The Traveling Vampire Show

“This way,” Slim said.

On hands and knees, she scurried away from the bush. We followed her into the trees. When the dirt road was a safe distance behind us, we got to our feet.

“It was them,” Rusty said.

“Guess so,” Slim said.

“Who?” Bitsy asked.

“Never mind,” Rusty told her.

Bitsy turned to me for an answer.

The Cadillac twins were a well-kept secret. My dad and all the law enforcement agencies in the area knew about them, but hardly anyone else did. We’d been told to keep quiet. If the twins were long gone, there was no reason to panic everyone. If they were still around, the cops didn’t want them to know they were being sought. “They find out we’re after ’em,” Dad had said, “they’ll jackrabbit or go to ground.”

So I said to Bitsy, “We can’t tell you who they are.”

“But they’re very bad guys,” Slim added.

“And they’re going to the show,” Rusty said.

“Still wanta go?” I asked him.

“You kidding? You think I’m gonna let a couple of pervs scare me off, you got another think comin’.”

“You’re not the one they’re after,” I said.

“Who is?” Bitsy asked.

“Slim.”

Rusty groaned. “Tell her everything, why don’t you?”

As if taking up the suggestion, Slim told Bitsy, “They tried to pull me into their car a few weeks ago.”

“What for?”

Rusty said, “What do you think, dipshit?”

“Cut it out,” Slim told him.

To Bitsy, he said, “You better not breathe a word of this to Mom or Dad.”

“I won’t.”

“Sure you won’t.”

Turning toward me, Slim said, “I’m not so sure anymore.”

“About going?”

“Yeah. It’s bad enough, Stryker and his gang. But now these guys. It’s getting a little too creepy.”

Rusty went into his chicken impression, tucking his hands under his armpits, flapping his elbows up and down and going, “Bwok-bwok-bwok-bwok! ”

“Up yours,” Slim told him.

“Meow!”

“Shut up,” I warned.

“I think maybe we’d better call it off,” Slim said.

“No!”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wanta see the Vampire Show as much as anyone, but it isn’t worth getting killed over.”

“Well, I’m going. You guys wanta chicken out, that’s your problem. Fuck ya. And the horse y’rode in on.” He jammed an open hand toward Slim. “Gimme one a those tickets.”

“You don’t want to go by yourself.” Slim said.

“Oh, no? Y’wanta bet?”

“Hey, man,” I said.

“Go to hell.”

“Let’s just all go back to the car and get out of here,” Slim said. “We can go to the drive-in.”

Rusty shook his head. “Not me. I’m going to the Traveling Vampire Show ... with or without the rest of you chicken-shit pussies.”

“You want to go, go.” Slim jammed a ticket into his hand. “No skin off my butt.”

“Thanks,” Rusty muttered.

“It isn’t worth it,” I told him.

“I’m not scared.”

“The hell you aren’t.”