Scary Dead Things - 02

by Rick Gualtieri

  “No problem, dad! Anyway, well I gotta...” I tried to end the call on a chipper note.

  “Hold it!” said the voice on the other end. “I guess I won't beat around the bush. What the hell did you do to Angel?” At the mention of the name of her favorite cat, I could hear my mother in the background. She started wailing and carrying on. It pretty much sounded like she was in the middle of a major freak-out. Not too surprising, all things considered.

  “Mom sounds kind of upset.”

  “I noticed,” said my father, sarcasm oozing out of his voice. “Do you want to know why?” he asked, despite the fact that I had a pretty good idea why and he most likely knew it.

  “Why?” I asked innocently.

  “Because right now she's vacuuming up a pile of Angel dust!” he growled.

  “Angel dust? You know, she should hold on to that. I hear the street value's off the charts if it's the good stuff.”

  “I'm not laughing, William.”

  “Sorry, sir,” I automatically replied, despite being an adult, having a job, living on my own, and...oh yeah...being a freaking vampire. “What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious. After all, I wasn't entirely sure how things had played out...especially since I had made it a point to bug out before my parents got home, even going so far as donning a hoodie, sunglasses, and ski mask so as to brave the daylight without bursting into flames. Probably not the manliest way I could have handled the situation, but I like to think there's a fine line between bravery and idiocy. Sticking around would have definitely crossed that line.

  “When we got home, your mother noticed the cat was acting a little strange,” my father explained. “It was hissing and carrying on.”

  “They're cats,” I replied, again donning an innocent tone. “They go loopy every now and then.”

  “Don't be stupid. You know Angel,” chided my dad. “You could step on the stupid cat's...sorry, dear...head, and she wouldn't bat a whisker. But not today. When we got home, she was going absolutely nuts. And there was something wrong with her eyes. They had gone all black like a shark's. That definitely was not normal.”

  “Distemper?” I unhelpfully queried.

  “Not unless it was the most extreme case of distemper there's ever been,” Dad continued. “Your mom was a mess. Made me go get the cat carrier so we could rush her to the vet.” Oh boy, I think I knew where this was going. “I had the damnedest time getting her in it, too. Little bitch kept going after me.”

  “She didn't bite you, did she?” I asked worriedly. I hadn't considered that. I wasn't even sure she could pass it back to humans, but it was a risk I wasn't really willing to take...at least not with my parents.

  “No, but she came damn close. I had to put on some work gloves to finally get her in. Then it got weird.” (Yeah, I bet it did)

  “I'm listening.”

  “Your mom got in the car, but I had left my wallet in the house. I sat the cat carrier out on the walk and went back inside to grab it, and then...”

  “In the sun?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “What?”

  “Did you leave the carrier in the sun?” I repeated.

  “I don't know. I guess so. What does it matter?” dad asked irritably. “All I know is that one minute it's quiet, and the next I hear your mother carrying on like a mad woman. I ran back outside, and do you know what I found? The cat carrier was on fire. I'm not just talking a few sparks either. It was like someone doused it with rocket fuel.”

  I was definitely starting to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “By the time I got the hose, though, the fire was already out.” Dad went on with his gruesome tale. “The damnedest thing was the cat. I was expecting her to be all burnt up, but there was nothing left. She was completely vaporized. All that was left was a pile of ashes with her collar sticking out of it.”

  “Wow. That's...bizarre,” I said, understating the whole thing.

  “Yes, bizarre is one word for it. So that's why I want to know whether or not anything odd happened this weekend while you were around.”

  “No idea,” I lied. “Like I said, dad, it was a slow weekend. Barely saw the cat. She kept to herself. Other than that, not much going on...hello, dad? Dad? I'm losing you. We're heading into a tunnel. I'll call...” and then I disconnected the call as I had no idea what further to say.

  Ed and I drove on for a mile or so, and then he said, “I know I only caught part of that conversation...”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” I interrupted.

  He ignored me anyway, “But was that about what I think it was?”

  I sighed as I started to confess, “My mom's cat, Angel...”

  “Yes?”

  “I kinda, might have...”

  “Yes?”

  “Turned her into a vampire,” I finished.

  “YOU WHAT!?” he yelled, just barely managing to keep the car from swerving off the road.

  “Turned it into a vampire,” I repeated.

  “Why?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “How was it an accident?”

  “Well, as you had suggested, I got pretty wrecked this weekend,” I said with a guilty grin.

  “And how does that lead to an immortal demon cat?”

  “Well, like I said, I was pretty messed up. I guess when vampires get the munchies they don't automatically go for the nachos like everyone else.”

  “That's fucked up, man.”

  “I know.”

  “It's your mom's cat!”

  “Was my mom’s cat, anyway.”

  “I mean, I don't even like cats,” he went on, “and I still think that's fucked.”

  “Yes, I get it. I didn't mean to vampirize the damn cat. It just kind of happened.”

  “Is that even a word?” he asked.

  “It is now,” I snapped. “And then when she woke up from it...”

  “I'm listening.”

  “I guess I kind of fooled myself into thinking that maybe I had dreamt it all.”

  “I take it from your dad's call that you were wrong on that front.”

  “Definitely not a dream,” I confirmed.

  “Fucked up,” he repeated.

  We drove on again in silence for a few minutes until I heard Ed chortle. I turned to see him grinning and trying...and failing...to suppress laughter.

  “What's so funny?” I asked.

  “I was just thinking...”

  “Yeah?”

  “There is a bright side,” he said.

  “Do tell.”

  “When we get home, you at least get to tell Tom about how you got to eat some pussy this weekend,” he said, finally cracking up laughing.

  “Not funny,” I said, but it was a lie. Put that way, it was actually pretty goddamned hilarious. I soon joined my roommate in the laughter.

  We laughed for a good long while until my phone rang again.

  “Oh shit,” I said, tears still pouring down my face.

  “Time to get back on the clock, my man,” Ed said.

  He was right. I couldn't put this off. I just hoped I could think of something to tell my parents that sounded more convincing than, “Sorry for vampirizing your cat, mom and dad.” I picked up the phone and answered it.

  “Listen. Tell mom I'm sorry about her cat,” I said.

  “Tell her your damn self,” replied Sally's voice from the other end. “I'm not your goddamned answering service.”

  “What?” I blurted out. “What are you doing on the line, Sally?”

  “Oh, I don't know. I was lonely, what with you on vacation and all, and thought maybe I'd give you a buzz so you could talk dirty to me. But I'm afraid I have to draw the line at letting you call me mommy...or daddy, for that matter,” she quipped.

  “I can think of a few other words for you,” I growled.

  “I'm sure you can, but think of them while you're packing. Vacation's over,” she replied.

  “What?”

  “Y
ou heard me,” she sniffed in an impatient tone.

  “Why am I packing?”

  “Because that's what people do when they take a trip, unless they plan on traveling naked, and if that's your plan then please let me know so I can make sure I never have the same itinerary as you.”

  “Hold on. What trip?”

  “The one you're taking,” she said as if speaking to a moron.

  “Why don't we start over, and you tell me what's going on?”

  “I thought you'd never ask,” she said in that annoyingly chipper tone she adopted whenever she knew she was pissing me off. “You're going to China.”

  “What!? Why the hell would I be going to China?”

  “James' orders. He called and requested your presence.”

  “Why?”

  “Beats me. You can ask him that in person in about two days.”

  “I don't even have a passport!” I protested.

  “Wow, that's kind of sad,” she said. “Not surprising, mind you, just sad. Fortunately, you don't need one.”

  “Why wouldn't I need a passport to get into China?” I asked. “Pretty sure they check those things there.”

  “Because it's a long flight, and since commercial airlines tend to have rules against their passengers going up in smoke when sunlight hits them, I made some alternate arrangements.”

  “Define alternate arrangements,” I said.

  “You, my friend,” she replied, putting even more chipperness into her voice, “have been booked into a first class coffin in the cargo hold.”

  “WHAT!?” I screamed into the phone.

  “You're welcome. By the way, you might want to pack a pillow.” *click*

  Bitch!

  A Sandwich with a Side of Chips

  I'm sure there are some powers-that-be somewhere laughing at the irony. Here I was looking for a vacation away from the coven, and I was getting a vacation alright...all the way to fucking China. Why? No idea. If Sally knew, she wasn't very forthcoming, and it's not like I had James' cell phone number. Speaking of which, travel aside, running into James again produced some mixed feelings in me.

  While I wasn't exactly sure of his true age, I was led to believe that James was in the neighborhood of six-hundred plus years old. Supposedly, he had been a contemporary of Marco Polo himself. That wasn't one-hundred percent relevant. What was, however, was that James was in charge of all vampire related business in the Northeast United States. All of the covens in that area, mine included, were answerable to him. He, in turn, answered directly to the Draculas, the coven of the thirteen most powerful vampires from whom all of our rules and regulations supposedly descended. I say supposedly because, aside from James, I had never met another vampire who had ever met directly with these Draculas. Still, it was probably wise not to make too many waves with regards to them. Why? I had seen James in action.

  I am told that as vampires age, their powers increase as well. James was living proof of that. When he wanted to, he could move almost faster than the eye could follow. Strength wise, I had once seen him literally tear apart a small group of gang-bangers in less time than it takes for most of us to order a burrito at Taco Bell. I wasn't too proud to admit that he scared the bejeesus out of me; however, all of the Draculas were older than James, some supposedly much older. Therefore, it stood to reason that if a run-in with James could ruin one's day, crossing the Draculas could seriously fuck your shit up.

  On the other hand, I owed the guy. If it weren't for him, my tenure as a vampire would have lasted all of five minutes. He was the one responsible for giving me a chance. He was also the one responsible for jumpstarting my reputation amongst my fellow vamps, which went a long way towards getting me to where I was now. Sure, he had also been the one to put the HBC vamps on my ass; however, from what I knew, that had all been some sort of mistake. Before he could cool down any heat between our covens, he had been called away by the Draculas. They had sent him all the way to China, where I was now destined to follow, for whatever reason.

  Speaking of China, there was both a good and a bad to the whole thing. The good being that seven thousand miles between myself and the disgust I felt at my inability to speak my mind with Sheila sounded pretty decent to me. I seriously doubted anything in the Gansu province of China would give me cause to dwell too much on her. Unfortunately, everything else fell into the bad category. The trip was a twenty-plus-hour nightmare of transfers, starting at LaGuardia (or as I like to think of it, Satan's airport) and ending in Beijing. However, I needn't have worried about being stuck in the middle row between two fatties or next to a screaming kid for the entire trip. No, because I was luggage.

  * * *

  Did I say luggage? No, luggage would be too kind. After a whirlwind packing job, including making sure my iPod was charged (no way was I flying in the cargo hold for almost an entire day without some tunes), I managed to convince Ed to give me a late night drop-off. This did not put him into a good mood. If you've ever driven to LaGuardia, you know what I mean. It's like the state of New York purposely decided to make one of their major transportation hubs as big of a clusterfuck as humanly possible. So after lots of twists, turns, and exit-only lanes, we finally managed to crawl through traffic to our destination. Things were bad enough, and it was eleven PM. I could only imagine the insanity of doing this at rush hour.

  As per Sally's instructions, Ed dropped me off at a small private terminal. He gave me an annoyed growl as way of saying goodbye before driving off. The windows of the terminal were opaque, although whether this was purposeful or just layers of grime, I couldn't tell. The doors were also locked from the inside. I stood there looking confused for about ten minutes. I was just starting to pull my cell phone out to call Sally when finally I heard a click. The doors opened. Beyond them was a figure silhouetted by the light inside. It beckoned me forward. Creepy. But then again, I am a vampire. Creepiness kind of goes hand in hand with my life these days. I tried to conceal my nervousness and walked in, thoughts of all the various slasher flicks I had ever seen going through my mind.

  I needn't have worried. Vampire society isn't much different than ours once you get past the blood-sucking eternal creature of the night aspect of it. Sure, they liked to put forth a mysterious atmosphere, but I think that was just to impress the newbs. Once you got past all that, it was surprisingly mundane. Case in point, once I entered the building, it became obvious that this was just another private terminal. Small, spartan, and efficient. Once my eyes had adjusted to the light, I saw that my mysterious beckoning figure was just another vampire, a rather bored looking one at that. He was wearing business casual and holding a clipboard. As I entered, he said in a completely disinterested tone, “Close the door behind you and give me your paperwork.” Right there and then, any creep factor dropped to zero. I was just dealing with the undead equivalent of boarding check-in.

  I handed him some forms Sally had emailed over to me. He took a quick look and called back over his shoulder, “I need a box, a big one!”

  A few minutes later, a couple shambling figures carried out what looked to be an oversized shipping crate. It was about seven feet long by three feet wide, and maybe four deep. The figures carrying the crate were zombies. I had met some several months back. Apparently, they were the equivalent of general office staff to the vampires. Hmm, I wonder if they have a union. That wouldn't surprise me in the least.

  Anyway, the zombies placed the crate on the floor. One of them procured a crowbar, which he used to pry the lid open. The top off, I could see the box was empty, save for some straw padding at the bottom and some black felt lining the inside, no doubt to keep the sunlight out. Looking into it, I had a distinctly sinking feeling.

  “OK, get in,” said the bored vampire.

  “In there?” I asked.

  “You see any other box here?”

  “I thought I was supposed to be traveling in a coffin,” I replied. Either way, I wasn't exactly traveling in style; however, I was expecting a litt
le better than this.

  “Coffin, crate, what's the difference? You'll fit, and since you're flying freight, the accommodations don't need to be fancy.”

  “Freight?” I asked.

  “FedEx, to be exact. They'll be loading you up in the next hour or so. We still gotta put all the export forms onto this thing, so we don't have time for too much dicking around here. Hop on in.”