Now Edward and Roy had this thing about Frankenstein, Dracula and castles and all. And you know how it goes when you’re all of fourteen, and it’s Saturday night during the great month of August, and you’re sitting outside on the front steps right after dinner beneath a dusk-colored sky with Venus burning like a molten pearl in the sky, and Edward says, “Hey, on TV tonight—Dracula!”
And Roy said, “Oh, geeze, gotta see that—what time is it on?”
Edward squints at the fading glow of the just-set sun and says, “11:00—Horror Theatre, Channel Ten.”
“Yeah,” said Roy, “hey, I’m up for that—”
And they sat on that front step admiring the evening, the wonderful color of the sky going to rest and Roy said, “You ever really believe in vampires? Ghosts? Things that go ‘Boo’ and suck all your blood?”
Edward grinned, “Nah, I once saw a bat. It was at Lake Serene; we were sitting at a campfire and this thing kept fluttering and fluttering by—my dad said it was a bat.”
“Did it land on your neck and snack on your juice?” And Roy, a sly grin on his lips, pulled them back, pretending he had fangs that were now bared. “Hah,” he said, “Type ‘O’ please. And can I have a straw?”
“G’wan!” said Edward, “It just fluttered around and that’s all it did.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Kind of disappointing.”
“Didn’t go for your neck? Didn’t suck on your blood?”
“Nah, not a drop. Dad said they ate insects and that’s about it.”
“Do you suppose there ever were vampires?” said Roy. “You know, like Dracula?”
“Ah, who knows,” said Edward. “I think it’s farfetched. Those kinda things don’t ever happen. People don’t turn into bats and suck others’ blood. I really don’t think that it’s true; you don’t believe it, do you?”
And Roy thought for just a minute and said, “I don’t think I do—but maybe in some way, somehow they exist—”
“Oh, man,” said Edward, “oh, wow, you are bats!” And he laughed.
And Roy grinned, “Yeah, maybe so, I dunno. But wouldn’t it be spooky if they really did? Wow, wouldn’t that be weird?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, “but I think I’d rather watch it on TV.”
And they didn’t talk for a time; they just sat on those steps, with an after-supper calm in their guts and peace in their minds and they admired the evening as the darkness of trees became one with the sky, and a few more stars peered out from the on-coming blanket of night, and after a minute Edward said, “Hey, you feel like going up to Jack’s Hamburger De Lux for some ice cream?”
Roy thought for a minute and smiled and said as he fished in a pocket, “Yeah, I’ve got fifty cents. Why don’t we do that?”
So they got up for an easy wander to Jack’s Hamburger De Lux, maybe four blocks away. They walked in that evening, hearing the chirp of the crickets and the ba-roomph of a frog in a swamp not far away, in that neighborhood that wasn’t entirely paved over with roads and shopping malls just yet, a place where some trees still grew with a primitive sense of the rotting and damp, of things multitudinous-legged scampering beneath logs, and where multi-eyed things fixed on the blackness beneath rocks; a wooded lot now, by night and imagination, a place of strange chlorophyll castles with cellulose belfries in which perhaps fluttered bats, or in whose stickery rooms lived other creatures loving of night.
And so they walked on past this particular place, a place of darkness and the smell of leaf mold and a dampness that sighed like a fetid breath from the brush-thickened lot, and Edward whispered as they walked by, “See that shape? Maybe it’s Frankenstein’s monster.”
Roy said, “Aw, geeze.” But he did turn his head. Then he nudged Edward. “Heavy breathing, do you hear?”
“Naw,” said Edward, looking to see if Jack’s was close by.
“Woo-hoooo,” said Roy. “Dracula’s around. Ssh. Listen!”
Edward stopped.
Roy said, “The flapping of wings.”
“That’s you slapping your coat.”
“I ain’t got a coat.”
“C’mon,” Edward said, “let’s get some ice cream.”
And perhaps both of them knew, or perhaps they did not, that they were walking faster past that wooded lot, but then they stopped in front of the old Macklewitz place, set back from the road and surrounded by trees. And you know how it is when you get into a certain frame of mind, and Roy poked Edward. “Dracula’s castle. You can see his beady red eyes in that window over there.”
“Cannot,” said Edward, fearfully hoping that it wasn’t so, but sort of hoping it might be true, so he’d have some sort of reason to feel afraid.
“Psst,” said Roy, edging closer to the dimly lit house. “You can see the werewolf hiding in the bushes there. See? He’s changing into a wolf right now, can’t you tell?”
Fsst and rustle, a cat hissed and dashed out from the brush. Edward said, “God! Scared me to death! Hey, let’s go on.”
“Getting scared?” Roy asked. “Thoughtcha didn’t believe in this sort of stuff. You’re beginning to look scared.”
“I want some ice cream,” Edward said. “Let’s go on.”
And the next house they passed was well lit, but the curtains were drawn. “Ssst,” said Edward, “betcha don’t know what goes on in there.”
They stopped by the fir tree so that they could hide. “In the basement, that scientist now has the head of a fly.”
“God,” Roy said, “God, why’dja say that! In the movie when the lady took the towel off the fly’s head, you think I was happy about wanting to puke? God, I’ll take Dracula any old day.”
“Nah,” said Edward, “I was just pulling your leg. Actually what goes on in there is that they dismember guys who have crewcuts—oops, oh, wow, I’m sorry pal—”
“Yeah, you are. Come on, let’s go.”
And they passed another house which was dark and where high uncut grass grew for the lawn. “Hey,” said Roy, “remember the movie called The Thing? It was about this vegetable creature—maybe he’s hiding in that house over there. Remember how no one ever knew where it was?” And just then Roy suddenly reached and grabbed Edward on the arm, “Boo!”
Edward jerked and said, “Gawd, would you cut it out?”
“Whatcha scared of? You don’t believe in any of this stuff, so why’re you so tense?”
Edward didn’t say anything and they walked for a ways in silence down those darkened streets. Then to himself, Edward smiled. “Something is following us; a giant spider, you suppose?”
“Darn you,” whispered Roy, “you know I hate spiders.”
“Ever notice how they get their bugs? The bug gets caught in that silky web—”
“Would you shut up—”
“—and then the spider comes down and grabs the bug—”
“—Edward—” and Roy looked around behind him.
“—and bites the bug—” and Edward this time landed a hand on Roy’s shoulder but Roy jerked away and said, “Darn it, would you stop—?”
Abruptly they came to yet another wooded lot and both of them stopped. Edward gulped. “You know we’ve just been having fun; I mean, there aren’t really such things as bats like Dracula or creatures from the Black Lagoon—”
They began to approach the wooded lot through which the road went, and just beyond they could see the blue and white sign of Jack’s Hamburger De Lux. Roy said, “Naw, naw, there aren’t really any ghosts or anything like that.”
And they walked slowly on. “That noise in the brush is probably just a cat,” Edward said.
“Yeah,” said Roy, “and that shape over there is just a weeping willow, not a giant spider that’s ready to pounce on us and wrap us in silk and drain us just a little bit at a time.”
“Right,” said Edward, “and I don’t really believe that mutant from Metaluna is gonna come out from the brush to grab us in the guts—”
And as they walked, the darker it became, as the night merged with the dark of the trees, but Jack’s Hamburger De Lux seemed no closer at all. And Edward said, “We saw Sound of Music last week; man, that was such a fun show.”
Roy said, “Yeah, I’ve heard good things about it. I saw a Marx Brothers movie, Horsefeathers, last week—”
Abruptly both broke into a run and in minutes emerged puffing from the wooded lot. “There’s only one problem,” Edward said, “we gotta go back through that.”
“Ah,” grinned Roy, “we’ll be OK. You know that Dracula and Frankenstein—well, even if they do exist, they won’t have nothing to do with us—”
Edward nodded. “That doesn’t make a lotta sense, but I’m gonna guess that maybe you’re right. Boy I can’t wait for that ice cream...” At that point, they passed yet another house, the house where the Cranston family lived, and just then they heard Mr. Cranston yell in a drunken rage, “Get the fuck outa here you little son of a bitch!” He shoved his son Tommy, aged eight, down the front steps, and Tommy sat there and cried.
Stunned, and wanting to do something but not knowing what, Roy and Edward stared and then they walked on in silence beneath that black wing of sky, feeling the unbounded fright when there are no vampires to blame—for the screams in the night.