No Zombies Allowed, Page 2

  "I guess you didn't think to look under the box of moldy pizza." Grim's mother picked up a jar of dried fruit, then wrinkled her nose in disgust, her stomach turning as she realized what she had first mistaken to be grapes, were actually dried up eyeballs her son had preserved for some reason. She dropped the jar back where she had found it.

  "This guy, he's not touched in the head is he? He does understand he should be running from me, not knocking on my door?" Grim was looking at his foot, trying to pick something out from between his toes. Glancing up at his mother, he scratched his head with the same finger he'd been digging between his toes with.

  "He didn't knock on your door, he knocked on mine."

  "Oh for Pete's sake, mom, for the last time, I pay you rent. That makes it my door too!" Grim was tired of the same old argument. He knew he should have tried to find a place of his own, but once you told a potential landlord your name was Death, they didn't exactly jump for joy at the prospect of renting to you.

  " You pay me rent ? A few heads and lost souls every month is not rent. The neighbors are talking. Apparently severed heads on the lawn is only approved for Halloween. Halloween's over with. What am I supposed to do with them now?"

  "I don't know, boil them? Invite the cannibals down the road over for dinner. I think the one with the bone in his nose has a thing for you." Grim wiggled his eyebrows playfully at his mother. Spying the jar of eyeballs she had discarded, Grim picked it up, took the lid off and popped an eye into his mouth.

  "Yeah, he has a thing for me, Death's mom." She shook her head in disbelief. "No one wants to touch me, for fear you will touch them."

  "That's right; blame me, not the mess of snakes growing out of your head, not to mention that stony stare of yours." Grim gave his mother a cold look. "You know, you have your own reputation, you don't need mine to hold you back."

  "Your father never complained."

  "How could he? You turned him to stone!"

  Medusa gave her son a stony glare. "Look, I'm sending him down. Throw something on, unless you want it known that Death sits around playing Dungeons and Dragons in his underwear."

  "These were a gift from Aphrodite." Grim said the name of the Greek goddess slowly, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue.

  "Well, that explains the hearts, although I would have figured her for a briefs kind of a girl."

  "Just hand me my cloak. Have you seen my scythe? I know it's around here somewhere. I might as well try to make a good first impression." Grim paused for a moment, reflecting on the irony of what he had said. "You know, I've never had to worry before, my first impression is usually my last. Oh, there it is!" Grim, pointed to his scythe, in the corner, by the door. "Grab it for me while I pull on my lucky socks."

  "I've asked you to stop putting this by the steps. One of these days it's going to fall when I come down here and cut my head off."

  "I could never be that lucky. Okay, I'm ready. Send him down.”

  "I'm already here Mr. Death and your mother misunderstood, I am not a reporter, I'm from personnel. I'm here for your performance review. I'm afraid we have a few concerns."

  Both Grim and his mother jumped as a cloud of fog rolled into the room, the voice emanating from within the mist.

  "KHRONOS, old friend," Grim said, sounding anything but pleased, “what are you doing on this side of the underworld?"

  "As I said, I am here for your performance review."

  "Didn't I tell you to wait upstairs?" Medusa said, giving the man one of her looks. Who did he think he was, traipsing all the way through her house? She jumped back in surprise as he slithered, snakelike out of the fog and pushed his hood back off his head, or rather heads, since he had three. The first two had been hidden beneath the hood.

  "Time waits for no one Madame. It would do your son good to learn that rule"

  Medusa nodding, couldn't take her eyes off the lions head and was a bit fearful of what the bull head would do, if she got too near.

  "Mother, this is Khronos, the god of time."

  "Pleased to meet you," she stammered, backing towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have something I need to get done. Then, she turned and fled up the stairs, away from the three headed god as fast as she could.

  "What is this about a performance review? In all my years working for The Fates, I've never had any complaints."

  "Well they aren't too happy with you now. It seems you've been cutting some corners." Khronos pulled out a file as he spoke, fixing all six of his eyes on Grim.

  "I've never cut corners!" Grim protested.

  "Really? Well how do you explain Elvis?"

  "Elvis?" Grim scratched his head. "You mean that rock singer?"

  "The King of Rock and Roll . You took him before his time."

  "So I made a mistake! It was pretty hazy in there from all the smoke. That dude could party hard!"

  "That dude was taking a dump in the bathroom and you fell on him!"

  "I was woozy. It could happen to anyone. Besides, you guys fixed it. You sent him back."

  "After he was already declared dead! We couldn't fix that. Now we have Elvis sightings all over the place. It's almost a repeat of the last time you took someone prematurely. Thousands of people shouting Hallelujah and declaring victory over death!"

  "Jesus? Now that wasn't my fault, that was between Hades and the Big Guy. Besides, no one told me He was HIS Son ! That might have helped in the decision making, but usually, when you hang someone on a cross, they die !"

  "Which is why we didn't talk to you about it then. You were new to the job; your scythe was almost too big for you to hold. Moreover, J did say He forgave you for it so who were we to criticize?"

  "He is rather big on forgiveness." Death said, feeling a little warm at the memory.

  "There are the other incidents."

  "What other incidents ?"

  "Atropos has complained there are times she snips the thread and you have neglected to take the person's soul. Do you know what kind of chaos that creates?"

  "Okay, so we have a few Zombies running around up there. That girl needs to slow down. She's snipping faster than I can work."

  "Perhaps if you'd quit playing with your joystick." Khronos suggested.

  Grim appeared shocked, sputtering for a moment before it dawned on him what the god had meant. "Oh, my games...well even Death needs to have some fun every now and then."

  "Not while there are zombies walking around. They eat brains. Did you know that?"

  "You ate your children," Grim scoffed, popping a few eyeballs into his mouth. "What do you care about a few brains?"

  "That wasn't me !" Khronos said, feeling more than a little irritated at this moron. "That was Chronos with a C. Why does everyone get us confused? You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to clear my credit up!" Khronos took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing, trying to get back on topic. "There is an order to things. Atropos cuts the yarn, you take the soul. That's how it is done. If you can't do the job, I'm sure we can find someone else who will.

  "Fine, I'll be a little more careful, but Atropos could give me a little more warning too. It wouldn't hurt Lachesis either to lengthen some of the yarn a bit. Do you know what it does to my reputation, every time I have to take a child? They blame me, not those three witches!"

  "You would need to talk to Pestilence, not Lachesis. She can only work with what she is given."

  "Of course ," Grim said, crossing his arms and giving Khronos a suspicious stare. "Stands to reason you would defend your wife's daughters. Anyway, why are you the one giving me my review? Isn't that a bit beneath a god?"

  "Orders from The Big G," Khronos said, sounding put out. "Cutting corners and stuff. Gold roads aren't cheap and all those mansions He's building...well, long story short, anyone with a lower case is expendable. He has Zeus cleaning toilets in his spare time."

  "That I would love to see," Grim said, chuckling at the idea of the big Olympian god scrubbing the porcel
ain god.

  "Not if you don't want a lightning bolt up your ass. Hera laughed at him and she still can't sit down, which makes it difficult to do her job at the DMV."

  Khronos picked up his clip board and stood. Pulling his cloak on he said, "I trust I won't have to come back for another review. This was a verbal warning. The next step will not be as pleasant."

  "I promise to do a better job." Death said, rolling his eyes. "No more zombies walking around eating brains and no more premature deaths. I promise."

  Khronos sighed. He wished he could believe Grim, he hated this end of Tartarus and had no desire to come back. However, he’d heard rumors there were a few vampires running around unchecked. Once The Big Guy got wind of it, there'd be hell to pay. He wondered who they could get to replace Grim, there weren't many willing to live in Tartarus, and for the pay being offered, they were lucky they'd found anyone to do the job.

  "Okay, well keep your nose clean for six months and this will roll off your record... that's a rolling six months . Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go deliver a warning to Zeus. He's been cutting corners and not cleaning under the rim. The Big Guy hates dirt, which is surprising, considering He created it."

  "Well you know what they say," Grim said, opening the door for Khronos, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness."

  No Respect For The Dead

  Stepping outside his home, Hugh sniffed the air. The smell of rot and waste wafted in the air and he curled his nose, casting a sideways glance towards the new neighbor’s. He hesitated, wondering if he should try to speak to them again. A bit reluctant to experience that pain, he turned, headeding the other way.

  Hugh was hungry and his destination was Turner Street, where he was sure to find something quick to eat. Hugh was really more of a homebody, preferring to dine alone behind the curtains and away from the world. Ever since Frank had moved in next door, his solitude had become a prison as the growing stink invaded his domain. There was only so much air freshener could cover up and rot was not one of them.

  “I’ll have to try speaking to him again,” Hugh thought, “when I get home. First though…” Hugh’s mouth was beginning to water as the smell of Indian cuisine reached him. He looked to be sure there was no traffic coming before crossing the street.

  The woman leaning against the post moved towards him, her dark eyes questioning. Hugh indicated he was interested in her fare, standing still as she told him the price. Hugh nodded his head, handing her a twenty, then following her into the alley.

  “You’re a handsome man,” she said, leaning up against the wall of the tattoo parlor serving as a backdrop to their exchange. It pleased her to have a man as handsome as this one approach her. He was much better than the junkies who usually found their way to Turner Street..

  Hugh reached out his hand and stroked her cheek, running his fingers over her silky skin. The oil she used after she bathed smelled of brown sugar.

  “I have a mattress over there if you like,” she said, indicating a filthy lump lying behind the dumpster. Hugh shook his head, wrinkling his nose. The smell reminded him too much of Frank’s house. He pushed against her, burying his nose into her neck to block out the stink. Her skin smelled much better, more enticing. His lips moved over her neck, his tongue flicking out, tasting the oil. It was slightly bitter. The woman sighed, leaning into him. She reached down to unbuckle his pants and was surprised to discover he wasn’t showing signs of arousal.

  “Do you not want me,” she asked confused.

  “I do,” Hugh said, “but not in the way you think.” He then bit into her flesh, piercing the skin with his fangs, his eyes glazing over as the taste of her blood assaulted his tongue. He bit deeper, coating his mouth before swallowing. The woman pushed against him, trying to fight him off, but to no avail. Hugh continued to drink, sating his appetite before lowering her to the ground. She was still breathing, though unconscious from the loss of blood. He had drunk more than he intended, more than twenty dollars’ worth. Pulling a few more bills from his wallet, Hugh placed them between her breasts, making sure they were sufficiently secure before using his cell to call 911.

  Still hungry, Hugh made another stop in China town and another a few blocks from home. He left the third woman, a college student sleeping in the bushes. She wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, although she would be a little weak.

  As Hugh neared his neighborhood, the stench from Frank’s home assaulted him again. Knocking on the door, he heard Frank’s heavy feet clomping across the floor. He was surprised he hadn’t gone through the floorboards.

  “Hugh,” Frank said, opening the door, “what is it now.”

  “The same as it was yesterday and the day before. It stinks!”

  “Then don’t breathe,” Frank said. “You are technically dead, it’s not as though you need to.”

  “This used to be such a nice neighborhood,” Hugh sighed.

  “It still is, or at least could be if you would quit bothering me. The realtor told me you were a quiet guy. I guess she lied.”

  Hugh laughed, “She’s a wraith, you can’t believe anything she tells you.”

  “Frank, is everything ok?” Frank’s wife and the source of the odor moved into view. Hugh gagged, trying to keep the blood down. Miranda had been dead for nearly a month now and her body wasn’t holding up as well as some of the other zombies Hugh had known. Of course they weren’t meant to live in this warm climate.

  “Everything is fine,” Frank said, “Hugh stopped by to chat with me about my latest experiment.”

  “Oh, ok,” his wife said, turning to stagger towards the living room.

  “When are you going to give up,” Hugh asked. “She is the fourth one this year and they aren’t lasting any longer than the first. I know you miss your wife, but you can’t keep digging up bodies and transferring her mind into them.”

  Frank looked at Hugh a few moments. He knew he was right, but he wasn’t about to give up. “Why don’t you go and bother Joe Mummy down the road,” Frank said, “and leave me alone.” He then shut the door, leaving Hugh standing there staring at the sign with the words The Stein Family written on it.

  Sighing, Hugh looked towards the rising sun and hurried home to his coffin. As he shut the lid, he shook his head, thinking how this used to be such a nice neighborhood before they started letting man made monsters move in. They had no respect for the dead.

  The Family Curse

  Doctor Frank Stein looked down at the body lying prone on his operating table. It belonged to Henry Talbot, the town drunk. He had died only a few hours ago; his body was still warm and if it weren’t for the gaping wound in his neck, it would appear he were sleeping off the effects of his drink the night before. In fact that’s what he was doing when the doctor stumbled over him , down by the pier. Frank had been looking for sailors who had recently come into port; preferably sick with scurvy and willing to come quietly for a few bucks. Someone who wouldn’t be missed.

  Henry fit the bill. His disappearance would be noticed only in the sense that he would no longer be source of income to Tom’s Pub. He also would no longer be an unwanted aggravation for law enforcement. It was this knowledge consoling Frank when he slit the man’s throat. Not only was he doing a public service to the community, he had a perfect test subject for his latest experiment; Life Renewal.

  Lifting the same knife he had used to cut the drunks throat, Dr. Stein poised his hand over Henry’s heart. His own heart beat in anticipation of the thing he was about to do. If he succeeded, his place in the medical community and history, would be secured. Placing the knife against Henry’s skin, he cut a thin line, opening the man and revealing the still organ inside.

  “You ready to make history?” Frank asked, inserting electrical prongs into the lifeless organ, matching the spikes protruding from Henry’s head. Similar points jutted out of his neck; Frank had even stuck some in the man’s dick. Maybe Henry would benefit from this little experiment in more than one way. Frank chuc
kled at the thought. He was sure more than one ‘working lady’ would be grateful for anything improving Henry’s performance.

  In the background Twisted Sister was playing, the beat pulsating, creating excitement in the air as the doctor reached for the switch. Holding his breath, Frank yanked down on the lever and waited for the body to react to the electricity. Henry twitched on the table, then went still as the laboratory was bathed in darkness. The emergency generators kicked in almost immediately, bathing the room in faint, yellow light.

  “Damn!” Frank slammed his fist against the wall, cursing his bad luck. The procedure needed to be done before the body went cold and became too stiff to regenerate. In the distance he heard the emergency siren sound. Looking out the window he stared down at the town, the buildings dark shadows against the moon.

  “I must have caused a power surge,” Frank said. “I’ll need to make some adjustments before I try again.” Turning back towards his test subject, Dr. Stein froze; the surgical table was empty.

  At first he was confused; dead bodies did not just get up and walk away, then he was excited. Dead bodies did not get up and walk away, but live bodies did, or in this case, reanimated bodies. His experiment had been a success!

  “Henry?” Frank looked around the room, but he didn’t see his patient anywhere. “Henry?” The light flickered a little as the generator started to fail, then stabilized. Frank turned slowly, his eyes searching out the entire room. In the corner the door was open. No, not open…gone, having been ripped out of the frame.

  “Damn.”

  ***

  The rest of the castle was dark. The generators only powered the laboratory, something which hadn’t worried Frank when he’d first made arrangements for the emergency supply. His lab was the only room he could foresee needing the precaution, it was the only room he spent any time in, other than his bedroom, and even that was rarely used. Now, searching the family fortress with only the aid of candle light, he questioned the wisdom of his decision.

  “Henry,” he called, as he made his way slowly down the hall, checking every room he came to. Since the doors were still in place, he thought it might be safe to assume they were empty, but he wasn’t about to take any chances, not when there was the Family Curse to consider.