me those looks, I don’t mean what you think. She’s going to be the liaison between you dumb animals and me, your ever-charming keeper.”
He whistled as he closed the accordion door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Special K
Admittedly, these quarters were not up to his usual standards.
His Manhattan apartment was, for all its luxury, small as a coffin, admittedly—but this ‘room,’ if it could be called that, was basically a doll’s bedroom. His Fluevog-clad feet hung over the edge. Sure, he was a tall, lanky sort, but even still—this bedroom made him feel like a giant. And not in a good way.
Plus? Paneled walls? Did someone really think paneling was a good idea inside a recreational vehicle? This was not high-class travel. This was not, ‘I’ll put on a suit and a fedora and sip a dirty vodka martini while we fly the friendly skies.’ This was more like, ‘This city bus smells like dead hobo.’
Well, whatever. It was what it was. And what it was was the relative extinction of the human race.
The accordion door pulled open. Kayla poked her head in.
“Hey,” she said, looking wobbly. He waved her in with the curl of a finger. She entered, closed the door with a rattle.
For the last couple hours, they’d been murmuring about him and what to do. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them? If he concentrated real hard he could hear a koala bear fart all the way around the world. He heard the clank of cans and the crisp tk-tk-tk of the can-opener. He heard their sloppy eating. He heard Leelee defend him, heard Cecelia call for his drawing and quartering time and time again. He heard Ebbie, of all people, say that this was better than what they had before, and given that ‘better’ apparently included getting ambushed and blood-sucked while trying to take a piss, that was really saying something. Gil kept mostly mum on the subject, saying little more than, “We’ll deal with it when we need to deal with it.” That was perhaps the most concerning reaction of them all. Cecelia was an empty threat, but Gil, he was the sit-and-let-it-simmer type. Coburn decided he couldn’t lose sight of that.
Kayla, meanwhile, didn’t say a word for him or against him. All he heard from her were weak little mouse noises as she supped—well, slurped really, the way humans ate food was always somewhat disgusting to Coburn—on some broth.
She came into the room and stayed at its margins.
“You can sit down,” he said, patting the bed. It was like patting a granite slab— thud thud thud . She shook her head. “No, really. Sit down or you’re going to fall down.” She was still gray-faced, the capillaries in her eyes half-burst.
The girl hesitantly came and sat next to him.
“What?” he asked. “You scared of me still?”
“You said some pretty rough stuff out there.”
He waved it off. “The sheeple gotta know what they’re up against.”
“Still. You didn’t need to threaten them like that.”
“You kidding me?” He laughed. “Sweet little girl, what did you think you were getting, exactly? You asked a wolf to protect the sheep . I’m equal parts serial killer and demon from Hell . I’m not, uhh—” He tried to think of something opposite of that, some polar example.
“Big Bird?”
“What the fuck is a Big Bird?”
“You never saw Sesame Street?”
“That in Queens?”
She wrinkled her nose, gave him a look like a cute-but-constipated rabbit. “No, it’s a TV show for kids.”
“If wasn’t on before sunrise, then I didn’t watch it. Besides, New York City? Greatest city in the world. I didn’t spend my nights watching the idiot box. I spent it out there , on the streets, in the clubs. Eating, drinking, dancing.”
“Drinking blood, you mean.”
“I can drink more than blood. I can drink anything you can drink. Gimme a shot of bourbon and I’m in heaven. Thing is, I don’t need it like you do. Not like I gotta hydrate or anything. I can eat a steak and have a
He whistled as he closed the accordion door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Special K
Admittedly, these quarters were not up to his usual standards.
His Manhattan apartment was, for all its luxury, small as a coffin, admittedly—but this ‘room,’ if it could be called that, was basically a doll’s bedroom. His Fluevog-clad feet hung over the edge. Sure, he was a tall, lanky sort, but even still—this bedroom made him feel like a giant. And not in a good way.
Plus? Paneled walls? Did someone really think paneling was a good idea inside a recreational vehicle? This was not high-class travel. This was not, ‘I’ll put on a suit and a fedora and sip a dirty vodka martini while we fly the friendly skies.’ This was more like, ‘This city bus smells like dead hobo.’
Well, whatever. It was what it was. And what it was was the relative extinction of the human race.
The accordion door pulled open. Kayla poked her head in.
“Hey,” she said, looking wobbly. He waved her in with the curl of a finger. She entered, closed the door with a rattle.
For the last couple hours, they’d been murmuring about him and what to do. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them? If he concentrated real hard he could hear a koala bear fart all the way around the world. He heard the clank of cans and the crisp tk-tk-tk of the can-opener. He heard their sloppy eating. He heard Leelee defend him, heard Cecelia call for his drawing and quartering time and time again. He heard Ebbie, of all people, say that this was better than what they had before, and given that ‘better’ apparently included getting ambushed and blood-sucked while trying to take a piss, that was really saying something. Gil kept mostly mum on the subject, saying little more than, “We’ll deal with it when we need to deal with it.” That was perhaps the most concerning reaction of them all. Cecelia was an empty threat, but Gil, he was the sit-and-let-it-simmer type. Coburn decided he couldn’t lose sight of that.
Kayla, meanwhile, didn’t say a word for him or against him. All he heard from her were weak little mouse noises as she supped—well, slurped really, the way humans ate food was always somewhat disgusting to Coburn—on some broth.
She came into the room and stayed at its margins.
“You can sit down,” he said, patting the bed. It was like patting a granite slab— thud thud thud . She shook her head. “No, really. Sit down or you’re going to fall down.” She was still gray-faced, the capillaries in her eyes half-burst.
The girl hesitantly came and sat next to him.
“What?” he asked. “You scared of me still?”
“You said some pretty rough stuff out there.”
He waved it off. “The sheeple gotta know what they’re up against.”
“Still. You didn’t need to threaten them like that.”
“You kidding me?” He laughed. “Sweet little girl, what did you think you were getting, exactly? You asked a wolf to protect the sheep . I’m equal parts serial killer and demon from Hell . I’m not, uhh—” He tried to think of something opposite of that, some polar example.
“Big Bird?”
“What the fuck is a Big Bird?”
“You never saw Sesame Street?”
“That in Queens?”
She wrinkled her nose, gave him a look like a cute-but-constipated rabbit. “No, it’s a TV show for kids.”
“If wasn’t on before sunrise, then I didn’t watch it. Besides, New York City? Greatest city in the world. I didn’t spend my nights watching the idiot box. I spent it out there , on the streets, in the clubs. Eating, drinking, dancing.”
“Drinking blood, you mean.”
“I can drink more than blood. I can drink anything you can drink. Gimme a shot of bourbon and I’m in heaven. Thing is, I don’t need it like you do. Not like I gotta hydrate or anything. I can eat a steak and have a
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