The Traveling Vampire Show

“And as a matter of fact,” Slim said, “that guy really might want to stick a spear up my ass. Or up yours. Anyone who’ll do a thing like that to a dog… he wouldn’t think twice about doing it to a person.”

“Maybe we’d better forget about going to the show tonight,” I said.

Rusty’s mouth fell open. He looked as if I’d punched him again. “Shit,” he said. “We can’t not go!”

“I’m not going,” Slim said. “No way.”

He turned to me. “I wanta see the show, man! Don’t you? I mean, Valerie! If we don’t go tonight, we’ll never see her. You wanta see her, don’t you?”

“It might not be such a good idea,” I said.

“It’d be a lousy idea,” Slim said. “I’m sure not going anywhere near those people again, and I don’t think you guys should, either. They’re a bunch of sickos.”

“Just because they killed that stupid dog? Hey, Dwight tried to jump on the damn thing. Is he a sicko, too?”

“It’s different.”

“Dog would’ve been just as dead. Except he missed. He sure as hell planned to land on it.”

She glanced at me, shook her head, and said to Rusty, “You know good and well it was different. Stop being a creep, okay?”

“I just don’t wanta get rooked outa the show,” he said. “I don’t care what they did to that stupid dog. Look how it messed you up. It deserved what it got.”

“Didn’t deserve that.” Slim looked from Rusty to me and said, “Anyway, let’s get out of here. I want to go home and get cleaned up.”

Home.

I remembered what we’d done there.

It all rushed in: sneaking into her bedroom, looking at her things, Rusty fooling with her mother’s bra, and the awful accident with the vase and how we’d left the mess behind. A nasty flood of heat flashed through my body.

Rusty cast me a warning glance.

And suddenly an idea popped into my head. Trying to keep my relief from showing, I frowned and said, “Maybe we’d better go over to Lee’s house first and tell her about what happened. See what she thinks.”

Rusty looked pained. “She hears what they did, man, she isn’t gonna take us.”

I gaped at him, astonished that he didn’t realize a trip to Lee’s house would save us from going to Slim’s. The mess in her mother’s room was sure to be discovered sooner or later, but I preferred later. The longer we could put it off, the better.

“She shouldn’t take us,” Slim said. “None of us should go to that show.”

“Anyway,” I said, “we have to tell Lee what happened.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Otherwise, she’ll be waiting for us.” To Slim, I explained, “We’re supposed to be at her house at 10:30 tonight.” To Rusty, I said, “We can’t just not show up when she’s expecting us.”

“So we do show up. I’ve got no problem with that.”

“I think we’d better tell her now,” I said.

Slim nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” I said, “her house is closer than Slim’s. We can stop there first and borrow some bandages.”

Rusty opened his mouth as if all set to argue. Before any words came out, however, a light of understanding filled his eyes.

He got it.

He got something anyway.

“Good point,” he said. “Bandages. Lee must have bandages. Everyone has bandages. Okay. Let’s go there first.”

“Okay by me,” Slim said.

Not saying a word, I raised one foot off the ground and pulled off my sneaker.

“What’re you doing?” Slim asked.

“Giving you my shoes.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

I smiled at her and shrugged and pulled off my other sneaker. Holding them both toward her, I said, “I insist.”

“Hey, no. C’mon. I can’t wear your shoes.”

“Sure you can.”

“If she doesn’t want to wear ’em…”

I gave Rusty a look that shut his mouth.

“Put them on,” I told Slim. “Please.”

“I don’t know.”

“If it hadn’t been for your shoes, I would’ve gotten chomped by the dog.”

“Glad to help.”

“I’m the one who threw ’em,” Rusty reminded us.

“You did a good job,” I told him.

“Saved your butt.”

“I know. You both did.”

“Yeah, well, remember that when you wanta rook me outa Valeria.”

“Sure.” To Slim, I said, “I want you to wear them. Please.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

With a look of embarrassed but grateful surrender, she nodded and said, “All right.” Then she took the sneakers from my hands, turned away and walked over to the remains of an old, fallen-down tree. She sat on its trunk, facing us, and set both sneakers beside her. While Rusty and I stood there and watched, she brought up one foot, crossed it over her knee, and removed the shirt that she’d been using to protect it. The bottom of her bare foot looked filthy. I glimpsed some blood on it before she put my sneaker on.

“Are your feet okay?” I asked.

“A few little nicks. No big deal.” She let the shirt fall to the ground, then brought up her other foot.

When she had both my shoes on, she stood up. “Feels much better,” she said. Then she crouched and plucked our shirts off the ground. Holding them out in front of her, she shook her head. “These are really wrecked, guys. I’m sorry.”

They were not only covered with dirt and blood, but torn in a few places.

“Want them?” she asked.

Rusty shook his head.