by Gary Starta
“Wait, so that’s it,” Lorelei said to Finch. “We’re supposed to write a congressman that someone turned us into zombies?”
“It’s not so much about the zombie thing as it is the dependency issue. You two are now addicts. Now I’m sorry, Lorelei. Burnham told me all about the pills while you showered. I can only deduce there’s some Einstein wannabe out there whose attempt at creating a super race went awry. To remedy the situation, namely the one where you desire to chow down on human brain matter, pills must be taken to curb your hunger. Only the pills aren’t a cure. They’re just a treatment. And I’ll bet this Einstein wannabe, or maybe someone working with him, is already thinking how they’ll capitalize on your dependency. I mean Burnham explained how the crime lord was being extorted. If you ask me, this is only the first phase. Once they’ve successfully extorted James, they’ll grasp for the next higher ring. Maybe they’ll try to extort a celebrity or a politician-both extremely weak in moral fortitude making them excellent choices candidates for dependency if you ask me-into this addiction. They’ll make a zillion dollars in the process. And maybe some of the zillion dollars will be used to work out the kinks in your new design. Maybe they’ll perfect your super abilities so you won’t be so cannibalistic. I don’t know. But I am sure they’ll move again soon. If you don’t want to appeal to Congressman Katz, that’s fine, but I think you’ll be subjecting a whole lot more people to zombie hood.”
“I’m not a zombie. I’m just reanimated.” Lorelei barked her disagreement.
“Okay. You’re a superhuman with a lust for flesh. Does that make it sound any better?”
Lorelei stepped closer to Finch.
“What you going to eat me?”
Burnham interceded, placing an arm in between the two.
“I think my friend Finch has made his point. We don’t seem to have much choice. Only I won’t be able to meet with the good congressman. People think I’m dead. That leaves you two to deal.”
“I’m good with that if Lorelei is.” She nodded in affirmation.
“Good to be on the same team,” Finch said. “Now appealing to a congressman isn’t as crazy an idea as you might think. I know Katz supports the war on drugs. And the pills you have in your satchel represent a new kind of addiction. An addiction, I’m sure Mr. Katz would like to nip in the bud.”
“How do you know so much, Finch?” Burnham asked.
“I support an activist group recommended by Katz. It’s my thank you gift to him. I donate a little bit each month to mothers against drug dependency. Not quite sure of the correct acronym. They automatically withdraw the donation from my bank account. Anyhow, the point is, they will all vote for Katz in the next election. And there are plenty of them. Do the math. It’s simple. Katz will support the concerns of his voters. Tell him we’ve stumbled upon a new drug, one that can be kept off the streets before it does any harm; and you can he’ll help us track down its origin. If this disease is all about hooking people on drugs, removing the pills from the equation should discourage the bastard from infecting anyone else. Then, Lorelei, you can enjoy your revenge without going all blood and gore.”
“If you can do that for me Finch…for my daughter; I promise I’ll laugh at all your jokes.”
“Then you’ve got a deal,” Finch answered.
Burnham tapped Finch on the arm. “I have to say you surprised me Finch. I didn’t think you were so civic minded.”
“Not so much, Burnham. Remember how my mother racked up all that credit card debt?” Burnham nodded. “Katz wrote the credit card companies and compelled them to reduce her interest rates. So, I admit it’s not just about waving the stars and stripes. He did help us with some more of our selfish needs.”
“I don’t care Finch. I’m not taking back my compliment and that’s final.”
Finch arched an eyebrow. “So, to summarize, if you need a green card, are getting screwed royally with high interest rates or one day wake up a zombie, write your local congressman for answers.”
“Remember, Finch,” Lorelei said, “I’m not laughing at your jokes until you get us the help.”
Burnham placed his hand on Finch’s shoulder. “You’re humor seems to be improving since I died. Maybe you’ll be on TV yet.”
“With your support, Burnham, I just might.” Finch couldn’t find the words right then to tell his reanimated friend about his feelings for him. But he hoped a high five might suffice to let Burnham know his change had not affected their bond.
After high fiving, the trio agreed to get some rest.
“Just remember folks,” Finch said, “it’s all right to take your pills while we’re waiting for answers. I won’t judge you.”
Burnham ranted. “Stop trying to act so civic, Finch. We all know your real motive. You just want to keep both eyes closed while you sleep so we won’t eat you.”
Finch smirked. Now he was sure the man who looked like Burnham was indeed Burnham.
Chapter 13
To his surprise, David Finch-bartender, comic and now friend of zombies kept both eyes closed during the night. He slept soundly, awaking about midday for a moment to believe his reunion with Burnham might have all been a dream. No. He could hear Burnham and Lorelei talking in his kitchen, fussing about how to get the coffee machine to work. No dream. He slid himself off the bed and stared into a full-length mirror, the man with the sly grin on his face surprised him. Cynical, depressed, rotten to the core disposition, none of his self-proclaimed monikers mattered in this second. He was happy to have his friend back, despite the weight of the world he always felt he carried, despite the fact his friend had defied natural law and possibly even his maker to cross back to life from the dead.
His smile carried into the kitchen where Lorelei appeared to be force feeding a cup of coffee to his old mate.
“Come on drink it like a man,” Finch commented. Burnham’s pallid face appeared to shade crimson for a brief moment. I think there’s more going on between these two than they care to admit…
“I see you guys are making yourselves at home quite nicely. I’m going to pop out to get you some duds and restock the bar if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly, we appreciate it, Finch,” Lorelei said, taking the cup from Burnham’s hand and downing its contents.
“I’ve got more than one mug, you don’t have to share…unless you like too.” The smart-ass grin Burnham knew Finch by, the smile that contained cynicism and possibly even a hint of jealously prompted the cop into action.
“Lorelei, could you excuse us two a moment?” Burnham asked.
“Sure, I think I’ll take another shower.”
When the bath door closed, Burnham placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“We really appreciate what you’re doing here. And Lorelei is grateful for your ideas.”
“You mean the congressman?”
“Yes.”
“But that won’t bring her back to being normal, reunite her with her daughter or even catch the rat bastard responsible for all this, Burnsy.”
“I know.” Burnham removed his hand and smiled. “You two are alike. She is just as dour. She told me the exact same thing last night after you went to bed.”
“Ah…you two slept…together?”
“I took the couch. Lorelei enjoyed your guest bed. Come on, Finch. I may have died, but I’m still a gentleman. I still am myself, at the core.”
“I know. That’s what’s eating you up. Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what…”
“Come on, mate. Your resurrection did nothing to improve your poker face. You’re transparent. Oops…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean your pallid skin…”
“That’s okay, Finch. You were saying…?”
“I see the guilt you carry on you. This is about Comiskey…always will be.”
“Not only that, Finch. It’s about m
y faith. Look what I’ve done.” He paused to jab a thumb towards his chest. “I’m not supposed to be able to do this.”
Finch padded off to the frig where he retrieved a carton of OJ. He began to pour a glass. “You think you stole his thunder? Well, you’re probably right. I mean it took the son of God three days to appear. For you, it was a couple of hours. So, you think God’s pissy at you for stealing his act?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to wonder what this means regarding my faith. Has there been a change? Will we all eventually awaken to find Heaven is here on Earth?”
Finch gulped his juice. “I for one, do not. You know that old rant about dogs and flies? My Heaven has to be disease free. All disinfected shiny, sparkly wings for me. Nothing but pearly clouds…maybe a heavenly body or two…” Finch’s smirk returned. “Besides, my heaven has ultimately got to be debt free. If I’m just going to remain here for eternity, I’m going to need a third job.”
“But seriously, does my resurrection mean I am God, or am I the devil’s spawn for even thinking such blasphemy?”
“You’ve got to ask if God intended this somehow. Some wanker scientist was bound to get lucky one day; fooling around in our noggins, noodling about with our brain matter. Maybe this was God’s intent. Maybe we contain the holy grail, the fountain of youth, whatever you want to call it.”
“Did God’s design call for chomping people on the neck?”
“As I said before, I think there are some kinks to be worked out.”
“Great, then I’m a guinea pig; a dangerous, carnivorous one at that.”
“This could very well be evolution at work. God’s not on board.”
“Or…Finch…this could be God’s hand leading us to some kind of ascension. That makes us responsible for what we do with this gift.”
“I don’t know, mate. I don’t have that kind of weight on me. You see I guess I wasn’t one of the pretty people chosen for this ascension. So, for me, it’s quite simple. I can knock back a cold one and not feel a splinter of guilt for what I do.”
“Are you kidding, Finch? You would really want to be part of this? I can’t trust myself. I’m a murderer. And I have to take pills to curb my hunger. I’m not feeling the charm, I guess.”
“But are you really supposed to be fighting this Burnham? If the pharmaceutical companies are out to make a profit on this, I’m not surprised. In fact, it would be conspiratorial if they weren’t out to make a buck on your condition. And you told me yourself you are better at your job. Can run and jump like a jungle cat, hear a pin drop a mile off. So, there might be benefits to your condition after all, maybe benefits the creator of this disease didn’t even foresee. So capitalism wins again-big whoop. The way I see it, everyone else stands to win as well.”
“Trust me, Finch. You don’t want to be bitten.”
“No, I don’t. But Lorelei said a serum was shot into James.”
“It’s still illegal.”
“Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not tempted to think about the benefits. You got super abilities. I might even get some. Maybe I could become super funny. There’s a Darwinian factor even in my line of work. Survival of the funniest, I suppose you would call it…hmm…or what about those blokes who spend miserable years in factories, eking out a living? They might live richer, fuller-not to mention-longer lives. And if this all some grand design, possibly one needed to perpetuate the continuance of humanity, you might not want to dunk your head too far in the Vatican’s well of guilt. Temper your guilt with a slice of science for a moment. And if you ask me, which I’m sure you won’t, I say people spend far too much time striving for acceptability, when they should be more unacceptable.”
“Ah, like you Finch, the anarchist.”
“No. Nothing that severe, mate. I was just playing devil’s advocate.”
“I think you’re just playing the „devil" himself, but that’s just me, Finch.”
“Call me what you will. But it’s damn hard to be a bright light in a dim world. It’s time we shined.”
“Finch, you are a bright light. You just need to shed your black attire to see it.”
“And selfishly, I for one am glad to have you back; even at the expense of blasphemy. Your police mates are pretty broken up about your death.”
Burnham sighed. “They’re going to have deal with it. I can’t tell them, Finch. I need you to be strong. Don’t tell a soul.”
“So that’s how we’re going to play it with Congressman Katz? We’re going to filter the truth?”
Burnham pointed an index finger towards the air; to Finch it appeared to be a faux pas gun.
“We’re going to play it smart. We are going to appeal to Katz to discourage the mass production of the pills via word of mouth. If we can do that, like you theorize, we just might turn the whole plan to hell. If the pharmaceutical companies no longer see making zombies as a profitable venture, they just might bring down the whole operation.”
“But that still leaves us at square one. We still need to catch the SOB who instigated this. And something tells me, this bloke isn’t creating zombies for profit. He still might want to reanimate others with his disease, pills or no pills.”
Burnham tried to wave off Finch as Lorelei appeared from behind but was too late.
“I agree with you Finch,” Lorelei said, matter of fact. “But we’ve got to work at this on a step by step basis. We’re like a splinter cell. We want to weaken our enemy before engaging them in a full out onslaught.”
Finch kept his eyes on Burnham, daring not to sneak a peek at Lorelei. His eyes bore into Burnham. Where did she come from, mate?
“Damn Burnham, are you sure you two aren’t a couple? She talks just like you,” Finch said, attempting to deflect some self embarrassment. He licked his lips to regain composure. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Lorelei. I really don’t want to rub my cynicism all over. I truly believe we can beat this thing. The only thing is. I’m not quite sure we should.”
Lorelei arched an eyebrow towards Burnham. “Is anybody going to explain? Or should I go back to the shower to wash my ears out? Someone please tell me why we shouldn’t be fighting this? And they better have a damn good reason, too. I just rubbed concealing makeup all over my face to hide veins. I so don’t want to accept this bullshit!” Her arms folded across her chest, Lorelei tapped a foot upon the tile. “I’m waiting…”
“Burnham, you explain it to her. I’ve got to shop.”
Finch slid out the door leaving a wake of angry, caffeinated zombies in his kitchen.
***
Finch softened Lorelei’s anger with bags full of clothing upon his return.
The comedian reveled in a flood of her natural beauty, despite her claim to have been hideously transformed by her affliction. Her eyes beamed blue lights of hope into him, her toothy smile flooded his normally dusky apartment with light and her glee possibly even aroused a foreign, unidentified response. Finch, though unable to classify it, was downright giddy.
“Glad to see you smile, love,” he commented, not sure if Lorelei heard him. She was too enraptured in the throes of unbridled whimpering. She sounded like a kid at the fireworks to him. All oohs and aahs.
She tossed a green top onto his couch.
“Hmm…” She murmured pensive. She threw a pair of black slacks against it. “This should match. Not bad for a man shopper…” Her index finger riding upon her chin, she reflected a moment longer, apparently oblivious to his presence. Burnham had already retreated to the bathroom to change into his new attire. A BVD tee and a pair of Lee jeans to transform his biblical look, a pair of Nike sneakers to better catch the drug dealers, Finch had explained.
“I’ll be back,” she said, scampering off to the guest room.
She returned two minutes later, noticeably less gleeful.
“I love the clothes, Finch, but we’re trying to keep a
low profile. I mean look at this…” She pointed to the low cut of the top, her cleavage bared.
“And…” she pirouetted. The spandex, form fitting pants completely accentuated her round buttocks.
“I see love. But you two patrol in the evenings. It’s going to be too dark for anyone to see…”
She interrupted. “So is this for your benefit? Dream on, Finch.”
Burnham emerged from the bath with a grin. “Finch, I always said you were a lady killer.”
“Too bad I’ve already been killed,” Lorelei added, dour and downbeat.
“So ends the fashion show,” Finch mumbled, perusing the hot pink lacy bra and matching panties still lying on the couch.
Her icy stare told him he was not about to see her parade about in undies anytime soon, despite the small child like glee he still detected about her aura. You can’t hide everything from me, my sweet. You’re still human underneath it all.
Finch swore he heard Lorelei make a grumbling sound in response. Bullocks, she didn’t hear that…?
Burnham interrupted. “Next shopping trip needs to be more a bit more practical.” He held his finger and thumb parallel to accentuate his point while his eyes perused the hot pink bedroom attire.
“I want you to buy anchor chain leash and collars. And don’t worry Finch, I’ll reimburse you for all of this, someday.”
“What, we getting a doggie?”
“Only if you consider me to be your pooch, Finch. We can’t be too cautious. These pills are no guarantee. I want enough chain to keep myself and Lorelei subdued if our hungers should get the better of us.”
“Where do I find this…anchor chain?”
“Marine supply stores which should be all over the city. They sell it in a winch.”
Burnham turned to Lorelei. “When you’ve found a suitable outfit, I want to head out. It’s time to patrol.”
Lorelei pursed her lips and propped her hands about her waist. “I carry the gun…”
A phone interrupted. Burnham’s super hearing listened in on the conversation.
