Gil's All Fright Diner

by Alex Lee Martinez

  "Point is," Duke said, "just 'cuz this place looks like a diner, don't mean it's just a diner. The Chinese believe places can channel the power of the Earth."

  "Fung shee," Earl said.

  "Fong si," Duke corrected.

  "Fing chu."

  "Fung soy."

  "Whatever you call it, if Gil Wilson knew the right way to put this diner up it could amplify the weirdness factor this particular spot throws out."

  "Now that I think about it," Loretta mused, "it does seem kind'a odd that somebody would build a diner this size this far from the highway. So you're saying Gil wanted this to happen?"

  "He wanted sumthin'. The supernatural jump might have just been a side effect. Guess the best thing to do now would be to take Polaroids of the whole place, top to bottom, and send it off to Hector. He might be able to spot sumthin' we missed."

  "And you think that'll help us figure out why someone wants me out of here so bad?"

  "No guarantees, but it's a start."

  Loretta went off in search of her camera.

  Earl poured his fourth cup of coffee of the evening. It'd get him jittery, but at least he didn't have to worry about being kept awake all day.

  Earl ducked out of the diner under the pretense of getting something to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Not hungry enough to bite into a cow's neck. He wanted to make a phone call. The phone at the diner was dangerous to use. He didn't want Duke overhearing it, and given the werewolf's hearing, a mile or two was just playing it safe.

  Earl found a pay phone sitting beside a decayed, long-forgotten gas station. Naturally, the station was haunted by a pair of ghosts: one chubby guy in ectoplasmic overalls covered in ectoplasmic grease, and a Scottish terrier. Earl reckoned there had to be as many spirits living in Rockwood as people. Maybe more. The attendant ghost slumbered on a bench beside the broken-down pumps while the terrier trotted over to the vampire.

  Normally he'd just ignore the mutt, but his feelings toward restless spirits had changed over the last couple of days. He petted the terrier for a few minutes before making his call. It had to be collect, but he knew Hector wouldn't mind.

  "Hec, yeah it's me. Yeah, we still got problems with the diner, but I got sum thin' else to ask."

  The spirit dog began to sniff his ankles just a little too aggressively. He nudged it away, but it was not so easily discouraged.

  "Is there anyway to loose a graveyard guardian?"

  While Hector explained the ins and outs of spiritual emancipation and Earl took notes, the terrier mounted his leg and went to town. Earl shook and kicked, but it held fast, clinging with a supernatural tenacity unavailable to dogs of flesh and blood. Earl finally decided it was easier to let it finish up. He thanked Hector for his help and headed toward the graveyard. The dog followed.

  On the way, Earl spotted a cow and decided to grab a meal of convenience. If he didn't get something tonight, he'd just have to force himself to do it tomorrow. He was in the middle of climbing the fence when the terrier dashed forward and started barking at his supper. The dog nipped, sinking immaterial teeth into the bovine's ankles. The cow, being a simple-minded creature unable to logically deny the existence of ghosts, awoke and trotted off. The terrier returned to Earl's side. Its eyes shone with canine pride.

  Earl hopped off the fence. "Yeah. Great job there, boy."

  The dog's tail wagged so quickly it blurred into ectoplasmic mist.

  Back at the graveyard, Earl couldn't wait to tell Cathy the good news. She smiled wide with his arrival and held out her open arms.

  "Napoleon!"

  The terrier jumped into her arms and licked her face.

  Her voice raised a squeaky octave, and her lips puckered up in an absurd expression. "How's my favorite boy? How's my favorite boy? Has he been good?"

  "He's been swell," Earl replied.

  She made some ridiculous kissing noises at the mutt, who licked her some more to make sure every inch of her face was covered in slobber. She set down Napoleon. The dog went off to investigate the many open graves.

  "Isn't he cute?"

  "Real sweetheart." Earl tried to sound like he meant it.

  "He's been my only company since I was buried. Comes by every so often to say hi."

  "Great. Napoleon, huh?"

  "That's the name I gave him. I don't know his real name. Do you like it?"

  He leaned against a loose tombstone. It shifted under his weight. "Good a name as any."

  She sat beside him. The tombstone didn't notice. "So did everything work out okay last night?"

  "Nobody got killed." He held up his notepad and quickly changed the topic. "I think I can get you out of this cemetery."

  "Really?"

  "Maybe," he said. "It's a pretty basic piece of magic according to a friend of mine, but I'll have to round up some supplies first. If it works, you'll be able to leave the graveyard whenever you want."

  "Cool. I guess."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Well, I'll still be dead, won't I?"

  He nodded.

  "So where could I go that would be any different than this? I mean, a change of scenery would be nice, and I appreciate the effort. But, still, what would I do? Where would I go?"

  Earl swallowed a deep breath.

  "You could always go with me." There was a shudder in his voice he hoped she didn't notice. "I mean, if you wanted to."

  "Really?"

  "Why not?"

  "And Napoleon. Can he come with us, too?"

  The ghost terrier raised his head and yipped.

  Earl didn't relish the idea of nightly phantom ankle rides. But he couldn't say no to Cathy about anything. If she'd asked him to stay and watch the sunrise, he'd have readily agreed.

  "Okay."

  She threw her arms around him. Earl unconsciously pulled away. The shifting weight uprooted the tombstone, and they fell to the ground. He wound up on his back with Cathy lying half on top of him. The weight of spirits was practically nonexistent, yet she pressed down on him like a two-ton safe. He felt short of breath, which didn't make a whole lot of sense considering the undead didn't need to breathe. They laughed. She started first, and he followed along. He put a hand on her shoulder to help lift her away but ended up drawing her closer.

  Then they were kissing. A warm, lingering kiss that lasted forever yet not nearly long enough. He'd never kissed a ghost before. It wasn't much different than kissing a living person except for a slight taste left on his lips. A taste of roses and morning dew and, strangely, Dr. Pepper.

  She smiled. "Wow."

  He was completely aware of the stupid, lopsided grin across his face. He didn't care.

  "That was. . nice," Cathy said.

  "Yeah." His grin grew stupider and more lopsided. His mouth nearly fell off his face. "Nice."

  Napoleon barked.

  There was the unmistakable wet pop of a beer can being opened. Earl glanced over Cathy's shoulder. Duke stood mere feet away.

  "Earl," the werewolf greeted. "You wanna introduce me to your friend?"

  "Shit," the vampire grunted.

  Cathy jumped to her feet. She beamed enthusiastically and held out a hand. As a ghost, she so rarely got to meet new people.

  "Hi! I'm Cathy!"

  He didn't take her up on the handshake.

  "He can't touch you." Earl sat up. "He's a werewolf. Not a vampire."

  "A wolf man. Really?"

  "Werewolf," Duke corrected. "Wolfman is some dork with a facial hair problem runnin' through Transylvania, mugging Gypsies."

  "Oh. Sorry." She ran her fingers through her hair with an embarrassed grin.

  "S'alright."

  Duke snapped off a can of Old Milwaukee from the six-pack under his arm and tossed it through Cathy's insubstantial form. Earl fumbled his catch. It bounced off his knee and rolled in the dirt.

  "I thought you gave up drinkin'."

  Duke sucked down the beer and crushed the can. "It's just a coupl'a beers." He tossed the e
mpty aside and opened another.

  Earl wiped the dirt off his own beer. "Cathy, this is Duke. He's a friend of mine."

  "So you're really a werewolf?"

  "Yup."

  "And you guys are really friends?"

  "Sort'a," Earl replied hesitantly.

  "That's cool. I always thought werewolves and vampires didn't get along." She chuckled. "Well, I never thought vampires and werewolves really existed before. Even after I died, I never gave it much thought. But I figured just because ghosts existed that wasn't necessarily proof that other. . uh. . things existed."

  She grinned.

  "Sorry. I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm just not used to having so much company. What I meant to say was that I'd always just assumed that vampires and werewolves didn't get along. I don't know why, but I always got that impression."

  "It's a common misconception," Earl said.

  Duke's affinity with animals extended to even deceased, incorporeal dogs. Napoleon found his way by the werewolf's side. The terrier stared up with eager eyes. Since petting was impossible, he was just happy to be near Duke.

  The werewolf bent on one knee and dangled his fingers over Napoleon. The terrier snapped at the digits playfully.

  Cathy glided over and looped her arm around Earl's own. For the first time ever, she made him uncomfortable. Actually she made him uncomfortable all the time, but this was the first time she did so in a bad way. It wasn't her fault. It was Duke's.

  The werewolf just kept looking at him in that annoying, I-know-more-than-you way of his. Duke didn't talk much, but Earl knew what he was thinking. Most times. Occasionally Duke would cast a glance that defied interpretation. During those cryptic moments, Earl knew Duke had figured out some ultimate secret of the universe that he wasn't quite willing to share with anybody else.

  He was giving Earl one of those looks now, made all the more irritating since Duke wasn't even looking directly at him. Just playing with the ghost dog, acting like he wasn't thinking what he was.

  "Duke, can I talk to you for a second?"

  The vampire tried to smile politely and ended up scowling instead. "In private."

  "No problem."

  "Would you excuse us for a moment?" He squeezed Cathy's hand and let go reluctantly. "I'll be right back."

  "It was nice meeting you, Duke."

  Duke bobbed his head back at her. "See you around."

  Earl led him through the graveyard gates and into the middle of the dirt road. He plastered a fake smile across his face for Cathy's benefit.

  "How'd you know where to find me?" Earl asked.

  "Wasn't hard. Diner's just across the road there. And last night, you came in reeking of ectoplasm."

  "Damn." Earl had forgotten Duke's powerful nose was sensitive enough to smell even the stuff of spirits.

  "Goddamn it, you prick. How long were you standing there?"

  "Long enough. So you like this girl?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I like her. Okay, I like her. Is that alright with you?"

  Duke's reply was a slight, hardly noticeable smirk.

  Earl's toothy smile grew wider as his exasperation rose. "And you know what? She likes me. That's right. Me. You got a problem with that?"

  "Nope."

  They stood in silence for a few seconds. Finally Earl couldn't take it anymore.

  "You asshole. Why do you got to do this to me?"

  "I ain't doin' nuthin' to you."

  Earl threw up his hands. "The hell you ain't."

  "Careful there, Earl. Your girlfriend's watchin'."

  Cathy stood at the edge of the cemetery. She smiled and waved at the vampire. Earl smiled back.

  "I know what you're thinking, Duke. You're thinking I'm fooling myself. That a girl like that is too good for me. That if she wasn't a ghost and I wasn't a bloodsucker she'd have nuthin' to do with me."

  "Is that what I'm thinkin'?"

  "Yeah. And you know what, you fat son of a bitch? You're right. And you know what else? I don't care. She likes me. I like her. And she's coming with us. You got a problem with that?"

  Earl intensely glared into Duke's chin. He would have looked into his eyes, but resorting to an upward angle would've been admitting the werewolf's size advantage. Of course, size was just one of his advantages. If the impulse hit him, he could easily rip off Earl's right arm and shove it down the vampire's throat. Earl hoped he wouldn't. Not while Cathy was watching.

  "Earl, you dipshit."

  Duke slapped Earl on the shoulder. Earl stumbled, nearly tumbling over. The werewolf grinned an actual, honest-to-God, wide smile. Earl had never seen Duke do that before. He didn't even know it was possible. He'd always assumed Duke didn't have the necessary muscles for such expressions.

  Duke chortled, tossed a wave to Cathy, and headed toward the diner. Napoleon trotted after him. Just before he went back inside, he turned back, wearing one of his regular, understated smiles.

  He'd figured out another of those Goddamn secrets.

  Earl felt almost close to getting this one himself, but rather than spend any more time pondering it, he just headed back to the graveyard.

  Tammy's parents let Chad come over to the house for regular tutoring sessions. Despite her unexceptional grades, it was a plausible reason: Chad's grades were even worse. Her parents even let them be alone in her room as long as the door was open a crack.

  Very little tutoring went on in Tammy's room. Depending on how educational someone might consider Chad copying Tammy's homework. He sat at her desk and busily copied her history homework while Tammy flipped through the latest edition of Crazy Ctharl's Hard-To-Find Sorcerous Emporium. The catalogue was a necessity for the modern high priestess. In the Dark Ages, finding fresh mandrake root or the spleen of a virgin wasn't all that hard. In the twentieth century, who had the time to dig around beneath a hangman's tree or figure out what a spleen even looked like. Crazy Ctharl's catalogue was a lifesaver. It offered reliable delivery, though it didn't use the mail. Somehow, whatever you ordered found its way to you. Usually wrapped in discreet brown paper. Though there was that time Tammy ordered a bag of Hitler's ashes and found it under her pillow before she'd even sent in the order.

  Best of all, the prices were reasonable. She was on a tight budget and finding the glittering scales of Hecate for only three dollars a pound made things so much easier. The cover boasted "Prices so low, you'll question the collective dream of sanity." Beneath that, another line declared, "The darkness approaches, and Ctharl says everything must be sold before the Lords of Doom swallow the world!" Crazy Ctharl always said the world was ending. This once, he was right.

  Tammy skimmed through the pages. There were lots of things she wanted. The fang of a shadow, candles made with the Wax of Vorgo, and a wide assortment of sacrificial daggers. She didn't let these items distract her. She stuck with only what she needed. Her savings still fell short. She marked off the items she could scrape together with a little effort on her part, and still needed a few more dollars.

  "How much money do you got, Chad?"

  Chad stopped copying. "What?"

  "Money," she sighed. "How much do you have?"

  He reached into his pockets and pulled out a couple of bucks.

  "Not on you, stupid. I mean, how much do you have saved?"

  "My grandma gave me a hundred bucks for my birthday, but I'm saving it for a trip."

  "I'll need it."

  "But I'm saving it for a trip," he whined, in case she hadn't heard him the first time.

  Normally, she would have called upon her feminine wiles to persuade him. She wasn't in the mood. She frowned and squinted hard in his direction.

  Chad went back to copying. Even with his back to her, he could feel her icy stare. "I thought, uh, maybe after graduation we could, y'know, go somewhere." He glanced over his shoulder. Not at her, but in her general direction. "Together."

  Tammy smiled. It was not a good smile. Then again, her good smiles weren't really very good either if someone knew
the dark thoughts behind them.

  "A road trip?" she asked.

  "Uh. . yeah."

  "After graduation."

  "Uh. . yeah."

  "Together."

  He bit the inside of his cheek and tapped his pencil against the desk. "I was thinking we could maybe go to Vegas. I've always wanted to go to Vegas."

  She smiled wider. "Sounds like fun."

  "Yeah. We could go to the strip. Maybe see one of those big shows. I mean, I know we won't have much money by then, but we can still have a good time."

  Her face fell blank. The pencil in Chad's hand snapped in two.

  "Man, you are such a dumbass," she muttered.

  "But I thought. ."

  "You didn't think, Chad. You never think."

  He slammed his fist into his palm. "Goddamn it, Tammy. Stop callin' me stupid. You're always callin' me stupid."

  "That's because you are stupid."

  "You're such a bitch." He crumpled up his copied homework, stuffed it in his pocket, and headed toward the door.

  It slammed shut all by itself.

  "Sit down, Chad."

  "Fuck you."

  He reached for the knob and got a jolt that numbed his forearm and stopped him cold.

  "I said, sit down."

  Chad obeyed. He massaged the gooey muscles of his wrist.

  Her father shouted from the living room.

  She pointed to the door, and it opened wide enough to suit parental regulations. "Sorry, Dad!"

  Chad blew on his deadened fingertips in an effort to revive some feeling.

  "Stop being such a wuss," she grumbled.

  He hunched over, holding his numb hand to his chest. He stared at the floor, unable to look her in the eye. Chad didn't really understand any of the black magic they dabbled in. She just told him what to do, and he did it. It'd started with naked chanting which he had thoroughly enjoyed, even if it did involve memorizing long strings of tongue-twisting syllables. And it just kept getting weirder and weirder. None of which bothered him too much as long as he and Tammy got to spend time together. Although the sex had a lot to do with it, it wasn't the only reason. He liked her. Or, at least, he had at one time.