, she would never be able to find him.
She raced across the field toward the cemetery. Once she entered through the black iron gate, she slowed to a walk. The graveyard was old, and many of the tombstones were in disrepair. Some had cracked and broken, with the split halves still lying on the ground. Others had crumbled into piles of rock.
As she moved past, she caught glimpses of dates: 1845 . . . 1811 . . . 1802.
She strained her ears to listen. Though she could no longer hear the scraping sound, she reasoned that if she had heard him opening his crypt, she would hear the same grating rumble when he climbed inside and closed it.
She spotted another gravestone. A. J. Horn, 1723 – 1768. That was before America’s independence!
Suddenly, Becka heard the rumbling and scraping again. It was just as she thought but far closer than she had imagined. She turned in the direction of the sound and silently moved through the grass. She moved by rows of tombstones as she peered intently at the larger crypts for any sign of movement.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, less than ten feet to her right, she saw it. A tall caped figure standing next to a crypt with an open lid.
It was him!
Startled and a little off balance, Becka’s foot caught a broken piece of stone. She tried to catch herself but continued falling forward . . . headfirst . . . directly toward the caped figure and his open crypt.
She hit the ground and quickly rolled over, expecting to see the vampire looming above her, swooping down to sink his fangs into her neck.
But he was gone.
She scrambled to her feet. What was going on? Why hadn’t he attacked? Surely he had seen her.
She spun around to the open crypt. The stone top was still ajar!
He was inside; she was certain of it!
A small part of Becka wanted to peer into that open crypt, but a greater part of her wanted to live. She didn’t know why the vampire hadn’t attacked, but she didn’t want to stick around to give him a second chance.
She turned and sprinted out of the graveyard. She didn’t stop until she saw the hotel.
When she arrived at the hotel, Becka found Ryan waiting for her in the lobby.
“So where’d you go?” he asked. “I came back to the set, and you were — ”
The look on Becka’s face stopped him cold.
“You’ve seen him!” Ryan said.
As they headed back into the hotel suite, Becka filled Ryan in on the details of tracking the vampire back to the cemetery. She also voiced her puzzlement over the thing not attacking her when she fell toward his open crypt.
“You know which grave is his?” Ryan asked.
Becka nodded.
“Then let’s head out for the cemetery at dawn with a backpack full of sharp wooden stakes and some strong hammers.”
“I don’t know if I’m up to that,” Becka said, her voice still a little high and unsteady. “Wait — what’s that sound?”
They both froze. For the first time they noticed a soft beeping coming from the bedroom.
Becka took a deep breath. “It’s just my computer. I left it on in case Z wrote back.”
The two looked at each other and then, like lightning, raced into the room. Becka landed behind the computer, her hands already flying over the keyboard. A moment later she pulled up the message. It contained only nine words:
‘‘God did not give us a spirit of timidity.” Z
“Is that it?” Ryan asked. “Is he still online?”
Becka shook her head. “No. But that’s what he’s been telling us ever since we got here. And this time, this time I think I’ve got an idea of what he means.” Ryan looked at her, and she explained. “I’ve been letting fear cloud my thinking . . . and divide us. Jaimie and me, you and me, even Mom and me.”
“And . . . ?” Ryan asked, not fully understanding.
“Don’t you get it?” Becka asked. “Fear divides and builds more fear. But God has given us his power and his love — and the ability to think clearly.”
“But Z doesn’t even believe in the vampire,” Ryan said.
Rebecca nodded. “All I know is that this whole time we’ve acted like we’re in some kind of horror movie. But when I tracked that thing to the graveyard and when I prayed, it was like my fear started to go away. Because, at least for those few minutes, I knew God loved me and wouldn’t let anything happen. And just as important, I knew I was doing it for Jaimie, out of his love for Jaimie.”
Ryan continued to look at her.
“Then when I fell next to his crypt, I realized that my wits and knowledge of horror films and vampire trivia were not enough to save me. Only God could get me out of that tight spot. I still don’t know what happened, why the thing didn’t attack me, but I do know that we’ve been acting like we’re trapped in a scary movie instead of thinking things through clearly. We’re not using our minds, and we’re certainly not using God’s power.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “I gotta admit, I really want to believe all that vampire stuff, ’cause it’s kind of cool. But you’re right; we sure haven’t been fighting this thing like the other times.”
Becka shook her head. “Wooden stakes, holy water, crucifixes — they’re not exactly the tools we’ve used in the past.”
Ryan flushed. “You’re right. I guess it was easier to rely on them than on God.” He sighed. “Maybe we should do some more praying.”
Becka flashed him a grateful smile. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Then without a word, Ryan reached out to take her hand, and they closed their eyes.
Finally, Becka began. “Lord, first of all, forgive me for all the resentment I’ve been feeling . . . and all the anger toward Jaimie and Ryan. Give me a love for Jaimie, your love, and please forgive us all for trying to solve this thing our way. Give us clear minds, Lord. Help us to see your will and not allow ourselves to be so easily frightened and divided.”
Ryan picked up where she left off. “And, God, help us to separate ourselves from all the craziness going on here. To do things and see things your way, instead of the way everybody else does.”
As the two continued praying, Becka slowly felt a haze being lifted, like a fog being blown away, as she began to more clearly understand what was happening. And, as the fog lifted, a plan began to form.
Thirty minutes later, they were back at the computer carefully reviewing Z’s old messages. Again and again, he had made it clear that vampires did not exist.
There are no such things as vampires . . . Look for another explanation.
And then there were his comments about fear. First the Bible verse he kept repeating: “God did not give us a spirit of timidity.” Becka knew it was true. When God’s love and power were present, the fear was gone.
Ryan pointed at the screen, and Becka read:
The only true power this enemy has is the power of fear . . . Occult activity — whether real, imagined, or counterfeit — is always based on fear.
And finally:
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.
Now, at last, she understood. It all came down to faith. They could either believe the stuff they saw and heard all around them or they could believe in God. And his truth. Becka slowly shook her head in wonder, musing over the mistakes she now saw they’d made.
A moment later she grabbed a pencil and paper. Ryan moved over to watch her write; then he nodded. He pulled up a chair, and together they worked out another plan. But this one was different. It
was based on God’s truth. It was based on his love — and the fact that there are no such things as vampires.
9
First thing in the morning, Rebecca put the plan into action.
Before she could really call upon the power of God, she had to start obeying his rules. And one of his first rules was that she had to make things right with those she had offended.
“Mom, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked.
Mom sat at the small desk in their hotel room writing postcards. “Sure, honey.”
Becka pulled up a chair across from her. “First of all, I’m sorry about the way I’ve been behaving. I mean, with John and all.”
“That’s all right, sweetheart.”
“No, it isn’t. I have no right to tell you what to do. I’ve been acting like I was your mother instead of the other way around and — ”
“Listen, honey,” Mom cut in. “It’s really all right. John and I were never anything but acquaintances — ”
Becka held up her hand. “No, Mom, seriously, if you want to see him . . .”
Mom smiled. “Becka, I don’t want to see him.”
Becka looked confused. “You don’t?”
Mom shook her head. “I tried to tell you that, remember? As you pointed out, John isn’t a Christian. So there really couldn’t be anything between us but friendship. And he wasn’t really even looking for that.”
“He wasn’t?”
Mom shrugged. “All he wanted was to spend some time with someone to keep from being bored.” She smiled. “So you see? You really didn’t need to worry, hon.”
Becka sighed. “I guess I’ve just been feeling like everyone was against me from the first day we got here.”
“It’s been difficult for all of us.”
“Well, if things work out the way I hope, we’ll be going home very soon.”
“Why’s that?” Mom asked.
Becka smiled. “Because this time we’re going to do it another way. This time we’re going to catch a vampire God’s way.”
A few minutes later, Becka and Ryan got to work.
First, Ryan met with Tim and told him about Becka tracking the vampire to his crypt the night before. “We’re planning on going back while it’s daylight and catching him there. Will you help us?” Technically, it was the truth. They just weren’t ready to tell Tim everything. Not yet.
“Of course I will,” Tim replied. “But I’ve got a big conference call with money people this morning. I can’t cancel it. After that I need to be on the castle set for a while. How does five o’clock sound?”
Ryan frowned. “That’s quite a bit later than we were thinking. It gets dark around seven.”
“That still gives us two hours,” Tim said. “Unless you want to wait until tomorrow?”
Ryan shook his head. “No, he could move his coffin tonight.
He knows we know where it is. Five o’clock will have to do.”
Jaimie didn’t arrive on the set until noon. The poor girl obviously needed all the rest she could get. When Becka finally found her, she was in the wardrobe truck trying on costumes.
“Hello, Becka,” Jaimie said, looking at her in the mirror. “I’m not sure where Ryan is.”
Becka smiled. “I was looking for you.”
Jaimie tensed slightly. She obviously expected trouble. “All right . . .”
“No, it’s nothing bad,” Becka said. “Of course, I can’t blame you if you’re a little gun-shy around me. I have gone off on you a couple of times.”
Jaimie said nothing, making it clear that she agreed with Becka.
“Anyway, I just came to say I’m sorry.”
Jaimie raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re sorry for going off on me?”
“Yeah. And I’m sorry for other things too. Sorry I couldn’t be more understanding, especially after all you’ve gone through. And . . . well . . . I’m sorry I was jealous about you and Ryan.”
Jaimie looked at her quizzically. “Is this some kind of — ”
“No, it’s no trick,” Becka said.
Jaimie continued to look at her. “All right, Becka,” she said cautiously. “I’ll accept your apology. As long as you understand that Ryan and I are . . . well, we’re just friends.”
“Oh . . . ,” Becka said, not entirely believing her. “Well, that’s between you and Ryan.”
“Not that I didn’t try,” Jaimie said with almost a twinkle in her eye. “I mean, he is one of the cutest guys I’ve seen . . . but, well, last night he made it clear he has his eyes on somebody else.”
“He did?” Becka’s heart sank. As far as she had known, Jaimie was her only competition. Apparently there was somebody else. “Did he — ” she cleared her throat — “tell you who?”
Jaimie broke out laughing. “It’s you, Becka.”
Becka caught her breath. And then once again she felt that old familiar warmth spread through her chest. She really did love him; there was no getting around it.
“Hey, guys.”
She turned to see Ryan approaching. He shook his head, clearly displeased.
“I just talked to Tim on the phone,” he said. “He’s going to be delayed in town. He can’t meet us until at least six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock!” Becka protested. “That doesn’t give us much time to get there and — ”
The look on Ryan’s face brought her to a stop. “There’s more. The weather report says a big storm’s coming in. It’s going to get darker even earlier.”
“Meaning . . .”
“Meaning we may have to confront the thing in the dark.”
Becka took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
The scene that afternoon was to be filmed at Castle of the Arges, an ancient structure just a few miles outside of town.
Though much of it was in ruins, people believed it was the actual castle used by Vlad the Impaler, the brutal overlord whose cruelty inspired the earliest vampire tales.
As Ryan and Becka rode to the location in one of the production shuttle vans, they couldn’t help appreciating the irony. Here they were, about to watch a scene in which Dr. Van Helsing would drive a stake through the heart of the vampire — all the while wondering what their own vampire confrontation would be like just a few hours later.
When they arrived at the castle, they first looked for Tim, but he was nowhere to be found.
“He called my cell phone,” Steve Delton said. “Left a message for you. Said he’d meet you at the hotel around six-thirty.”
Becka and Ryan looked at each other with alarm. By six-thirty the sun would nearly be down.
“Thank you,” Becka said. “If he calls again, tell him we’ll be there.”
More worried than ever, Becka and Ryan watched the filming in silence.
In the scene, Van Helsing had worked his way down to the cellar of the great castle in an effort to find the vampire’s coffin. The room was large and cavernous, full of shadows and a musty smell.
The director called “Action!” and Van Helsing lit his torch. At first he pretended to be excited over seeing the coffin, but as he approached it, he saw another coffin. Then another and another.
The room was filled with coffins.
Thinking back on the episode in the warehouse, Becka couldn’t help whispering, “I know what that’s like.”
In desperation, Van Helsing ran from one coffin to the other, tipping several over, finding only dried bones.
“Cut!” Dirk Fallon’s voice echoed loudly in the great room. “Print that. Excellent. Now we insert a shot of the light fading from the window and pick up with Van Helsing realizing he doesn’t have any more time.”
“That sounds pretty familiar too,” Ryan sighed.
Three crew members rushed out onto the set carrying a large mattress, which they positioned just out of camera range on the floor. Meanwhile, Steve Delton took his position on the set.
“Okay!” Fallon shouted. “Ready, still rolling . . . and . . . action!”
Steve Delton again became Van Helsing. He stared out a window, a look of horror in his eyes. “The sun!” he cried. “It’s going down!”
Then, with renewed frenzy, he charged into more coffins, tipping them over as fast as he could until . . .
“Looking for me, Doctor?”
Van Helsing looked up in terror at the chilling sound of the vampire’s voice.
“Well,” the vampire continued, “it’s not very sociable to come to a man’s home and make such a mess.”
The doctor glared at him. “You’re not a man, and this is not a man’s home . . . It’s the lair of . . . a monster.”
With that, the vampire exploded into fury, racing across the room, grabbing Van Helsing, and flinging him backward.
Even though Becka could see that the actor, Steve Delton, landed safely on the mattress that had been laid down, the powerful scene gave her chills.
“Cut!” Fallon yelled. “Good job, Steve. Print that. Now set up the reverse angle.”
The same crew members hauled away the mattress and brought out a small rubber trampoline and some breakaway furniture — a couple of chairs and a coffee table.
Ryan glanced at his watch. Obviously he was getting nervous.
The crew set up the breakaway furniture, and the camera turned in the opposite direction to face the scene. A stuntman, dressed exactly like Steve Delton, came out and jumped up and down on the small trampoline, testing it a few times.
When all was ready, Fallon shouted, “Roll film . . . and . . . action!”
The stuntman bounced off the trampoline and smashed into the breakaway furniture.
Becka watched a nearby TV monitor, impressed that it looked exactly as if Van Helsing were thrown through the air and crashed into the furniture.
“Cut!” Fallon said. “We have to go again. Try to come off the tramp a little lower. It’ll make for a better angle.”
Ryan looked at his watch again. He turned to Becka. “It’s four-fifteen. We can’t wait for Tim any longer.”
