Chapter 6

Rendezvous at Tailgators

(Terror in the Neighborhood)

Brandon handed Zim the mic, and Zim looked at the screen. It was Breaking Benjamin, which he should have known. It was one of his best, most reliable numbers. As the intermediary music wound down to a finish he cleared his throat and got ready to sing.

At first everything went well. The first couple of lines came easy and good. The audience seemed to hang on his every movement. Then, out of the sea of faces, he saw the green guy staring at him in awe. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open, his drink forgotten in his hand. It was then that Zim noticed the fellow was wearing an ascot.

Whoa, he thought. I hope he doesn't think I'm gay.

He turned his attention back to the prompter, hoping that the green guy wouldn't get any ideas. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed someone above him, sailing down from the ceiling. As impossible as it seemed, the guy had a really bumpy forehead, strange yellow eyes and long fangs in his mouth.

Come to think of it, a green guy was pretty strange, too. Was he still suffering from the DT's? Where was Bruni when you needed him?

The guy with the fangs was getting closer, and Zim started getting the idea that perhaps this guy was not a hallucination. The Fear set in, and his voice got pinched. Not good for a singer.

Just in case, Zim thought it would be good to be prepared. But what did he have to use as a weapon? The mic? If it got broken, Brandon would kill him. Still, it was all he had at his disposal, and he choked up on it like it was a miniature baseball bat. He prepared to swing away like that Phoenix guy in the movie, Signs.

Then, at the last second, he chickened out and closed his eyes, waiting for the impact which would undoubtedly bowl him over. He squeezed his eyelids shut even more as he expected to be thrust backwards and into Brandon's towering speakers.

But this did not happen. The music played on, and the prompter showed more lyrics, but Zim was quiet and expectant. There were a few screams, but he didn't think they were related to anything happening to him. Upon opening his eyes, he saw what was really going on, and once again he wondered if he was suffering from the DT's.

The guy with the fangs was wrestling with a thin, trench coated figure with platinum blond hair. Charging the stage were more guys with fangs, and struggling against them were two men: a guy with spiky dark hair and a black dude with an eye patch. The former was armed with a giant sword, and the latter had an axe made from a hubcap. Both were making short work of these fang guys who apparently . . . turned to dust when they were killed?!

It had to be a part of the show. He began clapping. "Brandon, this is awesome! How did you pay for these special effects?"

Brandon was hiding behind one of his speakers, which was riddled with arrows. Who was shooting arrows around here?

Someone grabbed Zim's arm. "It's not a special effect, sugarplum. This is real life. Let's get you out of here."

Zim saw it was the green guy. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Watch the language, Zimmy-cakes. This is a PG-13 production. Just come with me, all right?"

Zim reached out and grabbed the green guy's horns in an attempt to pull them off. When they didn't budge, he felt a chill in his guts. "Holy shit! This is real!"

"No shinola, Sherlock. Let's go before these vampires win."

"Vampires?!"

"Yes, vampires. Relax, kid. You're supposed to save the world. Me and my colleagues are just here to make sure you're alive to accomplish this mission."

"Colleagues?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yes. We're Angel Investigations, and we're here to save your life. I'm Lorne, and those guys over there are Angel and Gunn. The blond guy who just saved your life is Spike. Now can we go?"

Zim closed his eyes. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening!

"Let's go!" Lorne yelled.

This time Zim let himself be led to the back door. "What about my friends?"

"Don't worry about them. Connor and Illyria have them covered. Move it!" He pushed Zim through the door and nearly into a Dumpster. "We should be safe . . ." Lorne trailed off when he saw the gang of snarling vampires out back. ". . . out here?"

Zim sighed. "I really, really hate this place."