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 Lovecrafts'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]

      Eighteen years later...


      April in Massachusetts did not lend itself to clear skies and sunny days. It had been pouring all day; the clouds hung swollen and heavy, and the rain fell like sheets of lead. Though the showers did lead to the proverbial May flowers, the flowers themselves usually arrived late and were too soggy to cheer anyone up more than a trifle. The ditches were full of snowmelt and the rivers were swelling, and the students, like generations before them, hunkered down in their rooms, drowning their sorrows in whatever vice was closest to hand while dreaming of summer vacation.

      Nowhere, it seemed, did the rain fall more heavily than a lumbering stone building on the outskirts of Miskatonic University. It beat at the oblong glass panes in high windows, it thudded against the slates and rattled the loose wooden sashes. The building's stone face was shiny with a new coat of lacquer and the mortar had been recently replaced, but the stones themselves were dark with age and retained their chisel marks from Dunham Quarry two centuries prior. Each door set into the stone was dark and short, nearly squat, built for the shorter population of an earlier age. Electric lights and wheelchair access ramps did not make the building look any less ancient, or less foreboding.

      The figure that approached did not seem to notice other than to nod slightly as he sighted the line of brass apartment numbers. He pulled his thin coat higher in a vain attempt to keep water from dripping down his neck and rapped his knuckles firmly against the door to number seven.

      The response was sharp, immediate. "Who the hell is it? And why didn't you schedule?"

      He smiled faintly. "I'm not here for a tutoring session, Hallie."

      His voice was quiet, but the tone carried sharply even against the rain. There was a brief pause, and then he heard the frantic rattle of a chain lock against the heavy wooden door a moment before it swung inwards. The woman on the other side stared at him incredulously.

      "West?"

      "Hello. I'm sorry to trouble you inside office hours, but could I come inside?"

      "I- Of course." She stepped backwards from the doorway and allowed him to stumble through. "They said on the news you were...Jesus, you look about half-drowned."

      "The weather has not been cooperative."

      "Yeah, and I'm about a mile and a half from the bus station. You must be freezing. How the hell did you find me, anyway?"

      West grinned faintly and held up a soaked and dripping campus phonebook. "It wasn't too hard, Dr. O'Halloran."

      "Heh. Hadn't thought of that. Come on and get in here where it's warm."

      She closed and locked the door behind him, then gestured him out of the entryway and into a small office dominated by a large framed photgraph of a Mayan pyramid. This battled to make the space seemed larger, but the two office chairs and desk overflowing with papers appeared to be winning.

      "So, " Hallie said, "You're not dead."

      "So it would seem. Are you working late?"

      "Nah, I knocked off hours ago. We're past midterms, so I'm in downtime at the moment. Only had a few papers to grade, and I'll do them tomorrow afternoon."

      "I suppose then I'm lucky I caught you before you headed for home."

      "I am home." Hallie snorted and plucked at her battered Nosferatu t-shirt, "Seriously, West, do you think I dress like this for work?"

      "Yes, well, the other option is that you live in your office."

      "It's not as bad as it sounds, " she said defensively, and led him through another door and into a high-ceilinged living room. A few worn pieces of overstuffed furniture were arranged on the varnished wooden floor. Through an open arch to the right he could see a tiny kitchenette. "It's an apartment too, see? They built them for the first female students back in the Edwardian age, and sometime in the last decade or so the administration decided to make this into the faculty office building. They're supplied to each professor as a part of our contract; it's just that most of the staff apparently don't want to live on campus. I moved in here after my divorce. It's nice enough, especially now that they've done some restoration work."

      "It's quite cramped."

      "I prefer 'cosy.' "

      "Yes, " he replied, "I imagine you do. How long have you been with the department?"

      "Pretty much since I got my doctorate. They hired me on to replace Dr. Bierce when he...Well, we tell people he retired. It's not a bad job, and the pay's enough to get by with. They'll forgive a lot of my loans, too, as long as I stay on."

      "Surely you had other offers?"

      Hallie snorted and ducked into the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with a steaming china mug. "You're being kind. As you're probably well aware, the only way to make money in my field is to teach, and I'm far from the only philosopher out there with a PhD and bills to pay- the competition for what few decent spots are available is remarkably cutthroat for a field dominated by skinny guys in beards and sweaters. There were a few offers from smaller schools, but the pay scale wasn't quite as attractive, and none of them have the library like we have here. That alone was enough to convince me to stay on. I've got a special access card, so I can get into the restricted rooms, and there's no more rushing to bring books back before nightfall."

      "No threat of shantaks, then?" Though his voice had changed a little with age, that half-interested, half-mocking edge was deeply familiar.

      He was calculated and thorough, showed her what he liked, systemetically catalogued what she enjoyed, and used both to full advantage to pack a maximum amount of pleasure into the minimum of time. No matter how brief the encounter, she was left panting and exhausted.


      Hallie shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. "Not anymore. So...I saw the news. They didn't let you out for good behavior, did they?"

      "No. There was a series of accidents, and I left in the confusion."

      "Can't say that I blame you." She held out the cup and he took it, wrapping his hands gratefully around its warmth. "They think you're dead, by the way, at least so far. So did I, for that matter."

      He tossed back half the coffee in one swallow and managed something akin to a smile. "I'm sorry to have startled you."

      "It's fine. Give me half an hour and I'll have some dinner for you. You want a shower while you wait? I think there's still some of Simon's stuff around somewhere, and you're about the same size."

      "That would be very helpful, thank you."

      Hallie disappeared into the hallway and reappeared a few moments later with an armful of folded clothes and a threadbare towel, which she handed to West.

      "Bathroom's down this way on the right. Throw your stuff in the hamper and I'll get it later. I've got a friend in the art department that can sneak it into a kiln."

      "Thank you."

      He finished the coffee in another tremendous gulp, set the cup down gently on a nearby end table and headed into the bathroom. The door squeaked shut behind him, and after a moment she heard the stacatto rattle of the old pipes that preceeded the roar of the shower kicking in to high.

      Hallie dug around in the bureau next to the phone, flipping absently through take-out menus, listening to the drum and hiss of the water in the next room.

      Wet hair plastered to his head and flopping down over his eyes. Wet lips on her neck, wet skin against hers, two fingers in her mouth to quiet her moans.


      'Get a hold of yourself, O'Halloran!' she thought fiercely, "You're not a kid anymore!"

      She punched the speed dial button for the Mekong Green Jade Palace and asked for a double order of her usual, and the older woman on the other end of the line tutted.

      "Working through the weekend again, Doctor?"

      "When am I not, Jie-Lijuan?"

      "You're going to work yourself into an early grave."

      "Not when your food's there to keep me going. Besides, the University would put me on life-support until I finished out my contract."

      She tutted again, muttered something disapproving in Cantonese, and hung up the phone. Hallie chuckled.

      "Well, that's one problem solved, anyway."