Barbara stood up. Saying, “I’ll need to use a mirror,” she followed Lane out of the kitchen.
Larry sat alone at the table.
Oh, man, he thought. This is it.
At least we’ll get it over with. No more wondering.
God, Bonnie. So what’s it gonna be?
Sure thing. Right. You’ll just lie there dead.
What if she kills all of them but me?
He pictured himself pulling the stake. And Bonnie suddenly changing. Very suddenly. One second a dried- up grinning hag, the next second a gorgeous teenager, the next second throwing herself out of the coffin with a mad shriek and attacking. Hurling bodies, breaking necks, ripping open throats with her teeth. And Larry stands there helpless, watching the slaughter, too stunned to feel the pain of losing Jean and Lane, Pete and Barbara.
When they’re all dead on the garage floor, Bonnie comes to him, her naked body sheathed with gleaming blood. She raises her dripping hands toward him.
Come off it, Larry told himself. My goddamn mind. It’s not going to happen that way. Not a chance.
But he started to imagine himself back in the scene, so he shoved himself away from the table. He hurried into the living room. Barbara was standing in front of the fireplace, watching herself in the mirror above the mantel as she brushed her hair. Lane, beside her, seemed to be gazing into space. He put an arm across her back. She flinched, then looked at him and settled against his side.
As a toilet flushed, off in the distance, the front door swung open and Pete came in. He wore boots and jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater. A leather strap crossed his chest like a Sam Browne belt. He held the video camcorder on his shoulder. In his right hand was a bow.
“All set ‘n’ rarin‘ to go?” he asked.
“We’re just waiting for Jean,” Larry said, staring at the bow.
“Man, I can’t believe we’re finally gonna do it.”
“Me neither,” Larry told him.
“At night, no less.”
Barbara turned away from the mirror and looked at him. “What are you doing with
“This?” He raised the bow. “Got the idea from Uriah.” To Larry he said, “I used to hunt deer with this baby.”
“Oh, give me a break,” Jean said, coming in from the hallway. “You’re not serious.”
“Wooden arrows, darlin‘. Just as good as a stake when it comes to dispatching vampires. Better. You don’t have to get up-close and personal.”
“I thought we all agreed we didn’t believe in any of this nonsense.”
“It can’t hurt to take precautions,” Larry told her.
“God, you guys really take the prize.”
“If it bugs you,” Pete said, “just consider it a stage prop. There’ll be a video of this, you know.”
Jean obviously knew that, all right. She had not only brushed her hair, but put on lipstick. She’d dressed in her blue velour jumpsuit and white boots. She’d even knotted her Anne Klein silk scarf around her neck.
Larry realized that two of them — Jean in her scarf and Pete in his turtleneck — had chosen to wear garments that covered the region traditionally preferred by thirsty vampires. He wondered if they’d done it on purpose.
Pete raised the viewfinder to his eye, and the camera began to purr. He pivoted slowly to get everyone. Then he kept the camera on Jean as she crossed the room to join Larry and Lane. She smirked at him and shook her head. Stopping beside Larry, she put her arm around him. Barbara got into the picture, moving in close to Lane.
“Here we are,” said Pete as he panned the group. “The dauntless, intrepid team as it prepares to go outside and remove the stake from the heart of the cadaver.”
“Does that thing have sound?” Jean asked.
“Yes indeed,” Pete said. “Any famous last words before we embark on our adventure?”
Larry shook his head.
“Say something,” Barbara urged him.
“Well... None of us actually believes in vampires. I want to make that clear. But the body we found — a girl named Bonnie Saxon — was murdered by a man who very much believed in vampires. He believed
“Terrific,” Pete said. “Anybody else?”
Nobody offered to speak.
“Okay,” Pete said. “Let’s do it.”
They went out back through the kitchen door. Jean was first to reach the garage, and turned on the overhead light before the others arrived.
When they were all inside, Pete said, “Why don’t we close the door?”
“Let’s not,” Larry said.
“Yeah,” Barbara said. “You never know, we might have to run for our lives.”
“Give me a break,” Jean muttered.
Larry left the garage door open. He stepped onto the platform and reached up for the dangling rope.
“Just a minute,” Pete said. “Here Barb.” He handed the camera to her.
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Get us bringing the coffin down.” He showed her how to hold the camera. “You look through this. What you see is what you get. Just hold this button down, and that’s all there is to it. Okay?”
“I think so.”
Pete set his quiver and bow on the concrete floor. Joining Larry on the platform, he glanced around at Barbara. “Okay, get her going and keep her going till I say to stop.”
“Yessir.”
Larry caught hold of the rope. He pulled the trapdoor down, and Pete helped unfold the ladder. “Be my guest,” Larry told him.
Pete started to climb. Halfway up the ladder he looked over his shoulder and waved. “Famous last wave,” he said.
“Quit screwing around,” Barbara told him.
Larry smiled at her. Jean and Lane were standing close to Barbara. Jean’s hands were stuffed into the front pockets of her jumpsuit. Her shoulders were hunched and she looked as if she were gritting her teeth. Lane’s teeth were bared. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her chest. She met his eyes and said, “Be careful. Don’t fall or anything.”
Murmuring “Thanks,” he turned to the ladder just as Pete’s boots disappeared beyond the edge of the floor.
“No!” Pete cried out. “
Larry’s heart kicked.
He heard gasps from the women.
“Watch out!” Jean’s voice.
From above came the sound of Pete laughing.
Behind Larry something crashed. He heard glass break.
Pete’s grinning face appeared at the top of the ladder. “Just kidding,” he said.
“You bastard!” Larry yelled. Turning around, he saw Barbara sprawled on her back. The crotch of her red sweatpants was dark, the patch growing, urine seeping out and dribbling onto the concrete floor between her legs.
