“Get away from me!” Ed shouted at the unseen enemy, flogging his hand blindly above his head.
Unable to accurately defend himself, Ed did the only thing he could think of.
He ran.
Swatting and slapping as if a swarm of bees were chasing him, Ed sprinted up the narrow path between the graves. Mary’s skin squeaked and groaned and rattled and popped between each whack of his footsteps. He felt jabs on top of his head, pinchers plucking away at Mary’s hair in a desperate dig for his skull.
What the hell’s up there? For God’s sake, what is it?
The stakes strapped around his waist shook and conked together. Something flat smacked against his leg as he ran. It was on the left side, swaying outward and back in to give his thigh a firm whack.
Bernice’s knife!
He swatted above him again, missed, then switched the crossbow to his left hand. He used his right to grab the handle of the knife and yank it free of the sheath. Weight dropped on his head, pushing it forward.
Something had landed on the crown of Mary’s hair.
In a wild swing, he flung the blade up before losing his balance. He fell forward. Mary’s chest hit the path, then scooted as dust flew up around him. Rolling onto his back, Ed stared between the part of his stitched leggings.
At first, he saw only dust. Then a tattered wing landed on his stomach. The black feathers trembled. Where the triceps should be, a bloody stump pointed at Ed. Recognizing what the wing belonged to, Ed smiled, knowing he’d hurt it.
He sat up, slapping the severed wing aside. He held up the knife and saw the vulture’s blood sliding down the tip.
“Got…you, you bastard…bird!”
Behind him came a miserable caw. Ed tried to turn his head, but the stiff skin collar made it difficult. It was awkward moving around, but
he managed to scramble his way up to his feet. Then he turned all the way around.
The vulture, balanced atop a lopsided headstone, fluffed its chest and let out another squawk. Its lone wing stretched out and whipped forward. Blood spurted from the hole where its other wing had been. It seemed to be daring Ed to make a move. Even without its wing, it wanted another go at Ed.
Ed huffed through the mask, and stepped forward.
The vulture stretched its back, unleashing a high-pitched, rallying cry. Its wing arched and shook, the feathers quivering.
Ed swung his arm forward, sliced the blade through the vulture’s neck, and slipped the knife into his sheath in one quick motion. Then he walked past the headstone as the vulture’s head tumbled to the side. Its tube-like neck spurted blood. When its head hit the ground, the vulture’s decapitated body leaped from the headstone and ran like a drunkard trying to escape the police. It made a few circles around the headstone, then dropped onto its side. The legs kicked a few times. As if realizing they were no longer on the ground, the legs went still.
Though Mary’s mouth remained firm, Ed attempted a smile behind it.
Damn bastard bird.
Ed stepped forward and kicked the bird’s carcass. It flew into the air, vanishing inside the mass of fog. He didn’t hear it land.
As he entered the dark path in the woods, he patted the top of his head. The vulture’s pecking had caused some tiny bald patches, so he combed the hair to cover them.
But other than the missing hair, the suit was in great shape. It should hold up with the vampire, at least for a while.
He took a long, deep breath. It was hard getting air through Mary’s open nostrils, but it was enough to help slow his raging heartbeat.
He started down the path, heading toward the isolated grave.
Hopefully, he wasn’t too late.
Hopefully, Timmy was all right.
Hopefully, Ed wouldn’t mess everything up when he got there.
-38-
The stench was unlike anything Timmy had ever smelled—rot, combined with garlic and death. He wiped his runny eyes, and gazed down. Standing with a foot on either side of the casket, Timmy saw the withered corpse between his legs. He only knew it was a corpse because it had a head—or something that resembled a head, with thin strands of fuzzy white hair. On the gray bulb were two holes, positioned where eyes should be, and two upright slits that might’ve been nostrils. Another sideways slit might’ve been a mouth. Timmy counted two, pointy nubs on both sides of the head. Either horns or ears, he couldn’t tell which.
From the shoulders down, the body formed a moldy teardrop shape of papery skin and bone. Timmy could make out the bulging, skeletal shapes of wings. The corpse’s texture reminded Timmy of the wasp nest he’d found in the woods behind Nana’s house.
A blanket of frail webbing sheathed the body from top to bottom. Bits and pieces of dead bugs, worms, and rats, dangled from the fluffy lattice.
And jutting from the right side of its chest was a short shaft of wood.
“Now, boy, bring her to me! Quickly!”
Timmy jumped at the vampire’s grated voice.
“Her?” he muttered.
Didn’t look like a her. It looked like a giant bat that might’ve once been stuffed full of candy and busted open at a birthday party, then left to rot in a field.
And I have to …
He held up his dirty hands, fingers spread. Clumps of dirt rolled down from the indentions of his fingers. He’d have to carry the thing out of here. Looking up, he saw the top of the hole a few feet above his head. Not only carry the corpse, he was supposed to climb out of the hole.
Looking at the corpse, Timmy groaned.
He should’ve known that was the next step.
But he didn’t want to. Not only was he afraid to touch it, afraid of what it would feel like, he worried that he might damage it. He pictured himself picking it up and the thing crumbling in his hands like a model kit that hadn’t been properly glued.
I’m dead if that happens.
Probably dead if it didn’t happen.
Dead either way.
Robin shrieked—an earsplitting cry that made Timmy cringe.
“You are almost out of time, boy!”
“Okay!” Timmy shouted. “Just…just leave her alone!”
“Timmy!” Robin called, “please…don’t let them hurt me anymore…”
Robin’s sad and hopeless voice made Timmy’s throat tighten. Tears filled his eyes. She sounded awful, and hurt. Begging Timmy to make them stop hurting her. As if it were his fault they had been.
An inkling of an idea sprouted in his mind. He shook his head, trying to knock it away before he could focus on it.
Too late. The idea was there, foolish as it was.
They’d hurt her more.
Maybe not.
Feeling the corner of his mouth twitch from a smile, Timmy squatted. He found the half of Eddie’s shovel between the casket and dirt wall. He picked it up, tapping the blade against the casket to knock off the clumps of dirt. He noted the sharp, round tip and the jagged wood. Either could do some serious damage if used correctly.
Then he pulled up his shirt, and slid the shovel between the waistband of his pants. The wood was cold against his skin and made him jerk rigid. Hissing between his gritted teeth, he lowered his shirt over the handle. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice it before he was able to attempt his plan.
Timmy slipped one arm behind the shriveled corpse’s head, the other behind its legs. He stood up straight, lifting. Surprisingly light, he nearly flung the corpse into the air. He stumbled back a few steps, and caught the corpse before he could drop it. Fuzzy, dry hair brushed his hands, feeling like he’d just walked through a spider’s web. The skin of her face felt like old newspaper as it brushed his upper arms.
Timmy was thankful the corpse was so light. If not, he’d have a hard time raising her above his head. Doing so, he still couldn’t quite reach the top. He jumped, gave the corpse a shove over the top, and dropped back down into the casket. The wood cracked under his feet.
Now that the hardest part was over, T
immy started to climb. It took a couple tries because the dirt kept piling down, but he managed to reach the top. He threw a leg over the lip of the hole, wiggled his back, and got his knee on the ground. Then he crawled forward and dropped his face to the ground, trembling from the exertion. His heavy breaths stirred the dust in front of him.
Though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t stay here forever. He pushed against the ground, straightening his back. On his knees, the shovel handle poked his back. The blade mashed and pinched his rump.
He stood up, staring over the pointed tops of the enclosure. The darkness was like a translucent curtain closed over the trees. He saw only hints of their pale trunks in the black.
Bending over, he scooped up the corpse. He walked toward the gate. At the end of autumn, Dad made him rake the leaves and stuff them in a sack. Then he was supposed to carry them to the back for burning. Carrying the corpse was not unlike carrying a sack stuffed full of dead leaves. It even made the same soft, rattling sounds as dry things rubbed together.
He sidled through the gate, staying close to the fence as he walked. “Where are you?” he asked. Timmy halted just inside the clearing, the toe of his shoe barely an inch from the grass. He stood there. The corpse balanced in the folds of his arms as if he was about to carry his bride away to their honeymoon.
The darkness shifted before him, moving this way and that as shadows slithered against more shadows.
The vampire stepped forward…
No…
He floated. How the vampire moved so smoothly, there was no way he was walking. His arms were held out, hands bent at the wrists and its thick fingers pointing at Timmy. “Give her to me…”
“No,” said Timmy.
The vampire slowed to a stop. A few feet of open space separated them. “Don’t provoke me, boy.”
“Get Robin first, then I’ll let you have…” Timmy shook the corpse. “…this.”
“You are not the one who bargains. That attribute is mine.”
“I’m not going to let you have this, until I know…that Robin’s okay.”
The vampire leered at Timmy. His blazing eyes cut two red paths through the night. Timmy began to wonder if he was going to speak at all. Then, “Very well.” His arm reached out, hand motioning. “Bring her.”
It’s working!
Timmy didn’t think he’d make it this far. Now he had to figure out what he was going to do next. So far, his plan had only consisted of him demanding they give him Robin. Where he should go from here, Timmy had no idea.
To the fence.
Great plan. But what if they chased him? What if they wanted to fight?
The shovel nudged his back, reminding him it was there. He was glad to have it, though he doubted he’d get the chance to use it.
If this went bad…
Timmy noticed movement behind the vampire, pale blurs moving awkwardly forward.
“Timmy?”
“Robin?”
She made a noise that was either a laugh or a stuttering sob. “It’s me.” She made short steps closer, her feet shuffling across the ground as if walking a tight line.
“You’re okay?” he asked.
“Been better. You?”
“Getting better, now.”
Robin’s weird movements made more sense when he saw she still had Peter’s arm stretched across her chest. His forearm mashed her breasts, rumpling her torn sweater. As she scooted a little closer, Timmy spotted Peter’s head behind her shoulder. His eyes also glowed, a soft red, like embers on a dying fire.
Robin’s hair draped most of her face in tangled spirals. But he could see her chin and mouth, her plump lips, the dot in the upper corner, which were wet and shiny in the streaks of moonlight.
Timmy began to tremble. She was so close to him now. Any moment and they would be together again. If he could just keep this going his way, Robin would be back with him.
Then we’ll run to the fence, get on the other side.
And the vampires couldn’t touch them.
“Timmy-boy,” said Peter. “You’re making a mistake.”
“What mistake is that?” Timmy tried to keep his voice steady, but it came out weak and shaky.
“The master made you a generous offer, and you’re ruining it. He’ll kill you, you know. You could’ve been one of us, and you blew it!”
“I don’t want to be…” The vampire’s head jerked in Timmy’s direction, causing him to step back. Gulping, he stepped forward. “I don’t want to be one of you!”
The vampire held up his hand in front of Peter.
Peter stopped, yanking Robin back. She grunted when her back hit his front. Her breasts popped loose from behind Peter’s arm, jiggling and swaying. Timmy couldn’t stop staring at them.
The vampire turned, bringing Timmy’s eyes away from Robin’s lurching breasts. “Your turn.”
Shaking his head, Timmy said, “No way. I said I want you to let Robin go, and you have to…”
“No. You simply said you wanted to know if Robin was all right. And now you know that she is. That was the deal.”
“What? No, I…”
“I have fulfilled my half of the bargain. And now, it is your turn.”
“I said…” Timmy stopped talking. The vampire was right. He hadn’t told them to let her go. He’d thought it, had the words on his tongue, but never spoke them.
I really did blow it.
He looked at Robin. Her head was turned slightly sideways, face angled toward Peter. Her hair curtained the side of her face. Again, he could see her mouth. Could see how her lips were curled as she breathed heavily.
Then he looked down at the gross thing in his arms. The hollow slits where eyes should be gazed blankly at him.
“New deal,” he said.
“Boy, I have grown tired of your bargaining.”
“Not a bargain. Just a…trade.”
“I’m listening.”
“Let Robin go first.”
“No.”
“Look, I have something you want. You have something—someone I want. Let her go. And I’ll give you…” He held up his arms to show the vampire what he wanted.
The vampire seemed to consider this for a moment. His large head turned from Timmy to Robin, then back to Timmy. His black hair looked as if it was moving, flowing like a fine, dark lake from the top of his skull down his back. His ears jutted in two narrow points, pushing through the hair and tilting in all directions like radars.
Finally, the vampire nodded. “Very well. This better not be a hoax.”
“It’s not.”
And it wasn’t. Timmy was ready to be done with this. Though the corpse barely had any weight, his arms were getting tired of holding it up.
The vampire motioned at Peter again.
“But master…” Peter said.
“Now.”
Peter closed his mouth. His lips narrowed into a tight line. Timmy could tell his old friend was not happy with the decision. For a moment, he thought he might disobey and not release Robin.
But his arm slowly lowered away from Robin. When it was away from her front, she quickly pulled her sweater over her breasts and held it shut with her hand.
“Come on,” he said to Robin.
“Thank you, Timmy.”
“And now, mine.” The vampire pointed at the corpse. “Put her down. On this side.”
Looking down, Timmy saw where the two sections of ground met. His toes were just over the line. He kept his eyes on Robin as he slowly squatted. She was walking toward him, moving away from Peter.
Timmy put his hands on the ground, straightening his arms.
Robin passed the vampire, not looking at it.
Timmy gently shook his arms, so the corpse would slide down. It took a few tries before the parched skin peeled away from his sweaty arms. The corpse slipped down to his hands.
Robin was a few steps away from Timmy when he pushed the corpse across the line.
The vampire pushed past
Robin, knocking her over. Timmy thought he was making a lunge for him and reached behind his back. He tugged at the shovel, but his shirt was in the way. He couldn’t get a hold of it.
Timmy screamed.
The vampire snatched up the corpse and twirled away, its head whipping side to side like a hungry dog daring another animal to try taking its scraps. Hissing, the vampire walked backwards.
Peter followed his master.
“Timmy?”
He looked to where Robin had fallen. She lay on her side. Her skirt had dropped high up her legs. There were some small scratches on her inner thigh, more further down. He glimpsed the fluffy patch of hair between her legs, averting his eyes. Her knee was scratched up. Moaning, Robin rolled onto her back.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, crawling to her.
“Not…not real bad.”
“Thank God,” he said. Her knee was bleeding, but it should be okay. “Can you walk?”
Nodding, Robin’s hair shook. “I think so.”
“Good. Let me help you up. We have to get behind the fence. Now.”
“Okay.”
Timmy reached for her, his hand brushing her thigh. Her skin felt…cold. He hoped she wasn’t getting sick from being out in the cool weather, half-stripped.
“Why do you want to go over there?” she asked, bending her arm when he grabbed her elbow.
“They can’t hurt us behind the fence. It’s made of silver.”
“I know,” she said.
Timmy, about to grab Robin’s hand, stopped. “You do?”
“Uh-huh…” She giggled. “That’s why we had to get you over here.”
Timmy’s back felt as if cold little feet scurried up his spine. “What did you say?”
Robin shot stiffly upright, rising like a plank of wood. Her sweater fell low on her shoulders, opening to show him both pale breasts. On the left one was a pair of holes that matched those he saw on Carol Clark’s neck. Her hair fell away from her face, revealing a brick-shaped brow that extended over her eyes, which had turned the color of honey. When she smiled, Timmy saw a pair of fangs where her teeth used to be.
The Vampire of Plainfield Page 28
