The zombie scratched its forehead, not seeming to care when rotting skin flaked off. “Daniel,” he finally said as recognition lit his eyes.
“Yeah, Charlie, it’s me. What the hell are you doing scaring the hell out of these poor people?”
“This is good drink. Makes us feel better.”
“Too much better from what the cops said. Do you want to be put back in the ground again, or worse yet destroyed like in the movies?”
“No, Daniel.” Charlie shook his head violently. “We’re sorry.”
“I’m not,” the other zombie said as she grabbed the pitcher from the bartender and began drinking.
Keeping a careful eye on her, Daniel asked, “How did you two get here anyway?”
“Owner knew about us. He need…needed zombies and came for us.”
“And he let you drink? The man’s an idiot.”
“Not him, her.” Charlie pointed half a rotting finger at the bartender.
“I didn’t know they were, well you know, the real thing,” the bartender stuttered out. “I mean there isn’t such a thing except in movies.”
“Keep thinking that, doll,” Daniel muttered. “Okay, Charlie, you and your friend get a free ride back home care of Were Express, since this isn’t really your fault.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” Charlie reached across the bar to hug him and Daniel jumped back.
“Just saying thanks is fine, you don’t have to demonstrate. Okay?”
“Okay, Daniel.” Charlie looked as contrite as it was possible to with a rotted face. “We can take the pitcher with us? Please?”
“What the hell, sure.” Daniel reached over the bar, taking hold of each zombie’s wrist, and they vanished.
As soon as they had Jared took over, wiping the memories of the bartender and the two customers, replacing them with the idea that they had been part of a rehearsal for a movie shoot. Once he had he left the bar he stopped to tell the police sergeant that things were taken care of and that his men should tell anyone who asked the same thing—that it was just a movie rehearsal. Then he headed home.