*short story* Elizabeth Everstone-We come to you now live from the crime scene

“We are coming to you now live from the scene of the crime”

“What, who is this?”

“You rang us, means you gotta go first. Look I think police and criminal relations are a bit low these days, I’ve had some real personal talks with the boys here and if you let us get out of here we will all promise to be good little bank robbers and never do it again. You’ve got twenty four hours to think things through” For those of you just joining us my name is Elizabeth Everstone, Private Detective, not someone you would think right now is trapped in the vault of The Bank of London surrounded by God knows how many police officers all waiting to get trigger happy. But that was before last week, before I became friends with Nikita, a knockout Zombie babe and Leon a talking lion fetus with a severe penchant for karaoke. Sorry, am I getting ahead of myself here? Lets go back to where all this started, while it seems a lifetime ago for me it was actually only this morning that it all went nasty.

“Is he gone?”

“I can’t hear anything, but you can never be too sure with these parasites, I’m not sure if they can touch the ground, I think most of them just glide over it because its too pure it burns their flesh” In case you were wondering no I wasn’t embroiled in a case or fighting some Hellish demon, we were on the floor underneath the window of my one bedroom flat hiding from a debt collector. Money was tight before but I got by fine enough, my flat wasn’t in the best area of London nor was it particularly stylish but I was never chased by debt collectors. That was before the previous week, before I had roommates. After rescuing Leon and Nikita from the clutches of some wannabe mad scientist we had decided that it might be a bad idea for them to be running around London so I offered to let them crash at my place and I will tell you this; finding a constant source of formaldehyde isn’t easy, luckily enough I found a website to get it from, scarily none of the people buying it seem to be in the medical profession but whatever,  oh and it isn’t cheap. Also, Zombies get through skin care cream like neckbeards get through achievements, but that’s a reasonable expense because seeing her “moisturize” does never fail to make me feel tingly, and you can’t put a price on moments like that. Well that’s what I thought, apparently you can and its steep, very, very steep. I had tried to get cases but with all the extra expenses and the fact that mass murderers appeared to be taking a break had got me in to some severe debt.

One night while me and Leon were sat around marveling at how little fun a TV is when your electric has been turned off Nikita suddenly burst in the room, ah Nikita my undead Queen, “you will never guess what I found! Look at this.” Jumping on to the settee next to me she shoved a small, green card in to my face. “I found it in a pocket of that dominatrix outfit I had on when you found me,” oh yes, that outfit. One of the few perks I had in my life, but for some reason she insisted on borrowing some of my clothes, to “feel more normal” she claimed. Looking at her now I couldn’t help but cry a little inside at how “normal” she was; a pair of white, skinny fit jeans that hugged the curves of her shapely thighs and clung to her slim calves, a pair of cool, green converse and an old Nine Inch Nails tee with the logo in pink across her chest, of course the shirt was quite long so it looked quite “dressy” that too definitely clung to her, she wasn’t big at all but she was far more curvy than me and she looked like she was poured in to that shirt. Her red draped down her shoulders and fell over her left shoulder, framing her slim, pale face. If it wasn’t for her glowing green eyes you would think she was another pale goth girl, but Zombie or not, broke as Hell or not having her around had noticeably improved my often sour mood. I’d even started speaking to my family more…. Well, at weekends, to say hi.

“I want you to meet my family!”

“Huh?” I had got to stop blurting out romantic sentiments to her! She probably thinks I have some kind of weird, emotional form of Tourette’s. But how could I not hit on her? She is utterly perfect, of course since having her move in with me I still had no idea if she was a lesbian or what, or if being a Zombie meant she had no sexual urges, then again, gay, straight or whatever I couldn’t see anything happening between us. Looking at my own body I had the sudden realization she was pretty far out my league. My golden blonde was fashioned to its usual spiky, side parting that my mother says makes me look like I got off the stage at a Gary Numan show, currently dressed in a mans suit; black trousers, black blazer, white shirt, suspenders and black tie pretty much made me look like a very effeminate James Bond. Still I did have quite small, delicate facial features and high cheek bones so despite my fashion sense I wasn’t all that masculine in appearance. Oddly enough the mans shirt I was wearing accentuated my chest and the suit was tight and gave me the effect of having a more hourglass shape than I really had.

“Hello, Elizabeth, are you with us?”

“If she dies I wish to have the brain”

“Leon!”

“What? It made you snap out of it didn’t it lass?”

“Yes but I’m starting to think its not a joke when you say things like that”

“Oh aye, just because I’m a fetus in a jar I have to be insane is that what your saying? I never had any o’ this lark when I lived on the Highlands”

“You never lived on the Highlands, you’re a lion fetus some mad guy stole from the London Zoo!”

“Heeelllooooo, guys, got some big news here, take a look at this” Interrupting one of mine and Leon’s many arguments Nikita once more shoved the small, green card in our faces. “Now don’t ask what pocket it was, I’d rather forget myself, but I thought maybe tomorrow we could head down to the bank and see if there is any money inside it, now I know my real name, Michelle Summercrow, I bet I can fake my signature, worth a try don’t you think?”

“Yeah lets get down there as soon as they open up” Truth be told I was just hoping some people would see us and think we were a couple.

“Great I’ll just put on a little foundation, some cool shades and we can hit the town! Since moving in here I haven’t really gotten out so for me this is quite exciting”

“Oh aye and what about me?” Turning to face Leon neither me or Nikita really wanted to state the obvious, he was oddly touchy about not being allowed out, you know, despite being a living fetus in a gigantic glass jar. “I’m supposed to just wait around the house am i? Fine I don’t need ya, ya couple ingrates!” When he gets like this we usually just throw a towel over his jar and leave him in hopes he will think its nighttime and fall to sleep.

The next day we set off for the bank in a torrent of abuse that to be honest I didn’t understand a word of due to his accent getting thicker when he is pissed and so simply left imagining he was giving endless compliments. Nikita, who had decided not to go back to her original name, was dressed in black, leather boots, fishnet tights and a very frilly, black and dark blue skirt and a basque over a long sleeve, black tee. To disguise her eyes she had borrowed a pair of my purple lens sunglasses. Her hair was platted and hung down her back adding a slight cute touch to her gothic outfit. Myself in hopes of making us look more like a convincing couple had ditched my usual fashion and stepped out in green skinny fit jeans, red converse, a colourful, wool jumper and the same sunglasses Nikita had on. I made sure to walk close to her, in case something happened of course, or that’s what I told her at least. Being honest I couldn’t shake the grim feeling that had hung over me since rescuing her and Leon, I was constantly on my guard for any other weirdness that might happen. I could feel my revolver pressing in to my side that I wore strapped to my body under my jumper.

Inside the bank we struggled to even get across the hall to the bank tellers, throngs of people pushed and shoved around like Ants in the hive, more than one man had to be taught a lesson that you don’t grope nice, young ladies when walking past them. Another thing about me that had changed since the last case was I found I was quicker in dealing out left hooks.

Finally at the front of the queue some snooty women who looked as uptight as her was tight, pinned to her scalp pretty much with hairpins that she probably bought from the pound shop. She sneered down at us over the rims of her half moon spectacles and spoke with a voice matured for a century in pure gin. “What do you two ladies want today then? Come and please hurry up there is a queue behind you.” I felt my nails dig in to the skin off my palms, normally in these situations I would take hours just to annoy them but Nikita seemed a little nervous, she ignored the question of how long she had trapped in that basement. Sure she may have been strong there but it must have took a toll on her, despite not knowing how she felt towards me she had barely left my side since moving in with me. Another reason I put up with that stumpy, motormouthed fetus; the comfort of the familiar.

“I wish to check what is in my account” standing tall she was trying to give off the appearance of confidence, I was trying not to leap through the glass and penetrate her ocularly with the free pens. With a loud sigh she took her card and much to my admitted amazement Nikita managed to forge her own signature, that or she wanted to get rid of us quickly since while I couldn’t say anything about her rude behavior I had spent the entire fifteen minutes very obviously staring at her breasts with a grin on my face. While I was unsure of Nikita’s sexuality I at least knew I had zero chance with a mid-70s bank teller! And that ladies and gentlemen is a comfort to know.

“Oh my God Elizabeth check this out!” Leaning over her shoulder perhaps a little too far for our lovely tellers comfort, by the way she may have been up tight but that’s obviously just a front since her lacy, pink bra tells me otherwise, I jumped back instantly and gave a high pitched squeal. “We’re rich Elizabeth! Can you believe it? We can move out an buy a nice place and Leon can have fresh formelda… Or, we are just rich” Don’t ask me how but in Nikita’s we found millions, she must have been some kind of trust fund baby to have that much.

Jumping in to her arms, I might not have been that happy for the money but lets say I was shall we? I caught angry glances from everyone around us but so what? We were rich I could buy all new friends and pay for them to have plastic surgery to look just my old ones!

I saw we “were” rich because just as I let Nikita go from a hug far too close for “just friends” I turned around and was face to face for the second time in two weeks with the barrel of a shotgun. A tall, stocky man with a face covered by a black balaclava and eyes shielded by black designer sunglasses spoke in an accent I could not make out, a thick, amalgamation of predominantly cockney and some Spanish oddly enough. “Actually darlin’ we are rich, ALRIGHT EVERYONE THIS IS A HOLD UP, GET ON THE FLOOR NOW!” Suddenly the whole bank joined together in screaming out a crescendo of fear and panick. The mighty walls shook with the weight of hundreds instantly jumping to the floor. A few pathetic security attempted to demand the men to drop their guns but all that got them was an early grave, these guys obviously were not kidding around. I noticed a few of them near the door picked off any remaining guards in case they got an idea for heroics.  

“Well, this fun isn’t it?” Laying on the floor next to Nikita I saw a panicked in her eyes, or as much as I could discern from eyes that glow in the dark, trying to keep up a sarcastic front I lay there honestly not knowing what to do. Looking around there were eight men in total, each one carrying a sawn off shotgun and judging by the looks of their bomber jackets had another side arm concealed, they were professionals not just some young kids looking to get on the news. I had to think of a way to get out of there alive.

“Michelle? My God Michelle Summercrow is that you?” Walking over to us with a spring in his step one of the goons motioned for me and Nikita to get up, standing up he placed his shotgun at his side and embraced Nikita and myself in turn in a hug. “God its been what, two years since we last saw each other? Time does fly doesn’t it? Even when your dead you wonder where the days go!” Dead, what, did he just say dead? This goon was noticeably thinner than the others, his balaclava hung over his face like a sheet draped over nothing but bone. Unfortunately I found out too soon that was the case. Lifting up his balaclava he revealed a skull, a SKULL! No skin, no nothing, just a skull and two dim red lights glowing in his SKULL! I suddenly knew why they all had accents I couldn’t place, we were in a bank making polite chit chat with our undead who presumably had lived in London for so long their old world accents had been diluted.

“Cortez its you! God you’re right it has been years, you were at the plot down the hill from mine right?” Nikita’s face lighted up at this revelation, it didn’t seem like we were going to die but I felt pangs of jealously nonetheless. My day had just gone downhill.

“Well of course, you were from the posh side of the cemetery, back in our day we didn’t have all that fancy preservatives like you’ve got, hence the face” he pointed at his skull with his shotgun, classy guy. “And not to mention that lovely lining and nice, varnished coffins.” If he saw the inside of her coffin I will……… Wait a minute, he’s a skeleton, how would they? It didn’t matter to me then and it doesn’t matter looking back. He will die, again, if he did!

“So you are…… Like Michelle? I’m taking it? Were you brought back by the good doctor as well?” I wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject but seeing Cortez’s face made me wonder if my bride to be would go the same way as Faceless.

“Oh no, no! Me and the boys were members of the Spanish Inquisition, a little tid bit kept out of the history books was that after we was all captured we got cursed, to always remain at the gates of Heaven and rot, not the best deal in the world but at least its not literal, hate to be stuck up there sat around for an eternity, can have a lot more fun down here. But do you know how hard it is getting a job when you don’t have face? And contrary to popular belief we have to eat too!”

“But Michelle doesn’t eat? And how did you two meet, I thought you were stolen from your grave and brought back to life by the doctor?” Somehow, this conversation was making less sense to me than originally.

“I was, but I escaped a few times and with nowhere else to go I went back to my grave, which is where I met Cortez and everyone” Putting her hand up to the others each one of them gave a polite wave. If you could have seen it…… “whatever it was that I was injected with stops the decaying process and I don’t have to eat. Guess that’s one point to man made Zombies!”

“Well I guess it my love, but we do have super strength and all that!” They were playing a game of Zombie one upmanship… But at least then I learned that my beautiful rose of the cematary would always be young and beautiful, when I was 70 I would have the sexiest dead girlfriend in the old folks home, which in an old folks home must be a difficult contest to win indeed.

“Yo Cortez man we gotta get to the vault” calling over friend over the one who pointed his gun at me waved him over to join them on the way to the vault. Judging by how we was at the front and was the one who gave the signal for them to attack he must have been the mastermind of this tea party. “Be there in a second man, hate to cut our reuinion short but got a job to do. Wait a minute why don’t you and your “friend” join us? Be fun and we can talk about the good old days” Okay the way he said “friend made me like him slightly more, but while I wasn’t one for robbing banks I hadn’t eaten in four days and I was curious to see where all this would lead.

With that I headed with undead “friend” Nikita and a group of bank robbing, Zombies soldiers from the Spanish Inquisition.