Larry watched him move in a crouch toward the rear of the van — head darting from side to side, fingers wrapped around the handle of his holstered magnum.
Christ, he’s afraid someone might’ve gotten in.
Pete searched the length of the van and turned around. “It’s cool,” he said, coming back.
In his seat again, he shut off the interior lights. He started the engine. He reached out, and Larry put the bottle in his hand. He drank, then gave it back. “Now, are we ready for the real fun?”
“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.”
“You aren’t going yellow on me, are you?”
“What’ll we do with the corpse if we dotake it home?”
“You write a book about it.”
“About what? Having a pseudovampire as a house guest?”
“Exactly.”
“It’ll just lie there. That’s if the women don’t make us get rid of it.”
“You’re right. We’ll have to do something with it. Maybe we can find out who she is.”
“How would we do that?”
“First things first, Lar. Let’s take her home, then figure out what’s next.”
“Why don’t we nottake her home till we figure that out.”
“Hey, we’re already here. When’ll we get another chance like this? Come on, man, we agreed. Don’t bail out on me now.”
“I’m not bailing out. I just don’t see what we’ll accomplish. Our book has to be a lot more than a couple of goofs taking a stiff home and freaking out their wives. Even a true story needs action along the way, drama, a climax. Especially a climax. We’ve got nothing.”
“Well, eventually we pull the stake.”
“And the damn thing stilljust lies there.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Oh, come on. You said yourself she’s not a vampire.”
“We don’t know that for sure. Obviously, someonethinks she is.”
“Okay. Suppose we pull the stake and she isa vampire?”
“That’d be something, huh? Then we’ve got a best-seller for sure.”
“If she doesn’t bite our necks.”
“We’ll take precautions when the time comes. You know, have plenty of crucifixes and garlic handy. Maybe buy some handcuffs or tie her up.”
“So what happens if we pull the stake and nothing happens? Which is the way it’s bound to go down. Then what?”
Pete started the van moving forward.
“A big dud, that’s what,” Larry told him.
Pete eased the van onto the road. It rolled slowly toward the Sagebrush Flat Hotel.
“Let’s just go home and forget about it.”
“You said we should play it by ear.”
“My ear tells me to forget it.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Pete’s head turned toward Larry. In the hazy moonlight his teeth seem to glow as he smiled. “You say we’ve got a dud if we pull the stake and she just lies there. Well, let’s find out tonight if she’s a vampire.” He eased the van to the other side of the street and stopped in front of the hotel. “Let’s go in there and pull the stake.”
Enounters
Sixteen
Larry stood in front of the van, shivering, and aimed his flashlight at the doors of the hotel. They were shut. The padlock hung from the hasp, but nobody had repaired Pete’s damage. The staple was still ripped from the right-hand door.
Pete came up beside him. He held the tire iron.
“You won’t need that to break in,” Larry whispered.
Nodding, Pete slipped the rod under his belt. He glanced up and down the street. Then he raised the camera and snapped a shot of the doors.
As he stepped onto the sidewalk, Larry clutched his shoulder. “Wait a minute.”
“I’m going in there. If you’re scared...”
“Aren’t you?”
“Hey, sure. But I’m not gonna let that stop me. You can wait out here if you want.”
Larry let his hand drop. He followed Pete across the sidewalk. The muscles of his legs felt soft and shaky. His bowels ached. His heart thudded and he panted, trying to get enough air into his tight lungs.
Who’s going to write Pete’s book, he thought, if I have a heart attack and keel over dead?
Pete opened the door. Larry shined his light into the lobby. Its beam trembled on the stairs to the left, jerked past the banister and downward, sweeping over the empty space to the right.
They stepped inside. Pete shut the door.
I’m in, Larry thought. Good Christ.
The wind was gone. He heard it, but it no longer blew against him. The hotel was warm. Not as warm as the van, though. He couldn’t stop shivering. His skin felt tight. He knew he was goose bumps from head to toe. An icy hand seemed to be squeezing his genitals.
He swung the flashlight back and forth. Over the sandy, hardwood floor. Across the registration counter. Along the walls. Turning slowly, he lit the boarded windows at the front. The closed doors.
The click and blink of the camera made him flinch. Its automatic film advance buzzed.
“Wanta get the general layout,” Pete whispered. He took several more photos, turning in a full circle to capture every foot of the lobby’s empty interior.
While he reloaded, Larry squatted down to ease a cramped feeling in his bowels.
“You okay?” Pete whispered.
“Hardly.”
“Crap your pants, you’ll have to walk home.”
“Ha ha.”
“I’m going up and get a couple of the landing.”
Larry stood but didn’t go with him. He aimed the light at the stairs. Pete climbed them, holding the camera in both hands. And stopped abruptly.
“Very interesting. Have a look.”
Grimacing, Larry forced his wobbly legs to carry him to the stairway. He made his way upward until he reached Pete’s side.
Four dirty, weathered planks lay across the landing. They covered the hole left by Barbara when the boards gave out beneath her.
“You know what this means,” Pete said.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“God, I hope he didn’t take our vampire.”
God, I hope he did, Larry thought.
Hope he doesn’t show up.
What if he’s the coyote eater?
Larry shined his light up the stairs. It reached into the second-floor corridor, threw a faint glow high on the wall. He stared, half expecting a wildman to shamble into the beam.
Pete’s got a gun, he reminded himself.
But the scare will probably kill me.
He wished he could make himself look away from the upstairs corridor. But he didn’t dare take his eyes off it.
Pete drew the revolver. “Hang onto this for a minute.”
Larry switched the flashlight to his left hand and took the gun in his right. He aimed both toward the top of the stairs.
The solid, heavy feel of the .357 was comforting.
Very comforting.
Almost like putting on a coat, the way it soothed his chills and calmed him. But better.
No wonder Pete’s been so cool about most of this. He’s had the pig-iron on his hip.
Pete snapped a photo of the landing. Then, letting the camera dangle by its strap, he crouched and lifted one of the boards. He propped it upright against the wall. When all four planks had been removed, he took two shots of the gaping hole.
No longer worried much about an intruder, Larry lowered his gaze to the break in the landing. He saw the splintered edges of wood that had gouged and scraped Barbara. He remembered the feel of her body when he’d wrapped his arms around her. The soft warmth of her breasts against his forearm. The way she’d looked later, standing in the sunlit doorway with her blouse open.
His mind came back to the present as Pete began setting the boards back into place. He realized he was no longer shivering at all. He wondered if it was having the gun or thinking about Barbara that had taken away the shakes. Probably both, he thought.
“Okay,” Pete said, getting to his feet. He held out his hand for the weapon.
“Let me keep it,” Larry said.
Pete was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”