The Stake

“Be careful,” Larry whispered. “I mean, don’t go blasting anything that moves. There might be a bum living here, or something.”

“Don’t worry, huh?”

“We’re the ones trespassing, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

One stair from the top Pete leaned forward and glanced both ways. He stepped into the corridor. Larry followed. The corridor ended just to the left of the stairway. To the right it stretched long and dark with doors on both sides.

They stopped in front of the first door. Pete pressed his ear to it, shoving his cowboy hat crooked. After listening for a moment, he moved back. “You wanta do the honors?” he whispered, pointing the flashlight at its knob. “I’ll cover you.”

Heart thudding, Larry gripped the knob. He tried to twist it, but there was no give. “Locked.”

Pete tapped the muzzle of his revolver against the end of the tire iron in his belt.

Larry pulled the bar out. Holding it with both hands, he forced the wedge into the crack between the lock plate and the door frame. He looked at Pete.

“Well, go on.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, shit.”

“We shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t go pussy on me now.”

“Maybe we ought to just go shooting like we told the gals.”

“The book, man. The book. Uriah’s the missing piece, remember?”

He murdered me. Bonnie’s voice again. You can’t let him get away with it. He’s got to pay.

“Okay,” Larry muttered.

He put his weight against the iron bar. He felt it move a bit sideways, digging into the wood. There were soft crunchy sounds.

Then came the blare of a car horn.

He froze.

“Uh-oh,” Pete said.

Larry jerked the bar free and spun around. “That was ourcar!”

Thirty-four

Pete in the lead, they raced down the stairs. The wood clamored and creaked under their pounding boots. The loose planks across the landing jumped and clattered. If the horn was still honking, Larry couldn’t hear it.

His stomach was a ball of ice. His chest ached. He could barely breath. There was a tightness in his throat like a scream trying to force its way out.

Somebody was out there. Uriah? Curious strangers? A gang? Cops?

“Don’t go running out with a gun in your hand,” he gasped as he rushed after Pete to the front doors.

Pete stopped. Larry, at his back, grabbed his shoulder.

“Take it easy,” Pete whispered, and eased the door open a crack. A strip of daylight jabbed Larry’s eyes. “I don’t see anybody.”

“A car or anything?”

“Just yours.” The daylight spread. Pete stuck his head through the gap and looked from side to side like a kid getting ready to cross a busy road. “Nope. Nothing.” He holstered his revolver, swung the door wide and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Larry, just behind him, squinted at the bright red Mustang. He saw no one. He looked both ways. The street was deserted.

“The horn didn’t honk itself,” he muttered.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Join the crowd.”

“You think he’s behind the car?”

“Let’s find out.” Eyes on the car, Pete sidestepped his way to the middle of the street. There, he saw something that made him scowl and shake his head. He dropped to his knees, set down the flashlight and peered beneath the car. Rising, he stepped close to the driver’s side and glanced through the windows. He took a deep breath. He looked at Larry. Nobody here,“ he said. ”But we’ve got a flat.“

“Oh no. Jesus.” His head seemed to go numb inside. His legs felt wobbly as he staggered into the street.

The Mustang’s left front tire was mashed against the pavement.

Crouching, Pete fingered its sidewall. “Slashed.”

“He doesn’t want us to leave,” Larry said. His voice sounded far away.

“Either that, or he’s just pissed off. You’ve got a spare, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Pete stood up and turned his back to the car. Eyes narrow, he scanned the storefronts across the street. “He’s probably over there laughing at us.”

“Let’s change the tire and get out of here.”

“This is our chance to get him.”

“It might not even be Uriah.”

“Bet it is.”

“Well, I’m gonna change the damn tire.” Larry dug the car keys out of his pocket and stepped toward the trunk. “Keep an eye out, huh?”

“Uriah, all right,” Pete said. “And I’ll bet he knows we’re the guys who took his stiff. That’d explain why he slashed the tire. Wants to keep us here and nail us.”

Larry moaned. He opened the trunk, leaned in and took out the jack.

“Maybe he thinks we’revampires.”

“Jesus, Pete.”

“I’m serious. What if he thinks we already pulled the stake and she bit us?”

“It’s daytime, for one thing.”

“So?”

Larry lifted the spare tire, swung it away from the trunk and lowered it to the pavement. As he rolled it toward the front of the car, he said, “Vampires can’t survive in the sunlight.”

“Maybe that’s just movie crap.”

“It’s in all the books.”

“You believe everything you read?”

“Of course not.” He let the tire fall and hurried to get the jack. “I don’t believe in vampires, for godsake.”

He imagined Bonnie laughing at that, shaking her head, her golden hair swaying.

“But Uriah believes in them,” Larry went on. “He believes in using crucifixes and garlic and stakes.” Setting down the jack beside the spare, he reached up. Pete handed him the tire iron. “So he must know that vampires can’t be out in the sunlight the way we are.”

“Unless he knows different.”

Larry pried the hubcap loose. It fell and clanked on the pavement. He covered one of the nuts with the lug wrench. He yanked on the bar. It slipped off and he stumbled backward.

“I’d better do it,” Pete said. “You keep watch.”