Frightliner Read online

  “Get in! I explain later!” With a surprisingly powerful push, he shoved Jay into his car, slammed the door, then ran to the driver’s side of the car and flung himself inside. The engine was still running. H threw it into gear and tore down the highway. Jay risked a glance at the trucks stopped only halfway on the shoulder. Somehow it didn’t seem so sinister anymore, just old and junky.

  “Where’s the guy? What happened to the guy?”

  “Don’t know,” the man answered, “and I don’t want to hang around to find out.”

  “But what if he comes after us?”

  “He’s not getting in this car. Es consagrado—you know, holy? He cannot come in, and as long as we stay in it, we’re safe.” Nonetheless, his savior kept a close eye on the rear-view mirror.

  Jay groaned and buried his head in his hands for a moment. Had he traded one lunacy for another? At least this one wasn’t going to get him killed. Not yet—

  He glanced up, shouting, “Look out!”

  The little man turned his attention to the front just in time to swerve back into his own lane, narrowly avoiding the oncoming pickup. It made a sharp U-turn, flashed its lights and laid on the horn.

  “Don’t look at it!” the little man warned, but Jay thought he’d recognized the driver.

  “No, it’s OK. It’s Leroy—he’s, well, he was coming to help me! You got a CB?” Answering his own question with a glance, he turned the radio to the right channel and keyed the mike. “Leroy!”

  “Jay? Is that you in that El Camino? What the hell happened? Never mind. It can’t be safe here. Follow me,” he said and pulled ahead. With a shrug, the little man complied.

  They drove on in silence. After a few minutes, Jay was able to calm down enough to think about his rig. Should he call the state patrol and report it? On the one hand, he didn’t want it tagged as abandoned and towed; on the other, he didn’t want to do anything that might encourage someone to investigate it in the night. In the end, he decided to wait. Maybe this Leroy could shed some light on the situation, help him decide what to do.

  One thing was for sure. He wasn’t going anywhere near there until it was light out.

  Mile markers flashed green in the glare of the headlights. Jay became aware that his right hand was sore. He held it up to realize he was still clutching the beads, the crucifix making a dull impression in his palm. The little man glanced his way. “El Rosario, it helped.”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I didn’t believe enough—“

  “He believed. He was concentrating so hard on making you let him in, he never saw me.” Jay saw him smile grimly in the light of the dashboard.

  “I, uh, I don’t even know your name.”

  “Miguel Felipe Eduardo Guiseppe de Aguilar.”

  “Miguel—thanks. You saved my life back there.”

  Miguel just nodded, but his smile softened.

  They were silent again until Leroy’s voice came over the CB, instructing them to take a left. They pulled into a church parking lot. It was a small, adobe church, Catholic, Jay guessed, and he had only a moment to wonder why they hadn’t gone to the police when Leroy parked right up against the side of the building, dashed out, opened a door, and motioned them to follow him in. Miguel had parked right behind him, inches off his bumper, so it was a short dash. Nonetheless, Jay’s heart hammered in his chest, and judging from how the others were leaned against the wall catching their breath, he wasn’t the only one.

  Leroy turned around and hit the light switch. The cheap, low-wattage bulbs filled the church with a low light. Behind the old worn pews were rows of plastic and metal chairs, and Leroy turned one around and sat in it, motioning them to do the same. “This is a mission church now, gets used once a month or so. Priest’s a friend of mine,” he said shortly. “Now what the hell happened?”

  Jay didn’t even know where to start. Fortunately, Miguel answered for them both, starting with how he’d followed the evil truck when it pulled out of the Lazy T and ending with ramming el vampiro with his car.

  “I don’t get it,” Leroy interrupted. “A car shouldn’t have hurt it.”

  “Ah, but my car is special. Es consegrado and I have a crucifix on the bumper.”

  Leroy exploded into laughter. After a moment, Miguel joined him.

  Jay looked at them with horror. Lunatics, he thought, I’m stuck in a church in the middle of nowhere with a murderer out there and lunatics in here.

  “You are one crazy little Mexican!” Leroy shook his head admiringly. “But that couldn’t have stopped it permanently.”

  “Si, but I had to do something—“

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?!” Jay finally exploded. “What’re we doing here? Shouldn’t we be going to the police?”

  “The police can’t help us,” Miguel spoke reasonably, but Jay wasn’t feeling reasonable. Nothing in this situation was reasonable—why should he be?

  “What the hell’s going on?!” he screamed. It echoed in the empty church.

  “Do you believe in the supernatural?” Leroy asked grimly.

  “No!”

  “You do.” Miguel said and for one crazy minute, Jay was remembering something he'd heard somewhere about how there were no atheists in fox holes. How true, he told himself sententiously, and wondering how he’d fallen into this one. He stifled a desire to laugh, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop if he did.

  "Yes," Leroy said softly. "You believe in evil, don't you, Jay? It's easier to believe sometimes in evil than in good. The evil that folks do when they's alive and the evil they leave after them—left over, you might say. Pure spite sometimes, like they can't just die and rest in peace." He shook his head. "That's it, I reckon. They don't always rest."

  Jay shuddered. "You're spookin' me, man. I don't know what was out there, but you don't need to make it worse."

  Miguel gave him a sympathetic nod. "He's not trying to scare you," he said. "He just starts where you are. You have seen what men should not have to see. It is real to you."

  "Yeah," Leroy took him up. "You believe in evil. But there's good out there too. Miguel here, I can see he's a Catholic. He believes in stuff like praying the Rosary and hidin' in a Church. And I sure can't say he's not right.”

  "You bring us here,” Miguel offered.

  “Did, didn’t I? I don’t know...maybe you can throw a Baptist Bible at that guy out there. Been kind of scared to try—maybe he can't read, hey?"

  Miguel smiled a little. "You have hunted too, I think," he said. "You have had dealing with this vampire before, no?"

  Leroy gave a grim nod.

  "And maybe you learned that the old things, the old ways, they—they draw the lightning of God! True?"

  For answer, Leroy opened his shirtfront, revealing a crucifix and a medal both tied on the same string.

  Jay turned his chair, looked up at the altar with its crucifix and statues and the large stained glass portrait of Jesus. "That…guy… He's afraid of stuff like this?"

  "He is," Leroy said. "He's got the faith, that old boy."

  Miguel chuckled. "And you," he said to Leroy.

  "Maybe," the other man said reluctantly. "Maybe. The jury's out on that one. My daddy would turn over in his grave if he ever thought his son would end up a Catholic."

  "Mine too," Jay said, his eyes on the crucifix.

  "It would be better," Miguel told him, "if this were a regular church. The Sacrament is not here.”

  “Priest bring it when he comes,” Leroy offered. “Gave me the key ‘cause I clean up before monthly Mass. Doesn’t know I use it for other reasons. Probably have me locked up if I told him about vampires.”

  “Too many do not believe,” Miguel lamented. “Too many would make a new religion, they—como se dice?—water down the old. At least we have the images of the saints. They will protect us.”

  "Okay," Jay interrupted, "so you're both vampire hunters. I'm in good company. But why me? Why's he after me?"

  "We can’t know that," Le
roy told him. "Why any of his victims? But you seen the truck—"

  "So did you—both of you!"

  "And yet we live?” Miguel asked his unasked question. “God has permitted that we live to right this wrong."

  "Reckon that's it," Leroy agreed. "And now you too, Jay, whether you believe in Him or not."

  Miguel was looking at the floor. "I hope I do His Will. I hope I hunt this creature because it is evil and not because I hate…"

  Jay looked at Miguel questioningly.

  “My sister,” he answered, seeming smaller and older, though his eyes burned clearly in the dim light. “She married a gringo, moved to El Paso. They divorced but she didn’t feel she could come home. Stopped going to Church… She worked in a truck stop. She wrote me about a truck no one could see, how it frightened her. She called me one night, said she felt like it was waiting for her. Said she knew it was a vampiro, and that it knew she knew. She thought it was coming after her because she’d sinned… I thought she’d gone crazy. Loca. I told her come home.” He let out a shaky sigh. “They found her body just across the border. They said it was a hate crime, but I knew. I’ve been looking for it ever since.”

  There was silence as Jay digested their words. He wanted to tell them they were crazy, wanted them to be crazy, but he couldn’t. He’d seen too much, experienced too much that could not be explained. “So what do we do?”

  “He’ll be coming for us,” Leroy said grimly. “Crucifix or no, hitting him with a car isn’t going to stop him for long. And when he comes after us, he’ll be pissed. Might affect his thinking. Three against one. I say we stop him here and now.”

  Three? Jay’s inner voice squeaked, but he didn’t say anything aloud. What was he going to do—take off on his own in the dark on foot?

  “There is no Sacrament,” Miguel lamented.

  “But there’s other stuff. Holy water. Icons. The Crucifix. Thank God the Bishop wouldn’t let Fr. Tom replace it with some modern art rendition of the Holy Spirit.”

  “Si, gracias de Dios.”

  “What are you suggesting? A trap?” Suddenly Jay had a clear image of himself as the bait, like Shaggy in the old Scooby Doo cartoons. Only this time, he was sure there was no man in a creepy mask. Zoinks.

  Leroy slapped his hands against his thighs, the sharp crack of skin on denim echoing in the church. “Let’s get moving. We got a couple of hours if we’re lucky.”

  They set to work turning the neglected little church into a makeshift vampire trap. The legs of a couple of rickety tables in the vestibule were quickly and roughly carved into stakes. Each man stuffed one into his belt and the rest were set upon the altar. Pews were moved to barricade doors and create a path toward the altar. There were no Missalettes—LeRoy said it was cheaper to just print the readings once a month—so they opened the music books to the Psalms and laid them face up on the seats. LeRoy moved icons into protective positions while Miguel filled a chalice with holy water from the silver tank at the front of the church and poured it along the edges of their path. Jay was given the priest’s holy water pot and sprinkler and told to sprinkle holy water everywhere outside the path.

  “This really works?” he asked doubtfully as he worked his way along the right side of the church. He glanced fearfully at the stained glass windows. The faces of the saints were still dark from the night. Only behind the altar, at the low window bearing the image of Jesus who had rays coming from his heart like shafts of sunlight, was there any light, but Jay knew it was just the full moon setting. Would they survive until daylight?

  “It’ll burn him, even through his shoes. Won’t stop him cold, but it’ll discourage him.”

  Jay’s hands trembled, nearly slopping the water. He tried to joke to cover his terror. “Maybe we should fill some squirt guns.”

  Miguel gave him a dirty look, but Leroy merely grunted. “There’s an idea.” He paused from where he had just dragged a chipped but very sturdy statue of St. Joseph into position on the left side of their trap. “Jay, help me with the Holy Family.”

  Jay set down the pot and stepped over the pews.

  Suddenly, the window behind Leroy shattered inward and a long piece of metal flew in. Its tip had been pulled and twisted like Jay’s mother used to pull and twist yarn to thread a needle and like that yarn through the needle, as it went through Leroy’s shoulder. Its momentum pulled him to the floor and pinned him there.

  “God!” he gasped and fell silent.

  The improvised spear was followed by the vampire itself.

  Jay shrieked and backpedaled, but Miguel ran between it and the unconscious Leroy, shouting prayers in Spanish and flinging his chalice of holy water in the creature’s face. It gave a scream like a cross between a mountain lion and failing brakes and clawed at its face. Miguel yanked the stake from his belt and stabbed hard, but the vampire twisted and the sharpened wood scraped against ribs. The vampire swung out with one arm and sent the little Mexican flying. He slammed against a pew, stunned, yet somehow still managing to murmur desperately under his breath, “Ave Maria—“

  “Shut yer trap!” the vampire hissed with an incongruous Midwestern accent, but Miguel paused only long enough to say, “Jay! To the altar! Corre!” before turning his attention back to the advancing vampire.

  Run. Great advice, yet somewhere between Jay’s ears and his feet, something had short-circuited. He stood still, not even shaking, as his mind fought to resolve the conflicting images.

  This could not be real! There was no such thing as vampires, and even if there were, this guy could not be it. He was balding and he wore a stained white t-shirt and Levis that showed his plumber’s crack, not because it was trendy but because they didn’t fit. His boots looked were old and had a crack in the sole. He probably had on Wal-Mart tube socks for pity’s sake! Who ever heard of a truck-driving vampire?

  Yet he’d made a javelin out of a crowbar, jumped at least eight feet through broken glass. Miguel hit him with a car!

  God, this can’t be real. Wake up, Jay!

  Again an inhuman screech. Miguel must have stuck him with his rosary.

  It wouldn’t be enough.

  Trembling again, Jay pulled out his stake and shoved it into the vampire’s back.

  The vampire spun and Jay knew once and for all this was real, and if he’d ever been human, he was not so now. Its face had melted where the holy water had hit it, like a wax figure in the heat. Too much of the bloodshot eyes were exposed. The nostrils were elongated. The lips curved abnormally around vicious pointed canines. The chin was deformed, making his beard seem like a live thing scrambling for purchase. The front of his shirt was ripped as was the skin beneath it, but the blood was wrong—too pink and congealed. Again the command to run surged through his body, and again, Jay’s feet seemed to miss the message. He could only manage a few stumbling steps back toward the altar.

  He was going to die.

  “Or not,” the vampire answered his thoughts, its voice incongruously ordinary.

  “What?”

  “You, my friend, are a victim of unfortunate circumstances. I understand that. Been there myself. My argument ain’t with you. So I am willing to offer you a one-time deal.”

  The vampire advanced a step, but its manner was suddenly non-threatening. It even stuffed its hands into its pockets. Jay looked at its hands, then its chest wound, then its teeth. He stepped back some more, guided by the pew-lined path, determined to keep distance between the monster and himself. “You are?”

  The creature shrugged. “Sure. You leave. Right now. Go back to your truck. Finish your run. Then stay the hell off my highway. And I let you live.”

  It continued to advance, its movements casual, but clearly staying in the middle of the path. It stepped carefully over a hymnal that had fallen to the floor.

  Jay’s feet bumped against a step, then another. “What about them?” He backed into the altar, slid around it, terrified the entire time that the sideways motion would somehow break the spell and
cause the vampire to lunge at his neck. He saw the stakes in front of him, but his hands were shaking so hard he knew he’d never be able to pick one up, much less shove it accurately. He thought of the others. He prayed the creature would say he’d let them go, too, and give him an easy out.

  “You leave them to me.”

  “No.” But he wasn’t sure if he was turning down his offer or denying the reality of the situation. The altar was bathed in colored light from the stained glass window, but he knew the light came from the moon, yet it was too bright, it was impossible. The whole situation was impossible. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  The vampire’s mouth twisted into a smile, though its eyes were cold and serious. “That’s why you can’t win. Those two—“ he tossed his head contemptuously toward the wounded men behind him. “—they got faith. Truckloads of faith. That’s why they’ve evaded me so long. And tonight’s gonna take a while to get over.” He paused to push at the seeping flesh of his cheek, yet he was still smiling. “That Leroy almost got me once or twice, too, don’t mind telling ya. Gonna be a pleasure taking care of him.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “’Cause you ain’t like them. You just don’t have enough faith in God to go up against the likes of me.”

  Jay looked down at the altar, his eyes burning. His parents took him to Sunday services as a kid, but it never meant much, just what was expected. He never went now that he was an adult. Never even thought about it. The thing was right. He didn’t have a lot of faith. Never did.

  The vampire took the first step of the sacristy. “I’m giving ya one last chance. Go now.”

  He glanced at the thing’s disfigured face. He might not believe much in God, but the thing obviously believed in His power. He grasped a stake in both hands. It was red and blue and gold in the light. “No.”

  The vampire took the second step. “This is the last time I’m asking. Get out while the getting’s good!”

  And maybe even if he didn’t have faith in God, God could have faith in him.