Scary Dead Things - 02

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Well, not for this,” Tom explained.

  “Oh. So what you're saying is that she'll only try to kill me again when I'm not here. Is that right, Christy?”

  She gave me a sheepish smile in return and opened her mouth to speak, but I held my hand up. “Give me a second. I have a feeling I'm gonna need a drink for this,” I replied, opening the fridge and grabbing a liter of chilled blood.

  While I was contemplating adding a shot or three of Jack Daniels to it, Tom tried to change the subject, “Oh yeah, almost forgot. You got a call while you were out.”

  “From who?”

  “Caller ID said it was your job.”

  “Great!” I replied. What now?

  For a while there, I had been afraid that the whole battle at my workplace would be traced back and dumped squarely onto my lap; however, a few quick phone calls to some of my programming buddies the day before had confirmed that the damage was being blamed on nameless vandals, possibly corporate sabotage. Hell, they hadn’t even closed the place for any longer than it took to replace the broken windows. I never thought I would be so glad that the vampire nation kept the cops in their back pocket.

  Still, what would they be calling for now? I put down my drink and pressed play on the machine. Whatever it was, I was almost hoping that it would put me in an even worse mood for the reaming I was about to give Tom and his little succubus.

  Bill, it's Jim. Call me when you get this. Just got word from HR. The VP of Marketing filed a harassment complaint against you. What the hell is that about? Call me. *beep*

  I couldn't even process that for a second. I just stood there, stunned. The motherfucker complained about me to HR!?

  I heard Christy say, “I should probably go.”

  For once, even Tom had a clue. “Yeah, that might be best,” he said, getting up to walk her to the door. She beat a hasty retreat. Probably for the best, but apparently not for the last, considering the state I had caught her and my roommate in.

  Once he had shown her out, he walked up to me, but I again held up my hand. “If you even imply the words sexual harassment...” I let the threat hang in the air.

  I was interrupted from the tirade I felt building up by Ed walking out of his bedroom. “I heard you come in,” he mentioned. If he heard that, he no doubt heard what else had gone on. He wisely mentioned none of it. “Here,” he said, handing me a piece of paper.

  “What's this?” I asked without looking down at it.

  “I looked up alma for you.”

  I looked down at the paper. It was a printout of a webpage. “Is this Wikipedia?”

  “Yep, came right up in Google. Not exactly the heavy research I was expecting.”

  I scanned the entry. “You've got to be kidding me!”

  “Nope.”

  “What is it?” Tom asked.

  “Alma,” said Ed. “is the Mongolian name for Bigfoot.”

  “No fucking way!”

  Ed shrugged. “That's pretty much what I thought.”

  “You're telling me that the vampires are in a war against Sasquatch?” I replied in a stunned voice. I then took a few minutes to fill them in on what Sally had just told me.

  “Sounds like the vampires are in a losing war against Sasquatch,” Ed commented when I was done.

  I nodded. “Yeah, and apparently they’re expecting me to be their General Custer.”

  “That is fucking cool!” Tom exclaimed, but then quickly added, “I don’t mean the thing with you, Bill. But seriously, vampires versus bigfoot? I'd pay to see that shit.”

  “Don't forget the wizards,” I pointed out with a sigh. Jesus Christ, how did I find myself here? I put my head down on the counter.

  “Maybe we should give you a few moments,” said Ed, leading Tom towards the living room.

  “Why bother?” I said, sitting up. I picked up the phone and started dialing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling work. It's still early. Jim might still be around. Who knows, maybe he'll have something else to say to brighten my day.” That last part came out as a growl as my temper began to fray. I had gone through far too much in the past couple days for life to suddenly decide that it needed to take a mega-dump on me. I barely even noticed when a familiar female voice answered the phone.

  “Hopscotchgames. Jim Floskie's office.”

  “Is Jim in?” I asked, rubbing my temple with my free hand.

  “Bill?” replied Sheila's voice. “Sorry, he already left for the night.”

  “Figures,” I commented without much gusto. “I'll call back tomorrow.”

  “He's out. Taking a personal day.”

  “That's just great,” I sighed.

  “Sorry,” she said in an understanding voice. “Hey, I heard what happened.”

  “You did? Let me guess, the whole office knows,” I replied, starting to feel a dull throb of anger in the back of my head.

  “Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  “Really?”

  “I doubt it,” she replied and then lightened her tone a bit. “So what did you do, hit on him in the men's room?”

  “Of course not!”

  “I'm just kidding. I know that,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, I’m sure most people here will stick up for you. Harry doesn’t exactly have too many fans.”

  “No?”

  “You haven't been around here much lately; I have,” she said. “Trust me on this. He's not exactly Mr. Popularity.”

  “You seemed to be getting along with him,” I ventured.

  “Oh, please,” she said dismissively. “I was just letting him buy me a drink after work. Truth be told,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “I kind of think he's a bit of an asshole, actually. In fact, I might even tell HR that he's probably just doing this because he's pissed off at you about the other night. You should have heard the stuff he was ranting about after you left. It was weird.”

  “I bet,” I muttered. “I meant...what about you? Were you mad at me, too?”

  “For what?”

  “For...ruining...I mean, for the other night?”

  “Not at all. I’ll admit that it was a little odd (a little?), but I know how it is. I have a nephew. We’ve done some weird things together. I thought it was kind of sweet that you were spending time with your family. As for the rest of it, I might even owe you a bit of thanks.”

  “Thanks?”

  “If you hadn’t shown up, I’m pretty sure Harry would have tried weaseling his way up to my apartment.” She gave another chuckle. “So in a way, I guess you were my knight in shining armor.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, a bit dumbfounded, but nevertheless feeling the first traces of brightness shining into my otherwise not-so-hot day. “I really appreciate that.”

  “No problem, Bill. Anytime,” she said, the warmth never leaving her voice.

  “Sheila,” I had meant to say ‘goodbye’. Maybe it was her tone, or maybe the past few days had just left me too tired to psyche myself out. Whatever the reason, my mouth decided it had a mind of its own, and what came out instead was, “what do you think about maybe grabbing a cup of coffee with me sometime?”

  There was a pause on the other end, which was just as well because time suddenly stopped for me. Holy shit, did I actually just say that? I rewound my mental tape...yes, I did. I wasn't even thinking about it. It just kind of slipped out. Great! Now, not only did I have the Draculas, Sasquatch, an asshole wizard, and an HR department to deal with. I could also add being shot down to my ever growing list of mental baggage. What the fuck was I thinking!?

  “Sure. It'll be fun,” came back the reply.

  My mind went completely blank. Who was I talking to? What were they agreeing with? I had no idea. It was like my brain decided to do a core dump and was still rebooting itself. I looked up, unable to say a word. I saw Tom and Ed staring back at me. They both had their mout
hs agape. Finally, Ed started miming the words “thank you” and “hang up” to me. Oh...oh yeah.

  “That's great, Sheila. Thanks. We'll...set something up.” OK, I needed to end this before I ventured back into social retard territory.

  “Sounds good.”

  “I'll talk to you...soon!” I said and then quickly hung up the phone before my tongue could spit out anything stupid sounding.

  There was a stillness in the room for a moment, then I numbly walked over to the living room and plopped myself down on the couch.

  Finally, Ed broke the silence. He had a big grin on his face. “Congratulations, man. You actually did it.”

  “I did, didn't I?” I said, it starting to sink in. “I can't believe it.”

  “You can't?” chimed Tom. “I thought I was going to have to listen to you pine for her until I died of old age.”

  “Oh yeah, speaking of which, it looks like you owe me twenty bucks,” Ed replied to him.

  “For once, I’m happy to pay up,” Tom said, walking over to the kitchen to grab a beer. “Who would have thought it? Today, Bill, you are finally a man.”

  We all chucked at that, me more so at the irony of the statement. Then Ed said, “Seriously, I'm proud of you.” He clapped me on the shoulder and then got up. He started to walk towards his room before turning back toward me. “Bit of advice, though?”

  “What?” I asked, the grin still on my face.

  “Maybe next time, wait until after your sexual harassment case is finished before asking out a co-worker.”

  “Asshole,” I replied with a smile.

  I couldn't believe it. Here I was, a mountain of supernatural evil about to come down on my head like an avalanche, and the only thing I could think about was that I had finally taken a step forward with the girl of my dreams. It wasn't much. Heck, I wasn't even sure it would be considered a date. Still, it was more progress than I had made in all the time I had known her. It was a victory, no matter how small.

  I decided to put my feet up and enjoy it. In a short while, Bigfoot could crash through the wall followed by the Loch Ness Monster and Zontar the Thing from Venus, for all I cared. Not for right now, though. For at least the next five minutes, all was right with my world. I could live with that.

  THE END

  Bill Ryder will return in:

  The Mourning Woods: The Tome of Bill, Part 3

  Available in both ebook and paperback formats

  Can’t wait for more Bill? Follow his ongoing misadventures on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BilltheVampire

  About the Author

  Rick Gualtieri lives alone in central New Jersey with only his wife, three kids, and countless pets to both keep him company and constantly plot against him. He has won no literary awards and has received exactly zero accolades for his work in the past, present, and (most likely) future. When he’s not busy monkey-clicking out words, he can typically be found jealously guarding his collection of vintage Transformers from all who would seek to defile them.

  Defilers beware!

  Rick Gualtieri is also the author of:

  Bigfoot Hunters

  Bill the Vampire (The Tome of Bill, Part 1)

  The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill, part 3)

  The Poptart Manifesto

  To contact Rick (with either undying praise or rude comments) please visit http://www.poptartmanifesto.com

  Bonus Chapter

  Bigfoot Hunters

  Prologue

  Gil Mercer loved camping. He couldn't remember a time when the prospect of being outdoors didn't cause a tingle of excitement deep within him. Something about being away from the normal hustle and bustle of society really called to him. He couldn’t imagine a better place to be right now; just a man in his mid-thirties experiencing the joy of waking up to the sounds of birds chirping and deer crashing through the underbrush. He took a deep breath. The air smelled clean. It smelled right.

  Having spent his youth growing up in Detroit, one wouldn't have expected to find such a love of the outdoors. During the majority of the year, Gil had been a typical city boy enjoying the occasional afterschool game of b-ball with his friends, watching TV, and causing the usual mischief of a kid his age. Gil's mother, however, had insisted on a different course of action during the summer. Every year, she would sign him up with the Boy's Club of America or the Fresh Air Fund and make sure he spent a good chunk of the summer months where there were trees to climb, grass to run through, and campfires to tell ghost stories around. She had claimed it was to broaden Gil's horizons, show him that there was a world beyond the asphalt and scarred building facades of their neighborhood. Gil wasn't stupid, though; he knew it was mostly to make sure that he didn't fall in with a bad crowd.

  While school was in, he was kept fairly busy by his studies. His mother would accept no less; however, once school ended, idle hands could easily become the devil's playthings. Gil had seen his fair share of friends get themselves into increasingly more serious levels of trouble from year to year. He'd come back at the end of each summer to find that some of his friends were in trouble with the law, some had become addicts, and occasionally one would just be gone...never to be spoken of again.

  Some of the other kids from the inner cities were bitter about being sent to camp. They'd complain endlessly of being stuck out in the boonies and do their best to find a way to be kicked out of the program. Not Gil, though. From the moment he had stepped off a bus and gotten his first taste of nature, he had been hooked. No matter how great the preceding winter had been, come June, Gil would be itching again for the outdoors. It was a love that had never left him.

  Even when there weren't others to share his enthusiasm, it didn't matter to Gil. By his junior year in college, he had saved enough to purchase some decent gear of his own; that way, whenever there was a long weekend that didn't require him to go back home, he was ready. He'd pack up his gear in the old clunker of a car he had bought from his uncle and just pick a direction. Any would do as long as no skyscrapers marred the view ahead. The wilderness was like a sort of soul-mate to him. Girlfriends had come and gone, friends had moved away, jobs had changed, but the outdoors were the one constant in Gil’s life. It was, he thought, his rock, for lack of a better term.

  That thought caused him to chuckle (it always did), as he walked upstream towards his little camp. He had spent the morning fishing in a spot that he’d found during some cursory exploring. He had bagged a few keepers, but in the end he had set them all free. Gil wasn’t much of a cook and his wife, Maria, would have sooner filleted him than gut a bunch of fish.

  He frowned ever so slightly as his thoughts went back to his family. He loved them with all his heart, make no mistake about it. His wife was a lawyer for a global energy syndicate. She was the smartest, prettiest, and funniest person he had ever met. Sure, that last one typically only appeared after a good number of cocktails, but it didn’t matter. For Gil, it had been love at first sight. Then, after three years of trying to win her over, it had finally been love at about the thousandth sight for her. Shortly thereafter, they were married in the suburbs of Chicago. Gil had argued in favor of a honeymoon at Yellowstone but had been overruled almost immediately; thus, they had instead spent a week on a beach down in Barbados.

  If Gil had any regrets about marrying Maria - and even he had to admit it was minor - it was that she did not share his love of the outdoors. During the course of their nine years of wedded bliss, he had made absolutely no progress with regards to changing her mind. Her idea of roughing it was a weekend of being pampered at a spa. The squirrels and chipmunks around their suburban home were the extent of the wildlife she would tolerate. To her, the woods were an insufferable hell of biting bugs, poisonous snakes, and all sorts of things that wouldn’t bat an eye at eating her alive.

  So, too, had it been with Carl. The birth of their lone child had been nearly mind-blowing for Gil. Not only was he now a father, but his child was a boy...a boy to carry on in his father�
��s footsteps and share in his interests. That last part, sadly, had not come to pass. Carl was a great kid in almost all aspects. He earned good grades, was popular, and was even polite...a rare thing in kids these days. He was everything that any parent could hope for; unfortunately, he also shared his mother’s disdain towards Gil’s passion. Sure, Gil could convince his son to come on the occasional weekend layover, but the boy usually grew bored within an hour of setting up their tent. To him, Mother Nature had nothing to offer that could compete against his PSP.