The Night is Long and Cold and Deep

by Terry M. West

  “I want to go where my producer went,” Gary insisted.

  Glass shook his head. “The big man just called. He wants to see your ass. Now.”

  ***

  Gary rode the elevator alone. He stepped into the penthouse. Classical music played and Johnny Stücke stared thoughtfully at the city through a large bulletproof window.

  “Mr. Stücke, with all due respect, I should be with Mike Cooke right now,” Gary said, and he was tired to his bones.

  Stücke turned around. He had a champagne bottle in his hand. “But I wanted to celebrate with you. Besides, I just got off the phone with my doctor. Mike is going to be fine. He lost his arm, but he responded well to the anti-Z cocktail. He’s going to make it. And I am happy about that. I like the kid. Mike Cooke is a good solider. He has a place at my side. And so do you, my friend.”

  The monster motioned to the couch, and Gary took a seat. Stücke walked to the bar and filled two champagne glasses. “My butler has the night off. He went to a hunchback convention. Can you believe that shit? Like, there are enough of them to have a fucking convention?”

  He handed Gary a glass and then Stücke took his heavy seat.

  “Felix Gilling is dead,” Gary said. “He has a special needs daughter.”

  “Sheila Gilling,” Stücke said. “She is thirty and has Down’s Syndrome. I know my people, Gary Hack. I do my research.”

  “Patricia? Or should I say Livia…” Gary started, begging to differ.

  Stücke raised a hand and grimaced. Gary could sense a sore spot.

  “Now, that one is on me, Gary Hack. She slipped through the cracks. I am not an easy man to fool. Truthfully, I was hoping to fuck her.”

  “Getting back to Sheila; the girl’s mother took off when she was a child. Felix was all she had,” Gary explained.

  Stücke nodded. “Well, I had been thinking of taking on a ward. She’ll be well cared for. I’ll see to it.”

  “You would take her in?” Gary asked, suspiciously.

  “Felix was representing me. He was a member of the family,” Stücke said. “Besides, I have always wanted a kid and I am a fan of the atypical. I do have a heart, Gary Hack. Actually, I am on my thirtieth. And a tax break is never a bad thing.”

  “You don’t think tonight was a total fucking disaster?” Gary asked.

  Stücke half-grinned and shook his head. “We have enough footage to cut three movies out of this. I even recorded surveillance on the zombie slaughter at the end of it. Shit, I can sell that to those intolerant, blood-thirsty bastards in the Midwest easily. I am sorry we lost people. But, really, it’s not that unusual in my line of work. You have to be able to get over it quickly.”

  “It’s just… I mean… Morton, Felix… it shouldn’t have happened. Even Suzie. I know she was a ghoul, and she was probably only being nice to me to get more work in the future. But she was a good kid; night thing or not.”

  “People die, Gary Hack,” Stücke said. “Well, most people die. But movies never do. Not even pornos. Suzie is going to be entertaining folks for a long, long time. We captured her on video, and she lives there now. We have touched immortality today. We put a tiny fingerprint on it.”

  Stücke dug a thick envelope out of his jacket and tossed it at Gary’s feet. “Your fee,” he said, lighting a cigar. “Plus a five thousand dollar bonus.”

  Gary took the envelope and stuffed it in his windbreaker. “Thanks,” he said, softly.

  “So, I am having a rough cut assembled in the editing room,” Stücke said. “I will have anything too upsetting for you snipped out, obviously. I’ll need you and Ella in there in a couple of days.”

  “Ella is out. She quit,” Gary informed Stücke.

  “You want I should talk to her?” Stücke inquired.

  “No, no. She was a very loyal friend, and she deserves to walk away. She is moving somewhere nice; far from this shit hole of a city.”

  “What, she going to stay with her cousin? The one in Mystic?” Stücke wagered.

  Gary stared silently at the monster. The director didn’t know if Stücke meant to threaten or impress, and Gary was too worn for either.

  The big man sensed it and he shrugged his massive shoulders. “I gotta know my people, Gary Hack. That’s all. And I have to say, Ella was quite the ass-kicker. She put up a bigger fight than you, that’s for sure. So, we’ll just have to get you another camera monkey. No worries.”

  Stücke looked at his expensive and double-banded wristwatch. “All right, well, I got another meeting to attend; one that won’t have such a happy conclusion. But I am in the market for a new right kneecap, anyway. The old one is giving me fits in wet weather. And I am sure that you are anxious to climb onto your dragon and take off into the night sky. Don’t let me delay you another second.”

  Gary nodded and left the penthouse.

  ***

  Gary was high and floating down the sidewalk again. His eyes were on the sky as he moved forward. He looked to the heavens for stars and magic. But both were hidden by the dominant city glow.

  After his meeting with Stücke, Gary had hit his apartment and indulged pretty heavily. He had kept his word and stayed sober for work. But his job had ended and there was always fear and anger to bury. The buzzed desire to travel was once again upon him.

  He brought his eyes back down and noticed he was on 14th. He stopped, and stared at the cart of the street vendor who had sold him the gris-gris bag. A thick blanket was draped over its contents and a crude sign was propped on it, stating that the man would return in five minutes.

  Gary figured he would buy another talisman. He ducked into the alley nearby to have a snort while he waited for the vendor to return.

  He sat on a trash can and dug out his dust. He took a short straw from his other pocket and inhaled. His nose wiggled and his eyes blinked and he settled back into the approaching wave. Gary opened his eyes, once the water had calmed, and half a dozen dead faces glared eagerly at him. He was facing a small horde of zombies.

  “Shit,” he muttered, and his body froze, mere feet from escape. His hand went to his bare neck. He had no protection.

  The leader of the group stepped forward a bit more into the light. He smiled with rotted teeth and cocked his blue head. His eyes blazed with desire.

  Gary thought of trading addictions. “I don’t want to be like you,” he muttered.

  “Don’t worry,” the dead thing assured Gary. “There won’t be anything left to get up and walk again, mister.”

  They advanced on him, and he clung to the wall, ready to fall and to feed them. Fuck, he thought, I deserve it.

  The magic was going to get his stoned ass eventually. At least the heroin would absorb some of the pain. Or so he hoped.

  Suddenly, the street vendor appeared. The muscular black man was shirtless, and he wore a bandana as well as his own gris-gris bag. Strange symbols were tattooed on his arms and chest. He brandished a machete and motioned it toward the lead zombie.

  “You come any closer and I will take your head off and let you chase it down the block,” the vendor promised, and the zombies hissed dryly and shrank back fearfully into the darkness.

  The vendor grabbed Gary roughly by his shirt and hauled him to the safety of the street corner.

  “You’re a damn suicidal fool,” he said angrily. “Where’s the gris-gris bag I sold you?”

  “I gave it to someone else,” Gary said.

  The street vendor shook his head, walked to his cart and reached under the tarp. He pulled out a fresh gris-gris bag. The man walked back over and draped it around Gary’s neck.

  “Thanks,” Gary said, admiring it. “Actually, I like this one even better than first.”

  “Twenty bucks,” the vendor said, holding out a flat palm.

  Gary dug the money from his pants and put it in the man’s hand.

  “That’s five dollars more than the first one you sold me,” Gary observed.

  “Every one I put around your neck is gonna
cost you more from now on. Every time,” the vendor promised.

  “Thank you,” Gary said. “I owe you.”

  “Just answer a question, man. Why ain’t your life worth living?” the vendor asked gruffly.

  Gary chuckled and shrugged. “I gave my life away. And what’s left inside hurts me, most of the time.”

  “Life is struggle and pain and it isn’t easy on any of us,” the vendor said.

  “When I hurt, I get attracted to the magic, I guess. I want to touch it. But not in a good way,” Gary confessed. “I want to burn myself on it.”

  “Well find a new hobby, brother. Because this one is going to chew your face off,” the vendor cautioned him. “At least wear the gris-gris bag, if you’re going to come out here at night. And stay out of the God damned alleys.”

  “It was easier before the magic came, I think,” Gary said. “Do you remember where you were when you realized that magic existed?”

  “Of course, man. Who wouldn’t?” the vendor asked. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  Gary stretched his memory but he suddenly hit a brick wall. He smiled sadly at the street vendor. “Thanks for saving me. What do I call you, sir?”

  “I am Abraham,” the vendor said. “But a lot of folks call me the medicine man.”

  Gary nodded and took off without another word. He walked a few blocks, and then he noticed an elderly homeless woman asleep in front of a gated store entrance. She slept in a sitting position, her chin dipped to her chest. Gary took off his new gris-gris bag, gently tilted the woman’s head up, and he put it on her. He kissed her on the forehead and then he resumed his walk.

  He passed an alley and saw a frat boy pumping a zombie hooker’s eye socket and she cheered him on as he grunted and sputtered drunkenly. Gary grimaced and the sight made him move quicker. But he made a mental note of the act as a possible fetish video to pitch. Eye’ll Keep an Eye out for You. He laughed heavily and kept swimming in the breeze.

  Dawn would be there soon. The light was beginning to reach its fingers over the skyscrapers. It was definitely final call for the night things.

  Gary paused at a store window and he stared at several glowing flat screen televisions of varying sizes. There was a breaking news item playing on all of them. A gigantic creature with tentacles had risen from the ocean and was lumbering toward Japan. Gary looked around the busy sidewalk. No one in New York seemed bothered or concerned with what was happening.

  So Gary joined in the city’s indifference and he walked toward his apartment.

  HAIR & BLOOD MACHINE

  “You were caught in my obsession

  dreams of channel five

  you’re a hair and blood machine…

  you were caught in transformation

  dreams of channel five

  you’re a hair and blood machine…”

  -The False Virgins

  “Our love rests on hate.”

  -Hugh B. Duncan

  Prologue

  The judge had been lenient, but seeing a therapist had been part of the deal. So Johnny sat in a chair directly across from Dr. Schrader. Schrader wasn’t too bad. The only odd thing about him was his mustache. It was that type of mustache that bad guys in the old movies would wear, complete with waxed tips that he would subconsciously tweak now and again.

  The doctor had a pressing appointment, so he was keeping it short, which didn’t bother Johnny one bit.

  “How are you doing today, Johnny?” Dr. Schrader asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” Johnny lied.

  “Are you still having the nightmares?”

  “Yes. I’ve had one almost every night since they died.”

  “What was the latest one about?” Dr. Schrader asked, poised with his pen and notebook.

  “They dug out of their graves and came after me,” Johnny replied. “I’ve had it before. It’s a pretty standard one.”

  “Do you want something to help you sleep more soundly?” Dr. Schrader offered.

  Johnny shook his head, stubbornly. “No drugs, please.”

  “Johnny, I think you could benefit from a couple of different prescriptions,” the doctor persisted. They had gone round and round on this topic before.

  “No drugs,” Johnny repeated. “I want to deal with this on my own. Like people did before there were drugs for it.”

  Dr. Schrader sighed. “Okay, but if your moods get worse, I really think you should go on medication.”

  “That’s how everything is solved these days,” Johnny said, realizing that he sounded like his father. “Throw a pill at it.”

  “I don’t always recommend drugs, Johnny. Therapy is the best help I can offer.”

  Johnny nodded. “It feels good to come here and talk. I feel safe here.” Another lie.

  “You should. You can talk to me about anything.”

  Johnny wasn’t sure about that. He was an orphan with no immediate family. It would be an easy task to commit him. And they would, he was sure of it, if they knew about the other stuff. He was going to have to keep a heap of things to himself.

  “So back to your latest nightmare,” Dr. Schrader said, tweaking his mustache. “Why do think you keep having this nightmare?”

  “I don’t always have that one,” Johnny clarified. “Sometimes, I dream that I am in a grave. But I’m alive and trapped. I can’t get out.”

  “Why do you think you dream these disturbing things, Johnny?” Dr. Schrader asked.

  Johnny shrugged. “Do you know?”

  Dr. Schrader wrote something down and then regarded Johnny again. “Guilt, maybe.”

  “Could be. I do feel guilty that I wasn’t with them.”

  “From what you’ve told me, they were out celebrating.”

  “Yes, it was their anniversary,” Johnny said, becoming sad over it again. He bit it down, trying to be stronger about it. Usually, he would burn his arm with a lighter when the memories came. He couldn’t do that in front of the doctor. It would have landed him in a padded room.

  There was a reason he wore long sleeve shirts to these sessions.

  Dr. Schrader made another note. “So, your parents were celebrating their anniversary. Was it customary to bring you along when they did this?”

  “No,” Johnny admitted, seeing where Dr. Schrader was going.

  “There was no reason for you to be in that car, Johnny.”

  Johnny nodded slightly. He realized he should just agree, move on and whittle these sessions down, until he was free of them. But something needed to be said. “If I had been with them, maybe I could have done something. Prevented it from happening.”

  “If you had been with them you’d most likely be dead yourself,” the doctor said dryly.

  Johnny wasn’t sure if that would have been a bad thing. He would be with his parents now.

  “Okay, let’s change the subject here,” Dr. Schrader said. “I want you to come up with one thing that makes you happy.”

  Johnny thought for a few seconds, and then he smiled softly. “The carnival is coming to my town.”

  “And the carnival makes you happy?”

  “Oh, yeah. I love it. I used to go with my parents when I was little. I haven’t gone in five years or better, but I am going this weekend.”

  The doctor nodded, thoughtfully, and jotted something down. “What do you like about the carnival, Johnny?” he asked, while writing.

  “I like it all,” Johnny said. “The rides, the food, the games.”

  “How does it make you feel?”

  “I feel like a little kid when I’m there. Like the first time I went when I was six or seven.”

  “That’s good. You should definitely go. How’s that for a prescription?” the doctor joked. “Are you taking anyone?”

  “I’ll be going alone.”

  “No friends or a girl?”

  Johnny shook his head. “I haven’t had a close friend since high school and the ones I had have avoided me since…”

  Johnny paused,
not really wanting to talk about it again.

  “The incident?” Dr. Schrader offered.

  “Yes. And as far as girls go, there aren’t any girls in my town who aren’t familiar with the incident.”

  “I see.”

  The doctor made another notation.

  “Is it bad that I’m going by myself?” Johnny said, nervous about all of the notes the doctor was making.

  “No, not at all.”

  “I don’t have much of a social life.”

  Yet another notation.

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not necessarily, but we all need a friend every once in a while. Or at least a sympathetic ear.”

  “I have you for that.”

  The doctor chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

  The doctor glanced at his wristwatch. “Well, our time is almost up. I want you to have a great time at this carnival of yours and bring some happy memories to our next session. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ll try,” Johnny promised.

  “And Johnny, I know there is something you are reluctant to talk to me about,” the doctor said, with a knowing look. “Whatever it is, this is the opportunity to bring it into view for us to examine and talk about.”