The Vampire of Plainfield

by Kristopher Rufty

  The house went completely silent an hour ago. Mom was in his parents’ bedroom, alone again. He’d peeked out his door when she’d walked by and saw the dark bottle clasped in her hand by its neck. It was the bottle Dad sometimes drank from after a long day.

  He hadn’t seen a glass.

  Timmy shut the comic and sat up. He swung his legs around, and put his feet on the floor. He stared down at his socks, wondering what to do. Should he try working on the story some more? Wash up and get ready for bed?

  He didn’t feel like doing either of those things. He really didn’t know what he felt. A disorder of emotions pounded around inside his head. All of them seemed to fall away whenever he thought about Robin.

  Tapping on his window made him jump.

  Stupid wind.

  But Timmy heard no heavy wind this time. Just a subtle swish that caused the leaves on the trees to softly rattle. The tapping continued, changing to a curious rhythm—two quick taps, followed by three, another two and one.

  “Timmy!”

  A voice. His mouth fell open.

  Somebody was outside his window.

  “Open up!”

  Hard to tell who it was. The voice was a harsh whisper, loud and quiet at the same time.

  “Who...? Who’s there?”

  Timmy’s voice barely registered above the silence of his room.

  More taps, another call of his name, and Timmy felt himself rise from the bed. He walked slow and wooden to the window.

  He wanted to stop himself, to get his mom.

  Instead, he stopped at the window.

  Heart racing, he reached.

  Gripped the curtains.

  Pulled them back.

  And jumped at the face mashed against the glass.

  Staggering back, the curtain rod flew at him. He quickly jumped out of its way, eluding being pounded on its way down. Holding up his hand, he saw he still gripped the curtain. He’d accidentally pulled it down.

  He brought his eyes up to the window. The bulb in his room threw yellow light across the window, enlightening the flattened grimace outside. It moved back and became Robin. Pale-yellow hair dangled around her pretty face in waves.

  Robin’s arms moved, hands gesturing for him to come to the window. Timmy let his arm drop by his side. The curtain slipped from his fingers. Feeling like an idiot, he walked to the window.

  Can’t believe I screamed like that.

  In front of Robin.

  What was she doing here?

  Timmy saw the smile he loved make a white block in the darkness. He unlocked the window, then opened it. Crouching, he folded his arms on the sill.

  Robin leaned inside. So close to her, he felt a little funny—nervous and excited at the same time.

  “Sorry, Timmy. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She spoke in a loud whisper.

  “It’s fine. I wasn’t scared. Just didn’t…expect you.”

  Nibbling her lip, she gave a quick look around. “Think your mom heard that?”

  Timmy had forgotten about this mother. He turned, looking at his shut bedroom door. Expecting it to fling open any moment, he began to relax when time passed without her coming in. Somehow, Mom hadn’t heard his scream or the loud crash of the curtain rod.

  Timmy leaned back onto the sill, inches from Robin’s face. She smelled faintly of peaches and her breath had a scent that made his chest feel fizzy.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “I snuck out.”

  “Jeez.”

  Robin nodded. “Can you believe it?”

  He stared at her, not knowing what to say.

  “I had to,” she said. “I needed to see you.”

  Timmy couldn’t believe it. “Me?”

  “Yes. Your dad...I wanted...”

  Right away Timmy knew why she was here. It had less to do with him and more to do with what his father knew. “You want to know about your aunt and uncle.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” she said. “Has he said anything at all about what happened?”

  “I heard him talk to my ma about it.”

  “And?”

  Timmy shrugged. He felt uncomfortable talking about this to her. “He believes that it’s...”

  “Don’t say an animal attack.”

  Timmy gave another shrug. “Sorry.”

  Robin threw her hands in the air, put her back to him, and shook her head. Now he looked at her back. Her pink sweater hung past her rump. She had on a long, pale skirt that ended at the smooth bulges of her calves. A small section separated the end of the skirt from the puffy whites of her socks. Her hair was down and didn’t look styled. He’d never seen it this way and really liked it.

  “An animal,” she said, turning around.

  “That’s what he thinks.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, my dad’s not a dummy.”

  “I didn’t say he was. I know he’s not. He’s just...wrong. Why would he think an animal did that?”

  “Something about...” Timmy swallowed hard. His throat felt a little scratchy. He didn’t want to say more, but felt he should add this one last part. “I heard him say the bodies were pretty...chewed up.”

  “I heard. Don’t you find that odd?”

  “Well…”

  “Dorothy vanishes. Peter vanishes. And now this?”

  “I…” Frustrated, Timmy knew nothing he said would calm her down. “You’re right. But I don’t know what my dad can do about it.”

  “He’s part of the law.”

  “I know.”

  “If he thinks it was an animal, he won’t look for anything else.”

  Robin was right. If Dad veered his investigation in another direction, he might not be able to steer his way back. If it hadn’t been an animal, the case would hit a wall, and whoever had actually done it would get away with it.

  “I understand where you’re coming from,” said Timmy, “but what can we do?”

  “They’d be at Goult’s store, right?”

  “Right. I think Dad said the medical examiner released them for burial preparation. So…”

  “I want to see those bodies myself.”

  Timmy gripped the windowsill, leaning further out. Robin stood a few feet away in the yard, arms folded over her chest. “Are you nuts?” he asked.

  “No. I believe I have the right to see them.”

  “Your parents won’t let you do that.”

  “I know. I’m going without them.”

  “Old man Goult wouldn’t let you, either.”

  R. A. Goult owned the combination furniture store and funeral home in Plainfield. He was a nice guy who told inappropriate, yet great jokes. But Timmy doubted even Robin could persuade him into letting her look at the dead bodies.

  “I know that, Timmy. You’re not catching on here.”

  Feeling dumb, Timmy looked down at his hands. His fingertips had turned white from gripping the sill. He let go.

  “Sorry,” said Robin. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “What I mean is—I’m heading over there right now.”

  “To Goult’s?” Robin nodded. “He’s closed!”

  Robin’s eyes widened as she shushed him. She gave a quick look around. “I don’t think the whole street heard you.”

  “Don’t give me that,” he said. “You can’t say something like that and not expect my voice to rise.”

  That was a phrase his ma had said to Timmy many times. It seemed to fit just fine here.

  “Calm down, Timmy.”

  “I am calm.”

  “I’ll be quick,” she said. “Just a quick looksee and I’ll be on my way.”

  “How are you going to get in? You know he locks the doors.”

  “That part’s easy,” she said. Smiling, she stepped off to the side, bent over, and picked up something. She held it up. “I’m going to jimmy the basemen
t window open.”

  Timmy saw she held a prybar. Probably stolen from her father’s tools. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “Everybody’s out on the search, so Goult’s should be deserted.”

  “Robin, this is…a bad idea.”

  “Remember what we talked about on the phone? What if somebody did do this? And what if they did it to Dorothy and Peter too?”

  “Did you tell your parents about your ideas?”

  Robin made a snorting sound. “Oh, sure. I tried to talk to my daddy about it.”

  “Didn’t believe you?”

  “Wouldn’t even begin to try to.” She threw her hand up, letting it fall and smack her thigh. Her skirt ruffled. “He said I didn’t know what I was talking about. I wanted to go with them tonight, but my dad said I needed to stay home. The search party was adult business, not mine. I’m just a kid, he said.”

  Timmy nodded. He bet his dad would’ve said the same thing if Timmy had asked to go tonight.

  “So I waited for them to leave and snuck out,” Robin said. “Came here.”

  “Why?”

  “I figured we could go together?”

  Timmy’s lips suddenly felt dry. He licked them, but his tongue felt dry too. “You want me to go?”

  “What do you say? Want to sneak out with me? I’ll let you carry the prybar.” She held out the slender tool. It was pale and gleamed in the moonlight.

  “Me?”

  “No, your mom. She’s standing behind you.”

  With a gasp, Timmy jerked his head around, an apology already heading for his tongue. His door was shut. He was alone in the room. He felt instant relief that turned to humiliation when he heard Robin snicker behind him. Slowly, he faced Robin again.

  When she saw him, her laughter stopped. “I’m sorry. That was mean. I shouldn’t have tricked you.”

  “It’s...fine.”

  “No. I can be such a brat when I want to get my way. I shouldn’t be like that to you. You’re the only one who seems to understand me most of the time. That was wrong. I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s...”

  Robin cut him off by putting her lips against his. They were cool and slippery when they brushed his mouth. She gave him two quick, soft kisses before pulling away. Her fingers slipped into his hair at the back of his head and held him close. “Will you go with me tonight?” she asked.

  Timmy didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

  “Great. Climb out and we’ll get going.”

  Robin released his head and moved back a couple steps. Timmy stared at her, unable to move. A tingling current rushed through him. Tremors shook his shoulders, made him jittery. Robin grinned. There was no innocence to it. This time, he could tell she was glad to have caused his fleeting paralysis.

  “Are you coming or staying?” she asked.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Then come on.”

  Nodding, Timmy managed to stand up. He felt hardness in his pants. Luckily his shirt covered it. He also felt he was in his socks. His shoes were by the front door, since Mama’s main rule was to take off your shoes upon entering. Even his father had to abide by this regulation or there would be unpleasant consequences.

  “Give me a minute,” he said.

  “I’ll be right here.”

  Timmy walked backwards, keeping his eyes on Robin. He nearly tripped over his own feet a couple times.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she said, smiling.

  “Right.”

  Timmy turned around and nearly cried out when he almost collided with the door. Taking a moment to calm down, he tried to pretend he couldn’t feel Robin’s eyes on his back. He slowly turned the knob. It made a loud clicking sound when the tongue pulled back from the hole in the wall. There was no sound when he pulled the door toward him. He silently thanked his father for keeping the hinges oiled.

  Timmy stepped into the dark hallway. A small spill of light to his right told him the dining room light had been left on. The living room was dark. To his left, the hallway was filled with oily blackness. He peered in the direction of his parents’ room. He could faintly make out the pale shape of the closed door. No light showed at the bottom.

  Quietly, Timmy crept to his parents’ room. He stood outside the door, an ear pointed toward the room, listening. The rattle of his mother’s snores were soft on the other side. Smiling, Timmy turned around and hurried up the hall. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so it was easy to make his way to the front door without stumbling into a wall.

  His shoes were on the mat beside the door. Picking them up, he gave a quick glance at his parents’ room. The door remained shut. The only sounds he heard on this end of the house were the steady ticking of the clock in the dining room.

  He carried his shoes back to his room and carefully shut the door. He leaned against it, breathing heavily. Sweating, his shirt was glued to his sides. Looking ahead, he saw his open window. The curtain lay on the floor in a heap, the rod stiff and crooked.

  He’d fix it later.

  Timmy dropped his shoes on the floor, slipped his feet in, and walked to the window. Putting his hands on the sill, he leaned out. Robin stood near the bushes, looking toward the road. She held the prybar down by her leg, the flattened tip aimed at the ground. The wind made her skirt flap below her knees, stirred her hair.

  Take my jacket.

  He leaned back into his room and walked to the closet. His jacket hung from a hanger amongst other clothes. Its candy red color and banana stripes were easy to spot. A Christmas present for his dad, it had been too small for him, so he’d given it to Timmy.

  He pulled it down.

  Putting it on, he started back for the window.

  And stopped again.

  He’d noticed the shoebox on the floor of his closet. In it were old school projects his mother hadn’t wanted to throw away. But underneath had been the vampire comic and…

  The shrunken head.

  Ed said it was for good luck. At the time it had both repulsed and fascinated him. Now, he felt some kind of strange relief he had it. Timmy faced the closet again. He supposed they would need all the luck they could get tonight.

  Returning to the closet, he crouched, and slid the box toward him. He flipped back the lid, and rummaged through the papers. His finger brushed something that felt dry and leathery. He jerked back his hand, holding his finger out as if something had stung it. Grimacing, he tried again. When his fingers brushed that gristly surface again, they gripped and pulled out the head. He stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket and stood up.

  He turned around and nearly gasped when he saw Robin sitting on the windowsill, bent forward, so her head wouldn’t bonk the window. “What was that you grabbed?” Her knees were glossy shapes that tapered into sleek shins before the fluffy rim of her socks. The toes of her saddle shoes touched the carpet of his floor.

  Timmy buttoned his jacket. “Um…good luck charm.”

  Robin smiled. “Wish I had one.”

  Sure Ed would be glad to make one for you.

  “All set?” she asked.

  “I guess so.”

  “Then come on.” Robin leaned back. She swung one leg outside. Straddling the sill, her skirt draped her thighs, forming the shapes of her legs. Then she pulled her other leg through, and dropped. He heard the slaps of her feet hitting the ground.

  He walked to the window, ignoring the guilt that tried to talk him out of going.

  If they got caught...

  Don’t think about it. If you think you’ll get caught, you will. Just go.

  Think about that kiss.

  His mouth tingled from the memory. He ran his tongue between his lips. They felt dry and flaky.

  Timmy climbed through the window, legs first. When his bottom was on the sill, he pushed with his hands and threw himself forward. His feet pounded the ground, knees bent. He moved his head away just before a knee rammed his chin. Before he could stand on his own, Robin was pulling h
im up.

  “Are you okay?” Now she was whispering. “That was a hard landing.”

  “Yeah,” said Timmy. “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Stop getting hurt around me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Timmy, stepping back to his window. He pulled it down close to the sill, but didn’t close it. If somebody were to go by, they shouldn’t notice the missing curtain and cracked-open window.

  Fingers slid into his right hand. Robin gave him a couple gentle tugs, and led him around the side of the house. She paused at the corner. “Here,” she said, offering him the prybar. “I promised.”

  “No thanks,” he said.

  Smiling, Robin started moving again. They passed his parents’ window. No light showed inside. Mama was either asleep or had drank herself into a deep slumber. Whatever she’d done, it meant he was in the clear.

  They made their way to the street and didn’t stop walking. Robin guided him to the left.

  Timmy wondered if it had ever been so quiet outside. The crunches of their shoes on the road made sounds like snapping tree branches. He wouldn’t have been surprised if lights started clicking on all around them from curious people wondering if the sky was falling.

  When the wind picked up, it beat against his jacket, making his hair thrash around. He and Robin turned their heads away from the gust to keep their eyes from being nicked by flakey debris.

  But they forged ahead, making their way toward town. They passed clapboard houses, separated by wide patches of yard and bushes. Some had lights on through the windows, others were dark.

  All were quiet.

  No dogs barked. No cats mewed. Even the usual, perpetual moans of the myriad arrays of cattle couldn’t be heard tonight. Seemed as if all of Plainfield held its breath, anticipating something.

  Or they were all dead.

  Don’t start.

  Timmy attempted a story once that began with a boy waking up one morning to find his town empty. It was as if everybody had simply moved on, and left him behind. He didn’t get very far into the story before running out of ideas. However, the premise always stuck with him, terrified him. Sometimes it gave him nightmares.

  The houses thinned as the patches of woods became larger. Soon there were no more houses, only trees smothered in darkness. Timmy couldn’t see into the woods past the first couple of trees bordering the road.