“I didn’t lie!” Peter protested.
“I was just borrowing that stuff!” Dill said indignantly. “I woulda brought it back. Except for the holy water, but I’da brought that back, too, if I didn’t use all of it.”
“What in the world would you be borrowing ten crucifixes for?” Father Stevens asked angrily. “And holy water?”
“Vampires, man,” Dill said.
“You see?” The priest looked at Grandfather but pointed at Peter. “That was the same nonsense this one was saying! What exactly are you letting them watch on TV?”
“Far too much, it would appear,” Grandfather said.
“We don’t even have a TV!” Peter complained. “Everything I told you was the truth – why won’t you believe me?”
“Vampires? Little girls who ‘bug you’ from beyond the grave?” Father Stevens scoffed.
“Dude, you believe in guys who come back to life,” Dill pointed out.
The priest got red-faced. “Our Lord Jesus Christ was not a vampire!”
“I’m not sayin’ he was,” Dill shrugged. “But he was dead, and he came back, right? I’m just sayin’.”
“That is blasphemy!” the priest sputtered.
“What’s that?” Dill asked.
“It’s saying bad words with God’s name,” Peter explained.
“Well, jeez, my dad does that all the time when he stubs his toe or runs out of beer. Why don’t you get him in here, not me.”
“MR. FLANNAGAN!” the priest roared.
Grandfather’s hand clamped down on Peter’s shoulder. He didn’t dare look up.
“I assure you, Father,” Grandfather said in a very solemn voice, “the problem will be taken care of. Of that you can be certain.”
Peter shuddered. After hearing that, he wished the priest would keep him locked up in the phone booth.
22
Dill and Peter followed Grandfather silently out to the truck. After he placed their bikes in the back, the old man held the passenger door open for them, closed it, went around, and got in himself.
The boys waited. Grandfather cranked the engine. Putter putter, clank clank. The truck backed up, then grinded forward into drive. Grandfather never looked at them once.
Dill was about to burst. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What…uh…what’re you…”
“Spit it out, boy.”
“Are you going to kill us?”
“No.”
The truck turned right out of the parking lot instead of left. Left would have been towards home.
“Where are we going?” Peter asked.
“I am taking you two criminals to school.”
Dill pointed back at the church. “That guy can’t prove anything.”
“He’s a priest, Dill,” Grandfather said without any humor whatsoever. “Juries tend to believe them more than juvenile delinquents.”
“Grandfather…you know we were taking all that stuff for a reason, right?”
Grandfather was silent for a moment. Peter thought that meant the end was nigh. Instead, when the old man spoke, it was a quiet, simple question:
“You were there in the cemetery, weren’t you.”
“Huh? What cemetery? I don’t know what you’re talking OOF.” Dill grunted as Peter elbowed him.
“Yeah,” Peter admitted.
“Dude,” Dill hissed in Peter’s ear, “he can’t prove anything, either.”
“I saw you, Dill,” Grandfather growled. “Behind the statue, out of the corner of my eye.”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Did you go in?” Grandfather asked.
Dill and Peter answered at the same time.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Well, which is it?”
“We didn’t see anything,” Dill vowed.
“Because there was nothing to see,” Peter added. “No coffin, no…body. Nothing.”
“Do you remember what I told you last night, boy?”
“…that there aren’t any such things as vampires?”
“That’s right. Officially, in broad daylight and in serious people’s minds, vampires do not exist. They are stories used to frighten children into saying their prayers and eating their greens. Do you remember what I told you that night you were sick, and we talked about Mercy’s family? Her great-great-great-great-great-uncle and the coffins he sold?”
“Um…you said that cholera didn’t kill those people.”
“Yeah, the pooping did,” Dill said.
Grandfather looked at Dill with an expression somewhere between angry and confused.
“Cholera. Death by pooping,” Dill explained helpfully.
Grandfather looked back at the road and shook his head.
“Well, what killed them, then?” Peter inquired, trying to divert attention away from Dill.
“No one’s entirely sure how – ”
Dill opened his mouth to answer.
Grandfather looked sharply over at him.
Dill shut his mouth.
“How the first death occurred,” Grandfather continued. “It was Gilbraith Chalmers, the youngest son of John Buchanen Chalmers, a mere 15 years old when he died. But however it happened, Gilbraith did not stay dead.”
“He was a vampire?”
“There are stories from a Winnapotaka Indian tribe that a European traveler passed through this region in the 1800’s and killed two young men from the village. The warriors of the village pursued the European, who fled into the night. The village mourned and did all proper burial rights for the two braves, according to Winnapotakan customs. But they were astounded when the two young men appeared in the village the very next night, alive and well. However, they were…changed.”
The skin on Peter’s neck crawled. He remembered Mercy at the window. He remembered her eyes, black like a great white’s. And with teeth like a cobra’s…
“There was a great battle in which the two braves killed almost half of the men of the tribe. The Winnapotakans claimed the young men could fly, but they were finally caught in clever traps devised by the village elders. To the great surprise of everyone in the tribe, the two young men burst into flames when the morning sun came and shone upon their bodies. To be safe, the Indians burned the bodies of all the others the two had slain…and nothing happened. No one else appeared after death ever again. The Winnapotakans lived only five miles away from the township we know today as Duskerville. And that story they told happened exactly one week before Gilbraith Chalmers was officially laid to rest: January 12th, 1822.”
“You think the Indians bit Gil…that Gil guy?”
“No. I think the European did, the one that fled into the forest. But there are no stories about Gilbraith appearing after death. There are only stories about a mysterious illness that fell on the town, killing person after person. Men, women, children – it didn’t matter. ‘Cholera,’ they said. Thirty-seven people died in the space of four weeks…until something happened.”
Dill and Peter waited for the next words. “What? What happened?”
“Someone figured out what was going on and stopped it once and for all,” Grandfather said as he jammed on the brakes. The truck lurched to a stop in front of the school.
“Who? Who stopped it?” Peter cried out.
“Yeah, what’d they do?” Dill demanded.
“You’re late for school.”
“But – ”
“I have work to do before this thing gets out of hand. Now get back to your studies and keep out of my way, or like I promised Father Stevens, you will get the thrashings of your lives.”
Dill raised a hand tentatively.
“What,” Grandfather barked.
“We need a note.”
“What?”
“We need a note. They won’t let us in without a note.”
“Or worse, they’ll call Mom,” Peter said.
Grandfather grumbled and muttered. “Give me a piece of paper and so
mething to write with.”
Peter fumbled in his backpack and produced paper and a pen. Grandfather scribbled a message, then handed them both back. Peter looked down at the paper. Whatever the writing said, he certainly couldn’t read it.
“Can we – ” Dill began.
“GIT!” Grandfather bellowed.
Peter and Dill got. The truck roared off as soon as they slammed the door.
“Dude,” Dill said. “Your grandfather’s craaaaaazy.”
“I know,” Peter said.
“And scary.”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s cool.”
Peter stared at Dill, who shrugged.
“My granddad talks about his arthritis and how his fake teeth don’t fit and how much mucus he coughs up in the morning.” Dill looked admiringly after the truck as it puttered its way down the street. “Dude, I’d trade for your grandpa’s stories any day.”
23
After a lot of effort trying to translate Grandfather’s message, the school secretary gave up and told Dill and Peter to go back to class.
“Well, I’m glad to see you gentlemen finally decided to join us,” Mrs. Cashew said in her most withering voice.
For the first time in his life, a teacher’s sarcasm didn’t have any effect at all on Peter. He’d had a vampire outside his bedroom window last night; a mean teacher’s snarky comments didn’t really measure up to that.
As he sat down, the first thing Peter noticed was Mercy’s empty chair, and a sharp pang nudged his conscience once again. He couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. He still believed that if he hadn’t been mean to her on the bus, none of this would have happened. Peter knew that it didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t change the way he felt.
The second thing he noticed was that there was a second vacant seat in the classroom, the place where Agnes Smithouse normally sat. Agnes was one of Mercy Chalmers’ best friends.
Peter leaned across the aisle to ask Cindy Mooten where Agnes was.
Cindy just shrugged. “I don’t know. Katie Brammelson said she talked to her really late last night, and Agnes said hang on and put down the phone, but she never came back. Katie finally hung up and tried to call again, but nobody ever answered.”
Peter stole a look at Katie Brammelson over in the corner. She looked worried, unsure of everything. After all, her two closest friends in the world were dead or missing.
“Katie doesn’t know what happened to her,” Cindy Mooten said. “Nobody knows.”
24
By 5 PM, nobody had any more information, but now the entire town was abuzz with the news of Agnes’s disappearance. Dill and Peter watched from Dill’s front lawn as a Sheriff’s department patrol car sped by.
“You think they’ll find her?” Dill asked.
Peter watched the car recede into the distance. “I hope so.”
There was a BAM BAM BAM noise from over in Peter’s yard. Grandfather was up on a ladder, nailing cloves of garlic and crucifixes over every window and door.
“Okay, where’d he get those crosses?” Dill complained. “I try to get some, I get busted and I’m in big-time trouble. But he’s got like two hundred of them stashed away somewhere. Is that fair?”
“No, but I’m sure glad he’s got ‘em,” Peter answered.
Dill watched Grandfather nail another cross over a second-story window. “Can I spend the night at your house?”
“You’re probably better off at your own place.”
“What, do you want me to get turned into a bloodsucker?” Dill said angrily.
Peter rolled his eyes. “You know Mercy’s coming for me – at my house, you’re gonna get caught right in the middle of it. If you stay at your house, she’ll probably leave you alone. Just don’t invite anyone in. Vampires can’t come in unless you invite them.”
Dill wiped his brow. “Phew. Well, I’m fine then, cause my Mom hasn’t invited anybody into our house except you since…” Dill thought for a minute. “I don’t think Mom’s invited anybody into our house except you, EVER.”
“Your mom never invited me into your house,” Peter pointed out.
Dill pumped his arm. “YES. I’m totally safe, dude.”
“Can I come spend the night with you, then?”
Dill looked genuinely alarmed. “Heck no, man. She’s your dead girlfriend. Leave me out of it.”
25
Supper was late…late enough that it was dark outside when Peter finished his lasagna. He nervously watched the sun disappear through the kitchen windows as he scooped the last bit of noodles and cheese into his mouth.
To top it off, Mom had had a really bad day. The grocery store clerk was rude to her, somebody’s car door had put yet another dent in the Honda, and her job search was going nowhere. She talked most of dinner about how she hated this town and how much she’d wanted to leave when she was young, and she was sullen and quiet for the rest.
As usual, Grandfather was nowhere to be found. Peter wondered if the old man ever ate. At least, if he ever ate what the rest of them ate.
Somebody once told Peter that if you wanted to raise mean dogs, you should feed them gunpowder. If that was true, then Peter guessed that Grandfather lived on a steady diet of the stuff.
It was almost pitch black when Peter cleared the table. His mother was washing the dishes. Over in the corner, Beth was playing with another one of her dolls she had pulled half the hair out of.
“Peter, could you take out the garbage?” his mother asked.
Peter froze, and said the first thing that came to mind. “No.”
His mother looked at him in shock. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Take out the garbage, Peter!”
Peter shook his head. “I can’t.”
Now his mother was getting indignant. “Oh you most certainly can. Now take it out right now, it’s almost overflowing!”
“Mom, I’ll do it in the morning,” Peter said.
“You’ll do it when I tell you to do it, young man!”
“Please, Mom, I swear I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning – ”
Beth was beginning to take an interest in the conversation. “Take out da gawbage, Petah!” she yelled.
“Shut up!” Peter yelled at Beth.
“Peter, don’t you dare talk to your sister that way!”
“Yeah, Petah, shu’ up!” Beth called back.
“Beth, don’t you talk like that either,” Mom snapped.
“Okaaaaay, Mommy,” Beth said, then stuck out her tongue at Peter as soon as Mom’s back was turned.
“Please, Mom, I’ll do anything else you want, anything – just don’t make me take out the garbage tonight, please? Please?”
“Honestly, Peter, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. Is it Dill? That boy is a bad influence – ”
“Dill’s my friend,” Peter nearly shouted.
“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young man,” his mother commanded. “Fine, you don’t want to take out the garbage? You can clean every toilet in this entire house this weekend.”
Peter’s whole body relaxed in relief. Until he saw his mother roll up her sleeves and lift the trash bag out of its plastic container.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked in horror.
“Doing what my son won’t do,” Mom huffed.
Peter ran over to her and grabbed her arm. “Mom, please…whatever you do, please don’t take this outside. Please. I’ll do it in the morning, I’ll clean the toilets, I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just please don’ t take this outside right now.”
Mom stared at him. “Peter, what’s come over you?”
For a split second he weighed the possibilities of using the word ‘vampire’ to explain his case. Knowing his mother as he did, it didn’t take longer than a split second to rule it out.
“Mom, please please please please PLEASE don’t go out there – GRANDFATHER!” he yelled. If Grandfather heard him and came in to tell Mom ‘no,’ that would
be the end of it.
“Peter, are you scared of the dark?”
“No, Mom, I’m not – GRANDFATHER!”
“Stop yelling for Grandfather and listen to me. Now, if you’re afraid, I can understand that – ”
“I’m not afraid of the dark, Mom! GRANDFATHER!” Peter bellowed, but with no reply.
“Petah’s afwaid of the dawk,” Beth giggled.
“NO I’M NOT!” Peter snapped. “Please Mom, please don’t go out there!”
“Peter, you’ve got to learn that sometimes you have to face your fears, okay? Now, I’m not afraid of the dark, so I’m going to take this garbage out there,” and she rambled on and on, but all Peter could think of was a small girl in a white dress, with eyes black like a shark’s, waiting for his mother in the night.
“OKAY!” Peter yelled, and snatched the trash out of his mother’s hands. “Okay, I’m going to take it out, see? Are you happy now? I’m taking it out!”
He opened the regular wooden door and paused at the screen door…then forced himself to open it, willed himself with every ounce of his being to step into the chill night air.
Peter’s mom frowned as he walked out and shut the wooden door behind him.
“I don’t get him, Beth. I just don’t get him at all…and he’s not even a teenager yet.”
Beth just made a thhhwwwwpppppthhhhh sound with her tongue, and went back to playing with her doll.
26
The trash cans were around the side of the house, about forty feet away from the kitchen door. Not very far away, at all…
…and yet, an eternity.
Peter let go of the screen door and heard it close eeeeeeeWHAPwhapwhap behind him. He walked slowly once he was out in the open, looking all around him for any sign of danger. There was only the dark night sky and the moon. Pale light illuminated everything around – trees, grass, Dill’s house, garden patch, forest.
No Mercy. Nothing and no one in a white dress.
It’s only 8:00. The last time I saw Mercy, it was nearly midnight. There’s no way she’s out now…there’s no way.
PETER AND THE VAMPIRES (Volume One) (PETER AND THE MONSTERS) Page 16