Hunting Season (14 page)

Shit.

Blood for blood. Well, all of mine is on the line now.

So what do I do?

*  *  *  *  *

I stand next to Tony's F-150, watching the trailer burn. It took me an hour to siphon gas from its tank and soak some rags and light them and get the curtains and drapes in the trailer blazing. Once it got going, the fire spread pretty fast and within a few minutes, the whole thing was going up in smoke.

Inside, Tony and Simms and the rest of the evidence melt and crinkle and blister. Soon it'll all be ash. And I'll be in the clear. I think.

I turn and walk down the road. It'll take a couple of hours to reach the highway. I have the time. If the cops or a fire truck come by, I'll duck into the woods.

As I walk, I think. About Laura. About Simms. About Tony. I wonder if someone close to Simms or Tony might learn about me one day. If they do, will they come looking for me like Tony looked for Simms? Will they kidnap me in the middle of the night and strapped me to a chair and burn me alive?

I walk and know what used to be my life is over. Everything as I know it is over. And I know I'll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, fearing the authorities or a vengeful loved one will be closing in on me. A lot of people loved Simms. A lot of people saw me in the theater that night when I called him out. Only takes one to put two and two together.

Blood for blood. The cycle continues.

I'm Cain. I'm the centurion who stabbed Christ. I'm the man cursed to wander for eternity in the land of Nod, hearing the lash and the hammer and God screaming.

Shit. Laura was right. Should have just turned the other cheek.

Because now, I'm so fucked.

THE UNDEAD DEAD...OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

Cas gazed up at the moonless night.  A dark shroud of a sky.  Perfect.

He shifted his attention to Paul, leaning against the tree and finishing his eighth cigarette in the last twenty minutes.  "You ready?"

Paul nodded and dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot.  He reached down and grabbed two shovels from the dew-covered grass and handed one to Cas.  "You sure about this?"

"I heard they buried him with wads of money."  Cas lifted a pair of bolt cutters from the ground with his free hand.  "Couple grand, easy."

"Why would they bury money with a dead guy?"

"Some gangster thing.  Like pouring a forty of malt liquor on a grave.  It was his homeys way of saying adios, I guess."

"Man, I can think of better things to throw in a casket."

Cas started the walk toward the cemetery gates.  "Like what?"

"A crucifix for starters.  Garlic.  A wooden stake and a hammer."

"Whoa, wait a minute.  Why the hell would you put garlic and a wooden stake in a casket with a corpse?"

"Vampires, dude."

"What about them?"

"Vampires like eating dead people."

Cas laughed and spat as they reached the gates.  "Ghouls.  Ghouls like eating dead people.  Vampires drink the blood of the living.  Need to get your monsters straight."

"Nah, man, that ain't right.  Vampires eat dead people."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"Some book."

"Burn the fucking book because it's full of shit.  Ghouls eat dead people and vampires drink the blood of the living."

Paul rubbed his forehead.  "Shit.  Well, what do you kill a ghoul with?"

"I don't know.  A big fucking gun?"

"Yeah, that'd probably work.  I'd throw a gun in the casket then."

At the top of the black wrought-iron gate sat two iron bats, staring down at them with their mouths open and fangs bared and wings spread.

"Not exactly inviting?" Paul said.

"Well, the place is full of dead people."

Cas handed his shovel to Paul and took the bolt cutters and bit the chain in two.  He pushed on the gate and it released a rusty whine.  After some effort, it opened enough to walk through.  They took their first steps into the cemetery.

Thunder crashed and lightning flashed across the sky.

Cas and Paul looked skyward.  Nothing but a few stars.  Not a cloud to be seen.

"That's can't be a good sign," Paul said.

"Come on."

They moved into the cemetery.  The place was full of old headstones and crypts, like a European graveyard where the tombs had been stacked one upon another.  Ivy and other plants and had staked their claims on the slabs of stone and marble.

"It's pretty quiet," Paul said.

"Dead quiet."  Cas laughed.

"Hardy-har."

They reached a freshly filled grave with a granite tombstone.  William "Wee-Bay" Baker.  Twenty-four years old.  Gangster rapper up-and-comer.  Under the name and dates: LOVE LIFE, BITCHEZ!  NOW PASS THE BLUNT.

"How'd he die?" Paul said.  "Some other rapper shoot him?"

"Nope.  Overdosed."

Paul shook his head.  "What is it with famous people getting hooked on heroin or cocaine?  Got the whole world in their hands and lose it over some drugs."

"Wasn't either of those."

"Crystal meth?"

"Viagra."

"Those boner pills?"

"Yep.  Apparently Wee-Bay liked the ladies.  Liked them so much he wanted to keep the party going for hours on end."

Paul lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "He didn't, like, break it off and bleed to death, did he?"

"Is that really the first conclusion you'd jump to?"

"You said Viagra.  What else am I supposed to think?"

"A heart attack, you simple bastard.  He had a heart attack."

Paul looked from Cas to the grave.  "Ohhhh."

Cas dropped the bolt cutters and took his shovel and slammed it into the fresh soil.  "Let's get to digging already."

Paul joined him.  Several minutes passed in silence.  Only the sound of the shovels biting and flinging earth filled the night.

"How do you think it feels to be dead?" Paul said.

"I imagine it feels like nothing since the dead are dead.  I don't think they feel a thing."

"Well, just imagine that a dead person wasn't dead.  How would it feel?"

"Confused."  Cas planted the shovel straight down and leaned on the handle.  "A living dead person would not be dead."

"What would it be?"

"Undead."

Paul nodded and continued digging.  "Like in those movies with the pale people eating other people.  What are they called again?"

"Jesus Christ, you need to seriously learn your monsters.  Zombies.  They're called zombies."

"Ah-ha!"

"What?"

Paul wagged a finger at Cas.  "I knew it wasn't ghouls.  It's zombies.  Zombies eat dead people."

Cas closed his eyes.  "Zombies don't eat dead people, you dumb bastard.  Zombies eat the living."

"Now you're contradicting yourself."

"How the fuck so?"

"Earlier you said vampires eat the living and ghouls eat the dead.  Now you're saying zombies eat the living and ghouls eat the dead.  You can't have it both ways, man."

"It's a good thing I've known you for a long time because I might kill you otherwise."

"That's just mean."

"No, it's truth.  Get it straight: vampires drink the blood of the living and ghouls eat the dead and zombies eat the living."

"Hold on a second.  Vampires drink the blood of the living and zombies eat the living?"

"Yeah."

"How do the zombies avoid drinking the blood?"

"They don't."

"So they're vampires?"

"For fuck's sake, zombies eat every little bit.  Flesh and blood and bone.  If it's living, the zombie eats it."

"And zombies are considered undead?"

"Yes."

Paul lifted the shovel.  "Hm."

"That's it?  Hm?"

"Yeah."  Paul tossed dirt to the side.

Cas sighed heavily, somewhat relieved the conversation was over, and resumed digging.  Ten minutes or so passed.  They were down three feet.

"Why would they want to eat people?" Paul said.

"Who?"

"The undead."

"Who would want to eat the undead?"

"No, no," Paul said.  "Why would the undead want to eat people?"

Cas thought about it for a moment.  "I think it has something to do with the fact that the dead, being undead, require the strength of the living so that they may remain undead or risk becoming dead again themselves.  Therefore, they must eat the flesh of the living to gain the strength to survive or they become dead undead.  Or something like that."

"Why not eat a banana?"

"A what?"

"A banana.  It's full of vitamins.  Good source of energy.  It would be healthier and no one would be eaten."

"Yes but who the fuck wants to see a movie about zombies running around eating bananas?  It's not terrifying.  Disturbing, yes.  But not terrifying.  Throw the need to eat people into the mix and you sell a lot more tickets."

"I'd rather eat bananas."

"Well, you're not undead are you?" Cas almost yelled.  "Worry about eating people when you're dead."

"Undead."

"Undead."

The dirt beneath their feet trembled.

"Did you feel that?" Paul said.

"I felt that."  Cas raked his foot over the surface.  "Maybe it's just the soil settling."

The ground trembled harder.  Cas and Paul jumped out of the hole and stepped back as hands broke the surface.  The fingers clawed and scratched.  Paul shrieked.  Cas couldn't utter a sound.

"We should run," Paul said.

"We should."

Neither moved.

"Why can't we run?" Paul's voice was high, almost a yelp.

The hands became arms.  A head followed.

"Because we're paralyzed with fear."

"How's that possible?"

Cas lifted the shovel, ready to swing as the torso emerged from the earth.  "How's any of this possible?"

Wee-Bay shook his legs free of the dirt's grasp and straightened up and stood before them, eyes locked on Paul.  Drool ran down his chin.  A fat glob formed and then dangled.  It dripped into the dirt.  Paul uttered a squeak.

"Maybe he was buried alive," Paul said, shovel trembling in his hands.

Cas took Wee-Bay in, toe to head.  White suite stained with dirt streaks.  Nice pedicure except for the soil caked under the fingernails.  Purple shirt and white bowtie to go with the suit.

"Looks like Prince," Cas said.

"Prince who?"

"Prince.  You know, the singer."

"Prince has lighter skin."

"I mean the way he's dressed."

"Oh."

Cas moved up to Wee-Bay's eyes.  They were still fixed on Paul.  No pigment at all to them.  Milk white.

"No, he's a zombie."  Cas noticed drool almost gushed now.  "And I think he wants to eat you."

Paul whimpered.  "Can we run now?"

Cas lifted his legs, marching in place.  "Yeah, I think we can."

Wee-Bay blinked and lifted his arms and spread them wide.  "Be not afraid, Bitchez."

"What?" both Paul and Cas said simultaneously.

"There ain't no reason to be afraid, motherfuckers."  Wee-Bay wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand.  "I'm hungry all right.  But I ain't no fucking ghoul."

"So you are a zombie," Paul said.

"Well, fucking duh."  Wee-Bay turned to Cas.  "You hang out with one stupid fucking honky, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Wait, wait."  Paul waved his hands back and forth.  "I may have all this screwed up but zombies eat the living and ghouls eat the dead, right?"

"Hey, you got something right," Cas said.

"Stupid and slow."  Wee-Bay moved away from his grave patted his jacket.  "You two dopes got any smokes?"

"I'm out," Paul said.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled the pack of Marlboro's and shook out one and handed it to the zombie.  He grabbed one for himself and lit up.  Then he tossed the lighter to Wee-Bay.

"Why would a zombie want to smoke?" Cas said as he took a deep drag and exhaled slowly.

"Shit, you tell me."

Paul dropped his shovel and grabbed Cas by the arm.  "I'm sorry to interrupt but back to my original point."

"You had a point?"  Cas spat.  "Okay, let's hear it."

"If he's a zombie and doesn't want to eat us, what's that tell us?"

Cas started to say something then froze.  He turned to Wee-Bay, who stood there, milky eyed, shaking his head.

"Stupid fucking honkies."  He walked over to his tombstone and leaned against it, puffing away.

"Wait," Cas said.  "Are you saying we're dead?"

"Undead, Bitchez.  Undead."

"Zombies," Paul said.

"Undead.  Zombies.  Now you getting it.  Live life, Bitchez!  Hah!"

Cas turned to Paul and noticed his partner's eyes were milk white.  Drool dripped from his mouth.  "This doesn't make any sense."

"You're telling me," Paul said.  "Why didn't I notice your eyes were white?"

"I don't know.  Why didn't I notice yours?"

"Because you didn't know you were undead," Wee-Bay said, laughing more.  "Like that stupid ghost movie.  Only instead of the ghosts not knowing they're dead, the zombies don't know they're undead."

"You'd think you'd notice something like that," Paul said.

"Did you notice the huge holes in your chests, too?"

Cas looked down.  A hole the size of a fist right where his heart should be.  "I don't get it."

"Cas," Paul said.  "I think someone shot us."

"No shit," Wee-Bay said.  "By the looks of it, you two got capped with a shotgun slug each.  I imagine the holes are bigger where they came out.  Turn around."  They did.  Wee-Bay whistled.  "Damn, now those are some exit wounds.  Close range, no doubt.  Who'd you piss off?"

Paul stammered but spoke in broken syllables.  Nothing intelligent.

"I don't remember."  Cas rubbed his forehead.  "We were just staking out the graveyard.  Planning to come up here and rob your grave once everything was locked up."

"What?"  Wee-Bay pushed off his tombstone and rushed toward them.  "You motherfuckers were going to rob my grave?"

Paul jumped back and slid behind Cas.  "Yeah."

Cas held up his hands.  "We're not now."

Wee-Bay gritted his teeth and spat.  "You fucking lucky you undead and I ain't got a gun.  I'd pop a cap in your asses."