Greg Krojac - WTF?

“I’ve never been in there in the first place.”

Trevor was confused.

“But it is your grave though?”

“Yes. It is. But I wasn’t buried in it.”

“Where were you buried then?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Arnold told Trevor his life – well, death story actually – how he’d woken up in hospital, been body-snatched by a pornographic movie director and used as a prop, been subsequently buried in the woods, dug his way out, and scared the living daylights out of his wife and daughter. Trevor was impressed, although that wasn’t the effect that Arnold was going for.

“So… What are you going to do, Arnold? You can’t stay here.”

Arnold shrugged his shoulders.

“Dunno. I can’t go home. That’s obvious.”

Trevor put his hand on Arnold’s shoulder. Arnold flinched.

“You gonna bite me again?”

“What? No, of course not. I was about to say that you should come home with me. It’s the least I can do after biting you.”

Arnold had nothing better to do, so he shuffled along behind Trevor as the pair walked towards a new estate on the outskirts of the village, taking cover each time a car or pedestrian came into view. Trevor didn’t look anything out of the ordinary, but Arnold looked like exactly what he was – they’d have to do something about his appearance before he could venture outside again. As they walked, Arnold had a question that was niggling at him.

“Trevor?”

“Yes, mate.”

“What time is it?”

Trevor looked at his wristwatch.

“Two fifteen in the afternoon.”

“Exactly. It’s the middle of the afternoon. Daylight. Shouldn’t you be dead or something? You know, burnt to a crisp in the sunlight?”

Trevor laughed.

“You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“You mean, you don’t have to hide away during the day?”

“What do you think? I’m here aren’t I?”

This didn’t make sense. It went against all the vampire stories he’d ever seen or read. Arnold had a list of vampire qualities queued up in his head.

“Does holy water burn you?”

“It’s tap water.”

“But it’s been blessed.”

“Doesn’t make any difference.”

Arnold checked that one off his list.

“Can you be burned by silver?”

“Nope.”

“Can you be destroyed by sunlight?”

That question had already been answered so Arnold skipped on to the next in his mental list.

“You do drink blood though.”

“When I need to, yes.”

“Fangs?”

Trevor opened his mouth to show a pair of now perfectly gleaming clean white fangs.

Arnold nodded.

“That’s a yes then. Do you flee from crucifixes? Garlic?”

“Nope. Like holy water, religious stuff does nothing against me.”

Arnold was running out of stereotypes to throw at Trevor.

“Ah… I know. Are you immortal?”

Trevor grinned.

“Pretty much, although a stake through the heart will kill me. As will cutting my head off. It’s something I try to avoid.”

Arnold had run out of clichés, but Trevor filled in the gaps.

“Do I sleep in a coffin? No. I like my own warm bed.”

Arnold processed the new information.

“Is that the lot?”

“Almost. I can’t transform into a bat, mist, or a wolf either. Especially not a wolf – that’s another type of creature altogether.”

Arnold grinned at his new friend.

“Not much of a vampire, really, are you?”

Trevor quickly countered.

“And you’re not much of a zombie, either.”

Arnold must have passed through the small housing estate hundreds of times on his way to work, but he’d never really paid it much attention. It looked like many similar estates across the country, a collection of three and four-bedroom detached and semi-detached houses clustered together to form a small and intimate community. He knew a few people who lived there but had never seen Trevor before.

It was quite an idyllic area, with neatly cropped lawns and shrubs, no litter anywhere on the streets, and an air of safety and security. Trevor crossed the road and Arnold followed him up the driveway of one of the houses. Arnold almost felt normal, but one look at his green-tinged skin soon reminded him that he wasn’t. Trevor took a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock of a white UPVC door, which swung open to reveal a mustard coloured hallway carpet leading to the interior of the house. Trevor kicked off his shoes and Arnold was just about to do the same when Trevor stopped him.

“That might not be such a good idea – we don’t know the state of your feet yet. We’ll go to the kitchen first – it’s got a tiled floor. Just try to take as few steps as possible in case you’ve got any mud or dog shit on your boots.”

Arnold did as he was told and followed the vampire into the kitchen.

“Do you want anything to eat? Or drink? We’ve got leftovers from yesterday’s lunch in the fridge – roast chicken – and two jars of fruit juice.”

Arnold sat on a stool next to a breakfast bar.

“No thanks. I’m fine. I don’t even feel hungry. I thought zombies ate peoples’ brains, but I don’t even feel a little bit peckish.”

The faint humming of a vacuum cleaner in one of the upstairs bedrooms stopped and a voice called downstairs.

“Trevor? Is that you, love?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve brought a new friend home.”

The sound of footsteps trotting downstairs heralded the appearance of Tracey, Trevor’s wife. She bounded into the kitchen and held out her hand to shake Arnold’s hand.

“Sorry I wasn’t downstairs to meet you when you arrived. I was just finishing off the hoovering upstairs. I’m Tracey.”

Arnold was nervous about shaking anybody’s hand, bearing in mind the various states of decomposition that various parts of his body were obviously in. He just raised a hand and waved gingerly.

“Hi. I’m Arnold. Arnold Leadbetter.”

A quizzical look came over Tracey’s face.

“Arnold Leadbetter. Now, where do I know that name from?”

She wracked her brains for a few seconds and then it came back to her.

“That’s right. I remember now. You were at a barbecue at Tony and Judy’s last summer. From number twenty-three. They’re mutual friends.”

Trevor hadn’t recognized either Arnold’s face or name before but now, with his wife’s prompting, he too remembered.

“Of course, Arnold and – and – Gillian. Nice couple.”

Arnold was confused. Tracey was chatting to him as if he were a normal person, not a zombie. Surely she could see that he wasn’t exactly the same guy as she had met at the barbecue?

“Forgive me for asking, but don’t you notice anything strange about me?”

“Oh, you mean the greenish-reddish skin, the bone showing through your left hand, and the fact that you’ve only got one eye?”

Arnold nodded his head, a little nervous that any movement could lead to part of his body falling off. Tracey didn’t seem at all fazed by his appearance.

“Well, I’ve never met a zombie before – heard about them, of course, but always thought they were a myth. But people think that me and my Trevor are myths too, so I’m not too surprised to meet a real zombie. Admittedly, I didn’t expect to be having a chat with one in my own kitchen, but it takes all sorts.”

Arnold found the whole situation very surreal.

“You said me and my Trevor . Does that mean –“

Tracey chuckled.

“Yes, love. Trevor and I are both vampires.”

She went to the fridge and poured herself a small glass of chilled red wine.

“Trev and I met about a hundred and fourteen years ago when he turned me. We were dating – although, back in those days, they called it walking out – and Trevor got a bit carried away during a kiss and a cuddle and ended up biting my neck. Poor love was mortified. But I was alright with it to be honest – always been one for an adventure – and we’ve been together ever since.”