I Kill Monsters

by Dennis Liggio

  "It's been a really long night," I said.

  The Morning After

  Once we were done feeling sorry for ourselves at the curb, we went up to my apartment. I finally got clothes on, while Mikkel sat on my now-upright but still broken couch holding a bag of ice on his black eye. I was putting clothes into a duffel bag.

  "Your apartment looks like shit, by the way," Mikkel said.

  "Yeah, it's not like that has anything to do with the ghouls who attacked me in my fucking apartment or the paramilitary commandos who came in here to kidnap the girl I was protecting."

  "Just saying," he said. "It looks like shit."

  "Thanks," I said sarcastically.

  "So why was she here anyway?" he said.

  I gave him the quick rundown of Jessica's rescue. I didn't initially say anything about the sex, but he eventually forced those details out of me. I didn't resist very hard.

  "Well, it's awesome that you finally got laid, which if you recall, I've been saying you've needed for weeks," said Mikkel, "but that puts us in a bad situation. We don't know where she or her checkbook is. We can't even get paid for the work we've put in already. We took the job for the money, despite her obvious lying. Now we can't even get that. This sucks for us."

  "Yeah, let's ignore the fact that she's a living human being that got kidnapped and is God knows where," I said, again sarcastically.

  "Wow, you have sex one time and you get all attached," he said.

  "She's our client!"

  "True, but I think this is all because she didn't give us enough information," he said. "Did she tell you that she was being hunted by some crazy black ops dudes? Because I don't remember that part when we talked to her. It's not like I went to the bathroom at her place and missed something."

  I paused in my annoyance. He had a point, but I wasn't ready to even grudgingly admit it. "Perhaps she didn't know about those guys."

  "It sounded like she knew who they were. She got all afraid of them. And her and Suitguy traded words," said Mikkel. "Do you have any idea who those guys were? Did she mention anything at all about some jackbooted thugs she might know? Like a jealous ex boyfriend?"

  "That's like a whole army of ex boyfriends," I said. "But no, I don't have any idea who they were. I tried looking on their gear to see who they worked for, but I didn't see any identifying marks on their trucks or armor. Did you see anything?"

  "Nothing. If I didn't see them taking orders from Suitguy, I would have thought black ops or government. But now I'm not sure. Suitguy was definitely not government. He had a slickness that had to be corporate." He paused. "Weird thing was, the commandos were capturing the ghouls, not killing them. Did you see that?"

  "No," I said truthfully. "I was kinda busy."

  "Not busy getting dressed," said Mikkel.

  "Very funny," I said dryly. There was a pause while I packed more clothes into the bag.

  "Have you taken anything for your zombie bite? It didn't look good when you were half naked."

  "No, it's fine," I said dismissively. The bite did still hurt, but I was convinced I didn't need the bite medicine. Time to change the subject. "I wanted to show you something. It might be related to the ghoul capture." I walked over to my washing machine. When Jessica and I had gotten home, I had folded the jacket I had worn for the sewer rescue and left it on top of the machine. I hadn't washed it yet and it still smelled pretty bad. I reached into the pocket to grab the earring I had pulled off the ghoul earlier in the night.

  Gone.

  "What the hell? I had something in my jacket," I said. "It was this earring that the ghoul was wearing."

  "Fashion conscious ghouls? Now I've heard everything."

  "No, it's not like that," I said. I went through all the jacket's pockets but found nothing. Mikkel looked at me like I was crazy, then he went into the kitchen to get some fresh ice.

  "Is this what you're looking for?" he said.

  I followed him into the kitchen where I saw something smashed on the floor in the corner below the cabinets. I had probably missed it before with all the other chaos and destruction in my apartment. There was a pile of shards of black plastic, a small broken circuit board, and some tiny wires. But even disassembled it was obviously the earring.

  "That confirms my theory," I said, looking at the smashed circuitry. I hadn't been able to see if there was truly something electronic before, but I had suspected.

  "Tracking collar?" said Mikkel.

  "Tracking earring, but yeah," I said. "Someone's tracking the ghouls. And I guess we know who. Tagging and capturing go together. I guess once the commandos grab them, some are let go."

  "That's what they do on the nature channel documentaries," said Mikkel. "But why did you smash it?"

  "I didn't," I said. "I thought it was still in my jacket. So someone took it out of my jacket, brought it to the kitchen and smashed it. But I don't know who."

  "Ah, and here is the mystery, dear Watson," said Mikkel. "We need to find out who grabbed it, when, and where. Let us adjourn to the drawing room so we can see who killed Mr. Body."

  I shook my head dismissively. "The commandos couldn't have known where it was. Even if they would, why the kitchen? The ghouls definitely didn't destroy it."

  "I think it was done in the kitchen because you have tile here. The living room's carpet. Things crush better on tile. And how? Dunno. Is it so farfetched that it was the commandos? If it was their tracking chip, they could have a locator or something. Who knows? Maybe it fell out of your pocket and you stepped onto it accidentally. Szandor, were you clomping around in your clogs again?"

  "I think I would have noticed if I stepped on it," I set petulantly.

  Mikkel shrugged. I scraped the remains of the earring into a zippered plastic bag and added it to my duffel bag of clothes. I pulled it over my shoulder.

  "Okay, let's go," I said.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Your place."

  "My place?" said Mikkel.

  "Mikkel, my apartment was just assaulted by ghouls, then attacked by jack-booted military thugs. The door is half broken down. You even said the place looks like shit. I can't stay here. It isn't safe. You're my only relative in the world and you live five minutes away. Of course I'm sleeping on your couch."

  "Oh," said Mikkel thoughtfully. "Jillian's gonna be pissed."

  Jillian was indeed pissed. But first she was concerned for her boyfriend's injury.

  "What did you do to my poor Mikkel?" she said, looking at his black eye.

  "I didn't do it!" I said in my defense.

  "He didn't," said Mikkel, as Jillian fawned over him. "It's not a big deal."

  "How is that not a big deal? And why is Szandor here?" The annoyance in her voice reminded me that I probably interrupted something intimate when I called Mikkel.

  "My apartment isn't safe anymore," I said.

  "Isn't safe?" she asked, confused.

  I looked at Mikkel. I didn't know where he met Jillian. She wasn't from the neighborhood so she might not know about our monster hunting side business. He might not have told her.

  There was a surreptitious headshake from Mikkel.

  "Uh, there's some... gang activity there," I said, trying to come up with something plausible. "Someone got shot next door and my window was broken."

  "Ugh, why do you live in such a bad area?" she said.

  I tried not to be angry. Mikkel and I grew up in a bad area. And to be honest, we were now in Chinatown which was actually considered a worse area crime-wise than Five Spokes where my apartment was. I wondered if Jillian was a west side girl who was just slumming with Mikkel.

  "Jillian, my brother needed help and I went to help him," said Mikkel. "And now he's sleeping on the couch, because he needs someplace to crash."

  She made a small disgusted noise. "I guess if he has nowhere else to go," she said in a low tone.

  "You're right," I said, "I know how much of a disruption I am. Carly never liked me needing help from
Mikkel either, but where else could I go?"

  Behind Jillian and out of her sight, Mikkel's eyes widened and his face went pale. Shots fired. This could go in one of two ways, one of which was bad for Mikkel.

  "No! No, it's completely fine! You should totally stay here!" said Jillian with a nervous smile, her words escaping her mouth in a sudden burst, her attitude taking a 180 degree turn into The Try Too Hard Zone. "Family is important. You need to help them out when you can."

  I'm not sure how long Mikkel and Jillian were dating, but I didn't think it was very long. Weeks, maybe. She didn't live with him, so as someone staying the night, she really didn't have the right to throw such a proprietary attitude around. Mikkel goes through girlfriends pretty quickly. Each one thinks they'll be better than the last, and each endeavors to change that fact, but they all get their walking papers in the end. Ever since Carly, Mikkel hasn't been interested in dating anyone for more than a few weeks. And despite his usual tact, it's inevitable that a current girlfriend hears about Carly or discovers that he still misses her. Otherwise Mikkel seems to be a pretty good boyfriend, so these girls do their best to smooth over the Carly subject.

  So when I happened to purposely "off-the-cuff" mention Carly, Jillian went into damage control mode. Thinking that this was the front upon which the girlfriend war hinged, she suddenly became very pro-family. Rather than being annoyed at me staying over, she suddenly was the biggest cheerleader for me taking all the time I needed before returning to my apartment. She went as far as telling me I could have anything in the fridge I wanted, which was slightly odd, since it was Mikkel's food.

  This matter resolved, Mikkel pulled out a spare blanket and pillow for me. He then tossed some prescription antifungal medicine at me.

  "For your bite," he said.

  "I don't need it," I said.

  "Take it, brother. Please."

  I sighed as he and Jillian returned to the bedroom and I took out some of the pills. Their effects were true to past experience. I spent the rest of the night farting, which was a strange contrast to the sex noises from Mikkel's bedroom. I got some sleep, but not a lot.

  Mikkel and Jillian were gone before I woke up. Mikkel actually had sanitation to do and... well, I had no idea what Jillian did for work. I didn't care yet. She was still on her probationary period. If she made it past the One Month With Mikkel mark, that would mean something and I'd find out more about her. It sounds cold, but with Mikkel's revolving door for women, learning about each of them just meant I confused details about them in my head and inadvertently insulted them when I spoke to them.

  Mikkel's apartment is above a restaurant in Chinatown. This meant that at almost all hours of the day, it smelled like spare ribs. This makes me hungry nearly every time I am over, but waking up from sleep after a long day and a longer night just made me hungrier. My shoulder bite didn't throb anymore, which I guess was a nice tradeoff for the pills. As I got ready for work out of my duffel bag I realized it was going to be another long day. The sleep I got helped, but I was still running on empty. Once I arrived at work, I made two black coffees in the breakroom and brought them both to my desk. I slouched down into my chair, wondering if I could fall asleep sitting up. It was five minutes until my shift. I knew I could relax for at least a moment. I must have just stared at my computer screen for a while in a daze.

  "Somebody didn't get any sleep last night," said Leesa.

  I was jostled out of my dazed state by this statement and turned to look at Leesa.

  "Hi," she said. "Are you ready to join us in working?"

  I looked at the time. 8:01. Did I just lose a few minutes? I looked back to Leesa. Her phone was ringing and Yasmin was already on a call. Yasmin looked at me strangely, but she was talking to a customer so I couldn't ask. I took a long drink of coffee, almost finishing the first cup before I took my first call. I uselessly muddled through the call before transferring it to someone who gave a damn.

  "Do you really believe in monsters?"

  I had just finished my call and was typing up my notes. The question came from Yasmin, who was also between calls. She had The Look, and I knew this was going to be an unpleasant conversation. I've seen The Look before and it rarely goes well. The Look said she thought that believing in monsters was insane.

  "What's this about?" I said tiredly. I really didn't want to talk about this, so if there was an off-chance than feigning my own ignorance would avert the conversation, I was all for it.

  "You said you had a side job," she said. "I was curious after I got home last night, so I went on the internet and looked you up."

  I guess on some level I should have liked that she was interested in me enough to look me up. "So you found our website," I said in a resigned voice, more to myself than for her. It made sense. The website is there for people who need information or help. But since she needed neither, she had no context for it all. She hadn't had an experience with a creature she couldn't explain. All she saw were our database descriptions of fantastic monsters, so she thought we were delusional crazy people.

  "Do you honestly believe all that?" she said.

  I rolled my eyes at her. Why did she think we had the website? For shits and giggles? I almost spat that out at her, but I stopped myself before being that antagonistic. Instead I tried to keep my calm and just said, "What do you think?"

  "I... I'm not sure," she said. "You could be trying to cheat people."

  "I'm cheating people?" I said in confusion.

  "Like, a scam to get their money," she said.

  "So I'm a scammer," I said.

  "I'm not saying you are," she said. "You've never seen the untrustworthy type, though of course I only know you from work. But... well, if you're not cheating people, then I think you might have some... mental health issues. I know you are not sleeping well. Lack of sleep has been known to cause delusions, hallucinations, and paranoia."

  "Oh, so I'm crazy now," I said. "Is that your medical opinion?"

  "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm concerned," she said. "You don't seem the type to scam people, so I do wonder about your mental health."

  "And those are the only two options?" I said, probably more sarcastically than intended.

  "Yes," she began, confused, "What else could -"

  "You know what," I said, talking right over her. "Just forget it. If you've made up your mind, great. But if you're sharing it with me just so you can determine which negative thing to think of me, just keep it to yourself. I don't recall giving you permission to judge me, especially not about something you don't know a damn thing about and you aren't willing to keep an open mind about."

  I watched her face go from confused, to angry, to mortified. I'm not sure what reaction I liked better. "Listen, I'm not trying to -"

  "Is there a reason why there are calls in queue and two of my agents are having a spat?" came a familiar voice.

  We looked up to see Frank standing in the aisle, mug of coffee in one hand, his other hand on his hip. He stood like he owned the place, which, to be fair, was closer to true than not. As he reminded us, this was his ship, whether he was currently saying it was a clean ship, a tight ship, or a no-bull ship[29].

  Still mentally in our argument, Yasmin and I at first did not move, but stared back at Frank, locked in our deer-in-headlights reaction. But then Frank cleared his throat. We blinked and immediately pressed the button to put ourselves in queue. Our phones began ringing. As we picked up the calls and greeted our customers, Frank smiled and waddled away.

  Yasmin and I didn't have any other time off at the same time in the course of our morning, so there was no follow up to that conversation. Today Frank wasn't fucking with me, so I had lunch at a decent hour. After a cigarette downstairs, I went into our breakroom to reheat a Hot Pocket I had stolen from Mikkel's freezer. Steve was fixing himself a cup of coffee. I don't think it was his lunch break, but he was taking his time making the cup. I've used the same tactic to stay off the phone, so I knew it well.

>   As I stood staring at the microwave, willing the Hot Pocket to cook faster with my mind and avoiding a conversation with Steve, I heard footsteps which turned into the squeak of sneakers stopping quickly on the linoleum. I turned to look and locked eyes with Yasmin at the doorway. After a moment of an awkwardly cold glance, she immediately turned around and left.

  "Trouble in paradise, eh?" said Steve with a smirk.

  "Fuck off, Steve," I said.

  "So that's a yes," he said with the same smirk. He finished stirring his very light coffee and left the breakroom, indifferent to my scowling.

  The microwave beeped, and I pulled out my less than appetizing Hot Pocket. Placing it on a paper plate, I sat down at the breakroom table and began to begrudgingly eat it. Mikkel tended to buy and eat crap, since he spent a good chunk of his days off from work and hunting just watching movies and sometimes being stoned[30]. However, due to sanitation work and monster hunting, he didn't have any fat on him. He was every slacker's ideal, even with his shitty Hot Pockets.

  As I chewed my tasteless food, I thumbed through messages on my phone and then popped over to our website email to see if we had anything. I almost expected to find one from Yasmin, finding some way to accuse me without talking to me, but there was nothing from her. There was one message that would have been in the mysteriously crazy category if it didn't have one part of it which made me care.

  Greetings,

  You do not know me, but I know much about you two. For example, I know that one of your clients was recently abducted from your home. I have information to provide, but I also need you two to see something first. If I tried to explain it, you wouldn't believe me. Suffice to say, seeing it will convince you. I've attached instructions and a map. Arrive before 10pm and wait. You do not need to do anything, just conceal your presence and observe.

  Trust me that I speak for your best interests. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but if you follow these instructions, it will be fruitful. In addition, you'll have solidified my trust in you and I will share the information I have about Jessica. You will find what I know quite helpful. But first, be at the specified location tonight. You need to understand.