“It’s just a nickname, and they only call him that because he only goes out at night.”
“People get nicknames for a reason. Remember Farty Frank?”
Jack laughed.
“It’s not funny, Jack.” But Chandler let him go, and Jack squeezed through the gate.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Farty’s one of the funniest nicknames ever.”
“I’m just giving you an example. Forget him. Boomer? They call him Boomer because he likes to smash stuff. Maybe they call this guy Vlad because he likes to suck people’s blood. How do you know Dracula didn’t kill Stacy himself?”
“Well…” Jack’s face scrunched up. “I don’t. But I need to talk to him. I don’t want to, but he might know something. Besides, I have to learn how to do this. I’m not going to run away just because I’m scared.”
“I am.” Chandler thumped his chest. “Call me a chicken and put feathers on my butt.”
“Come on. You heard Murray. The guy only comes out at night.”
“Yeah, because he’s crazy,” Chandler huffed.
The two friends stared at each other. Jack knew Chandler was just being smart and cautious, but if Jack was going to find out who really killed Stacy, he knew he’d have to go to the edge. So he didn’t blink.
Chandler spun in a circle. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered fiercely. “Whenever I go out with you, I end up with two choices and they both suck. Now I have to pick between going into Dracula’s lair or walking home and leaving you here?”
“You’re right. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Do you see all the no-trespassing signs?” Chandler hit the chain-link fence separating them, and it rattled. “If we get busted for anything before basic training, they’ll kick us straight out of the Army before we even start. Why are you doing this?”
“This guy—”
Chandler grabbed the fence with both hands and the whole thing shook. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you. You’re going full throttle. You keep pushing this hard, you’re going to blow up.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.” Chandler shook his head. “There’s something more. It’s like you’re trying to prove something.”
Jack knew Chandler was right. He’d been looking for justification his whole life. Not for his actions, but for his being. Some proof he wasn’t worthless.
But Chandler was wrong if he thought Jack was going to stop.
“Give me the flashlight.” Jack held out his hand.
“No. It’s dark out here too.”
“You’ve got the full moon for your nightlight, you big baby. Give it to me.” Jack waggled his hand, reaching.
Chandler passed the flashlight through the fence. “Fine. I hope it goes out.”
Jack left Chandler behind and approached the building. Grass poked up through the gravel, which crunched under his feet. He shined the light along the front of the building and was surprised to find no graffiti. The little windows, which resembled the slots in a cabin, were made out of thick glass. He couldn’t see through.
He walked toward the side of the building. Two cement steps led up to a metal door. He looked back over his shoulder at the gate. Chandler stood outside the fence with his back to him and his arms crossed.
Jack wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand. A hundred reasons not to go into the building scrolled through his head. But none of those objections could drive from his mind the question he needed answered: Did Vlad witness Stacy’s murder?
Still, Jack’s legs refused to move. The soft voice of reason whispered in his head. Walk away. But the words had the opposite of their intended effect. Most people would heed their own advice, but Jack was haunted by that phrase. “Walk away like she did,” he muttered softly. “Give up on you like she did.”
Jack’s whole body trembled, not with fear but fury. He climbed the steps.
His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard the gate behind him rattle. Then he heard Chandler swear. Jack smiled and shined the light on the gate. Chandler was stuck halfway through.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Chandler growled as he pulled himself the rest of the way through.
Jack suppressed a laugh. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s purely selfish. I didn’t feel like explaining it to Aunt Haddie if Dracula eats you.”
“Dracula doesn’t eat you. He sucks all your blood out.” Jack shined the light in Chandler’s face.
Chandler squinted and pushed the flashlight toward the door. “Oh, that’s so much more comforting.”