by Hunter
Anyway, turned out Carpenter was a goon from way back, dead now going on sixty years. He and a woman named Annabelle were lovers during the days of Capone and the Untouchables. Annabelle Sforza, the woman responsible for Carpenter’s death, if Lupe remembered correctly.
She stared at the funeral home, tinted a faint amber in the rays of the lowering autumn sun. Focused on her epiphany, Lupe didn’t wonder at the irregularity of having a funeral service so late in the day. Annabelle Sforza was probably the person Carpenter hated more than anything else in creation, his true love who’d become his betrayer. Powerful ties, extended beyond death, maybe? And here was her funeral. Did that mean he’d killed her? Lupe remembered his last post, the ranting he’d suddenly begun. Carpenter had said something about “She’s dead, the bitch is dead, ” and about him being pulled to the other side.
That could’ve been an act. Maybe he did kill the woman, maybe the post was all part of some scheme. But what the hell for? Why bother?
Lupe tapped the steering wheel, then shrugged. No insights coming up there. But this was no coincidence, her being here. Ever since she’d been chosen for the hunt, Lupe’d faced way too many convenient circumstances to think it was chance. Take her being chosen for the hunt, for example. At the time, she thought facing down a monster was a spot of supremely bad luck. If she’d done just one thing differently that day, she never would’ve ended up in the situation, never would’ve learned of the horrors that lurk in the darkness.
Now, she was pretty sure that if it hadn’t been that night, it would’ve been another much like it. She’d heard the word from on high, she’d had the scales tom from her eyes. She didn’t think she was humanity’s savior or anything, but she had been tapped by a higher power. There was a master plan, Lupe was sure, forces at work that still influenced her actions in many subtle ways. She was just one piece on the board, though; too close to the action to get a perspective on the larger deal. So while she knew there was a plan in the works, Lupe didn’t have a clear idea what it was.
She had grown used to one of the aspects of it, though — namely, unhappy accidents like this, where she crossed paths with the undead. Lupe shook her head in bemusement. She should’ve seen this coming, in fact. Acting like an amateur, here. She’d had Carpenter on the brain ever since he’d dropped off the radar a few days ago, and now here she was outside the place where his strongest link to the living world was lying in a box.
So if that link was gone, that meant Carpenter was too, right? That last email was his swan song to the living world. Yeah, sure.
Lupe swore under her breath. From what she’d seen of the guy so far, it couldn’t possibly be that easy.
• • • •
Carpenter parked up the street from the funeral home. He could just see the building through the trees. He’d already checked the bitch’s grave. It was open, awaiting her arrival. That meant she was there, laid out for the wake. Early afternoon now; the lowering sun caught glints of gold in the trees, the first of the leaves changing color for approaching fall. Carpenter wouldn’t be surprised if the gig was in full swing. He realized he felt nervous. No reason he should be. Hie big danger — that his spirit would be dragged back across the shroud after the bitch’s death — had passed. He knew by now he didn’t need the hammer in hand to stick around. Not for the first time he considered putting it someplace out of harm’s way, like in a safe deposit box. Yeah, that was a good idea, but it could wait till after he took care of business here.
Carpenter strolled across the street and over the impeccably maintained lawn toward the home. He nodded in approval at how meticulously the area was maintained. The few leaves scattering before a breeze across the grounds, advance scouts for the rest, lent just the right amount of disorder to an otherwise pristine scene. Take pride in how you looked, he always said.
Your appearance was your calling card to the world. Looked like the Pellucci Funeral Home agreed with that sentiment.
He was about to enter through the front of the building when he paused. Being dead, Carpenter’s physical senses weren’t that great; sounds were muffled, colors and shapes a little dim and blurry. That was seldom a problem, though, since he had an extremely acute sense of spiritual energy. Better than any normal sense, not only for recognizing people but knowing whether they were alive, dead or somewhere in between.
It was kind of like radar, and right now he got a brief hint of something, just on the periphery of his awareness. Carpenter stood tall on the walkway, turning slowly and focusing around the area. There was… something out there. Something unusual, more than (or other than) human. Couldn’t tell what, but it was approaching. Well, that was fine. After sixty years in hell, Carpenter feared no man — or anything that posed as one. If he was still here when whatever it was showed up, he’d deal with it then. Otherwise, fuck it.
He went through the front, noting the foyer was empty at present. Clean and precisely arranged the decor was, if a bit much for Carpenter’s tastes. Didn’t much matter to him if anyone saw him; if any of the old crew was here (and if they were they’d definitely be old), they wouldn’t recognize him in his new body. Probably wouldn’t matter if he was in his old flesh anyway, considering how long ago that was. Bunch of old fogies couldn’t remember what they had for breakfast, let alone what somebody looked like from half a century ago.
He took a look at the scheduling board. Only two funerals today, the Waverly affair on right now, the Sforza gig not scheduled to start until four o’clock. This time of year, give them an hour or so before sunset. That’d explain why they had the lights set up around the grave; the bitch wasn’t expected to go into the ground till after dark.
Carpenter would’ve thought this was pretty strange except he knew there were some folks who couldn’t make the gig during daylight hours. The Sforza family was connected, and not just to the mob.
He didn’t much give a shit about that. The important thing is he had an hour or so he could spend with Annabelle Sforza and not have to deal with a bunch of grieving relatives. Her service was in the West Room; poking his head inside, Carpenter saw it was set up but her coffin hadn’t been wheeled out yet.
“May I help you, sir? ”
Carpenter spun swiftly, checking himself before he drew his pistols. Damn, he was keyed up more than he’d thought. Carpenter gave the guy a quick once over. Nothing special about him far as Carpenter could tell. Just your typical seasoned funeral director, skilled at sneaking up on visitors like a friggin’ ghost.
Slapping a slight smile on his face, Carpenter said, “I’m here for the Sforza funeral. ”
The guy nodded in commiseration, hands clasped before him in a traditional mourning pose. He was a chubby bastard, not the body type Carpenter would’ve expected for a guy running a funeral home. He was good, though. “I am Arthur Pellucci, director of the home. I am personally handling Mrs. Sforza’s service, ” he said, conveying just the right sense of sympathy and respect. “I am sorry, sir, but we are not scheduled to begin for a short while yet. You are welcome to wait, of course, but—”
“I’ve been waiting long enough, believe me, ” Carpenter replied. “What say you just take me back to where you got her stored? ”
One of the more useful talents Carpenter got when he died was the ability to force his will on another. Could make somebody want something so bad all other considerations fell by the wayside. Carpenter’s eye flared with an eerie green fire as he focused his will on the guy’s mind. Pellucci’s look of faint surprise crumbled, replaced by a gentle smile. Without another word, the smile fixed to his face, the funeral director walked through the West Room toward a door in the back. Carpenter strolled after, anticipation growing within him.
• • • •
Lupe steered the taxi through the funeral home parking lot. She was heading around to the back of the building, hunch in play. When she saw the back door, her suspicions were confirmed.
The heavy metal fire door was wide open, the section a
round the lock plate peeled back and the lock itself tom out entirely. As if that wasn’t a good enough danger sign, there were also some bloody fingerprints on the wall.
Lupe thumped her forehead lightly against the steering wheel. She wasn’t prepared for a confrontation, not with something had the strength to rip tempered steel out of bolted metal plating. No choice though, really. What if Carpenter was rampaging through the funeral home? She didn’t much care if a bunch of mobsters got taken down, but what about her fare? They were clearly just a nice old couple, never did anyone any harm. They didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster.
A quick check of her pistol and she was heading for the back door. Lupe considered finding a phone and calling for backup. Get some of her south side pals here or maybe that crew handled Chicago’s north side. Wasn’t really any time, though, not if lives were in danger in there. Plus, by the time anybody got here it’d all be over.
Swallowing a gulp of fear, Lupe focused the sight and stepped inside.
• • l • •
Carpenter stood before Annabelle Sforza’s coffin for over an hour, oblivious to everything but her. Her body had lost the full curves and porcelain beauty Carpenter remembered. It was old, thick and sagging. Her face was etched with wrinkles, her hair a steely gray, her pallor equal to Carpenter’s own.
Carpenter thought she was stunning.
His emotions surprised him. The hate was there, of course, strong as ever. But so was… well, he wasn’t going to name it. He refused to admit, even to himself, the feelings he still had for this woman. The woman who turned on him, who handed him over without a second thought, the woman who signed his death warrant.
Annabelle Sforza filled the entirety of his awareness. He didn’t register the murmur beyond the wall as people showed up for the service. He didn’t notice as the sunlight coming through the narrow windows along the top of the wall slanted ever more laterally. He didn’t catch the occasional frustrated voices as people argued with Pellucci on the other side of the door about why the casket wasn’t already on view. He didn’t sense when the thing stinking of the grave and long decay entered the room through the other door and stumbled toward him. • • • •
The corridor extended to the left for about ten feet before turning right. It was pretty wide, probably to accommodate moving caskets around the place. Lupe paused just inside, reflexively breathing through her mouth as a stench rolled through the corridor. Either this place didn’t know how to embalm for shit or one of the walking dead was inside. Lupe was willing to bet the latter.
Having confirmed that there wasn’t some monster about to jump her, Lupe turned her gaze to the two symbols she’d noticed on the wall opposite the back door:
They were hunter shorthand, representing hope and corruption. Lupe’s brow furrowed in consternation. The symbols were scrawled in blood; not something hunters normally did. So was a fellow hunter already here? Lupe didn’t think so. Carpenter appeared to have a pretty good understanding of how the whole thing worked, if his posts to hunter-net were any indication. So did he draw these symbols? What for? Did he know she was here? That would change things, if he was ready for her. Maybe she should back off and call some people.
Another look at the bloody scrawl and she shook her head. No, it was too late for that. She had to make sure the living were all right inside. If Carpenter proved too tough for her to take on, she’d try to draw him outside and then retreat.
Moving forward cautiously, Lupe rounded the comer. The hall went another twenty feet, hugging the building’s exterior wall to the left and revealing two doors on the right. There was a third door at the end of the hall. The second door down was ajar, and Lupe heard someone talking in there. Might’ve been on the phone, since she didn’t hear anyone replying.
The stench grew stronger as she moved forward, and Lupe saw there were more bloody fingerprints on the wall next to the open door. Flexing her grip on her gun, Lupe spun into the room. The tableau revealed inside was not quite what she expected.
• • • •
Carpenter recoiled when a rasping groan escaped Annabelle Sforza’s mouth. Then he
realized it hadn’t come from her, but from the thing standing on the other side of the casket.
“Jesus fucking Christ! “ Carpenter exclaimed in equal parts surprise and irritation. Where the hell had this guy come from? Carpenter must’ve been more into his little reunion than he’d thought.
The thing groaned again, hands extended over the closed half of the coffin in entreaty. It was a zombie, though one nowhere near in as good a shape as Carpenter was. Carpenter looked human, pale but could easily pass for living. This poor bastard was in an advanced state of decay, its flesh sagging, putrid and gray, maggots squirming inside gaping cavities that revealed a torso well-cleaned out by a thorough embalmer. One eye had rolled halfway back into the cranium, and rats must’ve gotten to the body since half the thing’s face was peeled away, the attached hair and skin flopping away from the bone as it moved.
A third time it groaned, gesturing toward Carpenter with bony fingers crusted with blood.
“Not this crap again, ” Carpenter said. Ever since he’d returned from the dead, he’d been accosted from time to time by other walking corpses. They weren’t in anywhere near the kind of shape he was; the vast majority was even more fucked-up than this guy. They didn’t appear to have any malevolent intent toward him. Instead, they did just what this one was doing. For all the world, it looked like it was asking him for help.
He didn’t know what they wanted from him, frankly didn’t care. He’d blown the first one away out of disgust, and the next couple he’d just left after trying to start up ultimately futile conversations. They only seemed able to track him down when he stayed in one spot for a while, so he kept on the move. This wasn’t too difficult since Carpenter had a few different safe houses in the area anyway.
The whole thing was a pain in the ass, though, and Carpenter wanted nothing to do with any of it. Whatever they wanted from him they weren’t going to get. He was never much of a team player even in life, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with a bunch of mindless corpses decaying before his very eyes. Phobic about cleanliness and order, Carpenter found simply being in the same room with something like this was an affront to his senses.
“Listen, ” he said, “if you didn’t have the fucking brains to grab a body in some kind of decent shape, why bother even getting out of the fucking ground to begin with, huh? ”
The thing groaned again, a bit of its tongue spraying out and landing on the closed half of the casket lid. It gestured toward the door, the sound of its tendons creaking causing Carpenter’s lip to curl in distaste.
He couldn’t believe this. What, did the thing want to take him to some fucking zombie slumber party?
Then some dame with a gun stepped into the room.
Two figures stood on either side of an open casket. The coffin was at an oblique angle, so the near one was turned almost completely away from Lupe. The other man faced her almost directly, catching sight of her the second she stepped into the room. The stench of death was almost overpowering, and emanated from the figure closest to her. One arm reached over the casket, the other reaching back as if preparing to take a swing. The man on the other side was leaning away, his hands raised as if in a warding off gesture and a look of revulsion clear on his face. His eyes flicked to her, registering surprise and something else.
Lupe didn’t hesitate. “Game’s up, Carpenter! ” she yelled, firing a double-tap into the decayed thing’s back. She’d been aiming for the base of Carpenter’s neck, hoping a couple well-placed rounds might sever its head. The rot was fast, though, already ducking to the left the instant Lupe spoke. The bullets hit to the side, tearing out chunks of Carpenter’s right shoulder and splattering the casket with gore.
“Get out of here! ” Lupe yelled at the man on the other side of the coffin, but he seemed frozen in place. She’d seen it happen before;
normal folks faced with monsters typically got hysterical and ran or locked up with fear. Just great. She had to hope Carpenter would be focused on her and not go for any bystanders.
That seemed to be exactly what he was doing, although Lupe had to admit she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about it. The rot used the momentum from the bullets’ impact to swing around and lunge at her. Carpenter’s fingers were talons of exposed bone that came at her in a raking swipe.
As one of the chosen, Lupe had weapons other than a bad attitude and a pistol. One of these was a kind of barrier that protected her from the supernatural. It wasn’t some impenetrable force field or anything; still the aura was useful enough that blows like the one Carpenter aimed at her glanced away before striking. There was a strange crackling spark and the monster’s claws recoiled inches from Lupe’s face.
With Carpenter looming before her, Lupe didn’t have much room to maneuver. She couldn’t safely back off and lead him outside. She’d have to take him down right here. It wasn’t going to be easy; the two rounds she’d fired rendered his right arm useless, dangling from his shoulder by pieces of muscle and ligament, but he wasn’t slowed down any. She shoved the automatic forward, angling it up under the rot’s jaw, and fired off another round.
Carpenter’s speed saved him a second time. His head jerked to the side, the bullet tearing through his jaw and blasting out the opposite side of his mouth but leaving his head mostly intact. He screamed an inarticulate cry of pain and outrage and sprang forward again, this time throwing his whole body at her. Lupe knew she’d be in serious trouble if the rot got her in even a one-armed bear hug. She took advantage of his useless right arm and threw herself to her left. Instead of getting caught in a clinch, Lupe ricocheted off Carpenter’s shoulder. The monster moved like a freight train, the blow knocking the wind from her lungs and smashing her into the wall.