Strange Days (Bill of the Dead Book 1)

by Rick Gualtieri

  Mind you, I had no fucking idea how to do that. It wasn’t like he was an operating system we could simply reinstall into a new machine.

  Christy shook her head. “That’s not the natural order of things.”

  “I think we left the natural order on the side of the road a long time ago.”

  “His spirit needs to move on.”

  “Tina needs her father.”

  She glared at me, such intensity in her eyes that I actually backed up a step. “Do you think I don’t want that?”

  I held up my hands. “Not at all.”

  “Because I do. But his soul is being tortured right now, stuck here as it is. It should be free to go to whatever awaits us after.”

  It was hard to argue against that, but maybe I didn’t have to. “Yo, Tom. Are you currently suffering in eternal torment?”

  A few seconds passed then the channel on the TV changed once, and again.

  “That’s two, no. I rest my case.” I turned to Ed. “All in favor of trying?”

  We both raised our hands.

  Christy put a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. “What you’re asking is impossible, yet you’re making it sound like it’s as easy as crossing the road.”

  “Who’s to say it’s impossible? Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the impossible at least three times today alone. Something is changing. I don’t know what, and I sincerely doubt it’s for the better. But maybe we can use it to our advantage, make some good come out of this.”

  Her eyes became glassy. “I ... just ... don’t know.” Christy’s words were lost in a sob.

  I stepped in and put my arms around her. “Neither do I. But we’re in this together, all of us. You’re not alone here.”

  Almost as if in response, the TV started changing channels rapidly.

  I quickly let go and stepped back. “Jesus fucking Christ, okay. I get the hint.”

  Just as quickly, Tina’s voice floated to us from her bedroom. “You said a bad word, Uncle Bill.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake!

  INFODUMPMERCIAL

  Despite my big words, not a lot came of it ... at least not immediately.

  That was the last of those strange pulses for the day. So far as I could tell, the world once again reverted to the way it had been – and preferably would remain – magic free.

  Even knowing Christy’s apartment was haunted by my best friend and that something needed to be done about it, I was glad for the reprieve. Powerless as I was, I can’t say I looked forward to getting jumped again by supernatural assholes.

  Ed and I eventually returned to my place. Turned out I’d gotten lucky. The cops had stopped by, but had written up the whole thing as a break-in while I was out. I had to give a statement, professing extreme ignorance when it came to the burn marks in my living room, but in the end they walked away looking for a burglar who neither existed nor had, oddly enough, actually stolen anything – including the antique sword left lying in the corner.

  Fortunately, we’d gotten another break. Dave had left a message that the producers of his infomercial had splurged for a hotel room close to the studio where they were broadcasting. He’d be crashing with us afterwards, but it gave us some breathing room to work.

  That left us to clean up the mess. Thank goodness Ed was around to help. Fortunately, his stepdad was a salt of the Earth type, so he’d picked up a couple of useful life skills along the way ... meaning we were able to install a new door semi-competently.

  By the next day, my place was back to being livable again. The work almost finished, I gave Dave a call back. However, it was less to catch up and more to ask if he’d experienced anything strange during the last few days. As one of our small circle of former vamps, I was curious whether the pulses had affected him. That said, I let him lead the conversation. Dave had been on the fringe of our group back then, so if all was right in his world, I wasn’t sure I wanted to burden him with the fact that things were turning weird again.

  Considering that all he talked about was his stupid moisturizing cream – bragging about sales and bugging me to pester all my friends about it – I felt safe in the assumption that everything was hunky dory in his self-absorbed corner of the universe.

  At least someone was having a normal weekend.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I stepped out of the bathroom, having taken a piss break, and found Ed holding Sheila’s sword.

  “You know that’s not a toy, right?”

  The look he gave me suggested his opinion of my intelligence had just dropped a notch. “No shit, d’Artagnan.” He swung it lightly, then leaned it against the wall. “Didn’t you say this lit up, too, while you were fighting off those vamps?”

  “Yep. Just like the old days. Except it didn’t burn me like a tater tot, and kinda works like shit against your progeny.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you they’re not mine?”

  I shrugged and flopped onto my still singed couch. “Are you sure? Maybe you went on a weekend blood bender and got so shitfaced you don’t remember knocking up a bunch of vampire baby mamas.”

  He laughed. “Think I already read that novel. But getting back to the sword...”

  “What about it?”

  “Considering it went all lightsaber, did you perhaps think to call its former owner and ask if maybe she did, too?”

  I stared blankly at him for several seconds, the synapses of my brain firing off multiple signals that I was indeed a fucktard.

  Holy shit, how could I be so fucking stupid?

  I’d been so preoccupied with vampires, witches, and Tom’s ghost, I hadn’t even considered it. Well, okay, there was also a slight chance that subconsciously it was still something I didn’t want to deal with.

  Nevertheless, Ed had a point, a potentially important one.

  Just because he and the Magi could tap into these strange pulses didn’t mean they were the only ones. Sheila was another X-factor, one I should have considered from the very start. Hell, I’d even used her fucking sword.

  If everyone else’s powers had reawakened – albeit temporarily – then shouldn’t it stand to reason hers might have as well?

  I was pretty useless in a fight against just about every nasty thing that might be lurking in the shadows waiting for the next pulse. And, if we’re being truthful, I was mostly okay with that. My time as the Freewill was done. I was out, finished, and quite happy to be retired.

  But I still had friends in the game.

  If things were going to get dangerous and, let’s face facts, they already had, they could use a powerful ally by their side. Who better than the legendary Icon, the last defender of humanity?

  Sure, it might be a bit awkward to have my ex-girlfriend, who’d dumped me like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag, team up with my prospective girlfriend – the one working on a way to resurrect her dead fiancé – but...

  Oh yeah, this was a clusterfuck. No two ways about it.

  Before I could let how bad of an idea this might be overpower my resolve, I pulled out my phone and pulled up Sheila’s number in my contacts.

  As my finger hovered over the dial button, I let out a chuckle.

  “Something funny?” Ed asked.

  “Sheila. Remember how when we first started working together I could barely say two words to her?”

  “First started? It took you three fucking years to talk to her.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s just that, we haven’t spoken since she left. No replies to my messages or anything. And now, after everything we’ve been through, I realize I’m back to where we started. I have no idea what to say to her.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “The more things change, the more they stay the same. God, I sound like my mother.”

  “Welcome to adulthood,” I replied, hitting the button. “Now, if we want to live to see old age, we’d better hope I come up with something quickly.

  PRIVATE SCREENING

  “Here’s a thought,” Da
ve said. “If you two lovebirds want to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears, then go get a room. Otherwise, shut the fuck up. My show’s about to start.”

  Ed and I glanced at each other, exasperated looks on both our faces, then we turned back to the TV, trying to be quiet so as to not set Dave off again.

  Two days had passed and Sheila still hadn’t returned my calls. I was starting to get worried. It was one thing to not want to talk about us, but the shit going on kind of trumped relationship woes.

  Still, it was probably stupid to think she’d call back in the middle of the night, so I put my phone away and pretended to concentrate on what was playing on the screen.

  I’d made the mistake of forgetting to DVR Dave’s live showing, something he’d been harping on ever since arriving. Fortunately for us, the Buy Mor Channel decided to show an encore performance ... at one in the morning.

  Dave himself wasn’t too put out by this. Sales had apparently been healthy following the first play through. Besides, according to him, losers who made impulse buys from their TVs were up at all hours anyway. So the time didn’t matter much.

  I tried not to laugh. That was Dave in a nutshell – about as far from being a people person as one could get and not be a serial killer. The person on the TV, however, was pure fantasy – Dr. David Cheng, a caring physician emphatically proclaiming his desire to help the elderly regain their youthful shine.

  “Fuck yeah,” Dave said from next to me, cheering his own performance. “I should get a fucking Oscar for this shit.”

  “That’s the movies,” Ed replied. “Emmys are for television.”

  “Like I really give a flying fuck.”

  I’d invited a bunch of people – Christy, Sally, some of my consulting buddies, a few of the neighbors. So far, however, it was just the three of us here to enjoy the show.

  I couldn’t say I was surprised. Sally couldn’t stand Dave. Truth of the matter was Christy couldn’t either, but at least she had the twin excuses of having a small child and being busy researching resurrection spells.

  The rest, well, I couldn’t blame them for not giving a damn about some snake oil salesmen hocking skin cream ... even if it wasn’t actually bad stuff.

  What? My hands get chapped easily when I type on my laptop.

  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  Either way, I still had several cases sitting near my door – something Dave kept pointing out as if it were a personal failure on my part that I wasn’t being a good sales slave.

  God, what a fucked up world I lived in, and that wasn’t even counting the supernatural.

  To think that once, years ago, he’d been a promising medical resident, not to mention a pretty good dungeon master – even if he was an asshole about it most of the time.

  Then things had turned weird. Dave was one of the first people I told after being turned. He’d agreed to help me out, but there was a price: blood and tissue samples for his research. Ostensibly, it had been to help me, but the reality was more along the lines of making himself rich.

  Neither had worked out. Since then, he’d lost his license, had his ethics questioned by just about everyone, and bounced around from project to project, all while his parents probably lamented the mountain of student loans he’d racked up.

  And now here he was, using his credentials to pawn skin cream.

  Yep, it was a tossup which of us fate disliked more.

  TV Dave was busy spouting bullshit while his scantily clad assistants aided some elderly patrons in applying his crap to their wrinkled faces. “What sets Immortalis apart from other so-called age defying creams are special patent-pending proteins I’ve developed in my never-ending quest to help you stave off the ravages of time.”

  “Patent-pending proteins?” Ed asked.

  Dave barely shrugged. “Technically speaking, a patent is pending ... even if it hasn’t been submitted yet.”

  “And you’re sure it’s safe?”

  “Didn’t kill any of our lab animals, so far as I know,” Dave replied with a laugh. “Relax. It’s all harmless, except when it comes to sales. People eat that secret formula shit up and ask for seconds.”

  “Better hope the FDA doesn’t say otherwise.”

  Dave smiled at me. “It’s all in the wording, man. That’s why you gotta keep this shit vague. You only offer suggestions, no promises, and maybe the occasional bullshit like seven out of ten users claimed to feel younger afterwards. There’s no way to substantiate that.”

  On the screen, TV Dave reflected that grin, but in a far less predatory manner. “If you act now, we’ll throw in an extra jar for free. Just pay shipping and handling.”

  I reached up to rub my eyes. A yawn escaped my lips, turning into a choked squeak as the breath caught in my throat.

  One moment I felt fine. The next it was as if all of my organs seized up. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t move except to drop limply back onto the couch.

  “Oh suck it up,” Dave griped from next to me. “It’s almost over. Then you can go to bed, you lazy fuck.”

  He was right about me being tired, but it had nothing to do with staying up late. That strange weariness was back and worse than ever. It was as if every part of me weighed a thousand pounds, my lungs included.

  With supreme effort, I managed to turn my head ever so slightly toward Ed. He was already aware, his hands in his mouth feeling the fangs which had sprouted.

  “Um, I’m not feeling too well,” he said, making sure to keep his yellow eyes averted from Dave. “Bill, could you show me where you keep your ... aspirin?”

  I tried to move, but sorta just flopped in place, still fighting to fill my lungs. Thankfully Ed was neither stupid nor glued to the TV like the actual doctor in my apartment was.

  He stood up and dragged me to my feet, almost yanking my arm out of its socket in the process.

  “Ow,” I squeaked.

  Ed gave me an apologetic look, probably having forgotten that, aside from fangs and weird-ass eyes, his strength was now several times greater than it had been mere moments earlier.

  He threw me a wink then hooked one of my arms over his shoulder. “I know you’re tired, but I really need to take something for my ... stomach.”

  Fortunately, the act of being upright eased some of the pressure and I was able to take a few shallow breaths. They weren’t much, but at that moment, it was like ambrosia.

  Supporting my weight, Ed helped me lurch to the bathroom.

  Just as we got to the door, though, he hesitated and turned back. “Um, are you feeling all right?”

  Dave threw him an annoyed glance. “Aside from you bothering me, right as rain. Why?”

  “Just checking. Thought maybe that takeout from earlier was bad.”

  “Nope. The only shit I’m worried about is the shitload of cash I’m going to be making from this.” With that, he went back to staring admiringly at himself.

  As Ed closed the door behind us, I heard Dave say, “Try not to suck each other off too long. The show’s not over yet.”

  Judging by how I felt, I had a feeling he was right. This was far from over.

  IN MY TIME OF DYING

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ed whispered.

  “No ... clue,” I replied, focusing all of my attention on drawing breath.

  “Do you think it has to do with this?” he asked, flashing his fangs.

  I’d kept the tiredness I’d been feeling to myself as everything else seemed more important, but now, with it bowling me totally over, it didn’t make sense to lie. “Maybe ... yeah, probably.”

  “Okay, so why isn’t it happening to him?” Ed hooked a thumb toward the door. “He was a vamp, too.”

  “Beats ... the ... shit out of me.”

  It made no fucking sense. From what Sally had told me, it was the same for her – nothing – and she’d been a vamp a lot longer than the rest of us. Yet, whatever was happening, it seemed confined to me and was getting wors
e.

  What a joke. Everyone else affected got more powerful, while I was slowly turning into a pile of human jelly. I didn’t know what was happening, but I had a feeling it wasn’t good.

  “Is this, I dunno, a Freewill thing?”

  I shrugged as best I could while propped up against the toilet. I guess that was possible. Freewills had been a rare breed of vampire, with abilities above and beyond the normal bloodsuckers. But why would that affect me now? I was human.

  Dr. Death was gone. There was no trace of him left in me, not even residual nightmares. And if there had been, it should have made me stronger, not turned me into the equivalent of a thirty year old newborn.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, distracting me from my paranormal pity party. I flopped like a fish trying to get to it, until Ed finally noticed and helped me out.

  “Try not to get too excited by this.”

  “Fuck ... you.”

  He pulled my phone out and looked at the screen.

  Sheila?

  Perhaps sensing my unspoken question, Ed shook his head, then held the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Christy. Everything okay? Yeah, we noticed it. Trust me.”

  “Bill? He’s...”

  I shook my head, not wanting her to worry about me with everything else on her plate.

  “...Entertaining Dave until this passes. I’m in the bathroom waiting for my eyes to change back to normal. No, we didn’t tell him. Yeah, I think that’s for the best, too.”

  It probably wasn’t fair to keep Dave out of the loop, but I knew my former DM. Chances were his primary concern would be annoying the shit out of us for DNA samples.

  “They are?” Ed asked into the receiver. “Huh? What was that? Tell him to stop talking about his dick for a second. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

  “Tom?” I wheezed.

  Ed looked at me and mouthed, “Who else?” before giving his attention back to the phone.