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FANGS FOR NOTHING By: Steve Barber

Tuesday, January 6th, 2009

Gordon Lipscomb knew he shouldn’t risk it, but he had to get out of that house, and he damn sure needed a drink. T.J.’s Tavern was just down the street. It was still five hours from daybreak, and although the moon was bright, it would be easy to stay in the shadows.

He turned off the house lights, and then let his eyes get accustomed to the darkness before he slipped out the back door. He walked quickly, but cautiously, his senses on full alert. There was one street lamp spotlighting his destination. He checked up and down the street before dashing the last few yards to the bar. The shade was down, and the sign said “Closed.” Gordon ignored it, well aware that T.J. spent more nights drinking alone here than going home to an empty house. He tapped lightly on the glass.

T.J. pushed the shade aside and peered through the window. “Jesus, Gordon. It’s past curfew. What the hell are you doing?” He unlatched the door, bolting it behind him once Gordon was safely inside.

“I had to chance it,” said Gordon, taking a seat at the far end of the bar. “You got no idea what I just been through.”

“Look at you, man. You’re shaking,” said T.J. “It’s the vampires, ain’t it? Gov’ment ought to do something about them things.”

Gordon rested his elbows on the sticky bar, cradling his head in his hands. He lit a Marlboro, as T.J. poured out two double bourbons, and passed one across the bar. Gordon swirled his drink around, then tossed it back.

“Me and Jimmy Ray found where one was hiding,” said Gordon. “The old Mayfair farm. You know the place?”

T.J. nodded.

“It was old Myrtle. Leastwise what used to be her. Jimmy Ray, he thought he’d go for the bounty. I tried to talk him out of it–it was too close to sunset–but you know Jimmy Ray. I’d have had better luck trying to talk a dog out of humping a pretty girl’s leg.”

T.J. chuckled. “Dumb as a bucket of spit, that boy. I expect she got him, huh?”

Gordon stared into his drink, recalling the events that seemed so long ago, but in reality, had occurred only a few hours earlier.

Gordon paced back and forth, checking his watch every few minutes. Jimmy Ray wasn’t back yet. It don’t take two hours to kill one damn vampire. Something must have gone wrong. He jumped at the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the lock, then relaxed as he heard Jimmy Ray’s familiar voice.

“Key’s stuck, Gordon. Let me in.”

Gordon opened the door. Jimmy Ray shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and plopped down in a chair at the table.

“I done it, Gordon, just like you told me.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Well, sir, I took that oak branch you give me, and whittled it down to a real sharp point, just like you said. Then I got in my truck and drove to the farm. The door was open, so I let myself in. I went down into the cellar. Sure enough, her coffin was right there like you figured. So I stood there, trying to remember what to do next.”

“I told you to kill her before the sun went down.”

“You did? Well anyhow, while I was thinking, the coffin top flung open. I peed myself, I was so scared.”

“But you done it, didn’t you? You stuck her, right?”

“‘Course I did. I grabbed that stake and drove the somebitch into her neck just like you told me.”

“Her neck? I said her heart, you damn fool.”

“Oh. Well then, I guess that explains it,” Jimmy Ray said, just before he lunged across the table, his jaws aimed directly at Gordon’s throat.

T.J. reached over and pulled Gordon’s shirt collar aside, checking for wounds. He frowned. “You don’t mind my saying, but it don’t look like you been bit. Bruised up something fierce, though.”

“Dumb bastard forgot he didn’t have no teeth. Can’t grow fangs if you ain’t got no teeth.”

T.J. whooped. “A toothless vampire. Well, if that don’t beat all.”

“I know. But he was still a vampire. I still had to defend myself. I hated to fight Jimmy Ray and all, but it weren’t Jimmy Ray there no more.”T.J. poured out two more bourbons. “So, how’d you do it? You did kill him, din’t you?”

“When he jumped me, I fell back in my chair. One of the rungs broke off and it was kind of jagged at one end, so I grabbed it. While Jimmy Ray was tried to gum me to death, I rammed that sucker in between his ribs. It run true into his heart. Leastwise it must have, ’cause one minute he was there, next minute he weren’t nothing but a bunch of dust on the floor.”

“Damn,” said T.J. “That was smart thinking.”

Gordon shook his head. “Hell, T.J., I ain’t as smart as you think. If I was smart, I wouldn’t have let him in the house in the first place. As dumb as he was, he still tricked me. Them things can’t get to you if you don’t invite them inside. You know that.”

Gordon slid off the barstool and walked over to the window, pulling the shade aside. “Look out there. Must be five or six of ‘em walking back and forth, back and forth. Hey, ain’t that one Roger Jepson? Man, they’re getting to everybody.”

“No one’s safe,” said T.J. “It don’t make no sense to trust nobody no more.”

“Amen. I don’t even know why you let me inside. For all you knew, I might have been one of them things too.”

“Well, truth is I kinda had to let you in, Gordon.”

Gordon glanced quizzically up at a smiling T.J. He watched, stunned, as T.J.’s canine teeth slowly, but inexorably grew longer, extending below his lower lip.

“See, I’m kinda hungry.”

___

All he ever wanted to be was a shepherd, but Steve Barber never achieved that childhood dream. Now, a bitter and broken old man, he ekes out a miserable existence by collecting returnable bottles and selling single cigarettes to small children. Steve lives in Ann Arbor with his drug-addicted Chihuahua, Haggis. He co-mods the Horror Forum at AbsoluteWrite.com and occasionally writes short stories.