Dead Market

by Gary Starta

  “But it’s his only chance. If he reanimates he has a chance of healing.”

  “I’m calling 911. We’ll get help for him. But we’ve got to leave this place, now.”

  “That’s rich. You’re worried about keeping a low profile now. What risks have you already put us in by patrolling? What further risks will you expose us to you by using that freaking cell phone?” She rapped a hand at the side of her head. “Think!”

  “The call will only be traced back to Finch. He’s a civilian. If questioned, he could say he saw a man get hit on his way home from the bar.”

  “But the tape will have recorded you. And you don’t have a British accent.”

  “I’m calling.”

  Lorelei bent over the body. “Shit, he’s not moving.” Car lights startled her from behind.

  “See, Lorelei. We’ve got to go. The phone is ringing. We report this and go. It’s the best we can do.”

  She sprinted towards the sidewalk.

  “Well your best sucks, Burnham.”

  Minutes later and a few blocks from the hit and run, Burnham completed his call. He flipped the phone shut.

  “So, did that morally satisfy you?” she asked him.

  “I didn’t attack that man. You did. Now tell me why you did it and who he was to you?”

  Silence grew thick in the humidity as they walked.

  “Then if you can’t answer that, you must have just attacked an innocent victim. From what I can see, he was just some guy waiting for a bus. He drew no weapon on you. He wasn’t your Amado James. Like you said, he was an opportunity for you. I guess it was your opportunity to abandon hope.”

  She turned her eyes on him. “Could you blame me? You promised me a plan. I haven’t seen one work yet. There was the congressman. There was some bullshit in DC about your coroner friend. But nothing conclusive for me to cling to and I have to cling to something or you know what will happen.”

  “You’ll let the rage takeover. I don’t blame you. I know you see your daughter every time you close your eyes.”

  “I see my daughter when my eyes are open, too. And that has nothing to do with enhanced abilities. I’m not going to let this go, Burnham. I will settle this score with James. I really don’t see why it can’t be settled now as opposed to later.”

  “So, was this man informant, Lorelei? Was he giving you Intel on James?”

  Her breathing became ragged. “I know where James is, Burnham. I escaped from his fucking house.”

  “But you don’t want to walk up to that house carrying one little weapon and a huge zombie grudge on your shoulder, do you?”

  “Ah, so you finally understand. I’m trying to come up with a plan. Something you have failed to do.”

  “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, here. Was this man a drug dealer? Was he going to harm someone?”

  “I don’t need a reason to feed my conscience, Burnham. If he was a means to an end than that would have been good enough for me.”

  “Will you at least tell me what the hell you accomplished back there? We’re a team.”

  Her laugh dripped with sarcasm.

  “That proves you’re a control freak. You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you?”

  “Maybe it’s my training. Maybe I don’t agree with what you’re accusing me of. Basically, I don’t have time for this shit. I’m trying to pull us through this with minimal collateral damage. What you did back there, was not minimal in any way, shape or form.”

  “If you had let me bite that man, he might have been able to help us in your quest.”

  “We’re not out to build an army of us. That’s what I mean about collateral damage. And you say I don’t listen.”

  “Then if you’re so sure of my motives, you can rest easy, Burnham. I didn’t get what I wanted. But if you’re afraid of raising an army, you should have a heart-to-heart with Finch. Seems to me, he envies us. He wants to be one of us.”

  Burnham sighed and cast his head toward the night sky. Doubt had wormed its way back into his mind. Finch’s suspicions about Lorelei’s agenda echoed in his head. Did she really want to build a team? To bring down as many people as possible with her - to go out in a blaze of glory – all for the sake of exacting vengeance on Amado James? Or was there something else behind her attack? Was it really just a slip up?”

  “I know I can’t force you to answer questions about what you did back there. But I believe you owe me the answer to this question.”

  She continued walking, eyes on the pavement. “Spit it out.”

  “Are you skipping dosages?”

  “There’s a logical reason.” She continued walking, eyes still cast downward.

  “So you have!”

  She stopped and whirled towards him with a finger raised.

  “I’m trying to save you. I know you want to continue fighting your fight as long as you can. Playing cop, helping your community – I get that. I’m not going to be a part of that - ever. I’m going to end this…life – as soon as I get James. I don’t think it’s wise for me to be wasting pills – not when you’re so committed.”

  “What if we could get more pills? What if we could accomplish this at the risk of delaying your vengeance?”

  “Good luck with that, Burnham. Do you really think James is going to play nice with you and share his pills?”

  “As you say, we will need a plan. But it’s a seed and seeds can grow.”

  “But this would benefit me, how? I would only have to suffer longer and for what?”

  “It will give us time to bring down the real bastard behind this. Wouldn’t it better to exact vengeance on not only James but the man responsible for his infection? James only infected you because he was attacked.”

  “We’re still no closer to reaching that goal. And I don’t think I can or want to be a part of that agenda any longer. What’s more, you’re stalling for time, Burnham. You’re clinging to your fucking religion. Trust me. There are no miracles in this life – or in this second life.”

  “Just hang in there a little longer. And as for Finch, let me explain what went down. I’m going to tell him you slipped up, went off the pills. I’m not going to speculate about your motives. Is that fair, enough? I mean, would a control freak even be this freaking considerate?”

  Lorelei forced a laugh. “I don’t really care what you tell Finch. He’s going to go ape shit; probably will smash a few more bottles. But thanks for the consideration.”

  “No. No. He’s not going to smash any bottles, I assure you. Not after I tell him you haven’t been curbing your hunger. If anything, Finch is going to sleep with one eye open – again.”

  “Gee, aren’t we just one big, happy family?” Lorelei mocked.

  ***

  “Boss, I’ve got a package for you.”

  “I didn’t expect your earnings so soon. Looks like someone had a good week.”

  “It’s not the drug money, boss.” The stocky, Latino man shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s in it. It was given to me by one of my Medina’s men.”

  “Shit,” Amado James answered. “Is this going to fucking blow up or something?”

  James didn’t laugh. He kept his poker face for the benefit of his best earner, a drug dealer named Sanchez. Crime lord Luis Medina had always respected his boundaries, the sections of Ybor City claimed by James to be exclusive. No one was allowed to sell on these streets; no one but James’s men. A decade ago some blood had been spilled to enforce this law. The following years proved fruitful and peaceful because a show of force had been shown – quickly and effectively. Because of this, James doubted Medina was sending a packaged bomb, especially after all these years of peaceful co-existence. Medina had plenty of territory to earn a living. Nevertheless, despite his confidence, James sent Sanchez to open the carton in the bathtub. If
it was a pipe bomb, it could be contained there – well, at the expense of Sanchez’s life and limbs.

  I doubt its Buccaneer tickets or a Christmas card, too fucking early for that… Still, I doubt it’s a bomb. James rapped his fingers upon the armrest of his chair. The wait for Sanchez would be eternal in any event.

  Finally, Sanchez returned, limbs intact.

  “It’s a note, boss. Came with this phone…” James read the scribbled note.

  “This is a prepaid untraceable phone. Answer it when it rings. I’ve got some news you’ll want to hear.”

  James sighed and crumpled the note. After learning how to split his body into two and witnessing the death of his lone link to his extortionist, Amado James really didn’t believe there was any more news he wanted to hear.

  Chapter 23

  If Finch’s reaction to Burnham’s news were a color, the zombie/cop would have chosen light gray. Not really the promise of an impending storm, but a shade of mood to be cautious of nonetheless. Burnham eased a cap off a juice bottle and began to inventory his friend’s behavior. “Let’s see, definitely sullen, probably depressed, most likely overwhelmed. Gray suited Finch on a 24/7 basis, Burnham thought. He could barely recall a time when the man wasn’t „gray". So breaking the news about Lorelei and her latest tangle in the concrete jungle hadn’t exactly set his friend’s tolerance gauge in the red zone. Maybe a good thing, Burnham wondered, the man might never be a happy bloke but possibly he’s learning to take life’s lumps a little better. Or maybe he’s just scared shitless of Lorelei and had to take a walk.

  Finch left without announcing his destination leaving Burnham alone to scoff down a bowl of Wheaties. The cereal was always billed as the breakfast of champions. But Burnham, despite his zeal to carry on, felt more like a chump at the moment, drinking juice when he really hankered for blood. A living dead chump. How worse can this get? He pressed the cold glass to his forehead. His head felt feverish. Was it his changes or was it the pills? He could ask Lorelei if he wanted an opinion. But that would have to wait. Right now, she was chained in Finch’s guestroom, voluntarily. Anchor chain bound her legs to steel bed posts. Her wrists were cuffed and tethered to a chain which looped through a ring in the ceiling. Sections had been pieced together and secured with padlocks. The cop in Burnham wondered if this bondage will really hold up to a full out zombie blood lust. But that answer would have to wait as well. Lorelei opted to down sleeping pills as well. She had been out for hours.

  Suddenly, Burnham thrown from his daydreaming became startled.

  It had nothing to do with Lorelei. The door had clicked open and someone walked in with platinum blonde hair.

  “Who is it?” Burnham countered. He couldn’t remember if Finch has left the door unlocked.

  The main raised his head. “Burnsy, it’s me.”

  “Finch…?” A smile warmed Burnham’s rugged features.

  Finch bent his head down and pointed a finger at his scalp. It was not only transformed from brown to blonde but it was sculpted, spiky, possibly even gelled.

  “See, instant bright and fucking cheery; and it didn’t hurt a bit. Well, to be honest, it hurt a little.” Finch placed a bag of hair products on the table.

  “Especially the cost…”

  Burnham interrupted. “What is this about?” He cupped his hand around his chin in mock contemplation.

  “It’s about changing my disposition. That’s what it’s about. Image can do that.”

  “You don’t say…” Burnham said. His tone was facetious and playful.

  “See, haven’t seen you this happy…since you…came back. And well, I really needed a change.” He popped open the fridge to grab a brew.

  “And it’s never too early to be cheery, mate.” He raised the bottle to Burnham.

  “So, your answer is to celebrate like a celebrity in reaction to my news? I’m just wondering if the dam is going to break. If you’re mad, freaked out, tell me.”

  “I’m a lot of things. Mostly…I’m scared.”

  “I figured you would be. That’s why Lorelei’s chained to her bed.”

  “Chained to her bed?” A perverse smile washed over Finch’s peaked face.

  “Not what you’re thinking. She’s resting.”

  “Well, we’re in a hell of a mess. No matter my outlook. We’re supposed to be on the same team, not bloody afraid of one another.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to get across to Lorelei. She doesn’t agree with my methods.”

  “Maybe there’s something more going on with her than skipping dosages. I don’t think that’s the whole story. And if it is, she’s always going to be at odds with you, mate.”

  Burnham didn’t comment. He wanted to redirect his anxiety about Lorelei away, not only so Finch wouldn’t feed into it, but right now he needed escape time. Most men, living undead males, usually immersed themselves in TV programs to escape stress. That had never really worked for Burnham, even before the reanimation. But he had to admit, Finch’s makeover was a neat distraction. He had underestimated Finch. His transformation was downright coy. Meant not only to boost his morale, but of those around him.

  Burnham didn’t want to get all mushy though. He continued playfully ribbing Finch.

  “So, I think someone’s sprucing up for a love interest. Care to share the name of this gal?”

  “Told you, it’s about me trying to cope with your changes; I feel left out. I realize how pathetic that sounds…”

  Burnham was not deterred. “Does her name begin with an „L"?”

  “I’m pleading the Fifth. That’s what I love about his country – legalized silence.”

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Finch. I can even relate. So, she’s living dead, and she has a temper. It’s nothing that can’t be overcome. And if you do share feelings for one another, you just might give her the will to carry on.”

  Burnham sensed he hit a nerve with Finch. He stopped talking, cold.

  “Come on Burnham. Out with it… What did she say to you? Was her little tussle last night about a suicide attempt?”

  “No. She just misses her child – a lot. People, even undead people, get emotional, scattered; they say crazy things. Things they don’t really want to act out. It’s some kind of defense mechanism. I’ve seen plenty of victims deal with their pain in that manner, they say extreme things.”

  “Something tells me victimized people don’t usually end up chained and bound in my guest room. I think we should give credence to whatever she’s ranting about.”

  “Should we, Finch? I mean should I have given credence to every suicide laced thought you ever emoted? You’ve whined for years about your career.” “Well, there you go. See, maybe the new „do is more about me taking charge of my career; creating an image. Flaming orange hair apparently did wonders for Carrot Top.”

  “Screw your sarcasm, Finch. I get enough from Lorelei.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you’re the one who has feelings for her, mate.”

  “Let’s back to your career. My detour doesn’t mean you have to abandon your dreams. I don’t want to hold you back. Live your life. Lorelei and I will survive without you and then you won’t have to feel inferior. Although, for the life of me, I can’t understand why you envy us.”

  “First, I’ll address the „career". Gee. Not going too well. Last count puts me at 33 fans on my Facebook page. Hardly going to go national with those figures; and I don’t think even a makeover is going to fix that. I feel I’ve been shortchanged. Maybe we’ve all been shortchanged. Case in point, I was asked to fill out a biography for my online bio. It asked me to list a hero. I couldn’t even think of one. I finally put down: to be announced. But now I feel as if I could place you in that category. You’re a genuine hero. Not some reality wannabe star. Not some musician. You’re a God’s honest hero. You’ve got super abilities. You’re out the
re, making a difference – despite what’s happened to you. You have integrity, man. And I respect that. I bet a whole lot of people would respect that. But like any hero, you’re keeping a low profile, helping people without adulation. That’s damn great in my book. So now, do you see why I envy you and Lorelei? I can’t match up. I’m not fooling anyone with the new „do. Not even myself.” Finch put down his beer and pointed at Burnham. “And don’t you breathe a word of this to Lorelei.”

  “I appreciate how you’ve helped us out; provided shelter. Don’t discount that. You’re contributing.”

  “I want to be more useful. I just don’t…” Finch snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. How about I take care of weaponry?”

  “We’ve only got one weapon, Finch. Not exactly a cache.”

  “But does Lorelei know how to clean it, maintain?”

  “She only cares about shooting it.”

  “Then show me how to care for it.” Finch abruptly scattered to the guestroom. In a moment, he returned.

  “Got it; now show me.”

  “Sure you just didn’t want to sneak a peek at sleeping beauty?” “I’m sure.” Finch’s eyes bore holes into Burnham.

  “Okay, let’s show you how to assemble and disassemble a gun. Now, you’ve got to be careful with the parts. This gun is spring loaded. So you’ve got to be sure not to damage the recoil spring during installation; if that happens the gun will either misfire or become jammed.”

  Finch looked on with interest, his right eyebrow cocked.

  ***

  Amado James scratched his cheek, beard stubble made him itch. So, did the news on the other end of the untraceable prepaid cell phone.

  Lorelei…she’s out there…

  Mobster Luis Medina had called as promised, peaking James’s interest, among them an unexpected hormonal urge.

  He didn’t expect to feel his heart race at the prospect of seeing Lorelei again. He had treated her crassly – to put it mildly – biting her to change her into him. It was only supposed to be for his sick amusement. He didn’t plan on actually needing her. That need was twofold. He still wanted her physically. He was Frankenstein’s monster. She was made to be his bride. Secondly, desperation forced him to believe she could be of aid. Her affliction might eventually lead to a way to treat his illness. Brendan McKean had delivered the last batch of blue pills to his door; now, more than ever, was a good time to find a new source. So, she had stolen some pills. James equated it with an investment. She would possibly return with some other valuable resource, maybe even a new pill supplier. If not, how was she surviving out there? Maybe she could give him valuable Intel.