by Garth Ono
"Hello, Daphne," one of them said. "I'm Carl. This is my associate, Mike."
"Associate? Not your friend?"
"We're friends, but work together, too," Mike said. "We are reporters."
She looked them over. Didn't reporters wear suits and ties? Then she thought of the news reports on TV, and really only the women reporters seemed to dress nicely. But they still dressed a bit casually for reporters.
"If you say so. Are you here to report on me?"
"I'd like to – " Mike started to say, but Carl cut him off.
"We are here to research a story about the zombie smugglers that were foiled last night," Carl said. "Do you know anything about it?"
Daphne frowned. Of course they were in town to find out about Kate. No one wanted to know about poor Daphne Coleman, doomed to be a vampire some day. Not interesting at all. But then she noticed Mike checking out her legs, before moving back to her cleavage, and then her lips. She licked her lips, and his breath caught.
A sultry smile slowly spread across her face.
"I might be able to help you boys out," she said, voice dropping an octave. "If you scratch my itch, I'll scratch yours."
Her insides erupted with butterflies. That was the first time in her life she'd propositioned anyone, much less a pair of total strangers. Mike definitely wanted her, but Daphne wanted both of them. It would be her first time with two guys. They looked so big and strong, and virile. She could imagine them doing all kinds of wicked, sexy things to her.
"Seriously?" Carl asked.
"Shut up, man," Mike said. Then to Daphne, "So, babe, is there somewhere private we can, um, interview you?"
Daphne smiled, biting the end of her tongue, and eyes sparkling. She felt her body respond profoundly. The butterflies melted into a hot, molten mess within. If she'd bothered to wear panties, they'd be soaked now. The beautiful Goth girl hadn't felt that aroused, that slick down there, since her time with Alexander.
"M-My house is just a few blocks away," she said. "Gimme your phone."
Mike handed his phone over. Daphne quickly found his contacts, and then added her name, number, and address. Then she did a quick selfie to add a picture to the listing.
"There you go, sweetie," she said, rose up on her toes and kissed him. She told them how to reach her house from there, which wasn't too hard in a small town. "Give me a few minutes to get ready, then come over." She winked at them. "Give me what I want, boys, and I'll give you Kate Brokenshire."
Chapter 6
Kate sat in the Defender and worried her lip. She was cursed with an abundance of riches. More specifically, she had collected five more heads since the Stanford house and there wasn't anyone available to pay her bounties. At least not until Sheriff Coleman returned to Tennyson.
On top of that, she had a suitcase of money she was afraid to tell anyone about until the sheriff returned from his conference. If there was a corrupt cop he might return the money to the bad guys. Hell, she was tempted to not tell anyone and keep the money for herself. And that temptation bothered her.
"If I was a religious girl, I'd say God was testing me," she said. "But Sheriff Coleman will make sure it goes to the right place."
Since the money was part of a crime, she didn't hold out any chance of the claim she planned to put in being accepted. Her only hope was the fact the State Police declared it a zombie slaying, so no crime was committed.
A Wilson's Appliances delivery truck got her attention. It pulled up to the self-storage gate. Kate hurried over to punch in her code, and opened the gate for them.
"Hi, Kate," Billy called from the passenger seat.
He was classmate of hers from third grade through high school. As freshmen they were lab partners in biology. He was average height and weight.
"When did you start working at Wilson's" she asked.
"Day after graduation," he said. "Why do you want four chest freezers in a storage unit? You selling them on E-Bay or something?"
She laughed. "Or something."
Kate showed them to her unit. It was just deep enough to have two full-sized chest freezers on both walls, with a narrow path between them. It was the smallest, cheapest storage unit she could find that would fit that many freezers and had electrical outlets inside. And they covered utilities.
"Thanks, lads," she said, laying the English accent on thick. American men seemed to really love her accent. "You're the best."
She had to re-enter the pass code at the gate, and they were gone. The slayer looked around one last time to ensure there weren't any prying eyes. Kate first plugged in all four freezers. Then she dug out the suitcase of money, placed it in the bottom of a freezer. On top of that she placed the black plastic bags with six zombie heads. And then she locked the freezer.
"That ought to hold them until the sheriff returns," she said.
Feeling like she'd accomplished something, Kate headed for downtown. If Daphne was available, she'd take her oldest and dearest friend to an early lunch. Maybe they could get Teri and Morgan to join them as well.
There was an empty parking spot in front of the agency, so Kate hoped that was an omen. But when she got inside Daphne's co-workers shot her down.
"Daphne is playing hooky," Mrs. Clarisse Finley sneered. The middle-aged office manager looked at Kate like she was something her little pet Yorkie left on the floor for her to pick up. Kate wasn't sure why Mrs. Finley had never liked her, and she didn't really care. "She might be at home, but she's more likely off playing with some boy."
Mrs. Finley made that sound like a bad thing. She was three times divorced after all.
"If she's lucky," Kate said with a wag of her brows. "Thanks, Mrs. Fartly."
"Finley!"
Kate was already passing through the door. She barked a laugh and jumped into the Defender. Daphne's place wasn't far. Kate could also check out her parent's place next door, and ensure the new renters weren't trashing the property. Her parents were about due another update.
She pulled in behind Sheriff Coleman's blue Ford Explorer. Daphne was using it while her car was in the shop to fix all of the bullet holes after the big vampire fight. There were a lot of cars in the shop for the same reason. Her truck was just out of the shop to patch holes and replace glass. Kate was still getting calls from insurance companies about it. Like it was her fault.
What was unexpected was the red Chevy Camaro parked on the street. Did Daphne have company? It was the latest year model, so it was unlikely to be one of their friends. None of them could afford such a nice vehicle.
After a quick look around her parents' house, checking to ensure the renters were keeping the yard up and not throwing thrash in the backyard, Kate approached Daphne's front door. It was ajar a few inches. Sheriff Coleman always instilled a sense of security in his daughter. Finding a door open sent up red flags. She glanced at the Camaro.
Moving up quietly, she listened at the door. There was a lot of noise, but Kate couldn't quite place it. It wasn't like anything she'd heard before. Then she heard a male grunt, followed by a female gasp. Before she could figure that out, Daphne cried out.
"Oh god!"
Kate almost charged in. She caught herself, and quickly returned to her truck. Stuffing the 9mm into her back pocket, she hurried back to the front door with Lupara in hand. Taking the sawed off double-barrel off safety, Kate kicked the door all of the way open and charged inside.
"Halt!"
Everyone froze. Kate's jaw dropped.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Kate cried.
Daphne was on all fours in the middle of the couch. All she wore were fishnet gloves, a black leather corset, and thigh boots. Two naked strangers were enjoying intimate relations with her friend's mouth and vagina. At the same time.
"Sex," Daphne said. "Duh."
From the mess around them, Kate guessed they'd been going at each other for some time. She didn't know either of the men, and they looked a little old for Daphne, who was just eighteen. They h
ad to be late twenties to early thirties. Though, they were pretty impressive specimens of manhood.
"When did you dye your hair?"
"Last night," Daphne said. "Doesn't it look great?"
"Just, um, lovely."
"Carl. Mike," Daphne said rather formally. "This is the legendary zombie slayer, Kate Brokenshire. Kate, meet Carl and Mike. They're reporters."
Kate looked at them. They didn't look like reporters to her. Despite being big and strong looking, there was a hardness in their eyes she didn't like. When she glanced at their clothes, she spotted something metallic. Moving over, keeping Lupara aimed just above them, she used her foot to separate a 9mm pistol from the pile.
"You must be working for the NRA's newsletter," Kate said. "You've had your fun. Get out."
"Hey, this is my house," Daphne cried.
"It's your father's house," Kate countered, eyes narrowing on the two men. They were looking back and forth between Kate's weapon and the pistol on the floor. She didn't like the fact that neither of them looked too worried. "Shall we ring him up and see if he wants them to stay?"
"Jesus, you can be such a bitch sometimes," Daphne grumbled.
"We'd like to speak to you about the incident with the smugglers," Mike said.
"Yes, were you tipped off they'd be there?" Carl asked. "Or did you stumble upon them by accident?"
Kate ignored them. She didn't believe they were reporters, and even if they were, Kate wasn't interested in being interviewed. Her notoriety around town was already a little uncomfortable, so she didn't need to feed the beast.
She picked up the pistol, removed the magazine, and cleared the chamber. Then she checked the other pile of clothes. He had a pistol, too, that she unloaded. Both magazines went into her back pocket.
"Interview is over. I thought it went splendidly," Kate said. "I'll be nice and let you dress before leaving. Ciao."
Stepping back, she allowed them to quickly dress. Daphne sat up on the couch and pouted, casting frequent dark looks at her friend. The men glowered at the slayer when they picked up their weapons. Kate cocked her head and gave them a smug look. That didn't seem to endear her to them.
"Cheers," she said as they left. "Nice to meet you."
She watched them from the door. Mike took a picture of her Land Rover, while Carl looked inside through the windows. Kate bristled, but they didn't linger. The men got into the Camaro and drove away quite aggressively.
"I don't think I made a good impression at all," Kate said.
"I'm not too pleased with you either," Daphne said.
"Sorry," Kate said. "It was for your own good. Those men were using you."
"I know! It was awesome," Daphne said, her face coming alive. "They trashed my pussy! Best sex ever."
Kate gawked at her friend. "What's come over you?"
"I got bit," she sneered. "And it was good. Alexander taught me to love sex. Now I can't get enough of it."
That was the first time Daphne had confessed to having sex with the vampire that captured her. She wasn't his minion for more than a few hours, as best Kate could figure. She never really figured out when her friend was captured and bitten. Maybe she belonged to the vamp longer than Kate realized.
She couldn't argue the fact that Daphne's brief time as a minion changed her. She looked like a Gothic slut. And there were the two men Kate just chased away. Kate knew Daphne's capture and enslavement wasn't her fault, yet she felt guilty nonetheless.
"Who were those two guys?"
"I told you. Reporters. They wanted to know all about you."
Kate had a sinking feeling. The whole smuggling incident was hushed and brushed under the rug. It was unlikely any legitimate news reporters would be looking for her. And they wouldn't stop for a shot of ass if they were real reporters.
"You didn't tell them anything, did you?"
Her hesitation said it all. Kate rolled her eyes and walked away. Daphne was definitely messed up worse than anyone realized. And now there were strange men poking around Tennyson, looking for her.
Kate could only think of one reason they wanted her.
Chapter 7
Max stood on the deck of his thirty-two hundred square foot home overlooking the Mississippi River. He couldn't afford such a home before the Zombie Apocalypse wiped out most of the Heartland's population. Afterwards, he just came in, cleaned out the zombies, and it was his.
The house was two stories, with eight small bedrooms and one large master. It was built by a couple with a lot of children. The game room was his personal favorite. The house was also on stilts and fifteen feet off the ground to keep it above the flood plain. It was the perfect home and base of operations for zombie smugglers.
There were trenches and fences surrounding the compound now. They stole some ideas from ranchers, designing corrals and chutes to separate and capture rotters. Zombies were too stupid to know a trap even while they are trapping others in plain view. So open a gate here and there, wait for the rotters to file in and catch them one at a time. Zombies were easy to control once their arms are bound. You just had to be careful, since they did bite.
The big steel barn now held their bound zombies, ready for transportation. There were thirty-eight rotters ready to go already. Unfortunately, there weren't zombies at the barriers constantly. They came in waves.
"Hey, boss, you want us to go out and hunt some rotters down?" Brody asked.
"Looks like we have to," he said.
Their clients weren't picky, so neither were they. Fresh zombies with little or no outwardly signs of damage or decay were preferred. Sometimes they even hunted the living, so they could kill them without the resultant zombie being a bloody mess. And even when hunting zombies, sometimes it was easier to snatch up a living man or woman and kill them. Instant zombie.
"Get everything ready. We'll head out first thing in the morning," he said. His phone rang. The screen showed it was Carl. "Hold on a sec." Answering the call, "Talk to me, Carl. Did you find her?"
"We did, boss. The woman is an eighteen year old English chick named Kate Brokenshire," Carl said. "She's the local zombie slayer, even calls her business Got Zombies?"
Carl messaged over her picture, a picture of her truck with the Got Zombies? sign on the side, complete with her phone number. There were a dozen photos of her, most of her looking like a school girl. One was of her in jeans and a tank, with a pistol holstered on her hip, a sawed off double-barrel in hand, and a machete sheathed on her back.
"Cute," Max replied. "Grab her, and then bring her and the money to me. We'll kill her and add the bitch to the next shipment of rotters."
"That's going to be a problem," Carl said. "We ran into her, but were caught with our pants down. So now she's suspicious of us."
"How suspicious?"
"She chased us off at gunpoint. Miss Brokenshire is very well armed, aggressive, and she has a suspicious nature."
Max ground his teeth. He glared southward, toward Tennyson, which was an hour downriver. That woman was more than a distraction. She was disrupting his business.
"Does she have my money?"
"That we don't know. No one in Tennyson has heard anything about any money found during the incident," Carl replied. "So if Kate took the money, she's keeping it secret."
Max remembered seeing her take the suitcase into the woods. Kate had the money. Her greed meant he would get it back. A smile spread across his face, but didn't reach his cold eyes.
"That's great news," he said. Max held up the phone with a picture of Kate smiling on the screen. She looked so sweet and innocent. "The boys and I are heading over. I want to personally catch little Miss Brokenshire. And break her."
Chapter 8
The phone rang. Kate's eyes popped open. It was daylight. The phone rang again, but it wasn't in the bedroom. She groaned and tossed the sweat-soaked sheet aside.
"Stupid timer on the AC," she whispered hoarsely.
Mr. Rose thought she was using too much electri
city, so installed new window AC units with timers. They had to be reset every two hours. Kate stumbled across the room to the AC and turned it on for two hours, and then the phone rang again.
"I'm coming!" she cried. Running into the living room, she found the phone on the coffee table. It went to voice mail before she reached it. "Figures."
Kate waited, panting lightly, for the voice message to pop up. She listened to it while fluffing the plain white tank top she'd worn to bed, desperate to cool off. The living room felt hotter than the bedroom.
An unfamiliar male voice said, "Is this the zombie slayer? Hello? Pick up? Dammit. I have zombies in my barn, call me back ASAP!"
She turned on the living room AC while she listened. Then she stood close to enjoy the flow of cooled air over her sweaty skin.
"It would help if you left a name and number," she grumbled, but tapped Call Back and it rang on the other end.
"Hello?" a woman answered.
"Hi, this is Kate Brokenshire of Got Zombies returning your call."
"Oh my god, yes! We got zombies in our barn," she cried. "Are you on the way?"
Kate paused. She understood zombies freaked a lot of people out.
"I can be, but I don't know your name or location," Kate said. "There's also a $25 per zombie service call fee."
There was very pregnant pause on the other end.
"You're going to charge us?"
The woman actually sounded sincerely astonished. Kate rolled her eyes and sighed.
"It's my job. I don't work for the government. I'm a freelancer."
"So you won't help us if we refused to pay you?"
Kate didn't know what to say. No one questioned paying for other pest control, like roaches, termites, and mice. But they expect her to risk her life to get rid of the undead.
"Actually, I'd still come out and kill the zombie for you," she said. "But I have to eat and pay rent, too."
"Okay, fine," the woman said rather huffily. "We're Emily and Phil Burks."
Kate got their address and promised to be there within thirty minutes. According to Emily the zombies were locked inside their barn and there wasn't currently any livestock within it. The zombies weren't going anywhere.