Double Dead by Chuck Wendig

we help you. We show you food. We know where others are. Living people. Bad people. People who’d kill us just as soon as say hello.”
    “And in return?”
    “You keep us safe.” She looked to her old man. “But first you have to stop choking my Daddy. I think you’re killing him.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Tête-à-Tête
     
    The rinky-dink park playground was rusted, its equipment just a tangle of shadows—the torchlight played along its edges as the vampire Coburn followed Kayla and her torch. The girl—herself just a tangle of shadows, like a handful of coat hangers that got caught together—plopped down on the edge of a slide and lit a cigarette. A Virginia Slim. Comically too long, too effete, for this girl.
    Off in the distance, Coburn could see the RV. But, more importantly, he could see the moon glinting off a rifle scope. He was in the old man’s crosshairs. The man—Gil, the girl’s Daddy—was not particularly keen on letting his daughter wander off into the darkness with Coburn. And yet, the girl persisted: she muttered about dreams, about the future, said something like ‘he’s what I was talking about.’ Then Gil waved her off, angry but acquiescing.
    “You gonna sit?” she asked, blowing a dragon’s plume of smoke from each nostril. “You can. It’s okay. I won’t bite. Get it? Bite?”
    “Funny,” he said. But he could tell that she was scared, just the same. “I’ll stand, thanks. Just in case your Daddy over there falls asleep on the rifle and accidentally pulls the trigger.”
    “You sit, he’ll have a harder shot.”
    He crinkled his brow. “You think?”
    “I do.”
    Shit, she was right. Coburn shrugged, and sat down on the edge of a squeaky playground carousel. He planted his boots on the ruggedized rubber ground so he didn’t drift and spin like an idiot. He had some veneer of cool to keep, after all.
    From here, the shot would have to go through a jungle gym. A dozen chances for the bullet to go astray.
    “How’s your shoulder?”
    He wormed a finger into the hole the bullet tore into the leather. He pressed the finger deeper so it pushed into his own dead flesh. Didn’t hurt. Finger didn’t go that deep, either. Coburn watched Kayla with an unblinking stare. Watched the smoke wind around her like a pair of ghosts. “Right as rain, little girl.”
    “You wanna eat me?” the girl asked. It was not, despite the way it sounded, a come-on. When she asked it, her hands were shaking.
    Coburn smelled the air. “Funny thing is, no, no I do not. Something’s wrong with you. You sick?”
    “Just a cold.” She flicked ash from the Virginia Slim.
    “No. Uh-uh. It’s more than that. You’re too thin.”
    “Hard to get food out here.”
    “Dark shadows under your eyes.”
    She shrugged. “Hard to get sleep out here, too.”
    “You’re sick,” he said again.
    “And you’re a vampire.”
    The word gave him pause.
    “Not many people are willing to say that word out loud,” he said. “I’ve killed a helluva lot of people, my teeth in their neck, their blood in my mouth, and not one of them dared to call me what I so obviously was.”
    “They didn’t want to believe.”
    “Yeah. Maybe.”
    She laughed—but it was a sound without mirth. “Times have changed, though. Like Leelee says, these are the end of days. Gotta start believing in something. Might as well be vampires.”
    Coburn didn’t know who the fuck Leelee was and he really didn’t care, either. Probably one of those blood-bags in the camper. He still planned on eating them all. Wasn’t sure how he’d do it, yet. Kill one? Kill them all? Blood from an already dead body swift became a non-nutritious snack—‘nutritious’ being a relative term and all. He wasn’t even sure why he was here, now, with this sick girl. Could be that the human part of him was bored, and this was one way to fill the hours. Plus, it let him ask some big questions.
    “When did it happen?” he asked. He swept his hands out as