Her shaking, decrepit right hand grasped the handle of a rusted tin cup. A few coins jingled at the bottom, barely loud enough to hear over the constant hustle of the Back Bay Bus Station. She took careful steps to avoid tripping over the bottom of her oversized nightgown as her mature and sometimes faltering eyes searched for the next target.

Target Found - Clean-Cut College Boy. Slacks and a button-down shirt. Parted hair. Checking schedule on the wall. Not in a rush. Ideal candidate.

Grandma Fear maneuvered her arched body into his breathing space. “The world is going to end. Give me money so I can help save it.”

“Excuse me?” He took two steps backward, his expression changing from confidence to confusion.

“Give me money, I said.” She shook her cup, allowing him to hear the few coins jingling inside. “It’s urgent, damn it.” She shifted her creased chin from side to side as if to stress her point.

“I don’t think so.” He turned to walk away.

“I’m only talking about a few coins, you cheap bastard!” she shouted loud enough for the people in the immediate area to turn and investigate. Her target ignored her and made his way to safety - the men’s bathroom.

“Son of a bitch.” She licked the bottom row of her dentures, took a deep breath, and searched for her next target.

Target Found - Businessman in an overcoat standing still and studying his ticket.

She limped over until she stood behind him, her mouth inches from his backside.

“It’s all gonna be over soon,” she whispered.

The businessman glanced over his shoulder and shook his head at what he found.

“I’m talking about the world, sir. You need my help.”

“You know, I’m kind of getting sick of you people. The world is NOT going to end, and even if it was, I’d prefer not to know about it. Thank you and have a good day.” He took a step before turning back around. “Oh, and by the way, your breath reeks of liquor. Maybe you should get a job.”

“Oh, and by the way, your ass reeks of shit,” she replied. “Maybe you should wash it.”

He waved his arm before trekking off into the crowd.

She searched for her next target.

Target Found - Ugly, acne-infested college girl. Poorly dressed. Sitting at the end of one of the waiting benches.

Grandma Fear took a seat next to her and immediately shook her cup in the girl’s face. “You need to give me some money.”

The girl glowered, rolled her eyes, and looked in the other direction.

“Don’t look away when I’m talking to you,” Grandma Fear demanded. “The world is coming to an end. I’m collecting money to help save it. You NEED to contribute!”

“Oh really?” she asked as she twirled her head back around. “You’re going to save the world, huh? How do you figure that?”

“That’s a secret.”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be, coming from an elderly, homeless, bald woman wearing a nightgown and begging for money in a bus station?”

“Your face is very pretty,” Grandma Fear lied, evoking a small smile from the girl’s face. “All the bumps with the white tops remind me of the White Mountains in the winter.”

The girl’s smile quickly faded. She reached into her pocket, grabbed a quarter and slammed it into Grandma Fear’s cup. “There! You need it more than I do.” She stood up and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Sucker,” Grandma Fear whispered to herself.

Grandma Fear stayed for another hour, collecting a total of $3.55. She laughed at the idiocy of people - giving her money based on her being able to prevent Armageddon. It wasn’t the first time, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She needed her liquor.

As she limped for the exit, a hefty man wearing a faded, all-white suit blocked her path. His braided white beard hung to his waist. His bright blue eyes combined with the light reflecting from his bald head somehow gave him an aura of goodness.

“What do you want?” Grandma Fear asked, looking up at him.

“Do you believe in karma, young lady?” his booming voice questioned.

Young lady? Is he kidding? “I believe in the karma sutra.”

“I believe you’re referring to the Kama Sutra. Regardless, I hope you’re referring to in-wedlock. Otherwise, that’s sinful.”

“Well, unless you’re interested in sinning, please fuck off.” I need my drink!

Grandma Fear made her way to the exit doors. She stepped outside and looked up at what she expected to be a bright blue, morning sky. Instead, a colossal ball of fire engulfed the entire sky and raced toward the Earth at breakneck speed.

“Oh shit.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Karma’s a bitch.”

___

©2009 Nick Tyler

Dan Moskowitz works as a freelance editor and writer. He often writes under the name Nick Tyler, and has been published in three countries (U.S., U.K., and Australia). His writing history: Contributing author for Eight Hours (Legend Press), published in the Muse Marquee (Granny Dancer), Sports Writer for Examiner#1 ranked Short Story Writer (fanstory 2006), Glimmer Train Finalist (Very Short Fiction Award), Graduate of Institute of Children’s Literature. He also has a Master’s Degree in Education. He lives in North Carolina with his wife and son, Christine and Justin. (Carolina Panthers),

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.”

___

© 2008 Steve Barber

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.