Battle of the Network Zombies

by Mark Henry

  “With those super fun clowns who like to invade personal space bubbles and speak gibberish.”

  “You know how I love that.” I didn’t. Ever.

  “I do.” She quivered. Wendy hated those freaks nearly as much as I did—it’s one of the many reasons we’re friends. Though, if you’ll recall, when I first met the bitch, she was wearing a clown mask. And Louboutins, so that kind of cancels it out.

  By the time we were led to Gil, he was paler than usual and intent on gouging his eyes out with his knuckles.

  “Have you been here long?” I asked, dropping my purse on the seat next to him and scooting in close.

  Wendy took his other side and kissed his cheek. “Hi, lover.”

  He nestled his head against her neck. “Nah. Like fifteen minutes or so.”

  Gil nodded in the direction of the stage. “I’m guessing Kabuki dinner theater, sake cocktails and sashimi of some young guy. A nice thumping heart. Something nasty and gut-wrenching for you carnivores. Don’t mind me, I brought my own.” He pulled a flask from his Jil Sander three-quarter trench (unbelted, of course) and took a big swig. “Oh. And check this shit out.”

  He spread out his palm and hovered over the cooktop embedded in the center of our table. I reached out over it too, and didn’t notice anything, but that was normal for us; we don’t have a lot of tactile sensations in the extremities.29 He slapped his palm down. I jumped. Wendy yelped and grabbed at his arm to pull it back from the heat. But there was no reaction, no sizzle no smoke. At first. Just a bit of frost creeping across his pale skin.

  “A cold stone?”

  “Yep.” Gil pulled his hand away and rubbed it against the leg of his wool trousers.

  Wendy’s face screwed up quizzically, and then loosened. “I guess it makes sense. We don’t cook our food, after all.”

  I leaned around Gil and launched a bemused smirk at Wendy. “Maybe they’ll chop some Twix bar in your sundae.”

  Her middle finger snapped up so quickly, I was surprised her fingernail didn’t shoot off the end.

  I blew her a kiss and patted Gil on the thigh. “So how was that date, Slugger? First base? Home run?”

  “No comment. How about you? Ready for the big show?”

  “Oh, God. Doesn’t much matter if I’m ready or not. Shooting starts tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be posing as her agent,” Wendy said.

  “No, she won’t.”

  Wendy shrugged it off and scanned the menu. “This menu is in Japanese. And not like kanji, either. English phonetically written Japanese. What good is it?”

  I looked at my own copy and, true enough, they could be selling turds spread on rotting celery for all we knew. I turned to Gil. “So, seriously, how was this blind date?”

  Gil’s dates were notorious hatchet jobs. In fact, I can’t think of a single guy he’s even brought out to drinks with us. Sure, he’s a vamp and he keeps some taps on hand for draining, but I wouldn’t call those relationships, would you?

  “Date?” Wendy hunched over the fat straw protruding from her tiki and suckled it like a nipple.

  Gil leaned back and stared into the heights of the funnel, sighed, smacked his tongue against his teeth and gave up the ghost. “You know, I was hoping you’d let that slide.”

  I shook my head rapidly. “Not a chance.”

  Wendy grinned.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  * * *

  Interlude of the Bitter and Pathetic

  Part One

  Gil’s Blind Date

  (The Grisly Perils of Dating Karma*)

  * * *

  “I’ll start at the beginning, because I know that’s what you bitches want. Gory details and every bit of my dignity flushed out of me like a wave of painful diarrhea.”

  “Make it squishy.”

  “I met the guy through Deadspace dot com.30,31

  “I know it’s a hook-up site, but Jesus, a guy’s got to get some play and I’m not about to go sire a Capitol Hill gymbo just so I don’t have to hang out with you two hags every other night. I’m looking for something deeper.”

  Wendy raised an eyebrow.

  “Now shut up. I’m trying to rock a mood with this.”

  We nodded and let him have the stage.

  “The Limelight isn’t holding up well,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and brow cocking like a pistol hammer. “Don’t get me wrong, they still have one of the best vintage blood cellars in town, but if I have a hankering for an Orlando-tapped Tilda Swinton, I’m going to Veinity on 3rd and not some place with banquettes torn up like a ghetto weave. Even the outside has gone to hell. What happened to valet in this town? It’s like we’re in Tacoma, or something.

  “My date definitely distracted me from the shabby hole in the wall. He waited in the rear of the blood bar, blending into the shadows. The first I saw of him was his hand, pale and drifting from the darkness to rub the lip of his bloodglass with slender fingers, the tips alternating and coaxing a thin song from the crystal. Then he revealed himself and I nearly blew it into my boxers.”

  “Nice,” I said, swigging my third sake.

  “Yeah, like you don’t work blue.”

  I shrugged and he continued, “Nordic-boned, with ice-blue eyes and blond hair slicked back like he had Ralph Lauren on speed dial, luckily without any of the hunt club trappings. He wore a black V-neck tee and propped a denim-clad leg up on the cushion. Sexy, for sure, but there was something else there too, like a memory I couldn’t quite pull out of my brain.

  “‘I expect you’re Gil.’ His words were attenuated and inflected via London, which surprised me a bit. We’d talked quite a bit online, I thought I knew a lot about the guy, but he never mentioned where he was from. I just assumed he was local. He extended his hand and I shook it. Neither of us lingered, that would have been creepy plus I’ve learned not to.

  “Anyways, I said, ‘And you’re Daniel. Really is great to meet you…in person, I mean. How did we not talk about your accent?’

  “‘Does it bother you?’ He motioned to the seat opposite him.

  “I slipped in, our knees brushing under the table. I pretended it was the bar holding up the table and left my leg fitted right against his. ’Cause I’m sexy like that and, seriously, I was looking awesome…like I’m known to do.

  “‘Of course not. I like it,’ I told him.

  “‘I took the liberty of ordering us something special.’ Daniel turned the bottle of veino so I could read the label.

  “‘Holy shit. A Lana Turner?’

  “‘I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.’ Daniel’s eyes never waivered, his focus was deliberate and heavy-lidded with a promise.

  “I began to wonder what he expected. It’s not like I date a lot. Other vampires seem to whore it up with each other but I’ve never been into the whole blood orgy thing. I really hoped Daniel didn’t have that in mind. Though, as I swallowed my first mouthful of Lana, and her warmth and ambition spread through me, I could have been convinced.

  “‘I hope I don’t disappoint,’ I said. And then decided it sounded like innuendo. ‘I don’t mean…not sexually, we’re not anywhere near that, I’m just—’

  “He shook his head. ‘You’ve already impressed me. The moment you opened up about your experience with Rolf, I felt like I knew you. I’ve never known anyone to be so brave in his vulnerability. It’s really quite refreshing. Especially these days when everyone you meet is closed up tighter than a drum.’

  “‘Jesus, am I blushing?’ I asked.

  “Daniel chuckled and leaned in to the table, his hand reaching past his glass to mine. He stroked the hills and valleys of my knuckles. I pulled away—pure reflex—but when he didn’t withdraw, merely cocking his head, a slow smile curling onto his lips, I acquiesced, slipping my hand into his.

  “‘Am I moving too fast, Gil?’

  “He totally was, but hey, a vampire has needs and I totally get that, but damn, if this turned into another Rolf situation,
I was going to swear off men and buy a Fleshlight. It didn’t matter that Rolf disappeared over thirty years ago; you never forget your sire. Like a first love.

  “So Daniel talked me into going for a walk on the waterfront, past throngs of tourists mingling with the homeless. He held my hand for a while and we talked about his childhood in England and it turns out we were sired right around the same time. I was surprised at how comfortable I was with the guy. It’s really not like me.

  “He invited me back to his hotel room and when we got there, I was surprised to see another man sitting on the couch in the suite, a plastic cooler in front of him. I turned to Daniel. ‘What’s this about?’

  “I was thinking we might like a nibble before…’ his voice trailed off.

  “‘Before?’ I asked.

  “Daniel ignored the question. ‘This is Chad.’

  “The man on the couch stood, taller than both Daniel and I, though no broader. He didn’t extend his hand and I made no move in that direction myself, having no desire to clasp the ridges of scars I suspected I’d find there. Chad was more than obviously a tap. He wore the eagerness on his rugged face and in the rouge of his cheek. He dipped into the cooler for a beer, presumably—hard to say exactly because it had no label. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because of all the local microbreweries around town. He took a couple of swigs and then stood there, looking back and forth from me to Daniel.

  “‘So,’ he said, voice as gravelly as the two-day scruff on his cheeks. ‘Are we going to do this, or what?’

  “Daniel gestured for me to go first and the guy offered up his wrist, twisting it enticingly, the veins twisting just underneath the skin, a phlebotomist’s dream, so close to the surface and so full. I, of course, couldn’t resist. I snatched at him and latched on, drawing the blood in big warm mouthfuls, swallowing greedily. The same feeling hits every time a vamp gets a little life in him. Horny. Daniel knew it, of course. It had been his plan all along.

  “I looked up to see him feeding from the tap’s throat. He’d torn a small hole there and was lapping at blood pooled in the hollow of Chad’s clavicle like a thirsty dog chasing ice cubes in a water bowl. The human moaned. His legs shook, weak and enthralled. One of us, I think it was me, guided him back onto the couch, where he massaged his junk through his jeans, a trail of saliva dribbling in a thin stream down his cheek.

  “At some point, I took off my shirt and unzipped my pants, so turned on I could barely contain myself. Daniel had left his meal and was coaxing what little blood Chad still had into his stiffening prick, gripping it through the mouth of the prone tap’s fly.

  “‘You want some?’ he asked, shaking the dick in my direction.

  “‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I want you.’”

  “Hold on,” I interrupted, again.’ Cause I totally had to. What kind of story was this? “Are you about to go all gay erotica on us?”

  “Shut up and let him finish.” Wendy elbowed me in the side. “It was just getting good.”

  “You’re such a fag hag.” I poured the last of the sake and waved the empty container at the waitress.

  “You both are, now let me finish. It’s seriously gonna get fucked up in a sec.”

  “It better, I gotta get going soon. Packing and all.”

  Wendy scowled at the mention of American Minions. As much as I’d have loved to have someone on my side on that set, it just didn’t seem possible. She’d have to settle for watching me on TV, just like everyone else.

  “We left Chad on the couch to recover and hit the bed at a jog, only tripping once, I might add, so my game is getting better, you’ll be happy to know. Daniel was lithe and muscular under his clothes. We lay on the bed and I traced the bands of muscle lacing his back and pressed up against him from behind, searching around the flat of his stomach to his chest, where I got a bit of a shock.

  “I’m a bit of a nipple guy.

  “I like ’em medium-sized and hard as rocks, preferably set off against a backdrop of awesome pecs.

  “Daniel’s nipples were…unexpectedly huge.

  “Seriously. I’m talking like a couple of powdered Donettes left over from a sloppy binge. I think my hands spasmed away from the puffy nipple fat, because Daniel asked, ‘Is everything okay?’

  “‘Ya-yeah,’ I stuttered, pretty sure I was about to bolt out the door. But just as I began to talk my way out of the sexual nightcap, a cloud of wooziness rolled in, like I’d stood up too quickly and gotten lightheaded. I settled onto the bed and the vampire started massaging my shoulders. He was good at it and I became more and more relaxed, drifting off to sleep at some point.

  “I awoke to a swirl of lights and grunting echoes. Daniel was above me, presumably thrusting into me, or me into him, or some variation of sex that didn’t involve pleasure in any way. All I could really see were his nipples, only, in the miasma of color and sound, they’d become actual Donettes, alternating between chocolate and the powdered sugar varieties. They quivered on his pecs precariously, pulsing as though they were breathing and threatening to dislodge themselves and drop on my cheeks in soggy plops.

  “If I could have screamed I would have. It felt like a third Donette was trapped in my throat.

  “Thankfully, he rolled me over at one point and finished the whole sordid business. He was definitely an active lover. I can still feel him. Unfortunately, I can also feel those fat skin tags dragging across my back.”

  “Gross.” I started to collect my purse.

  “I thought you were a top.” Wendy eyed Gil suspiciously.

  The story was a bit over the top.

  Gil’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, daring Wendy to keep going along that line. “I was drugged!”

  “Seriously, Gil,” I said. “You need to learn to be more succinct. If you’re just telling us that you had sex with puffy nipple guy, then good for you, boner boy. But, I really have to go.”

  He put his hand on my arm. “Seriously fucked-up stuff coming real soon.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, pulling out a smoke. Wendy snatched one from my pack and we both lit up.

  “At some point, I passed out, and when I woke up, he wasn’t in the bed, or the bathroom, or the living room. But Chad was still lying on the couch and white as a ghost and on his way to becoming one, if I didn’t do something about it. I ran to the phone to call someone, not sure who. It’s not like I could call 911, not with a body drained of blood in a hotel room not even registered to me. Never mind the fact that technically I didn’t even exist.

  “Sitting next to the phone was a handwritten sign with an arrow pointing toward a flashing ‘message’ button on the handset. It read:

  Check your messages, Gil.

  There was a little heart dotting the “I.” It was with a shaky hand that I pressed the button. And Daniel’s voice came over the speaker.

  “‘Gil, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed tonight. Oh wait, yes I can. Tons. I enjoyed your ass like a fat lady enjoys a turkey leg.’ Odd how Daniel’s voice slowly lost the accent and took on more slang, I thought. The eerie feeling that came when I first met him rushed back. I must have met Daniel before.

  “‘You’re figuring it out right now, aren’t you? It’s been thirty-some years, but you remember. Leaving me for dead in my apartment while you had your little tryst with Rolf. Well, I’ve never forgotten. I’ve thought about that night for years.’

  “I dropped back onto the desk chair, shock rolling through me like a chill.

  “It was fucking Chase Hollingsworth, date rapist and, apparently, serial dieter, having slimmed down everywhere and everything but his nipples. The last time I’d seen him he weighed three hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce. We’d met on the night of my transformation; he was there, in fact. I think I’ve already told you about him. He slipped me some drug and blew me on a floral davenport. Gross fucker. Rolf, on the other hand, was far from gross. He was my sire and my longest relationship, until he darted. I hadn’t thought about him for years. And b
lamed Chase for renewing my maudlin feelings about the whole rigmarole.

  “Chase continued. ‘You and that Rolf. Damn him for making me this way. Do you know how hard it is for a fat vampire? I had to seduce a lot of old women to ferret away the cash for the reaper liposuction. In the end it’s made me stronger. My revenge will be my closure. You see, Gil. I’ve evened the score. I’ve left you three gifts. I’m not sure you’ll like any of them, but you’ll have to deal with them. The first is Chad.’

  “I looked over at the prone figure. Even now, his lungs sputtered a death rattle.

  “‘Chad’s not going to make it and I’ve already called the police to report a death in that room. They’re on their way now. The second and third gifts, you’ll figure out in time.’

  “Mortified, I ran to the door and checked the peephole. Chase wasn’t lying. There were officers moving down the hall. I looked back at Chad’s body and then the windows. We were on the thirteenth floor (or fourteenth depending on your level of superstition) and, as you know, I’m no fan of heights.”

  CHANNEL 07

  Friday

  2:00–3:00 A.M.

  The Undead Epicurean

  The always irreverent and ghoulish Frannie Carmichael takes viewers on a whirlwind tour of local and ethnic delights in this nine-part series on “small bites.” Yes. We mean midgets.

  Gil continued, “I looked at my watch and of course, it was 5:30 A.M. A mere half-hour till dawn and up shit creek. The police hammered on the door and started shouting.

  “I panicked.

  “Of course, I’m no stranger to a vamping, but this would be the first time I’d done it for free and to save my own skin. Chad’s face was so cold. When I opened his mouth a quiet sigh escaped. There wasn’t much time. I bit into the insides of my cheeks and pressed my mouth to his, filling him with a silent blood scream. He gagged and coughed and eventually swallowed and a moment later opened his eyes. I dragged him to the bed and stripped off his pants.