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The Traveling Vampire Show(107)

By: Richard Laymon
 
“Quit it,” Bitsy said.
 
“What we’ll do,” Slim said, “is park along the highway and walk in on the dirt road.”
 
Bitsy moaned.
 
“You wanted to come,” Rusty reminded her.
 
“I know that.”
 
“You don’t have to,” I told her. “We’ve still got plenty of time. We could drop you off....”
 
“I wanta come with.”
 
“That’s fine,” Slim said. “The thing is, Bitsy, we might see some really bad stuff happen. I sure did. What they did to that dog ... These are bad people.”
 
“You’re just trying to talk me out of it.”
 
“No, I’m trying to warn you. You might end up wishing you’d stayed home.”
 
“So how come you’re going?” Asking that, she sounded a little snotty.
 
“Slim’s the judge,” Rusty said.
 
“Huh?”
 
“Dwight and I, we’ve got a bet going.”
 
“What bet?” Bitsy asked.
 
“I say Valeria’s a babe.”
 
“Who’s she?”
 
“The star of the show,” I explained.
 
“Dwight says she’ll be a loser, but I happen to know she’ll be gorgeous. If I’m right, Dwight has to shave his head.”
 
“Slim shaves my head,” I reminded him.
 
“Oh, yeah, right. Anyways, Slim’s the judge.”
 
“That isn’t why I’m going,” Slim said. Turning her head to the left, she said, “There’s the way in.” She started to slow down. “We’ll turn around ... ,” she muttered.
 
“Then why?” Bitsy asked.
 
“Huh?”
 
“How come you wanta go if it’s gonna be so horrible?”
 
“Gotta watch out for my guys,” she said. Slowing almost to a stop, she made a U-tum. “Anyway, my mom’s away for the night and I didn’t much want to stay by myself.”
 
“Especially since she had a prowler today,” Rusty added, and glanced back at his sister.
 
“I said I was sorry,” Bitsy muttered.
 
“Here’s the turn-off,” Slim announced.
 
As she drove slowly past it, I glimpsed a couple of Traveling Vampire Show handbills and the makeshift cardboard sign on trees near the narrow dirt road. They were dim shapes in the darkness. If I hadn’t already seen them a couple of times in daylight, I wouldn’t have known what they were.
 
I thought, Nobody’ll be able to find the place.
 
Then I realized it was a stupid thought. Everyone for miles around knew the location of Janks Field. Almost everyone avoided it whenever possible, but hardly anyone would have trouble getting there, even in the dark.
 
Slim eased her Pontiac off the road. We dipped down into a shallow ditch, then climbed out of it and rolled through some deep grass.
 
“What’re you doing?” Rusty asked.
 
“Parking,” Slim said.
 
The car shook as she steered it over the rough ground. Bushes squeaked against the sides. Fallen twigs crackled under the tires. But not for long.
 
Slim stopped the car behind some trees, killed its headlights and shut off the engine.
 
“Jeez,” Rusty said.
 
“We don’t want everybody seeing our car.”
 
By “everybody,” I’m sure Slim meant more than just people wishing to do us harm. She also meant any residents of Grandville who might drive by—either on their way to the show or going elsewhere. Because if anyone should see the huge old Pontiac, word would get around. Soon, everyone in town—including our parents—would know that Slim’s car had been spotted out near the Janks Field turnoff the night of the Traveling Vampire Show.
 
The night of my dad’s car accident.
 
The night Slim’s mom had her overnight date on the river.
 
The night the parents of Rusty and Bitsy thought we’d taken their kids to a double-feature at the Moonlight Drive-in.
 
I suddenly had a bad thought.
 
“Rusty,” I said.
 
He looked around at me.
 
“What time are you and Bitsy supposed to get home?”
 
“What time do you think?”
 
“Midnight?”
 
“Good guess.”
 
“We can’t be back by then,” I said. “That’s when the show begins.”
 
“No sweat,” Rusty said. “My folks’re never awake by midnight We’ll just sneak in real quiet when we get home. They’ll never be the wiser.”
 
Maybe he was right. He had certainly gotten away, many times, with sneaking in and out of his house late at night.