I sighed and began to rub my temples. One would think that a positive side effect of being a vampire would be no more stress headaches. One would be wrong in that assumption.
“You do remember I don’t have a car, right?” I asked.
“Of course. Kind of hard to forget your shortcomings.”
“And I doubt Ed’s piece of shit will make it even halfway to Canada.”
“Also true.”
“Then how are we supposed to get there?”
“I’m told they’re taking care of that.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better? Oh well, maybe it won’t be too bad. I doubt the Draculas would make their special envoy travel in anything less than style.”
“Alex isn’t going with us.”
“What?!”
“He said he’ll meet us there. He has to leave early to get some of the preparations made.”
“The fucker’s flying, isn’t he?”
“He didn’t say, but if I were a betting woman...”
“Which you are.”
“Well, I will admit to enjoying a good game of roulette ... Russian or otherwise. But yeah, we’re getting fucked here and not in a fun way.”
“Are you surprised?”
“With you around? No, not really.”
“Well hey, it could be worse.”
“I’m going to be stuck in a car with your idiot friend for a week,” she replied, no doubt referring to Tom. “Pray tell, how could it be worse?”
“They could be sending us up via dog sled.”
“Bill, I hate to point it out to you, but the last several hundred miles of the journey aren’t exactly going to be jam packed with gas stations. We might just wind up getting there that way.”
I sighed into the phone. This kept getting better and better.
Driving in Style
Fortunately for Ed and me, we had no lives. Thus, in addition to sick days, we both had about three years’ worth of unused vacation time accrued – almost two months in total. That being said, most employers tended not to be too understanding when you called them up last minute and told them you needed to disappear for several weeks. Jim wasn’t an exception. He pretty much flipped out, although it wasn’t exactly surprising. When two members of your team both decided that they needed an extended vacation at the same time, it probably only meant one of a few things: we were quitting; we were affirming our long denied love for one another and running off to a state that supported gay marriage; or we were setting off for a massive peace conference between vampires, Bigfoot, and whatever other weirdness the supernatural world had in store.
Yeah, most employers probably don’t assume that last one. Considering the fact that my crush on his former assistant was supposedly well known within the company, Jim was probably giving himself a near aneurysm over the assumption that we were probably jumping ship.
In an attempt to keep him from stroking out, we both offered to bring our laptops and at least attempt to get a little work done whenever we were within either WiFi or 3G range. Programming was really the furthest thing from my mind going into this clusterfuck, but we were going to be on the road for at least a week. There were doubtless going to be times when it was best to shut up and type, lest we face the possibility of Sally killing us all on the side of the road.
That covered Ed and me. Tom didn’t work with us, though. Since the financial district wasn’t particularly known for their tolerance of slackers who disappeared for weeks at a time, I expected him to have to bail out. It was regrettable. Sure, Tom was a sexist moron even on his best behavior, but he was also one of only a handful of people I trusted to have my back. Still, his staying behind wasn’t a bad thing either. It would ensure that at least one of my friends lived to tell the tale.
Alas, though, that didn’t come to pass. He came home the day before our journey was to start and announced that everything was taken care of.
“They’re letting you take that much vacation?” I asked.
“Nope,” he gleefully answered.
“So what then?” Ed asked. “Did they fire you on the spot?”
“Negative on that one, too,” he replied in that same infuriatingly cheerful tone.
It was only after we threatened to beat the shit out of him that he finally relented and told us.
“I’m scot-free,” he said. “I get to keep my job, not lose any vacation, and still come on this little getaway.”
“How?”
“Christy,” he explained. “Since this is a special occasion, the fate of the world hanging in the balance and all, she got her coven – who I might add are a hell of a lot more useful than yours, Bill – to work a little of their mojo.”
“What did they do?”
“They cast some kind of spell for her. I’m not sure the specifics, but she said it's some sort of mass hypnosis. Since I’m an official part of this peace process, she got them to include me, too. For as long as the spell is in effect, people at the office will randomly see other workers as me.”
Ed and I both looked at each other, confused.
“Say you’re talking to Bob at the water cooler. Well, even though you’re talking to him, you’d see me instead. Same with work. You hand an assignment to some other schlub and – poof – I get credit for doing it.”
“Yeah, but the person who was supposed to be doing it gets fucked,” I replied.
“Dude, this is finance. Someone is always getting fucked. It’s par for the course.”
Though of dubious morality, Ed and I had to admit it was pretty damn clever. Psycho though she may be, there were definite perks to banging a witch. That she was indirectly helping me by aiding her boyfriend was probably accidental. However, it was still a plus in my column. I’d have to remember that later. Should Christy run afoul of an angry Sasquatch, well, I still might not help her, but at least I wouldn’t feed her to it. That had to count for something toward my karma ... maybe.
♦ ♦ ♦
There was an additional bonus to dating Christy. She had given Tom a vial of some foul smelling powder. He was to pour it across the threshold as we left. It would act as a ward against any burglars during our extended absence. I personally wasn’t too worried about that. For starters, we didn’t live in a high crime neighborhood. Secondly, considering for how long we were potentially leaving, most everything that we owned of value was packed for the trip. Still, we’d been forced to redecorate the apartment a few times since I was turned into a vampire, thanks mostly to our dealings with some of the destructive elements of the supernatural world. Anything we could do to keep from having to spend more money at IKEA would be welcome.
So packed up and with our apartment warded, we lugged our suitcases downstairs in the hours before dawn to await our ride. The last time we went on a trip with Sally, she had shown up in a Cadillac Escalade, recently liberated from its formerly living owner. I didn’t know what the Draculas were sending us, but I hoped it didn’t smell like a crime scene.
A short while later, a vehicle turned onto our block. As it slowed and we began to make it out, I started missing the Escalade.
While it pulled in, Tom whispered to me, “Dude, did we suddenly step onto the set of Sanford and Son?”
I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting, although knowing the vampire world and their propensity for being assholes, I wasn’t surprised.
Parked in front of us, with Sally behind the wheel, was an old, beat-up Jeep Wagoneer. Towed behind it was a U-haul container that had seen better days.
She turned off the engine and got out. The look on her face was anything but amused.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “This thing is older than I am.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” she replied. “But this is what they sent us.”
“Normally,” Ed commented, “I wouldn’t condone doing anything that’ll get us sent to prison for an extended period of time, but this piece of
shit looks like it’s on its last legs. Maybe we should grab something a little ... better.”
“Apparently,” Sally said with a sigh, “the fucking Sasquatches are also against all the computers and fancy gizmos in modern cars. That's why we got this fine conveyance here.”
My roommates and I gave a mutual shrug and walked over.
“Put what you can in the trunk. Fit the rest in the trailer. Just be careful,” she said.
I was about to ask her why, when Tom opened the trailer and we were almost overwhelmed by heavy fumes.
Gagging, I exclaimed, “What the hell?!” before looking inside. Taking up over half the available space, stacked from floor to ceiling, were gas cans. Judging from the smell, they were full.
“To get us there once we leave civilization behind,” she explained.
“Only one problem,” Ed said. “How are we going to get past the border with a couple hundred gallons of combustibles?”
“Leave that to me, champ,” Sally replied. “For now, you just have one thing to worry about.”
“What’s that?”
“Driving,” she answered, then tossed him the keys. “I believe you know the way to Boston.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Fortunately for us, we were allowed one modern convenience in our luxurious ride: heavily tinted windows. Without them, the trip would have quickly gotten a bit uncomfortable for those of us with a habit of turning to ash under the glaring light of the sun. After a couple of hours on the road, though, I was beginning to think that maybe getting dusted would be the kinder fate. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure this car was built before shocks were invented.
While my ass continued to be assaulted by the rough ride, I thought to ask, “Why are we heading up to Boston?”
“Yeah, it is a bit out of the way,” added Tom from the front seat.
“James said so,” was all Sally answered before going back to the fashion magazine she had been perusing.
Five hours later, we pulled into the car wash that served as the aboveground facade for the Northeastern vampire headquarters.
“Let me guess, we wait in the car again?” Ed asked.
“Not this time,” Sally replied. “Since you guys are part of Bill’s entourage, you get treated slightly better than the blood cows you are. Besides, it’s not like you don’t already know enough about the vampire world as it is.”
“Awesome,” Tom said, stepping out and stretching his legs. “I have to take a piss. Vampires have bathrooms, right?”
Sally let out an annoyed sigh. “Yes, vampires have bathrooms. Although I’m not sure you can use them.”
“Why?”
“Simple. There’s both a ladies’ and a men’s room, but I think they forgot to install one for dipshits.”
♦ ♦ ♦
No doubt remembering my outbursts from our last visit, Sally turned to all three of us before we entered. “One word: behave. Bill needs to show up to this summit alive, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be any accidents along the way, especially if any of you embarrass the living shit out of me.”
“So I take it that means no reenacting scenes from The Walking Dead?” asked Tom, referring to the zombies most likely awaiting us inside. That was one aspect of the undead life that never stopped surprising me. Zombies were real, but rather than lumbering across the countryside eating any hapless humans in their path, they essentially existed as clerical help for vampires. Go figure.
As answer, Sally gave us a look full of enough daggers to impale a rhino. Then she turned and led the way inside.
It was pretty much how I remembered. Vampires had excellent night vision, so that meant they tended to cheap out on the overhead lighting. The gloominess aside, though, the structure resembled nothing more threatening than any other office in corporate America. That being said, the cubicles that flanked us on either side were full of workers that weren’t much different from the beaten down souls you’d see in any company. They were just somewhat less alive ... if only barely.
Sally’s warning all but forgotten, my roommates and I exchanged bemused glances with one another as we passed zombie after zombie performing mundane office tasks.
“Can you imagine being someone’s office drone for all of eternity?” I whispered to Ed.
“And you still wonder why Sheila quit?” he replied.
I gritted my teeth. Yeah, he had a point, but did he really need to bring her up? I mean, I was just starting to enjoy myself. Great, now I’d have her on my mind for probably the entire trip to middle-of-fucking-nowhere Canada ... just in time to get my face stomped in by the Boggy Creek monster and all his cousins.
I sighed, then noticed that Tom was harassing a zombie pushing a mail cart. My God, sometimes he was no better than a fucking kid.
He was waving his hand in front of the office zombie and mocking it. “Ooh, look at me. Tasty human right here. Yeah, I bet you’d like to munch on my yummy yummy brains.”
The zombie, in turn, was giving him a look that would’ve probably conveyed utter contempt, had half its face not been rotted off.
“Jesus Christ, Tom,” I hissed at him. “Stop screwing around.”
He turned his head and gave me a smirk. “Dude, chill. I’m just having a little fun. When am I ever going to get another chance to mess with a zom ... OUCH! The fucker bit me!” Tom yelled, pulling his hand back and cradling it.
In response, the zombie gave a half-faced grin, raised up one arm and flipped him the finger ... or part of one, anyway.
I took a step forward, when I suddenly realized that all sounds in the office had stopped. A quick look around confirmed that all eyes, living and otherwise, were turned in our direction.
Make that almost all eyes. Sally had stopped walking, but she still faced away from us. Unfortunately, even in the dim light I could see that her hands were balled tightly into fists – so tight that blood was dripping between her fingers.
Oh, crap.
Damn Nazi Vampires
I was split. On the one hand, Tom was now whimpering, “He bit me. I’m gonna turn into a zombie.” On the other, I could see Sally literally shaking with rage. I wasn’t sure which fire to put out first.
Fortunately, Ed was there to make that choice for me.
“Let me see,” he said to Tom. “Oh for God’s sake, you fucking pussy. He didn’t even break the skin.”
“But he bit me,” Tom again whined.
That decided it. I turned toward Sally, quickly trying to think of something to distract her from the pummeling she was no doubt contemplating. Before I could sputter some lame excuse, though, once again I was saved.
“My dearest Sally,” came a slick voice from the end of the hall, “you do realize we have a strict policy against bringing cattle to the office, don’t you?”
I turned in that direction, already knowing whom I would see. It was Colin, James’s would-be successor. He was, to put it mildly, a pompous prick. As far as I could tell, people like Colin existed for only two reasons: to kiss the asses of anyone who outranked them, and to be an absolute asshole to anyone who didn’t.
The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill Book 3) Page 9