Jailbait Zombie fg-4

by Mario Acevedo

I took the cup from her and went to the dresser. I took out my contacts and faced her. “No, let me show you.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Shawna lay on the bed. The penumbra of her aura undulated like the surface on a puddle of red water. Her blue eyes gazed at nothing. A bottle of Windex showed more life.

  I knelt beside her and scooped her neck in my hand. My fangs extended and I touched the sharp points with the tip of my tongue. Yes, I’d interrogate her, but first, it was time for dinner.

  I removed one of her oversize horseshoe earrings and put my nose into the hollow of her neck behind the left ear. My cheek brushed against hair that was broom-bristle stiff with Aquanet. My fangs found their mark on her throat. Her blood spurted into my mouth. The taste of tramps was a flavor I knew too well.

  I sucked deliberately, filling my mouth to capacity, and let the heavy mass of blood swirl over my tongue. Type A-negative I was sure. I swallowed and the luxurious warmth flushed through my body.

  I gave Shawna only enough of my pleasure enzymes to keep her aura steady while giving a maximum dose of healing and amnesia enzymes. An hour after my fanging, she’d have no souvenir of my feeding except for a blank spot in her memory.

  I climbed on the bed to straddle her hips and cradle her head in my hands.

  “Shawna,” I whispered. “Talk to me.”

  Recognition sparkled in her eyes. Her pupils shrank as the focus in them receded to a point deep within her consciousness. Sparkles of psychic energy collected along the aura around her head and made a halo. Probably the only one she’d ever wear.

  “Why did you come on to me?” I asked.

  Her pupils alternated between dilating and shrinking.

  Let me rephrase the question. “Who sent you?”

  “Sal.”

  “Last name?”

  “Cavagnolo.”

  So this rendezvous was a setup.

  I massaged the back of her scalp. “What for?”

  “Didn’t say.”

  I believed her; she had no choice but to tell the truth.

  “Cavagnolo told you to approach me at My Final Bender and invite me here?”

  “Yes.”

  Simple enough plan, though so obvious that a blind drunk would’ve seen it coming. I had told Cavagnolo to stay out of my way and I’d get Gino’s killers. But the old man had his pride and the only way to restore face was to take me down. I expected visitors.

  Another question for Shawna: “Do you know anything about the mutilations?”

  The smooth sheath of her aura turned into an undulating fuzz. A rash of dark spots betraying anxiety broke out across her penumbra.

  “Answer me.”

  Her eyes fixed on a spot miles above. She struggled to obey me while her subconscious fought to keep her pain buried. “I…I…I’ve heard.”

  “Heard what?”

  “About Stanley. Barrett. Now Gino.”

  “What about them?”

  The dark spots sprouted tendrils that whipped from her aura. Sweat trickled from her forehead and wet her temples. Her eyes became wide concentric circles of white around the blue middles. “People are scared.”

  “Why?”

  “Because no one knows why folks are disappearing or who’s doing the killings.”

  Shawna shut her eyes and milked tears. Wet mascara filled the wrinkles of her cheeks. She looked terrified and suddenly very old.

  I’d hit a wall of emotional distress. It wasn’t worth digging through. She’d told me what I wanted to know. I laid her head on the pillow and got off the bed.

  Other than confirming that Cavagnolo was still gunning for me, what had I learned? He was more frightened about the killings than he would admit.

  But as to who or why? A big goose egg of ignorance hovered over me.

  When Shawna came around, she’d want an explanation as to what happened. I dumped the remaining vodka down the bathroom sink. If I told Shawna that she’d passed out from the boozing, I doubt it would be news.

  This chase after the zombies was getting murkier by the minute. I had no clue what to do next, so I decided to rest and wait and see if Cavagnolo’s men showed up.

  I cleaned my pistol, the magazine, and the bullets. I turned the wicker chair toward the TV on the dresser. Like everything else in the room, the TV looked salvaged from a recycling bin. I sat and picked up the remote but the TV wouldn’t click. I got up to wiggle the wooden dowel sticking out where the power button should be. The TV buzzed and the screen showed the commercial for a public auction of tractors and manure spreaders.

  The goddamn psychic signal started. I jerked upright, alert. The echo remained low, almost a hum. Now that I knew Phaedra was responsible for the signal, the mystery to them was gone.

  And just like that, the echo stopped.

  What did Phaedra want? What was the purpose of the signal? A warning?

  I lowered the volume of the TV and turned off the lights. Let’s pretend I’d fallen asleep.

  I put my fingers against the door and held still. I collected the faint vibrations from outside, the tiny smells, the whisper-like noises.

  Slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like a cold breath had fallen over them. Danger lurked, that was for sure, but in what form?

  Footsteps creaked over the gravel in the parking lot. One set. Two sets. Three sets.

  I holstered the.45 into the waist of my jeans and put my boots on.

  I didn’t want a gunfight. Not here. The shots would alert too many people and make my hunt for the zombies much more difficult. I only took the gun to keep the odds in my favor.

  I’d attack Cavagnolo’s men as a vampire.

  CHAPTER 30

  I would go out through the bathroom window. The bars on the window were welded to a metal frame that was bolted to the wall of the window opening. I used my talons to saw off the heads of the bolts holding the frame in place. I worked the frame loose and sliced a hole in the screen.

  I gave a listen, heard nothing unusual, and peeked out. To the left, the alley dead-ended against a tall cinderblock wall. To the right, toward the street, a metal barrel and a sheet of plywood were arranged into a makeshift barricade at the entrance. The bottom of the alley was full of mud and trash.

  I climbed out the window and levitated to the ground. The stink kept me from smelling anything except for rats, raccoons, dead sparrows, and discarded diapers.

  I crept close to the metal barrel. Crouching to remain low, I peered through a gap between the plywood and the wall.

  Two pickups sat on the other side of the road, the same ones Cavagnolo’s men drove. A red aura bubbling with anxiety surrounded a man pacing between the trucks. The ember of a cigarette lit up his face. He’d been with Cavagnolo earlier but I didn’t get his name. A maze of shadows obscured the front of the buildings behind the truck.

  The plan must be to catch me in bed with Shawna and then lights out, amigo.

  A simple and effective plan. Too bad I was on to it.

  When the man guarding the trucks turned away, I leaped over the barrel and plywood. I landed softly on the gravel shoulder and sprinted across the boulevard.

  I hid in the shadows and studied the guard. He paused and leaned against the back of one of the trucks while keeping watch over the motel. I stalked close enough to smell that he had steak for dinner. I crouched next to a tire behind him. He tossed the cigarette to the ground.

  No need to kill him; I only wanted him out of the way.

  He stood with his back to me. I sprung forward and clamped onto the collar of his coat. My momentum slammed him face-first to the ground.

  I yanked on his collar and scooted back, gaining speed. I whipped around in a circle until his feet lifted off the ground. I turned in place, spinning completely around and tossed the man against a wall. He hit the bricks and went uff. His aura flashed once, then shrank to a dull simmer. He was out for a while.

  I went to every truck and clawed the tires. Sharp rubber odors escaped thr
ough the ragged holes. I dashed across the street and leaped for the motel roof. This was too easy. I couldn’t resist doing a full gainer. Levitating the final distance, I landed with a sound no louder than bunnies screwing.

  I trod softly to the edge of the roof overlooking the parking lot. Two men, Cleto and another guy, sneaked along the walls to my room. Each carried a pistol with a silencer. Vinny watched from a position close to a Dumpster.

  The two men crept close to my room door. They nodded, once, a second time, and on the third time, Cleto kicked the door to my room. Both men disappeared inside.

  I heard them scramble, confused, wondering where I had gone. I followed one man’s frantic steps to the bathroom. Cleto stuck his head out the window into the alley and stared right and left. Angry, nervous tendrils snaked from his aura. I should’ve peed on him.

  Cleto withdrew his head. Seconds later he yelled, “Get your ass up, stupid bitch. Where is he?”

  There was slapping and the tumble of a body to the floor. Hell of a wake-up call.

  After a moment, Cleto and his buddy marched out the door. They muscled Shawna between them, her hair knotted in Cleto’s hand. She hobbled along barefoot, with no jacket, and whimpered like a cold, frightened puppy.

  Vinny joined the trio and vanished around the corner of the restaurant.

  No lights came on in any of the other motel windows. Maybe guests getting roughed up was nothing to lose sleep over.

  I jumped from the roof and landed beside my room entrance. The front door remained open. The bed had been overturned.

  Within a minute I was back outside, with my contacts in place, fully dressed, and driving my Toyota out of the parking lot. My headlamps swept across Cleto and crew staring at their trucks. The flat tires hung from the chrome wheels like soggy doughnuts. The guy I’d thrown against the wall was up and rubbing his head.

  I drove to them. Shawna sat in the backseat of the Chevy’s cab.

  Vinny’s eyes shone like a couple of candied cherries against his ham-like face. He tapped excitedly on the other guy’s arm and pointed.

  Vinny, Shawna, and this guy eyed me like I’d materialized from the air. I halted with my left front fender beside Cleto and announced, “Hope you guys have AAA.”

  Cleto spun about. He had such a Holy Shit! expression that it took him a moment to recognize me. His eyes brimmed with surprise and rage. He jerked the pistol toward me.

  I tossed Shawna’s jacket at him. “If she catches cold, I’m holding you responsible.”

  Cleto fumbled for the jacket and his pistol clattered to the ground.

  I gave the gas pedal a nudge and my front tire crunched over his gun. I rested the muzzle of my H&K on the windowsill of my door. “Who wants to live?”

  Vinny and the other guy raised their hands.

  Cleto straightened and clutched the jacket in both arms. “Where the fuck were you?” The question came out as a pained groan.

  Cavagnolo had sent this wild bunch to do me in, and instead they had nothing to show for their efforts except for a thousand dollars in tire replacements.

  “Watching TV. You walked right past me.”

  “How…I didn’t see…no way.” His eyes darted back and forth and he wobbled in a fit of vertigo.

  I extended my hand and rubbed my thumb across my fingertips. “You owe me for the door you busted open.”

  “The hell you talking about?”

  “Cleto, you’re forgetting that I’m aiming a gun at your guts. Pay up and I won’t air-condition your belly.”

  Cleto dropped a hand over his stomach.

  Vinny dug a roll of bills from a coat pocket. He peeled off a hundred and gave it to me.

  I cocked my thumb at Vinny and told Cleto, “Now you owe him.”

  I eased on the gas and rolled forward. “Tell your boss that I’m not holding what happened tonight against him. Yet. Consider it a learning exercise.”

  Unfortunately, these buffoons were a big distraction in my hunt for the zombies. For his sake, I hoped Cavagnolo would get wise and cooperate before his dismembered corpse wound up in a spare parts bin.

  “And Cleto.”

  His gaze lifted from the pistol I’d run over. “Huh?”

  “Take better care of your gun.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I drove west to the town of South Fork. I needed to put time and distance between myself and Cavagnolo. Stupid paranoid bastard wouldn’t listen. I’d told him to keep his big nose clear of me and that I would take care of those responsible for the mutilations.

  But Cavagnolo interfered, twice. I’ve made his goons look like drunken clowns. I was positive my name was at the top of his to-do list.

  I stopped in an all-night diner. The place had a Lincoln Logs exterior. The motif inside was rustic yellow pine and antlers. A waitress mopped the floor. The few customers were scattered about the counter and booths. Everyone acted like they’d recently come out of hibernation and didn’t talk or move much.

  The time was 2 A.M. Working both nights and days wore us vampires out. Didn’t help that the sun’s rays weakened us despite sunblock and makeup. My brain felt like it was full of wet cotton. A quick snooze in a casket would reset my psychic equilibrium. Maybe I should break into a mortuary.

  I took a seat at a booth in the corner farthest from the entrance. I needed space and privacy. The waitress put the mop aside, rinsed her hands in a sink behind the counter, and set a coffee cup and a menu in front of me.

  I planned my next moves and wrote my questions on a notepad. Where were the Z? (Shorthand for zombies.) Why had they taken the psychotronic diviner? Could Phaedra use her psychic power to find Z? Why had they attacked Gino? Where had they taken his body? For what purpose? Was the missing man I recently read about also a Z victim?

  I unfolded the topographical map and studied the terrain. The reanimator was somewhere in this labyrinth of mountains and valleys.

  Or was he? I assumed the zombies remained close in proximity to their creator.

  But the first zombie had attacked me in Aurora, hundreds of miles from here.

  If the Araneum could find me with a crow, why couldn’t they send that bird to look for the zombie farm and leave a trail of poop for me to follow?

  My life as a vampire. Do everything the hard way.

  The waitress came by with coffee. She glanced over my notes and map. She asked, “You a bounty hunter?”

  My eyebrows gave a huh? “No,” I said, “I’m checking out the real estate.”

  “Yeah, right.” She filled my cup. “With that map and at this time of the morning? Honey, trouble’s written all over you.”

  “Is that a clinical analysis?”

  “You like using big words, don’t you?” She readied an order pad. “No, it’s the opinion of a girl who’s had too many boyfriends with lots of different occupations.”

  So much for being in stealth mode.

  I ordered eggs over easy, bacon, and hash browns. Wheat toast. Buttered. After the meal arrived I pretended to smear ketchup over the eggs and potatoes to hide the O-negative I’d brought in. I used the toast to wipe the plate clean of egg yolk and blood.

  I kept watch outside. At the moment it wasn’t the zombies or Cavagnolo I feared but the sunrise.

  The landscape brightened by degrees. Yellow light painted the tops of the surrounding mountains.

  Fear wormed through my guts. I could feel the breath of the sun coming to incinerate me.

  I retreated to the men’s room with my backpack. I locked myself in a stall and waited. I felt like a lobster that had molted and needed to hide until its shell hardened. While in the stall I shaved with an electric razor and applied sunblock and makeup. These mundane details are overlooked in classic vampire literature.

  The psychic signal started. I slammed my hands against the sides of the stall to steady myself. The signal echoed once, then shrank to silence.

  What was Phaedra doing?

  When I stepped out of the men’s room, the re
staurant seemed normal. Plenty of morning customers. No one acting like they wanted trouble.

  The dawn had passed and I was safe from the sunrise. My cell phone chimed to alert me of a text message.

  CALL MEP

  Phaedra.

  “Felix, you okay?” she answered, breathless.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Thank goodness. Where are you?”

  “In South Fork.” This was the first time we’d talked since her uncle took her away. “That was you just now, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  Phaedra started to answer when in the background of the phone, a woman called out over a loudspeaker. She wanted a price check on enchilada sauce.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “In Del’s Budget Grocery.”

  I remembered Del’s as the only supermarket in Morada.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Hanging out before school starts.”

  “You’re okay then? About Gino?”

  “No, I’m not okay. But I can’t bring him back, can I? It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “That’s two of us. Let’s talk in person. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Better hurry. School starts in a few minutes.”

  “Play hooky.”

  “Only for first period. I hate my civics teacher.”

  We clicked off.

  I started back to Morada, concerned that Cavagnolo and friends could’ve eavesdropped on Phaedra and be waiting in ambush. Maybe I was giving them too much credit because I arrived at Del’s Budget Grocery without so much as a bug smacking my windshield.

  Huge new pickups and tiny beaters cruised the parking lot in random circles. Whatever the model or make, every vehicle had green and yellow ribbons fluttering from the antennas. Windows were scrawled with Go Panthers!

  Kids stood in groups alongside the building. Phaedra remained alone. She wore an off-white ski parka and a backpack, and cradled a paper bag.

  She made eye contact and started for me.

  A trio of large boys broke from a clique and blocked her. They all had green jackets with Morada High embroidered across the back. Two of the boys wore cowboy hats.