Barry and the Vampire in the Rosedale Encounter. Darrell Bartell

panic, improvise, value living, act like the natives, and learn basic skills.”

      Right now, vanquishing fear and panic and valuing life were at the top of his list. He wasn’t accustomed to fighting for his life, let alone a dehydrated vampire’s or an eight-year-old girl’s, but if he didn’t, Barry knew he would end up on a missing person’s website, like thousands of others.

      “He’s coming. He’s coming,” Lashonda warned, before she scurried to the rear of her prison.

      Barry heard awkward footsteps come out of the darkness. The huge man, wearing coveralls, a plaid shirt, and work boots, approached the makeshift jail carrying a metal pipe and looked inside.

      “I see you.” Using the pipe, he banged on the door a few times before looking at Barry.

      The teenager tried to stay focused, remembering his dad’s advice, but his head and heart pounded in unison with his heightened anxiety.

      “Hi, Barry. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

      The question caught him off guard. “How’d you know my name?”

      “I heard you and Lashonda.” The man stumbled over his words. “I like Lashonda. She’s pretty.”

      Is he a pedophile? wondered Barry. Something seemed odd about the eyes.

      “Can I ask your name?”

      “I can’t tell you. My paw-paw said I shouldn’t talk to the toys.”

      “Toys?”

      “Uh-huh. Paw-Paw has fun playing with toys.”

      Barry didn’t like the direction of this conversation.

      “Why is she dead?” he pointed to Casey.

      “I don’t know. Did you hurt her?” Barry grimaced in pain as the man poked him in the ribs with the pipe.

      “I didn’t hurt her. Paw-Paw told me not to hurt anybody if I can help it.” He gave Barry a couple more jabs.

      “Enough already. I get it! I get it!” he screamed.

      “But that doesn’t mean I won’t if you make me mad. You don’t want me to get mad.” He wasn’t kidding. “M-A-D. That spells mad.”

      “Oh, boy.” That confirmed Barry’s suspicions. “What about something to drink? Don’t the toys get water?”

      “No. Paw-Paw said not to give them any food or anything to drink.”

      “Why not?”

      “Paw-Paw said it’s better that way. Paw-Paw knows best.”

      “And television. Don’t we get to watch television?” Barry saw the man look up, trying to remember.

      “Well, no. The other toys didn’t ask about television. They just wanted me to let them go.”

      Barry kept obtaining information. “Are there other toys here?”

      “Oh no. Once my paw-paw is done, he makes me get rid of them. See.” The mentally challenged man pointed toward the other side of the warehouse.

      It hurt, but Barry tilted his head to the left and observed a couple of backpacks, a suitcase, some purses, and wallets stacked along the wall. The sight should have caused Barry to want his inhaler. Instead, it gave him an idea.

      “That doesn’t prove anything.”

      “It does too.” The huge man smiled. “Proves I’m smart. Everybody thought I was dumb, but I’m not. I’m real smart.”

      Barry kept him talking. “You caught me fair and square and it takes a pretty bright guy to put this together. Chains fastened to the wall and a steel cage. Did you make all this yourself?”

      “Oh no, Paw-Paw built it, but I helped.”

      Barry’s idea was paying off. The more he kept the brute talking, the more information he could use to figure out an escape. “How long have you known your paw-paw?”

      “Gosh! I’m not sure. Maybe a year. We met at one of his meetings.”

      “Oh, what meeting?”

      “I can’t tell you that. He takes good care of me.” The brute reached into the pocket of his coveralls. “Paw-Paw even bought me this fancy key chain. See. This is the key to Lashonda’s cage. These three keys are to the warehouse, this is the key to the van, and this fancy key is the one to your chains.”

      A car horn honking outside the warehouse interrupted the conversation.

      “That’s Paw-Paw. Now you get to meet him.” The simple-minded man briskly trotted to the far end of the warehouse.

      It was rare, but child predators had been known to work in pairs. Rarer still was when one had the IQ of a cinder block. Barry deduced the sadistic savage didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. He was only doing what he’d been told. Barry hadn’t figured out an escape, but he had located the keys and that was more than he had since he and Casey got into this mess. He knew what the backpacks, wallets, and other items piled together meant. They belonged to the previous victims, but he didn’t intend to join them.

      But first, Barry was about to meet the other half of this murderous duo, providing he didn’t pass out.

      Chapter 10

      No longer casting shadows in the warehouse, the sun had disappeared from the windows. The behemoth flipped a switch and two pendant light fixtures hanging from the rafters faintly glowed. Another light shone through an office area where the man had appeared earlier. Barry saw him pull a chain to raise a metal bay door allowing an old, sun-bleached BMW to enter. After closing and securing the door, the giant went to the vehicle to let out a middle-aged man wearing a rumpled brown suit. He was followed by a muscular, black-and-white pit bull attached to a leash. The owner tried to gain control of the dog after the massive hound showed his dislike of Barry’s jailer. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but Barry could tell the new arrival wasn’t happy when Paw-Paw hit him on the shoulder.