It hovered over to us and floated in front of my face. I shuddered and backed away, but the stupid thing followed and probed at me with its tentacle eyes. I couldn’t get away from it. It was like a giant slimy bee.

Mo’Lock laughed. “I think it likes you, Cal.”

I backed away. It glided after me.

“Fucking great,” I whined. “What the hell am I going to do with a brain?”

Mo’Lock laughed. “No comment.”

No matter where I ran, the brain was right on me, so finally I stopped and sat down on the edge of a fountain. The brain hovered next to my head. I sighed and once he’d collected himself, the ghoul came over and sat next to me.

I looked over at him, exasperated. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I shot it, would you?”

Mo’Lock smiled. “Don’t you dare!”

Big Fat Hairy Deal

It was June or thereabouts. I’m never really sure any more. The longer I’m in Los Angeles, the harder it is for me to differentiate between the months. There are no seasons, unless you count rain and fire as seasons. I don’t. I’m from back East, where you tell the seasons by the murder rate.

On this particular day, I had been dragged into the woods against my will. I was also showered, clean, and sober. I hadn’t had a pill, drink, or smoke for almost an entire day. I was completely off my game.

It was Sabrina’s idea. She’d finally put the summer issue of Speculator Magazine to bed, I’d just come off a series of bizarre cases, Mo’Lock had gone off to Death Valley with some ghoul friends, and overall things were looking pretty quiet for once. Basically I ran out of excuses and Ms. Lynch took the opportunity to rent a cabin in the woods for us.

She didn’t tell me about the no-drink-or-drugs catch until we pulled into the park. Believe me, I never would have agreed to such madness had I known.

My name’s Cal McDonald. Usually I’m a detective, hunting and killing freaks, and trying to ride a steady, mind-numbing buzz. On this particular stretch of summer I was clean, straight, sober, and staring down the barrel of a long, long weekend in a cabin made out of Lincoln Logs. Only two words came to mind: fuck that.

“What you’re not understanding is that humankind has spent thousands of years working toward not camping,” I said as we walked up a dirt path.

Sabrina glanced over her shoulder, leading the way. “I have never heard a man whine like you, you know that?”

“Wait until we’re in bed later.”