by Dana Fredsti
“Yeah, but they also subscribe to the whole ‘eye for an eye’ school of thought, and they might just hold it against me that I ate one of the family.”
“You ate Marco?” It was Lana. She sounded like she was gonna toss her pancakes. I ignored her and addressed the goons again.
“Now in case your night vision ain’t so great, I’ve got my gun aimed right at your heads,” I said. “But if you punks were to put your pieces on the ground and step away, I might believe you’re on the level.”
“Yeah, sure, T-Bone,” the second goon said. “No problem.” Both stooped toward the ground, guns held by the barrels. For a brief moment I thought they might actually be playing it straight with me.
Suddenly, one of the gunsels dived to the side, flipping his gun around and firing in one neat motion. The bullet shattered the window.
Lana screamed.
At the same time, the other goon did an awkward roll that must have jarred the hell out of his bones. I fired at him, missing as I ducked a bullet from his gun. I fired again as the guy stumbled to his feet, and this time I hit him in the shoulder. He reeled backward from the impact, so I took advantage of the moment and shot him cleanly through the head.
He crumpled to the ground, finally ready to try on a halo.
Another scream from Lana alerted me to the fact that while I’d been dusting his pal, the first goon had made it through the front door. He fired before I could take cover. The bullet smashed me in the forehead and knocked me flat on my back.
“Charley!” Larry shouted, and he started toward me. The thug fired again and there was a loud thump as Larry fell to the floor.
Lana shrieked again, but stayed where she was. In the battle between sentiment and self-preservation, we had a clear winner.
I lay still, eyes closed, a firm grip on my gun. My would-be killer walked over and stood above my body, no doubt gloating. I gave him a few seconds to have his fun and then opened my eyes and sat up.
It was great. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. I mean, the dead coming back to life was an everyday occurrence, but how often does a zombie come back a second time around?
“Sucker,” I said, and I blew his brains out.
Then I took off my fedora and inspected the damage. Scorch marks and a nice little hole in the felt. The steel dented in a bit at the point of impact, and I probably had a corresponding dent in my head, but oh well. Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?
As I put my hat back on, I heard a groan, and remembered Larry.
Larry, who’d gotten shot because of me.
I went over to where my old pal lay in an expanding pool of blood. The bullet had taken him through the chest. I could see blood bubbling out of the wound and frothing from his mouth. I had no doubt he was dying.
“Hey, pal.” I put a hand on his shoulder.
Larry’s eyes opened and he tried to focus.
“Charley?” His voice was weak.
“Yeah. I’m here, pal.”
One hand came up to pat mine.
“It was good to see you again, Charley... even... if you are kind of... of... dead.” His hand slid off limply and his eyes glazed over. I felt for his pulse. Nada.
I sat in silence for a moment out of respect.
Then I stood up and turned to Lana.
She’d backed into a corner, hands clutching the wall as if it’d protect her. Her breasts heaved against the tight fabric of her shirt as she stared at me in terror. Absolutely delectable. I wanted to take her in my arms and... and what?
We stared at each other. Finally Lana broke the silence.
“You... you’re not really going to take me back to the Gionettis, are you, Charles?” Her voice quavered, a note of desperate appeal running through it.
I looked at her, drinking in the beauty I’d loved so well, and considered my options.
One, I could turn her over to the Gionettis for fun and games, but after the crap they’d tried to pull, I wasn’t inclined to give them the satisfaction.
Two, I could give Lana a quick bullet through the heart, and we could take up where we’d left off. But I knew I’d never really be able to trust her. The minute my back was turned, she’d take the steel lining out of my fedora. And somehow, I didn’t think I could stand to watch the inevitable decay of her beauty. Sooner or later those sapphire eyes would sink into blackened flesh, those perfect breasts would wither away like rotting peaches. I wanted to remember Lana in all her lush loveliness.
That left number three...
I took a step forward. She huddled against the wall.
“I ain’t gonna turn you over, baby.”
A faint, almost disbelieving look of hope crossed Lana’s face.
“You... you’re not?”
“No. There’s too much between us for that. I’ve never forgotten you, doll face.”
Slowly Lana began to unclench herself from the corner, her face registering growing confidence.
“You’ll never... never regret this, Charles,” She said. Her voice could’ve started a fire without matches.
Then she came toward me, her curves undulating like an ocean in a hurricane.
I waited, enjoying the show.
She reached me, her nose wrinkling slightly as she caught the scent of Old Spice mixed with old zombie, but she recovered quickly. Putting her arms around my neck, Lana pressed herself against me so I could feel every hillock and valley of her voluptuous body.
“I knew you’d change your mind, darling,” she murmured, her breath warm in my cold ear.
I smiled, one hand caressing the meat of her firm, rounded ass.
“I’d never turn you in, baby,” I said, my other hand entwining itself in her luxuriant mane.
“I knew you still loved me.” Her voice was triumphant.
“That’s right, doll.” I pulled her head back so I could see the long, graceful line of her throat. “I want you all to myself.” I took a small nibble. “Every single bite.”
* * *
Well, maybe not every single bite. After all, Larry would be getting up soon, and I really couldn’t begrudge him.
After all, we did share the same taste in women.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
For those of you who’ve read some of my other novels, A Man’s Gotta Eat What a Man’s Gotta Eat may come as a bit of a surprise.
On one hand, there’s Murder for Hire: the Peruvian Pigeon, a soft-boiled noir-cozy mystery novel. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s Plague Town and Plague Nation, launching a series of action/horror/ humor novels dealing with the zombocalypse.
A Man’s Gotta Eat lies somewhere in the middle, with a hard-boiled detective protagonist who just happens to be a flesh-eating zombie. So maybe it won’t be so much a surprise, and instead elicit something along the lines of, “Was she smoking crack when she came up with this story?”
No, I wasn’t, but I was on the tail end of a whomping willow-sized migraine and driving down the I-5 through Los Angeles when I came up with the idea of combining my love of noir and my fixation with zombies. I blame the fumes from rush-hour traffic.
The result? Well, my favorite description is from M.R. Gott, author of Where the Dead Fear to Tread, who said:
“What would happen if Raymond Chandler and Frank Miller conceived a child in a cheap motel room while a Romero marathon played in the background? Dana Fredsti’s, A Man’s Gotta Eat What a Man’s Gotta Eat.”
I seriously love that description, second only to my father’s reaction upon reading A Man’s Gotta Eat, which was, “Jeez... you write like a drunken misogynist.” Honestly the best compliment I ever received from him.
I originally wrote A Man’s Gotta Eat with an eye toward possible inclusion in John Skipp and Craig Specter’s Book of the Dead II: Still Dead. However, I missed the deadline for that anthology and instead submitted it to John Skipp for his solo editing project, Mondo Zombie. While A Man’s Gotta Eat didn’t make it into Mondo Zombie, another of my stories, You’ll Never Be Lunch in
this Town Again, was accepted, and I eventually found a home for my zombie detective in Danger City, an urban noir anthology published by Contemporary Press.
While you can still find copies of Danger City—and I highly recommend it if you like noir—that version of A Man’s Gotta Eat is shorter. This is the original re-edited not-quite-a-novella-but-too-long-to-be-a-short-story version, with awesome new cover art by my talented artist pal Matt Burns. Please check out his website at http://www.theartfulmatt.com.
I hope you enjoy it!
Dana Fredsti
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dana Fredsti is an actress with a background in theatrical sword-fighting, whose credits include the cult classic Army of Darkness. Her favorite projects include acting alongside Ken Foree (Dawn of the Dead) and Josef Pilato (Day of the Dead). She has been a producer, director, and screenplay writer for stage and film, and was the co-writer/associate producer on Urban Rescuers, which won Best Documentary at the 2003 Valley Film Festival in Los Angeles.
She has written numerous published articles, essays, and shorts, including stories in Danger City (Contemporary Press, 2005), and Mondo Zombie (Cemetery Dance, 2006). In addition she’s published Murder for Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon (Rock Publications, 2007) and several books and stories for Ravenous Romance. She is the author of Plague Town and Plague Nation for Titan Books. and has served as the president of the literary organization Sisters in Crime, Northern California Chapter.
Through seven-plus years of volunteering at Exotic Feline Breeding Facility/Feline Conservation Center, Dana has had a full-grown leopard sit on her feet, been kissed by tigers, cuddled baby jaguars, and had her thumb sucked by an ocelot with nursing issues. She’s addicted to bad movies and any book or film—good or bad—which includes zombies. Her other hobbies include surfing (badly), collecting beach glass (obsessively), and wine-tasting (happily).