Page 55 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Nick had been about to ask her what exactly the difference was when Gracie Nivola showed up with a paper bag stamped with paw prints.

‘I see Reba’s already been by.’ She nodded at Nick’s tie-dyed tie and Alice’s bandana. ‘But I thought Alice might like a treat. It’s from that organic pet-food tent over there.’

‘Thanks,’ said Nick, as Alice sat and patiently waited for her treat.

Gracie’s camera clicked as she snapped a photo of Alice in her new tie-dyed bandana. Alice gave a dramatic shake, which Gracie caught with a chuckle.

‘Very photogenic. How are sales?’ She split the question between both Nick and Zoey. This was a pleasant change.

‘They’re going surprisingly well,’ said Zoey. ‘Ever since we introduced the Brain Freeze blend that uses Nick’s mushrooms, we’ve been fighting people off.’

Gracie waved her camera thoughtfully. ‘I’m probably only going to make things worse. This is going into a public-interest piece for The Guardian. And my website.’

Which actually had a bigger readership than The Guardian, Nick suspected. But to her credit, Gracie didn’t make this particular brag.

‘I see Reba’s doing well,’ said Nick, with a nod over to the Dyer on the Mountain booth. Reba was cheerfully chatting away with Kenard from Punk Broc and his group of leather-clad friends, who were laughing heartily at her shenanigans. One of the punks looked to be seriously considering a black-and-white tie-dyed jacket, while another was marvelling at a shirt featuring a tie-dyed skull design.

‘She’s the queen of the festival scene,’ said Gracie easily. ‘We met at an event outside this coffee shop in Brooklyn a few years ago, and we’ve been friends ever since. I photograph all of her events – well, although I’m pretty selective about what I commit to film at Tie-Dyepalooza. That can be quite the experience.’

Nick chuckled. ‘My sister Cleo has been to a couple of those. The one in Seattle last year, and the one in Santa Fe the year before that. She says that what happens at Tie-Dyepalooza stays at Tie-Dyepalooza.’

‘That’s a pretty good mantra for anything involving Reba, honestly,’ said Gracie. She glanced around, considering. ‘I’m also here to get some shots of the local … flavour. For reportage purposes.’

‘Smoothie?’ offered Zoey, waving a fluorescent-green Brain Freeze number. ‘They’re great for energy. On the house.’

Gracie shook her head. ‘I’m allergic to mushrooms. But I’ll take one of those pink ones.’

‘Good choice,’ said Zoey. ‘It’s dragon fruit, mangosteen, berries, and pea protein. Plus some herbs for oomph.’

‘Thanks. I’m going to need that if I’m going to be on my feet all day. I’ve still got the bands to cover, and Reba’s insisting we head down to the Crystal Ballroom tonight.’

‘Are you guys staying downtown?’

Gracie nodded. ‘The Sentinel. We were going to try a little B&B a few streets over on Broadway, but they’re booked solid for a few months.’

‘Oh, the Rose and Thorn?’ said Nick. ‘My sisters are staying there when they come to visit in a couple of weeks.’

‘I’ll make sure Cleo and Reba get a chance to catch up, then.’ Gracie sipped languidly at her smoothie, making an approving noise. ‘We’ll probably be around for the next month or so. Reba’s got a few events in the works, and I’ll take any excuse to hang around Portland in the summer. I have rolls of film ready to go. Speaking of, is that the band? Duty calls.’

Waving her camera, she disappeared into the crowd, as much as someone who looked like a catwalk model could disappear in a crowd full of the pierced, the tattooed, and the furry-costumed.

Next to appear in front of them was Ainsley. In addition to the bag of sign-painting materials she was always toting about, today she was sporting a stack of flyers in support of Romero’s mayoral candidacy. Nick had never before seen anyone so devoted to local cat politics.

‘I came with Joaquin,’ she said, pointing to Joaquin’s booth, which Joaquin was just now opening up. They were making quick work of the padlocks on the space, unlocking the cabinets and setting out the displays. ‘There was a … situation with Winslow.’

‘The brains in the fridge?’ asked Nick, slightly suspiciously. Although let’s face it, the brains were a tad suspicious given everything going on.

‘No, those are mostly gone, thank God. They must have been for some sort of art piece or something.’

‘Winslow does the occasional piece of performance art at that gallery next to the rage room on Burnside,’ explained Zoey, sanguinely – although Nick caught the flicker of alarm in her eye.

Nick wasn’t sure that this was a better use of bulk brains, but he could work with that, until Ainsley started going on about the time that someone in Winslow’s art collective had used regurgitated red wine as an artistic medium for some sort of protest purpose that Nick’s apparently small mind couldn’t quite comprehend. He’d always considered himself an appreciator of art, but apparently there were limits. And bulk brains and regurgitated red wine were those limits.

Thankfully his phone dinged, saving him from the visual. He frowned. It was Bozo, letting him know that something had got through the property’s fence again.

‘Does that happen often?’ asked Zoey.

‘Just recently,’ said Nick, frowning. ‘For maybe a month or two, I suppose. I can’t figure it out – it has to be something big. Bigger than a coyote, and smart as well. Larissa keeps telling me to get a camera, but I don’t like the idea of living under surveillance all the time. I just need to find time to get the fence fixed up.’