He did what he was told. It's not like he could haveescaped on foot. His knee was swelling up quickly, and he knew he would belimping for a week or two.
Weasel and Pink-face had Dirty Kurt bound like a calf,his hands behind his back and cuffed to his feet. They picked him up like asuitcase and attempted to drag him to the police car. When he started gnashinghis teeth and foaming at the mouth, they dropped him on his stomach, andPink-face went to the back of the car, popped the trunk, and produced a nylonmesh hood, which they quickly cinched over Dirty Kurt's head.
They picked him up once more and placed him in the backof the car. Weasel turned to Mort and said, "You're next."
Mort looked at the man as if he were crazy. "Youmust be out of your mind if you think I'm going to sit back there with thatman!"
Pink-face placed his hand on the butt of his nightstick.Mort looked at him, and he knew there was no getting out of it.
Weasel put a restraining hand on Pink-face and said toMort, "Do yourself a favor and just get in the back before we have to putyou back there. I appreciate your help, so why don't you just let me be nice toyou? Huh? Save us all some trouble here, pal."
Mort walked over to the back of the police car as Weaselopened the door. Dirty Kurt was still struggling in the back seat, and heshowed no sign of tiring. Mort plopped down in the back as Weasel slammed thedoor behind him.
As the two police officers got in the car, he studied thebites on their necks, shallow but bloody. All he wanted to do was get bookedand get a good night's sleep. Mort looked at Dirty Kurt and silently hoped thatthey didn't have to share a cell together.
Chapter 9: Dustin and Bill
Dustin hung up the phone. The police were on the way. Hethought about calling the owner of the bar, an abusive Chinese man who treatedhis employees like shit, but then figured against it. It didn't really matterto Dustin; tonight was definitely his last night slingin' suds behind the barof The Sleazy Goat.
He looked at the puddle of blood surrounding the old manon the floor. What a shame. He had seen the man in here plenty of times,drinking until close, but he had never quite remembered the man's name becausehe had always paid with cash. Oh well, it wasn't his problem anymore. He justwanted the police to show up and take his statement so he could get the hellout of there.
After stepping over the dead young man on the floor,Dustin hopped over the counter, his beat up, old Chuck Taylor's squeaking onthe lacquered wood of the bar. He grabbed a pint glass and poured himself abeer, which was at least half foam. As he turned around, Dustin noticed twothings... Teach was missing and the old man was sitting at the bar looking athim. The old man's gray windbreaker was soaked in blood and his eyes werevapid. A thin streamer of bloody drool dripped from his mouth and slowly madecontact with the bar, where it began to coil like a snake.
Dustin's stomach flipped at the site. "Hey, are youalright?" The old man just looked straight ahead, his head bobbing side toside like a cobra being charmed by a snake charmer. Dustin followed the oldman's eyes to see what he was staring at. Apparently, he was being mesmerizedby his own image in the mirror behind the bar. Dustin raised his glass to hislips, and drained the entire beer, though it stung his throat to do so.
When he belched, everything changed. The old man's gazeshifted from the mirror behind the bar to Dustin's face. A primal screamerupted from his bloody maw. Dustin, startled by the unexpected yell droppedthe pint glass. The old man began climbing over the bar, leaving one of hisdusty old tennis shoes behind in the process.
"Easy, man. I already called the cops. They're ontheir way."
The old man didn't appear to hear him, or if he did, hedidn't care. Dustin backed into the bar of the office and slammed the doorshut. He turned the lock on the door, and flinched as the door shook on itshinges. He yelled over the thudding, "The cops are on the way!"
It made no difference. The old man kept pounding on thedoor. Then suddenly it came to him... Bill, that was his name.
Chapter 10: Code Red and Endcaps
Rudy hiked across the street. In the still of the night,he could hear sirens. The buildings around him made it hard to tell exactlywhere the sirens were coming from, and as a police car swerved around thecorner, he nearly had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. If it hadbeen anyone else, he would have shot them the bird and tried to find some sort ofrock to throw.
But it was a cop, so he just swore under his breath, andcontinued walking down the street. The rain-slick pavement reflected the orangestreetlights. The chill of the night was finally present, and he was glad thatthe mugginess of the day was finally gone.
As he approached the convenience store, a mom and popstore run by a family of Asians who apparently never needed to sleep, he saw aman stumbling down the road in the distance. The man was dressed in a puffygreen jacket with an orange lining that could be seen every time he took ashambling step. He appeared to be having some trouble walking. Rudy wondered ifhe were simply drunk or retarded. Either way, he hoped the man was gone when hegot out of the convenience store because he looked like the type of person whowould ask for spare change. Rudy had no change to spare, out of principlerather than shortage.
The store's bell rang as he entered the store, but therewas no one behind the counter. He didn't mind. He hated the way they stared athim as he walked through
