Hungry for Your Love: An Anthology of Zombie Romance

by Lori Perkins

  Jerry frowned. “Matt, maybe after this case is over I can arrange some free treatments for you. What do you say?”

  I held my breath. “No. Thank you,” Matt said.

  His words put the final nails in the coffin of my hopes and dreams. Jerry shrugged. “Okay. It’s your loss.” Yeah, his loss.

  Matt retrieved his notebook and a pen from his suit pocket as before. “Tell us about your brother, Uno.” His pen was poised over an empty page.

  I exchanged an oh-brother look with Jerry. “Doesn’t believe in foreplay, huh?” I offered him a weak smile. Jerry sighed, then launched into his story.

  Jerry and Uno were twins raised by different mothers. Their early years were spent on a dude ranch near El Paso. Zero used the ranch as a cover for his plans to take over the world.

  When Jerry was ten, like every boy his age, he dreamed of running away and joining the circus. Which he did. When I asked him how Zero never found him, he said he changed his name to Jerry Jens. His birth name was Dos. With a handle like that I’d change my name too.

  Uno found him six months ago when he came to the circus looking for mindless security guards who would follow orders without question. They argued and Uno threatened to him kill him unless he signed over the Zombie Away royalties.

  I understood what Uno was up to. With Jerry gone, the profits from Zombie Away would finance the takeover of the world. While Uno embraced his father’s mad dreams, Jerry rejected them. But Jerry never believed his brother would really kill him—until yesterday, when he was thrown off the high dive platform.

  After we’d left Jerry’s apartment behind, we headed south on I-16 toward Wallenberg.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Matt said after several minutes of quiet between us. I could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. Secretly I hoped it wasn’t spontaneous combustion. “Strange Uno would only try to kill his brother. Why didn’t he just shoot him? Why throw him from a diving platform?” He paused and his grey features formed a scowl. “Seems a little less than foolproof to me.”

  My ‘75 Mustang squeaked and popped as I steered it into the left lane and stomped on the accelerator. The four cylinders screamed as we slowly crawled past the Franken-Goo Reclamation tanker truck.

  I nodded. “Yeah. That is odd.” I glanced at Matt. His fedora was tipped at an angle and the last rays of the setting sun gave his skin a slightly golden tinge. Way cool.

  “Who did he say grabbed him?”

  Matt pulled out his notebook and scanned his notes. “He didn’t know. Whoever it was threw a sack over his head. He did say he smelled bananas, though,” Matt winced and wrinkled his nose. “Then all he smelled was used jock straps.”

  “Uggg. Gross!” I chuckled.

  Matt looked thoughtful. “Don’t fresh zombies smell like bananas?”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I steered back into the slow lane in front of the tanker truck to let a Smart Car speed by us. The driver of the Smart Car gave us the one-fingered salute as he passed. Nice.

  It was dark when we arrived at the turn off to Wallenberg. As we came to the stop sign where the off ramp met the main road into town, we found a police roadblock. Three state police cruisers and one Wallenberg sheriff’s car were parked in the middle of the road. Their rollers made the surrounding grasslands shine alternately blue and green.

  I steered us to the side of the road and parked on the gravel shoulder. I shut the engine off and pocketed my keys. I’d brought along a jean jacket to wear over my sweater. The evenings can get cool this time of year.

  I pressed the button on the side of my Timex and the round watch face lit up. Nine fifteen and seven seconds.

  “Hey, Aloha,” Matt called. “Look at this.” He was standing in front of a dark green road sign. In white block letters were the words Wallenberg 2 Miles and an arrow pointing to the right. Only “Wallen” had been crossed out with red felt pen and the word

  “Zombie” inserted. Wallenberg was now Zombieberg. This couldn’t be good.

  I looked around and saw a group of cops standing next to a police cruiser parked farthest from where we stood. I saw one of them had enough gold bars on her epaulets to be a rear admiral, so I knew she must be in charge.

  As I approached the gaggle of law enforcement officers, she looked at me, her hazel eyes intent and questioning. She looked familiar.

  “Aloha Armstrong?” Her pale face broke into a toothpaste-model smile. She took off her peaked cap and shook her hair loose. Her dark curls cascaded about her shoulders.

  “Perky Peters? Is that you?” I ran up to her and wrapped her in a bear hug. “It’s been too long.” The Perkster and I were roommates at The L.I.P.S. Academy. It was old home week.

  I released her and we stepped back to scan each other up and down. “You look well,” I said. I probably looked like something the dog left behind, but Perky was a cop, a real cop. Who woulda thought?

  “I’m great.” She nodded at the bars on her right shoulder. “I’m the chief of police.

  Me. Can you believe?”

  The four male cops standing in a group near the bumper of the cruiser snorted.

  Perky ignored their sarcasm. “So what you been up to?” she asked.

  “I own my own private investigation company, with my partner, of course.”

  Perky shifted her gaze to peer over my left shoulder. “Who?”

  I turned to see Matt had been handcuffed and was being seated in the back seat of a blue and white state police cruiser.

  “Hey! What’s goin’ on? My partner’s the zombie!”

  Perky filled me in.

  We sat in the front seat of her sheriff’s car. The soft chatter of radio checks disappeared as Perky turned down the volume with a twist of the knob. Her normally bright hazel eyes were dull and drooped at the corners. The roadblock had been up for eighteen hours now. Perky’s perk was definitely on its lowest setting.

  Her cruiser had to be the cleanest police car I had ever seen. Not one stale donut or empty coffee cup in sight. Weird.

  “Someone set up a zombie factory in town and is turning everyone they can get their hands on into zombies.” Her mouth was a grim line.

  Oh crap. She was serious? When I said someone had a zombie factory I was just kidding. I didn’t expect anyone would actually build one. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.

  “But who?” I said.

  “A megalomaniac is who,” the Perkster said. She gripped the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles were white.

  “It’s Uno, right?”

  Her bloodshot eyes shifted to me and her brow was creased by a frown. “No. Of course not. Uno’s my boyfriend. He was the first one turned.” Her gaze shifted to the two lane blacktop road ahead. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They always go after the nicest man in town first.”

  Now if you don’t think I was shocked, then you haven’t been following along.

  “What? Uno?” I shook my head. “No way.”

  Perky turned to glare at me. “Watch it, pal. You’re talkin’ about the little guy I love.”

  I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just we have information that suggests Uno tried to murder his brother.”

  As an eyebrow arched Perky said, “Brother?” She snorted. “You mean that miniature-megalomaniac-from-Muskogee, Jerry Jens? Are you kidding?”

  “What about Maxie Quiet? He said Uno was a really bad guy.”

  “Zombie,” she said simply.

  I sank back into the seat as a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Uh-oh. We’d been had. Jerry was the villain, not Uno.

  After I explained that Matt wasn’t a factory-made zombie but a one-hundred-percent-organic-magik-made-orginal (and that I loved him), Perky had him released. We were standing beside her cruiser when the town, visible just over a crest in the road, lit up 116

  with searchlights. A loudspeaker began to encourage all to come to the circus. Every day was free day, the speaker said. Free tickets could be quite an enticement.

  We
had to stop Jerry’s mad plan.

  We devised our own plan. Matt would go in as the undercover zombie. Made sense since he was the only zombie PI we had. Not that I was happy he was going in alone. We were a team, after all.

  Matt would sabotage Jerry’s zombie factory to allow time for the crop dusters to arrive.

  Perky had contacted the Zombie Away people and they agreed to provide a squadron of crop dusters to spray Zombie Away over Wallenberg. Mega corporations don’t like megalomaniacs who besmirch their good name by turning everyone in the world into zombies and hoarding the world’s supply of their product.

  “But doesn’t Zombie Away take three treatments to work?” I said.

  Perky shrugged. “They said this was the new and improved version. They say it works the first time, every time.”

  Matt looked unfazed but I was worried. The drop was taking place at eleven fifteen. It was ten forty-five now. He had thirty minutes. If he didn’t get out in time he’d be sprayed and the allergic reaction to that much Zombie Away would very likely kill him.

  Since I might never see him again, I took his arm in mine and led him into the grassy field beside the road. The crickets chirped around us. I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him into me. I gazed into his eyes as a smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

  “You want to talk about sumthin’?” he whispered.

  His heart beat rhythmically against my chest when he wrapped his arms around me. “Matt. Do you remember what we talked about?”

  “We talked about a lot of things.” Seeing the flash of disappointment on my face he added, “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

  “I want you to promise me if you survive this you’ll reconsider your decision.”

  He hesitated. “Okay. I promise.”

  At that moment I knew he didn’t expect to survive.

  I heard the drone of aircraft engines high over head before I saw them. A grey-haired state cop yelled and pointed as the sixteen biplanes became visible, basked in moonlight.

  I glanced at my Timex. It was only five after eleven. They were early.

  I scanned the road and didn’t see any sign of my Mustang. Matt had taken my car to drive into town. He was to find Jerry’s lair and stop the zombie factory in any way possible, then hightail it out of there.

  After what seemed like a month, I saw my Mustang headed for the roadblock. It was eleven twenty. Shrouded in shadow were the outlines of two passengers in the front seats of the car.

  The car stopped with a squeak and a rattle. The engine died. The sounds of crickets chirping drowned out the sound of my heart beating in my ears. In the distance I heard the rush of traffic on the interstate. My senses, my nerves were tuned in. I saw a set of beady eyes shining from the back seat. Jerry Jens, you are so goin’ to the big house.

  Finally the passenger door opened and a blond man got out. He was wearing Matt’s clothes, but that couldn’t be Matt. Could it?

  I rushed to the car but pulled up when the man in Matt’s clothes smiled. “Matt? Is that you?”

  He nodded. I leapt into his arms. We pressed our bodies into each other, sending thrills of passion through me. Our lips pressed into each others. His body heat warmed me in the cool night air.

  Matt was alive and he wasn’t a zombie anymore!

  We broke contact but hung onto each other as if our very lives depended on it. I wanted to be hugged by him forever. “How?” I breathed.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I do,” said a very deep, very male voice behind us.

  I swivelled my head to see a tall man with broad shoulders, mouse brown hair, and a dimple in his right cheek. His green eyes sparkled. Perky had one arm around his waist and he was dressed in a tan Dockers, a red golf shirt, and Nike’s. Perky looked, well, perky.

  “Our new formula is hypoallergenic.” He grinned and held out his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Uno.”

  Reluctantly, I untangled myself from Matt and shook hands with him. Matt did likewise.

  “I thought you’d be…” My words trailed off. I was gonna embarrass myself for sure.

  Uno and Perky both laughed. “Ain’t genetics grand?” said Perky.

  I smiled and glanced at Matt. Yeah, genetics were grand.

  We’d stopped the bad guy, saved the world, and Matt I would have our shot at love.

  All in all, a pretty good day for me and my partner the zombie—or should I say my partner who used to be the zombie?

  Undying Love

  by Regina Riley

  Nothing puts a date off like the smell of formaldehyde and graveyard dirt.

  Dee tried to turn her attention to the inventory of said graveyard dirt, but all she could think about was how she was spending another Saturday night alone. It was her own fault, she supposed. She’d never played well with others, and other magic users even less so. Maybe it was her sour disposition, or her headstrong attitude. Or maybe it was simply because of her reputation for dealing so closely with the dead.

  Drawing her from her reverie, a voice asked, “Isn’t it a bit unusual for a witch to have an office?”

  Dee looked up from her desk to find a man standing in her office doorway. “Not when she doesn’t want strangers traipsing about in her home.”

  “May I come in?”

  Dee paused to inspect the stranger more closely. Tall and lean, he wore a suit so deeply black it threatened to completely suck the low light from the room. His skin was alabaster pale, and his hair was a brush of raven’s wing across his strong brow. He smiled, displaying a row of handsome teeth, delicate and opalescent. And most likely pointy.

  Her eyes drew to suspicious slits. “Are you a vampire?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “Yes actually, it does.” She brushed a stray strand of auburn from her face and frowned. “If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have asked. Close the door on your way out…hey, I didn’t invite you in!” She shouted the last bit in surprise because, although she hadn’t invited the vampire beyond her threshold, he entered her office anyway, closing the door behind him.

  “Don’t worry, good lady,” he said. “I’m not a vampire.”

  “Then why ask for admittance?”

  He shrugged. “Just being polite.”

  “No man is that polite anymore.”

  “I’m not like most men you know.” He smiled again.

  “Touche. Have a seat, mister…?” She let the question fall short, fishing for a name.

  “Joshua Bane.” He proffered a hand.

  “Mr. Bane. I’m Deetra Jones,” she said and stood to shake his hand. As he grasped her palm, she noticed the odd feel of his skin: smooth but taut, like silk stretched tightly across a bone frame, with neither the warmth of the living nor the chill of the dead.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jones,” he said. He lifted her hand to his lips, which were as lukewarm as his skin, but their contact left her burning all the same. She also got a familiar tingle from down below. She pushed away the rising warmth and nodded at him.

  “The feeling is mutual,” she said. “And it’s Miss Jones.”

  He cocked his head in surprise. “You mean some lucky man hasn’t lured you to the altar?”

  “Not yet.” She smiled at the idea. “And you can call me Dee.”

  “Why?” he asked, still clinging to her hand, “when Deetra is such a beautiful name, for such a beautiful woman.”

  Dee looked to the ceiling and huffed. She thought for a brief moment that he might be different, but no. He was just another pale jerk in a too-black suit. She pulled her hand away, sat, and asked, “Are you sure you’re not a vampire?”

  He smiled even more widely this time, and revealed his perfectly white but perfectly point-free teeth. The lack of fangs did little to kill her doubt, but his gorgeous smile did everything to stoke her fires. Vampire or not, there was no denying he was one handsome man. She locked her green eyes onto his and that warm tingle returned. A slow
burn that threatened to set her pants on fire.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Bane?” she asked. She returned her attention to the paperwork on her desk, and away from his deep brown eyes. And square jaw. And perfect smile. And kissable lips.

  “Please,” he said. “Call me Joshua.”

  “Okay, Joshua. What do you want?”

  Joshua cleared his throat. “I was told you would help out a man in my kind of situation.”

  Dee was pulled into the misery of his voice. She wanted to ask what had left him so pained. Who had hurt him so much? And what could she do to heal his ache? But instead she asked, “What kind of spell?”

  “I need to find someone. Someone I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

  Dee looked back up to him. Of course he was looking for someone. She should have known. “I don’t do location spells. I do hexes, curses, and bindings. I do blessings and cleansings. I do money spells and love spells and the occasional enlargement-of-certain-private-parts spells. But I don’t do locations.”

  “Don’t? Or won’t?”

  “Won’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Expense. Location magic isn’t cost effective for a small-timer like me. Unless you can front the eight hundred I’ll need in supplies.”

  He shook his head. “It’s really important that I find this person.”

  “It always is. Good luck finding her.” She returned to her work.

  Joshua’s jaw hung open for a moment before he spoke again. “How did you know I was looking for a woman?”

  Dee’s knowing smile answered for her.

  “This isn’t about making her love me,” he said. “We have unfinished business.”

  Dee lost her smile. “I don’t deal with assassins, Mr. Bane.”

  Joshua huffed in frustration as he sat on the bench and ran his hands through his dark hair. “It’s not like that either. I have a message to deliver to her. And I have to do it in person.” He rubbed his hands together. “I was told you specialized in helping people like me. He even said you even give special discounts.”