You Go Ghoul Friend
by J. Summers
The ghouls followed me just like I'd planned. They loped in the shadows, gangly limbs out of synch, taking care to stay away from the headlight beam. Everyone knows that nothing melts a ghoul faster than an H7 bulb. I'd puddled three on my way out of the diner parking lot.
The cycle roared beneath me, rattling my teeth as I shifted to gain speed. I'd considered everything when constructing my getaway plan--or so I thought, until I noticed the gas gauge French kissing empty. Damn ghouls had sucked it nearly dry, while I was inside wolfing down a cheeseburger. I'd passed the 'Last Gas Station For Miles' exit five road signs ago. Vegas was another fifty, not that I’d make it to the mecca of neon. It was as elusive as dawn at midnight.
Something gurgled loudly behind me. I didn’t look back. The sound was followed by similar rumbles. The fact that I could hear it over the air buzzing in my ears was a testament to the power of a ghoul’s digestive tract. They’d eaten a half dozen people back at the diner and they were still hungry. Talk about compulsive overeaters. With any luck, I’d give them all heartburn. The bike sputtered and choked, then gradually slowed, bringing my one-way ride down this ghoul highway to an end.