Read Online Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor by HC Hammond - Free Book Online Page B

shopping.  
                The restaurant
even plastered its walls with framed photos and posters of famous Hollywood
stars from the good old days.  Authentic looking, but not real, none of the
posters featured warmest wishes to the diner from any star, long dead or
alive. 
                The jukebox in
the corner playing CDs, but not records dressed in red plastic.  The sugar,
salt and pepper shakers on the table appealed to Harold with red enameled
lids.  Bright chrome coated the place in a mirror finish.  Classic brass
ceiling fans pulled the air up from the floor with a slow, easy rhythm.  Nice
enough and clean and filled with so much lovely red that Harold could have been
chilling in bliss were it not for his current mood. 
                “Have something
to eat,” Zork muttered clearly while not moving its mouth from the food on its
plate.  Sitting next to Zork and opposite Harold in the booth were silent men
in dark grey, off the rack suits.  Men Harold recognized as soon as he walked
in.  It almost made him turn around and walk back out again, but a part of him,
feeling dour in light of recent events and all the holiday cheer figured things
couldn’t get much more unpleasant.  Besides he was curious how the G-men knew
Zork. 
                Agent Bergstrom
asked Harold for some identification, giving no indication he knew the vamp. 
So, they were going to pretend not to know him.  Two could play this game, he
thought  Harold raised his eyebrows at Zork. 
                The slug pulled
its face out of the plate of food, “Go ahead and show ’em.  They’re my
government buddies, right?”  He turned his question to the G-man sitting next
to him, who nodded. 
                Getting the
distinct impression a gun was being pointed at him from underneath the table,
Harold hurried to pull out his wallet and handed it to Potts beside him. 
                All of this cat
and mouse stuff was starting to irritate him.  Not a week ago, he’d seen more
of authority than he wanted to ever encounter again.  That night he vowed to go
straight, stop playing about, maybe even put some effort into this program the
very feds sitting in the booth pushed him into, but eventually he got hungry
again and it dulled his memory of Tasers and handcuffs.  So he ate, from the
blood bank, but he couldn’t look at a pint without first flashing to Zeke’s
face when he realized he’d find no help.
                Zork didn’t
notice the tension.  It continued to dive into its blueberry pie.  Zork eating
human food surprised Harold.  He knew some infecteds could eat regular food,
but Harold barely knew anything about this slug buddy of his, let alone knowing
Zork and the feds were good buds.  He started to wonder if maybe he
wouldn’t have been better off with Rufus the werewolf. 
                The G-man looked
at Harold’s license and handed it back with a nod to his partner across the
table.  Bergstrom returned the nod and Harold sensed the gun being put back in
its holster.  As if he were impersonating himself.  Who would want to
impersonate him right now?
                Zork finished his
meal with a belch.  “They know you’re a vampire.  Just checking your
identification,” Zork smacked its lips, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t
already have someone tailing you.”
                Harold’s stomach
dropped.  He glanced between the two solemn agents.  Would they have followed
him earlier at work?  If they knew what Harold had done they weren’t letting
on. 
                “What is this?”
He asked. 
                Zork’s eyestalks
twisted around themselves and untwisted again.  “These guys keep an eye on me. 
It’s a long story.”
                Bergstrom held up
a hand.  “Top Secret.  You don’t have the