The man cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee. “Yes, thank you, dear.”
“So you’d starve if you didn’t eat flesh at all?”
“I’m afraid so. Not a terribly pleasant way to go,” said Stan. “But there’s no need to worry. Ghouls have been in this city ever since it was founded, and there are plenty of ways to get meat without killing humans.”
“Where did this come from?” Colt asked, eyeing the plate of bacon. It was looking and smelling better by the minute.
“The morgue,” Stan said casually. “We have a supply chain set up at the hospital. John Does come in all the time, and the bodies can sit for ages if no one comes forward to identify them. Then there are the appendectomies, weight loss surgeries, amputations… we find ways to gather meat that won’t be missed.”
Colt stopped with a strip of bacon halfway to his mouth. He hadn’t even been fully aware of picking it up, but Stan’s explanation stopped him short.
“Do we have to talk about this at the table?” Ronnie snapped. He stood and grabbed his plate before stalking back up the stairs.
Colt blinked. “Sorry. Was it something I said?”
“Don’t mind him,” Susan said with a heavy sigh. “Ronnie has a sensitive stomach.”
Colt stared down at the bacon, willing his own stomach to show a bit of sensitivity. At length, he gave in and took a bite, then finished the piece. It wasn’t as satisfying as the raw flesh had been, still warm from the blood in the mugger’s veins, but it was far more satisfying than the other food on the table.
God, he really was sick.
“Some ghouls adjust better than others,” Stan said in a diplomatic tone. “If it doesn’t put you off too much, you’d do well to eat as much as you can these first few weeks, especially, while you’re still getting used to all the changes.”
“There’s more, besides the flesh eating?” Colt asked, starting to panic.
“Yes, but I don’t think you’ll find the other changes quite as disruptive,” said Susan. “Ghouls are much stronger than humans. As a fledgling, you’re not quite as strong as an older ghoul, but you should still be capable of doing things even most Olympians can’t. Especially if you’re fed.”
“So if I eat every day, I can go back to my life?” Colt asked, afraid to hold out that kind of hope. Maybe it really was denial, but there was something incredibly appealing about the idea of going home and pretending like everything was normal, at least until he could come to terms with the fact that it never would be again.
“That depends,” said Stan. “What is it you do for a living?”
“I’m in construction. I spend most of the day working outside with a small team.”
Stan stroked his beard and seemed to be considering it. “The only problem I can see is that you might do things that would call attention to your newfound strength. It might not seem like a huge difference now, but it’ll keep growing over the next few months.”
“I’ll be careful,” Colt assured him. “But what if there’s an accident on the site? Would the blood make me shift again?”
“It shouldn’t if you’ve fed recently. But it really would be better for you to take some time off,” said Susan. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”
“I just want to feel normal,” Colt confessed. “Right now, work seems like the only chance I have of that.”
Susan and Stan exchanged a look. Stan smiled. “I can certainly understand where you’re coming from. I can’t say I think it’s a great idea, but if it makes it easier for you to come to terms with all this, you have my unsolicited blessing under one condition,” he said with mock gravitas.
“What’s that?” Colt asked.
“Join us for dinner. Every night for the next week, at least. We’ll send you home with some supplies just in case you need them, but ghouls aren’t meant to live in isolation,” said Stan. “We can’t in good conscience send you back out there on your own.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Colt murmured. “You guys don’t even know me.”
“No, but we’re family all the same,” Susan said warmly. “Maybe not by blood or association, but there are bonds in this world that go deeper than either of those things. You entered this world in the worst way, but I hope we can show you that there’s more to being a ghoul than bloodshed and confusion. With time, we hope you’ll come to find what we have. A sense of community, and a greater purpose.”
Those seemed like lofty goals, but Colt didn’t have the heart to tell her that. He smiled and nodded. “Well, thanks. I’m sure I’m gonna have a lot more questions, so as long as you’re willing to put up with me, I’m happy to come over.”
“Wonderful. It’s settled, then. We eat weeknights at six, weekends at seven,” said Stan, glancing at his watch. “Susan can give you my number in case you need anything between now and then. I’ve got to head to the hospital, but don’t hesitate to call.”
“I won’t. Thanks.”
After leaning in to kiss his wife and say goodbye to his houseguest, Stan was out the door. Susan gave Colt a ride back to his apartment, where his truck was waiting out front, a sobering reminder that his argument with Jason hadn’t been a bad dream, either. He thanked Susan once again for her hospitality and headed up the stairs to pull his spare key out from under the mat. When he opened the door, he saw that Jason had left his keys on the table. No note.
Colt groaned and got changed for work. Physical labor was exactly what he needed to keep his mind off the far more intimidating task of figuring out how he was going to apologize to Jason.
Chapter 6
Work went far better than Colt had feared. There were no major accidents, other than Evan stubbing his thumb, which was practically a weekly occurrence. Other than finding his pastrami on rye sandwich less appealing than usual, Colt didn’t notice any ghoul-related side effects of his first shift, either.
In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time, other than the guilt. He could understand what Stan meant about keeping his strength under wraps. He’d had a close call with a particularly stubborn beam that had snapped in his grasp, but he’d brushed it off as rotted wood and Evan and Chuck were none the wiser. To be fair, neither of them were known for their observational skills.
Susan texted Colt during the middle of his shift to remind him about dinner the following evening and he couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the day passed so swiftly that by the time five o’clock rolled around, when Colt would usually be feeling the effects of a full day of labor, he still felt like he had just arrived on site. Once he made it home, he opened the refrigerator and looked at the plastic container of meat Susan had sent with him, but decided to save it in case he needed it later and popped it into the freezer for better longevity.
Colt reached for the phone and started to dial Jason’s number before he thought better of it. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with Jason, or any other human, for that matter. Not until he had more answers and more experience under his belt. The more time that passed, the easier it was to forget what he’d done, but the mugger’s lifeless eyes as he stared off into space would never quite leave him. Not even as he slept more soundly than he had in years.