Richard Laymon - The Traveling Vampire Show

“I don’t…” My voice stopped and I listened to the approaching engine. It had a powerful sound.

Hands on the rough, moist bark, I eased myself upward and peered toward the dirt road. A pickup truck was speeding along the dirt road, shaking and bouncing.

Its headlights ruined my night vision.

There seemed to be only one occupant, the driver. But I couldn’t make out who it was—not even whether it was a man or woman.

As the pickup sped away, however, I was able to see its color in the glow of its tail lights.

Red.

A red pickup truck, the same as Lee’s.

“Was that her?” Rusty asked.

We were all gazing over the top of the fallen trunk.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Sure looked like her truck,” Slim said.

“I bet it was her,” Bitsy said.

“Did you see her?” I asked.

“No, but I bet it was.”

“I hope so,” I muttered. “Thing is, it’s not like she’s got the only red pickup in town.”

“Did anyone see the driver?” Slim asked.

“Nope.”

“Huh-uh.”

“I wish.”

“Might’ve been her,” Rusty said.

“She’s supposed to come,” I added.

“Well,” said Slim, “we’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”

We walked for a couple of minutes on the dirt road, but then another car came so we hid again. This time, we crouched behind a clump of bushes about twenty feet from the roadside.

“We’re never gonna get there,” Rusty said.

“Maybe we’d better cut through the woods,” Slim suggested.

“Have we gotta?” Bitsy asked.

“We’d better,” Slim said. “If we keep hiding every time a car comes by…”

“We might as well walk up the road,” I said. “Everybody’s gonna see us when we get to the show, anyway.”

Slim looked at me. She was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But…”

Rusty gasped out, “Holy shit!”

The rest of us looked.

The car bouncing up the road and just about to pass our hiding place was a huge old Cadillac. Slammed by fear, I ducked. Bitsy was still staring at it, so I clamped a hand on her shoulder and jerked her down.

“What’s… ?”

“Shhh.”

Hunkered low, we waited for the Cadillac to pass.

It’s probably not even the same one, I told myself. But I knew better. Around these parts, Cadillacs weren’t nearly as common as pickup trucks. This had to be the one that had terrorized us after the drive-in.

For the past month, all the cops in the county had been looking for it.

Now, here it was.

The sounds of the Cadillac faded, but not with distance. Its engine noise decreased because someone had taken his foot off the gas pedal. Its tires no longer crunched along the dirt road because they had quit moving.

Cars stop for many reasons, but I knew why this one had stopped.

We’d been seen.

“Did they see us?” Rusty asked in a hoarse whisper.

Slim went “Shhh.”

Rusty murmured, “Jesus.”

“Who are… ?” Bitsy started to ask. I cupped an open hand across her mouth, catching the final word, dissolving it into warm breath. Though she didn’t try to say more, I kept my hand on her mouth. She breathed into it.

I listened for the sound of a door opening.

What if they’re already open?

Through the thick foliage in front of me, I could see nothing of the Cadillac exept the glow of its headlights.

I wanted to rise and peer over the top, but I didn’t dare. Then a man’s thin voice sang out, “Weee seee youuuu.”

I felt as if I had icy snakes in my bowels.

The same voice, but without the sing-song, asked, “Want a lift?”

I was afraid Slim might answer with a wisecrack, but she remained silent.

“What’s the matter, kids? Cat got your tongues?”

A moment later, I felt Bitsy’s tongue push gently against the palm of my hand.

She’s licking me!

I jerked my hand away from her mouth.

“How about a ride to the Traveling Vampire Show?” the man asked.

I rubbed my wet hand on the leg of my jeans.

“Don’t worry,” the man said, “we won’t hurt you.” After a pause, he added, “Much.”

His passenger giggled. That’s when I remembered that they were supposed to be twins.

A matching pair of perverts.

The blast of a car horn made me jump.

“Be seeeeing you,” the guy called out. The engine revved. The tires hissed and crunched on the dirt road.

Rising slightly, I saw that a pale station wagon now stood just behind where the Cadillac had been. It must’ve been the car that honked. As the Cadillac disappeared among the trees, the station wagon started forward. After it came a little sports car.

“This way,” Slim said.

On hands and knees, she scurried away from the bush. We followed her into the trees. When the dirt road was a safe distance behind us, we got to our feet.

“It was them,” Rusty said.

“Guess so,” Slim said.

“Who?” Bitsy asked.

“Never mind,” Rusty told her.

Bitsy turned to me for an answer.

The Cadillac twins were a well-kept secret. My dad and all the law enforcement agencies in the area knew about them, but hardly anyone else did. We’d been told to keep quiet. If the twins were long gone, there was no reason to panic everyone. If they were still around, the cops didn’t want them to know they were being sought. “They find out we’re after ’em,” Dad had said, “they’ll jackrabbit or go to ground.”

So I said to Bitsy, “We can’t tell you who they are.”

“But they’re very bad guys,” Slim added.

“And they’re going to the show,” Rusty said.

“Still wanta go?” I asked him.

“You kidding? You think I’m gonna let a couple of pervs scare me off, you got another think comin’.”

“You’re not the one they’re after,” I said.

“Who is?” Bitsy asked.

“Slim.”

Rusty groaned. “Tell her everything, why don’t you?”

As if taking up the suggestion, Slim told Bitsy, “They tried to pull me into their car a few weeks ago.”

“What for?”

Rusty said, “What do you think, dipshit?”

“Cut it out,” Slim told him.

To Bitsy, he said, “You better not breathe a word of this to Mom or Dad.”

“I won’t.”

“Sure you won’t.”

Turning toward me, Slim said, “I’m not so sure anymore.”

“About going?”

“Yeah. It’s bad enough, Stryker and his gang. But now these guys. It’s getting a little too creepy.”

Rusty went into his chicken impression, tucking his hands under his armpits, flapping his elbows up and down and going, “Bwok-bwok-bwok-bwok! ”

“Up yours,” Slim told him.

“Meow!”

“Shut up,” I warned.

“I think maybe we’d better call it off,” Slim said.

“No!”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wanta see the Vampire Show as much as anyone, but it isn’t worth getting killed over.”

“Well, I’m going. You guys wanta chicken out, that’s your problem. Fuck ya. And the horse y’rode in on.” He jammed an open hand toward Slim. “Gimme one a those tickets.”

“You don’t want to go by yourself.” Slim said.

“Oh, no? Y’wanta bet?”

“Hey, man,” I said.

“Go to hell.”

“Let’s just all go back to the car and get out of here,” Slim said. “We can go to the drive-in.”

Rusty shook his head. “Not me. I’m going to the Traveling Vampire Show… with or without the rest of you chicken-shit pussies.”

“You want to go, go.” Slim jammed a ticket into his hand. “No skin off my butt.”