LITMIR.BIZ

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      “It was on the table over here, girls,” Grandpa said as he produced the container Mr. Fromme sought. Alexa took it in her hands and studied it carefully. As small as it was, the red fluid scarcely covered the bottom half of the tube.

      “Not much here,” Alexa said.

      “Not a problem,” said Isaac with a sigh. “Now that I am rescued, I only need the slightest bit to restore my strength to leave this dungeon.”

      Alexa handed it to the man as he struggled to rise up and accept his elixir. He received it, inched the stopper out and tilted it upward to let the slightest bit reach the tip of his tongue. Mr. Fromme exhaled and attempted to get to his feet, an exercise in futility.

      “Take your time,” Rachael said.

      Isaac dropped his head for the moment and rested. “Perhaps another dash to rejuvenate me.”

      Another few drops did the trick. He reached for the edges of the coffin and lifted himself, fighting for breath. As Rachael and Alexa watched, Grandpa clasped his bag of stakes, just in case.

      Mr. Fromme looked knowingly at Grandpa. “Relax, my friend. You are in no danger. Not from me, anyway.”

      Grandpa released his tight grasp on his sack of vampire disposal tools and watched as Fromme got to his feet. The aged man appeared to recover somewhat from his catatonic state in the casket. He made abbreviated stretches, to relieve his stiffness from reclining in days of captivity. Isaac attempted to move forward but collapsed to his knees.

      Even in fear of the unknown with this man, Alexa and Rachael rushed to his side. “Do you need help?” Rachael asked.

      He sat back down on the edge of his coffin. The girls feared it would collapse from his weight, but the smelly bed of earth within stabilized his wooden resting place. “So tired. That bit of my elixir of life was not enough. It will take a bit more to restore--”

      “Hey, wait a minute. If he thinks he needs more of that stuff, what do you propose we do to get it?” asked Grandpa.

      Rachael ignored the remark and studied the man. “You do not look well at all. Maybe we should get you to a hospital. Do you have health insurance to pay for care?”

      Fromme waved off her suggestion. “No, I have a better plan. My friend. A doctor.”

      “Doctors do not have office hours on Saturdays, especially in the afternoon,” Alexa reminded him. “It IS Saturday, you know.”

      “It matters not. My physician will see me any time of the day or night. We have this special bond, and he never refuses my requests.” He looked to his newfound friends. “Is transportation available?”

      Naturally, both girls looked to Grandpa, the driver of this rescue party.

      “Why not get an ambulance? I have my cell phone in the car, so--”

      “Grandpa, do we want to do that? How can we explain to somebody what is going on in this awful place?”

      “Rachael, we tell them the three of us happened to be hiking in the area and we came across a guy who needs medical attention. Then, we load him in an emergency truck when they get here and--”

      “They will then ask what we were doing in the building and why Mr. Fromme was in the factory. What do we tell the paramedics?”

      “Just say he was a homeless person who looked for shelter in an unlocked building. Happens all the time these days.”

      Weakened old man? Perhaps. A vagrant looking for a dry spot to crash? They will never believe it, thought Rachael.

      “Grandpa, we cannot call Mr. Fromme some kind of hobo. That is just not right.”

      He looked back at her. Was it a look of defeat? “You have a Plan B, I suppose.”

      “Would it hurt to take Mr. Fromme to see his doctor friend?”

      “You want me transport this guy--who might be a vampire--to some doctor’s house, so...”

      “So we can leave once we do our good deed, Grandpa. That is why we are here: super kids doing the right thing when someone calls for help.”

      He could merely sigh. Suddenly Rachael’s reasoning was not a debatable issue. “Okay, we go to the doctor’s house and drop him off. Then we get out of there. All three of us can go home and forget this ever happened.”

      “Yeah, something like that,” Rachael said. “Maybe we could still go shopping, if we have enough time.”

      Grandpa did not answer. Instead, he looked back at Mr. Fromme. “I was curious. Are there any more of you to be rescued? In the wood boxes?”

      Fromme shook his head sadly. “No, the rest are gone. Moved out long ago. Nothing for them in southern New Jersey.”

      “Sorry, but I am relieved at that.”

      “I understand your distress at seeing our lair, Mr.--”

      “Maguire. Marty Maguire. The Casadays’ crazy grandfather and personal chauffeur. You were saying?”

      “Most of the others migrated south. It is so much warmer there.”

      “You guys retire too? I do not blame you for going that direction.”

      “We prefer the old cities like New Orleans. Havana and San Juan, Puerto Rico, too.”

      “Some days I wish I could join them,” Grandpa said, mumbling to himself.”

      “Maybe we should get going. I have had enough of this place,” said Alexa, turning to Mr. Fromme. “Are you strong enough to walk?”

      “I shall try. Perhaps you could help me on the stairs.”

      “Is there no other way out?” Grandpa asked.

      Isaac shook his head. “There once was a sizable exit at the other end of the building. Beyond the warehouses. One evening recently the walls came tumbling down and tons of masonry collapsed over it.”

      “We know that fateful night quite well,” Grandpa recalled as they approached the slippery stairway. “It nearly killed us.”

      “The debris made it impossible for me to escape. With my limited strength I labored to remain barely alive in the tombs.”

      “Alive in a sense, I guess,” Grandpa said, still clutching his bag of protection against vampires.

      Isaac Fromme stopped at the landing to the stairs, pulled the vial from his long dark coat and drained the remaining drops, to give him vigor for the ascent. “Sorry. I am impolite in not offering any of you a sip as well, but there was so little left and I assumed you--”

      “Thanks anyway, Mr. Fromme,” said Rachael quickly.

      “Yeah. Give me a pass on that one, too. Not exactly my thing.” Grandpa winced when he said it.

      Fromme teetered as he took the first few steps up the slick stone stairway. When he hesitated to move on, Rachael and Alexa grasped his arms for support. Knowing the potential danger of personal contact with this fellow, Grandpa watched with pride at the caring gesture of his grandchildren.

      Reaching the top of the dark stairs they emerged from the catacombs to the light of day. Immediately Mr. Fromme slipped a hand into his inner coat pocket and produced tinted glasses to protect his eyes...and his undead soul, no doubt. With a few seconds of rest he could breathe normally. Isaac looked back at that massive blue door. “Would you be so kind as to secure the portal. Perhaps it will become a necessity for my fellow travelers in the future.”

      “You expect them to return?” Asked Alexa.

      “One never knows, Miss Casaday. One never knows. We are an unpredictable ever-changing lot.”

      Isaac walked without assistance the rest of the way--slowly, but with no help from the girls. Once they left the building and continued

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