Zombies, Werewolves, Whores, and More!

by Jerrod Balzer

  When they approached, he raised a beer to them. “Ah, fresh meat. I was wondering if you guys would show up tonight. Now maybe I’ve got a challenge.”

  Each Friday evening, he had the same table booked and welcomed any interested competition. If an opponent was unable to get good shots in from the beginning, odds were that Mike would run the table until the eight ball was sunk.

  “Damn straight you do.” Bob chose the least warped stick from a nearby rack. He was nowhere near as talented as his friend, but loved to talk smack.

  Jeezy made a few selections at the jukebox before heading back to the bar for a pitcher and two mugs. The usual plan was to throw back a few beers as a warm-up before the Goldschl„ger binge.

  “So,” Mike said as he racked the balls, “what’s going on?”

  Bob took the first shot. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He knocked in a few and then scratched, so Mike rounded the table to get the cue ball. “Knowing you, I bet I would.”

  Jeezy returned and sat at a table that already had Mike’s drink and cigarettes. He watched as Mike made an intentional bad shot to keep the game going. Bob scratched again, rolled his eyes, and then his jaw dropped. “Whoa, would you look at that?”

  The others looked around. “What?”

  Bob kept his lovestruck gaze on a blonde in a short skirt sitting near the dance floor. “Over there.”

  Mike’s eyes widened. “I don’t remember seeing her before.”

  Bob handed Jeezy his pool stick. “Here, finish my game, will ya? I’m gonna go talk to her.” He rarely got lucky, but it never stopped him from trying. Plus, he could use the distraction after what he’d been through with Ichobod. He approached the woman and asked the clich‚, “Are you from around here?”

  The woman looked up and smiled. “Sort of, I just moved here from Oakview.”

  He smirked. “Why would you want to come here? It’s nothing compared to Oakview.”

  “Well, I came with a friend that I’m living with. He has a lot of friends here.”

  “Oh.” Bob felt a strikeout coming. “Your boyfriend?”

  “No, he just helps pay the rent. I thought about staying on my own, but figured what the hell? I could use the change in scenery. It’s a lot quieter in Tapperville, and the people are nicer, too.”

  “Well, let me introduce myself. I’m Bob Krater, one of the nice people.” He offered his hand.

  She accepted. “I’m Catrina, pleased to meet you.”

  Bob’s confidence was building. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

  She eyed him up and down before sealing the deal. “Sure.”

  *****

  Meanwhile, Mike was running the table with Jeezy, who watched in frustration as one ball was knocked in after another. At last, the eight ball plopped into the right side pocket.

  “Keep practicing.” Mike leaned his stick against the wall and sat down to his beer. He knew both men from working at the factory, but had since left for a better job with an electric cooperative. Trimming trees and detaching fried animals from the lines was much nicer than inhaling plastic fumes for twelve hours.

  He wasn’t as fond of Jeezy as Bob was, thinking the dark fantasy image was an immature ploy for attention. Since they shared the same friend, however, he tolerated him. Jeezy sat across from him, and no words were spoken until Mike glanced across the room. “It looks like Bob’s getting along famously with that girl.”

  Jeezy nodded, and then gasped when they got up to head outside. When Catrina wasn’t paying attention, Bob glanced at them with raised eyebrows, shocked that he’d lasted this long with someone so attractive. They waved and winked in return.

  Mike snickered. “Now that he’s got her, will he know what to do with her?”

  “It may take him a while to figure it out. Want to play another game?”

  “Might as well.” Mike stood and racked the balls. A Celine Dion song played on the jukebox and he frowned at Jeezy. “Did you pick that?”

  “Shit, that was meant for Bob… as a joke. And he leaves right before hearing it.”

  Mike chuckled. “So that’s what you guys were up to earlier. Well, I’ll let you two keep it private. I don’t judge. I just don’t want the details.”

  “No, no. It had to do with necromancy.”

  “That’s what morticians do with dead bodies, right? You know, with their dicks.”

  “Not necrophilia!” Jeezy wanted to clarify, but then decided against it. “It might be easier to swallow if we showed you.” He paused to knock a striped ball in the corner pocket, cringing at how bad his last statement sounded in light of what Mike was insinuating. He considered shutting up before digging his hole any deeper, but the alcohol buzz kept his better judgment at bay. “Do you have any dead animals?”

  Mike laughed. “Hoo boy! That’s a wild fetish you’ve got there.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Okay, seriously.” Mike nodded. “What, so you can sacrifice it?”

  “You’ll find out, but only if you can come up with one.” He wouldn’t normally be so forward, but his recent accomplishment had swelled his ego for the evening, which in turn was diminished by Mike’s warped imagination. He needed damage control.

  Mike considered it. “I suppose I could get one. There’s this bitch I’ve been meaning to shoot for a while now.”

  Jeezy lowered his head. “You don’t mean you’re… um, wife… do you?”

  Mike almost missed a shot and hissed. “Not her! No, I’m talking about a golden retriever that’s been getting into my garbage.”

  Jeezy’s face brightened. “Great! If she comes around tonight, give Bob a call. Then we can come over and show you. Trust me; you won’t be disappointed. Oh, and I didn’t mean that your wife was a… you know.”

  “Sure, whatever, but this had better be good.” It was also a fine opportunity to call Jeezy’s bluff on all the supernatural crap, exposing him for the poseur Mike suspected him to be.

  A frantic man approached them and slapped the table. He caught both of them off guard, and Mike almost swung on him out of reflex.

  The guy paid no attention to their reaction. “Some big dude is messing with Bob outside. It looks pretty serious.”

  Mike and Jeezy looked at each other, bewildered for a moment, before bolting toward the front door.

  In the dim light and shadows, there were only a few clusters of people visible, leaning against their cars and talking. Mike didn’t immediately see his friend, but could hear raised voices from the far end of the parking lot. As he neared the group, he saw Bob standing in front of his truck; the others gathered around him. The man causing the trouble was facing Bob, and although Mike didn’t recognize him, the rest were locals.

  On the man’s right was Jim Horrison. He was obese with no qualms about it, often with food on his person like a candy bar or a small bag of chips. Standing on Jim’s right was Fred Pastin, a mail carrier that most people hated. He was called “asshole” or “smartass” more often than his real name, and he earned it with his attitude. In fact, the only person - including what few friends he had - that didn’t think he was a jerk was his wife, Sheryl. For some reason that nobody understood, she managed to stay with him and love him through all the abusive language and barked orders.

  On the man’s left was Bart Skinster, a man with a near-perfect physique and a reputation for being quite the brawler. To Bart’s left was Gene Cropper, tall, skinny, and always looking for a good laugh. Back in high school, he was the class clown. The other students looked forward to his pranks and jokes. After graduation, however, they grew tiresome and Gene caused more aggravation than laughs. That never stopped him, though. There was no telling who would be the next victim of his nauseating sense of humor.

  They hovered around Bob in a semicircle while Catrina stood to the side, trying to stay out of the way. Bob’s face relaxed a little when he saw Mike and Jeezy approach. The others took notice but seemed unconcerned.

  “Answer me, di
ck!” the man said. “What were you planning to do with her?”

  Bob looked at Catrina. “Who is this?”

  She ignored him and yelled to the man, “David, you weren’t even supposed to be here tonight!”

  “I was passing through and thought you might need company.” David glared at Bob and continued between clenched teeth, “But I can see you found your own.”

  Bob faced his glare. “Look, there’s been a misunderstanding, so just chill out, David. That is your name, right? David?”

  “Yeah, David Hampton,” Catrina said.

  David pointed a fist at her. “Shut up, whore!” Then he swung the fist into Bob’s face, splitting his left cheek and slamming him against the hood of his pickup. Hushed giggles arose from David’s friends.

  Bob straightened and felt his face, muttering curses under his breath. David was big, a lot stouter than Bob, but he thought he could take him. He was worried, though, that the others might jump him. Even with Mike and Jeezy’s help, they were still outnumbered. And Jeezy was a wimp, worsening the odds.

  The guy who’d alerted Mike was nearby. The glow of a cell phone exposed one side of his face. Bart Skinster noticed this and called to him. “Hey! What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  “Motherfucker!” Bart chased after the squealing man, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and slammed him on the ground. Then he took the phone away and threw it before returning to the group.

  Mike took the opportunity to step through the gap just as David prepared to punch Bob again. With a casual grace, Mike pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket, flipped it open and pressed the blade against David’s neck. David lowered his arm. The others tensed like cats ready to pounce. When Bart was back, Mike kept a sharp eye on him more than the rest.

  “Aren’t you the brave one?” Mike said to David in a stern voice. “Bullying someone who won’t fight back makes you feel all tough, huh? Why don’t you take me on? Let’s see what you’re really worth?” He looked at Bart and then spit on him. “And without your bitch posse backup.”

  Bart stepped forward, his face red with rage. Mike put a hand on David’s shoulder and pushed the blade harder, nearly breaking the skin. “Nuh uh, back off!”

  “All right,” David said, sweat dripping from his nose, but more from the alcohol in his system than nerves. “Put the blade away and we’ll dance.” He craned his neck slightly, flinching at the knife’s pinch, and spoke to the others. “Don’t anyone touch him. This asshole’s mine.”

  The moment Mike’s knife was returned to his pocket, he had to dodge a swing. That earned David a fist to the gut, a knee to the groin, and a punch in the face. He fell to the ground and groaned. Behind them, Jeezy let out a short laugh.

  Mike belched, a little uneasy from all the moving around. “Now then, I think I’ll run you over with my car.” He fished for his keys, retrieving them in time to close his fist around them and pop a charging Bart in the jaw. It knocked him back a few steps, but he wasn’t finished. The others closed in on him while Bart cracked his knuckles. Mike went to Bob’s side and muttered, “You’ve had plenty of time to get a gun or something. What’s wrong with you?”

  Bob shrugged. He didn’t own a gun and Mike knew it, but was known to make odd comments in tight situations.

  The guy with the cell phone came back, keeping his distance. “The cops are on the way!”

  “Fuck.” David and his crew moaned in unison. They helped him to his feet and Catrina ran to hug him.

  “Get in your car and go home,” he said to her. “I’ll come by in a little bit, and you’d better be there.” She obeyed. While the others climbed into his black Monte Carlo, he put on a tan duster that was draped across the driver’s seat and picked up a whiskey bottle from the floorboard. After a large gulp, he handed it to Jim, got in the car and drove away.

  Mike and Bob took a minute to allow their nerves to calm, and then jumped when Jeezy spoke up. “Damn! We sure showed them.”

  They had almost forgotten he was there. Mike smirked. “Thanks for the backup.”

  Jeezy blushed. “Hey, I was right here. If they’d piled on you, I would have jumped in, and I’m sure you would have given me a nice funeral afterward.”

  Bob laughed and winced at the pain it caused. “How’s my face? It feels like he got me pretty good.”

  Mike looked at his cheek but couldn’t see much detail in the poor light. “You should come by the house and have Susan look at it. She’ll be home before long and can fix you up.”

  “Maybe we can pick up my stuff first,” Jeezy said, “so we can do what we were talking about.”

  “Yeah sure.” Mike didn’t see the harm in humoring him. “I’m going inside to see if my cigarettes are still there, and then I’ll go home and look for that dog.”

  “Okay.” Bob took out his keys. “So who’s driving Mike home?”

  “I’m okay,” Mike said. “Adrenaline killed my buzz, and I’ll take the back roads. That way, you and Jeezy can get your shit together.”

  “Sounds good.” Then their words sunk in and he was confused. “What are you talking about? What dog? What shit?”

  “Let’s go.” Jeezy got in the truck. “I’ll tell you on the way to my house.”

  *****

  The compact, green car sloshed through Oakview’s stormy streets with the pizza delivery light glowing on the roof. Over his red shirt, Rick Jenderson wore a spare employee shirt that Chad had in the backseat. He stopped the car randomly on his way to the radio station, visiting the occasional house as the spirits told him.

  He passed a police car, which continued without suspicion since they were familiar with the vehicle. Rick finished eating a pizza slice and laughed at the ease of it all.

  He parked in front of a house with a broken porch light. Then he picked up the unopened pizza box and approached the door. A woman in her thirties answered it. She wore a half-shirt and white panties, appearing very agitated at the disturbance. The living room reeked of incense and music could be heard booming elsewhere in the home.

  She gave him a disgusted look, made worse by the blood he saw dripping from her face, the spirits’ mark that she needed to die. “What the hell do you want?”

  Rick held up the box and grinned. “Pizza delivery!”

  “I didn’t order no damn pizza.”

  “Hmm… well, this is the address I was given and it was paid for by credit card.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Maybe my boyfriend ordered it.” She yelled over her shoulder, “Larry! Did you order a pizza?” The music was too loud in the bedroom for him to hear. “Ah screw it, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He raised the lid and she groaned. “Ugh, it doesn’t have enough sausage on it.”

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “There’s more meat available, if you need it.”

  “Ew, you pervert! This ain’t no porno. I don’t need any sausage from you. Jesus, you’re rude!”

  “I wasn’t referring to that. I’m talking about your meat.”

  “What?” She reached back for the door to close it on him.

  Before she could, he arched a knife with his free hand, plunging it into her chest. “Meat!”

  He pulled it out and stabbed her again. “Meat!”

  As she dropped to the floor, he knelt and stabbed her repeatedly. “Meat! Meat! Meat! Meat! Meat!”

  Once his arm grew tired, he sliced off her nipples, ears, and dug out her belly button to garnish the pizza. “There. That should be satisfactory. The customer is always right, after all.”

  Larry yelled over the music from the bedroom. “Baby! Hurry up and get back here! I’m ready to fuck!”

  Rick glanced at the door and stood up. Dark blood oozed from the top. Another anxious victim waited. He kicked it open and held up the box. “Pizza delivery!”

  Surprised, the man sat up on the mattress with his exposed erection pointing out from under his beer belly. Rick lunged toward him with the box ope
n and aimed at his face. While Larry struggled to breathe, he choked on one of his lady’s love buttons while snorting cheese. Then the pain of Rick’s blade struck him between the ribs.

  Once finished, he added a “mushroom” to the pie and left humming a happy tune. Four households down, many thousands to go.

  Chapter 5

  “What? Are you crazy?” Bob swerved around a fallen branch that stretched across the dirt road en route to Jeezy’s home. “A gerbil is bad enough, but a dog? Forget it.”

  “It’ll be okay! We can handle it.” Jeezy’s growing confidence was alarming. The power was addictive and he wanted more.

  “What if it grabbed one of us before we could stake it?”

  “We can tie it down or something. Heh, it’ll be the first dog to ever treat me with respect.”

  Bob stared into the blackness beyond the headlights’ reach and sighed. “You’ll go through with this whether I’m with you or not, won’t you?”

  “Well… yeah. If this works, though, I’ll quit while I’m ahead. I’m being scientific! Experiments are only valid if the process can be repeated in a controlled environment.”

  Bob rolled his eyes. “So, now you’re Mr. Wizard. It won’t matter, anyway. Mike wouldn’t shoot a dog, not unless it was suffering or something.”

  “The way he jumped into that fight, I wouldn’t peg him as the nonviolent sort.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. If something needs taken care of, Mike’s got balls of steel and will do whatever is necessary. But he would never harm anything without just cause. He’s cool like that.”

  Jeezy huffed. “That’s not how he sounded to me. He said he’d been meaning to shoot it.”

  “Do you mean everything you say after a few beers?”

  “Good point.”

  The wind was picking up speed as they pulled into Jeezy’s driveway. Leaves were flitting by and dust devils stirred in front of the barn-house.