“So what are we going to do?” I asked, at the same time constantly scanning the surrounding shrubbery. Once I detected a glimmer, or at least I thought it was a glimmer in the bushes directly behind Buddy and Juan. Probably some bear taking a piss in the forest, if that’s indeed where they take them. I’d always been asked that puzzling question, and all along I could only shrug in reply.
“There’s not too much to my plan, actually, so I won’t tell you now.”
I could only scratch my head at his reasoning. Somehow his last statement didn’t quite sink in. Sometimes I wondered about our vampiric mentor and that sixth-sense babble. I wondered if I’d still be a vampire nut at his age. I shuddered a little at the image. Had he lived a pointless life?
We watched our fellow club members in silence. Twice I heard the distant roar of motors but wasn’t too sure of their direction.
“They’re down to their waists now,” said the professor. “Let’s relieve them of their duties.”
When we stood at the ledge of the rectangular pit, Buddy looked up and said, “Christ, already?”
“Out, boys,” said Professor L. “You’ve done your fair share, now let others share in the experience.”
Buddy crawled out of the pit most reluctantly. Juan, however, continued digging.
“Juan.” said the professor. “Juan!”
Our Latino comrade didn’t turn or even acknowledge us. The professor eased into the pit and placed a hand on Juan’s very narrow shoulders. Still no response.
The professor looked at me. “He’s gone. He’s in a sort of digging bliss. Buddy, get down here and help me with him.”
Grabbing his waist, Buddy lifted, and with the professor’s stranglehold on his ankles they eased him—still digging—out of the pit. He was still swiping at the air with the shovel after they had set him on his back. The professor slapped his face. Nothing.
“Juan, you dedicated mental case—”
“Hold on, Professor L,” I said, pulling the exasperated old man back. “Let me try.”
I got on my hands and knees then said loudly into his ear. “Holy shit! Is that Anne Rice?”
The shoveling stopped.
“What’s that, Mrs. Rice, you’ve got an autographed hardback of your latest vampire bestseller?”
With an explosive burst, Juan was up. He swayed as he looked around drunkenly. And I should add that it was the best kind of intoxication—the rich, sweet, enduring love of vampires.
Juan sat down on the nearest tombstone, apparently too dazed to even speak. He seemed to be lost and very confused, as if prior events had eluded him, and I suspected they had. His head, though, occasionally jerked around as if he was searching for somebody. Who, exactly, I could only wonder.
The professor and I stepped into the pit.
Chapter Twenty-four
It was like digging for a buried treasure—except I knew in my gut the chest would be empty.
That thought ran through my mind as I heaved a heavy load of dirt aside. However, my knowing I was digging at nothing wasn’t wasted energy, for there was a plan brewing in the professor’s larger-than-normal head, and this was obviously part of it. The dirt was dirty and I was soon as filthy as could be. And as the professor and I penetrated the earth, Buddy paced the perimeter of the pit, grumbling occasionally, like a watchman circling a citadel on his nightly rounds. Off in the distance Juan found a tombstone to sit on rather disrespectfully.
And somewhere, many tombstones down, Janice and Dial huddled together. I caught only a faint image of their entwined bodies in the darkness, looking like a deformed zombie having just arisen from its supposed eternal grave. Or maybe it was just the low moans that gave me that impression.
My nerves were working overtime, for at any moment I expected to see the bad guys come pouring out of the woods and put an end to our midnight dig. I was also very tired, and pissed-off at my so-called friends, jealous as hell over Dial, overly curious as to what was actually buried in Devil Child’s grave. Yep, that just about covered it. And that’s when I knew I needed some cheering up.
Still digging at the grave. Perhaps a merry tune? Why the hell not? I opened my mouth, intending to let fly with whatever song was bottled up.
Out it came. Up from the murky depths of swirling lyrics and catchy ditties. The tonality took form at the farthest reaches of my conscious mind. I was beginning to suspect what it might be, and could only wonder why this song. Then in a burst of inspiration, the music took hold of me. I raised my head and sang out:
“The Love Boat...Loooove. It’s just wuuuhh....”
I held my arms wide, in a state of utter glory and happiness as I sustained the warbling note. My voice emanated from deep within. I felt an incredible release from binding emotions of all types: anxiety, anger, horniness.
It was not my conscious mind singing, for this voice, this emotion, this peace, I realized now, could not come from the conscious level. I was singing from the soul, singing loud. “...the Love Boat blah blah blah.”
In my bliss and harmony with the universe, I was aware enough to notice the professor had set aside his shovel and was singing with me. Then Buddy dropped into the pit and put his arm around my shoulders, belting it out in a surprising sweet soprano. Juan appeared next, apparently recuperated from whatever catatonic state he went through, and slid in with us.
And there we were, the male core of The Vampire Club, singing the tune to The Love Boat as if we didn’t have a care in the world.
And suddenly, and most unwillingly, I was pulled out of my reverie, like a fighting salmon with a hook through its face. My eyes cleared and my head focused, or maybe it was the other way around. I could hear the others singing loudly; something, however, had pulled me out of my deep bliss. And, of course, that something was actually a someone and that someone was an idiot named—yep, you guessed it—Dial Toen. God I hated the ring of that name.
He was shouting above the voices: “Because, Janice. It’s stupid. They’re stupid.”
They were completely unaware that I was watching from knee level, for I was deep in the pit, but still watching them nonetheless.
“They’re my friends, you bonehead, and I thought they were yours, too!” Janice said, drawing away from him a little but not letting go of his hand.
“They are, honey. I just don’t see the fun in singing the theme song to The Love Boat in the middle of the night in the middle of some dead guy’s grave.”
“Some dead guy?”
“I mean the vampire—ah, screw it, let’s join them.”
They squeezed in at the end, and I watched as Dial draped one of his mammoth arms around Juan’s narrow shoulders, and he was soon belting out The Love Boat theme at the top of his lungs. I could see Janice’s angelic face in the moonlight. She was singing as loudly as anyone, but her stare was pinpointed coldly at Dial. She was pissed and I was feeling quite chipper myself.
Ha! Just let those soul-sucking VVV vampire hunters figure this one out! We vampire lovers have a bond that goes deeper than the wedge that the vampire hunters had tried so passionately to hammer between us. The heartless bastards!
We had been energized and our souls replenished by the gift of music. Soon, however, the magic wore out, found its place on the wind, and was swept away to Fantasy Island. Our voices dwindled, with an occasional rise from someone who wished to keep the fire lit, but it was a lost cause.
We spilled out of the pit, tired and dirty. Some of us, however oozed out more slowly than others. I reached down and helped the professor out. “You okay, big guy?”
“As good as Columbus on his forty-sixth day at sea before discovering America.”
“And how did he feel on the forty-sixth day at sea before blundering into Central America?”
“Like I feel now.”
“A mysterious circle to be pondered and dwelled upon,” said I thoughtfully. “But I’ll bet he felt pretty good the day he blundered.”
And from behind me I heard Dia
l whisper to Janice: “What the hell are they talking about? Why doesn’t Professor L just say he’s feeling fine or good or okay like a normal person?”
Janice hushed him up quick. The professor stood straight, stretched his chest, and said, “Nothing like exercising the old lung muscles.”
“Had they been muscles instead of organs, I couldn’t have agreed more,” I said.
“Just a minute, young man,” the professor said, looking past my shoulder. I turned and saw Dial moving away with Janice tucked securely in his arm. “Our shift is up. It’s your turn.”
Janice sprung from Dial’s sturdy arm and into the pit. Before Dial could even utter a word, she had already commenced digging. To me, his sudden smile seemed wooden.
“Looking forward to it,” he said with that same forced expression.
He dropped slowly into the pit and began digging on the opposite end, careful not to gouge Janice with the tip of his shovel. That would have been a romance killer, for sure.
“C’mon,” the professor said to me. “I have a story to tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-five
The professor and I headed deeper into the graveyard, my satchel clutched against my hip.
Soon, on either side, shrubbery rose up and formed a sort of womb-like tunnel. Only a few splotches of moonlight made its way through the entwined branches, and I was very aware of the almost complete blackness into which we traveled.
The professor stopped me with a rather badly timed swipe of his arm. I touched my now-bleeding lower lip. “What are we doing?” I asked.
“We’re waiting.”
“For what?”
A distant and heavenly voice shrieked excitedly: “We found the casket, everybody!”
“For that,” said the professor.
Excited, I turned to head back down the tunnel. The professor swiped at me again. This time he bloodied my upper lip. “Hold on, Andy.”
“But they found the casket.” My mind was whirring, buzzing, in an utter high at the prospect of perhaps finding the vampire inside. The VVV had momentarily escaped my mind in the thrill of discovery. “We have to go help them—”
“My son. That is the road of turmoil, the path of punishment, the concourse of calamity to go to them. They are beyond help.”
I tried to come up with my own little metaphorical comparison. “Like...the trail of trouble...or maybe the highway of...the highway of...
“I suggest you pay attention, because it’s all about to go down the highway to hell any moment now.”
“Yeah. Highway to hell. That’s it.”
We waited in the darkness. A part of me wanted to help them, be with my friends and my future lover. But the sensible part of me knew they were doomed. When that would happen, I didn’t exactly know, but I had a feeling that’s what we were waiting for.
Yes, it is an odd feeling knowing your friends and future lover were in a heap of caca and you knew it was coming.
And that’s when I heard a male voice, probably, Buddy, shout for everyone to move aside while they opened it. They were so excited, they hadn’t even noticed our absence.
The professor’s grip on my shoulder tightened. I needed something to grip. I reached over to a dangling branch and, in my anticipation, squeezed all the juice and life out of it.
We were a good fifty yards from the grave. But I swear, even from that distance I heard the creaking of something very old being opened, like the doors on a ghost-town saloon.
A chorus of moans erupted in the night.
I couldn’t help myself. “Damn!”
The professor eased his grip on my shoulder.
And that’s when the sirens blasted the silent night. My heart slammed into my rib cage. Headlights suddenly poured into the graveyard through the entrance, followed by one clear, deep, unidentifiable voice: “Police! Hold it right there.”
“Come,” said the professor, heading deeper into the tunnel of vegetation. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-six
My mind was abuzz, and not in that good way, either.
My friends were no doubt assuming the position on some squad car, with Dial in the background living it up with his buddies. They would have noticed that we were missing and would be searching for us now, no doubt quizzing my friends rather ruthlessly as to our whereabouts. I was glad they honestly did not know. No doubt an organization as far-reaching as the VVV possessed some drug that would cause my loyal friends to spill their guts and then some.
The idea of torture passed through my mind, but it was too horrible to contemplate. The image of a battered and bruised Janice blazed in my mind. I shuddered, horrified. If they split one hair on Janice’s head—
“Hurry,” the professor whispered.
A clumpish crypt awaited us at the end of the tunnel.
Tombstone and other marble markers were plentiful, and as we cut across the graveyard, I made absolutely sure I stepped on nobody’s grave. We already had vampire hunters and cops on our tails, we didn’t need spooks and phantoms after us as well.
It appeared we were headed to the rear of the cemetery. Perhaps there was a back gate, or else we’d have to climb over the fence and take our chances in the woods.
Shouts and yells erupted behind us.
“They might be on to us,” the professor rasped, and I realized the professor might not be able to keep this pace much longer.
So I let the old guy set whatever pace he was sure would prolong his imminent heart attack the longest, and soon enough we reached the surrounding iron fence. And, of course, there was no back exit.
“Why would they need a back gate?” asked the professor.
“Heck, if I were hauled into a cemetery, I’d want to make a fast exit, wouldn’t you?”
“So one would suppose.”
“So what now, Professor?”
“Now we climb. Or rather you push me up and over, and then you climb.”
I was of average height and slender and muscular and basically not that bad looking, if I did say so myself. Anyway, I stooped down to lift the professor and discovered the old man must dress in lead. Somehow, for unexplained reasons, he weighed a wet ton.
“Heavy bones,” he said, noticing my grunts of exertion.
I thought I heard rustling in the periphery, so I gathered my strength and gave it the old heave-ho.
With gravity my enemy and panic my friend, I freed him of this earth. He scrambled up with his hands, and soon his muddied shoes were standing on my now-muddied shoulders. A moment of worry passed through me as he eased himself over the spiked iron bars. I had an image of him hung there, his crotch straddling the pointy iron tips in a major ouchy. But he made it over safely and slid down the other side.
I clambered over and joined my mentor, being especially protective of my family jewels. I didn’t want them plundered until Janice had polished them. I also didn’t want to snag my satchel of vampire goodies, either.
“Where now?” I asked.
“To the mansion, of course.”
We started into the thick Pennsylvanian woods. “And what,” I asked, slapped in the face by an invisible branch, “are we going to do at the mansion?” I felt a renewed enthusiasm building, for I knew the answer.
“Oh, maybe pack our bags, and, if we have time, free a vampire.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
We followed a game trail, listening for the shouts of police, the assault of the VVV, or the wail of distant sirens.
On we went through the night. I felt like a Cherokee, my feet lightly touching the ground, as silent as a passing shadow, one with the Great Spirit—
“What are you doing?” The professor was looking at me.
He had caught me just as I hopped upon a decaying log. I was squatting low with my arms outstretched, my head arched as if I were listening to the distant footfalls of a pursuing enemy or prey. I guess I’d played Cowboys and Indians too much as a kid, before I’d really discovered vampires, and so it had stuck.
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“Uh, nothing.” I stood straight, hopped down from the log, and followed behind the professor.
From my estimation, we had about two miles to cover. It had taken us about an hour to make the trip by road to the graveyard. I figured, from our present pace, divided by the narrow, twisted trail we followed, subtracted by the professor’s tiring legs, and then calculated with some vampire math, it would take us one hour and twenty-eight minutes to make it back.
I said as much to the professor.
“You forgot to carry the one over the eight,” he said. “It’ll take us one hour and twenty-nine minutes, from this moment on. That is, if you quit doing math and keep walking.”
Something had alighted on my forearm. It was a mosquito. It had stuck its mandibles deep into my skin. As it drank deeply of my blood, I reached down and stroked its wings. So beautiful. As it pulled its mandibles free, a drop of blood escaped and clung to the hair on my arm.
“You missed some,” I whispered tenderly. As if hearing me, it lapped up the blood, with whatever lapping mechanism it possessed. And then it was gone, satiated with my blood. Life was sweet and pure.
“Goodbye,” I whispered into the night
* * *
We reached the mansion before the professor’s heart blew out, thank goodness.
The old mansion was a beehive of activity, especially for the middle of the night. Vampire hunters and huntresses swarmed into and out of every available opening and orifice.
I saw no sign of my club buddies. I did, however, see Dial Toen. He was standing in the open doorway of the main orifice, drinking a cheap beer. He was talking to a Mayan She-Thing Statue, and she was rubbing his shoulder most suggestively. He, however did not seem too interested.
I wished I had a crossbow, that favored weapon of vampire hunters. I wouldn’t have killed him, but I would have loved to send a Nerf bolt into his doltish head and make a fool of him.
Scott Nicholson Library Vol 2 Page 38