3.

Eddie and I have been walking for what seems like an hour, in near pitch black darkness, surrounded by fog and large looming trees on either side.  I’ve already exhausted one flare, but managed to use it to light a torch, wrapping a piece of my shirt around a thick tree branch and dousing it in the rest of the bourbon in my flask.  It won’t thwart vamps, but it will light our way, which is more important at this point.  Even if the fog does go away, it’ll still be dark.

Having sobered up quickly, I’ve decided that I’m more worried about zombies than vamps right now.  Vamps come and go but z’s truly are everywhere.  They come out of the woodwork.  It’s only a matter of time before we see one, and god I hope it’s a smartie.

“There are two types of zombies,” I say to Eddie, continuing my train of thought into speech.  “The smart ones are direct disciples of this Jason guy.  They can talk and still have some brain function.  I don’t know why, or how they get chosen.  The rest are dumb, mindless, shambling zombies who just want to eat your brains.”

“Why?” says Eddie.

“I have no clue.  It seems like if there is a God, He wants to punish us from multiple angles.”

I glance down at my cell phone, which I’ve had in my hand ever since we started walking.  Four hours until daylight and still no bars.  Kacey is probably worried sick by now.  I know I would be.  Eddie seems okay but I know he’s totally freaked out.  It’s like a Halloween gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes I forget that the general populace doesn’t really know about us.  Werewolves, or vamps, or zombies, etc.  I mean, we’re out there, the news reports on us, we have websites and Twitter accounts, documentaries and ebooks, but no one knows exactly what’s going on.  Humans don’t really think about the fact that vampires suck their blood, or zombies just eat them, or that werewolves hunt and kill for years until they develop the ability to restrain themselves.

I hear a rustling in the trees ahead of us, half a mile or so.  Something is moving, or barricading.  I motion for Eddie to stop.  Start smelling the air.  It’s still the same, dense rain air that I’ve been smelling for a while, mixed with earth and trees and a faint smell of smoke, leading me to believe that this is probably a neighborhood.  I wouldn’t dare go into any of those buildings.

“There’s something ahead,” I say quietly to Eddie.  “I want you to stay behind me.  Okay?”

Eddie nods, his eyes wide with fear.

We get about a hundred feet further when I catch it – the thick whiff of zombie stench.  If it’s disgusting to a human, imagine how much it reeks to a werewolf, who has ten times the smell power.  Really knocks you back.

Right now it’s not so bad, which means there aren’t a lot of them around.  Maybe ten, tops.  I turn around, kneel beside Eddie.  “Hey, man,” I say.  “Listen.  You’re a tough kid, you know that?  Did you know you were a tough kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Well you are.  And in a couple of minutes some more bad guys are going to show up and I’m going to have to make sure they don’t get you, okay?  So here’s what I need you to do.  I need you to put your fear aside for a moment and be alert.  Does that make sense?”  Eddie shakes his head again.  “Okay.”  I take a deep breath.  The stench is getting closer.  “Zombies are coming, and they want to get you.  You don’t want that to happen.  That’s the last thing you want to happen.  So you have to make sure they don’t get you.  Can you do that?”

Eddie thinks for a second, then nods.

“Good!  Good.  I am going to do everything in my power to make sure those zombies don’t get anywhere near you, but if one slips by me, I need you to stay sharp.  If they grab you then you’re a goner.  Does that make sense?”

Eddie nods.

“Good.”

I can hear them groaning in the distance.  And some are grunting.  The grunters are the smart ones.  Two, maybe three tops.  I’ve underestimated the total number – maybe more like 20 or 30.

This is going to suck.

I pat my jacket and my belt in search of suitable weapons.  I still have the pistol with the silver bullets.  That will come in handy.  I also have my stake and the flare gun, but I don’t want to use that against zombies.  And I have the torch.  Smart zombies are afraid of fire but dumb ones aren’t.  And really neither of them should be because it doesn’t hurt them that much.

There is literally nothing on this road.  Just us and the street, and two sidewalks at either side, with trees lining them.  Beyond, I assume, fences and houses and vampires.  Vampires hate zombies.  I wonder why zombies are even here?  The vamps would’ve driven them out or just killed them at this point at night.  What the hell is going on around here?

(day two)

Eddie’s nose is wrinkled up.  He can smell them coming now, too.  The fierce stink of decomposing bodies.

The first one shuffles into view.  An old woman, her stomach distended from the mass of human flesh and meat stuffed inside.  Her head sits awkwardly on her shoulders.  It looks as if someone smashed a baseball bat against her neck a couple of times.  And behind her, a teenager, missing most of his teeth, his skateboarder clothes nearly ripped to shreds.  These are old z’s.

A third and a fourth enter, and I reach into my pocket for the pistol.  My training falls into one general category: accuracy.  A stake through the heart, a bullet through the brain.  That’s what it all boils down to.

The first shot fells the grandma, the second knocks the teenager down.  I should conserve my ammo.  Glancing around, I see nothing I can use for close combat.  I’m cursing myself for not bringing a spade or a machete or something.

I can hear Eddie sobbing behind me.  “Stay close,” I say.  “We’ll get through this.”

And that’s when the rest of the zombies come into view.

++

I decide to engage in a little foreplay with this one.  Sex is practically a taboo in the vampire world, especially for men, since it utilizes more blood than we’re willing to lose.  My male friends accuse us women, again, of having it easy; no need for an erection, no need for blood use, right?  Wrong.  We still flush.  Blood still pumps.  Memories of long ago encounters still make full use of the nerves in our bodies.  To be honest, sex is one of the most fun things a vampire can do.  Because, despite the electrifying sensation I get from biting a victim, it’s still not the same as a good old fuck.

Her name is Misha.  A beautiful girl, shapely and not horribly thin, large breasts, large green eyes.  For her I utilized the “playfully antagonizing” technique that seems to work for men all the time.  The more I teased her, the more she fell into the trap.  It was easy.  I should write a book.

Living in a world where vampires are widely known can be tough.  A lot of people don’t have them in their town, but in the big city they’re everywhere.  We have plenty of familiars, and most of them sign up on an online mailing list.  Technology is so wickedly wonderful.  We, of course, are illegal, and our activities are monitored closely by the government.  In Europe they have a system set up to distribute blood to vampires in exchange for public acknowledgement.  In other words, if you tell the government you’re a vampire, they will supply you with blood.  It’s a nice compromise, but never as fun as a fresh bite.  Here in America, however, they continue to be backward and dangerous, and the three vampire families rule the coasts like mafiosos.

Misha really liked being kissed behind the ear.  She purred with pleasure as my black lipstick covered lips lightly caressed the tiny hairs on her neck.  I felt the shivers down her spine.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, her voice trembling with anticipation, chest heaving as she swallowed deep breaths.

“I know,” I whispered.

My phone rang.  Misha pulled me closer, told me to forget it, but she didn’t know about vampires.  We don’t have cell phones.  Except some of us do.

So now I’m in the bathroom as Misha waits patiently, talking to Everett.  He sounds pointed and nerdy, as always.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got a situation in Mountain Spring.”

“How bad?”

“Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news—“

“How. Bad.”

Everett swallows.  I could always tell he was intimidated by me.  “The good news is that we’ve got the talisman.  The bad news is that there are a couple hundred z’s wandering down a well-populated vampire suburb.”

“Oh, Jesus.  Who knows?”

“Just you and the kinsmen in Mountain Spring, who are terrified to leave their houses.”

I growl a little bit.  Vampires can be so stupid sometimes.  Zombies don’t want anything to do with vampires.  They just want humans.  “Why are they afraid?  They’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“That’s what we originally said, but they swear they’ve seen z’s attacking kinsmen. But that’s—“

“They’re lying.  They just want attention.”

“That’s not everything.  There’s a werewolf in there too.  He was in the car with the one who had the talisman.”

“So?  It’s nearly a new moon, we’ve nothing to worry about.”

“He has a child.”

“Again, so what?”

“We need that child alive, and unharmed.”

There’s a knock at the bathroom door.  Misha calls, “Dee?  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” I shout back.  “Just ... consoling a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Misha says.  She sounds unhappy.  Sorry, babe.

Everett says, “We need you there as soon as possible.”

“Everett, honey, I’ve got lunch in the other room.”

“Then grab a quick bite and get over here.  The team is waiting.”

“You said I was the only one who knew!”

“I was lying.  Get to HQ, now.”

And the phone is dead.  I flip it shut and tuck it in my back pocket.  Decisions, decisions.  Coming out of the bathroom, I see Misha laying on the bed, stripped naked, her fine, tanned skin laying in wait for me.  A lot of vitamin E went into that skin, I can tell.  I feel my body tingle a little bit, partially from the sensuality of the moment, and partially because it’s like looking at a big pork roast before a meal.  And I’m starving.

“Everything okay?” Misha says, her bright shiny red lipstick glimmering in the faint atmospheric glow of my apartment.  She has her hands above her head, hands clasped together, her body curved slightly, like a long feminine S.

“Everything’s fine,” I reply, stuttering.  I can’t believe I’m so taken aback by her beauty.  Usually, with women, it’s come in, bite, be done with it, but Misha is something else.

I like her.  I like her a lot.

I crawl onto the bed, my black nylons sliding across the bed spread.  Misha’s mouth parts a little bit, her eyes widening, pupils dilating.  Her cheeks flush.  I brush my lips beside her ear and she purrs like a kitten.

“Do you like me” I whisper.

She nods slowly, eyes fixated.

“Good,” I say.

I sink my teeth into her neck.  She screams at first, and then the scream turns into a moan of ecstasy.  I always forget that the victim loves the bite as much as I do.  I don’t blame them.  It is quite nice.

++

I did a stupid thing and used all the ammo.  I panicked, started shooting, and downed ten z’s, but there are more than ten z’s out there.  There’s more like a hundred.  Maybe two hundred.  I chucked the gun away, grabbed Eddie and started running in the other direction.  Luck, at the moment, has spared me, as there are no fast z’s chasing me.  The fast ones are the worst.  A mob is a terrifying thing, but to watch two or three fresh zombies, limbs still somewhat intact, rush at you is beyond terror.  It’s instinct.  When they come, you run, no questions asked.

My only objective is to get to the car.  My clan oath forbids me to fraternize with any vamps, no matter how dire the situation, so going into any of the possible houses on either side of the street is verboten.  If there are even houses there.  The fog refuses to lift, and at some point seems even thicker than before.  I can barely see my hand in front of my face.  The torch is dim, running on its last fumes.  Eddie looks sick.  I feel sick.  All I want to do is save this child, and the only way I can think about doing it is to get to that car and maybe try to fix it.  Easier said than done.

Even with the added benefits to being a werewolf – increased senses, slightly increased endurance and strength (as a human) – my legs still fight fatigue, and I try to block out the increasing ache that comes from my quad muscles and hamstrings.  If only it was a full moon, I could go twice as fast, lift ten times as much ... but for now I’ll have to rely on my human abilities.

We must’ve walked for an hour ... the car isn’t anywhere in sight.  The groaning of the zombies has all but disappeared, but there is no car.  I can’t even see the trees.  No light except the dim torch.  After a few minutes of running, I slow down, not to catch my breath, but because I have no idea where the hell I am.

The groans return.  But from a different place?  I stop, hold my breath for a moment to listen.  I can’t tell where it’s coming from.  I can’t tell where anything is coming from.  My heart is pounding out of my chest, I’m getting a weird sense of vertigo from the fog ... I haven’t been this scared of zombies in a long, long time.  They may pass by vampires (or used to, at least, until now), but they’ll eat a werewolf as much as a human.  Just as long as you’re alive, I suppose.

The groans are getting louder, and it sounds like they’re coming from all angles.  And now, something above all of that – the sound of smart z’s grunting to each other, communicating.  Like sheep dogs gathering the flock, they’re rounding up the wandering z’s and pushing them to our location.  Maybe.  Maybe they’re just pushing them down the street.

I glance at my right hand, suddenly aware of the cold there.  The torch is dead.  I fling into the darkness and am not surprised when it does not hit the ground.  The zombies are here, and we can’t see a thing.

So, time for plan B.

Reaching back, my hand grabs the sunlight flare gun tucked in my belt.  I check it to make sure it’s loaded, and then raise it high into the air.  The gun fires, and a bright flare rockets into the sky.  It hovers for a moment, then explodes into an even brighter flame.  They’re not called sunlight flares for nothing – the light is so intense it’s as if night has turned into day.

And all around us are zombies.  Roughly in a circle, about fifty feet away, shambling and groaning, pus-filled and broken, dragging legs and gaping mouths, tattered clothes and stomachs bloated.  Yes, definitely have not seen this kind of z action for a long time.

Eddie looks as though he’s going to shit his pants.  If he hasn’t already.

The heat from the flare pushes back the thick fog, and I can finally see the neighborhood.  Quiet street with trees on each side, and small, comfy looking houses surrounded by thick black barred gates.  A typical vamp neighborhood, the houses are either Victorian style of Tudor, or a mix of both.  A few techno savvy vamps have satellite dishes on their roofs, but most are bathed in darkness, especially now.  No vamp wants to stare directly at a sunlight flare.  It would burn.  A lot.

Scattered in between the dumb, unaware z’s are a few smarties ... I can tell because their gaze is more direct, their mouths aren’t gaping open, and their clothes are presentable.  They might be our only way out of this mess.

I find one particular smarty, a younger, fatter woman whose clothes look almost brand new.  “Hey.  You,” I say to her.  “You can understand me, right?”

“Uuuuggghh,” she replies.

“Can you speak?”

Her eyes slowly turn upward and to the right.  She’s thinking.  Depending on what caste she’s in, this may take a while.  A couple of seconds later, her eyes roll back to me.  “I ... speak,” she says, her voice hoarse and croaky.

“Why are you here?” I ask, slowly, enunciating each word.

“We ... want ...” she hesitates.  Her arm raises up, seems to point to me, only lower.

“Chiiiiild,” she says.  She’s pointing at Eddie, who, at acknowledgement of his existence, screams and latches onto my leg.

“It’s okay, Eddie, I’m going to get you out of this,” I say, stroking his hair.

So.  This is the reason we took the fast route through vamp territory instead of the longer, winding, scenic route.  I knew Eddie was special but I didn’t know he was that special.  If zombies want him, something must be going on because zombies don’t want anything.  Except to munch on brains, of course.

“Why do you want him?” I ask the portly smarty.

“Ss ... special,” she replies.

“Yes, I get that.  Why is he special?”

“Mmmmnnnn...” she starts, and I can tell I’m already over her head.  Even if she knew why, it would be impossible to get it out ofher.  And now the zombies are only twenty feet away.  I’m desperate.  So I’ll try something desperate.

“Eddie,” I whisper.  “You’re not going to like this, but trust me, it’ll be okay.”

Twisting around, I grab Eddie firmly by the collar and lift him up.  He starts screaming.  Then, with my free hand I snatch the stake from my belt and point the end of it at Eddie’s throat.  He starts screaming harder.

“You come any closer and I’ll run this right through his neck!”

The fat smarty looks at my quizzically.  I spin around, showing the other zombies and surveying their proximity to me.  They’re all nearing to about ten feet.  I spin back to the fat one.  She has a look of surprise.  Then, her mouth opens slowly, thin trails of saliva dripping across her maw.  From the back of her throat comes the most guttural, disturbing moan I’ve ever heard.  Her cheeks ripple slightly as she moans, and suddenly all of the zombies stop moving in one motion, as though trained to do so.  The shuffling stops.  The smarties stare at me with wide eyes.  For a moment there is silence.

I lower Eddie, stake still pointed at his neck.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I whisper to him.  “Just go with me here.”  But he doesn’t understand and he’s crying so hard he’s starting to dry heave.  As much as I feel like an asshole, I have to put it aside, for his survival is more important than the contents of his stomach right now.

To the fat smarty, I say, “I want out of here.  Now.”

She stares blankly at me.  And then, from behind, a softer, more intelligent voice says, “You are lying.”

I spin around.  A tall, freshly killed zombie stands before me, decked out in a tuxedo stained with his own blood.  His eyes aren’t nearly as bloodshot as normal.  He has a deformed grin on his face, his teeth yellow and gnarled from snacking on bone.  “You are lying,” he says.  “You will not harm the boy.”

“You don’t think so?”  I say.  I grab Eddie roughly, shove him in front of this smarty.  “Why is he so important to you?”

“The Master wants him.”

The Master is Jason Phillips, the so-called first zombie.  The story I told Eddie in the car was accurate for Jason’s sake, but in truth he is likely not the first zombie in existence.  But he may be the first intelligent zombie.

“Why does the Master want him.”

The zombie smiles again.  “You ask too many questions, wolf.  Give us the boy.”

There is a flicker above us.  I glance upward.  The flare is dying.  We’ve got a minute, tops.

“If you take one more step I’ll stake him,” I say.

The zombie steps forward.  I stumble back a step.  This bluff is not going to work.  The light flickers again, dims significantly.  It’s more like torchlight out here now.

And then something hard and plastic smacks me in the back of the head.  I look down at the ground.  It’s a pair of goggles.

A pair of night vision goggles.

Looking up, I can’t see anything.  No one in the trees.  No one beyond the throng of zombies.  Nothing.

If this is divine luck, then praise be the gods.  I reach down and snatch the goggles just as the light gives out entirely.

Eddie faints.  And then, napalm.