Читать книгу Barry and the Vampire in the Rosedale Encounter - Darrell Bartell - Страница 8

Passing beneath a streetlight, Barry glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed. So many thoughts raced through his mind. Casey—or Jane, as she was calling herself—was right. I’m an idiot, he thought. After almost forty years you don’t go home and knock on the door, expecting to be welcomed with open arms. How do you explain not having aged a day? She had made her choice and had the rest of eternity to live with it. And it appeared Kelly was following in her aunt’s footsteps.

The next dose of reality: technically, he had solved a missing person’s case, but he couldn’t tell anybody. Not the police, not her family in Lubbock, and he couldn’t use the case for his term paper.

Then there was the unexpected. Kelly had left home, just like Jane had. She went to the same city for the same reasons, just like she had. The odds didn’t look good for Kelly, but they never are for runaways, according to his research. Vampire or no vampire, how could Casey turn her back on her own family, knowing they needed and missed her?

“What would Dad do?” he muttered, entering through the front door of the apartment.

“About what?”

His mom’s presence caught Barry by surprise. “Mom, you’re home early.”

“Got the night off. So what would your father do?”

“Nothing, just a minor problem.”

“Supper is almost ready. Go wash up,” she ordered.

“What are we having?”

“You’re favorite—lasagna.”

He became suspicious. “What’s the occasion?’

“Barry McElroy, I don’t need an occasion to cook a hot meal for my son. Now go wash up.”

Barry knew he was lucky. He had seen what happened to his friends when one parent had left. The other dove into self-pity and did stupid stuff like drugs, alcohol, and bar hopping. Sometimes they even blamed the kids for the breakup of the marriage. But not his mom.

Vicki McElroy was the real deal and Barry was grateful. The toughest job in America was being a housewife. The second toughest job was the military housewife, and the next one after that was the single mom—and every one of them the backbone of the country. She knew what was to blame for their problems. His dad, Nolan, was a soldier’s soldier and when called to duty in Iraq after 9/11, he did what all members of the Armed Forces did. He served his country, but after Afghanistan there were side effects.

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

Having been medically discharged from the Army without medical benefits, he took a job at the General Motors plant in Arlington. For a time, they were a happy family, but Dad couldn’t get the war out of his mind. After the last PTSD episode he left, fearing for their safety. That was almost three years ago and his dad hadn’t been seen since. They wanted him back, but the police were no help. With no visible means of support, his mom had to take jobs offered by a temp agency to support them, but it wasn’t enough to keep them from losing their house, thanks to the market going bust.

Barry knew his mom had enough to worry about. He didn’t want to add to her problems by falling in with the wrong crowd at school or give the courts a reason to put him in juvenile lockup. He put her mind at ease by studying and hoped it would soon pay off with a scholarship to Texas Wesleyan University, providing he finished his term paper.

After washing his hands, he dried them using the towel on the rack and then pitched the cloth into the hamper. He looked in the mirror at the bruises around his neck. “How do I explain this?”

Barry went to his bedroom to change into a turtleneck, making sure the collar covered his throat. Then he walked toward the kitchen and sat down at the table across from his mom.

“Wow, this smells good,” he said, picking up the dish and using a spoon to put the lasagna on his plate, before completing the meal with some mixed vegetables and a salad. He chewed a mouthful of lasagna and washed it down with a drink of ice water. “So what did you do all day?”

His mom said nothing.

Barry put another helping of lasagna into his mouth, looked up and saw his mom staring off into space. Her hands, placed on opposite sides of the plate, were resting on the table.

“Mom?” He swallowed his food. “Mom, are you all right?”

She wasn’t answering.

Barry waved his hand in front of her face. She continued to stare straight ahead, oblivious to her surroundings.

“Hello. Earth to Mom.”

“She’ll be fine,” spoke the voice behind him.

Barry wheeled around to see Nurse Smith, dressed in her blue jeans, blouse, and Stetson hat, standing a few feet away. Panic-stricken, he jumped out of the chair, ran behind his mom, and reached for a butcher knife in the kitchen sink before facing what he believed were his last moments on earth.

“Stay away from my mom!” he yelled. “She’s got nothing to do with this!”

“Barry, it’s all right.”

“I got it. Okay? You want me to stay away, I’ll stay away.” His breathing came fast and heavy. Sweat ran down the side of his face.

“Barry—”

“Please! Just leave us alone! I won’t tell anyone! I swear!”

“Barry, I didn’t come here to kill you.”

His breathing slowed down. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re safe. I’m not going to kill you.”

He didn’t know what to do.

“Think about it,” she said. “Do you really believe I’m afraid of you?” She paused. “Holding that knife?” She paused again. “Covered in lasagna and tomato sauce? You look ridiculous.”

“But my mom—”

“I put her in a trance, so we could talk. She’s fine. Now relax and put that thing down before you hurt yourself.”

Barry hesitated for a moment before placing the knife back in the sink. He knew he was no match for her. “Okay, talk.”

“First, I want to apologize. I know you were only trying to help and I appreciate it.”

“You got a funny way of showing it.” He rubbed the shirt covering his neck.

“I admit I overreacted.”

“Overreacted?” he repeated, with anger. “My neck looks like a charcoal briquette.”

“Cut me a break, will you?”

Barry wasn’t sure if she was upset with the situation or him.

“We’ve only known each other a day. I made it clear for you to keep your distance and then you ambushed me.”

Barry’s heart rate and blood pressure were returning to normal.

“Not with a crossbow or a crucifix, but with my past. Something I’ve worked hard to bury.”

He started to believe her.

“You would have gotten the same reaction if you had tried to stake me.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing,” she shot back. “You should have left it alone.”

“How could I? I thought you’d want to know.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

A long moment of silence echoed throughout the kitchen, until Barry asked, “What now?”

“Now?” she answered. “Now I go find my niece.”

Her next question sent chills through the core of Barry’s soul.

“Wanna come along?”