October 20, 12:10 a.m. Year of the Curtain+5
New Orleans, Louisiana
It was convenient, Dale had to admit, to have a 24-hour Walmart in the neighborhood. After he got off work at 11, he knew he would need to hit the store before he went home to bed, because he simply wouldn’t have the energy if he waited to do it before his next shift started at 3 in the afternoon. He knew, as he walked through the store, that he reeked of sweat and was covered in a thin layer of grain dust, but he didn’t particularly care. He was still easily in the upper crust of the Walmart After Midnight crowd.
There were the college kids, of course, probably either high or coming down from a beer buzz and looking for something to take the edge off. The women in the tank tops and visible thongs that had no business displaying their body types in either. The red-eyed young mother toting around a squealing baby. And several men he presumed were much like himself – single, busy, and counting on the low customer turnout at this hour to allow them to do their shopping in peace.
There was only one person in the store that truly stood out, and he probably wouldn’t have if Dale hadn’t seen him several times as he made his way from the fresh produce on one end of the store to the dairy case on the other. He looked young, probably about Dale’s age, with a deep tan and hair that clearly came out of a bottle o’ blonde. He had on a purple Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, sandals, and a pair of dark glasses. The only thing he was missing to complete the tourist effect was a chain or two of Mardi Gras beads around his neck, the sure sign of an out-of-towner that bought into the Hollywood notion that New Orleans was a year-round parade route.
It was the glasses, though, that disturbed Dale the most. Whenever he saw sunglasses inside or at night, the wearer was ranked either as an attention-seeking jackass or a pervert attempting to remain undercover.
Dale decided on the latter when he bumped into Blondie in the frozen food section. Dale was fishing through the Eggo boxes, unsuccessfully looking for the strawberry-filled variety he liked, when he felt a powerful thump and his cart clanged. The blonde was there, head turned at a couple of giggling college girls down the aisle, laughing at the popsicles and using them for a size comparison to something Dale would rather not know about. Blondie grinned at him, flashing a set of teeth as artificially white as his hair was artificially yellow.
“Chicks, right?”
Dale nodded, then turned back to his search, expecting the conversation to be over, but Blondie continued.
“Hey, waffles, am I right? Yeah, just getting some late-night grub. Makin’ groceries – that’s what you-all say down here in N’awlins, right?”
Dale nodded again, this time trying to resist the urge to cram a box of frozen waffles down this jerk’s throat. He really hated people who rolled into his city and started slinging around stupid TV stereotypes. Especially Los Angeles prettyboys like this guy. He pulled his cart back and rolled past Blondie, whose cart was empty, and finished his shopping as quickly as he could. He only saw Blondie once more, at the checkout counter, where the scintillating conversationalist had loaded his cart with four raw steaks and a pack of breath freshening gum. He smiled at Dale, cheeks lifting the dark glasses, and he pointed a finger in a “pow!” gesture, thus demonstrating the eternal kinship he doubtlessly felt. Dale rushed from the store, loaded his car, and headed home with the hopes of putting the entire thing out of his mind.
It wasn’t hard, as it turned out. A few minutes after he left the store, cruising down River Road, his encounter with the shopping cart jackass was forgotten in lieu of an encounter with a traffic jackass – some jerk crawling up his tailpipe, brights on and blinding. Dale flipped his mirror down, which helped a little, but the other driver was still uncomfortably close to his rear end. Dale eased his brakes, slowing down, trying to force the other driver to pass him.
“Come on, asshole, ain’t nobody comin’. Get around me.”
The asshole in question, however, made no effort to change lanes. To the contrary, Dale heard the man rev his engine and he sped up, his front bumper scraping Dale’s rear.
“What the hell?” Had this idiot ever driven a car before? Dale was thinking of rolling down his window and tossing back the ol’ one-finger salute when the guy revved up and hit him again, more forcefully this time. Dale cursed and peered over his shoulder, a near-fatal mistake. He looked back just as a second car, no lights on at all, lurched at him from an intersection on the left and rammed the front of Dale’s Toyota, shoving him off the road. The car behind his pulled up, coming to his side and forming a neat triangle of steel with the three cars. Dale, cursing like wild, kicked open his door and stepped out, so furious that it never occurred to him that the vehicles had him penned in like a swine.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” he bellowed at the car that struck his side. “You could have killed me, you stupid son of a bitch!”
The other car’s driver opened the door and stepped out into the night air. She was a slim woman, with clothes as black as her hair and as tight as her skin. Her black lips were currently curled up into a horribly disquieting smile. She was a tiny little thing, certainly not anyone to get upset over, but… that smile.
“Aw, so sorry,” she said. “Won’t happen again. I promise.” Her lips parted, revealing her teeth, including a pair of long, pointed fangs that glinted in the headlights of the third car.
“What the hell is this?” Dale asked. “What are you doing?”
The door of the third car opened and the other driver stepped out, grinning at Dale from behind his dark glasses. His impossibly white teeth were on display again, but this time he, too, showcased a set of fangs.
“Same as you, buddy,” he said. “We’re just makin’ some groceries, same as you.”
