Jailbait Zombie

by Mario Acevedo

  Vinny dug a roll of bills from a coat pocket. He peeled off a hundred and gave it to me.

  I cocked my thumb at Vinny and told Cleto, “Now you owe him.”

  I eased on the gas and rolled forward. “Tell your boss that I’m not holding what happened tonight against him. Yet. Consider it a learning exercise.”

  Unfortunately, these buffoons were a big distraction in my hunt for the zombies. For his sake, I hoped Cavagnolo would get wise and cooperate before his dismembered corpse wound up in a spare parts bin.

  “And Cleto.”

  His gaze lifted from the pistol I’d run over. “Huh?”

  “Take better care of your gun.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I drove west to the town of South Fork. I needed to put time and distance between myself and Cavagnolo. Stupid paranoid bastard wouldn’t listen. I’d told him to keep his big nose clear of me and that I would take care of those responsible for the mutilations.

  But Cavagnolo interfered, twice. I’ve made his goons look like drunken clowns. I was positive my name was at the top of his to-do list.

  I stopped in an all-night diner. The place had a Lincoln Logs exterior. The motif inside was rustic yellow pine and antlers. A waitress mopped the floor. The few customers were scattered about the counter and booths. Everyone acted like they’d recently come out of hibernation and didn’t talk or move much.

  The time was 2 A.M. Working both nights and days wore us vampires out. Didn’t help that the sun’s rays weakened us despite sunblock and makeup. My brain felt like it was full of wet cotton. A quick snooze in a casket would reset my psychic equilibrium. Maybe I should break into a mortuary.

  I took a seat at a booth in the corner farthest from the entrance. I needed space and privacy. The waitress put the mop aside, rinsed her hands in a sink behind the counter, and set a coffee cup and a menu in front of me.

  I planned my next moves and wrote my questions on a notepad. Where were the Z? (Shorthand for zombies.) Why had they taken the psychotronic diviner? Could Phaedra use her psychic power to find Z? Why had they attacked Gino? Where had they taken his body? For what purpose? Was the missing man I recently read about also a Z victim?

  I unfolded the topographical map and studied the terrain. The reanimator was somewhere in this labyrinth of mountains and valleys.

  Or was he? I assumed the zombies remained close in proximity to their creator.

  But the first zombie had attacked me in Aurora, hundreds of miles from here.

  If the Araneum could find me with a crow, why couldn’t they send that bird to look for the zombie farm and leave a trail of poop for me to follow?

  My life as a vampire. Do everything the hard way.

  The waitress came by with coffee. She glanced over my notes and map. She asked, “You a bounty hunter?”

  My eyebrows gave a huh? “No,” I said, “I’m checking out the real estate.”

  “Yeah, right.” She filled my cup. “With that map and at this time of the morning? Honey, trouble’s written all over you.”

  “Is that a clinical analysis?”

  “You like using big words, don’t you?” She readied an order pad. “No, it’s the opinion of a girl who’s had too many boyfriends with lots of different occupations.”

  So much for being in stealth mode.

  I ordered eggs over easy, bacon, and hash browns. Wheat toast. Buttered. After the meal arrived I pretended to smear ketchup over the eggs and potatoes to hide the O-negative I’d brought in. I used the toast to wipe the plate clean of egg yolk and blood.

  I kept watch outside. At the moment it wasn’t the zombies or Cavagnolo I feared but the sunrise.

  The landscape brightened by degrees. Yellow light painted the tops of the surrounding mountains.

  Fear wormed through my guts. I could feel the breath of the sun coming to incinerate me.

  I retreated to the men’s room with my backpack. I locked myself in a stall and waited. I felt like a lobster that had molted and needed to hide until its shell hardened. While in the stall I shaved with an electric razor and applied sunblock and makeup. These mundane details are overlooked in classic vampire literature.

  The psychic signal started. I slammed my hands against the sides of the stall to steady myself. The signal echoed once, then shrank to silence.

  What was Phaedra doing?

  When I stepped out of the men’s room, the restaurant seemed normal. Plenty of morning customers. No one acting like they wanted trouble.

  The dawn had passed and I was safe from the sunrise. My cell phone chimed to alert me of a text message.

  CALL ME

  P

  Phaedra.

  I called her back. On the second ring, she answered.

  “Felix, you okay?” she answered, breathless.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Thank goodness. Where are you?”

  “In South Fork.” This was the first time we’d talked since her uncle took her away. “That was you just now, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  Phaedra started to answer when in the background of the phone, a woman called out over a loudspeaker. She wanted a price check on enchilada sauce.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “In Del’s Budget Grocery.”

  I remembered Del’s as the only supermarket in Morada.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Hanging out before school starts.”

  “You’re okay then? About Gino?”

  “No, I’m not okay. But I can’t bring him back, can I? It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “That’s two of us. Let’s talk in person. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Better hurry. School starts in a few minutes.”

  “Play hooky.”

  “Only for first period. I hate my civics teacher.”

  We clicked off.

  I started back to Morada, concerned that Cavagnolo and friends could’ve eavesdropped on Phaedra and be waiting in ambush. Maybe I was giving them too much credit because I arrived at Del’s Budget Grocery without so much as a bug smacking my windshield.

  Huge new pickups and tiny beaters cruised the parking lot in random circles. Whatever the model or make, every vehicle had green and yellow ribbons fluttering from the antennas. Windows were scrawled with Go Panthers!

  Kids stood in groups alongside the building. Phaedra remained alone. She wore an off-white ski parka and a backpack, and cradled a paper bag.

  She made eye contact and started for me.

  A trio of large boys broke from a clique and blocked her. They all had green jackets with Morada High embroidered across the back. Two of the boys wore cowboy hats.

  They stood shoulder to shoulder, their hands resting inside their jeans’ pockets, each of them assuming a bully’s stance.

  Phaedra’s face pinched with distress.

  I had to rescue her but I couldn’t afford to tangle with high schoolers. It would cause too much trouble with the authorities. If anything happened, I better handle this sitation quickly and smoothly. I removed my contacts and put my sunglasses back on.

  Phaedra glanced from boy to boy. Her right eyelid fluttered in a nervous spasm.

  The boys laughed. The shortest of the bunch got close to Phaedra and stretched one leg behind hers. Another boy tipped his hat and moved forward.

  Phaedra stepped back and tripped on the leg. She stumbled and dropped the paper bag. Something inside broke and liquid spilled over the asphalt.

  My anger turned blade sharp. I got out of the Toyota and pushed between two of the boys, my vampire strength easily brushing them aside.

  Phaedra wouldn’t look at me. I reached for her hand and pulled her up. Her face was red with shame. Her right eye was closed tight and the eyelashes trembled.

  “This guy your new boyfriend, Blinky?” the shortest of the bullies asked. His jacket had a chenille M decorated with football-shaped medallions.

  Blinky? Kids were cruel.

  Phaedra kept her head
down and wiped tears.

  I put my arm around her and we walked toward my Toyota.

  Short guy gave me the once-over. “Where’d you find this dinosaur, Blinky?”

  He says Blinky one more time and I’ll use his tongue to wipe my dipstick. I was a couple of inches taller than him but he outweighed me by forty pounds, easily. Made no difference.

  His friends tugged at his arm. “Come on, Jason. Let it go.”

  Jason gave an arrogant grin, convinced there was little I could to do to him, a minor.

  “Who the hell are you, old man? Her Prince Charming? Why bother? She’s no princess.” He waved a finger to his pals. “She’s the school blow-job bitch. Gives good ones too as long as you don’t make eye contact with her. You know.” Jason blinked his right eye. “Freaks you out. Isn’t that right, Blinky?”

  At the moment I wanted to use Jason’s head as a soccer ball. I let go of Phaedra and pulled my wallet out. I said to Jason. “I’ll bet a twenty that in less than a minute, I’ll have you singing like a little girl.”

  Jason chuckled. “A twenty, huh?”

  He walked beside me. I turned and put my back to his friends. I lowered my sunglasses.

  His eyes came to mine. His irises popped to the size of marbles. His red aura bloomed crimson red and his smirk sagged into a big wide O.

  I whispered into his ear. “You know ‘I’m a Little Teapot’?”

  “I…think…so.”

  “Good. On three, start singing. Loud. Add the dancing part.”

  “O…kay.”

  I put my sunglasses back on and counted.

  He set his hands on his hips and bounced on his knees as he sang loud, exactly as I’d told him. His buddies stared. The other students pointed and laughed.

  The hypnosis would last about a minute. When it wore off, Jason would have no idea what happened, though his throat would be sore from singing so loud.

  I led Phaedra to the Toyota. She watched Jason and barely smiled. I got a sense that she didn’t draw much satisfaction from his humiliation.

  I did.

  Phaedra climbed into the 4Runner like she wanted to leave.

  I got in. “I have some questions for you.”

  She kept her face down and ignored the commotion of everyone else laughing at Jason. She said, “I don’t want to talk here.”

  “Understandable.” I started the engine.” Where to?”

  Phaedra cinched her safety belt. “The place I go when I want to be alone.” She pointed west. “It’s my secret place. My hideout.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Phaedra looked strained and shrunken as if she were caught in a giant fist of anxiety and unhappiness. I couldn’t pry a word out of her.

  She pulled a water bottle from her backpack and sipped. For the next half mile her silence dragged across my mood like an anchor.

  I slowed for the county road along Pinos Creek, the way to Gino’s. Phaedra motioned to keep going.

  She fished a paper napkin from her jacket. She swiped her eyes and her nose. “Do you understand now?”

  I wanted to ask, about what? But that would sound like I wasn’t paying attention. I kept quiet and waited for her to elaborate.

  “Do you see what my life is like?”

  “It can be hard.”

  “This is just one day. They’re not going to get any better.”

  “Sure they will. Soon you’ll be out of high school.”

  And then? I shut up. I could see where Phaedra was going with this. After graduation the worst symptoms of the Huntington’s would begin.

  Phaedra looked out the side window.

  “That was you last night?”

  She cocked her head toward me.

  “The mind signals,” I said.

  “Who else could it have been?”

  “Just making sure. The world of the supernatural still surprises me.”

  “What’s your point?” she asked.

  “Thanks. You saved me last night.”

  She shrugged. You’re welcome.

  I asked, “How did you know Cleto and the others were coming after me?”

  “I overheard my uncle give them orders.”

  “What orders?”

  “You want his exact words?”

  “If you remember.”

  “They were, kill Gomez. Exact enough?”

  “Why didn’t you call? I don’t like you using the mind power on me.”

  “I couldn’t,” Phaedra snapped. “It was late and I’d left my phone in the kitchen. I couldn’t fetch it. My uncle was up all night and he would’ve seen me.” Her cheeks flushed with anger. “You know what?”

  I made eye contact.

  She moved to punch my arm. I caught her fist.

  She squirmed to pull her hand free. “You don’t trust me.”

  I let go of her hand. “I want to trust you.”

  “Then start.” She rubbed her knuckles. “You can be such a jerk.”

  Jerk? I’d expected insensitive asshole. Jerk had such an adolescent accuracy that the comment stung.

  “Being a jerk comes from being careful.”

  “Do you trust me or not?” she asked.

  Times like now, Phaedra tormented me like an itch I couldn’t reach. “Yes, I trust you.”

  “Was that hard?” She turned in her seat away from me and mumbled, “I thought vampires were cool.”

  That itch was acting up.

  When we passed a gravel road going north, she said, “That’s where I live with my uncle.”

  I slowed for a look. Oaks and lindens created a tunnel over the road, which ran straight to a one-story house with a chain-link fence. “Want to stop?”

  “No, keep going.”

  After another mile she told me to turn south. We took a narrow paved road that curved up an incline into the pine trees. The asphalt ended at a steel gate along a barbed wire fence. A sign on the gate read: NO ACCESS. RIO GRANDE NATIONAL FOREST.

  I halted. Phaedra hopped out in an animated rush. She lifted the chain looped over a post at one end of the gate and waved me through. I drove onto a dirt road. She secured the chain behind us and got back in.

  Her expression transformed, like she’d changed masks, from sad to happy.

  The road turned into a trail that became a wide spot between the trees. We got as far as we could without plowing into the brush.

  We both got out. Phaedra slung her backpack over her shoulders. The trees filtered warmth from the sunlight and I felt the chill against my face. Dense mats of pine needles and patches of dry grass spread across the rocky ground.

  Phaedra hiked beside me. We started at a brisk pace but she tired and slowed.

  She motioned that she wanted to rest and sat against a large boulder mottled with lichen. She guzzled from her water bottle. Up here, the air remained cool enough for the vapor in her breath to show.

  “Where’s your hideout?” I asked.

  She pointed to the trees behind her.

  I saw nothing but forest.

  Her eyes made a look-again expression.

  This time I saw a horizontal line among the Ponderosa pines. It was the roof of an earth-colored shack that blended into the surroundings.

  I followed Phaedra toward the shack. As we got closer I could see that the shack was made of adobe daubed with mud. The vigas and rough lumber holding up the roof had bleached to the same soft gray as the dead wood around us.

  “Kind of hard to get to,” I said.

  “It’s a hideout. That’s the point.” Phaedra removed brush that had rolled against the shack and helped camouflage it. The eaves of the pitched roof came to my chest.

  I asked, only half joking, “Who made this? Midgets?”

  “Penitentes.” She went to the south side of the shack.

  “Penitentes?” I repeated, analyzing the word as I translated it. “Those who seek penance?”

  “They were a lay order of the Franciscans.” Phaedra led me to a short door. “They migrated to the San
Luis Valley from Santa Fe almost two hundred years ago.”

  The door was the same bleached color as the rest of the wood. The planks were uneven and held in place with rusted square-faced nails. She swiveled a board on the door and stuck her hand through the gap. After fumbling with a lever arrangement, she pushed the door open. “This is called a morada. Means dwelling but it’s more like a little chapel. There used to be dozens all up and down these parts. It’s what the town was named after.”

  “So why did they build this place up here?” I asked.

  “To hide their secret rituals. Rites of self-flagellation. They used cactus and whips made from yucca.” Phaedra said this with an enthusiastic lilt like she would’ve enjoyed watching.

  “What a fun bunch,” I said. “I would’ve come here for drinks and to play cards.”

  We ducked through the low doorway and stepped down to a dirt floor. Inside, the ceiling was tall enough for me to stand upright. Wire hooks dangled from the joists. Smudges on the wood marked where people had once hung lanterns.

  Low benches ran along the eastern and western walls. The benches were constructed in the same manner as the walls, adobe and mud plaster. More of the rough-hewn planks lay on top of the benches.

  Phaedra bent over the bench on the western wall. She removed adobe bricks along the edge of the bench. She wedged her fingers under the planks, shifted them back and forth, and worked the planks loose. She lifted the planks and propped them against the wall.

  The open bench looked like an adobe sarcophagus. An army duffel bag rested inside.

  “What’s in the bag?” I asked.

  “My camping stuff.”

  “You sleep up here?”

  She nodded. “Told you it was my hideout.”

  “What are you hiding from?”

  “The future me.”

  The grimness of the comment skewered me. Phaedra meant a future wasting away and dying of Huntington’s. If I turned her into a vampire, I’d spare her that hideous fate. But that was the fate God had given her. If I made Phaedra into a vampire, then I’d hold myself responsible for her new destiny as an undead bloodsucker.

  Phaedra lifted the duffel bag and dumped out most of the contents: a rolled sleeping bag, granola and candy bars, packets of beef jerky, and a hurricane lamp. She opened the lamp, exposing a candle that she lit with a butane lighter.