The Traveling Vampire Show

“What’ll we do?” I asked Dagny.

“See who he is?” she suggested.

“Let’s haul ass,” Rusty said through his mouthful.

“I don’t know,” Dagny said. “Running off into the woods doesn’t seem like a brilliant plan. If we stay here, at least some cars might come by. Anyway, maybe this guy’s harmless.”

“Three of us, one of him,” I pointed out.

Dagny nodded. “And we’ve got knives.”

Still chewing, Rusty glanced over his shoulder to see who was coming. Then he turned his head forward and said, “Double-shit. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m outa here.” He hustled for the darkness where the forest shrouded the dirt road. Looking back at us, he called, “Come on, guys!”

Dagny stayed put.

Therefore, so did I.

“Come on!”

We didn’t, so Rusty said, “Your funerals.” Then he vanished into the darkness enclosing the dirt road.

“Great,” I muttered.

Dagny shrugged in the moonlight. “Two of us, one of him.”

I stuffed the remains of my Three Musketeers into a pocket of my jacket, then turned around.

And understood why Rusty had run away.

What I suddenly didn’t understand is how Dagny could’ve remained so calm.

Gliding up the middle of Route 3 was a ghost. A very tall ghost. Actually, a very tall person covered from head to ankles by a white bedsheet. With each stride, a bare foot swept out from under the sheet. But that’s all I could see of the person except for his general shape. On top of his head was a black bowler hat. Around his neck hung a hangman’s noose which served as a weight to hold the sheet in place.

There wasn’t much wind, but the sheet flowed and trembled around the stranger as he walked.

So far, he remained in the middle of the road.

“Maybe he’ll just walk by,” I whispered.

“Who do you think it is?” Dagny asked.

“No idea.”

“Who’s that tall?”

“Can’t think of anybody.”

“Me neither.” Dagny was silent for a moment, then said, “He doesn’t seem to be looking at us.”

True. To see us standing at the mouth of the dirt road—several feet beyond the edge of the highway—he would’ve needed to turn his head.

“Maybe he doesn’t know we’re here,” I whispered.

We both went silent, side by side, as the sheeted figure glided closer and closer.

It stayed on the center line, face forward.

But I knew its head would turn.

And then it would come for us.

My heart pounded like crazy. My legs were shaking.

Dagny took hold of my hand.

As she squeezed my hand, we looked at each other. Her teeth were bared, but I couldn’t tell whether she was giving me a smile or a grimace.

Turning our heads, we faced the stranger.

He kept walking. And then he was past us.

Dagny loosened her grip on my hand.

I took a deep breath.

The man in the sheet kept walking, kept walking.

We didn’t dare say anything. Nor did we dare look away from him for fear he might turn around and come back toward us.

Soon, he disappeared around a bend.

“What was that?” Dagny asked, her voice hushed though the sheeted man was far beyond hearing, range.

“I don’t know,” I muttered.

“Jeezel peezel,” she said.