by Ann Hite

The world was filled with blood: roiling, boiling, unending sticky redness. Or, so thought Miss Arlene Bradshaw, who spent most Saturday nights watching scary movies. This contributed to her over active imagination and her firm belief that something evil was in Holly Iowa’s house next door. Arlene, Holly’s dearest, oldest friend was not allowed inside to see for herself. But, that didn’t keep her from trying. Arlene tried everyday for a week to gain entrance into her friend’s house, but Holly, wrapped in one of her silky robes, shooed her away. Oh, she was real polite.

“Now, Arlene honey, I’m just too busy to have you over now. You’ll have to come back some other time.”

Arlene was sure some bad magic had a hold of Holly—she looked like warmed over death, all gray around the eyes—but Arlene was a good Christian neighbor—by gosh, she had taught Sunday school at Black Mountain Baptist Church going on thirteen years—and she knew when her welcome was worn out. So, she tried to stay away.

It was down right lonely without her best friend so that’s why Arlene decided to go down the mountain that Friday night in late June. She wasn’t much on going down the mountain by herself. Mostly Holly and her went to the show in Asheville. Gosh, how that Holly just loved Elvis. The way he shook his hips made both her and Holly giggle like teenagers. Neither of them had ever married, and now they were nearing forty and getting too dern old for men to want them. It didn’t bother Arlene. Men just made her feel stupid, and she much preferred church and scary movies to such, but Holly wanted her a man. She talked about it all the time; she even started taking a correspondence vocabulary course to get smarter as if smarts captured a man. Too bad for Holly because she was the size of Mrs. Connor’s milk cow. No man wanted a cow for a wife. So, they were stuck on the mountain together except Holly quit coming out of her house. Arlene worried it might be because she asked Holly what the fancy word for cow was.

Arlene drove the car by Holly’s house real slow on the way to the show. All the curtains were pulled tight. That just wasn’t like Holly to keep her curtains shut on such a fine day. It made her stop the car and try one more time.

The curtain in the front window moved when Arlene got out of the car. She marched up those steps and beat on the door. Did she hear laughter? She beat on the door again for good measure. Silence. Now, it was uncomfortable standing out there waiting for Holly to answer the door, and Arlene was fixing to get mad.

The door cracked open. Holly stood in her robe. “Arlene, honey, what you want today?”

Now, Arlene thought wearing a robe in the afternoon was just down right tacky. “I come to take you to a movie. Get out of that robe and come on out here.”

Holly looked fragile in the face. The lack of natural daylight was starting to take its toll on her tan. She made a huffy sound. “I done told you, Arlene Bradshaw, I’m busy. Now don’t make me be rude.” She closed the door.

Arlene stomped down the stairs. Never in her life had anyone been so mean. What was that woman’s problem? She got in her car and drove down the mountain to see that Elvis movie alone.

The theater in Asheville looked like a grand affair, with fancy lights and high ceilings so it was just a pleasure to visit. Arlene was mighty excited to find Elvis was replaced that week with, When Vampires Meet Werewolves. Arlene bought a big bag of popcorn. That would show stupid old Holly not to come with her to the movies.

Not thirty minutes into the movie Arlene saw Holly’s problem plain as day. My Lord, a vampire had gotten her. It was obvious. She didn’t come out in the daylight. She was keeping all the curtains pulled tight. She looked like a walking dead person, all grayish white. Arlene paid close attention to the movie. It seemed the head vampire could turn himself into a bat and fly in windows.

That’s how the vampire got Holly! She always left her windows open at night. Arlene told her over and over that it was 1967 and folks just couldn’t go around with all the doors and windows open, but no; Holly hadn’t listened. She even laughed at Arlene. Well, that’s just what she got for not listening. Now, she was a dern old vampire, and Arlene would have to expose her to sunlight, drive a wooden stake through her heart, or shoot her with a sliver bullet. No, wait that was for killing a werewolf.

On the drive home, a full moon hung in the sky and Arlene’s mind was on vampires and werewolves. When she passed Holly’s house she noticed a light on in the backyard and a shadow moving around. So, she killed the headlights on her car, found the courage to get, and creep through the underbrush until she could see the shadow of a man wearing a cape and digging a hole. Now, Arlene couldn’t see the man, the cape, or the hole from her vantage point, but she heard the shovel scraping the ground and she could just imagine. By gosh, he was digging a grave. She thought of going after the pastor. He was the closest thing Black Mountain had to a sheriff, but just then big old Holly stepped out on her back porch. She was wearing a red dress, which made her look like a clown, and her face was made up like some woman of the night, but Arlene would never tell her that.

“Are you finished with that digging?” Her voice sounded off key like she was trying to sing instead of talk.

“It should be ready for planting by next week. Then, all you’ll have to do is pick’em.”

Oh my, the blood beat in Arlene’s head. Did he say victim? Or pick them? A bat swept through the sky with a chirping sound. Arlene ran for her life to the car. The vampires were looking for a victim. And, Arlene knew it would be her if she didn’t put a stop to the whole mess.

Arlene made her a good old fashion garlic necklace. Granny always made them to ward off disease, but Arlene understood now that Granny knew about vampires. Vampires live forever—that’s why they’re damned—so the same vampire who got Holly could have been around when Granny was living. Who could he be? Could it be that mean old Hobbs Pritchard, who disappeared off the mountain years earlier? It would make better sense than his little wife killing him. They were probably both vampires with a whole army. Had this vampire gotten anyone else she knew? This thought just plum made her sick to her stomach. She tried to recall anyone else who lived a long time and stayed in during the day. No one came to mind but Grandpa Connor, but he was older than the dickens and vampires didn’t get old. They stayed nice and young.

Arlene tried to sleep, but her mind kept hearing footsteps downstairs in the parlor. Something had to be done.

The next morning she went to see old Betty, the conjuring woman. If she was going to rid Black Mountain of vampires, she had to make sure to do it right. Betty sat on her front porch swing fanning herself with a funeral home fan.

“Good morning, Miss Arlene. What are you doing out so early on a Saturday?”

“I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Well, depends on what kind. Some questions cost money because they are like spells the answers can change a person’s life.”

Old Betty made a living conjuring spells for the mountain, and she took her work serious. “I know, I know, and I don’t care. I got some questions about vampires.”

Old Betty stopped fanning. “What did you say, child?”

“I’ve got some questions about vampires.”

She clucked her tongue. “Those are going to cost you fifty cents a piece. You’re asking questions about real secrets.”

“I’ll pay.” Arlene could see the curiosity in Old Betty’s eyes.

“What’s the question?”

“Have you ever known a vampire to be around this mountain?”

Old Betty relaxed her body into the swing. “Never, and I’d know if evil were here.”

“So, you say. I wonder. I wonder if it ain’t Hobbs Pritchard.” Arlene dug in her change purse and placed two quarters in her palm.

The look on Old Betty’s face revealed her thoughtfulness. “Got anymore?”

“Yeah, how do you know a person is a vampire?”

Old Betty sucked in her breathe. “What you getting at child? There ain’t no vampires on this mountain. I ain’t going to charge for that question because I ain’t going to answer it.”

“I bet you couldn’t tell me how to get rid of a vampire.” Arlene put her hands on her hips.

“I know more than you think, young lady. Daylight will turn them to dust, or you could use a wooden stake through the heart, but the stake has to be cut from an apple tree.” Old Betty held out her hand again. “That’ll be one dollar cause I gave you two answers in one.”

Arlene plucked that dollar out of her wallet. “Thank you, Betty.”

“You be careful with that information, girl, not that there’s any vampires around here, cause I would know, and Hobbs haunts his house. You can’t be a haint and a vampire at the same time.”

Arlene purely hated to cut the low limb on her apple tree, but something had to be done. The job took her a good hour. Then, she took the limb to Tyler Morgan. He was the best wood worker on the mountain.

“I want me a good sturdy stake.”

He looked at her real funny over the top of his reading glasses. “Why?”

“So, I can drive it into a vampire’s chest. Why else?” She laughed and he laughed too, slapping his knee.

“You’re watching too many of those scary movies, Arlene. I’ll have it ready this afternoon.”

“Good.”

“When I get through with this stake, it’ll hold the biggest tomatoes on Black Mountain.”

The stake was longer than she expected but good and thick. Arlene took her hammer, along with the stake and crossed through the patch of woods that separated her yard from Holly’s. The house was shut up tight, but that didn’t matter a bit because Alrene had Holly’s spare key.

The house was stuffy and dark. Clothes lay here and there. Burnt candles sat all over the living room and kitchen. Arlene couldn’t believe her eyes. Holly kept a perfect house. This was more proof she was not herself. Arlene started down to the cellar, but heard a muffled sound from upstairs. She tiptoed, holding her tools of destruction. Moans that sounded like a cat in heat came from Holly’s bedroom. Arlene stood in front of the door, gathering the courage to put an end to her good friend’s misery. She threw the door open.

Both Holly and ugly old Fred Harper—he lived two farms over and was known all over the mountain for his ugliness—were tangled up in the bed sheets. Arlene just stood there staring at them both with her mouth hanging open. It wasn’t a pretty sight, one overweight naked woman, and a purely ugly naked man.

Holly got her bearings first, and her face turned purple with rage. “Arlene Bradshaw! This is just the end of our friendship. I can’t believe you’re in my house uninvited.”

“What in the world you got a hammer and a stake for, Miss Arlene?” Fred was a right proper man even when he was naked.

Arlene looked through a crack in the curtains and noticed a freshly turned garden patch, not a grave like she suspected. “I saw Holly here was making her a garden. I thought she might need some good tomato stakes. So, I brought her this one. I was going to hammer it in the ground. But, I knew she had been plum silly this past week. So, I decided to ask first.” Arlene looked at Holly. “It looks like that vocabulary course paid off.”

Holly just pointed her big old finger at the door cause she knew Arlene better than anyone, and that would never change.