Ella took a sip of coffee and frowned as considerations bounced around in her head. She ran a hand through her long auburn hair and scrunched up her face, as if she suddenly smelled something foul.
“I want more than that, Gary,” Ella announced, arching up in the booth.
She was a good four inches taller than Gary. He had known Ella when she had still been a miserable man named Edwin Howes. Squeezing the stone this hard was a sign that Edwin was still there inside somewhere. Ella seldom negotiated.
“I’ll get you more,” Gary assured her. “I need you for this, Ella.”
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, my dear,” Ella said.
Mike Cooke, Gary’s best friend and producer, walked into the diner and he marched solemnly toward the booth that Gary and Ella owned at the moment. Mike had a dark expression on his face. He wore his sunglasses, as always, and Gary could sense uneasiness in his friend. Mike stripped the tie from his neck and folded it into his expensive jacket pocket as he sat silently next to Ella.
“Christ, who shot your dog?” Ella asked Mike.
Mike looked to Ella and then over at Gary. “You didn’t hear about the Bloody Carnivores?”
Gary shook his head in dark anticipation. “What happened, Mike?”
“They’re dead,” Mike reported. He took a glass of water from the table and drank from it. He put it aside and dried his black mustache.
“Dead?” Ella said, her concerned eyes darting between Gary and Mike.
“They had a gig near Lake Texoma,” Mike reported. “They were playing all over Texas. Seems they had developed somewhat of a bubba following since we shot that video. The band’s local handlers went to their hotel and found what was left inside.”
“So, all of them?” Ella broke in. “Shawn, Billy, Eric…”
“Dead, dead, dead,” Mike said, pointing at imaginary corpses. “Torn apart and sucked down to the bone.”
“What about Bruce Von Stiers?” Gary asked.
“They found traces of his blood, but no body,” Mike revealed. “So he is probably worse than dead.”
“Did they catch the killers?” Gary asked.
Mike shook his head and motioned to a waitress for a cup of coffee.
“Who do they think is responsible?” Gary quizzed his producer further.
“Come on, Gary, you know who is responsible,” Mike said thickly. “Bruce Von Stiers has waged a public war with the night things for years. That fucking video we shot was the last straw, man. The fangs got their revenge. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they converted Bruce as an ultimate fuck you.”
“If they turned Bruce, he knows us,” Ella said frantically. “Fuck, Mike, he knows all of us.”
“This association with Johnny Stücke couldn’t have happened at a better time,” Mike concluded. “I have been doing my homework on him. The man inspires fear, even among the night things. He can keep us safe.”
“Or he could just as easily kill us and repurpose our parts,” Gary speculated, gloomily. “Don’t ever tell the man you’d give your right nut to work for him. That’s for sure.”
“He’s a businessman,” Mike said. “And we’re a good investment.”
“How did I arrive in this fresh hell?” Ella said, digging her cigarettes from her purse. “I am going for a smoke.”
“Stay near a window where we can see you,” Gary advised.
Ella’s face sunk. “Fuck, guys, is it that dire?”
“No,” Mike said. “When word gets out that we work for Stücke, nothing is going to touch us. But you shouldn’t smoke, Ella. It’s a nasty fucking habit.”
“That’s rich,” Ella shot back, motioning to Gary. “Give him the sermon.”
Ella left the diner.
Mike took the notebook from the table and he pulled an expensive pen from his jacket. “Now, let me start finessing this budget of yours. We have to get it to Stücke tomorrow. You want me to work in my little redneck brigade?”
Gary grimaced. “Hell no. Those bastards will start shit just to have an excuse to shoot something. Stücke is supplying us with defense. What you need to figure out is how we are going to feed a hundred zombies. Maybe we should get them some feeder rats.”
Mike made a notation. “That’s one thing we can be grateful to the zombies for. I bet they have put one hell of a dent in the city vermin population. Do you know they even have a kid’s cartoon now about a rat-eating zombie? Poor fucking rodents; they just never catch a break.”
“Budget a lot of rats, man. I don’t want those dead fuckers starving on the set and tuning in to the horde frequency,” Gary said.
Mike nodded. “That’s going to be one nasty-ass green room.”
***
Gary’s cell rang and it shook him awake.
The phone vibrated on his coffee table. He reached for it as he shifted to a sitting position on his couch. His neck hurt and his head pounded. His mouth was dry and tasted like shit. He knew the caller could only be one of four people. Besides Sergio, he really wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone.
But the shoot was coming up in, what, three, four days? He needed to make himself available.
“Hello?” he said groggily. He didn’t bother looking for a contact, he hadn’t set any in the device, and he didn’t recognize anyone’s number.
“Gary?” The voice belonged to his ex-wife, Pamela. Hearing it always inspired a mix of dread and guilt in Gary.
“Pamela?” Gary said, clearing his throat. “Is everything okay? Is Holly okay?”
“She’s fine,” Pamela said. “We’re okay, Gary. Were you asleep? Is this a bad time?”
“No,” Gary said, finding the twitchy-eyed cat clock on his wall. It was nearly two thirty pm. “I was working late. I am just a little dragged out. What can I do for you, Pammie?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I found someone,” she explained. “I am with someone.”
Gary absorbed it. It made him sad, but he understood. “Well, uh, that’s great, Pammie. I am very happy for you. What’s his name? Is he nice? When did you meet?”
Pamela took an audible breath. “His name is David Spencer and he is a very, very good man. He is a plumber and Holly loves him.”
“So, is this getting serious?” Gary inquired further, going into his kitchenette. He searched the moldy dishes in the sink for a coffee cup.
“Gary, David and I have been married six months,” Pamela confessed.
Gary pulled his hands out of the grimy sink and froze. “What?”
“We had a small ceremony six months ago,” Pamela replied.
Gary wiped his hands on a crusty kitchen towel. “Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Pamela said. “I know you are going through a lot.”
“I am a grown man,” Gary said. “I can take it, Pammie. I didn’t expect you to be alone forever.”
“Gary, there’s more,” Pamela said. “He is going to adopt Holly. He wants to be her father.”
Gary walked back to his couch quickly and sat before he collapsed. “Pamela, I am Holly’s father.”
“Gary, something happened with Holly. She has been very, very unhappy,” Pamela confided.
“What? What’s wrong with my little girl?” Gary said, afraid and ready to execute someone at the same time.
“Her schoolmates got their hands on one of your movies,” Pamela said. “Holly watched it with a big group of her friends and they ridiculed her.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Gary whispered. “Which movie?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t one of the tame ones,” Pamela said. “She is traumatized. She says that doesn’t want to be your daughter anymore, Gary. She doesn’t want your name.”
“Well, uh, there isn’t much she can do about that now is there?” Gary maintained. “Christ, she’s ten. She’ll understand this one day and get over it.”
“She’s eleven,” Pamela corrected him. “I know you cling to this notion that she is your little light in th
e window, but you haven’t seen her in over a year. You have never paid support…”
“I offered,” Gary insisted. “You told me to leave, Pamela. So I did. I walked away from everything and you told me the one thing I would always have was my daughter. And now, you’re taking her away,” Gary said, and his eyes began to cloud. “Jesus, she is the only piece of my soul I have left.”
“Gary, I forgive you, okay?” Pamela said. “I forgive you for everything and I still love you. But if you love Holly, let David be her father. He’s grounded and better suited for this. She needs him.”
Gary cried, covering the phone with his hand. He sucked it in, the best that he could, and answered Pamela’s distressed calling of his name. “Yeah, well, shit, okay. I didn’t even want a fucking kid. You pressured me. You think I wanted to bring someone into this shitty world?”
“Gary, you say or do whatever you need to get past this,” Pamela said softly. “I understand. But you understand this. I wait everyday for the news that you’re gone. Please, please get help. Holly is angry now, but if you clean yourself up, maybe you can be a father to her. Maybe you can help her from making the mistakes you made.”
“So David gets to walk her down the aisle one day and I get to be a fucking life lesson?” Gary growled back, angrily. “You know what; fuck you and the whole Spencer clan, okay? I have no one now.”
Gary clicked the phone off and threw it across the room. He kicked over the coffee table. He howled like a furry and cried. He pulled a tiny baggie of heroin out of his pants pocket. Gary tore it open and ingested it all greedily.
When the haze finally cleared, it was 5pm and time for breakfast.
***
Gary and Ella entered the slaughterhouse located in the Meatpacking District. It was large, clean and it had fresh white paint on the walls, but death still clung to the place. Gary was surprised that the old structure had survived renovations. The zombies were corralled into makeshift holding enclosures that were reinforced with new chain link fencing. Men in riot gear and toting weapons monitored the herding pens. The undead players began to chatter at the sight of Gary and his crew. One of the guards told them to shut the fuck up. Gary knew when you had this many zombies in one place, the main objective was to keep them from thinking as one.
Felix Gilling, Ella’s cantankerous old Assistant Cameraman, hauled equipment past Gary. Felix muttered under his breath and did not seem very concerned with the undead cattle in the building. The gun Stücke had given Gary rested under his windbreaker. Gary had purchased a shoulder holster for it.
Gary handed off his notes to the young and pretty production assistant assigned to him. Penny was her name, if he remembered correctly. She was beautiful and delicate. The girl had pale skin and dark hair. She reminded Gary of a princess from a fairy tale. The girl made Gary want to defend and protect her innocence. The kid did not belong on this movie set, but Gary wasn’t the one who had hired her.
“I brought the snack you requested,” the production assistant said, beaming like Snow White at him. “Chocolate fudge toaster pastries; the generic kind. Can I get you one?”
“No, not right now,” Gary said, avoiding her name in case he was mistaken about it. He would confirm it with Emma when they were alone. “I am okay for now. You can go see if anyone else needs a hand.”
She nodded, smiled again and left.
Gary noticed security cameras everywhere. He counted twenty or more in the rafters. He imagined Johnny Stücke studying the proceedings live in the safety of the penthouse. He pictured the monster lighting a cigar with another man’s hand as he watched.
When he had asked Stücke about this place, Gary was told that Stücke owned it and the director wondered what other dark delights this ominous structure had seen. The large building was a dramatic and appropriate possession for Stücke. It definitely fit the monster. And though the structure was brightened by the afternoon sun which blasted its rays through the upper windows, this slaughterhouse was one of the darkest and coldest areas Gary had ever entered. The building was waiting for blood.
“The places you take me,” Ella said, staring apprehensively at the zombies.
Dead faces studied the crew and security silently. Their gray eyes were absent of a spark but curious still, with all that was going on around them. Gary had to admit that the deceased all looked alike to him.
There had been a casting call circulated in alleys and other dark places where the zombies congregated. Stücke had seen to that chore, and Gary was glad about that. Gary was impressed that so many had shown up. He had never seen a group this large in one place. It was a little overwhelming.
Mike Cooke, who had been overseeing things since the night before, appeared from the back and he steered Gary and Ella toward the set, which was in a private slaughter room. They entered a large metal sliding door and navigated around rows of rusty meat hooks.
They found the clear center of the room. A young actress dressed in lingerie sat there on a cot and preened in a vintage compact mirror. Gary hadn’t met his actress yet. He had left her casting to Mike Cooke, with the only instruction that the girl had to be a night thing. The notion of using a vamp was dismissed, because the suckers couldn’t be hidden in make-up. Stücke had made it clear that he wanted whatever was cast to pass as human. Many vamps could fool the naked eye. But video, film and especially HD showed the vampires for what they were; no matter how much powder you put on them. A furry was never in the running. There was a grey area with furries. Killing them in werewolf form was legal. Killing them in their human skin was murder.
Gary strained his eyes on the actress, trying to figure her type. She was young and extremely thin. She looked like a poster child for eating disorders. She had curly blonde hair and light blue eyes that suddenly caught a reflection of Gary in her small mirror.
She turned around, looked up and smiled at Gary and Ella. “Hi,” she said. She stood with a small hand outstretched and walked impishly toward them. Gary took her hand, noting how cold her skin was, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.
“I’m Suzie Young. I’m your leading lady.”
Gary and Ella introduced themselves.
“Could you give us a moment?” Gary said, tugging Mike away.
“What is she?” Gary whispered.
“Come here,” Mike replied, pulling Gary back to the actress.
“Suzie, honey, take out your dentures.”
The girl smiled and pulled out her false teeth. A row of blackened fangs resided beneath them.
“She’s a ghoul,” Mike informed Gary and Ella.
“A ghoul?” Gary said, looking closely at Suzie. And as he looked closer, he could see that heavy make-up had been applied to the girl’s skin. “I don’t think I have ever met one. And she’ll sell on video?”
“We did camera tests,” Mike said. “Stücke signed off on Suzie himself.”
Gary hauled Mike to the side once more. “Are you at all familiar with the breed? Do you know what a ghoul eats, Mike?”
Mike shook his head.
“Dead meat,” Gary informed his producer. “Ghouls eat dead things. Zombies and ghouls are natural enemies. Christ, Mike, anyone with common sense would know that.”
Gary was hurting already, and he was still recovering from the bomb his ex-wife had dropped on him days earlier. His soul usually scabbed up quickly, but he didn’t know if he was going to have enough patience to cover the shoot. He would try to smother his need in energy drinks and toaster pastries, but he was ready to flip out. And things hadn’t even started yet. He wanted to smack Mike, and Gary Hack wasn’t the violent type.
The director responded to a tap on his shoulder and Suzie was standing there, smiling with her fake teeth back in place. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hack. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. My kind, we got good hearing, you know? Now, you are right. Ghouls don’t mix well with zombies. But there are over the counter chemicals that mask our smell from them. It helps us hunt them. They won’t even know I am a mon
ster. I promise.”
“What if you get hungry?” Gary said.
“I ate last night, right before dawn,” Suzie assured him. “I found a nice little nest over by Pier 84. I won’t need another meal for days.”
Gary looked to Mike, and the producer readjusted his sunglasses and shrugged. “See, man, it’s all good.”
“So, you cast a night thing in this, but you want me to look human? What’s the angle, if you don’t mind me asking?” Suzie said.
Gary and Mike looked to each other, and then Gary spoke to Suzie. “We just don’t think a human girl could stomach so much. And you, well, you are used to the zombies.”
Night Things: The Monster Collection Page 32