The Gray House

“I’ll come at nine to turn the lights off,” the nurse warned. “Don’t sit on the windowsill. It’s dark out, anyway.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Grasshopper jumped down and peeked under the bed. The vampire was lying on the floor, looking straight back at him.

“Oh,” Grasshopper said. “You’re not hanging anymore? She could have seen you, easily!”

The boy slowly crawled from under the bed, like a tortoise, and sat up wincing with pain.

“You try hanging on those straps for four hours straight,” he snapped. “Naturally, I took breaks, when nobody was in here. But I think,” he said with concern, “Elk is onto me. He came back and checked the tray. And I ate almost all the meat loaf.”

Grasshopper laughed. It was very funny, imagining a vampire secretly devouring his meat loaf. And Elk, checking on the meat loaf. Sniffing at the plate. Why wouldn’t he look under the bed, though? He probably didn’t realize someone could hide there.

“Sure, laugh,” the vampire said. “Make merry. Of course, you can’t imagine how it is when you hold on to the elastic straps feeling the deathly breath of a wooden stake aimed at your heart. All for one measly dried-out piece of meat loaf. What’s so funny now?”

“Stakes can’t breathe,” Grasshopper whispered, now weak from laughter.

The vampire said sternly, “It was a figure of speech, my boy. I turned three hundred last Tuesday, so I’m allowed to mix my metaphors once in a while, don’t you think?”

“You are,” Grasshopper admitted. “And I like the way you mix them.”

“Well, we’ll see how you like this night. I intend to assume my true withered appearance and listen to your pleas for mercy as my teeth prepare to stab into your flesh!”

The vampire broke off and sighed heavily. “Listen, can I lie on your bed for a bit? I’m stiff as a board. Is it OK that I’m dirty like this?”

He slipped off his sneakers and stretched out on the bed. His feet were even dirtier than his shoes. Grasshopper sat next to him. The vampire winced.

“My back really hurts,” he said sadly.

“That could be because you’re so old,” Grasshopper suggested.

“You think so?”

The vampire was looking very pale, and this scared Grasshopper.

“Should I call the nurse?” he asked timidly.

“You mean for dessert?”

“I mean for help.” Grasshopper laughed.

The vampire smiled.

“No. I am in the mood to while away the night talking to you and generally enjoying myself, not receiving the ministrations of a nurse. Let’s not waste any more time. Tell me, how is it going out there, in the House? I miss the life outside the Sepulcher.”

“No,” Grasshopper said, climbing on the bed. “You first. And then I’ll tell you anything you want. I thought about you all day. I can’t stand the mystery anymore.”

“What was it you thought? I bet it was about how cute that vampire was.”

“I thought about . . . ,” mumbled Grasshopper. “What did you do that Elk was speaking of? Why are you a runaway? Why are you hiding?”

The vampire frowned.

“I didn’t do anything. Just ran away. But it’s no use. It’s the fourth time I’ve done it. I even tried setting fire to the place. They just don’t care. I mean, I did get to them. They started locking me up. So this time I ran away because of that. So that they wouldn’t think they outsmarted me. They won’t have a minute’s peace until I’m out of here.”

“How did you manage to get out?” Grasshopper said breathlessly. The guest was quickly acquiring the halo of a heroic martyr in his eyes.

“A friend helped,” the vampire said reluctantly. “A true soul. Don’t even think about asking for the nick, I won’t tell you anyway. So I thought this room was empty, and I came in. When I saw you sitting over there I liked you right away. I knew you wouldn’t go calling them. Even though you looked like you believed all that stuff I was saying.”

“I didn’t,” Grasshopper admitted. “But it would’ve been really cool to have a vampire hiding under my bed.”

“See, just as I said. You’re weird.” The guest propped himself on one elbow and looked at Grasshopper closer. “I like weird ones. What do they call you?”

“Grasshopper.”

“I’m Wolf. Your nick, you know . . . doesn’t fit somehow. I would’ve given you a better one. When did they bring you in?”

“This summer. There wasn’t anyone here. Only Elk. He took me in. But there has been another newbie already after me,” Grasshopper added hastily.

“I bet Sportsman hates you,” Wolf ventured.

Grasshopper frowned.

“Yeah,” he said curtly. “He does.”

“And everyone else is picking on you to try and suck up to him.”

“Used to,” Grasshopper said. “How do you know about me?”

“I don’t. I know nothing about you, but I do know about them. Which people get along with them and which don’t. Also I overheard you talking to Elk when he gave you the letter from your friend. Who they may be picking on while you’re not there. Who is he, by the way?”

Wolf perked up. He clearly enjoyed talking about life outside the Sepulcher.

“Blind,” Grasshopper said. He knew Wolf would be impressed, and Wolf was impressed.

“You’re kidding.”

Grasshopper kept proud silence.