if to indicate the world beyond this quiet, peaceful night-time park. “This. The end of the world. When did these shambling assholes start running the show?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I was sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
“Let’s just say I was forcibly detained .”
She flicked the cigarette over her shoulder, lit another off her oil-rag-on-a-chair-leg torch. “Daddy’s been keeping track of the days. Said it happened about two years ago, I guess? But it feels like a lot longer.”
Two years ago. Christ. So he’d been out of commission for at least two years, and who knows how many before? He tried to conjure up the last year he remembered, but the information escaped him.
“How’d it all go down?” he asked. “What the hell is it?”
“They say it’s some kind of bacteria. Someone dredged up some long-dormant bug-a-boo from an oil well, I guess. Drill, baby, drill. They figure that Patient Zero was one of the rig workers. With the zombie disease, you get bit, you turn. Usually within twenty-four hours, sometimes forty-eight, maybe it depends on your immune system. But it gets you one way or another. Doesn’t matter if it’s just a little teeny-tiny bite or if they ate all your guts out. Even if they kill you, you’ll get back up, half-eaten and dumb as a bag of cat turds. You wanna know the funny part?”
He shrugged, the message being, Eh, not really .
“You know how in the movies the zombies are always like, Braaaains, braaaaains ? And they crack open skulls like Cadbury eggs and suck out the head-meats?” As if to demonstrate, Kayla made a slurpy noise. “Nuh-uh, not true at all. They got that part all wrong. That’s the one part the zombies don’t eat—brains. And that’s the one place you gotta hit ’em to kill ’em.”
“That is funny,” he said without laughing or actually thinking it was funny. No part of this was funny. Just plain fucked up, was what it was. And when a vampire thought shit was fucked up, well, it probably was.
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“Me? Never .”
“I see what you did there.”
“Uh-huh. So—” Coburn tilted his wrist toward his face. No watch hung there (he didn’t need one; he knew when dawn was on its way), but even still, he tapped two fingers against his wrist bone. “You’ve got five more minutes to tell me just what the hell this deal is all about. After those five minutes, if I remain unconvinced—and let’s be honest, I’m totally not going to be convinced by this bullshit—then I’m going to break your neck, stalk back over to your friends in that rat-trap Winnebago, and I’m going to turn each one of them into a blood sprinkler. Then, just to be a real bad dude, I’m going to roll around in the blood the way a dog might roll around in a smeary pile of gopher shit.”
Kayla visibly tightened. But she laughed in a piss-poor effort to cover up her fear. “You’re a man who doesn’t mince his words. That’s real good. Here it is, then. I want you to protect us.”
“Uh.” He laughed, too, this time, for real, because hot damn if that wasn’t the funniest shit ever. “How’s about, no ? Malnutrition has made you dangerously delusional. Let me guess: you’re a girl who likes ponies and unicorns, yeah?”
“Think about it. Your food supply is dwindling. You kill all of us, eat us right up, how long that gonna last you?”
He clacked his teeth together, leaned forward. “Maybe I can turn you all into jerky. Or blood sausage. Maybe your bodies will last me into summer.”
“Maybe. Maybe you’re just playing with me. Either way—what then? You think you can find more of us out there? You won’t find many beating hearts still in the world. We’re few and far between. Look at the biology. You drink blood and we humans always make more of it. Provided, of course, that we’re alive. We make blood same way cows make milk.”
“You want me to milk you?” This was absurdity, but he kept listening.
She
“You really don’t know?”
“I was sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
“Let’s just say I was forcibly detained .”
She flicked the cigarette over her shoulder, lit another off her oil-rag-on-a-chair-leg torch. “Daddy’s been keeping track of the days. Said it happened about two years ago, I guess? But it feels like a lot longer.”
Two years ago. Christ. So he’d been out of commission for at least two years, and who knows how many before? He tried to conjure up the last year he remembered, but the information escaped him.
“How’d it all go down?” he asked. “What the hell is it?”
“They say it’s some kind of bacteria. Someone dredged up some long-dormant bug-a-boo from an oil well, I guess. Drill, baby, drill. They figure that Patient Zero was one of the rig workers. With the zombie disease, you get bit, you turn. Usually within twenty-four hours, sometimes forty-eight, maybe it depends on your immune system. But it gets you one way or another. Doesn’t matter if it’s just a little teeny-tiny bite or if they ate all your guts out. Even if they kill you, you’ll get back up, half-eaten and dumb as a bag of cat turds. You wanna know the funny part?”
He shrugged, the message being, Eh, not really .
“You know how in the movies the zombies are always like, Braaaains, braaaaains ? And they crack open skulls like Cadbury eggs and suck out the head-meats?” As if to demonstrate, Kayla made a slurpy noise. “Nuh-uh, not true at all. They got that part all wrong. That’s the one part the zombies don’t eat—brains. And that’s the one place you gotta hit ’em to kill ’em.”
“That is funny,” he said without laughing or actually thinking it was funny. No part of this was funny. Just plain fucked up, was what it was. And when a vampire thought shit was fucked up, well, it probably was.
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“Me? Never .”
“I see what you did there.”
“Uh-huh. So—” Coburn tilted his wrist toward his face. No watch hung there (he didn’t need one; he knew when dawn was on its way), but even still, he tapped two fingers against his wrist bone. “You’ve got five more minutes to tell me just what the hell this deal is all about. After those five minutes, if I remain unconvinced—and let’s be honest, I’m totally not going to be convinced by this bullshit—then I’m going to break your neck, stalk back over to your friends in that rat-trap Winnebago, and I’m going to turn each one of them into a blood sprinkler. Then, just to be a real bad dude, I’m going to roll around in the blood the way a dog might roll around in a smeary pile of gopher shit.”
Kayla visibly tightened. But she laughed in a piss-poor effort to cover up her fear. “You’re a man who doesn’t mince his words. That’s real good. Here it is, then. I want you to protect us.”
“Uh.” He laughed, too, this time, for real, because hot damn if that wasn’t the funniest shit ever. “How’s about, no ? Malnutrition has made you dangerously delusional. Let me guess: you’re a girl who likes ponies and unicorns, yeah?”
“Think about it. Your food supply is dwindling. You kill all of us, eat us right up, how long that gonna last you?”
He clacked his teeth together, leaned forward. “Maybe I can turn you all into jerky. Or blood sausage. Maybe your bodies will last me into summer.”
“Maybe. Maybe you’re just playing with me. Either way—what then? You think you can find more of us out there? You won’t find many beating hearts still in the world. We’re few and far between. Look at the biology. You drink blood and we humans always make more of it. Provided, of course, that we’re alive. We make blood same way cows make milk.”
“You want me to milk you?” This was absurdity, but he kept listening.
She
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