Loretta pulled the chain, and a dusty forty-watt bulb did its best to illuminate the diner's storeroom.
"It ain't much, boys, but it's the best in town. There's a Motel 6 a little ways up the road. ."
"This'll do."
Earl entered, carrying one end of a steamer trunk. Duke, bearing his own end, followed. The werewolf dropped his side and the trunk struck the floor with a faint crack, raising a cloud of dust.
"Damn it, Duke. How many times I gotta tell you to be careful with this?"
Loretta swung her meaty arms around to denote the storeroom's amenities. "Got yourself a sink right there and a cot here. And there's some blankets and a pillow on that shelf under the canned corned beef. The sink can make a racket and don't drink the water if it's dark brown. Light brown's okay."
She paused to rearrange the shelves.
"Now I only got one rule in this room: no eating. It's hard enough to keep rodents out of here without leaving crumbs. And what with the zombies and all, I'm having enough trouble keeping my license."
"No problem." Earl threw open the trunk and climbed inside. "You wanna hand me that pillow, Duke?"
"What's wrong with the one you got in there?"
"It's flat."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Just give me the pillow, you prick. It's bad enough I gotta sleep in this damn box without having to deal with your shit."
Duke hurled the smudged pillow into the trunk. "Take it already."
"Thanks, hairball."
"You're welcome, Bela."
"One more thing I better make perfectly clear," said Loretta. "I don't know what sort of heathen acts you boys perpetrate in your spare time. That's your business. But I won't have anything indecent under this roof. That means no fornicating, no drinking, no smoking, and if you've got any special needs that you think I'd better not know about. ." She focused on the vampire.". . take care of them elsewhere. We understand each other?"
"Yep." Earl shut his bed.
Morning came to Rockwood. Duke was nocturnal by nature. Loretta, as owner/operator of Gil's All Night Diner, slept days as well. But the former zombies (now just plain rotting corpses) weren't about to clean themselves up. Duke loaded the bodies onto Loretta's pickup while she swept up the broken glass.
"Why is it," she asked, "that not one damned zombie can figure out how to work a door? Even the stupidest danged fool can push."
Duke tossed the last corpse onto the bed as a brown police car pulled into the diner's unpaved parking lot. A tall, lean man stepped into the hard morning light.
"Morning, Sheriff."
He tipped his Stetson to her. "Loretta. I thought I saw buzzards. Had another incident last night, did'ja?"
"Yep. Sheriff, this is Duke. He'll be staying awhile to help me put in a new gas line. Duke, this is Sheriff Marshall Kopp. He's the law in this county."
Kopp chuckled. "She makes it sound more important than it is. We got good people in this county. All the trouble comes from passers-through. Didn't catch your last name there, pardner."
Duke wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hands. "Smith."
Kopp smiled skeptically. He stood tall as Duke, but his slender frame fell under the larger man's shadow. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked Duke square in the eye. "Well, Mr. Smith, you look like a decent, law-abiding fella. I don't think we'll have any problems."
"No, sir."
"Glad to hear it." He bent down to scoop up a zombie leg. "Phew! These things ripen real quick in this heat."
"Tell me about it," Loretta agreed. "You ain't going to report this, Marshall?"
He shrugged. "Don't see why I should. Just as long as you clean it up before the buzzards get hungry."
Two giant birds roosted on the diner's sign. Several more circled overhead, cawing impatiently.
"I'm taking them over to Red's right now."
"You do that. I don't suppose I could trouble you for something cold to drink?"
"Help yourself."
Sheriff Kopp grabbed a soda, got into his car, and disappeared down the long, dusty road. Duke and Loretta climbed into the truck and headed in the opposite direction. Duke passed the ride silently cataloguing the scenery. There wasn't much to see. Just a flat expanse of desert broken by cacti, tumbleweeds, fields of brown grass, and the occasional building. Rockwood had grown without a master plan, and it showed.
There were mobile homes and adobe constructions, ramshackle cabins and three-story manors. Some had white picket fences and concrete driveways. Others were surrounded by razor wire, with cows and chickens milling about in the front yard. The only common element was a lot of empty land between each. The citizens of Rockwood valued their personal space.
Finally, they pulled up alongside a wooden building. A sign over the door read RED'S TAXIDERMY AND MORTUARY.
A pair of pit bulls raged at their chains, announcing the truck's arrival. A wrinkled, old black man emerged from the cabin.
"Got another load for you, Red."
He glanced at the pile of bodies. "Whoo doggie, there's a lot this time."
"Nine of 'em," she confirmed.
"I'll get the wheelbarrow. Don't mind the girls, son. They're all bark. Just as long as you stay out of their reach."
Hands in his pockets, Duke stood inches from their snapping jaws.
It took three trips with the squeaky wheelbarrow to transfer the moldering body parts from the truck to the crematorium in the back of the building. When it was done, Loretta counted out a handful of bills.
"Usual rate?"
"Forty bucks a head."
"Damned things are costing me a fortune."
"I'm giving you the bulk discount," Red pointed out.
"I know, and I appreciate it. But every time this happens I end up shelling out a couple hundred for the disposal and glass repair. And business ain't exactly booming back at the diner. Sometimes I wonder if the Good Lord is testing me."
"It would explain a thing or two," Red agreed.
Duke squatted beside the slavering canines and stuck out his hand.
"Wouldn't do that," Red cautioned. "Less'n you want to lose a finger."
The dogs stopped, sniffed his hand, and began licking his palm. He scratched their muzzles and patted their necks.
"Damnedest thing I ever saw. Those bitches hate everyone. Even me. I gotta knock the spunk out of 'em with a stick when I feed 'em."
The dogs wriggled on the ground as Duke rubbed their bellies. "I got a way with animals."