Alex had hopped up into the cab of the nearest truck. It had a big, boxy trailer. I stared at the one with a cylindrical trailer parked next to it. I had seen trucks like this one at one of the bigger commercial dairy farms near my old home. But I didnas't think this one had milk in it. It bore a placard with an orange flame on it marked FLAMMABLE.
No keys,as Alex announced, jumping down to the pavement.
I frowned. I wasnas't sure he could even manage to drive such a huge vehicle. Though I supposed that there were few penalties now if we hit anything.
But I found something useful.as He threw a piece of black plastic at me.
I caught it, turned it over in my hand. It had jagged edges, as if heas'd pried it out of the dashboard with a knife. It was a compass.
How about this one?as I pointed to the flammable truckas's cab. I didnas't know if there was a way that we could switch out the trailers to accommodate Horace.
There were keys in the tanker truck, but gas got siphoned from it. I already checked.
I glanced at the puddle below it, wondering if it was gasoline. Squinting closer, I could see dripping from the metal seams.
Alex crossed to the back of the truck trailer. as Maybe there are some things we can use in here. If weas're lucky, itas's hauling a fully gassed-up Maserati.
I didnas't know what a Maserati was, but it sounded like a good thing.
Donas't hold your breath,as Ginger said. as I think we used up our luck on the candy bars.
Alex reached up for the handle of the trailer door and pulled it down. as Probably not. If gas was scavenged, then thereas's probably nothing else left for us to use.
The door swung open, and Horace whinnied. The hair rose up on the back of my neck.
Alex, donas't!as I screamed.
Pale hands reached out of the darkness of the trailer and dragged him inside.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I snatched up a broom and dug a lighter out of a bag with shaking and swollen fingers. I ran to the door of the truck. Chalky hands were already trying to pull it shut, but I saw that they smoked in the sunlight. I smelled burning meat.
I lit the bristles of the broom with the lighter and thrust it into the darkness before me. The vampires shrieked and hissed, recoiling from the fire. I swept the broom right and left.
I scrambled up on the edge of the truck trailer and plunged inside.
My vision took a moment to adjust to the darkness, and I was blind in the glare of the makeshift torch. I felt a spider web stretch across my face and break, the very sensation of evil, and I couldnas't stifle a shudder.
This was a vampire nest. Thin filaments of something like spider silk streamed from the top of the cavernous trailer. Shadows moved in the guttering torchlight, skittering across the floor and crawling up on the ceiling. I was reminded of a nest of daddy longlegs that my sister and I had disturbed while cleaning out a barn. The vampires gathered on the ceiling, hissing, bobbing, the fire reflected in their cold red eyes.
Give him back.as I heard my voice issuing the command, and it sounded so much more assured than I felt. I reached into my pocket for the Himmelsbrief.
Something snickered above me.
I stared up into the reflective eyes of a vampire. He wore a flannel shirt and a hat with an advertising logo on it. I wondered if he might have been the trucker who owned the vehicle. as Your fire will burn out, girlie. Then youas're ours.
My eyes slid to the guttering flame at the top of the broom. It was burning fast, the bristles blackening and curling.
I thrust the flaming bristles into his face. The vampire howled at the sparks and batted it away. The broom spiraled away in the darkness, and I lunged for it. I singed my fingers trying to pick it up.
An aggrieved yowl emanated from the far darkness at the front of the trailer.
Alex!as I shouted.
I grabbed the last of my makeshift torch and advanced toward the writhing shadows, my heart in my mouth.
A pale figure flopped and writhed toward me. I moved to jam my torch in its face, but I saw familiar markings on the flesh. Alexas's tattoos. His jacket and shirt had been torn from his shoulders and he was crawling toward the door, slashing with his knife.
I swept the broom right and left over his head as we backed to the opening, toward daylight.
Itas's not going to be that easy, girlie. Weas're too hungry.
The trucker vampire slammed the door shut behind us, blotting out the sunshine. My heart stoppedas"I could hear it stop over the clang of the door.
Get behind me,as Alex muttered.
The light from my broom faded to sparks, and I heard the thunk-thunk-thunk of vampires dropping from the ceiling like too-ripe apples on the ground. I could feel the weight of the creaturesas' eyes upon us. They seemed almost human, palpable in their need, except for the red glow of the sparks in their eyes. But I knew that they were not like us, that they had left humanity behind a long time ago. I felt the strand of a spider web brush across my face, and I shivered violently enough to shake the last of the sparks from the broom.
Come here, girlie.as I smelled fetid breath. I knew that this was a vampireas's attempt at glamour, at seducing a victim with its voice. Ias'd seen it before. Men and women could be lulled into a lassitude, follow the vampires and bare their flesh to them. But the holy letter I held insulated me from it, just as Alexas's tattoos made him resistant to that siren call.
Before, Ias'd been grateful to God for such a boon. Now, that might serve only to make us painfully aware of a slow, agonizing death. Weas'd be lucid rather than walking blindly into death in a soft dream state.
I began to pray beneath my breath.
And my prayer was answered in a blinding flash of light.
White-hot brightness flooded the compartment. The door was torn open, and a short silhouette stood in the open void. And that figure held fire in her fist.
Leave those kids alone,as Gingeras's voice bellowed.
The vampires turned toward her, snarling. She held a bottle in her hand with a flaming rag trickling from the top. I dimly registered it as her prizeas"the bottle of vodka sheas'd scavenged from the convenience store cooler.
She hurled the bottle into the trailer. It sailed over our heads and struck the far wall with a sound like a gunshot. It exploded into glass and flame.
I ducked, trying to shield my eyes. Fire blistered from the makeshift bomb, and raced over the wall in a liquid rush of blue and orange flame. I heard howling, smelled burning meat . . .
. . . and there were hands tangled in my apron straps. Alex hauled me through the door of the trailer, into the daylight. I landed on my shoulder on the blacktop, gasping as the wind was knocked out of me.