“So, you can drink water?”
“You just sat there watching me drink half a glass of water. What do you think. What kind of reporter are you anyway?”
Kolchak tried to hide his embarrassment by taking off his straw fedora and smoothing his hair down. “I thought you only drank blood.”
“I get a dry mouth like anyone else.” The man looked at Kolchak’s recorder. “Don’t record this and don’t try to take any pictures. This is just you and me having a chat.”
“I was hoping for an interview.”
“Would you rather live in hope or die in despair?”
“All right. All right. No need to get all ‘creature of the night’ with me. We’ll have a little chat then.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have threatened you. That was rude.”
The small man looked chagrined. Carl guessed he was 5’ 4” and medium build with a balding head and bags under his eyes that made him appear to be in his mid fifties. Of course since the man was a vampire he was probably much older than that.
“This whole ‘vampire of New York’ business has put me in a bad mood.”
“Right, that’s what you said over the phone.” Carl removed a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his seersucker suit. He raised his eyebrows with a questioning expression and the man nodded his assent. “What made you call me anyway?”
“I read your stories about the Night Strangler and I was impressed. I’m glad you helped to get rid of him. He was an embarrassment.”
“How so?”
“The secret to surviving as a vampire is to maintain a low profile. We have certain powers but are relatively easy to kill if you know how. That Night Stalker character might as well have worn a t shirt that said I’m a Vampire, Insert Stake Here.”
“All right, that would make a good t shirt for Halloween by the way. Why are you so steamed up about the Vampire of New York?”
“Because he’s a fake. He’s no more a vampire than you are.”
“I acknowledge your expertise in this field but I need more proof before I can publish something like that.”
The vampire pushed a folded piece of paper across the table toward Carl. “Here is the location of his latest kill and the basement of an abandoned factory where he drains the blood from his victims.” Carl looked at the address as a waitress approached their table.
“Evening gents. Welcome to Charlie’s Truck Stop Café. It just turned two minutes after midnight so you lucky guys can get our midnight special for two bucks off until it’s one in the a.m.”
Kolchak looked up at the waitress with excited anticipation. The notoriously cheap reporter loved a good deal almost more than a good story. “What is the midnight special?”
“Bacon, two eggs, toast, hash browns and bottomless coffee. Extra grease is free. That’s supposed to be a joke but it’s not really.”
“So, breakfast at midnight. Why not? Sign me up young lady. How about you Barnabas?”
The vampire laughed at the name Kolchak had chosen for him. “No thank you. I just ate.” He glanced at the waitress and it seemed to visibly upset him. He turned his head away sharply and pretended to be looking out the window at a semi truck pulling up to the diesel pumps for a refill.
Kolchak waited until the waitress left before he said anything. “Are you all right over there Barnabas?”
“The waitress. She’s almost a doppelganger for my daughter at the age she was when I was turned into a vampire. It brought back memories I try my best to suppress.”
Carl remained silent and pretended not to notice the man surreptitiously wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The vampire’s eyes swiveled toward him and he looked angry until he saw genuine compassion in Carl’s face.
“Thank you. It still hurts even after a hundred years. I suppose there are wounds that even time will never heal. Do you have a family?”
Karl shrugged uneasily. “No, I guess I’m married to my job. I don’t think any sane woman would put up with me anyway.”
“Someday your job will end and then where will you be? Listen to me young man. Clean up your act and find yourself a good woman.”
“You sound like my mother.” The last thing Carl had expected tonight was a lecture about family values from a vampire.
“You should listen to your mother then.”
“Okay, okay how did this conversation turn into a critique about my hopeless love life anyway. Why does the New York vampire drain his victims of blood if he’s not a vampire?”
“I don’t know. Because he’s mentally ill probably or maybe he’s just desperate for attention.”
“And you want him caught and exposed because he’s on your turf? If he’s exposed as a pathetic fraud people will think there was never a vampire in New York in the first place.”
The vampire smiled and took a sip of water. “And they never will because I’ve got both frontal lobes. I’d rather you hadn’t figured all of that out but I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”
Barnabas was distracted by the waitress taking an order from two loud, boisterous truckers. As she was walking away one of the truckers leaned out of the booth and slapped her on the ass.
“The coffee might be bottomless but you sure aren’t sweet cheeks!”
Carl was about to ask them to keep their hands to themselves but stopped when his dinner companion materialized at the trucker’s table.
“You will not touch her again and you will apologize for your unacceptable behaviour.”
Kolchak estimated the truckers both tipped the scales around 250 pounds and were all thick forearms and broad chests. They were obviously unimpressed with this small man creeping into his senior years.
“Well, you can just fuck off pencil neck.” The two men looked at each other and started to laugh.
The vampire grabbed a handful of each man’s meaty face and he pulled and twisted. Carl could hear a ripping noise from where he was seated 20 feet away.
“You will do as I say.” He stared into each man’s eyes and they seemed to be more frightened of what they saw in the vampire’s eyes than the horrific damage he was doing to their faces.
The vampire released them and returned to sit across from Kolchak. He was still only a diminutive man in his fifties but his presence seemed to fill the truck stop.
Carl wisely said nothing until Barnabas had calmed down. The vampire glared at the humbled truckers as brown and purple bruises started to spread across their cheeks and eyes. When the waitress reappeared from the kitchen with Carl’s midnight special, they went out of their way to apologize to her.
The waitress smiled as she placed Carl’s meal in front of him and she patted the vampire’s hand. “Thank you.” She whispered. The vampire blushed and ducked his head but he wore a pleased smile as the waitress walked away.
“That must have felt pretty good.” Carl observed.
“Yes, that was uncommonly direct for me but it felt good.”
Carl looked at the bill the waitress had left behind and scowled. Even with two bucks off they still charged a lot for food at Charlie’s Truck Stop Café. “Any chance you’re picking up the bill seeing how I’m doing you a favour?”
“I’m not feeling good enough that I’m picking up the bill Mr. Kolchak. All I had was water.”
“Oh well maybe my editor will cover this since I’m on a story. I think he’ll like this story because we’re screwing over New York.”
“I don’t understand. Why is that?”
“Oh you know, it’s a Chicago vs New York thing. They call us the Second City and we call them the Rotten Apple. This story will make the New York wire service look like a bunch of goofs for being duped by a fake vampire.”
“So, you’re in competition with them.”
Carl grandly waved away the vampire’s assertion. “They’re no competition for me. They are but simple scribes while I’m an artist of the written word.”
The vampire winced when one of Carl’s waving hands came close to him. “I can feel you’re wearing a crucifix around your wrist as well as a crucifix around your neck. I suppose that was prudent of you.”
“Sorry about that but I’ve had some bad experiences with people of your persuasion.” He carefully moved his wrist as far away as he could and pulled back his sleeve to show the vampire. “It’s actually a St. Christopher’s medal my mother gave me.”
“That would work as well. You’re Polish aren’t you? I’m assuming you’re also Roman Catholic.”
“Baptized and confirmed. I was even an altar boy when I was a little nipper.”
“That would help to explain why you’ve survived so many encounters with the undead. Your faith is deep and without question. I can feel it from here. Remember that your faith is your shield.”
Karl fingered the St. Christopher’s medal thoughtfully. “That’s some very useful advice considering the source. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The vampire gave the truckers a final glare before he stood to leave. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you Mr. Kolchak. Good luck sticking it to the New York wire service.”
“Could I ask just one question as if this were an interview?”
“Go ahead.”
Carl decided to ask the most open-ended question he could think of. “What’s it like to be a vampire?”
The vampire paused and looked out the window at the trucks arriving and leaving the parking lot outside. Carl thought he would refuse to answer but heard a quiet response as the vampire turned to leave.
“It’s lonely Mr. Kolchak.”
Sequel with Victoria, Josette and Angelique?
Poor misunderstood Barnabas. This would make a good longer story - the characters might be immortal! I think you might be onto something with the journalist & his reluctant vampire. (Tiny quibble - it's altar boy, not alter )