Richard Laymon - The Traveling Vampire Show

“Thanks.”

“I always knew you were a good guy, but you’re even better than I thought.”

“Well… I’m trying.”

Her arms tightened around me. The way she was standing, I figured she could see the bus over my shoulder. And I could see the headlights of the truck over hers. If anything started to happen in either direction, we would know it.

“The thing is to stay brave,” she said.

“I’ll try.”

“Me, too.”

I let out a sad little laugh. “And we don’t have to worry about Slim.”

“Huh?”

“Staying brave. That’s the least of her problems.”

“I just hope she’s careful,” Lee said.

“Yeah, me too.” Then I started to cry.

Lee stroked the back of my head. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered. “She’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know,” I blubbered. “If anything happens to her…”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

I kept crying, Lee holding me and stroking my head.

“You know what?” she asked. “It’s like you said when Valeria got shot. ‘Slim’ll happen to them.’ ”

I sort of laughed and sobbed at the same time. Then I mumbled, “God, I hope so.”

Lee stepped back slightly, moved her face in front of mine and looked me in the eyes. To me, she looked blurry. As I blinked, she wiped the tears and raindrops off my face with her fingers. All that touched me were her fingertips and breasts. It would’ve been very sweet and exciting if I hadn’t felt so scared.

After a while, she asked, “Feeling any better?”

I nodded. “A little.”

She eased forward and kissed me gently on the mouth. Then she stepped back and put her hands on my shoulders. “We’d better get ready for the attack.”

“What attack?”

A smile flashed across her face. “The one that’s sure to come.”

“Oh, that. What’ll we do?”

“First…” She stepped away from me, bent down and picked up the quiver. After counting the arrows, she muttered, “Eight. Plus three is eleven.”

“Three?”

“Put it on.” She gave me the quiver.

While she held the bow. I swung the quiver onto my back so its strap rested on my left shoulder and ran diagonally down my chest like a bandolier. Then she handed the bow back to me. “Keep us covered, okay?”

Nodding, I slipped an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it on the bowstring. Then I followed Lee toward Valeria’s body.

She crouched beside it.

I said, “Oh, my God,” as she reached for the feathered shaft that protruded from Valeria’s eye socket. “Hey, no. Come on.”

“Sorry,” Lee said. “But we might need these.”

She started to pull at the arrow. I turned away fast.

And took the opportunity to check our situation. The truck was still in position, engine rumbling quietly, headbeams reaching into the cage. The hearse remained motionless behind the other bleachers, shining its headlights at us. And the bus was where they’d stopped it after dropping off the guy who chased Slim.

The wounded gal was gone. She’d either gotten away on her own or someone had helped her.

On the other side of the bleachers into which Slim had vanished, the parking area was dark. No headlights, no taillights, no brakelights. Except for the abandoned vehicles such as Lee’s pickup truck and the twins’ Cadillac, all the vehicles were gone.

Stryker’s gang no longer directed traffic or roamed the field. They were over here, now, sneaking through the darkness. I couldn’t see them very well—not with so many headlights aimed into the cage, not with the darkness and falling rain.

They wore black clothes and they’d switched off their flashlights. They looked like human shadows. I almost couldn’t see them at all. They were easier to see when I didn’t look straight at them.

They were all around us, crouching and skulking under the bleachers on both sides, kneeling in the darkness near the bus and truck.

“Here,” Lee said.

I turned. She held an arrow. The first few inches of it were dripping blood. I glanced at Valeria’s eye socket and almost gagged.

“Catch.” Lee tossed the arrow to me.

I snagged it out of the air.

“They’re all around us,” I said.

“I noticed.”

She reached for the arrow that had gone through Valeria’s nipple, so I turned away again.

I held out the bloody arrow that she’d just handed me, hoping the rain would wash it clean. Its shaft was so thin that not many raindrops landed on it. Each time one hit, I saw a tiny explosion of pink.

“This one’s really stuck,” Lee said.

“Maybe just leave it?”

“Huh-uh.” Lee stood up, planted a bare foot on Valeria’s ribcage—directly between the breasts—bent down and grabbed the arrow with her right hand. She started to tug at it. I turned away again.

Off in the distance, someone raced past the front of the truck, sprinting through its headbeams. I couldn’t tell whether it was a man or woman, but it held a long, thin shaft in one hand.

A spear?

My skin prickled.

“Oh, jeez,” I murmured.

“You’d better give me a hand here,” Lee said.

I didn’t want to. More than that, though, I didn’t want to disappoint her. I guess I would’ve done anything she asked. So I handed the bow and arrow to her, then put a foot on Valeria’s chest, just as she had done. Only three or four inches of the arrow protruded—enough room for just one hand.

I wiped my right hand on my jeans (which were also wet), then grabbed the arrow around its feathers, being careful to stay away from what remained of Valeria’s nipple. Squeezing the shaft, I gave it a hard pull. A quick slip and my hand flew off it.

“Damn,” Lee said. “Give it another try, okay? If we end up one arrow short…”

“I’ll get it,” I said.

And I meant it. I wasn’t going to let Lee think I was weak or chicken. “Get me a rag,” I said. Not waiting for it, I cupped Valeria’s breast with my left hand, my thumb hooked around the arrow. Her breast felt slippery and cool. I pushed, mashing it, sliding it down the shaft until there was room on the arrow for both my hands to fit.

Lee muttered, “Oh jeez.” Then she gave me my shirt.

Released, Valeria’s breast swelled upward, climbing the arrow.

Though my shirt was wet, it took some of the slipperiness off my hands. I used it to dry the protruding shaft. Keeping the shirt around my hands, I once again compressed Valeria’s breast to make space for two hands on the arrow. Then I clutched the shaft with both hands, put most of my weight on her chest, and pulled with every ounce of my strength. The shirt, I think, gave me the extra friction that was needed.

I felt a force under my shoe as if Valeria were trying to sit up, but my weight kept her down.

The arrowhead, embedded in God-knows-what, suddenly let go. I glimpsed her breast stretching upward, pulled into the shape of a tall cone. Then the arrow leaped out like Excaliber, flinging blood. I held it high in both hands as I stumbled backward.

I slammed into Lee. She grunted, but stayed up. So did I.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Guess so.”

“Good work.”

“You too,” I said, knowing that she must’ve thrown herself in my way on purpose to stop me from falling.

We stood there, back to back. The quiver was in the way, but I could feel Lee’s rear end against mine.

Under the bleachers in front of me, a shape flitted across the headlights of the hearse. It was hunched low and carrying a spear.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They’ve got us pretty much surrounded,” Lee said. “But they’re staying back. So far.”

“What’re they waiting for?”