Death 07 - For the Love of Death (11 page)

Deegan

Gramps walks out, Auntie Tiff tucked under his arm. I cover my mouth at the smell coming off her in waves.

Booze.

She's looped.

Mitchell is standing next to me. “
She
is going to do something with our mess?”

I can’t blame his disbelief. Her dark blonde hair is hanging in strings, and she’s as tiny as ever, hazel eyes murky with hate and sadness.

But she takes the time to look at Mitchell and the zombie family Pax brought.

“What the fuck is going on?” she slurs.

Gramps tries to tuck the hair hanging in her face behind her ear.

I move forward, and Mitchell touches my arm. “I don’t like it.”

“It's okay, she's my aunt.”

“No she's not.”

I look up at him. “How could you know that?”

He taps his nose. “We smell great. I can smell who you're related to.”

Uncle Clyde and Gramps give each other a wary look then regard Mitchell together.

“You two,” Mitchell says. “I know you're related.”

Gramps grunts, saying nothing. He's always mentioning priorities.

I keep moving, Mitchell coming alongside me.

I slip my hairband off my wrist and hand it to Tiff. Recognition flickers. Shame follows.

“It's okay, Auntie Tiff.”

She plucks the band from my fingers and shakes her head. “No, it's not.”

She twists her hair through a couple of revolutions, and it sits in a fat, messy bun at her nape. Her bloodshot eyes study Mitchell then Fam Zombie.

“They don’t feel right,” she says in an unsteady voice. In a semi-panic, she yells, “John!”

Uncle John moves to her side and all but wrenches her away from Gramps.

Grampsʼ expression contains sad knowledge. “It’s not over, champ.”

John looks away.

I’m not an expert in adult drama, but I know something bad went down inside the Terrans’.

I know it has been almost a year since we’ve been over to dinner.

Auntie Tiff gets plastered when she comes to the house. Pax and I have a code word for it: weird.

Auntie Tiff gets weird when she’s over.

We both know she hits the booze, and Uncle John carts her away.

I love her. Everyone does.

The problem is I don’t think
she
loves Tiff. It’s as if she punishes herself.

For what?
When I ask Mom, she tells me it’s not her story to tell.

What can be so bad that Auntie Tiff drinks instead of living?

Jonesy steps forward, and Uncle John bares his teeth like a wolf.

Jonesy ignores him, turning to Tiff instead. “Here’s the condensed version, Tiff. The Hart kids dragged some corpses from an alternate world, trying to escape some clowns from this one.”

Tiff regards him reluctantly.

“Now the clowns are looking for a few more freaks for their circus act and the SPs are after them for violation of undead—well, everything.” Jonesy points at her. “We need you.”

Tiff stares at Jonesy with every ounce of sullenness behind the glare.

“Sober,” he adds.

“Jonesy,” John warns.

Jonesy lifts a palm, the underside very white against the rest of him. “Can it, Terran or I'll get Gramps to do a repeat. We don't have time for whatever the hell is going on with her.”

Jonesy stands tensely in front of Auntie Tiff. His arms are stiff as he leans forward and says, “Where did ya go? We need that tough chick who knocked people on their asses and took names. We
need
her.” He sighs, adjusting his balls.

I about die.

The zombies stare vacantly at the group.

Tiff hiccups, covering her mouth. Eyes wide, she appears a little frantic.

Gramps races forward, jerking her away from John.

“Hey!” he bellows.

Gramps scoops Tiff and bends her over the outside separator.

She throws up everything she’s ever eaten.

John backs away, looking like someone just kicked his puppy.

Gramps holds her hair back. “Get rid of it, that’s it… good girl.”

He glances Mom's way. “Jade, get some coffee, hun.”

Mom runs inside the Terran house.

Soon light pours out of the windows.

She returns a few minutes later with a washcloth and a steaming cup of coffee.

Gramps takes the washcloth.

“We need you in the now, Tiff. We don't have the luxury of you figuring out your life on our dime.”

Tiff wipes her mouth using the cool cloth, giving him a sour expression. “I got ya, you tough old bird.”

Gramps cracks a smile.

*

Auntie Tiff sobers.

My parents’ other friends meet at the old dump.

It’s weird to see them all here at the hideaway they made all those years ago.

For one, it’s crowded.

For two, they’re all old—yet not.

Mia and Bry Weller have been married for a while, and neither is paranormal. They’re kinda like my parents in the way they interact. Bry sits by Tiff. His gaze lands on Gramps with accusation. He’s probably pissed Gramps took his sister in hand.

I know I shouldn't understand, but I do. Gramps does what nobody else has the guts to do.

They want to baby Tiff.

But what she needs now is someone to be tough on her. To make her see that even though her life isn't what she wants, it is the life she has.

And sometimes that has to be good enough.

I cause black holes.

I hate it. Sometimes I wonder why I was ever born. But being mad about it all doesn't make it go away.

So I kinda understand. I know there's more. None of us can help unless we know. My parents know but they're not telling me why Tiff looks haunted.

Sophie stands off to one side on her own. She's my favorite; says what she thinks, an individual. Somehow, I always thought she and Jonesy should be together but he keeps marrying other women.

Lewis Archer sits carefully on an upturned milk crate. He's a professional burglar. He used to be able to manipulate locks when he was paranormal. He's still doing it, just differently.

He's a kick-ass dresser and talks kinda like Grandpa Kyle.

The zombies stand by their AFTDs. They keep Tiff and Dad in sight. They know who has the Affinity for the Dead.

Uncle Clyde taps his foot, standing by the hole of the hideaway.

“She coming?” Dad asks.

He nods. “Momentarily.”

“She bringing the kids?”

Clyde shakes his head. “No, Roberta handed them off to her parents.”

“Is that safe?”

He nods. “The Sanction Police are searching for me. Not for my offspring.”

Dad cups his chin, getting that look he has when he’s thinking hard.

“What is it?” Mitchell whispers beside me.

I rise on my tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “We’re waiting for my Uncle Clyde’s wife.”

He jerks his chin back. “He’s a zombie.”

“It—it is against the law now, but before they made it one….”

“How is that possible?” Mitchell draws his brows together.

I sigh. “He—she's an AFTD like me. She can keep him like that if he's around her.”

Mitchell looks at Uncle Clyde for a full minute. “She's not here right now.”

“He can go a few hours without rotting.”

I know what he wants to ask. It’s in the careful neutrality of his face.

Heat rises in my own. “I don’t have… very good control.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she’s keeping you alive by accident,” Pax butts in.

He pisses me off. The know-it-all. “Pax, shut up.” 

“Pax, don’t belittle Deegan,” Mom says.

Pax rolls his eyes. “Miss Genius IQ. I think she can survive anything.”

I cross my arms. “That’s not true. I had to raise a zombie to survive the stupid, in whatever Earth you blinked us to. Then you had to figure out a way to try and save me.”

Pax’s lips quirk. “True. I guess I’m not so dumb after all.”

“Nobody’s saying you’re dumb Pax,” Dad says. “And we don’t have the time for sibling rivalry right now, guys.”

Bobbi Gale pops through the tunnel. She's just now starting to look a little older than Uncle Clyde.

“Hi.” She looks around at our solemn faces, her lips turning down. “What'd I miss?”

“Pity party,” Tiff says, sober enough now to be her old caustic self.

“Thanks for the warning.” Bobbi winks. She stands on her toes, her palms on Clyde’s chest. “Hey, baby.” She kisses him, and the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Wow,” Mitchell says.

“Yeah.” My own face is hot with my secret thoughts of crushing on my zombie.

Why can’t I like a normal guy?
Yʼknow, a live one.

“So what’s a girl gotta do to get some answers around here?” she asks.

Gramps tells her what’s going on, and Bobbi folds her arms. “Huh. Well that’s a class-A clusterfuck.”

Gramps grins and Mom sighs, hoping all the profanity won’t affect my innocent ears. Good luck with that.

Bobbi looks at Tiff, eyes narrowing. “So what’s the plan?”

Tiff’s face is clearer but angry. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Because I think you’re pissed off enough to pull this thing off.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where we get rid of the zombies in their own world, then hightail it back here and figure out why there's a pack of Randoms up Paxton's ass.”

“Roberta,” Clyde says.

“Sorry, honey, I always forget your aversion to profanity.” She kisses his cheek and he moves his lips to her palm, brushing them against it.

I cover my mouth with a hand so they can’t see me smile. Uncle Clyde is so romantic.

Mitchell says
Wow
again.

Something occurs to me as I watch my Aunt Tiff who really isn’t.

I turn to Mitchell again, and he bends down so I can reach him.

I whisper a very important question to him.

He looks at me for a long moment then slowly nods.

I'm so happy with his answer I feel dizzy.

Pax

Dad gets that blank look everyone does when they receive a pulse-com.

“Dad?” I ask, and he lifts his finger.

I wait.

He blows out a breath and swipes the non-existent hair on the top of his head with a hand.

“It’s Gram,” he says, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

I read the grief in his face. “Fuck me.”

Gramps is suddenly there. “You curse like that again, and I’ll knock your block off, son. Grandkid or not. Grow up. Right now.”

I look down into Gramps’ face. I’ve been a class-A jerk off. Gramps is hurting. Dad, Mom—hell, everyone loves Ali Hart.

Gramps goes on, “No strangling doctors. Button that filthy trap and stand by your parents while my daughter dies, got it?”

Yeah, I get it. But I don't have to like it. I'm a reactor, always have been.

Dad ignores Gramps
ʼ interchange with me. “How do we get inside the hospital with a rash of SPs gunning for us?”

Archer comes forward, tall and slim, GQ dresser, IQ a million. “Leave that to me.”

“Will it be illegal?” Mom chews her fingernails.

“Always.”

Mom looks down at her feet. Silent tears come.

Jonesy watches her.

Sophie puts an arm around Mom and squeezes her. “We all love Ali, toots. It doesn’t get harder than this.”

Sophie’s seawater eyes look into mine then move to Dee. “I’m sorry, guys, I know this sucks.”

Sucks
doesn’t cover it, but I nod. I feel like an industrial vacuum has sucked out the
V
in my vim and vigor.

“Let's go,” Tiff says, hopping to her feet.

Mitch gives Dee a significant look, as if they share a secret. I like his big ass less and less.

“Wait.” Uncle Clyde looks around at us. “If it were I, the hospital would be the first place I would lie in wait. How are we sure that it is not a ploy enlisted by the SP to lure us there?”

I hesitate for a second then plow forward. “With all we can bring, I think we can get in there and out.”

“What is happening?” Mitch asks.

Dee turns to him. “There’s not a lot of time to explain, but my grandma is dying of cancer, and she’s taken a turn for the worse…”

Dee glances at Dad as though for permission, and he simply nods.

Knew it.

Mitch interrupts, “What kind?”

My brows screw up into a knot. “Why?”

He exhales in a rush, clearly annoyed.
Big for his goddamned britches,
as Gramps would say.

“Breast,” Mom answers instead of me.

“Why?” I repeat, moving a step closer to Mitch.

Mitch squares off with me. “We're cancer-free in my earth.”

“All?” Dad asks.

Mitch nods.

“Why the bots, then?” Dee asks.

Mitch looks at Dee, and his face softens.

Irritating.

“They must have used artificial body parts first, perfected that, then made the bots after fixing the populace.” Mitch shrugs. “I’m speculating. I died at twenty in 2010. That was…”

“Almost forty years ago,” John Terran says.

“I have bionic everything,” Gramps says. “There’s still a ton of cancer that remains uncured here.”

“Bionic?” Mitch asks.

Gramps smiles. “It’s an expression that means something to me. ‘Artificial replacement’ is the term nowadays.”

John turns to Dad. “I don’t want to interject something here, but I’m going to say the thing that no one else will.”

Dad gives John a sharp look.

“Let's get my mom to this—Mitch's world. If Pax can blink it, she can be cured.”

“Seems simple,” Jonesy says.

Dad shakes his head, rueful. “That stuff always does, but then things happen like ALB and…”

“My family are zombies in that world.”

The whole hideaway goes silent. I can hear only the hiss of an outmoded and illegally fueled propane lantern.

“I guess we missed that detail,” Jonesy says in the tomb-like space. He cocks his head. “That’s great, Pax. How’d you happen to figure that out?”

“I called the dead, and that’s who came.”

“Me too?” Gramps asks, his lips twitching.

“You were the most… practical,” I admit.

He grins. “Glad I still have follow-through, even dead.”

Right. He doesn’t know just how much.

“I don’t know if it’ll be safe to move her… what we’ll do. What Dad will do.” Dee rolls her lip into her mouth and gnaws on it.

Gramps seals the deal, as usual. “We don’t have anything to lose. But peanut.” His gaze move around the group, settling on Dad. “We take her to bot Earth”—Gramps chuckles at his wording—“and find an Organic that will…” He swirls his hand around.

“Cure her,” Mitch says dryly.

I give him a sidelong look.

“Of course, there are a few obstacles,” he adds.

“Knew it.” Jonesy plops his chin in his hand and sighs loudly.

“If what Pax says is true…”

I whip my head in his direction. “No, I’m effing lying.”

Mitch comes into my space, our chests almost touching. We're just about on physical par. About the same age, different era, same level of testosterone.

“Boys, play nice,” Gramps says, “or I'll use these new guns I have to clunk some skulls, feel me?”

“
Go Mac,” Jonesy says in a deadpan voice.

I keep staring at Mitch-boy. “If what you say
is
true, your grandma is already accounted for in our world. As a corpse. She won't have clearance for med care because technically, she's no longer living.”

I glower. Then brighten. “My Organic is exactly the same in your earth.”

Mitch stares at me for a heartbeat. “She could do it. But a few questions: did you put your family to rest again before you went? What happened to the Organic after she fixed your arm?” He raises his dark brows, and I notice for the first time his eyes aren’t brown, they’re deep blue.

They’re also arrogant, and he pisses me off.

I don’t have the answers to those questions.

“Did ya leave a bunch of corpses running around in some parallel earth?” Tiff asks, her voice sharp without the booze to soften it.

My face heats. “Yeah.”

“Well shit, that was dumb, Pax.”

I glare at Tiff. “I was doing what I could. They have these devil bots from hell, and Dee was running around somewhere.”

Tiff glances at Dee. “What happened to you?”

Dee laces her hands together tightly. “Brad Thompson is in that world.”

Tiff keeps steady eyes on my sister. “Is he… what’s his MO?”

“He’s a bully. His dad is the head of the SPs.”

Tiff whistles, shifting her gaze to Uncle John.

Uncle John cocks a brow, and Tiff glares at him. “You can say his name out loud, ya know.”

Uncle John’s face flames red, pained. “I don’t want to recount those painful memories.”

Tiff grunts and returns her gaze to Dee. “Tell me about this guy.”

Dee does, briefly skating over the asshole’s highlights.

“I guess there's always a Carson Hamilton. No matter what year, no matter who is around.”

Dee replies, “I don't know who Carson Hamilton is. But if he's as much of a bully as this guy, he was bad.”

“He was bad,” Tiff says, her face tight.

She doesn't shrug off the hand John puts on her shoulder. Instead, she covers it with her own.

Dee meets her eyes. “He killed me in this other Earth.”

“What happened when you went there by accident?”

“I broke his neck.”

I think back to what she said about it. “He’ll heal that.” Because according to Dee, in that world, they have auto-healing.

I can see her swallow from here. “He was.”

“What’s
with
this bozo?” Tiff snaps a firecracker’s worth of bubbles from her gum.

“What’s with him? He’s powerful in that world, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had our entire family killed somehow.”

I take in everyone. “We were all dead in this other world. Yet Brad Thompson’s alive? ʼCause he’s such a great dude? No.” My chin juts back in obvious disbelief. “Dee got the drop on him because she kicked his ass and he wasn’t expecting it.”

I blow out a sigh, turning to my sister. “How come you didn’t telekinesis his ass?”

“I can’t there.”

“Oh, wow.” Jonesy blows out a low keen of a whistle. He throws his laced hands on his head. “So some of our abilities will work there but not all?”

Dee nods.

Dad scrubs his face. “It certainly makes for things to get exciting.”

“Not in a good way,” Sophie says.

“My AFTD is fine there.” I sweep my palm out toward Dee. “And Dee raised Mitch.” I choke his name out.

“What about us mundanes?” Bry Weller asks as Mia stands beside him.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Gramps says, “The more the merrier. But your track record is a little iffy.”

Bry grins and nods. “I’ll do my best not to get my ass kicked.”

Jonesy chuckles.  “Famous last words, Weller.”

Bry flips him the bird.

Jonesy stands and whips his arms out, doing a little pelvic swivel. “Sit and spin, Bry—sit and spin.”

Mia rolls her eyes, and Bry’s face is all smiles.

Seems like a private joke.

Mitch laughs. I toss him a glare, throwing a little hate his way.

Tiff bounces off a crate and sidles up beside John. Uncle John looks worn out, but wraps his arm around her.

“It’s settled. I say the chance is worth taking to get Ali back. And these guys need to go to ground anyway?” She jabs a thumb at my silent zombie family then gives Mitch a speculative look.

I nod. The faster Mitch goes back to his Earth, the better.