Night Things: The Monster Collection

by West, Terry M.

  “I know, man,” Gary said, perching on the bed. “I get it, brother.”

  Mike saluted Gary with his hook and then he left the room.

  Gary decided that he had better take that shower before indulging. He stripped down and lumbered into the bathroom. He climbed into the shower and turned on the valve. Freezing cold water assaulted him. He cursed and twisted the mixing control device until the temperature of the water was warmer. Gary cracked open a small stick of soap that rested in the soap dish and cleaned his fat body.

  When he was done, Gary toweled off and quickly dressed. He put on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt. He dug out his baggie from the suitcase. Gary dusted off a spot on the dresser and he put a fat line down. He sucked up four of them before he settled back against the mattress.

  Gary woke up with a start as someone pounded on the motel room door. The lights were off and the TV blared and he didn’t recall turning anything on or off in the room. Gary checked the digital clock on the nightstand. It was one a.m. The pounding started again.

  Gary approached the door cautiously as a fresh round of pounding shook it. There was no peephole. “God damn,” he whispered, hoping it was Mike on the other side of the door.

  He eased the door open, his body steeling for a possible physical confrontation.

  Standing on his door step, her luggage in her hands, was Zuzanna. She had been crying; her mascara streaked her cheeks.

  “Oh, Gary,” she sobbed. “This place is horrible. I’ve had some creep knocking on my door since I got in from the pub. Let me in. Please.”

  “Of course,” he said, taking her bags and ushering her inside.

  He kicked the door shut with his foot. Zuzanna immediately locked it. Gary put her bags near the bed. Zuzanna excused herself and went into the restroom. She reemerged a few minutes later and her face was clean.

  Gary had vodka in the room. He made Zuzanna a drink with a cheap plastic motel cup. “It’s the best I can offer.”

  “I shouldn’t. I’ve had so much already,” she whispered. Zuzanna downed the drink and handed the cup back to Gary.

  “Maybe one more,” she said.

  She drank the second as fast.

  “Feeling better?” Gary asked.

  Zuzanna sat on the edge of the bed. She nodded.

  “So what happened?” Gary asked, sitting in the chair.

  “Well, I went to a pub with the other actresses and a few crew members. The Connors showed up. They are so cute. I was surprised you weren’t there.”

  “I wasn’t invited,” Gary admitted, a little sourly. “Mike and I got sushi and called it a night.”

  “Oh,” Zuzanna said, curiously. “Anyway, when we got back, this man followed me to my room. He said the most hideous things to me. He stood outside my door and he taunted me. When he finally stepped away, I gathered my things and looked for you.”

  “How did you find me? No one knows my room number.”

  “The night manager was very kind. He wasn’t supposed to give me your location, but he said no one would mind me showing up at their door,” Zuzanna said, smiling at the compliment.

  “So what do you want me to do? Should I get Mike and look for the bastard?” Gary offered.

  “No, please don’t do that,” Zuzanna said, leaning forward and touching his arm. “Just let me stay here tonight. I feel safe with you.”

  “Of course you’re welcome here,” Gary said, graciously. He didn’t mind the company, but the devil on his shoulder reminded him that having her there would greatly curtail his getting numb.

  “Just excuse me for a second,” he said, gathering up his windbreaker and going into the restroom. Once inside, he dug out his heroin. He took inventory. Gary had eight tiny baggies left. There was supposedly enough for two or three lines per baggie. Of course, Gary hardly ever tested that theory. He put seven of the baggies back in his windbreaker and then opened one. Gary poured a small line on the restroom sink. It was just a little bit; a compromise. He tucked the last baggie away and snorted the line.

  Gary splashed some water on his face and then went back into the room. Zuzanna had turned on the television. The Star Spangled Banner was playing. Gary had not heard it as a broadcast sign-off in years. It tickled him briefly with nostalgia. The motel obviously did not have cable, and that wasn’t a shocker.

  “They’re playing our song,” Gary joked.

  “What?’ Zuzanna said softly, oblivious.

  “Nothing,” Gary said, draping his windbreaker on the back of the chair.

  “I should get ready for sleep,” Zuzanna said, taking her bag and going into the restroom. “It’s so late.” She closed the door.

  Gary stripped the top blanket off of the bed and made a sleeping bag on the floor. He tossed one of the pillows down there as well.

  White noise and snow suddenly possessed the television. Gary turned it off.

  The restroom door opened. Zuzanna stood in the doorway, wearing sheer pink lingerie. The restroom light revealed her magnificent body.

  “Gary,” she said, staring at the blanket and pillow on the floor. “You don’t have to sleep there. Come on. Sleep in the bed with me.”

  Gary placed the pillow and blanket back on the bed and climbed on top of them.

  Zuzanna snuggled into the bed. “Do you sleep in your clothes?” she asked.

  “No, not normally,” Gary said.

  “Don’t be shy. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Gary stood up and stripped down to his boxer shorts. He quickly hunkered down into the bed and covered his flaccid body. Zuzanna climbed under the covers herself.

  “Such a modest little boy,” Zuzanna said, softly touching Gary’s cheek with the back of her hand.

  Gary suddenly realized what was happening, and he had a good laugh over it.

  Zuzanna looked at him curiously. “What is so funny?”

  “Zuzanna, what are you doing? I am a train wreck,” he said, sitting up and mindfully keeping his body hidden under the blanket.

  “No, you are a very kind, talented and funny man. I like you,” Zuzanna replied. She kissed Gary.

  A jolt of static shock zapped his face. Gary jerked away and stared at her. Her eyes glowed with yellow energy. Zuzanna came in for another kiss and Gary pushed her back more roughly than he had intended to. He scrambled from the bed, dragging the blanket with him.

  “Oh, for fuck sake. What are you?” he demanded.

  Zuzanna pouted. “I am a succubus, Gary,” she admitted. “You should have surrendered to me when I kissed you. Most men are mine after only a glance.”

  “So, let me see if I understand this,” Gary said, having only a very slight understanding of the breed. “When a man gets sexually excited, he becomes entranced by you? Right?”

  Zuzanna nodded. “Yes. How are you able to resist me?”

  “I am on a lot of, uh… medication. I am not easily aroused,” Gary confessed.

  Zuzanna smiled and stood. She walked to Gary and she brought her perfect nude body with her. “So let me try harder.”

  She pulled the blanket off of Gary and reached into his boxers. He grunted and sighed and actually let her try to get something going. She frowned at his limp member and started to go down on her knees.

  “No, no,” Gary said, hauling her back up. “And, hey, why I am encouraging you to kill me?”

  “I wouldn’t kill you, silly,” Zuzanna said with a grin of amusement. “Sure, I would take some of your life force. Not much more than you would throw away on a night of debauchery, anyway. You might have a migraine the next day, but the pain would be worth a night with me.”

  “Is this why you don’t do sex scenes with guys?” Gary asked, piecing it all together.

  “Yes. I only absorb the sexual energy of men. It would be quite a frightening thing to capture on film,” Zuzanna explained.

  Gary suddenly thought of a new fetish video to pitch. Succubus sex. He was sure it would sell a ton of units, but that was for consideration
at another time.

  “Well, it sounds wonderful Zuzanna. I find you very beautiful and sexy and I wish I could physically express that to you, right here and now. But I can’t,” Gary explained.

  “It is okay, Gary,” Zuzanna said. “I respect that. And you.”

  “So, you want to just snuggle and get some rest, then?” Gary suggested. He hadn’t slept next to a woman in a very long time. The prospect of it suddenly appealed to him.

  “I really must eat, my darling. I am famished,” Zuzanna said. “What room is that one-armed producer of yours staying in?”

  3.

  Gary Hack was the designated driver returning to the city. He didn’t resent it too badly. The midweek traffic at this time of the morning made it a fairly quick jaunt back.

  The shoot had gone very well. They had covered a lot in the two day schedule. Gary had enjoyed the tranquility of Scott, NJ, but he agreed adamantly with Dorothy Gale: There was no place like home, which was closer to Oz, actually, than Kansas; even if the bricks were yellow because of bum piss.

  The George Washington Bridge was coming up fast. Gary turned to Mike Cooke. The poor bastard looked like he needed to have two pairs of sunglasses on. He looked weak and miserable.

  “Do you need another aspirin?” Gary asked him. He was not used to being the nursemaid in this relationship.

  Mike shook his head. “No, the pain is settling down,” he said, very quietly.

  “It’s a good thing that she lives in Poland, man,” Gary joked. “Another night or two and she would have put your ass in the ground.”

  Mike smiled despite the pain. “It was so worth the agony, my friend.”

  “Yeah, Zuzanna told me it would be. I will drop you off in Brooklyn, and then park this contraption near my place. I’ll return it to the garage tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Mike remembered suddenly. “Meeting… Stücke…noon…”

  Gary laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be there, Mike. Grab some shut eye. I’ll have you home soon.”

  ***

  Gary stood at the take-out counter of the Greek diner near his apartment. He waited on an order of spanakopita to go. It was still early in the day. He planned on going back to his apartment, eating and then unplugging his brain for the night.

  He caught himself whistling cheerfully. Things were not so harsh these days. He still despised himself; there was no quick cure for that. But stepping away from the monster porn and working again with a mostly human cast and crew was improving his generally bleak outlook on life. Gary worried over this bright segment, though, as bad karma usually took a respite from him only long enough to gather strength for a fresh onslaught of torture.

  “Gary Hack?” a strong voice said.

  Gary turned around. Two men in suits flashed their badges at him. One was obviously the senior officer and his hard face would have sold cop even if the man were in a bunny costume. The other was a zombie, pulled into a presentable state by a myriad of grooming products. Gary had never seen a zombie cop before.

  The director cursed himself for allowing a little sunshine through the window. “Yeah, I’m Gary Hack. What can I do for you?”

  “I am Detective Mullins and this is my partner, Detective Thomas,” the senior officer said, motioning to the zombie. “We’re with the 7th Precinct; Homicide division. You need to come to the station with us. We have a few questions for you.”

  ***

  Gary sat in the small interrogation room. Detective Thomas stood vigilantly by the door. Mullins would be joining them shortly; the detective had been summoned by a superior for a quick meeting before the questions had started. Gary was petrified, of course, but a call to Mike Cooke would have him out of that police station in time to get his night buzz on.

  That Gary was being questioned by Homicide detectives was a very strange thing, considering that no humans had died in front of his lens. Gary reminded himself that technically he had done nothing wrong. Sure, there was the morality issue but that wasn’t punishable by law. So he had killed a vamp and furry for the Bloody Carnivore video. It wasn’t that big of a deal. The gathering of so many zombies for the gangbang shoot had been a serious felony, but Johnny Stücke had coached Gary on what to say if he were pinched.

  Gary stayed calm and he looked around the room. He tapped lightly on the table in front of his chair. He stared into what he was sure was a two-way mirror. “This looks like every interrogation room I have ever seen in a movie or TV show. Do you guys rent them out?” Gary joked nervously.

  Thomas just stared silently at Gary.

  “Were you a cop before your demise?” Gary asked.

  “I was a decorated twenty-year veteran,” Thomas revealed. “I was killed in the line of duty.”

  “So you just came right back and punched in without missing a beat?” Gary said. “I mean, did you have to begin from scratch? Go to the academy again?”

  “I was considered a perfect first candidate for the new spook division,” Thomas said.

  “So you are the first of your kind to have a shield?” Gary inquired further.

  Thomas nodded his blue head. “I am the only of my kind on the force,” he replied proudly. “We can’t bring too many zombies aboard, for obvious reasons.”

  “The horde law,” Gary wagered. It was an international law that prevented more than three zombies from gathering in the same place. In single or small pairings, the zombies managed to hold on to their identities. But the dead bastards operated much like an ant colony in numbers bigger than that. They shared a telepathic link in groups and their hunger for human flesh compelled them to attack anything living.

  Mike Cooke had lost his right arm below the elbow to a horde. It was serious and the law was upheld brutally. Small hordes gathered in back alleys all over the city, and every night the authorities were broke them up and set them ablaze.

  “Well, congratulations,” Gary said with genuine respect. “That is a great first step for your kind.”

  He was trying to be nice, but Detective Thomas continued to stare with derision at Gary. The cop evidently had a chip on his dead shoulder.

  Mullins finally entered the room. He carried two cups of coffee and he had a case file tucked under his arm. Thomas closed the door for his partner. Mullins sat the items down and took the seat across from Gary. “All right, you wanted your coffee black with sugar?”

  “Like my soul,” Gary said, taking the cup from Mullins.

  “Well, I guess you are wondering why we brought you here,” Mullins said, whipping the file open.

  Gary nodded. “Yes. I am curious. Who died?”

  “Is there any reason why the Night Things would target you, Mr. Hack? Have you made any enemies on the dark side?”

  “No,” Gary lied.

  “You have done some work recently for Johnny Stücke. Now, we know who Johnny Stücke is.”

  “We know what Johnny Stücke is,” Thomas interjected.

  “You have made some questionable films, Mr. Hack,” Mullins said.

  “Maybe of questionable taste, but I have done nothing against any current laws,” Gary said.

  “Well, I am not a fan of any of your work Mr. Hack, to be brutally honest,” Mullins said. “Night Things in attendance or not.”

  “Everyone’s a critic, I guess,” Gary said. “Hail the fucking internet.”

  “Word is you’ve been exterminating monsters,” Thomas threw in. “Killing them on screen for a paycheck.”

  “Even if I had done this thing, what would you do about it? It isn’t illegal,” Gary insisted.

  “Yet,” Thomas said, his dead eyes suddenly glowing with contempt.

  “Listen, are you going to charge me with something, because I am tired of this already. I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Zombie gangbang?” Thomas spit out. “Really, man?”

  “We created a zombie horde with CGI and we also used actors in make-up and costume for some of the sex scenes,” Gary said. “If you can prove otherwise then please do
. And if I were involved in anything illegal with Johnny Stücke, what makes you think I would be more scared of you than him? You know what, fuck it, I want my lawyer.”

  Mullins raised a hand. “Simmer down, Mr. Hack. I just have one question for you, okay? Where were you two nights ago, between midnight and three am?”

  “I was in Scott, New Jersey filming a new video. With humans… mostly.”