Fright Night by John Skipp

that we’d better find out.”
    “Let’s do it.”
    They didn’t notice the crucifix until they were nearly upon it. It was large and weighty, silver mounted on a thick mahogany base. It hung a foot above the “NO TRESPASSING” sign on his door, reflecting light.
    They shared one last apprehensive glance. Then Eddie sighed, put his hand on the doorknob and twisted.
    The full force of the room’s transformation assailed them.
    “Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelled. Charley’s head jerked toward them suddenly; he yelped and jumped a foot out of his chair. Amy let out a little screech and brought her fists up to her mouth, eyes bulging with shock. The three of them stared at each other for a long silent moment.
    “Jesus Christ,” Evil Ed repeated quietly.
    Charley’s room had become a combination fortress/cathedral. Every square inch of table or desk space was covered with glowing candles. Dime-store crosses hung everywhere, vying for wallspace with the BMW and Mustang posters, overwhelming them at every turn. Huge strings of garlic were draped all around the window and over the bed.
    On the floor at Charley’s feet, a pair of rough-hewn wooden stakes lay one atop the other. They were carved from slats of grape fence: three feet long, five inches wide, three quarters of an inch thick. Charley had whittled them down to crude, ugly points.
    A third one was in progress. He held the malformed embryo of it in his left hand, his old Boy Scout knife in his right.
    Driven through a man’s chest, any one of them would have taken a large portion of the heart with it, straight out the back and into the coffin’s plush upholstery—given that the man was a vampire, at rest in his casket, a good daylight’s distance from the cold dominion of the moon.
    “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing,” Charley said.
    “You got that right,” Evil Ed replied. Amy, for the moment, was speechless.
    “I’m getting ready,” he said. “Dandrige can’t get me if I stay in my room. The first time his little playmate leaves, I’m going over there and putting one of these things”—brandishing the stake in his hand—“through his goddam heart.”
    “But—” Amy started to say. It was the first sound she’d uttered since her opening screech.
    “No,” Charley stated. His voice was flat and blunt. “I don’t want to hear about how I’m acting crazy. I don’t want to hear about how I’m living in a fantasy world. I have a new next-door neighbor. He’s a vampire. Last night, he almost killed me. I don’t give a fuck whether you believe me, my mother believes me, Peter Vincent believes me, or not.
    “There’s an honest-to-God vampire next door, and he wants me to die because I know what he is. If you don’t believe me, go to hell. I don’t want to argue with you. I don’t have time.”
    He went back to whittling his stake.
    “Wait a minute,” Evil Ed said finally. “What do you mean, ‘whether Peter Vincent believes me or not’? Did you actually talk to him?”
    “Yeah,” said Charley, not looking up. A short, thin, curling slice of wood dropped to the floor like an autumn leaf.
    “And what did he say?”
    Charley spat out a bitter little chuckle. “Same as everybody else. I’m nuts.” His blade stroked violently along the wooden shaft. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? That’s a pretty arrogant statement, if you don’t mind my saying so. Has it ever occurred to you that you might be wrong!”
    “Has it ever occurred to you that I might be right!” Charley stood up, quivering, stake and knife still in hand. “Dammit, did that ever occur to you? You didn’t see him bite that girl in the neck! You didn’t see him turn from a bat into a man! You didn’t see him come in here and try to kill me last night!
    “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
    “Charley. Please.” Amy pleaded. It was almost a whisper. She was almost in tears. “This is crazy.