Synopsis: Hunger. Fear. Violence. Lust. When people around Haven begin acting on their baser instincts, Audrey and Nathan must find the source of the Trouble before they, too, fall victim to its deadly effects.
Author's Note: This story is a companion/prequel to "The Biggest Mystery Yet" and also takes place in the same universe as "Speak Like a Mainer." It is not necessary to have read those stories to understand this one.
This one's for Maria, who always asks when I'm going to post it. Well, here it is, dear.
Disclaimer: I don't own Haven, make profit from the story, etc. I just really, really like Audrey and Nathan. Nathan especially.
Part One: A Zombie Love Story
"I will follow my instincts, and be myself for good or ill."
― John Muir
Audrey Parker was running late.
She wished she could blame it on her alarm clock. Seriously, who thought the snooze button was a good idea, anyway? Postponing the inevitable, encouraging procrastination...
She wished she could blame it on a stakeout, but she'd spent the night before having dinner with Nathan (if pancakes could be called that) and then throwing back a few drinks with Julia Carr, while discussing their Petri dish of a town.
She wished she could blame it on just about anything other than the truth: she simply hadn't wanted to get up. It was more than the sound of the wind whipping through the air or the crashing of the waves on the rocks below that made her feel warm and cozy. She had fallen asleep while reading a ridiculously cheesy romance novel and somewhere along the way, she began to dream she was the heroine of the story (feisty, self-assured naturally) and Nathan (Nathan!?) was the romantic hero. Weird. But in that dreamlike state, it had all made perfect sense for her to be wearing a dress with a torn bodice and for him to be wearing an eye patch, sucking on her neck, and pulling up the skirt of her dress.
No more alcohol and romance novels before going to bed, she decided as she ran a brush through her hair.
Audrey heard Nathan's truck before she actually saw it, that familiar rumble of the engine and the crackle of its tires on the gravel outside her apartment above the Grey Gull. She slipped on a blazer over her camisole and buttoned it before double-checking she had everything. Badge. Side arm. Phone. Check. Check. And check.
Nathan was standing outside the Bronco when she made it down to the parking lot. Thankfully, there was no eye patch involved.
"Someone call for a cab?"
"Eh, the car's not feeling it today." She inclined her head toward the ten-year-old Dodge Stratus she had purchased not long after she decided to extend her stay in Haven. She figured her time in Haven would be temporary, so there was no need for extravagance. Of course, these days, she would settle for reliability.
As though reading her thoughts, Nathan said, "You should think about getting a more reliable car."
"Probably."
"Either that, or make sure it has gasoline."
"That was last week, and I've learned my lesson."
"What? That's it's easier to bum a ride?"
Audrey shrugged. "You've got nothing better to do."
"Has been quiet lately. Minus the strange buzzing in my ear."
She ignored his teasing jab. Maybe he didn't want to admit it, but he liked their talks. If nothing else, she kept him on his feet. "Right. It's almost a letdown to get the run-of-the-mill prowler call."
"I'll take that any day over the house implosions or x-ray vision troubles."
"Harry Harris halfway deserved what he got. Trying to look through women's clothes like that? Perve." She shuddered at the thought.
"On the plus side, he'll be an asset on staff at the hospital." Nathan climbed into the Bronco with ease; it took a bit more effort for Audrey, who was a good ten inches shorter than her partner. "Not the first time a Trouble has led to a new career."
"What about you? You ever think about doing something different?" Audrey's question came out of the blue.
"You trying to get rid of me, Parker?" Nathan asked.
"No, just curious. If you weren't a cop, what would you be doing?"
Nathan considered her question. "Applied to law school. Was accepted, but I…I don't know. Probably be a hermit."
"Is that even an occupation? I can see it now on the next census. Occupation: hermit. Are the benefits good?"
His mouth quirked in a half smile. "They sound better all the time. You?"
"A writer."
"You write?"
"Not really, but if Stephenie Meyer can make a fortune off of lovesick teens and middle-aged moms, why not me?"
"I seem to recall a few vampire books in your collection."
"Yeah, but they're going out of vogue. I'm thinking a zombie love story."
Nathan's brows furrowed. "So how exactly would that go?"
"Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl, not for her body, but for her brains…"
"Should've known," Nathan replied shaking his head. "At least dating around here's less complicated. Or maybe just complicated in a different way."
"So are there any dating rules I should know?"
"Dating rules?" Nathan repeated. "You looking to date someone?"
"With all the free time I don't have? Not quite. But there seem to be, like, fifty unspoken rules regarding everything else in Haven. I figured dating had to fit in there somewhere. So, spill it."
"That's a tall order."
"Well, I already know I better not ask a guy if he'd like a dittle* unless I really mean it. Hmm. Maybe I should ask Duke." At the alarmed look on Nathan's face, she added, "For advice, I mean. You are so easy."
"About that, don't ask Duke."
"Why's that?"
"He has a reputation."
What was this? The 1950s? "Doesn't everyone?"
"A bad reputation."
"Are you the town choirboy?"
"Not quite."
She gave him a quick assessment. Nathan Wuornos was handsome in an L.L. Bean catalog kind of way. Knowing him, he'd probably be insulted that she was mentally comparing him to male models. "I guess you turned a few heads in your day."
"A few." There was the slight quirk of his lips, as though he was remembering a private joke. "What about you, Parker?"
She sighed. "I'm not relationship material. I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube."
"Oh, definitely a deal breaker," he deadpanned.
"Have this thing about the toilet seat. I don't really cook much. Sure don't like cleaning after anyone else…"
"You have breakfast yet?"
"It depends."
"On?"
"What's on the menu. For the record, I'm taking a break from pancakes."
"How can you not want pancakes?"
"Maybe because we had them for supper last night? I'm just waiting for it…"
"For what?"
"Someone's Trouble to turn us into what we eat. I'm telling you right now if I get turned into a pancake and am made flatter up top than I already am, I am going to be pissed at you."
"You're not flat."
Audrey's eyebrow shot up, while Nathan flushed a deep red upon realizing what he had said. "We seriously need to expand your palate," she said, trying to let him off the hook.
"My palate's fine," he replied, staring straight ahead.
"I'm thinking Rosemary's."
"And we need to expand yours." But despite his good-natured protest, Nathan drove the Bronco to the bakery. What else could he do? Pancakes were off limits for awhile.
"Good morning."
"Duke Crocker." His name rolled off her tongue like an accusation. "I didn't know you came out during the day."
"I'm sensing a little hostility, Samantha. Frankly, that's hurtful."
"Oh, you're hurt?"
"I thought we worked all this out. You're a great girl, but…"
Samantha Heiser crossed her arms, her delicate features practically transforming into Duke's second greatest fear after mad-tattooed-man: scorned-woman-on-a-rampage. "Where have you been keeping yourself?"
Luckily, Duke noted, she didn't appear to have any weapons on hand other than a tongue she seemed to be sharpening. "Here. There." He tried to smile gamely hoping friendliness would defuse the situation. The last thing he needed was a public confrontation before he even had his morning coffee. It was enough to make him wonder why he'd even bothered getting up early.
"I've stopped by the Gull several times. Your bartender Nora keeps giving me the run around."
"Well, you've got me now. What did you want to talk about?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You know, never mind. I thought I had a little problem."
Duke's face blanched. "You don't mean…?"
"No, I'm not. Never was, thank God. But I do feel incredibly stupid for ever letting you anywhere near me." And then her angry expression shifted before Duke's eyes. Her eyes widened, her bottom lip quivered, and her crossed arms turned into more of a self-hug. "You're not safe for me to be around." Her voice softened. Shakily, she took a step back from him.
"Are you okay?" Duke asked reaching out to steady her.
"Don't! Don't come close. You aren't safe! I've got to get away from here. Away from you!" With that, she began to power walk in the opposite direction.
"Okay. Nice seeing you." Duke waved as Samantha hurried away. She turned to look back at him, and then quickened her pace to a run. "We should do this again sometime. And by sometime, I mean never."
What the hell was that? Duke was accustomed to the occasional disgruntled female, but she was positively vitriolic before turning into a quivering mess.
He would never understand women.
"That was weird," he muttered under his breath. He turned to continue toward the bakery and ran smack into a man.
"Sorry, buddy." Duke steadied the man, who was older than himself but whose age was difficult to pinpoint because of the rather distinct handlebar mustache he wore that overpowered his other features.
The man pushed past Duke, saying nothing.
"So you're not a morning person. I can respect that."
He continued into the bakery. The place was, as usual, busy. It would have been quicker to go to Larissa's, but like everyone else, he knew Rosemary had the most succulent pastries in town. Moist. Flaky. Sweet goodness. He could almost imagine them melting on his tongue, the buttery flavor permeating every last taste bud.
"You okay, Duke?" Sada Quinn, who stood in front of him in line, asked.
Duke tried to focus on the woman in front of him. She was attractive, in a cougar sort of way, and had the breasts of a twenty-two year old, though she had to be pushing about fifty. If her cleavage was any indication, she had recently had some maintenance work done. Duke forced his eyes upward, halfway expecting her to unleash her fury on him for his wayward gaze. Instead, she smirked.
"See something you like?"
Duke laughed nervously. Right. A woman who dressed like that wasn't likely to complain if a man noticed. "Come again?"
Sada lowered her voice and tilted her head toward the pink clad, white haired woman behind the counter. "For breakfast. The Queen Bee herself is out this morning. If you can get past the fake Southern accent and the pink…well, everything…I do have to say no one makes pastries better than Rosemary."
"Mmmhmmm." Duke's gaze darted past Sada to the glass display case. Everything he could possible want was on display. Everything he could ever need. Donuts. Jelly filled. Cream filled. Custard filled. Powdered. Cake. Raised. Glazed. Crullers. Baklava. Muffins (blueberry, strawberry, lemon poppy seed, pumpkin, chocolate chip). Turnovers. Bear claws. Croissants brushed with butter. The choices were overwhelming. He wanted everything. The sweet. The salty. The nutty. The fruity.
Without another word, Duke pushed Sada aside and angled between two other customers to press his hands against the display case. The food called to him. Come take me.
"Duke?" Rosemary's plastered smile faded. "What are you doing?"
Wordlessly, Duke slammed his open hands against the glass. The case shook, but the glass held.
"What is wrong with you?" Rosemary asked. "Do I need to call someone?"
"I'm hungry." A thread of spittle fell from his lips and onto the display.
"Hey, man, I've heard of drooling over Rosemary's cooking, but this is ridiculous," a man said from behind Duke. "Sleep it off."
Duke jumped over the counter, pushed Rosemary aside, and pulled a cruller from the case with his right hand and baklava with the other. Without another word, he devoured the pastries in just a few gulps before digging into the display case for more.
"Stop it! What's wrong with you?" Rosemary cried out. "Stop it!"
"How did you get here so quickly?" Rosemary greeted Nathan and Audrey at the door only minutes after Duke began his eating rampage.
"We were already on our way," Audrey explained.
"Well, you've got to do something about him!" She pointed toward the inside of her bakery. Nathan and Audrey hurried inside.
Bystanders stood by, mulling over Duke's behavior, in a quiet roar.
"Duke!" Nathan spoke his old friend/old enemy's name sharply.
Duke paused for a moment, looked up at Nathan and Audrey, and went back to pulling more pastries from the case. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, bringing away icing with it before licking the sweetness off his hand. He then shoved a croissant into his mouth.
"Something is definitely wrong." Audrey paused a beat before adding, "Troubling."
Nathan shook his head slightly. "So much for a quiet day."
*dittle – See the one-shot "Speak Like a Mainer." A dittle is Maine slang for sex.
To be continued...