by Gary Starta
Well fuck Burnham and his dream world…
He was self-deluded, kidding himself that he still retained his humanity. And even if he did, underneath all those base urges to rip the flesh off of someone’s tasty neck, what was humanity when you came down to it? Humanity, Lorelei believed, was nothing but self-serving. Humans only helped because of an agenda. They came to the rescue of earthquake survivors only because they expected the same kind of assistance should it ever happen to them. And most of these do-gooders were only aiding because their God told them to do so. If that were the case, humans didn’t help by nature or what one might label free will.
And when humans helped freely, of their own will, they only aided their own kind, their own small group or clan. They helped that small group of people because they needed those particular individuals to survive. So, had humanity ever experienced self-sacrifice? In her opinion, only she was worthy of this distinction. She had sacrificed. She had given up hope of reuniting with her daughter. She had to stay away from her daughter for her child’s sake. She was sacrificing the mother/daughter bond for a greater purpose. She never expected or desired any reciprocation from her daughter. She would give up her life willingly for her daughter; even if it were only to avenge her child’s orphanage.
Now the reason for her compulsion, her obsession and self-loathing stood before her.
As if it were a dream, she tentatively let his name slide off her tongue.
“Amado…is that really you? He stood about half an alleyway from her. Yellowish hues engulfed the essence of the dark silhouette before her. The man she equated with pure evil.
This is too good to be true, she mused. Her hand fumbled underneath her shirt to find her weapon.
“No don’t,” evil incarnate - the thing that resembled Amado James – cried out to her. He implored her to relax. “Just stay calm. I’m only here to talk, mi vida.”
“And I’m only here to kill you,” she answered.
With weapon drawn, she spread her legs to assume a shooting position.
“Just stay right there, it will only hurt a fucking minute.”
“I am here to help.” James continued to sweet talk with hands raised.
“You got some more pills for me? That’s okay. I won’t need pills when I die.”
“I can help get you more,” James lied. “And I am not mad you stole from my supply. I would have done the same had you changed me.”
“Good for you. You can die without regrets.” Her finger began to press the trigger.
“I love you, senorita. I love you will all my heart.”
Lorelei could see right through his veneer. The tailored clothing could not cloak his inner light.
“You were a rotten bastard before you were changed. I got to witness firsthand what your love did for me. You’ve only changed for the worse. Let me help you by pulling this trigger.”
“I did it for love! I need you, baby.”
“You expect to me fucking understand. You took my baby away from me…you BASTARD!”
The click of the trigger was deafening. It rebounded off the surrounding buildings. It seemed to last an eternity.
The moment lingered not in perception, but reality.
The gun would not fire.
“Shit…shit!” Lorelei whisper screamed. She attempted to pull the trigger again but experienced no satisfaction, no release and not a single drop of vengeance.
The gun bounced off cobblestone. Her attempt to hit her target with the gun itself failed horribly. James could not stifle a cackle.
“You won’t be laughing when I catch you.” She darted after him, giving no thought that he might now draw a weapon upon her. And to her relief, he did not.
Instead he turned tail to run.
Lungs gasping for air in a full out run, Lorelei’s mind raced for an alternative.
She needed to stop him now. In an instant, he would round a corner. The chance of her second life time would elude her.
She halted to pick up a chunk of concrete and began the chase again.
***
As expected, the man in the long coat was dealing.
His buyer arrived ten minutes into Burnham’s surveillance.
As he witnessed the exchange, a surge of excitement invited butterflies to dance in his stomach.
He just wasn’t thrilled to stop a deal. This surge was something more. An opportunity…
Burnham couldn’t believe he had listened to the voice in his head.
Exposing himself, he shouted for the men to halt.
The buyer ran. The dealer didn’t.
The Hispanic man now stood before him, jacket open.
“I ought to blast you to hell, freak,” the dealer said. “But I want to enjoy this. I want to bring you back as a prize, freak.”
Burnham surmised word of mouth had caught up to him. He couldn’t remain a ghost forever. This man recognized him without ever meeting him before.
“Come here,” the man called, as if talking to an animal. “I’m going to gut you, poppy.”
Burnham walked with cop posture, as if self-assured of the outcome. He closed the distance between himself and the man as if in compliance.
“Good. That’s it". Come a little closer.”
Burnham stopped about a yard short of the man.
“Nobody has to get hurt. Just get the hell out of here.”
“Si, no one has to get hurt. But someone will.” Burnham stepped into the man for a punch.
The man pulled a knife from his coat before shedding it.
“Let’s dance.”
Burnham sidestepped a right-handed slash. He willed for his abilities to resurface. But they weren’t responding. He might have been able to throw a flying kick at the bastard if in full form. As it was, he had little hope of forcing the man to drop the knife. So he continued to dance…
***
She rounded the corner with fury. Her shoes skidded on cement as she whirled to fire a piece of concrete – her last desperate attempt to keep her Moby Dick within visual range.
He stopped. Surprising her… What is he doing?
She lobbed the projectile.
Lorelei had lost sight of her nemesis for a brief moment. In that interim, she could never have expected an exchange to take place.
The concrete rock hurtled as if an asteroid, promising a direct hit. Then, it simply passed right through him. As if he wasn’t there, except he was, her eyesight told her brain as much.
How the fuck did you do this?
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of verbalizing her thought.
She entertained her last, fleeting option. She simply charged him. Planning nothing more elaborate than flattening him into the pavement like a runaway bull.
But by the time she arrived, Amado James was no longer tangible. Yet, how could this be? The man never moved a muscle to flee.
Her mind raced. She must get back to Burnham. If James had been ever there, he might have baited her to get to him.
***
Burnham grew dizzier by the moment. He staggered, crumpling to his knees.
“Hardly living up to your reputation, freak,” the dealer mocked.
In an instant, the man maneuvered to hover directly over his prey. His hand flexing about the knife’s handle for purchase. “I’m going to put you out of your…”
But the dealer, a man named Sanchez, a loyal employee of Amado James never got the chance to plunge his knife into the freak’s ribcage.
Sanchez’s final thought centered on his decision to remain in the city, he disobeyed James. He refused to allow his boss carouse the streets of the city without backup. But now, in his final moment, he prayed for a hand – almost literally.
Burnham’s left hand crushed Sanchez’s wrist with a snap. His left hand drew the man t
oward him, ever so close to his open mouth.
The hunger had surfaced in a final moment of salvation, giving him enough strength to make Sanchez a quick meal. As he sunk his teeth into flesh, Derek Burnham heard no greater calling, forgotten he served any greater purpose and had no fear from an angry god.
“Shit!”
He heard a woman repeating an expletive over and over. His clouded vision could make out a tall woman in jeans. She had long hair. She was someone he knew. The funny thing was. He no longer knew himself. He let the blood languor in his mouth, tonguing it with relish.
He had seemed to pass out, in the throe of ecstasy.
Lorelei’s mind raced for a solution. She had to get the bodies off the street.
She dialed Finch.
“Listen, you’ve got to drive here immediately and pick up Burnham. He’s passed out. Looks like he…”
She hesitated. A smile tugged at her lips. She recognized the fallen man. What’s more she marveled at the way his throat was cut.
“Finch, we’re going to have a guest.”
Chapter 25
“Are you sure Burnham did this?” Finch panted, sweat soaked his black tee shirt in Rorschach patterns. He had just carried two – for the lack of better medical terminology – still bodies up to his apartment. Their dead weight even managed to tax Lorelei’s supercharged stamina.
“I’m pretty sure, Finch. But if you want to make a dental impression of Burnham’s teeth, be my guest.”
Finch shrugged. He would have to take her word. His mind buzzed with the possibility of duplicity. Maybe Lorelei bit the man while Burnham was unconscious. It didn’t make sense the way the bodies were positioned in the street though. He had to believe Lorelei didn’t reposition them.
Interrogation would have to take a back seat. First, he had to make sure Burnham would revive. He had a pulse. Chances were good.
The Latino man was another matter. He had no distinguishable heartbeat. Yet, Lorelei was convinced the man would reanimate.
For the next few hours, Finch occupied his mind with securing their safety. He didn’t believe Burnham would pose a threat. However, he vividly imagined the guest not only waking up, but rising with an appetite. He bit his tongue several times as Lorelei aided him. His fear gave rise to countless questions and much suspicion. Yet the task of moving the bodies nearly proved too much for both of them and gave Finch little choice but to expend his full energies toward that task. To his chagrin, Finch would have to hold his questions. He knew from hanging out with cops that allowing time to pass would give those under suspicion time to prepare stories. In this case, time would benefit Lorelei.
Finch thought the struggle to get the men into his space challenged vehicle was a chore. He changed his mind after dragging them out of the car and into an elevator. Fortunately, they moved the Latino man in secrecy; aided by the early hour of the day. But a well-dressed man in an overcoat passed them by on their second trip into the elevator. Finch explained – without need of being asked – that the limp, ragdoll of a man he and Lorelei carried had simply partied too hard on his birthday. The businessman shook his head with disdain, apparently buying into their story. Lorelei reprimanded him as they tossed Burnham onto the living room couch minutes later. “Never volunteer information – even when asked.”
The guest, the stocky Latino man – a person Lorelei recognized as one of James’s thugs – was secured into chains in Finch’s guestroom.
“How much time do we have before he reanimates?” Burnham dared ask.
“I have no clue. I lost track of my awakening. I believe Burnham rose in a matter of hours. I guess it varies.”
“Then let’s work on reviving Burnham. He might have some information we can use.”
Lorelei placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“I doubt that. But we can try. Only you better be prepared, Finch. When he comes to he may be violent. He also may be quite distressed. Remember, he just committed the very act he reprimanded me for.”
“This bloke had it coming in this case.” He steeled his eyes, inviting a challenged from Lorelei.
“Yeah, I agree. He was fighting for his life. No harm, no foul.” She waved a hand toward Finch’s bedroom. “After you…”
Finch felt his heart hammering. He still really couldn’t trust Lorelei. He couldn’t be sure if Burnham would be Burnham upon awakening. And he dreaded the return of whoever the guest was. One look was all he needed to know the man had been in league with the Ybor City’s resident devil – Amado James.
Another hour passed. No sign of movement in the guest room. But Burnham’s breath had become ragged and he began to flex his arms and legs.
“Great, I should have bought more chains,” Finch lamented.
“We’ll just have to deal, Finch. If he jumps, back off. I’ll handle him. You can’t afford being bitten.”
But Burnham rose as if waking from a bender. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. He sighed a few times. Finch informed him where he was.
Burnham wasn’t satiated. “What the hell happened out there…?” The zombie cop cupped a hand over his forehead.
“I killed someone? Didn’t I?” His eyes searched Finch’s for an answer. Finch didn’t have to wonder why Burnham wasn’t pressing Lorelei on the matter. The cop inside Burnham simply didn’t trust her.
Lorelei answered. “Not really, he’ll reanimate. We’ve got him chained in the guest room.” She forced a smile. “Looks like your patrolling finally paid off. We now have one of James’s men in our custody.”
“You’re sure?” Burnham asked her.
She nodded. “He was always in James’s mansion. I think he’s the bustard’s right hand man. If so, I think we have a way to bait James.”
“Bait him? Lorelei, we talked about this. We’re almost out of meds. We can offer this man’s return for pills.”
“I don’t know about that, Burnham. James doesn’t value life. What make you think he’ll give up pills for one man? But I do think we might be able to trick him out on the streets. We can ambush him there.”
Finch wiped his hands on his pants. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a look in on our guest.”
Neither Burnham nor Lorelei registered a response, their eyes were locked, body posture challenging.
When Finch had left, Lorelei spoke.
“It wouldn’t be necessary to bait James if my fucking gun had worked. I had him dead to rights. He was out there. But I lost him. And when I found you, you had been apparently engaged with our guest.”
“Wait. I’m puzzled. The gun should have worked. I had Finch clean it.”
Lorelei’s eyes grew wide and glassy.
Burnham watched Lorelei exit. He knew where she was headed.
By the time Burnham could pad after Lorelei she had Finch pinned on the hallway floor. She was choking him.
“You did this on purpose. For what reason, I don’t know.” Her grip tightened. “Tell me, if you want to live…” She paused, loosening her grip. “That’s it. You want me to bite you. You want to be changed. Tell me that isn’t the case?”
She removed her hands just as Burnham knocked her off Finch with the finesse of a linebacker.
“Stay away from him!” Burnham screamed at her. He swatted at her with his right arm but missed. She ducked, skidding away, sliding her backside along carpet like a spider in reverse.
“Yeah, I’ll stay away. I’m not going to be his fool. Imagine, Burnham. He messed up the gun just so „I would get mad enough to change him.”
Finch gasped for air. Then he shook his head.
“I’m a bartender, love. Do you really think I could come up with such a calculated plan as that?”
“Finch,” Burnham asked, “Did you do it?”
“I might have messed up the gun, but not intentionally, maybe accidentally.
And if I were to have done it on purpose, I would have done it to save you from yourself, Lorelei. Your bloodlust for James is disconcerting. I heard what you told Burnham. You just want to use our guest to bait James into an ambush. That’s the plan of a child. We need bloody pills. You of all people should know this.” He cocked his head to the guestroom. “And what army is going to stop him when he awakens? We need the medication. We should barter for it.”
Lorelei waved her hand, still seated on the floor.
“You think he’s going to voluntarily take our pills? Well, if I were you, Finch, I’d think about buying some steel gloves before you try to feed it to him.”
Finch winced. “That’s it. Feed him. I’ve got to get to the market.”
Burnham groaned. “Guys if you don’t mind, I’d like to lie back down now. So why don’t we all call a truce – at least for a few hours?”
“Fine by me,” Finch answered. He shot a look at Lorelei. “I’m agreeable, love. Now can you take a powder as Burnham suggested? It’ll give me time to hopefully buy us more time.”
Without giving either Lorelei or Burnham time to answer, Finch was out the door.
***
He returned with overflowing bags, paper lined into plastic for reinforcement.
“I nearly thought the bags would break,” Finch said, heaving his load onto the kitchen counter. “Haven’t worked this hard – well since this morning…” He shifted his eyes to meet Lorelei’s.
“What’s with the quizzical expression? I told you I would buy us some time if not some peace.”
“Have you lost your mind, Finch? First you fuck with my gun. Now you think a shopping trip is going to cure our woes?”
He didn’t answer her. “Where’s Burnham?”
“Here,” a male voice answered. A hand then rose into view confirming Burnham was still sacked out on the couch.