Stalking The Zombie: Fables of Tonight

by Mike Resnick

  “Try using the door when you leave,” said Mallory. “You have no sense of style, Mr. Mallory,” said Nick the Saint.

  “No, but I have a sense of economic survival,” said Mallory. “We’ll require a retainer before you go.”

  “A retainer? And here I thought we were getting along so well.”

  “We’ll get along even better once I know we’re getting paid for our efforts.”

  “How much?” asked Nick the Saint.

  “Five hundred a day plus expenses, and a ten percent bonus if we get Jasper back to you before your deadline.” “That’s outrageous!”

  “No,” answered Mallory. “That’s business.”

  “All right,” muttered Nick the Saint, pulling a wad of bills out of his pocket and slapping them on the desk. “But don’t be surprised if all you get for Christmas is a lump of coal.”

  “Well, I suppose the first thing I’d better do is contact the Grundy,” said Mallory.

  Felina hissed.

  “Must you, John Justin?” asked Winnifred. “He’s so frightening.”

  “He’s the most powerful demon on the East Coast,” said Mallory. “He’s the logical place to start.”

  “You’re not actually going to his castle, are you?”

  “No, I thought I’d invite him here.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with this,” said Winnifred, walking to the closet and grabbing her coat and hat. “I hate dealing with him. I’ll do some shopping.”

  “He was our first client,” remarked Mallory.

  “I didn’t trust him then, and I don’t trust him now,” said Winnifred, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind her.

  “How about you?” Mallory asked Felina. “You going or staying?”

  “Staying,” said the cat girl.

  “Good for you.”

  “Oh, I’ll desert you in the end, John Justin,” she added. “But I’ll stay for a little while.”

  “How comforting.”

  Mallory picked up a phone, dialed G-R-U-N-D-Y, and waited. A moment later a strange being suddenly materialized in the middle of the room. He was tall, a few inches over six feet, with two prominent horns protruding from his hairless head. His eyes were a burning yellow, his nose sharp and aquiline, his teeth white and gleaming, his skin a bright red. His shirt and pants were crushed velvet, his cloak satin, his collar and cuffs made of the fur of some white polar animal. He wore gleaming black gloves and boots, and he had two mystic rubies suspended from his neck on a golden chain. When he exhaled, small clouds of vapor emanated from his mouth and nostrils.

  “You summoned me, John Justin Mallory?” said the Grundy.

  ‘Yeah,” said Mallory, as Felina hissed and backed away into a corner. “Ever hear of Nick the Saint?”

  “A high roller from up north?” asked the Grundy. “Owns the Kringleman Arms Hotel?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “What about him?”

  “His most valuable reindeer just turned up missing,” said Mallory. “I thought maybe you might know something about it.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You’ve got power, money, jewels galore, everything a being devoted to Evil Incarnate could want,” said Mallory. “What the hell do you need an old man’s reindeer for?”

  “I did not steal it, John Justin,” said the demon. “I said I knew something about it.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know who stole it, of course.”

  “Okay,” said Mallory. “Who?”

  The Grundy smiled. “I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, John Justin,” he said. “It is your function in life to detect, and it is my function in life to exalt the evildoers and hinder the moralists.”

  “Do you always have to sound like a professor of Philosophy 101?” asked Mallory.

  “It is my nature.”

  “Fine, it’s your nature. Now are you going to tell me who’s got the reindeer or not?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “I’m going to find it with or without your help,” said Mallory. “Why not make my life easier and I’ll split the fee with you.”

  “Making your life easier is not part of my job description, John Justin Mallory,” said the Grundy. He began laughing, and as he laughed his body grew more tenuous and translucent, then transparent, and finally vanished entirely, as the last note of his laughter lingered in the air. “Well,” said Mallory, “it was worth a try.”

  He poured himself a drink and waited until Winnifred returned.

  “Did he show up?” she asked.

  “He wasn’t any help.”

  “Is he ever?”

  “I have a grudging admiration for him,” responded Mallory. “Except for you, he’s the only person in this Manhattan who’s never lied to me.”

  “Well, what do we do next, John Justin?” asked Winnifred.

  “I should think Nick the Saint will be getting a ransom call any minute now,” said Mallory. “I mean, what the hell else is a blue-nosed reindeer good for? Still, I suppose it can’t hurt to start doing a little legwork, just to prove we’re earning our fee.”

  “Where to?”

  “The Sunnydale Reindeer Ranch seems the logical starting point,” said Mallory. “I’ll drive up there myself. You stay here and keep in touch with Nick the Saint. Let me know as soon as someone contacts him with a demand for ransom.”

  “Welcome to the Sunnydale Reindeer Ranch,” said the old man as Mallory walked up to the barn. “My name is Alexander the Greater.”

  “Greater than what?” said Mallory.

  Alexander frowned. “I hate it when people ask me questions like that!”

  “Well, actually I’m here to ask you some other questions,” said Mallory. “I’m a private investigator, working for Nick the Saint.”

  “Ah,” said Alexander. ‘You’re here about Jasper.” “Right.”

  “Follow me,” said Alexander, leading him into the barn. “There are fifty stalls, as you can see. Jasper was in Number 43, up the aisle here. When I came out to feed him this morning, he was gone.”

  “It snowed last night,” said Mallory. “Were there any signs of footprints or reindeer tracks?”

  Alexander shook his head. “Nope. It’s like he disappeared right off the face of the earth.”

  “Has this ever happened to you before?”

  “Have I ever lost Jasper before? Of course not.”

  “Has anyone ever robbed you before?”

  “No. Most people don’t even know this place exists.” “You mind if I look around?”

  “Help yourself,” said Alexander.

  Mallory spent the next few minutes walking up and down the barn, looking into each stall. There were forty-nine reindeer, but none with a blue nose. He considered checking the surrounding area for tracks, but it had snowed again since morning and he was sure any sign of Jasper’s departure would be covered by now.

  Finally he returned to the old man. “I may want to ask you some more questions later on,” he said.

  “Happy to have the company,” said Alexander. “There’s just me and my reindeer here.” Suddenly there was a loud screech. “And an occasional banshee living in the rafters,” he added.

  Mallory sat at his desk, taking a sip from the office bottle.

  “Where do you look for a reindeer?” he said. “Who’s got the facilities to keep it while they’re negotiating a price?”

  “The zoo?” suggested Winnifred.

  “The race track,” said Felina.

  “The dog pound?” offered Mallory.

  “I suggest that we split up,” said Winnifred. “We can cover more ground that way. I’ll take the zoo and you take the race track.”

  “I’ll take the zoo,” said Mallory. “Felina and I are no longer welcome at the track since our last little experience there.”

  “All right,” said Winnifred, checking her wristwatch. “We’ll meet at the dog pound in, shall we say, three hours?”


  “Sounds good to me.”

  Felina suddenly leaped across the room and landed on Mallory’s shoulders, almost knocking him through the wall.

  “I’m going with you, John Justin,” she said happily.

  “Why am I so blessed?” muttered Mallory.

  “All right,” said Mallory as they walked into the zoo. “I want you by my side at all times.”

  “Yes, John Justin,” purred Felina.

  “I mean it,” he said. “If you cause any trouble, you’re out of here.”

  ‘Yes, John Justin,” purred Felina.

  “Do you even know what a reindeer looks like?”

  “Yes, John Justin,” purred Felina.

  “Why don’t I trust you?” he asked.

  “Yes, John Justin,” purred Felina.

  They passed the sphinx and the griffon, which both looked chilly in their open-air confinements, and then came to a number of students, some of them human, some goblins, a few reptilian, who were picketing the gorgon house, demanding that the four gorgons on display be returned to the wild.

  “Come on, Mac,” said one of the picketers, a greenish goblin about half Mallory’s height. “Will you and your ladyfriend sign our petition?”

  “She’s not exactly my ladyfriend,” replied Mallory.

  “This is no time for technicalities,” said the goblin. “Surely you don’t approve of keeping gorgons caged up?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought,” admitted Mallory.

  “Well, it’s time to start thinking about it, Mac,” said the goblin. “Sign our petition to return ’em all to the wild.”

  “Where’s their natural habitat?” asked Mallory. “Africa? Asia?”

  “Grammercy Park, actually,” said the goblin.

  There was a huge, building-jarring roar from inside the gorgon house.

  “What do gorgons eat?” asked Mallory.

  “Oh, you know—the usual.”

  “What is the usual?”

  “People,” said the goblin.

  “How about goblins?”

  “Are you crazy?” demanded the goblin. ‘You’d put a goblin-eating monster in the middle of Grammercy Park? What kind of fiend are you?”

  The goblin glared at him for a moment, then turned and walked away, and Mallory, taking Felina by the hand, continued walking past the harpy and unicorn exhibits. When he found a keeper who had just finished feeding the unicorns, he caught his attention and called him over.

  “Excuse me,” said Mallory, “but where do you keep your reindeer?”

  “Me?” replied the keeper. “I ain’t got no reindeer. Got a dog. Got a wife who yells at me all day long. Got three sons who won’t look for work and two daughters who won’t look for husbands. Even got a 1935 Studebaker roadster. But reindeer? Where would I keep ’em?”

  “I didn’t mean you, personally,” said Mallory. “I meant, where does the zoo keep its reindeer?”

  “Don’t rightly know that we have any,” answered the keeper. “Got a pegasus, if your girlfriend is looking for pretty four-legged-type critters.”

  “No, we need a reindeer,” said Mallory, flashing his detective’s credentials. “Are you sure one didn’t arrive today?”

  “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of one,” said the keeper. “Got a real nice Medusa in the next building, if that’s to your liking.”

  “Who would know for sure if you had any reindeer?” asked Mallory.

  “I would, and we don’t,” said the keeper. “By the way, you better keep an eye on your girlfriend before she falls down and hurts herself.”

  Mallory turned and saw Felina some thirty feet up the bole of a large tree that housed a number of banshees, who were screaming and hurling twigs at her. She had a predatory leer on her face, and as the banshees saw that their imprecations were having no effect on her, they flew to higher and lighter branches, with Felina following in nimble pursuit.

  Mallory climbed over the fence that surrounded the tree and stood beneath it.

  “Felina!” he yelled. “Get down here!”

  She glanced down, smiled at him, and continued climbing—and suddenly Mallory heard an angry grunt directly behind him. He turned and found himself facing an enormous, broad-backed, elephantine creature with three heads.

  “I say,” said the first head, “he looks absolutely delicious. Shall we eat him?”

  “He looks like he’d go very well with onions and mushrooms, and possibly a wine sauce,” agreed the second head.

  “We’re all in agreement, then?” said the first head.

  “I ain’t talking to you guys,” said the third head.

  “Oh, come on, Roderick,” said the first head. “I said I was sorry.”

  “Don’t care,” sulked the third head.

  “Now see here, Roderick,” said the second head. “Reginald has apologized to you. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” said Roderick. “We always agree to kill people, and then he always ends up eating them.”

  “It goes to the same stomach,” said Reginald, “so what’s the difference?”

  “If there’s no difference, let me eat this one all by myself,” said Roderick.

  “If that’s what it will take to get you talking to us again,” said the second head with a sigh.

  “Now, just hold on a second, Mortimer,” said Reginald. “Who gave you leave to make the rules? I saw him first, so it’s only fair that I get to eat him.”

  “It’s not fair!” complained Roderick. “Just because I’m near-sighted, he always sees them first and gets to do the eating. I’ve got half a mind to crush this puny man-thing to a pulp so nobody can eat him.”

  “Uh, let’s not be too hasty here,” said Mallory, backing away toward the fence.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners to interfere in a family argument?” said Reginald. “Now please be quiet while we decide which of us is going to eat you.”

  “As the potential dinner, I think it’s only fair that I have a say, too,” persisted Mallory.

  “You know, I never looked at it that way before,” said Mortimer, “but of course he’s absolutely right. He certainly has to be considered an involved party.”

  All three heads turned to Mallory. “All right,” said Reginald. “Which of us would you prefer to be eaten by?” “It’s a hard decision to make on the spur of the moment,” said Mallory. “How about if I spend a few minutes thinking about it and get back to you?”

  “All right,” said Reginald. “But you have to remain in the enclosure.”

  “Right,” chimed in Roderick. “After all, fair is fair.” Just then there was a huge amount of shrieking overhead, and Felina fell through the air and landed nimbly on the three-headed creature’s back.

  “I told you not to leave my side,” said Mallory.

  “But they looked so tasty.”

  ‘You broke your word. If I survive the next couple of minutes, you’re in big trouble.”

  “It’s not my fault,” said Felina.

  “Then whose fault is it?” asked Mallory.

  “Uh ... I hate to interrupt,” said Mortimer, “but weren’t we deciding which of us was going to eat you?” “She’s the reason I’m here,” said Mallory disgustedly. “Eat her.'”

  “Eat her? We can’t even reach her.”

  “I’ll get her for you,” said Mallory, walking around the creature and climbing onto its back via its tail. “Well, no one ever said they were bright,” he whispered. “Can you jump over the fence from here?”

  “Of course,” said Felina. “Jumping is one of the very best things cat people do.”

  “Then would you please jump over it and bring back some help?”

  “I thought you were mad at me,” said Felina.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Right now staying alive and uneaten is more important.”

  “First you have to say you’re not mad at me,” said Felina stubbornly. “Then I’ll get help.”

 
“All right,” said Mallory, wondering what his blood pressure reading was at that very moment. “I’m not mad at you.”

  She shook her head. “You have to say it with sweetness and sincerity.”

  “Hey! What’s going on back there?” demanded Roderick.

  “I’m just telling her I’m not mad at her,” said Mallory.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” said Reginald. “We’re hungry.”

  “Felina, they’re hungry!” hissed Mallory. “It’s only going to take them an hour or so to figure out that if they roll over, I’m dead meat.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, leaping lightly over the fence.

  “Hey, she’s running away!” said Roderick.

  “That’s all right,” said Mallory. ‘You’ve still got me.”

  “But we can’t reach you!”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that,” said Mallory, looking across toward the unicorn house, where Felina was talking to the old unicorn keeper. Finally he nodded and trudged across the sidewalk after her.

  “Okay, you guys,” he said when he arrived. “Let the detective go.”

  “Aw, we were just having a little fun with him,” whined Roderick.

  “And maybe a little lunch,” added Reginald.

  “You know what I’ve told you,” said the old man. “If you keep eating the customers, pretty soon we ain’t gonna have none, and then where will we all be?”

  “How about if we just eat a leg or two?” asked Roderick.

  “You let him go, or there will be no PBS documentaries about your mating habits for a week,” said the old man.

  “No! Well let him go!” cried Mortimer. “Get off our back now!”

  Mallory slid down to the ground and raced to the fence.

  “He looks kind of stringy anyway,” said Roderick.

  “Besides, he’s a detective,” added Mortimer. “Did you ever try to clean one of those?”

  Mallory scrambled over the fence while the three heads were busy rationalizing their loss and telling dirty stories about the last documentary they had seen.

  “Thank you,” he said to the unicorn keeper.

  “It’s people like you that give carnivores a bad name,” said the old man, turning on his heel and walking away.

  Mallory checked his watch, saw that he just had time to meet Winnifred at the dog pound, and started walking toward his car, half-hoping Felina would stay behind. A moment later he felt a ninety-pound weight on his back and heard a loud purring in his ear.