Finished with that, he stepped off to the side. He lowered the shovel’s blade under the lip of the casket, and pushed it in as far as it would go. The wood creaked. He felt it rise slightly, then stop. The shovel slanted like an unbalanced teeter-totter. Using both hands, he gripped the handle and pushed down harder.
Sweat poured down from his cap. Nails screeched as they were forced to move. The lid began to rise. Thick dust swirled out from the gap, condensing into a putrid fog that floated upward. The stench hit Ed’s nostrils, gagging him.
Turning away, his stomach heaved.
Mary’s beer exploded from his mouth, spraying the wall beside him. The dirt turned gloppy as his frothy stomach stew coated it in stringy spatters.
Jesus H. Christ!
What a horrible smell! He’d unearthed enough caskets to know the death stench, and this one was the worst he’d ever smelled. Even worse than the preceding three, which had been packed with garlic. Sometimes cows dropped dead in the fields and it would be a long time before the farmers noticed, so they just lay there to rot. What had leaked from the casket was like a herd of dead cattle slow-baking in the summer sun for weeks.
Ed tried to take a breath, but his throat made a sound like a duck being skinned alive. He coughed up some more beer, spat it out, and wiped the tears from his eyes. When he was able to breathe again, he did so through his mouth to avoid smelling that abominable stink again.
“Oh…God…”
Ed closed his eyes, letting the cramping in his stomach subside. When he reopened them, he felt a little better.
He looked down at the casket. The blade of the shovel was halfway between the lid and casket wall. The rotten fog had cleared. But he knew once he got back to work, he’d just stir it up again. So he held his breath as he wiggled the shovel. He turned away as more fog was loosed. It filled the cramped space, making his eyes water. He blinked to clear them.
Pushing down on the shovel’s handle, he felt the lid rise higher. The nails pried from the wood with a crunchy whine.
And the lid popped free.
Ed stumbled back. He made an involuntary reach and gripped the wall. His fingers slid across his vomit, coating the gloves in his stomach’s warm contents.
“Ugh…” Ed muttered.
He shook his hand, flinging away vomit. He flexed his fingers a few times to keep the fabric from sticking together as he studied the casket. The lid sat crooked, showing a wide patch of darkness in the top right corner and lower left corner. Afraid of getting too close to the smell, he prodded the lid with the tip of the shovel. The lid bounced on the rim, lifted and dropped with a clatter. He got the blade underneath and threw the lid up. It tumbled sideways, falling against the dirt wall like a miniscule shelter.
Without the lid, the fog flowed out of the dark hollow of the casket. It seemed to fill the hole, taking shape as it drifted upward. In the dim lighting of the lantern and the moon, the smoke looked green as it shaped into a ball and two slants that narrowed to a wispy tail. Two empty holes like eyes appeared, a mouth parted into an oval.
And moaned.
Then it broke apart with a gust that blew Ed’s cap off his head. His clothes flapped against his body as the wind tore through the hole. He fell back into the dirt wall, knocking some loose. Dirt poured down his shoulders, behind his collar. It felt itchy as it sprinkled down his shirt.
As quickly as the wind had started, it ended. Ed looked up, noticing the trees above swaying outward as the wind soared through.
Don’t be a fool.
Wind didn’t work that way.
But what was that moaning?
Ed shook his head, chalking it up as a trick of the light, and noises of the wind.
Wind that started at my feet.
“Horseshit,” he muttered.
Shaking his head, he noticed it felt naked. The cool air seeped into his damp hair. He patted his head. His hat was gone. He spotted it inside the coffin, hanging at an odd angle.
Frowning, Ed reached inside, gripping the hat’s bill. He lifted it.
And uncovered a half foot of protruding wood.
Confused, Ed fluffed the hat and put it on. He looked at the corpse inside.
His skin pulled taut against his bones. An army of spiders seemed to crawl up the nape of his neck and over his scalp. He couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.
This can’t be right.
The deformed shape of the head, the large rounded ears that twisted outward to reveal deep canals that looked like rubber caverns. Its flattened face was tipped with a leaf-shaped nose and pinched jowls that showed large fangs in its frozen snarl. Two spikey teeth were bunched together in the center with longer hooked fangs on either side. Bushy hair hung around its face, connecting to a pair of sideburns that looked like half of a beard that ended before it reached the mouth. Cobwebs clung in the hair here and there.
Arms crossed on the stomach. Six fingers between its two hands, and all of them curled into claws. It wore a ruffled white shirt that was dark with stains under a black overcoat. Matching black pants shaped skinny legs, becoming tatters and strips around the talon-like feet with a third claw growing out from each heel like spears.
As horrifying and odd was the body, so was realizing what his hat had landed on—a chunk of wood jutting from its chest. The tip was mashed flat, as if it had been hammered into place. The edges looked as if they’d melted down into bulges.
A stake.
“Through the heart,” Ed muttered.
Dread wormed through his bowels.
“Mary, mother of God…”
Knowing what he’d found, Ed felt a grin tugging the corners of his mouth.
He was staring at the corpse of a vampire.
-7-
Ed dropped on his ass. Sitting cross-legged, he stared at the vampire corpse. His eyes roamed the withered body, the flattened stake jutting from its heart.
A vampire.
And the other graves? The women?
Vampires!
He’d uncovered a vampire flock!
I’m going to be famous.
Ed saw himself shaking hands with the president before bowing his head so a medal could be slipped over his neck. It hung around his chest, round and gold. Flash bulbs popped as a tumult of questions were fired at him from the reporters there to get to the scoop.
I could take it on the road. A traveling show! Ed Gein and the Vampire Corpse. Charge two dollars to see it. Five to touch it.
Ed smiled. Maybe he could even joke around with the crowds, act as if he might pull the stake out.
Ed’s eyes returned to the little rod. What would happen if he did pull the stake out?
People would want to know for sure. They’d tease me if I didn’t pull the stake out. Nobody would believe it was a real vampire if I didn’t prove it.
And what happened if people wanted to know how he’d found it? He couldn’t say he just stumbled upon a vampire legion while digging up graves. That’s what he had here, a legion of them. No doubt this one was the others’ master. Just like in the horror books, just like Dracula.
Maybe he is Dracula…
Ed didn’t think so. Dracula, though a creature of the night, was a handsome man. This thing was not handsome. It was vile, hideous.
A monster.
Maybe the books and movies lied all these years?
They didn’t know. How could they?
But now Ed knew. He had a vampire master right here.
And nobody will believe it unless I can prove it to them.
What if he pulled the stake out on stage and nothing happened? People would laugh him out of the room, pointing and heckling, spouting hateful remarks. He wouldn’t just be the laughing stock of Plainfield anymore. He’d be the world’s biggest goober.
Pull the stake now. See what happens.
Ed shuddered. His stomach tried to force more beer up. He swallowed the acidic trail bubbling in the back of his throat, and got onto his knees. If he pulled the stak
e now, he could prove, at least to himself, that it was real.
Will this work?
Ed assumed it was like in every vampire story he’d read—the vampire would awaken if the stake was removed.
Ed trembled as he crawled beside the casket. Why would he want to wake up such a creature? Wouldn’t it be thirsty after being dead for a long time? Nobody but Ed was around, so his blood would be needed to quench its centuries-old thirst.
He wasn’t so sure he wanted to pull the stake now.
How will I know for sure?
Just stab the stake back into its heart before it awakened all the way!
Yes!
If it worked, he could repeat the performance for the crowds. Pull the stake, let the vampire move around some, maybe even flash its fangs, then hammer the stake back in and kill it again.
He heard the audience’s whistles and cheers so vividly, they could have been in the woods with him. It made him smile. Filled his trembling muscles with strength and washed away the wariness.
First, pull the stake.
Once he knew whether the vampire was real or not, he’d whip up a story on how he came across it.
And the heads? He should have them in the show too. Nothing like showing off a vampire master and his brides.
But I shrunk them already.
Not all of them. There was one left. But he’d promised it to Peter.
Ed felt disappointment trying to ruin this moment. Then he snapped his fingers. It sounded like a muffled pop through the gloves.
Their bodies. I could take their bodies, attach other heads to them. Carve fangs out of the teeth…
Later. He’d figure it all out later.
First thing’s first…
The stake.
Gulping, Ed peered at the stake. He felt cold and tight inside. No matter how he fantasized the outcome to be, he knew pulling the stake was the wrong thing to do.
If nothing happened, he failed.
But if something did happen…
Ed couldn’t let himself dwell on that. It was a vampire, no confusion there. Who would go through so much trouble to bury this thing for a prank? The smell alone told him it wasn’t fake.
He’d never be able to convince anybody else unless he knew for sure.
Without another thought, Ed’s fingers gripped the jutting wood. He wrenched it out with a sound like crunched celery.
Holding the stake up, he gazed at the filed tip. It was darker than the exposed half. From its sharpness, he figured it shouldn’t be hard to ram it back into the vampire if he needed to.
A moist crinkling sound came from the casket.
Ed felt his eyes widen. His body turned stodgy and stiff. The stake poised by his face, his eyes lowered to the corners so he could watch.
The body began to solidify.
Its bones moved like mechanics, resetting, pieces stretched, blood and veins reformed. A small lump inside the hole pulsated, growing with each lethargic beat. Arms and legs thickened with returning muscle. Its chest bulged and popped, like a bag being filled with water. The ruffled shirt expanded as a torso took shape beneath it.
The head twitched, snapped. Mouth yawning, tittering, the fangs twisted and extended. The eyeless sockets opened as a murky fluid deluged the chasms like milk spilled in a gopher hole. The fluid swelled to the brims, bubbling like rising dough. The surface hardened into a material that resembled glass. Crimson splashed inside, like cherry soda inside a bottle.
A shade like bruised peaches spilled over the decayed hues of the skin. Deep blue spread up its arms, its neck, as if painted with an invisible brush. Old skin flaked off, shedding in thin coils.
The hole above its heart sealed.
Stake it! Put the stake in!
Ed remained fixed in place, eyes glued on the dreadful image below him as popping sounds like burning logs filled the air. He wondered if he might be sleeping. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep while reading a horror story and any moment would wake up in his chair, coated in icy sweat.
I’m awake. God help me, I’m awake!
Ed wished he hadn’t pulled out the stake.
The vampire’s clothes stayed old and tattered as the body inside became fresh and strong. An arm moved, lifted, claws flexing as if trying to work out a cramp. The other arm shot into the air, hand open, turning so the dagger-like talons pointed at the sky, as if holding out its monstrous hand for a treat.
And Ed was the treat it wanted.
The creature’s head whipped toward Ed. Its eyes flashed red.
The glowing crimson stare was like a slap that knocked Ed back. His feet kicked soil as he crab-walked in reverse until his back crashed against the dirt wall. Bits sprinkled down on his head, showering his face.
The vampire’s blue maw dropped, the skin of its jowls stretching like melted rubber. Its face was demonic, yet surprisingly handsome behind the monstrous mutations and blue skin. Partly resembling something human, it seemed to be a combination of several evil monsters sculpted onto a man’s body.
The protracted fangs were prominent and sharp, dripping saliva as a forked tongue slid across their glossy surfaces. It smacked its thin purple lips, relishing the taste of its soon-to-be meal.
Me…
“You’re not getting me!” Ed shouted.
He hobbled on his knees toward the creature. Clawed hands pawed the air, arms stretching as if ready to embrace Ed.
The opened mouth unleashed a screech that ripped through Ed’s ears, punched his brain, and split it into halves. He felt the roots of his teeth tremble inside his gums.
Wincing, he threw his arms up to block the fetid gust spurting from its lungs. In a quick, jarring glimpse, he noticed the vampire’s legs weren’t quite active yet. One was just starting to wiggle, but the other remained flaccid and useless.
But in a few seconds the monster would be completely healed.
Move, Ed!
Heeding his mental commands, Ed pushed through the force of the vampire’s cry. He felt his hat try to fly away from his head and slapped a hand down to hold it there. Reaching the casket, he rose on his knees, tugged the cap down, lifted the stake, put both hands behind it, and drove it down.
The sharp point jerked to a halt just before the pointed tip pounded into its rejuvenated heart. Ed saw claws gripping his wrist. Felt frizzy hair sliding over his skin. The texture was like pig’s skin—fuzzy and coarse.
Ed screamed.
The vampire gave another screech, pulled Ed down, and tilted its head to position its teeth above Ed’s throat. Writhing on top of the rippling, crackling body, Ed fought to get his arms loose.
Ed heard the snap of teeth, felt the wind of a lashing bite as it just missed the exposed slant of his neck. The vampire tilted back its head, opened its mouth impossibly wide, and released a third screech that sounded more irritated.
Its jowls stretched like a snake’s mouth about to swallow a rat whole.
Ed gazed at the creature’s massive, sabretooth fangs. He squirmed, kicking his feet to bring his legs around. Now Ed was splayed across the vampire’s body as if he were a cub hunting for his mama’s nipple. His arms, extended above him, gripped the stake with both hands as the vampire maintained its immovable hold of the sharp end. In this awkward position, Ed couldn’t get the leverage he needed to shove the stake down.
So he scrambled up, digging his knees into the vampire’s stomach.
The creature did not release Ed’s forearms. Now Ed’s wrists were crossed, making an X of his arms. Looking down, Ed saw the vampire turn its head to watch him. It unleashed another shriek that jiggled his flesh.
Must know what I’m trying to do.
What was he trying to do?
Ed wasn’t even sure yet, but the vampire had figured it out.
Then he realized why he’d gotten in this position.
To drive his weight on top of the stake.
Ed twisted his knees, pushing them harder into the vampire’s stomach. It felt hollow through the
thin fabric of its shirt, like an empty sack. If Ed didn’t get the stake back into its heart, his blood would be what sated its hungry belly.
Jerking his right leg forward, he planted his foot beside the creature’s shoulder. He strained to pull his left foot out from under him. His ass pinned it down. It was hard work, but he finally got it out. Now he crouched above the creature, as if about to shit in the woods.
Ed bent low, felt his ass bump the vampire’s legs, then hopped. The burden of his body came down on his arms. Drove the stake down. The vampire’s arms flew apart as Ed landed on top of it. He felt the jolt of the stake when it punctured the vampire, heard the crunch of it being shoved through skin.
The vampire released its loudest and most agonizing wail yet.
The loose soil walls of the hole collapsed. Dirt poured from all around, quickly filling the bottom. Ed scurried off the vampire’s body, only to be knocked down as more dirt fell.
The hole swallowed him.
Dirt pushed on his shoulders, forcing him lower. Earlier he’d wondered what being buried alive would feel like, and now he knew. It was even worse than he could have imagined. If he tried to breathe, it would be the end of him. His lungs would fill with grave dirt and strangle him.
Holding his breath, he kept his eyes closed as he tried to move. At first, the dirt felt tight around him, but he was able to get his elbows to slightly twist. Some dirt fell away, but more quickly replaced it, though much looser. Soon he was able to flap his arms like a duck. He felt some of the burden come off his back as dirt fell to fill to the warrens his elbows made. He felt his body moving up, his face pushing through dirt like gritty water.
Then his head burst through the top and he took in a heavy breath. Dust coated the inside of his mouth, but he didn’t care. He was happy to be breathing again.
Buried to his shoulders, Ed waded through the loose soil. Realizing his shovel was at the bottom of this dirt trap, he felt a sense of loss. There were plenty more shovels at the house. Still, he hated to lose it.
But no matter how much he would miss his tool, he wasn’t about to dig it out.
The vampire was down there.
I killed it.
The Vampire of Plainfield Page 6
