The Werewolf and the Zombie – 12


I turned over, expecting to see the dim outline of David’s face. Instead, I saw his hip. I turned back over, grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand, and checked the time: 3:12 am. I sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“You woke me up. You were growling in your sleep.”

“Oh my God, I do that?”

“More than you think. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, a little sore, but . . . yeah. How are you?”

I heard a click as he set something on his nightstand. “I’m okay. I’m . . . processing.”

We sat side-by-side in his bed, propped against the pillows, staring across the room at his dresser. Our clothes and rigs were scattered across its surface. We’d come here after the ball field, after Stahlberg helpfully informed me that if I just didn’t move for a couple of hours, the effects of the cattle prod would wear off.

It was as good an idea as any; the high school was surrounded by woods, but there were houses not too far beyond those pines and oaks, and a gunshot has a way of carrying. So we left, and came here, and David forced me to lay on his couch and be still.

Josh Hamilton’s body was found about an hour after David pulled the trigger, by Pierce Kemp and some city cop. No word beyond that; there’d be an autopsy, and someone would have to reconstruct Hamilton’s final hours and figure out how he got from biting his girlfriend at Best Buy to biting it on the Mitchum Bay Tigers’ infield.

Now, in the dark, I reached over and took his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I shot a zombie.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He sighed and leaned away from me, picking up whatever he’d set down earlier. My eyes had adjusted enough to make it out: a shell casing. From his gun. From Hamilton. David had picked it up right before we’d left. “I never thought I’d shoot a zombie.”

“Just wait till next week, when we finally catch that vampire.”

“Should I feel bad about it? Because I don’t. He . . . out there, I saw it: there was nothing in him human anymore. I didn’t shoot him to stop them from hurting you, I shot him because he was an abomination.”

“Mercy, I agree with you.”

“I guess I feel bad that you weren’t my first thought.”

“Had to happen eventually, I suppose. Although that makes you sound kind of wussy.”

“My God, you are such a romantic.” He laughed.

“You want romance? Check this out.” I slid under the covers.

The End

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