Gil's All Fright Diner Part 16

He sipped from his steaming mug. "Should. You got any thumbtacks?"

"What for?"

"So we can mark the map."

"Can't we just use a marker?"

He shrugged. "Don't see why not. It's your map."

She removed a pen from her pocket and tapped it on the table. "What do you got in mind here?"

"We go through these papers and mark every point of reported activity, year by year. Maybe they'll show some sort of pattern we just aren't seeing."

"That's not a half-bad idea."

"Saw it in a movie once. There was this serial killer running around, and the police detective, he puts this big map on the wall and puts pushpins in each of the murders and reckons the killer's writing out a sign of the zodiac. Capricorn or Cancer or sumthin'. Once he figures that out, he's able to track down the killer and stop him from killing the next victim, who just happens to be the cop's girlfriend. Cop shoots the killer just in time, but 'course he ain't dead the first time. He gets up when n.o.body's looking, even though he's got six bullets in him, and the girlfriend ends up having to shoot him a coupl'a more times."

"I think I saw that one."

"Blood Hunt or Dark Blood or Blood Stalker," Earl recalled. "Sumthin' with blood in it. Anyway, it worked in the movie. Might work here."

"Worth a shot," Loretta agreed.

Earl started with the most recent edition of the Examiner and worked his way backwards. He read off the relevant articles while Loretta marked the map. She scribbled the year in small circles. Forty-five minutes later, a pattern was indeed evident. They were in the middle of deciphering it when Duke showed up.

"How were the chickens?" Earl asked.

"They just needed some better feed." Duke pulled up a chair and picked up a newspaper.

Earl pointed to the map. "Look here. There's a steady increase in phenomena each year. Not a whole lot. Just a small rise every year."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, if you go back far enough, you'll see that 'bout eighteen years ago, there was a huge jump. There's still stuff going on before that, but not near as much. And it's not as powerful either. Goes from poltergeists and crop circles to zombie outbreaks and ma.s.sive rodent migrations." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that."

Loretta screwed up her face in a quizzical expression.

"You're right. Funny. I've lived here all my life, and I never noticed that."

Duke spoke up from behind his paper. "Likely you wouldn't. It's like watching water heat up. Don't really notice until it's boiling. And whatever caused the rise probably made it seem perfectly normal."

"It messed with my head?"

"Messed with everybody's head."

"Don't think I like that much." She snarled. "Nope, can't say I care for it at all. Feels like I've been, well, I don't know, like I've been violated."

"It's just your mind," Earl said. "Not like someone poked out your eyes or broke your fingers."

"Guess so."

"Anyway," Earl continued, "there's gotta be sum thin' that happened eighteen years ago that made this happen."

"How do we figure out what it was?"

"Look through the papers again, I guess."

"Don't think that'll be necessary." Duke held up the Examiner he was reading for them to see. "Eighteen years ago, fifteenth of March." He jabbed his finger in a human interest story in the corner.

GIL WILSON OPENS ALL-NIGHT DINER. A grainy black-and-white photograph of Wilson sat under the line. He was a small, unremarkable man. As indistinct and bland as his restaurant.

Loretta s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from Duke's hands. "d.a.m.nation. How can you be sure it ain't just a coincidence?"

Earl marked the map where the diner stood. The big, black X sat in the rough center of a circle of supernatural activity extending fifty miles in every direction.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence?" Loretta said.

"Hector has a rule 'bout coincidences," Duke replied. "One don't mean much. Two means the universe is trying to tell you something. Could be we're sitting in another St. Louis Arch."

"Maybe," Earl agreed.

"The arch isn't just a landmark," Duke explained to Loretta. "It's a transdimensional portal. 'Least, that's what it was supposed to be. Some demons were plannin' on opening a door to h.e.l.l with it."

"Not h.e.l.l," Earl corrected. "Purgatory."

"Same difference. Didn't work anyway."

"And Big Ben ain't just a big clock. It's actually the Stopwatch of Infinity. Some mystics put it together to keep the world from ending. There's a cog in there that literally carries the fate of the world."

"Don't forget about the Great Pyramids," Duke reminded.

"What about them?" Loretta couldn't resist asking.

Earl leaned in closer. "Turns out they really were landing pads for ancient astronauts."

Her left eye widened in astonishment while the right narrowed suspiciously. "You're kiddin'."

The vampire couldn't hold back his chuckle any longer. "You're right. I'm lying. The pyramids are just giant Egyptian tombstones. But the rest is all true." He raised a hand, palm forward. "Bloodsucker's honor."

"Point is," Duke said, "just 'cuz this place looks like a diner, don't mean it's just a diner. The Chinese believe places can channel the power of the Earth."

"Fung shee," Earl said.

"Fong si," Duke corrected.

"Fing chu."

"Fung soy."

"Whatever you call it, if Gil Wilson knew the right way to put this diner up it could amplify the weirdness factor this particular spot throws out."

"Now that I think about it," Loretta mused, "it does seem kind'a odd that somebody would build a diner this size this far from the highway. So you're saying Gil wanted this to happen?"

"He wanted sumthin'. The supernatural jump might have just been a side effect. Guess the best thing to do now would be to take Polaroids of the whole place, top to bottom, and send it off to Hector. He might be able to spot sumthin' we missed."

"And you think that'll help us figure out why someone wants me out of here so bad?"

"No guarantees, but it's a start."

Loretta went off in search of her camera.

Earl poured his fourth cup of coffee of the evening. It'd get him jittery, but at least he didn't have to worry about being kept awake all day.

Earl ducked out of the diner under the pretense of getting something to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Not hungry enough to bite into a cow's neck. He wanted to make a phone call. The phone at the diner was dangerous to use. He didn't want Duke overhearing it, and given the werewolf's hearing, a mile or two was just playing it safe.

Earl found a pay phone sitting beside a decayed, long-forgotten gas station. Naturally, the station was haunted by a pair of ghosts: one chubby guy in ectoplasmic overalls covered in ectoplasmic grease, and a Scottish terrier. Earl reckoned there had to be as many spirits living in Rockwood as people. Maybe more. The attendant ghost slumbered on a bench beside the broken-down pumps while the terrier trotted over to the vampire.

Normally he'd just ignore the mutt, but his feelings toward restless spirits had changed over the last couple of days. He petted the terrier for a few minutes before making his call. It had to be collect, but he knew Hector wouldn't mind.

"Hec, yeah it's me. Yeah, we still got problems with the diner, but I got sum thin' else to ask."

The spirit dog began to sniff his ankles just a little too aggressively. He nudged it away, but it was not so easily discouraged.

"Is there anyway to loose a graveyard guardian?"

While Hector explained the ins and outs of spiritual emanc.i.p.ation and Earl took notes, the terrier mounted his leg and went to town. Earl shook and kicked, but it held fast, clinging with a supernatural tenacity unavailable to dogs of flesh and blood. Earl finally decided it was easier to let it finish up. He thanked Hector for his help and headed toward the graveyard. The dog followed.

On the way, Earl spotted a cow and decided to grab a meal of convenience. If he didn't get something tonight, he'd just have to force himself to do it tomorrow. He was in the middle of climbing the fence when the terrier dashed forward and started barking at his supper. The dog nipped, sinking immaterial teeth into the bovine's ankles. The cow, being a simple-minded creature unable to logically deny the existence of ghosts, awoke and trotted off. The terrier returned to Earl's side. Its eyes shone with canine pride.

Earl hopped off the fence. "Yeah. Great job there, boy."

The dog's tail wagged so quickly it blurred into ectoplasmic mist.

Back at the graveyard, Earl couldn't wait to tell Cathy the good news. She smiled wide with his arrival and held out her open arms.

"Napoleon!"

The terrier jumped into her arms and licked her face.

Her voice raised a squeaky octave, and her lips puckered up in an absurd expression. "How's my favorite boy? How's my favorite boy? Has he been good?"

"He's been swell," Earl replied.

She made some ridiculous kissing noises at the mutt, who licked her some more to make sure every inch of her face was covered in s...o...b..r. She set down Napoleon. The dog went off to investigate the many open graves.

"Isn't he cute?"

"Real sweetheart." Earl tried to sound like he meant it.

"He's been my only company since I was buried. Comes by every so often to say hi."

"Great. Napoleon, huh?"

"That's the name I gave him. I don't know his real name. Do you like it?"

He leaned against a loose tombstone. It shifted under his weight. "Good a name as any."

She sat beside him. The tombstone didn't notice. "So did everything work out okay last night?"

"n.o.body got killed." He held up his notepad and quickly changed the topic. "I think I can get you out of this cemetery."

"Really?"

"Maybe," he said. "It's a pretty basic piece of magic according to a friend of mine, but I'll have to round up some supplies first. If it works, you'll be able to leave the graveyard whenever you want."

"Cool. I guess."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I'll still be dead, won't I?"

He nodded.

"So where could I go that would be any different than this? I mean, a change of scenery would be nice, and I appreciate the effort. But, still, what would I do? Where would I go?"

Earl swallowed a deep breath.

"You could always go with me." There was a shudder in his voice he hoped she didn't notice. "I mean, if you wanted to."

"Really?"

"Why not?"

"And Napoleon. Can he come with us, too?"

The ghost terrier raised his head and yipped.

Earl didn't relish the idea of nightly phantom ankle rides. But he couldn't say no to Cathy about anything. If she'd asked him to stay and watch the sunrise, he'd have readily agreed.

"Okay."

She threw her arms around him. Earl unconsciously pulled away. The shifting weight uprooted the tombstone, and they fell to the ground. He wound up on his back with Cathy lying half on top of him. The weight of spirits was practically nonexistent, yet she pressed down on him like a two-ton safe. He felt short of breath, which didn't make a whole lot of sense considering the undead didn't need to breathe. They laughed. She started first, and he followed along. He put a hand on her shoulder to help lift her away but ended up drawing her closer.

Then they were kissing. A warm, lingering kiss that lasted forever yet not nearly long enough. He'd never kissed a ghost before. It wasn't much different than kissing a living person except for a slight taste left on his lips. A taste of roses and morning dew and, strangely, Dr. Pepper.

She smiled. "Wow."

He was completely aware of the stupid, lopsided grin across his face. He didn't care.