The Laughing Corpse

Bruno held me motionless and mute until I could feel the injection taking hold. I was sleepy. With a bad guy holding me against my will, I was sleepy. I tried to fight it, but it didn’t work. My eyelids fluttered. I struggled to keep them open. I stopped trying to get away from Bruno and put everything I had into not closing my eyes.

I stared at my door and tried to stay awake. The door swam in dizzying ripples as if I were seeing it through water. My eyelids went down, jerked up, down. I couldn’t open my eyes. A small part of me fell screaming into the dark, but the rest of me felt loose and sleepy and strangely safe.

Chapter 35

I was in that faint edge of wakefulness. Where you know you’re not quite asleep, but don’t really want to wake up either. My body felt heavy. My head throbbed. And my throat was sore.

The last thought made me open my eyes. I was staring at a white ceiling. Brown water marks traced the paint like spilled coffee. I wasn’t home. Where was I?

I remembered Bruno holding me down. The needle. I sat up then. The world swam in clear waves of color. I fell back onto the bed, covering my eyes with my hands. That helped a little. What had they given me?

I had an image in my mind that I wasn’t alone. Somewhere in that dizzying swirl of color had been a person. Hadn’t there? I opened my eyes slower this time. I was content to stare up at the water-ruined ceiling. I was on a large bed. Two pillows, sheets, a blanket. I turned my head carefully and found myself staring into Harold Gaynor’s face. He was sitting beside the bed. It wasn’t what I wanted to wake up to.

Behind him, leaning against a battered chest of drawers was Bruno. His shoulder holster cut black lines across his blue short-sleeved dress shirt. There was a matching and equally scarred vanity table near the foot of the bed. The vanity sat between two high windows. They were boarded with new, sweet-smelling lumber. The scent of pine rode the hot, still air.

I started to sweat as soon as I realized that there was no air-conditioning.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Blake?” Gaynor asked. His voice was still that jolly Santa voice with an edge of sibilance. As if he were a very happy snake.

“I’ve felt better,” I said.

“I’m sure you have. You have been asleep for over twenty-four hours. Did you know that?”

Was he lying? Why would he lie about how long I’d been asleep? What would it gain him? Nothing. Truth then, probably.

“What the hell did you give me?”

Bruno eased himself away from the wall. He looked almost embarrassed. “We didn’t realize you’d already taken a sedative.”

“Painkiller,” I said.

He shrugged. “Same difference when you mix it with Thorazine.”

“You shot me up with animal tranquilizers?”

“Now, now, Ms. Blake, they use it in mental institutions, as well. Not just animals,” Gaynor said.

“Gee,” I said, “that makes me feel a lot better.”

He smiled broadly. “If you feel good enough to trade witty repartee, then you’re well enough to get up.”

Witty repartee? But he was probably right. Truthfully, I was surprised I wasn’t tied up. Glad of it, but surprised.

I sat up much slower than last time. The room only tilted the tiniest bit, before settling into an upright position. I took a deep breath, and it hurt. I put a hand to my throat. It hurt to touch the skin.

“Who gave you those awful bruises?” Gaynor asked.

Lie or truth? Partial lie. “I was helping the police catch a bad guy. He got a little out of hand.”

“What happened to this bad guy?” Bruno asked.

“He’s dead now,” I said.

Something flickered across Bruno’s face. Too quick to read. Respect maybe. Naw.

“You know why I’ve had you brought here, don’t you?”

“To raise a zombie for you,” I said.

“To raise a very old zombie for me, yes.”

“I’ve refused your offer twice. What makes you think I’ll change my mind?”

He smiled, such a jolly old elf. “Why, Ms. Blake, I’ll have Bruno and Tommy persuade you of the error of your ways. I still plan on giving you a million dollars to raise this zombie. The price hasn’t changed.”

“Tommy offered me a million five last time,” I said.

“That was if you came voluntarily. We can’t pay full price when you force us to take such chances.”

“Like a federal prison term for kidnapping,” I said.

“Exactly. Your stubbor

“I won’t kill another human being just so you can go looking for lost treasure.”

“Little Wanda has been bearing tales.”

“I was just guessing, Gaynor. I read a file on you and it mentioned your obsession with your father’s family.” It was an outright lie. Only Wanda had known that.

“I’m afraid it’s too late. I know Wanda talked to you. She’s confessed everything.”

Confessed? I stared at him, trying to read his blankly good humored face. “What do you mean, confessed?”

“I mean I gave her to Tommy for questioning. He’s not the artist that Cicely is, but he does leave more behind. I didn’t want to kill my little Wanda.”

“Where is she now?”

“Do you care what happens to a whore?” His eyes were bright and birdlike as he stared at me. He was judging me, my reactions.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. I hoped my face was as bland as my words. Right now they weren’t going to kill her. If they thought they could use her to hurt me, they might.

“Are you sure?”

“Listen, I haven’t been sleeping with her. She’s just a chippie with a very bent angle.”

He smiled at that. “What can we do to convince you to raise this zombie for me?”

“I will not commit murder for you, Gaynor. I don’t like you that much,” I said.

He sighed. His apple-cheeked face looked like a sad Kewpie doll. “You are going to make this difficult, aren’t you, Ms. Blake?”

“I don’t know how to make it easy,” I said. I put my back to the cracked wooden headboard of the bed. I was comfortable enough, but I still felt a little fuzzy around the edges. But it was as good as it was going to get for a while. It beat the hell out of being unconscious.

“We have not really hurt you yet,” Gaynor said. “The reaction of the Thorazine with whatever other medication you had in you was accidental. We did not harm you on purpose.”

I could argue with that, but I decided not to. “So where do we go from here?”

“We have both your guns,” Gaynor said. “Without a weapon you are a small woman in the care of big, strong men.”

I smiled then. “I’m used to being the smallest kid on the block, Harry.”

He looked pained. “Harold or Gaynor, never Harry.”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

“You are not in the least intimidated that we have you completely at our mercy?”

“I could argue that point.”

He glanced up at Bruno. “Such confidence, where does she get it?”

Bruno didn’t say anything. He just stared at me with those empty doll eyes. Bodyguard eyes, watchful, suspicious, and blank all at the same time.

“Show her we mean business, Bruno.”

Bruno smiled, a slow spreading of lips that left his eyes dead as a shark’s. He loosened his shoulders, and did a few stretching exercises against the wall. His eyes never left me.

“I take it, I’m going to be the punching bag?” I asked.

“How well you put it,” Gaynor said.

Bruno stood away from the wall, limber and eager. Oh, well. I slid off the bed on the opposite side. I had no desire for Gaynor to grab me. Bruno’s reach was over twice mine. His legs went on forever. He had to outweigh me by nearly a hundred pounds, and it was all muscle. I was about to get badly hurt. But as long as they didn’t tie me up, I’d go down swinging. If I could cause him any serious damage, I’d be satisfied.

I came out from behind the bed, hands loose at my side. I was already in that partial crouch that I used on the judo mat. I doubted seriously if Bruno’s fighting skill of choice was judo. I was betting karate or tae kwon do.