“Bunch of us from town are getting together. We’re going to comb the countryside.”
“What do you expect to find?”
“Answers.”
Timmy nodded, then looked out the window. He stared at the kids outside, walking in groups, to cars parked all around. Seemed to be a lot more parents out here than normal.
Being safe.
The car rumbled to life, and pulled away.
“How’s Robin doing?” Dad asked, steering them back onto the street.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Dad said. “Hard thing to handle. Other than Dorothy, Robin’s the only kid in that whole family. Bet she has a lot of worry being thrown at her from all directions.”
Dad was right, especially from her father.
They drove a little ways without any further conversation. Timmy gave his dad glances and could tell by the troubled look on his face that he was struggling to tell him something.
Finally, Dad said, “Peter came over last night.” It wasn’t a question. “Your mama said it was after six, maybe closer to seven, when he got there.”
Timmy nodded. “Yeah. He ate supper with us.”
Dad nodded. “Your mama said that too. Did Peter say where he was going after that?”
Timmy stared at Dad, wondering why he wanted to know. “I don’t think so.”
“Think, Tim. It’s important. Did he say if he was going to go anywhere else? Anything like that, at all?”
“No. He didn't.”
Dad held his breath a moment, then nodded. “All right.”
The boys hadn’t really talked about much after supper, except for Robin. Timmy had told Peter about the movies, how he’d walked with Robin until Dad had shown up. Peter had tried to be interested, but Timmy could tell he was distracted by something. As if his thoughts were somewhere else.
Afraid he’d get Peter—and himself—in trouble, Timmy told Dad what he wanted to know, leaving out anything that had to do with Robin.
“Okay.” Dad sighed. “Just as I thought.”
“Is something wrong?”
Dad almost winced. He gave a single nod. “Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Peter never made it home last night.”
Timmy suddenly felt tight and sick inside. “He didn’t?”
Dad shook his head. “Far as I can tell, you’re the last person to have seen him.”
Though he was sweating, Timmy shivered. His hands trembled in his lap.
Peter was missing. He hadn’t missed school because he was sick.
He was…gone.
Like Dorothy.
“So,” Dad said, “now we have two kids…unaccounted for.”
“Wow,” said Timmy. It was hard to talk. His tongue felt numb, like it did after a trip to the dentist.
“Listen,” said Dad. “I told you all of that because you’re old enough to hear it. And you know I trust you. Something might be going on in our town. I wish I knew what, but I don’t. Until we get to the bottom of things, you need to stay on high alert. Understand me?”
Nodding, Timmy gazed out his window, not seeing anything as it zipped by in a blur. He barely paid attention to where they were. His mind was blank, yet filled with a clutter of images and thoughts.
Peter was gone. Dorothy was gone. Both in the same day and nobody had seen anything.
Then he remembered what Robin had said. She thought Dorothy might have been taken by somebody. Would somebody want to take Peter too?
What’s going on out there?
“New law of the house, Tim. No going out after dark, until this…business has been brought to an end. Too many questions and not enough answers makes it a possibly dangerous time out there.”
“Come on, Dad. That’s not fair.”
“Tim. Two kids are missing. You’re a kid. And your mother doesn’t want you going out after dark until this has been handled. I agree with her. End of story.”
“But Dad…”
“What? It better be important if you feel the need to keep talking back to me.”
Timmy almost stopped right there. Maybe he should have. But he’d already started to say it and wanted to get his point out there. “Robin said she would take me to see a movie on Friday.”
Dad was quiet a moment before he said, “Did she, now?”
Timmy nodded. “Yes. Sir.”
Not a complete lie. Just a slight variation of the truth.
“And what movie?”
“Phantom of the Rue Morgue.”
“One of those movies, huh?” Dad shook his head. “I’ll never understand what you like about those movies, Tim.”
“They’re just fun movies, Dad.”
“And aren’t you a little young to be going on a date with a ninth-grader?”
“It’s not a date,” Timmy quickly said.
“Uh-huh. Better hope your mama doesn’t think so.”
“Dad, I’m in the seventh grade. I’m a kid, you said so yourself. Why would a girl in the ninth grade want to go on a date with somebody like me, who’s so much younger? Besides, she used to be my sitter.”
Dad sighed. “Sometimes girls will surprise you by the things they really want. Things they keep to themselves. Find a guy willing to give them that…” Dad shook his head. “She’ll own him. And Tim, there’s nothing worse than a girl who knows she owns a man. They can control you, then. Make you do things you regret. A lot of things you regret.”
Timmy wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Probably an experience he’d had that he wouldn’t elaborate on because he felt Timmy was too young to hear it. That happened more often than not with Dad. He’d share little hints of something bigger, but leave out the details that really mattered.
“So can I go?” Timmy asked.
Dad sighed even louder this time. “Tim…your mother…” He left the sentence hanging.
“Does Mama not like Robin?”
“Sure. She likes her.”
Dad was lying. And Timmy realized he’d probably always known his mother didn’t like Robin. There was a tone she had when it came to the ninth grader, a distrusting defiance.
“It’s the age,” Dad added. “She won’t like the age difference.”
“It’s not a date, Dad.”
“You keep saying that. But a guy and a girl going to a movie together sounds like a date to me. And it’ll sound like one to your mama. Plus, you still have a bit of lipstick on your cheek from when she kissed you earlier.”
Timmy slapped his cheek with his hand, vigorously rubbing. Dad laughed.
“Now I know for sure that was what she did when she leaned into you.”
Checking his fingers, Timmy saw they were clean. There hadn’t been any lipstick on his face. Dad tricked him. Sighing, Timmy let his hand fall into his lap.
“Want to tell me the truth?” Dad said.
Robin was right. I gave it away from how I acted.
“I told Robin about the movie, and that I really wanted to see it. She asked if you were going to take me and I told her I didn’t think you could. So she said she would take me because it sounded like something she’d want to see too.”
“Just the movies?” Dad asked.
“Well…I’m supposed to meet her at Buck’s. Then we’re going to the movies.”
Dad’s lips pressed together, then slowly separated. “I see. Dinner and a date to the show.”
“It doesn’t matter now, since I can’t leave the house. She’ll just go by herself and I’ll just be a prisoner in my own room. I’ll miss seeing another good movie and will have to hear about it from her next time I see her.”
Dad chuckled softly. “Being a little theatrical, aren’t you? It’s not like we’d be boarding up your windows and sliding your meals under the door.”
“Feels like it.”
Dad patted Timmy’s knee. “We’ll see. How’s that?” Dad laughed.
Timmy nearly bit his tongue to keep from arguing further. He knew his dad wo
uldn’t let him go. At least, not until this business with Dorothy and Peter had been cleared up.
Remembering his best friend was missing made him feel lousy. He was sitting here debating he was old enough to go to a movie alone with a girl, when his friend was missing. There was good reason his parents didn’t want him going out.
Robin’s dad probably won’t let her go, either. Not right now.
“So is it a deal?” Dad asked.
Timmy attempted a smile he hoped looked legitimate. “Deal.”
“Good.” Dad put both hands on the wheel. He yawned, then let out a low moan. “Your mother said she’d have supper done early tonight so I can actually eat with you two.”
“Really? Good.”
“Yeah.”
“Know what she’s making?”
“I think meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and something else. Said she’d make a chocolate pie for dessert.”
Timmy’s stomach rumbled, telling him that supper sounded just fine.
But behind the hunger, was a ping of sadness. His night with Robin had been put on hold.
He worried it might never happen at all.
-20-
Ed stood in the doorway of the summer kitchen. He leaned on the ax handle, the head on the floor bracing him up as he watched Dorothy. He’d placed her on an old door balanced on a pair of sawhorses, covered her with a blanket so she would no longer be naked, and wrapped a rope around her so many times, the little girl looked like a giant spool of thread that had sprouted a blond head.
He’d checked on her throughout the day. She hadn’t moved. Once he’d touched her cheek with his fingertip. It felt cold and slimy. Dead. Just as dead as she had been when he’d crammed her in his tool sack.
But he figured if she was going to wake up again as they did in the stories, it would be after sundown.
The dwindling light outside was a dark purple hue. Inside the summer kitchen, Ed’s lantern on his workbench spread a very dim flutter throughout the room. The corners were dark, as were the walls. The meager light seemed to hover around Dorothy.
He watched her. She remained still.
Still dead.
Would she wake up, thirsty for blood?
Ed raised the ax from the floor, letting it rest on his shoulder. The curve of the blade pointed up. If she did come back, Ed would be ready to lop off her head.
And if she stayed dead, he’d simply return her to the graveyard and bury her with the dead vampires.
He looked at her neck. The rims of the holes had dried into a crimson crust. Sure, he hated what happened to her, but when he thought back to the way she’d acted after realizing who he was, his remorse didn’t feel as strong. Still wasn’t right what Peter had done, and none of the mean words she’d said to Ed would make it right.
Ed stepped partway through the doorway, putting a foot on the top step. The sky was mostly dark with only a few spills of gaudy light showing behind the clouds. In a few minutes, the sky would be black. Stars already twinkled above like little sparkly dots, and the moon was a pale sliver among them.
He stood there, waiting until no more light remained. Once, he thought he heard Dorothy take a breath, but when he stared at her, he saw no sign she’d awakened.
The quiet whispery sound repeated. Ed jerked back, bringing the ax in front of him.
The lantern.
It was low on fuel. Whenever the supply got near the bottom, it would make soft hissing sounds like a gentle breeze rustling leaves.
Dorothy wasn’t waking up.
And Ed had wasted a day preparing himself for it.
Lowering the ax, Ed let out a long breath. His chest hurt as if he’d been holding it in all day. His stomach relaxed.
And the crap he’d been squeezing back dropped, and suddenly became a need that had to be taken care of. Keeping his ass pinched a bit longer, he watched Dorothy. She remained a still, dark shape topped with a golden glow of hair. Her face looked very pale in the lantern’s light. Unreal, like a cheap drugstore mask.
Nope. She’s dead. She’s not coming back.
Ed quickly walked to his workbench. He’d left the newspaper rolled up next to his tools and sewing supplies. He grabbed it, and started back for the door, giving Dorothy’s motionless, creepy form another glance on his way.
The girl was dead.
Her hair looked artificial, like a doll’s. Her skin looked painted in cruddy, white cream. Her lips were purple bends bearded in shadow. But her natural beauty still showed through the deadened features. She would have been a very nice woman to look at had she lived long enough to reach the age.
Ed turned away, and pulled the door shut. He tucked the newspaper under his arm, then hurried down the steps and around to the back of the house. One hand to his stomach, the other swung stiffly to his side. He made short, quick steps on his way to the outhouse. The grass made whispery lashing sounds against his pants.
The outhouse was a dark, emaciated structure of wooden planks that had warped and rotted with age. At the top, the wood curved out like the tips of thick streamers. The door hung partway open, a crescent moon carved out of the wood matched the curved slot in the sky. He stepped in, and pulled the door to him. It started to sway open, but he reached into a patch of shadow and found the thin, narrow hook. He slipped it through the eye in the frame to keep it shut.
He wanted to drop his trousers and sit right away, but it was too dark. The last time he’d tried to crap in total darkness, his bare ass had plopped down on a snake slithering around the rim of the seat. Luckily it hadn’t been a poisonous one, since it had recoiled and stabbed its teeth into his right buttock. He’d run from the outhouse, screaming, with the snake dangling from his rump like a greasy tail.
He’d put a candle out here for night visits the next morning.
Using his thumbnail, he struck a match. He lowered it to the tip of the white candlestick on a small shelf. Dim light oozed around him, guttering against the tight walls in yellow waves. Ed shook the match out, turned sideways, and tossed it into the hole in the middle of the wooden bench he’d soon be sitting on. It made a faint sizzling sound when it landed inside.
The smell in here was rotten, but Ed had grown used to it. On his way to the seat, he unfastened his pants. They fell to his knees, so he shambled the rest of the way. Before sitting, he checked around the seat. No snakes. He turned so he faced the door and sat down.
He let his muscles relax, and nature handled the rest.
While things made heavy slopping sounds under him, he unfurled the newspaper. In order to read any of the words, he had to tilt the paper toward the candle. He skimmed through the short collection of articles until he reached the last page.
Another missing man—a traveling salesman from the Cradle Elk area. Ed frowned. How had nobody noticed the pattern? All of them had been traveling near or through Plainfield around the time of their disappearance. Surely somebody would have caught on to it by now.
Maybe they didn’t know what to look for.
But there was something in Plainfield that linked them all together, other than the vampire. Somehow, they wound up here.
And dead.
The vampire was on a feeding spree. Ed had to stop it before somebody put the pieces together and evidence pointed the police his way.
Ed tore the last page of the newspaper and crumpled it into a ball. When it was good and compacted, he spread it back out. Then he crumpled it again, this time making sure he started from another direction. He did this a few more times until the paper felt fairly soft.
With the paper clasped in his fingers, he lowered it between his legs and wiped himself. Finished, he let it drop into the hole. It made no sound when it landed. Ed imagined it falling forever, as if a bottomless pit had opened up below him.
He checked his fingers to make sure nothing had gotten smeared on them. They were fine. He grabbed his pants by the waist and went to stand up.
Then the outhouse ceiling was torn away with an explosion
of cracking wood.
Screaming, Ed looked up. Wind buffeted him. His hat was blown off his head. His graying hair danced around his forehead, lashing his eyes. He shook it away and gazed at the dark sky above him. Stars twinkled all over like glowing freckles.
Then he spotted it—a large dark shape floating above the edge of the now opened outhouse, clutching a chunk of the roof in its beefy blue hands.
“Shit almighty!” Ed screamed.
The vampire gazed down at him. Its gargantuan wings moved in a dynamic blur, emitting a high-pitched squealing sound that reminded Ed of an engine with a bad belt. The force of the wind was too much for Ed and threw him off the bench. He hit the wood floor with his bare knees, feeling the burn of his skin being scuffed up. Rolling onto his back, he slapped at his pants. His cock shook in the brutal gust, beating against his thighs. He managed to pull his pants up and cover himself.
The vampire tossed the jagged hunk of wood aside. It brought its right arm up, a long, claw-tipped finger extending toward Ed. “You!”
Ed thought he might have to shit again.
-21-
Ed was tossed at the summer kitchen. His body whammed the door, knocking it wide. He hit the floor and slid toward the makeshift table. He stopped just before his face collided with the leg of a sawhorse.
He felt pain all over, the back of his neck tight and sore from where the vampire had grabbed him. He’d been carried in the air like a kitten by its mother, his arms and legs dangling, for a short distance. Then the vampire had pitched him as effortlessly as the chunk of outhouse ceiling. Ed was grateful its aim was accurate and he hadn’t smacked into the wall beside the door. The wall wouldn’t have been so easy to give in.
Getting onto his back filled his body up with tiny bursts of pain. Ed gazed at the doorway. The vampire stood just outside, examining the uneven frame as if it had never seen one before. It looked at Ed.
“Invite me in,” the vampire said. Its voice sounded like a clogged drain.
Ed tried to shake his head. Couldn’t. So he said, “No…”
The vampire opened its mouth very wide, showing the array of fangs inside. Though still a faint blue, its skin was much smoother and healthier now. Had to be, from all the missing travelers it had sucked dry. “Invite me in!”
The Vampire of Plainfield Page 16
