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“I bet I know,” Lula said. “I bet it’s the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies. I’ve been reading your blog, so I know you guys have been hanging together.” Lula swept her flashlight beam around the grave site. “Where is he? Is he here?”
“He’s in the area, but he never allows anyone to see him. Only zombies and, of course, me.”
“Well, I want to see him,” Lula said. “I got all dressed up for this gig.”
“You can see him after you become a zombie,” Slick said.
“I guess that’s okay,” Lula said. “I don’t mind putting some makeup on, but I don’t want to smudge up my dress. I’m not gonna be that kind of zombie. I’m Glam Zombie.”
“Are we going to be filming here?” I asked Slick.
“Not exactly. There’s a new grave site toward the back of the cemetery. Someone’s getting interred tomorrow, and the fresh-dug grave will be awesome for the video.”
“I heard they rounded up a bunch of zombies,” Lula said. “Do you still got enough to film?”
“Trust me, there’s no shortage of zombies. We’re always recruiting new ones.”
Slick led the way along the path, and I pulled Lula aside.
“You know there really aren’t zombies, right? Slick and the Ruler are distributing a drug that gives people the characteristics of a zombie.”
“Yeah, but they look like zombies. They just aren’t totally dead yet. I mean, I’ve seen some of them, and they’re real close to being dead. And they got a focus on getting brains . . . just like a zombie.”
I couldn’t argue with any of this.
We followed Slick to the far edge of the cemetery. Lula’s heels clicked on the paved footpath. Her Maglite flicked side to side.
“Tell you the truth,” she said to me. “I’m getting a little freaked. I’m thinking there might be ghosts here besides zombies. I’m pretty sure I can feel them slithering against my skin. I got the creepy-crawlies.”
I had the creepy-crawlies too, but mine were coming from Zero Slick.
Slick stopped at a spot that had a tarp stretched over a mound of earth and another over an open grave. He pulled the tarp away from the grave.
“Here’s the scene,” Slick said. “You jump in, and we film you down there looking like you’re climbing out. You have to look like you’re coming out of the zombie portal.”
There was no way in hell I was going into the grave. And I know it was my civic duty to help catch Daryl the sociopathic drug lord, but I wasn’t feeling it. I was thinking this was a bad idea, and I would rather be back in Ranger’s apartment, or Morelli’s house, or even my own apartment. I was thinking some moronic television show and a glass of wine would be good.
“I got on my special bedazzled Via Spigas,” Lula said. “These aren’t no grave-jumping shoes. How about if I just run around and wave my arms in the air and look batshit scared?”
“I guess that would be okay,” Slick said. “I could get some footage of that.”
“Hold on,” I said. “We aren’t doing anything until the Supreme Ruler shows up.”
“Why not?” Slick asked.
“Because that’s the way it is,” I said. “It’s not like we’re a couple extras in some second-rate video. We expect to work with top people.”
“And what about your fans?” Lula said. “They deserve to see the big guy, Mr. Supreme.”
“Don’t worry about my fans,” Slick said. “I promised them a shocking video, and I’m going to deliver. I have it all planned out.”
“I think you’re full of baloney,” I said to him. “I think you made it up about the Supreme Ruler. I think you’re making a fake documentary.”
“I’m making the documentary of the century,” Slick said. “You should be begging me to let you jump in the hole.”
“You got delusions,” Lula said. “You’re a deluded person.”
“You said the Supreme Ruler is in the area. Exactly where is he?” I asked Slick. “Is he at Mickey’s eating cheese fries? Is he wandering around, reading tombstones?”
