Awerewolf's wounds healed according to when they were received. Once, Duke's chest had been blown open by a point-blank shotgun blast, but the damage had been done after dark during a full moon. He'd simply dusted himself off and gotten on with his evening. But his fingers had been bitten off around noon during the cycle of the new moon, and the digits were taking their sweet time in growing back.
He wiggled the knuckle-and-a-half that had regenerated so far. The loss forced him to eat his dinner with his off hand, which wasn't all that difficult, but still annoying, nonetheless.
Yawning, Earl emerged from the kitchen.
" 'Bout time you got yer ass up," Duke said between bites of chili.
The vampire fumbled around in his overalls' deep pockets and produced a comb. He took a seat on the stool beside Duke and ran the teeth through his thin hair. He combed it one way. Then another. Then another. Finally ending up with a laughable combover gracing his clearly bald head. Duke cut Earl a break. It may have been a ridiculous attempt, but at least Earl couldn't check himself in a mirror to realize how stupid it looked. Earl yawned again.
"You're teeth are out," Duke informed.
The vampire ran his tongue across his teeth and felt the bump of his extended fangs.
"Shit."
He turned away and grumbled at the undead bloodsucker's version of the embarrassing morning boner. Actually, vampires still got those as well, though not usually at the same time.
"C'mon. C'mon. That's it." Fangs retracted, he turned back. "Thanks. So you wanna tell me what happened to your fingers."
"Zombie cow."
"Longhorn?"
"Jersey."
Earl winced. "That's gotta be embarrassing. I mean, a big, badass werewolf like yourself gettin' his ass kicked by Bossie the milk cow."
"Funny."
"Or was it Bessie?"
Duke cracked his knuckles one at a time. Earl knew that to be a sign of dangerous annoyance but couldn't stop himself.
He snapped his fingers. "I got it. It had to be a Clarabell. Am I right?"
Duke's arm moved in a blur. Earl felt the sting of the spoon imbedded in his gut before he actually saw it.
"Damn it, Duke. This is my favorite shirt, you humorless prick."
He grabbed the two inches of handle sticking out and tugged with little effect. He summoned a portion of his undead strength and pulled harder. The utensil held tight, and he was reluctant to call upon more supernatural muscle for fear of accidentally tearing a bigger hole in his shirt.
A few ounces of vampire blood, dull red and thick as molasses, oozed from the wound. Earl grabbed a napkin and wiped it away.
His side began to tingle ever so slightly.
"Goddamn! That chili didn't have garlic in it, did it?"
"Just a touch," Duke replied.
The tingle grew into a light burning twinge.
Earl clutched his side and danced around in a panicky circle. "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" The vampire hopped from foot to foot. He grimaced.
Duke grabbed Earl by the shoulder and threw him against the counter. "Quit your twitchin'."
"Be careful. It's my favorite shirt."
The werewolf extracted the spoon with a twist of his wrist. A loud rip echoed through the diner as the overalls tore. Duke tossed the utensil on the counter.
"I licked the spoon, you puss."
Earl put his finger through the tear in his clothes. "You didn't have to do that. I loved this shirt. It makes my shoulders look wider."
"Maybe next time you'll keep your mouth shut."
"You gotta admit. It's pretty funny."
"I could've been killed. Maybe."
"That's what makes it so funny."
Duke picked up the spoon and tapped it against the bowl.
"Alright already. Damn, you lose a couple of fingers and your sense of humor with 'em. Not that you had much to begin with."
They took their seats back at the counter.
"Cows huh? How many?"
"Six."
Earl whistled. "That ain't good."
"And I don't think they were dead when they turned. They were too fresh. Whatever got into 'em, it got 'em when they were still alive."
"You don't think it's contagious, do you?"
"We burned the carcasses just to be safe, but Loretta has been burning her zombies. So that doesn't appear to be stopping it."
"Hell."
Both men knew what to expect if this continued to spread unchecked. Especially if it didn't limit itself to things already dead. Earl, being neither alive nor dead, and Duke, possessing unnatural powers of regeneration, were safely immune to zombiefication. The ordinary citizens of Rockwood were not.
"Maybe we should just move on," Earl suggested, "before things get. . messy."
"Yep. Maybe we should."
Both knew they wouldn't. Whatever evil might be at work, only they stood a chance of stopping it. If they left now the good folks of Rockwood would surely be doomed. If not to transformation into a town of shambling zombies, then to ammunition shortages and plunging property values. Duke and Earl just couldn't do it.
Their gas tank was nearly empty, and they were flat broke.
"Guess it's time to call Hector."
Duke nodded. "Couldn't hurt."
Earl asked to use Loretta's phone. She quickly agreed when he explained it should help resolve the situation. The vampire took a seat by the phone with a notepad.
"Who's he calling?"
"Just this guy we know in El Paso," Duke replied. "He's a warlock."
"Metaphysical scholar," Earl corrected.
"Whatever. He knows all about this kind of stuff."
"That so? Then why didn't you call him before?"
"Didn't realize the seriousness of the situation."
"Don't worry about a thing. I'm sure once I explain things to Hec, he'll — Hey, Hec. It's Earl. We got a big walking corpse problem, and we were hoping maybe you could help us out."
While Earl carried out his thorough phone consultation, Loretta gave the floor a cursory mopping, and, having nothing better to do, Duke lent a hand. They worked in awkward silence broken only by the slap of brown mops against tile and Earl's half-conversation. Finally, much as Duke tried to avoid it, both wound up wringing out their mops at the same time.
Loretta wrung first. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable about this morning. If anyone should be embarrassed about that, it's me." She chuckled. "I came on a little strong. Hell, I was worse than a two-dollar whore."
"Wasn't that bad," Duke replied.
"Yes, it was. The point is, I've got needs, but that don't give me any right to force them on you. I understand if a handsome young fella like yourself doesn't want to have anything to do with a woman of my. . proportions."
An uncomfortable grunt rose from Duke's throat. "It ain't that."
"Now, now, I'm a grown woman. You don't gotta worry about hurting my feelings."
He dipped his mop in the bucket. She was right, of course. Somewhat. But there was more to it than that.
"Look. It ain't about that. You're a good woman, Loretta. And I'm, well, I am what I am."
She leaned closer and whispered. "You mean, you can't. . perform?"
Duke recoiled. " 'Course I can perform. Pretty damn well, too. It's just my. . uh. . condition."
"Does that make it dangerous when you. .?"
"Yes. Yeah, see when I get too excited. . things can get. . risky."
It was an outright lie. He didn't transform against his will. His monstrous form was all rage and fury, designed to stalk and kill. It had nothing at all to do with carnal relations, but lying to her seemed the easiest way to get himself out of an uncomfortable situation.
"That's alright, Duke. I understand. It's no big thing." She scowled at the eternal red splotch. It always came off easy enough but never took five minutes to return.
"Thanks, Hector," Earl said. "I'll look into it and call you back." He hung up the phone.
"Well?" Loretta asked.
"He had some ideas, but I have to check some stuff out before we can be sure." He tucked the notebook under his arm and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a little while. And, oh yeah, Duke. Hec said getting eaten alive definitely would'a killed you."
"Thanks for askin'."
"No problem."
Earl considered grabbing a quick snack before going to the cemetery, but a vampire could go a while between meals. He wasn't hungry enough for cow's blood tonight.
Cathy the ghost was waiting in the graveyard as he knew she would be. The cemetery guardian had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do but wait. She was sitting on her plot, looking bored. A wide grin spread across her face when she noticed him. She jumped to her feet and waved vigorously.
"Hey! You came back!"
Earl nodded while flipping through his notes.
"I wasn't sure you would."
"Just checking things out."
She glanced over his shoulder. "Cool. What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."
"Thanks, but I can handle it."
Hector had suggested checking the easternmost tree first. The graveyard didn't have trees, only cacti, but Earl guessed that to be close enough. He knelt down and started digging.
"Is this still about the zombies?" Cathy asked.
"Yeah."
"What are you hoping to find?"
"Mojo bag."
"What's that?"
"It's kind'a hard to explain."
"Oh."
For a blessed few seconds, she stopped pestering him. Of course, her just being there was unsettling enough.
The ghost knelt beside him. "Can I ask you something?"
Earl sighed. "Yeah."
"What's it like being a vampire?"
He shrugged. "It's really not much different than being human."
"Oh."
She sounded disappointed. The reaction was typical. Most people expected more, but the truth was, with the exception of a few lifestyle changes, his existence hadn't changed much since joining the ranks of the undead.
"Are you really immortal?"
"I don't age."
"And what about mirrors? That's not true, is it?"
"It's true."
"Wow. So you can't see your reflection?"
"I can see my clothes. I just can't see me. It's sort of like the invisible man, 'cept only in mirrors."
She grinned. "Cool. Um, can I ask you something else?"
He stopped digging. "Yes, garlic bothers me. Yes, sunlight can kill me. No, crosses and holy water don't do jack shit. At least not to me. Yes, I can cross running water. No, a stake in the heart doesn't kill me, but it does keep me from moving around. Yes, having my head cut off or being roasted can kill me. Yes, I sleep during the day. Yes, I drink blood. No, I can enter without being invited. And yes, I can mesmerize people, though not very well. Does that cover it?"
"Uh. . yeah, I guess. I'm sorry. Am I bothering you?"
She certainly was, but much as he wanted to tell her to go away, he couldn't bring himself to. He had no idea how long she'd been here, how many years she'd been condemned to watch over this forsaken lot of dirt with only the dead to keep her company. And now, not even that. One way or another, he'd be leaving Rockwood soon, and Cathy would be alone again for a long stretch of eternity.
"Sorry. I'm just in a bad mood 'cuz I got stabbed earlier." The wound had already closed, but a twinge rippled through his side still, thanks to the traces of garlic on the spoon. "Go ahead. Ask me anything you want."
"So crosses don't really affect you?"
"Not me personally. I've met some others that were bothered by 'em, but I'm an atheist." He checked his hole in the dirt. "Guess it's not here."
"Why do you think it would be there?"
"It's gotta be the easternmost cactus."
"This isn't the easternmost cactus. It's that one over there."
Earl squinted where she pointed. He could've sworn this was east, but then again, his sense of direction had always been unreliable at best.
"Thanks."
Buried about a foot deep beside the real easternmost cactus, he found what he was looking for. It was a cheap purse filled with strange and exotic items. The bag was a black-magic fetish, the channel through which dark powers entered the cemetery. Now that it was dug up, there would be no more zombies coming from this particular graveyard.
"Oh that," Cathy said.
"You knew about this?"
"Sure. I saw the guy who buried it."
"What'd he look like?"
"I don't remember exactly. I was sitting by my grave at the time, and I didn't bother getting up to get a closer look. I think he was a kid. Maybe sixteen, seventeen years old."
"How long ago did he bury it?"
"A while. I don't know exactly. I've sort of lost my sense of time."
It was understandable. Ghosts were timeless beings.
"See you later."
"You're going. Already?"
"I found what I was looking for." He rattled the purse.
"Can't you stay just a little while longer?"
"I really shouldn't. I got stuff to do."
"Oh. Okay. Well, can I ask one last favor before you go? Can I touch you? I haven't touched anyone in years. Just a handshake."
He held out his hand.
Carefully, almost reverently, she put her hand in his and squeezed softly. Her ectoplasmic flesh felt cool to the touch. Earl didn't find it as repulsive as he normally did. He allowed the contact to linger for a few moments longer than he would have liked before finally slipping free.
"You know, it's been so long since I've done that, I'd forgotten what it felt like."
"Well, like I said, I got stuff to do."
"Will I see you again?"
"Yeah. How 'bout tomorrow night?" His reply surprised him.
Eyes wide, she beamed. "Really?"
He grinned back. "Yeah. Sure."
"That's great!" She leapt on him, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Earl didn't push her away. Nor did the urge even strike him.
She let go. Her cheeks paled in a ghostly blush. "So I'll see you tomorrow then."
He couldn't look her in the eye. He glanced at his shuffling feet instead.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
Earl didn't know why he'd made the promise. Even more unexplainable, he didn't know why he planned on keeping it.