Free Fiction Monday: Date Night of the Living Dead

 

Written for the League of Monsters Kickstarter

“She said yes?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Ned Nyland was leaning against the kitchen sink, a cup of coffee in hand. Sitting at the small kitchen table was none other than the infamous Count Dracula. For the past several weeks the vampire had been giving Ned dating advice. The surreality of a vampire giving a werewolf romance tips wasn’t lost on Ned, though he tried not to think about it too hard.

Dracula bowed his head theatrically. “I meant no disrespect. I just never thought you’d actually do it.”

He shifted in his seat and continued. “Then there’s the matter of how it happened. You asked and she said yes. So simple. In my day there were complex courtship rituals involved, letters to the girl’s father, along with large gifts of gold and jewels.”

Ned snickered into his coffee. “Well, these are simpler times I guess.”

The vampire nodded, considering this. “Yes. In some ways. More difficult in others.”

Ned regarded the man, realizing it had to be hard for him. After all, he had slept through most of the intervening century. The culture shock alone was cause for concern. But he held little sympathy for the guy. After all, he was a monster. Of course, so was Ned. That was what was so damned humbling about it. 

“So when is the big . . .,” he began, searching carefully for the modern English word, then finding it. “Date?”

“Tomorrow night. I’ve planned a picnic.”

Dracula smiled, which somehow made him seem even more frightening than he had a moment earlier. “Ah. How quaint. I think she will like that. What about Gill?”

“Well, we’re not bringing him along, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The vampire held up a pale, slender hand. “No. What I mean is, what will Gill think.”

Ned gave a noncommittal shrug. He didn’t care what Gill thinks, and at any rate, the only one who knew anything about that was Stephanie. He drained his cup, then said, “It doesn’t matter, does it? Gill’s a fish. He can’t go with us. And anyway, Steph needs some time away from the League, from all of this.” He waved his arms, indicating the house they shared. 

Away from Gill.

“I see,” said the Count. “It seems you have things well in hand, friend Ned. I wish you good fortune on your outing.”

With that, the tall, pale apparition of a man dislodged itself from the chair and seemed to float from the room.

“Thanks?” Ned called after him. The Count’s florid, overly formal mannerisms made it impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Ned hated that almost as much as he hated being in the man’s presence. Drac gave him the creeps.

He washed out his coffee mug and put it on the drying rack beside the sink. With arms akimbo he peered out through the small window over the sink at the inscrutable New Jersey pine barrens beyond.

It had been such a spur-of-the-moment thing. Why did it have to be so complicated? 

As Ned looked out the window he decided he wasn’t going to be crazy about this. He was going to enjoy the moment and look forward to it, his first date with the beautiful Dr. Stephanie Gordon. He had had a crush on her since the first time he laid eyes on her, but he held himself back because of the Wolf. 

Now that wasn’t as much of a problem. At least Ned hoped so. 

* * *

“I have good news and bad news,” Moira Harker said to him. They met in her office at the mansion, Ned sitting in a wingbacked chair across from her desk. She was flanked by a young man wearing a white lab coat, one of her large cadre of Harker Industries employees. Ned didn’t know who he was and had never seen him before, but he was obviously high enough up the totem pole to know about her secret League of Monsters. 

“All right,” said Ned. “I’ll bite. What’s the bad news?”

Moira leaned back in her chair. She was a formidable woman, and Ned couldn’t help feeling like he had been sent to the principal’s office. “We can’t cure your lycanthrope.”

Ned’s heart sank, and he slumped in his seat.

“Yet,” she added. 

“Right,” said Ned. “So what’s the good news?”

“I think we have found a way to give you a little more control over your furry alter ego.” She gestured to the man standing beside her. “Dr. Lang?”

The man stepped around the desk toward Ned, holding up a tungsten-jacketed syringe. “We analyzed a blood sample taken from you in your wolf form,” he said.

Ned arched an eyebrow, wondering when they had possibly taken that. They had stuck him plenty when he signed on to join Moira’s crusade against evil, but he didn’t know they had drawn blood while he was wolfed out. 

“We’ve created a formula that we believe will allow you to become the wolf at will.”

“Will it allow me to keep from becoming the wolf when the Moon is full?”

He shook his head. “Sadly, no. You will still become a werewolf during a full Moon. But this formula will allow you to control your alter ego and become the wolf when the Moon isn’t full.”

“And be of more service to the League,” Ned replied. He was looking at Moira as he said this.

“I’m sorry, Ned. My ultimate goal has always been to reverse your condition. Think of this as a partial cure, as it were.”

Ned shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”

“This is untested,” added Dr. Lang. “You are the only living thing on the planet we can test this on. But you don’t have to take it.”

“Side effects?”

“Typical to any vaccine. Injection site reactions, maybe some swelling. As for how it behaves in your bloodstream, it might not do anything. Or you might become the wolf unbidden when there isn’t a full Moon.”

“I see. So I have to consent.”

“Of course,” said Moira. “I even have a form you must sign. We just want you to understand all that this might entail. I’m sorry it isn’t a cure. I gave you my word that we would find one and we will. But this isn’t it.”

Ned’s first thought, strangely, wasn’t his life without the wolf. It was a life with Stephanie. “Fine. Let’s do it.” 

Ned signed Moira’s form and unbuttoned and rolled up his shirtsleeve.

* * *

In a rare feat of largesse, Moira let Ned borrow one of her Jaguars, midnight black. He brought it around the front of the manor as Stephanie stepped out the front door looking resplendent in a blue dress and a white Angola sweater. She smiled, and Ned tried to will his cheeks to not blush. He opened the passenger door for her as she bounded down the stone steps. 

“Your chariot awaits,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you, good sir.” She climbed inside, settling into the leather seat. Ned closed the door and ran around to the driver’s side and got in.

“I’m upset,” Stephanie said as they pulled away from the manor. “Moira’s been holding out on us.”

“What do you mean?”

“She makes us ride around in that crummy van when all the while we could have been fighting evil in this.”

Ned laughed. “I’ll be sure to point that out at our next meeting.”

“So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They drove in silence for a time. The manor was at the end of a remote road on a stretch of land bordering the pine barrens. He turned right on the main highway, and Stephanie busied herself with playing with the radio. They made small talk, listing their favorite songs and commenting on the weather. Fifteen minutes later they had reached their destination. 

Stephanie glanced sidelong at him. “The cemetery?”

“A little bird told me you were a taphophile.” 

Stephanie scrunched up her nose. “What’s a taphophile?”

“A person who likes cemeteries.”

She giggled. “Oh. I never knew it had a name. Hank told you, huh? Well, if there’s a name for it, Hank would know it.”

“That he would.”

They drove along a paved lane that went up a gently sloping hill, past white gravestones, many of them in the shape of ornate obelisks and angels and crosses. They passed a row of mausoleums and Ned slowed the Jag to a stop. Ned jumped out and opened Stephanie’s door, then went to the trunk and brought out a pale blanket and a picnic basket. “Come on.”

Ned and Stephanie walked side by side up a low hill to a relatively flat area free of headstones. The sun was low in the sky.

 Placing the picnic basket on the ground, Ned unfurled the blanket and sat down on it. Stephanie joined him.

“So,” she said, “What’s on the menu?”

Ned opened the basket and pulled out a chilled bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Fancy,” said Stephanie, her eyes sparkling.

“It’s from Moira’s private stock,” said Ned. “Hank said it pairs well with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Mmm. My favorite.” Stephanie reached into the basket and began unpacking the sandwiches while Ned wrestled with the cork. It came free with a loud pop and he filled the glasses before the wine spilled onto the blanket.

He handed a glass to Stephanie and she passed him a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. She sipped her wine and watched the sun begin to dip below the horizon. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem,” Ned said around a mouthful of sandwich. “We’ve been dealing with a lot of weirdness lately. I thought we could both use a regular day out.”

 “You were right.” 

They ate their sandwiches and sipped their wine in silence, Ned watching her without looking like he was watching her. 

“Ned? Does this have anything to do with…” She let her voice trail off, the unspoken work lying heavy between them.

“The other guy? I don’t know. I just thought–”

Stephanie shook her head, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“No. It’s OK. I understand. But really, I just wanted a normal afternoon. With a normal person who isn’t a vampire or a patchwork man or a missing link fish creature.”

Stephanie nodded. “You know, I hadn’t realized it, but me too. It was starting to feel normal. But it isn’t, is it?”

Ned laughed. “No, it certainly is not.”

“I mean, if you think about it, it’s actually rather insane.”

Ned held up his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” 

The two of them giggled as they clinked their glasses together. 

They heard a heavy thud from somewhere behind them. Ned raised himself up on his knees to peer into the gathering dusk. He sniffed, sensing something unpleasant wafting on the breeze. He had worked enough crime scenes early in his journalism career to know the rotting meat-and-bananas odor of a decaying body when he smelled it. But why could he smell anything? He was suddenly also hyper-aware of Stephanie’s perfume, the scent of the grass beneath them, the tannins in their wine. Could it be the Wolf’s senses coming to the fore?

Ned shoved that thought aside as he saw what had made the sound they’d heard.

Turning to Stephanie he said, “You’re not going to believe this, but zombies are invading our picnic.”

“What?”

She raised herself up and knee-walked to Ned’s edge of the blanket. “Oh my god.”

Ned seriously doubted that any deity had anything to do with what they were witnessing. Half a dozen graves had been forced open from below, claw-like, dirt-covered hands reaching for purchase on the freshly mown grass. A misshapen head appeared, desiccated skin stretched taut over the skull, sunken eyes cold and staring. The lipless mouth opened and closed, opened and closed.

“What the hell?” said Ned. 

 “I’m as opened-minded as the next girl,” said Stephanie. “But a zombie uprising? It strains incredulity.”

“And on our day off too, no less,” said Ned. Peering into the growing gloom, he found that his eyesight had also improved along with his sense of smell. A saw a lithe figure in the distance, holding what looked to be some enormous old leatherbound book. He turned and gripped Stephanie’s shoulders. 

“Someone is controlling this. Making it happen.”

“You mean the Last Reich.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But whoever it is, we need to get some help. I can see who’s behind it, way down the hill there.” He pointed.

Stephanie squinted in that direction. “But how? It’s getting so dark.”

“Never mind that now. You need to go and warn the League. The keys are still in the Jag.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go have a little chat with our friend.”

Stephanie opened her mouth, presumably to talk him out of it, but she closed it again. “All right. But be careful. I’ll be back with help as soon as I can.”

Stephanie stood and ran for the car, while Ned got a fix on the figure down the hill. They hadn’t seen Ned or Stephanie and were probably just enjoying the chaos they had set into motion. He still had the element of surprise. 

He moved between tombstones on his hands and knees, carefully avoiding the emerging zombies. They were too busy extricating themselves from their tombs to pay him much heed. He still had a short window to stop this thing, whatever it was. As much as he wanted to get away with everyone–and alone with Stephanie–he wished the others were here. Hank would know exactly what to do, and the Count would make short work of the mysterious zombie-raiser. Now would also be a good time for his furry friend to put in an appearance, but so far nothing. He could still smell everything–mostly rotting flesh and freshly turned grave dirt–but that was all of the Wolf he had access to at the moment. 

As Ned ducked between tombstones he realized that he didn’t know how to summon the Wolf even if he now could. It was always just something that happened during a full Moon. It came uninvited, unbidden. All he could do was prepare as best he could for his arrival and hope no one got hurt. Or killed. 

On the bright side, maybe all he had to do was buy the League some time. With any luck, Stephanie was halfway to the manse already.

* * *

Stephanie was halfway to the Jag when her foot caught on something and she fell to the grass with a painful thud. She looked down, thinking she had snagged the toe of her saddle oxford on one of those little square corner markers that demarcated the outer edge of a cemetery plot. But she wretched in horror when she realized it was a hand poking through the dirt and gripping her foot like a bony vice.

She struggled to wriggle free, but the zombie’s strength was immense. She kicked at the hand with her free leg, at last freeing herself before scrambling to her feet. She glanced around, frantic. There were more of them now, at least a dozen, and they had gathered in a loose semicircle between her and the Jag. 

Stephanie glanced behind her, but Ned was nowhere in sight. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the light was fading fast. She realized she was soon going to be trapped in a cemetery at night with a bunch of zombies. Her academic advisor in the Marine Biology department at the University of California-San Diego never warned her about this. 

The zombies just stood there, staring at her. Those that still had eyes, that is. Stephanie wondered if maybe she could outrun them, put some distance between them and her, and then double back to the Jag. It was worth a shot. She chose a direction that wasn’t obstructed by a tombstone or blocked by a zombie and ran, thankful she had worn her sensible shoes. 

* * *

Ned was almost to the figure when the zombies noticed him. One of the undead grabbed him from behind, hauling him to his feet. “Hey! Can we talk about this?” Ned cried as he twisted around to discover the pitiful creature that had him was missing its jaw, along with most of its face. “I guess not.”

Another joined him, grabbing his right arm and holding it fast. Ned was amazed at how strong they were, despite their fragile appearance. The one who held his arm looked as if a stout wind could blow it apart, but its grip was like iron. 

“Yes, my darlings,” called a female voice. “That’s it. Bring him to me.”

Ned realized the woman speaking was the figure he’d seen from a distance. He tried to dig in his heels, but the dead pulled him along without effort, his shoes sliding along the grass. As they drew closer, the woman fixed Ned with a smile that looked more like a sneer. “Ned Nylund. How delicious. You have saved me the journey to your team’s little hideaway.”

Ned stared back in disbelief. Who was this woman? And how did she know about the League’s HQ?

“Oh, I know all about where you’ve been hiding. I gathered these dearies to go and say hello. Aren’t they lovely?”

“And you are?” asked Ned.

“Lina Albrecht, at your service.” She gave a stately bow. Lina was tall and sharp-edged, a lot like Moira in that way. She wore crisp black slacks and a beige button-up shirt. It was free from insignia, but its purpose was clear. Her hair was long and jet black, save where it was shot through with strands of gray like silver wire, looped atop her head in a tight bun. In the gloom, her eyes looked as cold and black as the bottom of a well. 

“So what’s the purpose of this zombie uprising?” Ned quipped. “Couldn’t get a date for prom?”

Lina Albrecht laughed even as she stared daggers at him. “Such a clever wit. The sign of a gifted writer. I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying it’s so hard to find good help these days?” She gestured to the zombie hoard that now surrounded them in great numbers as if that explained her evil plan. 

“But where is your wolf friend? Nowhere to be seen. Such a pity there’s no full Moon tonight.”

Ned tried to look disappointed, and that she had him on that score. She didn’t know about the serum. That might be the lone ace up his sleeve. Of course, it hadn’t worked so far, so maybe she was right.

“So what are we doing here this evening?” Lina said. “Visiting an old friend? Perhaps they walk among us once more. Maybe you’d like to say hello?”

Ned inwardly relaxed a little. She didn’t know about Stephanie either. That was good. With any luck she was at the mansion now gathering the troops. Of course, he didn’t recall hearing the Jag’s engine roaring away into the night. 

“Looking for someone, Mr. Nyland? Are your friends not here to save you? No friends. No wolf. What are you then, hmm?”

“On the worst first date ever?”

Lina Albrecht laughed an uproarious cackle that sounded more vindictive than jovial. Then she brought the giant book around with both hands in a vicious arc, smacking Ned across the head so hard he saw stars. And tasted a little blood. He slumped in the arms of the zombies.

“That which is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die,” she quoted.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Ned replied, spitting a glob of blood onto the grass. “Heard it all before, lady. That’s a lot of fancy poetry for an army of rotting corpses.”

The woman scowled at him. “Simpleton. Even after all your adventures you have no appreciation for the dark arts.” She hefted the book she was holding in both hands, making Ned flinch for fear she was going to hit him with it again. “This tome holds many secrets. Raising the dead is but a parlor trick compared to the forbidden knowledge it contains.”

“Just so you can get a shot at the League?” Ned asked.

Lina Albrecht shrugged. “Isn’t that enough? There is a power vacuum within the Reich, thanks to your group. I’d like to fill it.”

Ned smiled. “Ah. I see. And you’ll score points by taking us out.”

“Precisely. So you see, your deaths will not be in vain.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“But enough talk. After my lovely rotting pretties rip you apart, they will march to your team’s not-so-secret headquarters. I wish you could be around to watch, friend Ned.”

The corpses tightened their grip on Ned’s arms and began to pull while a third wrapped its filthy, rotting hands around his throat. 

* * * 

Stephanie ran, tripping over a grave marker and almost stepping into a grave that had been opened by an escaping corpse. She paused to look around frantically. Her plan to outpace the zombie’s perimeter and then double back to the Jag wasn’t going to work. The zombies were everywhere. Now she was cut off from every direction. The Jaguar might as well be in Trenton for all the good it would do her. She wondered how Ned was making out. Probably not that well if there were still zombies about. She watched as a circle of undead tightened around her. She thought quickly, wondering what she could do. Her hand reached up to the medallion she wore/ The Seal of Van Helsing was a mystical ward designed to keep Count Dracula at bay. She doubted they would have any effect on shambling corpses. Then she had an idea. She just hoped it would work.

As the nearest zombie grabbed her, she reached out with her mind. She was probably out of range, but she had been working on strengthening her telepathic bond with Gill. If she pushed hard enough, maybe he would hear her. She focused on the image of the zombies, the cemetery, concentrating on the bizarre scenery and transmitting it to Gill. On top of that mental data she sent, Gill! Get Help!

Even if her mind could touch his from this distance, she didn’t know how the mute fish creature would communicate her distress to the others. But he was highly intelligent, and she was confident he’d come up with something. She didn’t have time to think about it anymore as the zombies closed in, grabbing her in grips of iron. She tried to scream, but a zombie pressed its rotting, stinking hand against her mouth. 

* * *

Ned wondered if he would ever become the Wolf as he started seeing stars. 

“Enough!” Lina commanded, and the corpse removed its hands from his throat. “We have another guest.”

Ned twisted around enough to see a small group of zombies dragging Stephanie into view. He slumped, crestfallen. She hadn’t gotten away. This was going to be bad. Their only hope seemed to be the Wolf, and he wasn’t making an appearance tonight. 

“What happened?” Ned asked.

“Jag was surrounded,” said the beautiful marine biologist as she squirmed in her captors’ disgusting grip. Ned watched in disgust as decaying flesh peeled from the brittle fingers of their captors. He didn’t see Lina’s army lasting through a long assault, and she clearly wanted to draw this out for effect. 

“Dr. Gordon,” said Lina. “How wonderful. Two members of the League about to fall to my little army.”

“Steph, meet Lina Albrecht,” said Ned. “She’s nuts.”

“Brave Ned,” Lina spat. “You dare to be flippant when your death is at hand? Moira Harker chose well. You are a fitting vessel for the Wolf. In another time I would attempt to bring you over to our cause, use the Wolf to fulfill the Last Reich’s pledge. But that time has passed.” 

“My father didn’t shoot you Nazi bastards during the war to see his son turn into one,” Ned said. 

Lina fixed him with an icy glare. “It is a shame you will not be here to bear witness to our genius as we remake the world. Kill them!”

The mindless walking corpses closed on their prey now, reaching out with rotting hands to clutch at their throats. Stephanie managed a scream as one of them began to throttle her.

Ned didn’t know the catalyst. Maybe it was the helpless anger he felt watching the zombies hurt Stephanie. Maybe it was his own fear, but he soon felt that familiar tingle as the tiny hairs stood up on the back of his neck and hands. He felt the sensation of being torn apart from the inside, of something dark and dangerous coming to the fore. 

The zombies piled on top of him, weighing him down until he was smothered by him. But what emerged from that dogpile of corpses wasn’t Ned, but something else. The Wolf was finally free.

Stephanie watched in excitement as the wolf burst free of the zombies, sending a few of them flying. It let forth a glorious, ululating howl that would have chilled her blood if the creature were not on her side.

Lina Albrect backed away from the scene slowly, clutching the giant book she carried tightly against her chest. She managed to look both afraid and thrilled at the same time. Clearly, the woman craved power. And the Wolf was raw, unbridled power in its purest, most savage form. 

The Wolf slashed and grabbed at the zombies, tearing them apart with such savagery that Stephanie almost felt sorry for them. After all, they were under a spell or a curse, and were just doing what they were told. 

The ones holding onto her let go and went to fight this hairy new adversary suddenly in their midst, and Stephanie backed away into a tombstone to watch how things played out. It wasn’t until after watching the Wolf work for a few minutes that she realized she should probably make a run for the Jag and get help. Or go after this Lena woman, who was getting away.

“Not so fast,” Stephanie heard herself shout as she ran down the gently sloping hill after the retreating villainess. She scarcely believed what she was doing as she tackled the woman, who let go of the book as both of them rolled down the hill grappling with each other. 

When they came to a stop, Lina dislodged Stephanie with a swift kick that sent her rolling off onto her back.

“I trained in several martial arts styles,” said Lina as she got up. “You don’t stand a chance.”

Stephanie got quickly to her feet. “Oh yeah?” She hauled back her fist and punched the Nazi woman in the face as hard as she could. The force of the blow twisted Lina sideways, and she almost lost her balance and fell. 

“Well, I have an older brother!” Stephanie finished. 

Lina went to lunge at her, but a dense fog formed around them. Stephanie smiled inwardly, as that could only mean one thing.

“The cavalry’s here,” she said. 

Through the fog, Stephanie could see Lina fighting with someone before going down in a heap. Mina Harker emerged from the mist. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Stephanie. “Now that you’re here. You guys got my message.”

“We took some convincing,” said a deep, resonant voice from behind her. The giant form of Hank Clerval, what history knew as Frankenstein’s monster, heaved up out of the fog, Lina’s book in his pale, scarred hands. “Fortunately, Gill can be quite persuasive.”

The fog roiled and undulated, coalescing down into a single point a few feet away. It solidified into a tall, dark form with skin as pale as Hank’s. “Good evening, my dear,” said the vampire.

“Count,” Stephanie replied with a nod.

“But where is your date?”

Stephanie pointed up the hill, where the Wolf was taking care of the last of the zombies. He grabbed an attacking corpse’s arm, pulling it easily from its socket. The Wolf stared at it for a long moment as if it couldn’t believe it had been that easy, then tossed it over its shoulder at the approach of the others. 

“The serum worked,” said Moira.

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. “Finally. But what about the zombies?”

There were still a few milling around as if unsure what to do with themselves.

Hank was already perusing through Lina’s book. “This text contains a counterspell. I will have everything set right in a few moments. But what was that woman’s plan?”

“She knows where we live,” said Stephanie. “She wanted to use the zombies to attack the manor and kill everyone.”

“She was trying to get in good with the Last Reich,” said Ned’s tired voice from behind them. Every head turned to find the Wolf had retreated. In his place was a disheveled Ned Nyland, his clothes torn and his hands covered in rotted flesh and gore. “She wanted to become their new leader.”

Moira sniffed. “She’ll be an inmate in a federal prison instead. “Let’s go home, everyone.”

“Sounds good,” said Ned. “I’m gonna need like five hundred showers.”

Moira looked him over in mild disgust. “Yes. Well, you’re not riding in my Jaguar like that. Dr. Gordon, you drive it home. The rest of you, in the van.”

As the rest of the League moved down the hill to retrieve Lina Albrecht, Stephanie hung back with Ned and walked with him.

“I’m sorry,” said Ned.

Stephanie looked at him. “For what?”

“For taking you on the worst first date ever.”

She giggled. “I don’t know. It wasn’t so bad. Up until the zombies, it was rather nice.”

Ned’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t say anything else. They walked down the hill in comfortable silence.