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."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah. If I get this done today, I can do all the pipe laying tomorrow. That way, you won't lose any business over it."
She sighed. "Well, it's your call, but if you change your mind, if it gets too hot for you, I'll be inside." Loretta redid her bun and returned to the diner.
Duke took measure of her quivering rear end. A six pack or two and the offer might start looking good. He swore off beer for a while.
A half-hour later, the diner's back door opened again. This time Red from Red's Taxidermy and Mortuary and a thin, older guy in jeans walked through it.
"Howdy, Duke." Red extended his hand. "Don't know if you remember me or not. ."
Duke took Red's withered hand in a firm, but not too firm, shake. "Sure."
"This here is Walter Hastings."
Walter tipped his baseball cap. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Walter's been having some trouble with his cows, and I was just telling him about that trick you did with my dogs. How they're all nice and friendly now."
"I can make 'em mean again for you."
"No, that's alright. I like 'em better this way. But like I was saying, Walter's been having trouble with his cows, and I mentioned to him about your way with dogs. And he was wondering if maybe you had a way with cows, too?"
"You tried a vet?"
"Walter here don't trust vets. He thinks they're part of the. . uh. . what's that you're always saying there, Walt?"
"Inflated and excessive medical establishment."
"I guess I can take a look." Duke checked the burning sun hanging directly overhead. "I was about to take a break anyway."
"I surely would appreciate it. I'll pay you for your time. Say, twenty bucks?"
Duke stuck his shovel in the dirt. "Let's go."
Rather than squeeze in the cab of the pickup, he sat in the back along with Walter's dog, Betty. The mutt was a mix of two dozen breeds with notable traces of collie, Doberman, and, judging from her size, Saint Bernard. She laid her head on his lap, and Duke scratched behind her ears.
"Told'ja he had a way with animals," Red said.
The truck bounced down the road, pulling off after a few miles. The vehicle cut across Walter's land to a small herd of six thin cows. They were mostly skin and bones, their ribs showing through their sagging flesh and their deflated udders hanging limply. One lifted her head from the dry brush she was chewing to check out the approaching truck. She resumed grazing.
"So what exactly is the problem?" Duke asked as he hopped off the truck to take a look.
"Well, they aren't sick, and they're not eating any less, near as I can determine. They're just losing weight, and they stopped giving milk."
"Anything else?"
"They seem kind'a stupid." Walter pointed out a large Jersey. "Melinda here use'ta be smart as a whip. For a cow. Now she's just got this — I don't know — empty look in her eyes. Like she don't even know me."
Duke circled Melinda twice. He ran his hand along her bumpy spine and checked her tongue and teeth. He patted the cow's thin neck. Melinda snorted dryly and stirred.
"I think I see your problem here."
"Nuthin' serious, I hope."
Duke pulled his pocket knife. " 'Fraid so. What you got here is six dead cows." He stuck the blade deep into Melinda's side between her ribs. The cow didn't seem to mind. He pulled out the knife and stuck his finger in the wound. "Yep. No blood, see? It's all dried up."
Walter and Red stepped in for a closer look.
"Son of a bitch," Red remarked.
Walter pulled off his cap and scratched his tangled gray hair. "Sweet Jesus, I ain't never seen nuthin' like that. So what are we talking about here? These cows are like zombies or sumthin'?"
Duke nodded. "Yep."
"Hell. I knew Loretta was having problems, but I didn't think cows could become zombies. How's sumthin' like that happen?"
"Couldn't say, but the whole lot will have to be put down. Right now they're still eating grass, but they'll be craving flesh soon."
"But they're dead. How do you kill them?"
"Bullet in the head should work, same as any zombie."
"The whole herd?"
"Sorry."
Walter patted Melinda between her eyes. "I'm gonna miss you, old girl. I got a thirty-eight in the glove box."
"That'll do."
"Uh. . how long do we got before they get hungry?" Red asked.
"Not long, I'll bet," Duke replied.
"How about now?"
The other men saw that the herd had surrounded them unnoticed. The cowbells should've warned them, but none had been paying close enough attention.
"Damn," Duke swore under his breath. This sort of thing would happen now.
While the sun was up he was stuck in his man form. One almost human werewolf and two unarmed geezers weren't much of a match for six walking dead Jerseys.
Melinda raised her head and uttered a low, haunting howl. The rest of the herd joined her in a bloodcurdling moan that seemed to bubble up from the sulfurous pit of Hell itself.
"Mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oo."
Eyes full of unnatural hunger, loose lips smacking, the herd closed in. The clang of cowbells marked their otherwise silent advance.
The pickup was only twenty feet away, but the herd stood between the men and the truck. Duke scooped up a large rock with a pointed end. He guessed it a fair implement for smashing in a cow's skull. His best choice at the moment.
The cows licked their lips and nostrils with purple, flaking tongues.
He raised the rock over his head and charged a white-and-brown Jersey. He swung the stone with all his weight and muscle behind it. It struck with a deafening crack, tearing away fur and skin, exposing the broken skull beneath. The cow lurched clumsily to one side. Grunting, Duke struck again. The cow bawled out a muted cry as her brainpan caved in. Duke glimpsed the brains beneath. Calling on what little supernatural strength he had, he unleashed a third blow. Bone shattered beneath stone, and the hit crushed the zombie's brains. The cow fell over in a twitching heap. She took his rock with her, firmly lodged in her skull.
But he didn't need it anymore. There was a hole in the herd's line. The truck (and its glove box) was an easy dash away.
Melinda charged from his right. Her fierce head butt to his hip knocked him flat on his ass. His vision blurred, he could barely see the hooves flailing at his face. He jerked clumsily out of the way, narrowly avoiding a braining.
Walter made a run for it. He zipped past two snapping zombies, but a third slammed him. He tumbled over the cow carcass. A Jersey bit a chunk out of his leg. His face twisted as he spit out a muffled groan.
Zombies nipped at Red's arms. They ripped his sleeves but didn't draw blood.
Melinda's slavering jaws dangled over Duke's face. He launched a punch at her nose. It landed in her mouth. She bit off his index and middle fingers. Blood dripped from her sagging lips as she casually chewed.
It hurt like hell, but the fingers would grow back. If he survived this ordeal. Werewolves could die by only specific circumstances: silver, fire, decapitation, some types of magic, and certain varieties of supernatural creatures. Getting eaten alive might make the list as well. He had never bothered to check.
Melinda swallowed with a satisfied slurp.
Betty leapt from the truck's bed. The dog fearlessly sprang upon the cow, sinking her teeth into Melinda's tender flank. A human zombie would've ignored the dog, but the freshly dead cows still retained a hint of bovine instinct. Melinda kicked Betty away. Betty spat out the shreds of skin and muscle. She bared her teeth, frothing at the mouth, and barking ferociously. The confused Jerseys backed away.
Duke and Red helped Walter to his feet. Duke practically hoisted Walt's wiry frame under one arm, and they ran to the truck. Walt and Red climbed into the cab. Duke hopped onto the bed. Walter jammed his key in the ignition. Red opened the glove box and found the revolver and a box of ammo. The bullets spilled onto the floor and across the seat. He grabbed up a handful and shoved them into the cylinder.
The cows' unnatural appetite overwhelmed their fear. Betty nipped at Melinda's ankles. A grazing kick glanced off her muzzle, sending her sprawling.
Walt started the truck and mashed the accelerator. The pickup peeled away, raising a cloud of dust.
Duke whistled. Betty jumped to her wobbly legs and dashed after the truck. Walt slowed down just enough to allow her to jump into the bed.
The zombies gave chase but quickly fell behind. Walter watched them become small dots in his rearview mirror before stopping.
"What the hell are you doing?" Red asked.
Walter took the thirty-eight and got out of the truck. He limped over to the tailgate and had a seat as the herd drew closer. He gave Duke his handkerchief.
"Sorry about your fingers there, son."
Duke wrapped his bloody hand. A red stain spread across the white cloth. "Ain't as bad as it looks."
Mooing, the ravenous zombies were almost within picking off range.
"They really were a good bunch of girls."
"I'd do it for you, but I'm left-handed."
Walt raised his revolver in two steady hands. "S'alright. I should do it. I owe 'em that much."
He squeezed off one well-aimed shot. The bullet punched a bloodless wound between a Jersey's eyes. It fell over. With single-minded determination, the rest of the herd trotted forward. Frowning, Walt put down the rest of the Jerseys. Five cows in five shots. The last zombie collapsed just six steps from her goal. Betty jumped from the bed and cautiously sniffed the corpses convulsing in the dirt.
"Is that normal?"
"Pretty much. How's your leg?"
Walter shrugged. "I've had worse. I ain't going to turn into a zombie, am I?"
"Doesn't work that way, usually, but if you wanna play it safe eat a lot of salt the next couple of days. That should clean out your system just fine."
"Don't you think we ought to get you fellas patched up?" Red shouted from the cab.
Walter dug a worn twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and threw in another twenty bucks for Duke's lost fingers. He climbed into the driver's seat.
"Betty, get your butt in gear!"
The dog snarled at one dead cow, barked at another, and ran back to the truck.