The Traveling Vampire Show

“So he said, ‘You wanta stay, stay. I’m gonna get while the gettin’s good.’ ”

I could hear Rusty say it.

“Of course, my shoes and shirt were down on the ground. My shirt was no big deal, but I didn’t want to leave my shoes behind.”

“But you did,” Rusty pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s for sure. After they did that to the dog, I stopped worrying about my feet. I grabbed both your shirts and jumped off the back of the shack and ran like hell for the woods.”

“What did they do to the dog?” I asked.

“Right off, it went running toward the hearse, barking like a maniac.”

“I saw that,” Rusty said.

“Yeah, and then you took off.” Turning her eyes to me, she said, “I got down flat on my stomach and looked around the end of the sign. The hearse was coming straight toward me. It had a bus coming along behind it. Like a school bus, only black.”

“I’ve seen it,” I said.

“When you drove out with Lee?” Slim asked.

“Yeah.”

“So what all did you see?”

“The hearse, the bus, that big truck that looked like a moving van, a bunch of people unloading stuff.”

“Wait’ll you hear,” Rusty said.

“Hear what?”

“He’s got…”

“Hey!” I blasted him. “I’ll tell her. But I’d like to hear about the dog first, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” To Slim, he said, “What’d they do, run it over?”

“Let her tell it.”

“So sorry.” He smirked at Slim, “Proceed.”

“Okay, so the dog ran straight for the hearse, barking its butt off. I thought it’d jump out of the way at the last second, but it didn’t. What it did, it stopped in front of the hearse and planted its feet in the dirt and sort of hunched down and barked like a madman. So then the hearse stops. I’m thinking these are decent people who don’t want to run over a dog. Boy, was I wrong. What happens next, the bus drives up behind the hearse and stops and its door opens. And these people come pouring out. Like maybe fifteen of them, and they’re all dressed in black and carrying spears.”

“Spears?” I blurted.

“Spears. Big long ones. Like maybe six feet long, with steel tips.”

“You’re shitting us,” Rusty muttered.

“Yeah, I wish.”

“What did these people look like?” I asked.

“Jungle bunnies?” Rusty asked.

I winced. Ever since Slim had read To Kill a Mockingbird, she’d gone on the warpath if anyone used that sort of language.

She glared at Rusty.

“You know.” He smiled. “The spears.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she told him.

“Just asking.”

“Well, don’t. You want to be a bigoted shit-for-brains, don’t do it in front of me.”

I looked at Rusty and shook my head. “Nice going.” “Big deal.”

Still looking angry, Slim said, “Matter of fact, all of them were white.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rusty said.

Ignoring him, I asked, “What did they look like?”

“Just normal, I guess.” She glanced at Rusty, but he made no comment so she turned her attention to me and continued. “Mostly men, I think. And a few women. They all wore these shiny black shirts that looked like satin or silk or something. Anyway, they split into two groups. One bunch went around one side of the hearse, one around the other. Before the dog noticed anything was wrong, they closed in on it. They surrounded it, then started poking at it with their spears. They could’ve killed it with one good thrust, but nobody did that. They just kept poking at it, giving it little jabs.”

Slim went silent. She had a hurt look in her eyes as if she could feel the dog’s agonies. After taking a few deep breaths, she said, “I couldn’t see the dog at all… just those people around it, going at it with their spears. I could sure hear it, though. It was yelping and squealing and whimpering. You could tell…. It was like they just wanted to torture it.”

“Good God,” I muttered.

“Sick,” Rusty said.

“Finally, they stepped back to let someone through. The dog was down on its side. Its tongue was hanging out and it was panting for air, and it was just covered with blood. It was sort of trying to get up.” Slim’s voice broke. She shook her head and looked away from us.

Rusty looked as if he might throw up.

With both hands, Slim wiped sweat away from her eyes. Some tears, too, I think. Then she took another deep breath and said, “The guy they let through, he got down on one knee and shoved his spear….” Breathing hard, she shook her head. Then as if in a race to get her story done, she blurted, “He picked it up off the ground with his spear and ran with it to the back of the hearse and somebody’d already opened the door back there and he shoved the dog in like food on the end of a stick and…” She paused to take a few quick breaths, then went on. “He pulled the spear back a second later, and the dog wasn’t on it anymore. It was like somebody in the hearse… I don’t know. ”

Rusty and I both stared at her.