Alex Lee Martinez - Gil's All Fright Diner

"You aren't gonna do it, are you?"

Duke shook his head.

"Damn it, you prick. It ain't all that much to ask."

"Maybe, but you'll have to do it yourself."

"Fine. I will. I'll just let the sun take care of it."

"You do that." Duke hocked up a mouthful of saliva and mucus and spat it in the dirt. "Y'know, Earl, there'll be others."

"Not like her."

"Give it time."

"What? Another hundred years? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Suit yourself. You ever seen a vampire done in by sunlight?"

"No."

"I have. Once." Duke shook his head slowly. "It's not like in the movies. He didn't blow up or catch fire or nuthin' quick like that. No, it was more like he turned to sludge. First his skin peeled off, layer by layer. Then his muscles sorta just sloshed off his bones. And his organs smoldered and dripped into a black puddle. Then his bones popped and snapped and liquefied. Took 'bout five minutes for the poor bastard to finally expire. He screamed himself hoarse for most of it."

Earl glared. "You aren't talking me out of this, Duke."

"I'm not trying to. Just figured I'd tell you what you had to look forward to."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Well, you got about ten minutes to dawn. I'd stick around but seeing one bloodsucker get a tan was enough for me."

"If you were my friend, you'd kill me."

"Well, maybe I'll feel up to it tomorrow night, but you can't wait that long." As the werewolf walked through the cemetery gates, he shouted without looking back. "See you 'round, Earl. . or I guess not."

The first rays of dawn came. The horizon turned soft red. It hurt Earl's eyes to look at it. He tried thinking of Cathy, to not think about the pain morning might inflict on his delicate complexion.

"Damn it, Duke," he grumbled. "You better kill me tomorrow, or I'll have'ta kick your ass, you son of a bitch." Squinting, he shielded his eyes and ran back to the diner.

As the sun rose, a drowsiness fell upon Earl. It took forty-five minutes for his undead nature to overtake his stressed mind. His sleep was restless. Normally he lay in his steamer in a corpselike slumber, but today, he twitched and kicked. Headless Napoleon sat curled up on his chest.

Duke checked on him a couple of times the first hour, and a couple of times the next hour as well.

"You really care about him," Loretta observed.

He closed the trunk and rapped it softly with his knuckles. "He needs looking after."

"S'pose he does at that. Seems to be taking things pretty hard. He's lucky to have a friend like you."

"Guess so, but it ain't a one way thing. He's been there for me when nobody else was. Sure am gonna miss him if he don't change his mind."

" 'Bout leaving?"

Duke sat on the steamer. Snorting, he wrung his hands. "Wants me to kill him."

Loretta gaped. "Over a missing ghost?"

"Mostly. But you gotta understand, life ain't exactly been easy for him. Being undead doesn't help none."

"We all got our troubles, Duke."

"True enough," he agreed. "But he made a good case for himself. I don't really see as I got much of a choice."

"Good Lord says there's always a choice."

"Don't know if Earl and the Good Lord are on speaking terms. Anyway, if he still wants it tonight, I'll have to do it."

"You can't."

"Gotta. I'm his best friend."

"I'll pray for him."

"Don't know if that'll help, but I appreciate the effort just the same."

Duke spent the rest of the morning finishing the diner's new gas line. The job was mostly done, but he took his time. It kept his mind off zombies, old gods, haunted diners, and suicidal vampires. For the moment, none of those problems existed. There was only the trench and the pipe. Duke didn't care much for hard labor. He didn't dislike it. It was just something to do, usually for money and occasionally for distraction. And though he stretched this particular distraction out as long as he could, it inevitably came to an end. He tossed the last shovelful of dirt back into place and smoothed it with the rusty spade.

He caught Tammy's scent a moment before she spoke up.

"Nice job."

"Thanks."

She slid behind him, pressing her body against his, looping her hands around his wide waist as much as she was able.

He pulled away.

"What's a matter, Duke," she purred. "Don't you like girls?"

He drove the shovel into the hard ground. "I like women."

"Oh, c'mon." She glided closer. "I know you want me."

He put his hands on her shoulders, careful to keep to a minimal, fingers-only contact. No palms. "Tammy, it ain't gonna happen." He gently, but firmly pushed her away.

She stuck out her lower lip. "Why not? You like me. I like you."

" 'Cuz it isn't that simple."

"Yes, it is."

She batted her eyelashes and ran her hand down her midriff.

The primal forces that shared Duke's soul agreed. They wanted nothing more than to throw Tammy to the ground, to feel the warmth of her skin, to watch the sweat bead on her breasts, and make her moan and grunt and tremble beneath the hot, desert sun. Another time, another place, he wouldn't have hesitated, but a couple thousand years of civilization stood between him and that place. Not that the werewolf in him gave half-a-damn about any of that. But the man did, and it was every bit as stubborn as the beast.

"Whatever," she sighed. "Loretta told me to tell you she wants a word with you."

They went inside. He found Loretta in the kitchen, standing at the grill with her back to them. He grunted to announce his entrance. She turned slowly. Gray, chalky powder covered her blank face.

He whirled on the petite girl. "It's you."

"Took you long enough to figure it out."

She threw a small vial at his feet. It shattered, releasing a thousand impish demons into the kitchen. The swirling flock of greens, browns, and reds covered him in a buzzing, chattering swarm. The imps were only the size of horseflies, but they held him in place. Calling upon every ounce of strength, he lurched forward one step.

In the diner, the voices of the old gods were overwhelming. Tammy's eyes darkened to black holes. She grabbed a rolling pin from the counter and spun it lazily.

Duke pushed forward another six inches. Imps screamed and expired in smoky puffs.

Tammy grinned. Her mouth stretched wider than her face would allow, and her cheeks spread to compensate. "You blew it, Duke. I would've screwed your brains out. Well, I guess I can't have everything. Not yet, anyway."

Duke's right forearm broke free. Some imps exploded. Others were thrown across the kitchen. Duke crushed a couple underfoot with another struggling stomp.

Tammy let the pin go. Instead of falling, it hovered in the air. She rotated her finger clockwise. The pin spun slowly. She wiggled a second finger, and it became a whirling blur about her head.

"I don't really want to do this, Duke. So why don't you be a good boy and stop struggling. Otherwise, I'll have to hurt you." She clapped. The wooden pin zipped forward and struck a glancing blow off his brow. "I like you. Don't make me kill you."

Duke's body tightened. Imps popped in droves in the losing fight to hold him back.

"Have it your way."

The rolling pin flitted about almost too fast to follow, smashing in Duke's skull over and over again. Bone crunched beneath wood. He stood against the barrage far better than a mere mortal. It took a full minute for his knees to buckle. Then another minute to get him on the floor. Even after he stopped moving, blood pooling around his cracked head, Tammy had the pin strike another dozen blows. Just to be on the safe side. The glistening red club rolled about in small circles.