The Traveling Vampire Show (2 page)

“But this is a sure thing.”

“How do you figure that?” Slim asked.

“Easy. This Traveling Vampire Show? Valeria’s the main attraction, right?”

“Sounds like she’s the only attraction,” I threw in.

“And we all know it’s bullshit, right? I mean, she’s no more a vampire than I am. So she has to be gorgeous or you’d end up without any customers. I mean, you might be able to get away with having her be a fake vampire. Nobody’s gonna expect a real one of those, anyway. But.

“Some people might,” I broke in.

“Nobody with half a brain,” he said.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Slim said.

We both stared at her.

“Maybe vampires do exist,” she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

“Get real,” Rusty said.

“Can you prove they don’t?”

“Why would I wanta prove that? Everybody knows they don’t exist.”

“Not me,” said Slim.

“Bullshit.” He turned to me. “What about you, Dwight?”

“I’m with Slim.”

“Big surprise. ”

“She’s smarter than both of us put together,” I said. Then I blushed because of the way she looked at me. “Well, you are.”

“Nah. I just read a lot. And I like to keep my mind open.” Smiling at Rusty, she added, “It’s easy to have an open mind since I’ve only got half a brain.”

“I didn’t mean you,” he said. “But I’m starting to wonder.”

“To set your mind at ease, I doubt very much that Valeria is a vampire. I suppose there’s a remote possibility, but it seems highly unlikely.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“I also agree that, since she probably isn’t a vampire, she’d better be beautiful.”

Rusty beamed. “So, you want to back my bet?”

“Can’t. You’ll need someone to take a good, objective look at her and decide who wins. That’d better be me. I’ll decide the winner.”

“Fine with me,” I said.

“I guess that’ll be okay,” said Rusty.

“Don’t look so worried,” Slim told him.

“Well, you always take Dwight’s side about everything.”

“Only when his side is the ‘right’ side. And I have a feeling that you might win this one.”

“Thanks a lot,” I told her.

“But I promise to be fair.”

“I know,” I said.

“So what’re we gonna wager?” Rusty asked me.

“How much money do you want to lose?” I asked him.

I wasn’t very confident about winning, anymore. He’d made a pretty good argument; if Valeria isn’t a vampire, she has to be beautiful or there’d be no show. But I saw a hole in his case.

Valeria didn’t have to be a real vampire for the show to work. She didn’t need to be incredibly gorgeous, either. The Traveling Vampire Show might be successful anyway ... if it . was really and truly exciting or scary.

“Let’s leave money out of the wager,” Slim suggested. “Suppose the loser has to do something gross?”

Rusty grinned. “Like kiss the winner’s ass?”

“Something along those lines.”

I frowned at Rusty. “I’m not kissing your ass.”

“It doesn’t have to be that,” Slim said.

“How about the loser kisses hers?” He nodded at Slim. Her ass? The loser?

Slim’s face went red. “Nobody’s kissing my ass. Or my anything else, for that matter.”

“There goes my next idea,” Rusty said, and laughed. He could be a pretty crude guy.

“Why don’t we just forget the whole thing?” I suggested.

“Chicken,” Rusty said. “You just know you’re gonna lose.”

“We might not even get to see her.”

“If we can’t see her,” Slim said, “the wager’s off.”

“We don’t even have a wager.”

“I’ve got it!” Rusty said. “The winner gets to spit in the loser’s mouth.”

Slim’s mouth fell open and she blinked at him. “Are you brain-damaged?” she asked.

“You got a better idea?”

“Any idea would be better than that.”

“Like what?” he asked. “Let’s hear you come up with something ?”

“All right.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Frowning as if deep in thought, Slim glanced from Rusty to me a few times. Then she said, “Okay. The loser gets his hair shaved off.”

In that regard, Rusty had a lot more to lose than I did. He had a head of hair that would’ve put Elvis Presley to shame, and he was mighty proud of it.

Nose wrinkled, he muttered, “I don’t know.”

“You said it’s a sure thing,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but ... I don’t know, man. My hair.” He reached up and stroked it. “I don’t wanta go around looking like a dork.”

“It’ll grow back,” I said.

“Eventually,” added Slim.

“Anyway, I’m not gonna let Dwight anywhere near me with a razor.”

“I’ll do the shaving,” Slim said.

Hearing that, I suddenly didn’t want to win this wager. I hoped Valeria would be the most amazingly beautiful woman in the world.

“How about it?” Slim asked.

“Count me in,” I said.

I could tell by the look on Rusty’s face that he wanted to back out. But honor was at stake, so he sighed and said, “All right. It’s a bet.”

The dirt road leading through the forest to Janks Field was usually unmarked. Today, though, posters for The Traveling Vampire Show were nailed to trees on both sides of the turn-off. And a large sign—the side of a cardboard box nailed to a tree—pointed the way with a red-painted arrow. Above the arrow, somebody had painted VAMPIRE SHOW in big, drippy red letters. Below the arrow, in smaller drippy letters, was written, “MIDNITE.”

“Nice, professional job,” Slim commented.

“We probably aren’t dealing with mental giants,” I said.

“WHY ARE YOU TALKING SO QUIET?” Rusty boomed out, making us both jump.

We whirled around and watched him laugh.

“Good one,” Slim said, looking peeved.

“A riot,” I said.

“YOU TWO AREN’T NERVOUS, ARE YOU?”

Slim grimaced. “Would you pipe down?”

“WHAT’RE YOU SCARED OF?”

I wanted to bash him one in the face, but I held back. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but Rusty wasn’t exactly in the best of shape. Not a total lardass, but pudgy and soft and not exactly capable of fighting back.

Which might seem like an advantage if you want to slug a guy in the puss. But I knew it would make me feel lousy. And he was my best friend, after all—other than Slim.

Grinning, he boomed, “CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?”

Slim pinched his side.

He gasped, “OW!” and twisted away. “That hurt!”

“Keep it down,” Slim said.

“Jeez.”

“We’re gonna have to be sneaky going in,” she explained, “or they’ll toss our butts out and we’ll never get a chance to see Valeria.”

“Or don’t you want to see her?” I asked Rusty.

“Jeez, guys, I was just screwing around.”

“Let’s hope nobody heard you,” Slim said.

“Nobody heard me. We’re miles from Janks Field.”

“More like a few hundred yards,” I told him.

“And sound really carries around here,” Slim added.

“Okay, okay, I get the point.”

The dirt road wasn’t as wide as Route 3, so we didn’t walk abreast. Slim took the lead. Rusty and I stayed pretty much beside each other.

There was no sunlight. Of course, there hadn’t been any sunlight before we entered the woods—just a gray gloom. But now, with trees all around and above us, the gloom was deeper, darker. Things looked the way they do when you’re out after supper on a summer night and you can see just fine, so far, but you’ve only got maybe half an hour before it’ll be too dark for playing ball.

“If it gets much darker,” I said, “Valeria won’t need her casket.”

Rusty put a finger to his lips and went, “Shhhhh.”

I gave him the finger.

He smirked.

After that, I kept my mouth shut.

Our shoes were almost silent on the dirt road except for sometimes when one of us stepped on a twig. Rusty was breathing fairly hard. Every so often, he muttered stuff under his breath.

A very quiet tune seemed to be coming from Slim. “De dum, de doo, de do-doo....” It blended in with the sounds all around us of buzzing flies and mosquitos and bees, bird tweets, and the endless flutters and rustling scurries of unseen creatures. “De-dum, de do, de doo.”

Rusty made no attempt to shush her.

But suddenly he said, “Wait up.”

Slim halted.

When we caught up to her, Rusty said in a hushed voice, “I gotta take a leak.”

Slim nodded. “Pick a tree,” she said.

He glanced from Slim to me. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” “We’ll stay right here,” she told him.

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He stepped off the dirt road and made his way into the trees.

“Do you have to go?” Slim asked me.

“Nah.”

“Me neither.” She pursed her lips and blew softly through them. Then she said, “Sure is hot in here.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. I was broiled and drenched and itchy, my clothes sticking to me.

Slim’s short blond hair was matted down in coils against her scalp and forehead. Sweat ran down her face. As I watched, a drip gathered at the tip of her nose and fell. Her white T-shirt was clinging to her skin and I could see through it.

“This vampire better be worth it,” she said.

“Too bad we won’t get to see her.”

Slim gave me half a smile. “If she’s in her casket, we’ll have to bust her out of it. We’re not gonna put ourselves through all this and not get a look at her.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Don’t know what?” she asked, and peeled her T-shirt off. In spite of her bikini top, she seemed to be mostly bare skin from the waist up. She wadded her T-shirt and mopped the sweat off her face.

I looked the other way.

“What don’t you know?” she asked.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what we’d been talking about. Then I remembered. I said, “She isn’t gonna be by herself. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“You’re probably right.” Lowering the shirt away from her face, she smiled and said, “She needs casket-handlers.”

“Right.”

“Probably has a whole crew.” She wiped her chest, her arms.

“And they might not be model citizens,” I said.

Laughing softly, she lowered her head and began to wipe the sweat off her belly and sides. I sneaked a glance at her breasts. The thin pouches of her bikini top were stretched smooth with them. Around the edges of the fabric, I glimpsed pale slopes of skin.

“We’ll have to be careful,” I said.

“Yeah. If they look really scurvy, we’d better forget the whole thing.”

Hearing footsteps, we both turned our heads and saw Rusty trudging toward us.

Slim continued to rub at herself with the balled shirt. I wanted her to put it back on, but I didn’t say anything.

“All set,” Rusty said. I saw him check her out. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” Slim told him. “Just waiting for you.”

“We’re thinking we’ll have to be really careful,” I explained. “Valeria’s gonna have...”

“Casket keepers,” Slim threw in.

Rusty smiled and nodded.

“No telling how many people might be with the show,” I said.

“And it’s likely a scumrvy lot,” added Slim with a bit of Long John Silver in her voice.

“They go around with a traveling vampire show,” Rusty said, “they’ve gotta be at least a little strange.”

“And maybe dangerous,” I said.

Rusty suddenly frowned. “You guys aren’t gonna chicken out, are you?” Before either of us had a chance to answer, he said, “Cause I’m going irregardless.”

“Irregardless ain’t a word, Einstein,” Slim told him.

“Is too.”

She wasn’t one to argue. She just gave him a funny smile, then pulled her T-shirt on. “Let’s go.”

After that, none of us said anything. We weren’t that far from Janks Field, so I think we were starting to get more nervous.

Janks Field was the sort of place that made you nervous no matter what.

First off, nothing grows there. It’s a big patch of hard bare dirt surrounded by thick, green woods. But it’s not bare on purpose. Nobody clears the field. As far as anyone knows, Janks Field has always been that way.

I’ve heard people say the dirt there is poison. I think they’re wrong about that, though. Janks Field has more than its share of wildlife—the sort that lives in holes in the ground—ants, spiders, snakes, and so on.

Some people say aliens landed there, and that’s why nothing will grow.

Sure thing.

Others say the field is cursed. I might go along with that. You might, too, after you know more about it.

The reason they call the place Janks Field isn’t because it belongs to anyone named Janks. It doesn’t, and never did. It’s called that because of Tommy Janks and what he did there in 1954.

I was just a little kid at the time, so nobody told me much. But I do remember people acting funny the summer it all happened. Dad, being chief of police, wasn’t home very often. Mom, usually cheerful, seemed oddly nervous. And sometimes I overheard scattered talk about missing girls. This went on for most of the summer. Then something big happened and everyone went crazy. All the grown-ups were pale and whispering and I caught bits and pieces like, “Some kind of monster ...” and “Dear God ...” and “their poor parents ...” and “always knew there was something off about him.”

As it turns out, some Boy Scouts had hiked into the field and found Tommy Janks sitting by a campfire. He was a deaf mute, so he never heard them coming. They caught him with a gob of meat on the end of a stick. He was roasting it over the fire. It turned out to be the heart of one of the missing girls.

Must’ve been awful, walking into a scene like that.

Those Boy Scouts became instant heroes. We envied them, hated them, and longed to be their friends. Not because they captured Tommy Janks (my dad did that), but because they got to see him cooking that heart over the fire. Those scouts were legends in their own time.

One of them, years later, ended up committing suicide and another...

That’s another story. I’ll stick to this one.

After my dad busted Tommy, he led a crew out to the field and they found the remains of twenty-three bodies buried there. Six belonged to the girls who’d disappeared that summer. The rest ... they’d been there longer. Some, for maybe five years. Others, for more like twenty or thirty. I’ve heard that several of them might’ve been in the ground for a hundred years.