Read Online King of the Dead (Jeremiah Hunt Chronicle) by Joseph Nassise - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Nassise
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third floor and the news that the elevator was “out of service.” Given the state of the place, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been that way for the last few decades.
Our rooms were at the end of the hall, though not adjacent to each other. It didn’t matter; we had no intention of using that first room anyway. We’d rented it simply to keep the desk clerk from asking too many questions or remembering us for all the wrong reasons. Dmitri let us into that second room, the one farther down the hall from the stairwell. There were only two beds, but that wasn’t a problem for us; in a place like this, one of us was always going to be on watch while the others slept. The rougher parts of New Orleans had always been, well, rough, and in the aftermath of Katrina they’d gotten considerably worse. I wouldn’t have put it past the clerk in the lobby to sell us out to some of the local riffraff as an easy way to make a few bucks. If they looked for us in the other room first, we’d hear them. If they tried this one …
Dmitri settled down in front of the door without a word.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Playing guard dog,” he said.
Denise was a smart gal; she didn’t need him to spell it all out for her. But I’d forgotten about her quick wit.
“Nice to see that you know your place,” she said over her shoulder as she slipped into the bathroom. I could imagine the mischievous grin she was wearing as she closed it behind her.
“Laugh away, sweetheart, laugh away,” he called after her. “But when a pack of ravenous zombies bursts through the door, you’ll be happy that there’s a food source between you and them.”
I thought it was a pretty good comeback, but Denise obviously didn’t. She yanked open the door and said, “Sweet Gaia, Dmitri! Zombies are nothing to joke about. Especially here in New Orleans. What’s wrong with you?”
At which point she shut the door again, leaving the two of us to wonder if she was serious or having another joke at our expense.
As I settled down to catch some sleep, I hoped like hell it was the latter.
10
HUNT
Dmitri woke me just after midnight for my turn to stand watch. The room was dark and so I had no difficulty seeing him there, crouched over me where I slept on the mattress he’d tossed on the floor earlier.
“Any trouble?”
I kept my voice low, not wanting to wake Denise.
He shook his head. “Some shouting from down the hall earlier, but nothing that concerns us,” he said.
I climbed to my feet as he slid into the bed I’d just vacated. I knew he’d be asleep in seconds; at some point in his life he’d learned the old soldier’s trick of snatching sleep whenever he could get it. In our months on the run I’d seen him sleep through noise that could wake the dead.
In the end, the night passed without incident; the marauding packs of ravenous zombies must have gone elsewhere for the evening. We took turns using the shower to freshen up from our cross-country odyssey. With my hair still damp and a fresh set of clothes on my six-foot frame, I was ready to play psychic detective and track down whatever Denise’s vision had meant her to find.
Provided I got a cup of coffee in me first, of course.
We asked at the front desk where we might grab a bite to eat, and the clerk directed us to a quaint old place a few blocks from the hotel. It wasn’t much to look at from the outside; the window from the street was intentionally soaped over in big white circles, preventing you from seeing in, and the sign on the door simply read EATS . But once inside I was overwhelmed by the rich, thick smell of roasted coffee and crisp bacon. My stomach grumbled hungrily in response.
It was too bright inside for me to see much of anything, but the presence of the ghost in the corner was as clear as a light in the darkness. He was a grizzled old man, dressed in the whites of a short-order cook, complete with a spatula in his hand. He watched us
Our rooms were at the end of the hall, though not adjacent to each other. It didn’t matter; we had no intention of using that first room anyway. We’d rented it simply to keep the desk clerk from asking too many questions or remembering us for all the wrong reasons. Dmitri let us into that second room, the one farther down the hall from the stairwell. There were only two beds, but that wasn’t a problem for us; in a place like this, one of us was always going to be on watch while the others slept. The rougher parts of New Orleans had always been, well, rough, and in the aftermath of Katrina they’d gotten considerably worse. I wouldn’t have put it past the clerk in the lobby to sell us out to some of the local riffraff as an easy way to make a few bucks. If they looked for us in the other room first, we’d hear them. If they tried this one …
Dmitri settled down in front of the door without a word.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Playing guard dog,” he said.
Denise was a smart gal; she didn’t need him to spell it all out for her. But I’d forgotten about her quick wit.
“Nice to see that you know your place,” she said over her shoulder as she slipped into the bathroom. I could imagine the mischievous grin she was wearing as she closed it behind her.
“Laugh away, sweetheart, laugh away,” he called after her. “But when a pack of ravenous zombies bursts through the door, you’ll be happy that there’s a food source between you and them.”
I thought it was a pretty good comeback, but Denise obviously didn’t. She yanked open the door and said, “Sweet Gaia, Dmitri! Zombies are nothing to joke about. Especially here in New Orleans. What’s wrong with you?”
At which point she shut the door again, leaving the two of us to wonder if she was serious or having another joke at our expense.
As I settled down to catch some sleep, I hoped like hell it was the latter.
10
HUNT
Dmitri woke me just after midnight for my turn to stand watch. The room was dark and so I had no difficulty seeing him there, crouched over me where I slept on the mattress he’d tossed on the floor earlier.
“Any trouble?”
I kept my voice low, not wanting to wake Denise.
He shook his head. “Some shouting from down the hall earlier, but nothing that concerns us,” he said.
I climbed to my feet as he slid into the bed I’d just vacated. I knew he’d be asleep in seconds; at some point in his life he’d learned the old soldier’s trick of snatching sleep whenever he could get it. In our months on the run I’d seen him sleep through noise that could wake the dead.
In the end, the night passed without incident; the marauding packs of ravenous zombies must have gone elsewhere for the evening. We took turns using the shower to freshen up from our cross-country odyssey. With my hair still damp and a fresh set of clothes on my six-foot frame, I was ready to play psychic detective and track down whatever Denise’s vision had meant her to find.
Provided I got a cup of coffee in me first, of course.
We asked at the front desk where we might grab a bite to eat, and the clerk directed us to a quaint old place a few blocks from the hotel. It wasn’t much to look at from the outside; the window from the street was intentionally soaped over in big white circles, preventing you from seeing in, and the sign on the door simply read EATS . But once inside I was overwhelmed by the rich, thick smell of roasted coffee and crisp bacon. My stomach grumbled hungrily in response.
It was too bright inside for me to see much of anything, but the presence of the ghost in the corner was as clear as a light in the darkness. He was a grizzled old man, dressed in the whites of a short-order cook, complete with a spatula in his hand. He watched us
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