[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"I want revenge."
"Rene, you're not the vengeful type. You're a
Rene beau temps."
"I've changed. I can't find a cure and you won't
help me, so I'm stuck as this fiend. She should be
punished."
"And in return, if I locate your pretty sire?"
"Name your price." Rene smiled.
"For starters," he raked his gaze over him,
"Daddy needs some comfort. Show me the sights."
* * * *
"Holy shit," Craven muttered, "look at them all.
There must be at least thirty of them. Where are
we going to put them? How do we get them out of
here?"
"Shush," Trace said, "keep your voice down."
They had managed to break the lock on the
door which led into the underground cellar. Below
was a large handmade cage housing the zombies."
"They all look pretty fresh," the doctor said.
"They're not dangerous and are easy to control.
You stay here with them. I'm going to steal a bus
from the bus depot down the street."
"Steal a bus?" Craven's eyes widened. "Wow,
you're, ah& more than meets the eye, Doc."
"One does what one has to do. Look at all these
dead guys. No wonder I don't have any patients."
"What do I do with them in the meantime?"
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Louisiana Lust
"Nothing. Just stay here, and if you hear
someone coming, hide."
Craven listened as Trace's footsteps
disappeared up the makeshift stairs. He heard the
door close back down. He glanced at the zombies
who looked back at him. They seemed docile
enough. "You don't bite, do you?"
No answer.
"So, you guys like to do anything?"
Silence, just blinking eyes looking back, heads
turning to the side, listening.
"Can you play chess? Ah, poker?" He paused.
"Hey, I know you," he pointed to one of them. "I
went to school with you. How in the hell are you?
Oh, not good I suppose, stupid question." He
sighed. "Guess, we'll just endure the
uncomfortable silence, right?" Suddenly he heard
a sound. "Shit," he whispered.
Two men were talking rapidly in French. They
were coming down into the cellar.
Craven looked around and couldn't find a place
to hide. He undid the latch on the cage and
quickly slipped inside among the others. He
placed a blank expression on his face and tilted his
head to the side. He could feel the others pressing
around him. He swallowed.
The men stopped in front of the cage. One
chastised the other for leaving it unlocked. "Lucky
they're too stupid to figure it out. They could have
escaped," he bellowed. "Fou. Here," he reached in
128
D.J. Manly
and grabbed Craven's shirt, "this one will do.
Come on, moron."
Craven allowed himself to be dragged forward.
The big one picked him up, hoisted him over his
shoulder and carried him up the ladder. Craven
felt the fear mount.
"Where we taking him?" someone called out. It
was the driver of a truck.
He grunted as the man threw him in the back
and closed him in.
Someone rattled off an address and the truck
bounded forward. Craven sat up. Oh ah& Rene!
* * * *
Moudoca had Rene's shirt undone. He'd spread
it open and was suckling one of his nipples while
his hand flirted with the zipper on his pants.
Rene? I'm in big trouble here. Help!
A voice in his head, a voice which sounded like
that dumb zombie got louder and louder. Merde,
Craven. I'm just about to get blown here.
I'm just about to be in worse trouble. Come and get
me, you insensitive, blood sucking undead& son of--
That's what I get for putting my blood in your
veins. Nag, nag, nag. I'm coming& but not in a good
way.
Moudoca had his pants open now. "Such a big
boy," he cooed. "If I cut it up, it would make me a
nice mantelpiece."
129
Louisiana Lust
He didn't much care for the sound of that. "I
think," he said, easing away and doing up his
pants, "you just put a damper on my, ah&
enthusiasm."
"You leaving me now?"
"You need to show me you are going to make
an effort to find Daisy, then the reward."
He sighed, backed up. "I'll work on it, but first I
need your help to find my zombie boy, me prize."
"I'll go now, see if I can find him. How do I
know him?"
"He's special. You'll know."
You're special all right, Beaumont, a special pain in
my ass.
* * * *
"Here he is, special delivery," the driver said,
opening the back door.
A big, obese man stood there, shirtless, rolls of
fat hanging over his pants, thinning hair plastered
to his head with sweat. "And he'll do whatever I
say?"
"Programmed to please," the driver said,
pulling him forward.
Craven stayed silent, making no indication he
understood what was going on. This guy was
gross. He didn't want him touching him.
"Sign here," the driver said. "You know that as
soon as the morning comes, you have to call to
130
D.J. Manly
have us pick him up. After twenty-four hours, it
can be dangerous."
"Yeah, come back at dawn. I should have
plugged that fine little ass enough by then."
Rene!
Hold on. Play along. I'm coming.
Play along? Play along! He's going to plug my ass.
You're panicking. You're a slut. You'll like it.
Dance for him.
Very funny.
I thought it was.
The big man dragged him into the house and
closed the door.
This could be the house of a serial killer.
You're already dead, remember?
"Strip off those clothes," the fat man growled,
falling on the tattered old sofa. A baseball game
was playing on the television.
Craven slowly reached for the button on his
shirt.
"Faster than that. Damn it. These things are
slow as black molasses. Can't keep it up for hours.
Go on, strip."
The shirt was off.
"Nice. Now the pants." The fat man undid his
own pants and fiddled with something hidden
under the layers of fat.
Craven slowly pulled down his pants, then took
Rene's advice. He pulled them back up and started
to sway his hips. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szamanka888.keep.pl
"I want revenge."
"Rene, you're not the vengeful type. You're a
Rene beau temps."
"I've changed. I can't find a cure and you won't
help me, so I'm stuck as this fiend. She should be
punished."
"And in return, if I locate your pretty sire?"
"Name your price." Rene smiled.
"For starters," he raked his gaze over him,
"Daddy needs some comfort. Show me the sights."
* * * *
"Holy shit," Craven muttered, "look at them all.
There must be at least thirty of them. Where are
we going to put them? How do we get them out of
here?"
"Shush," Trace said, "keep your voice down."
They had managed to break the lock on the
door which led into the underground cellar. Below
was a large handmade cage housing the zombies."
"They all look pretty fresh," the doctor said.
"They're not dangerous and are easy to control.
You stay here with them. I'm going to steal a bus
from the bus depot down the street."
"Steal a bus?" Craven's eyes widened. "Wow,
you're, ah& more than meets the eye, Doc."
"One does what one has to do. Look at all these
dead guys. No wonder I don't have any patients."
"What do I do with them in the meantime?"
127
Louisiana Lust
"Nothing. Just stay here, and if you hear
someone coming, hide."
Craven listened as Trace's footsteps
disappeared up the makeshift stairs. He heard the
door close back down. He glanced at the zombies
who looked back at him. They seemed docile
enough. "You don't bite, do you?"
No answer.
"So, you guys like to do anything?"
Silence, just blinking eyes looking back, heads
turning to the side, listening.
"Can you play chess? Ah, poker?" He paused.
"Hey, I know you," he pointed to one of them. "I
went to school with you. How in the hell are you?
Oh, not good I suppose, stupid question." He
sighed. "Guess, we'll just endure the
uncomfortable silence, right?" Suddenly he heard
a sound. "Shit," he whispered.
Two men were talking rapidly in French. They
were coming down into the cellar.
Craven looked around and couldn't find a place
to hide. He undid the latch on the cage and
quickly slipped inside among the others. He
placed a blank expression on his face and tilted his
head to the side. He could feel the others pressing
around him. He swallowed.
The men stopped in front of the cage. One
chastised the other for leaving it unlocked. "Lucky
they're too stupid to figure it out. They could have
escaped," he bellowed. "Fou. Here," he reached in
128
D.J. Manly
and grabbed Craven's shirt, "this one will do.
Come on, moron."
Craven allowed himself to be dragged forward.
The big one picked him up, hoisted him over his
shoulder and carried him up the ladder. Craven
felt the fear mount.
"Where we taking him?" someone called out. It
was the driver of a truck.
He grunted as the man threw him in the back
and closed him in.
Someone rattled off an address and the truck
bounded forward. Craven sat up. Oh ah& Rene!
* * * *
Moudoca had Rene's shirt undone. He'd spread
it open and was suckling one of his nipples while
his hand flirted with the zipper on his pants.
Rene? I'm in big trouble here. Help!
A voice in his head, a voice which sounded like
that dumb zombie got louder and louder. Merde,
Craven. I'm just about to get blown here.
I'm just about to be in worse trouble. Come and get
me, you insensitive, blood sucking undead& son of--
That's what I get for putting my blood in your
veins. Nag, nag, nag. I'm coming& but not in a good
way.
Moudoca had his pants open now. "Such a big
boy," he cooed. "If I cut it up, it would make me a
nice mantelpiece."
129
Louisiana Lust
He didn't much care for the sound of that. "I
think," he said, easing away and doing up his
pants, "you just put a damper on my, ah&
enthusiasm."
"You leaving me now?"
"You need to show me you are going to make
an effort to find Daisy, then the reward."
He sighed, backed up. "I'll work on it, but first I
need your help to find my zombie boy, me prize."
"I'll go now, see if I can find him. How do I
know him?"
"He's special. You'll know."
You're special all right, Beaumont, a special pain in
my ass.
* * * *
"Here he is, special delivery," the driver said,
opening the back door.
A big, obese man stood there, shirtless, rolls of
fat hanging over his pants, thinning hair plastered
to his head with sweat. "And he'll do whatever I
say?"
"Programmed to please," the driver said,
pulling him forward.
Craven stayed silent, making no indication he
understood what was going on. This guy was
gross. He didn't want him touching him.
"Sign here," the driver said. "You know that as
soon as the morning comes, you have to call to
130
D.J. Manly
have us pick him up. After twenty-four hours, it
can be dangerous."
"Yeah, come back at dawn. I should have
plugged that fine little ass enough by then."
Rene!
Hold on. Play along. I'm coming.
Play along? Play along! He's going to plug my ass.
You're panicking. You're a slut. You'll like it.
Dance for him.
Very funny.
I thought it was.
The big man dragged him into the house and
closed the door.
This could be the house of a serial killer.
You're already dead, remember?
"Strip off those clothes," the fat man growled,
falling on the tattered old sofa. A baseball game
was playing on the television.
Craven slowly reached for the button on his
shirt.
"Faster than that. Damn it. These things are
slow as black molasses. Can't keep it up for hours.
Go on, strip."
The shirt was off.
"Nice. Now the pants." The fat man undid his
own pants and fiddled with something hidden
under the layers of fat.
Craven slowly pulled down his pants, then took
Rene's advice. He pulled them back up and started
to sway his hips. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]