The Vampire of Plainfield

by Kristopher Rufty

  Sliding down the table’s surface, Bernice made lethargic attempts to hold on but brought the table down with her. The wood clattered and crunched when it hit the floor.

  Yelling, Timmy got to his feet as Ed dashed past Robin. He stared down at Bernice. A lump on her temple was oozing blood.

  “No,” he muttered. Crouching, he put his gloveless hand to her neck, fingers on her pulse. Though it was faint, he felt the thump of her heart.

  Looking back at Timmy, he said, “She’s okay.”

  “Thank God,” Timmy said.

  They shared a relieved look, then turned to Robin. The blonde teenager dropped the prybar. It clamored loudly when it hit the floor. Dropping to her knees, she held out her hands. Dorothy's back was to her, watching the vampire as Robin reached for her shoulder.

  "Dorothy?" she said quietly.

  Dorothy whipped around, gnashing her fangs. She let out a throaty hiss.

  Screaming, Robin scurried back on her knees. Dorothy lunged for her cousin, but Ed jumped in front of Robin, catching Dorothy in his arms. They rolled across the ground. Ed released her during their tussle. Coming to a halt on his stomach, he shoved the floor and got to his knees.

  Dorothy was already crouched, arms up and ready to strike again.

  Where's the crossbow!?!

  Ed spotted it on the floor just out of reach.

  Dorothy caught him looking at it. As he wildly crawled toward the weapon, Dorothy sprang forward like a cat going for a rabbit. His fingers tapped the wooden stock, then the girl slammed into him.

  His fingers stroked the weapon, barely missing.

  Ed's back whammed the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs. Dorothy came down on top of him, scrambling up his midsection, pinning his arms down between her bare, scrawny legs. Though she was frail in size, she felt as big as Mary, crushing him.

  She leaned over. Hissed. A putrid stench gusted against his face. Her fangs dripped saliva-thinned blood on his face. Thin shreds of flesh were stuck in her gum line, coyote hair jutted like fuzzy growths.

  Gripping his hair, she jerked his head sideways. Briefly, Ed wondered what happened to his hat.

  "Watch," she said.

  Before his eyes could focus, Robin screamed.

  -32-

  Crouched by Nana, Timmy saw a blur of movement in the corner of his eye. He looked to the right and saw Dorothy knock Eddie onto his back. She crawled up his chest, spreading her legs. Her knees touched the floor, trapping Eddie’s arms.

  Timmy’s mind was a whirlwind of incomplete thoughts. He tried to lock one down, hoping it was an idea on how to save everybody.

  Robin wouldn’t be any help. She’d succumbed to a squealing wreck in front of his eyes. Mashing her hair to the sides of her face, she watched as Dorothy forced Eddie’s head to turn toward them.

  Looking around the floor, Timmy had no idea what he was trying to find. When he spotted the small sword Nana had been using on the floor, he realized that was it. He ran for the blade, leaning over. His hand was near enough to grab the handle.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Timmy-boy.”

  Peter!

  Sounded as if his voice had come from…above.

  Looking up, Timmy spotted Peter hiding in the rafters, arms and legs spread and grasping a beam, a flabby spider in a web of wood girders. Peter smiled, brandishing a mouthful of enlarged teeth. A curved fang hung lower on each side.

  “It’s time to play,” said Peter.

  Then Robin screamed.

  It was cut short by the surge of wind that threw Timmy aside. He hit the floor and rolled a few times, coming to a stop on his stomach.

  Looking up, he saw Peter had managed to knock Robin onto her back and get on top of her in a blink. His crotch wedged between Robin’s kicking legs, Peter tore her blouse in a savage swipe to unveil a thick, heavily padded bra. The skirt had fallen back on her legs, showing a lot of tawny skin as they thrashed the air.

  “Get away from her!” Timmy yelled.

  Peter’s head twisted impossibly around. Bulges of skin appeared on the side of his neck like a stack of dough. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll get your turn.”

  Timmy tingled inside, but also felt a wave of nausea.

  “Help me, Timmy!” Robin cried. “Please!”

  “Timmy!” Eddie’s voice. “Get him…ah!”

  Dorothy, holding his head by the hair, bashed Eddie’s head against the floor. Not hard enough to do any damage, but it was enough to shut him up.

  Timmy looked at Peter in time to see him ripping off Robin’s bra.

  His breath snagged in his throat.

  Damn, oh, damn.

  Robin’s breasts were full and springy, her nipples tiny rigid dots. The fleshy humps looked painted in white cream and jiggled as Peter began tugging at her skirt.

  Timmy shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. It was wrong and so unreal. Like a nightmare he couldn’t escape. He prayed to wake up in his bed, but knew it wouldn’t happen.

  And Robin…

  Timmy couldn’t stop staring at her breasts. Their large size surprised him, made him feel hot and squirmy inside. He imagined how they’d feel in his hands as his thumbs poked her turgid nipples, pushing them into the plump skin, and watching them plop back out.

  Robin’s shrieks hurt Timmy’s ears, but did nothing to make him move. He thought of The Vampire’s Graveyard Kiss, those lurid panels flicking through his mind. The woman was moaning as the vampire took her from behind. The drawings began to change, taking new details.

  Now the woman was Robin, and the vampire...was Timmy.

  Peter glanced back at Timmy, saw he hadn’t moved, and laughed again. “Ready for this?”

  Timmy’s voice barely registered when he said, “Peter…no…” He doubted anybody other than himself had heard it at all.

  Peter, holding Robin down by her throat, used his other hand to reach between her legs.

  Don’t do it, Peter!

  But the warning never made it to Timmy’s mouth. And he watched Peter tear Robin’s underwear apart. The tattered garment clung to his fingers like webbing. He shook his hand, freeing his fingers of the silky shreds.

  It was dark between Robin’s thrashing thighs, but Timmy could faintly make out the bushy tuft of hair crowning the curve of flesh. At Goult’s, he hadn’t been able to see anything past the white band of her underwear.

  As he looked at the tattered ribbons between her legs, he spotted a dark slit...

  “Well, look at that,” said Peter. “She has hair there…” He sniffed. “And she smells sweet. Like peaches.”

  Timmy rolled onto his side, and realized he had an erection. It jutted painfully against the inside of his pants.

  “Tell you what,” said Peter, talking loudly over Robin’s cries. “I’ll let you go first, Timmy-boy.”

  “Me?”

  Peter’s head moved down, then up. The sharp teeth, inhuman eyes, reptilian bumpy skin, and lashing, snake-like tongue barely registered with Timmy. He knew he should be terrified of the thing his best friend had become. But it hardly seemed to matter in this moment.

  “You know what to do,” said Peter. “We read about it in Eddie’s magazines. And if you can’t remember, I’ll tell you how. I learned a lot with Dorothy.”

  With Dorothy? Did he mean…?

  Dorothy nodded. “I pretended I didn’t like it, but I really did. Can’t wait for more.”

  Robin groaned with a mixture of disgust and grief.

  “Come on, Timmy. You know you want to. Just stuff your wiener in her. Right here.” Peter pointed to the slit that was like a winking eye under a fluff of bristly hair. “You’ll love it. Feels so soft and tight and warm. After you pop in there, I’ll let you taste her blood. And that’s even better. Just like Dorothy, I bet Robin’s blood’ll taste sugary-sweet. The master says the fear is what makes it taste like that.” Peter trembled. “Just thinking about it makes me wild.”

  I have to stop him.

  Ti
mmy pushed against the floor, getting to his knees.

  “That’s it, buddy,” said Peter. “Come on.”

  Timmy saw himself climbing on top of Robin, feeling her hot, naked flesh squirming underneath him. She’d be slick with sweat, feeling as if she’d just come from a hot bath. His skin would slide across hers.

  It made Timmy tingle deep inside.

  I … have … to stop him.

  Timmy got to his feet. Looking down, Timmy saw the front of his pants pointed out like a witch’s hat. If he unzipped his pants and freed his penis, he knew it’d feel so much better. Putting it inside of Robin…well that would be amazing.

  But Eddie’s watching. And Dorothy.

  And…

  The vampire. Now on its feet, the vampire stood with its arms folded over its midsection. Watching like a proud father at a wedding.

  I have to…stop...

  Timmy took a wobbly step.

  “There you go!” Peter made hooting sounds, just like he did when they used to play cowboys and Indians.

  Timmy shambled forward.

  The room was no longer a tumult of Robin’s screams. From the floor, she now watched Timmy with piteous eyes that twinkled from her tears. Her sobs made the pale mounds of her breasts jitter. Her legs, open and spread around Peter’s wide girth, lay on the floor in tawny arcs.

  But her eyes…

  Her eyes looked heartbroken and betrayed. “Timmy…” she said. “I’ve always liked you.”

  Timmy tilted his head, unable to grasp what she’d just said.

  Robin took a deep breath, continuing, “Even when I sat with you for your parents, I liked you. I knew it was wrong because you were younger…but you were just so different. You seemed older than what you really were, and more mature than a lot of the boys I know.”

  “Shut up,” said Peter. “Don’t screw with his head.”

  Robin ignored him. “Remember the last time I sat with you? The dress? I wore that for you, Timmy. I wanted you to see me in it. I bought it just for that night. I hoped you just…I don’t know, do something. I was afraid to make the first move, because I didn’t know what you’d do. But nothing happened, and that was okay with me too. Your mother called mine that night. She told my mom I couldn’t sit with you anymore because she felt I was getting to be…inappropriate around you! And she was right, really. Because that night…I wanted to…I wanted you to touch me…”

  “He’s going to touch you now, Robin,” said Peter. “So, you’re going to get your wish.”

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this!

  Finding the zipper on his pants, he tugged it down.

  Seeing this, Robin closed her eyes. She sucked in her bottom lip as she cried some more. When she opened her eyes again, they were focused intently on Timmy. “Okay, Timmy. I want it too…you can…have me.”

  Peter howled. “Hear that, Timmy-boy? You can have her! Hot damn! Get in there. Show her what you’re made of!”

  Robin’s legs parted even more. Her hands, which had been gripped onto Peter’s, lowered to her skirt. She pulled it higher, fully exposing her groin. The small mound of hair was pale on top of the sleek, curved skin.

  Timmy reached into the gap of his pants, fingers brushing the stiffness inside. A warm fluttery sensation filled his groin.

  Peter’s forked tongue slithered over his lips. Two sharp fangs nearly filled the space inside his mouth.

  The toes of Timmy’s shoe bumped something hard. He looked down at the floor.

  A metal bar.

  A tizzy of images rushed rapidly through his mind—the talks with Robin, their kissing and holding hands. Her big smile and boisterous laughter. Her confession from moments ago. He remembered Peter. He remembered Peter attacking Robin.

  He remembered Nana and Eddie.

  He remembered Dorothy, and…the vampire.

  The tongue.

  The fangs.

  It felt as if a curtain opened inside Timmy’s head and light spread through the dark alcoves where his morbid temptations lurked.

  And now Timmy’s penis was shrinking in his hand. He released his dwindling organ and tugged his hand from his fly.

  Peter was too occupied by his own perverse laughter to notice Timmy crouching down and picking up the prybar. With the heavy tool, Timmy felt a smidge braver. Those lurid sensations were fading quicker now.

  He walked right up to Peter, raising the bar high.

  Dorothy yelled for Peter to turn around.

  Peter stopped laughing as if a switch had been flicked. He looked up at Timmy. Red glowered deep in the pits of his dull sockets. “You dummy,” Peter said.

  Timmy swung down with all he had.

  And his wrist was caught by a gargantuan hand the size of a catcher’s mitt. Three fingers curled around his fist, twisting his wrist awkwardly to the side. A severe burst of pain seized his arm. Fingers locking, the prybar fell from his hand.

  As Timmy was spun around, he glimpsed Robin squirming, trying to get up, shouting, “Timmy!”

  But Peter kept her down.

  Still holding Timmy’s wrist, the vampire stretched his arm the wrong way across his chest and pulled him back. His elbow was torqued painfully to the side, his arm slanting away from his shoulder.

  “Enough,” the vampire said in a voice that reminded Timmy of grinding stones. “It is near time for my darling to return to me.”

  “Aw,” said Peter, pouting. “But I was about to have some fun.”

  The vampire backhanded Peter with the hand not bending Timmy’s arm, knocking his head to the side. Peter kept his head down, staring at the floor like a dog chastised by its master.

  “Bring the girl with you. I’ll take the boy.”

  “No!” Timmy yelled. “I’m not—”

  The vampire pulled Timmy’s arm, making him holler. It felt as if the vampire wanted to rip his arm from the socket.

  Eddie and Robin yelled for the vampire to release Timmy. Instead, it kept tugging Timmy’s arm, the tendons in his shoulder stretching.

  “Okay!” Timmy shouted. “Okay!”

  The vampire stopped pulling his arm.

  “It’s time to begin.”

  Nodding, Peter stuck his arms under Robin and easily lifted her. Robin thrashed and bucked in the cradle of his arms, screaming, as she

  pounded his shoulders. Peter made a face, as if annoyed by a pesky mosquito buzzing in his face.

  Putting his back to the vampire, Peter carried Robin through the open back door. Rapid flapping sounds and a high-pitched squeal like a broken engine came from outside. Then there was a loud gust that threw dirt and debris into the tavern. After that, silence.

  The vampire started to follow, forcing Timmy along by his twisted arm.

  “Master?” Dorothy said.

  Pausing, the vampire turned around to face the little girl. She straddled Eddie, who had given up fighting. He stared off the side, his eyes blank.

  “Yes, child?”

  “What about these two?”

  The vampire looked at Ed, then turned and stared where Nana lay on the floor. The upturned table tilted beside her like a wooden ramp. One arm slanted against the lopsided table, the other, mangled arm, was folded over her stomach. Timmy glimpsed the slow rise and fall of her weak breaths.

  “Kill them both.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “No,” Timmy said. “Please, don’t hurt them!”

  Ignoring Timmy’s pleas, the vampire started toward the door. Screaming, Timmy tried to break away from the vampire’s powerful hold. It hurt his shoulder, made his elbow pull taut, but he didn’t care. He wanted to save his grandmother, his friend.

  Timmy was pulled through the doorway. Slapping at the frame, his fingers scraped across the wood paneling, pulling up paint. His fingers slipped off, and he was pulled into the night. The last thing he saw before the vampire took flight, carrying Timmy into the sky by his arm as if he were a chick snatched by hawk, was Dorothy’s face dipping toward Eddie.
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  Her mouth had been open wide, the corners overextending back, fangs slavering.

  -33-

  Hot saliva dribbled in Ed’s eyes. Wincing, he turned away, blinking. His lashes felt gummy, sticky as if glued. With her mouth so close, Ed could smell the awful flavor of her tongue, ghost miscellanies of whatever she’d been feeding on.

  “Dorothy,” he said. “Don’t do this. My blood’s not good.”

  “Smells fine to me,” she said. Her tongue slithered over her bottom lip. A thick coating of slobber made her lip shimmer in the light. “Can’t wait to taste…”

  “But I ate a lot of garlic today.”

  “Liar.” She sniffed. “Though I have no breath, I can smell your blood. It’s hoary, insalubrious, but will taste divine as I drink from you. Your soul is blackened, and though yours beats, it is not alive. Mr. Gein, the living dead heart of Plainfield. Your dark soul will taste as fresh as one of virtue.”

  Ed stared at the little girl. Eyes closed, her lips were slightly parted, relishing the probable taste of his blood. She was a pubescent shell, hiding an olden lifeform behind the costume of a little girl.

  “Who are you?” Ed asked.

  Opening her eyes, she smiled sweetly, innocently. “Well, I’m just a little girl, Mr. Gein. Can’t you tell?”

  “Now who’s the liar?”

  Leaning back her head, she laughed. “You really are very inquisitive, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I just know little girls don’t talk like that.”

  “Ah,” said Dorothy, looking at him again. Her face was pale except for the dark smudges of her evil eyes. “But you’re not the imbecile you pretend to be, are you, Mr. Gein?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You sulk around this abysmal town, your head down to avert eye contact, praying to God that nobody will speak to you. And why is that? Because you know you can’t correlate with them in a way that suits them. Correct?”