Dark Rain: 15 Short Tales Read Online Free PDF Page B

death is the great equalizer, then some of us are just more equal than others.”
—Diary of the Undead
     
    he was the last person I ever thought I would be friends with.
    Then again, when you’ve been through the shit we’ve been through together, well, maybe it’s not so surprising, after all.
    But still…
    We sat on the back steps of my house, facing my expansive backyard and the Pep Boys sign that hung like a god over the far wall.
    Friends
, of course, might be too strong a word. And
acquaintances
just didn’t feel right, either.
    A comrade,
I thought.
A comrade-in-arms.
    Yeah, I liked the sound of that.
    “Sounds, I dunno, a little Russian.” Nancy piped up, picking up on my thoughts a little too quickly for my liking.
    “Well, we’re going with it,” I said.
    “Suit yourself.” She shrugged, nonplussed. “And, for the love of God, will you blink?”
    Admittedly, I didn’t blink much when I was around her, since I knew it freaked her out. There was still some sass in me. Anyway, I could go for days without blinking. Generally, I had to remind myself to do it, anyway.
    I now made a big show of the action, and she laughed and shook her head.
    We were sipping wine and smoking cigarettes. One of us was buzzed and possibly laying the groundwork for lung cancer. The other would never get drunk or die of lung cancer, or die of anything other than silver to the heart. That someone, of course, just happened to be me. After a few minutes of silence, I asked, “How old are you?”
    “Twenty-seven.”
    “You were…” I did the math “…twenty-two when you met him?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Old enough to know better,” I said.
    She shrugged, some of her old defensiveness coming through. That she was a functioning human after what she had been through was amazing. That she could acknowledge someone else’s feelings was a surprise. After all, my dead husband’s mistress had had a helluva childhood. I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
    She exhaled a long, billowing plume of blue-gray smoke and turned to me. “How old were you when you married Danny?”
    “Twenty-one.”
    “Back when you were human?”
    “I’m still human!” I might have snapped at her a little. “I’m just, you know, weird.”
    She laughed. “You are far more than weird.”
    I shrugged and smoked and wondered again how, of all people, she and I had become friends. Through Danny, of course, a man we had both slept with, shared life experiences with, and might have even loved. Well,
I
had loved him. I couldn’t vouch for her, although I
could
have if I scanned her thoughts. I didn’t. Truth was, I never wanted to scan her thoughts again. They were dark and twisted—full of memories no one should ever have. Also, the last thing I wanted to see was an image of Danny in there, with her—and them going at it like feral rabbits.
    “We never went at it like rabbits, Sam. Feral or otherwise.”
    “How much did Danny tell you about me?” And were there others out there who knew my secret?
    Other strippers and prostitutes, no doubt.
    “I’m sure there are, Sam.” She exhaled and looked away. Nancy never hid from what she did then—or now. Although I didn’t ask, I got the very strong feeling, and these days I always trusted my feelings, that she made her living as a very high-priced call girl.
    “Something like that, Sam. I could tell you about it if you really wanted to know.”
    “I don’t. Not now, not ever.”
    She looked away and smoked, and if my judgmental tone had affected her, she didn’t show it. These days, I tried to keep that down, anyway. I tried to welcome her as a friend.
    “I do what I have to do, Sam. I’m glad you don’t judge me… too much. Anyway, he told me your whole story. How you were attacked. How you were turned. How you guys kept blood in the garage fridge. How you threatened him, scared him.”
    Danny had blabbed my secret.
    Months ago, when Nancy and I had first met, I could have denied