Living Dead in Dallas

registered was Eric’s face moving closer, and it seemed to me he winked.

Chapter 3
    I  OPENED MY  eyes with great reluctance. I felt that I’d been sleeping in a car, or that I’d taken a nap in a straight-back chair; I’d definitely dozed off somewhere inappropriate and uncomfortable. I felt groggy, and I ached all over. Pam was sitting on the floor a yard away, her wide blue eyes fixed on me.
    “It worked,” she commented. “Dr. Ludwig was right.”
    “Great.”
    “Yes, it would have been a pity to lose you before we’d gotten a chance to get some good out of you,” she said with shocking practicality. “There are many other humans associated with us the maenad could have picked, and those humans are far more expendable.”
    “Thanks for the warm fuzzies, Pam,” I muttered. I felt the last degree of nasty, as if I’d been dipped in a vat of sweat and then rolled in the dust. Even my teeth felt scummy.
    “You’re welcome,” she said, and she almost smiled. So Pam had a sense of humor, not something vampires were noted for. You never saw vampire stand-up comedians, and human jokes just left vampires cold,ha-ha. (Some of their humor could give you nightmares for a week.)
    “What happened?”
    Pam relaced her fingers around her knee. “We did as Dr. Ludwig said. Bill, Eric, Chow, and I all took a turn, and when you were almost dry we began the transfusion.”
    I thought about that for a minute, glad I’d checked out of consciousness before I could experience the procedure. Bill always took blood when we were making love, so I associated it with the height of erotic activity. To have “donated” to so many people would have been extremely embarrassing to me if I’d been there for it, so to speak. “Who’s Chow?” I asked.
    “See if you can sit up,” Pam advised. “Chow is our new bartender. He is quite a draw.”
    “Oh?”
    “Tattoos,” Pam said, sounding almost human for a moment. “He’s tall for an Asian, and he has a wonderful set of . . . tattoos.”
    I tried to look like I cared. I pushed up, feeling a certain tenderness that made me very cautious. It was like my back was covered with wounds that had just healed, wounds that might break open again if I weren’t careful. And that, Pam told me, was exactly the case.
    Also, I had no shirt on. Or anything else. Above the waist. Below, my jeans were still intact, though remarkably nasty.
    “Your shirt was so ragged we had to tear it off,” Pam said, smiling openly. “We took turns holding you on our laps. You were much admired. Bill was furious.”
    “Go to hell” was all I could think of to say.
    “Well, as to that, who knows?” Pam shrugged. “I meant to pay you a compliment. You must be a modest woman.” She got up and opened a closet door. There were shirts hanging inside; an extra store for Eric, Iassumed. Pam pulled one off a hanger and tossed it to me. I reached up to catch it and had to admit that movement was comparatively easy.
    “Pam, is there a shower here?” I hated to pull the pristine white shirt over my grimy self.
    “Yes, in the storeroom. By the employees’ bathroom.”
    It was extremely basic, but it was a shower with soap and a towel. You had to step right out into the storeroom, which was probably just fine with the vampires, since modesty is not a big issue with them. When Pam agreed to guard the door, I enlisted her help in pulling off the jeans and shucking my shoes and socks. She enjoyed the process a little too much.
    It was the best shower I’d ever had.
    I had to move slowly and carefully. I found I was as shaky as though I’d passed through a grave illness, like pneumonia or a virulent strain of the flu. And I guess I had. Pam opened the door enough to pass me some underwear, which was a pleasant surprise, at least until I dried myself and prepared to struggle into it. The underpants were so tiny and lacy they hardly deserved to be called panties. At least they were white. I knew I was better when I caught myself wishing I could see how I looked in a mirror. The underpants and the white shirt were the only garments I could bear to put on. I came out barefoot, to find that Pam had rolled up the jeans and everything else and stuffed them in a plastic bag so I could get them home to the wash. My tan looked extremely brown against the white of the snowy shirt. I walked very slowly back to Eric’s office and fished in my purse for my brush. As I began to try to work through the tangles,