The Late Night Low Down Undead Blues

[disclaimer] This is a work of fiction. No challenge to existing copyrights is meant,
most notably whoever's got the rights to 'Re-Animator' the movie, and/or whoever's got
the rights to Lovecraft's canon. I think it's Chaosium these days. Anyway, I'm not making
money off this, and neither is anyone else. I'm only in it for the amusement. [/disclaimer]

          "Oh, not again."

          West set down his bag with a thump and pinched the bridge of his nose. First it was a
row with one of his professors over the latter's closed-mindedness, then yet another
double shift at the hospital, and now this. The house was echoing with rhythmic thumping
noises, coupled with an ongoing high-pitched wail. For a brief second he hoped that
something had gone wrong downstairs in the lab, but a moment's further listening revealed
that it was sadly not the case. It was only Megan and Dan, pulling another
last-humans-on-earth marathon.

          He considered going to the library, but night had already fallen. West cursed under his
breath and went inside.

          Luckily, there was no repeat of the Kitchen Incident. Instead, several books lay open
on the table, and most of the free space was hidden under layers of papers. He nodded to
Hallie where she stood at the counter, one hand over an ear, the other holding the
coffeepot under the tap.

          "I see Dan and his fiancee have reconciled."

          She glared at him. "Gee, how can you tell? Want some coffee? Do you have a
shotgun I could borrow?"

          "That would be wonderful, thank you, and sadly I don't."

          "Damn."

          Hallie began dumping grounds into the coffeemaker, muttering under her breath.

          "How long did the tutoring session last?"

          "About three seconds, when Miss Yo-Yo Drawers showed up. Cain told me to wait
around, because he has a big test tomorrow and he wants to go over the material. That
was twenty minutes ago. I'm starting to think that Megan's the only that's going to be
gone over this evening."

          "Indeed."

          The thumping increased from crazed to frenzied, and the squeal rose in pitch until it
approached the upper thresholds of human hearing. Hallie flipped the switch on the
coffeemaker and looked back over her shoulder incredulously.

          "Jesus, it sounds like she's been taking lessons from the girls in my dorm. Are they
having sex or killing a rabbit with a hammer?"

          She couldn't be sure, but she thought West cracked a smile. "I'd prefer not to think
about it. If the noise is too much for you, you can study in my room, provided you touch
nothing. It is reasonably comfortable, and, more importantly, two rooms away."

          "That's really sweet of you, but I don't want to put you out-"

          "Think nothing of it. I have work to do in the basement; I'll be down there for some
time. And from experience, I can tell you that it's not likely to get any quieter in here any
time soon."

          "Seriously? How do you cope? It's like living next to a sheet rock installation facility."

          "I'll leave the door open for you when I go by."

          The squealing began to move towards the subsonic level. Hallie rubbed her temples.

          "Hey, tell, you what, I'll go with you."

          West waited semi-patiently for the few seconds it took her to scoop up her books, and
led the way down the hallway. He pointed at the last door on the right, nodded at her
thanks, and disappeared through the cellar door, leaving Hallie to walk cautiously through
the doorway.

          The room was tidy and sparsely furnished, as she had expected, but despite the lack of
personal possessions it still felt very strongly of him, which she had not expected.
Apparently someone as driven as West could stamp his personality on a room simply by
spending time in it.

          She glanced briefly over the piles of medical textbooks, the diagrams of the brain and
central nervous system pinned up on the walls, and the stacks of battered notebooks. His
desk was clean and neat, and his bed was neatly made. Only the clothes hamper seemed
out of place; the lid sat precariously on top of a large pile of torn and bloodstained
clothing.

          "Med students, " she snorted under her breath.

          The extra room in between his and Cain's did muffle the sound somewhat; it was more
akin to standing across the street from a bull in a china shop rather than actually being
behind it in line. She set her books down on the desk and dragged a chair over from
against the wall.

          The furniture was mismatched, a standard feature of student living. The desk was old
and high and apparently designed to be used with a stool. The chair was of normal height,
which, as she sat down, put the surface of the desk at nearly shoulder-level. Hallie
wondered if West, with his extra few inches of height, wasn't bothered by having to
stretch. Or maybe he never studied at the desk and hadn't noticed.

          Hallie flipped her book open and, pen at an awkward angle, began taking notes. The
chair was comfortable enough, but the incongruity in altitude between it and the desk
became more and more annoying as the minutes ticked by.

          Finally, she glanced at her notes and found them practically unreadable. With a sigh,
she stood up and turned towards the bed.

          "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, " she said aloud, and lay down, still holding the book.

          To her faint surprise, the mattress was quite comfortable- somehow she had pictured
West as the hair shirt and bed of nails type- and the pillow smelled lightly of laundry
detergent and a pleasant masculine scent.

          "What did you expect, stupid, " she chided herself, "Nitre? Wolfsbane?"

          She shifted slightly, looking for the most comfortable spot, and settled in to read.

          The bed was soft, the light was low, and the muffled thumping began to seem very far
away. During the second chapter of Xenophon's Oeconomicus Hallie found herself
yawning.

          'Two more chapters, ' she thought, 'Two more, and I'll go home. I can do this...'

          It was the last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep.

          Hallie woke to someone shaking her lightly. She blinked against the light and a face
swam into view; dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, and intense expression.

          "West?" she mumbled, "What's going on?"

          "Go home." His voice was determined, but not angry.

          "What?"

          "It's late. You need to go home now. Come on, I've packed your things."

          Hallie sat up hurriedly. "I'm sorry, " she yawned, "I must have drifted off. I didn't
mean to-"

          "It's fine." Again his words were clipped, but there was no malice in them. "It's all
right, but you need to leave right now."

          West took her elbow and helped her to a standing position, and without letting go
steered her quickly through the darkened house and out the front door. He pressed her
backpack into her hands, and pointed off in the direction of campus.

          "See you around, " she managed, and he nodded and shut the door.

          Shaking her head to clear it, Hallie shouldered her pack and started off into the night.

          The cold air quickly brought her to something approaching full awareness, and she walked
on the train tracks as usual until the rails began to shake, announcing the two-twenty
freight from Kingsport. The roar rose and the night was split with sparks and clatter; she
stood in the shadow of a nearby oak until it passed.

          A scream of unholy animal rage echoed from the house she'd left, but it was lost in the
noise of the train. Hallie picked up the penny she'd left on the tracks and continued on
home.