by Bill Myers
“Or?” Jaimie asked.
He spoke slowly and carefully. “Or we’ve got a real vampire on our hands.”
After Mom had called hotel security and after John, Jaimie, and Ryan had finally left for their own rooms, Mom turned to Becka in quiet concern. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but . . .”
“But what, Mom?”
“Well, are you sure none of this has anything to do with John?”
“What?”
“Well, I mean, you seemed sort of sensitive about him taking me shopping.”
Becka couldn’t believe what she was hearing and let out a groan of exasperation.
“And then you attacked him.”
“No, Mother.” There was no missing the irritation in her voice.
Mom remained silent as Becka began to pace. “I saw what I saw, all right? And if you think I’d attack John because I was jealous or something, well, you’re just plain wrong. Besides I didn’t attack him; I threw water on him. I mean, he’s no worse for the wear . . . In fact, it probably did him some good.”
Mom eyed her patiently. “That’s what I mean. Honey, it’s obvious you don’t care for John and you don’t want me spending time with him. But there’s really nothing for you to worry about. You certainly don’t need to douse him to scare him off.”
“Mother!”
“Now, hear me out. Isn’t it just possible that you imagined the vampire trying to get in here because, well, because that’s kind of how you see John?”
“I don’t believe — ”
“And maybe that’s what made you throw water on him after you saw him.”
Becka was speechless. Now her own mother was turning against her! For the millionth time, Becka wished that her father were still alive. Everything was so out of whack, so off balance, with him gone.
She dropped into a chair and crossed her arms, fixing her mother with a steady gaze. “You’re right about one thing. I don’t like you being around John.”
“You see — ”
“I mean, the guy’s an obvious sleaze.”
“That’s exactly what — ”
“But I didn’t attack him on purpose, Mom. I didn’t know it was John when I threw the water. And . . .” She swallowed hard. A lump was rising in her throat, and she wasn’t sure why. “I did see something outside that window. You’ve got to believe me. I really did.”
Sensing her emotion, Mom crossed over and put her arm around Becka. “I believe you, sweetheart. I believe you.”
Becka nodded. The lump was bigger now. And she could feel her eyes start to burn with moisture. The hug helped a little. But not enough.
If vampires don’t exist, who invented them?
Becka sat in front of the computer, waiting for Z’s response. If he was so certain vampires didn’t exist, then he had better have a pretty good explanation for where the idea first came from.
It was late and she was exhausted. But she’d gotten Z online, and she wasn’t about to let him get away.
She waited and watched as his reply came in:
Many believe the legend was invented centuries ago to enforce proper burial procedures. The belief was spread that if bodies were buried in shallow graves they could come back to life as the ‘‘undead.’’
Becka leaned over and typed:
So people started digging deeper graves?
Z answered:
Precisely. Bram Stoker added to the myth when he wrote the horror novel Dracula, which was published one hundred years ago.
But why do people still believe in them today?
There are various theories. A very high percentage of those who believe in vampires are abused children and teens who identify strongly with vampire victims. Noted authorities, like J. Gordon Melton, believe the resurgence of vampire folklore comes as a result of AIDS and other interests and concerns related to human blood.
Becka leaned back in the chair and stared at the screen. The history lesson was good, but it didn’t solve any problems. Something very frightening was still going on, and she was in the center of it.
Z clearly did not believe in vampires, and he had never been wrong before.
Never.
Then again, he had not seen what she had seen.
She signed off, shut down the computer, then crossed toward her bed. It was doubtful sleep would come, but she had to try. Somehow she figured tomorrow would be an even bigger day . . .
Thanks to John Barberini, stories about the lead actress of a movie being stalked by a vampire had already reached the American press. Gossipy news shows like Media Tonight and Inside Scoop rushed to send out video crews.
When Becka returned to the set the next morning, everyone seemed a lot more tense. Even the easygoing Tim Paxton seemed on edge. “Hello, Rebecca.”
“Hi,” she said. She wondered if he’d heard about her own little encounter the night before, but he said nothing. Just as well. The fewer people who thought she was losing her mind, the better.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “I know you’re a friend of Jaimie’s, so I’d appreciate it if you would try to help keep her calm today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s got a couple of very important interviews to do tonight, and I don’t want her to seem . . . well, too off the wall, if you know what I mean.”
Becka nodded. “Sure, I’ll do what I can. Hey, have you seen Ryan?”
“He was with Jaimie by the prop truck the last time I saw him.”
“Tim!” It was Fallon, shouting from the set. “Tim? Anybody seen my producer?!”
Tim finished his coffee with a gulp. “Duty calls.” With that he turned and strode toward the director, who was obviously having another one of his hissy fits.
Becka shook her head and watched in amusement. Showbiz. What weird people.
Moments later she meandered through the busy set toward the prop trailer. As she approached, she could hear Jaimie’s voice from behind the trailer.
“You don’t understand,” Jaimie was saying. “At night these wounds in my neck throb and ache, and somehow I know that the only way it’ll stop is if I go out . . . and find him.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Ryan replied. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I . . . I love you.”
Becka stopped in her tracks as if someone had slugged her in the gut. She suddenly felt very weak. She had to lean against the prop trailer for support. So it was true; her worst fears were confirmed.
“But what if I’m turning?” Jaimie’s voice continued. “What if I’m becoming one of them?”
“That won’t happen,” Ryan insisted. “We won’t let it happen.”
Jaimie’s voice trembled now, as if she were holding back her tears. “But what if it already did?”
A long moment of silence passed. Becka felt tears well up in her own eyes.
At last Ryan spoke. “If that happens, I might as well be your first victim . . . because I don’t want to go on without you.”
That was it. Becka could stand no more. “Nooooo!” she shouted as she raced around the trailer to confront the two.
As soon as she saw them, Becka realized her mistake. Ryan was sitting on the back steps of the trailer with a script in one hand and a Pepsi in the other. Jaimie sat in a lawn chair a few feet away, sipping iced tea.
They had been rehearsing her lines.
Both turned and stared at Becka. Ryan was the first to speak. “What’s the matter, Beck? You okay?”
She felt less than two feet tall. “I . . . I . . . I thought . . . I mean, I thought . . .”
“You thought we were serious?” Jaimie said, already starting to giggle.
“No, of course not,” Becka lied. “I-I was just kidding . . .”
Of course they knew the truth, and Becka wished she could simply disappear.
Fortunately, a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Attention, cast!” It was the assistant director. “We’re almost ready on
the set, and Dirk would like everyone here.”
“Oh, I’ve got to go,” Jaimie said. “Thanks for going over my lines with me, Ryan.” She rose from the chair and straightened her costume. “See you guys later. And don’t worry, Becka.” She tried to hold back her giggle but didn’t quite succeed. “I haven’t grown any fangs. Yet.”
As Jaimie hurried off toward the set, Becka whispered, “That’s a matter of opinion.”
Ryan turned to her. “What did you say?”
Becka eyed him coolly. “Nothing. I’m going back to the hotel.”
Ryan shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you know, I thought we were supposed to make friends with Jaimie. I mean, I thought that was part of why we were here . . . to help her.”
“Well, you’ve certainly been doing your part,” Becka replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should have been there with me last night.”
“Why? Do you think this thing, whatever it is, would be afraid of me? I doubt it.”
Becka heard her voice beginning to crack. She was feeling more emotions than she had thought possible. “I needed you. Don’t you understand? I . . .”
Hearing her emotion, Ryan rose to his feet. “I do understand, Beck. Believe me. And I would have given anything to have been there to help.” Unsure what to do, he started to cross toward her.
But the tears began to come, and Becka had to turn away. “I . . . I’d better go.” With that she started off.
“Becka!” Ryan called after her. “Becka, wait . . .”
But she kept on walking.
Ryan sat in one of the cloth chairs near the set. He wasn’t sure what to do. It was just after nightfall. The shooting had wrapped, and Becka still hadn’t returned to the set. Should he go after her? See how she was doing? But what about his job? Wasn’t he being paid to help Jaimie? And what about Z’s instructions to look out for her?
Like Becka’s, Ryan’s own thoughts seemed to be growing more and more muddled.
“Ryan,” Jaimie called out as she headed for the costume trailer, “I’m afraid I have to go to wardrobe and be fitted for something we’re adding tomorrow. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Ryan rose to his feet and joined her. “Do you think I have time to run back to the hotel? I want to check . . .”
Jaimie smiled as his voice trailed off. “Check on Becka?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Sure, go ahead. I’m afraid I’ll only have ten or fifteen minutes to grab dinner before tonight’s interviews anyway. I’ll meet you after the television taping. How does ten sound?”
“Ten will be great.” Ryan turned and started for the hotel. “I’ll see you then.”
Jaimie watched Ryan’s rapid departure. She sighed, wondering what it would be like to have someone care about you the way he clearly cared about Becka. She recalled the look on the other girl’s face when she had come around the trailer earlier and smiled slightly. Obviously, those two needed to talk.
But she didn’t have time to worry about their problems. If she didn’t get to the wardrobe trailer in a hurry, she’d have no time for dinner at all. Glancing around, she saw that there were still plenty of people milling around the set. With all these people around, she didn’t even think twice about cutting across the darkened area between the two production trucks.
The figure in the shadows watched the young girl’s advance and grew eager with anticipation. This was exactly what it wanted. What it had been waiting for.
Jaimie had only taken a couple of steps into the darkness before she paused. She glanced around uneasily, looking over her shoulder and from side to side. It was as though she sensed the presence waiting for her.
The form drew back into the shadows.
The girl shook her head, as though chiding herself for her silliness. She glanced back at the people around the set and then toward the wardrobe trailer. The one watching her gauged her thoughts from her expression. The trailer was less than a hundred yards away . . . She’d just pass through the brief darkness and be there in an instant.
It smiled.
She moved forward again, but her steps grew more cautious by the second. She carefully eyed the darkness around her.
The form waited. The girl continued drawing closer. In just a matter of seconds . . .
Again, Jaimie slowed to a stop. “Hello,” she called. “Who’s there?”
The form remained motionless, not even breathing.
The girl was straining to listen, and the cold smile crept over the watcher’s lips again. It knew there was nothing to hear. Nothing but the frightened beating of the girl’s heart as her growing fear began to pound in her ears.
Ever so slowly the form crouched, preparing to spring.
The girl drew a breath to steady herself. Then, with resolved determination, she moved forward. Quicker this time, anxious to get out of the dark.
A pity that was not going to happen.
The form attacked.
Jaimie had no time to scream. She saw only the glint of white fangs and the evil of yellow eyes. And the hands. The deathly white hands wrapped around her throat.
She struggled, trying to breathe, trying to scream. But the more she struggled, the tighter the creature’s grip grew. She was growing light-headed. Things were spinning. Spots danced in her vision. Everything was turning white.
And, for a brief instant, as she was passing out, Jaimie wondered if she would feel the vampire’s teeth enter her neck before she died.
5
Tim Paxton and Dirk Fallon were arguing again.
“If we reshoot the scene now,” Tim was saying, “it’s going to cost as much as a full setup. That set’s been down for days.”
“I realize that,” Fallon replied, “but if we don’t reshoot it, we’re going to have a hole in the middle of the film the size of the Grand Canyon. I’ve seen what we shot last week, Tim, and it’s horrible. The girl is terrible.”
“Have some compassion,” Tim argued. “That was the day this vampire business started.”
Fallon began pacing back and forth. “I understand that. But it’s you who needs to have the compassion. You’re the one who has to give me some slack, get some extra money so I can reshoot.”
Tim held up his hands. “All right, all right. Let me talk to Jaimie first. I want her to sit with us and watch the scene. If she can’t do any better, then — ”
“If she can’t do any better,” the director’s voice rose, “then we all might as well pack up and go home.”
“But let’s wait until after the interviews tonight,” Tim suggested.
Fallon shrugged. “That’s your call. But the best time to ask your investors for more money would be right after the thing airs in L.A.”
“All right,” the producer sighed. “Wait here. I’ll go get the girl.”
Tim hurried off toward wardrobe. Normally, he would have taken the long way around. He wasn’t superstitious, nor was he anything close to a coward, but he’d just as soon avoid the shadows in this crazy country. This time, though, he noticed that the television crews from Media Tonight were already gathered in front of one of the trucks. They’d made themselves at home, waiting to set up for their interview later that evening, so he decided to cut behind the trucks rather than work his way through the crowd of media vultures.
He crossed through the shadows and was barely halfway when he saw a form lying off to the side.
A body. Jaimie’s body.
He raced to her side and quickly scooped her into his arms. “Somebody help!” he shouted. He rose to his feet, lifting the limp form and stumbling out of the shadows into the light. “Somebody get us some help!”
Pandemonium swept through the set. People shouting. Someone screaming. Others asking, “Is she dead? Is she dead?”
Jaimie was motionless as Tim laid her on a nearby bench. A small trickle of blood ran down her neck. Tim reached out to touch her face, and she moaned softly.
�
��I need a doctor!” Tim yelled furiously. “Where’s that doctor?!”
By the time the doctor arrived, Jaimie had come around. “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” she insisted.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” the doctor said. But moments later, after he’d bandaged the wound, he finally agreed with her. “It’s just a small cut,” he said. “Missed the vein in your neck by a fraction of an inch, thank God.”
“Will she be able to do the interviews this evening?” Fallon asked.
Tim turned and gave him a hard look, but the director persisted, this time speaking directly to Jaimie. “We need all the publicity we can get, kid. Lots of exposure in L.A. Should be good for all of us, if you think you can pull it off . . .”
Jaimie took the glass of water the doctor offered to her. After a long drink, she nodded. “Sure, Dirk. You’re the director. Anything you say.”
When Ryan and Becka arrived later that evening, they saw the television cameras already taping. And there, on the crew monitor, was Jaimie, a bandage on her neck, still wearing her bloodstained dress.
“I can’t really tell you much else,” she was saying. “After he grabbed my throat, I lost consciousness pretty fast. I just remember his eyes. And those fangs.”
“What happened?” Ryan cried, but he was quickly shushed by a crew member, who indicated that they were still taping.
“Thank you, Jaimie Baylor,” the pretty host of the show said. Then, turning directly to the camera, the woman began her wrap-up: “And so, live from the set of The Vampire Returns, Media Tonight is grateful to this courageous young actress for talking with us so soon after her harrowing ordeal. We’ll be right back with scenes from tomorrow’s show.”
“Cut!” the television director shouted.
As the crew began taking down equipment and wrapping cable, Ryan quickly worked his way through the commotion to Jaimie. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Jaimie shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.”
Becka moved to join them. She knew she should feel bad for Jaimie, and she wanted to be concerned about the poor girl . . . but as she watched Ryan fawn over her, she couldn’t help feeling resentment.