The Vampire of Plainfield

by Kristopher Rufty

  Still, he didn’t want to go near it. Knowing a creature was somewhere around his feet made Ed’s heart feel as if it were being squeezed with icy hands. The tarn of dirt blinded him of the vampire’s exact whereabouts, and that made it feel worse.

  Reaching what was left of the nearest wall, Ed rested. He looked over his shoulder. Behind, him, the dirt piled down, forming a ridge that led up to the rim of the hole. It should be fairly easy to crawl out, but the dirt was probably still unstable.

  He’d better be careful.

  Ed pushed on the rim of the hole. He tried to lift himself.

  Dirt exploded behind him.

  Twisting his hips, Ed spotted the vampire thrashing out of the dirt a few feet behind him.

  Throwing its arms wide, it leaned back, and shrieked. There was a click and wings burst out of its back, ripping through the overcoat and showering the tight area in dusty fog. Their span reached either side of the hole. Ed recognized a forearm, a thumb, long skinny fingers that curled down to the triangular tips of the wings. Between each appendage was a cape of thin flesh that rattled like a flag as the vampire trembled.

  Giant damn bat wings!

  Ed shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  “I killed you!” shouted Ed.

  The vampire bent forward, ruffled its wings, and shrieked again. Ed saw the torn patch of shirt over its heart. A blue patch of skin showed. No stake. Looking lower, he saw the stake jutting from low on its ribcage.

  He’d missed the heart completely.

  But he wasn’t about to try again.

  Screaming, Ed faced the slope that led out of the hole. He slapped his hands down, gripped, and pushed against the ground. The soil shifted around his hips as he clawed and pulled. Though he made the motions of a man wildly fleeing for his life, he remained in the same spot.

  Stealing quick glimpses over his shoulder, he saw the vampire rip the stake out of its stomach. “Shit!” Ed cried, putting his back to the creature. He hopped and thrust, slapped and clawed. His hips came free of the dirt, knees following. He got his right knee on solid ground, and put his weight on it as he hoisted himself out. On his hands and knees, he looked behind him.

  The vampire held the stake out—snapped it in half.

  Ed’s throat felt raw from another scream. He scrambled away from the dirt.

  Dived.

  His chest pounded the ground. Rolling, he moved away just as the creature’s hand slapped down on solid ground. Its curved ears appeared above the edge, its eyes gleaming like embers from Hell.

  Ed came to a stop on his stomach. Something twinkled in the gray glow of the moonlight.

  The pickax!

  Ed recognized its arched head, and gleefully hollered. Felt like seeing an old friend for the first time in years. A friend who’s come to help him out of a dreadful situation.

  Crawling, Ed made it over to the tool. His hands gripped the handle. Lifted. The heavy tool swayed low from the twin blades. They hadn’t been fashioned from wood, but if he pounded one of the blades through the vampire’s heart, he figured it would be enough to kill the damn thing again.

  Screeching, the vampire shot into the sky with a burst of dirt and dust that showered the graveyard.

  On his knees, Ed leaned far back, watching the vampire shrink as it went high. It flew in front of the moon, cutting a black flapping shape into the curve of white before vanishing.

  It took Ed a few seconds to find it again. Small at first, it was quickly growing.

  “Shit!”

  It was coming back down.

  Clutching the pickax, Ed scrambled to his feet. He gave another glance at the sky.

  The creature was a little ways above the trees. The naked branches made crooked lines through the vampire’s dark contour. He could hear the thin rattle of its flapping wings, loudening as it plunged.

  Ed ran. He made a wide leap across the hole. On the other side, his feet slid on loose dirt around the edges. He threw back a hand to stop himself from tumbling back down into the hole. Getting up, he dashed for the gate, the pickax slung over his shoulder like a rifle.

  A few steps from the gate, Ed turned back.

  And spotted the vampire right behind him now, performing a downward swoop.

  Maw yawning, tongue writhing, its teeth dripped gooey saliva. Ed smelled its horrible breath as the hungry mouth bore closer.

  Ed shouldered through the gate. His feet tangled together. He crashed onto the ground. Rolling onto his back, he kicked the gate shut in the vampire’s face and squirmed backwards.

  The vampire smashed against the iron, throwing the gate wide.

  Snapping off the turnstile in a rusted shriek, the gate rocketed over Ed. He heard trees snapping as it soared through the woods. Next, the vampire soared inches above him. Its long body blocked his view of the star-dotted sky on its way by.

  Ed figured it had been traveling too fast to nab him.

  Swerving high, the vampire shot into the sky, gliding in circles above the trees, wings lashing. It made motions like a fighter plane, tilting

  to fire its automatic guns.

  Rolling over, Ed grabbed the pickax, and got to his feet. He spotted the path out of here, and smiled. So close. All he had to do was get to it, then to the road.

  Then in his truck.

  He’d be safe in there. Had to be.

  Ed started moving, slower this time. His body ached with each step, shooting sharp tendrils of pain into his hips. He was sore, exhausted, and terrified.

  A whoosh came from above, like a bomb being dropped from a passing plane.

  Ed dared a glance up.

  The vampire was plunging again, arms extended, hands open, mouth wide, fangs gleaming and sharp. It gave a triumphant wail, convinced it had won as the distance between them closed.

  Ed waited until the vampire was right on top of him before he spun around with the pickax. The bowed blade punched into the vampire's stomach. He saw it shoot through its back, parting its wings. Its battle cry dwindled to a confused squeak.

  Throwing himself out of the way, Ed avoided the vampire's frantic spiral. Its wings flapped, but couldn't lift it high enough to retreat. Crashing to the ground, it bounced and hopped before flying again. It spun around through the air, like a bird with a broken wing, only to fall again.

  Ed leaned forward, hands on knees. Panting, he watched the vampire skip across the ground, hover and drop, emanating injured yelps. It got a little ways up the dirt path before Ed breathed again.

  It was hurt. Once the creature had tuckered itself out, Ed could finish it off.

  Until then, he would rest. Catch his breath. Let his jumbled nerves settle.

  The pickax landed on the road with a faint thump. A dusty cloud rose around it.

  "Damn," he muttered.

  With the pickax dislodged from its midriff, the vampire fluttered into the sky. Though its patterns were rocky and off-balance, it was able to fly without any problems. He watched its dark form blend into the night sky.

  Ed stared for several long moments before he turned around to study the graveyard. The turnstile was bent, the gate out of sight. Fog drifted through the ancient entryway, as if it had finally been set free.

  "I'm a damned fool," said Ed.

  A tight sick feeling spread through his aching muscles. There was no way he could fully comprehend the severity of his mistake. But he knew matters were going to become a lot worse.

  Tear suddenly filled his eyes. He lowered his face into his glove-covered hands, and wept for the first time since Mama died.

  -8-

  Mary Hogan drove along the darkened stretch of Highway 73. Her front lights pushed a dim spread of light through the black in front of her. She was ready to get home and take a bath. She had six cocks’ worth of seed stuffed inside of her, and a little swimming around her stomach.

  She felt dirty, soiled.

  It’d been a busy night.

  Though she tried to regularly rinse hersel
f at the tavern between men, she knew she wouldn’t get all the goop cleaned out unless she soaked in a hot tub for a while.

  Let the soap and water take care of the rest.

  She glanced down at her purse, smiling. Close to two hundred dollars in there. Would be more if she’d charged Tom Worden. Because he was the law, he got his piece for free. Plus, she kind of liked him the most. She never got her own fix with other men, but Tom could do things with his tongue that sent her into a quivering fit every time.

  Did his wife get that at home? Mary hoped not. She liked to pretend the tongue tricks were just for her. Sometimes when Mary allowed herself to think about Tom’s home life, her skin turned hot, and she broke out in sweats.

  Jealousy?

  She didn’t think so.

  Resentment?

  Most likely.

  But it still wasn’t fair to hold it against Tom. Mary was with multiple men a night while Tom only went home to one other woman—Barbara. Sure, she was a pretty bitch, after a lot of work. Sure, the esteemed Mrs. Worden had a good body, though nothing compared to Mary’s.

  Mary’s tits got her more men than anything else. Men paid her good money just to fondle them. She didn’t think Barbara had that specialty. Or if she did, she wouldn’t know how to make it work in her favor. She was just a comely woman of the house. To somebody like Barbara, nothing existed outside those comforting walls.

  But Mary had seen the world. She’d lived all over, traveled. Had had more men in the last few years than most would in two lifetimes. She’d even dabbled with women more than once, and had found them to be fun too. Sometimes she had multiple partners of both sexes at the same time. Those jaunts became a wild party that usually left her feeling emotionally drained, along with the shame, for days afterward. Those moments didn’t last. But when they would come on, booze usually made her forget.

  Mary knew what they said about her in Plainfield. She didn’t care. Those prudes weren’t getting rid of her. And if she got to fuck a stud like Tom Worden regularly, then being in Plainfield was even more worthwhile.

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, Mary slapped at her purse. She pulled it closer, reaching inside. Her fingers brushed her cigarettes. The purse flaps wouldn’t cooperate, and kept bending. Twisting her wrist painfully sideways, her fingers gripped the pack.

  “Ah-ha!”

  She tried to pull out the cigarettes. The purse moved with her hand, the flaps clutching her wrist.

  “Damn it to hell.”

  Mary looked at her purse. It looked as if it had swallowed her hand. Shaking her arm, the purse didn’t want to let go. She gave it a harder flick. Her hand came free, the cigarettes clutched in her fingers. “Got your little asses!”

  The purse hit the seat, tumbling into the dark pool of the floorboard.

  Laughing, Mary faced the road.

  And screamed.

  A face from a nightmare soared toward her, its red-glowing eyes wincing at the glare of her lights. It turned its blue face away, revealing a cavernous ear that curved on top through a thick shock of ruffling, black hair.

  Mary glimpsed its mighty fangs, glowing in the bright light.

  Her feet stomped the brakes.

  The locked tires screamed louder than Mary as she was pitched forward. Her forehead bashed the whirling steering wheel. Jarred but still focused, she grabbed the helm with both hands. The giant bat-man-thing let out a screech that was cut short when it bounced over the hood of her car. The thing’s back struck the windshield, caving it in with a crunch of splitting glass. Thick cracks shot outward on all sides.

  The thing kept going, thumping above her as it toppled over the car.

  Mary felt herself skidding to the right. Screaming, she fought with the wheel. It tried to pull the opposite way of her spin and, Mary knew if it succeeded, the car would flip. She’d been in an accident or two. Didn’t take much for these machines to go ass over.

  The car made a complete circle before coming to a rocky halt. Dust and smoke rose outside the windows, reflecting the lights’ glow in shimmering waves.

  The bat-thing smacked the ground several feet ahead of her. Other than slight twitching of its upstretched wings, it was motionless. After a moment, they crumpled down like paper.

  Even with the car sitting still, Mary felt as if she were spiraling. She could still hear the squealing tires deep in her ears. Her hands felt glued to the steering wheel, and she had to pry them loose.

  Holding out her hands, her fingers were bent, as if about to claw something.

  What was that? Jesus! What the hell was that?

  Parts of it seemed human, but others were…a bat?

  A big damn man-bat-thing!

  And its skin was blue!

  Flying right at me!

  Came at her car like a moth drawn by a candle flame.

  Something trickled into her eye, making her blink. She reached up and rubbed the narrow runnel of stickiness that came down from her hairline. She held out her fingertips, and saw they were dabbed in blood.

  Bonked my head good.

  Seeing she was bleeding triggered a dull throb in her skull.

  “Son of a bitch…”

  Mary groaned. She felt around the door, found the handle, and pulled. The door clacked open. Climbing out, she held onto the top of the frame for balance. The cool air made her head sting.

  “Bet my car’s beaten to hell,” she muttered.

  Hands on the roof, she walked alongside the car, patting the metal so she wouldn’t fall. The bat-thing had severely damaged her car.

  Damaged me, too.

  All that money she’d earned tonight probably wouldn’t be enough to pay for it.

  A glance at the front of her car made her moan. Besides the fractured windshield, a headlight had been smashed like a punctured eyeball. Bars hung from the wrecked grille as plumes of dark smoke curled out. The hood looked crumpled in the front like an old rug.

  She hadn’t been going that fast, but the destruction of her car was serious.

  The thing must’ve been rocketing towards her.

  And heavy as hell!

  Mary turned around. The bat-thing hadn’t moved. It lay in a folded heap a few feet away. Wings draped its back like a thin, tatty sheet.

  Mary took a hesitant step forward. A gust of chilly wind blew at her from nowhere, stirring her hair. Her skirt flapped against her legs, molding around their thick curves. The ruffles of her shirt trembled, the exposed mounds of her breasts stippled with gooseflesh. She pulled her coat shut over them. Cold air licked the wound on her head. Wincing at the minor sting, the skin around her injury felt tight—probably from a forming welt.

  “Damn it all,” she muttered.

  She might need to see a doctor. Mary hated doctor's offices, hated the sterile smell, how they put their hands on her. She walked along the verge of the road, slightly swaying. She must have bonked her noggin harder than she’d originally thought if she was this dizzy. Giving the forming lump another soft tap, she checked her finger again. There didn’t seem to be as much blood this time.

  Hopefully that was a good sign.

  Eyes fixed on the limp form in the center of the road, Mary loomed closer. She stopped a couple inches from the frayed edges of its coat.

  What is it?

  Mary couldn’t tell much from where she stood. Though folded at the waist, legs bent, she could tell it was tall and lanky and dressed in dark clothing. Sprouted through its coat, wings curled over its head and shoulders. Mary could see scraps of fabric writhing in the breeze around the wing’s narrow stems.

  Its back blocked her view of its arms and hands.

  But its feet…

  Good God!

  Nowhere near human-like, its two toes were fuzzy and blue and tipped with talons. A single talon was where a heel should be.

  Drive back to the tavern, phone Tom Worden at home and tell him to come see this.

  That seemed like a good idea.

  Mary was about to turn and
leave when a thought stopped her.

  He won’t believe me.

  And he’d probably reprimand her for calling his home. That was one of the few rules he had when it came to their liaisons. It happened at the tavern, and stayed there. No phone calls, no public interactions, other than at Mary’s place of business, of course.

  He’d probably accuse her of lying just to get him out of his bed and into hers.

  Again.

  But the body was proof she wasn’t lying.

  Mary could see it now. She’d get back to the tavern, get Tom over there. They’d come out here together and the damn carcass would be gone. Maybe somebody would drive by, see it lying there and pick it up. Maybe it’d go away on its own. Either way, she didn’t want to risk anything by leaving it here.

  Fine. I’ll just drive this damn thing straight over to his house and dump it on his front lawn. He’ll have to believe me then.

  Mary felt herself smile. The dried blood on her cheeks made soft crinkling sounds.

  That’d be a sight for sure. She pictured Barbara Worden standing in the front lawn in her robe, hair a mess. When she laid eyes on the thing, her pretty face would turn white. She’d scream. Probably faint too. Just drop flat on the dew-soaked grass.

  Mary would pay money to see that.

  As long as I can make it to Tom’s.

  She turned around and looked at her car. The one spherical light cut a slender tunnel through the dark. Dust swam through its beam like minute lightning bugs. She could hear the engine steadily pumping.

  Seemed fine, though it didn’t look it.

  Mary looked down at the thing. She wondered if it was dead.

  Has to be. Nobody could live through that.

  Mary let out a deep breath that rattled her cheeks. Now she had to put it in her car.

  Had to touch it.

  Had to carry it to her car.

  Had to put it in her trunk, if she planned to drive it over to Tom’s house. No way was it riding inside with her.

  Crouching, Mary’s lower back and legs felt sore and tender from the crash. She reached out. Her hands skimmed the arid fabric of its overcoat.

  The thing whipped around, hissing.

  Screaming, Mary staggered back, dropping onto her rump. The landing jostled her, made her neck pop. A sharp pain stabbed her shoulders. Before she had a chance to react, the thing was crawling over her waist. Clawed hands ripped her top down the middle in a vicious swipe. Her giant breasts spilled out.