"Jailbait Zombie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Acevedo Mario)

CHAPTER 3

Mel called. He asked me to meet him in Aurora close to the construction site where we’d found the zombie.

Before I left my apartment, I slathered on plenty of sunblock and applied makeup to protect my vampire skin from the daylight. I drove my Cadillac across Denver to Aurora.

I found Mel with his leg propped on the rear bumper of a rusted and grimy late-eighties Chrysler LeBaron. I parked behind the Chrysler and got out. I didn’t need to guess where the putrid odor of decaying flesh came from.

Mel opened the driver’s door. “Get a whiff.” The odor came out in concentrated form. I had a sudden urge to gag, which embarrassed me, as I am an undead bloodsucker.

Masses of flies, thick as carpet remnants, crawled lazily over the vinyl upholstery. Mel reached to the center console and brought out a translucent storage bowl. Dozens of flies clung to the bowl. He shooed the flies away and opened the lid.

The smell of rancid meat burst out. Lumps of grayish matter, streaks of syrupy blood, and a plastic spoon lay inside the bowl.

Mel put his nose close to the bowl and sniffed. “Brains. Zombie chow.” He closed the lid and tossed the bowl back into the Chrysler. He slammed the door. Hundreds of flies thumped against the inside of the windows.

“I don’t like what I’m seeing,” Mel said. “Looks like the zombie drove himself here.”

“I agree,” I replied. “I can’t imagine that he carpooled with anyone.”

“That, and he brought something to munch on. So we got a zombie that’s not only commuting but has got the foresight to pack a lunch. Not typical zombie behavior at all.” Mel wiped his hands on his denim overalls. “This is not good.”

“What do we do about the car?”

Mel stepped away from the Chrysler. “A couple of vampires in the Aurora PD will take of it.”

“What do we do now?”

Mel scratched his sideburns and looked around. “Wait for word from the Araneum.”

I could already feel myself being pulled into this. Zombies. Yuck. I’d better stock up on bleach and soap.

I sighed. “This damn zombie has already cost me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dagger died owing me money and favors.”

“You, too?” Mel’s big eyebrows inched up his forehead. “Free-loading bastard didn’t leave much except for a motorcycle and an antique strongbox.”

“A motorcycle? What kind?”

“Kawasaki 800 Drifter. A real beauty.”

I said, “Dibs.”

“Fine by me.” Mel gave a wily smile. “You should’ve asked for the strongbox. Dagger wasn’t just a mooch but a crook. The strongbox is full of silver and gold coins.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.” Mel put his arm around my shoulders. “As a consolation, I’ll tow the motorcycle to your place, free of charge.”

“Is that the best you can offer?”

“Not really,” Mel replied, “but I’ll be too busy counting my money.”

We left the Chrysler. The reek was a force field that would protect the car until the police vampires came by.

Mel dropped off the motorcycle. He was right. It was a beauty, a Kawasaki Drifter in blood red with black trim. With its retro fenders and wide seat, the Drifter looked like an authentic Indian, plus it had something else the original American machine didn’t: Japanese reliability.

I took the Kawasaki on a test cruise, heading west on Highway 72 toward Pinecliff. I didn’t take any votes but I was sure I looked way cooler on this machine than Dagger ever had. Riding fast up the twisting mountain road, I glimpsed a black blur zooming from my left. My reflexes triggered into vampire speed but too late.

The object slammed into the side of my head and knocked me off the motorcycle. I saw the wreck unfolding in slow motion, but there was nothing I could do except cartwheel through the air and hope I landed someplace soft.

My motorcycle dropped onto its side, throwing sparks and shedding parts as it skidded along the highway and onto the gravel shoulder. The bike and I flew off the shoulder, exploded through a scrub pine, and bounced down a steep rocky ravine.

I smashed into a boulder and ricocheted across a pile of rocks. The motorcycle tumbled over me. The bike and I pancaked on gravel and slid down the incline until we slowed to a dusty halt. Dirt and pieces of the Kawasaki showered the area.