Odd Jobs for the Undead - A Zombie For Hire Story

Chapter 19

I was still wearing the clothes I'd had on when I took a dip in the bay. They looked trashed even by my standards. I left Foggy's and stopped a few doors down at a hipsterish vintage clothing store. The excess merchandise that didn't make the cut for their clientele was disposed of in back. I had to paw through piles of torn jeans, summer dresses and dot com t-shirts, but I eventually found a nice pair of trousers, only one size too big, and a button down shirt with a faint coffee stain on the sleeve. Thanks to Merl's potion, my body had purged most of the sea water I'd absorbed and the fresh clothes helped minimize the cloud of rotting fish smell that I knew must be following me around. I also found a natty sailor's coat and a crumpled Fedora. As an ensemble it didn't really match, but it would be enough to get me across town at night, above ground.

I remembered Gretchen's suggestion to bring flowers and stopped at a corner florist. I waited until there weren't any other customers at the counter and brought up a big bouquet of bright red pansies and candy cane striped dahlias.

"Got a big date going tonight?" the florist asked me as I handed over a few twenties.

"Sorta, yeah," I said.

She gave me my change.

"You may want to go home and change first. You're a little ripe, if you know what I mean," she said in a conspiratorial whipser.

I did, of course. But I think that's part of my charm for Vickie.

"Thanks for the tip," I said, and dropped the change into her tip jar.

I ambled up to Vickie's building a little after 10 and pressed her button on the building's call box and waited. It was a crisp, chilly San Francisco night. I longed to take a deep breath, fill my lungs with the air, savor the moment. But it was just one more little pleasure that my un-life denied me. Another triviality that the living take for granted. I don't know why my thoughts were turning morose. I had a date, I reminded myself. Things were looking up.

"Who is it?" The voice from the call box was filled with crackle and static, but it was unmistakably Vicki.

I cleared my throat and said "It's Gordon."

She cut the connection and I heard the click of the door lock disengaging.

Vickie's apartment is on the fifth floor, but I decided to take the stairs and work out any gasses that might be building up. No need to stink her place up. But by the time I reached her door I was starting to feel butterflies in my stomach. It wasn't a familiar sensation. I even had to force myself to rap my knuckles on her door. Last night had amazing. What if the chemistry was a one off thing, I wondered nervously. What if she got tired of me? Or worse, what if she ended up finding me just as disgusting as every other woman.

"Just a second," I heard her say from the other side. Then, "The door's open."

"Here we go," I mumbled to myself, then turned the door knob and let myself in. I'd expected to find Vickie waiting for me right inside, but the apartment was as dim as a sewer tunnel and I couldn't see a soul even with the dim light being let in from the hallway.

"Vickie?"

"Come on in, babe. I've got a surprise for you," she said suggestively.

I shut the door behind me and took a few tentative steps inside. I actually have excellent night vision, but it takes my irises a while to open up, so I might as well have had my eyes closed, it was so dark now.

"Marco," I said.

"Polo," she said from about ten feet in front of me.

I moved forward a few feet and stumbled into small table, sending what sounded like coins and keys and a handbag tumbling onto the floor.