One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie story

Chapter Forty: It's Meat, Flavored with...Meat!

"Maxx, I'm not buckling you in. You're a dog." Sheesh, has he never ridden in a car before?

"I am a hell hound," he replies. "There is a difference."

"Right now, at this very minute, you're a spaniel," I say. "Besides, I don't have a special harness for you. It wouldn't work."

"Isn't the Farmer's Market in the opposite direction as the club?" Andrew asks.

I get into the front seat and insert the key in the ignition. It turns over without a hitch. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's to baby my car. The Marta's great for the short term, but no-one who's lived in Atlanta for a long time wants to use it for, say, grocery shopping and stuff.

"It'll just take a minute. You and Maxx can keep each other company."

"I need to get this done, Isis."

I'm about ready to snap at him, but then catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. He looks scared.

"I'll be as fast as I can," I promise, easing the Bug into traffic. "But things'll go a lot easier if I have rib-eyes. Trust me."

I expect Andrew to say something snarky, but he just leans his head back on the seat and closes his eyes. "Just make sure I'm back before daybreak," he says.

This time I do roll my eyes. After all, he can't see me, and even if he could, what's he going to say? He's the one who came to me for help. Does he seriously think I'm going to let him burst into flames?

It's pretty much a straight shot down 75 South to 285 North, then off the freeway at East Ponce to the market itself. There's not much traffic now, which is perfect, since The Farmer's Market closes at nine.

"What sort of a market is this?" Maxx asks. "I see no farmers."

"It's like a giant grocery store," Andrew doesn't even open his eyes. "Except that instead of normal stuff, they have a huge produce section. It's got all kinds of vegetables from around the world and different kinds of meat."

"I'll only be a sec," I say. I open the door, slamming it shut behind me. I'm not mad or anything, but if I don't use force, sometimes the door sticks.

Maxx barks at me, but I ignore him. I'm just grateful he's not shouting out the car window something like, 'I want chicken!' That'd turn some heads.

I miss buying food at the Farmer's Market. The fruits and vegetables always seem to last longer than from anywhere else. Also, it's food without the middle man; pretty much from farmer to table. In short, it's hippie heaven.

I make the run as fast as possible. I don't eat anything normal anymore, so it's easy to stay away from the entire right side of the warehouse sized...ummm...warehouse. The meat section is a lot harder to resist. After all, it's raw meat. Counter upon counter of juicy, oozing steaks, ground beef, ostrich, turkey legs...Oooo...I pause and grab a turkey leg for Maxx. The man behind the counter just smiles at me — I think it's a default reaction because he does it to the woman right behind me, too. Ah well, I know I'm not pretty anymore. It kind of sucks, but there it is. Next up is the rib-eyes. I wait for my turn. Why're there so many people in the meat department so close to closing, anyway?

"Who's next?"

I raise my hand and step forward, but a woman tries shoving her way past me. "Excuse me," she mutters, not sorry.

"I was here first," I say.

She turns toward me, but something in my glare stops her in her tracks. "I—I'm sorry," she says instead, stepping away from me. "I didn't see you."

We both know it's a lie, but I just shrug and turn back to the counter. "I need two of the largest rib-eyes you've got."

He raises his eyebrow at me. Okay, I know I'm only around 5'0" and, in this stage of the game it's doubtful I'll grow any more, but staring at me isn't going to help.

"Bone in or bone out?"

"Bone in, please."

He weighs out two steaks and I darn near expire at the price. $30.05. Tucker better appreciate these. And I better get to see Nacelles whenever I want from now until eternity. I get the meat, take it to the cashier, pay my bill, and hightail it out to the car, where I find Maxx and Andrew deep in conversation.

"...but he's a magician," Andrew is protesting.

"A magician, not a miracle worker." Maxx's nose flares. "Isisss, what is that?"

"The steaks are for Tucker, so paws off," I answer even as I dig into the bag and get out the turkey leg. "This one's for you." I hold it out to him, blink once, and while I'm busy blinking, Maxx nabs it. I feel his warm doggy breath as the weight of the leg leaves my palm. Then the car's suspension groans, and Maxx the Great Dane is laying across the backseat, cracking the bone in two. I guess he likes turkey...

"It is not chicken," he says.

"No," I agree. "It's not. And why did you change form again?"

"It is much better than chicken," he replies, "and the spaniel is not my favorite form."

Well, then... "I'm glad you like the turkey," I say. "It's smoked, though, which gives it a whole different flavor than regular turkey."

"I am glad I am staying above ground," Maxx says. "I do not think I would experience such things with Nacelles Caldmer."

I have to agree with him. I mean, the lich seems cool, but I don't think he's one to go out of his way to help Maxx try out new food. Poor hound had never tasted chicken before, and he's how old?

"Now that the touchy-feely stuff is over, can we get on with solving my problem?" Andrew whines.

"Sure." I turn the ignition on, pull out of the parking lot and back onto the freeway. Blood Bank, here we come.