Richard Laymon: The Traveling Vampire Show

Standing rigid in the middle of the cage like a proud soldier, Lee removed her sleeveless chambray shirt. She stood there in the rain, naked except for the very short skirt of red leather.

Stryker picked up Valeria’s red, bralike top.

Lee stood motionless while he slipped the straps up her arms, cupped her breasts inside its stiff leather, and stepped behind her to fasten its back.

Vivian entered the cage, carrying the black cape.

Stryker took the cape and swept it over Lee’s shoulders.

As he backed away from her, she spread the cape wide open, swept it high like bat wings and called out, “I AM LEN-ORA THE VAMPIRE!”

Stryker’s black-shirted gang of thugs went crazy, cheering and clapping and shouting.

I thought to myself, Holy shit. What’s this?

With all eyes fixed on Lee and with so much noisy appreciation coming from the crew of The Traveling Vampire Show, nobody seemed to notice the hearse.

Including me.

Not until it came roaring through the rainy night, headlights off. At the last moment, half a dozen of Stryker’s people turned and yelled and tried to jump out of the way.

They didn’t make it.

The hearse, probably doing sixty, roared between the side of the cage and the bleachers (the stands under which Slim had disappeared), ramming through everyone there. They bounced off the grill and hood and roof. They did cartwheels through the rain. A few spears, along with Slim’s bow and quiver of arrows, leaped from hands and flew off into the night.

Stryker gaped at the mayhem.

I whirled around, crouched and snatched an arrow out of the mud—the arrow I’d struggled so hard to pluck from Valeria’s breast.

I’d dropped it when Lee threw me to the ground during the storm of spears.

Leaping up, I spun around and drove its razor-sharp point into the side of Stryker’s neck so hard it popped out the other side.

His eyes bugged out.

I grabbed Lee’s arm. “Let’s go!” I yelled. I jerked her arm.

She looked at me, a frenzy in her eyes, then flung off the vampire cape and let out something that sounded the way I always imagined one of those “rebel yells” from the Civil War must’ve been like… an ear-splitting cry full of rage and wild joy.

On our way toward the cage door, we each jerked a spear out of the mud.

We were just outside the cage when the hearse skidded to a stop near the rear of the bus.

We ran for it.

It started backing toward us.

I had a pretty good idea who must be behind the wheel.

A few spears flew past us, but missed.

Somebody leaped out of the bus door and confronted us with a machete. Before he could swing it, Lee shoved her spear into his mouth and I plunged mine into his stomach.

Leaving the spears in him, we sprinted for the hearse.

It slid to a halt. I was first to reach its passenger door. I grabbed the handle and jerked it open.

“In!” I yelled at Lee. “Jump in!”

She dived in and I scurried in after her.

Slim turned her head. “I’m back,” she said.

She stepped on the gas. The hearse lurched forward, its passenger door slamming shut without any help from me.

I figured we should finish the escape, but Slim had different plans. She made a high-speed pass along the other side of the cage. This time, she didn’t have quite the same element of surprise working for her. She only managed to mow down one of Stryker’s people.

“Can we go now?” I asked.

“Sure.”

With that, Slim steered around the end of the bleachers, put on the headlights and sped across Janks Field. The hearse shuddered and shook over the rough muddy ground. We bounced and swayed.

I saw the crippled Cadillac sitting abandoned. And Lee’s pickup truck. And two or three other cars that had been left behind.

“Want me to drop you off at your pickup?” Slim asked.

“No thanks,” Lee said. “Just get us out of here.”

“You sure? I’d be glad to.”

“I lost my keys.”

“We’ll go back to my car,” Slim said, and sped toward the dirt road that would return us to Route 3.

On the narrow and curvy dirt road, Slim slowed down a lot. She kept glancing at the side mirrors.

“I don’t think they’ll come after us,” Lee said.

“I don’t know,” Slim said.

“Can’t hurt to keep an eye out,” I added. I didn’t mean it as any sort of pun, but the words forced a picture of Valeria’s eye socket into my mind. And then I pictured the arrow embedded in her nipple.

“They’ve got so many dead,” Lee said.

“We decimated their sorry butts,” Slim said.

“You did a great job,” Lee told her.

“Saved our lives,” I added.

I half expected a quip, but Slim only nodded. In the glow of the dashboard lights, her face looked grim.

“What happened, anyway?” I asked her.

“Huh?”

“After you went off under the bleachers.”

“Just sort of snuck around.”

“Did you see the Cadillac twins?” I asked. “They were up at the top. Looked like they were on their way down to get you. I yelled to warn you.”

“Yeah, thanks. I took care of them.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the knife. I was sort of waiting for them when they climbed down the back of the stands. Did away with them.”

“You did away with them?”

“Yeah. Sent them south. Deep south.”

“Jeez,” Lee said.

I said, “Holy shit.”

“As Mike Hammer says, ‘It was easy.’ ”

“So you killed them?” I asked, hardly believing it.

“Yeah. Some others, too. I sort of snuck up on anybody I found and cut their throats. A couple of them saw me coming, but I think they figured I was with the Show because of the black shirt.”

“The morons,” I said.

“I was trying to find Rusty,” she said.

“Any luck?” Lee asked.

I think we both knew what the answer would be.

“No. I don’t know where they took him. I searched the truck. It’s where they keep the cage and stuff when they’re on the road, I guess. Nobody was in it, though. Just the driver. He was in the cab. I took care of him before I searched the back. Then I didn’t get a chance to search the bus or the back of the hearse. Just about the time I got to the hearse, I looked over at the cage and saw they were moving in on you guys. So all I did was kill the driver and come to the rescue.”

“Mighty good job of it,” Lee said.

“Thanks. I just wish…” She shook her head. “I wanted to find Rusty.” As she said that about Rusty, her voice cracked. “I don’t want to leave him behind.”

I put my hand on Slim’s thigh. The leg of her cut-off jeans was warm and damp. “Wanta go back?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. I think maybe.” She must’ve taken her foot off the gas pedal; the engine quieted and we slowed down. “What about you?” she asked.

I hated the idea of going back to Janks Field. We’d been lucky to get out of there alive, and the chances of finding Rusty alive were slim.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go back and find him.”

“What the hell,” Lee said. “In for a penny…”

“ ‘And gentlemen in England now a-bed,’ ” quoted Slim, “ ‘shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap….’ ”

“You bet,” Lee said.

Slim stopped the hearse. She shifted to reverse, started speeding backward, then twisted toward me in her seat to look back over her shoulder. “Damn!” She slammed on the brakes.

I looked over my shoulder. The window behind the front seat was shrouded with a curtain.

Slim glanced at the side mirrors. “I can’t drive backward without a rearview mirror.”