Gil's All Fright Diner

by A. Lee Martinez

  She frowned. "Great. Just great."

  "Yeah. Sorry to be the one to tell you." He patted her shoulder in a halfhearted attempt at comforting. "So have you seen anything weird lately?"

  "You mean, besides the zombies? Well, I did notice something odd. See that hole over there. A corpse crawled out of there yesterday, but there's no grave there." She pointed out a few more places where zombies had popped up without first being buried.

  Earl considered the facts. Restless corpses might rise from their graves for a variety of reasons. Perhaps an ancient Indian curse or bad voodoo in the soil or any number of causes. But zombies did not spontaneously sprout like weeds. You had to have a corpse before you could have a zombie. It was the rules.

  Unless someone was using black magic. Not just the everyday evil eye kind of black magic either. Something far more sinister, far more powerful, and far more dangerous.

  This wasn't going to be as easy to fix as he had assumed.

  Cathy followed him back to the cemetery gates. "You're leaving already?"

  He tried to look into her eyes but couldn't do it. "I got some things I gotta take care of."

  "Oh. Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?"

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  She smiled. "I'll keep an eye out for anything unusual. You should see me tomorrow."

  "We'll see," he replied.

  He briskly jogged back to the diner. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

  The ghost waved from across the street.

  Earl waved back and ducked inside.

  Around nine o'clock, the diner received its first customers of the night. Four teenagers in a Volkswagen Beetle. They ordered the soup-and-salad special. While Loretta tossed their salad, Earl discussed the zombie problem with her.

  "The way I see it, the problem can't just be with the cemetery like I first thought. See, your average zombie ain't all that bright. They just sort of wander about without someone telling them what to do. Now, so far, all these zombies have done is come into your place and hassle you. There ain't been any attacks on anyplace else?"

  "Yeah, but mine is the closest," she reasoned.

  "That's what I figured at first. Just a matter of location, but a'hundred-and-eighty-one zombies picking out this place just 'cuz it's the closest place don't add up when you think about it. That's just too many not to have a couple wander off some other direction. 'Less they're being directed."

  Loretta sprinkled croutons on the wilted lettuce. "So somebody's doing this on purpose?"

  "Maybe. 'Course, just because they're drawn to the diner that don't necessarily mean someone's telling 'em to. Just means there's some force behind it. It might not be a person at all."

  She balanced the tray on one wide fat palm. "What else could it be?"

  "Could be lots of things. Disembodied malevolent force like an angry spirit or an earthbound demon. Or the place might be a zombie magnet."

  Scowling, she left the kitchen to serve her customers. She returned, scowling still.

  "So what can I do about it? Should I get the preacher to exorcise the diner?"

  "Couldn't hurt, but I don't think that'll change anything. Whatever you're dealing with is a lot more persistent than I'm used to seeing, what with it being able to conjure up zombies from scratch. Has anything strange ever happened before the corpse trouble?"

  "Lotta strange things happen in Rockwood," she replied. "You'll have to be more specific. Strange like what?"

  "I don't know. Anything involving the diner or the cemetery that don't seem right."

  She slapped her flabby arms across her chest. "Gil Wilson, the last owner of the place, up and disappeared about five years back. Sheriff investigated and didn't find anything odd. Everyone pretty much assumed ol' Gil just got himself an impulse to wander and took off. He was a pretty odd fella. Never quite fit in.

  "Anyway, the diner sat abandoned for three years. Finally, Marshall let me fix it up. It's still Gil's place technically, but nobody thinks he's coming back. Do you think his vanishing has sum thin' to do with all this?"

  "Wouldn't rule it out just yet."

  "And there's that splotch on the floor never goes away."

  "It's blood," said Earl.

  "Hell's bells, I already knew that. Can't clean up as much blood as I have without learning to spot it. Every time I get rid of it, it comes right back. Don't really know if it's related to all this, but it's a damn nuisance, just the same." She scratched her chins. "Can't think of nuthin' else right now. If you think it might help, I could ask around."

  "Couldn't hurt."

  Loretta left to check on her customers again. The storeroom door opened, and Duke emerged, his clothes wrinkled and his hair matted. He yawned, scratching his gut in the large region between his bellybutton and crotch.

  "Evening, Duke."

  Duke grunted. It was the closest he could come to conversation so soon after getting up. Grimacing, eyes half open, he fumbled noisily around the kitchen, slapping together a lopsided assemblage of bread, Spam, Swiss cheese, mayonnaise, and lettuce. He crammed it clumsily in his jaws and bit off a mouthful.

  "Did you check out the cemetery?" he asked, wiping crumbs from his chin.

  Earl nodded.

  Duke popped open a Coke and took a long draught. He smacked his lips and took another bite.

  "And?"

  "I'm handling it, Duke."

  "You talk to the guardian?"

  Earl tossed Duke an annoyed glance. " 'Course I talked to the guardian."

  "And?"

  "And I'm handling it, you dipshit."

  The kitchen door swung open. Loretta entered with two teenagers in tow. The boy was tall, athletic, with sandy blonde hair. The girl was a petite Asian in short shorts and a blue tank top.

  Loretta performed quick introductions. "Boys, this is Chad and Tammy. These are the boys. They'll be helping me around the diner for a while."

  Earl nodded in the teenagers' direction.

  Duke packed the rest of his sandwich into his right cheek. Chewing, he took another drink of his soda before handing the half-empty bottle to Earl.

  "I'm going back to bed."

  "Nice meeting you," Tammy remarked as he shuffled back to the storeroom.

  Duke murmured a reply as he departed.

  Loretta dropped two hamburger patties on the grill. "Usuals, kids?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Chad answered.

  Tammy leaned against the counter. She stretched her arms over her head. Her tank top rose to reveal the lower curves of her bra.

  Earl discreetly glanced at the ceiling.

  "How long you planning on staying, sir?" She flashed a wicked grin. "If you don't mind me asking?"

  "Couple of days."

  She tossed her long black hair with her hands. Several strands fell across her shoulder. She sucked in a soft breath too light to be heard by mortal ears.

  Earl's heart thudded in his chest. Or it would've had it ever thudded anymore. He felt the connection. Vampires had a supernatural sense to the carnal desires of humanity. She was attracted to him. Or, rather, the vampire in him. Not everyone could feel it. But when someone did, they couldn't help but be drawn to him. Guys wanted to be his best friend. Women wanted to jump his bones. Not that they ever really knew why. The attraction was almost always subconscious.

  Tammy leaned over, giving him a good view of her cleavage. She traced her hands slowly up and down her tight, superbly proportioned thigh.

  Earl was suddenly greatly appreciative of his loose overalls.

  "I'll be eighteen in three months," Tammy threw out without prompting.

  The comment hung awkwardly in the air alongside the stench of burning grease. Chad moved behind Tammy and looped his arms around her waist. Neither kid took their eyes off Earl.

  The vampire smiled politely and nodded.

  On the list of undead problems, he'd discovered the jailbait syndrome to be among the most bothersome. For whatever unfathomable reason, teenage girls wer
e most prone to perceiving his undead nature. They were also the least capable of controlling their flood of raging hormones. The burden of self-control rested squarely on his shoulders. Most of the time, awkward teenage flirting made it easy to handle. Zits and braces didn't hurt either.

  Tammy put a finger to her ruby lips and smiled.

  There were exceptions.

  Loretta came to his rescue. "Why don't you kids wait outside. This shouldn't take long."

  "Sure, Miss Vernon," Chad replied, only too eager to drag his girlfriend from Earl's presence.

  Against his will, Earl couldn't help but notice Tammy's perfectly round soon-to-be-eighteen butt. Her shapely calf was the last thing to disappear. Loretta cleared her throat in a manner that was equal parts disapproving and menacing. Earl decided it was a good time to retreat to the storeroom.

  Chad wrapped his arms tightly around Tammy. His squirming tongue probed her ear.

  "Quit it, dumbass." She shoved her elbow into his side, and he pulled away. "Go to the other side."

  "But, baby—"

  She glared, and he gave in, sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

  "I don't get it. Why would you want some skinny old guy when you could have this?" He flexed his overdeveloped biceps.

  "He's a vampire," she sighed.

  Entranced by the sight of his own impressive physique, Chad was only half-listening. "Who? The fat guy?"

  "No, the skinny guy," she corrected. "The fat guy's a werewolf."

  "How can you tell?"

  She considered explaining to him that, as a little girl, she'd discovered she possessed The Sight, the ability to see the supernatural world. The world most people spent their lives denying. Most people wouldn't notice Earl's lack of shadow or Duke's scarred palm. But they were obvious signs to someone who knew to look.

  "Hey, baby," he asked, "is my right arm smaller than my left?"

  "I don't know."

  "I think it is." He glanced from arm to arm. "Goddamn it! I'll be right back, babe. I gotta go to the bathroom and check this out."

  He got up and walked away, flapping his arms like a muscle-bound turkey. One day, Tammy consoled herself, she would have a better class of follower. In the meantime, he would have to do. Although, when the time finally came, she was greatly looking forward to sacrificing Chad to her gods. The thought of him strapped to an altar, begging for mercy, amused her for several satisfying minutes.

  He returned, grinning like an idiot. "False alarm, babe."

  She squinted at his arms. "Are you sure?"

  A frown replaced his grin, and he stalked off to the bathroom once again.

  Tammy chortled.

  Her thoughts turned to the vampire and the werewolf. Their appearance was more than mere coincidence. Had the diner drawn them here? And if so, did they know its secret? And if they did, were they here to usurp her destiny? She'd worked too hard to allow a couple of outsiders to stop her now.

  She would send down all the dark powers at her disposal to deal with these interlopers, if necessary. A mortal sacrifice was good. But a supernatural offering often bore more weight with the old gods. And two offerings were all the better. If it came down to that, she'd still sacrifice Chad, too. The old gods were always happy to snap up another soul. Even a soul as shallow and utterly worthless as his.

  Besides, what was the point in ushering in a glorious new age if you couldn't have a little fun, too.

  Morning approached, and Earl retired to his steamer as Duke reluctantly rose for another day's work. Earl fluffed up his pillow while Duke stretched the kinks out of his shoulders. Being men, their brief conversation turned to an inevitable subject: Tammy.

  "She wanted me," Earl remarked. "Poor girl could barely hold herself back."

  "Vampire thing?" Duke asked.

  Earl glowered. "You saying a hot, young woman couldn't find me attractive if I weren't undead? You always gotta be knocking me down. I tell you what. I got laid plenty when I was still alive."

  "Cousins don't count, Earl."

  The vampire tossed his pillow in the trunk. "Up yours."

  Duke chuckled. "Jeez, you can be such a sensitive puss. I was just funnin' you, Earl."

  "Yeah, well those kind'a jokes ain't funny. Every time you make 'era, you're reinforcing negative stereotypes. It's the sign of a reactive mind, y'know. People like you are the reason prejudice is still a problem."

  "Give me a break, Earl."

  "No. Really." Earl stepped into his trunk but didn't sit down. "You may think it's all harmless, just a little joke, but people like you are the foundation of intolerance. Without you, the dangerous bigots couldn't exist."

  Duke closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd heard this particular speech many times before. It was a hazard that came with an "enlightened" traveling companion.

  "Okay. I'm sorry."

  "I use'ta make jokes like that. I use'ta think they were harmless. But then I learned that they're products of a reactive mind."

  "Alright, Earl. I got it. I got it. No more jokes. I'll just be a boring, preachy bastard all the Goddamn time."

  "You just don't get it, do you?" Earl sighed.

  "Guess not."

  The vampire sat in his trunk and redirected the conversation back to its original topic. "She had a helluva ass."

  "I didn't notice."

  "You'd have to be blind not to notice."

  Duke half-smiled. "Yeah. Guess so."

  "Nice tits, too."

  "Perfect legs."

  "And those lips."

  "Good neck," Duke added.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "Nuthin'. Just thought she had a good neck."

  "Damn it. There you go again. Just 'cuz I'm a vampire you think I've got me a neck fetish. I'll take a good set of hooters over a great neck any day. I expect that sort'a stereotype from mortals, but you should know better, Duke. You've been watching too many movies. I mean, I like to eat, and I like getting laid. Just because I am what I am, that doesn't mean I like doing both at the same time." He screwed up his face in a queasy glower. "Just the thought makes me sick. Probably get a cramp or sumthin'."

  Duke stomped over to the trunk, shoved Earl's head down, and slammed the lid shut.

  "Go to sleep, Earl."

  Duke had a quick cup of coffee to wake himself up, eager to get to work before the rising sun could bring the desert to a simmer. He also wanted to avoid the midday hours. Werewolves were at their weakest, almost human, around noon. Even almost human, Duke was a formidable mountain of strength and endurance, but there wasn't much sense in making the job harder than need be.

  He sipped his breakfast, studying his work so far. The ditch stretched twenty-five feet from the back of the diner's kitchen. There were twenty more feet to the propane tank. He could have dug the whole trench in one day, but he wasn't in a hurry. Earl would take a while to solve the zombie situation. He had plenty of time. He put aside his mug and picked up a rusty shovel.

  A couple of hours later, Loretta appeared fresh from her morning nap. Her hair was pinned back in a sloppy bun. She wore jeans barely able to contain the voluminous mass of her hips, thighs, and butt. A flannel shirt, tied at her midriff, exposed her jiggling belly. The three top buttons were undone, allowing a healthy glimpse of her giant breasts. She carried a pitcher of lemonade in one hand, two glasses in the other, and a vaguely suggestive smile on lips thickly coated with bright red lipstick.

  Duke put aside his shovel, wiped the sweat from his shirtless chest, and joined her in the shade offered by the diner.

  "That's some good work there, Duke." She poured a tall glass and offered it to him.

  "Thanks." He took a long drink. He didn't care all that much for lemonade, but he was thirsty enough not to care. "Almost ready to lay the pipe."

  She nodded slowly. Her hair sagged further to the right.

  He finished off his drink and crunched the ice.

  Loretta fished a cube out of
her glass. "Hotter than Hades today, ain't it?" She rubbed the ice across her double chin. Droplets ran down her thick neck.

  "I've seen hotter."

  "I just bet you have," she replied, batting her blue mascara eyelids.

  Duke knew where this was heading, and it wasn't someplace he was real interested in going.

  "My mamma always used'ta say that days like these were made for sinnin'." She ran the nearly melted cube across her bosoms. It slipped from her fingers and disappeared in the chasm between her immense breasts. "Damn it." She sent her hand in after it. While she fidgeted and shook in search of the lost ice cube, her left bosom came dangerously close to falling out of her shirt. Finally, when spillage seemed almost certain, the cube slid down her belly and landed in the dirt, where it melted instantly. She flashed an embarrassed grin before politely turning around to adjust her uneven breasts. She undid her bun and shook it out. Her chubby chins and the folds of her neck slapped together noisily. Her frazzled, blonde hair spread around her face like a pyramid of dried hay pinned to her head.

  "It's been a while since the Good Lord has seen fit to bless me with a man to help around this place."

  He avoided looking her in the eyes and instead focused on the dimple of a belly button in her rolling gut. He realized that might give her the wrong impression and glanced to the trench instead.

  "You seem to be doing fine."

  "I get by." She put her hands on her hips and stepped a little closer. "But there are some jobs only a man can handle."

  Their eyes met. He may have been a werewolf, but she was the predator. Loretta wasn't an attractive woman, but she wasn't wholly repulsive. Underneath those many layers of flesh seemed a perfectly nice woman, and on several occasions, when he was drunk enough and horny enough, he'd accepted much worse offers. But he was stone sober today and only a little horny.

  It seemed a raw deal. Earl got all the babes. Duke was lucky if he landed a two-hundred-pounder.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "You've worked up a good sweat here, haven't you? A man shouldn't be out in this kind of heat. I'd feel terrible if anything happened to you. Why don't you come inside for a while?"

  Under the pretense of pouring himself another glass of lemonade, he delicately slid away. "Thanks, but I really want to finish the trench."