A sliver of a moon reflected in Caesar’s cell phone screen. A tightness in his gut reminded him it was dinnertime. He’d find food under the pier at Jenkinson’s Boardwalk. He always did. Thoughts of red meat, warm and dripping with what he knew as gravy, quickened his pace.
He watched beach goers strolling along the boardwalk and tried to spot couples holding hands. He preferred teenage lovers, and watched a couple coming in his direction. Soon he told himself. Soon.
And he slipped into the evening’s dampness beneath the overhead structure. This was his favorite place to dine and he savored the shocking stench of seaweed-wrapped timbers mixed with stale salt air and rancid urine. He cautioned himself to be still. He need only remain in place.
His prey, locked now in a lover’s knot of passion, sidestepped into Caesar’s eerie realm and danced a tango into eternity.
A little after ten o’clock, a saxophonist by the pier’s entrance played the blues over portable speakers. And satiated now, Caesar walked along the boardwalk behind an elderly couple eating cotton candy.
He would return. Why not? The undead had no end.