Opening Night - December 16
Abby blew on her cold fingers and shuffled her feet, which wasn’t easy in three-inch heels. She watched Kyle’s mouth move but was too nervous to pay attention to his words. If he hadn’t looked her way and nodded, she would have completely missed her cue to take the stage.
She allowed herself one cleansing breath, and then counted the steps slowly that led to the microphone.
“Good evening, faculty, students, and Gettysburg residents, and thank you, Kyle, for that lovely introduction.” Whatever you said.
“The holiday play is a tradition at the college, and I am pleased to have participated in its success for the past three years. This year, however, I have an added responsibility as the playwright, so I’m more nervous than usual. I hope that any failings in my prose will be more than compensated by the delightful performances of our stars, Karen Thompson, a junior theater major, and Dr. Malcolm McClellan, professor of Civil War history. They are joined by a fine supporting cast. I trust you will find Vampire Train to be a wild romp through an era of love and war, of parasols and cannon balls. And for your protection, the stage crew will be passing baskets of garlic cloves. If you don’t need them to ward off a vampire, you can save them for your pasta puttanesca. Now, please join me as the curtain rises on Act One.”
Abby swept her hand across the stage and backed away from the curtain as the heavy velvet drapes crept upward and strains of eerie music from the sound system pulsated toward the full house. Once concealed in the left wing, she had a straight-on view of stage right, where the actors were set to enter. She shifted her feet and counted to ten. Malcolm materialized out of thin air and met her gaze across the stage. When she smiled at him, he winked back, and then glided onto the set. His larger-than-life presence — ironic for a dead man — captured the stage. The music stopped and Malcolm spoke.
“Good evening.” His deep baritone echoed in the silent theater. “I roam the streets of this city at night, searching for what I loved and what I left unfinished.”
Uh-oh, that wasn’t in the script.
Abby swiped a finger across her forehead, catching beads of perspiration in spite of the theater’s lack of heat. She listened closely as the Gettysburg Vampire introduced himself to the audience and regaled them with Civil War history and his conversion to immortality. He was improvising, and with intensity that hadn’t been present in rehearsals. Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and she waved her arms at Malcolm, hoping to get his attention. She knew his vision could take in a more expansive landscape than any human, so she wasn’t surprised when he looked her way.
Careful not to step within the view of the audience, she made a chopping motion across her throat. Malcolm raised one eyebrow at her and returned to his soliloquy.
“There are days when I hardly remember what it was like to be human,” he said, pacing the full breadth of the stage, “and then there are days when I almost think I am human.”
Karen wandered onto the stage, swinging a parasol. Good grief, she’s only supposed to use that in the daylight scenes. Maybe she was just so nervous she had to have something in her hand.
As the Gettysburg Vampire saw her, he said, “The evening is becoming more interesting.” He glided toward her from behind, tapping her on the shoulder. When she turned and gasped, he caught her at the waist and peered intensely into her eyes. “It isn’t prudent for a young woman to be out at night,” he said, “but you are safe now.”
Abby held her breath. Something was going on with Karen. Though she was playing a part in which her character was required to fall under the vampire’s spell, in all the rehearsals she’d seemed to be acting. Abby watched Karen’s eyes glaze over as she swooned, and then fainted. Yes — fainted — dead away. And she wasn’t acting.
At this point, the vampire was supposed to sweep the maiden into his arms and exit stage left, cueing the stagehands to lower the curtain and begin set-up of the next scene, which took place at the vampire’s home. However, Abby didn’t wait for Malcolm to carry Karen off the stage. She signaled for the curtain to be lowered as soon as Malcolm caught the unconscious Karen. She had about seven minutes to talk with Malcolm before the next act, and she needed to make a few points abundantly clear.
The curtain had barely brushed the floor when she stormed onto the stage and grabbed Malcolm by his rock-hard bicep. He was fanning the face of his “victim.” Abby motioned offstage for some smelling salts, and then she said to Malcolm, “I need a word — now!” She pointed to stage left.
Kyle came running with a capsule of ammonia as the stage crew scurried to bring in living room furniture and a fake staircase. Karen flung Kyle’s hand away from her face as the broken capsule stunned her to attention, and Kyle helped her to her feet.
“Let her rest for a few minutes,” Abby said to Kyle. “We can delay Act Two if she needs more time.” Abby retrieved a tissue from her pocket and mopped Karen’s brow. “Just a touch of stage fright, Karen. Don’t worry. It happens to all of us. Take some deep breaths.” She patted Karen’s hand. “Have a few sips of water.” Abby nodded to Kyle, and with his arm around Karen, he helped her off the stage, though the smirk on his face told Abby that he was pleased as punch with this calamity.
Abby turned to stage left, where Malcolm waited for her in the shadows. She tromped toward him and steered him behind a rack of costumes. His eyes glowed red. “No wonder you scared the hell out of her.” She punched him in the chest to no visual effect. “What are you doing out there?”
“I’m being myself.” His neon eyes were the only things Abby could see as they huddled in the dark corner.
“That’s just it. Don’t be yourself!” She clamped a hand over her mouth, worried she was being too loud, and then she contemplated the rafters. When she looked back at Malcolm, she said, “I can’t take this, Malcolm. I’ve been a nervous wreck for the past few weeks, worried sick you’d expose yourself. I haven’t seen those vampire goons in the audience tonight. They may have bolted when we handed out the garlic, but that doesn’t mean they won’t show up.” Abby huffed and folded her arms across her chest.
The redness of Malcolm’s eyes faded, and he spoke in hushed tones. “Just don’t wave one of those garlic bulbs in front of me.” He smiled. “I will admit that I’m enjoying the opportunity to play a role that is my nature, but I’m not going to bite my leading lady — much as I might be tempted.”
“I can’t believe you said that.” Abby took a step back, bumping into the costume rack.
“This has nothing to do with my feelings for you. It’s the animal in me. I’ve controlled my base nature for more than a century, but a pulsing vein is difficult to resist.”
Abby stomped her foot. “What’s become of my life?” She threw up her hands. “Damn you, Malcolm McClellan. Damn you for making me fall in love with you.” Abby swiped at the welling tears in her eyes, and then shoved the costume rack out of her way. She turned from Malcolm and without looking back at him, said, “For your own sake — behave.”
As she began to walk away, the vise of Malcolm’s grip on her arm stopped her.
“Who do you love, Abby? Malcolm the man … or the vampire?” he asked hoarsely.
She whirled around to face him. “I think you’re the most incredible, smart, sexy man who’s ever walked this earth. I’ll admit aspects of your nature have scared me, but they don’t overshadow the remarkable man you are … inside.” Abby clenched a fist and punched the air. “Oh, God, I can’t talk about this now. Just remember, this stage may be the only place where you can be yourself, but you have to do it in a way that doesn’t ruin your life … as a professor.”
Malcolm squinted at her. “Perhaps you really do love me.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, you would finally realize that at a time like this.” Abby rolled her eyes, though it was just as much her realization. She did love this man.
“You don’t have to worry about me revealing myself, Abby.”
“It’s more than that. I also feel that this play has made you recall the life you had with your wife, and frankly — ” she drew a deep breath and then exhaled “ — I’m sorry I’ve forced you to relive those painful memories.”
“I’m not sorry, Abby. I’m grateful. I’d locked my heart away, and I didn’t feel worthy of love.” He reached for her, but she jerked away from his touch. “This play has made me remember many things in my life I’d suppressed. I haven’t wanted to recall what happened during the war and the fateful role I played, but you’ve brought me closure. By putting my ‘what ifs’ behind me, I can finally look forward to a future. I have a new perspective … and a reason to live.”
Tears streamed down her face, but she held her palms up in front of him. “I don’t know whether to hug you or slap you. Your new perspective couldn’t have come a moment too soon. Now, go out there and be you.” She shook her head. “No, don’t be you. Be a reasonable semblance of you. And please — ” She thumped her fist to her heart. “Please … be careful.”
“Rest assured. I am a vampire, but I don’t have to act it out on a stage. The woman I love believes in me, and that is everything.”