The Death Series, Books 1-3
Author: Tamara Rose Blodgett
Date: 2012-12-29T00:00:00+00:00
Description: For a limited time books 1-3 in The Death Series on Sale! Get all 6 Death books for less than $10: tinyurl.com/TheDeathSeries 3 books in 1 Bundle: DEATH WHISPERS (#1) DEATH SPEAKS (#2) DEATH INCEPTION (#3) (App. total word count 235,000) DEATH WHISPERS: Almost fifteen-year-old Caleb Hart is a Cadaver-Manipulator in the year 2025. When teens receive a government-sanctioned pharmaceutical cocktail during school, paranormal abilities begin manifesting... making the teens more powerful than the adults. After Caleb discovers he has the rare, Affinity for the Dead, he must do whatever it takes to hi

The Death Series

Volume I

Death Whispers

Death Speaks

Death Inception
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

The Death Series

Volume One

Death Whispers

Death Speaks

Death Inception
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Copyright © 2010-2013 Tamara Rose Blodgett
http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

Series by Tamara Rose Blodgett:

The Blood Series

The Death Series

The Savage Series

Table of Contents

Death Whispers 5

Death Speaks 371

Death Inception 661

Chapter 1-Death Screams 725

A Love Letter to My Readers: 738

Acknowledgments: 739

Connect with Me Online: 740

Books available now: 741

Death Whispers

Book One of the Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Death Whispers

Copyright © 2010-2011 Tamara Rose Blodgett
http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com/

ISBN 978-1461058663

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

For Joshua

Edited by Stephanie T. Lott

PROLOGUE

I am Caleb Hart, son of the first scientist to map the human genome back in 2010. Now, fifteen years later, all us kids (during puberty because we're so lucky) get to draw what's equivalent to a winning lottery ticket. What paranormal power would we have, would I have? It could be anything as benign as Empath, Telepathy, Pyrokenesis, Astral-Projection, and the real creeper, Affinity for the Dead, AFTD. New abilities kept cropping up, like an untended garden. The paranormal ball had begun to roll and it was all downhill from here. As long as I didn't get anyone's attention, I was down with that. I should think Science is the bomb, but it's not, it's a bomb alright, right on my head.

In eighth grade, we're required to take pre-Biology. My teacher is enthusiastic, so there's never a dull moment.

Especially with me fainting all the time.

That's how it happened the first time. The frogs came in and I went out... like a light.

At least that was the first time I hadn't been able to ignore it anymore.

Xavier Collins had reined in his ranting about bees becoming extinct and other huge rage-topics on the environment, to delight in telling us our next experiment would be dissection.

I didn't have Mark “Jonesy” Jones in this class but my other best friend, John, was here, so not a total loss. Jonesy kept school in balance, making jokes at the expense of the teachers (very wise). John countered with keeping Jonesy from getting us in trouble (not always happening). The drag of it was the two kids that hated my guts in a steaming pile were in Biology.

Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason sat next to each other, never giving me a moment's peace about anything. Carson had everything anyone could want, money, looks (he's a mirror-lover) and parents that didn't care about anything he did. My parents had not caught the disease of indifference yet. Brett didn't have it so hot, but he was as miserable as Carson.

John sat down next to me with two pencils up his nose while Collins was at the whiteboard, discussing how to pin the frogs down.

Nice.

“Did ya make sure the erasers were in there first?” I asked him.

“Yeah, duh.” The pencils bounced as he spoke. For a smart guy, he had some weird ideas about self-entertainment. It was very “Jonesy” of him.

“You still buzzing?” he asked.

I looked at John. “Yeah, it's on and off.” I felt kinda defensive about this part, I was avoiding thinking about it myself, and didn't really want to talk about it.

“I've been thinking about that,” he said.

How he could think with pencils up his nose? A mystery, “Yeah?”

“I think you have the undead creeper, like that Parker dude,” John said.

That would be bad.

“He's the one that could corpse-raise, right?” I asked.

John nodded.

Hadn't I just been thinking about how much that ability sucked? However, the rareness of corpse-raising might come in handy. Not likely to happen though.

“It would suck for you.”

Nice, John restating the obvious. Yeah, it would suck. I mean, what's so great about communicating with the dead, locating the dead? Any of that... ah, no. Nothing in it for me but weirdness.

“Government took him. Bye-bye... gone.” John made a fluttering motion with his hand like a bird flying away. The pencils kept bouncing in a distracting way.

I'd heard about that. Corpse-Manipulation, rare-much. Jeffrey Parker was the only recorded case.

“Why do you think?” I was interested for once, sometimes John would lose me on a tech-rant and it was all over.

“Are you shitting me? Dead people... come on.” I got an image of zombies with M-60s, interesting.

“No, think about it. They could get people raised and force them to do stuff. From a distance, they could look like they were alive, important people.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Presidents?”

“Rulers or whoever,” John said. “He was a five-point. He could do the whole tamale. I think the government exploits whatever they can; using whoever they can.”

I laughed.

“What?” he asked.

“I can't take you seriously. You look like a dumb-ass.” The pencils dangled indignantly inside each nostril, humiliated.

John pulled them out, checking the ends for gold.

Huh.

I'd been wondering why my head was buzzing. Now memories surfaced. When had the buzzing started exactly? What triggered it? Could John be right?

“Okay people, zip up here and pick up your trays. Your sterilized utensils should already be at your desks,” Collins said.

John went for our trays, minus the attractive pencils. I stared out the window, the splatters of rain causing rivulets that looked like gray streamers marring the glass.

I shook my head, clearing fuzziness. I couldn't shake the buzzing, a dull noise that ebbed and flowed. I felt it today the strongest. As soon as I entered class, the buzzing increased, like whispers.

“Here you are. One frog for the both of us.” John plunked down a frog that had once been green but was a bone-gray now, staking pins gleaming under the LEDs.

That's when the screaming started.

The whole earth felt like it was swiveling on its axis, and I was on top. The whispering grew in volume until images flooded my head. There were marshes and swamps. A frog, in the bloom of its life, shiny with amphibian iridescence, leaped to a log, hoping to fool a small water moccasin close enough to take it.

(NO!)

Right behind you I shouted in warning. But I couldn't be heard, these were images... memories.

A motor boat was closing in on the frog, getting ready to take it with a metal pole and loose net on its end. Caleb heard the frog's thoughts, strange predator must seek cover... noise... hurts...

(NO! NO!!!)

It wasn't the only frog with memories. Every cut my classmates made, a new flood of memories came. I realized through some dim sense that I was on my back on the Biology floor. Carson and Brett in the background wheezed with laughter.

“He fainted over a frog? Seriously?” Carson ranted.

Brett, not to be outdone caterwauled, “He's a woman!”

Collins was moving his hand in front of my face, holding up fingers, but I was caught in the grip of the death memories, absorbing my consciousness. The last thing I remember was John's anxious face taking turns between telling the dumb-ass duo to shut up and seeing if I was gonna live. My vision became gray at the edges, a pinpoint of black expanding to clear my mind of everything and I knew no more.

CHAPTER 1

Trees surrounding the cemetery danced in the languid breeze of the mild spring night. I looked behind me at the pair of eighth grade boys who'd come to egg me on. They had discovered my secret: that I knew the dead, heard the dead.

Headstones glimmered as loose teeth in the moonlight, the whispering there like white noise, a steady thrumming in my head. My hands grew clammy thinking about what may happen.

“Caleb, show them you're not a frickin' poser,” said Jonesy.

“I don't pose.” My thoughts raged against each other in contrary purpose. Proving to Carson and Brett that I had AFTD wouldn't keep them off my back completely, but it'd notch down their stupidity to something me and my posse could manage. That's where it was, managing their shit behavior.

I took a step through the high, Victorian-style gate, my foot touching its reluctant toe on hallowed ground.

The feeling of being forced pressed uncomfortably against my mind.

Crossing the threshold of sanctified ground, the whispering turned into voices. One voice whispered to me the strongest. I stopped feeling tentative and like an invisible string pulled, was drawn toward one of the gravestones, standing sentinel near the middle of the cemetery, glowing softly in the moonlight. I came to stand in front of the headstone which read: “Clyde Thomas, born 1900, died 1929.”

“Wake me...” it said.

“What?” I whispered.

It speaks.

“Wake me...” it repeated.

“Caleb, who are you talking to?” John asked, lack of understanding clear on his face.

My head swung in slow-motion as if through quicksand, moving in his direction, blood rushing in my ears and my heart beating thick and heavy in my chest. Everything became crystallized in that moment. John's frizzy hair and freckles stood out like measles. A microscopic chip on the headstone shone in stark contrast to the white marble.

Something... something... was building, rising up as if underwater, rushing to the surface. I was supposed to finalize something, but what? The whispering of the corpse in the earth so loud it drowned out John's words. John's mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.

What-the-hell? He was arguing with Jonesy, his teeth a pale slash against his dark face.

Flailing, Jonesy's hand suddenly connected with my face. My teeth slammed into my tongue and the taste of copper pennies filled my mouth. I leaned over and a drop of blood hung tremulously on my bottom lip, falling to the grave like a black gem.

Everything clicked into place, vertigo spinning the graveyard on its axis as if it had been waiting for this moment. The ground rushed toward my face and I threw my hands out to brace my fall, fingers biting into damp earth. A clawed hand broke through the ground like a spear through flesh. Searching, it grasped my wrist, the bones pressing in a vise like grip that captured my breath, the intense coldness of the grave lingering on its dead flesh.

The head of the corpse broke free of the ground, its shadowed gaze meeting mine, the hand releasing me. I scuttled backward, standing up, swaying, overcome with, excitement? Fear? I had done this thing and now, didn't know how to undo it. The corpse moved with purpose, pacing me as it used the undisturbed ground to leverage itself as another drop of my blood fell and landed with a dull plop on the corpse's forehead.

The zombie's gaze fixated on mine, it put a hand on its knee and began to push itself upright. Dull, lank strands of hair hung loosely from a scalp strung together by a tight mask of rotten sinew.

Jonesy had long since run out of the cemetery and was at a “safe” range from what the ground had disgorged.

He better get his ass back here. He couldn't get away with whacking me and not helping me with corpse-boy.

“Why have you awoken me?” The words sounded garbled, (maybe there was some tongue in there).

It asked me to wake it.

Must not be rude, not my strongest point.

Out loud I said, “You asked me to.”

John was standing at my right, trying to mask a fine, all-over tremble. His freckles stood out on a pale face like beacons of fright.

“What the hell is this?” John asked.

He didn't really just ask that? John... duh.

The zombie looked at me with eyes that clung from threads of sinew; moving wetly in its sockets, sucking like a vacuum.

“Why have you woken me?” it repeated, shambling a step closer. The smell... wow. It rose like a torrent of rotting garbage and other things. John clapped his hand over his nose, taking a step backward.

The corpse took another step... figuring this out would be good.

“Got any brilliant suggestions?” I asked John, my eyes steady on the zombie, hoping like hell John would lend an intellectual hand.

“Do not have the Zombie Handbook handy,” John said, his eyes a tad wide.

Not helpful.

The corpse looked at me, head tilted, “You're just a boy...how could you know for what purpose you have disturbed my slumber?”

Uh-oh, coming up with an excuse, so not my thing.

“I didn't... mean to wake you up...” I fumbled out. I wasn't usually this tongue-tied but meeting a corpse in the flesh (ha-ha) stole my speech.

“You do not know what you would have of me? You use your life-force to waken me and yet... without purpose? Put me back,” he said thickly. His clothes hung in tatters and the smell was definitely old, dark coffin, not that I knew what that smelled like.

John's look clearly said, do something! I guess what I hadn't told my friends was that I had never thought that I could actually raise the dead. But here he was, standing before me in all his rotting glory.

Looking out amongst the teenagers collected outside the cemetery, “To whom much is given, much is expected. Put me back,” he said.

Adults were all the same, even dead, lecture, lecture.

“How?” I asked.

“You are the necromancer, boy, not I.” Again that quizzical brow over rotting facial countenance.

Interpretation challenge... but I was managing.

“A what?” I asked, surprisingly calm, for the first time, there were no whispers. Perfect, blessed silence filled my head. It was the most natural thing in the world; talking to the dead. Looking at the corpse, its eyeballs, like inky marbles stared back at me with uncanny devotion.

“A diviner of the black arts, magic...” he replied.

All that time with the star in my basement, huh, right.

I could still taste distressingly metallic blood in my mouth. I was connecting dots here, but I had an epiphany, I could put it back with blood! Things had only gotten über-weird when I had my lip busted open by Jonesy. I looked back at the corpse (Clyde, a person once), no longer feeling that sense of swimming power just underneath the surface. Now was not the time to get queasy with the dead. I needed to regain that essence, fast.

“Ah... hang on a minute,” I said to the corpse, who stared blankly back... ah-huh.

“John, give me your blade.”

“What the heck Caleb? What are you planning to do with this...” John said pointing his finger at the patient corpse, “...thing?” who was as immobile out of his grave as in.

“I figure my blood made it jump out of its grave, now I need some to put him back and you're going to help me,” I said in a one sentence rush.

John's face got paler, if possible. “Ah, we're good friends and all but no, not a good plan! We don't know that for sure anyway.” The logic-master was not feelin' it. Couldn't say I blamed him, me holding a knife and all.

“... here's the deal, let's do a little 'friendship blood bank' just for the sake of putting the dead guy back in his grave, eh?” I began tapping my foot on the disturbed mess of the grave. John would ante up the blood or this was gonna be a long damn night.

“What?” strained trust crowded his eyes.

“Just here, give me your forearm.” I placed the side of the blade on his forearm where it shone black in the pale moonlight. My left hand wrapped tight, steadying his flesh for puncture.

John took a deep breath,“Okay, but you're going to owe me, big time,” the whites of his eyes bulging.

I pressed the point of the blade against his arm until the pressure broke the skin. John sucked in a lungful, blood welled and I let up the pressure. The zombie's head jerked at the sight of the blood, causing the disturbing sound of neck bones popping.

Would I ever get used to that noise? I repeated the process with my own arm. Our identical wounds pressed together, I offered it to my zombie. I could feel somehow that he was mine, I knew it.

A vibrating tuning fork of trembling power welled up inside me. A strange mixture of fear, dread and excitement paralyzed me. My teeth throbbed with the intensity of it. The zombie's hand snaked out, taking hold of the offered forearm. It felt cold against my warm flesh, like iced tentacles. I swabbed a blot of blood, inking it with my index and middle fingers on the zombies forehead, like warpaint. It rolled those empty eyes up at me, its dead bones clinging to my fingertips.

We shared a suspended moment in time, a terrible beauty of control balanced precariously. “Go back and rest,” I said, feeling that balance reached, that I was choosing for both of us.

The zombie reluctantly let go of my arm, sand through a sieve, lying down on the disturbed ground while his grave encased him in a shroud of earth.

I was a corpse-raiser, one of two, and it was not a safe thing to be.

John and I stared at each other over the grave for a swollen minute, his face showing a mixture of sympathy and dread. He knew what this distinction would mean for me in the world we lived in.

I was shaking from the intensity of it all, there was no controlling it. This was not the same as Biology experiments and roadkill, this was real, this was huge. Looking outside the cemetery perimeter at two enemies and one friend, I knew it was time to swear the group to secrecy. A trickle of sweat slithered down my back, pooling at the waistband of my jeans, instantly chilling against my fevered flesh. I didn't want the same future as Parker, that loss of freedom was so not a part of The Plan, my plan.

John and I headed out of the cemetery in a wave of uncertain promise.

CHAPTER 2

I smacked my alarm, just five more minutes I thought, dozing off.

“Caleb!” Mom yelled up the stairs.

“Yeah?” I yelled back.

“School!”

I stumbled out of my bed and looked on the floor for today's clothes... Hmm, what to wear that wasn't too wrinkled. I picked up a pair of jeans and a shirt and took an experimental whiff. Good enough! I jerked the jeans on with a hop and a zip. Opened the underwear and sock drawer, nothing. I ripped open every drawer for socks, ah-huh! Finally, a couple of socks, not matched but clean... happy day.

I trudged over to the kitchen table, scarred from a thousand meals.

“You cookin' today?” I asked, hopeful.

“No, but you're eating.”

Eating in the morning blows. I was that lazy. I'd open the fridge, nothing. Then the freezer, repeat. I usually ended up cramming a yogurt down.

Mom looked in the fridge. “What flavor?”

“Do we have blueberry?” It was the only non-barf fruit I could think about eating this early.

“Last one.”

“Where's Dad?”

Mom and Dad were on the opposite end of the spectrum. She was free-spirited (read: hippie) and thought the mystery of life and choice was taken when the scientific puzzle of the genome mapping was solved.

It made for an interesting family life.

“He is working on that new project.”

Great, hopefully not anything new for kids to rant about. I'd gone through enough being hassled when I was growing up.

“Does that mean he'll be home for supper tonight? I've got something to talk to him about.” I wisely didn't want to mention the whole corpse-raising episode. Dad was logic and fairness mixed. He'd know what to do. This... I might need some help on.

“Yes, he will, you know how important meal time is,” Mom said.

Maybe, maybe not. Science was important to Dad.

After I wolfed down the yogurt, knowing the beast would awaken again at 10 a.m. in class (perfect), I made a 2-point shot at the trash can. Swish! No mess, but that didn't stop the frown forming on Mom's face.

I moved quickly to grab my backpack but she blocked me and I was forced to look up at her. Every girl in the world was taller than me... wonderful.

She brushed the hair out of my eyes and it shot back down. “You need a haircut.”

“No, mom.” A time-sucker was all a haircut was and I had more important things to do.

Slamming the door behind me I took the stairs two at a time, cruising at a jog. I wanted to reconnoiter with the dudes, get things straight in my head from last night.

I slowed to a walk. I'd still be there early and I was feeling lazy. Looking up, I noticed the canopy of trees allowing filtered morning light to break through, speckling the ground with sunspots. My head began the familiar thrumming, a buzz seeping into the crevices of my mind as I walked toward the school.

I stopped where I stood, the buzzing had become whispering, my heart speeding, my breath quickening in response. My hands grew damp.

The whispering of the dead.

I looked around me, noticing the paved street, the pebbling of the asphalt worn away by a million cars, the shoulder giving way into the ditch.

Nothing.

I started walking again but the whispering grew louder. I followed the dull roar of the insidious voice like a magnet and was rewarded with volume.

There, on the border of the forest and the soft dirt of the ditch lay a crumpled body, torn and broken, its head at an awkward angle. My hands trembled as the whispering broke through to voices and images flooded my head like a pulse-screen.

I heard the thoughts:

headlights bursting like twin spots before its eyes as it tried to escape those lights... rushing forward... it sprinted across the street, not timing the advance properly and the twin orbs bore down on it.

Pain. Intense pain and blinding light.

The cat thought of its litter, its people... then, was no more.

My breath returned in a paralyzing rush, my feet planted at the base of her body. A small body that had shared the last moments of its life with me. A life that was now gone.

I stood for a moment, taking it in, realizing that life as I knew it was never going to be the same. I wasn't going to breeze through being a teenager.

Snapping back to reality I realized I was the pied piper of road kill.

Great. Definitely my life-goal.

This was just the kinda thing that had been happening. The frogs in Biology, there had been so many. I hadn't been able to camouflage that. People would be suspicious. Why couldn't I be developing something righteous like Pyrokenesis? Now that would be tight. At least only Brett and Carson knew the corpse-raising part. Getting them to cooperate with silence, that was another thing.

I trudged on, my limbs heavy, my head swimming with the heaviness of an undead-moment. I lifted my hands, the fine shaking almost gone. Beaded sweat decorated my upper lip and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. I needed to get a hold of this thing. I was on it. That's what I told myself but my gut churned.

The familiar doors to our daily prison came into view. I went inside the school, spotting the “cemetery group,” as I was not-so-fondly thinking of a few of them.

John and Jonesy stood apart from the others in stark contrast to each other. Almost 5'10” with a shock of frizzy, carrot-colored hair and pale blue eyes, John looked a little freakish but he was my main dude, the go-to guy when things went sideways. I gave Jonesy an unfriendly look, touching my face. He had short, nappy hair and teeth that stood out like white Chiclets in a dark face. He was taller than me too, but built stocky. They'd been with me since Kindergarten.

The rest of the group was a mixed bag, didn't feel solid here. It would take some clever conniving to get promises of secrecy from the rest. Brett Mason and Carson Hamilton stood side-by-side with identical white-blond hair and height, hard to tell apart unless you looked at them full-on. They'd been with me since Kindergarten too, but not in a good way. We had about five minutes before first bell.

Edging through the throng of kids I made my way to John and Jonesy first. Jonesy leaned against the locker, arms crossed. John looked ready to explode, not typical.

Jonesy said, “Sorry about the bludgeoning.”

“Yeah... what the hell?” I asked.

“Your face sorta got in the way.”

“Oh... really?” Gee, hadn't noticed that.

“It was an accident, John and I were discussing...” Jonesy began.

“... arguing...” John interrupted.

Jonesy gave him a look. “I changed my mind is all.”

I raised my eyebrows, Jonesy never switched gears.

“About the merit of them knowing,” John finished.

We looked at Bret and Carson. Too late now, spilled milk on the table and dripping on the floor.

Later, I thought. “I wasn't pulling a hypo in Biology,” giving a hard look at Brett and Carson, the used-to-be-non-believers, “and now APs are coming up.”

“Yeah, you have your dad to thank for that,” Brett smirked.

I knew that was coming.

My eyes caught sight of a grape sized bruise the color of pale chartreuse, the edges fanning to green then finally purple. Brett's smirk faded under my gaze as he shifted his shoulder, his shirt falling over the mark that lingered on his throat. Someone's hand had left that, not my problem, but...

“Shut up, it's Caleb's ass on the line,” Jonesy said, jamming a thumb at my chest. “You know what happens when you hit the radar as a corpse-raiser. He'd be a government squirrel, like that Parker dude.”

“Nobody wants to have their life planned by somebody else,” John said.

“My dad didn't have anything to do with that,” I said.

“But thanks to him, everyone's tested now because of the mapping. All the do-gooders want to 'realize our full potential',” Brett made quote signs in the air, “what an ass-load of crap that was.”

Carson chimed in, “So even if we don't want to be mathematicians or scientists we're on that freight train until it reaches the depot.”

Carson's murky-green eyes burrowed into mine. This was an old argument. Kinda like being the preacher's kid, you got blamed for everything your parent did, or didn't do.

“You dickface... yeah you,” Jonesy looked at Carson, whose eyes narrowed. “It isn't Caleb's fault that his dad started that ball rolling with the mapping. If it hadn't been him, it would've been someone else...”

Carson's fists clenched and flexed, he didn't like being told the obvious. Probably shouldn't have opened his mouth and crammed a foot in there until he choked. Kinda brain dead, kinda consistent.

“Listen guys, this isn't helping. It's the now we need to figure out. I don't want to pop a five-point AFTD on the APs. They're what, a week away? My dad,” Carson rolled his eyes and I ignored him, plowing forward, “says that puberty is the exact time they test because scientists have proven that abilities come online then, sometimes for the first time.” Not for me, I added silently.

The first bell gave its shrill beckon exactly then. I looked at Brett and Carson. “I need you guys to cover for me. At least until the tests are finished.”

I was appealing to their good side.

You can't force us to, Hart,” Brett said.

“Yeah, just because daddy's famous doesn't give you clout,” Carson echoed.

So much for that.

“How about doing it because it's the right thing to do?” asked Jonesy, out of the blue.

“The human thing to do,” interjected John.

“He's not human.” Carson said, stabbing a finger toward my chest.

Prejudice at its finest. But what did I expect from these two? They'd never been my friends.

“You got that right,” Brett agreed, walking off with Carson.

We watched them move away into the multicolor sea of kids.

“Did ya see that bruise necklace Brett was wearing?” Jonesy asked.

Yeah, some people had more than corpse-raising to worry about.

“It's the dad,” John said.

Jonesy turned those liquid eyes to me, “Feel sorry for him Caleb? Don't go soft on me bro. You're always giving jackasses the benefit of the doubt.”

Not yet, I thought, saying nothing.

Seeing my expression he said, “Yeah, my cup of care is empty too.”

My conscious teetered on the balance of right and wrong. Brett had it bad, but he chose to act bad. It didn't make things easier, it made it more complicated.

Jonesy clapped me on the back and John gave me the nod. My friends had my back.

It was gonna be a hurricane of crap and I was in the eye of it. The Js and I walked off to Shop class. Time to make my mom a heart-shaped box, when my heart was definitely not into it.

CHAPTER 3

The Js and I had Shop first period and it was a good thing because we needed to figure out A Plan.

After talking to the ass-monkeys I couldn't get the genome out of my head, cramming into the tight space of my skull like a song that wouldn't stop playing.

The mapping of 2010 happened under pressure from President Obama. Desperate for health care reform, mapping offered incentive to activate “markers” for the population. It was the key to identifying genetic potential for: cancer, heart disease, stroke, even alcoholism and drug addictions. If the People wanted universal health care, they would be mapped, with a microchip put underneath the skin. Every marker identified genetic codes and a percentage of the person's wage taken for the “privilege.” Now, if someone didn't want the microchip, no health care. There was a helluva lot more than just disease markers now. Teens were the proof.

We sat around the table together and our Shop teacher, Mr Morginstern, approached us with a cheery, “Good morning fellas!”

It was criminal he was happy. Doesn't he know the Monday-is-hateful-rule?

“Hey,” I mumbled.

Jonesy and John gave Morginstern the nod. Morginstern was excited about teaching and we were excited about school ending for the day.

“So, how was your guys' weekend? Do anything interesting?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Yeah, I think.

I imagined a conversation like: Ah no problem, Mr. Morginstern, just creeping around illegally in a graveyard, raising a corpse, enemies seeing the blow-by-blow...real interesting.

Instead I said, “It was okay.”

Jonesy was choking up on it. I gave him a look that said clearly, don't blow it. “Yeah.”

John was unflappably silent as usual, controlling a sly grin with effort, the anchor to our madness.

Morginstern seemed to accept our weird responses and went over the whole process of our boxes again; adults, painfully redundant. We got to decide what kind of “box” to make. Heart-shaped was the hardest shape of all (masochist). I got out my sandpaper, one-twenty grit, extra fine.

John kept his voice low, “So what's the plan?”

A fine dust fell from the interior arc of the heart onto the work table. The sanding from the three of us served as an excellent conversation concealer.

“I don't know yet, I gotta think about it more. I'm not ending up like Parker. 'Affinity for the Dead,' wasn't that cool for him,” I said.

“Ask your dad, he's the genius,” Jonesy said.

“Quiet, smack attack.”

Jonesy ducked his head, half-apology, half-embarrassment.

“I'm sorry bro, it was an accident,” he said.

“Gotcha, just wanted to see what you'd say,” I joked.

“Oh man! Don't do that dude!” Jonesy threw his sand paper at me and I deflected, the paper landing on John, embedding in his hair.

Morginstern glanced over at us and gave us the “warning” voice, “Caleb Hart! Jonesy and John, no throwing supplies.”

“Come on you guys, stop screwing around. This is serious,” John said.

As serious as a heart attack, I thought, struggling not to laugh. “I'll talk with my dad tonight, he'll have ideas.”

“He's got resources, right?” Jonesy asked.

“Using your big boy words Jonesy?” I smiled.

We all laughed and agreed to meet up at my place late. Maybe I'd con mom into making extra hamburger helper for the Js.

The rest of the day was not as insane as the morning. I had every class with John except PE, Jonesy was in PE (I was never without a J). That was the class where we got to check out the girls. One in particular I liked a lot.

“I want to play dodge ball today,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah, that'll happen. 'No head shots, no body shots above the waist, no leg shots'...” I imitated Miss Griswold's annoying voice.

The girls are playing and that means we have to be super careful. I sighed. Dodge ball rocked but Griswold was a joy-sucker. I mean, what part of the body could we hit if everything was a no-hit zone?

Retarded.

Just then Jade LeClerc walked by, my eyes tracking her. She wasn't popular, but she had something special. Jet black hair gleamed like a curtain of silk waiting to be touched. She had the greatest eyes, green like a cat's. A memory shimmered just out of reach...a red shirt, concrete and dirt... Ow! Jonesy gave me a strategic elbow to the side, the memory slipping away in a vapor.

I turned to him. “What was that for?”

“Stop staring, she'll notice,” Jonesy said. “Why do you like her anyway, she's kinda emo.”

“No she's not, she just wants people to think she is. Keeps them away,” I said, trying to recapture that fleeting shard of the past.

“Oh and you're such a girl expert... right,” Jonesy laughed.

He got the scowl he deserved. “I've watched her. She doesn't make a move to be anyone's friend, but there's something cool about her...”

Something I wanted to protect.

“She's too weird. Pick someone else. Look at them all.” Jonesy spread out his hands to include the bounty of girls.

Huh, they all looked kinda average to me. My eyes strayed back to Jade. She just looked different, unique. I'd build up the courage to say something to her. I told Jonesy that.

“You've had Science with her what, almost two semesters? We're in fourth quarter and you still haven't said anything?” Jonesy stated, disgusted. “Besides, what's she gonna think when she finds out about what you can do? She saw you pass out, right?”

I couldn't deny his reasoning there. Who hadn't seen me bite the floor? Maybe, once I had a plan on how to hide what I was, I could say hey.

“Maybe she doesn't need to ever know,” I said.

Jonesy arched a brow, the whites of his eyes wider in his brown face, “You can't cover forever bro.” he shrugged.

I figured, but I liked to fantasize.

Miss Griswold blew her whistle and we lined up for warm-ups. We were in alphabetical order so Jonesy and I weren't close, neither was Jade. But I was close to Carson Hamilton. Real Close.

“Hey Hart, thinking about any ghosts?”

Carson-the-Clever, yeah right.

We did jumping jacks.

“Switch drill!” Griswold shrieked.

We went down to our knees and started the push-ups.

“Don't be a retard Carson, you and Brett said that I was faking shit, I wasn't. I proved I'm AFTD,” I huffed out, five more.

“Switch drill!” Griswold's irritating voice rallied for the final insult.

We stood up, time for jumping power lunges. I hated these. I put one foot out and lunged so my knee didn't pass my toe then, up, jump, other side. Talking was almost impossible.

Carson managed, he had a lot of hot air.

“AFTD is so rare only freaks have it. That's why they took Parker away, the military wanted to quarantine his ass, to protect everyone.”

Carson dropping another pearl of wisdom, wonderful. Like I care.

I wasn't gonna win with him. He was like a dog with a bone. He had something in his mind about me and it was made up.

Hop! Switch legs.

“Stop!” Griswold yelled.

Finally, I turned to Carson, breathless.

“Nobody'll believe you. You didn't believe until the cemetery.” He would look like a dumb ass if he ran around school telling people I was a corpse-raiser (like we were running around in droves). Carson was all about what people thought of him.

He looked thoughtful, huh. Carson was a rock-with-lips.

“Maybe I won't tell anybody, but we may want something, me and Brett, I mean.”

He looked down at me from his slightly taller stance and smirked. I'd love to deck him in the face. We glared at each other and Griswold approached in a stout waddle. Why do teachers always seem to know just when something is going down?

“Problem here boys?” hands on considerable hips.

“No problem, Miss Griswold.” Carson said in the aren't-I-wonderful voice.

I could never contain my expression so I didn't bother.

She turned to me. “Is there a problem, Mr. Hart?”

“Nah, we're just talking,” I said, she was just so... her and it wasn't good, being her.

“Hmm, just talking. Why don't the two of you 'just talk' when you're on your time, not our mutual time, eh?” she enunciated like we were stupid. That'd be one of us.

“Okay, Miss Griswold,” Carson said.

She turned to me and I said the obligatory, “Yes, Miss Griswold.”

Just as she moved out of hearing range Carson said, “Hag.”

Nice, I thought. Those kids never get caught being themselves.

Griswold turned around and yelled, “Time for dodge ball, pick your teams.”

The guys gave a collective groan and the girls didn't look any happier. Today was a class to survive. At least I got to look at Jade, the highlight of PE.

Jonesy gave me a questioning look from across the gym, Carson and Brett were fast moving from irritating to becoming a problem. One that I planned to contain, creatively.

Jonesy would scheme, John would deliberate and I would definitely do.

CHAPTER 4

“How was school today?” Mom asked, the chatty one in the family. I looked at Dad, who set his trade publication on the table.

Reluctantly I set down my fork even thought the hamburger helper was waiting to be engulfed, I said, “Ah... these two guys and I talked and it didn't go so hot.”

I had their full attention.

“Which kids Caleb?” Dad asked in his reasonable way.

“Carson and Brett.” Mom would remember them, they'd been flippin' me crap since fourth grade.

“Oh those two,” Mom waved a dismissive hand. “They're not in your league, don't let them make you feel diminished sweet-pea.”

Sweet pea!

“Alicia, let's not get elitist on him here...” Dad said.

“You might have a small point.” Mom held her index finger and thumb together in illustration of just how “small.”

His eyes narrowed. Uh-oh, here we go, just when I though we'd get something accomplished.

Mom held up a finger to ward off Dad's comment that hovered on his lips.

“Kyle, those two,” she struggled for the right word, “buffoons, have been a nuisance for the last three years that I know of,” she looked for confirmation. I held up five fingers, she was going to by God, Make Her Point, “Five and it's always the same thing.”

Dad opened his mouth, but before he could say something she went on, “They don't like Caleb because of what you do honey. They feel threatened.”

Quick dad!

Dad turned to me. “What was the problem?”

Dropping the Zombie Bomb didn't top my list of casual conversation but...

“Remember the Biology thing?”

“You passing out?” Mom asked. “Several times?”

Yeah that. The frog thing.

“Yes, we've never gotten to the bottom of those episodes,” Dad leaned back in his chair.

I flipped my fork back-and-forth, back-and-forth. “I sorta got to the bottom of it. I have AFTD.”

They stared at me like I'd just sprouted a giant second head. Huh, this could be going better.

I told them about the cemetery, the corpse and the growing tide of problems with Carson and Brett. This was a lit match to the C and B fire. They'd been itchin' to get something on me since middle school started almost three years ago, before even.

The silence went on for a few moments, then, “Caleb, let me recap this. You,” he cleared his throat, “have caused a dead body to rise from its grave?”

“Yes Dad, that's what I just said.”

And he was the smart one of the family.

Mom asked, “Is this what you were doing last night running around with the Js?”

Yeah, running around with the Js, doin' some corpse-raising. Average night on the town, right.

Out loud I said, “Well, yeah, but I didn't mean for it to go like it did.”

“How did you mean for it 'to go'?” Dad asked.

The whole thing went down when Brett and Carson wouldn't get off my back about fainting. AFTD was the cherry on top of their cake. They'd been up my ass forever cuz they could. But they couldn't quite nail their bullshit to anything. I'd been a moving target until now. John had defended me by telling them I had AFTD. I was unconscious so he improvised. I wasn't looking stupid on purpose, there was something real going on. Should've just let them think whatever. I mean, it was Carson and Brett; they're morons.

To my parents I said, “I thought if I proved I was AFTD, that it was an ability, they'd lay off.”

“There were precursors to this episode?”

He had to know the why.

“Yeah, it started before Science class. But, there was other stuff before, small stuff.”

Dad's eyebrows shot up, him being a scientist and all.

“We were dissecting frogs for the class project and I started having trouble from the beginning,” I said.

Now that I think about it, I'd had trouble with the Understanding Insects section too. Images of wings speared arose in my mind's eye.

“What kind of trouble son?” Dad asked.

“The kinda trouble that other kids notice and think you're sick or retarded.”

“Caleb Sebastian Hart! That is not appropriate.” Mom's hands were glued to her hips. I wasn't too concerned about being politically correct.

“Just a second Ali.” Dad was okay with it. “So you didn't mention these,” he hesitated, “fugues?”

“I guess I should've told you but everything was getting weird and their voices were buzzing all the time.”

“Whose voices?” asked Dad.

“The frogs,” I replied logically, shrugging. But frogs weren't all I heard.

“Ah, what were the frogs... saying, exactly?” Dad's eyes burning twin holes through me.

“Well, they're not saying words exactly but they feel things, miss things, they,” I swallowed hard because this part bothered me. “They have memories of their life before they died.” It made me sad, but crying was for losers so I opened my eyes really wide. That helped.

Mom gave me the “I'm worried about you stare”. I was worried about me too.

“These dead creatures are communicating with you?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, that's what AFTD is about, Dad. Before we started the dissecting, I would have a blackout, but they were short.” I thought about the roadkill, the insect dissections, shuddering.

“Like bursts or movies playing in your head or what?” Dad asked.

“It's like I am them.”

Mom's hand covered her mouth.

“... and I can see what they did. When they were taken from the rivers and marshes, they felt,” I thought about the murky memories and their simple minds, “... lost. There was one frog that remembered eating a snake. They screamed when we cut them Dad,” I said in a low voice. God, this was sorta awful. “That's when things got really bad with Carson and Brett. They thought I was trying to suck up attention or something gay like that.”

“Caleb...” Mom's voice filled with warning, “homosexual reference.”

“Mom, come on!” I said loudly. “We don't use it that way.” This was important and she was worried about my words! Annoying!

“Ali, let's stay on task here.” Dad was the champion of that (snark-snark).

“Okay, so how long have you been experiencing these... episodes?” Dad asked.

“Probably...” I thought about it. Easter was over and I knew when. It was around Valentine's because we have that lame winter break that's not long enough to do jack, “... a couple of months.”

“That's a long time for symptoms you chose not to address with us Caleb.”

I had a stab of guilt, looking down at my half-eaten food. I was used to being open with the Parental Unit, but this had a huge confusion factor.

Mom leaned over and gave me a hug. I let myself be hugged in the good mom-smell then pulled away. I gave her a weak smile.

She smiled back. “It'll be okay.”

Adults always say that, even when it's crap, my smile evaporating.

Dad said, “This doesn't have to be a death sentence Caleb.”

No pun intended.

“You know that if they find out that I can corpse-raise I'll be rammed right into one of those spook jobs.” Goosebumps rose on my arms like boiling water. I looked from one to the other. “You remember that other kid, the corpse-raiser, Parker?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other.

He nodded.

“He tested as a five-point on the APs. That was big news,” Mom said.

Dad said wearily, “Jeffrey Parker, that's his name. It wasn't just AFTD, there were other classifications that he had aptitude for.” Dad raked a hand through his hair, it needed cutting too, standing in errant spikes. I looked at him in surprise, I thought AFTD was it for him, that he couldn't have other abilities.

“And where is he now?” I asked softly.

Mom looked at her hands while Dad looked me in the eye. “He works for the government.”

Of course he would. The government was thrilled to make us all into little robots just as early as possible, with everyone in the job they were “meant” to be. Instinctively I understood I didn't want the job they'd want for me.

“So what does this mean for him Kyle?” Mom asked.

“It means we keep it quiet for now. For how long, I don't know. The APs are quite soon,” he looked at me and I nodded. “We have a short amount of time to manufacture a contingency.”

“I told you that 'playing God' was going to come back and bite us all in the butt. Just because the potential for paranormal ability was discovered didn't mean that it gave our government the right to experiment on our children,” she huffed.

“It's water under the bridge Ali. We signed Caleb up for kindergarten and he was inoculated along with everyone,” Dad stated.

When the government saw my dad's and the other scientists' findings on proof of gene markers for paranormal abilities, all mixed up there with you're-gonna-get-cancer someday they went insane. Suddenly, everyone wanted to know if they could read minds or some crazy crap like that.

Memories of the microchip implantation still felt fresh, the needle piercing flesh the same day we learned our ABCs. The needle glinted as it swung in an arc, bound for our vulnerable necks. I shook the memory loose like the teeth I'd lost in that not too distant childhood.

I looked at Dad, “So what's the plan? Do I have to be like, scared here?” I was pretty damn anxious.

“I need to find out a little more about how they administer the test. I'm familiar with the Science portion as I was a part of the revision.”

“English, Dad,” I said.

“I helped build the model.”

“So, you can, what, manipulate the results?” I asked.

Mom's heart was in her gaze. This was her worst fears realized. Here I was, the kid of a liberal, freedom-seeker and a groundbreaking scientist. Who would think I'd be a Cadaver-Manipulator? Seriously?

“No, I can't do anything as profound as that. But, I can find something that may cause some latent dormancy,” he said rubbing his chin rhythmically. “There's a drug I can acquire, which will counteract the inoculation that you were given almost ten years ago and your most recent booster. It won't last, but it may help you test weaker. However,” he stared at me, “this won't go away. It's here forever. You were born with this potential. And because of scientific advancement, it's a permanent manifestation. And to answer your question, yes, we should respond with extreme caution. The government uses certain 'loopholes' for nefarious purposes. We are American, Caleb. That means something. Our freedom is precious. No one,” and his brow furrowed, “should be forced into a life-long position, job or be exploited. There is no liberty in that.”

My palms began sweating with just the thought of losing my independence that way. I didn't know what I was gonna be. But I sure as hell wasn't going to be some government slave! I rubbed my hands on my jeans, leaving the wetness there.

“Do you know what the component was that the pharmaceutics used in the inoculation?” Mom asked Dad.

“No, but it's a cerebral-based stimulant so a mild depressant should counteract.” Dad's chin rested on his fist in I'm-formulating-a-plan mode.

“So, you're gonna give me a drug and I'm not going to be a smart scientist's kid?”

Dad smiled, Mom didn't. “It's not that funny Caleb,” she continued, “we never hear what really became of the Parker boy but there have been mutterings...” she gave Dad a significant look.

He glanced her way then said, “Again, it means that discretion is the greater part of valor here. Extreme discretion.”

Why couldn't I have just been one of the people that talk to the dead? Or, better yet, see ghosts? That's pretty safe. The government doesn't care much about those guys.

Dad wanted to see my abilities in a “controlled environment.”

Didn't want a cemetery-repeat right now, thanks. I told mom she had narrowly escaped the Js for supper and she rolled her eyes.

“Now this is why I had only one son,” she said dramatically. “So I could have two more children later on.” She smiled, she'd always liked the Js.

Mom made noises about homework before the guys came.

No Call of Duty tonight, there was other stuff to discuss. As I was thinking that, the doorbell rang. A bright orange flare appeared through the window, an obscure flame through the glass. It had to be John.

“Come in!” I yelled.

John lurched in with Jonesy blundering behind like usual, shouting his greeting, “Hi Ali, Hi Kyle!”

The Parents smiled. John looked at the three of us, scoping reactions. I gave him the chillax expression.

The stairs reverberated like a herd of elephants as we jogged up to my room to discuss our evil plan.

John began, “So what happened with your parents?”

“It was cool,” I replied.

As cool as it could be when you let someone in on your reanimation-skills. “My dad thinks that he can get some kind of cerebral downer, or...” I thought about it for a second, “inhibitor for during the test, so I won't respond like a five-point.”

Jonesy piped in, “What about the rest of the test? Are you going to be all high and test stupid in everything else?”

Fair question I guess. “Nah, my dad didn't think it would affect the other subjects.”

John whipped out a crumpled mess of papers from his backpack, futility trying to straighten them.

“What's this?” I asked, eying it with suspicion. I wasn't excited about reading anything informative.

“It's something I found on the Internet. It might give us some clues about what you can do.”

I glanced at the first page which read:

'Affinity for the Dead' or, AFTD, is not just a genetic marker, but a new reality.

Huh, I read on about the boy that had made headlines only a few years ago.

A boy like me.

Jeffrey Parker, eighth grade student, is the first to hit the radar with full-blown, “Affinity for the Dead.” As everyone understands, in 2010 Geneticist Kyle Hart and his scientific team mapped the Human Genome, thereby giving us every genetic marker that we hold as humans. This invaluable information would eventually lead to a pharmaceutical breakthrough that has now unlocked those previously unknown codes.

Flashes of psychic ability have been witnessed for centuries but now that the “key” to unlock this “door” has been discovered we will continue to have teenagers manifest different abilities that begin to awaken during puberty.

Parker is (unbelievably) able to raise the dead from their graves. He claims that he, “hears voices” that ask him for, “different things.”

I looked at the Js, Jonesy was quiet for once, a miracle.

John said, “I read the whole thing. It talks about all the different abilities we all may have.”

“Whoa, hold on!” Jonesy said. “I want something cool.”

I raised my eyebrows, like I wanted AFTD? I'd struggled to appear average, no special attention was good.

His cheeks flamed even with his dark skin. “Listen Caleb, dude, no offense but I don't want what you got.”

John glared at Jonesy. “I'm tellin' the truth!” his eyes anxious. “What happened in the cemetery made me want to piss my pants. That dead guy... damn!” he slapped his knee.

We laughed... so Jonesy.

The cerebral-downer was a temporary solution. One mess at a time.

“What about after the test?”John asked.

There he was diggin' around at the crap I had just decided not to think about. He was like that. I gave him a less-than-friendly look.

“I don't know... I thought I'd wait and see,” I said.

“Not good Caleb.” John said. “You know that ass-hat Carson and definitely Brett, are thinking about ways to make your life miserable.”

I had actually thought of that. I wanted to get through the testing, then tackle the terrible twins. Didn't know if I'd be able to before they ratted me out to some adult that would make trouble.

“I heard Jade LeClerc saying something to Brett,” John said. My head whipped in his direction, I so wasn't interested in Jade being near that asswipe.

Why was she talking to Brett Mason? The girls walk on the far side of the hall to avoid him, the perv. I asked John.

“She told him to 'go to hell'.”

“What?” I yelled.

“Chill out. I overheard them before sixth hour PE.”

That would have been before PE today? I noticed Jade didn't turn and say “hi” to me like she usually did.

My hands clenched into fists. “Was he doing something to her?” Just the thought of that butt-munch saying one thing to her made me want to punch him in the face.

“Calm down,” John shrugged. “I heard your name mentioned, then she told him where to go.”

Jonesy gave the thumbs up, “They saw me come around the corner and she took off. Brett asked where all my 'queer-bait' friends were.”

Jonesy started pacing in tight circles around the room, excited. He's kind of a violence lover.

I could relate.

“Did you let him have it?” Jonesy mimed a fist punching his open palm, making a satisfying thwack.

John just looked at him. “Would you stop? You understand the bully laws, right?”

Those finer details were lost on Jonesy as a huge grin overtook his dark face.

I knew that look.

“What?” John asked. He thought Jonesy was gonna get us in trouble (usually true).

“I'm thinkin' about a bit o' payback,” Jonesy said.

Uh-oh, we knew what that meant. Jonesy had rigged payback schemes, some not so successful, with Brett and Carson in the past.

You'd think they'd catch on.

“Jonesy...” I started. He held up his hand to silence me.

“Just listen. Brett and Carson are dumber than rocks, right?”

John and I looked at him, ya think?

“How about I have them try a cool experiment before the APs and get 'em all distracted from their plan to sabotage your life?” For Jonesy, this was bordering on brilliant. I turned my finger in a circle, keep talking.

“How about the tube and Aqua Net trick?” he asked.

We groaned. That had gone really bad.

John scowled. “No way Jonesy. You remember what happened when we tried it!”

“Exactly! It's the perfect thing! It'll take one of them out and distract them around AP time. Then, after testing, if the cerebral-whatever-it-is works, they can flap all they want but if you're not popping the big AFTD guns, there's no proof.” Jonesy spread his hands wide, bow to my invincible logic.

Of course, sometimes his logic could bite us all in the ass.

I ran my hand through my hair, thinking furiously. Today was Monday... so almost a week for strategy.

I said, “Okay, but you're going to what, steal your mom's hairspray?”

“It's Aqua Net, there is no substitute,” he said, mildly insulted. “We've got spiders entombed in the corners of my parents' bathroom from my mom using it forever. Pretty damn effective.”

I told him it was effective but disgusting.

Jonesy got defensive, “My mom swears by the stuff. She never has to redo her hair.”

Well... good for her. Jonesy's mom's hair was stiff. I could throw a pencil and it'd stay. There was no moving it. Jonesy called his mom's bathroom time, The Ritual. Aqua Net sure worked when we tried fun-with-fire. It was worth singeing Carson's nose hairs.

John didn't like it. Out of the three of us, John was the most cautious. Of course, he'd gotten his eyebrows burnt off. They took about three months to grow back and his parents had been super-pissed.

“Come on John, just restating the obvious here. Wouldn't it be cool to get those turds back and off our backs at the same time?” Jonesy asked.

“Yeah, but if they really get hurt...”

“They won't,” he said.

Dismissing John's worries I turned to Jonesy, thinking of a possible problem, “what if they tell us to stick it?”

“I'll tell 'em the same stuff I told you; we already did it and it's fun.” He said with a sly wink because it had certainly not been fun: singed eyebrows. I could almost taste the foul perfume even after a whole year. “Then, if they smell a trap, I'll say they're sissy-sucking-titty-babies.”

John gave a satisfied nod. “That'll work.”

Jonesy could handle it with his boatload-of-charm.

The cemetery was the best place because Carson and Brett wouldn't want us to think they were scared after the raising-the-dead-guy episode. Jonesy said he'd talk to them tomorrow and see if they swallowed the hook. Meanwhile, Dad would get the cerebral-blocking drug and I'd be set. Now I just needed to find out what was happening with Jade, maybe start with a conversation, geez, so original.

CHAPTER 5

John and I always sit together in our classes. We have Miss Rodriguez for English. She's a first year teacher so she's not bored and raging at us yet. Her back was to us while I sly-pulsed to John about Sunday. We had a satisfying view of Miss Rodriguez (she's pretty hot), when she suddenly turned, burning holes into me.

I jerked like I'd been slapped, so busted, I didn't know what she'd said! I looked at John and he was wide-eyed, don't look at me!

“Caleb Hart,” Miss Rodriguez said, my whole name, not good. “What tense is this here?” She pointed with the dry eraser pen to what I had, until just now, not noticed.

My cheeks grew hot and I wanted to sink underneath the desk. I stared numbly at the question: My family has been making plans for a snowboarding trip.

Well, definitely future tense but perfect or progressive perfect, I wasn't sure.

I sneaked a glance Jade's way and she'd written PROGRESSIVE in block letters on the back of her notebook. I slid my eyes back to Miss Rodriguez, who was looking less hot all the time.

”Future Progressive, Miss Rodriguez.”

She smiled brilliantly at me, her gaze wandering over the thirty of us.

“It's nice someone is paying attention to the correct tense. Now remember class,” she turned back to the white board, “at this age, it is assumed that you speak correctly, now it's time to know the 'why'. Grammar achieves this by teaching how our language supports speech.”

My heartbeat slowed to a trot, that was close.

I looked at Jade again and she gave me a shy smile. I smiled back. She'd saved my ass! It was the first outward sign she liked me more than just a “hey” in the hall when we jostled through the crowd. Brett's eyes narrowed, noticing our interchange, smirking. Jade saw where I was looking and I watched the smile wash away.

English ended and we swarmed into the hall like bees, weaving our way to our lockers. PE was next period and looking at my watch, a retro thing from my dad, and realized I had maybe four minutes to talk to Jade. My eyes surveyed the long hallway, looking for the sweep of black hair. I'd overheard her say she was part Cherokee Indian, that's where the black hair came in.

Score! I scoped the hair like a black flag in the crowd. Shiny, spilling around her shoulders with movement as she talked to Sophie. I waved.

Sophie saw me and leaned forward, saying something to Jade. Jade turned and my heart paused in my chest, her effect on me was that powerful. No guy wants a girl to know that they're enthralled, so I blanked my expression.

She smiled wider as I made my way to where she stood by her locker, my backpack a solid weight, swinging as I moved.

“Hey,” I began with my best casual smile.

“Hi Caleb,” Sophie said then looked at Jade. “Gotta go!” she winked and a brilliant bit of color spread over Jade's cheekbones.

I'd have to get things warmed up.

“Thanks for your help in Rodriguez' class,” safe intro.

“It looked like you could use it,” she smiled.

“Hey! I knew it was future, I just didn't know the other.”

“Riiigghht...” her eyes glittering with humor.

I huffed at her comment but it was for show, it wasn't that hard talking to her after all.

Her cat-green eyes looked up at me, smokey rimmed with soft, Kohl-colored make-up, not too much. She was hot, just looking at her made my chest tight, my heart a stutter-rhythm.

I had to warn her about Brett, “Here's the thing, Brett and Carson have me in their cross hairs and maybe who I hang out with.”

She gave me a steady look, a puzzled expression furrowing between her brows.

“Do we hang out?” she asked.

Truth now. “I want to.”

I'd rather die than say how I feel but I needed the guts to own it. I waited for her response.

“Me too,” she said, looking up from under the black lace of her eyelashes; wow.

Relief flowed through me. Even with all the scary shit I was dealing with, for starters, the whispering of the dead a background symphony, Jade made me feel invincible. I could do anything.

The bell shrilled... crap! We had like thirty seconds before PE.

Laughing, we sprinted down the hall, Jade's hair streaming behind her like black water. We'd just make it through the door. Griswold would make us pay.

There's creative discipline for kids that aren't ready for PE.

Our bodies slid through the door and I watched the school clock click to 1:46, shrilling the final bell.

Griswold raised an eyebrow, “Glad you two could join us. Suit up, you both have extra calisthenics today, obviously.”

Carson and Brett watched this development with interest. That's swell, just what we needed.

Jonesy was in line, giving me a look of restrained horror. He was so easy to read. You decided to make a move on Jade...now?

I looked back at Jonesy, so sue me.

After PE, I kept my fragile connection with Jade, I said I'd see her tomorrow. I had seventh hour band, we had a fifteen minute break. I whipped out my slim, credit-card sized pulse cell I'd gotten for my birthday.

Depressing the touch pad with my thumb the screen came alive:

Activated and I thought, Jonesy, then belatedly, John.

I almost lost my three-way, I was so distracted by thoughts of Jade. Their response lit up my screen with the familiar luminescent green characters:

Hey, What the profanity-block! is with you and Jade being late for PE? MJ

I depressed my thumb again, Chillax... I finally told her I want to hang out-CH

What? You actually talked to Jade? This is the worst time in the world Caleb; and I hear she's a hater.- John Terran.

Swiping my thumb, She doesn't 'hate', she's just quiet.-CH

Are you going to tell her? About...-John Terran.

No profanity-block! way Caleb, it's bad enough that Carson and Brett know, we can't have this Jade-complication!-MJ.

I have a feeling about her. Just trust me and stop being ass-clowns about it.-CH

The screen went dark for a moment:

K, but she needs to see your skills, you feel me? Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I talked to the real ass-clowns, (must be Brett and Carson I thought...) it is them, do you have your thumb on the touch pad Caleb? I'm getting feed back.-MJ

I jerked my thumb off. That was stupid, sometimes I forgot to lift.

Okay, now I can see just myself, LMAO. They're idiots, I told them they're too chicken profanity-block! to try it. It worked shrugs. They'll meet us at the cemetery, same day and time.-MJ

You gonna get the hairspray from your mom?-CH

Aqua Net, my man. And yeah, she never uses every squirt. I scoped a can in the reprocesser, I'll snag it.-MJ

Isn't she gonna notice? If she's like my mom, she's a total freak for the reprocessing credit on the garbage bill.-CH

Nah, I'll offer to take the separator out for once and she'll be so happy I volunteered for a chore she won't care, LOL-MJ

I think we're going to be sorry.-John Terran

Cork it pal, don't be a fun-sucker.-MJ
sighs, we gotta get to band. I'll bring your pick, you left it at my house.- John Terran.

That was John, all-business and worrying.

Thanks. K, talk to ya later Jonesy.-CH

Later.-John Terran.

See ya.-MJ

I swept my thumb over the touch pad setting my pulse to hibernate.

****

Band was a righteous seventh hour class, a subject I actually liked, alien concept. John's parents believed in music, they were zealots (old zealots, they were my grandpa's age). John could play everything but he really jammed at the piano. He could read music and play a piece he listened to only a few times. I struggled through learning the notes. Oh well, it was the only time during the school day that I could drown out the whispering.

John and I jammed together on a new piece Mr. Pierce had given us. We were working out the kinks, the volume on the amp turned up three quarters to full volume making my teeth rattle in my head. John flashed me a grin. He was a pretty serious dude most of the time. I was lucky to have the Js, which made me think of Carson and Brett and the cemetery.

John heard me hit a flat in my chord and winced. My concentration was sucking big time.

We wrapped up the session, hanging our guitars on the rack with about fifteen others. I made a basket with my pick in the box marked Caleb S. Hart (swish).

I followed John out of class. Fresh, late-afternoon spring air hit my lungs and I sucked it up. I could taste summer on my tongue and that meant Gramp's house at Lake Tapps. No school and screw off time with the Js.

John and I walked in companionable silence for a few blocks. “Why start something with Jade, Caleb?”

I took some time to answer John, he was way-different than Jonesy. He wouldn't press me for an answer.

“You don't see that she's special?” I asked with a duh in my voice.

“Well, she's good-looking but complicated. And that we don't need right now. And you heard about her family, right?” John asked.

I stopped walking and looked at him. “Yeah, I know her dad's a psycho, so?”

“Hey, don't get defensive on me. But you do like a project.”

I was back to walking, with a scowl.

“Jade's not a project.”

He sighed. “It's more than that. She lives at her aunt's and she's not much better than the dad.” John said, as if by sheer force of logic I could control who I liked. Attraction doesn't work like that.

“So how's that her fault?” I stopped again on the side of the road, hands hanging loose at my sides. Cars drove past, breaking the sweet smell of spring with their passing. I felt that pressure building in my head. Getting pissed seemed to make it harder to block out. And the odd road kill hanging around didn't help, I thought sourly.

John saw my expression. “I shouldn't rant on Jade. I don't feel great about including her in this mess.”

“Like I pulsed ya, I trust how I feel about Jade. And besides, you guys are stressing about my AFTD but have you thought about what you'll test-out for?”

“I have thought about it,” John conceded.

“Have you noticed something?”

“No... there won't be anything for me. I'm already halfway through puberty and nothing. The tests will confirm that. Not everyone manifests.”

I looked up at John, way up. He was a pretty tall dude for fourteen. He'd be fifteen soon, in September. His dad was taller, like NBA-tall. His hair stood about four inches away from his head like he had stuck his finger in a pulse socket, a fro-and-go (I smiled thinking of Jonesy's names). He let it riot, that was John. He was him all the time, the most real person I knew.

“Hey dude, you don't want this,” pointing at myself.

He grinned with a wistful expression “No way. But I'd have something cool like psychokinesis.”

I rolled my eyes... whatever. “John, you know that's pretty rare.”

“Yeah, but look at you? AFTD is the rarest.” He looked uncomfortable because we both knew it wasn't the ability to have. I bet Jeffrey Parker wished he didn't, all it got him was a one-way ticket as a government puppet.

“True.” I turned and we walked again toward my house. More cars rushed past as we walked single file on the shoulder.

Grinding metal pierced my ears and fingers lassoed my arm hauling me into the ditch, our butts landing in water which instantly leeched into our pants.

A car that had been behind us was sliding on the street, careening sideways where a lone, black dog was standing in its path. It was obvious the driver had swerved to avoid the dog and almost clipped us on the side of the road.

A surreal moment ensued, the car ramming into the dog and it sailing at least ten feet to land about two car lengths from where John and I sat in the ditch. We looked at the crumpled heap of the dog on the ground and in that moment time seemed to pause.

The driver, an older balding guy, got out of his car, kinda dazed looking, and approached the dog. But not before he gave a nervous glance our way.

“You kids okay?” Baldy asked, moving on before we could answer.

Oh he gave a shit, right.

“Yeah.” John mumbled anyway.

I looked away, not saying anything because... because, the dog was sending things to me, images. It knew it was dying and was sending out some kind of distress signal, that only I heard, my body humming in response.

I got to my feet without ever noticing I stood, as one compelled.

John startled, then followed me. He wasn't one to ask stupid questions. We walked across the pebbled pavement, oily from last night's rain. As I drew closer, that unique pressure built in my head, straining for release.

The dog lay before us, just a mutt. There was not a breath of life. Wait... yes there was.

I knelt down and reached my hand out, John at my back, when Baldy said, “Don't touch it!”

Without hesitation, I placed a gentle hand on its fur, and felt that small spark of life ignite. Unbidden, that part of me that heard the dead released and poured, no fell over the dog.

I grasped that spark and thought... live. Warmth welled up under my hand like liquid heat and I watched the dog's ribs expand for a shaky inhale. Its eyes opened and it looked at me. In that moment I knew he was mine.

Baldy stepped away from John and me, giving us a look that I never wanted to see on an adult's face, revulsion mixed with fear. I hadn't noticed before but now I saw a semi-circle of wary faces. What had they seen?

I glanced at John who said in a low voice, “We're screwed.”

Ya think? Just the kind of proof I was avoiding.

The dog was sitting up but still looked injured. Its eyes followed me like I was all that mattered. My creepy new reality.

Wonderful.

A cop moved through the small crowd with a notebook in hand.

“You boys there,” we looked up, his name tag read Garcia. “Step away from the dog.”

We did, the dog dragging behind me with a limp.

Garcia-the-cop approached the dog reaching his hand out, the dog growled low in the back of his throat, showing teeth. Garcia backed away, his eyes remaining on the dog, he brought out his pulse.

After he depressed his touch pad he looked up again, “I've pulsed animal control. They'll be here soon.”

My heart sped, I didn't like the dog being taken away.

“Okay,” Garcia said. “Somebody start talking.”

Baldy stepped up, wringing his plump hands, “I was driving along, doing the speed limit, when this dog just appeared out of nowhere,” he spread his hands wide to show how it was just one of those things. “And these two boys,” he gave us an accusing glance, (wasn't this turning out special), “were on the other side of the road and I had to avoid them.” He gave that last word special emphasis, as if us walking on the side of the road was a crime.

Garcia opened his hand, “Identification, please?”

Baldy gave us an unfriendly look and handed over his driver's license. I felt the pressure building and tried to rein it in. When I was upset it was way worse to manage.

John looked down at me. “What's the matter?”

“That guy's a turd. I wanna get out of here.”

“Yeah he's a dick.” John gave a chuckle, “But we have to see this thing through and act like the dog thing wasn't talent, just coincidence. You got me?”

I nodded, I got it alright. I didn't know if AFTD was talent, but it was annoying.

Garcia and Baldy had their heads together, one a cue ball, the other an eight ball.

Finally, the cop turned to John and me. “Mr. Smith here,” he motioned with his notepad to Baldy, “said that you did something to the dog?” He raised his eyebrows.

How to answer without getting my butt in a sling?

John spoke before I had a chance, “Caleb's a major animal lover,” he said.

I kept the shock off my face. That wasn't exactly accurate, but...

“That's not what Mr. Smith said: 'he was',” he looked down at his notepad for the exact quote, “...'sure the dog was dead.' Then you touched it and everything 'got funny' and the dog was suddenly alive again.”

“Can you explain that?” he asked.

Actually no.

John looked down at me with an “I tried” expression. Lying sucked, let's see how creative I could be.

“John's right.” Garcia turned to John, seemingly taking him in for the first time. “I couldn't seem to help myself, seeing it lying there,” I looked down at my shoes, hiding my expression, giving myself time to continue, “I don't know how it got better.”

That was mainly the truth. Before today, I didn't know dying things could also “call” to me, image me. Everything, every being was unique: an insect was not a dog, a dog was NOT a human being. I held Garcia's stare and he seemed to decide something, “You boys live around here?”

John answered, “Yeah, Caleb lives right there,” John pointed over the top of the rise, “and I live about half a mile from here.”

Garcia held his pen poised over the notepad, “Names?”

“Caleb Hart.”

Garcia's head jerked up and he looked at me more closely, “The scientist's kid?”

“Yeah,” I answered with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Now that's a cool relative to have,” he commented with a smile.

“I guess.” Whatever, he was just my dad to me.

“John Terran.” John said, effectively getting me off the hook of dealing with the awkward, your-parent-is-kinda-famous moment.

“Okay, you kids get in the police car and I'll give you a ride home.”

“What about the dog?” I asked. The dog looked up at me and whined softly. As if on cue, animal control arrived. A ginormous gal poured into an unflattering light tan uniform barreled through the crowd accompanied by a skinny partner. Two more opposite people you'd never see. The dog's posture immediately changed, he was alert.

I was bothered by the dog's suffering so I reached out and several things happened at once, Garcia tried to pull me away, the huge animal control gal cleared her evil-looking baton from her utility belt and John pulled me back. I missed purchase on the dog as Garcia did on me. The dog eluded the baton with an attached noose, parking himself behind John and I.

Garcia said to me directly, “I don't want any trouble and I already told you boys not to touch that dog.”

“I thought I could help, he seems to like me,” I said.

“Let animal control do their job, son,” Garcia said.

Ignoring him, I put my hand on the dog thinking... sleep.

“That's it!” Garcia said. He strode the two feet over to where John and I stood and took us each by the arm to his patrol car. I chanced a look behind me and saw the dog knocked out cold. Garcia was tallish, my feet skimmed the ground as he hauled me and John to the car where we were unceremoniously dumped inside.

He pointed his finger at us. “Stay put.”

We watched him walk away. He lingered with Baldy for a short time who nodded his head vigorously, casting dirty looks at us whenever Garcia turned away. Then he spoke with animal control who were collecting the dog. Skinny was the “collector,” and Humongous was “supervising” this process while standing importantly with Garcia.

Garcia jogged back to the patrol car. John and I were surveying the inside of the patrol car and I deemed it pretty gross. I could see remnants of goop all over the back of the seat, floor and handles on the door. The black upholstery didn't hide it either. There were dried patches of “mystery fluid” in strategic locations. The contents of lunch began to rise in my stomach. John reacted similarly, hunching in on himself so less of him touched his surroundings.

Good luck with that one.

Garcia slid into the front seat and turned around to look at us. “I am required to take your statements with your parent or guardian present,” Garcia said, in a matter-of-fact voice.

Sounded like he had said that a few times. My parents were gonna have a turtle when a police car pulled up in front of the house!

Thoughts swirled in my head like: how did I stop that dog from dying? Why didn't I need blood to do it? Was that a coincidence at the cemetery? Or, because it was a person (before) and it was “fully dead,” I needed something extra? I didn't have those answers. As I put my head between my knees to quell the dizziness that threatened I knew tonight I'd read some more about paranormal abilities and Jeffrey Parker. It was time to get up close and personal with AFTD, I needed to rule it, not the other way around.

CHAPTER 6

Garcia surveyed my house briefly. “That's unique.”

It was a ranch style with cream-colored arches across the facade, covered in stucco, really different for rainy Washington.

We followed Garcia and Mom came through the door and under the open archway before we had a chance to get to it.

Garcia seemed to “get it,” putting his hand out in an inoffensive way like, everything’s okay.

“The kids aren't in any trouble Mrs. Hart.” Garcia began, but my mom cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ali's fine.”

“Okay... Ali,” he paused, “they witnessed a vehicular accident in which a dog was hit and I need to take down their statements with an adult present.”

Mom's face looked relieved that some catastrophe (she was always ranting about my safety, which got to be annoying) had not befallen us. She stepped backwards, to let Garcia pass. While she waited for us to trudge through, I watched Garcia look around our house. It smelled like cookies and bread, those were good smells. John gave the air an experimental whiff too.

The Appetite Beast was alive and well.

Garcia sat down on the psychedelically colorful couch.

“Do you care for anything to drink, Sergeant Garcia?” she asked, checking out Garcia's name tag.

“Ah, sure, thanks.”

Mom usually made cookies once a week. Jonesy liked to show up just as they came out of the oven.

As if I had just conjured him up, he walked through the door.

“Hey Caleb, what's with the cop car outside?” he asked loudly so there was zero chance to deflect it. The words landed like a bomb in the middle of the room, John cringed.

Garcia turned to Jonesy. “Caleb witnessed an accident so I am taking his and John's statements.”

“No kidding? Well, I'm going to stay for this!” Unfazed by the cop in our living room, he proceeded to ask mom what she'd made today.

“Peanut butter, chocolate chip cookies.”

“Yes!” Jonesy pumped his arm up and down. Garcia sorta looked down, smiling.

For Jonesy, Garcia just happened to be in my house where Mom made cookies and there may be a cool story as a bonus. John just looked at me and shrugged, what do we do with him?

Garcia took a long gulp of water, then turned to John and I, Mom perching on the armrest of the couch.

“Okay Caleb, tell me what happened,” he glanced down at his notepad briefly, then looked up, “you heard a 'screeching,' then, you saw Mr....” he tapped the notepad, “Smith's 2023 champagne-colored Ford Grun strike a dog.” He looked at me, then John.

“Is this accurate boys?”

I was opening my mouth when Jonesy busted in with. “Did the dog die?”

I gave an inward grown, my peripheral vision telling me John was trying to alert Jonesy to shut up. That never worked. Getting Garcia away from thinking about the strangeness of the dog was epic-fail with Jonesy bringing attention to it. I looked over at Jonesy happily stuffing cookies and slurping milk.

“Yeah, that's accurate,” I replied.

Garcia gave me the “cop stare.” Adults want kids to fill those awkward silences. That's where I'd get tripped up. Mom was giving me a puzzled look. She knew something was going on.

“Now, it's interesting that you mention the dog.” Garcia began, (actually, Jonesy had) “because Mr...” he rolled his eyes up, “... Smith,” he remembered, “said that he was certain the dog had been killed.”

My heart sped, my hands immediately dampening. “No... no, he was still alive, barely.”

“Okay... Caleb,” he paused, giving a small smile, “there were some witnesses who said that you,” he glanced down at his notepad (man, was I beginning to hate that thing), “ 'laid hands' on the dog and it began breathing again.” Looking directly at me with a piercing stare out of eyes which blended with the pupil, I was suddenly reminded of Brett. He had those eyes.

“Maybe he was dead for a minute...” I began, choosing my words slowly, “but he must have revived or something.”

Garcia didn't even pause, “One witness said that the dog's breath had gone out of it before you reached it. That when you touched it, there was an 'energy' around you.”

My head snapped back up. What? Was that possible?

“The witness is an Aura Reader, Caleb.”

I was screwed! They identify paranormals. I am sure I had my panic-face on. John was as pale as a ghost (hardy har-har).

“You know, Sergeant Garcia,” Mom's voice was all sweet, but dude, I knew that tone!

“Caleb is a minor (that word came out sounding vaguely like lawsuit, I noted with grim satisfaction), and hasn't perpetuated any crime, so I'm not sure that this line of questioning is justified.”

I heard: stop bugging my kid or I'll make you sorry.

Garcia looked at Mom thoughtfully. She tilted her head to the side and a large, gold hoop swung forward, peeking out of her thick hair, twinkling in the late sunlight streaming through the window. I had a sudden stab of love for Mom, standing up for me. I decided to man-up, I wasn't little anymore.

I broke the silence. “I have Affinity for the Dead.”

It sounded like a disease, ya know: I have cancer, I have two weeks to live. I wasn't going to die. I was going to start living now and stop being scared. The Js looked at me like I was insane.

Garcia startled.

“Caleb!” Mom said sharply, her mouth in a thin line.

“It's okay Mom, I know that he won't tell anyone.”

He needed to feel the burden of my trust, roll it around and taste it like candy in his mouth. I was hoping that Garcia believed in what he was, a policeman: to serve and protect.

“Caleb's right,” looking at me with kinder eyes, “I don't have to tell this part. You're right too, Mrs. Hart. He is a minor, and hasn't committed a crime.”

I felt a but coming.

“But,” he said and I smiled, “there were witnesses. A young woman noticed what Caleb did. She is under no such restrictions. There is no law that will keep her from sharing what she saw.”

Garcia leaned back and crossed his legs, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. His black uniform looked crisp, the sharp creases in his pant legs bisecting the center. His tie tack glinted in the sun as he shifted.

“I cannot protect Caleb's information.” He turned to me, “Why do you want to hide it, Caleb? There are other AFTDs.”

Because it threatened my freedom. I thought of Gramps, who always told me freedom was more precious than money. I was beginning to believe him.

“I don't want to end up like Jeffrey Parker,” I said.

Mom looked at me with her mouth in an “O” of surprise. I didn't want to work for the government and have no choices, duh! John nodded, he knew what had happened to Parker.

Jonesy gave a nod because his mouth was full.

Garcia was thoughtful, the whole room held its collective breath.

Finally, Garcia said, “Yes, that would be enough to give anyone pause.” A silent consent passed between him and Mom. My identity stripped away, a possible slave for a government that would use me under the guise of protecting the nation or some crap like that, ah... no.

Dad walked through the garage door with his hair in disarray, briefcase in hand.

“What's going on here?” he asked, fingers balanced on the doorknob, tossing his coat on the hook by the door.

I sighed, it was gonna be a long night.

Mom and Garcia started to speak at the same time, laughing nervously. Jonesy looked from my mom to my dad then back to Garcia like a tennis match gone wrong, shrugged, and grabbed another cookie. John had his arms folded across his skinny chest silently watching the drama unfold.

“You go ahead,” Mom said.

Garcia gave her a brief nod. “Mr. Hart,” he stood and held out his hand, “I'm Sergeant Garcia with the King County Police.” Dad took the hand Garcia offered and gave it a few hard pumps.

I looked at dad, such a huge contrast to the very Hispanic-looking Garcia. Dad loomed a little over Garcia, standing six foot-one to Garcia's shy six foot. Garcia stepped away and folded his lankiness back onto the couch, Dad balancing on the piano bench.

They faced each other. “Kyle Hart.” Dad smiled.

Garcia was braced for some hostility, but my parents didn't automatically think someone was out to get them (well Mom did, some).

Garcia went over the whole story, beginning with how the dog had been in the road, and Baldy (Smith) had hit him. He ended with, “... and now you see, Mr. Hart, we are at an impasse.”

I deliberated... a standstill! Gotcha.

Dad's face had been thoughtful during this retelling, becoming somber at its end.

Finally, he nodded, “We thought that we could allow ourselves some time to devise a plan that would garner Caleb some options, to come to terms with his new skills. But his 'skill set' is accelerating on course with other puberty manifestations,” Dad finished, his expression expectant.

Jonesy was near drooling at a speech of complicated proportions, his eyes vacant and glassy, John looked mildly confused and Mom was irritated. Garcia was valiantly figuring it out.

“Dad... English!” I berated.

Dad smiled sheepishly. “Sorry folks, thinking aloud. His face fell into stern lines. “In other words, he is gaining abilities that I cannot predict and they are popping up at extremely inconvenient and public locations.”

Understatement of the year!

I did a mental face-palm when Jonesy piped in, “I still wanna know what happened to the dog.” This said mid-chew on a cookie.

John looked at Jonesy.

“What?” Gulp, slurp with the milk. Mom wrinkled her nose.

“I mean, this is good news because, my bro here,” brandishing his empty glass in my direction, “saved a dog and everyone is freaked over it,” he said, shrugging. For the Jones-man this was a simple affair of right and wrong. Jonesy didn't do shades of gray.

John spoke up, “Yeah, it's cool about the dog but not everyone is going to think it's cool Jonesy. In fact, I bet some may notice that we don't want noticing. The same ones that noticed Jeffrey Parker.”

John's speech struck everyone mute.

Mom spoke next, “I was cleaning out your room Caleb.”

Great, as I visualized all the crap strewn over the floor.

“And I found some papers that talked about the Parker boy. Once he was identified with AFTD and the government became involved and enacted an amendment against some of his rights as a person; his freedoms were stripped.”

Mom was gonna rage, I felt it coming as sure as I was sitting here.

Garcia must have been more astute than I gave him credit for because he gestured with his hand, wait a sec. Mom popped her mouth shut. Huh, she hadn't even Made-Her-Point.

“Mrs. Hart, let's not panic yet. That was a decade ago. Parker was the first, extreme case that had been seen. You remember the headlines.”

As I had only been five in 2015 when that first inoculation round had been given, I didn't remember.

“He was not typical.”

Garcia turned to Dad, seeking confirmation.

Dad, no intellectual slouch. “You're right. This wasn't a teen that just talked to the dead, divined ghosts, or gleaned how someone had died. He was a Cadaver-Manipulator.”

My parents and the Js all looked at me.

I opened my mouth to spill my guts when Garcia said, “Well, isn't it fortunate that Caleb doesn't have to worry about that. Controlling the dead is a whole other ball of wax.”

“Very fortunate,” Dad agreed, giving me his best, I-will-throw-lab-beakers-at-you-if-you-talk stare. I snapped my mouth shut. The Js were as silent as the tomb. I mercilessly repressed a wild urge to laugh.

Garcia braced his palms on his knees and stood, smoothing his uniform as he straightened. Dad stood too, running a nervous hand through his hair and making it messier than before.

Garcia fished something out of his perfectly ironed shirt pocket. I leaned forward to look.

He handed me a card that read: Sergeant Raul Garcia, Pulse: 206.968.8640.

I told him I'd never seen that area code.

“Yeah, it was my dad's, he was a cop too.” Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, “I got it when he retired.”

Dad did the humph sound. “I haven't seen one of those in thirty years.”

Garcia smiled, shaking my parents' hands and with his other hand resting on the oversized bronze handle, he gave me good eye contact.

“You call me if you need anything. Just thumb my number in your pulse,” he raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I've got a pulse.”

Brain Impulse phones were newer but who wanted to text the old way?

He nodded. “... anytime, for whatever.”

His gaze traveled to the parents and I was sure he knew there was something more but he let it go. Stepping back into the threshold of the doorway, the twilight edged around him like a halo as he slipped out the door.

Mom leaned against the closed door, locking the dead bolt backwards as she stepped away.

“Wasn't that close!” she said.

“It's safe to say we're fast running out of time before there will be a contingent of people with a clearer understanding of just what Caleb is capable,” Dad said.

“I think he's a good man. But, he may not be ready to know that last part,” mom hesitated, “Cadaver-Manipulator might be a bit much.”

Jonesy burst in with, “Corpse-raiser, corpse-raiser, it rocks!” air-pumping with his fist.

John corrected, “You didn't think it 'rocked' when you sprinted out of the cemetery,” John paused for effect, “or when Caleb and I had to do the little blood ritual.”

Mom's mouth unhinged itself from her jaw and Dad looked astounded.

“Blood ritual?” they asked in unison.

I wiped my hands off on my jeans. Geez, this sucked.

“Well, I didn't know if it was gonna eat me or what, I knew you guys could handle it.” Jonesy grinned at us both, extolling his faith in our bravery... riggghhtt.

“You didn't tell us that detail,” Dad said, thoughtful.

Mom said, “Is that how you think you did it?” She was frowning now, thinking about all the ways my safety could have been in jeopardy (it was), or some other thing that could have befallen me (it did).

“Well, kinda,” I began.

Dad was measured. He waited for me to spit it out. Mom was biting her tongue on about nine different levels.

“Caleb, just barf it out,” Jonesy said.

Huh, so much for time to gather any thoughts.

I fought not to tap my fingers on a surface. “I felt like a tingling... an energy.”

Dad made the circle gesture with his hand to go on, “... as soon as I stepped through the gate of that cemetery I knew there was one voice above the others that was calling me.” I put my hands over my ears in reaction to the memory.

They all waited for me to continue, even Jonesy.

“When I got there I felt like I was in the middle of a whirlpool, that something was just under the surface, waiting to rise. It was like all the energy in the world was waiting for me to take that next step,” I said.

“And then I hit him a good one!” Jonesy interrupted with a loud thwack of his right fist smacking into the palm of his left.

Mom jumped, giving a nervous laugh.

I glanced at Jonesy. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

He gave the what? expression. John shook his head, hopeless.

“Do you think, after Jonesy hit you the catalyst was the violence or the blood? Because blood is organic, but so is violence, if one thinks on that,” Dad said.

Now that was interesting. I hadn't thought violence was any part of it. I'd assumed that the blood was somehow an integral part of why the corpse rose to begin with.

“That would explain the dog,” John said quietly.

We looked at him while he shifted his weight, arms still locked over his chest. “I mean, the car hitting the dog was an act of violence, right? If Baldy...” John continued.

“Smith,” I corrected.

“Whatever,” he shrugged. “If Smith,” he gave me The Look, “hit that dog, then he wasn't being careful. There are protections about obstacles now in all cars, it's standard,” he stated. John was kinda stiff, but he was making some good points. “Really, if you think about it, he shouldn't have hit the dog at all.”

Dad was nodding.“John's right.”

John sat on a stool, speech finished.

“Which brings me to wonder: why that wasn't the first thing Garcia was after, not your possible ability,” the look he gave me spoke volumes. “Do you boys remember this witness? This young woman that Sergeant Garcia mentioned, the Aura Reader.”

I shook my head, with all the action happening, the crowd was the last thing I remembered.

Jonesy brightened. “I saw that hot girl from PE in the crowd on the way here.”

John just looked at him.

“What? He asked.”

Dad laughed. “That's okay. I think there's more than just professional interest. I'm thankful we didn't blindly tell him the extent of your abilities. Not before I've had a chance to see them. And finalize the use of the cerebral inhibitor.”

“Kyle, that worries me,” Mom said.

“This is the lesser of two evils, Ali. If he shows his hand, they may do a 'Parker' on him.”

“Even now?” Mom asked.

“Especially now.”

“Your mom and I have been reading up on Parker, how our government responded to him. It looks like Parker took the Aptitude Test and was the first student, nation-wide, to hit that high of a score on AFTD, five-points.” Dad said, holding up all five fingers. I knew this part, “There hasn't been another.”

Until me, was the unspoken ending.

The Fam-pulse chimed, as Mom walked over to the wall pocket and pressed her thumb to the pad.

Dad asked, “Who is it?”

Mom held up her index finger.

She turned to Jonesy. “It's your mom, apparently you didn't tell her you'd be over today.”

Jonesy sighed and went to the Fam-pulse, thumbing the pad. He sat there silently for a minute, then lifted and read the screen. He depressed one more time then turned...

“I gotta go, mom's on a rage.”

Mom frowned. “Maybe knowing where you are is sort of important Jonesy.” Doing the I'm-going-to-stick-up-for-the-other-parent thing.

“Yeah Ali, I know.” He brightened. “Thanks for those cookies...” Mom was already getting a little ecobag for the road, Jonesy grinned. Delayed gratification.

He gave me a finger salute, turning for the door. “See you dudes tomorrow. Let me know what's going on Caleb.”

John lifted his chin in goodbye, then we heard his pounding footsteps and the front door slamming.

Dad got back on topic. “Being prepared is the most important defense.”

“True, as long as we're on the same page with this cerebral,” Mom searched for the word, “depressant.”

Dad corrected her, “Inhibitor.”

Dad continued, “Caleb, tell me what happened at the accident, especially about this mystery dog.”

I started with how we had been walking home like usual and ended with how I was sure the dog had been alive, at least a little, because I had felt that “spark.” Dad latched on to the word.

“Okay, let's go over the cause and effect one more time, Caleb.”

John and I groaned out loud. I actually face-palmed.

“Dad...” I started.

“No Caleb, let's look at this with some applied logic. The dog was hit and flew,” Dad paused, “you said ten or twelve feet in the air?” I nodded acquiescence. He pressed on, “... and it lay there for how long?”

John interceded, “We went to the dog right away. I mean, Caleb went to it and I followed.”

“Yeah. It was like he was calling back to me, it was faint. I could feel its will, or whatever. It wanted to be alive, he didn't want to die.”

Dad put his elbow on his knee and cupped his chin. “It hasn't been mentioned that Parker has this ability. As a point of fact, I hadn't heard that this was a part of AFTD.”

Mom asked, “Would Caleb's ability to bring something back from the brink of death still be the same thing, categorized similarly?”

“Perhaps...” I heard Dad's whiskers as he rubbed his chin. “We'll have to put some things to the test and see exactly where his abilities reside.”

A thrill of fear shot through me. I wanted to use the AFTD, it made the whispering almost disappear. It felt good, right. So far, all AFTD got me was two enemies at school and a dog's reclaimed life that brought me notice from an observant cop.

“What are you thinking, Kyle? That we give him what, a pre-aptitude test?” Mom asked.

He nodded. “Exactly. If we can nail down his skill set, know how to defend ourselves, defend him, and decide his future.”

“Maybe Caleb doesn't want to be some government puppet.” John said.

Exactly what I'd been thinking.

“It's a terrifying proposition, the loss of one's freedom,” Dad said and Mom nodded.

“I think I want the dog,” I said suddenly.

My parents looked at me with identical expressions of shock.

“Why, Caleb?” Mom asked.

“Because I feel responsible for it now.”

“We can't just go and take in everything you,” Dad stumbled over this next turn-o'-phrase, “raise or save son.”

John smirked, this was kinda funny in a perverse way.

“I know, but when I think about him...”

“It's a he?” Mom asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, how do you know?” she asked.

“I just do mom, it's all part of it.” Unimportant random details!

Dad said, “Go on.”

“Anyway, I can hear him if I listen and he's lonely for me.”

John looked at me with a puzzled look, he is?

I answered his unspoken question, “Yeah and he doesn't like wherever he is.”

Dad held up his hand. “Let's just say, hypothetically, that we were to agree to letting this dog become your pet. What would that mean for you?” he finished.

Okay, more chores, dogs have to have food and water, and they gotta make a mess in the yard (and guess who'd clean that up... oh joy).

Out loud I said, “Responsibility, I guess.”

“And?” his expression unhelpfully neutral.

My mind went blank, I couldn't think of a thing.

“You're fourteen now Caleb. You have four years left until graduation and then the dog would have to become our pet.”

“We're not sure we want that, Caleb,” Mom said.

“Oh.” I hadn't really thought about them. “Can you think about it at least?”

“I see that you're anxious son, but we can't make a snap decision.”

“It's important to me, Dad.”

Dad stood up and clapped me on the shoulder, squeezing it. He nodded once. He understood.

Mom came to stand behind him, her gaze steady on mine. They'd think about it.

John had to go and told me to read the rest of the papers.

“Yeah, okay.” I'd been planning to anyway.

Dad sat down heavily in his usual seat for supper, steepled his hands, looking at me. I popped a large piece of lasagna into my mouth and did the tongue dance, realizing too late that it was hot-as-hell.

“I know you've been through a lot today Caleb,” Dad began.

Ah-duh.

“But, I am fascinated with how this connection with the dog unfolded.” he waited expectantly.

Mom rescued me. “Why don't you let him finish eating and we can get the gory details afterward, hmm?”

Mom knew about The Hunger. In fact, I would use the phrase, I Hunger. Which loosely translated meant something like: what is there to eat in this house in the next five seconds? My friends also had The Hunger and we'd fall upon the kitchen table like locusts and The Hunger would be abated, temporarily.

“So Caleb, what's going on beside dead stuff?”

She turned, carefully setting a glass in front of Dad, hand on hip. She just missed putting her hand on one of the tiny bells of her skirt. I was fascinated by my mom's fashion sense. I don't truly think she had one, but she was a believer.

“Nothing much besides Carson and Brett still being jerks.” I hesitated over the next thing; it was hard to keep this kind of news to yourself.

Mom sat next to me, skirt bells tinkling slightly as she adjusted her position.

I really had their attention because I wasn't just blurting stuff out like usual. I wasn't in Jonesy's league, but I wasn't super-quiet like John.

“I like this girl named Jade, Jade LeClerc.” I said. Just saying her name made my heart beat faster.

“LeClerc,” Dad tilted his head, thinking. Mom looked stumped too.

“Ya know, her dad is a mechanic for the car shop in the valley.”

He did his best not to scowl when he realized who Jade's dad was.

Mom didn't bother to hide her expression. “Terrible news, that.”

My body tensed, I wasn't going to let Jade get lumped in with her crap family.

“Wasn't she...” Mom began.

I finished for her, “... yeah, she was and it's not her fault.”

“Removed from a domestic situation,” Dad said, adding, “of course it wasn't.”

A contemplative silence fell on the table. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, dust motes circling lazily in the air.

“I know the father, and he is not welcome but Jade is. After all, with a family like that...” Dad trailed off.

Mom finished for him, “... she could use some positive affirmation.”

“Is she a cute girl?” Mom asked slyly.

I wasn't falling for that! “She's cute to me.”

Mom mock-huffed and crossed her arms, “Caleb Sebastian Hart!” she said, teasing. I didn't know if talking about a girl I liked was easier.

Raising the dead, or girls... let me think.

Dad joined in, “Now we have to know what your lady-love looks like just in case we pass her on the street and rudely not give salutations,” he winked.

“Lady-love, Dad? So retarded!”

“Caleb!” Mom said, mouth unhinged. A theme today.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. But it was retarded, who said that? They couldn't help it, being old and all. Hard to believe that mom was Gramps' daughter.

“You have to be more sensitive with your language.”

“ 'Lady-love'?” eyebrows raised to my hairline.

“I guess that was a little out-of-date,” Dad agreed.

“Ya think?”

“So tell us more about Jade,” Mom said.

“Well, she is really interesting.”

“That's not what I thought about your mother when I first saw her,” he said with a smile aimed at mom.

Over share-much...“I mean, she is different than the other girls. She doesn't do that stuff girls do that's super-annoying.”

Mom crossed her arms again. Uh-oh, I'd stepped in it.

“What do girls do that's so annoying?” she asked in that innocent tone (translation: I will eviscerate you).

I looked at Dad for help but he looked back, clearly, you couldn't have just said that.

I was on my own.

Girls make us nervous, they act like they like us then treat us crappy the next day. In a word, confusing.

What I said was, “She treats me the same all the time, not just when she's in the mood. She pays attention to what I'm saying, she actually listens.”

A slow smile spread across dad's face while mom sat speechless at my words, a rare thing, “She sounds great. I like a woman that is self-possessed.”

“And she's cute too, right?” Dad winked.

“Yeah,” I said. “There is that,” grinning back.

“Oh you two, annoying guys.” Mom smiled.

Dad said, “Tomorrow we flesh out your abilities.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Dad asked. Mom looked up from wiping down the kitchen table.

“Ah... John brought over some papers about the Parker kid.”

“Don't you have a textbook from school that addresses these abilities?” He looked a question at Mom.

“Yes, he does. He must. First semester in eighth grade they're required to have one quarter health and one quarter paranormal development. They're linked you know,” Mom stated.

Yeah, they were linked alright. That Health class had been the dumbest on the planet. I can never get their lame-ass music out of my head. It was some stupid thing like, “Body changes, everyone goes through... body changes.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Were you listening Caleb?” Mom asked.

I stared blankly at Dad.

“Hey pal, I asked if you still had the textbook here in the house from last semester?”

I looked at mom. “Try under your bed, that would be my first guess.”

I turned back to Dad. “I don't know, I'll take a look.”

“Okay, good. Now that these events are coming to pass, a refresher would be an excellent pursuit of your time. The sooner the better,” he said with gravity.

I jogged over to the stairs taking them two at a time. Tearing open my door, I launched myself on my bed, scooping the papers up as I fell.

I bent my head over them and began to read.

CHAPTER 7

Chocolate-brown eyes stared through the mist, luminous, shining. I blinked and they were gone. My eyes flicked down at my feet that were bare, my boxers my only clothing. I looked at my surroundings and realized with dawning horror that I was in the cemetery again.

I glanced to where the eyes had been and the dog stepped forward, an inky silhouette in the midst of an ethereal fog. The mist was wet, swirling around my face, drenching my hair like fingers attached to my skull. With a start I realized that it was The Dog, from the accident.

He spoke, whispered, thought: Rescue me.

The eyes bored into mine with an eerie intensity, that connection I'd felt since the accident still tied.

Images flooded my head from the dog, like a movie running frame by frame:

A boy, close to my age, throwing the ball. The Dog's pure joy at the chase, the return, and the reward of the boy's laughing acknowledgment of him.

Then, a stranger that coaxes me/us with food and a terrible trip in a thing of metal that moves. Alarming smells wafting in through glass that is sometimes a hole, too many to identify. Terrible loneliness for The Boy.

Suddenly, an opportunity to escape the confines of the frightening and noisy box that moves. the Dog leaps out of the hole that is sometimes glass and runs until he finds a road, where he scents two boys. He knows they are close to his Boy in Life and he will find his Boy again. He pursues them.

His last memory is a metal machine hitting him and his life ebbing. Then one of the boys is there, calling to him. He struggles, deciding he wants to play ball again and be a dog for this boy. He Lives.

I snap out of the reverie of the dog's emotions, our glances lock, his eyes imploring, and I know, that somehow I am responsible for this life, this dog. The midnight-black tail wags like a friendly exclamation mark, moving the mist slightly. Wait, what was that horrible sound; beep, beep, beep, BEEP!

I opened one blurry eye, slamming my palm down on the alarm. All a dream! I flopped over on my back. Well, that was freaky. The dog was communicating with me while I slept.

I sighed, sitting up and swinging my feet around to slap the floor, the warmth of my bed like clinging fingers begging me to stay.

Ignoring that, I walked over to the window noticing the field shrouded in mist. Tall, Western Red Cedar and Douglas fir trees were scattered like soldiers in battle, leading down to Clark Lake.

I turned away, feeling uneasy from the dream and went for the bathroom. A shower would chase the lethargy away. I was definitely going to find clean clothes, thinking of Jade.

But my thoughts strayed back to the dog. He was a part of my life now, whether I wanted him to be or not.

After showering, great smells made their way upstairs; fried egg sandwiches. Yup, that was it.

I plopped down in my seat and Dad looked up from his reading. “How did that reading go last night?”

“Kinda scary.”

Dad raised a brow.

“This Parker kid,” I hesitated, “was a lot like me.”

Mom's hand paused, then landed the egg on the buttered toast. She turned and gave me a look, go on.

Mom placed the glass plate in front of me with a perfectly centered, two-egg, cheese-laden breakfast. Steam rose from the eggs, the cheese melting at the edges. Ah... bliss.

I waded in without preamble. “He also 'heard' things from animals. He was off the charts on his aptitude for the AFTD.”

Dad said, “We know that.”

He seemed annoyed. That I didn't need. I just found out I had this ability and was trying to hide it. Get the dog, get the girl; no pressure!

Mom shot Dad a look. “What Dad means, is we'd like to hear anything that you felt could help you with this.” She gave me an encouraging look. I relaxed.

I used my fork like a knife to shear off a corner of the egg sandwich and popped a satisfying hunk in my mouth. I chewed and watched The Parental Unit.

“Looks like he could see ghosts too.” Dad shrugged his acknowledgment. That was a typical aspect of AFTD.

This is where I landed the bomb. “He could control them too,”

Dad stilled, his whole body stiff. Mom glanced at him and they had a look that passed, one of those annoying ones that said a lot but not to others.

“That's not good,” Dad finally replied.

I knew why I thought it wasn't a potentially good thing for me to have but I wanted to hear Dad's thoughts.

Mom echoed my feelings with. “What are your thoughts, Kyle?”

“If he can control ghosts... hauntings, rather,” looking at us in that quietly intense way of his, “then that is another useful tool. Dad continued in the well of silence, “Him being a Cadaver-Manipulator is certainly rare, but controlling hauntings?” he threw up his hands to emphasize just how big that “little” skill would be.

“I guess a little terror would go a long way,” I said.

“Let me get this straight,” Mom queried. “Caleb is what? A domestic terrorist now?” She looked incredulously at Dad.

“In a word... yes.”

We were quiet, letting that potential future sink in. My egg began to cool. Well, nothing was going to get in the way of my appetite. I shifted my gaze to the clock, ten after eight. I stuffed down the remains of breakfast.

“Have you seen ghosts, Caleb?” Dad said breaking the silence.

“Nope.” I said, using the last bit of bread to wipe up egg yolk.

Mom let out a sigh of relief. “I guess we don't have to worry about that.”

I hated to burst her bubble but....

“That was the last skill he gained before the government took him.”

“What year did your reading say that he was transferred to the 'government school'?” Dad made airquotes.

We weren't dumb enough to think the school was anything more than a farce so they could exploit kids.

I thought about that. The first year that they could push through their FDA approval for the drug that made us all “reach our genetic potential” was 2015, or 2016? Didn't matter, it was in those years that the first group of teens, nationwide, had been inoculated for a hell of a lot more than Hepatitis B. It had all been in those papers. The more I read, the scarier the connections became. It was starting to stink like conspiracy.

I said, “I think 2016...?”

Dad nodded. “Yes, that rings a bell.”

Mom looked at the clock. “You better skedaddle there.”

“I have a plan, we'll talk after school,” Dad said.

I stopped my jog and turned slowly. “You're gonna be here, Dad?”

“Yes, I'm taking the day off.” Since Dad never took a weekday off unless it he had the barf-o-ma-tic it must mean this was top priority.

“We'll experiment with your skills.”

“Don't forget we need to talk about the dog,” I reminded.

Forget jogging, I shifted right to sprinting until my lungs burned, singing their resistance. That's all I needed: possible detention. Carson was a regular feature in detention hall.

I burst through the main entrance, the bell shrilled behind me as the two-way door swung back and forth on its hinges, slapping empty air.

CHAPTER 8

I plopped down next to John, Jonesy was across from me with his head in his palm.

“What's your problem?”

He was absolutely never quiet.

“Can't wait for Sunday, I'm itching for payback.”

John rolled his eyes.

“What is it today, Wednesday?” I asked.

John nodded.

“Well, get over that. Let's talk while we work on this.” I looked down, studying my heart-shaped box. Mr. Morginstern sauntered up, hands thrust into his pockets.

“Good morning gentlemen,” he said in his I-love-mornings voice.

We all said hi.

Morginstern studied my box and pointed out some rough spots, emphasizing that if those weren't perfectly smooth, they'd hang up the lid.

“You see this here.” He pointed to an almost invisible bump on the interior arc. I squinted and there it was, huh. I nodded.

“That is the kind of thing that can make a project frustrating.”

Geez, really? The whole project had been pretty hard. I wished now that I had chosen a square, like Jonesy, or a rectangle, like John. Mother's Day was coming up. Mom always said she didn't care but if I knew girls and I was getting the hang of that, she would say that but feel bad if I didn't.

It was a ruthless minefield.

Morginstern studied Jonesy's box and had a similar lecture for him but pronounced John's as ready for the lid. Jonesy and I both looked at each other in perfect understanding, John just got stuff.

Morginstern wandered off to bug the other kids and we put our heads together like a football huddle.

“I'm in deep crap. I read the Parker kid's stuff last night.” Nodding in John's direction, “He had some things that I haven't done yet, but, if I play out like him, I will too. It's even more important that I not spike their radar on the tests this Monday.”

“Did your dad get the cerebral inhibitor?” John asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, he's got it and he took the day off because he wants to go over The Plan.”

Jonesy stuck out his jaw, leaning back. “What 'Plan'?”

I leaned forward, motioning to get closer. Jonesy's eyes were so brown the pupils were lost in the darkness, John tilting his head, worried.

“I don't know. The minute we talk I will pulse you and let you know.”

“Kyle thought it was okay that we knew?” Jonesy stuck a thumb in his chest.

I laughed. “Yeah, you were there, there's no hiding any of it; the black outs, the fugues...”

“The cemetery,” John stated the obvious.

That reminded me. “Have Carson and Brett said anything?”

We both looked at Jonesy, he talked to everyone.

“Not yet,” rubbing his hands together with undisguised glee.

As John leaned forward, his frizzy hair covered an eye. “Don't take this too far. We don't want to hurt them.”

“Too much,” I said, winking at Jonesy.

John smacked my shoulder. “Don't give him any ammunition Caleb!”

Morginstern looked our way. “Get back to work boys.”

We picked up our sand paper, Jonesy and I hitting the bumps with the eighty grit we thought we wouldn't have to use anymore.

John got up with a self-satisfied smile spreading over his face.

“I guess I'll go over and use the jig saw for my lid now,” John smirked.

“Don't be an ass,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah, what he said,” I echoed.

John walked off, his fro of hair flopping as he moved between the tables.

CHAPTER 9

It was between bells and I was trying to glimpse Jade. Crap, I didn't see her by the locker. Bending down, I tore open the zipper on my backpack without any of my usual finesse and threw my crap in my locker. I wasn't hauling all that to Math.

I straightened up and there she was, close enough to touch. I gulped. She'd come to me.

“Hi,” I croaked out. She flashed me a smile, the kind that reached her eyes. “Do you want to hang out at lunch?” my voice steady, yay for me.

She turned her head to the side and that long curtain of hair swung forward, hiding her expression. Then she looked back up at me through the veil of her black eyelashes bordering eyes that shone like emeralds.

God she was beautiful.

“I'd like that,” she said. Those gorgeous eyes studied me. She wasn't a girl to fill silences with a lot of chatter, another great thing about her. I was making a list.

The other kids would notice us being together. That's all that kids talked about, how much school sucked and who was going out with whom. Maybe I could tell her about my problem. The Js were cool but you don't show your friends your fear. Girls were better that way.

As we turned away from each other it slid through my mind that it sucked, only having her in two classes.

Carson and Brett walked by then, wasting a glare on me. Brett made a pistol hand, taking a “shot” at me as I walked by. Dick. Carson threw his head back and laughed, delighted by his friend's cleverness.

Jonesy's hairspray idea was sounding sweeter by the second.

Math dragged by, I couldn't wait to see Jade. John saw me look at the clock and raised an eyebrow. Later, I looked back. He shrugged, his shoulder blades poking out like weapons and went back to studying, his hair a wall in front of his eyes. How he read anything was a mystery.

Math over, I raced to my locker to get my backpack, slapping my beanie on and took out my pulse. Depressing my thumb on the pad I selected music. Let me see, who to play? I chose the oldies shuffle: Seether, Hinder and Underwhelmed.

Thinking into my touch pad: volume 15. The screen illuminated in phosphorescent green the correct volume and I thought: accurate.

Music filled my ears and I hummed a little, sliding through the throng, my mind already with Jade. Jonesy slid beside me, narrowly missing a posse of girls, who giggled as he walked by. He took the time to salute them with a fingertip, winking, which caused another rush of laughter.

I don't know how he did it, but the girls were nuts over Jonesy. He called it his Undeniable Attraction. Whatever. He was cool, but I didn't see him as manly.

John came late from Science not even bothering to put his backpack away, heading straight for us and falling into step by me.

I ran my thumb over the touch pad and thought: volume five... then: accurate.

“Jade and I are hanging at lunch today guys.”

Jonesy stopped dead in my path and I missed running into him by a hair's breadth.

“You're kidding. I mean, are you guys, like, going out?”

John waited.

“No, but I don't want the first time that we can actually talk to be around you dorks.”

Jonesy threw up his hands. “I know you're hot for her, but Bros before 'hos man, bros before 'hos.”

He looked at John for agreement. John nodded then turned to me.

Jonesy... so classy.

“Come on guys! If you had a girl you liked, you'd want to be with her.” I looked from one to the other, they had to see reason. Jonesy sulked. Kids swirled around us on a tide that moved like the ocean.

John said, “See where it goes today, but don't let a girl interfere with important stuff.” He looked at me in his steady way, his eyes tight and angry. I wasn't going to let my friends' lack of excitement screw my lunch with Jade.

“Okay,” I said.

Jonesy looked around once. Traitor, that look said.

There was nothing but a sea of faces and talking. My Pulse was on the lowest volume. Soothing, retro music wafted through the ear discs that were permanently embedded behind my ears, where the skull is most prominent. Technology rocked.

There she was! A small hand rose, a lone flag of welcome in the cafeteria.

I didn't hear the music as I walked toward her, instead I saw the soft triangle of her face, full, deep pink lips, silver hoops catching the light as she laughed with Sophie. Huh... Sophie. I ditched the Js only to have to share time with her?

Sophie looked up at me, her clear, blue-green eyes full of laughter, turning to Jade she said, “Catch ya later.” She jumped up and away, hurrying to another table.

I sat down awkwardly next to Jade. She turned to me, small hands neatly on the table. Then she did the unexpected, reaching one of those small hands to cover mine. Instinctively, I closed my hand around hers, grinning like an idiot. Every struggle had been worth it to be in this moment with her.

“So,” she said, still hanging on to my hand, “what did you want to talk about?”

I looked down at our clasped hands and my mouth got dry. Okay, Hart, you got this. She obviously likes you, so start with that.

“Well, I know we don't know each other very well but, do you want to go out?” I stumbled over that last part, simultaneously hoping my hands didn't choose then to sweat.

She smiled, a little shyly and answered, “I thought you'd never ask.”

No one in the history of the universe could have possibly been happier.

“Let's go somewhere and talk,” I said.

“Okay,” she stood up and stuffed her pulse in her pocket. We made our way into the open hallway. I didn't want to let go of her hand, ever.

She leaned against the wall and I took her other hand and looked down at her. There were some girls that were actually shorter than me.

“I'm so glad you finally asked me,” she said.

It's not like she hit me over the head with clues or anything.

Jade grinned at my expression. “You're the guy, you have to ask.”

“That's not true, you could have given me a hint,” I said, miffed, but not really.

She smiled and lifted my hand up with hers, tilting her head and laying the top of my hand against her cheek. My heart paused in my chest. Her skin felt like silk under my hand. Letting go of her hand I cupped the side of her face, noticing how small it really was. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Meet me after band today.”

She turned her head into mine, smelling like a ripe peach and whispered, “Okay.”

My stomach rumbled and I laughed. “I guess we better eat,”

I looked at her lunch tray, girls sure ate weird.

She saw my expression. “What?” All innocent like.

I shrugged. “No wonder you're so small, you don't eat anything real.”

She looked down at her tray and pointed a finger at the biggest offender, the salad. “This is real.”

I made a grunting noise and she pursed her lips. She gave my tray the look she thought it deserved. Pizza was definitely the food of the gods, I thought with satisfaction.

The Js were at our regular lunch table and just finishing their pizza. Smart food choice.

Jade followed me over to our table and we plunked down.

Jonesy looked up and with a lingering glance at Jade's tray. “Are you kidding with that?” he pointed his fork at her tray with Jonesy-disdain leaking from every pore.

Jade put her hands on her hips and said, “You boys need to clean up your eating habits.”

John looked down at his three crusts, fourth piece in hand and shrugged his skinny shoulders, taking a bite that polished off half the slice. Jonesy laughed and used his crust to wipe up the last vestiges of his ranch dressing.

Jade stared with fascination at Jonesy's ritual. His pears and green beans lay lonely and untouched in a forgotten corner of his tray. This was an introduction to Eating Habits of Boys. Jonesy mowed through his dessert cup of sherbet while expertly eying whatever food John had been dumb enough not to finish.

I didn't have my normal appetite. After all, it wasn't every day that you got yourself a girlfriend.

Jonesy was licking the spoon that was shaped like a small paddle when he blurted out, “So you two going out now?”

John sorta choked on that last hunk of pizza, some of it escaping his mouth.

Jade stopped the fork midway to her mouth, fruit balanced on the tines.

I answered, “Yeah Jonesy, we are.” My tone said it all. Could you just... not.

Jonesy smiled evilly. I knew he was sticking it to me because I had ditched them at lunch. Fine, payback's a bitch and Gramps would add: and then you die.

“Sorry about your lunch,” I mumbled.

“It's okay.” she curled her small hand around my forearm, where a tiny pulse beat, captured in the delicate skin of her wrist. She fascinated me.

I recovered, “Tomorrow we'll actually eat and talk.” The Js stood and we followed. Carson and Brett sauntered over, Brett eying Jade.

I didn't like it.

“Hi Jade,” Brett said, nodding to the Js and me. Carson didn't bother.

“Hi,” she said, sensing major awkwardness.

“Hey Hart, gonna see ya at the cemetery on Sunday,” Carson said, looking hard at Jonesy but talking to me.

Jonesy stepped forward and Jade stepped a little behind me, Jonesy and I were side by side.

Jonesy said, “We'll all be there, I told ya.”

Brett looked at Jade. “Even your little girlfriend is coming?” And before anyone knew what was happening he reached out, his hand passing through the end of her hair.

“Don't touch me!” she yelped, startled. Some other kids turned to stare and she backed away.

“Leave her alone, dickhead,” I said, facing Brett, my hands balled into tight fists. I was ready for a hammer session.

Brett moved up until our noses almost touched, our chests a millimeter from contact. Singing tension filled the moment.

“Caleb, we have eyes,” John said in a low voice.

I didn't take mine off Brett.

Carson stopped things from getting out-of-control. “Leave it, he can't do anything and the girl's not worth it,” he sneered.

We stood back and the tension dissipated. Carson pulled Brett along with him, who kept walking backwards, looking at me the whole time. A moment before he vacated the double doors his gaze shifted to the left and became thoughtful. I followed his gaze to see what he was looking at and Jade filled my vision. Her anxious face was pinched and nervous. Rage filled me that someone would threaten her. I put my arm around her and scooped her up against me while my other hand stroked her hair. She shivered under my touch while I looked over at the Js, their grim expressions matching mine.

Jonesy broke the silence first, “Sunday can't come soon enough.”

He and John walked off, Jade and I in tow, my arm still around her shoulders, where it felt like it had always belonged.

CHAPTER 10

John was listening raptly to Xavier Collins, aka, Biology teacher extraordinaire. He ran around the room, boiling with energy, making his point. Unfortunately, I had worn out my welcome when we had dissected the frogs and I kept passing out and getting hauled off to the nurse's office.

Collins was jogging back and forth in front of the board, smacking his fist into his open palm, doing a rant about the bees. That again, I thought a little glumly. Between Dad, big time scientist in his pants and Mom, environmental activist. I knew what was wrong. I put my head in both my palms. John nodded with marked enthusiasm at what Collins was saying.

“This alarming trend of the decimation of honeybees is appalling. The origins of which precedes 2010. It was in that year that nearly one million honeybee colonies were wiped out,” Collins said.

Having a swarm of anything die would be a fresh hell for me.

“Caleb Hart,” Collins paused, “what say you on this subject?”

Oh great. Like this day couldn't get any more stressed. “Ah... what do you want me to say?”

“What are your thoughts on the continual decline of this critical species which impacts our habitat at every turn?”

“Well, my mom had me help her plant flowers in the garden that attract bees,” I said.

Carson covered a laugh by coughing. He was such a jerk. I blushed. It was lame that I admitted helping Mom. But, my choices were cleaning the bathroom or gardening. Gee, let me think about it.

Collins turned sharply to Carson. “Do you have something to add, Mr. Hamilton?” his gaze steady on Carson's face.

Carson squirmed under the scrutiny.

“No,” Carson finally said.

“Good, very good,” he said and turned his attention back to me.

“Well, go on then, Caleb.”

“That's it. I mean, I hear my parents talk about the environment a lot.” My voice conveyed how obvious that would be in my household.

Collins was trapping me. I wasn't his favorite so why question me? I looked over at John, he was as confused as I.

“What plants did she select?” Collins asked.

Wow, easy question. “We plant flowers in blue and violet, mainly. But my mom has rhododendrons in a bunch of different colors. She says it's important to plant different types and try to use native plants.”

A speech for me. I actually knew something about this because of my role as The Gardening Slave.

“Very good, Caleb. Caleb's family is doing exactly what we all need to be doing. This 'pocket gardening' technique emphasizes that if all of us were doing our small part to propagate the environment, that cumulative effort would have tremendous impact. These insects need all of us to resurrect their dying numbers.”

Suddenly, Collins spun around and pointed a finger at me. “What's your favorite plant for bee attraction, Caleb?”

“Sunflower,” I flung back.

Collins smiled and jogged back to the whiteboard. John gave me the thumbs up and Carson gave me the finger. I turned back to the teacher with a smile on my face. Some days were okay.

During English and PE I was distracted by Jade. Jade using her pulse-pad, Jade doing jumping jacks to the tune of Ms. Griswold's sandpaper voice.

I couldn't believe the school gave us credit for playing music and in between sets we discussed Jade. It was easier without Jonesy around, who was sorta anti-girlfriends right now.

“Are you gonna tell her?” John asked during Band.

“Don't really have a choice. Carson and Brett said something in front of her.”

“Yeah, what was with Brett doing that to Jade?” he asked.

“I don't know but it pissed me off.”

“Maybe he likes her. You know, likes her,” John said.

Brett was always a little mean to her. I guess a guy as lame as Brett can't think of a better way to act so they just fall back on what they know... lameness.

“He lives kinda by her, ya know.”

Yeah, I knew that.

But now that she lived with her aunt was he still close? I asked John. He thought she still lived pretty close to her old house.

“Is her aunt like her dad?” my voice trailed off. John looked thoughtful.

“You know her dad's a big-time drunk, right?” I nodded, everyone knew. “Well, I don't hear the same stuff about her. It was some kind of protective custody thing,” he said

I knew some of the history. She was getting beaten (my heart sped with adrenaline). I heard the aunt had called Child Protective Services and they still kept tabs on her. Her creeper dad would be a problem.

“Yeah, she's never said anything about her dad to me,” I said.

John gave me a look. “Before today, did you talk to her much?”

He had me there. “No, I was kinda freaked.”

“She's just a girl, Caleb.” his blue eyes were serious, sunlight glinting through the window made his hair into a flaming halo.

Just a girl.

“Coming from you that means a lot, Terran! With your harem-o-chicks!” John blushed a fine, blazing red that only true redheads can. I was just the first guy in the group to have a girlfriend and it was new, to all of us. It's not like we were big “players.”

“I plan to get to 'know her' a little better after band...” the sentence trailing off suggestively.

“Huh? You're gonna take her home to meet the Parents?” he smirked.

“We're not that serious!” I exclaimed.

“Not yet.” John looked down and strummed a chord, making my teeth vibrate this close to the amp. It being Thursday, we had lost our beginning of the week warm up problems. Tomorrow would see us playing really well.

As we headed for the door, John and I hung our guitars on their respective wood pegs. The sun blazed light through the huge windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the air, suspended in an invisible web.

Stepping outside my eyes locked on Jade.

I took in the sight of her like a cool drink: shining black hair, tight pink cami, covered by a soft, chocolate-colored T-shirt, jeans so blue they were almost black and little strappy sandals. I loved a girl that dressed like one. She smiled when she saw me and it was all I could do to not pick her up and spin her around. Must keep feelings in check!

John cleared his throat, we turned and I waved at him in a, you caught me way. We started walking toward my house. John gave me the thumb sign for me to use my pulse later, I nodded and kept walking. Finally, a chance to talk,.. but not my house, not yet. I wasn't ready for the whole meet-the-parents thing. I was a little shaky on having told them about Jade anyway, with all the other stuff that was closing in on my life like a noose.

****

Dappled sunlight struggled through the canopy of trees in the small park that stood at the opening of my neighborhood. Little more than a drainage area when the development was first built in the 1970s, it has become over time, a small oasis with structures all around, except for the back, where the city park borders it, separated by an ugly, cyclone fence. Huge indigenous evergreens tower in the park, broken here and there by a lone Alder tree. These too, cast pools of shade in the late afternoon light. Jade and I sat on a well worn bench which stood just inside the entrance to the woods, little more than a dirt path where a patch of sun slanted across her forehead.

Our hands were still entwined when she asked, “What's going on Sunday, Caleb?”

“Maybe you should pulse your aunt and let her know when you'll be home?”

Jade pulled out her (slathered in iridescent lavender hearts) pulse. “Good idea,” she said, sliding it back in her pocket and leaning back against me.

“What did ya say?” I asked.

“I told her I was hanging out with a friend.”

It occurred to me that maybe not all kids would just blurt out their romantic processes to their parents. I couldn't imagine Jonesy doing it and not at all John. Huh.

“Did you tell her about us?” I asked.

“Well, I didn't tell her a name. I just said I liked a boy at school.”

“What's your aunt's name?”

“Oh...Andrea,” she responded absently, as if her mind was already a million miles away.

I whipped my pulse out of my pocket (it was all-black because it's cool like that), and pulsed Mom:

Mom, it's me-CH

Hey honey, whatcha doin'? AH

I'm here in the woods with Jade-CH

You are, are ya? laughs-AH

We're talking; when's supper? CH

Usual time-AH

Okay, I'll be on time-CH

Jade is welcome anytime, Caleb-AH

Gotcha, see ya-CH

Love you-AH

I passed my thumb over the pad and the luminescent characters faded to black. I looked up.

“Your mom.” A statement.

I nodded. “She says you're welcome to come over anytime.”

Jade looked down, her long hair falling like ink spilling.

She twisted in my embrace to look at me. “You told your parents about me?”

I put my hand up, palm open. “Yeah, I mean, it's not different than you telling your aunt Andrea, that you like a boy. But,” I looked directly at her this time, “I gave them your name.”

Jade squirmed, wringing her hands.

“What?”

“Do they know about...” she trailed off a little, then resumed, “my dad and our family and all?”

“Yeah, I didn't tell them but they already knew.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, not awkward but like people that fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I love my aunt,” she said suddenly.

What could I do to make this better?

I knew. “My parents don't care and neither do I.”

“Really?” she asked shyly, her hands unclasping.

“Really.”

A huge grin appeared like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. I grinned back. The moment held, grew and became a perfect memory.

She did a little shiver as I gave her a side hug. I was diggin' on that response.

“Sunday,” she said.

Oh yeah, that. Mood-killer.

“Okay so, the APs are coming up on Monday?” She looked at me like, yeah... duh.

“Well, I found out that I have AFTD.”

I expected shock, surprise or something. But Jade just looked back at me calmly.

“I already knew.”

What the hell? “How?”

What she said next took my breath away: “Because I'm an Empath.”

It was like the biggest puzzle piece falling into place! I understood her behavior! She already knew about my “problem” because she had one of her own!

I became instantly self-conscious. She knew stuff about me that maybe I hadn't wanted her to know, like how much I liked her. Couldn't a guy have a few secrets?

She sensed my tension. “This is why I haven't said anything.”

I tried to relax.

“You haven't told anyone but me?” I asked.

“And Sophie. I was thinking about telling Andrea but she may tell my dad.”

I was surprised. “Why would she do that?”

“I don't know. She knows he's crappy, has been crappy, but she thinks he has a right to know important stuff. She'd think this was.”

“Well, she's gonna find out after Monday.”

She nodded, she knew.

“My dad's got a cerebral inhibitor that I'm gonna take so I won't hit the radar as a corpse raiser.”

“Caleb, they're gonna know that you're AFTD.”

“I know, but I can be a lesser AFTD and I won't be that important. Ya know, a two-point or something.”

“How do you know you can raise dead things?” she asked.

I explained the cemetery, then the dog. Jade showed a lot of sympathy for the dog. Just thinking about him was bringing his “emotions” like a flood to me.

“Where is he now?”

“I don't know for sure but the impressions...”

She cut me off. “Impressions?” Jade asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, if I think about him, he's like, there with me.” I tried to clarify.

“Like when I touch people...” she mused.

“I don't know if it's like what you have, but all I know is that I thought he needed to live, then he did.” It was hard to make somebody understand when they couldn't do it, “...and afterward I could sense his emotions.”

Do dogs really feel? Well yeah. Frogs do, I shuddered, remembering pre-Biology.

“So, what do you know about people?” I asked.

“Ah-uh, you're not getting off that fast!” She laughed. “No off-topic, tell me about Sunday.”

“Well... Jonesy thought we needed to teach Carson and Brett a lesson.”

Jade's brow furrowed into two, neat lines, kinda like a number eleven.

I rushed forward, “He thought it may divert them enough during the Aptitude Tests that they wouldn't be paying attention to me or think to let a teacher in on what I can really do.”

Jade's face knitted together in concentration, her head tilting. Finally, she said, “I think it will work for that but later, they're going to retaliate.”

Huh, I knew what that meant: they're gonna open a can of whoop-ass all over you.

“I guess that's a chance we'll have to take.”

Jade rolled her eyes.

“Boys,” she said.

As if that explained all reason in the world.

“Listen, you remember what I told you about the cemetery?” I threw out a little impatiently.

She nodded.

“Well, they won't respect me until I dominate them. They're just that type. You see that, don't ya?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Brett lives by me. He has always been,” she looked up, “difficult.”

I looked at her dumbfounded. She couldn't be sympathetic to that loser?

She whispered, “His dad's worse than mine.” She looked away and I didn't really know what to say.

The silence rolled out and I let it. Guys are good at that. Girls, and Jonesy, who was sometimes classified as something entirely new... a sub-species maybe, seem to want to fill silences with talking. Guys didn't feel that obligation.

“When we were little and met at the bus stop, his dad would sometimes meet him in the afternoon and right there, in front of all the kids, he'd be shit-faced drunk. Of course, he'd wait until the driver pulled away before he started hitting on Brett.” She looked down, her hands tightly clenched together, twisting, “... then he would drag him off to the car. The next day at the bus stop Brett would be all beat up.”

Jade looked up, standing tears shimmering, her eyes very wide so they wouldn't fall. “He had it worse than me. At least dad didn't yell and beat me in front of people.”

I gulped, hell, this was horrible. And she thought that was better?

My life, even with the stupid AFTD was better than a lot of people. I didn't want to feel bad for Brett. He was such a raging dickhead. But, I could see the why of his behavior. Carson was still a mystery though, he had everything going for him. It came down to choice. And Jade had a similar background to Brett and she wasn't acting like a jerk.

Jade seemed to understand my thought process and answered almost as if I had spoken out loud (duh... empath), “His mom is the same and never did anything to stop it. At least my mom is dead. I just had the one parent. When things became really bad,” she shuddered, “I would escape to Andrea's.”

“Okay, so you like, feel sorry for Brett?” I was trying to put what she said into a box, for later reflection.

“Kinda. I hate that he's mean to me. But, at the bus stop, the other kids didn't know what to do to help him. His dad was über-scary and their families were normal,” she smiled and corrected herself, “more normal.” She went on, “I knew what it felt like, how embarrassing it was to have a parent that out-of-control, the feeling of slippage. Like you're hangin' on to the edge of the cliff and some maniac has a hold of the rope and you have to hang on and hope they don't let go.” A defeated little sigh escaped her before she continued, “I just wanted him to know that I was hangin' on to his rope too. That the maniac wasn't the only one that had a hold of it. So, we were friends. Then, for some reason, last year when we started going here,” she gestured back in the direction of Kent Middle School behind us, “he started acting like he didn't know me.” She shrugged. “I just sorta gave up. He and Carson became friends and that was the end of that.”

Interesting.

We sat for a moment, chewing on what she had told me.

“I want you to come on Sunday,” I said.

“I don't know, what if Carson and Brett get really mad and something bad happens? I don't like Brett getting it. It feels wrong. If it backfires, they'll be more determined to make sure the right adults find out what you can do.”

“Speaking of that, tell me how you knew?”

She was wringing her hands a little then I covered one with my own.

“Just now, when you touched me I just got a really strong... impression,” she paused struggling for clarity, “of concern and... love.” She looked quickly to see if I was offended by the “L” word. I couldn't say I loved her yet but I cared. Maybe there wasn't as much of a difference between the two?

“Anyone can guesstimate, but I know. People can't lie to me. I know who likes me and who doesn't. And that's not so great, believe me. But what can I do? It is what it is,” she said.

I felt the same way about what I did, it is what it is.

“That doesn't explain how you know that I'm AFTD.”

“Well, each person has a 'flavor,' like ice cream,” she perked up at the analogy, “... so there are paranormal flavors and I started to recognize the differences. Sometimes before they even know what they're going to have. Mostly, I just try to not touch anyone, I really don't want to know.”

“Who else is AFTD?” I was stunned, I thought I was the only one, I don't know why, it could happen to anyone.

“That girl in PE.”

Well that cleared it right up, thanks.

“Tiffany Weller.” Jade's voice modulation rose, indicating, do you know her?

I thought about the name and then the face came to me. Kinda plain girl, could be an enraged cow.

I nodded.

She went on, “About a month ago, she was sitting outside the school, crying. I don't know her. Anyway, I asked her what was wrong and she pointed to a dead bird just a few feet away.”

I knew what she'd say next.

“She's got snot and tears leaking all over her face and she says something, but I can't hear because she's talking so soft. So I lean in real close and she says, 'it whispers,'. 'What whispers?' I asked her.

“ 'Death,' she said, 'death whispers'.''

“It was so fundamentally creepy that I sorta backed away real quick, but I lost my footing and my palm touched her back.” Jade looked far away then.

I didn't push her for more.

The sun was starting to get low in the sky, a hot crimson ball on fire, balanced between the sky and the horizon. Seconds ticked by.

“I felt it all then. There was this echo,” she paused here, “I could feel Tiffany's feelings of sadness and loss, but I could also feel, real faintly, the bird's images too.” She shuddered then stared at me. “You're the same Caleb. But, it is so much more... you're so much more.” She kept looking at me, frightened and finished, “... it's like static noise, there are so many voices.”

The orb began to drown in the horizon, painting the sky blood red. The wash of color expanded like arms of light, reaching out for an embrace. I looked down at Jade and understood that she was horrified by what she could feel was going on with me, with everyone. It was always something I had to keep the iron fist of control over. Otherwise, it was simple misery.

The dead spoke, they spoke to me all the time.

CHAPTER 11

Mom pounced on me the minute I walked through the door. I hucked my backpack on the chair and she gave me the mom-glare. I sighed, trudging back out to the foyer and hung it up on a slick brass hook. Coming back in the house I followed my nose right into the kitchen, my stomach giving an appreciative rumble.

Mom spoke the dreaded sentence, “You have to eat supper first.”

That sentence never failed to put me in a crappy mood. Mom had to know that I could probably eat the whole wonderful loaf of banana bread and still eat. I glanced over to the cook top where the last of the chicken was frying up. Three pieces of her chicken, plus mashed potatoes and I'd still have room for a dessert. I scanned the kitchen counter hopefully but knew that banana bread meant no dessert tonight.

Mom had been looking at me in a most critical way for the last minute.

“What?” I said.

“Your eyeballs are taller.”

This was a long standing comment. In our house, with me being the shortest guy in the history of the world, Mom liked to notice me growing by saying my eyeballs were “taller” than whatever random day she had noticed before. Whatever, I decided to play along. After all, I was riding the happy wave of having been in the Presence of Jade.

“Huh.”

“Yes, let's go measure you.”

“Mom, don't you have some potatoes to mash or something?”

She gave me another death glare. The third one meant business so I stalked over to the bathroom door. There, on the casing that surrounded the door, were a lot of horizontal pencil marks cataloging my growth. A very small amount of growth.

I stood ramrod straight, kinda like I did in the locker room when we were all in there together, eesh... never pick up the soap. I put my heels against the molding, holding my shoulders up straight and back. Mom put a ruler on my head and made the new mark. A low whistle escaped her mouth and I turned around, the ruler lashing my cheek.

There, unbelievably, was a whole bunch more space since the last mark only three months ago. I hadn't noticed at all. Mom was measuring the distance with a tape measure.

“Two inches, Caleb. I knew it.” Mom pumped her fist, which seemed eerily like Jonesy.

I looked at her like the screwball she was.

“So, how tall does that make me?” I leaned in to see the micro-writing; five-six now? Yeah, five-six.

Wow, five-six.

I turned my head, facing Mom. She looked down at me, but Not. By. Much. We grinned at each other until our faces hurt.

Dad walked in and Mom went back to the frying pan, turning the chicken. I knew the routine, it'd be in the oven in about five minutes.

“What's going on here?” Dad asked, looking at the two of us.

“Oh nothing much,” Mom flung over her shoulder, then continued slyly, ”but Caleb is two inches taller.”

“Really?” Dad drawled. “Now you remember that statistically...”

I gave Dad the hand, “Okay, but you understand it's just a matter of time before you're all grown up.” he said for the millionth time.

We smiled at each other as he put down his pulse-top carrier. It was super-slim, held all the biggies, his pulse, and that was a multi-pulse, which included his planner and all the scientific data he needed for his job. Dad extracted a small, deep orange bottle with a name label on it.

The cerebral inhibitor.

Dad gave the bottle a little shake, its cargo rattling. Mom slid the glass pan of chicken into the oven. I sat down at the kitchen table, its surface sunset-colored, from the setting sun.

Dad loosened his tie and silently passed the bottle to me. Which read, in part: Take one tablet in the morning after food, take with one full glass of water, take as prescribed.

I turned it over to the side which had all that scary crap that can happen after you take it. It said: may cause disorientation. I glanced at Dad and lifted an eyebrow, he looked steadily back at me with his chin in his hand. I read on: slurred speech, listless responsiveness and possible dizziness.

“Dad, I won't be able to do well on the AP tests. I'm gonna be a moron.”

Mom gave me the glare, again. She hated the use of “bigotry” names. She thinks the retards (I self-corrected), differently-abled, need to not be identified in a negative way. Overweight people and anyone that were looked down on all fell under Mom's treat equally category.

Which meant everyone in the world.

Dad took a quick, peripheral glance at Mom and rushed on while she grunted her annoyance in the background.

“No, I can give you a half dose, Caleb.”

Dad opened his fingers, flexing them back and forth to indicate he wanted it back. I passed the bottle back, its shadow a dark blot over the fading orange light of the table.

Dad studied it as mom sat down on her throne.

Mom was never one to let silences drag on. “Kyle, you're sure that this stuff won't,” she paused for a second, “permanently harm him?”

Dad rolled his eyes and Mom scowled.

“No. Even buying us some time to figure this thing out would not be sufficient reason for taking chances with Caleb.”

Mom seemed to decide something. “Good.”

“So, let's talk about the dog.” I said into the sudden quiet.

Mom and Dad looked at each other significantly.

Mom began, “We've thought about it and decided that after this whole mess is over,” her smile said the mess wasn't my fault, “we will try to transition the dog into our family.”

A large breath of air escaped that I hadn't realized I was holding.

Dad watched my obvious relief.

“Your mom has taken the time to call Sergeant Garcia and find out where the dog is being held and gone to see him.”

Wow, I was really surprised by this. There had always been a no pets rule in the house. I looked at Mom and she smiled; she was a little smug about it all.

“Mom, you didn't tell me.”

“I know, but there's been a lot going on, with Jade, Carson, Brett and now the testing. It just seemed you didn't need another thing to worry about. And your unusual,” she looked up for a moment, thinking about the word, “connection, with the dog seemed a touchstone of comfort for you.”

Dad was nodding at her phrasing, they'd discussed it.

“Where is he?” I sat up straighter, my butt bones kinda squawking.

“He's at the King County Animal Sanctuary,” she said.

I slumped in my seat. Good. They had a non-euthanize policy. I allowed just the smallest amount of the iron-fist-of-control to loosen and a wash of confused emotions filtered through.

Wow. The dog's emotions/impressions were all over the place. Thirst (I thought that was odd), and above all, he knew on some level, I was in his head and that gave him a sense of peace. He also had some memory of another Boy, but it was faded, like a shirt washed many times. I closed up the small link that had allowed the brief connection. I felt fatigued. I didn't know if I was tired from the effort of not releasing all that pressing, eager energy that was always there, or if just allowing a small amount had taken more control than I had.

My parents were both leaning in with identical expressions of concern on their faces.

I smiled, releasing a big breath. “I'm okay.”

They both leaned back in their respective seats.

Dad asked, “What was that?”

“What?”

“That whole... fugue,” Dad said.

“Oh, is that what it seemed like?”

“Yes, you didn't respond when I snapped my fingers right in front of your face,” Mom said.

Well, that was weird. I had been aware of my parents, but then I thought about it, really thought about it and although I had been aware of their presence, I had been utterly engaged with the dog.

“I can feel the dog if I,” and like earlier with Jade I hated trying to explain psychic stuff to someone that wasn't, “let some of it go, just a little.”

“And Caleb, that's it, that is exactly what I wish to explore,” Dad said.

I thought he'd say something like that.

“I know you guys want to know how I do it. But there is really no way to explain it. I mean, the first few times it was a complete accident. It just happened. Now, I'm trying to control it, at least all the whispering and voices.” Another speech for me, it was trend.

“Did you read anything about the Parker kid? Did he have these same manifestations?”

“Same,” I repeated.

Dad rubbed his chin.

Mom said, “I want to peruse those papers that John brought over so we're on the same page, no pun intended,” she laughed. “Your father has already done some independent research, uncovering some possibilities. But people are so unpredictably unique that there's always new abilities with each individual. We're wondering what will be in store for you.”

“Well, Dad and I have discussed the possibilities.” Dad and I exchanged a look.

Mom's eyebrows shot up. “So what's the consensus fellas?”

“We think, from the Parker kid's testimonial, that Caleb may be able to control hauntings as his skill set becomes more advanced.”

“Hauntings?” Mom asked, rhetorically.

“Yeah, Mom, ya know... ghosts.”

She gave me a look like, duh.

The timer beeped and Mom stood up to retrieve the chicken from the oven. She began dumping cream onto the potatoes along with a generous half cube of butter, rounding out a murderously cholesterol rich meal. She set the corn in the microwave where it spun in a lazy circle, steaming it to perfection. The minutes ticked by and Dad and I discussed Jade while Mom beat the taters into submission until they were smooth, white mountain peaks.

I told Dad Jade felt uncomfortable with them knowing her family situation.

“She is a separate person and will be treated as such. No one chooses who they are born to.”

I nodded, I got it. Being an Empath, I couldn't say that was a huge improvement. If anything it made her situation more complicated.

The microwave timer beeped. Mom put an oven mitt on, scooping the dish out and transferring it to the table. She flicked a pat of butter inside, mixing it in through the cut corn. Dad and I watched.

Mount Rainier sat before him on the plate. Mom laughed. “Too much?” she asked with a grin.

“I think... yes,” Dad said with a smile of his own.

I heaped my plate full of mashed potatoes, then put some corn on top and mixed the whole mess up with my spoon. Next came two pieces of the best fried chicken in the world. No gross skin to give it that squishy feeling in my mouth. Mom watched the whole event with that look on her face she had every time I ate.

“What?” my parents asked at the same time. Jinx, I thought.

“Just thinking about the justice that the Js could do to this meal, Mom.”

“Hmp! That's an understatement,” she grunted.

Mom knew what the Js could do to a meal.

We cleared our dishes and I got the Homework Question, a ritual I could do without.

I jogged over to the stairs to ascend into what the Js called the “bat cave.” My room was nothing more than a hole under the eaves of the half story of our house. It was dark and had a separate place where the Js and I could game and hang.

I jerked the door open, making that pleasant sucking air sound and flung myself on my bed, whipping it shut as I was in the air. I flopped over on my back and read some more from where I left off about Parker:

...we were unaware, of the ramifications of this particular ability. Parker's abilities were the first true, full-scale five-point AFTD abilities we've seen since the inception of the inoculations in 2015 and even into the present day. Now, we have seen many AFTD children manifest one of the five commonly known characteristics or “points” for this category.

“Dr. Daniels, please explain to this readership exactly what Affinity for the Dead means? I have to assume, that like myself, there are many people out there that assume teens which manifest this ability are mainly able to communicate with the dead. But, if what you're saying is true, there may be quite a bit more to it than just communication.”

“You're right, Tim. The five, main sub-categories for AFTD are as follows: Cadaver-manipulation, Hauntings, Medium/communication, Cadaver-control, Murder/traumatic victim location, and Death Impressions. Now the first and third abilities are obviously linked, with the last being the most common manifestation of this ability. The Parker child manifested all five categories. I cannot overemphasize the rarity of all five points of a little understood ability such as this being a part of one person's skill set. We didn't realize just how rare that was until ten years later; there has not been another case that encompassed all five.”

“Beside having all five categories, is there anything else that makes Parker special?” Anderson asked.

Laughs “Yes, Parker is an extraordinarily rare case. Most importantly, since his assimilation into our military, we have not been able to study his abilities further, which is a national tragedy. I am at liberty to say that. He works in a capacity that has not been explained and is under a top secret umbrella that even the scientific community cannot breach.”

“Why can't we all know what Parker is up to? Don't we have a right to know?” Anderson queried.

“I am not at liberty to answer that. However, I can say that if there were another 'Parker', his or her outlook would not be broad. He or she would almost certainly, in theory, be a very interesting commodity for certain groups.”

“Which groups?” Anderson asked.

“Any group in which raising cadavers was politically advantageous.”

I put the papers down on my chest and rubbed my eyes. I felt the full flesh crawl march up my body and settle uncomfortably at the base of my neck, where the short hairs like to stand on end. Mom called that “getting the creeps.”

Yeah... those.

I was afraid of this. My parents were afraid of this. Dad putting me on meds, going against the rule-follower I knew him to be, scared the crap out of me. Making a fist with my hand under my chin I rolled over on my stomach. I thought about Jade and the dog. Sighing, I got up, swinging my legs onto the floor. I stood up and walked over to my pulse-top. Plunking down on my chair, I pressed my thumb onto the pad.

Hello, Caleb Hart... accessing...

I thought: subject; murder, AFTD-related.

The display lit up with news and one article struck as soon as I saw it; although it was older:

Twenty-year old AFTD Policewoman Bobbi Gale “Discovers” Murder Victim Leading to the Arrest of Pierce Dickson

by Tim Anderson

Boy, that Anderson guy gets around, I thought. I read on:

Another police deterrent slash victory in what can only be classified as a paranormal ability, which is labeled as the most misunderstood of all, is now taking a foothold as post-inoculation children come-of-age and enter the workforce in occupations that showcase these unique skills. In this instance, Ms. Gale, after testing as a two-point in the AFTD category (in the nationwide Aptitude Tests given eighth graders), excelled in the subsequent, specialized school she attended and upon graduation was given a coveted role in the police department of her choice.

This trend of using people in important capacities such as law-enforcement cannot be a bad one. Considering that paranormal ability is not just given to people driven to do the right thing. There are criminals out there, as Ms. Gale, when asked to speak for this article, is quoted as saying, '...Are now our most powerful criminals, using all their talents for evil...'”

Wow...I hadn't considered what it would be like if, say, a Carson showed up with paranormal skills. I shuddered thinking about the trouble that dickhead could make. Of course, it was possible. I threw that errant thought aside and bent to do more reading.

Ms. Gale was quoted as saying, when asked how she was able to find these criminals, she responded with,“It's a difficult ability to quantify.”

No kidding, I thought, duh.

“But, I'd have to say it's the dead... they speak to me. It seems that when someone dies violently, there is a 'footprint' they leave, an impression of who they were. I follow that trail and sometimes, I get lucky and can put it all together.”

When Gale was asked if she was satisfied with her work, she responded with an emphatic, “yes,” but added that she was very, “... glad that she didn't have all the categories of AFTD.”

When asked why, she responded simply that it was, “..more than she wanted to deal with.”

I depressed my thumb on the pad and thought: writing.

A blank page asserted itself in the middle of my monitor which hung suspended above my desk. I tapped my fingers on the desk, struggling to write. This was my least favorite homework; writing. I guess one paragraph I could manage. History was second period and I needed to do a paragraph per day synopsis. Thought and pulsed to the school before second period Monday through Friday. Mr. Peterson was cool but current event stuff sucked. Who cared what was happening, seriously? I had to care more than I wanted and was pissed about it.

I sat thinking about what to write in my paragraph, struggling with the spelling, as usual. My desk had a built in thumb pad so I just laid my thumb on it and thought: this sucks ass guffaws

The phrase lit up on the screen and I howled, slapping my knee, comic relief. I finally got a grip and thought: erase phrase. It disappeared. That last phrase may have affected my grade. I felt giddy at the prospect. I tapped my fingers again and thought:

Copy & Paste header. The article header lit up.

I amended: and include author.

Anderson's name glowed on the screen.

I thought: This past event is about a girl cop that has the paranormal ability, AFTD (Affinity for the Dead). This ability usually means that somebody can communicate with the dead. She uses her ability to find criminals that have murdered people.

I paused, taking my thumb off the pad a second, then laid it on the pad again, and resumed thought: She says that she can hear impressions from people who've died, that if they were murdered she can feel a trail of their emotions. Sounds like this is damn handy.

Huh... thought: erase profanity. “Damn,” disappeared.

Thought: Pulse to Mr. William “Billy” Peterson, History teacher at Kent Middle School.

That done, I glanced at the illuminated numbers on the bottom of the computer screen. I depressed my thumb, very lightly. Mom would kill me, literally, if I put my thumb through another pad and thought: sleep.

The screen became dark, only the green clock numbers continued to glow in the lower right corner.

Nine-thirty already, time to pulse John. Weird that I hadn't heard from Jonesy today, he was always pulsing.

My pulse was stuffed in my back pocket and digging into my ass. I whipped it out and pressed the pad. The pads for the pulse-cells were a lot tougher to wreck I thought with satisfaction, and thought: John Terran.

Green letters appeared: Initializing.

Then: Hey butt-wipe, finally got around to pulsing. Busy with Jade? Laughs John Terran

No, numb-nuts, if you must know, I just finished my PE! CH

Past Event? Yeah, I figured you'd finally get your butt kicked and do homework- John Terran

Are you ever gonna edit your name to initials like everybody else does so I don't have to see your whole, stinkin' name? Smirks CH

I like it this way, it irritates everyone sarcasm-much- John Terran

Off-topic-CH

K- John Terran

I was talking with Jade and we may do better to rein Jonesy in with doing the thing at the cemetery with the ass-clowns- CH

Why? John Terran

She knows Brett, or did, and says she thinks he'd never let it go, be bent on big-time payback, baby- CH

How does she know Brett? Besides, ya know Jonesy, he's got this thing buzzing around in his head and he'll want to see it through- John Terran
sighs Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that- CH

She and Brett were actually friends a couple of years ago. I guess his dick-headed-ness is a more recent development- CH

Huh... really? John Terran

Yeah, I guess his dad makes her dad look normal- CH

No, profanity block! John Terran

Yeah, no profanity block! CH

Well, I guess, we'll just have to tone Jonesy down as much as possible just in case he gets out of control- CH
laughs okay Caleb, good luck with that- John Terran

Hey, where is Jonesy? I haven't heard from him- CH

He got his profanity block! busted over homework and can't pulse- John Terran.

How do you know if he can't pulse? CH

Because I pulsed him and his mom answered- John Terran
ouch well that blows.-CH

Yeah- John Terran

Okay, see ya tomorrow-CH

K, see ya- John Terran

I touched my pad and thought: sleep.

It powered down instantly. I looked at my suspended monitor, as slim as my pulse and the glowing numbers stared back at me, ten-forty four.

As if by magic, Mom hollered up the stairs, “Caleb! Bed!”

“K!” I hollered back. In the morning it was school, at night it was bed. I rolled over on my back, realizing that my clothes were on.

I undressed quickly and threw the whole lot on the floor. I looked down at them and shrugged, picked them up and made a tight ball, making a basket into my dirty laundry hamper, thinking, have I ever used that? I didn't know. I flopped back down on my bed and grabbed my book. I liked to read before I fell asleep. Not the lame stuff the school assigned but cool authors, like Stephen King. Now that was a tight author. I began reading and didn't think about the other stuff until the next day at school where I was reminded by a surprise source.

Did I say I liked surprises?

CHAPTER 12

Something was... something was wet. Gross! I lifted my head off the pillow and I swear, there was the Lake Erie of drool. I did an abbreviated push-up and hopped out of bed, swaying a little as the blood rushed to my head. I surveyed the mess, looking for some clothes. I glanced at the alarm and my hand flashed out and flat palmed it just before it went off. Couldn't believe I had not slept past the alarm. I dug around in the clothes pile on the floor and leaned over the laundry hamper and looked in at last night's clothes that were in there. Huh, I grunted to myself, Jade would certainly notice if I wore the same thing two days in a row.

Dejected, I stalked out of the room in nothing but boxers. I thudded down the stairs where I encountered Mom, leaning with one hand against the counter top and the other holding a steaming cup of java.

“Hey now, you look a little rough.” She smiled. I thought that was rich coming from her, miss queen-o'-beauty and light in the morning. I threw her a sullen look and made my unsteady way to the laundry room. Mom followed.

“Caleb, don't go back there and start rifling around, foraging for clean clothes. If you'd actually wash some, this would not be an issue.”

I ignored that and plowed forward. There, in a dim little corner were all the mismatched clothes. I rifled through the whole thing and got a vintage AC/DC T-shirt that was littered with the fine holes on the bottom (a theme with my shirts), and threw that on.

Mom put out her hand and quietly said, “Maybe a shower would liven you up.”

I scowled harder, then a vision of Jade popped into my head. She showed up smelling like a vanilla bean and I was there smelling like... like... a kid that woke up in a pool of drool. Life just seemed complicated now. Where were the days when you could just be? I grabbed some mismatched socks, the last pair of boxer briefs, no free-ballin' for me and took off for the shower.

I took an extra-long time in the shower and even cleaned my feet. Feeling super spiffy and primed I glanced in the mirror. It was fogged up so swiped it with my arm. I searched carefully for signs of my impending manhood. Seeing nothing (I think I had, like, three armpit hairs), I left the steam pit of a bathroom.

I sat down in front of a fried egg sandwich. “Huh, what gives?” I asked Mom.

“I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

For today she was absolved of her sins.

Dad strolled in. “Hey Pal.”

“Hey.”

“You showered!”

I scowled, showering was an event that warranted comment?

Parents.

“Caleb, I was thinking that we try some experimentation in the cemetery, in a controlled atmosphere, one in which there isn't a charged, emotional dynamic.”

Dad looked at my expression.

“Don't worry about how you do, son. It's about gaining some control over this ability.”

I wondered if having the Js with me would make it easier or harder? I deliberated. I decided it would be easier with the Js than without. After all, it had been them from the beginning of this whole mess.

Mom put her hands on hips encased in pajamas, her favorite outfit, and added, “I want to be included too. The Js get to go.”

Sliding onto the bench beside me, she gave me a level stare.

“I read most of the papers that John gave me.” I told her. “The main scientist, Daniels-something...”

“Byron, Byron Daniels,” Dad interjected.

“Yeah. He said that if there were another Parker, that the kid would be limited to what certain groups wanted.”

Mom sent Dad the oh shit look and he gave a minute shake of his head, later.

“You know this Dr. Daniels?” I asked Dad.

“I know of him. He works in related fields.”

I looked at the clock and stood up, Mom gave me a hug.

“I haven't died mom,” I said, pulling away.

“I understand,” she commented, “but sometimes moms just want to squeeze their boys.”

“I know,” I said and took off for the door, whipping my hair out of my face. I turned and walked out the door, jerking my backpack off the chair as I went. I stuffed my feet into my shoes, closing the door behind me. I was looking forward to another day with Jade and my best jamming day of the week. Little did I know that the day would start off weird and just get stranger as it wore on.

****

The school commons was in the center of a humungous room with circular tables. Lockers flanked the entire room and bled down into the halls leading to our classes. Eighth graders had the commons lockers and the sixth and seventh (sevies) graders dealt with the jostling hallway. We all hung out in the commons and stalked each other's activities. I had time before Morginstern's class and could hang with the Js before and if I was really lucky, Jade.

I spotted Jonesy right away, his dark face a chocolate dot in the crowd. He raised a finger in salute and looking around I didn't see John or Jade. Sucked.

Jonesy wore that expectant expression I knew so well. “Hey man, what's up?”

“I heard you got nailed for skipping homework.”

“Yeah, I had to make up, like, ten CE's.”

My mouth hung open. “My parents would've executed me for that many missing current events.”

Jonesy looked down and shuffled his feet, then looked up with a sheepish expression. “Yeah, no pulse for now...”

“No pulse?”

Incredible.

“Yeah, but my mom knows I am going to hang with you all day Sunday so I either didn't do that,” NOT an option for The Instigator to be absent, “or no pulse for a week.” Spreading his hands out, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Right. “Well,” I clapped him on the back, “thanks for that.”

“No problem.”

Carson and Brett strolled by. Carson paused and said, “Hey Queers, how's it hangin'?”

Brett looked at Carson, and said, “Dumb question Carson, that's all they know, how each other is hangin'.” They laughed at their brilliance.

Jonesy gave me that knowing smile. I was tired of them. I hoped Jonesy got them good. Jade appeared, making a wide berth around the chumps. She put her small hand in my bigger one, turning to look (contemptuous expression) at Carson and Brett who were unsuccessfully containing their glee.

I was distracted. Jade did actually smell like a vanilla bean. Then Brett interrupted my sniffing.

“Not exciting enough for ya? Gotta use Jade as a cover?”

“A cover for what?” she asked.

“Their fagness, obviously,” Carson claimed.

Jade did a smooth roll-her-eyes up in her beautiful head look.

Girls were uniquely talented in the rolling eyes department.

“I'm not a cover for anything. By the way: listen up, dumb asses, haven't you figured out that you guys aren't important enough to worry about covering for?” she said, hands on hips, head tilted, that hot considering look painted on her face.

Nice... feisty! Suddenly, Brett was standing not two inches from Jade's nose and she stepped back.

“Hey!” I yelled, shoving Jade behind me.

Brett was in my face now (that was just fine), poking his finger in my chest. We stood eye to eye, that small growth spurt putting me right where I needed to be.

“Keep your slut in line there, pal, or I will.”

I grabbed his finger and twisted it while I said, “She isn't a slut, mouth-breather,” and gave him a hard shove.

He stumbled into Carson but rebounded fast, coming for me. Things slowed down. Feeling Jade's presence at my back, I got ready to abuse and then Carson said, “Cool it Brett, Morginstern's coming.”

“What's going on here young men and woman?” he nodded at Jade, including her in his political correctness. My heart was still hammering in my chest with the post adrenalin surge.

Brett and Carson wore sullen expressions, which didn't faze Morginstern one bit.

“John told me you were having an issue out here and may be late to class. You know that I frown on the first period 'slouch'.” A dissatisfied furrow formed between his eyes.

Huh, clever-John had been cookin' up a way to get us out of this little disaster. Nice.

“I wasn't trying to be late, honest. I got distracted by Carson and Brett's interesting dialogue.” I threw a glance their way, digging their identical expressions of confused dumbness. Jade smirked. She was definitely getting it.

Morginstern folded his arms across his chest and stared at us.

Pointing a finger at Jade, then Carson and Brett, “You go now to your respective classes.” He watched them walk away and I saw Jade turn around to look back at me. I smiled back.

Morginstern gave his attention to Jonesy and me. “I think I caught sight of a skunk and smelled a skunk so there must be a skunk.” I had heard that before from Gramps. It was time to purposely misunderstand the expression.

“What do you mean, Mr. Morginstern?” I asked.

Jonesy was busy giving me the wide-eyed, figure this out.

Morginstern's eyes narrowed, looking right into mine, I held his gaze. “I think you know exactly what I mean. I have to go teach class now, with the two of you, but,” he stabbed a finger in my direction, “I know there is discord between you, Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason. I know.”

The laser eye fell on Jonesy (equal-opportunity lecture), “... and you... you're always around when these situations erupt.”

Jonesy made some vague effort to look innocent but I had to admit, he almost always looked guilty.

“Get to class boys and no more loitering, I'll be watching.” He walked back to class and we followed, our tails tucked between our legs.

We went through the door, the last bell already rung and every kids' eyes on us. John was making strangling motions around his neck when our eyes connected. I gave him the slashing index finger across the throat gesture, can it, I mimed.

Jonesy and I sat at the round table and Morginstern went to the front of the room explaining that he was unexpectedly delayed due to an incident out in the commons that needed his personal attention.

All eyes swiveled to us. I hated that.

I was in a foul mood because of the rough start. Jonesy caught my grumpiness like a cold and gave it to John. All three of us grumped together in silence, sanding our boxes.

Finally, John said, “Listen... I know it wasn't cool for Morginstern to break that up but would it have gone to plan if you guys had let it fall apart before the cemetery?”

No, it would definitely not have been cool, it would have ruined the Aqua Net Payback.

Jonesy looked abashed. “I so want to do this on Sunday.”

“I knew that, it's why I made an executive decision,” John said.

“A what?” Jonesy asked.

“He means he decided, on his own, what was best for our group.” I looked at John as if to say, come on.

“No, you guys have to learn idioms.”

Jonesy was utterly confused. I was gonna show off.

“It's not really an idiom, ya know.”

“Yeah, it is,” John shot back.

“No, an idiom is an expression that is not literal to its meaning.” Mom was a word-freakazoid and had drilled this stuff into me.

John looked perplexed but rallied. “Okay... so what you're saying is that I really am the executive of the group and my decision was allowable.”

Uh-oh. I hadn't thought about the consequence of taking on John's Undeniable Logic.

“Well, Jonesy and I,” Jonesy nodded solemnly as if he understood and was in complete agreement with my thought process, “have not appointed you the executive formally.” I hesitated here, “but the expression, executive decision is not opposite to its real meaning.”

I then leaned back in my chair, mirroring Johns crossed arms.

A slow grin spread over John's face.

He began nodding. “Pretty damn clever, Hart.”

We bumped fists and that sealed our coolness. We resumed the Dreaded Sanding.

Friday droned on without further incident. Jade and I hung with the Js while eating lunch. Jonesy got Carson on board, giving him the time to meet Sunday. We whipped out our pulses and set our reminder chimes, synchronized and ready or kinda ready.

The speakers began blaring out a message about the upcoming tests. Mrs. Calvert was reminding us that all eighth grade students' Aptitude Testing would begin on Monday morning so, “... be sure to get a good night's sleep and a proper,” who ever said that, I wondered, “breakfast.”

We rolled our eyes. I was the only kid that actually ate breakfast. Most of the kids would show up on Monday morning starving big time.

I gave Jade a hug as she walked off to her class and watched her progress. The Js watched me watch her.

Jonesy shook his head. “Man, you got it bad.”

John nodded in agreement. “Yeah he does.”

I was kinda disgusted with them.

“Oh and you two are going to be different when you like somebody?” I dismissed them with a wave of my hand, heading to class.

After suffering through English and PE, we were ready to jam. It was lame I really couldn't talk to Jade in those classes. Even Miss Rodriguez's hotness didn't entice. Now that Jade was the GF, it was so just English now, except when she pulled out all the stops with a righteous outfit.

I told John this and he looked at me in horror.

“Miss Rodriguez is still completely hot. You having a girlfriend so does not change that,” he said with real reproach.

“Well, maybe she is still pretty hot,” John gave me the, ya think? Look.

I rolled my eyes, “... but, there is Jade and she's plenty distracting. I bet all I'll pull out of that dumb class is a 'B'.”

“Yeah, your parents will have a shitfit if you get a 'C'.”

John was laughing but I didn't think it was that funny, not all of us could just have a heartbeat in class and get an 'A'.” I mentioned that most obvious fact and he shrugged. That was John, he wasn't going to admit he was smart, no-oh.

Mr. Cole came over and asked John to play a measure or two on the piano to see if he could sub for Alex sucking at a measure. John stared at the sheet music and began playing and I listened. The adults called John a natural.

The notes floated out, he used all the dynamics, gaining volume and softening at the correct times. When he approached the fifth measure, Cole stopped him with a hand.

“Okay, today I want you to work with Alex, he needs some fine tuning.”

John went over to where Alex was sitting and they looked over the sheet music. Meanwhile, I bent over my piece and got my fingers in position to play my chords.

I was jammin' out a good set and then that cop from the accident walked in. My heart began hammering in my throat, blood rushing to my head making a faint roaring in my ears. What in the hell was this? John looked up from helping Alex and saw Garcia and about crawled up his own corn cob. My fingers stilled.

I set the guitar down and stood.

Garcia went right to Cole and said, “Hey Tony, I just wanted to borrow Caleb for a sec.” His voice formed the question like it was a request but I didn't think so.

“Sure thing Officer Garcia,” he winked.

They're friends, swell.

Garcia looked at me, crooking a finger. I left my stuff where it was and followed him out the door into the parking lot

He faced me. “So, how are you, Caleb?”

“Since last week, fine.” I mean, we just saw each other. We were alone, without anyone hearing what was said, I was gonna be careful.

“You remember that I said that I'd keep an eye on you?”

I nodded.

“Well, it's come to my attention that there's a couple of young men that are becoming a problem at the school.”

I so didn't need this.

“There's no problem,” I rushed out. Calm down Caleb.

Garcia raised a brow. “Really, because I've heard different reports.”

Ah-huh, somebody had diarrhea of the mouth. “We're not great friends or anything, that's for sure.”

Garcia switched topics, tricky bastard. “Doesn't,” he looked down at his notepad, he still wrote stuff down instead of pulse-pad, “Jade LeClerc live fairly close to the Mason boy?”

Yes and why did Garcia care? I was liking this less and less. He was doing more than keeping an eye on me.

“Yeah.”

“There's a situation that has been escalating in that neighborhood that you need to be aware of.”

Was he warning me... or warning me?

He waited while bees droned lazily, the sun warming our faces.

Garcia sighed. “Listen, Caleb, I'm here to help, not run your life.”

I waited.

“Okay, I have a feeling about you and I'm going out on a limb. I know the Mason kid is under tremendous pressure at home.”

I just bet he is.

“Miss LeClerc has escaped, by a slim margin, a similar background, but not the same can be said for Mr. Mason,” he intoned solemnly. “I was hoping, when there's a huge potential trauma for kids realizing some form of paranormal ability, if you might restrain yourself from exacerbating this situation.”

He lost me, what?

Garcia sighed again. “Listen, don't spin Brett up like a top right now, he's like a bomb waiting for detonation.”

“Gotcha.” The bomb reference I understood.

Garcia's shoulders relaxed and a lopsided smile appeared.

“Maybe you can mention this to the Js.”

Sunday. At. The. Cemetery.

I clamped down on my expression, but a little leaked out. Sergeant Raul Garcia's smile slipped. Him calling John and Jonesy the “Js” struck me as odd too. I didn't like it.

“Yeah, okay,” I responded.

The bell shrilled and Garcia glanced down at his watch. We had that one thing in common. Everyone else had a pulse, all pulse technology kept world time perfectly.

John lurched out the door, coming to stand by me. He and Garcia were about eyeball to eyeball, John was gonna be tall I thought for the millionth time. But Garcia was all-that-is-man, broad shoulders (he hit the gym pretty hard), with bulging forearms.

John looked sorta unfinished. That was okay, we were still boys, we didn't have to be men yet.

I didn't know this then, but soon boyhood would slip away and manhood would arrive like a thief in the night. Inch, by insidious inch.

****

Jade came up as Garcia was leaving and gave me the look that I was already beginning to love, where she looked thoughts at me and I knew what she was thinking. No paranormal skills necessary.

I pressed her head against my chest in a tight hug. “Yeah, it's the same cop from the accident.”

Jade bent her head back from me, her hands grasping my forearms. “Garcia?”

I nodded. John stared at Garcia's car as it became a white dot in the distance.

“What did he want?” John asked, still staring.

“He wants us to lay off Brett.”

John looked at me, then at Jade, then back to me again.

“Really,” I said.

“That's so not going to work!”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I looked down at Jade. “He mentioned you too.”

“What? Why?”

“Garcia is keeping track of us. Somebody blabbed and now he knows we're fighting. He knows about Jade's dad, Brett's family, that they live in the same neighborhood...” I trailed off.

A cop's interest in our lives couldn't be a good thing, whatever angle you look from.

“We need to get the twins off our backs, at least distract them.” John shrugged, his palms outstretched, what else could we do?

Jade restated the facts, “I sure don't like Garcia being this interested in our lives.”

Yeah, ditto.

We stood in the warm sunlight, thinking about it.

John broke the heavy silence, “I guess there isn't much more we can do. The plan's set, Jonesy will never back down and it would make things way worse if we didn't meet Brett and Carson. They'll think we're cowards if we don't, un.bear.a.ble.” John enunciated each syllable, like a guillotine to the head. I smiled, visualizing.

“Right. I hear that, but everyone knows what I think,” Jade said.

We had to be brutal with Carson and Brett, so we could be free from their daily crap. She'd handle it differently.

“We know, but trust us, if there was an easier way to shut those two down, we'd have done it. Some guys need a two-by-four to the head before they understand we aren't tolerating their bullshit.”

Jade's mind-wheels were turning. “I'll be there.”

That's my girl. I almost did a fist bump with John but played it cool.

John smirked, he saw my thinly veiled glee. We were trying to survive until Tuesday.

That reminded me! “I get the dog on Tuesday,” I blurted out.

John said, “Wow, I didn't think that was gonna happen!”

“Me either, but the Parental Unit caved! They think I've been traumatized by this whole AFTD thing... so, I get him!”

“Have you been 'traumatized'?” Jade asked with a trace of sarcasm.

“Yeah... really, really bad. And I'm gonna need a lot of sympathy and attention.” I looked down at her with a perfectly straight face.

She looked up at me, her face breaking into a full grin. “Good luck with that.”

John started howling,slapping his knee. “Yeah, that was priceless, you traumatized, yeah right!”

I was miffed. I mean, what if I had, ya know, been traumatized?

My face stiffened. That made John howl louder and traitor that she was, Jade joined in. And where-the-hell was the unspoken girlfriend-boyfriend code of honor? As if things couldn't get any funnier, Jonesy walked up.

“What's so funny?”

John and Jade were in the throes of laughter, at my expense, I thought moodily. I turned to Jonesy and said, “They don't think I've suffered a trauma.”

“What... you? Hell, no! You're the man, you don't need sympathy for anything.” Jonesy looked around for support but John and Jade were busy busting a gut.

“What's with them?” Jonesy jerked his thumb at the offending duo.

“I don't know,” I huffed. They quieted themselves down to a couple of random hiccups, then looked at each other and another hysterical bubble of laughter escaped.

Jonesy looked perplexed.

“You had to be here, I guess,” I said... or not, narrowing my eyes and giving them the look they deserved.

Jade and John finally managed to quit laughing. While we walked away, I filled Jonesy in on the whole cop-showing-up-at-the-school thing.

Jonesy said, “That's easy for him to say. It's not his ass during school catching crap all the time.”

He had a point. Maybe Garcia was okay, but I wasn't trusting anyone right now. I told them and we agreed that Garcia was just another thing to worry about.

Enough with the gloom, I shook it off with an effort, it was Friday! Time for Jade to meet The Parents.

“You guys want to come and hang at the house?” I asked.

Jade hesitated for a second, “I guess I have to meet your parents sometime, huh?”

“They're great! Ali makes the best food,” Jade looked at him like a bug, but typical Jonesy he kept talking, unawares, “...and Kyle is pretty cool.”

John watched the interplay, having whipped out his pulse and gotten hold of one of his parents. “I can.”

The rest of us joined in a silent pulse parade of contacting respective parents and Aunt Andrea.

Everybody could.

I wondered how Jonesy had managed to get his pulse back early?

“It's not mine,” he said by way of explanation.

Just then Alex walked up to our small group with palm extended. Jonesy turned and gave the pulse to Alex, who ran his thumb over it, blanking it.

“I borrowed Alex's pulse for ten minutes.”

“Couldn't live without it?” I asked.

“Dude! It's been diabolical without it; pure torture!”

Jade rolled her eyes.

John came over to Alex, who was where I was a couple of months ago, short. He looked like a sixth grader masquerading as eighth and asked how he managed that.

“I did a delayed ID protocol.”

John was enthralled. We'd never get away once John started talking tech with another tech-freak.

“How?” John asked.

“See here,” Alex pulled out his pulse and after a quick thumb-pass, he thought: settings: then; timer/ID,“... after that, there's only three different timed settings to choose from.”

Bor-ing, I thought.

John was nodding, obviously feeling it.

“John,” I said, breaking up the tech-fest.

John looked over, let's go, I mouthed.

He turned back to Alex. “I want to know more but I gotta book.”

Alex gave John a mock salute and we headed to my house. Geeks, I thought, not without admiration.

I walked with my hand entwined with Jade's and noticed Jonesy was keeping an unusual silence.

Just when I thought he had to be sick or something he said, “Heard it's gonna rain this weekend.”

John stopped and looked at him. He threw his hands up in the air at a perfect sky. He looked at Jonesy again. “From this to rain?

“Yeah, man. My mom is totally into NOAA, she keeps up on the weather. She says, and he swung his butt around, making airquotes, “... that a 'system' is moving in.”

John was nodding. “That means the barometric pressure should be dropping soon, giving rise to storms.”

Wow, that sounded creepily adult like. I told him and he smiled.

“It'll just make things more dumb for Sunday,”John said.

Duh, Pacific Northwest, it's an obligation to rain here.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe Carson's gonna have to stick his head further in that pipe. Too bad it can't work in a toilet.” Jonesy contemplated the logistics of making some kind of toilet episode happen with the jackass twins. Finally, he waved that thread of conjecture away and got back on topic. “Doesn't matter. He will still get his, rain or shine,” Jonesy said with finality.

Nothing derailed Jonesy.

Jade had been quiet, she didn't just talk to hear herself. We started walking again, a light breeze bringing fresh smells, somewhere between warm earth and floral. Jade would like our deck with the lilac bushes in bloom. The Js wouldn't care as long as mom was the food-bearer and Fridays meant pizza.

We turned off the main road, making a left into my neighborhood. We passed the swampy stand of trees where the bench stood, my house was last in a row of about eight. I could just make out the arches. A false street lay on the north side, where a fence stretched right behind our backyard, running the entire length of our neighborhood. We walked through the atrium.

Jade paused, looking around. I forgot, she'd never seen our house. I looked around, taking it in from her perspective. A Japanese Maple spread its delicate canopy over the pebbled cement walkway, umbrella-like, its shady green leaves translucent with fiery red veining. All around, flower beds burst with shade loving plants, ferns, Hostas and Astilbe.

Jade looked over at me, her face alight. The Js looked like they would sleep as they stood there, but God love 'em, they were waiting it out. Now that was true friendship.

“What is this?” she asked, gently running her hand over an Astilbe that sat like a purple feather on top of its delicate leaves.

“An Astilbe,” I answered.

The Js made kissy faces at me behind Jade's back. Jonesy made the knife to the wrist motion, This meant morgue, he had explained at one point, whereas horizontal meant hospital. What a dumb ass. Not helpful.

Mom saved everyone from the flower worship situation by opening the door. “This must be Jade.”

“Hi Mrs. Hart.” Jade smiled back.

“Oh no, please don't, I look around for Kyle's mom when someone calls me that. Just Ali, nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Mom was pretty good at avoiding awkward turtle moments. “Hey guys, I made banana bread today.”

The Js looked at her as if she were an angel. They raced into the house, shoving each other out of the way as they went. Mom and Jade rolled their eyes, laughing.

I cut up four pieces for each of us. It never occurred to me that Jade wouldn't like banana bread and I slathered butter over hers and mine. Jade looked at the slab and didn't seem sure what to do with all of it. It looked about the right size.

Mom saw the whole thing and stepped in. “Here,” she took the small, fish-shaped plate, cutting the bread in half, “this may be a little more manageable.”

How do girls stay alive? A mystery for another day.

Mom said, “You guys go get your crumbs all over the place outside, eh?”

“Good idea, Mom,” I said with a tone.

“Do you have a tone, Caleb?”

How do parents always hear a tone?

“No, we're pretty neat, is all.”

Mom looked at me as if us being neat was an impossibility. I grabbed the gallon of milk from the fridge and told John to get some cups. Like a good minion, he went straight over to the dishwasher he knew the drill, but Mom stopped him. “Those are still hot, just get some cups out of the cabinet.” Switching gears, he snagged four cups from the cabinet.

We sat on our deck which was bordered by a built-in bench. Jade pulled a lilac branch close to her, its flowers so deep a violet they looked bruised, smelling its powdery sweetness. The Js were inhaling their banana bread but Jade was taking little bites of hers. Her awe at our small patch of garden told me that she didn't have anything like it.

Jonesy was licking the crumbs off his fingers when I realized what I'd missed! I told everyone to hold on a sec, running inside to get a napkin, but Mom had one in her hand.

I winked. “No youngheimer's for you Mom.”

She frowned.

Alzheimer's was that freakish disease old farts got that caused their brains to turn to mush or was that mad cow? I don't know, I liked to use the non-politically correct terms to get Mom worked up. I could see her steaming in the kitchen, thinking about all the old people I had made fun of.

Jade smiled, taking the napkin and using it to wipe her mouth and hands. John wiped his hands on his jeans which was what I normally did. Jade saved me from these dire choices by handing me the other napkin. I looked back at Mom, pretty sly.

A movie would be great. My pulse said four-forty-nine, pretty close to supper.

“Mom,” I bellowed.

Mom cracked the window open. “Caleb, I loathe yelling, as you well know, come in here or next to the window.”

I sighed, getting up and closing the distance. “Can everybody stay for supper and watch a movie on pulsevision?”

Before she could respond I asked, “Wait, what's for supper?” Not all my friends were gonna like some fish thing.

“What day is this?” Mom asked matter-of-factly.

“Ah... Friday.”

Oh... duh. “Pizza,” I said, answering my own question.

Jonesy, always a good one for hearing anything food-related shouted, “Pizza!” double-fisting his excitement in the air.

Mom looked over at him then back at me, that's settled. I told everyone to pulse the world and see if it was cool. Once again, everyone jerked out their pulses and after a few silent minutes of thoughts, the pulses were tucked away for the night.

****

The movie was righteous with zombies chasing everyone around (the irony was not lost on me, the Js giving me sly looks), the heroes saved the world and fell in love. Jade liked the love story and the rest of us guys were diggin' on the gore. The parents allowed four Pay-for-Pulse movies per month. It wasn't too expensive. It was a little like the Netflix fad that mailed (unbelievable) people movies and video games back around when I was born. It all seems like a lot of work to me.

Mom made two pizzas and all that was left were a couple of crusts. Jade had one slice and we feasted on the rest, re-feasting once a few well-concealed burps made additional room. She'd set out a ginormous bowl of popcorn and we all got special, bottled root beer. A perfect night.

Dad popped his head inside the door right in the middle of The Quintessential Zombie Moment where it gets an arm torn off and uses it to beat the tar out of an enemy. Impervious to pain, zombies!

He shook his head, backing out.

The parents weren't big zombie fans.

Finally, the night had to end. All of us were rubbing our eyes and trying not to show how tired we were. The Js took off together and Jade and I stood at the door. I didn't like her walking home by herself but didn't know if she liked being independent and would be pissed and stuff?

I asked anyway, “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“Nah, you don't have to.”

Well... okay, huh.

“Is it okay? Or do you really not want me to?”

“It's okay,” she said with a small grin.

Ah-huh, so she dug it. Girl-speak was sorta hard to figure out, definitely a learned skill.

The parents told me to take my pulse. I held it up, its metallic black exterior glinting under the porch light.

Jade's neighborhood was a fifteen minute walk one way to the East Hill area. Most of the houses were seventy-five years old, built in the 1950s. They were in various states of disrepair. Looking around, it was a little depressing. There were crappy looking junipers on the edge of decaying lawns, outlawed now unless they were grandfathered.

Mom was a big one for the No-Lawns Act that was passed; mental eye-roll. Don't even get started with the Indigenous Plants Proposal.

Walking deeper into the rows of houses, my sense of foreboding came on line. Jade's mouth made a little “O”.

“You feel that?” she asked.

“I feel something.”

I sure wasn't needing anything besides the AFTD.

“Don't worry, it's probably me, spilling on you.”

“Spilling?” I quizzed.

“Yeah, sometimes when Sophie and me hang, I can 'leak' some of the stuff I pick up onto her. She says it's major creepy.”

Okay. “Why do you feel...” I struggled here, not wanting to sound dumb, but thinking the adult words my parents used might sound weird, “... anxious?” There, better than foreboding.

“Anxious?” she giggled.

My lip jutted out, I did pretty good with that. She saw my semi-pout, putting her hand over her mouth, stifling more insensitive giggling.

I frowned. “You've been laughing at me a lot today.”

“Oh come on, Caleb, you can be really funny!”

Yeah, hilarious.

She began to slow in front of an especially gross house. Paint peeled like ribbons of decay off the trim. Once white, it was now a grim shade of bone-gray. The lawn, if you could call it that, started from some underground place near the house which teemed with a riot of overgrown bushes and became one with the sidewalk. It was a dirty brown, somewhere between poop and mud. Strange mounds of dirt were sprinkled all over it like big pimples in an ugly face.

“This is Brett's house,” Jade said quietly.

Oh. I didn't really know what to say. The thought that it looked like an unhappy, lonely place did cross my mind. I couldn't help but compare it to my house. The atrium, backyard and the comfort smells of my home seemed like a dim light, shining a mill on miles away when faced with this.

We heard raised voices.

Jade grabbed my hand. “Quick, hide!”

I whipped my head around looking for a spot but she knew right where to go and dragged me to an overgrown hedge that we hid behind. Our sides were pressed together, eyes peering forward, seeing only silhouettes.

A booming male voice was screaming words, bad ones. The F-bomb was flying, with some accuracy. Jade flinched each time an “F” flew.

“You worthless turd. You wouldn't know sense if it knocked your dumb teeth out. Get the fuck outta here.”

I saw Brett, I assumed it was him, he was shorter than the monster that stood opposite him.

“Don't hit mom!” Brett screamed. Even through the hedge I could see that his fists were clenched, definitely a Mason family theme. Hell, the dad was beating on the mom?

The dad raised his fist up and I knew he was gonna clock Brett, and I just couldn't not do anything.

Jade grabbed me. “No don't,” she begged.

I shook my head. I couldn't stand cowards. He'd have to beat my ass too. In that moment I didn't care that it was Brett. The whispering that was always there grew in volume and a dull, static roar filled my head. It felt good, throbbing with my heartbeat.

“Stay here,” I told Jade, never turning.

She watched me clear the hedge as Brett's dad's fist connected square with Brett's chest. It made a meaty thumping sound, Brett staggering back. The dad came right after him with purpose.

Brett was making alarming wheezing sounds, trying to recapture air that had been knocked out.

“Hey!” I yelled, startling them both.

Brett turned toward me, still wheezing, arms flailing, the elder Mason with a comical expression of surprise.

He recovered with a wonderful, “Who the fuck are you?” in a snarl.

Ignoring his question, saying more calmly than I felt, “You're not supposed to be beating on people.”

Brett gave a spastic shake of his head, holding his chest with both hands, almost catching his breath now, looking at me with clear warning. There was no love lost between the two of us but he thought I was insane to take on his dad.

Me too.

The Dad turned to face me, Brett forgotten. He was tall like my dad. Clearly, when he was younger he may have been athletic, but it was submerged underneath the hundred pounds he had on me. His fists were loosely clenched but ready for action, his gut hanging over stained blue jeans with a matching T-shirt, equally disgusting.

A prize to be won.

I let that thing that was always curled tight inside me out. I didn't mean to, but like a caged animal let loose, it responded to my distress signal. I was in trouble with no plan whatsoever except that I didn't want to watch some kid my age, even a dickhead like Brett, get the shit beat out of him by his dad.

He stalked toward me, all shadow and menace. Then, all the little dirt mounds in the lawn exploding, dirt geysered like miniature volcanoes erupting; raining back down on all of us.

Brett's arms fell to his side and he sorta landed on his butt right where he was. The breath I was holding slid out of me in a long line of relief. The whispering had stopped and the lawn had blown up and... I was feeling... fine.

I heard a noise behind me and it was Jade.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” I asked, clearly vexed that she was in sight now! Double-duh!

“Look.” She pointed.

All around the lawn, moles (big ones) were standing at attention, there reflective eyes like small suns, staring at me. Brett's dad just got angrier.

“I killed all you,” he shrieked at them. “You're dead!”

Priceless, of course they were dead, you dolt. I could hear their thoughts, waiting for me to tell them something, a directive I intuited.

Before I had time to do anything, the dad switched his attention from the Army of Moles, to Jade.

“Aren't you that upstart LeClerc girl? The one that gave her daddy all the trouble with them cops?” He glared at her and she shrank away behind me.

The slug started making his way to where Jade and I were standing at the edge of the split and cracked sidewalk. Moles stood vigil, their collective eyes watching me.

He was almost on us and Brett gave one more effort to deflect what he saw as a Big Problem by shouting for us to run. My heart was a jack hammer in my chest. I wasn't gonna run from this guy.

Jade's hand clenched and bunched on the back of my hoodie, a lifeline.

“Sounds to me like you two are in my boy's class; losers,” he said with certainty. “And I know how to take care of that, yes indeedy I do, I'll clean that attitude right out of ya both.”

He moved forward as if to grab the two of us, and I let a little juice funnel through the moles, which looked exactly like big-ass rats with pointy faces. Wait a second, these weren't moles I thought: as they literally swam across the grass as one unit, their fur a slick and deep chocolate tipped with a smoke-gray against the vomit-lawn. These were... I searched for the name, gophers.

Jerked out of my reverie by a hand clenching my shirt together with my hoodie and my toes clearing the sidewalk, I didn't struggle but hung like a dead weight as Jade squealed and pulled me back. I appreciated her efforts but this guy had the manic strength that only the truly drunk have. I was betting he would be hella sore tomorrow, but for beating up teenagers, he was about inebriated enough to make a go of it.

A gopher sailed across the remaining two feet flying like a bat with wings, landing on the vulnerable back of the neck area, making a tight “C” shape with its body. He bit The Dad's neck as it made purchase.

Brett's dad dropped me like a box of rocks, trying to do a quick release by jerking the gopher off his neck with his hands. I could feel its mind, with solitary purpose: to protect me. All it knew was that I was master and it would be torn asunder rather than allow harm.

I turned. Like an invisible string my power slid down that line, finding eager recipients, the remaining gophers launching themselves at various parts of The Dad. He did a little dance, round and round he hopped trying to divest himself of the troublesome gophers. They were single-minded, biting, nipping and defleshing Mr. Mason.

I stood swaying, feeling like I held a great baseball in my hand with the absolute knowledge that the perfect pitch was within reach. Jade's hand was pressed against the small of my back, the gophers making satisfied mewling sounds as their teeth connected with flesh.

“Caleb... stop it,” Jade said, voice raised above the crunching and gnashing of teeth, “you'll kill him.”

Instead of being filled with the expected horror of The Dad's death at the hands of my gophers, there was a distinct satisfaction. I knew that his life hung in the balance of my action and it wasn't worth it.

Brett was suddenly beside me. “Please,” he said, one hand still on his chest where his dad had hit him, “he's bad but he's still my dad.”

Brett the poet.

I felt the power leaking out into and through all the gophers and made the ginormous effort to rein it in. For a moment...nothing happened. I was suddenly scared that this thing I had was bigger than I could manage, unwieldy. Then something clicked into place and I was in control again. The gophers looked at me, some of their teeth glistening wetly black with The Dad's blood.

Rest, I thought, and gave a mental shove of “juice” that felt like turning off a big, humming battery.

The gophers, my gophers, swung their heads to consider me one last time before swarming back to their mounds, sinking into them, like water finding a cleft in a rock.

Jade, Brett and I walked over to where Brett's dad lay, groaning. Blood pooled around his body, pretty much everywhere. I stood, without sympathy, the lingering emotion of wanting to end his existence still there, still waiting.

I knew that I could call them back.

“Thanks,” Brett said in an hollow voice.

“What do you think, Caleb?” Jade asked.

“He'll live,” I said.

I looked at Brett, all out out of words. Jade and I walked off together.

I turned around just as we were almost out of sight and saw Brett standing there, over his dad's body, staring at me as if he'd seen a ghost.

CHAPTER 13

I woke up naturally, that means no-damn-alarm. Throwing my hands behind my head, a long sigh escaped me. Oh joy, the weekend was here and I didn't have a thing to do today. Okay, not true, I did have some ridiculously insignificant homework.

Last night came crashing down on me a minute later. Brett, his psycho dad and the gophers. I'd pulse the Js later, update them on the newest mess. Did this change things for tomorrow? Maybe that was the bigger thing.

I heard Mom-sounds coming from downstairs. I glanced at my suspended monitor, the glowing numbers read ten-forty. Huh, I didn't sleep in too late today. I stood up too fast and swayed, dizzy. Pancakes were the cure for that!

I stumbled over to my door, kicking the clothes out of the way so it would open.

Mom looked up from the griddle as I rounded the corner.

“Hey pal,” she greeted.

“Hey.”

Mom gave me a sideways glance. “Little rough today?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“So how did it go last night?” I knew she meant about walking Jade home.

Dad walked in, wearing pajama bottoms that looked a lot like mine.

He plopped down opposite me, resting his head in both hands. We looked at each other and he gave a chuckle. Family telepathy, I guess.

“Yes, how did things go?”

I threw out what happened. “Brett's dad was beating on him and I got in the middle by raising an Army of Gophers.”

Mom put the plate of pancakes in front of me without a word. I poured hot syrup over the top, then passed it to Dad.

The parents considered me, I stared back. They didn't look shocked anymore, maybe they had passed on to the numb stage. I bet they wished they had a kid that had low level psychokinesis. Ya know, somebody that could shut a door that was left open or some random thing. But they had me instead.

I told them everything, we'd have to deal with it. The obedience of the gophers intrigued Dad. Mom was a little shocked at my indifference about Brett's dad's life.

“Why should I care?” I asked, unruffled.

“You've been raised to think of others, Caleb.”

“Mom's right. We cannot condone willful sabotage of life Caleb.”

Here comes the but.

Dad looked at Mom for a long moment. She sat down at the kitchen table, resting her elbows on its beaten surface.

“I understand you intervened because your friend was in trouble.”

“He isn't my friend,” I clarified.

“Yes, true, but, he was someone that was in danger. I commend your,” Dad paused here,“...bravery in the face of danger.”

Mom rolled her eyes.

Dad gave her a quick look but she was unimpressed.

“It was a good thing, what you did, but, you could have killed him.” She spread her hands out, fingers splayed, right?

I couldn't argue with her there. I had felt what it was to control the dead, I knew what they wanted, what I wanted of them.

“Is his dad going to be okay, do you think?” Mom asked and Dad nodded.

I shrugged. “He was the one beating on his kid and from what I heard Brett say, the mom too. If he goes to the cops, how will he explain it?”

“Yes,” Dad said in a relieved tone. “A conundrum to be sure.”

When I looked unsure, Dad explained, “A puzzler. You may have gotten that contextually.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to know for sure. Just the words around it aren't always enough.”

“I like that you ask, son.”

Once in awhile I was slick.

“So... it would stand to reason that we need some target practice, the sooner the better,” Dad said. “Especially in light of recent events.”

“What?” I asked.

“You know, we go out and practice, and you gain control”

Okay. “When? Today?” I asked.

“No better time than the present. I don't have anything on my schedule.” He gestured to his casual pajama attire.

Mom was wearing hers too. She'd wear them all the time if she could. I'd be hotter than hell if I wore mine all the time.

I took a bite of the still-steaming pancakes and Dad waited for my response. I just nodded, my cheek distended into a sideways hill with pancakes. I gulped a huge swallow of milk, the whole great ball o' food slid down to the cavern.

Mom got up and flipped Dad's pancakes.

I raised my eyebrows. “I'm going all out,” he said.

Dad didn't usually have pancakes, he didn't want the dreaded shelf. I looked at his gut and thought it was okay, for an old guy. I told him so.

“Thanks, Caleb, you know just what to say to make me feel better.” Mom and he smiled at each other.

What did I say?

****

The car ride to the cemetery didn't take long. Hell, the Js and I could walk it pretty fast. Dad had his pulse to document... whatever. I was nervous. I had never tried to make anything happen. It always just jumped out in the middle of some psychotic event. But after thinking about it, I do remember using the gophers to hurt The Dad, Brett's dad. I frowned. I had made them rise but that had not been on purpose. The rest I had kinda steered, trying not to crash.

Mom turned around in the front seat. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“I don't know if I can, ya know, make anything happen.”

Dad's eyes met mine in the rear view mirror, the brown eyes a mirror of my own. “Don't be nervous, Caleb.” His eyes traveled back to the road as he was driving, the trees rushed past us like a green highway in the sky.

“I just don't want you guys to go to all this trouble, and I can't...” I struggled with the word.

“Perform?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. That covers it.”

“Don't worry about us, Caleb, we're not the enemy,” Mom paused, glancing at Dad then looking back at me, “we just want you to gain control of this... quickly.”

I got that, but what if I couldn't do anything? It was broad daylight for God's sake! Dad laughed and told me he didn't think the setting needed to be creepy for things to happen. Mom smiled, I relaxed and looked out the window at the gray day.

Dad took a left into Scenic Hill Cemetery. The same scrolling gate from that first night framed the entrance; it was not so eerie in the daytime. As much as a mile away the whispering had grown louder. At the gate it was a dull roar. Like a washing machine you had to scream over.

Mom asked what was happening and I told her.

“So it's like 'whispering'?” she asked.

“Yes and no. I don't know, it's hard to describe. It's like that thing that you and Dad talk about... white noise?” Dad had the car parked, thumbing off the pulse ignition, powering the car down. “But you guys say that noise is like a good thing.”

“You're saying the quality is different?” Dad asked.

“If you mean type, then yeah. It's way different. Like something is going to happen, that something needs to escape.”

Dad looked at me with that somber expression, Word of the day baby, somber means gloomy, depressing, dismal). But I knew from experience that he was definitely just serious, not sad.

“This seems wrong on a lot of levels, Kyle,” Mom said.

“Yes, it probably is. But I can't have our son running around raising creatures for his personal killing army. There needs to be some control, some lessons learned. Better that he practices, with our supervision, than become truly threatened at some future point and not have the tools in which to effectively deter the problem. Or, an irrevocable consequence.”

My zombies killing the populace at large.

Mom didn't have a rebuttal for Dad. He was the logic-man.

Dad circled to the back, pulsing open the trunk. He grabbed his pulse and turned to me. His pulse was a specialty version. A tri-pulse that could record, interact and take stills, I bet it could wipe your butt if you asked it to.

“I thought we'd start with the familiar and see if you could raise someone we knew.”

Okay... surreal, but okay.

Mom's hand flew to her heart. “Oh God, Kyle, are you kidding?”

He didn't look like he was.

“I just hadn't really thought about using a relative.”

I watched her gulp like it hurt.

I did a rare thing, putting a hand on her shoulder, our eyes so close. “It's me having to do it Mom, not you. Better that it's somebody we knew, right?”

Her hand cupped the side of my face, a smile breaking through like sun sliding out from behind clouds. “You're being the brave one and me being anxious isn't helpful.”

“But your fear is not his fear, right Caleb?” Dad said.

“No, I'm not afraid of using it. It feels good... that's scary.” I wiped off my sweating palms on my jeans, glancing around I saw that we were all wearing the same thing, uniforms for dead people raising! A cackle of laughter escaped me and the parents gave me an odd look.

“Sorry, the whole thing seems a little...” I trailed off and Mom finished, “surreal?”

I nodded. “Yeah... that.”

Dad smiled and with the tri-pulse in hand we headed over the path of stones and winding road that led to our family plot.

We arrived at a slight knoll. I had visited before when I was little but it'd been awhile and it felt fuzzy in my mind. Like a dandelion seed that once chased and captured, blows away, leaving not a trace behind.

I looked at the granite markers in front of me. My hair tumbled into my eyes and I flipped it back, where it instantly settled back into position. Mom frowned. I broke the stare, looking at the headstones again.

Mom sank down to her knees and ran her right hand over the engraved lettering:

Margaret “Maggie” Doyle, Beloved Wife-Mother-Grandmother, RIP; born 1935, died 2015, aged 80 years.

Huh, she died the year I was born.

A tear escaped and she withdrew her hand. “Gran was a good woman.”

Dad agreed, “Yes she was.”

The power swelled, one whisper above all the rest.

“She wants to be free of the ground,” I said.

“What?” Mom's head whipped around, hair falling in her eyes. “She's speaking to you?”

I hated explaining the weird stuff to people that didn't have it, but it was her gran and all. “No... yes, not exactly.” I sighed. “I guess it's more of an impression of needs or wants or feelings, I don't know.”

“Well, I guess the dead make choices too,” Dad said.

That was the first smart thing I'd heard anyone say. Actually, that was exactly it. I was the thing allowing them that need, or whatever it was, release, expression.

“Yeah, it's not just me, they want to be free, and say things and have one more chance or something. I'm somebody that can help them help themselves.”

“You're a facilitator. Fascinating,” Dad murmured, hand on chin.

“Kyle,” Mom hissed, “this is no time to ruminate about the schematics. This is Gran we're disturbing.”

Mom stood up, looking up at Dad, who was quite a bit taller. But Mom never looks short, she always looks vital.

“Listen buster,” she pointed a finger at Dad, oh-no the dreaded tone, “this is NOT one of your science experiments, this is Caleb and Gran.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, all intense eyes and huffy body stance.

“I don't know another way to be Alicia.”

Huh, Dad used mom's real name, he meant business.

“Well, tone it down, would you?”

He slowly grinned. “I'll make a supreme effort.”

Mom looked like that would be the last thing he did.

The whisper from Gran was a steady thing, it had a vibration all its own. I was starting to get a signature from different people. Everyone was different and now I could sense those differences. Gran's had a familiar quality about it, I didn't know exactly what or why. I honed in on that and let a tendril of my power uncoil. It felt a little like the gophers but different, more complex. Their minds had been one mind to me, simple. Hers felt like it had a complicated series of thoughts and distractions. A dead brain... but somehow alive.

I gave it a good shove and thought, come here.

I felt like a great weight had lifted from my head, there was a feeling of vertigo, a shifting. My vision doubled and I was fuzzy around the edges. Ah-oh, I'm gonna pass out and the parents are going to be stuck with dead granny. Then my vision cleared, stabilizing.

Nothing happened.

Dad took a photo of me... unhelpful-much. I blinked at the pulse-flash and felt something cold hit the back of my head. We looked up and the clouds that had threatened were now roiling above our heads. Great smoky-colored plumes lashed back and forth like an angry sea.

Dad looked at me.

I shrugged. “I don't know what...”

A hand burst forth through the earth, softened by recent rain. It was awful looking. Some nails were gone and finger joints were visible. Oh boy, Mom was gonna see her Gran looking pretty disgusting. I gave Dad the it's too late look and watched the train wreck happen.

Inch by slow inch the ground revealed Gran, as a fossil being excavated, climbing through the ground to exit her grave. Her silver hair hung in huge rope-like strands from a scalp with bare patches, shining like an eggshell in the dimming light.

Her head was lowered (she was on all fours), her hand reached out toward me and said, “More,” in the barest of whispers. Without all the whispering in my head it felt blissfully clear.

I mouthed, more?

Energy, she whispered in my head, like a thread of silk, worming its way through my brain. I shuddered. That was an intrusive feeling. Disgusting as hell.

I grubbed down inside myself, where that sleeping monster lay, scraping what was left and hurled it down that connection, the thing that tethered the two of us together.

She suddenly flung herself backward, her back bent awkwardly behind her knees. Both claw-like hands clung to the remnants of a blouse of some kind, its fine print of flowers a spray beneath the tendons and sinew of what she used every day to work with, touch, love.

She straightened as suddenly as she was backwards, standing. Ripples crossed her face and like watching a movie rewind, the face knitted together before our eyes, skin flowing over and filling holes. Not perfect, no, but better. The joints in her hands were covered now and a few nails had righted themselves.

I was relieved until I looked at Mom, white as a sheet, clutching Dad's shirt, looking somewhere between barfing and fainting. Made me feel like a loser. Dad was fussing with the tri-pulse, trying not to let Mom topple and get a still of Gran-the-corpse.

He got my attention and winked! My dad winked at me.

Nothing rattled him.

It had its intended affect, I felt a little calmer, not so frantic.

The corpse/Gran turned to me, ignoring her granddaughter entirely.

“Caleb,” she croaked.

Her voice sounded full of mush.

I took a deep breath. “Hi Gran.”

“Am I free of this?” she turned to gesture at the grave. Her skeletal fingers caressing the air.

“Right now you are.”

She frowned. I could tell that she wasn't clear on where she was at exactly.

Comprehension slowly dawned on her face.

“I am dead. Really and truly dead.”

This was the hard part. “Yes.”

“And you are a,” she struggled to think, being dead fifteen years would put a crimp on that, “necromancer?”

I had actually looked up that word after the first corpse called me that. I guess they knew what I was... somehow.

I would keep it simple. I was certainly more (and different) than that. “Yes, Gran.”

“You have questions of me. I hear them.”

That was new. I guess the communication was a two-way street.

She stepped toward me and I fought the urge to step back. That was all in my head. This new thing I could do, this ability, did not feel sickened or grossed out with Gran. Actually, I felt a sense of ownership over the dead, mine, it intoned, mine.

Standing my ground until she was about eighteen inches away, in my peripheral vision I could see my mom step away from my dad. He pulled her in against him, watching me, all the while murmuring something in her ear. He looked at me, giving me the barest of nods. I refocused on Gran.

“I want to know what this is.”

She tilted her head to the side, like I had asked an important question that eluded her grasp.

“Why... this is you, Caleb. You have caused this.”

Her arms, with the sleeves in ribbons loosely swaying in the slight breeze, clung and whipped around her like a cape.

“I mean,” I was frustrated here, dad was taking stills in the background and it was distracting. I gave him a look, he stopped.

“What did you hear?” I asked her.

“Your summons, dear boy, your summons.”

Oh. “You heard me calling you?”

“Yes, your voice telling me to come to you. You did call me to you. For your bidding.”

Wow, this was definitely big-time-in-my-pants-creeper status, she looked at me raptly, waiting for some command. No wonder Parker was in trouble. If he had anything close to this, he would be like a king amongst robots. Not a cool thought. I was starting to understand why Dad had been so fast to get me hooked up with the happy med. The, we're-gonna-hide-what-you-can-do pill.

“Ah, no. I don't have a job. I just have some questions. Actually, I'm worried I can't control this so my dad thought it would be good if we came here and practiced.”

Saying it out loud made it sound super dumb. Don't worry Gran, just a little corpse-raising and then we'll tuck ya back in your grave-bed and be on our way. Geez. Practice makes perfect.

She looked puzzled. “You're just practicing this gift? With me?”

I gulped and I heard a dull click, my throat dry as a desert. “Yeah, that's about it.” I would have killed puppies for a glass of water about now.

She finally took the time to turn around and look at my parents. She stood there, with her hips facing me and her torso almost fully turned to them, reluctant to turn away from me and fully face them. I heard disgusting sounds when she turned and realized it was her spine, wetly cracking.

Mom's face was flaming when Gran looked at her. But my dad just stared back. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't swayed by emotion. As he would say, the nuts and bolts of preparing me was the critical thing. He knew what Gran was, Mom didn't. That was the difference. Mom still thought of Gran as Gran. But she wasn't anymore, she was Gran but she was other too.

“Gran.”

She turned from my parents without a backwards glance or a word. Mom looked at Dad and he shrugged.

Gran looked at me, waiting.

“Who are those people behind you?”

“My granddaughter and her husband,” she said, just restating the facts. Pretty clinical for a corpse.

“Do you want to talk to them?” I asked.

“Do you wish for me to?” she asked, her eyeballs, which had not filled in all the way, (better not to think on that too long), rolled around in the eye sockets with a little too much room.

“No. I wish for us to discuss things.” Copying her words.

She relaxed. As if a corpse could relax.

“I am here to serve you.”

I gave Dad a panicked look.

Okay. I needed to get a grip, figure out some stuff and put great-grandma back in the ground.

“Is there anything you need?” I asked.

“Yes, it would give me great peace if you would tell my son, if he lives, that I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“He will know. Will you?”

Mom nodded her head. “Yes, I will.”

She turned, inclining her head. ”Thank you.”

“What am I here to do? I mean, what good can I do? How can I help people?”

“Only you know those answers, Caleb. Doing that one errand of mercy for me will be something of worth, to be sure.”

She talked funny!

“Some of us can tell you a portent of your future.”

That was news. I heard mom gasp her surprise in the background but Gran remained focused. My eyes met dad's and he just nodded again.

I was thinking fast. Portent... a forewarning.

“Do you wish to know what role you have in this life?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes rolled up in her head, her hands lifted above it, reaching for the sky. Thunder clapped and I jumped. Fat drops of rain splattered on our skin while Gran, her gray skin looking like paper stretched tight like a drum over bones, swayed in place, hearing a rhythm that only she could.

The rain was getting its teeth in it, starting to come down in earnest. Gran's head snapped down and she stared into my eyes, a strange light illuminating hers. All movement stopped and she pointed a finger at me.

“You will need protection. Surround yourself with your own kind and others who have skills that are unusual but more common now. Do not be deceived by people that would use you for evil. There is a young girl, with a name of stone, who will be your greatest ally. You must protect her, she will be your salvation.”

With that, Gran sank down to her knees and looked up at me. A great toll had been taken for this fortune telling thing. Great hollows had begun to cave in her face. I realized that all this being alive again took energy. I could feel that power in me right now, very low, like a spent tank of gas. Did I have enough to put her back? My energy faltered.

She gave me a small smile. Kinda wish she hadn't done that, there were about three teeth in a mouth that was black with decay and a bit of tongue.

I smiled back anyway, brave-much.

“You can put me away, I need to rest now.” She spared a glance for my parents, her eyes resting briefly on my mom.

She looked at me. “Tell Alicia what is different. Only you matter in this time, this world.”

“I understand.” And I did. I wasn't comfortable with it, but it didn't matter. It was what it was.

My parents came over and stood on either side of me.

I didn't look at them. But said, mainly to Dad, “I'm really tired.”

“What can I do, Caleb?”

“I gotta put her back.” Gran stared up at me, her gaze unwavering. No pressure... damn. Out of nowhere, I heard voices behind us. What in the Sam Hill?

Witnesses.

Dad turned and put his body directly in front of Gran, who being on the ground, prone, could still be seen. Mom flanked Dad and I was in the middle, behind them.

I turned around and gave Gran the index finger over my lips, the universal sign for quiet. This couldn't get any weirder.

She understood, I could hear it.

There were three kids from school. The middle girl I knew, there was something about her. My power flared, recognizing hers.

She was like me.

Her eyes widened and she said to her friends, “Let's get out of here.”

My parents relaxed.

I came around Mom's side and said, “No!”

What was her stupid name? We had just been talking about other kids that had AFTD. Let me think... Tiffany-something!

“Tiffany, no... stop. Help me do this,” I said.

She stiffened, slowly turning. My first thought was, wow, she could be pretty. She stood there with a purple hoodie, brown hair peeking out from the hood, which half covered her face, just a sliver showing. She had dark eyes, color unknown. I spared the briefest of glances at the other kids, dismissing them, their faces familiar. But right now, blowing any cover in the whole world, I was going to ask for help. I knew I didn't have the energy to put Gran back, not for certain. I was pretty sure I didn't need blood, or something catastrophic to make it work. I needed energy, death-energy.

“What?” kinda pissed.

“I have AFTD, like you.”

“Ya think?” sullen.

So she loved it as much as me, fine. Like we had a choice? Not for the first time I wondered if the adults that made the drugs, unlocking our paranormal potentials were really that smart.

She glanced at her friends, a guy and girl. They were taking turns looking nervously between my parents and me.

The boy looked at Tiffany. “I thought you said there wouldn't be any other people?”

She gave him, what I considered to be, one of the best girl eye-rolls ever. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms across a barrel chest.

She jerked her head to the left and said, “This is my brother, Bry.” Oh, that explains the dynamic between those two.

Back to the mess.

“Listen, I kinda raised my great-Gran,” I began.

“What-the-hell?” she all but screamed.

Mom humphed in the background, unappreciative of the colorful wording.

We ignored that.

“No... no, I can't help with anything that big,” she said.

A voice that sounded like gravel crunching under tires said, “Yes, you can, seer.”

The corpse speaks. Brother.

“What is that?” Tiffany asked.

“That's Gran.”

Mom and Dad had moved away from me, revealing Gran. She looked worse for wear but not bad for a corpse who had accomplished a bit of precognitive forecasting.

“That,” she pointed without an ounce of reverence, “is not your great-Grandma, “it's an it.”

I casually turned around to see Gran. Yeah, I guess she wasn't really Gran anymore.

Gran stared back at Tiffany.

“Hey,” Mom piped in without a hesitation, “that's my Gran you're dismissing you brat.” Nice. Mom had regressed to name calling, a first.

“Mom, I got this.”

Dad gave Mom a look, let him handle this.

She huffed her displeasure, crossing her arms, silently stewing.

“Yeah, she's not really Gran anymore, but she still has to go back.”

“You're the smart one that raised her. You put her back.” Tiffany crossed her arms, so unhelpful.

The sun broke through the clouds, a light drizzle continued to fall making the whole scene glow with an eerie luminescence. Gran came forward in an awkward shuffle.

“You will do as this one says. He is a ruler amongst your kind.”

That partial tongue does odd crap to speech.

Tiffany was staring at Gran in the strangest way. I didn't have enough juice to force her help. In fact, I didn't think I could make her do anything, not with that humongous brother standing there and a girl (another body with a pulse to deal with), helping in the fracas if things got ugly. I didn't want to fight her but things were gonna go bad if I didn't get Gran back.

I could feel it.

“Make me. I'm not gonna help out. I wanna get out of here. Period. End of discussion.”

Gran looked at me, her rotting face inches from mine. The smell was gag-worthy but having been in the boys' locker room, I could take it.

“What is your will, boy?” Gran asked, solemn.

“I want you to be put back to rest,” I said.

Later, I wish I'd realized what that request meant, because I would have handled it differently.

Zombies were terribly literal.

Gran stepped toward Tiffany, all shuffling determination.

Oh crap.

Mom turned to Dad and said, “Kyle?” What's happening?

Dad surged forward and Gran turned, very smoothly for a zombie. Geez, and put the flat of her palm on his chest and shoved for all she was worth.

Quite a lot, apparently.

One of Dad's slip-on shoes flew off and smacked Gran's tombstone with an audible thud while he traveled, airborne, landing with a resounding smack on the grass.

The three kids looked at Dad, as he made the arc, then landing, he conked out, legs splayed in front of him.

Mom screamed his name, rushing over and crouched down beside him. While Mom was panicking, Gran was going for the gold. She had wrapped her hand in Tiffany's hair, hood completely gone, using her fist twined in her hair like a handle, dragging her over to where I was.

As I stood mesmerized by the scene, Bry leaped on Gran's back. She reached behind with her free hand, the other hand busy in Tiffany's hair, and plucked him off like a worrisome gnat, throwing him in the direction she had shoved Dad. He promptly landed on his ass, his mouth closing with a snap. Blood spewed from his mouth. That was the first clue he'd bitten some of his tongue off. Oh boy, I thought wildly, he can loan that to Gran.

No longer frozen in panic, I was moved to action and gave Gran a new command:

“Let her go!” I yelled.

Gran complied, instantly dropping Tiffany on her face with a dull crunch. Shit-in-a-sack, did she break her nose?

Gran straightened and turned to me, hand hovering over the girl. Bry took his palms to the ground, blood spilling out of his mouth like a fountain said, “I thont are aut oo re.”

Redoubling his efforts, since speech was so not working, he engaged in a frontal assault on Gran. Both of them tumbled to the ground. Rolling to a stop on another grave, Bry's hands circled Gran's neck and he began thumping her head into the ground, gray strips of hair flying back and forth.

Her hand shot out and grabbed him in the balls as he straddled her. She tightened her grip and he yelped (sympathy grimace). Releasing his grip on her throat, she used that lull, holding his crotch in one hand, grabbing his neck with the other and heaved him--again.

Dad came to, moaning, his head in Mom's lap. His eyes grew wide when he saw the two broken kids laying in separate heaps.

From his prone position he asked, “Caleb, what's going on?”

Looks like granny's getting her groove on, I thought. Hysteria pressed in on the edges of my consciousness.

Tiffany was coming out of a near catatonic state. Flinching away from Gran's hand, which was back to hovering again, she held her nose with her left hand and glared up at me over the top of it.

“You think you can help me now?” I asked with just a tiny bit of sarcasm.

“Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth, glancing covertly at her brother, who lay on the ground, observing everyone in various states of hurt. The other girl had long since run off. Probably straight to the police, I thought dismally.

Wonderful.

Gran hauled Tiffany to her feet none too gently, using her arm that was holding the nose, Tiffany gave a girl yelp. I almost felt sorry for her but this is where her lack of cooperation had taken us. I was ready for a little grave closure myself.

Dad was rising shakily to his feet, not every day a person gets knocked out by a corpse, and making his cautious way toward us, Mom on his heels.

Gran looked speculatively at him.

I gave Dad the stay back look. He stared back at me, you got this, Caleb? I shrugged, I just didn't know but them getting the potatoes beat out of them by Gran wouldn't help.

Tiffany glared down at my Gran. Yeah, down, Gran was small, not that size mattered. Bry was on his feet too. Holding his crotch that was probably throbbing like hell.

Gran waited. Tiffany waited, eying each other warily.

I did what I thought would work. I released what I had left. It wasn't much, little more than a drop of water in a glass. It found its mark and hit Tiffany running.

Like knew like.

Naked goosebumps began at her wrists, making their way up her arms, hoodie long-gone in the midst of the scuffle with Gran.

Tiffany threw her head back, her mouth open, like catching snowflakes on our tongues when we were little.

She said, “it feels good... it feels good, why didn't you tell me it would feel good?”

“Because I didn't know,” I replied softly.

Her head righted itself and she stepped away from Gran who kept a wary eye on Bry and my parents as they walked toward me. Tiffany's eyes were a deep, hazel green I noticed as she got closer. Not the brilliant shade that Jade had, but pretty in a mysterious way. Dried blood edged her nostrils delicately.

She held her hand out, momentarily forgetting Gran was right there, shuffling behind her. I reached out to take it, having never touched another AFTD and two things happened at once; I felt an instant injection of juice and the whispering grew in volume. The voices and their distinct signatures...clearer.

As if in slow motion, Tiffany turned to me, looking me in the eyes. “Is it always like this?”

“What?”

“The voices.”

“For me... yeah.”

Her eyes widened. “It's so loud.”

“It's louder with us touching.”

“Oh.”

We turned as one mind, one intent.

Gran had shambled over to her grave, looking rattier by the moment. Somehow, she had super-zombie strength.

My juice was okay now. I could feel Tiffany's energy or power, complementing mine.

I looked into Gran's eyes, and for a moment, there was some spark or something, I didn't know what. Tiffany and I both noticed and reacted. It felt slimy and evil.

She looked at me, scared.

I looked back, a little shake to my voice, “Ready?”

We both knew I wasn't asking.

I let my power shift to Tiffany at the same time I squeezed her hand and it flowed between us and I thought, rest. A mental muscle flexed, the strength of my will chased the thread that connected me to Gran from when she gave up her place in the ground.

Tiffany's hand convulsed around mine. “Oh.”

It was so simple it was criminal. Speaking of which, I could hear sirens in the background. There was no explaining our way out of this mess.

Gran gave one last heave of her chest, seeming to suck in real air for the last time, the breath rattling hollowly as it left her lungs, then she laid down on the grave. The dirt flowed over her, engulfing her body.

Tiffany and I watched. When it was done, the grave was undisturbed, like it had never happened. But as Tiffany and I released each other's hand, that spark between us fading, we surveyed the bloodied people around us. We knew it had been real.

The first police car arrived and Garcia stepped out, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

Perfect.

****

Garcia sauntered over, that wide smile stretched over his face.

Tiffany stayed where she was, Bry walking over to stand beside her. I had to assume it had been Tiffany's snitch friend that had blabbed to the police. Sure enough, she exited Garcia's police car.

With the hood covering her face I hadn't really noticed her that much, kinda busy with Gran-the-corpse and Tiffany's rather problematic older brother.

She had weird-colored hair and that's how I'd remember her later when I filled the Js in. It was somewhere between dishwater blond and red. Mom would know the color right away. Her face was all tight and pinched. From the guilt I was betting, morbidly pleased.

She looked warily from Tiffany to Bry then me. She took in all of us standing together and the lack of a zombie running around and flushed a fine, true red.

Good, let her feel embarrassed. The evidence was gone and just some blood hanging around. My parents were at my back (literally). I was absolutely sure Dad had figured out what to say unless Gran had knocked something important loose on his trip to the tombstone.

Garcia stood facing us, legs wide, considerable arms folded across his chest. He looked at the Weller kids then my parents.

Then... me.

“Well, Caleb, what do we have here?”

Just a tiny bit of corpse-raising.

Dad interjected, I knew he would, “Sergeant Garcia, good to see you again.”

“Hello, Mr. Hart. No offense, but I was talking to Caleb.” his eyes got back to boring into mine.

I felt steady. I hated to admit it, but I felt more solid with Dad here.

“And he's a minor,” Dad added.

Garcia's head swiveled back to Dad, his eyes narrowing. “I don't have to be reminded of that Mr. Hart.”

Their gazes held.

“We were here, conducting some experiments, and these kids,” Dad gestured to the Weller kids and then gave a nod in the direction of girl unknown, “happened upon us.”

Dad put his hands out to each side then shrugged like, no big deal, just a family hanging around the graveyard on a Saturday... riiiggghht. That was gonna fly.

Garcia put his hand on his chin, rubbing it.

Mom hiccuped behind me. Oh great, she always got those when she was nervous. Loud ones, too, from her gut.

I rolled my eyes and Tiffany gave Mom a look like, what now? Mom went ahead and did another one. Garcia's eyebrows shot up but he said nothing. Dad squeezed Mom's shoulder. Geez.

The other cop joined Garcia. He was all business, with a short, military haircut. It was so blond that he looked bald. He was short, barely taller than me, with deep set eyes, never stopping their back and forth restless movement. Shifty bastard, he made me nervous.

Garcia glanced casually at him and said, “This is my partner, Officer McGraw.”

This guy was big time Aryan nation, white bread in his pants, all blond and light compared to Garcia's tall darkness.

But he was scarier.

I could feel this guy's potential and it didn't feel good. What I wouldn't have done for a dose of Jade's Empath skills about now.

Garcia smiled during his introduction then got down to the meat of the matter. “The department is pairing mundane officers with a paranormal to better handle paranormal crime. After all, we need the paranormal presence to handle that element.” Garcia finished.

He said paranormal like a curse. That, I-want-to-be-your-friend thing had been an act. Boy, was I glad I hadn't said too much during the dog incident.

McGraw let a cruel smile flash, then it was gone. I was guessing he was about Parker's age, one of the first group of kids that got the inoculation.

They weren't giving these guys good enough psych screenings.

What was he anyway? That would prove pretty useful to know in say, the next ten minutes.

I didn't have long to wait, this jerk was just dying to show off, who knew why? Because he could, like Carson.

“McGraw's an elemental.” Garcia let the comment drop like a stone in a lake.

We-were-so-screwed.

The Elementals could manipulate the four elements and it was NOT weather dependent. Fire, water, earth and air. God help us if he was like, on my level, controlling all four in the way that I had all five “hit-points” of the AFTD.

He obviously did not have all his dogs barking so I was not interested in show and tell.

I looked at Dad, he was frowning. I did a mental face-palm: there were three more kids from school that knew and the cops were involved... swell.

“If anything gets out of hand here, I have perfect confidence that McGraw can handle it to the letter of the law.”

Great, I bet.

Dad spoke up, “I don't think any of us will be unreasonable. There is no need for posturing.” Oh boy.

Garcia flipped open his notebook (pulse it, moron) and got a pen out. Who wrote anymore?

He turned to the girl, who's name floated just out of reach. “Miss Cote,” (that was it!), “... why don't you reiterate what you told me at the police station.”

Miss Cote came forward awkwardly, eyes downcast. “It's cot-A, ya know, a long 'A',” she corrected sullenly.

Cops growing out of the ground and she's correcting their pronunciation.

“Okay... Miss Cot-A,” he emphasized. “Please repeat what you told us at the police station for these folks.”

Cote looked at Tiffany, who shook her head, no.

So, Tiffany wasn't feeling like being outed either.

Cote rolled her lower lip, biting it with her teeth and staying silent. Garcia turned his whole body to face her, towering over her with his height, intimidating. She looked up at him, a shadow of doubt crossing her face.

“I thought I saw something over there by his parents.” She pointed in the general direction of Gran's tombstone. “But it isn't here now.”

“Now come on, you said a lot more than that,” McGraw prompted.

Dad gave him an unfriendly look and Garcia gave it right back.

Cote glanced over his way and sighed.

Tiffany said, “Mia, no.”

That was it! Mia. I hated forgetting peoples' names.

Mia went on, “We were just going to come out here and hang. And then we saw these guys,” she gestured to my parents and I like a loose unit, “and saw something else too. It smelled,” she said with distaste.

“What smelled?” McGraw asked.

“The dead woman,” she said finally.

Garcia smiled with triumph. Well, good luck with finding any evidence, I thought with a stab of satisfaction.

“But where is the dead woman now?” Dad's arms spread out on either side of him, no corpses here, guys.

Garcia and McGraw left Mia where she stood. They began a tight search of the area, moving in between tombstones where tall Douglas fir trees grew in great clumps.

The cops separated, stepping on top of Gran's grave without a downward glance. When I said undisturbed, I meant it. Not a blade of grass was out of place. It looked perfect.

McGraw turned back to Mia. “Where did you see this dead woman?”

“Right there,” she said.

He looked to where she was pointing, his eyes roving up to read the tombstone:

Here Lies Charles Doyle, beloved husband of Margaret “Maggie” Doyle. Born 1934, died 2000.

He read Gran's headstone next.

Don't ask Garcia, don't ask.

He asked, “One of your relatives, maybe? Doing a little visiting.”

“No. Actually, we were conducting experiments, as I mentioned earlier,” Dad repeated.

“Well, I did some looking.” He tapped his pen to the side of his head, indicating some thinking too. “I have the last five generations of both your families in my little notebook, right here.” He looked down then back up again. His eyes met Dad's in a direct challenge. “And here you all are, right at the family plot.”

He snapped the notebook closed with a tight grinding sound that made me give a little involuntary jump. Dad put his other hand on my shoulder. “But from what Miss Cote tells us, you were doing more than experimenting.”

I looked at Mia but she wouldn't look back.

The Weller kids had been quiet this whole time then Bry spoke up, “Caleb and I got into a fight, that's all. His dad tried to break it up when it got out of control.”

McGraw looked openly skeptical but took in Dad's appearance; the disheveled hair, the grass stains on the seat of his pants. He looked at Mom next, who shrank behind Dad. That clinched it for me, she didn't like him any better than I did.

Garcia focused all his attention on Bry. Taking in the blood all over the front of his shirt, then looking at Tiffany, the dried blood from the ruckus with Gran, still congealing underneath her nose.

He looked back at me.

“But not a scratch on you.” His eyes steady on my face.

“I guess I got lucky,” I said with only a small tremor in my voice.

“But the,” he opened his notebook, scanning with his index finger until he came up with the name, then tapped it once, “Weller boy, has what looks like a piece of his tongue missing. And the sister,” he looked down again, “Tiffany, has sustained trauma to her nose.” His eyes narrowed at me, barely more than slits.

“It's not Caleb's fault,” Tiffany rushed into the space in the conversation. “I just got in the middle.”

Silly me. I kept the surprise off my face, she was sure busy keeping things from the cops.

McGraw was openly scowling and Garcia looked thoughtful. They couldn't do anything. They'd have to chalk the whole thing up to a hysterical girl in a graveyard, thinking she saw things she didn't. Two boys getting in a fight, maybe over Tiffany. Duh, like that would happen but they didn't know that and a fight ensuing after Mia took off to rat on us.

The cops studied us as we calmly looked back.

Finally, Garcia turned to Mia. “Are you sure that you saw a dead woman? Or, are you willing to recant your testimony?”

“Recant?” Mia asked.

“Take it back. What you said. All of it.”

“Yeah... yes... I recant. I don't know what I saw,” she responded helplessly. No corpse and her two friends obviously siding with me. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I guess we'll have to be satisfied with that.” Garcia said.

The wind had come up so much it was distracting, whipping my hair and lashing my face.

“But know this: I thought I smelled a skunk, saw a skunk so there must be one.” Weird, just like Morginstern. Must be a contagious skunk fetish going around.

“You have my full attention Caleb, and for the record, I don't like being played. If I find out you're a Cadaver-Manipulator, we are lawfully bound to report that to the proper authorities. Don't let me find out you've been holding out on us.”

His hand came to rest on the baton strapped to his utility belt. Well hell, threatening-much. Mom made a sound behind me, Dad drew her into his body.

McGraw let a huge smile settle on his face, a look of concentration sitting oddly askew. Raising his palm up he said, “Be still.”

The wind that had been so annoying suddenly stopped. Yet, just about fifteen feet away it made the huge, low branches on the fir trees dance and move rhythmically. We were in some kind of eye of the storm. McGraw was showing his “juice” was working here; he was an air elemental (AE). Clyde-the-corpse's words, to whom much is given, much is expected, didn't apply to this guy. It was all about him.

Terrific.

“We'll see you again, Hart family. There will be a next time, and we'll be ready.” He turned and gave a moment's attention to the Weller kids and Mia, committing them to memory.

With that charming goodbye, McGraw gave another small, tight smile, closing his open palm into a fist and drew it into his body. There was an audible pop and the wind rushed back, a reverse whirlpool, to lash our faces again.

Garcia lingered, staring at our group, then turned and joined his partner.

That didn't go well.

We watched the police cruisers drive off, knowing that some vague threat had been issued, a warning. I looked at my parents worried faces and saw identical expressions mirrored on the kids I had met today: we're screwed.

CHAPTER 14

Tiffany turned to Mia. “You're such an ass-potato!”

Mia looked around for support, getting none, she retaliated with, “It looked bad to me. The old, dead woman and all. I didn't know what to do!”

Mom and Dad were watching this interchange with interest.

Bry walked up to Tiffany. “Leave it Tiff, we all did the best we could. AFTD has been hard for you too.”

I looked at their bloodied faces and felt responsible.

Dad turned to me. “Is this girl another AFTD?” he looked at Tiffany. “Just clarifying here.”

“Yeah.”

Tiffany looked at me. “I thought I was the only one.”

If I'd known sooner, we wouldn't have needed to be alone.

“No. I just found out that I had it.”

“How?”

I gestured to the grave behind me, Gran's grave. “It was an accident the first time. I told Carson and Brett,” I paused here, our school was big enough...maybe she didn't know them? But she gave me a gagging finger down the throat, she knew them, “...that I could hear the dead. Actually, John did.”

“Why would you guys tell them? They're dickheads.” She caught Mom's look and rephrased to soften the swearing some. “They're jerks to everybody.”

I nodded, perfect assessment. I'd agreed with the first one too.

“Because, I knew from Biology and some other stuff.” The roadkill came to mind and all the fun with the insects, also in Biology. “That I had AFTD... the frogs...” I shuddered where I stood, “that I may have enough,” I thought for a second, making airquotes, “ 'power' to prove that I wasn't some kind of coward.”

“Who the he... heck,” she looked at Mom, “cares what they think?”

“They were being jerks to me and I was tired of it. Jonesy,” Tiffany rolled her eyes, she really was good at that and Bry chuckled, “thought it'd be a good idea to show them what I had, that I wasn't a poser.”

“Does that seem like a good idea now?” she asked.

“No way.” I smiled, I couldn't help it.

Dad clapped his hands together, we all jumped. “This is all well and good but we need to discuss what happened, the possibilities.”

Tiffany and I looked at Dad with puzzled expressions. What were we supposed to think about? Gran was back, she helped out and I wasn't on my own with AFTD.

Dad turned to Tiffany. “Can you raise cadavers?”

“Zombies? No.” She looked at me for clarity.

She could do some other stuff, but not The Biggie.

“Sometimes I know where murdered people are. And,” she looked my way. “I can sense the dead.”

She must mean hear them, ya know, hear them. I told her so.

She shivered. “No, it's not like those loud voices you hear.” She looked at me with a grudging admiration, “that'd be bad.”

“It's like impressions of their feelings or thoughts, I don't know, it's hard to explain.”

We shared a moment of complete understanding.

“Jade told me about that bird thing outside of gym.”

Tiffany looked confused for a second then did an ah-huh. “Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that, LeClerc, right? Aren't you guys going out?”

“Yeah, that's the girl.”

Was there another Jade in our entire school? Totally rare name. Then a whisper wafted through my head: a girl with a “...name of stone.” That's right, Gran had said I needed to protect her. She must've been talking about Jade.

Tiffany was snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Hello, wake up!”

“Sorry,” I said. “Just thinking.” Geez, pushy thing.

I glanced at my parents. Mom said, “We have some things to talk about.”

“We do but I wanna,” I grabbed my pulse out of my back pocket, Tiffany did too, “add Tiffany to my pulse-contact before I forget.”

I thumbed my pulse and thought, add contact.

Tiffany walked over and laid her thumb on the pad and her contact info. appeared:

555.455.9830: Tiff Weller

“Tiff?” I asked.

“Yeah, I hate 'Tiffany'.”

“Why? Tiffany is a swell name,” Dad commented.

We both looked at him. I gave him the double-lame parent stare. Tiffany looked equally disgusted.

Dad said, “Alright... brother, chillax!”

“Dad, don't try okay?”

A ridiculous lack of coolness.

Tiffany recovered and looked around for the scraps of her hoodie. Seeing that the hood and armpits of her hoodie were beyond repair, I took mine off (the teenage uniform, hoodie, jeans and tennis shoes), handing it to her.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I'll get it back on Monday.”

“I don't know, we may not test in the same building.”

That was true. It was alphabetical. Hart, Weller; probably not.

“Tuesday then.”

“Okay.”

“So, I have a huge favor to ask,” I began.

“What?” she asked with barely contained skepticism.

“Can you guys keep this thing a secret?” I gave her time to think.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, you worried you're gonna have to go away, to that special school?”

I nodded. She knew what the deal was.

“Like Parker, right,” she expounded.

“Yeah, like that.”

She shuddered. “I'm so glad that I don't have the effed-up corpse-raising to deal with.”

We stood silently, thinking how much it sucked that I did.

“That was pretty cool that you raised your grandma.”

“Great-grandma.”

“Did ya know her?”

“No, she died the year I was born.”

“It was pretty tight how strong she was.” Bry rubbed his mouth.

“Yes, she showed remarkable strength,” Dad agreed.

“What grade are you in?” I asked Bry.

“Sophomore.”

I nodded.

“What did you do on your AP Test?” I was sorta curious to see what he had, being Tiff's brother and all.

“Math-Science,” Bry said.

“What focus?” Dad asked.

“Abstractions and Patterns.”

Dad palmed his chin thoughtfully, “Really... hmm.”

“Dad...”

“Right! Back on task,” Dad said.

Tiff had wandered over to the grave to get a closer look, shaking her head.

“I've seen this on the pulsevision, but to see it done in front of you, how we put her back and now it looks like it never happened.” She turned to Mia, silent all this time, “Come over here and check this out.”

“I'm not going over there.” Mia folded her arms across her chest, fuming.

Tiff sighed, “Okay, I am sorry I called you an ass...”

“... potato...” Mia supplied.

“... right... you pissed me off, bailing like that.”

She turned to me with that top shelf eye rolling routine she did. I struggled not to laugh. She was kinda funny, tomboyish... smart too. The story that Jade told me didn't agree with this Tiff that I had met.

“What had you all emo about the bird?”

She looked my way, then off into space for a second. “It was the first time I heard them. And the whispering,” she looked back at me, “it's nothin' like what you hear, but it was pretty creepy.”

I nodded, that made more sense, I was freaked out the first time too. Can anyone say, Biology? Über-disgusting class. I suppressed a shudder. I knew I wouldn't be getting a good grade out of that.

We looked a little longer at Gran's perfect grave. Mia stayed away. The day had blown itself out and the wind was gone, leaving behind a pregnant stillness.

We said our goodbyes with assurances of not telling anyone about my issue. The parents didn't have to tell me that the more people that knew I had all five points of AFTD, the sooner I would get attention from the wrong people.

We left the cemetery, Mom giving a final glance at Gran's grave. Her Gran was truly lost, not just to death, but with a different memory superimposed over the old.

CHAPTER 15

Riding in the car seemed longer because Dad wanted to discuss everything to death.

“I suppose it isn't too redundant I mention the timing was less than ideal when Officers Garcia and McGraw made an appearance.”

Mom answered, “Yes, that was the worst of luck.”

A puzzled expression dominated Dad's face. “What intrigued me was they didn't ask any pertinent questions regarding what experiments I may be conducting.” He drove on, thoughtful and silent.

“It terrifies me to think that those two are hanging around like sharks, scenting blood, waiting for any confirmation that Caleb exhibits AFTD. I mean, corpse-raising.”

I had her there. “Mom...” I raised my eyebrows, “... is that the politically correct word?”

Mom blushed. “Cadaver-Manipulator.”

Those words had the ring of finality.

Dad turned to her, surprised. I wasn't, she came up with the most obscure crap on the planet.

“I have been doing some reading on the subject. What little I could find, doesn't seem to be much available. There isn't that much more written than what John gave Caleb,” she said.

Dad gave me eye contact in the rear view mirror then his eyes fell away as he turned on the left hand turn signal. I'd pulse Jade when we got home, the Js needed to know too. Another complication... they just keep on coming. Questions pinged around in my head speeding up, unanswered: could I put something back I raised? I'd done it before and it hadn't been this huge-ass problem. For the first time I thought that it would have been awesome to be able to talk to Jeffrey Parker. He would definitely have answers.

The car glided smoothly into the stall as the door folded down behind us. The engine purred to a stop and Dad turned around in his seat, all of our harnesses automatically unlocking and retracting simultaneously.

His face was oh so serious. “What you have here, Caleb, is too big to go untrained. I don't know who to trust but we need someone to help you hone your skills.”

I barked out some laughter. The Parents started.

“No offense, Dad, but who even knows anything? I mean, who can we trust? I know they'll send me to the Kent Paranormal High but what good will that do if I am hiding what I can fully do? You heard Garcia.” I looked down at my hands, clenched and tightly folded. I loosened them purposely, the tension tightly coiled. “He said that he had to, by law, turn me in.”

Mom and Dad felt the weight of my words, their message reflected on their faces.

Dad said, “I have read the percentage of the student population for the paranormals in the high school you'll be attending. I assume you'll be attending,” he flung a hand out, of course I would be there, “and the AFTDs are the smallest in number.”

I looked at Dad and? so?

“The point is, there will be others like you and they have a trained AFTD teacher that can help you gain a measure of control. They have detailed literature...”

I broke in, “... how does that help me? I mean, if I can't tell anyone what I can do?”

“The why is very important. Knowledge is power, Caleb. Just learning some practical application can speed the process of discipline and control.”

Logical as always.

He continued, “The officers, well that is another matter entirely. An unrelated matter.”

Mom opened the door and we followed.

Walking into the house I was struck by how odd it seemed. The parents stood completely still, the fine hairs on my body rising.

Dad turned his face to mine, his eyes too wide in their sockets, wild, and shook his head, no noise.

I nodded.

That's when I noticed, everything was overturned and messy. What the Sam Hill was this?

Dad grabbed the baseball bat to the left of the door that leads from the garage to the inside of the house. He held it tightly in his left hand, his knuckles showing white in a bloodless grip, keeping it close and slightly behind his body.

Mom and I stayed behind Dad. He coasted along, his butt to the wall, just turning the corner his body stopped blocking our line of sight, and the living room came into view.

We should have worried about intruders but the room was in such disarray we were stopped in our tracks.

My eyes roamed the mess, some things destroyed. All Mom's indoor plants drooped like sad streamers from a party, discarded.

Mom started to rush forward and Dad clotheslined her and the breath fell out of her in a whoosh. “No Ali, it's not safe,” he said, apologetic but firm.

Mom's hands were wrapped around Dad's forearm where it was still barring her way. He looked into her eyes, big as fifty cent pieces, and she straightened up, his arm falling away.

Dad's briefcase and pulse-top were apart and papers were strewn about like confetti. His pulse-top lay open, the blue screen-of-death staring blankly back, a winking eye that never closed. Dad's mouth tightened into a hard line.

“Wait here,” he said, walking off down the hallway.

It was the longest five minutes of my life.

Mom and I stood together while Dad cruised the house, searching for the A-holes that had violated our house. What could I do to protect Mom?

Finally, Dad came back, face grim.

“They're not here, but we're not staying here tonight.”

“We'll have to pulse the police.” Mom walked over to the Fam-pulse.

“Wait!” Mom's thumb wavered above the touch pad, one eyeball hidden by a stray clump of hair.

“What if Garcia comes?” I asked.

“Yes, most interesting,” Dad said and Mom humphed at that. “What I mean is, we have done nothing wrong. It chronicles that we may be the ones in danger, not the people hiding things or perpetuating crimes.”

“Smart,” Mom agreed, her noodle no longer in a twist.

“Sometimes,” Dad agreed.

“What about,” and I gestured to the house being torn apart, “our house?”

Dad nodded to Mom and she hit the touch pad.

I walked over and stood behind her shoulder watching the words assert themselves on the screen.

911, your emergency? 911 Dispatch

My house has been vandalized. Alicia Hart

Your house number is 26503, Kensington Heights, is this accurate? 911 Dispatch

Yes. Alicia Hart.

Our sensors do not indicate bodily damage. Is there need for an ambulance at your dwelling? 911 Dispatch.

No. Alicia Hart.

Police response will arrive momentarily. 911 Dispatch.

Please stay on your pulse-phone in case intruders re-enter dwelling. 911 Dispatch.

Mom rolled her eyes. She hated all the automation.

She thought again, Connected- Alicia Hart. This would allow mom to move around.

“Mom, it's a pulse conversation.”

“I'm just that old-fashioned,” she said.

Made no sense to me. Who cared, as long as the information was being conveyed.

Dad was hanging on to the bat loosely. I mentioned the bat could go away. He looked down at it blankly, forgetting he'd ever had it. Nodding, he put it back in the garage. That's all we needed, Garcia and the goon squad showing up and getting a load of dad with bat in hand.

Then it struck me; my room.

Racing up my coffin step staircase I flung open the door, heaving a big sigh of relief. Everything looked exactly as it normally did.

Dad and Mom came up behind me, staring at my room, as if for the first time. Dad made a gasping noise, like a fish out of water. “Is this,” his eyes landed on one mess to the next, a frog leaping from lily pad to lily pad, “normal?”

I nodded vigorously. “Yeah, doesn't look like they made it this far.”

Dad kinda had a spacey, buzzed look.

“What?”

Dad looked at Mom. “He really... his room...” Dad paused, uncertain how to continue.

Mom saved him. “Yes honey, I have told you he never listens about cleaning.”

“I thought you were just...” he trailed off.

I helpfully supplied the word, “ranting?”

Mom squinted her eyes at me. “Watch it, pal.”

I surveyed my room, the pillowcase for my bed in a tightly wadded ball at the corner with the bare pillow bunched up next to it. I had a fake wood floor but my clothes were all over it so no décor to worry about. My desk was at the end of the room, like a dark exclamation point, where the ceiling and eave junction met. A precariously balanced mess of candy wrappers, pizza boxes and different varieties of soda pop cans all neatly crushed and waiting to run out of space so I would then be forced to throw them away. I frowned, thinking that may have to be addressed soon. My dirty clothes hamper was empty of clothes but was a great holder for anything that was not actual trash or laundry. Last months' completed homework, that was never turned in, resided in the graveyard of my hamper.

Dad looked an unspoken question to Mom. “Yep, he's ours.”

Dad shook his head again, walking out of my room and downstairs without word.

“What's the matter with Dad?”

“He's had a shock honey.”

“Yeah, the losers that wrecked our house.”

“Well I think it's a toss up between what happened in our house and him discovering that your room looks like it was ransacked.”

“But my room wasn't messed with.” I didn't get it.

“I think that may be the shock. That this is the normal state of your room.”

Huh. Parents.

Suddenly, I heard the pulse-chime, the cops.

Show time.

I came downstairs and two new cops were in our foyer, guns standing naked in their hands. That one thing made me more nervous than anything could.

When Mom and I appeared, they turned, their guns at the ready.

Dad said, “... Whoa guys, it's just the family.”

The woman cop, who was tiny, looked reluctant to re-holster her weapon. She turned to Dad with a husky voice that didn't match her, “Sir, we need to secure the house.”

“Of course, go ahead,” Dad replied.

She of the small build and tough attitude gave a curt nod to her partner. Her gaze lingered on me for a second, then they went down the hall, guns drawn.

We watched them as they reappeared around corners, magically disappearing again, exploring every part of the house, finally coming to stand in front of us. An awkward silence ensued.

Dad filled it, “So Ali and Caleb, this is,” Dad nodded toward the male police officer, “Officer Ward.”

“Chuck,” he corrected in an automatic way, winking. I gave a slight smile, duly noted, turned to the woman, struck again by how young she looked, “and Officer Roberta Gale.”

She didn't correct us.

Officer Gale stepped forward, toward me. I stepped back. Dad turned a puzzled expression her way.

She smiled, but not like she meant it.

“What are you?” she asked.

Huh? “What do you mean?”

Then she let me have it, which wasn't anything like it had been with Tiff. With her it was a soft breeze, a gentle thing. This was like someone took my heart and squeezed it until it burst through their fingers, the breath left my body, I sagged to my knees, sucker punched.

Mom screamed, “Caleb!”

She reached out to grab me, I held out my palm, warding her off... damn.

With her extra creepy running through me I reached down where that special power always lay and prayed for enough to deal with this.

The power rose to my call, a life force welling up inside, pouring out of my body like a vessel. I Visualized a spear and aimed it at tough chick Gale. It left me and I let it. I’d never used it as a weapon, but she'd hurt me and I was going to defend myself.

She flew bodily from the floor as if shoved by an invisible hand, landed flat against the wall. A high-pitched whistle escaping in a rush, leaving her mouth opening and closing like a trout out of water.

Officer Ward's gun cleared the holster, again, pointing it at me. He said out of the side of his mouth, eyes never leaving my face, “Bobbi, what's this about? Tell me right now, so I don't have to hold my gun on a teenager. I hate this paranormal crap,” he muttered.

Officer Gale wasn't talking just then, thank you very much. But her eyes were on my face, her hands pressed to her chest, as if I had shot her. We kept serious eye contact and finally she spoke.

“He's AFTD,” she gasped out.

“Didn't I say I hate that paranormal crap?”

If she was like me, why'd she do that? I used my knees as leverage and got to my feet, Dad's hand on my elbow. My parents were looking at Officer Gale like an alien had landed and told us I was their new pet.

The good news was that AFTD, for me, was a rechargeable battery, I was good as new an hour after the cemetery, good to know.

I gave her wary eyes, so did my parents.

“Put the gun away, it was a test,” she said.

“Great, think you could warn me next time,” Ward said as he holstered his weapon, giving her a nice glare with hard eyes, cop eyes.

The tension eased down a notch.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting this kind of reaction. It was what I was trained to do when I encounter another paranormal, an AFTD paranormal in particular.”

“What, suck the life out of me?” I asked with a touch more sarcasm than I intended.

She lowered her eyes, staring at the ground. “I wasn't expecting it to be quite like this.” I asked her how she'd known.

“It's hard to explain but it's like when you know someone is American?” I nodded, there were so many foreigners living in the U.S. that it was getting harder, but I knew what she meant. There was a look, an arrangement of features. I knew it when I saw it.

“Or, it's similar to a scent in the air,” she bowed her head for a second, “or a taste.”

“But you,” she emphasized, her eyes meeting mine, “I haven't encountered that before.”

Dad interjected, “Isn't it standard procedure to pair a non-paranormal with a paranormal?”

“Not yet,” Ward responded. “Soon it'll be a mandate. It's difficult for us to protect the public, when part of the public are paranormals. Informally, we're already pairing.”

Ward laughed and pushed away from the wall. I didn't see what was funny.

“Let's face it, people that can set fires by mind control alone, manipulate air, earth, water, raise the dead,” Gale looked at me and I kept my face blank, “can, if on the wrong side of the law, be problematic.” he shrugged.

Problematic... ya think? It was my turn to laugh. I'm sure the cops were busy with the paranormals that were into a life-o'-crime. Did the pharmaceutical tycoons consider that before they released the drugs that gave us the cool skills? No way.

Gale regarded me with eyes that reflected nothing. Something about her name clicked. Roberta Gale... ah-huh! She was the chick that used her AFTD to find murder victims and help the police.

Bobbi Gale.

“Aren't you the one that did that article about AFTD?” I asked.

She cocked her head, birdlike, an expression of realization overcame her face. The first true emotion I'd seen so far.

“Oh yeah, that. Well, at that time I was the only AFTD on the force.”

“There's more?”

She nodded. “Not many, we're so rare.”

“Maybe that's natural selection,” I said, more to myself than anyone.

Dad looked at me in surprise.

I grinned. “Sometimes I listen to you.”

He grinned back, turning to Gale. “Okay, now that you're done with the theatrics, can we figure out what this,” he swept his hand around, “violation means?”

Gale, by this time recovered, took out her pulse-pad. All thoughts and notes transferred as she automatically thought them. Those were cool, gimme, gimme, gimme. I bet most cops had them. Except for Garcia.

She took her thumb off the pad. “Can we talk after we get your statements?”

Mom replied for me, “No more 'testing'.”

“Yeah, I promise. I followed protocol exactly. I apologize that it backfired.” shaking her head.

“Sure, okay.” I was acting cool but I wanted to talk to her if she didn't pull another whammy.

Officer Ward broke in, “Okay, let's go over what happened.”

The cops asked my parents a series of questions. Was the house pulse-alarm activated? Had there been suspicious activity? Were there any known enemies? Boring. Like who would remotely care about our family?

Finally, they wrapped up the whole thing, saying they'd make an official report. Automatic police surveillance would be given.

“For how long?” I asked.

Gale looked up from her pulse-pad. “It'll be random, so the perpetrators can't anticipate our moves. Typically, we give about five days.”

“This area usually doesn't have this kind of crime,” Ward paused, “you sure there isn't someone who has an agenda, a motive?”

He looked at us.

It felt like it was way too much of a coincidence for this to happen as all my voodoo death stuff was coming online. It felt like connected trouble. If I was thinking that, my parents sure were.

Mom and Dad shook their heads the silence swelling like a balloon. They wouldn't have shared anyway, especially after Garcia had said he was law bound to turn in corpse-raisers.

“Okay.” She powered down her pulse-pad. “That'll be all for now.” Ward gave her a strange look but she was focused on us. He obviously expected more but she had deliberately shut the meeting down.

She turned to me. “Still up for talking?”

Cautious. “Yeah.”

“You can use the kitchen table,” Mom said.

We walked out of the foyer, through the kitchen, making our way around the breakfast bar, sitting down on the long bench. Gale kept walking, past me, then sat in the queen's chair. I could hear the parents and Officer Ward speaking quietly out in the foyer. It was weird to see her in Mom's chair.

Gale stared at me “Spill it.”

I lowered my voice, “ 'Spill' what?”

“I know you're more than a two or three-point, AFTD. I have never felt anyone as powerful as you.” She rubbed her arms up and down as a person will when they're cold; but she wasn't cold. Mom always had the heat cranked to I'm-going-to-die-in-this-oven temperature. Gale was that creeped out.

I was having that effect on a lot of people lately.

I shrugged. Like I'd admit anything to a cop, look what happened with Garcia?

“I've felt plenty of AFTDs...” she waved her hand at me, “..you're something unique.”

I wasn't ready to answer. I decided to ask her some questions.

“How do you know when someone is paranormal?”

She sighed. “It's like I told you before, it's a feeling, a difference. It feels like a low level, electrical buzz.”

Like sticking your finger in an pulse socket?

I'm friends with Jonesy.

“Is that what they taught you at the school? How to identify paranormals?”

“Yes, some of it. You'll go to the same school I did. I'm a local girl, ya know.” she grinned.

I dug local, they knew the deal, the people, all that jazz.

“What was it like, the school?”

“It's like regular high school, but you're with people that can do amazing things. We're the most rare, but fire-starters are running a close second.”

“You mean like the book?”

“The what?”

“The book by Stephen King.”

“Who's he?”

“Only the greatest writer globally!”

“Well, I'm not much of a reader but the name rings a bell. What's his story about? Pyrokenetics?”

“Yeah, but it's more. Back then, it was just an idea, fiction. No one ever thought it'd be this.” I gestured to include her and I as part of the the paranormal equation.

I leaned forward, she did too. “What do they make you do?” I asked in an almost-whisper.

“Math and English.”

Huh, that sucked.

She saw my expression and laughed. “It's not all dead stuff and fun! You still have to do core.”

“You study Animation of the Dead. That's an actual class, 'Animation of the Dead in Theory'.”

“Wait a second, who's in that class? I thought all the corpse, I mean, Cadaver-Manipulator's were so rare...” I let my sentence trail off.

She looked down at her hands for a second time. “Have you heard of Jeffrey Parker?”

Had I heard of Jeffrey Parker? Geez, duh. I nodded my head, checking the sarcasm at the door like a coat.

“We were some of the first, he was ahead of me. A senior when I was a freshman,” she paused, a troubled knot between her brows, “he wasn't treated that well. You can understand there would be some prejudice toward him.”

Yeah, that.

“Well, he was the first, in the first group of AFTDs. They didn't know what to do with us, him. He was more than they were prepared for. Before him, I don't think anyone knew cadaver-renewal was possible. It was just theory. When Jeffrey Parker started to raise things accidentally...”

“What... accidentally, really?” Gee, imagine that. My new mantra: control, control, control.

“Yeah, accidentally. In fact, one of the teachers was killed in a car accident, and shuffled to his job the next day.”

Well that would have been something.

“But how did they know it was Jeffrey? For sure, I mean. It could have been any of you guys.”

She nodded, plausible.

“Because the,” she paused here, “... teacher, dead teacher,” she emphasized, “... shambled over to Jeff and said, 'I am here to serve you'. Not exactly what he would have done in life. The statement was directed at Jeff, not the few other AFTDs in class. Jeff could control him.”

Boy, that would be great, raising your teacher for a personal slave.

A fantasy come true. I got a dreamy look.

“Snap out of it. You weren't there, it's not remotely cool.” She rolled her eyes. Girls must take eye rolling classes in kindergarten.

“Well, there's a short list of teachers that I want to do My Bidding.” I laughed. The Js were getting a full report.

She didn't laugh. Kinda humorless.

“Anyway.” she glared at me, well sor-ry. “The AFTD teacher knew that we had ourselves a real, live, Cadaver-Manipulator. No one had ever manifested the five points before. They had a heck of a time figuring out how to put it back.”

I bet they did, remembering the fun of getting granny back-in-box. Back-in-coffin?

“What did they do?”

“It was a big deal. The principal came to our class with the Empath Professor.” I thought briefly of Jade. “Of course, we had our AFTD professor as well. He was one of the first professors to theorize about the potential for cadaver-renewal,” she paused, “it had never been well-received. Then Jeff proved it could be done. And he hadn't even tried.”

We turned at the same time, hearing the murmurings of the conversation wrapping up in the foyer. Gale dug around in her uniform pocket until she came up with a business card.

It had a big dollop of coffee on it, obscuring the last four numbers of her pulse-phone.

“Ah the heck with it. Do you have your pulse?”

I nodded, turning it in her direction. I put my thumb on the pad and thought; new contact.

She looked at me, I nodded as I lifted my thumb.

Gale replaced it with hers. She stared for a second, the green characters illuminated on the screen:

Gale, Bobbi 206.631.6312.

“My direct line, not the Department's 'general'.”

“How'd you get that area code? Is it Kent?”

She smiled. “Yeah, it was my grandmother's number. When she passed I inherited it. When Pulse Technology came on board, I transferred it to my pulse.”

Officer Ward and my parents walked in and Gale stood. We shook hands. When we touched I'll be damned if there wasn't a sorta low, voltage-type buzz. I didn't let it show on my face, but her eyes widened, too weird.

We trailed the cops into the foyer. Gale mentioned she'd be available if I needed anything, day or night. I'd heard that before. She knew way more than she let on, her partner included. They left and Mom closed the door behind them softly.

“Major strange,” Mom said.

“I wasn't real pleased with the 'testing' of Caleb. It seemed odd,” Dad replied.

“I don't trust Garcia much. I liked her better,” I said.

“Yes, that was a troubling turn of events at the cemetery.”

Troubling? Yeah.

Mom got the broom and dustpan, starting the clean up on the shattered debris of her beloved pots and plants.

“Caleb, go fetch me some of the picnic glasses and we'll get my babies in some water.”

Brother...Mom. But when I took in her long, sad face I just turned without a word and went into the pantry, digging through the mess of the closet until I found the recycled plastic goblets, like big colored jewels that sparkled in the light.

“These ones?”

“Yes, those ones.”

I walked to the kitchen sink, opening the tap, setting it to gray water. I filled each glass about three quarters, arranging them on the windowsill. Low-slanting sunlight streamed through the window, catching them in a kaleidoscope of colors, which lay like jagged pieces on the floor behind us.

Shaking off the dirt in the compost can under the sink, I placed the four plants that would be saved in their respective glasses. I turned to hold the dustpan for Mom.

I cruised the living room, throwing afghans on the back of couches, closing drawers and straightening pillows.

Mom came out from her bedroom. “Nothing has been stolen. Mom's necklace, my fancy bracelet with real diamonds.”

Dad looked up, puzzled. “Nothing?”

She shook her head.

“What about your pulse-top, Kyle?”

“The mainframe shut it down the instant someone tried to hack it.”

“Did they? Try, I mean.”

“They most certainly did. When I return to work on Monday, we'll do an analysis of what files they breached, if any. In the meantime, I won't be able to recover anything, it's locked down. It's for the best, if they return...” Mom startled, her hand flying to her chest.

“We have to consider the possibility.”

“I thought the police were watching,” I said.

“True, but they don't have the manpower to be here twenty-four hours a day, son.”

That blows. Out loud I said, “That doesn't seem safe enough. I mean, they didn't rob us, but somehow, they got in even with pulse-security.” I turned to Dad and he nodded. “So they can get in again.”

“I'll change the pulse-code,” he said.

“But, what I'm saying is, how did they get in to begin with? The cops said there were no signs of forced entry.”

Dad rested his chin on his hand. “That's the best I can do. Also, it provides a fail-safe.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A way to find out who or what may know sensitive information, like our pulse-code,” Mom said.

“So that means if someone got in here again, it's an inside job?” I clarified.

“Exactly,” Dad agreed.

“Can't we just assume that now?” Mom asked.

“I'd like to, but the scientist in me insists that it may have been some malfunction, or someone using one of the many pulse tools out there to neutralize settings.”

“Thereby allowing them to assign a new pulse-code,” Mom finished.

“Right,” Dad said.

The clean-up continued its silent course for the next hour. Four o'clock came around and Mom started to do her thing in the kitchen. It was magical. She disappeared in the kitchen, looked inside our empty fridge, pulled a few things out and ta-da! a meal was ready. Now, if I were to try that same thing, looking in the freezer and pantry for good measure, which I often did as a ritual, there would not be anything popping off the shelves saying something cool like, eat me.

“What's for supper Mom?”

Mom turned around, looking lost. Dad noticed, their eyes meeting.

“How about a McDonald's run?” he asked the two of us.

Huh? Could I get this lucky?

“Alright!” I said, doing a Jonesy-style fist pump.

Mom's shoulders slumped a little. Don't ruin it Mom, I silently begged. Dad closed the distance, taking her by the shoulders and they stared into each others eyes. About this time was my cue to take off... but I stayed. We were in this whole mess together, this was not a gross-out parents moment.

He ran his hands up and down her arms, sort of caressing her. “It's been a tough day on all of us. Just... let's go out.”

Mom opened her mouth, to protest I think. But Dad put a finger to her lips. “Let me take care of you and Caleb tonight. I know you like to make the suppers, but let's get some food in us and a good night's rest. Things will look better tomorrow.”

She smiled, a wan thing, not her usual, full toothed grin. “Hey, that's my line buster.” She playfully punched him. He released her, his hands sliding down her bare arms.

A caress, I thought, definitely a caress.

****

McDonald's was always an act of self-restraint. I had a fantasy, where, I walked up to the counter (glided up to the counter), and began with, I'll have one of everything.

Unfortunately, the reality was more like Dad finding a place to sit and Mom selecting the food. As Dad put it, “She's the health nut of the house, son.”

That meant that I usually couldn't get a milkshake. It didn't matter if they were made with seaweed or not. I had tried that argument with Mom and she didn't buy it.

Imagine my surprise when she came to the table with not two but three shakes!

That meant it had been a Really Bad Day.

Mom slid into the booth and put the tray on the glaring orange Formica table top. “It's been a really bad day,” she said as she sat down next to me.

Yay for ransackers! I guess it was too much for a family to go through for milkshakes, but it was a near thing.

I tore the lid off, sighing with pleasure at the chocolaty goodness.

Mom opened hers and threw in a straw which stood up in the center of the cup in a satisfying way. I liked to slurp and Mom hadn't bothered to get me a straw. She had strawberry and Dad had vanilla.

Neapolitan family.

Dad thought that someone suspected me but without proof they had fished around, hoping to find confirmation of my Cadaver-Manipulator status.

“Caleb,” she said, swallowing a mouthful of fry, then chasing it with some shake. “What about those papers that John gave you?”

Ah! I had forgotten all about those.

“Maybe they're in my locker at school?” I said hopefully.

“Really? Why would you have taken them there?” Mom asked.

She knew organizing wasn't a strong point of mine.

Mom's half eaten meal was before her. I slid her tray over to my side and started polishing off was left. Her shake was also made available. To all the germ-naysayers out there, I stand by the “family cootie” mantra of we're all exposed to each other's germs anyway so a little shared shake wasn't going to take away my fun. I slurped and gulped, quietly, as to not get nailed, listening to the parents figure out our next move. Trays were emptied in the separator and we piled back into the car, the seat harnesses locking after Dad pulsed the car ignition.

It was a silent drive on the way home. Dad glided back into his spot in the garage but turned to us. “You guys stay here and let me look inside.”

Our days of just roaring in and out of the house were behind us. No longer did I feel safe.

Mom and I waited in silence. The first thing I was gonna do was pulse Jade, then the Js. A bright spot in the week was picking up black dog on Tuesday. If I survived that long, I thought morbidly.

Dad gave the thumbs up. Mom and I got out, walking into the house. She paused just inside the door and I almost piled into the back of her. She sighed, then headed for the kitchen. Dad came over to her and gave her a side hug and she leaned into him, her head tucking almost into his armpit. I got out of there. Dad could deal with Mom and the house would survive. Whether we would, now that was another story.

I rushed to my room flipping my hair out of my eyes as I went and jerking my pulse out of my pocket. I flew into the air and back-landed onto the bed. Home sweet home. I pressed my thumb onto the pad and thought: Jade.

Green letters appeared: Hey.-JLeC

What's up with you? CH

Nothing much, Sophie's here.-JLeC

Oh. Well, our house was broken into and the cops came.-CH

What?! gasp Are you guys okay? Why was it broken into? Did Garcia come? JLeC

Ya know why. No, he didn't; some other cops.-CH

You think? JLeC

I do. I think it's all about that.-CH

Well, Sophie's here (I can't really talk much) so I better go. Are we still meeting at your house tomorrow? JLeC

Yeah. Say, three o'clock or around there.-CH

Okay, I'll be there.-JLeC

Can't wait to see ya.-CH
smiles, Caleb?-JLeC

Yeah? CH

Be careful.-JLeC

Okay smiles-CH

Next stop, the Js. I pressed my thumb back on the pad disconnect and thought the command: three-way: Jonesy and John Terran.

Hey dill weed.-MJ

Hi.-John Terran

Hey-CH

Thinkin' about tomorrow Caleb? MJ

Yeah, ya know I am. But, something happened today that is freaking me out, big time.-CH

What happened? John Terran

Some losers came through the house and tore it up, broke mom's plants, tried to hack my dad's pulse-top. It was bad. Then the cops showed.- CH

Garcia? MJ

No.-CH

You think they're looking for the 'goods'? John Terran
smiles slyly... good one John. Maybe. That's what Dad and I think.-CH
laughs it's not funny, but you have the dumbest luck.-John Terran

They couldn't find anything anyway.-MJ

Probably not...but.-CH

The papers I gave you distress! John Terran
nodding... right.-CH

Profanity block! That's right, John gave you the corpse papers...MJ

Yeah sighs.-CH

Are those at school... maybe? John Terran

Well, I hope they are but I'm not much for organizing my locker. The only thing I hope is, they looked at my room and figured it'd be too much time to search laughs.-CH
guffaws you got that goin' on Caleb! MJ

So, are you guys staying at the house? I mean, is it safe? John Terran

Yeah, the cops said they'd do random surveillance.-CH

Okay, we'll talk about this more tomorrow. Let me think about it more. Maybe we can figure out who did it, or why? What about Jade? Can she do anything with her mojo? John Terran

Mojo, John? Laughs, I don't know but let me ask her, alright? CH

Get over yourself, Caleb, we won't frisk the girlfriend.-MJ

Yeah, you chumps just follow my lead.-CH

Pushy bastard! MJ

Just for you laughs.-CH

You guys come over about three o'clock.-CH

Okay, what are you telling your parents? MJ

That we're gonna hang out.-CH

That's so not going to work if you have another corpse day.-John Terran

Well... actually...CH

You... what, did it again? MJ

Yeah. Today Dad thought it would be a good idea to visit the cemetery and experiment with my 'growing abilities'.-CH

Well, profanity block! How'd that go? John Terran

Not real well. But I got granny back in the ground.-CH

WTF?! MJ

You raised your dead grandmother? John Terran

Yeah, I meant to, but she sorta got out of control, and then Tiff Weller and I...CH

WHAT?! John Terran

You don't even know Tiff Weller. Wait a sec...what was she even doing in the cemetery? MJ

Hang on to your shorts guys, I will tell you the whole thing tomorrow. I don't want this on our pulses, you feel me? CH
silence

Okay- John Terran

Yeah, I got ya, but you're killin' me dude. MJ

Three o'clock, right? John Terran

Okay, see ya.-CH

I powered down my pulse to sleep mode and was immediately lost in my thoughts. The Js were gonna have to know about the lovely graveyard mess, then the house break in. Was it getting dangerous for my friends to know some of this stuff? For Jade? I just didn't have any answers anymore. Like I had all the answers anyway, duh. Things felt like they were spinning out of control.

It was all in motion now, too late to turn back.

CHAPTER 16

I didn't sleep well. Every noise, every scrape of a branch against a windowpane was cause for wakefulness. At one point, I sorta gave up and sat up on my knees, turning to the window and looking out, confident that I could not be seen.

The street stood quietly, a breeze lifting a tree branch now and then. The moon cast shadows under the streetlights, pools of light bordered by inky blackness.

As I watched, a police cruiser slowly pulled up. Idling for a few seconds, an officer got out, then a second from the other side, Garcia and McGraw! What were they doing here? I sure didn't feel safer with them guarding the house. No siree. My hands gripped the windowsill, leaning forward, I pressed my nose pressed to the glass, careful not to fog up the window with my breath.

Garcia turned suddenly as if McGraw had said something, bending to hear him. Surreptitious whispering ensued, their heads pressed together, one blond, the other so dark it blended with the night.

They looked up at my room at that precise moment. It took a whole lot for me not to jump down underneath the window.

But I wasn't noticed.

A sigh of relief escaped me into the hushed silence of my room.

Just as they were finishing their covert conversation, another cruiser pulled up. Officers Gale and Ward got out.

Now this was interesting.

I was certain we didn't need four cops. I rested my butt cheeks against my heels, perching for the duration.

Even in the gloom it was easy to tell which cop was Gale. She was clearly the smallest, a whole head and then-some shorter than Garcia, he being the tallest and Ward a little shorter. As obsessed with growing as I was, I noticed people's heights. Bobbi Gale was around Jade's height, but built bigger, solid, like she worked out.

There was some arm flailing going on with Gale gesturing to our house and then throwing her hands up in the air. Ward had his arms crossed across his chest, not pleased. McGraw was mirroring Ward's stance and Garcia was nose to nose with Gale. Their height difference didn't really allow for that but she was right in his face, her's craning up to make eye contact.

Finally, McGraw touched Garcia's shoulder and he stepped back... away from Gale. I could see his shoulders hike up in an exaggerated shrug, with a wave of his hand he dismissed our house and walked over to his cruiser. McGraw followed, turning once to give a considering look at Gale. Even from my vantage point I could see her glower at him.

She was pissed. It was in the set of her shoulders, the way tension sang along them. I would've loved to heard what they said.

The two cops got into their car, pulling away into the night. Gale and Ward looked after them, then they got in their cruiser, backing up into the space that McGraw and Garcia had vacated.

That was odd as hell, what were they arguing about? I knew it wasn't a shift change thing because Gale and Ward said random. Could it be that McGraw and Garcia were not supposed to be here and showed up? Showed up for what, my mind asked the obvious. I just didn't know.

I stared for a couple more minutes, barely making them out in the gloom. Gale in the driver's seat and Ward beside her, gesturing and talking, a badge twinkling in the dim light cast by the streetlight. I laid back down, crossing my arms behind my head and thinking. I tossed and turned, but sleep evaded. Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep, unconsciousness pulling me under like a pebble in a river.

CHAPTER 17

I was swimming, the sun shining through the water, me at the bottom looking through layers of grayish-green, a great pale orb shining dimly above me. It was important that I reach it.

Moving a hand in front of my face, it floated there like a dead, pale fish. I moved my body, feeling the resistance and rose determinedly toward the surface, my hands knifing through the water. As I gained speed, the heat grew, the light intensifying. The coolness of the water retreating as I surfaced. Breaking through I opened my eyes.

I was in my room.

I became aware of things in stages, as if still dreaming and unable to wake up. I pinched myself, yup, that hurt, definitely awake. A red crescent appeared where I'd self-damaged.

The Js and Jade would be here in three hours. Sitting up,I moved my neck in a loose circle, definitely stiff from the shitty night's sleep.

Last night! I sat up on my knees, pulling the curtain aside. The cops were gone and any evidence of their presence wiped away. I looked at the sky, noticing storm clouds brewing, a brisk breeze hammering them through. Perfect cemetery weather. I was trying for optimistic. The ass-twins would get good and distracted, I'd get some space before the AP Test tomorrow and we'd pick up black dog.

Leaning across the bed I cracked the window. The May heat would buzz up here, making it eighty degrees by nighttime. Getting off the bed, I kicked a pile of junk out of the way of the door and headed downstairs.

Dad was downstairs in his fave chair working with his pulse-top. Reading the news, the most boring use of time. Mom wore her apron finishing pancakes. Music swam around the room on low volume, while she put the fixings on the table, butter, the cow, the milk, and syrup. Dad was gonna succumb. He tried to limit pancakes because he was O.L.D and didn't want to get F.A.T.

I plopped down in my seat and Mom gave me the eye.

“Kinda late getting up this morning, pal.”

“Did you hear the cops?” I asked.

Mom rolled her eyes and Dad looked up from his pulse-top, closing it.

“I thought you said that was shut down Dad?”

“It is, I was just putting it through some security paces.”

I looked at him.

“Security protocol,” he said in way of explanation. “Rudimentary procedure before I have one of our tech people go through it.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you got it fixed and were reading the boring news or something,” I said.

Dad smiled. “That 'boring news', keeps me up-to-date on world events, Caleb.”

Ah-huh.

“I didn't hear a thing,” Mom said.

“I was awake when they came around midnight,” Dad said.

“Oh. I didn't hear that time, just the four a.m. run when Garcia and McGraw came.”

“That makes me all warm and fuzzy,” Mom said.

Yeah.

Dad had chipmunk cheeks, but after a few chews he stated, “I flat-out don't like Garcia and McGraw showing up.”

I nodded. Mom was quiet, a rare thing.

“They looked like they were arguing out there.”

“Who?” Dad asked.

“Ward and Gale were there too.”

“What? That's bizarre. They don't need that much show of force to deter a criminal revisit,” he said.

“I guess it's too much to ask what they were arguing over,” Mom said.

“Yeah, but the girl...”

“Officer Gale?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, she looked pretty pissed.” Mom made a face. “She was using a lot of hand gestures, right up in Garcia's face.”

“Based on how they looked, what do you speculate they were talking about?” Dad asked.

Judging on how different Garcia had been at the cemetery I had a feeling that I had his full attention, and not the good kind. Gale knew I was AFTD like her. She suspected I was something unique, but wasn't ready to out me to anyone. I got a sense of protectiveness from her that I wasn't getting from Garcia. I told the parents that, I also told them I thought she had argued about why they felt they needed to show up. As far as we knew, Garcia and McGraw weren't on this case.

After a moment, Dad said, “I think that Garcia has our house, you...all of us,” his finger having encompassed us, flagged in some way. If anything happens here of any importance, he's alerted.”

“I don't like it,” Mom said.

Dad shrugged. “I am concerned about Garcia's watchfulness. It's not a matter of if, but when he finds out Caleb is a C-M.”

They were solemn. I kept wolfing down my pancakes. Talk of my discovery as a corpse-raiser does not interfere with The Appetite. The parents would allow possible government exploit, espionage, capture and imprisonment to effect theirs. Huh.

“What can we do legally, Kyle, to stop this interference? He's just a kid, a minor for goodness sake.” As she lowered her chin, her hair fell forward.

Dad tucked a strand behind her ear, where it curled around the lobe.“I've been looking into that. We'll go to the press if it comes to that. If he gets noticed, and they try to pull a 'Parker', we'll see how uncomfortable we can make them. They managed to stuff a lot of the press about the Parker boy, but there is heightened awareness now. Awareness of Paranormals and awareness of the AFTDs.”

I didn't like the sound of that. I'd be famous, like Dad, but not because I was a brainiac. Because I was a freak. Nobody wants to be famous for weirdness. Infamous.

“Why does everyone think AFTDs are weirdos?”

Mom said, “You're not a weirdo Caleb.” Her gaze steady on my face.

“I know that I'm not. But the kids at school think other paranormal abilities are cool. Everyone is grossed out about AFTD and they don't even know. Well, not all of them.” I thought of Bry and Tiff Weller, Mia and the A-hole pair. Some kids knew. The Js and Jade didn't count.

“I know you're not keen on people on a larger scale, knowing of your unique ability. But the alternative is not acceptable. Do you think anyone thought that this would be the outcome? That mapping the genome and its subsequent use to unveil these abilities in the human race was going to be without uncertainty, challenges, danger?” Dad asked.

He was right. The other scientists, who took up where he and his team left off, didn't consider the consequence of their actions. Now we had people my age through mid-twenties that could do some pretty extraordinary things. And there wasn't always a counter to that, except for psychic Nulls and those weren't common. Some paranormals were committing crimes, and our police were chasing their asses trying to keep up with that.

He shrugged. “Hearing the officers concede that they were switching to paired mundanes/paranormals was a good thing. They need it.”

“Why do they break the law?” I asked.

Mom muttered, “Because they can.”

Dad looked at her. “There will always be people making the wrong choice, it's human nature.”

“The world spins,” Mom said.

I admired her sense of justice but I just couldn't, as she would say, embrace it.

I glanced at the clock, straight up one o'clock. “The Js are coming over with Jade at three.”

“You know, Jade is a 'J' too,” Mom said.

“Yeah, I guess, but she's not. Ya know, she's her own thing.”

“Autonomous,” Dad said. “Independent from the Js.”

“Oh! Well that's true.” I blushed, Jade was so not like the Js.

My parents pretended not to notice how awkward the whole Jade conversation was.

“So, what's the plan at three?” Mom asked, neatly changing the subject. My parents were mainly cool.

“We're gonna go hang out.”

“Where?” Dad asked, trying to find butter on his plate with the last bite of pancake.

“We're just gonna walk around.” The parents would have cattle if they knew I was gonna go to Scenic Hill Cemetery. It occurred to me that I might have wanted to get Tiff up there for back up. Huh. Kinda late for that.

“Okay,” Dad said, giving me some space.

I gave a mental sigh of relief, they'd bought it.

I needed to get the twins off my back and the J-Man had the plan... I hoped.

CHAPTER 18

Everyone showed up on time; for Jonesy that was nothing short of a miracle, time management was not a priority. Scheming was (we all had our talents). As in now, scheming five seconds out the door.

Jade walked beside me on my left, absolutely mouth-watering in a pink hoodie, faded jeans with strategic holes, and pink high top All Star basketball shoes. Did she play, I had asked her at one point? No, she just thought they looked tight. And they did... on her. Her hair, which usually flowed around her face like dark water was pulled up in a ponytail, the end making a black sweep in the valley of her shoulders.

I casually held her hand, not fingers entwined but cupped around it fully. I loved feeling its smallness. One of the many things I liked about Jade, other than her utter coolness as a person, was how physically small she was. It didn't diminish her. She didn't have some complex about it. She knew who she was and that was very cool.

Jonesy had been talking the whole time since we left and I started tuning in, even with the distraction of Jade.

The bag full of gear rattled as he walked animatedly beside John, who was between us.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I snagged the can of Aqua Net a couple of weeks ago out of my mom's separator and the lighter...”

“How'd you manage the lighter?” John asked.

“My dad registered it for BBQ-ing,” Jonesy said automatically.

Lighters were like guns now. With the explosion of paranormals, there was also that small group within the paranormals, the fire-starters. Not a fully PC term, it was sorta like corpse-raiser. Any accelerant: lighters, matches, fuel, had to be registered like guns. Now that we had the Pyrokenetics, they could use anything like that as a deadly weapon. Some really talented ones didn't need anything. They were the weapon. And I thought being an AFTD was something. Starting fires would be the coolest! I told the Js that.

“No way,” John said automatically. “Think about the control and all the adults up your ass all the time. Ah... no, that would suck dude, big time.”

“I like it. I could think of about a million things to torch! Starting with the school!” Jonesy fist-pumped.

He had us grinning like fools.

Jonesy was busy outlining the plan but stopped midway with, “You're not gonna like, make something pop out of the ground, Caleb?”

I laughed. I got a picture of a Jack-in-the-Box, or, as it were, Jack-in-the-Coffin, a grin spreading across my face with the visual. “Nah, that's totally not the plan.” Jade squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

John, all seriousness said, “But you just had that deal with your grandma at the cemetery.”

“Great-grandma.”

John shrugged, whoever.

“You didn't need blood? To like, put her back?” Jonesy asked before I could answer John.

“No. I've been thinking about that. Maybe it was coincidence the blood happened to be part of it last time. Gran rose without any of that.”

But a knot of unease had begun to build in my chest. What if... what if there was something special I needed to do to get a corpse back to rest? I mean, Tiff had been there and saved my ass yesterday, but what if she hadn't?

“Okay, so we don't have to worry about an accident?” John asked, placing stress on that last word.

Like potty-training, nice.

Jonesy hooted, “Accidental corpse-raising!”

“No, I don't having any corpse-raising plans today.”

Jade spoke up for the first time, “Why are we meeting them at the cemetery then? Why here?” Her opposite hand swept in the general direction of the cemetery that wasn't quite in view yet.

Jonesy rolled his eyes and I gave him the look.

“That's our turf. Caleb pulled the creep-out card there and they'll feel all, off-base. Plus,” he pointed to the side of his head and tapped his temple, “The Master,” clearly indicating himself, “needs a proper environment.”

John's eyebrows shot up. Usually, John was the brains of the operation. Jonesy was in his element, scheming.

It must have showed on our faces because Jonesy said, “Hey, I know that I'm not brilliant but I've got rockin' good ideas, and I'm rollin' with that program.” We laughed, there was no denying he had a program.

We crested the hill, the gates of the cemetery loomed, framing the cemetery beyond. I gave a little shudder, the sensory memory playing through my body like a discordant instrument. Jade looked a question at me and I shook my head. Hard thing to explain. Had to be there or in her case, not.

The weather hadn't improved, in fact, it looked like it was working up a head of steam, a late spring storm. The clouds boiled above our heads like giant pewter boulders.

John saw where I was looking and said, “Might rain.”

Jonesy shrugged. “We'll get Carson and Brett all lit up before the sky opens.”

I looked at my beat up watch, it was riding at four o'clock. Getting late but probably wouldn't be dark until almost nine.

“What time is it?” John asked.

“Time for the ass-clowns to show,” Jonesy muttered.

Jade covered her mouth, hiding a smile but Jonesy caught it, joining in.

And just like that, the duo in question rounded the hill behind us as if conjured. Their blond heads glowed in the dim light of an overcast sky. The two of them climbed the hill with determination, dual expressions of purpose... a bad one.

****

Carson and Brett stopped just in front of our group, Brett making a point of staring down Jade. I wondered if he had told Carson about the other night with his dad's meltdown and the gopher attack.

Ah-no.

The breeze had come up and it was windy. The great trees inside the cemetery stood sentinel, their sweeping branches moved by invisible puppet strings.

Jonesy came forward with his bag of goodies swinging into his legs as he did. Carson met him.

They stared at each other. “I've got this experiment all planned out for ya. Me and the guys tried it last year and it turned out cool.”

Even to me it sounded suspicious, but Carson looked interested. The only reason he'd be motivated to try something that was connected with the three of us (four, I guess, since Jade was starting to be part of the group), was a way to prove how much of a mondo-stud he was.

Typical.

Carson leaned forward, trying to scope what was in the bag. Jonesy pulled the bag back using a back and forth motion with his finger, no-oh.... not yet.

“Come on Carson, this is some kinda game, let's get outta here,” Brett said.

Jade and I were silent. We knew what had gone down and now I was feeling unsure about making Brett pay, but Carson...that was okay. The Js and I had decided that if Carson was taught a lesson, Brett would lay off too, following his lead. I liked it better because Carson just acted like an anus cause he could. He didn't have worries, the ass-hat.

“Nah, I want to see what Jonesy's got that's so special.”

“Let's take a walk,” Jonesy said.

We followed Jonesy with his bag of mayhem into the cemetery. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the buzzing of their voices rose to a fever-pitch, like the low droning of bees. That was with me trying to tune it out. I should have been able to hear the dead even further away. But there was something about actually being in the cemetery that seemed to make it resonate deeper.

I stalled a little and Jade slowed beside me, her eyes widening and I knew she was getting a little feedback.

She confirmed this when she whispered, “Are those the voices?”

I nodded.

“Is it like this all the time?”

“Not always, but this close to a big nest o' corpses, oh yeah.”

Everyone turned to look at us and we began to walk again. Jade and I stopped holding hands. She didn't need the overlap and I was straining for control. This was a bad place, I thought belatedly. This much dead were just impossible to ignore for me. Now that Jade wasn't touching me, it was a little better. She was like a radio antenna, she amplified their signal. Kinda like Tiff. Interesting. But Jade wasn't AFTD. Something to consider.

Jonesy and Carson stood close with Jonesy taking out each item for the science experiment. It looked like a strange hodgepodge to me. Jade shared the same expression. But as I remember, when Jonesy pulled this on us, we had fallen for it. If I was guessing right, he had improved on his original idea.

Jonesy was all seriousness. The first clue that this whole thing was an absolute farce. He said to Carson, “You take this tube-thingey,” he pulled a bizarre, corrugated tube that looked like something Dad had put by the foundation of our house and Jonesy then pointed to Brett, “holds the other end, while you,” and he mimed depressing the small spray tip of the hairspray can, “spray this crap inside the tube.”

“Why is it duct taped on this side?” Carson asked.

Jonesy did a long, slow blink at Carson.

Wow, he had the IQ of a shovel.

“It's to keep the Aqua Net inside the tube, Carson.” Jonesy elaborated slowly.

Carson tried to save face. “I knew that,” he countered.

Right.

John sorta turned away and laughed into his hand, pretending to cough. Brett glared in his direction.

Brett asked the first smart question of the night, “What's the lighter for? How'd you get it?”

Jonesy smiled. “Swiped it from my dad.”

I was sorta drowning in the voices but making a colossal effort to quiet them. Gotta get through this. I just wanted these two to figure out that we weren't gonna be messed with, to leave us all alone.

Carson asked, “You guys did this, right?”

We all nodded, I gritted my teeth, get on with it.

Then, just to sweeten the deal I asked, “Scared?”

Carson lowered his chin like a bull before a red flag, fists clenching and said through gritted teeth, “We can do anything you ass-wipes can do.”

Resolute, his chin rose and he crossed his arms across his chest.

Going to plan.

Almost like it was choreographed, Jonesy motioned Brett over, handing the tube with the duct tape out to him. Carson stalked to Jonesy and tore the can of hairspray out of Jonesy's hand. The top spun off from the force and became a bright pink exclamation point on top of a grave marker. Nice. Jade watched with fascinated horror.

I sorta knew it wouldn't end well, but it was like the chocolate with the mystery stuff on the inside. I suspected it would taste bad but there might be something about it I liked.

Jonesy ignored Carson's crap and opened the palm that held the lighter. A ghost of a smile formed on Carson's lips. I wasn't liking that development. He shouldn't have been smiling.

He leaned forward and delicately plucked the lighter out of Jonesy's hand.

Jonesy backed away, a little uncertain. “So... Brett holds the duct tape end and you like,” he mimed depressing the sprayer gizmo again, “spray a bunch in there until that's all you can smell, then light the lighter just as you stop the stream.”

Brett had an expression on his face that might have been some sort of thought process.

John immediately saw the dilemma and took it in hand, seeing that the whole thing could go sideways.“Look, you guys, if you're chickenshit or something, you don't have to do it. We won't hold it against you,” John said, all sincere-like with a hand laying over his heart.

We all nodded our agreement that we would definitely not be inclined to spread crap about them in school. Riiiggghhhttt. I could see how John's cleverness was going to work this kink right out.

“No, we'll do it. I can't see any of you guys not saying anything.” Carson looked at each one of us, lingering on Jade longest. Who stared defiantly back at him.

“You just remember, we,” he included Brett in this, “have the goods on you, Hart. We know what you are, what you can do. We know who to call...”

“Ghostbusters?” Jonesy asked, eye alight.

We laughed, they glared.

Standing just inside the gate, with unspoken consensus, we moved over to a stand of fir trees, away from direct line-of-sight.

Avoid prying adult eyes at all costs.

Brett held the tube up. The black exterior looked very much like the old-fashioned accordions, with the duct tape end facing him, his hands circling it like a steering wheel. Carson readied the can, carefully facing the spray nozzle away from his face and sprayed into the tube.

Even from a few feet away I could see the mist and smell the God-awful cosmetic smell wafting around. How did women wear that? It meant something that you could set it on fire... ah, hello?

Carson positioned the lighter, depressing the ignite button just inside the tube. Exactly like what happened to us a year ago, there was a sucking noise. What I didn't remember was that nothing happened at first.

Then....

Flames burst out of the open end in an orange tangle, licking along the sides and traveling toward Brett's hands. Just before Brett dropped the tube, Carson leaned into the flames.

John and I had about exactly three seconds to exchange a look, what-the-hell?

But when we glanced back at Carson, we saw what the problem really was. The fire hovered like a lover, all around Carson's face but leaving him untouched.

Jonesy, never one for internal dialogue said, “What the hell is this?”

That about covered it.

Brett was backing up, backing away from Carson, who turned to us with an evil grin. Fire was still moving around his face in a wave. He held out his hand and a small flame swept down his arm, blue in its center, burning just above his palm.

“So, you were saying Hart? You want to go chew some glass? Sounds like a good plan to me.”

Beautiful, Carson the Comedian.

We stood speechless.

Holy hell.

I guess Carson had the fire thing goin' on and Jonesy, the Plan-Man, hadn't counted on this.

Zero contingency plan; nada, zilch, zip.

Shit.

Brett was well and far away from Carson with a stunned expression. A surprise ability apparently.

John stepped in, the voice of reason. “Listen, it was just a joke, you've been up Caleb's ass since forever and it was just a little payback. You don't need to torch us.”

John put his hands out like, just all fun-and-games here.

“I'm not gonna torch you guys... just him.”

And with that delightful objective, he did just that, putting his hand back, readying to throw the ball o' fire.

Everything happened in slow motion. I heard Jade gasp beside me and I gave her a hard shove to get her out of the literal line of fire.

Jonesy shrieked, “Hey!”

But it was John that shocked me, stepping right into Carson, the two of them colliding, the fire halting mid-throw. There was a crazy flame floating, suspended between myself and Carson. It moved neither backward or forward, but sputtering and flickering, trying to go out.

With a roar, Carson leaped forward trying to recapture the flame but John drop-tackled his ass and they both went down. Once John nailed Carson, the flame died out completely.

“Get off me Terran!” Carson roared, grabbing John by his frizzy mass of hair, pulling him off his legs by his scalp. Now that the fire was out, John had started to get up but Carson, typical jerk-off that he was, just had to get into with John.

“Hey! Let go!” John gave him an elbow to the nose and a spray of blood erupted. Carson howled and grabbed his nose, kicking John right in the kneecap. John went down holding his knee.

Well... damn.

I ran over to break it up before the whole world figured out that something was going on besides a practical joke.

And was interrupted by Jade's dad.

He appeared at the entrance of the cemetery, the wind lifting his sweating hair off his forehead. Fists clenched and breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling, swooping in great lungfuls of air. I was struck by how much he moved and looked like Brett's dad; he was in a lot better shape.

His timing blew.

I swung my head in Jade's direction and, prone on her butt (oops, shoved harder than I meant) she gave me the I'm-caught-rabbit-stare.

He hollered, “Jade... what in the blue hell are you doin' hanging out with this pack of boys?” His face had flushed an alarming purple color as he began making his way toward us.

He scared me to death, a fine tremble coursed through my body. I called Jade over; she scrambled to her feet and ran. His momentum was carrying him, he was gonna put a hurt on us and I wasn't gonna let it be Jade.

My next move was as natural as breathing. Instantly remembering that Jade and I worked like complements, I grabbed her hand and flung out every bit of my power over the dead. Mr. Scary was wading through graves, his fists like great meaty hammers, coming to nail us.

Like a great flowing river, the power left my body: a vessel fully released of its contents.

I looked over at Jade and she was breathing rapidly. Her eyes so wide the whites showed, the startling green irises standing out, burning like emeralds on fire.

Like before, nothing happened, then... chaos reigned.

The graves in front of him burst upward, sod and dirt exploding in every direction. Hands followed; two, three, no... five graves shifting and opening to allow the dead to rise.

My dead.

Starting from my toes, the full flesh crawl climbed my body.

Jade was saying something real soft, “no, no, no.” I released her hand.

“I think I can take it from here,” I said, stepping away. So much for not raising the dead.

Like a freight train, Jade's dad hesitated at the junction, not sure what track to choose.

“What the hell is this?” He flung his arms wide, including the corpses.

Violence wasn't the only thing that Brett and Jade's fathers had in common. The smell of alcohol preceded him by a mile. Brother, what a loser.

I had a collection of corpses now standing. Their eyes vacant, waiting for direction, purpose. I stepped forward and they all swung their heads to me.

“Protect us from him.” I pointed a finger at Jade's dad.

Her dad wasn't drunk enough to not understand the potential for self-preservation.

“Come here Jade. You don't need to be hanging out with them losers,” he said.

That was a joke. Him calling us losers. I looked back at the ass-potatoes, Carson and Brett. Excluding them, maybe he was onto something with them.

“No daddy. I won't ever come back,” Jade said, stepping forward as if to speak with him. I grabbed her arm. She wasn't going near him.

She turned to me and shook her head, like, it's okay.

I redoubled my hold and shook my head back. “No fucking way Jade.”

The corpses started to get agitated. One in particular. He shambled forward, keeping his eye on Jade's dad, who had begun to inch closer.

The corpses closed in on him, a tide wave of death to shore.

Oh geez. This is the one I had raised before... Clyde. Fluke of flukes. In the whole graveyard I couldn't raise a new corpse? I bet raising zombies more than once wasn't a good thing.

“I have risen again,” Clyde said, his voice full of the dirt-sound I was getting used to. “For what purpose, necromancer...for what purpose.”

The other zombies, in various stages of rot, stared at me.

“I'm sorry,” I rushed out. “This guy is going to put a serious pounding on us and I need help.”

The corpses turned their attention to Jade's dad.

“A bunch of dead people ain't gonna matter to me boy! I'm gettin' my girl back and there ain't shit from shinola you can do about it!”

He lunged forward to grab Jade and I felt intent form in my mind, I didn't have one moment to say anything, but the corpses knew.

They knew what needed doing.

We were of one mind, the zombies and I.

The twice-raised zombie (my guy-in-charge, I thought wildly), swung its arm in the path of Jade's dad, clotheslining him.

His progress effectively halted, he turned, wading into the batch of corpses. He threw a punch into Clyde and all he got for his trouble was some black ooze from the impact with the corpse's face whose teeth gleamed through his cheek.

Clyde-the-Corpse took the beating, placing a hand on either side of Jade's dad's head, boxing his ears. He howled, kneeing Clyde in the gut. Clyde obligingly rolled down the small knoll, just out of sight.

Holy shit.

Jade's dad hissed a sound of fierce triumph and turned to grab his prize, Jade leaning backward in avoidance. The other four corpses took their cue, moving forward as a single unit, laying their collective hands on him.

An awkward dance began, Jade's dad swinging corpses. They would get up again, restraining him. Meanwhile, Clyde shambled up the hill, steady and slow, making his way toward Jade's dad.

It was almost funny, Jade's dad on the bare earth, looking like he was drowning in a sea of dead people. He flailed his arms about, trying to grab solid ground and hoist himself to his feet, while a determined zombie would then weigh him back down.

I let him battle the zombies. When the Js walked up and John said, apprehensively looking at the spectacle of dead bodies, “Shouldn't we, like, get outta here? And, while we're at it, can you get them, you know, back?” pointing to the ground under our feet.

I spared a glance at the spectacle of struggling. I could hear grunting and some colorful swear words.

“Are they going to hurt him?” Jade asked.

I shook my head. “Nah, not unless I tell them.”

“Hey dude, you sure on that, cuz they seem kinda enthusiastic,” Jonesy said, tilting his head in the direction of the ruckus.

The zombies had taken things to heart and one was banging Mr. Scary's head on the grass.

“Hey! Quit that! No head-banging,” I said.

The zombie slowed the head-banging with a dissatisfied grunt that sounded a little muffled.

No tongue.

Carson and Brett were wearing identical expressions of fascinated surprise. It was like a train wreck, you know you don't want to be on the train, but you wanna see what happens. Morons.

Priorities, priorities...

“Okay, you two,” I looked at John and Jonesy. “Get Jade home, fast.”

“What about...” John rolled his eyes in the direction of the dopes.

Yeah, them.

I walked over to Carson with the zombie noise part of the background melee.

I hollered back to Jonesy, “Keep an eye on my zombies.”

Jonesy's eyes became like saucers. “Who me?” he squeaked out. “Have John do it, he's good at that.”

John turned to him with a glare. “So I've done so much zombie-sitting, right?”

I sighed, kinda busy here. “Both of you then, just till I'm done talking to these guys.”

I gave the come over here look to Jade. She came, casting nervous glances behind where her dad was buried under a pile of death.

I felt better once she was next to me.

Carson gave me a smug smile. “Having some trouble with the girlfriend's family?”

“No, just handling things Carson. We're even now,” I said.

“How do ya figure?” he asked, Brett's beady eyes following us back and forth, back and forth.

“As I see it, people knowing you're a Pyro will get you big-time attention from some key people,” I reminded him logically.

“That's bullshit, Hart. You're a damn corpse-raiser.” He gestured behind him to the squall that was the fight behind me. My friends nervously shifted their feet, John making the hand signal, come on, hurry up.

“We all know what you are now.” I looked at Brett, remembering that he'd found out tonight with the rest of us. “Playing with fire is a pretty important skill pal and you're doing a fine job of managing it,” I said.

Throwing fire balls had to be illegal somewhere.

“Let's get outta here, Carson, let him figure his own crap out,” Brett said.

“Yeah, I was done here anyway. Have fun with that,” he said, motioning to the zombie brawl.

“See ya, Hart... Jade.” Carson puckered his lips and blew her a kiss.

“Go guzzle bleach, ya squirrel,” Jade said.

My eyebrow rose; not just another pretty face.

We raced over to the zombie pile. It was getting bad, Jade's dad continued to try to pry himself out of the mountain of zombies and they would tumble away like bowling pins. Then Clyde would straddle him and it would start all over again.

“Stop,” I said.

All the zombies stood stock still, awaiting the next command. One fell over in mid-struggle.

Cool. Über-cool. I like.

“Come on, Caleb,” John urged.

Right, back to it.

Jade's dad lurched unsteadily to his feet, his considerable size a factor on smoothness, along with the booze.

Jade stayed close to me and the guys.

“You,” I said and the zombies all looked at me. “Not you guys.” I dismissed them with a hand but they continued to stare at me with steady devotion. Uh, creeper.

I turned back to Jade's dad. “You better just give up.”

“I ain't givin' up, but I can see when things get challengin',” he said in a slur.

This guy... what a turd!

“You have one last chance, girlie, come with your daddy.” He held his hand out to Jade.

“No,” she said quietly.

“I see how you're gonna be. I'll fight that bitch sister of mine, and get my kid back where she belongs... under my roof!” He smacked a meaty fist into a meatier palm for emphasis.

Looking out at my army of dead, his gaze fell back on me like a weight. This close I could see his nose was slightly bulbous, with a fine spider webbing of broken capillaries.

“And you,” he jabbed a thick finger right in front of my chest, which made the zombies tense. Geez, they were being my emotional barometer. “I won't forget what ya did to me today. You're not normal. This,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the zombies, “ain't normal. Sometime, when you're not lookin', I'll be there... waitin'. And there won't be no help from any of them,” he said, pointing a finger at Team-Rot.

Special.

He straightened to his full height, inches taller than me, looking down his drunken nose at me and my friends.

At Jade.

He didn't intimidate me. It wasn't having the zombies around or false bravado. Here was a grown man, Dad's age for God's sake, who had been a bully in school, a drunk as an adult and a child-beating father. I didn't have a drop of respect for him.

I spoke in a furious, low tone, “don't you come near Jade. You don't know what I can do. You're not gonna hurt her... ever.” My finger shook in front of his chest.

He could taste my beating on his tongue, but gave a furtive look to the group of patient zombies. He wasn't going to take them on again.

His eyes narrowed. “You haven't seen the last of me,” he said to no one in particular. Staring a hole through Jade. “You especially, little lady.” And with that, he stumbled off, weaving more or less in a straight line.

Playing with zombies will sober a person up.

****

That went well.

The only relief was Carson's ability was almost as troubling as mine. He would be looked at as a teach-and-contain for sure. And knowing that he hadn't even told his butt-buddy Brett? Well that was a surprise.

There the zombies stood, waiting for orders. I turned to Jade and said, “What do ya say, one more time. I gotta get these guys back in the ground.”

She looked up at me with eyes shining with unshed tears, uh-oh.

The Js looked horrified: Girl crying! Girl crying!

“What's wrong?” I asked.

A fat tear rode a slow path down her face and she did one of those hitching breaths that people do when crying might make way to sobbing. “I'm so embarrassed!”

Ah... what?

Out loud I asked, “Why?”

“Because he's my dad, and he's drunk and so stupid.”

Absolutely.

“Don't worry about him. He isn't going to do the right thing, ever. You worrying about it won't change the way he acts,” I reassured her.

“Can't pick your family,” Jonesy chimed in unhelpfully.

John sighed.

Jade surprised us all by drying her tears and saying a quiet, “You're right.”

“See, that's what I'm talkin' about.” Jonesy did a dance step to emphasize his point.

Jade's eyes narrowed. “Don't push it.”

John smiled, I laughed and the moment passed.

“Let's get your zombies back in the dirt,” Jade said.

I held out my hand to her and we clasped them in a tight grip. Two things happened at once, the zombies moved to their respective graves, and I felt a low buzzing. Not voices, but similar to an electrical current. Different than with Tiff, but related somehow. I gave a mental “flex” and the energy moved through me, swirling. Then it found the thread that couldn't be seen, the power moving as a conduit, connected as I was to the zombies.

With explosive sighs, the breath slid out of their bodies, permanently escaping. Clyde, the main zombie, lingered longest. An expression was in his eyes that went beyond devotion; bright intelligence burning there. I shoved the last of that lingering otherness down to them and thought, die.

The corpses collapsed on their graves, boneless, like puppets whose strings had been cut. The ground rolled noiselessly over them, like water poured backwards and they were hidden once again.

Jade released my hand and said, “That is such a weird sensation, it makes my teeth ache.” She rubbed her hand on her jeans.

The whispering was back, but manageable. Feeding the power made it quiet down to a dull roar, even dead-center in the cemetery.

I walked over to Clyde's grave. There was something that was nagging at me, something that I should be thinking about but it escaped my consciousness. Too much had happened in too short of time. I was having a brain fart.

“Let's get outta here,” Jonesy said.

Nobody had to ask me twice. Tomorrow was AP testing and drug-taking time. I was up for it.

I'd missed supper, a big, bad one in my house. I pulsed the parents on the way back to deflect The Wrath. The three of us had gotten our stories straight before going our separate ways.

Jade had protested me walking her home. But with Brett living in her neighborhood and her dad on a rampage, I'd believed him when he said he'd be watching. I told the parents we were just blowing off some steam with the AP Test coming up tomorrow. I'd headed off disaster and wasn't ready to tell them about all the other stuff: Jade's dad, the prank that went way-wrong with Carson. And best of all, that we had a fire-starter running amuck. Yeah, that.

Later, Dad and I put our heads together talking about how I had to have the inhibitor with food and all the stuff I already knew.

“Dad, are you telling me this because you're worried I won't get it and like OD or something? Or, are you telling me so you feel better in case I do the 'stupid'.”

Dad laughed. “Caleb, you're funny.”

I waited.

“The latter,” Dad replied. That's what I thought, the second one.

“I knew that you were giving yourself an out.”

Mom set the bowl of chili down in front of me with the yummy Mexican cheese on top and a huge hunk of cornbread. Time to pork.

“Dad just wants to remind you honey, since you're such an accomplished pill popper.”

My eyes rolled up to meet hers with the spoon halfway to my open mouth. “How'd that go over with all the other adults? Pill popper? Nice.”

“I guess I'll be serious about it when I have to be. Right now humor is the lesser of two evils.”

“What's the other one?” I asked.

“Anxiety.”

Oh. I guess I hadn't given a lot of thought to my parents being worried.

Okay, off topic. “The cops still cruising by?”

Dad nodded. “Yes, Officers Gale and Ward were just here as a matter of fact.”

“You know Caleb,” Mom began while my mouth was stuffed with chili, “you would probably do better to refer to the officers as such rather than cops.”

Total word-Nazi.

Dad came to the rescue. “Yes, that's something to consider in the future Caleb. Words are powerful.”

I took a big swig of milk and asked Mom for the jalapeños and some honey.

Mom passed the honey and I did an upside down dump.

The parents watched, fascinated, as my cornbread was obscured by a molten mass of goodness.

Dad said, “You having some cornbread with that honey, pal?”

I smiled and nodded

“Okay, so I want you to get up early for a good breakfast, take the pill, then you can scoot to school.”

Dad told me he may halve the pill so I'm not in a daze and can actually get a decent result on the academics.

“Not gonna make me high, Dad?”

“Yes, that's the total idea.” He smiled.

So far, except for jerking dead people out of the ground, I hadn't shown aptitude for much of anything. It was kinda funny if you thought about it.

“It's nicely ironic that Caleb doesn't appear to be blessed with a scientific aptitude but is talented nonetheless,” Mom said, A Point Coming.

Dad frowned. “I know how you feel about all this, Ali. That we are all meant to be completely unique so the balance works for the cohesive whole. But,” shaking his head as if fighting his own internal battle, “human nature is very predictable.”

I stuck up for Mom here. “So, you could predict that I'd be a zombie-raiser?”

Mom automatically corrected me, “Cadaver-Manipulator.”

So irritating, but accurate.

Dad got a little bit of a flushed face. Embarrassed? That would be something.

“No.” He made a steeple with his fingers for his chin. “I certainly didn't anticipate this.”

That made me stop eating.

“What did you think I would be?”

Mom shrugged and Dad said, “Your mother and I had a lot of theories. In the last few years, every parent waits for the Aptitude Tests or,” he paused, giving me a steady look, “the manifestation of a talent to rear its head.”

Loosening his hands he put his palms out as if to say, that's the way it is for us all.

“In your case, we didn't need the test.”

“Thank goodness for that. What if it had been flushed out in the AP Test, then he'd have been whisked away or worse,” Mom said.

“'Or worse'?” I asked.

I took another bite of the cornbread, resisting the urge to lick my fingers. I picked up a cloth napkin and started working over my fingers.

“Just look at the Parker boy,” Mom said by way of explanation.

“What about him? I've never heard anything about him,” I said.

“Exactly,” Dad stated.

CHAPTER 19

My parents hadn't been thrilled when I unceremoniously stuffed the pill in my front pocket. The deal was, if anyone got a lame idea of checking people's backpacks they wouldn't find the pill. There wasn't a reason I could think of but they were adults and sometimes that was the reason.

Butt-munches.

I told my parents my thinking. Mom huffed and Dad mumbled something about my constitutional rights. Whatever, by the time I was able to yak about my rights, they'd be through my gear in a hot second. Especially with nothing allowed in the aptitude testing room.

Nothing.

Mom had made pancakes and bacon (thank you God). I was on my sixth pancake, having already plowed through half a pound of bacon.

Mom grimaced when I was unable to speak.

Dad looked over his papers, hiding a smile from Mom.

“Caleb, stop shoveling your food.”

“Mom! Come have a pancake and stop panicking about etiquette.” I took a swig of milk and the whole load slid down the pipe.

Mom rolled her eyes. It'd have been impressive but I'd seen Tiff Weller, no one could compete.

I finally had an empty mouth and told her, “Thanks for the breakfast Mom.”

My hair fell into my eyes and I whipped my head back and it stayed there. Mom looked at me and my hair then back to my plate again. She gave a big sigh and turned around, getting the next batch of pancakes on a plate.

“Ah... hon?” Dad called.

Mom turned with an eyebrow raised. “I think I want something lighter,” Dad patted his belly which was barely over the belt.

Was that the crap I was gonna worry about when I was old? That sucked.

I turned to Mom. “I'll suck those up Mom.”

“Are you sure? You've had six already.”

Was she kidding?

“Yeah, Mom, still hungry.” I stood and jerked up my shirt, displaying my flat stomach and ribs.

Dad laughed aloud. “Wow, doing some dieting?”

“No, doing some growing, I think,” Mom said, looking at me critically.

I put my dishes in the sink. Mom came over and gave me a tight hug which I ducked out of the moment I could and not hurt her feelings. Mom was cool but no touchy.

Dad gave me a hard clap on the shoulder and asked if I remembered the protocol for the pill taking. Yes, I told him. I figured forty times had been enough reminders for the next one hundred years.

“I didn't remind you that many times, Caleb.”

Mom and I looked at each other, laughing. No, guffawed. That's what Jonesy called it.

Dad threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, I surrender. I guess I mentioned it a few times.” We looked at him. “Ah... more than a few times.”

I walked to the door, throwing my backpack on and launched myself outside. A drizzle settled over me through the cedar slats and I was instantly wet, freaky weather.

My thoughts crowded inside my head like cobwebs. The Js and Jade were gonna meet at my locker and then we had alphabetical buildings for the testing. Good thing that all the school buildings already had letter of the alphabet names I thought with disinterested sarcasm. I was feeling hyped.

I ripped open the school door and used my foot to prop it open as a hooded girl walked in right behind me. She let it slam behind her with a satisfying clatter. A tingle went through me and she looked up at me. It was Tiff, shoulda known.

“Hey Hart. Done any playing in the dirt lately?”

I grinned, and she grinned back. A vague bruise rimmed underneath her eyes like a shadow. I wonder how she'd explained that to her parents.

She read my face and said, “They don't know.”

“Who?”

“My parents, bright one.”

I looked around while kids surged back and forth, the constant noise of their talking in the background.

I leaned in. “Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah. I don't want any attention for this. Maybe I'll just hit a couple of points. I'll get noticed but not noticed, if ya know what I mean.”

I did.

“I was thinking about what happened. And, it was damn good that we're not testing in the same building. Since, we're like... a...” she gave a puzzled frown.

“Radio?” I supplied.

“Somethin' like that. Whatever it is, I don't want to pop some false-positive crap. Ya know, hit as an all-five-points just because you're in the room,” her eyes narrowed. “Ya know Hart, you're okay... for a boy.”

Thanks, I guess.

“But just because we're both,” looking about her furtively, lowering her voice, “AFTD doesn't mean we have to be in the same frying pan.”

She straightened, about to bolt.

“Wait... can I count on you?”

“Well, yeah. I just meant that I don't want to be corralled in some creepy place because of getting sucked into your undead drama.”

Tell me how you really feel.

Out loud I said, “gotcha.”

“See ya later and good luck.” She flipped her hood back, skulking into the crowd.

I'd been so into my conversation I'd missed everyone standing by my locker. Three faces peered at me through the mess of kids. John had his usual expression of silent mode, the weather awakening his shock of orange hair into a tornado. Jonesy was smiling. The whites of his eyes two twin dots of ivory floating in his face, only to be joined by a brilliant slash of teeth as he caught sight of me coming toward him.

But it was Jade that made my breath catch in my throat like an errant bubble, captured. She wore coal black jeans and matching short-top All Stars, the laces as black as the jeans. A brilliant green camisole stole all attention inside the v-neck of a tight T-shirt that ended at the swell of her hips. Her hair hung there and as I looked, she gave a subtle flick of her head and one side swept away over a shoulder.

I realized I had stopped moving forward. With a low chuckle, I resumed my progress across the commons. Jade gave a little smile. Looks like she had sorta figured out I dug her. Maybe she already knew since she was an Empath and all. Go figure.

I walked up to the group. We all sorta shuffled around nervously. This meant a lot to all of us. We were all gonna find out, in the case of me and Jade, everyone else was gonna find out about us and it would change things. So far, I was the only one that had the big guns. Well, that wasn't completely accurate, Carson could burn the place down. Things were complicated. But he didn't have any cool drugs (I didn't think) that would buy him time. He was going away to the same school as all paranormals.

An evil idea began to take shape.

Jonesy picked up on it immediately. “You've thought of something cool.” Leave it to him to scope the potential for trouble.

“Yeah. Here we were hoping to distract the dorks from making trouble for me but Carson has his own.”

John stroked his chin thoughtfully, its narrowness perfectly fitting in between thumb and the curl of his index finger. John was all angles and bones, he was a skinny sucker.

“Let's play it cool today,” John said looking at Jonesy.

Jonesy gave him The Look.

“Let's try not to make a ruckus,” John clarified.

“A fracas,” Jade added.

Jonesy was deeply confused now.

“What they mean is, don't blurt out anything in the middle of testing that will get us all in trouble,” I said.

“Well, hell no. I wouldn't do that,” Jonesy said, offended.

We all did a slave eye-roll. Yeah, that was so going to happen! Jonesy not talking out of turn! Jonesy following along and playing well with others.

Jonesy having a filter.

Jade intervened, “You're a great guy Jones but, I have noticed that you aren't always self-aware.”

That was diplomatic.

He glared at her and she stared back, her face all open and innocent. Finally, defeated. “Okay, I guess I'll try to concentrate on the test,” he grumbled.

“Well that's the concept,” John said.

The principal walked out into the commons, manually ringing the class bell. This was it. Suddenly, my awesome bacon and pancake breakfast sat like a cold lump in my belly, waiting for expulsion. I got a grip.

Jade held out her hand and I took it, fingers closing around the whole of it. The Js glanced over at me nervously.

Principal Avers began in his monotonous voice saying, “people, listen closely to your building assignments, all pulse accessories are disallowed in the testing facilities. There will be mandatory breaks every fifty minutes...” he droned on about some other unimportant stuff, then we all sharpened right back up when he said, “...and finally, the following buildings will be assigned alphabetically as follows: last names beginning in A through H will test in Building Alpha, last names beginning in I through P will test in Building Bravo, and names beginning in Q through Z will test in Building Charlie.”

I did the swift calculations in my head... Jade, Sophie, and Jonesy in Bravo. And Brett, my mind added. Jade was safe enough with a bunch of other kids and some staff. Let me see... me and Carson (oh joy) in Alpha and John and Tiff in Charlie.

My eyes met John's over Jade's head. He was thinking the same thing I was; Carson with me and Brett with the girls. Bad news.

Principal Avers added, “Disperse to your respective buildings. You have five minutes. Line up outside the door to be scanned.”

That meant the disc that all of us had located behind our ear would be scanned for attendance, admittance, and later, tracking and information.

I jammed the pill inside my mouth and dry swallowed it. I used the commotion of everyone wandering around, acting like I was coughing in my hand. Dad had told me that I couldn't be too paranoid, maybe there were pulse sensors or pulse-digis recording all our moves. I did okay.

I turned to Jonesy. “Can you sit next to the girls?”

He nodded, serious for once. “Yeah, I know Brett's in there.”

“I think it'll be okay but he's riding on the edge, I don't know what'll set him off.”

“Will do,” he said, nodding as he walked toward Bravo.

Jade gave me the press of her lips like butterfly wings on my cheek, then was gone. No PDAs in the school, but she chanced it anyway. I smiled down at her, squeezing her hand as her fingers slid slowly out of mine. I watched her walk away, Sophie flanking her out of nowhere.

John came up beside me. “She'll be okay.”

That was one of those lies that I let John tell. A lie of comfort. I felt like nothing was going to be okay. We walked to our buildings, separating at the last minute. My friends were counting on me.

I was counting on me too.

“Good luck,” John said.

“You too,” I replied.

****

The slim paddle hovered behind my ear for about two seconds and the school nurse said, “Hart, cleared.” like she'd said about the other fifty kids before me.

I was definitely feeling high. Or something, I'd never been high. If I really wanted to get high someday, I could wait until I turned twenty-one and jump into any of the drug bars and have at it. But, having a scientist for a father was an advantage. Dad had outlined drug use and consequence. I had a fuzzy warm feeling that was a blanket of tranquility. The buzzing from the dead was down to a manageable roar. Low frequency, that was a dead giveaway I was floating on the cerebral pond.

We sat in our assigned seats, everyone in attendance. Not surprising given it was mandatory by law that all children at age thirteen by August thirty-first of the current school year must take the AP Test; even the home schooled kids. I guess that guaranteed the puberty net would be flung wide. But the reality was, kids were slipping through. There had to be other kids that were starting to manifest (like me) their abilities sooner than August thirty-first.

Puberty had its own clock.

My floating cloud of warmth was momentarily interrupted as an AP Test supervisor handed out, with two assistants, slim pulse-pads. They same thickness of our pulse-phones, but the dimensions were the same as Mom's old-fashioned paperback books.

I stared at mine in front of me, just a blank screen with a thumb pad, my head filled with cotton.

Once all the pulse-pads were distributed, the testing supervisor instructed, “Please depress your thumb on the pad and think your identity and pertinent information. You have eight seconds, begin.”

Great personality, this one.

I did as instructed:

Caleb Hart, Age 14, Kent Middle School, King County, Washington.

The screen lay black, then:

Confirmed.

I looked around, my thick brain swimming with the movement. I got a bearing on Carson. He was already looking at me, making sure none of the adults were watching, he gave me the middle finger salute.

So consistent.

I stared at him, such a moron. But... a powerful one. He'd spend the next four years in a fire-proofed classroom and I wouldn't be in it--I smiled.

That confused the dolt for a second, then the instructor spoke again, “You'll be asked a series of questions. All answers will be confirmed as valid. There is obviously no way to cheat.” I was overwhelmed with an insane urge to laugh, high as a kite that I was, “and all areas of aptitude will be identified. Make your best effort to offer concise, short answers. Keep your thought processes clear of extraneous thinking.”

Translation: don't think about anything fun or what you'd rather be doing.

“One more thing,” she paused, she had our full attention, then said and odd thing, “there will be control questions inserted that must be answered even if they seem to be unrelated to the main body of testing.”

What the hell did that mean?

I began digging into the test questions, thinking my responses. I felt decidedly dull. But Dad was right, the half dose allowed me to think and answer, so far...no-retard. I didn't have nervousness either. I could feel wanting to stress about my AFTD but the drug kept emotions under control. Sweet.

A lot of standard Math and Science questions answered, we began verbal. Then this question out of nowhere: How do you feel about things that have died?

That's one of the questions that didn't fit.

I had an instant stab of dread but thought: Good.

The moment I answered there was a burst of the buzzing that the dead emanate followed by what could only be described as a drain of energy.

The instructor came to my desk. I looked up.

Crap.

“We need you to change buildings.”

I replied carefully, drug befuddled, “But this is the building for my name.”

A condescending smile appeared. “We're aware of that, but some of your responses have alerted us that the remainder of your testing will be administered at an alternate location.”

I wasn't the only kid. Carson and about ten other kids were herded by assistants, who must have leaked out of walls, because there were more than the original two.

I scanned the group of kids, now disrupted by our leaving, their faces wary.

The instructor, who remained nameless, addressed the class, “please continue with your questions, this interruption will be as brief as possible. Your first break will be in,” she glanced at the pulse clock, which counted backwards, “five minutes.”

I stood unsteadily, feeling woozy and she gave me a penetrating look. I gathered myself together to appear alert. She didn't know me well enough to determine if I was sleepy or there was more to it.

There was definitely more to it.

We were ushered back into the commons, pulse-pads in hand. There was another head honcho guy out there and I saw through my semi-drug fog two other instructors, one for Bravo and Charlie, and a butt-load of assistants.

“This group,” waving dismissively at us, “will be escorted to Delta.” It was taken totally for granted that everyone would cooperate with His Authority.

It made me want to do the opposite.

We followed the instructors in a loose group, the assistants flanking and following. Scanning the area I saw Tiff and John! I assumed that we pinged paranormal and that was why we were getting moved. What the hell was John doing here? We looked at each other and he jerked his shoulders up around his ears like, I don't understand either.

I didn't make an effort to hide my curiosity, looking around for Jade. I caught sight of her and a tight spot in my chest loosened, she smiled back. And Sophie! But Brett and Jonesy weren't a part of our group. Didn't matter, I was relieved to have John, Jade, and even Tiff in my sights. I didn't really know Sophie but figured she was okay because she was Jade's friend. I tried to remember with a brain made fuzzy if Jade had ever made any comment about her. I couldn't think of anything; another wild card.

We walked through Delta's doors, settling into a group of about seventy or so seats, filling only half of those.

We were arranged alphabetically. That put me real close to Carson with only one kid separating us. It was Alex. Alex of the bad piano playing. We gave the guy-nod.

Head Honcho turned to us. “I am the instructor for this building. You have all been moved here because your responses indicate paranormal aptitude.”

Yeah, duh.

“We will resume your testing in,” he looked at the pulse clock, “approximately three minutes and change.”

Another inappropriate urge to laugh came over me, which I eliminated by biting the inside of my cheek until the copper taste of my own blood silenced it. I ducked my head, my hair sliding into my eyes. My cheek hurt like hell.

We took stock of each other. It was weird, the students knew it was a “sanctioned” thing, the testing, but the testers were super-spy about it; leaving a taste of underhandedness. It intensified my paranoia.

There was a skeletal guy leaning against a kids sized desk angled into the corner, drumming his long, tapered fingers against its edge, all dark planes with a complexion to match. His fingers were stained yellow with a grayish skin cast. He was rich (and don't forget dumb) or he wouldn't be smoking.

Head Honcho went to him, fingers nervously stroking his tie. Their heads were bent together, those fingers going up and down, up and down. They paused in conversation then looked up at our group. We weren't allowed to talk but some kids were nervously looking around, others looked bored. They seemed to stare straight at me but I knew that could have been Carson or Alex too. But somehow, I knew it was me. AFTD was so rare, I'd be the star of the show.

A chime sounded. Gaunt-man lounged in his corner and Head Honcho worked over his tie one more time, moving to the front where our desks were assembled.

“You've answered a satisfactory amount of academic questions and we have a strong idea of where each of you fall in these categories,” he paused for effect. “This building is being utilized to further gauge your individual potentials for each paranormal ability you have manifested.”

Creeper-factor of about ten.

“Each one of you will have a series of control questions interspersed with academic questions. These questions are tailored according to your individual gifts. Each year, we are always surprised by a new ability or 'branch',” he made airquotes, “which will manifest in a student, or one that is not easily quantified.”

Blah, blah, blah, let's just get on with it, I thought sullenly. It didn't matter that he felt better about explaining things to us. I understood everything: they knew what each of us was. They were going to test us for that specific thing, and there may be some kid that gives them a whammy of surprise with a yet unknown ability.

Marvelous for them.

He finally shut up and our pulse-pads came back to life with a press of the thumb.

Useless question after question appeared. Most seemed standard but a few were funny:

<How do you feel about your parents/guardians?>:

<they're alright> I answered.

How dumb was that? What were you supposed to say?

They need the tomahawk?

This was a control question. I bet they had people in windowless rooms without food that thought this crap up.

Another laughable one was:

<What are your thoughts about persons of authority?>

Real answer: they suck, of course.

But, I realized, even in my semi-stupor, that I had to play into what the adults wanted me to say but not be too obvious about it.

This was actually hard. Until most recently, I could have answered pretty honestly. Now, I didn't feel like all adults were to be trusted. I glanced at the clock, realizing this last part of the testing was almost over for lunch. Lunch would be served in the testing building. After all, they couldn't let us teens fraternize during testing day. Oh-no.

Finally, I answered:

<some are trustworthy.>

Cryptic but honest and not TMI.

I was deciding the last answer, thinking about changing it, but the pulse chimed. I depressed my thumb and my answer floated away to be cataloged as my response, for better or worse.

****

I was wrong, lunch wasn't served in the testing rooms, it was in the cafeteria, like usual. At every door stood what I was thinking of as “formula-people.” They all wore the same adult get-up of tie and suit or skirt and sensible shoes.

The Js, Jade and Sophie had all shown up and we snagged one of the coveted round tables. These were best because I could see everyone when we talked and keep things private. Or more private, the noisier the better.

I did a room search for Carson, spying him with Brett and some other standard losers at a table opposite ours.

Jonesy unraveled his gigantic lunch, John and I watching with interest. His lunchbox was kinda like Dad's; a huge rectangular tin thing with a flat bottom. It had been red once but had faded to a dull, rust color.

First, the thermos came out with what I was sure was a quart of milk, then two sandwiches bursting with lunch meat, a half bag of these gross chips called Funyuns that made your breath reek like ass but tasted strangely good. Finally, the grand dessert finale was a fat brownie full of disgusting walnuts.

The girls watched this with various degrees of disgust. They had about the same lunch stuff as each other. Jade pulled out a small recyclable container that had some disgusting salad thing with tiny chunks of chicken mixed in. I looked over the top of it and quickly grabbed her spork and did a full search for anything substantial and couldn't find dick. Where was the dessert? Sophie had about the same thing but hers was some noodle-salad casserole that smelled like rotting mayonnaise.

John, after surveying the lunches said, “Jonesy, look at what the girls eat, maybe you could get a clue.”

Jonesy sniffed Sophie's casserole. “I wouldn't eat that stuff if someone pressed a gun barrel to my head.”

John nodded in approval, Jonesy would tell it.

Jade sniffed, replying with dignity, “Well, you go ahead and eat three meals in one. Sophie and I will eat healthy.”

John looked down at his lunch, which mimicked Jonesy's, but no grodie nut-brownie, he had an awesome chocolate chip cookie, and shrugged.

I laughed, mealtime was interesting.

We all started eating and I asked John, “So what gives? You hit the radar as something, 'cuz you're in our building.”

We looked expectantly at John.

A slow flush crept up his face, he wasn't used to the attention, but he rallied.“I don't know. I thought there was a bunch of control questions, and academic questions, but there wasn't anything that I thought was paranormal.”

What was he?

Then, our heads swiveled to Sophie, who had just shoveled a bite into her mouth, a small lump protruding from her cheek. We waited until she swallowed.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, what about you?” I inquired.

Jade gave a nervous glance her way.

She knew what Sophie was.

The Js were all curiosity when she admitted, “I guess I have some Astral-Projection.”

“Some?” Jade stated.

Sophie glanced down, her tight curls cascading froward, almost brushing that nasty casserole.

“Maybe a little more than some,” she mumbled.

Jade gave her a tense look, leaning forward she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered something inside her ear.

Sophie looked around nervously then stared at each one of us.

“You can't tell anyone,” she directed, looking pointedly at Jonesy.

“I'm not going to say anything!” he all-but-shrieked.

We all gave a big sigh.

Jonesy leaned forward. “So barf it out. If it's not so juicy you think I'll blab.” A wide grin appeared in the middle of his chocolate colored face. He crossed his arms on his chest, but not before popping another one of the Funyuns in his mouth.

John breathed out, “Wow... Astral-Projection.” Yeah, that was pretty cool I agreed mentally.

Sophie gave him a sharp look and he held out his palm out, go ahead.

“So, it's like this. About a month ago I started dreaming I was traveling to all these places, far away places,” she looked at us all, “like Europe.”

We stared back and shrugged, so?

“Remember in History class when a bunch of us came in with the CE about the assassination?”

John nodded. “I did my current event on that President.”

“The French one?” Jade clarified.

“The Prime Minister,” Sophie said, exasperated.

“Right, Prime Minister, my bad,” John said, embarrassed. He of the Perfect Grade Point Average, making a mistake! Unheard of.

I cupped my hand over my mouth, hiding a grin. Jade smiled, letting it show all over her face while Sophie looked smug.

John's pale complexion flamed to life again. Being a known brain-iac only to be shown up by Sophie, a girl no less!

“Anyway,” Sophie waved the awkward moment away with a hand, “I was there,” she said in a low voice.

Jonesy leaned all the way forward. “You mean... there, there? Like, as in, Astral-Projection there?”

We held our breath. Sophie nodded, once.

“Well... damn, girl, no wonder you aced that CE! Cheater!” Jonesy said, throwing up his hands.

John and I nodded emphatically, it must've been an advantage.

We were quite for a moment, then John said, “But, they don't know who did it.”

Jonesy yelled, “Do you?!”

“Shhh, Jonesy... God!” Jade said.

Jonesy looked right and left, making sure his yelling got sucked into the general din of cafeteria noise.

“Chillax, nobody heard.” Jonesy leaned back in his seat, all relaxed and everything. The bigness of situations didn't impact the Jonester.

“We need to be circumspect,” Sophie said.

Jonesy and I were confused, John nodded and Jade waited.

“Secretive and cautious,” Sophie expounded.

“More big boy words for you Jonesy,” I said.

“Can it, Hart, you didn't know what it meant either,” Jonesy growled.

He had me there.

“Off topic guys,” John said. “So... you know, Sophie?”

“Know what?”

“Who did it,” Jade stated.

“Yeah.”

“Who?” Jonesy leaned forward again.

“That's not important. It's what happened after.”

John looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “I remember that the guy signed an important document into effect,” he paused. “Sophie?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, you're getting warmer. You remember all the adults were raging about how it would change the face of France?”

I remembered that, my parents had talked about it. “Yeah, so?”

“He didn't actually sign it. Well, he did and he didn't.”

“Oh Sophie!” Jade said impatiently. “Just tell them, or I will.”

Sophie glared at Jade then went on, “He was dead when he signed it. Dead.” She leaned back in her chair triumphantly, stabbing a helpless curlicue noodle and popping it into her mouth, chewing on it slowly while we all sat, mouths agape, digesting this latest disaster.

“Parker,” I said.

Swallowed her bite, she pointed her fork at me. “Bingo.”

John said, “So... if I am following this, Parker was used by somebody,” John turned to me to confirm and I gave a terse nod, “and made sure that after the assassination, in which the Prime Minister was probably marked for death so he could not sign this document, he was then raised by Parker, who directed him to sign it and faked the nation out.”

“What? Did the dude die twice?” Jonesy asked.

Jade sighed. “No, listen, there was an attempt to kill him. It worked, but the bad guys made it look like it hadn't. The prime minister signed the thing, as a zombie, then they made it look like he didn't make it after all.”

“Ah-huh, well I did my CE on some Greenpeace thing.”

No wonder he didn't have a clue.

“Ugh!” Sophie said, disgusted with the general ignorance that was Jonesy.

“Everybody knows I don't dig that civic crap.”

“What-ev-er! It was kinda important,” Jade said.

Jonesy shrugged, completely unconcerned.

“The bottom line is, Parker changed history,” I said.

We were all quiet at that revelation.

“You're in deep shit,” Jonesy said.

“Ya think?” I replied. He had put that together, at least.

“I do,” Jonesy nodded.

Wonderful.

Sophie said, “Listen, I'm a witness, what do you think about that? Imagine the trouble I'd be in if they knew that I knew, huh?”

More silence. Our little group was becoming quite a threat. I cast a secretive (or circumspect... ha,ha) glance around us, the formula-people were still by the doors. The pulse clock was counting down, only five minutes, forty-seven seconds left until the rest of the AP Test.

“We need some kind of plan, an objective,” John said.

“A what?” Jonesy asked.

John just looked at him; we did a lot of that.

“Listen, have any of you freaks-o-nature considered that the Jones-Man here doesn't have any cool stuff at my awesome disposal?”

He was right. He was a mundane in a pond of paranormals.

John ducked his head, shamed. “You're right, I'll try to be more patient. After all, you get stuff done.”

“Yeah! Damn straight! I'm accomplished, I'm legitimate, I'm...”

“Okay, Jonesy, we know your importance,” Sophie conceded, suppressing an eye roll.

“Listen, let's not get distracted. We've got,” I glanced at the pulse clock, “less than three minutes to formulate a plan. And, let me just restate the obvious, we still don't know what the blue hell John is.”

“That's true, Caleb. But we have bigger problems than just that, like Carson and Brett and getting through this test,” John said.

“Well I, for one, want to meet somewhere and figure it out,” Sophie said.

“Where?” Jade asked, glancing at the clock again.

Jonesy let a slow grin spread over his face.

I started to shake my head. “NO-oh, don't you even think it.”

Jade joined in, “No way, Jonesy.”

“Yes way, sista!”

“Oh crap,” John moaned, doing a face-palm.

“What?” Sophie asked, confused.

“The Cemetery!” Jonesy clapped his hands together gleefully, barely containing his joy.

We hung our heads, while Sophie looked confused at Jonesy's triumph. He was in his element, let the games begin.

The pulse clock chimed; it was back to AP Testing. We were almost done and hopefully I'd be just a two or three pointer, not a Parker-worthy five pointer.

A glimmer of hope sparkled in my mind's eye, wrapping a fist around it. I held it tight like the world depended on it.

Maybe it did.

CHAPTER 20

The testing wrapped at the end of school. A damn good thing, as after lunch, I could feel myself “sharpening right up.” As we filed out of Delta, we were scanned again for dismissal. This time, our pulse pad's results were scanned as well.

Now, and forevermore, the committee of “they” would know what our collective aptitudes were, paranormal or otherwise. We would all know what each other was. The results would determine the next four years of our education and where we'd receive it.

After I was scanned, I could only hope that the drug's effect had lasted long enough that the remainder of the questions were answered and completed without giving myself away.

No pressure.

I grabbed my backpack out of my locker, noticing that it was not in the place that I'd left it. Huh, I looked around, unconsciously looking for the formula-people, none were in sight.

They were top on my list of suspects. Lurking around doorways and such, not doing much of anything. Didn't like it.

Just then, Jade strolled up in all her blackness, looking dark and mysterious.

Hotness.

“Hi.”

I smiled, smitten as usual. Then I had a thought.

“Before we go, would you,” I gave her the helpless look and her eyes narrowed, huh, better ask straight out, “do a 'feelie' on my locker?”

“A which?”

“Ya know, touch my locker and see who's been in it.”

Jade put her hands on her hips (still hot). Then she got that look, ya know the one, where the girl may go all emo on you. So I rushed in with some explaining.

“The thing is, I always hang my backpack here,” I pointed to the double hook on the left side.

Okay... her look said.

“And I hang my cap on the right.”

“Which you never wear,” she noted.

“True, but my mom makes me take it to school in case I get cold.”

“You never get cold.”

“Right, but my mom feels better about it. And when she asks, I can say it's in my locker just in case.”

“Okay?”

“Anyways, when I came back from the AP Testing, the backpack was on the right and the cap on the left.”

That cute little frown between her eyes made an appearance. She was thinking it through; no cluttering up the moment with chatter. Love that.

Jade came to some decision. Reaching forward with her hand, she touched the hook, wrapping delicately built fingers around the cool metal.

I had a moment when I didn't think anything would happen and then her body stiffened, her eyes taking on a glazed expression. I didn't like where this was going, getting up close behind her. Just as her eyelids fluttered and she started to sway, I moved in against her, cradling her small body against my larger one.

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” she said, eyes still closed.

Like... right here?

The Js charged up out of nowhere.

“What's wrong with Jade?” John asked.

“I don't know. Jonesy, get my water in there, no... in the backpack.”

Jonesy tore through my backpack, jerking out my water bottle. John grabbed a chair from one of the commons' tables and put it next to Jade. I carefully lowered her down on the seat, a fragile commodity.

“Jade, can you hear me?” John asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Put your head between your knees.”

Jade did it. Jonesy hopped from one foot to the other, not knowing what to do with the water.

John looked at me, the flat of his palm on Jade's back.

“What's going on, Caleb?”

“I don't know, I had her do the whammy on my locker because someone's been messin' around in there, and she had like, I don't know, a moment or something and got all dizzy.”

“The whammy?” Jonesy asked.

“She used her Empath powers to find out who infiltrated Caleb's locker,” John translated, using his fancy vocab.

Jonesy surprised us all with, “someone rippin' off your crap?”

Accurate for Jonesy.

“Nothing's missing, but someone was in here.”

“But... it's a pulse lock.” Jonesy's look said double-duh... fingerprint security.

Pulse security.

John nodded slowly, Jade began to raise her head. Jonesy gave her the water, which she uncapped.

“Just sip that Jade, no gulping,” John said.

She nodded.

“That means a manual by-pass,” John said.

Jonesy smiled. “Bringin' up that civic crap again. That bores me 'til I weep, dude.”

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“Because, who is going to be able to by-pass a pulse lock unless they're 'The Government'?”

“Not bad Jonesy, not bad at all,” John said.

Jade looked scared.

“He's right. They're total posers.”

“Who are posers Jade?” John asked.

“The formula-people,” she replied.

I sucked in a big breath. Hell, that had been the name I gave those people when I saw them. But, that wasn't their real name. It's just what I thought of them as.

“I know what you thought Caleb. You touched the hook too,” she said.

“How can you tell it's me and not them thinking?”

Jade did a huge eye roll. Definitely feeling better now.

She lowered her voice and we all leaned in to hear, “How do you know one zombie from another?”

Well, that was easy, they just, felt different. It was like hearing a voice, no two were alike. Some of what I thought must have shown on my face.

She leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“See, it's like that,” she said.

“So, you knew it was me. As if it was my voice talking?”

“That's not completely accurate, but it'll do,” Jade said.

“It's like a signature?” John asked.

“I guess. It's hard to explain this stuff to someone that doesn't do it,” she shrugged.

I noticed the death volume wasn't loud for me at this moment and mentioned that. The drug was definitely flushed by now.

“It's kinda random now anyway, right?” Jonesy asked.

Yeah, now that I thought about it, sometimes the voices were loud, sometimes hardly there. I couldn't figure out why it came and went but it was a recent development.

“Who was it Jade?”

“I don't know who they are but I know what they are.”

“What?” Jonesy asked.

“They're government alright, just not the government that we know about. They're like a subdivision of a subdivision.”

That sounded bad. I thought of my ransacked house, where nothing had been stolen but everything had been looked at, touched, moved.

“Let's split. I don't want to talk about this here,” John said, looking around.

Good idea. We gathered our crap up and started to walk away.

“Wait,” Jade said.

I turned toward her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Getting there. Let me go find Sophie first.”

Jonesy made a face. Uh-oh. Jade put her hands back on her hips and marched over to Jonesy.

Almost nose to nose but she was still shorter. “You got a problem with Sophie?” she demanded, her face fierce.

“No, no problem,” Jonesy sputtered, caving.

“You looked like you had one.”

“It's just, we used to be an all-guy thing, and now... well, we may be getting too many hens in the chicken coop.”

“Oh... please! You bunch of roosters need all the help you can get. Be grateful!”

And with that parting shot she pivoted on her heel and went off in search of Sophie. Sophie of the Astral-Projection persuasion.

We stood silently looking after Jade.

“You handled that well, Jonester,” John said.

“Yeah,” he said glumly.

“Maybe next time just let the girls come,” I said.

“Yeah,” John said.

“This mundane thing blows goats. And the girls are taking over the world,” Jonesy stated.

“Not yet,” I said, winking.

Jonesy smiled and we walked out the door into the school parking lot where cars swarmed everywhere. We hiked over to a small grassy knoll, waiting for the girls. I threw my backpack behind my head and laid down, my head balancing on a lump of junk. Jonesy and John flanked me.

We waited as the sunlight warmed our bodies. Almost summer, I thought. Not hot and crummy yet, still spring.

“We have to find out what these...”

“Formula-people,” I supplied.

“Yeah them. What they really want from you,” John said.

“They're just rooting around, hoping to come up with something,” I said.

“Good thing you didn't put that pill bottle in your backpack,” Jonesy said.

“Right. Isn't that the truth,” John said.

We thought about who was watching.

We were lying there all languid when two shadows fell over our bodies. All three of us put our hands up to shield our eyes from the sun. It was the girls; Sophie's shadow, completely shading my body, Jade's covering Jonesy up to the neck.

“Let's go,” Sophie said.

“Where?” Jade asked.

“The cemetery,” Jonesy said.

“No,” I said.

“Oh, come on Hart! You can clean house if anyone shows up!”

Jonesy sat up, shaking off the languor and pantomiming punching.

“I don't want to. Every time I go to the cemetery a bunch of crap rains down on our heads! No.”

“What could happen?” Sophie asked.

We looked at her. She laughed. “It's that bad?”

“Yeah,” we said in unison.

“But it is the safest, the most private. They can't hear us.” Jade reasoned.

I thought about it, wavering. There really wasn't a very good alternative.

I made a decision. “Okay, everybody pulse the parental authority, get the go ahead, and let's book to the graveyard.”

“Wait,” everyone's attention turned to John. “Let's have a look-out. We don't want to be followed.”

“Brilliant. I'll do it,” Sophie said.

I nodded and we dug out our pulses, getting the parents handled.

Jade's face fell.

“What?” I asked, my hand landing on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Aunt Andrea says I need to go home and check in,” Jade made airquotes.

John said, “I don't like it.”

That made two of us.

“Not normal Jade.”

“I know, right?”

“You don't think it's your crazy-ass dad?” Jonesy asked delicately.

I glared at him. Jade saw and said, “It's okay, he's crazier than a shit-house rat.”

Sophie barked a very un-girl like shout of laughter.

“Where did you get that one?” she asked.

“Andrea.”

“I guess she's good for something.”

“Sophie, she really tries. They were raised in the same family ya know.”

“I know,” her hand squeezed the opposite shoulder. Now we both had our hands on our girl. Sophie's eyes met mine, Jade was fragile and we loved her. A fierce grip of possession blossomed in me and I felt a new focus for my life.

She gave us that radiant smile reserved for us; me and her best friend, I'd take that.

CHAPTER 21

Any graveyard always affected me the same way. As I got closer the voices grew louder. It was Jade and I in front with Sophie slightly behind, the Js pulling up the rear. Voices of the dead droned; I hadn't missed their absence (internal sigh).

Jade and I, our hands held tightly as we swept under the arch of scrolling metal, looked up at me with questions. Touching me like she was, I was tuned to the frequency of the dead. Brave girl, her hand was still dry.

John trotted up to us and the whispering dimmed. “So, where do you want to go?”

That was easy. “Let's head over to Clyde's grave.”

“Clyde?”

“Yeah, he's by far my favorite corpse.”

Jade laughed. “Ah... okay, whatever you say.”

“I've never seen the fun, so I'll assume being in the cemetery is kinda risky,” Sophie said.

Jonesy caught up with us, hearing the last comment. “Hell yeah! That's the full throttle of hanging out with us! It's the way we roll,” Jonesy said, folding his arms across a muscular chest.

Sophie looked at him.“Well, good for you,” she snarked, turning to Jade, eyebrows shooting up. Gee, how did we ever live without them?

I figured Sophie had about five and a half minutes before she succumbed to Jonesy's charms.

The Js did a high five to cement the moment and I grinned. The friends were it, they just flat were. Sophie gave them a look, knowing her presence was not going to change our supreme maleness.

We made our way to Clyde's grave... ole' twice-raised Clyde. He looked a little “smart” on that last run and I'd felt uneasy. No guts, no glory. Jerking corpses out of the ground more than once, I pondered that. Nope, I really wanted to know.

We plopped down in a semi-circle around his grave. The thrumming of the dead sounded very low in the background. I just couldn't make sense of that. They should be shrieking with me being in the cemetery and all. Jade was on my left, John on my right. Jonesy and Sophie had an unspoken truce, sitting together. Jonesy had his legs splayed out in front of him with his elbows locked behind him and Sophie sat legs crossed, elbows on knees and palms holding her chin.

“Okay we're here, now what?” Sophie asked.

“I want to talk more about the testing,” I said.

Jonesy frowned “What's to talk about? I mean, I'm a mundane, you guys have the juice, end of discussion.”

Maybe he was jealous. He was the only one that hadn't pinged paranormal. Didn't matter to me, Jonesy was always gonna be Jonesy. It just was.

John looked at him. “Remember, you get things done.”

My thoughts exactly, Jonesy was our main man.

“Yeah, I'm feeling that,” Jonesy said.

“Don't wanna take you guys away from your love fest or anything but I want Jade to let us in on this spy crap.”

Jade laughed. “It's not a 'spy thing,' it's more like a government within our government.”

“Okay, we've got that. What's their objective?”

Silence.

“You know, what's their goal?” John clarified.

John was gonna be my dad when he grew up.

“What I felt was they're trying to identify kids that have rare paranormal abilities and are also powerful.”

“Why were they looking in my locker?”

She looked down at her hands, twisting and untwisting. “They suspect you.”

“Why?”

“The dog. Garcia saw what you did with the dog.”

I looked at Sophie, big-eyed. “You're sworn to secrecy.”

“Ah... okay.”

“But I didn't raise the dog, the dog wasn't dead yet.”

“Come on Caleb, that's what my parents call splitting hairs.” That's like saying you're almost pregnant,” John said.

Sophie and Jade laughed, mutual amusement.

I guess he had a point, dammit.

“Okay, so I did some AFTD crap, he saw it and... what?”

“I felt, that they have fingers of their group within the police department,” Jade finished.

“Haven't we figured out that Garcia is dirty?” Jonesy asked.

I wasn't absolutely sure but it was circling the drain of possibility.

“What was that cop that showed up when you raised granny?” John asked.

I thought about that... McCain? McRaw...

“McGraw!” I remembered.

“Yeah, him. You said he pulled some scary shit.”

“He did; gave us a little elemental show,” I said.

“Didn't he cause, what, a mini-tornado?” Jonesy asked.

“Not really, it was more like we were all in the eye of the storm.”

“Was it righteous?” Jonesy asked, eyes alive.

“No, it was an intimidation thing. And he's Garcia's partner. Two plus two equals four, pal.”

Sophie shook her head, ringlets bouncing. “Whatever. We have dirty cops and adults that are lurking around looking for ways to force us to do their dirty work. All good news! What's the plan?”

John was the thinker, Jonesy the schemer and I was becoming the leader. Not a role I thought I'd be in.

“One thing is obvious: they all know what we are. In Caleb's case, they don't know how much he is, but that's a matter of time. Too many people know that he can corpse-raise. Jade's dad knows!” John said.

That was true, but...

“He won't say anything,” I said with conviction.

“Why not?” John asked.

“Because, A) he'd look bad, B) he would have to explain why he was there and what happened.”

“Caleb's right, he doesn't like to look bad. He wants to be right all the time,” Jade said.

I hugged her to me, stuffing her face in my neck, silently thanking God that I had worn cologne, “It's okay, he's not gonna hurt you, ever.”

She pulled away, her tears shimmering like diamonds on her lower lashes.

The Js looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

Sophie saved it. “We still haven't figured out a plan.”

“I've been thinking,” Jonesy started, we all groaned, a typical Jonesy Plan included us all getting our asses in a sling.

He held up a hand. “Hear me out,” he looked at us all. “I think we need a hideout.”

Cool! That's just what we needed.

“A safe house,” John said.

Jonesy looked at John. “That's what I said.”

Sophie said, “I think we need a labor force.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Jade asked.

“Caleb, you can raise the dead, right?”

I think we determined that. I nodded.

“Slaves,” John breathed.

“Slaves,” Jonesy repeated.

Sophie nodded.

“Isn't this one of those moral things adults are always blabbing about?” Jade asked.

Yeah it was.

“To recap then, you want me to raise zombies, to what? Work on a hideout?”

“Safe house,” John corrected.

“Whatever!” I yelled.

This was wrong on about a hundred different levels. Yet, it did have a practical feel to it.

Sophie said, “Do you not see the logic, Caleb?”

I did.

“But, I haven't really tried to raise anyone (except Gran... oops), this would be really, really...”

“Premeditated,” John said.

Jonesy looked at him.

“CSI,” John expounded.

“The crime show, what, in their twentieth season?”

“Yeah, they use walkers now!” Jade said.

“Okay,” Sophie made the cut-the-neck gesture with her finger, “focus, guys.” They looked at her, shrugging.

She directed her attention back to me. “I'm just saying, if you could, like, raise two or three zombies. Then make them construct a lair...”

“Lair?” Jade repeated.

“A secret place,” Jonesy said, then added, “maybe underground?” He pulled his shoulders up close to his ears in an exaggerated shrug.

This was actually sounding pretty cool, in theory anyway.

“I don't know,” Jade hesitated, “is it wrong to make them work for us, like slaves.”

Those words hung in the air, sitting there.

John finally broke the silence, “I don't think so. I mean, we need a place to go. We don't know if Caleb is going to have to go into hiding.” I looked at him with skepticism. He saw me and continued, “You never know, Caleb. Also, there are the dumb-asses at school, this government agency,” he looked at Jade, who nodded, “and the random parent who shows up and freaks. No offense Jade.”

“It's okay.”

“John and Sophie are right, Caleb. We need a place they'd never think to look,” Jonesy implored.

“I don't like it, but there's degrees of morality and we are just going to have to be more moral than the guys that are plotting on using us,” Jade said, adding, “what about the city dump?”

We all looked at her. The dump?

“Yeah, it's where I went when my dad got...” she looked at Sophie, “bad.”

Her eyes sought mine like a compass. I held her a little tighter. I was starting to hate her dad. Someday, he and I would come to an understanding and that day was coming.

“I like it,” Jonesy said.

“How far is it from here?” Sophie asked.

I remembered that Sophie didn't know Kent like the back of her hand. She hadn't always lived here like the rest of us.

“It's walkable,” John said.

Jonesy hopped up, brushing the grass off his butt. “Let's do it!”

The rest of us stood. I noticed again the voices were hardly more than a murmur. Weird. I told the others.

“Shouldn't they be almost screaming? Right in the damn middle of corpse-ville?” Jonesy asked, twirling around.

“Yes, they definitely should,” John said slowly, considering.

John snapped his head and looked at me, I stared back.

The girls said, “What?” at the same time.

Everything suddenly fell into place. I knew what John was.

Psychic Null.

Every ability was negated when he was around. That's why I couldn't hear the voices!

John grinned so hugely I thought he'd push the freckles right off his face.

“What gives?” Jonesy asked.

“I cancel everyone's powers,” John said, pride creeping into his voice.

“You're a Null?” Sophie asked, incredulous.

“What!” Jonesy shrieked. “How does that help us?”

“In a word... Carson,” Jade replied.

“And everyone else,” I said, stating the obvious.

Jonesy's face took on a life of its own. “Fantastic! That blows their juice all to hell!” he clapped his hands together for emphasis.

“Try to raise a corpse, Caleb!” Jonesy cried.

“Right now? That wasn't really the plan.”

“We've gotta see!” Jonesy shouted.

“Shh!” Sophie said.

“Right, sorry,” he said, chastised for three seconds.

Jonesy said in a normal voice (translation: still loud), “Try it.”

John said, “I don't know, whenever you say: I wanna see, I wanna do it... something bad happens.”

John was right on that, maybe we should find out if our speculation was on. Could John zero-out my abilities? Could he, if things flat-lined, protect us from one of these freaks that were working for that government agency? Good questions. I wanted answers, knowledge is power, Gramps always said.

“Jonesy is a little enthusiastic with experimentation. But, it'd be good to know,” I said.

“Remember the last time he wanted to 'see'?” John asked.

Yeah, that hadn't worked out real great. The whole Carson-pulling-a-can-of-fire-whoop-ass on all of us. Geez. Internal cringe.

“Let's try it,” Jade said.

How could I say no when my girlfriend was willing to be brave.

Ah, hell. Okay.

“Alright,” I said out loud.

We looked around us, our pulses read almost five o'clock. We had to get hot because parents were expecting us to come home and eat soon. Crap.

John stood closer, looking down at me, his bony elbows standing at attention. “I'm ready.”

“How does this work? I mean, do you know?”

John shook his head. “Not really, I mean, we just put it together that I may be a Null. We still don't know for sure. But, it would explain some stuff.”

Like all the times the voices had been bearable in the five classes we had together. Not for Biology though.

John read my mind. “I don't think I've had it long.”

That would mean that it fully came on line just recently. Would have been sweet to miss the whole frog dissection catastrophe.

“Okay, you two just stand where you are. Caleb, you let your,” Sophie moved her hand back and forth, “stuff go and we'll see if something happens. And! If it doesn't, we'll know,” she finished.

“Wait a sec. Shouldn't we see how far away John has to be before Caleb can use his powers again?” Jade asked.

Good point.

I stood facing Clyde's grave. Again. John stood beside me and I felt his nervousness like a cloak. It floated around me on the wind and settled uncomfortably on my shoulders. I sighed, breathing out deeply, trying to relax.

The fist that was my power loosened inside my body. Fingers lengthened until they became tendrils, a ghostly octopus, reaching out to the ground, stroking the grave like a lover.

Then, without warning, they choked up like vomit up a throat. It was as if a steel wall, high and impenetrable had been erected. They swirled and sought, looking for a small hole, any opening, a way to invade. There was nothing.

I looked up at my best friend, who was grinning like he won the lottery.

Putz.

Jonesy was rubbing his hands together. “Now that's what we're talkin' about!”

Jade was rubbing her hands up and down her arms, it was that intense.

“Move a couple of feet away,” Sophie said.

We parted a little.

“No, I think it's gonna have to be,” Jonesy moved us away from each other, his grip vise-like.

“Hey!” I said.

“Sorry... Caleb, stand here.” Now I was on top of Clyde's grave.

“That's not right,” Jade said, looking ill.

“Quiet,” Jonesy said and I looked like I would deck him. He looked back at Jade. “Please,” he added.

He looked at me like, happy? I nodded, better.

Now we were ten feet away from each other.

I tried again. John looked at me and grinned.

Kinda frustrating. But, I had to admit, useful.

John recovered first. “Okay, we've got that I can cancel out Caleb.” He turned to Jade. “What about you?”

Jade scowled. She wasn't really “feeling” her power. That was the main reason people had the wrong impression of her. She stayed away, because she didn't want contact.

“Come on Jade, just use me, touch me and then we'll get John into play,” I wheedled.

She began to relent.

“Everybody knows that a Null negates all paranormal talents,” Sophie said.

“That's what they say, but I want to know for fact,” John said.

“Yeah, what he said,” Jonesy supplied.

Jade gripped my forearm and gooseflesh ran up from the point of contact.

When she was using her power, it was total weirdness. John moved toward us in slow motion. His arms swinging like windshield wipers, frizzy hair bouncing on his head, late afternoon sun lighting his head on fire, torch-boy.

The moment became surreal, climbing power crawling over my skin like fire ants biting, sizzling electricity building, building; John touched my other arm. An electric spark shot off between us, we jumped, then... nothing.

Jade made a perfect “o” with her mouth, looking at John in wonderment.

“That was great,” she said. “Finally... silence.”

John was nodding his head. “That's just how cool I am.” He took a small bow.

I punched him on his bicep. “Chill the self-love Terran.”

“Hey! You're stealing my moment.” John made a face.

“Let's congratulate ourselves later.” Jonesy grinned, he was definitely digging this new turn of events.

We stepped off Clyde's grave, walking away to our separate houses, the graveyard at my back.

For once, the dead still resting.

CHAPTER 22

“How did it go today?” Dad asked.

My mouth was full of Mom's baked salmon. I held up my index finger, hang on a sec.

Dad and Mom watched me.

I swigged a gulp of milk down the hatch and replied, “It was okay.”

“Did I gauge the dose okay?”

I smiled. “Dad, I was still kinda high.”

Mom laughed and Dad looked puzzled.

“I based it on your weight, age and all the other parameters. Doesn't make sense. Wait... how much did you say you weighed?”

“One thirty-five.”

“I thought you said one forty-five...”

“Nice Dad, you overdosed me!”

“Kyle, aren't you the scientist?” Mom asked, teasing.

Dad ducked his head then regained the “dad composure.” “I am not a pharmaceutical representative, that's for sure.”

“Well, let's not make this a trend,” I said, feeling like I had tagged him on this one. How often was that gonna happen? I was taking full advantage!

Dad looked at me, nonplussed. “Humph!” he grunted. “I'll make a supreme effort.” Picking up his fork, he stabbed a chunk of fish, throwing it into his mouth, chewing aggressively. Mom chuckled, enjoying his discomfort, she had an evil streak.

“We received your results in pulse-mail,” Mom informed me.

I put my fork down, waiting.

Dad looked at me, smug. Okay, so I was high but maybe, just maybe, it had worked. Of course it had! I mean, the choppers weren't showing up with guys-in-black, dangling from ropes in kidnap mode.

“Two points,” Dad said, triumphant.

“Really? Hot damn!” I jumped up and aimed my hand towards Dad's. A resounding high five sounded.

Mom didn't, miraculously, correct my language, she thought it was great too.

Mom nodded. “The drug worked.”

“It did. But,” Dad waggled a finger at me, “we're not out of the woods yet.”

I looked a question at him.

“The threat is still there, but isn't immediate,” Mom expounded.

Right. I got that.

I explained how we'd all gotten separated from the other kids; paranormals in Delta Building and mundanes in the other buildings.

“Sounds standard, Caleb,” Dad said.

“Yeah... I guess. But there were these creepers that I named 'formula-people'.”

“Creepers?” Dad inquired.

“People that lurk about and generally give a sinister vibe,” Mom explained.

“Ah-huh, okay. Go on.”

“Well, they all wore the same clothes and stood by all the doorways.”

“Like uniforms?” Mom asked.

“Not exactly, more like, the same but different. And! They wore sunglasses... inside. How weird is that?”

The parents looked at each other in an uneasy silence.

The food stilled in my throat, a lump petrified. I swallowed through the hardness of it.

Dad put his fork on his plate with a clatter.

“That's not standard.”

“What are your thoughts, Kyle?” Mom asked.

“My thoughts are... that this thing is its own machine. That there are forces working that we don't know or understand.”

“Like I've been saying,” I said.

They looked at me as if, explain that.

“Dad, come on, remember McGraw and Garcia at the cemetery when I raised Gran?”

He nodded, somber.

“Well, then there's Parker. All the signs are pointing to something bigger,” I said.

I recounted what Jade had felt from the people who had dug through my locker. That Carson was a Pyrokenetic, that John was a Null. That Jonesy wasn't anything. Well, he was a math whiz, I guess that was something. But he couldn't bludgeon with equations!

Mom looked shocked. “I guess there are some blessings.”

I raised my eyebrows.

Dad pretended to wipe sweat off his brow. “Jonesy doesn’t have a power.”

I laughed. “There is that.”

“Yes, Jonesy with an ability would be...” Mom searched for the word.

“Explosive...” I supplied.

“I don't know if that covers it, Caleb,” Dad said, getting a visual of the Potential that was Jonesy.

We all loved Jonesy, but he was an immoveable object. Regardless of what was going on, he was him, sometimes that worked, other times, not.

Usually not.

“The officers came by today to let us know they're discontinuing surveillance,” Mom said.

Good, I thought. I liked Gale and Ward but Gale had gotten too close for comfort. I sure-as-hell didn't want McGraw and Garcia sniffing around either.

“When?” I asked.

“When you were running around with your posse,” Mom said.

“Huh, they still don't have a clue, right?”

“No, so far, they haven't been able to ascertain a motive for the break-in. Nothing was stolen, some things broken and touched. Of course, there's the matter of my pulse-top compromise. However, we did a full diagnostic at the lab and everything is in order.” Dad shrugged.

“I think it was the formula-people,” I said flatly.

“So suspicious,” Mom clucked.

“Somebody's got to be,” I replied.

The parents frowned.

“Well? It's pretty obvious someone knows more about me than we want them to. Why all the interest? As you'd say, Dad, things aren't 'adding up'.”

“Caleb's got a point, but, that doesn't mean we live in fear.”

“You're concerned, Dad, or you wouldn't have dosed me.”

“Caleb, would you stop saying that, please?” Mom asked.

“Dose, dose, dose, double-dose...” I chanted.

“Caleb...” Dad warned.

“Oh... okay. Geez, you guys!”

“Anyway, Gale is suspicious. She had your results as a two-pointer.” I raised my eyebrows. “She could have sworn you were much more. The last time she got a reaction like the one you gave her, it was from Parker.”

Swell.

“But, we had the proof.” Mom's relief palpable.

“Thank God for small favors,” Dad said.

We sat quietly for a second. Then I asked the important question, “What about the dog?”

Mom smiled “We'll get him after school tomorrow. Now the Aptitude Test is finished and that stress is behind us, we'll move forward.”

“Are you going to come, Dad?”

“No, I don't think I need to. I can let you and Mom get him.” he smiled.

Finally, I was going to get the dog. What to name him? He was black like night, really dark. I wondered...

“What about a name?” I asked.

“I've been thinking about that,” Mom said.

Of course, Mom the Word Queen!

I waited.

“Onyx!”

Mom had it... much better than “Inky.” Or, the dreaded, “Blackie.”

“Nice, Ali,” Dad said.

“I thought so,” she said, twirling away to refill my milk glass.

I slurped down the rest of my milk and cleared away my dishes. Mom would pick me up from school tomorrow and I would have a new dog, Onyx.

Things were looking up.

CHAPTER 23

The school was abuzz over the paranormals who were “outed” by the AP Testing. I got a lot of, “corpse-lover,” and my personal favorite, “Doin' any corpses lately?” All of them, so clever. Dunces.

John was acting incognito (ultra-cool vocab word: to conceal a real identity) by not telling anyone he was a Null but having a great time running around, getting close to some of the paranormals. They'd try to put their groove on and... nothing.

Evil for John. I liked it.

Jade was planning to come over to the house to help us pick up Onyx and formally meet him. I couldn't wait, it was the silver lining in today's cloud.

The classes droned by as usual. I was itching to get home and get Onyx. I knew there were other things to think about, like class, but that didn't matter today. Summer break was coming and my head was engaged with ideas of playing basketball, fishing, and especially, extra time with Jade.

Finally, the pulse clock chimed and sixth period ended. I raced to Building D, feeling a fleeting sense of déjà vu.

Mr. Cole was perched on the windowsill like a cat in the sun. I mentally crossed my fingers and took a deep breath.

“Hey Mr. Cole...” I rushed on, throwing out all my words at once so my chances would be better.

“My mom and I are going to get a new dog today and I was hoping I could make up band this Friday?”

I was out of breath but recovering.

Cole took off the glasses, bending his head as he polished them on his T-shirt, layered under an adult, button up shirt. I think that was required for adults. I figured Dad had about three hundred.

Geez. Then he put them up directly in the sunlight, checking for dirt. His glasses didn't look dirty to me.

He slowly looked over at me. Please say yes, please.

He smiled back. “I guess that would be okay. But you'll have to make it up Friday for sure, Caleb.” He gave me a mock stern look. But Cole, besides my shop teacher, Morginstern, was cool. They were the best teachers.

I breathed a sigh of relief and seeing my expression he laughed.

“Cool! Thanks, Mr. C!” I sprang up, taking off for the door as John came in.

“Whoa! Where ya going?” he asked.

“I get the dog today, Onyx, remember?”

In a low voice John said, “Cole let ya go?”

“Yeah, but I gotta make it up Friday.”

John pantomimed choking himself with his hands. “Ooh, the torture! Extra band practice.”

I punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Terran. You're gonna stay too.”

John rubbed his arm and glared at me. “I don't know... Friday... may have plans.” he grinned.

“Stuff it, ya putz. You know you've got plans, with Jonesy and me. That's your plans.”

John grinned wider. “Yeah, now that I'm cool like you.”

“You think you're cool like me. Listen, I don't have time for clever repartee, I gotta split and get the pooch.”

“Fancy words don't intimidate me!” John mocked swordplay in my gut.

“I thought you needed to get going Caleb?” Cole asked.

“Yeah, I do! See ya!” I gave John a salute, taking off.

I checked my watch, damn, forgot to wind it.

I ripped my pulse out of my pocket; three-ten. Okay, Jade was meeting me at three-thirty, better book. I began a slow jog, working up a good sweat by the time I threw open the front door, instantly smelling Mom's banana bread.

Decisions, decisions... shower or food. Sighing, I slogged off to the bathroom. “Mom, be out in a sec. Jade's coming over to pick up the dog with us!” Yelling over the kitchen noise.

“Thanks for the head's up!”

I ran the shower super hot like I liked. Finishing up, I got out, toweled off, and resigned myself to having to floss. This hygiene thing was a pain-in-my-ass, but I smelled better. Jade was a motivator!

I opened the bathroom door, having had just enough thought process to grab a clean T-shirt and Jade was here. I listened to Mom doing the hostess-goddess routine. They were getting along, good.

I rounded the corner, Jade looked up and our eyes connected in that I-dig-you-but-a-parent-is-around-so-play-it-cool. It sucked but was as automatic as breathing.

“You ready?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, just had to de-scuzz.”

“De-scuzz?” Jade asked.

“Yeah, got to smell fresh.” I flipped my long bangs out of the way, still damp from the shower.

Jade laughed, comic relief.

We walked to the garage, our shoulders touching.

Mom got into the driver's seat and Jade and I were in the rear where I figured Mom would be too distracted with that driving thing to notice us holding hands.

Jade leaned her head onto my shoulder. Her hair smelled like a big piece of fruit, nice. I wanted to touch it but knew that was pushing it.

We pulled up front and I listened with that part of me that hears the dead. In the case of Onyx, we had already done that psychic dance, he recognized me. I felt him in my head. We walked through the big glass doors, Jade and Mom in front, me bringing up the rear.

****

The Dog knew when the Boy entered the place-where-he-lived and howled joyously. He sniffed at the metal tubes which made seeing more difficult. He held the liquid that smelled interesting inside his body because the People-who-fed-him took him to a good smelling place to let the liquid go. The Dog held it but not without effort.

The Dog heard the voices of the People coming with the Boy, who was special, the Dog knew because the Boy called him in a special way, soundlessly. The Dog liked the Boy. The Boy would throw the soft, round thing. The Boy was... was... using those people sounds in his head.

I'm here Onyx, you'll come home with me.

The people-sounds were very exciting and the Dog could feel a little liquid come out.

Bad Dog, Bad Dog... he must hold the liquid.

The Dog saw the Boy and his People come to the bars and look down at him. He was a Bad Dog because of the liquid Accident but the Boy did not notice. The Dog was relieved and moved his tail, hoping the Boy would be pleased.

“Good dog, Onyx,” The Boy said.

The Dog wagged his tail harder, the end hitting the metal tubes. The Boy had said a word that was important that he did not know. He recognized some words.

He pressed his nose to the metal tubes, they were cold against his nose but he needed to smell the Boy and his People. The small female smelled like not-right-garbage and was excited to see him; so he wagged his tail harder. The older female smelled like the Boy. They were pack to each other. Would this be a pack like his other Boy? There was a sharp pang of sadness when the Dog remembered his other Boy, but he shoved it away because the New Boy was making the sounds from his mouth and he must listen.

“That's a good dog, Onyx.” The Boy said.

The Dog jumped up on the metal tubes and the Boy stuck his hand through and the Dog gave him one lick. The Dog understood some people did not like a lot of the wet thing in his mouth that was so good for all kinds of things.

One of the people-who-fed-him approached and he was a Good Dog and sat down. He continued wagging his tail because the small female put her delicious hand on top of his head and moved it in a most pleasant way.

The alpha female of the Boy's pack made new sounds out of her mouth and the Dog understood she had a tonal quality similar to the Boy...

“Arlene, is there any more paperwork to fill out before we take Onyx home?”

“No, Mrs. Hart, just sign this form attesting to pick-up.” She showed Mom where and Mom bent over the 'X', marking out a quick signature.

“Thank you. By the way, we're sure glad that he's going to a good family.”

The Dog saw the person-who-fed-him make dominant eye contact and he shifted his eyes away politely then looked back.

“We'll miss him around here.” she smiled.

The Dog heard the sounds, good dog, which was his signal to begin to wag his tail again. Which he did; thunk, thunk, thunk. He also heard that strange sound, Onyx, which meant something important. He would try to remember, for the Boy.

“Okay Onyx, let's go!”

The strange sound again, thunk, thunk, thunk.

“Caleb, he probably needs to go out to the potty area and do his business,” Arlene said.

“Oh right, K. Jade, let's go,” I said.

The Dog heard the sounds, potty area, and the liquid wanted to rush out, but he held it in. The Dog bounded around, hoping the Boy and his people would notice that he was a Good Dog and needed to let the liquid go.

The Boy and the small female went toward the doors where holes appeared to the place-that-smells-very-interesting.

He burst through when the holes appeared and lifted his nose in utter bliss. So many different liquid smells here! Where to start?

The person-who-fed-him came and said the sounds, “go hurry up.” He wished to impress the Boy with how quickly he could let the liquid go.

He trotted over to an especially good smelling corner and let the liquid rush out and was very happy when it covered the other liquid smell.

“Good Onyx, good hurry up,” the Boy said.

He wagged his tail, the Boy was using the happy tone with him because he was a Good Dog.

He followed the Boy, who took him to the fresh place where there were no holes to think about and he could run and run and run. The Dog hesitated. He wished to run but the Boy had no soft, round thing that he could grab, and the pack had a calm, unhurried posture.

He waited.

The pack made noises with the person-who-fed him, then opened a metal box with holes on top and with foul smelling round shapes on the bottom.

The Boy gestured that he wanted the Dog to get in. But the Dog felt a disquiet with the box. He remembered that it was a Bad Thing. The pack got into the big metal box that smelled like the Boy's pack. He sniffed it suspiciously and looked at the Boy for direction.

The Boy reached for him and scooped up the Dog. He gave a lick with the wet thing in his mouth in appreciation. The Boy tasted like a Good Boy, not the good of-not-quite-right-trash smell of the small female, but still good. He liked his new pack and wagged his tail.

****

Onyx explored every, tiny corner of our house, spending an especially long time in my room, stumbling over all the crap on the floor, deciding it was good and rolling around on top of it. Perfect, now that's a good dog!

Jade had gone home a few minutes after Onyx arrived. I was feeling righteous: the testing was over, the government hadn't come yet to kidnap me, Jade and I were together and Onyx was finally here!

Mom had done some crock pot thing... chili, so we could just scoop and pork. I liked that.

The front door opened and Dad came through, looking a little frazzled. Onyx gave a small growl.

It's okay, Onyx, it's just Dad. I let that thought float out through whatever allowed me to talk to the dead. And that was the frequency the dog was on.

Onyx sat up straighter and cautiously approached Dad.

Dad sat down on his haunches, putting his hand out. Onyx sniffed his hand, doing an exaggerated lean with his neck, slowly wagging his tail.

The male was Alpha, he smelled very much like the boy but not at all like the Alpha female. The Boy smelled like both of them. The Dog made his tail move to show he liked this new pack member...thunk, thunk, thunk.

A part of the male's body was out, the Dog leaned forward cautiously... smells like older male, like the Boy... he shows respect by making himself smaller. The Dog likes the Alpha Male. The Dog shows respect by lying down.

I watched Onyx lie down, showing his belly. Dad was petting him on his belly and Onyx wagged his tail. Good, everybody was friends now.

Suddenly, Onyx flipped over and stood, trotting back over to me, where he turned and sat down next to my chair.

Dad stood, stretching, arching his back and standing on tiptoe.

“You stiff?” Mom asked.

“Some... been in a chair all day.”

Dad turned to me. “Feel like one on one today?”

That sounded great. “Yeah, it's been forever since we played.”

“Now that the immediate crises are over, we can resume our lives,” Dad said.

“It has been stressful,” Mom said.

“How do you like your new dog?” Dad asked.

“Onyx is awesome!”

Mom looked critically at Onyx, who stared back at her expectantly, his brown eyes a pool of liquid in his black face. “He sure is black, like an ink spot that barks.”

It was the first supper we'd had in what seemed like forever where we just talked about normal stuff. No government threats, break-ins, bullies at school or raising dead stuff. Almost normal.

Time for more chaos.

After supper, Dad and I were cranking it up on our cement basketball court. I was guarding him like a cheap suit and he was huffing and puffing around me. I jumped up just as he was shooting and slapped the basketball right out of his hands.

The Js came walking up then, taking off their hoodies as they strode, piling them up just outside the court.

“Hey Kyle!” Jonesy yelled.

John inclined his head to Dad.

Jonesy ran over and we ganged up on Dad. After all, he was all-that-was-man and six-foot one, he had to man-up.

We tore around the court, Dad driving the ball toward the basket, Jonesy accelerating and me trying to steal, John getting in the way of all of us. It was the absolute best.

We horsed around till the light faded so much that we couldn't see the basket. Bounding up the steps we threw the door open. Mom was in her pajamas with two pitchers of iced tea. Jonesy rushed over, grabbed the biggest cup out of the cupboard he could find, filled it to the brim and chugged it down while we watched. Finally, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He saw us all watching him. “What?”

“Hey, Mrs. H., what do ya say about some banana bread?” He waggled his eyebrows in that charming Jonesy-way of his.

Mom laughed. “You bet, it's right over there,” while pointing to the right of the bread box. A large slab was left out from yesterday.

Mom said, “Looks like someone wants to meet your friends.”

Onyx had come to sit patiently in the corner of the room, eying my friends with curiosity.

“Hey boy!” John extolled.

“That's right! You got him today...” Jonesy said. “So this is the famous dog?”

“That's him,” I said proudly.

We all looked at him and his tail started to wag.

“Mom, is it okay that he sleeps in my room?”

“It's okay, but I think that he may want his own space,” Dad said.

I felt a lecture coming on.

“Kyle means that you have to move all your junk on the floor, to some other spot so he has a place to be,” John said.

Oh, that made sense. But, maybe he would like the smell of my stuff on the floor I told them.

Mom shook her head. “No, Caleb, he can't just lie on your clothes.” A cool idea foiled!

John's hair was standing straight up because he was always pushing it out of his eyes and a combination of boy-grime and sweat had acted as... I don't know, some kind of gel, I guess. Jonesy's hair was cut close to his scalp and seemed to dry instantly when he was sweating. We all thought that was really cool. Mine hung in strings. We all needed showers but I wanted to get my room in shape for Onyx.

“Hey guys, let's get a space for Onyx,” I said.

John shrugged.

Jonesy said, “Sounds like a plan.”

I looked at Onyx and he was just there. Cool.

We climbed the stairs, opened my door and surveyed The Cave.

“Crap Caleb, it's a mess in here,” Jonesy said.

“Oh, I don't know, it looks a lot like your room Jonesy,” John said, cocking and eyebrow.

Jonesy gave John a dirty look. “It's not this bad,” he protested, waving his hand around.

“Whatever. This isn't getting a spot for Onyx figured out.”

“Caleb's right, let's get to work,” John agreed.

We started picking up all the clothes off the floor, heaving them all in a pile on top of my bed that soon became a mountain. John looked at my garbage stack, I shook my head.

Jonesy, seeing the direction of where I was looking said, “No man, the dog can't sleep on the desk...”

That was my logic.

John frowned, he was thinking we would clean the whole room. Out of a scale of interest from one through ten, with ten being the highest, cleaning my room was a negative number.

“Where do the clothes go?” John asked reasonably. Then, “This clothes hamper here? Are these dirty or clean?” he asked, pointing to the pile on the bed.

I shrugged, who knew? If they smelled bad, I didn't wear them.

John folded his arms across his chest. “This is your closet?”

“No. This is my closet.” I opened the bi-fold doors and a bunch of crap rolled out at our feet.

Jonesy surveyed stuff. “Look, there's my History text from last year! I had to pay a fine!” He glared at me.

I shrugged again.

John threw up his hands. “Okay... the plan is, dump the junk in the dirty clothes hamper upside-down, then put the dirty clothes in the hamper, then, put the clean clothes in the closet.” He looked over at the closet, “and I guess stack all that crap in the bottom.”

Damn.

“I hate to say it Caleb, but, I think you're gonna have to go downstairs and get a trash sack,” John looked at the closet again, “not those weak ones that your mom uses for kitchen trash, but yard waste.”

“Can't dude, we compost.”

John face-palmed. “I forgot your mom doesn't believe in trash.”

“My Dad does.”

“Really?” Jonesy asked.

“Yeah, but don't tell my mom. She thinks trash is very uncool,” I said with feeling.

“Jonesy, minion, go fetch trash receptacle,” John said.

Jonesy gave a sharp salute and beat it downstairs.

Onyx stood patiently waiting for us people to figure it out.

Jonesy came back up and we put the trash pile in the bag. Actually, John did. Somehow, I think he was offended by it.

We started into the closet.

“Do we give the school back the History book?” John asked.

Jonesy and I looked at it and at the same time said, “Nah.”

“Jinx!” Jonesy said as we grinned at each other.

John sighed again, into the trash it went.

An hour later, the bag couldn't fit any more and I noticed that there was a lot of floor space to choose a spot for Onyx.

After a ass-load of discussion, we decided that Onyx needed to be at the foot of my bed, but close to the computer desk, on the right. I had a sudden idea and decided to search around in the closet, moving all the non-trash items. Mom's Stephen King collection was carefully put aside. I found just the thing, Gran's afghan. It was a bunch of bright-colored squares all stitched together to make a huge blanket. It was itchy. Mom said it was made of wool. She didn't like synthetic fibers since they were made with petroleum products. I folded it in half, then half again, placing it in the new spot.

I thought in Onyx's head, here's your new spot.

He walked over, sniffed the scratchy thing, and laid down on it.

“Good dog.”

He wagged his tail.

“He sure seems like a good dog,” Jonesy said. Hearing that, Onyx wagged his tail harder.

Smart too.

John turned his attention back to the closet, poking at my stack of books with a toe “Why don't you use a dedicated reader?”

“It's like the watch, isn't it?” Jonesy said.

“Caleb is a little outdated,” John remarked.

“No. I just think that it's important to use some stuff that isn't modern. I mean, think about our dependence on Brain Impulse Technology? If everything went stupid, and suddenly that junk didn't work, just think about the chaos, even if it was only for an hour; people would melt down.”

John looked thoughtful. “You have a point.”

Jonesy looked at my watch. “It's not even LED,” he nearly wailed.

I looked down at the funky thing, scratched and old looking. It had been Dad's first watch and I liked it.

John bent his head over it and grunted, “It's a winder.”

“A what?” Jonesy asked.

“You have to wind it every day to keep time.”

Jonesy looked baffled.

John shrugged. “I gotta split. Let's get this stuff back in the closet.”

We threw all the stuff back in there, stacking the books carefully, and shut the thing. Jonesy looked relieved that the doors could close.

Onyx sat on the blanket watching us.

Jonesy whispered, “He's kinda creepy, Caleb, the way he just stares at us.”

We all looked at him.

“He's something,” John said.

Be right back... stay, I thought at Onyx.

The Boy made the people noises in the Dog's head. But, the noises weren't as clear as the flavor. The Dog thought about how the Boy put a smell inside his head, all different types of smells, and they made a message. The Boy was very easy to understand. He was different from the Others. The Dog would stay on this, (he dropped his nose to smell)... soft thing that smelled like old pack female...in the Boy's den. He closed his eyes, feeling something that was familiar... a sense of home. The Dog was happy.

His memories of the other Boy were dimming.

CHAPTER 24

The rest of the week dragged by. Go to school, daydream about it ending, then rush home to see Onyx, eat some food, hang with the posse and Jade and do it all again. All of us were getting so tired of school. The end of the year loomed large.

Hadn't seen much of Carson and Brett but I knew we'd probably go to the same high school next year as freshman, Kent Paranormal High, KPH. That's where all paranormals went. At the regular (mundane) high schools in town everyone with different academic aptitudes would go to the high school that specialized in that aptitude. Jonesy had shown Math/Science aptitude so that's where he was headed, Kent Lake High. The rest of the gang was going to KPH. I was gonna really miss the Jonester, it seemed wrong somehow.

Friday finally rolled around and it was the sixth of June. Jonesy, ever mindful with scheming said he thought the last day of school would be a blast.

“Ya see... it's a special day.” We were all at the lunch table festering about the possibilities of government plots, hiding what we were and such; ya know, normal conversation.

We waited expectantly for him to continue. Jonesy always had cool and bizarre ideas. Sometimes, like the disastrous cemetery plot with Carson, they didn't work out but it was interesting to see.

“It's Friday the Thirteenth,” he said, clearly satisfied with himself.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “So?”

Jonesy grinned back at her, smug. “It's an unlucky day. Stuff that's bad, that's gonna happen, happens then.”

Sophie stared at him.

“He is amusing,” Jade said.

“He's right,” John agreed, showing guy-support.

Tiff strolled up just then, hands jammed into the pocket of her hoodie, the hood pulled all the way up, a sliver of her face revealed. “Whatcha doin'?”

“Hey Tiff,” I said.

The Js nodded, the girls said hey.

“What's he sayin'?” Tiff asked.

Sophie said, “Jonesy thinks the last day of school is going to be riddled with bad luck because it's Friday the Thirteenth.”

Tiff said without preamble, “That's a load of horseshit.”

Right.

Out loud I said, “Ya never know, it could go okay. It's just supposed to be a warning, right?” I looked at John, who nodded.

“I know some bad stuff that's happened on that day,” Jonesy said in a creep-you-out voice.

“Yeah... what?” Tiff said, plunking herself down between Sophie and Jade, who gave her a miffed look. She didn't have girl radar or she'd have seen the problem with that move.

Tiff put her head in the cradle of both her hands, clearly bored and waving the red flag before the proverbial bull.

Jonesy obligingly said, “There's this haunted house...ya know, the one where that old cemetery is, it's just a shack. I heard there was a kid that went in there and never came out.” he was nodding his head the whole time.

“Who told you that lame-ass story?” Tiff said skeptically.

“One of the teachers,” Jonesy said triumphantly.

That got everyone's attention. Jade took a bite of apple and John fussed with some Cheetos, putting a couple up his nose and wiggling it. It was comical with a Cheeto sticking out of each nostril. Sophie was unimpressed.

“You're gonna eat those now, aren't ya?” Tiff said, smacking her gum.

Jade sighed. “Boys.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“Not you.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me and I was instantly smitten again.

“Listen up chumps!” Jonesy redirected.

The girls gave dissatisfied grunts, John took the Cheetos out, peering at the ends that had been in his nose... nice.

“This is the plan,” oh, here we go, John looked cautious. The girls were clearly interested but they didn't know Jonesy that well.

“Jonesy...” John started.

He held up a palm, warding him off. “Hear me out. We're gonna go to this shack...”

“That's by a cemetery... smart,” said Tiff in a droll way.

“Yeah, and I have the ghost-buster team here with me to take care of everything,” Jonesy said with confidence.

Tiff and I sighed.

“So, we're gonna go there and see.”

“See what, Jonesy?” Jade asked.

“I don't know... somethin', whatever.”

“Well that clears things up a lot,” Sophie said.

“Jonesy's consistent,” John said neutrally.

Jonesy gave John a speculative look and continued, “It's a half-day but I'm thinking we have to wait until dark?”

I was figuring Jonesy for a full dark, check-out-the-haunted-house kinda guy.

“Hell yeah! This is the best part, it won't be dark until late, like ten, so we have plenty of time to rebel-rouse before.”

“Rebel-rouse?” Tiff asked.

“Rouse means 'to wake' and rebel, well... you gotta know what that means,” Jonesy said.

A sneaking seed of suspicion started to take hold.

“You're not thinking of some cemetery shit again?” I asked.

“Who, me?” he asked, all innocence.

Tiff's eyes narrowed into slits. “We don't need the spotlight, Jones. We need to stay underground.”

She was right, even if her way with words was not real smooth.

“That wasn't The Plan,” he paused. “But if something cool were to happen...” he spread his arms wide, what's the problem?

The voice of reason spoke up. “Let's stick to checking out the old place and seeing what's in it; no cemeteries,” John finished.

Jonesy looked embarrassed. Uh-oh, something was up.

“Spill it,” Tiff said.

“Well, there's something I forgot to mention,” he said, putting his thumb and index fingers almost together, a paper's width from touching.

John spun his hand like a wheel, go on, and Jonesy finished with, “You gotta walk through the cemetery to get to the house.”

“I knew it!” Sophie said, Jade making a face.

Tiff and I looked at each other.

“I guess it's okay. Carson and Brett don't know we're going,” I said slowly.

I looked at Jonesy who would tell The World if he felt it would help The Cause, he shook his head; he hadn't said anything... yet.

Tiff interjected with, “And it's a bonus your Gran isn't buried there. Wait, do you have any other relatives buried there?”

“No, they're all at Scenic.”

“Well thank God,” Sophie mumbled.

“Okay, I'm in,” Tiff said, leaning back and crossing her feet at the ankles. “Can Bry come?”

“Ah-huh...” I thought about that more. “He's not gonna kick my ass, is he?” Didn't want to set myself up for the fall and with my girlfriend as the audience.

“Nah... he's over it.”

“Is he the cute one?” Sophie asked.

Jonesy glared at that. Interesting.

“How should I know? He's my brother, gross.”

The pulse clock chimed and we stood, separating our trash. The Js trailed behind as Jade and I walked to our next class.

“What do you think you'll get out of Biology?” Jade asked. “It was kind of a cluster with the frog thing.”

Yeah it was.

“Maybe I softened him up, knowing stuff about flowers.”

Jade's eyebrows shot up.

I nodded. “Yeah, my mom makes me do gardening chores.”

“That's why you knew about the plant names when I came over.” She smiled up at me.

Huh, bonus point.

“It beats cleaning toilets,” I said.

“Yeah, that's a gross job. I'd rather learn about plants,” she said wistfully.

She had the chores I hated and I had made a big deal out of it. Geez, Hart, good going.

“This summer you can come over and we'll do gardening together. I bet my mom would love the help!”

“Alright, cool!”

We stopped in front of Biology. “Have fuuuunnn!” she teased.

“Oh, yeah and monkeys will fly outta my butt!” I said.

She giggled and I laid a kiss on her full mouth that felt like crushed velvet (sensory overload!).

I entered the classroom thinking about the weekend stretched before me. Last week of school, a plan for creepy Friday the Thirteenth, a new dog and a hot girlfriend; life was rocking about now.

CHAPTER 25

I was splitting my time between the Js and Jade and it was a job. The guys wanted to hang at Jonesy's tonight. I called Jade and she told me it would be okay to see me Saturday night instead. I pulsed the Js and told them we were on for tonight. Mom asked what Jonesy's mom was having for supper. I didn't know, like it mattered? Knowing Jonesy, we'd forage in the pantry and come up with something good. Mom decided to make a pizza and send it with me.

I jetted over to Jonesy's on Dad's old one-speed Schwinn. I was sure I'd hear about that from Jonesy, Caleb is outdated, Caleb is... blah, blah, blah.

I didn't care, I loved the old stuff.

The pizza dangled from the handle bars in a most undignified way. Mom had cut the pizza, so I was riding around with eight slices of homemade pizza. The bag swung and whacked. It thunked as I rode along, passing all the familiar milestones: 7-Eleven to my left, QFC Grocery to my right... there it was, Meridian Villa. My dad grew up there. The houses were just the next step older than my neighborhood. Jonesy's parents had actually bought the house that Jonesy's dad had lived in as a kid.

Swinging my leg off the pedal and around to the other side as the bike slowed I came to a complete stop at the top of their circular driveway. I grabbed the bag of pizza and approached the front door, checking out the house. Jonesy's house was cooler than mine, it had a basement. Dad called those man-caves. The house was really flat looking and hugged the knoll it lounged on. Small windows that looked like eyes lined the point where the basement met the flower beds. Jonesy's dad, Bill, had a very small lawn. By the looks of it, barely within legal limits. Seemed like some dudes just had to have a lawn. Mom would have never allowed it at our house, not Eco-enough. Mom thought lawns were for outdoor sports fields, period. I loved the lawn. It was an emerald slash of green that anchored the flower beds. Jonesy's mom wasn't a garden-Nazi like my mom but she made it look nice.

I climbed the three, broad, concrete steps, ringing the bell.

Helen came to the door, grinning. “Hey Caleb! Long time no see!” Her impenetrable hair stood at stiff attention (and looked like a rat lived on top).

Aqua Net Queen.

I smiled back, she had Jonesy's grin exactly. “Hi, Mrs. Jones.”

A frown appeared. “I mean... Helen,” I corrected.

“That's better,” Helen said, ruffling my hair. Geez, no touchy!

I ducked my head and threw over my shoulder, “My mom made some pizza.”

“Good deal, we'll add it to mine.”

Great, more pizza, happy Friday! I rounded the corner, walking down a long hallway painted McDonald's yellow. With such a neutral exterior, the yellow was a shocker. But Mrs. Jones (Helen), said with our gloomy Pacific Northwest days that she needed the sun inside her house.

As I came down the hall I could hear the guys before I got to Jonesy's room.

I opened the door, surveying the room. Jonesy sat on the floor, pulsing through his dedicated reader, John likewise absorbed. I walked over and sat on my haunches, they were looking at comics. We were nuts over the super hero comics. Especially now that some people's paranormal skills echoed what was once considered impossible.

“Look at this dude... hell, to be him, huh?” Jonesy said to no one in particular.

“You got that. I'm just a Null,” a disgruntled John said.

“At least you're something, you ingrate,” Jonesy replied.

“Hey, look at this.” I pointed to a spot behind the guy lifting the car off the person.

We put our heads together, and saw a small boy in the background with big eyes, watching the rescue of... I think his brother, from under the car. But, he had one finger on the bumper.

“Is that kid doing it or the guy in the cape?”

That was the $64,000,000 question.

John studied it. “Hold on!” He leapt up and ran out of the room. In the distance I heard voices.

“What's he doing?” I asked Jonesy.

“I don't know,” he shrugged.

John rushed back in with a funny looking thing with a black plastic stem and a round piece of glass on the top.

“What's that?”

“It's my mom's magnifying glass,” Jonesy said.

“This will do the trick!” John said.

We all bent forward again, the high resolution in the reader giving a sharper image as the convex shaped glass flowed over the top, expanding and defining.

“Hell yeah!” Jonesy punched air.

“Jonesy! Language!” Helen yelled a reprimand.

“Sorry mom!” Jonesy yelled back.

Jonesy repeated quietly, “Hell yeah!”

John and I smiled.

“Okay, so the kid is holding up part of the car? So what, it's a comic,” I said.

“That's where you're wrong,” John replied with gravity.

I looked a question at him.

“You remember Alex?” John asked.

“The bad piano player?”

“Yeah,” he waved that opinion away impatiently. “He told me that there were hidden messages in the comics. That if we looked closely, we could find things in the images, the artwork, that when strung together means something.

“Are you shitting me?”

“No, would I?” John asked.

We both looked at Jonesy.

“What?” he asked, oblivious.

We shook our heads. John wouldn’t make it up, too weird.

“Alright, so what does it mean?” I asked.

“Well, that's what we've been trying to decipher with just this months' worth of comics.”

“What does Alex say it means?”

“He thinks there are allies of the paranormals that have been shut down by the government and there's subtle messages in the comics that talk about what is going on, what they're doing. Maybe even where they might be located.”

“And... Alex got this all from, what? He pulled it out of his ass?” Jonesy asked.

I had a visual of Alex, who was such a nerd it hurt me to look at him, but he was truly smart. Maybe there was something to this.

Jonesy turned off his DR. “That's for when we have more time. I have a plan.”

Oh joy.

John asked, “What now? I thought we were going to talk about the comic messages?”

“Later. Besides, you've already agreed to this,” Jonesy said.

“What?” I asked, impatient.

“Let's figure out the hideaway. While there's no chicks around to ruin it,” Jonesy answered.

“Jade wouldn't ruin it,” I defended.

“She wouldn't mean to but, she still distracts you. She's like the 'shiny thing'. She moves and you follow.”

I really couldn't argue with that. I looked at John for support.

John just shook his head. “He's right Caleb, you're kinda gone on her.”

“I'm here tonight though, aren't I?” I asked, indignant.

“Yeah, but we're not getting together as much as we were. It's okay, I'm just sayin'.”

“Okay. I want to find a place to have a safe zone. Somewhere we can go if the government gets wind of me,” I said.

“That's what I'm talkin' about, Caleb,” Jonesy said like, duh.

I still felt uncomfortable doing the zombie slave labor.

“Come on Caleb, we need them,” Jonesy said, seeing my face.

“Yeah, I have been thinking of a way for us to use the zombies and get them back without being noticed,” John said.

I held up my hand. “Let's just wait and see if we even need to use them. Maybe we'll find a really cool place in the old dump and it will be perfect, without...”

“Improvements,” John supplied.

“Right.”

“Let's go tonight, right now,” Jonesy said.

“I gotta have some food first,” John said.

Right on cue, my stomach did a huge rumble.

“That's a sign,” Jonesy said.

We walked out to the kitchen and plopped down in front of a huge thing that my parents called a breakfast bar. The Js and I pulled out the stools. Jonesy's mom poured us out three pops, Big Red. Helen believed sugar was a food group, that made me happy on a deep level.

She put a plate in front of each of us with four slices. My mom's pizza was demolished during round one. Jonesy and I were okay after that but John had to have two more. Helen said she still had a whole pizza left.

“I don't wanna walk, Caleb,” Jonesy said through a mound of food crammed into one side of his mouth.

“Listen, mister, don't talk with your mouth full,” Helen said.

“Sorry, mom,” Jonesy said, and smiled, the pizza guts showing through his teeth. Helen shook her head and started a load of dishes.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because, I think it will be fun to just watch you ride on that old bike of yours, I need a laugh.”

John smiled.

Helen said, “Jonesy, that is a perfectly adequate bike.”

“Mom, have you looked at it? Really looked at it? It's pathetic. It's a one-speed.”

“Those are classic instruments for the development of large motor skills,” she elaborated.

“Huh?” Jonesy asked.

“Mrs. Jones is talking about your butt,” John said.

It was Helen's turn to grin.

“Let me explain. There are no gears, right?”

“Right,” Jonesy agreed.

“So, it forces you to use the booty gear.”

“Precisely, John, and I thank you for clarifying,” Helen replied.

“You're just not gonna admit that it's not as cool as my Raleigh Scout, mom,” Jonesy stated.

“Not on your life, big-for-your-britches.”

John and I barked out an appreciative laugh. The DNA train wasn't far from the track with his smart-ass behavior.

Jonesy glowered at his mom but she didn't even flinch; tough-as-nails, loved it.

We grabbed our bikes, my tires the monsters of the group and were on our way. The old, abandoned dump was really close to Scenic Hill Cemetery so we parked our bikes there and walked over. It wouldn't be good for some observant adult to see a bunch of kids' bikes loitering in front of a dump.

We looked up at the sign, “Kent Refuse, Authorized Personnel Only, Trespassing Prohibited, Hours of Operation: Mon-Fri: 10:00-4:00. Then, over the top of that was the haphazard lettering, Closed. Our gaze traveled to the top of the chain link fence where barbed wire swirled lazily in a spiral. That would take some doing.

I turned to John. “What do ya think...”

He pulled out two pair of gloves.

Jonesy's eyebrows shot up. “Great! Good thinking,Terran!”

John, always prepared.

“You first,” I said to Jonesy.

Jonesy grunted, threw on the gloves and climbed. Fine muscles bunched and moved in his forearms as he finessed his way up the links, John keeping an eye on the road for adults.

“Hurry,” John said.

“I am. Can it!”

Finally, Jonesy got to the top and pushing down the barbed wire with one hand, straddled it in preparation for swinging his leg over to the other side.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“What? Kinda busy, ya moron.”

“Why don't you stay awhile?”

“Shut up Caleb, it's your turn next,” Jonesy said, giving a nervous look at his balls, millimeters above the barbs.

Jonesy carefully swept his left leg over, securing a foothold on the opposite side. He removed one glove at a time with his teeth, throwing them one-handed over the top of the fence for John and I.

I struggled the gloves on while Jonesy climbed down the other side. I got them on and stood facing Jonesy. Jonesy smiled and did an elaborate middle finger. John laughed.

“Have fun with that, Hart.”

A knot of anxiety was like a ball in my stomach. I was gonna do this.

I was definitely not scared of heights.

I took a deep breath and started to climb. It was pretty easy until I was just about to the top and my arms started to shake. Jonesy hadn't mentioned that part. Maybe it hadn't made him tired. He was shorter, but muscular.

I used the same tramp-down-the-barbed wire technique as Jonesy, hovering precariously over the top in complete terror that my arm strength would give way just at that moment. But the threat of a testicle free life kept me stable. Swinging the other leg over the top, I hung there at the top of the other side, catching my breath.

“Somebody needs to do some push-ups!” Jonesy sang.

Jerk.

I climbed down and stood by Jonesy on the right side of the fence.

“I do push-ups.”

Jonesy grunted, “Maybe do some more.”

John was still staring at the road.

“Let's get going,” Jonesy said through the fence.

John sighed, looking one more time at the locked gate. “Just a sec,” he said, jogging over to the gate.

“It's locked John, you're gonna have to climb,” Jonesy called out smugly.

John stood staring at the gate, which was a huge chain link affair with a padlock the size of my fist.

“It's got a numbered entry,” John called.

Jonesy shrugged, so?

“It's pre-pulse,” I explained.

“Whatever. John, just climb, you're wasting time.”

John started to spin the numbers on the lock, jerking it experimentally. Finally, after a minute of messing around with it and Jonesy grumbling, it opened, like magic.

John looked over at us and grinned triumphantly. “I guess I'll just open the gate, and walk in,” he said.

Oh brother.

And he did; walking right in and right over to us.

Jonesy had his hands on his hips. “What-the-hell, Terran? Why didn't you try that from the start?”

“I didn't think about it until it was my turn to climb,” John tapped his head and continued, “Work smarter, not harder.”

Nice.

“Okay, smart-ass, go close the gate so adults don't check it out.”

John sauntered over to the gate, carefully arranging the lock so it would appear locked.

He came back over and we started to search for the perfect spot.

The dump was an interesting place. I was thinking it was gonna smell trashy. There was some of that, but the acute trash smell was long-gone. The refuse station had been closed since I was little back when recycling became mandatory, with trash penalties and stuff. There just weren't that many dumps in service anymore.

There was a butt-load of tires and old cars and the appliances! It was insane!

Jonesy was thrilled with everything, touching and opening all of it.

John and I let Jonesy explore, while we stayed on a semi-clear path that meandered and wound through huge hills of broken and beaten cars. Old appliances lined the “road” on either side.

He looked inside a huge, commercial style freezer. “Hold on a sec... I've got an idea.”

“What?” I asked.

“I think... that if these cars,” he looked up from our vantage point of being at the base of the “hill” of cars, “weren't compressed all the way, we may be able to make a 'doorway',” he made a large rectangular outline with his fingers of a doorway, “using one of these old fridges, kick the back out and find some space behind it that we can use.”

He folded his arms across his chest and let me think it through. I looked over at the long line of appliances. Maybe one didn't even have a back anymore? I slowly nodded.

“Good, huh?”

“Yeah, let's get the Jonester over here and lay it on him.”

“Jonesy,” I yelled.

“What?!” came the muffled reply.

I turned to John. “Where is he?”

John shrugged.

Suddenly, a head popped out of an old car.

“Come on, stop dickin' around and get over here.”

Jonesy shot his leg out and booted the car door open, its protesting creak piercing the quiet with a squealing groan.

John cringed at Jonesy's subtlety.

Jonesy trotted over and rubbed a hand over his face, covering it with grime. I looked closer. It was like grease, great.

“You've got grease on your face now,” John said.

“I do? Oh well, whatever. I've got soap at home.”

I told Jonesy the plan.

“Hot damn! What are we waiting for? Let's tear these babies open!”

We separated, searching each one. Finally, there was an ugly pink fridge with a clear handle, that looked to have a car emblem embedded in the handle. Weird.

John looked critically at it, circling around the thirty percent that showed.

“Good size,” he stroked the top that he could barely reach. It was a behemoth, bigger than some of the fancy fridges that were in restaurants. John whistled at Jonesy and he walked over from inspecting an avocado-colored beauty.

John slowly opened the fridge; it was deep, probably two feet plus. A perimeter of internal rust edged the interior all along the back. Rust-like lace spread out from the corners in a spider web of burnt orange. Jonesy stepped forward and tore out the two shelves that hung cattywampus inside, making them sail like Frisbees over John's head.

“Hey! Watch it,” John said, ducking.

“Hold your shorts, Terran, you'll live.”

“Kick out the back Jonesy,” I said.

He turned his head and looked at me. “Duh.”

Jonesy did a super graceful dance kick where he sorta hops, then jumps, bending his knee and swinging it out at the same time. A ripple appeared where his foot had struck, the back buckling.

Jonesy did another strike and the buckle widened from top to bottom.

“Come on Jonesy, I thought you were all-that-is-boy,” John antagonized.

“I,” kick, thunk, whack, “am!” The whole back gave, splitting open into the dark.

John, of the ever-prepared, whipped out his LED light, where a dim spiral wove a murky path through the gloom.

“Come on, let's go.”

And in we went.

There was only enough room to crawl, it was dusty and we were a sneezing, wheezing mess. I crawled about another eight feet, turning my head. “This isn't going to work.”

John lit a match. “If there isn't enough oxygen, this match won't stay lit.”

We all stared at the light of the match, wavering and uncertain, but burning bright, like a beacon.

“Okay so what now?” Jonesy asked.

“There's enough oxygen this far back that I think this tunnel here might open up into a bigger space. Keep moving.”

Jonesy and I crawled forward on our hands and knees, for about three more minutes. I was losing track of how long it had been when it narrowed. I belly crawled and twisted through the last bit and...it opened up enough for me to stand up, the LED light gripped firmly between my teeth. Slowly, I took it out and looked around. It was big... real big.

John said, “Wow.”

That about covered it. Everywhere around us were cars that were compacted in huge stacks. Several were precariously perched above our heads, acting like a ceiling. I wasn't worried, I figured they'd been like that for a decade and they weren't ever gonna come down.

“Come on morons, stop gawking and haul me out of here!”

John and I turned around, and sure enough, Jonesy was wedged in the part of the “tunnel” that had been a real twister to get out of. John barked out a laugh that made Jonesy do a death glare.

“I like it,” John said.

“We can't get out if he's in the way, smart one,” I said.

John sighed. “You're right, but it was fun while it lasted.”

We each pulled one arm, counted to three and jerked him out like an eel out of an oil can.

Jonesy grabbed his knees and stood up, brushing the dirt off his jeans.

“Thanks for the help, guys,” Jonesy delivered sarcastically.

He looked around appreciatively. “This is just the guy-cave we had in mind.”

John took out another LED light and turned it on to join mine.

“Where are you getting all the lights,” Jonesy asked. “And how did you know the combo for the lock?”

“Yeah, what he said.”

“I read some documentary about pre-pulse security. They said sometimes at commercial sites the numbered addresses were used backwards, or the last for digits of the phone number.”

“You mean, ding-a-ling?”

“Yeah, Jonesy, actual non-pulse phones,” John said.

“Why is this here?” I asked, indicating the big bubble room of forgotten cars.

“It's like I was hoping. There would be a pocket of space that was trapped, something they missed,” John said.

“The workers missed?” Jonesy asked.

“Yeah. Just think of that job; all day long smashing cars, trying to remember where you did it last. It'd be a bitch to keep track of, thinking you're at the bottom. When, really, you missed a spot.”

“How would you know?” Jonesy asked.

“I didn't, I guessed. When Caleb wanted to do the hideout here I thought it might be a possibility.”

“How do the girls get back here?” I asked.

“Girls!”

“Come off it Jonesy, Jade, Sophie and Tiff are included.”

“There's Bry and maybe Alex too.”

Huh, we were getting a group I told them.

“We can do it,” John said.

“Does your mom still have that camping gear?” John asked Jonesy.

“Yeah, we haven't camped much, why?”

“Light?” I said, guessing.

“Yeah. I don't think we need heat, but if we can get a lantern and propane bottle we could have a halfway decent place.” John fingered his chin thoughtfully.

He looked at me.

“What now?”

Jonesy grinned. “I think John is thinking we need some zombie action.”

Geez.

“What do we have to do?”

“We need to widen this some. No big deal,” Jonesy said easily.

Jonesy's ideas were always a big deal.

“I agree with Jonesy, we just widen this tight spot,” John pointed to the squeeze that had stymied Jonesy's progress, “and we put them back.”

I put them back.

He twisted his upper body, turning toward Jonesy. “What do you think, it's a one or two zombie job?”

“Hey! Don't ask him, they're my zombies,” I said.

John turned away, smiling. He got down in the mouth of the entrance to the tunnel, turning the LED light on, checking it out. Then he turned it off, standing, “We leave LEDs here so as soon as we return we can set up our stuff.”

John told us we'd need a lantern, propane, a couple of blankets and some milk crates.

“Where are we gonna get those?” Jonesy asked.

I didn't have a clear picture of what a milk crate was.

“Here. It's a dump, after all.”

“What are those gonna be for?” Jonesy asked.

“Tables, chairs, storage, whatever,” John said.

“Okay, let's get out of here before it gets too late,” I said.

We crawled out of the tight tunnel the way we came in: slowly.

Jonesy had the most trouble.

He finally climbed out, arching his back.

“We gotta remember that these old freezers are not safe, they self-lock.”

“What do ya mean?” Jonesy asked.

“We close the door from the inside and we're screwed.”

We looked at him.

“Back in the day, kids would play hide-and-seek, hide inside, accidentally close the door... and...”

“I never heard of that,” I said.

“Yeah, you wouldn't. We don't have bogus stuff like that now. Hell, they make up committees of people just to think up safety features,” John said. “Anyway, we gotta put a door stop in there so we don't lock ourselves in and get busy dying.”

Nice, John. Don't say that in front of the girls.

“Okay, whatever but,” and Jonesy laid his finger up, almost in John's face, “we need to keep it open in a way people don't notice.”

“Right,” John conceded.

We stood there quietly.

“Let's just use a piece of cardboard, slam it into the door and the...” I waved my hand around, “jamb-thing won't self-lock.”

John nodded. “It's not complicated. We make an escape hatch that doesn't make our hideaway a big coffin.”

We agreed.

“I gotta get home and take care of Onyx.”

“Yeah, let's not get the parents all interested in what we're doing,” Jonesy said.

“My parent's don't give a crap as long as that 4.0 GPA is still there,” John said.

I guess I was lucky that Dad wasn't bringing the hammer down on me since I barely got “C's.”

We walked out of the dump and through the gate.

Jonesy stopped outside of the gate and looked at John. “You're kinda a putz not to let us know about the lock thing.”

John grinned. “Yeah, but I wanted to see if you'd climb it. Even Caleb did.”

It wasn't easy.

Jonesy said, “Remember: A) we have a hideaway now, B) we have a plan for next Friday, D) we have girls to protect from...”

“That would be C, Jonesy,” John interjected.

“Whatever. And C,” he nodded to John, “we have Girls to Protect.”

“Protect from what?” I asked.

“I don't know... whatever.”

“You get kinda squirrely when we get in tight spots,” I reminded.

“Right, but you have to remember that I'll protect the chicks. You... you're on your own.”

“Gee... thanks,” John said, without surprise.

We separated, biking to our respective houses.

Onyx knew I was coming and met me at the door.

His tail wagged like an ink spot in the middle of the doorway, eyes softly glowing in the twilight. He trotted to me as I came forward. I rubbed the bridge of his nose.

The Boy has returned and is pleased because he is a Good Dog. I will lick the Boy's hand.

Onyx gave a lick that was wet and slimy, he looked so happy I didn't have the heart to wipe the nasty dog goo off.

The Dog pressed his nose to the Boy's body and smelled very interesting smells; smells of real trash (tantalizing) and foul-smelling things that are on the metal boxes, earth and something old. Such good smells. He also smelled the other Boys. What had the Boy done?

“Good dog. Gooooood dog,” I said, scratching the sweet spot.

Wag, thunk, wag.

I walked in through the door, greeting The Parents. Mom had her nose buried in her dedicated reader and Dad was taking notes (with a pen!) from his pulse-top.

They looked up while Onyx trotted past, taking an experimental whiff of his food bowl, he didn't look sure.

Where is the person-who-feeds him, the Dog wondered? The food is here all the time. The Dog paused... was this a New Thing? He surveyed the pack. They did not seem to be interested in the food. This new thing was confusing. He would wait and see what the pack did.

I noticed that Onyx went and laid down on one of Gran's blankets. Mom had an endless supply of those.

“What were you up to all this time, pal?”

Going to the dump, exploring it illegally, finding a dangerous boy-cave so we could hide from the authorities.

Out loud I said, “Just screwing around, exploring.”

“That sounds about right,” Mom said, smiling.

“Sounds like the heat may be abating for the interim, Caleb.”

Mom looked on with interest but I wondered what Dad meant. Their expressions sometimes stumped me.

“I think, what Dad's saying is the government may no longer be interested in you.”

“That's not what interim means,” I said, guessing temporary.

“You're right, Caleb, I don't have a crystal ball. I don't know that they'll always not be interested. For now, we have a reprieve. But, if they find out you're not a two-point we're back to square one.”

“We agreed to take one day at a time, Kyle.”

“I agree, Hun, but let's be prepared for the inevitable.”

“They'll eventually find out,” I said.

Mom nodded, Dad said simply, “Yes.”

Oh well. “What's for dessert?”

Mom laughed. “Nothing stops the unmovable object.”

“What...?”

“Your appetite.” Dad laughed, obviously.

I didn't understand what was funny. I had to eat all the time, it's just the way it was.

“So... what's your plan for the weekend?” Mom asked.

I swallowed a huge mouthful of chocolate pudding. “I'm going to hang with Jade tomorrow night.” I looked up, thinking. “I guess not much Sunday. Oh! The Js and I are gonna explore...”

“...going to...” Mom corrected.

“...going to.” Brother, anyway,“Check out this cool, haunted house.”

That got Dad's full attention, the haunted word.

Dad stared at me for a second. Mom was doing the fish thing, her mouth opening and closing, gasping for air. I had that effect on my parents sometimes.

“This is not keeping a low profile, Caleb.”

“It was Jonesy's idea.” To cover for my friends I added, “but it doesn't mean cemeteries.”

Not really.

“Well, that may be; you're aware you can control ghosts. Haunting is another issue to contend with.”

I wasn't sure what the problem was, but I wasn't going to raise zombies so I figured it would be okay.

“Jonesy has some... interesting ideas,” Mom said.

She didn't know the half of it.

“But, he doesn't seem to think things through.”

Really?

“Just be careful, Caleb. We trust you. Keep in mind how wrong things went at Scenic with Gran,” Dad said.

I wouldn't forget that. Licking the spoon clean as I walked the dish over to the sink, I filled it with gray water to let it soak until Mom did dishes.

Onyx stood, shadowing me as I went to my bedroom. I flopped up on my bed, grabbing one of Mom's old books. It laid on my chest, unopened. Ideas whirled through my head. I needed to think of something for Jade and I to do tomorrow. This girlfriend thing was complicated and school was ending. We were gonna find out where we'd be next year this Monday. I knew we'd be going to KPH, but what about Jonesy? And Brett? I guess Kent Lake. But...what was Alex? After Carson's pyro show, I didn't want any more surprises.

I cracked open the book, feeling its hefty weight in my hands like a promise spoken, kept and realized.

CHAPTER 26

I woke up with something pressing into my rib cage, I pushed it onto the floor where it made a clunking sound. What? I looked at my floor, blurry-eyed, and saw that it was the book, which would normally have been cushioned by the fall with the clothes all over, but we had cleaned for cripe's sake, so now it had fallen like a bomb.

I lay back, groaning, my hand flung over my eyes. Suddenly, Onyx was there beside my bed his wet nose pressed against my face. A single lick. Gross.

The Boy seemed sad about something... the Dog restrained himself and gave the Boy a single lick, right after stuffing his nose on his Boy's face, inhaling the fragrant Boy smell. He would wag his tail and the Boy would notice and tell him the Good Word... he was sure.

I didn't want to hurt Onyx's feelings so I didn't wipe the dog-goo off. “That's a good dog, Onyx,” petting his soft head. That got his tail wagging, echoing on the wood floor. I laughed. “Okay, boy, okay.” and thought, you're a good dog.

The Boy had put the word-smells in his head and it sounded like the Good Word. The Dog wagged.

If Onyx wagged any harder it would take his butt off.

I swung my legs around and put them on the cold floor. Geez, maybe I needed a rug. Onyx stood, wagging. I searched the floor for something to wear. Looking around, I realized a crucial fact: being organized meant I couldn't find anything. Finally, in a drawer, I found one pair of clean socks. Eureka! I sighed, looking at the dirty clothes, which were now actually in the dirty clothes hamper (John's fault). I sorted through the thing, silently thanking Mom for not getting me anything white anymore, sorting colors was for fools. I mounded a huge pile of dirty clothes in my arms, Onyx rushing ahead. I stumbled down the steps, looking around the mound in my arms to keep my footing.

“What are you doing... oh! Laundry? Miracles never cease,” Mom exclaimed with mucho sarcasm. “Don't forget to take Onyx out.”

Like he'd let me. I glanced at Onyx patiently waiting by the back door.

I heaved the whole bundle on the laundry room floor and opened the wash basin. Getting soap, I threw what I thought was the correct amount in. Who knew? I couldn't remember between washings.

Mom rounded the corner. “Did you remember how much soap to put in?”

Busted.

“Ah... I put in this much.” I made a space about two inches wide with my index and thumb apart.

“No! You're going to wash the world, honey, scoop some out.”

Geez.

“Okay.”

I scooped, setting the knob to on.

Running to the back door, I let Onyx out.

I watched Onyx running around the “potty area.” It was the lamest name for it in the world. But the lady from the animal shelter (Arlene? Barbara? Whatever) said calling the place where he did his “business” the same name as the shelter used would keep things “consistent” for Onyx. I think he would have taken a growler just about anywhere, being as it was his absolute favorite thing to do. As I thought this he did the old hunch-back, laying a steamer there on the gravel. A prize to be scooped up later, by me, of course.

Opening the door, Onyx rushed in ahead as I closed it behind me. I could smell the pancakes cooking, Dad was on his pulse-top reading boring news or looking at stocks (a fresh hell of unspeakable proportions). I plopped down in my seat, whipping my pulse out to say good morning to Jade. I pressed my thumb to the pad:

Initiated: Hey Hotness,-CH

Hi! grins Whatcha doin'? JLeC

Just sittin' here waiting for the deelish pancakes! CH.

Jealous! Are they fruit pancakes? JLeC

Profanity-block!-no! They're regular.-CH

What do you have against fruit, it's good for you! JLeC

That.-CH

What? That it's good for you? JLeC

Yeah, laughs.-CH

Okay resigned. What's the plan? JLeC

I want to show you the new place.-CH

Are we being careful here? JLeC

Always.-CH

Okay... what time? JLeC

Say... three o'clock, I'll pick you up.-CH

Idk, do ya think it's good for you to come to the neighborhood? JLeC

Yeah. Are there more problems with your dad? CH

Not atm but he goes off in random rages, he's definitely not predictable.-JLeC
thinking...doesn't matter, I won't hide.-CH

I know, that's why you're so special.-JLeC

You're special too, ya know.-CH
smiles thank you, see ya later.-JLeC

See ya.-CH

“Who's that?” Mom asked, putting a stack of pancakes down in front of me.

“Jade.”

“No more pulsing at the table,” Dad said. “What are you guys doing later this evening?” Dad asked, putting his pulse-top down, walking over to the kitchen table.

Third degree. “Ah...we're just going to walk around and stuff.”

They looked at each other, parental radar detection system on line.

Mom started in, “You two are welcome to be here at the house.”

“I know, we just want to walk around, it's warm now,” I said.

“Yes, school's out...?” Dad queried.

“Friday,” Mom said. She was the keeper-of-the-social/house-stuff-in-order goddess.

“Right,” he did a mondo swallow. “The summer stretches before one, shimmering in its ethereal beauty...”

Mom and I stared.

Dad shrugged. “Just waxing poetic.”

“Well... don't, Dad.”

Mom burst out laughing, batting her eyelashes.

Dad smiled back.

Geez.

I stood up, giving Onyx a secret wad of pancake.

The Boy handed the Dog some wonderful food stuff, full-of-life and not the dead food that he was accustomed to eating from the building-full-of-dogs. It was because he was a Good Dog. The Boy's word-smells filled his head and the Dog was happy and wagged his tail.

Onyx did a subtle wolf-down of the pancake and wagged his tail. He was a great dog. Dad caught the whole food thing and gave me the look that Mom should NOT find out. I nodded. Mom turned around and saw my plate in my hands, the milk cup with my used fork inside.

“Use the gray water,” Mom said.

“I know.” Like I'd forget that.

“Just a reminder.”

I headed for the bathroom to complete the shower hassle. Although, I had gotten used to being clean and didn't like the grimy feel anymore. Not that I would admit that to the Js or anything. Dudes on hygiene... no.

I stepped out of the shower, did a swish over the mirror, closely examining my face. Jade would be up-close-and-personal. No zits, check, no unsightly man-hair on the face, check, hair in face... check. Wait a sec, I leaned in, critically looking at my hair. I needed a haircut.

I exited the bathroom telling Mom the dreaded words: “I need a haircut.”

“I'll give you a buzz, son,” Dad volunteered. Ya see, that was what I was afraid of.

“Okay. Can you not make me look like a retarded nerd?”

“Caleb...” Mom started.

“That's an oxymoron, it's not technically a put-down,” I said cleverly, using yet another vocab word.

Dad tried not to grin and failed.

“I guess I'll give you that, but you understand I loathe the whole retard talk. I thought we had moved past that.”

“Apparently not!” Dad howled, slapping his leg.

“Okay... not funny! You goons do the male bonding thing,” Mom huffed out of the room.

“Nice Dad.”

“Once in awhile I have a moment of clarity,” he said, all teeth. “I'll have to sweet talk her later.”

The buzz lasted for what seemed like forever. Dad said he needed to “taper” it for styling. I just itched and my feet got hot.

“What about the little hairs getting all over and inside your clothes?” she asked, moving back into the room and surveying the pile of hair growing on the floor.

I shrugged. I'd get through it somehow. Didn't want to repeat the whole shower routine.

“Done!” Dad exclaimed.

I got up, brushing hair off, looking at the “creature” on the floor. Onyx went over to the pile and gave it a sniff, whimpering.

The Dog smelled the Boy, who was standing and a part of the Boy was also on the floor. It was confusing for the Dog. Was the Boy hurt? The Dog looked up at the Boy, the rest of the pack seemed untroubled by the pile of Boy-smelling stuff on the floor. The Dog backed away.

“It's okay, Onyx,” I said, toeing the pile.

“Let me get a broom, don't move that, it'll get all over the house!”

Dad looked after mom running to get cleaning stuff, “Go check it out in the mirror.”

I looked bald. I hoped Jade liked short hair. It made me look older and taller. That couldn't be all bad. I hated hair cuts. The top of my head felt like a million soft needles, poking my palm.

Mom was cleaning up the mess, Onyx looked like part of me was getting taken away and buried. He looked seriously troubled by the hair; funny.

I thought at Onyx, it's okay, good dog.

He looked at me and began to wag his tail. This connection thing was pretty frickin' awesome.

Dad looked at me expectantly, his skill wasn't in haircuts. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. You couldn't be great at everything, famous scientist or not.

“Thanks Dad.”

“You like?”

“Yeah... it's alright.”

“What do you think, Hun?” he asked Mom.

She looked critically at my nearly bald head. “It's... short!”

“Come on Mom, you're always bugging me about my hair,” I said, defending Dad's skills.

She nodded. “That's true. You won't need one again soon.”

Dad folded his arms, looking satisfied.

I took off to my room, Onyx on my heels. I threw myself on my bed and Onyx jumped on it too, settling at the end. I pulsed the Js and told them what Jade and I were doing:

We need the zombie work force, Caleb.-MJ

I don't normally agree with all of Jonesy's ideas, but he's right. A zombie in there could take care of the tunnel issue right away. John Terran.

We can't talk about all this stuff on pulse.-CH

You're right. Let's meet later.-John Terran

No, sighs... you guys, I need to be with Jade tonight.-CH

We have nights now? Nights? It's like profanity-block! joint custody or something! MJ
laughs-John Terran

Okay guys, okay. You jerks don't have gf's so you don't get it. Payback's a Profanity-block! CH

Tomorrow then, Romeo? MJ

Yeah.-CH

Deal.-John Terran

We signed off; time set, plans made, zombies-to-raise. Life was busy. I picked up my book again, killing time for the next few hours until I could pick up Jade.

****

I rounded the corner of her neighborhood entrance, giving the sign a cursory glance. Valley Keys, the lettering long-faded. I was in a “bad area” of Kent. I worried a little bit for Jade. I'd rode my bike because it was three or four miles. I'd pulsed that she'd need hers. I figured it was about the same distance to the dump.

I hopped off my bike, swinging my leg over and doing a little hop and jog to slow down. Engaging the kickstand, I set it up close to the fence, hitting the latch on the gate and walking up to the front door. Jade's Aunt's house was all white. White body, white trim and white door. Kinda creepy.

Jade stepped out the front door looking fan-tas-tic. She wore her super dark jeans that rode the line of looking black but were actually blue. Her hair was swept back in one of those elastic hair things in a neon green color, a few wisps escaping to frame those gorgeous eyes. A cami that matched the hair thing peeked out underneath a hot pink top, just a slip of the color showing. Jade was zipping up a hoodie that was as midnight blue as the jeans, silver hoops swaying as she talked to Andrea.

“Hey,” she said to me smiling.

My mouth was a little dry. Whoever said beautiful girls were mouthwatering must not have had to actually talk to one.

I smiled, swallowing to conjure up some saliva.

“Hey back,” I finally croaked out. Jade's smile turned into a grin. Great, so she knew that I was reacting to her so much it made me ache.

Andrea saved the awkward moment. “Where are you two going?”

I sure wasn't going to tell her the actual place, she'd tell Psycho-Daddy for sure.

“We're going to check out the ice cream shop.”

Jade gave me a look. I looked back like, don't blow it.

“The one where the old Baskin-Robbins used to be?” she asked. I was struck by how much Jade looked like her. The eyes were wrong, Andrea's were like black velvet, you could hardly see the pupil in there. Jade's dad's eyes were the same, the creeper.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I was little when they got rid of it.”

“What's the name now?” she asked. Man, she was goin' for the details.

Jade piped in, “Terhune's Ice Cream.”

“Oh, right,” she said, relaxing.

“When do you need to be home?” Andrea asked Jade.

“Ten.”

She turned those dark eyes on me. “Be careful. You know you're welcome to be here too, Caleb.”

“Thanks, I know.”

Jade swung her leg up over her bike, standing with her sandal clad feet on either side of the bar between the seat and the handlebars. On girls' bikes you could do that, boys' bikes had the ball-buster feature. I walked out to the gate and held it open for Jade as she rode out, giving a guy salute to the aunt, who watched us until the gate shut.

Jade balanced on her seat,one foot hitting one side, then the other taking over. I swung up on my seat as I started to pedal with my left foot first, putting on that burst of speed just to get going. I looked around to see if Jade was close. She was but I slowed down, she was shorter and I didn't think she had that maneuver down that the Js and I did. But, I was wrong, she was right on my flank, no trouble at all.

We rode down Kent-Kangley, a dangerous stretch if you didn't pay close attention. My parents always said, “Caleb, pay close attention.” I'd respond, “I won't get creamed today, guys.”

Confidence inspiring.

We took the back route to Scenic Hill. We passed the cemetery on our left after cresting a long hill that at the bottom you think, no problem. But at the top you're like, thank God that's over.

It wasn't long until we were at the refuse place.

Jade looked at me, balanced precariously on her seat. “Okay...so this is the hideaway?”

I remembered that I didn't know the combo for the lock.

“Yes, this is it. Hold on a sec.” I pulsed John:

Hey, what's up? John Terran

Yeah... I'm here with Jade and I forgot to get the combo from you.- CH

Nice... smooth, Hart, in front of the gf and the whole jazz.-John Terran

I know, dill-weed, just give it to me.-CH

Look up there at the sign and just reverse the last four of the phone number.-John Terran

Which part? CH

Didn't I just say? John Terran

There are a bunch of numbers.-CH

It's the one that begins with the area code in parentheses.-John Terran

I looked up, okay there it was, got it. To think that they used to have to dial all that.

I see it, thanks.-CH

Welcome. Are we still on for tomorrow for the “help?”-John Terran

I guess.-CH

So didn't want to do the zombie work party.

I'm choking on your enthusiasm, Caleb, try to rein it in.-John Terran
sighs, I know we have to do it.-CH

It'll be okay.-John Terran

K, pulse ya tomorrow.-CH

K, ttyl.-John Terran

Jade was looking at me. “John?”

“Yeah, he had to give me the combo for this,” I jerked a thumb toward the massive lock.

I explained the whole thing about knowing the combo and how it was the phone number reversed, how we found a tunnel underneath a mound of cars.

Jade's face scrunched up in a cute way. “I don't want to sound like a lame adult here but, is it safe?”

Like I'd endanger the chicks, especially this chick.

“Of course it is! The Js and I went in there for a couple of hours and look.” Jamming my thumbs into my chest, I'm alive still.

She didn't look entirely convinced, sliding off her seat and looking at me while straddling the girl bar.

“What I mean is, do you think the pile will collapse?”

I understood that but it brought to me a funny thought.

“No. But, I guess we'll see what's what when the zombies take care of some space issues.”

“Space issues?”

“Yeah, there's a tight spot in there just before it opens up into the main room.”

Jade's black eyebrows rose, arching prettily on that smooth forehead of hers.

Flicking her hair over her shoulder she said, “So... let me get this straight. The zombies are going to be a 'slave force' and if they get,” she waved a smallish hand around, searching for the word, “stuck, in there,” she pointed to the gate and the lair that lay beyond, “they're already dead so zero loss?”

It sounded bad put like that.

“Ah, I haven't really thought about it that much. Me and the Js,” Jade threw up her hands.

“What?”

“Tell me. Was it Jonesy?”

“Well, yeah.”

“His ideas always get everyone in trouble.”

“Sometimes,” I replied loyally.

“Usually,” she replied with accuracy.

“Alright, I guess we'll just have to be careful with the zombies.”

“Let's get a girl with some brains in on this too.”

“John and I have brains.”

“But somehow Jonesy comes up with all these,” she paused, “schemes, and you and John bail everyone out with a shovel.”

Yeah, that was it.

“Okay, who's the smart girl?”

“Well, we're all smart.”

“Ah-huh.”

“I was thinking Tiffany Weller,” Jade said.

“Tiff... I don't know, sometimes things go weird.”

“What if she can help? What if adults show up?”

I guess, besides her dad, we hadn't had a lot of that. I didn't say it though.

“Okay, you pulse Tiff and see if she wants to involve herself. She's already said yes to the haunted house thing.”

“Another Jonesy idea,” Jade said.

“Yeah.”

“It does sound pretty cool,” she admitted.

“Yeah.”

Jade walked toward the gate with me following. I spun the numbers, and it clicked open smoothly, first time. We walked in and I adjusted it in the fake lock position.

“We can't stop living just because the government might be up-our-ass.”

“Up your ass,” she said, smiling.

“Right.”

We walked together hand in hand until we came to the pink fridge. Jade walked around the part of it that she was able to, but the very back was more or less surrounded by pieces of cars, with a whole car on its nose (scrunched down) all along the left side. It was still bright daylight out but I knew it would be gloomy-as-hell inside. That wouldn't work and I bent down, grabbing a metal tool, about sixteen inches long, with two curved sides opposite each other. I think Dad called it a crow... something. I used it to prop the door open and explained the coffin theory. The look on her face! Geez! I gave her a fierce hug, putting my hand on the back of her neck, leaning her into me.

I'd never let anything happen to her.

She scared easy but she'd been brave with her dad. Scared of being trapped?

“What is it?” I asked, brushing a wisp of hair that had escaped her hair band and curling it behind her ear.

“I hate being trapped,” she said. Like I thought.

“We won't be. It's just dark but we'll keep the door propped and that will let in light.”

“Okay,” she said without enthusiasm.

“Listen, I'll stay next to you and I'm just gonna say, it wouldn't be much of a hideout if it was easy.”

“I know.”

We went, me propping the door open behind me with the bar. I sorta wedged it in and pulled on it to make it grip the door jamb thing.

Satisfied, I turned and we traveled through the whole tunnel the way the Js and I had. It didn't seem to take nearly as long as it had yesterday. I came through the tight squeeze first and was turning to help Jade out when she just popped right out no problem. Huh.

I clicked the LED light on and let her just look at it all.

“Wow. You're right, this is perfect. It's a creep-factor, but it will be invisible to most adults.”

I was the MAN after all.

“Can you pulse?”

That was a smart question, I thumbed the pad: Pulse-signal impairment.

“No, I can't get squat.”

“Me either,” she said.

We sighed in unison and I gave her a kiss on the cheek, but she turned just enough and our mouths collided softly. I hadn't actually had a chance to kiss Jade but had given it a lot of thought. I used one hand to palm my pulse inside my jeans pocket and folded Jade into my body as if she was always meant to fit perfectly. I worked my mouth over the top of her lips, barely lifting off its silky surface for even an instant. She tasted, wonderful. She stood on tiptoe to reach me, winding her slender arms around my neck, pressing her hand into the base of my skull as I clenched her body in against mine.

I broke away and looked down at her, our bodies just skimming each other. I watched her pulse thudding in the hollow of her throat, mine a mirror.

All I could think was she was this close to me, smelling great and this feeling of swimming need pressed down on my chest, suffocating me. It was a new sensation. I backed up a little, giving her some space.

“That was nice,” she said.

“Yeah it was.”

“Our first real kiss,” she said, ducking her head.

I was dazed, but was up for a repeat performance. Yeah, I was into the whole practice-makes-perfect philosophy.

“Better get going or your aunt will freak out.”

“Yeah, I guess. I could stay here with you all night.”

“Not scared anymore?” I teased.

“Not so much, no.” She smiled.

I put the LED back in its spot, making my way back to about the spot where I thought light should have been. But, it was still dark.

What-the-hell?

“Caleb?” Nervously.

“It's okay.”

“No... no it's not.”

“What?” I turned to her, not able to see her face in the inky blackness.

“I think someone closed the door.”

“What? Who?”

“Those jerks.”

That narrowed it down.

“Carson and Brett.”

No way. Did they follow us?

“How do you know?”

Duh.

“They've been in here, one of them,” she paused. “Brett touched the same place where I was crawling.”

Well-hell. No pulse, no way out, in the dark with my girlfriend.

Hey... in the dark with my girlfriend. Now that had possibilities.

“Caleb!” She sounded a little hysterical.

“I'll think of something.”

My mind turned to the graveyard not two blocks away. I guess the zombie crew were going to have to start early.

We needed zombies, (and the Js suddenly appearing wouldn't be too bad either). Were Carson and Brett still out there? I was gonna have to deal with them. Doesn't look like Brett had softened toward me when I lent him a hand with his crazy-ass dad. Huh.

Jade was mashed up next to me, which was great, but she was my responsibility.

I had an idea.

“Are they still out there?”

“I think so.”

Okay. I decided that if I just didn't fight all the calling the Dead were doing then they'd just come.

I let that thread of power slide out of me, visualizing one grave in particular, knowing that probably, in the Zombie Handbook, there was a rule about too many multiple raisings.

I called Clyde to me, come. Then threw a visual net, using it in my head like a lasso, tossing it around that one grave like a circle. I clenched it tightly, pulling it toward me.

“What are you doing?” Jade said, sensing something big.

I heard her voice as if far away, I felt them coming, heading toward the dump. Belatedly, it occurred to me that they may draw some attention.

I thought, stay hidden... I heard a response... yeeeesss; a hiss in my mind like a razor. I shuddered, the communion with the zombie felt like breathing. Natural and right.

My voice answered Jade, sounding as dead as what I called, “Getting help.”

“I think they're here,” she said.

Outside of the door I heard a scuffle, then shouting, “I told you he'd get those fuckin' dead creepers out of the ground. They're going right for the door,” Brett screeched.

“Don't worry, I have this under control,” Carson said.

He was going to burn my zombies, couldn't have that.

I yelled, “Clyde, rip the door off!” And put everything I had into it. A great bubble of power left me and I felt a moment of extreme vertigo, my skin feeling as if it would slide off my body. Then the world righted and sunlight streamed in, a rotting head poking in as the door hung crookedly off its hinges.

That solved the locking-us-in-the-hideaway problem, I thought wildly.

Jade yelped when Clyde poked his head in. Clyde wasn't a chatty guy, he just stared and I said (very literally; zombies were a task-oriented group): “Grab the kid named Carson, don't hurt him.”

Carson saw Clyde coming and tried to throw a fire ball, which he held, suspended, in the palm of each hand. I noticed that one of my other zombies was frantically beating at the flames on its feet or what was left of its feet.

Carson was going to need work on his aim. But Clyde was fast-as-hell. Whoever said zombies only shambled, hadn't met my zombies, they could have serious speed.

I exited the broken freezer door, pulling Jade out as I went. I kept her behind me until I figured out this new mess. I saw something blurring toward me in the periphery.

Jade screamed, “Caleb, watch out!” and then Brett was on me, both of us rolling away from Jade, our hands swept apart.

I turned desperately, trying to keep sight of Jade and Brett belted me a good one in my jaw. Hell! I gave him a knee right in the crotch but it glanced off and got him in the stomach. Too bad the damn kidneys were around the back. We grappled. I got on top and punched him right in the head. I sprung up, trying to get to Jade who was very near Carson, but Clyde had Carson pinned to him, his back against Clyde's chest. Carson could move his hands and he was moving his hands... against Jade.

She stood with four zombies around her, tiny looking, them a rotting back drop, Carson preparing to torch her.

I didn't hesitate, “Move in front of her.”

The zombies twitched as one, moving in front of Jade, the one with the burning feet, crawling to be in front of her. Cripes! I'd think about that later, right now Jade needed saving.

“Clyde, the hands!” I screamed.

Clyde looked at me, his eyeballs rolling wetly in my direction, a dark understanding lighting in them. Clyde folded one arm across both of Carson's, tightening it like a vise. The remains of one cuff of his sleeves waving small fingers of material in the light breeze, a cuff-link tenaciously hanging on, twinkling in the hazy sunlight.

“He's breaking my hand,” Carson screamed at me with true alarm.

“Oh well!” Jade screamed back.

Huh.

Clyde was busying himself with bending Carson's hand back toward his wrist. “Now Clyde, don't break it off. Yet.”

“Yeah Clyde... how's he gonna scratch his ass?” Jonesy asked reasonably, taking a swing at the now-lunging Brett who had crept up behind me to finish our business together.

“It's about damn time!” I said, ducking out of the fray. “I thought I was going to do all the work.”

Geez, that was close.

John followed Jonesy, who was in a full-on struggle with Brett. I turned my attention back to Carson. “Say 'uncle' you troublesome prick.”

“Screw you, Hart.”

I just looked at Clyde, who got it, exerting more pressure on old fire lover.

“Ouuuuuw... tell him to stop,” Carson squealed like a pig.

“Clyde stop,” I said like I didn't mean it.

Jonesy and Brett were still dueling it out behind me; distinctive meaty thumping sounds of fists swinging.

Interestingly enough, Clyde didn't stop.

“Stop him!”

“Okay Clyde, stop breaking Carson's hand, for right now.” Clyde slowed his progress but let his skeletal hand linger over the top of Carson's palm, white from the pressure.

John came up behind me. “Not that this isn't terrific entertainment, but I want to mention that we're not exactly being subtle.”

He had a point.

I looked over at Jade who looked a little shocky, huh, better shore her up. I walked over to her, the zombies marking my progress like it was the single most important thing in the world.

She fell into my arms. “I thought he was going to burn me Caleb!”

It was lesson-time for Carson.

I looked over at Brett and saw that Jonesy had him in an elbow lock. Nice. I guess we couldn't deliver them back all broken; the adults would ask about that.

“Jonesy, get off Brett.”

“Ahhhh!”

“Just do it!”

Jonesy backed off Brett carefully, giving him full eye contact. That was really necessary with Brett, a proven weasel.

Brett was looking at us all sullenly.

I glanced at one of the zombies over the top of Jade's head, it was a girl zombie. But I was a believer after Gran and said, “Go watch him,” I pointed to the pile of sullenness that was Brett. The zombie shuffled over there, oops, that was the one with the feet issue.

Brett stood up, fists clenched (I knew that look), and said, “Get your creepers away from me Hart.”

“Ah... no, ass-wipe. You locked me and Jade in there then tried to beat on me.” I looked over at Jonesy.

“No, I beat on him,” Jonesy interrupted.

I finished with, “And Jonesy had to beat on you. Your butt can just stand there while we deal with Carson here.” I jerked my head to where Clyde stood holding Carson.

The other three zombies stood there, blankly staring at me, waiting for the next directive. Their rotten smell clung to all of us like loose clothing.

I turned back to Carson. “Listen, I haven't done anything to you (except for the fire thing at the graveyard), but you...” I thought about it, “insist on driving me crazy, endangering my girlfriend, and hassling us all. Stop it or I'm gonna sic my zombies on you.”

The zombies took a step toward Carson, Clyde giving an enthusiastic squeeze. “Not now guys, and girl,” I hurriedly corrected, her eyes almost gone but somehow alive.

The zombie brigade, energetic bunch.

“Wow, they were going to make it happen there with Carson,” John said.

“Yeah, nice,” Jonesy agreed.

Jade was leaning against me but looking steadier.

My attention went to Brett.

“Not so easy, Hart. You need us.”

Was he high?

“How do you figure, Mason?” Jonesy asked.

“Cuz, you've got this hideaway for a reason. I'm thinkin' you're all tryin' to hide from something... or someone. Looks like you're limited on how many of your creepers can help you, right?”

Damn. If he were really dumb, this would be easier.

John said, “Here's the thing, this is like a stalemate, like in chess. You're a mundane, Jonesy's a mundane. We're not,” John indicated, sweeping his hand out to include me and Jade, “and Carson is a pyro. That's all of us against you. I think it's to your...” he thought, “benefit, to just go away.”

“Yeah, don't go away mad, just go away,” Jonesy said.

“Don't help Jonesy,” I said, maybe I could negotiate.

“Don't even try Terran. You and your dip-shit friends don't stand a chance.” He struggled against Clyde.

So not going to work.

Jade piped in, “Just go now and leave us alone. Find someone else to abuse.” She looked directly at Brett. “You should know better, Caleb helped you,” she said, referencing the fight with the manic gophers.

“You think he helped me?” Brett bit out. He barked out a laugh. “What do you think happened after you left?”

We were all quiet.

“He used me like a punching bag. You made it worse not better, Hart. You think you're so damn good. Because your dad's 'all-that'. Well, you're not. You need to be put in your place, like all the other jerks that think their shit doesn't stink.”

I felt sick... his dad had beat him anyway.

“So your dad's a royal dickhead. You wanna be like him, he's so cool?” Jonesy asked.

John face-palmed.

“No!” Brett yelled.

“Then stop it Brett. Stop it now,” Jade said quietly.

“Oh, you're all nice now that you're with him,” Brett glared at me. “But you have bad taste in dudes Jade.”

“Ah... how is this relevant?” John asked.

Right.

Carson squeezed out, “Make this,” he rolled his eyes up to rotting-Clyde, “dead thing let me go and we'll leave you alone, for now.”

“Not good enough. Leave us alone, forever,” I said.

“Fine. Just so you know we're not gonna be friends, ever,” Carson said.

“Yeah, I think we got the,'we're enemies' thing down,” I looked at Clyde. “Let him go.”

Clyde released Carson.

Carson stumbled and glared at Clyde, who unflinchingly stared back.

“They're not too smart, your zombies,” Carson said.

“Smart enough,” I replied.

“Nah, they're dumb. But that one,” Brett said, motioning toward Clyde. “That one is something.”

I had to agree with him there.

Carson was rubbing his arms with his hands like he was cold. But I knew it was, I-was-held-against-a-zombie and have eau de zombie cologne on now.

“Let's split. We'll leave the zombie-lover and his freak friends together. They can get it on in the cave back there in the dark.”

Carson and he laughed. They're just a couple of comedians.

The zombies watched the two with dark intent. I was really betting that my residual feelings were leaking some on my zombie horde.

At the gate Carson turned and flipped us off.

“He's so consistent it's scary,” John said.

“He's always a dick, if that's what you mean,” Jonesy said.

“Yes, that's what I meant.”

“Are we done yet?” Jade asked.

I looked down at her, her normally perfect face pale with purple smudges under her eyes like bruises. Maybe she wasn't up to all the zombie fun like the guys were.

“Ah, yeah. But I think, since we have a group assembled here that we should fix some stuff.”

“Okay. But, now that they know where the hideaway is it's not a secret,” John said.

“Secret enough. Carson's a coward and won't want to get mixed up in a thing where adults show up and he's around,” I responded.

“True,” John said.

“We got to hurry up because Jade needs to get back,” I looked down at my watch, “real soon.”

“Okay,” Jonesy clapped his hands together, the zombie-posse turning to look at him. “Whoa! Hey Caleb, call the dogs off.”

I laughed and John smiled. “I don't think they're gonna get ya,” I said.

“Maybe. I don't want any special attention either,” he said, gazing nervously at the zombies. Clyde seemed pretty sharp today.

Speaking of which. “You have need for us this day, master?” Clyde asked, his voice raspy.

Master?

“Ah... yes, Clyde. Maybe you and,” I gestured vaguely at the others, “can help with our hideaway.”

“This is what you would have of us?” Clyde asked, after I explained what needed doing.

“Yeah.”

“This is a small thing, this that you require.”

“Yeah.”

Jade sorta stepped further behind me. There was a tone in Clyde's voice. I wasn't sure that there could be a different quality to a dead voice but here it was.

“This magic you have, necromancer, is not a small power. You must think on this thing that you wield.”

He gave me that level stare, his dead eyes holding the weight of his words. I squirmed under that gaze, feeling uncomfortable.

“I think you need to give old Clyde here the sales pitch,“ Jonesy said.

“The what?”

“Tell him why,” Jonesy said.

I turned to Clyde, I couldn't believe I was discussing things with a zombie, but I pressed on. “There's these government dudes that want to take me...”

“The young men that we dispatched?” Clyde asked. The zombies were reacting to Clyde too, splitting their attention between he and I.

“Ah-no. Actually, those guys just want to beat me up and make us all generally miserable.”

A look of confusion came over Clyde's face, with like three teeth and a partial lip. I was pretty impressed to be able to interpret any facial emotion.

“They mean you harm without infraction on your part?”

That wasn't exactly accurate but I needed to speed this up.

“Kinda, I don't know. Listen, they're jerks and they don't like me and just enjoy causing trouble. Here's the thing, I need this place to hide in case these government guys are looking for me and I need to escape. Can you and them,” I looked over at the patient zombies (would they just stand there all day and into the night?), “make the tunnel bigger.”

“What, pray tell, do the 'government guys' wish from you?”

Persistent as hell.

John took over, “I think they want to use Caleb to do things for them that are bad, like spy-type stuff.”

I guess that was pretty good as explanations went.

“Nefarious things?” Clyde clarified.

“Yes, exactly those things,” John said, relieved.

Nefarious was a recent vocab word. They had a witch as the visual prompt from some lame old movie that had everyone singing in it. It meant wicked intent or something.

“What?” Jonesy asked.

“Later,” I hissed.

Jonesy looked offended, he'd get over it.

“Very well,” Clyde said, straightening the lapels of his coat, what there was of them.

He looked over at the zombie group silently for about a minute or two. I was just about ready to ask what he was doing when they all shambled over to the freezer.

“Now this is what I was talking about,” Jonesy said.

The zombies did the GI Crawl back through the tunnel where I heard a general commotion of metal grinding.

“Are they lifting up those cars?” Jade asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“They're strong.” she said it like it was a bad thing.

“Yeah they are.”

She should have seen Gran.

We pondered zombie strength.

A sudden thought occurred to me. “I told you guys to piss off? How come you showed?”

John grinned.

“What?” I asked.

“You weren't answering your pulse, I knew something was wrong.”

“We can't get pulse-signal in there,” I said.

“For an hour?” John raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I guess that would have given me pause,” I said, noticing that a fine blush had worked its way up Jade's face coloring her cheeks a delicate shell pink.

Jonesy, not one to let awkwardness pass unnoticed, said, “You guys getting all c.o.z.y in there!”

Jade wanted to die. I wanted to die. Jonesy... what an ass. But, he had saved the day. Choices, choices.

“Anyway,” John said. “Let's try to make good and go by the ice cream shop so we can make a pretense of having done what you said you were going to.”

“First: this is the question we all need to ask ourselves,” he paused for dramatic effect, we all looked at Jonesy, “am I the man, or am I the man?” He stomped his feet, bowing.

We laughed. Today he had definitely been The Man.

The zombies trudged back out, and we peered in, John had his LED with him again, God love him! The tunnel tightness was appreciably widened. Even stocky Jonesy could get through.

We stood up, brushing off our clothes. In the midst of our self-congratulating, Clyde turned his serious rotting eyes toward us and said, “Master,”(geez), “put us to rest now that we have completed this task.”

I looked up at Clyde, who was a good shot taller than me, realizing that the rotting flesh smell wasn't affecting me much but my friends were at a respectful distance. I couldn't help but notice that Jade's hand was covering her nose and she was breathing out of her mouth.

I leaned in a little to Clyde, who met me in the middle, his neck making a disturbing sound as his face peered into mine from a hand's breadth away. “I may need you again, because things come up.”

“What 'things' are you referencing?” Clyde asked through what sounded like mud. Maybe I could put him together better next time.

“Things like bad people showing up.”

“Nefarious people?” Clyde reiterated.

“Yeah... them.”

“Indeed,” Clyde said, straightening.

Clyde looked solemnly at me. We needed to get outta here.

Jade, the Js and I walked toward the cemetery. Me, the pied piper, trooping ahead and the zombies following; skirting behind the tree line so the observant adult wouldn't get in an accident.

We entered Scenic Cemetery (felt like home now), traveling over to Clyde's grave. I turned around and had an unnerving moment in which Clyde was on a full sprint and the others were behind him, the one that had the unfortunate feet episode a little slower. They came directly for us. Jade didn't even pretend that she wasn't scared by the fleet of fluid zombies approaching at top speed, she moved behind me.

The Js backed up out of the way of the graves.

Clyde landed on his grave in a graceful, acrobatic move. The others laid down on top of theirs. I released the thread that held them to me, reaching out for Jade's hand as I did. Realizing I probably didn't need help, everything felt so much more real, organized...easier. I thought, rest.

And they did.

They appeared luminescent for just a moment, sunlight swirling around them, shimmering. Then, they leaked back into their graves as if they had never been.

Jonesy sighed, like he'd been holding his breath.

He clapped me on the back. “I'm so glad that you're my friend, dude.”

“I hear that,” John said.

“Me three,” Jade said.

“Hey. How come you didn't whammy me?” I asked John.

John was pleased with himself.

“Yeah, John, what gives?” Jonesy asked.

“I read up on being a Null. I guess you can shield your abilities.”

News to me.

“I have been practicing and this was my big trial run. Of course, it helped that they were all raised before I came. And,” he paused, “I was standing away from you when you put them away.”

We all looked at the undisturbed graves. Wild.

“How do you do it. The blocking?” Jade asked.

“Shielding,” John clarified.

“Whatever, how?” Jonesy asked.

“I think about something completely different.”

“Visualizing?” Jonesy asked.

John looked at him, surprised. “Yeah, that's it.”

Jonesy broke out into a huge grin. I knew that John had stepped into some kind of trap.

John studied him.

“Whatcha thinkin' about John?”

“Ah-nothing, just something different.”

“Riiiiggghhht. I am sure it's really different.”

A bright blush rushed up John's face, playing off his orange hair. Jade stared. I stared. We waited.

“It's nothing,” he mumbled, glaring at Jonesy.

“It's not nothing it's a some one,” Jonesy said.

John's face looked on fire.

“It's okay John, I'm feelin' ya, bro,” Jonesy said sympathetically. Jonesy was never sympathetic, something was up for sure.

“Come on, let's go get ice cream,” John said, shooting Jonesy the evil eye.

Jonesy turned, winking at Jade and me. I was sure wondering what John was using to shut down the Null in him. It'd be interesting to find out. Jade looked at me, her eyebrows raised. I shrugged, I didn't know either. But I was gonna find out.

We hopped on our bikes and rode off toward the ice cream shop, the only tame thing we'd done tonight.

CHAPTER 27

We sat around a tall, round table surrounded by stools; more like perching than actual sitting. Jade had picked out what I thought of as “black-tongue” ice cream (licorice). Possibly the grossest flavor on the planet. I had the best flavor and so did the Js. Well, Jonesy insisted on half-ruining his scoop of bubblegum with another scoop of upside-down pineapple (disgusting), but insisted it was the tightest flavor. How could fruit elevate ice cream in any way?

“I'm going to pulse Andrea and let her know we ran into you guys and we're still at the ice cream shop.”

“She gonna buy that?” Jonesy asked.

We all turned to Jade.

She nodded. “Yeah, she figures I'll sit here, staring at Caleb, then with you two showing up, we'd stay longer. And, the bonus is I don't have to lie. We did have ice cream, we did see you guys here.”

“ 'Stare', at me?”

“Yeah, it's like a joke. She thinks that I stare at you when you're around.”

I felt a goofy grin on my face.

Jade staring at me. I could get used to that.

The Js ignored us, shoveling ice cream. Jade and I smiled at each other. Another weird girl thing: Jade got her ice cream in a cup. That was like against a religion. I didn't know whose, but somebody’s.

We finished up, separating the trash and slipping out the door into the early summer heat.

“Wow, it's hot,” Jonesy complained.

“No, it's just that they had the air conditioning in there set on frigid,” Jade corrected.

The Js and I looked at each other.

“It was perfect in there,” John said.

I nodded, that's what I thought.

“Well, I get cold easy and they had the air on and I was eating ice cream,” Jade said, see my logic?

We didn't.

It felt like a raging inferno out here and decent in the ice cream shop.

We shrugged, girls.

The Js took off toward their houses and I got Jade back to hers, giving her a quick kiss. Actually, I let my mouth linger on hers just a little bit, then took off for my place.

Riding up to the front door I saw Onyx with his cold, wet nose pressed to the narrow window, tail wagging.

The Boy has returned and made the good word smells in my head. The Dog wagged his tail harder.

I tore open the door and closed it quietly behind me. Onyx was on my heels as I walked into the kitchen and Mom was there of course. She and Dad were talking in conspirator’s tones. I gave Onyx's head a good rub.

Thunk, wag-wag.

They looked up as I strolled in. “Whatcha doing Parental Unit?” Snagging a peanut butter-chocolate chip cookie.

“Hey,” Mom fumed. “Those haven't cooled for the jar.”

I paused, cookie halfway to my mouth. “Okay and that makes what sense? Does it matter if I take it from the plate before it goes into the jar or after it's cooled and in it?”

Dad was grinning in the background. “I like the cookies to cool first,” she emphasized. “Then, I've got more cookies to put in the jar. There are less cookies when you vacuum them off the plate before I can put them in their proper place.”

Weird Mom-logic.

I sat there with the cookie in my hand.

“Ugh! Just eat it, but no more!”

Dad grabbed one off the plate before Mom could put them all in the jar. She glared at him but he was spared the “cookie jar speech.”

Mom turned and opened the fat chef dude in blue cookie jar and carefully placed the cookies inside.

Dad gave me the look. “So what did you and the LeClerc girl do tonight?” he asked with interest.

That was easy.

“We went to the ice cream shop.”

“On East Hill? Terhune's?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“I liked it when it was Baskin-Robbins,” Mom said.

“Remember Shakey's Pizza?” Dad asked to no one in particular.

Mom nodded. “Those were the days, all you can eat and we'd just walk over there from KM.”

“Mom, that's a derelict school now.”

“Caleb. You understand 'diversified' is appropriate.”

“Yeah. But derelict sounds better.”

“It depends on who's listening, I suppose. I'll admit it's a great adjective,” Mom said.

Was Mom conceding my victory on a non-politically correct word?

“KM is Vo-Tech. now, right?” Dad asked Mom.

“Yes.”

“Well, pal, I guess you won't have to worry about the 'derelicts' as you'll be attending KPH.”

Mom frowned. Secretly, I think Dad really liked my sense of spontaneous language use.

After supper, I ran upstairs to my clean room, Onyx following. I had saved a cheeseburger chunk in my pocket. I got it out and looked at it. It was no longer plump, summarily squeezed down into a different size altogether, the ketchup and mayo oozing out.

It looked bad.

Onyx wagged his tail.

The Dog smelled something delicious from the Boy.

I shrugged, I was betting the looks wouldn't matter. It didn't, he engulfed it without a glance.

“Was that good, boy? Did you even taste it?” I laughed.

I fell asleep with a book on my chest and Onyx on the foot of my bed. He'd ignored the spot I had made for him. That was the way I liked it.

I fell asleep with Jade in my mind, choking out other thoughts.

CHAPTER 28

Monday arrived with all the kids milling around in the commons waiting to hear which high school assignments they'd have. Everyone was gathered in their tight groups whispering about who went where. Brett was the big topic of conversation as he was a mundane like Jonesy but wasn't going to Kent Lake High. If we were really lucky he'd go to KM; derelict central. He'd fit right in. Of course, there were the inevitable transfers. Some kids came “on-line” late and had to be reassigned. Their abilities had never even tripped the AP Test (that was rare). It felt wrong to split the three of us up, Jonesy was the glue of the group.

Tiff had strolled up and gave me the “guy-fist.” She wore a flaming red hoodie, pulled halfway down her face, of course, and skin tight black jeans with black tennis shoes. She was leaning forward in earnest now. “It's a good thing that you figured out a hidey-hole for our coolness,” she paused. “Otherwise, we'd be exposed to... The Man,” she finished in a hushed voice.

“What?” Jonesy asked, baffled.

Tiff did a hard eye-roll. “Sort of a doofus,” she said.

“Hey!” John huffed. We could call Jonesy any number of names but no one else could.

“Whatever,” she waved our indignation away. “Are we still on for the haunted thing?”

Jonesy nodded thoughtfully. “Well... depends on your behavior. If, and I say, If, you treat me good, then you can come.”

John and I nodded, we couldn't accept any dissing from the females.

“I think Tiff is just tired of explaining all her comments is all,” Sophie piped in.

“Be clearer. The Man? What-the-hell is that?” I asked.

Jade clarified, “I've heard adults say it like 'the boss' or something.”

Okay, that made sense.

“Yeah. 'The Man' is our government,” Tiff repeated.

“If you say so. Anyway,” Jonesy said real slowly. “We've got a place now...”

“That Brett and Carson know about,” Jade added.

“Yeah,” John said dejectedly.

“... and, 'The Man' isn't going to find it,” I said.

“What if they lead them to our new spot?” Sophie asked.

“It's okay, between my skills and Team Dead, we'll be okay.” Jonesy said with surety.

“Your 'skills'? What skills?” Tiff asked.

“Hey... I'm the one that comes up with the ideas, plans and other cool stuff to entertain everyone,” Jonesy said.

John and I were wisely silent.

“Mostly you get us into trouble,” Jade said.

Uh-oh.

“But it's a helluva lot of fun!” Jonesy said.

The secretary's voice came over the pulse speaker, “Eighth grade students, listen up: stand in line according to your last name in the same formation as Aptitude Testing.”

We walked to our respective lines. Carson came out of nowhere and stood in my line, both H's, geez.

“Hey Carson,” I said, feeling the waters.

“Don't talk to me, Hart, ya freak.”

“You too,” I said, a smart grin overtaking my face.

Carson glared at me. I turned away from him, I could ignore him.

Jade and Sophie were in line B, and John and Tiff were in line C. I was looking around for Brett and caught sight of him a few people behind Jade. My heart sped.

He saw me notice him and reached out a hand to touch Jade's hair. Sophie was talking to Jade and her eyes widened. Jade saw her reaction and turned as his hand brushed her face instead of her hair.

Jade cringed away from the small touch, stepping back. Her eyes found mine and I left the line, striding over to Brett.

“Don't touch her.”

“Gets you all fired up, Hart,” Brett smirked.

“Need another zombie lesson, Brett?”

Brett's eyes narrowed. “Ya know, someday, you're not gonna have Jonesy or one of your freak zombies around to save your ass, then what? Huh?”

He looked at Jade. “She lives by me and you're not always around.”

Brett turned his attention to her. “Yeah, you're a freak like your boyfriend here,” not sparing me a glance, keeping those beady eyes fixed on her. “It's okay if you know what I think. More than okay,” he smiled. Jade shuddered and I put my arm around her.

Ms. Griswold strode up, arms pumping stoutly by her sides. “Hart, Mason...problem here?” she asked, her nasal voice shredding my eardrums.

“No problem,” Brett responded.

Right.

“Mr. Hart, aren't you in the wrong line?”

“Ah,” playing dumb, “I don't know.”

“I think you do. Get going,” she swung her clipboard to indicate line A, “over there.”

She waited while I gave Jade a squeeze, crossing her arms over her ample chest and tapping her foot. I reentered my line where I had been.

Carson turned and said, “Nice going, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Hamilton.”

Carson turned away, a smile of triumph on his lips.

The line went on forever but finally I received my ticket which simply said:

Kent Paranormal High, appear for registration on September 2, 2025, between 7- 8AM for class roster.

Everyone got their tickets, comparing schools. Jonesy got Kent Lake High, Math and Science. That was expected but there was an addendum which stated:

Secondary Aptitude Testing for Paranormal abilities will be administered within the first two weeks of instruction.

We looked at each other, this was new. Once placed in the school which matched your aptitude, that was it.

John said, “There must be kids slipping notice.”

We looked at him.

“There are kids that don't follow a 'puberty time-line,” John made airquotes. “We're not all following the same schedule, you know.”

That was true. “I thought the AP Tests picked up on” I paused, “that they were sensitive or something.”

“They are but it's not an exact science.”

Just what I'd been thinking about earlier.

Jonesy jumped around like his feet were on fire. “Ya think I may ping the test? Hot Damn!”

The girls watched the Jonesy-display.

John sighed. “I didn't say you, I've heard there have been a few kids that sometimes manifest later than the AP Testing.”

“Weren't the drug companies promising that their shots would be...” Sophie started.

“Yeah. That everyone would manifest an ability by a certain time.” Jade finished, and Tiff nodded. We'd heard the same spiel, straight out of their pulsemercials.

“That's what they thought but we're human beings,” John rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Individuals.”

“What John's saying is we're all alike, but not exactly alike. The drug companies put us in the same box and some don't fit,” I said.

“Generalizing the population,” John restated.

“So... I may ping the test?” Jonesy asked again.

John threw up his hands. “I don't know! They'll see if you join us freaks at KPH.”

“Nice. I knew I'd have extra skills.”

“I thought you already had 'skills'?” Tiff asked.

“Yeah, I do, I said 'extra'.”

“Whatever,” Tiff said, exasperated.

Sophie's cheeks had a faint blush as she and Jade walked off to their class. Maybe she was diggin' on the Jonester.

“Hey!”

Jade turned. I jogged over to her, pulling her into my body as I slyly looked for adult radar and gave her a nice one right on that luscious mouth of hers.

“Miss ya,” I whispered, pulling back a little and looking into the green pools of her eyes.

“Me too.”

“Give me a break!” Jonesy said. “You guys will live until the end of the day.”

I turned to him. “The question that you should ask yourself is whether you'll live.”

Breaking away from Jade, I raced after Jonesy. Both of us flew down the hall, John trailing behind, slowed by his laughing.

CHAPTER 29

Finally, Friday arrived and we were doing all the field games which ended in a picnic. If we didn't go to school; no report card, they held it hostage. I knew mine would have a bunch of C's with a couple of B's plugged in there. John would have all A's or be shot when he arrived home. Jonesy always passed into the next grade but didn't do much of anything except Math.

I was scooping out the crap from my last period class when Jonesy piped in, “... Looks like your room Caleb.”

I looked critically at the yawning hole that was my desk and saw that there was a treasure trove of pencils and other useful items back there. Well, that worked out.

John peered in, his face almost touching mine, the frizz of his hair spearing my nose. I could feel it coming on with no way to stop it, “Ahchoo!” I sneezed, blasting the inside of my desk.

“Hey!” John yelped in surprise, jerking his head up and instantly hitting the table top on his way.

“Ouch! That hurt like a bitch,” John muttered, rubbing his head.

“Nice, Terran,” Jonesy said, his eyes rolling to indicate adult radar had noticed his colorful wording. I stood up, just short of wiping my nose on my sleeve, I looked around, spying the tissue box on Ms. Rodriguez's desk and grabbed a couple of them, blowing the goodies where they belonged.

“Got any gold, Caleb?” Jonesy asked in front of the Hotness that was my English teacher.

I wanted to die, could a chasm open and suck me in?

But, thankfully Ms. Rodriguez was all eyes on John, who looked as though he would burst into flames.

Wonderful. I took that opportunity to notice that Ms. Rodriguez was dressed very summery today with stiletto heels, a tight, white skirt (very short) and a pale yellow blouse. A lacy cami in aqua flashed (a cleavage-hider, that), her hair all dark and flowing around a face that was... angry.

“You know very well the rules of decorum in this classroom, Mr. Terran.”

“Yes, Ms. Rodriguez,” John stammered.

“No vulgar language, understood?” Ms. Rodriguez arched a perfect black brow like a raven's wing.

John nodded.

Ms. Rodriguez turned her attention to us and I dry swallowed.

Jonesy looked ready to crawl up his own ass.

Rodriguez narrowed her eyes at me. “Mr. Hart... would you,” she pointed a french-tipped nail at my desk, “gather the trash and food stuffs and get them where they belong?” She indicated the trash separator by her desk.

Sighing, I trudged back over to my desk. Jonesy looked like he had been struck between the eyes with a hammer. Funny, she sorta had that effect on me too. But, since Jade and I got together, not so much. She was still sweet looking, but didn't take my breath away like Jade.

John had recovered enough to peer back into my desk. He slid one lanky arm all the way back and came out with a colorful ball.

“A hackey-sack!” Jonesy chortled.

“A what?” John asked.

“See, you're not so smart.”

“Give it, it's my Dad's,” I said.

“I want a demo, Hart,” Jonesy said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Boys!” Ms Rodriguez almost yelled in warning.

I leaned forward. “Later...”

“Okay,” Jonesy relented.

I stuffed the Hackey-sack in my jean pocket where it made a disturbing bulge.

“Hey Caleb,” Jonesy looked down at my pocket. “You may want to put that in your back pocket.”

“Right,” John agreed.

I stuffed it in the back.

“Better,” John said.

We went back to work, John using two pencils to excavate an unknown something.

It was slimy and gray... no, black. Gross.

“Caleb, that is truly disgusting,” Jonesy said, awed.

“What is it?” John said eyeballing it.

“I don't know.”

“I want to see,” Jonesy said, leaning forward, giving it an experimental whiff; then he made a barfing noise, running over to the bin labeled Compost and heaved his breakfast into it.

Ms. Rodriguez left the room, squealing in disgust.

“That solves it, definitely a food item,” John deduced.

From the well of the compost bin Jonesy said, “Banana!”

“Thanks for clearin' that up!”

John walked it over to the compost bin, giving it a proper burial.

“I'm going to the bathroom and rinse my mouth out,” Jonesy said.

“Please,” John said.

“Thanks for figuring that out. I'll sleep better tonight, now that the mystery is solved.”

Jonesy waggled his brows. “Look at how I got rid of Rodriguez, huh?”

That was true.

Jonesy walked out, John and I scooping out the remaining stuff.

John said, “How can anyone get three English texts in here? You should be using your pulse-text.”

“I just like holding the real book.”

“Three of them?”

John stacked them in his arms, placing them on the bookshelf. We hardly had real textbooks, everything was pulse this and pulse that. On top were the dedicated pulse readers, all English.

Jonesy returned from the bathroom as we were leaving. “They're already playing baseball out in the field,”

“What are we waiting for?” I asked, all of us tearing out of there like our asses were on fire.

****

My belly was full of hot dogs, chips, and all the chocolate milks that were handed out after the games. Jonesy had got a home run and John had got to first base, tripping on the way there. I was busy staring at Jade and got nailed by a bad pitch right on my shin. My leg was throbbing in a distracting way.

“Look what I got,” Jonesy said, making a loose fan of blow pops in one hand. He looked like one of those magicians who pulled coins from behind peoples ears. I grabbed a grape. Mom would have a turtle if she caught me with sugar. Sugar was evil.

I thought it tasted pretty good.

Jade grabbed sour apple. Disgusting, but she did like licorice ice cream.

John shook his head. “Two for me then!”

I glanced at Jade just as the sun slid behind a cloud reducing the luster of her hair to shimmering black oil. She caught me looking at her and smiled.

Jonesy snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Snap out of it, Hart!”

I swatted his hand away like a buzzing fly, smoothly changing subjects, “What's the haunted plan tonight?

“I think,” Jonesy smirked, “you can just show up and scare all the ghosts with that haircut your dad gave you.”

Jade gave me a sympathetic look.

“How do you know my dad gave me a haircut?” I asked.

Jonesy looked at me. “Are you really asking that question? Your dad always gives you The Haircut,” he did airquotes.

“Is it that obvious?”

Everyone nodded.

Well hell.

I ran a hand over my super-short hair.

“I doubt my hair is going to be enough to scare anyone or anything.”

“I don't know about that, Caleb,” Jonesy said.

“Knock it off,” I said.

“Caleb's right, what's the plan? I noticed it's Friday the 13th and nothing's happened,” John said, hands spread.

“The day's young,” Jonesy said. “There's plenty of crap that can still happen.”

“And you want to see... right?”

He pointed his blow pop in Jade's direction. “She's quick to catch on.”

“Yeah, Jade's been part of enough of your plans (read: schemes); she's figured out the potential,” John said.

“Well, it's not any good to creep around and do scary stuff in broad daylight,” Jonesy said, brandishing his sucker with a flourish. “So, I'm thinkin' we should meet around eight, at the cemetery, then weasel over to the shack about,” his eyes rolled up in his head, the blow pop stuffed in his mouth, “say dusk, like ten.”

John looked up at the sky, partly cloudy. “Maybe bringing my LEDs would be good.”

Jonesy huffed. “Ah... nooooo... how is it gonna be creepy if you're wrecking it with LEDs? Think, my man!”

“He's got a point, kinda defeatist,” I agreed.

“It seems safer though,” Jade smoothly sided with John.

“What could go wrong?” Jonesy commented, popping a very small remaining sucker back in his mouth.

Jade gave him an astonished look. “Ah... everything,” in the no-duh voice, crunching her sucker to reach the gum.

John said, “The gum loses flavor fast.”

“Yeah,” Jade and Jonesy said at the same time.

Jonesy and Jade grinned. The gum fell out of his mouth. Plop on the ground it went.

“Ah, damn,” Jonesy said.

“Like I said, it loses flavor, no loss,” John restated.

“I don't care, it pisses me off, I wanted to leech the flavor forever,” he scowled.

“You'll live,” I said.

They gave their sticks to me to put in the garbage separator with a plan for eight at the old cemetery. Jade and I leaned in and barely brushed lips, mindful of the Js.

Jonesy yelled, “Get a room!”

John gave the regular salute, Jonesy cackling.

After they walked off I said, “Why don't you pulse Andrea and see if you can stay for dinner?”

“Okay,” she did the flash fingers and was pulsed and done in less than a minute.

“It's okay. But, did ya ask your parents?”

“Nah, my mom won't care. She'll think it's a vacation from the Js.”

“They eat a lot?”

“Ah... yeah.” Understatement!

Walking into the house, Jade leaned in, a fragrant chunk of hair brushing my cheek as we whispered together. “What's that funny smell?”

“Yeast.”

“What's that?”

“It's some ingredient my mom puts in stuff that makes it get bigger, like bread and whatnot.”

“Oh.”

Mom walked through the pass-through that leads to the kitchen. “Oh... hi Jade.”

“Hey Alicia.”

“Is Jade staying for supper?”

“It's okay, right?”

“You bet. It'll be ready in,” she turned to the pulse-clock, synchronized to Greenwich Mean Time, “fiveish, okay?”

“Yeah, we're gonna go up to my room.”

“Doors open, Caleb.”

Jade blushed, awkward-much. “Yeah Mom.”

“Oh!” she paused, turning. “How was your last day of school?”

I thought about the rotting banana episode. Pass.

“It was good. Jonesy got a home run.”

“Not surprising, he's pretty athletic, our Jonesy.”

“Yeah he is,” I said.

We all stood there. “Dad will be home shortly.”

“Really?” That was different, Dad didn't usually get home until supper time.

“He knew it was your last day of school and thought it would be fun to play some ball or whatever.”

That was great but I looked at Jade.

“Ah, I've got some stuff to do and then I can come back for dinner.”

“I didn't mean to chase you off, Jade,” Mom said.

“No,” she laughed. “I'm sure my aunt has something for me to do since I'm going out with friends tonight.”

“Oh?” Mom arched a brow, all-sharpness. Careful, she was really good at getting to the bottom of secret intent.

“Ah-huh, a group of us kids are going to explore and walk around,” I said.

“Who?” Mom demanded, hands on hips, eyes intense.

“The Js,” I nodded like, of course, “and Tiff.”

“That tough girl from Scenic Cemetery?”

“Yeah, she's good to have around, Mom.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because she is AFTD too. It just makes things better if some weird stuff comes up.”

“Is there a plan for weird stuff?” Uh-oh, this was getting close to lying.

“No. But we didn't think anything bad was gonna happen at Scenic and look what happened there.”

Mom looked thoughtful, absently correcting, “Going to.”

“Right.”

“Okay, who else?

“Sophie and...”

“Bry Weller,” Jade supplied.

“Who's he?”

“He's the older boy that was there.”

“Oh... that was an unfortunate incident for him,” Mom said, grimacing.

Unfortunate incident didn't cover it.

“Is there some issue with everyone in that Weller family shortening their names?” Mom asked suddenly.

Jade said, “Tiff thinks her name sounds,” she paused, “too girlie.”

“What about the boy?”

“I don't know about him,” Jade admitted.

“Look at Jonesy. Why doesn't anyone call him Mark?”

We thought on that.

Finally, Mom said, “he doesn't seem like a Mark.”

Yeah, Mark was so wrong for him.

“Yet, he is clearly Mark,” I said.

Mom seemed to shake cobwebs away. “Okay, be back by around five and we'll have pizza and salad.”

Disgusting. I'd drown it in ranch dressing.

Jade smiled. “I love salad.”

“I know,” Mom smiled.

Rabbit food.

Jade and I did a hug by the front door and she sauntered off. I looked after her, torn between walking her home but not wanting to be freaky overprotective.

Mom watched me. “You can't protect her all the time.”

“I hate where she lives.”

“No, you hate who she lives by.”

“That too.” I turned away and went to the bathroom to take a shower. I had a layer of baseball grime on me. I looked at the pulse-clock, almost two. Good, a few minutes of peace, then a Jonesy-plan for tonight, with pizza in the middle, a sandwich of anticipation.

Perfect.

CHAPTER 30

Jade and I arrived around eight at the cemetery, Onyx in tow. He seemed to know something exciting was going to happen and wanted to come. The whole group was already there. Bikes were piled up like sardines in a can. Tiff and Bry lived by Panther Lake, so they were there first.

I looked around, it wasn't dark yet but the shine was off the day. The sky had deepened to a polished azure, that color that only summer can claim.

Jade and I were holding hands and Onyx's tail would occasionally whack my leg.

Tiff and Bry had hoodies on (the Weller uniform). My stomach clenched as I caught sight of him. Our last encounter ended badly, he stood a half a head taller than his sister. He was John's height but had fifty pounds on John, definitely a jock. I swallowed nervously, Onyx lowered his head and I thought at him, it's okay Onyx.

The Boy has put the good sounds in the Dog's head but there was a nervousness that is not typical of the Boy. The Dog became watchful of this group, a foreign pack.

The Dog approached the big male that was still young, still smelled like boy and sniffed his hand, moving his nose to the female beside him. They were pack, but the others... not. This pack was not his pack. He backed away cautiously, knowing that he must maintain his rude eye contact when his Boy was nervous with this pack of two. The Dog understood when the big male, that was still a boy, looked away that the Dog was dominant.

This was good, he wagged his tail.

“It's okay Onyx.”

“Doesn't seem like your dog likes me much, Hart,” Bry said.

“Nah... just sizing ya up,” I said because I knew.

Tiff said, “Hey Caleb.”

“Hey.”

Jonesy broke the ice on the awkward turtleness. “Let's get going,”

I looked at my watch, almost nine already. Looking at the sky, Venus shone faintly in sight, the sky a brilliant sapphire.

Bry came over and I tensed, Onyx omitting a soft growl. “We're cool,” he said, giving me the guy clap on the back. Not the kind guys did to let you know they could kick your ass. The one they did when they wanted to hug you but that was totally not okay, no-homo, right?

The group relaxed, Bry setting the tone for the night. Cool, I instinctively liked him for setting it to rights.

The Dog understood the male and his Boy would not fight. That was good; thunk, wag, thunk.

We hiked up a steep knoll, Jonesy leading the pack and John, with his LED strapped to his side, following closely.

Sophie had arrived late, giving a coy glance to Jonesy, which oblivious-him, hadn't noticed. She was taller than Jonesy, what a weird pair they'd make.

“Ya know, you didn't need to bring a murse with all your safe crap,” Jonesy said, eying up John's satchel-thing.

“What's that?” Bry asked.

I was an authority “A purse for dudes.”

“It doesn't look like a purse,” Bry said, eying it.

Jonesy turned. “Listen, if it has a strap and hangs off your body, it's a purse.”

Bry said, all humor, “Jock-straps hang off your body.”

We laughed and John said, “But those are mandatory.”

He had a point.

Sophie let a lone giggle slip.

“Anyway,” Jonesy said, drawing out each syllable, “John has the,” he paused, “contingency crap in case something happens.”

“What's gonna happen? We're here to see some ghosts, right?” Bry asked.

“Well... ya see, it's Friday the 13th... and...” Jonesy began. I waved him quiet.

“You remember Scenic, right Bry?” I quizzed.

“Unforgettable, my brother,” he said.

“Right, stuff like that.”

Sophie said, “It's okay, there aren't any more Caleb relatives here.”

“Like that's going to matter?” John said.

“I don't know, Gran seemed pretty...”

“Enthusiastic,” Jonesy finished.

“Yeah,” Tiff agreed.

“Huh,” Bry said.

We all looked up at the cemetery. I put my feelers out, there were some old dead here. They called to me like a satellite come to orbit, my teeth humming in response.

John looked down from his twenty feet away. “Hey Caleb,” he said, just short of yelling, “how's your signal?”

“Fine, why?” The buzzing of the dead a dull roar in my skull.

Then... suddenly, a well-like silence filled the void where the dead had occupied. I looked up sharply at John.

“You doin' the whammy on me?”

“I am,” John said.

Jonesy nodded. “...nice John.”

I turned to Tiff. “Do ya feel that?”

“Not anymore,” she said.

I turned to Jade, our hands locked together. “... and you?”

“Wonderful silence, nothing.”

“Let go of my hand; touch Tiff.” Jade moved away and touched Tiff. She shook her head. No Empath stuff there.

John watched us. “She a blank too?”

Jade nodded.

Well... damn.

Bry was around the base of the knoll, about twenty-five feet. Reconnaissance I guess.

“Hey Bry!” I shouted.

“Shhh! Don't be an idiot, remember, radar.”

Bry said, “Yeah?”

“Jade's gonna come over there and see if she can get a read on you, see how far John's whammy extends.”

“Ah... okay.”

I turned my face back up to John, who by this time had his skinny ass leaning against a crooked tombstone, glowing like a soft beacon of whiteness in the dark that was closing in. “You still narrowed in on me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay Jade.”

Jade walked over to Bry while I crushed a spark of jealousy.

She put a hand on his forearm and said, “I get something but...” she looked at John, “it's an echo of normal.”

Okay, so we were working with maybe fifty feet.

“Are you fully juicing us John?”

“No, almost though.”

“Give us all ya got,” I commanded.

John made a strained face, I could see him struggle in the low light. He settled on a point between where Jade and Bry stood, about halfway around the base of the knoll, a loose arc.

Jade touched Bry again. “Nothing this time.”

“Kill it John.”

“Yeah, don't keep all amped-up or we won't have any cool shit happen,” Jonesy huffed.

John visibly relaxed and the white noise of the dead rushed back in like waves to the shore. This close to the graveyard, it was a constant thing.

“I hear them a lot,” Tiff said.

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss that whole group at the top of the hill,” I said.

Tiff rolled her eyes at that.

Jade joined us with Bry.

Jonesy was impatient up there next to John.

“Let's do it,” I said.

I half-pulled Jade up behind me as we laughed and talked about the baseball game.

“Jonesy got that last home run, right?” Sophie remarked.

“Yeah he did.”

“Brett did too,” Jade said.

“He'd be a really good athlete if he wasn't such an ass,” John stated.

“It's too bad,” Jade said.

“Come on, don't feel sorry for him. Look at what just happened at the hideout? I'll tell ya something. If either one of those jerks comes near you,” I said, putting a finger under her chin, “they'll get a reckoning.”

I wasn't doing forty pushes before bed for nothing.

Jonesy heard and said, “Yeah, I'm itching to get old pyro and Brett. That would be great!”

Nice to count on the Js.

We took a rest at the top, surveying the surroundings. The small hill overlooking Highway 167 had cars whizzing by, their progress creating constant noise. At least there wasn't the horrible auto smells anymore my parents described from when they were young. Pretty much, we were surrounded by a bunch of buildings with just a small oasis of trees adjacent to the graveyard. Which looked, well, untended.

Bry said, “My grandparents used to come here to make-out.”

“Are you kidding? They told you that?” Sophie gasped.

“Yeah, they've been married forever and thought they could just, ya know, talk about everything.”

“Wow, awkwardness,” Jade said.

“Not a lot of privacy,” I remarked, looking around.

“It was different back then. There was just the highway down there,” he jerked his head in the direction of the cars moving on the ribbon of concrete. “And nothing was here but those houses up by Panther Lake. Small neighborhoods, nothing more, from the 1960s and a few farmhouses.”

We tried to envision the Kent of sixty or seventy years ago; it didn't seem real. We moved forward into the center of the cemetery, looking at the tombstones, seeing that many of the etchings had worn away, only a few letters left.

Jade bent over to survey one, hair sweeping forward, her pert nose the only thing visible from the side. “Why is this one speckled?” she asked, running her hand over the polished surface, pressing a finger into a corner divot, worn smooth from many seasons.

I looked closer, some of the speckles seemed to sparkle in the pale light. I looked around me, there were similar tombstones with that speckled look. Small flecks caught the light, winking.

Night had descended, a velvet glove encasing our group while the moonlight speared through the trees, caressing a stone marker here and there, illuminating the areas between.

“I think it's granite,” I said.

“No... pretty sure those are marble,” John said.

“No, the all white ones are marble. My dad told me these were granite.”

“He gives you the graveyard know-how?” Jonesy asked.

I laughed. “No, he knows some stuff about geology.”

“I didn't think your dad did rocks and stuff.”

“I thought your dad was bio-chemistry,” John said.

“He is. But he had to study all kinds of sciences and I remember he told me once. They don't use granite like this as much anymore. They're using that recycled glass stuff now, ya know, the stuff that looks like quartz.”

“It's pretty,” Jade said.

I thought so too, but not out loud.

“Moving on... let's blow this Popsicle stand.” Jonesy walked away in the direction of the shack.

We made our way carefully through the long, hay-like grass where the markers appeared to be stranded and drowning. Onyx's tail appeared like a shark's fin through the grass.

“Good thing it's a full moon, not a lot of need for the LED's,” John said, slapping the one bouncing at his hip.

Jonesy was quite a ways ahead and held up a finger while still walking. “It adds to the vibe-of-creep I've been trying to establish, boys and girls!”

Tiff gave Jonesy a good natured middle finger salute, and without even breaking stride he said, “I saw that!”

Sophie giggled while Jonesy navigated the land mine that was the graveyard. Bry reefed his knee right into the corner of a tombstone and swore.

“Pull up your boxer briefs, bro,” Tiff said.

“Put a cork in it,” Bry replied, bringing up the rear with a small limp.

A broken fence marked what appeared to be one side of the cemetery, the slats of the fence crooked, standing up like swords. My sense of foreboding increased.

Jade whispered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“We picked The Place for the scare factor.” I looked around; I wasn't getting caught with my shorts down.

She didn't say anything but clung a little tighter to my hand, which I squeezed, the small bones moving under the pressure. She was fragile, such an interesting mix of girlness and toughness. I vowed to be hyper-aware of stuff around me, she was the one that needed protecting.

“There it is!” Jonesy whispered fiercely.

It was utterly different than I'd expected. For one, it was bigger. Jonesy said shack, but it was actually a small house.

It was super old-fashioned, a wide front porch that ran the length of the facade. The posts were square and stout, a bevel running up all four sides, softening the stern lines. One corner of the roof was drooping from post-collapse. It had an interesting window located dead center above the roof line in the gable peak, that looked like a dark unblinking eye. Not a happy architectural feature, that. From here the door looked like a gaping mouth, teeth unseen.

John, Jonesy, Tiff and Bry went forward. Jade and I lagging behind them and Sophie nervously bringing up the rear, her curly hair shoved behind her ears, the rest a cloud behind her.

“Hey, shouldn't we like, bring out the LED now?” Sophie asked, a bare tremor of fear coloring her voice.

“Not yet,” Jonesy said, hesitating on her face for an extra second.

Interesting.

Jonesy put his foot on the top step and it shrieked in protest.

We all jumped a mile.

“Holy-hell!” Jonesy stumbled back.

“It's a creaky step, brave one,” Bry laughed.

“Okay, smart-ass, you tromp up there.”

“Okay,” Bry replied, all man of the hour.

“Wait,” Tiff said.

Bry turned with a question on his face.

“Why don't you let us AFTDs check it out, hot-shit,” Tiff said.

Bry crossed his ample arms. “Fine,” putting his hand in front of him, palm extended, go ahead.

I moved away from Jade... changed my mind and took her with me. I didn't like her standing out here exposed. I was still remembering the hideout and how Carson and Brett had popped up like a couple of pieces of toast.

As Dad said, valor was sometimes masked as caution.

Jade moved in close, her torso following mine like a puzzle piece, to the side and slightly behind.

Tiff, on the other side turned. “Can you sense anything?”

“Nada.”

We both looked at John.

“Oh! Yeah...” he gave us a sheepish look.

Suddenly, our senses came back online like a river covering stones.

Tiff turned to me and nodded.

We stepped forward, that feeling of naturalness with the dead and open door. A thought occurred to me. “Don't touch my skin, Jade. Just in case.”

“Right,” she nodded. That would be great to get her all deadified on accident.

“Do you know what's gonna happen?” Tiff asked.

“Just what I read in the papers John brought over,” I replied.

“What did they say?”

“That not all AFTDs could do ghosts.”

“I can. I hit for that,” Tiff said. “They call me a two-point with a potential three.”

I made the hand motion, tell me more.

“Remember Jade found me with the bird outside school?”

“Yeah.”

Jade nodded , remembering.

“Well, I kinda freaked out, sensed what the bird, dead bird, had been feeling, knew where it was. So, the guy...”

“Who?”

“Later... anyway, he told me that I had a 'wrapped ability'. That means the abilities overlap or some crap.”

“What does that mean right now?”

“It means that I'm not a full two-point or three point... that I have ...” she paused.

“Elements of both,” John interjected.

“Yeah,” she said, relieved of her burden.

“Okay while all of this is just fas-cin-a-ting...” Jonesy began, “can we see what the frick is in the shack?”

I gave him a look and he just shrugged, please stop boring me.

Ignoring Jonesy, Tiff said, “Anyway, as the five-point we all know you are, well... there's a lot of possibilities.”

Bry started to ask a question, and Jonesy made an exasperated sound, “I know Jones-my-man, hold on to your jockstrap,” he looked at me. “I never got the full scoop out of my sis, but what are all your points? It's not like I memorized it. I'm going to Kent Lake.”

Math-Science, a mundane with an AFTD sister. Genetics, weird stuff.

John said, “I'll fill you in.”

Jonesy threw up his hands, slapping his thighs. “Well hell,” he muttered, walking back inside the fence and plunking his butt onto one of the tombstones constructed with a partial, flat “roof” on the top.

He put his elbow on his knee and cupped a hand on his chin, reluctantly listening.

Wait. “Did you read all those papers?” I asked John incredulously.

“Well, yeah.”

“Huh, that's a lot of reading,” I said, impressed.

“Yeah. What did you read?” John asked.

“Just the AFTD parts.”

The girls rolled their eyes, John gave me The Look.

What?

“Anyway, there are five-points possible for each, documented ability. Or, for a few... levels.”

Jonesy interrupted, “Okay already, just throw out the AFTD stuff so we can get to the spooks.”

We ignored him.

John ticked it off on his fingers, “Cadaver-Manipulation,” John nodded at me, I mock-bowed, “spirit control (ghosts), communion with the dead,” he nodded to Tiff, “victim location, and zombie control.”

“Zombie control and Cadaver-Manipulation are two points that sorta overlap,” he added.

That made me think of Onyx. Where was he anyway? A burst of panic started crawling up my throat. HWY one-sixty-seven was close by...

The Dog felt the Boy's fear and found him. There had been very interesting smells surrounding this old structure. Bad smells too; fear smells.

Onyx bounded up from behind the shack. A wave of relief flooded me. Maybe Onyx should stay home next time.

“Good boy, stay here.” I petted his head, that felt too close.

“Life spark?” Jonesy asked.

“Yes, it's that thing that happened with Onyx. It's where an AFTD can...” his hand clasped his chin for a second, “call,” he snapped his fingers, “that life spark back when death is close.”

“So, some people can find bodies?” Tiff asked.

“Yeah, there are some AFTDs on the police force and they find murder victims, or traumatic death vics.”

I thought of Gale and how it might be bad to raise murder victims.

John understood me. “It's a given, Caleb, that if you're raising zombies, you can do the other stuff.”

“They don't really know, though,” Jonesy began. “I mean, we've only been having the shots, what, ten years now? Uh-huh, there's gotta be more abilities, things they haven't thought about. What about mutations?”

Jonesy could sometimes astound.

“Jonesy's right,” Sophie said. “They can't know everything. I'm A-P and they don't have all the levels figured out.”

“True,” John agreed. “Astral-Projection is about distance.”

“I think they're figuring it out as they go and acting like they have a handle on it,” Bry said.

Sounded like typical adult bravado to me.

“What if there's someone that has a completely new ability or is a higher level or a sixth point? Jonesy's right, they don't have it figured out. It's up to us now. The adults don't have abilities. The ones that do are the first group from 2015, the one Parker's in,” Jade said.

Look where that got Jeffrey Parker.

After a minute or so I said, “Better to be mundane.” I felt I could say that, Dad being a famous scientist. People always assumed that I would be something too. I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag in Math and Science.

Jonesy stood. “Okay, what I get from this is dead stuff can't get us with the freak duo here,” Jonesy nodded to Tiff and I. “And possibly, my man Caleb, can find some violent corpses.” Jonesy's teeth were a pale slash in his face, grinning.

John sighed. “That's not exactly accurate... Caleb is,” John wavered, “may be some kind of anomaly.”

“A what?” Jonesy asked.

“Something that doesn't meet normal patterns,” Sophie said.

Jonesy's teeth disappeared and he was just a bulky shape at the edge of the fence, the moonlight slanting behind a cloud.

“Something new, something rare...” John expounded.

“A surprise!” Jonesy said, unfazed.

John just shook his head. “I don't know what could happen, Caleb,” he turned to Tiff. “But we're in...” he thought, “uncharted territory.”

“Perfect,” Jonesy breathed out in a sigh.

Jade gave him an unfriendly look, which thankfully he missed in the dimness.

We went forward again, where yawning holes like chicken pox littered the porch decking. We moved around those, as the clouds cooperated by moving aside, a patch of moonlight lit the corner of the door. It was a faded red, a large square of glass in the middle, miraculously unbroken. Tiff wrapped her hand around an oval doorknob with perimeter beading hung askew from its cradle, glowing like a dirty gold egg in the failed light.

Our eyes met. “Ya scared?” she asked, all bravado.

I nodded.

Her shoulders fell a little. “Me too,” she admitted in a whisper, “that's why we gotta.”

I agreed.

Turning the knob, the door swung open silently as if inviting our motley crew inside.

I'd forgot about Onyx who shot past us, starting his exploration.

He was doing dog reconnaissance.

I cautiously looked around taking in a super-small house, definitely not a shack.

Jonesy, John, Bry and Sophie had followed us closely and Bry said, “It's a caretaker's cottage.”

John asked Bry, “What's that?”

“Back in the day...”

“When?” Jade asked.

“You know, a hundred years ago... or more...”

“Oh.”

“They used to have these little... houses for the dudes that would take care of these cemeteries.”

“They lived here? Right here, next to all the dead bodies?” Sophie asked.

“It is a cemetery, that's where dead bodies go,” John stated.

“Quiet neighbors,” Jonesy said.

Funny.

“Okay, yuk, go on,” Tiff said.

“Anyway, they would water the flowers people left at the graves, mow the lawn with this push-mower thing, paint the fence, you know, maintenance stuff.”

“So... not a shack,” Jonesy asked.

“No, more like quarters,” John clarified.

We looked around, getting our bearings.

“Watch out, this place is a dump, there could be more holes in the floor,” I said.

“Stay in pairs or more,” Bry said.

Tiff, Jade and I took a few steps more and I turned to John. “Dude, I just can't see that great, give me the LED.”

I could vaguely hear Jonesy in the back mumbling. But, with only meager moonlight finding its way through the dirty glass of the kitchen windows, it wasn't enough.

John slapped it into my palm, pressing my thumb on the push-button switch (something that wasn't Pulse-activated!). A brilliant swath of light slashed a path, illuminating the base of a staircase. The steps were narrow and tall, like a ladder, not true stairs.

I swung the light away from the stairs at the base of our feet, the girls shoes dwarfed by our surfboards. “Stairs last, let's check out the main floor.”

Jonesy gave a lingering glance at the stairs. It was a democracy so he came along with the rest of us, but his fascination lay elsewhere.

As the reluctant leader, the call of the dead was a song in my soul, a resonating note which lingered. We explored.

We could've hear a pin drop it was so quiet.

“Ah hell, nothing's going to happen here,” Jonesy said, dejected. He grabbed the flashlight out of my hands. “Hey!” I yelled.

He planted it under his face and started making the idiot grins people do under LEDs. Funny, he looked like the ghosts we weren't seeing. It was just the thing that cracked the group up, tension escaping like steam under a door.

Without warning, while Jonesy capered about, a green luminescent shape rose up over Jonesy, hovering for an instant above his head. Swooping down, it speared through his chest, Tiff and I leaping forward, my hand reaching for the vague shape.

Jonesy shrieked like he was being stabbed, “It's cold! It's a ghostsicle! Get it out off me!”

Tiff reached it before me, and I used the hand that wasn't now latched on to Jade to grab that opaque emerald. Instantly warmth bathed wherever I touched.

Tiff's eyes widened and held my gaze. “Pull!” I shouted over the chaos. Bry tried to wrench Tiff away while John and Sophie were reaching for Jonesy. My Empath girlfriend caught between and as green as the ghost.

Tiff understood and wrenched the ghost through Jonesy's chest where just a snippet of its form was. She wrapped it in her fist, with my left hand around her balled hand, my right wrapped around Jade. And we pulled, not with our hands but with our combined power.

The ghost made a popping sound as it was extracted through Jonesy like hot taffy, who collapsed on his butt. “It's a brain freeze, but in the body!” John and Sophie crouched beside him, but I had bigger fish to fry.

The ghost hovered about us, it looked like a man. I looked down and a part of it was like a rope to where our hands still held it. Tiff looked at me and we let it go. Like taffy, that rope snapped back into the ghost's form, making a sucking noise like water down a drain.

Onyx had been barking the whole time. “Quiet boy.”

The Dog did not like this cold, dead-smelling thing. The Dog knew the Boy was dominant and he did not have to Protect, but the Dog did not like it.

Bry came up behind Tiff. “What is it?”

“A ghost, dumb-ass,” Tiff whispered.

Tiff, so delicate with her wording. Bry gave her a glare, sibling love.

Onyx growled.

“Shh... Onyx.”

The ghost seemed to know what I was, gliding forward.

My hand moved forward, looking up into the ghost's semblance of eyes and moved my hand through its form. It felt like bathwater, at once semi-solid and warm, right and good. Tiff tried, her eyes widening as she gazed up at the tall figure, its color shimmering in the ambient moonlight.

“So warm, like fur,” Tiff said.

Our eyes met. “Like bath water,” I said.

“It's the same, but different,” John said. “You're AFTD but different people, your perceptions are different.”

“That damn thing is not warm! It's cold as hell!”

“That's an oxymoron,” Sophie said smugly.

“I know what I felt!” Jonesy huffed.

“Everyone knows hell is hot, dope,” Bry said.

“Whatever! That thing is cold as hell!”

I turned back to the ghost and it swung its head toward Jonesy.

I felt its agitation.

“I don't think it likes you,” I said to Jonesy.

Jonesy backed up.

Jade leaned forward and I caught her hand. “Maybe not.”

“I can't hide behind you all the time, Caleb.”

“I don't mind.” Leaning down, I kissed the tip of her nose, which coincided with her whipping her hand out and grabbing the ghost. It let out a shriek that reverberated in the house, she took it by surprise. Tiff and I reacted to that, the ghost jettisoning off straight up through the ceiling to the second floor.

Jade snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest. “Not smart Jade!” Tiff yelled.

“God, you could have been hurt! We don't know what we're dealing with here!” I was scared, shaking her by the shoulders, what had she been thinking?

“I was.”

“You were what?” I asked.

“It did hurt me.”

“I wanna see,” Jonesy said, rushing forward.

We all stood in a circle around Jade, she was the shortest one in the group so we all had a good view.

Slowly taking her hand away from her chest she showed us what looked like a burn, just shy of the blistering kind. It was the worst in the webbing which connects the thumb and index finger. I touched a finger lightly to the worst spot.

“Yeah, it's tender.”

“Was it hot?” Jonesy asked.

Jade shook her head.

“Cold?” John guessed.

“Yeah... like colder than anything I've ever touched.”

“Kinda like that time Carson put his wet tongue to that frozen utility pole,” Jonesy smiled, remembering.

“And you pelted him with snowballs,” John said.

“Ah-huh, that was the time,” Jonesy said in that dreamy tone.

“Okay, so we know that they're dangerous,” Bry said.

“Not to them,” John said.

Everyone looked at Tiff and I. Awkwardness.

Tiff said, “That's good, right? I mean, that's the whole reason Jonesy thought we should come, we're the...”

“Contingency plan,” I finished.

“Yeah, that,” Tiff agreed.

I bent down and kissed Jade's hand and she smiled.

“All better,” I said.

“Pretty angry looking,” Sophie said, looking closely at it.

“Yeah, it's a war wound,” Jonesy said, eyes cutting to the staircase.

“Ah-no, haven't we had enough excitement for tonight?” John asked.

“Never!” Jonesy enthused, running over to the base of the staircase, Onyx at his heels.

“Wait a sec.... where did that ghost go?” Tiff asked.

I pointed above my head and we all looked up at the ceiling.

Jade said, “I'm game but no touchy.”

I squeezed her head underneath my chin, holding her. “It doesn't seem like the ghost meant to.”

“No,” Jonesy said. “It definitely didn't want to freeze my nuts off!”

Bry and John laughed.

Thanks Jonesy, so reassuring. “What I meant was, I think Jade took it..”

“... him,” Tiff clarified.

Right, definitely male, “... him, by surprise. He gave her the ice blast because she startled him.”

“It's a guy ghost ?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah,” Tiff said.

“Wow, hate to see what he'd do to really freeze us,” Jonesy said.

“He was warm to us,” Tiff said.

John said, “It's the AFTD thing. You guys are like the same element or something.”

“It was scared when I touched it,” Jade said.

“Evil?” John asked.

“Not really but, it could be. He could be.”

“I bet they got personalities!” Jonesy chortled.

“They do,” Jade said.

He stopped laughing, John and Bry's smile slipping from their faces.

Tiff stepped forward. “They do?”

“He did,” Jade said.

Whoa. “What did he think or whatever?” I asked.

“He didn't exactly think, I just got feelings about him being disturbed and then there were some random images of his life here.”

“Wait a sec, Jade, you're not AFTD?” Tiff clarified.

“No, Empath.”

“So how does she know anything about what it, okay, sorry, he thought?”

“I was holding her when she swiped the ghost. We've noticed in the past that I can put the zombies back into the ground better if I am touching Jade,” I said.

“Back-in-box, back-in-box,” Jonesy sang.

“Jonesy, come on,” Bry said.

Bry stated his question, “His life here?”

“Yeah, he was the caretaker guy here,” Jade said.

“Okay,” I said. “Let's cruise the upstairs really fast then maybe we can rip by the hideaway after.”

“I don't know, that's way across town,” John said.

“Who doesn't have a bike?” I asked.

Jonesy raised his hand.

“Be a peg-rider, dude,” Bry said.

“For five miles?” Jonesy asked.

“Who's driving?” John asked.

Our collective attention turned to Bry. He was the smart one that brought up the peg idea.

“Oh come on! He can't last five miles on my pegs.”

“Can you?” A direct challenge from the sister.

Bry's eyes narrowed to slits. “Yeah, I can do it.”

John clapped his hand together. “Settled then!”

Jonesy air-pumped. “Let's investigate!”

“Wait!” I said, arcing the LED in the air toward Jonesy, who smoothly caught it.

He took the steep steps two at a time never slowing down, Onyx at his heels.

Bry and John racing after him, John slipped and nailed a knee on the way up. “Ouch, damn,” he said, cupping the offended joint, jumping up the rest in an ungainly frog hop.

Jade, Tiff and I climbed the steps with Sophie slightly ahead. It was dark and I held the railing in a death grip because the light was utterly non-existent here.

At the top of the staircase stood the gang, mouths agape, looking at the scene in front of them.

Wisps of luminescent figures twirled and sailed about, lighting the area with their phosphorescent glow, frantically gliding back and forth, agitated. There were “eye-windows” on either end of the eaves, caressing the floorboards, but the ceiling was really tall down the central section of the roof. We couldn't have touched it if we tried.

Jonesy looked less enthusiastic than earlier and inching closer to the staircase by the second. Our male ghost hovered in the middle, looking intimidating. But I wasn't worried, he hadn’t been hostile to Tiff and me. But he'd hurt Jade and about frozen Jonesy's jewels off, caution was good.

Tiff looked at the agitated ghosts. “They're kids.”

That made me stare. They were swirling so furiously that it was hard to tell... but, I thought she was right.

I didn't want to leave Jade. I looked at Bry, he nodded. Guy-speak, a wonderful thing.

He moved closer to Jade and I said, “Be right back.”

Tiff followed me, turning around once to look at John. “I'm shielding,” he said.

I kept approaching. The large male ghost was hovering and I was seeing more of him this time. Tiff looked at me with wide eyes, our hair starting to rise off our heads, floating with static electricity. The small ghosts hovered around us, slowing their frenetic spinning, calming. We stood in front of the one big ghost, it held out what had once been hands, and Tiff and I each took an opaque “hand.”

Images flowed into our minds; reverse history. We saw his death, in broken images, like a kaleidoscope rapidly spinning backwards, colors and shapes, jagged loneliness and care-taking, feelings of accomplishing, then... a lonely death here in this house, with no one to take care of him.

“So sad,” Tiff said through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” I agreed.

But the images weren't done. We saw the ghost's pain as children were killed and he could do nothing. He took care of their spirits, that much he could do. He was still the caretaker for the dead.

He dropped our hands and floated back.

His message was clear, we could speak for these dead children.

We could do what he could not.

“Wow,” Tiff said.

“Yeah.”

We moved back and the ghosts returned to swirling again.

The evilness of his message began to sink in. Children had been murdered here. Kids. Like us. Tiff and I looked at each other.

Jonesy said, “What's the deal?”

I said slowly, “The deal is, he is the care-taker of a bunch of dead kids.”

“Told you!” Jonesy said.

“What?” Bry asked.

“I told everyone that some boy had died here.”

“Jonesy's right, he did say that a boy died here,” John said.

Jonesy scowled at John. “And, there's a helluva lot more than just one.” He indicated the ghosts floating and diving in the background, holographic in the moonlight.

We all looked at them, Sophie said, “Why are we seeing them?”

“I got this,” Tiff said. “I did read all the stuff...”

You did? Sophie mouthed silently.

“Ah-huh, and us AFTDs,” she looked at me and I shrugged, I didn't know, “give off an aura so others can see stuff like ghosts.”

“So, if Caleb and you take off, then they disappear?”

“It sounds that way,” John said.

“Shit, that's swift,” Jonesy said, impressed.

The greater point of the murdered children was being lost to the jack-in-the-box ghosts.

Bry chuckled. “He does have a way with words.”

“Yeah,” I agreed but was thinking about all we'd seen. The horror of it felt like a splinter in my head.

“We'll have to do something about this,” Tiff said.

“I know,” I said, grabbing Jade's hand, comforted by the solidness of it after the creeping warmth of “our” ghost.

“I wanna see if they'll disappear, Caleb,” Jonesy said.

“Jonesy, give it a rest,” I said.

“Yeah, let's book. I want to check out this hideout you guys have,” Bry said, glancing again at the ghosts.

John stood, mesmerized. “Not every day you see ghosts.”

“Yeah, they're kinda pretty,” Sophie said.

Jonesy raised both eyebrows, uncomprehending.

Jade nodded in agreement with Sophie.

Our group headed down the stairs. Jade, Tiff and I lingered. A palatable weight hung over us. Breaking contact, we climbed back down the stairs.

Walking through the door we shut it softly behind us, the sadness and horror clinging like smoke to our bodies.

CHAPTER 31

Coming out into the moonlight we sucked great gulps of fresh air into our lungs, trying to expunge the cloying feeling of claustrophobia the house had given us.

“Okay, so... let's shake that off,” Jonesy said.

“Maybe you can but not me, not for awhile,” Sophie shivered.

I agreed. It'd be awhile before Tiff and I would get over that.

Jade looked around, seeing the group lounging by the gate. “Let's pulse the adults.”

Bry said, “Great idea, mom's going to have a kitten if we don't check in.”

Tiff nodded, letting her brother pulse for the pair. One by one we shoved our pulses back into their respective spots and looked around.

Jonesy got a strange light in his eyes. “What do ya think...” he began.

“No.” John said.

“Right. What he said,” Jade agreed.

Bry said, “What, Jonesy?”

Tiff waggled a finger. “You don't know Jonesy that well Bry, he gets these ideas,” she made the universal choking gesture with both hands around her throat, “that usually get us all in trouble.”

“Oh, I don't know about that, so far the night's been pretty exciting,” he said, smiling.

“See, there's a dude that knows how to keep the adventure rolling!” Jonesy said, giving Bry guy acknowledgment.

My watch said it was only eleven; felt like hours had passed.

“Looks like we got the green light to do more screwin' around. Let's see who we can jerk outta the pasture here Caleb.” Jonesy said, thumb in the direction of the old graveyard at our backs.

“Nah, I don't want to. I've had enough for tonight. And with ghosts so close, I don't know. Things could go bad. Besides, it seems wrong to do it for sport or something.”

“The element of surprise!” Jonesy said, ignoring me.

Bry blanched. “Would it be like Scenic?”

“May have been because Gran was a relative,” I said.

“Well that one zombie, Chris, Claude...” Jade began.

“Clyde,” I supplied.

“That's him!” she remembered.

“Yeah, he seems more aware,” John said.

“What do you mean? I've never seen the zombie trick.” Sophie said.

“It's not a trick,” Tiff said, offended.

“I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just sayin'...”

“Caleb's raised this particular zombie, what, three times?” John looked at me for confirmation, I nodded. “So each time he comes back he seems to be...”

“Smarter,” I said.

“Yes,” John agreed.

“Last time he seemed to communicate with the other zombies like a captain or something,” Jade said.

“Captain of the Zombie Guard!” Jonesy laughed.

Right... so funny, not-laughing.

“I don't want a repeat of the Gran Incident,” Bry said.

“Yeah, that went pretty sideways,” Tiff agreed.

“And then Garcia and his creepy partner showed up...” Bry began.

“McGraw,” I added.

“Yeah, him,” Bry said with gravity.

We were all quiet for a little bit.

“So Garcia's corrupt?” John speculated.

“It's lookin' that way, I don't know for sure. But they're pairing mundanes with paranormals now and McGraw was quick to show us he was an Elemental, sorta like a threat,” I said.

“Wait, I hadn't heard they had decided that, pairing mundanes and paranormals,” John said.

“They haven't, but Ward and Gale said that it was going to be a permanent rule or whatever soon,” I said.

“A sanction?” Bry clarified.

I nodded.

“That makes sense. Look at what would happen if a bonehead like Carson decided to do crime professionally.” Everyone nodded their agreement. “And two regular cops showed up?” Jade stated.

“Sish-kabobs! Cop-kabobs!” Jonesy yelled, making the up in flames noise.

Nice visual.

“The original human torch,” Bry agreed.

“My point exactly. There's got to be a counter for that level of power, like a John,” she said.

We all looked at him. “Bet there's a ton of Nulls on the force,” Bry stated logically.

Sophie nodded. “Jade's right. Psychic Nulls would mean the negation of all those freak-a-zoids.”

“Negation! Are you one of those smart girls?” Jonesy asked, eying Sophie.

“Sometimes,” she smiled and even I saw the wink in the moonlight.

“Okay I give, what does that mean?” Jonesy asked.

“I can neutralize other paranormals' abilities.”

“Oh yeah, I remember, you do the whammy and they can't zap us.” Jonesy nodded, shaking a finger at John.

“That was alarmingly close to girl-speak, my friend,” Bry said warningly.

“That's okay, I'm diversified, and consider my girl-speak to be my second language.”

“Nice,” Sophie said, unimpressed.

Jonesy grinned again, his teeth a pale sliver.

“That will count for college,” John laughed.

Suddenly, Onyx emitted a soft growl of alarm at the same moment that Jade asked, “What's that noise?”

I looked around but didn't see anything. Then I heard it, a soft thump-thump-thump. If I hadn't known better, it sounded like a giant's heartbeat thumping through a pillowcase loaded with feathers. We frantically looked around but didn't see anything. Onyx gave a single sharp bark, looking up. The trees above us parted like a dark invitation, exposing a helicopter over our heads, over the graveyard, over our lives.

****

Jonesy stepped forward, legs planted wide apart, stabilizing his balance as the helicopter swept the trees in a silent hurricane, their tops bending back to accommodate it. The stealth helicopter descended like a black spider. The sky was its web, a fat body with chopper blades like legs ready to spring down.

Our loose group watched, Onyx outright growling with a random bark underscoring the oncoming threat.

Some spark of understanding swam to the surface and it was in that moment of self-realization that I felt responsible for more than just me and Jade.

I turned to the group, yelling over the wind tunnel noise of the chopper, its bulk blotting out the moonlight, “Get to the graveyard now!” I shouted out, “Bry!”

“Yeah!” he yelled back.

“Protect the girls, get them out of here!”

“Tiff, I need you!” She ran to me, her hoodie falling away from her face, leaving it exposed and vulnerable. I had a stab of guilt as she raced at me, but we needed to survive this, survive the now.

John and Jonesy gave me a profound stare; I was the leader here, whether I liked it or not.

“Stay with Jade and Sophie, Bry will help,” I yelled.

Ropes dropped like snakes out of the belly of the helicopter; I counted: one, two, three. Resolve solidified into a tight knot of dread.

I would get us through this.

Tiff stood by me, her stance like Jonesy. I was counting on her being a guy right now, even though she looked so girl. Her slight body stood next to me, hands balled into fists. If things hadn't been so dire, I would've smiled.

The shadow of the chopper blades made her face a jagged dance of light. “We're in deep shit,” she said.

“Yeah, it'll be okay.” The closest to a lie I'd ever told.

“Take care of my sister, Caleb,” Bry shouted.

We stared at each other across the space of the graveyard, he at the back with Sophie and Jade behind him and the Js in front, their bodies a shield.

“Yes!” I bellowed.

Onyx stood on all fours, his head lowered, as the three men dropped to the ground, the ropes loose and swinging.

The Bad Males had arrived and a grinding fear was covering the Boy, its smell permeating his nose like a coating of oil, slimy and alive.

He would protect the Boy.

Onyx crouched, preparing to lunge. “No!” I yelled, leaping at him, doing the superman, arms out in front.

“Not the boy!” the man in the center yelled over the noise of the chopper, their guns trained on me and Onyx.

Onyx and I rolled together and he sprang up. I got up on my knees and was greeted with the muzzle of a gun in my face. I was glad that my parents had been thorough in their potty training because I swear I felt my bowels hiccup.

“Easy there, young fella,” Gun-Holder said.

It was an M-16, its black tip a solid circle in front of me. My eyes ran the length of the barrel, the spiral shape distorted, to lock gazes with Gun-Holder's lifeless eyes... killer's eyes.

The middle guy sauntered up to Gun-Holder and used his finger, pushing the end of the gun barrel up in the air toward the chopper.

“What the hell, Parker?” Gun-Holder said.

“We're not here to kill but to acquire, there is no threat in that, best to remember it.”

My head snapped to the middle guy, who removed his knitted black ski-mask, and there he was.

I'd know him anywhere, Jeffrey Parker.

He looked the same except no glasses, the geek in him peeking through at the edges but inside a mid-twenties body that was hard and lean with a face to match. That unfinished quality that he had in the last photo I'd seen was gone forever.

“Stand up, Caleb,” Parker spoke in a clear, ringing voice.

I did, but I was going to be in charge. This was not how I had thought I'd meet Parker, it was going to be on my terms. I glanced at the gun. Besides, they weren't here to kill me. They wanted me. That was almost worst.

It was my only leverage.

I turned around, sparing a glance for Tiff, who was standing with Man-Three a short guy as wide as I was tall, a gun trained on her.

This was going bad fast. Looking further back I spied the Js, Jade and the others still where I put them. Bry looked like the rock he was in the middle of the group. Jade's face was burning in my mind when I turned to face Parker.

“What do you want?” I yelled.

Man-Three, pressed a small voice-activated mike from his shoulder to his mouth, saying something quickly into it.

Suddenly, the noise of the helicopter toned way down like air leaving a balloon.

“There, that's better,” Parker said. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, that saves time. We're here because we know what your potential is, Caleb.”

“You're wasting your time, Parker. I tested out as a two-point.”

He laughed, just short of braying; creepy and false. “Yes, we're aware of that. Our operatives were watching things very closely. We have high hopes for you, Caleb, and you won't disappoint.”

I let the questions stand on my face. I was not going anywhere with this guy. He made all the hair on my body stand on end.

Like recognized like.

“Who do you think was in your house making a mess of your things? We know every conversation that has happened since that moment. We are very aware of what you and your clever father have been manufacturing for the sake of keeping your gift a secret,” he explained patiently.

Like I wasn't going to get it.

I got it. “Here's the thing,” I said. “I'm not going to be the government's bitch.”

Parker smiled and said, “You'll be what we want you to be... to become.”

He signaled to Gun-Holder. “Get the girl. We can use her to persuade Mr. Hart to our cause.”

I turned to look at Tiff but Gun-Holder was jogging toward Jade.

Oh no, he would try to force me through Jade.

Everything slowed down then, I calculated how far Tiff was from me and she looked back at me, nodding. A gun tip like an arrow was pointed inches away from her head; I had to gamble with her life but we were all at stake.

I took two huge steps leaping for Tiff. She extended her arm as Man-Three whipped his gun around, using the stock as a weapon. She bent forward just as the butt whistled across her forehead, grazing it, a gash opening up as I touched her hand. She clasped the other one and we pulled toward each other as one, a mid-air waltz. We landed just the right side of the cemetery, our power shimmered together like a thing alive.

“No!” Parker shouted, realizing too late just what Tiff was.

Their intelligence needed work.

I craned my neck to look again at our group and Gun-Holder was within reach. Bry took the hand that he put forward for Jade in both of his, using the guy's own momentum to keep him moving. But he was an adult, a trained government assassin, and he took Bry with him for the ride.

“Move!” I screamed at Jade, as she flung herself out of reach and did the opposite of what the operative thought she would.

The operative was landing a solid beating on Bry (he never caught a break), and Jade ran through the tombstones, gray flags in the failing light.

“Shit! Get that girl,” Parker yelled at Man-Three.

Man-three, who was the tallest of the group, ignored Tiff and me.

His fatal mistake, going for Jade.

Parker had been far enough away but was closing the distance between us fast, Tiff and I holding hands.

Jade had stopped right in the middle of the graveyard, the Js joining the scuffle to aid Bry. Sophie uncertainly moved forward after Jade while Man-Three paced her, mirroring her progress.

“Jade, run to me!” I screamed.

A violent anger for our situation, Jade being in danger, our friends in jeopardy rolled like a huge heaving animal in my body.

Man-Three roared like a lion, rushing forward those fifteen feet to grab Jade who took evasive action, leaping to the side, using her smallness to maneuver around a tombstone at the extreme left.

I let my power out of my body that fast, a precise laser sent straight in front of Jade, where a zombie exploded out of a grave. He was a macabre thing of beauty, his arms fully extended, knees bent up in the air, classic karate stance.

He appeared before her as a warrior and I screamed inside its head the command: protect.

My zombie landed directly in front of Man-Three who unceremoniously pressed the M-16's gun barrel to the zombie's chest, using a palm on the zombie's shoulder, jerking him closer and fired point blank.

“No!” I shouted, my zombie blown to smithereens before my eyes.

But Jade kept coming, my zombie's sacrifice there in her eyes and body as she moved to me. My zombie danced as the rounds penetrated its body. Bits of flesh arced from behind it, splattering tombstones, all the while leaning into the gun man, its arms rising as it was getting blasted, going for the throat.

Man-Three must have had twenty-round clips. As he clicked empty, my zombie's chest a hole that the starlight penetrated, its face a dark prison of blood and gore.

Protect, I thought at him. Protect.

A little slower due to damage, nevertheless, the zombie surged forward, tearing the butt of the M-16 from Man-Three's hands, tossing it like so much candy into one of the tombstones and cracking the corner off like a chipped tooth.

“God dammit! Take its head, fool! It'll keep coming,” Parker screamed, reaching us.

A knife glinted in the dark and sailed out toward my zombie, embedding itself thickly in his neck, but not severing, black blood flying outward and hitting everything in its path.

I whipped my head around in time to see that Bry lay on the ground and Gun-Holder was making steady progress toward us. His arm tightened like a noose around Jonesy, who was flailing and struggling in his grasp. John and Sophie knelt by Bry, his other hand empty of the knife he'd just thrown.

Don't give up.

My zombie was slowing down, each wound more grievous than the last.

Gun-Holder was dragging my friend by the throat and Jade was not to me yet.

Parker was on our ass as we made our way to Jade, the zombie distracting Man-Three with Gun-Holder dragging Jonesy towards us.

More zombies, that's the ticket.

As if on deadly cue, Tiff and I got busy with a few more as Parker grabbed Tiff by her hood and zombies poured from the ground.

Gun-Holder stopped in his tracks, Jonesy giving him hell.

“Hold still or I'll choke you into unconsciousness, shithead.” Jonesy did.

But he wouldn't do what he was told for long, he wasn't big on listening.

There were several zombies and now Parker held onto Tiff like a deathline. He sucked off our power, adding his to ours, it was numbing me.

The zombies looked at me, then turned to Parker.

Parker straightened arrogantly. “I am Master here.”

The zombies moved toward Parker.

I jerked Tiff just about off her feet and slung her to my left and away from Parker. “Stop!” I flung out to them.

They turned to me and Tiff, some without eyes, staring darkly at the two of us.

Parker looked at me. “This will not work, I am more powerful then you, more experienced. You cannot prevail.”

I wondered the same.

Never give up.

I turned with Tiff launching ourselves at Jade, running to the zombie with the knife in its neck. The first to answer our call, my call.

Jade's hand clutched solidly in mine, we tore through the zombies, moving like bowling pins as we wove between them, some stroking our bodies as we came through, bolstered by our combined power.

“Stop them!” Parker yelled, pushing zombies aside, knocking a few over.

Hands reached out and I said, “No.” Their hands hesitated.

I reached my zombie just as Man-Three was taking the knife out, getting ready to plunge that blade home, killing my zombie for real. A sense of something lurked below the surface, just a feeling, and I went with it like a drowning man reaching for the lifeline, my last hope.

Jade and Tiff struggled to keep my pace as I landed next to my zombie, my knees sliding on the grass as my hand encircled the wrist that held the knife, Man-Three's eyes widening in surprise. I wasn't as strong, but I'd startled him, the element of surprise was enough.

My zombie understood, we were connected, his eyes glittering black diamonds, he snaked his hand out, grabbing my other wrist. The girls' hands fell away. Only the three of us connected now, the gun man, the zombie and me.

It took only a second to break his concentration and as he moved to finish the zombie taking my straining arm with him for the killing blow I thought, die.

A big sucking nothing happened for a heartbeat. Then Man-Three started shrieking, great gulping screams, one after another, as my power took from him.... and gave to my zombie.

It was watching a movie in reverse. My zombie started to fill out, the knife pushing out of his neck, falling to the ground. His cheeks filling in, the gaping hole of his chest filling in as I watched, the skin pooling together, flesh like water filling the void.

My eyes moved to Man-Three, the light in his eyes fading, his body growing stiller.

“Caleb, what are you doing?” Parker asked in a near whisper.

“Killing him,” I replied dreamily. If felt good to use this thing, my zombie was mending itself and this bad guy, very bad guy... would... would be gone.

“Caleb!” Tiff shrieked in my face.

“Huh?” My head swam toward her.

“Stop! You're killing him!”

I released the two, reluctantly. I tried to feel bad about almost killing Man-Three, who had put a gun barrel to Tiff's head just moments ago, and couldn't.

We had bigger problems. Leaving Man-Three on the ground, I rose off my knees. Jade ran to me, pressing her face against my chest. We turned to look at Parker and Gun-Holder, who still had the choke hold on Jonesy. I could feel the presence of my healed zombie at my back, ready to do the same command.

A literal bunch, zombies.

“Let him go,” I said to Gun-Holder.

Ten zombies looked in my direction. Of course he doesn't have to let Jonesy go.

I could make him.

Parker saw my thought process. “Don't, it'll be a stalemate,” he said, his voice holding a slight tremor.

Something had taken that arrogance down a notch. The life-suck thing. I was sure that was not covered under the five-point standard.

I held Jade tighter.

He seemed to visibly collect himself. “We raised this group together, we both control them,” he reasoned with me.

I wasn't feeling reasonable. “Yeah, maybe you guys didn't think this through when you were busy spying on American children,” I said, watching him flinch.

Sophie joined our little group. Where's John? I mouthed.

“... with Bry,” she answered.

Jonesy watched Sophie with concerned eyes. “Let him go or we'll see who owns who,” I told Parker.

He nodded at Gun-Holder who let Jonesy go with a disgusted grunt. He glared at Parker, shoving Jonesy away.

“Dick,” Jonesy muttered.

It was Parker's look that told me he was placating us. He had a plan and it didn't include us leaving.

Jonesy walked over to Sophie, giving her a hug. Their two-inch height difference allowed her curly hair to swarm around his like an embracing halo.

Gun-Holder spoke into his mike and the chopper noise was loud again, they had something up their sleeve, I knew it.

Parker stepped forward and I instinctively moved Jade back, taking Jade with me. “Don't get any closer, Parker.”

But Gun-Holder grabbed at Jonesy again, who was to the side of Sophie and she got taken instead.

“No!” Jonesy roared, his lightning reflexes grabbing at Sophie, who yelped in surprise as his fingers slipped off her arm. Gun-holder smoothly took her and ran for the ropes hanging suspended under the roar of the chopper.

“Jonesy, no!” I yelled over the noise.

Of course Jonesy didn't listen.

Sophie was too stunned at first to believe that she was being carried like a sack of potatoes toward a government helicopter and began to fight in earnest, bucking and thumping her fists on Gun-Holder's back.

Jonesy was fast, overtaking Gun-Holder, who was weighed down with a body to carry, both of them reaching the ropes at exactly the same moment.

Jonesy leaped forward, grabbing onto Sophie's wrists, both outstretched, just as Gun-holder grabbed a rope.

Power surged in a blooming arc around us, all of us ducking, the feeling of it unfamiliar but vital. Pulsing once like a great light, searing and painful, then that big spider in the sky stopped making noise, dropping toward us in a black rush of crashing branches and trees.

Jonesy jerked Sophie off of Gun-holder who was scrambling for safety. The blades of the chopper cut great swaths in the sky, slowing down but coming closer. I ran with Jade and Tiff back to where Bry and John were.

Jonesy dragged Sophie to safety just as a chopper blade embedded itself in the ground, a guillotine meant for harm, two feet behind Jonesy, spearing a tombstone, which disintegrated on contact, shards of marble flying through the night like tiny missiles of destruction, the ground shaking with the force of impact.

I didn't look behind me but took great leaps between tombstones until I reached Bry and John. Turning, I saw Parker and the other two government men on the ground. I took stock of the group: Bry and John on the ground, Jade and Tiff with me, a grubby and tired Jonesy with Sophie and my human-looking zombie.

He looked down at me, completely unconcerned with the mayhem of the moment. It was all about the directive. That was a relief, some things never changed, I took a shaky breath.

In the distance the other group of zombies stood there, torn between masters, Parker staring back at me. “We're not done here, Caleb Hart.”

“Yeah we are!” I shouted back.

“Tiff,” I said.

She looked at me.

“Let's put him back before Parker gets his crap together,” I said.

We all looked at my zombie, who stood unblinking, staring at me.

Unnerving.

“Rest,” I said, unfurling that power again, just a stab of it directed at the zombie, Tiff's hand convulsing on mine.

He lingered, staring, and for one awful moment I thought maybe I'd used it up in all the chaos. But then he turned, running gracefully on fully formed legs. His clothes re-knitted to perfection, the stolen energy from another human being powering his effort. The grave opened like a crater to receive, swallowing him whole, the ground closing over him like a giant mouth.

“Let's go,” I said quietly.

Parker watched us. The zombies around him stood like a small forest of corpse-trees, unmoving. He could lay them to rest. Besides, he said we were part owner.

Let him figure it out.

The government men laid at Parker's feet, the one I hadn't used up, hand rummaging around for that M-16 he dropped.

Time to get going.

Bry struggled to sit up, looking worse for wear. “Tell me to stay behind next time,” he said, out of the fattest lip I'd ever seen.

Tiff said, “Let's go, right now!”

We hightailed it outta there, the graveyard and its inhabitants at our back.

CHAPTER 32

Our bikes stood at attention, hidden in the bushes at the beginning of a little used dirt road, which led to the main paved road. Instead of a clean escape a cop car stood parked, lights out, idling softly.

Jonesy swore with real feeling.

A dome light appeared inside the car as the cop got out, swinging it shut behind him, he turned his face and I recognized Garcia.

“Great, we're screwed. He's in it with them,” Bry said, his voice thick with injury.

Jade seemed to sway next to me and I held her against my body. What else could go wrong?

He had the gun, the badge, and crooked friends.

John said, “I don't want to be his bitch either.”

It was bad when John was swearing. “We're not going to be any kind of slaves for anybody,” I said, stepping forward.

Garcia surprised us all, running forward. “You guys hurt?” he asked, all-concern.

We said nothing.

He sighed. “Listen, I don't have a lot of time here, they're calling in reinforcements as we speak. I have to get you kids out of here and somewhere safe.”

“Wait a sec, we thought you were with them,” Jonesy said, jerking his head in the direction we came.

“The Graysheets? Hell no, I'm deep undercover but won't be if we don't get your butts out of here.”

“We can take him, form a rebellion if he gets outta line,” Tiff said.

Everyone rolled their eyes at that, even me.

“Okay,” I said, what choice did we have? But I didn't have to like it.

“What about our bikes?” John asked.

“Leave them,” Garcia said. “We'll get them later, or somebody will, it sure won't be me,” he said, looking around.

We piled into the cop car, all the girls stacked on top of us and Onyx, who had been oddly silent jumped in last, riding shotgun next to Garcia.

Garcia got in and put the squad car in drive, looking down at Onyx, who wagged his tail.

Garcia just shook his head at the dog and got rolling, the gravel crunching under the wheels of his cruiser.

We left the graveyard, surrendering our anonymity forever.

****

“So what's going on?” I asked

Garcia stared ahead at the road for a minute, I thought I'd have to repeat the question.

“Where to begin?” he said almost to himself.

Our group, with the Weller kids bashed up again, sat waiting to hear why he had the good fortune to be cop-on-the-spot. Even Onyx was looking at Garcia.

“Let's get where we're going, then we can talk.”

“No, I don't want to go to someplace you want, I have a place, we have a place that we know is safe.”

“Not the hideaway, Caleb. Maybe he can't be trusted,” John said.

“Yeah, the hideaway, John. You think we can't take care of things if they get exciting?” I asked him, turning around in the seat where John was squished by Sophie, a sliver of his face showing behind her.

I turned to face Garcia, who did a quick check of my expression. “We have a place you can take us where we feel safe.”

“I'll have to pulse Bobbi,” he said.

“Gale?” My face was one Fat Dirty Look.

“Yes, Officer Gale,” he said, noting my expression. “I guess I deserve that.”

“No offense, but adults aren't really on our trust list right now,” John said.

“Fair enough,” Garcia responded.

I gave Garcia directions and he used his car-pulse to let Gale know where we would be.

She met us there in her civilian car, looking very weird in her regular clothes. I thought it was a little like meeting your teacher in the grocery store; they actually ate food?

We piled out of the car, stiff from being crammed together. I did a secret scan of Jade, making sure she looked okay. The cemetery had been a true threat. A threat to our freedom and in the end, a threat to our lives.

Garcia and Gale seemed amused by our breaking and entering of the old dump station. I thought for sure they'd be mad, but Garcia thought it was a clever contingency plan.

“You kids were thinking ahead after all,” he said, looking around him at the inside of our hideaway.

“This is totally not safe,” Bobbi Gale said, staring at all the smashed metal pieces from various cars making an uneven metal ceiling above our heads.

John replied, “It's been this way for ten years.”

“It'll be okay,” Jonesy agreed, his idea of true peril on a different level than the rest of us.

It was cramped with all the bodies in there but we pulled up milk crates and other things we collected for “chairs,” and sat down.

John lit the propane lamp. A total throw-back but it worked.

“Where did you guys find this old thing?” Garcia flicked the lamp.

“My mom's old camping gear,” Jonesy said.

“Better not use it for long in this enclosed space,” Gale said. “It can get pretty toxic.”

“We know,” John said. “We'll have to eventually replace it with LED when we get the big bucks.”

“Try pulsing your parents again guys, maybe the pulses will work here,” Garcia said.

“No...we know they don't work in here,” I swung my pulse around, “too much metal or something.”

We went outside to pulse our parents (and aunt), letting them know we were hanging at the ice cream shop. I felt bad about the deception.

After settling back into the cavern-of-cars I told the story from the beginning,

Jonesy filled in the gaps, “... and then the helicopter just stopped working and crashed,” he said. “And Soph and I almost got chopped!” Jonesy finished, doing a judo-chop to his hand, the smacking sound echoing in the space.

The cops were thoughtful. “That doesn’t ring true to me,” Gale said, looking at Garcia. “The Graysheets take all that time to acquire Caleb and blow it with a state of the art helicopter dying?” She shook her head, disbelieving.

“Tell us again exactly what you did, Jonesy,” Garcia said.

Jonesy repeated what he had done, grabbing Sophie, then the chopper stopping.

“And our pulses didn't work either,” John said.

“My car died about the time I heard the crash,” Garcia added. “In fact, it began working about the time I saw you kids.”

“It was idling when we saw you,” Sophie said.

Garcia nodded. “Yeah, just at that moment I finally got it started. I was getting worried about how we'd get out of there.” He and Gale looked at each other.

Something occurred to me. “John, you must have been holding back huge.”

“Oh yeah, it was all I could do when Parker started his bullshit,” John said.

“He turned out to be a monkey's ass,” Jonesy said.

The cops laughed. “You guys sure have a way with colorful wording,” Gale said.

“Yeah, Parker is a disappointment,” Garcia agreed.

“Ya think?” Jonesy said, disgusted.

Gale changed the subject, “I have a first aid kit to take care of you two,” she said, looking over at Tiff and Bry, holding up a small box with a red and white cross emblazoned on the front.

“I'll live,” Bry said, his face telling a different tale.

“Come on Bry,” Tiff said. “The parents aren't gonna buy us continuing to get beat up.”

Sighing, Bry went over to where Gale was, heaving himself down on a crate.

“I got in a couple of good ones,” Bry said.

“He was an adult, a bad one. You're lucky he didn't clean your clock,” Garcia said.

All of us looked at him. “Sorry: a thorough job of beating the snot out of someone,” he clarified.

“Eloquent, Raul,” Gale laughed.

“So now what? It's obvious they want me. They put spy crap in my house so they know I can raise zombies, that I'm a full-on five-point,” I said.

“I think what really needs to be addressed, Caleb, is what you did out there to the government guy,” Gale said, dabbing antiseptic at the corner of Bry's eye. “That's not part of any five-point I've heard of,” she said trailing off, gazing at me around Bry, everyone's eyes on me.

Gale got back to working on Bry's face, talking as she patched him up, “The scientists have theorized about that possibility, but they've never had any proof.”

“You mean Caleb suckin' the life out of bad-ass, then juicing his zombie up?” Jonesy asked.

Garcia chuckled. “Yes, I think that's what Officer Gale was getting at.”

“That will make you even more of a threat,” she said.

“Does that mean you're a six-point?” Jade asked, through the veil of her hair.

She was cuddled up next to me, more on my crate than hers. I leaned closer, then put that hair that hid her eyes behind her ear, running a finger down the outside edge of her lobe. She rewarded me with a tiny shiver.

“Doubt it. I can't be a 'first' anything,” I said with certainty.

“I'm AFTD, Caleb, and I know there is not one documented case of Life-Transference,” Gale said. “Not one.”

“Did that guy die?” Sophie asked.

“I don't know, but he deserved it,” Jonesy said.

The cops were silent.

“Yeah he did. He had a gun pointed at sis,” Bry said.

Bry looked at me. “Thanks for taking care of her, Caleb,” he said.

“It almost wasn't enough,” I said, feeling guilty.

Bry stood up and came over and clapped me on the shoulder. “But it was.”

Garcia interrupted with, “I guess your best protection is your father, Caleb.”

“Why?” I asked.

“His fame,” he continued, “his son disappearing would be an inexplicable problem.”

“Didn't seem to give them pause tonight,” John said.

“Our source tells us they want to do experimentation, that they're not ready to take you forever,” Garcia said.

Disquiet fell over the group.

“Comforting,” Jade said.

“Those dicks don't get to have Caleb,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah, what he said,” Bry agreed.

Of course I agreed.

“How did Parker go from being like Caleb to working with them?” Sophie asked.

“We don't know what's happened this last ten years to form him.”

“... shape him,” Gale finished, nodding to Garcia.

“What was his family life like?” I asked

“It was bad. Sort of the opposite of yours. There was no one to advocate for Jeffrey Parker,” Gale said.

“So, he's a tragic figure, now?” Sophie asked, arms crossed over her chest. “I don't know if I buy that. Doesn't he have a responsibility to choose the right thing now?

“Who knows? Maybe they brainwashed him,” Jonesy said.

“It doesn't matter. Caleb's AFTD, so is Tiff; he was going to hurt his own kind. He's shit, I don't care what way you color it, he's made his choice.” Bry fumed.

We looked at each other over the hissing light of the lantern.

Finally, Garcia said, “We need to get these guys at their own game.”

Gale nodded in agreement.

“You called them 'Graysheets,' what does that mean?” I asked.

“We don't actually know their real name, it's just a nickname Officer Gale and I gave them,” Garcia said.

“What does it mean, though?” Jade asked, leaning in against me.

“It means that they don't understand black and white, right and wrong.”

“Gray,” John said.

“Right,” Garcia pointed at John.

“Sheets?” Tiff asked.

“I got it!” Jonesy said. “They cover things up!” he air-pumped his fist with enthusiasm, breaking off to yawn.

“Don't tell me you're tired?” Bry asked.

“Nope. Just needed some O2 baby,” Jonesy said.

I looked at my watch, which hadn't been affected by the whole electrical fall-out at the graveyard, couldn't see. I moved toward the lantern, sticking my wrist under the light, a fine fissure layered the crystal like ice. Damn, my watch got nailed in the fight. I couldn't really see the time.

“Ah-man, that sucks donkey dicks,” Jonesy said.

I laughed, couldn't help it, John leaned in. “Maybe a jeweler could fix it?”

“Right, like anyone even has these anymore.”

Everyone gathered around, Garcia, the tallest of us said, “My dad had one of those! Is it a winder?”

“It was,” I said.

Garcia picked up my wrist, moving it beside his ear. “It's ticking, buddy.”

“It is!?”

“Yes,” he smiled.

Gale said, “I think I've patched up these guys as good as they're going to get.”

We gave a critical stare at Bry. Tiff wasn't so bad, she could explain that away.

“You look like a pile of gnomes jumped you...” Jonesy said.

“... on your face,” John finished.

“Gnomes are creepers,” Tiff said.

I looked at her in surprise. She, the Unflappable Tiff, was scared of gnomes.

“Scared?” Jonesy said.

“No!”

“They make good prizes on Call of Duty,” Bry said.

Sophie and Jade rolled their eyes. I guess they weren’t big into pulse games.

“Let's get you guys home,” Garcia said.

“What's the plan?” I asked.

“You're going to speak with your dad,” Garcia responded.

“He's going to be righteously pissed,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah. He'll be mad because I was screwing around in cemeteries,” I said, dreading the whole thing.

“You're AFTD, that's like telling you not to swim if you had gills,” Gale said.

“You're not the kid of a 'famous scientist',” I said with airquotes.

“Are you complaining? Seriously, I thought your dad is cool?” Sophie asked.

“He is,” I sighed. “I just haven't been what my parents expected, I think.”

“But you're hell on zombies!” Jonesy said. Yeah, that was my value, raising zombies.

Garcia slung an arm around my shoulders, “You've got a smart dad...”

… your clever father... Parker's words whispered through my mind...

I came back to what Garcia was saying, “... he'll think of a way to keep you safe.”

Gale added, “A talent of your magnitude could help many people, Caleb.”

I looked at her, letting my face ask the question.

Jade said, “AFTDs have pretty good success finding murder victims and stuff.”

“What stuff?” Jonesy asked.

Gale answered, “Traumatic death.”

“Can Caleb just, automatically find victims? He's got an unheard of six-point ability...” John said.

“We recruit people that test as sensitive to traumatic death,” Gale said.

“I read in some AFTD blog that you can be a one-point and sense traumatic-death,” Tiff said.

“Can you?” I asked her.

“I can sense the dead,” her voice said, duh.

“All AFTDs can, the difference, is some are sensitive to the cause of death, not just its plane of existence,” Gale said.

“Useful to cops, bad for crime,” John pointed out.

“I bet violent crime is down,” Bry said.

“We're seeing progress. As you know, AFTD is a rare ability, not all have the traumatic death aspect.” Garcia shrugged, them are the breaks.

Gale looked at her pulse. “Almost one, let's go.”

“Right,” Garcia said.

We moved through the newly expanded tunnel, exiting through the freezer, breathing in the cool night air with a sky filled with stars tossed like diamonds on black velvet, nestled in the cloth of their sanctuary.

“I am glad to be alive,” Jade said, her fierce eyes the color of the ocean at night.

I looked down at her. “I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

She smiled. “I know. It was scary and we survived it.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sophie said.

As we moved up to the parked cars, Gale said, “I'll take the girls home.” A sense of dread spread through my gut. I didn't want Jade out of my sight. I wanted to see her safely inside her house with my own eyes.

I tried for casual. “I told her aunt I'd walk her home.”

Jade gave me a sharp look, what?

“Take Tiff and Bry home,” I suggested.

“... and me and the Jonester live by each other,” John added.

Nice move John.

“Okay,” Gale said slowly, knowing something was up but not able to put her finger on it, the logic of my suggestions clear. “Weller kids, Jonesy, John... follow me,”

That left me, Jade and Sophie with Garcia.

Jonesy turned around and waved to Sophie. “See ya, Soph!”

She waved back, looking pleased that Jonesy had singled her out. Jonesy had the hots for Sophie. Onyx ran over to the cruiser, hopping in the front seat (traitor).

We got in the back, Jade and I touching hip to toe when I leaned forward, as far as the plexiglass would allow, and asked, “What about McGraw?”

Garcia was silent for a heartbeat, and I thought, can't take back the pause, pal.

“He's on the take.”

“Corrupt?”

“Yes, he's the Graysheets eyes and ears, Caleb.”

I leaned back again against Jade, thinking about being a partner with someone I couldn't trust at my back.

“What about the other officer? Wade, I think,” Jade asked.

“Chuck's a good man.”

That's a relief, three good cops anyway.

The night slid past, Sophie and Onyx's profiles in the front seat, Garcia's cruiser moving through Jade's neighborhood like a silent trespasser. As Brett's house came into view, the yard still littered with the gopher mounds, a look passed between Jade and I, remembering.

Garcia broke the silence, “If I work with McGraw I have a chance to eventually expose these hypocrites.”

“What are they?” Jade asked.

“People bent on exploitation for warfare, controlling crime for gain. Instead of using these paranormals' gifts for the betterment of humankind, they're scheming up ways to control. It's always about control, about power.”

We parked in front of Jade's place; Garcia kept the car idling. “I'll stay here with the dog,” he winked.

Not half-bad for an adult.

The tall fence blocked our view of the façade of Jade's house, except for a portion of the porch and roof. We got out of Garcia's car, opening the gate, which I left ajar. We walked to the front porch, our hands entwined, the porch light casting a soft pool of pale color on the steps.

I grasped Jade's other hand and turned her to me pulling her close until she touched my body in a tight embrace, our bodies married together. Pressing my mouth on her lips, softly at first, my hands slid out of hers, moving to the small of her back. She wrapped hers around me. My free hand working up into the nape of her neck, the silky hair winding around my fingers as my mouth moved on hers.

The door wrenched open and Aunt Andrea stood there, anger making the planes of her face a brutal thing. As Jade and I jumped apart, her face flushed with high color, rosy under the glow of the light.

“Where the hell have you been?” Andrea said, anger twisting her words into a snarl.

Jade looked shocked and confused. “Ah... I pulsed you...”

“I wasn't going to get into it on pulse, but this boy,” she jabbed a finger in my direction, “is bringing you home too late. It's one-twenty in the morning and you're fourteen years old!” she huffed.

What-the-hell? Where did all this venom come from? I unconsciously pulled Jade a little closer to me, her back against my chest.

A bulky figure moved up behind Andrea... Jade's dad.

Oh shit.

A look of terror came over Andrea's face. That was it, the drunk dad had made an appearance, and she was covering.

Jade's dad said in a low voice, “Get your ass in this house right now. You and me, we got some talkin' to do.”

If he'd been shouting it would have been less threatening. But that soft voice promised bad-stuff-was-gonna-happen.

“Is there a problem here?” Garcia said, strolling up, Sophie peeking around from behind him, eyes like saucers in a pale face. Bet she knew old daddy dearest.

His hand hovered above the baton he wore on his utility belt, a whisper away from use. Jade's dad shoved Andrea aside, slamming her into the doorjamb.

“Jade!”she shouted in warning, clinging to the wood.

I heard the baton escape its sheath with a high whistle, at the same time that I threw myself backward, with Jade attached to my front. My arm was hooked around her waist, her dad's dinner plate sized hand, brushing the zipper of her hoodie as we flew, my body slamming into the grass behind us.

Every bit of air left my lungs in a whoosh, as I watched Jade's dad get past Garcia to come after us.

Slippery ass-monkey.

Garcia let him move past and landed a deliberate blow to the back of his knee. With a grunt, Jade's dad toppled like the tree he was, momentarily stunned.

He pushed him down to the ground, a knee planted in LeClerc's spine, the baton's tip piercing the tender flesh at the base of his skull.

Leaning down, Garcia said with soft menace, “We're taking a little ride, LeClerc. We're going to come to an understanding, you and I.”

“No we're not, Pig!” he said, his words muffled by the press of the baton forcing his face into the ground. “She's my girl! She's gonna stop being with that boy! He's evil! A dead-lover! Satan worshiper!”

Right, that was me, a star in the basement.

“He's AFTD, in case you're too slow to understand,” Garcia said, losing patience.

He got out his cuffs, slapping one side on a thick wrist. He was getting ready to secure the other when Jade's dad gave a last, great buck with his body, throwing off Garcia, launching himself at Jade.

I saw moonlight slide off the loose cuff as it dangled from his wrist swinging it down toward Jade. As I rolled her away from that descending hand with my body, his fist connected with her side and she screamed. I let her go, she lay flat on the grass, putting her hands above her face in a defensive position that broke something inside me to see.

Garcia wasn't going to get to us in time.

I rose up on all fours with him looming over us both. as he brought both fists up to mangle my face, I rolled back, placing my hands behind me and my feet wide, using one foot for balance, I slammed the other out just on his downward arc, barely missing the hands, hitting that defiant face square, his nose exploding with a satisfying crunch.

He staggered back. “My nose, he broke my fuckin' nose!” he spluttered, blood spraying out from behind his hands. If looks could kill I'd be dust.

Garcia jerked his hands behind his back, locking the cuffs, tightening them until LeClerc cried out, “Ow, that hurts!”

“Suck it up,” Garcia said.

Without his hands covering the nose, it leaked. His frantic breathing caused a big bubble of snot to grow, pulsing with each breath.

Jade moaned, her hair fanning out behind her, grass stains on her pink hoodie. My eyes burned with the need to cry. But I was the guy here and my Jade was hurt.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked, gently exploring her side, she made a pain sound when I got to her lower ribs on the right side.

I asked with my face if I could look and she nodded.

I pulled up the lightweight shirt and saw a terrible welt, bright red, in the shape of the cuff, with a grape-colored bruise, blooming at the edges of the mark like an obscene flower.

Looking at her dad I said the first thing that entered my head, “You touch her again and I'll kill you.”

He looked back at me for the space of seconds. “You'll try.” and smiled with that nasty grin of his, the blood slowing to a trickle his swollen nose like a clown's.

It wasn't enough damage to satisfy me.

“Caleb,” Garcia started, “... what did you say?”

Andrea and Sophie had their arms twined around each other as my eyes met Garcia's.

“He said he'd kill me, you dumb-ass! He's the one you should be arresting, the zombie-lover!” LeClerc shouted.

“I didn't hear that,” Garcia said, trying for neutral and missing by a mile.

Garcia smiled and started hauling Jade's dad away, who shouted over his shoulder at Jade, “Keep your head down, girlie, get away from that loser.”

“Look who's talking,” Garcia said.

“Can I help you get up?” I asked.

She nodded and I braced my arm behind her back, lifting and holding at the same time. It wasn't an effort, she was so light.

Just then, Brett jogged up “What happened to Jade?”

I couldn't believe this night. There must have been a trouble-find-me-beacon flashing or something.

I opened my mouth to tell him to get screwed when Sophie smoothly interjected, “It's her dad, Brett.”

“Yeah, I saw him in the cop car,” a range of emotion swam across Brett's features. “What did he do to her?”

I didn't think he deserved an answer but he wasn't being an total dick. “He was pissed because she was with me.”

“Yeah, he wants her with someone normal.”

“Like you,” I scoffed.

“Maybe,” he admitted, giving me a look.

“Stop, both of you,” Jade said, her face pinched.

“Sorry, Jade,” Brett said.

“It's okay, don't start things with Caleb, please.”

Brett and I stared at each other. I could taste that we were gonna have trouble in the future; like smelling rain right before it started to pour.

I made myself turn away from him to take Jade inside and saw Sophie out of my peripheral vision, walking over to Brett as they spoke softly.

Andrea led us into the family room, Jade walking stiffly over to the couch. Pivoting, we lowered her together as Andrea propped pillows behind her. I looked around briefly, seeing a smiling Jade in every corner, photos framing her childhood.

“Don't look at those, they're dumb,” she said.

“Nah... you look cute,” I said.

She gave me a dopey smile.

Garcia poked his head through the door. “I hate to do this to you...”

“It's okay,” I interrupted. “I can walk home.”

“I just can't have you in the car, as it is, he's fighting it.”

I could hear Jade's dad, hammering his feet against the inside of the car door.

A prince of a guy.

I bent over Jade, giving her a kiss on her forehead. She grabbed a fistful of my shirt, jerking my mouth down on hers, kissing it softly. “There,” she said. “Now you can go.” She smiled through a wash of tears.

Garcia and I left Jade's house, walking back down the path that led to the front gate. He paused just inside the gate. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

I could have pretended I didn't understand what he meant, a purposeful misunderstanding... but I didn't.

The silence rolled out, and he let it. “Yeah,” I said finally.

Jade's dad was still slamming his feet against the inside of the car. “That gonna hold?” I asked.

“Yes,” Garcia looked at me, taking my measure.

He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “You're a good kid, Caleb. Don't worry so much about what you'll be, just keep doing the right thing, and you'll get where you're meant to go.” With that, he turned, walking over to his cruiser, opening the front passenger side door.

Onyx flew out, bounding over to me, more than a little excited to be out of there. Stroking his head, I couldn't say I blamed him.

CHAPTER 33

I walked through my front door, Onyx at my heels, knowing he didn't need to go out and do his business. He'd peed on everything vertical the entire way home.

Mom spied me from her perch at the kitchen table and rushed over and gave me a bone-crushing hug. I stood there, finally giving her an awkward pat.

I saw Dad watching us, an expression I couldn't read.

“Garcia phoned,” he told me. People didn't phone anymore but my parents still used the expression. “And I think it's time you came clean with us, son. He let us in on a plethora of disturbing occurrences.”

Mom finally released me and we walked over to the couch, Onyx jumping up ahead of me. “Noooo... down, Onyx,” Mom said.

Onyx jumped down on the floor, giving mom the big-eye.

I sat down, my eyes burning with tiredness, grainy and itchy feeling. The pulse-clock read two-ten.

My parents looked tired too. “I know it's late and it goes without saying that you won't be having quite as much 'leash' from your mom and I in the future.”

Duh.

“We know there were extenuating circumstances...Garcia said something about Graysheets?” Mom asked.

I went through the whole story, starting with what was supposed to be a simple exploration of a ghost rumor, through the Graysheets showing up with Parker at their side.

Dad stopped pacing and interrupted with, “They thought they'd take you? Last time I looked, we were still living in America!”

Mom gave him the shush noise so I could continue, which I did. I thought I was tired when I began, but I was so tired at the end of my story my bones ached. I'd never wanted to sleep so bad in my life.

Mom rubbed her eyes and stood, arching her back, small popping sounds filling the silence. “Ahhhh...” she said. “Much better. Well, we can't solve all of this right now, in the middle of the night.”

Dad had his eyes closed, chin resting in the fist of his hand which was balanced on a knee. “Dad?”

He opened his eyes, bloodshot lightning running through them. “Mom's right, but one thing that keeps nagging at me is this EMP phenomena, and...”

Mom and I both rolled our eyes. Unbelievable! I had nearly been kidnapped and Dad was dwelling on the electrical snafu.

Mom was struggling with her patience. “Okay, enlighten us, quickly...what is an EMP?”

“Electromagnetic Pulse,” Dad said.

“Like pulse, pulse?” I asked, a spurt of energy chasing away cobwebs like a sudden breeze.

“No. Not like our pulse technology, but related. Have you asked yourself this, Caleb: what caused everything to stall? The helicopter, everyone's pulses, Garcia's police car? The Graysheets, or whoever they really are, they wouldn't have caused it. It stands to reason that they were well-thought out, planning this since when?”

Turning to Mom he asked, “How long has it been since our house was compromised?”

Mom thought about it. “A month at least.”

“See!” Dad exclaimed, resuming his pacing. “That's what you need to think about, it's the one puzzle piece that doesn't fit. And with that, I am saying goodnight.”

“Are we safe?” Mom asked, a frown on her face.

“For now. I think they'd be fools to attempt to reacquire him.”

Technically it was morning.

“Or maybe they think, we'll think that and then try to take him,” Mom said, worried.

“Don't be anxious,” he said to Mom, then turned to me. “Didn't Officer Gale say that her partner would be outside the house tonight?”

I nodded. “Wade.”

“A reprieve for now; off to bed, that's an order.”

My parents went into their bedroom, softly closing the door. Onyx and I climbed the steps to my room and as I opened the door Onyx nudged it aside and jumped up on top of my bed, circling to find the perfect dog-spot. He finally settled at the foot, giving me just enough room to sink underneath the covers, which I did as I kicked off my clothes.

I was so tired that I was wide awake. It made no sense but that's the way it was; I'd tried to stay awake so long I had gone over the line. I pulled out my pulse and sent a message to Jade, my thumb swiping the pad:

Activated: Just so you know, I love you...CH

I powered it down, putting it on my windowsill, knowing that she was long asleep, that she would wake up to my words glowing on her pulse.

It'd be the first thing she saw.

I started to drift off just as Mom came into my room pulling up the covers until they were just under my chin. She hadn't tucked me in for years. I would have responded but was in that twilight of sleep, just as you're sinking under into unconsciousness but awake enough to be aware.

Her breath was warm on my face as she kissed my forehead, my thoughts ending as sleep pulled me under into dreamless oblivion.

CHAPTER 34

I woke up, feeling like I'd been in our washing machine on spin cycle... for a couple of hours. I opened one eye, trying to chase the blurry sleep out of it with a thorough rub. Ah! Seeing better, I squinted my eyes at the glowing numbers on my computer's monitor.

I leaned forward, one o'clock! I had a moment when I couldn't remember what day it was. Oh yeah, Saturday. I sat there for a second and then the whole night came rushing back in living color: the ghosts, Graysheets, Parker, escaping, Jade's dad and the cherry on top of the miserable cake, Brett.

I flung myself back down again, Onyx crawled up and gave my face a disgusting dog-lick. I absently petted his head, thinking.

I heard Mom downstairs in the kitchen and figured... pancakes.

Surprisingly, I wasn't that hungry. I powered up my pulse and messages came in:

Pulse-me, zombie-master.-MJ

We need a plan... like yesterday- John Terran.

Then, the message that was really cool:

I love you too... JLeC

I did the easy pulses first.

Jonesy, you moron, stop talking about stuff on the pulse! Let's get together at the hideaway at like three, we can talk there.-CH

Okay, don't get your shorts in a twist! I'll meet ya Have you talked to our-boy,Terran? MJ

No... wait-CH

Hey.-John Terran

Would you fix your Profanity-block! name initials!-MJ

Yeah, it royally gets on my nerves.-CH

Whatever irritates you guys, I'm all for that.-John Terran
sighs K, listen...CH

Listen? John Terran

You know what I mean, John! CH

Yeah... I do laughs-John Terran

Kind of a terrorist this mornin', huh? MJ

He got more sleep than me, that's for sure.-CH

Ewww...someone's grouchy, you get fed yet? MJ

No.-CH

K, what's the plan? John Terran

I told Jonesy we should meet at the hideaway at three.-CH

K-John Terran

Let's do it-MJ

See ya-CH

I pulsed Jade next as a huge rumble rolled through my stomach. Ouch, better make it fast, needed to fuel-up.

Hey- CH

Hi.-JLeC

How's your side? CH

It's okay, sore.-JLeC

My hate for Jade's dad bloomed anew.

So... is your aunt pissed at me or can we get together today with the Js? CH

No, it was an act. My dumb dad showed up and started hassling her about where I was now he's in jail... for now- JLeC

I wondered what they decided to get him for and asked her.

A lot. I overheard my aunt talking to Garcia on the phone today and he resisted arrest.-JLeC

Yeah he did laughs-CH

I gtg and eat something sighs.-JLeC

Me too... let's meet at the hideaway about three, K? CH

I'll be there... I can't wait to see you smiles.-JLeC

Same here grins-CH

I was still trying to play it a little cool with Jade, but it was getting harder by the week. More and more she was the center of my world, I orbited her.

****

I dismounted as my bike was slowing coming to a jog beside it, the Js already in view by the dump's gate.

They had their bikes too.

“You guys got your bikes too?” I said.

“Yeah, Jonesy said his was at the front of his house,” John said.

“Maybe Wade,” I said.

“The other cop?” Jonesy asked.

“Yeah, Gale's partner,” John said.

“He watched our house last night,” I said.

Jonesy whistled. “You must rank pretty high.”

I shook my head. “Nah, you heard Garcia, he wants to bust the Graysheets bad. I think he's just being careful with me because they've targeted me. But we've got even more problems than the government psychos, listen.”

I told them what happened after I got to Jade's house.

John said it best, “What an ass-wipe.”

“He should be flogged,” Jonesy said.

I liked that too.

Just then, Jade rode up on her bike, coming to a stop, she hit the kickstand. “We've all got our bikes,” she said, looking around.

“Yeah, looks like a mystery cop got it handled.”

“Garcia?” she asked.

“I don't think he wanted to risk being seen,” I said.

John looked around. “Let's get these bikes hidden.”

Good thinking.

Inside the hideout, we sat on the crates. I had the strangest, I-was-just-here feeling... 'cuz I was.

“I can't believe your parents let you go, aren't they worried?” Jade asked.

“My dad has a plan to relieve some of the pressure and expose them. Also,” I shrugged, “I gave up the hideaway.”

Jonesy face-palmed. “No! You told adults about here?”

John glared at me.

“I know, I know, so not-cool, but, they're not trying to interfere but look at it from their point of view.”

The Js just looked at me, what point of view?

“I'm just gonna say it: adults don't think like us.” Jonesy said.

That was true, but I couldn't let my parents think I was going to dangle myself out there like kidnap bait.

“If it makes ya feel any better, I didn't tell them about it, only that it was somewhere in the dump.”

“It's kinda bad that the cops know about it too,” John said.

“And Brett and Carson,” Jade said.

“Yeah.... what-the-hell is with Brett?” Jonesy asked, crossing his arms. “He got a death-wish?”

Jade lowered her head. I put a hand under her chin. “This isn't your fault, you know.”

She nodded, a lone tear sliding down her face, holding her side she spoke so quietly the three of us leaned forward, “It would be easier on you guys if I wasn't a part of this.”

What?

John said, “Ah, Brett has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah!” Jonesy said. “He's a wet asshole without help from anyone.”

Jade laughed and the sadness passed.

Jonesy nodded, warming up. “And he can join the needs-to-be-flogged group.”

“Don't forget Carson,” John reminded.

“Yeah, he's first on the list,” Jonesy said.

Jade laughed again. “You guys!”

But we had made her happier, team players.

“Knock-knock!” A voice yelled from the freezer.

We jumped.

“What the hell...?” Jonesy said.

Jade put a hand on his dark forearm, her hand pale against it. “It's Tiff and Sophie.”

“Oh, Soph! Great!”

We all looked at each other.

“I mean...” Jonesy paused awkwardly, Jonesy was never awkward, “I'm glad they're all okay.”

Riiiiggghhht.

“Back here!” Jade said loudly.

Tiff and Sophie came first, with Bry bringing up the rear, ducking through that last spot.

Bry's face looked really bad.

Jonesy said, “Wow, those gnomes really tore you up!”

That made Bry smile. Tiff looked like she got scraped, but we knew the butt of a M-16 had done it, making the scrape harder to ignore.

“What about your parents?” John asked.

Tiff rolled her eyes. “They think he needs anger management help.”

Jonesy barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“No. Remember, it's Bry's job to get the shit kicked out of him every time we go to a cemetery.”

“Everyone has to do their part,” John said cryptically.

“Right,” I agreed.

Bry laughed. “You guys are okay.”

I filled Bry, Tiff and Sophie in on the fun at Jade's house last night.

“Sounds like that guy needs to be flogged,” Bry said.

Jonesy threw out his hands. “Great minds think alike.”

“What?” Bry asked.

“Jonesy already thought of that. With a few other key people on the list,” John said.

“I have a few more people,” Bry said.

“Some teachers?” Tiff said.

We thought about that.

“Kids first, then we start working through the adults,” I said.

“Nice, Hart,” Bry said.

I did a mock-bow, laughing.

We finished up our mutual admiration and trooped down the tunnel, stepping out of the freezer, closing it up for the next meeting.

Our good mood dissipated like a candle blowing out, smiles fading on our faces as if they'd never been.

Brett and Carson stood there staring at the group. How long they'd been there was anyone's guess.

Bry looked around. “What? Did someone die?”

“Nah... but we have history with these two,” Jonesy said in explanation.

“Okay, I'm feeling ya,” Bry said, giving the two a hard look.

Brett asked, “Who's he?”

“My brother,” Tiff said neutrally.

Carson and Brett gave Bry a good look, taking in his height and bulk.

“John?” I asked.

“I know,” John responded.

“He your 'pet Null' now, Hart?” Carson laughed keeping an eye on Bry.

“We can exchange insults, Carson,” John said. “But we're kinda busy so why don't you piss off instead?”

“That works,” Bry said.

“I like it,” Jonesy said.

Brett asked, “What happened to your face?”

“Who cares,” Carson said, giving Brett a look.

I was tired of these two. “What do you want?”

“I've decided to call a truce,” Carson said.

I couldn't have been more shocked if he pulled a pink elephant out of his ass. Who was he kidding?

The girls burst out laughing. It was that ridiculous sounding.

Carson glared at them and clenched his fists, Bry stepping forward.

Carson looked at him and licked his lips nervously.

Coward.

“Don't even think about it,” Bry said, the battering of his face making him look more threatening, not less.

Brett elbowed Carson, who glared back. “I was just sayin'...that most of us will be at KPH next year...”

I shrugged.

“... and, I thought... we could just, avoid each other.”

We were all silent at that. I couldn't believe that Carson would A) offer a solution, B) really not start shit.

It was Jonesy that was the voice for the group, “Let's just see how that works out, Hamilton.”

“Okay, I can do that,” I said slowly.

He looked out at the rest of the group, each one nodding.

Promising an uneasy truce would be hard with a proven enemy.

Brett looked relieved, Carson satisfied.

“See ya,” Carson said, walking off with Brett, who cast a glance back at Jade.

I didn't like that.

Jonesy said real low, so they couldn't hear, “We close that gate from now on, I don't like them lurking around.”

John laughed. “Lurking?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Tiff said, “I trust him about as far as I can throw him.”

“Me too,” Bry said.

“You don't even know them,” Jade said, puzzled.

“No, but I know guys like them.”

“Carson's a pyro.” Sophie said.

“Oh... great,” Bry said. “Wait, why didn't he light somebody up? Those types always have to show off.”

“I was tuned up,” John said.

Bry looked a question at John. “You're the Null? That's right!” he smacked his forehead, then winced. “Last night, you guys were testing that out...”

John nodded.

“That works pretty well,” Bry chuckled.

“We're all just pawns on his chessboard,” John said. “He's made a move, trying to take us off-guard, then he'll strike when we're not expecting it.”

“We'll have to be expecting it then,” I said, my arm around Jade, who gave me a little squeeze back. “Ouch!”

“What?” I looked at her, she put her hand to her side.

“Let me see.”

“We want to look,” Jonesy said. Wounds fascinated him.

Jade blushed with all the attention but lifted up her shirt a little.

Somehow, it looked markendly worse in broad daylight. The beginning of the bruise from last night extended even further, a rainbow now of various shades.

“Definite flogging,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah,” John and I both said at the same time.

A reckoning.

All of us looked at each other grim faced. Jade lowered her shirt.

“He's in jail right now, he can't make bail and Andrea won't do it. She won't pay, I know it.”

“That's the first piece of good news I've heard in the last 24 hours,” Bry said.

“Let's get out of here. I need to regroup with my parents,” I said.

Filling in everyone that arrived late, I mentioned my dad had a plan to take the heat off of me.

“That's good. I mean, they're just going to try for you again if there isn't anything done,” Bry said.

“He's right, Caleb,” Jade said.

Everyone nodded. “It's not just me,” I said, looking at them all in turn. “It's any of us, all of us...”

“If Kyle can help with an idea, we can maybe have normal lives,” John said, adding airquotes.

“Okay, pulse us,” Bry said, indicating he and Tiff. “I want to know what's happening. And for the record, I don't trust that weasel, Carson.”

“Don't,” I said.

Bry raised his eyebrows.

Oh. “Yeah, I'll let ya know.”

He nodded, the girls gave each other hugs, Jade getting handled more carefully.

“Hey Jade, maybe you should go to the doctor?” Sophie said.

“Can't. No health insurance.”

What? “You don't have the chip?”

“No. Those were being done on a day I missed school, around the time when my mom died,” she said softly.

Ouch. We let it drop but Jonesy said, “It's alright, if it's a busted rib, they can't do jack anyway.”

He meant well and Jade got that.

We got on our bikes, Jade balancing and wincing.

“How come you rode?” I asked, noticing it hurt.

“Faster,” she said, breathing through the pain. I balanced my right foot in the dirt, the bike seat riding right under my butt and put a hand on the back of Jade's head, showing her with my eyes I was sorry she was hurting.

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop him.”

“It could have been worse, you deflected it.”

“I guess,” I said. She was “managing” my feelings.

“Caleb?” John asked.

Balancing on my toes I turned to him. “Yeah.” My hand slid away from Jade.

“If Parker said your house was bugged and you guys talked about Garcia, don't the Graysheets know all now?” he asked.

I had a moment of panic so big that I couldn't breathe.

John and Jade saw my face. “It's okay, wouldn't something bad have happened by now if they knew?” Jade said.

My heart felt loaded up in my throat, stalled.

John shook my shoulder. “Hey, snap out of it.”

Jonesy said, “Let's just ride to your house and ask your dad, he'll know.”

I finally breathed out. Couldn't do anything about it right now. I needed to see if the Graysheets knew more, had nailed Garcia, what my dad's new scheme was.

I nodded.

“You okay now?” John asked.

Jonesy gave me a hard guy-clap on my back. “Caleb's okay, aren't ya?”

I looked at our group, the Js and Jade, yeah, I guess I was.

Whatever happened after I got home, I had them.

CHAPTER 35

I dumped my bike on the front lawn, glancing back at Jade once. She smiled and I rushed through the front door not bothering to close it.

The parents glanced up at me, startled. “What's the problem Caleb?” Dad asked, rising off the couch, looking behind me for possible pursuers.

Mom looked too, but it was only Jade and the Js coming through the front door. Mom gave me a puzzled look, with a dash of anxiety thrown in.

I put my index finger against my closed mouth, the universal sign for quiet.

Dad nodded and I pointed to the back deck. All of us moved out there.

“What's going on?”

“Remember I told you that the Graysheets bugged our house?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we talked about everything last night, Garcia, everything. Then this morning I told you where the hideout was,” I said in a rush.

“Oh. Okay, I'll explain. First, we can go back inside.”

I shook my head no.

“It's okay Caleb, when I spoke with Garcia, he phoned me from a secure pulse, gave me directions on how to neutralize the bugs, and I answered yes or no. There's no way the Graysheets could have heard. Unless they're telepathic and could understand more than a yes or a no.”

I let the breath I'd been holding out in a rush.

“How'd you deactivate the bugs?” John asked.

“Garcia figured it would be a pulse-based system interface. I used our security system, using the 'terminate all pulse sensors' feature.”

“Doesn't that flat-line everything in your house; pulse, lights, everything?” Jade asked, Mom was nodding.

“Yes, our system has an automatic reset, if all pulse is deactivated, it automatically resets all known devices.”

“Their stuff wasn't included in the start-up because...” I began.

“It didn't register,” Mom finished.

“Nice,” Jonesy said.

“Obvious, really,” John said.

“They'll know when they can't hear us anymore,” I said.

“It's temporary, putting the kibosh on their surveillance, which bring me to a new point,” Dad said.

Here we go.

“I think we should go to that journalist that worked on those articles that John brought for you to read.”

“Who?”

“Tim Anderson,” John said quickly.

“Yes, that's the man,” Dad said smiling at John.

“Why? What can he do for us?” I asked.

“He can make them hesitate,” Mom said.

“You mean from taking me again?”

“Taking anyone, Caleb. It's bigger than just you. Everyone that is a five-point should not have to live under the threat of loss-of-liberty. I'm sorry, I misspoke, in your case, a six-point. Your safety is paramount. If we visit Anderson, he exposes them. Keeping the Graysheets planning their next strategy rather than executing.”

“Let's lift their skirt and make them worry about their panties,” Jonesy said.

Mom and Jade looked at him.

“What? That's like a perfect....”

“... analogy,” John helped.

“Humph!” Mom commented.

Sometimes Jonesy really put his foot in it. Dad was making the I'm-not-going-to-smile face which gave his mouth a strange, crooked look.

“I've already contacted him and he'll meet with us at,” Dad looked at the pulse-clock, “six.”

I was starving. Even with Jade as a constant distraction, I needed to fill the hole. I looked at Mom.

“Those pancakes all gone?” she guessed.

“Mine are!” Jonesy said, sensing food was close.

“You didn't have pancakes,” I said, suspicious.

Jonesy discounted my comment with a wave of his hand. “Doesn't matter, I haven't eaten in hours,” he moaned dramatically, clutching his stomach.

Brother.

Mom grinned, she loved Jonesy's theatrics. “I have some leftover pizza?”

John asked, “Is there enough?”

“Always.”

As we engulfed the pizza, Jade watched in a sort of numb horror as Jonesy ate four slices in ten minutes; we discussed who would visit Anderson. We decided that all of us going would give more credit to the story.

“The point is,” Dad said, in between bites of cheesy pizza, “their presence may lend a degree of validity that would otherwise not be there. We'd go there and look like hysterical parents bent on some anti-government zealotry.”

“But you're not hysterical,” I said.

“I know that son, but Anderson doesn't,” Dad said.

“Yeah, Caleb,” Jonesy began, all his pizza crammed to one side of his mouth, hand on a glass filled with pop. “There's a ton of nut jobs out there, waiting to crack.”

“You're on it today, Jonesy,” John said.

“Every day, pal,” Jonesy said.

Jade rolled her eyes and we all laughed.

****

Kent Station was in the valley and that's where the Seattle Post-Intelligencer's satellite office was located. Dad drove up, easily finding a parking spot, completely unheard of in our city of two hundred thousand. We tumbled out, the Js and Jade hanging around on the sidewalk while Dad put his thumb on the pulse-meter.

The Js tried to sprint ahead to the door. “Hang on, kids,” Dad said, without looking up. Mom was still fumbling with her stuff, piling a hoodie, purse and her dedicated pulse-reader together.

“Mom, seriously? The DR?”

“It makes me frantic not having the option to read.”

Like she was going to read when we were about to rat on the big, bad super-secret government dudes. Right.

We walked toward the building, all height and glass. It looked like a giant, sea-green jewel, spearing the sky above us. The huge sign on top read: Seattle Post-Intelligencer, and was illuminated with glowing, electric-blue letters.

We walked through the door, getting in line for the pulse-body scan. Terrorist threats were such a damn drag. All points of entry: police, fire, media were all protected by Pulse-scan.

The lady with the Pulse-wand stood at the ready, her bored face primed to do the next wand pass. “Come forward please, arms up, turn-around.... next.”

I knew Jonesy was going to have trouble with the urge-to-laugh-at-inappropriate-times when he started to cover his mouth. This problem of his was terribly contagious. Thankfully, Jade and I were already through the line.

But John wasn't.

Out of the three of us, John being the most serious personality, had the worst trouble calming down once Jonesy began laughing.

John tried, he really did, but when Jonesy burst out laughing the instant the dour TSA worker said, “Next,” John doubled over and couldn't stand up again, he laughed so hard his head turned tomato-red.

The TSA gal made it worse by saying, “young man, young man...” she sputtered. “Stand up!”

To which Jonesy interjected, “Anal-probe! Right here!” pointing over the top of John's back. Which caused John to roar with laughter, falling down on his bony ass.

The TSA agent pursed her lips in a thin line.

Dad stepped in and said, “I'm quite sorry about their behavior, it's been a trying day, they're a bit... giddy.” He was trying to calm the storm.

The TSA gal looked down at John who was on the floor, tears streaming out of his eyes and made an exaggerated grunt, “Get off my floor, young man!”

Mom and Jade had mouths hanging agape, even my laid-back parents were somewhat embarrassed.

John got onto all fours and stood up, still making the funny mouth, trying not to burst out again, Mom was talking sternly to Jonesy, his back to us.

John finally stood up and said, “I'm really sorry about that, I don't know what my problem was.”

“Arms up,” humorless said. “Turn-around... next!” she nearly yelled.

John, suitably chagrined, walked over to our small group. Dad in the center of us said, “Come close fellas.”

We all leaned in, Dad spoke to our group but his eyes were all for Jonesy, “I better not have any more of this behavior. Jonesy: control your bullshit.”

Jonesy blanched, I don't think any of us had ever heard Dad swear. Truly, I hadn't thought he knew the words. A silence fell over our loose circle.

Dad straightened. “Come on, follow me.” He strode off, Jonesy and John followed with their tails between their legs.

****

Tim Anderson just flat-out didn't believe us.

Dad tried to reason with him, but Anderson interrupted with a, “Dazzle me guys. Can something die and you raise it?” he asked me, eyes boring into mine.

A what? Did he mean, murder someone to bring back, here? In the tower-o-glass? I looked at Jade and she just shook her head, she didn't know either.

“Listen, Dr. Hart... I know you're the principal scientist with regard to the genome map, terrific. But, you expect me to put my, excuse me ladies, nut-sack on the line for some wild stories about a six-point AFTD, running amok with his friends, and some shadowy government co-op dispatched to 'acquire' him.” He pointed at me, air-quoting, like it was alleged, not actual.

He was starting to piss me off.

Dad too, who began drumming his fingers on Anderson's desk.

“What do we gain from trumping up false stories?” Mom asked in a huff.

Good point.

“Who knows? I get whack-jobs all the time that come in here and spray their lies all over. I'm not inclined to believe things on hearsay. I'm a journalist guys.”

Dad slapped his hand on the desk, rattling the glass pen holder, Anderson's eyes widened but he didn't comment (not easily intimidated). “We are not crazy or making things up.”

Anderson leaned back in his chair.

“Jade, show Mr. Anderson what's going on.”

I looked at Dad, what was this about?

Jade stood and came over to Anderson, a predatory smile played on her face that I didn't know she had.

“Dad...” I didn't know where this was going.

“It's okay, Caleb.”

“What are you doing, girlie?” Anderson asked her.

Uh-oh, I knew her dad called her that.

Jade just smiled wider and touched his shoulder, he jumped like it'd hurt but I knew it hadn't.

“Seeing,” she answered.

Emotions flew across her face as we watched her start to know Anderson.

He didn't let it continue though, picking her hand off his shirt like lint. “That's enough of that,” he said, shaken.

“What's going on?” Dad asked.

“He wants an exclusive if he can have proof,” she said and he nodded. “Otherwise, it's just a wild goose chase.”

“Are you quoting him?” Mom asked.

“Yes... no. I mean, people think in images and I saw geese in his head and him chasing them...so, I know it was that,” Jade said.

“It's an old expression,” Anderson said quietly.

“He wants to go to the ghost cemetery,” Jade said.

He glared at her.

“Well, you didn't believe us,” I said.

“Let's do it. We go to the... honey, what's the name of that old place?”

“Kyle, I don't remember,” Mom said.

“Anyway, we go there and Caleb raises a zombie, you see some of the evidence, and then you write something. Seems clear-cut.”

“He will,” Jade said.

“Must be a nice skill, young lady,” Anderson said.

“It's Jade,” adding, “not 'girlie'.”

“Right. Okay... so, let's get going. The young la-Jade, has convinced me this may be authentic.”

CHAPTER 36

The cemetery was exactly as I remembered it except instead of being silvered by moonlight, it had a hazy white quality. The evening sun laying low in the sky, slanting through trees and open slashes where the forest surrounding it broke.

Tim Anderson strode forward, squashing the tall blades of grass as he went, moving between the tombstones toward the caretaker's cottage. He arrived at the front steps, turning around to face us.

“Where-oh-where is the stealth chopper? The gun casings? The knives? The remnants of battle?”

Definitely this guy missed his calling and should have been on stage, not writing for the biggest paper in the state.

We all started scouring the graveyard and apart from a few tromped down places of flat pasture between the graves, there wasn't a mark anywhere.

No way they could have cleaned this place.

Jonesy opened his mouth and Dad held up a finger in warning. I guess Dad was up to here with Jonesy. “What about the tombstone that got whacked by the chopper blade? What about the chopper blade embedding itself into the ground?”

Right! We sprinted to the spot where we thought the chopper had landed and disintegrated the grave marker.

We stood in a circle around where the marker should have been but there was nothing. Well, not true, there was a hole that was deep, maybe almost a foot, long and rectangular, where a marker had been.

“They took the whole damn thing!” Jonesy yelled.

Dad and Mom were too shocked to get mad at Jonesy for being him again.

Anderson bent down, letting his fingers trail over dirt that hadn't been exposed to the outside for one hundred years. “You might have something here.”

He walked the whole graveyard and every so often he would look at something closely until John yelled, “Look at this!”

We ran over there, the parents coming last.

A huge gouge had been punched into the dirt. On either side there was a a swathe, crescent moon shaped, like a smile, with the center being a deep well.

Without looking up I said, “Jonesy, get a stick.”

He came back with a long branch from an alder or something and I stuck it into the hole made by the helicopter blade. It went down until there was only six inches sticking out. Drawing it out, I put it beside my body.

Dad said, “Looks like about four feet.”

“Looking like you guys might have been telling the truth,” Anderson conceded.

*

Back at Anderson's office, where we passed through security unscathed by hysterics, we sat for a solid hour, telling our story. His voice-activated pulse-recorder loaded directly to his pulse-top.

On a couple of parts Anderson remarked or asked a question to clarify something. Finally, we were finished.

“Well, that's one helluva story there. A real humdinger.”

“I can understand you coming to me, or someone like me. I will do my best, tonight,” Anderson said.

“Tonight?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, my boss is going to be thrilled. But better than that, it offers a little protection for your kid there.” Anderson became thoughtful. “I'm not a real introspective guy, but I'd say you've been given something special,” he looked out at us all. “It's how you use it that will make the difference.”

Standing up, he stuck his hand out. “Sorry I was so tough on you in the beginning. It's been a pleasure. You've got a good kid here, Dr. Hart.”

“Kyle,” Dad corrected. “I know we do.” he smiled at me with what may have been pride.

“Those other two though...” he waggled his finger at the Js. “They may be trouble.” He laughed, taking the sting out of it.

CHAPTER 37

The article came out and sensationalized the paranormal community. People believe what they want to believe; there were sides. Some thought that it was a greatly exaggerated story about a bunch of teens that got together to be wild in cemeteries. Others thought that the government was putting its nose where it didn't belong, endangering this new generation of kids.

Still others thought that the drug cocktail that gave human beings a key to power came with a price. Having survived the last few months I'd have to agree.

Summer rolled out like a great sea of time before us: an awesome girlfriend, Onyx (teen's best friend), the Js, ready to try anything.

Life was good.

But in the quiet dark of my room, questions pressed at me before sleep took hold. Where was Parker? What had they been planning for me? What had caused the electrical problem that ultimately saved us from possible capture and certain pain? Were we finished? That little (loud) voice in my head didn't think so.

A few days later, Jonesy asked me if we could go rouse some zombies. I told him no. For now, I was zombied out.

But maybe sometime, that would change... sooner rather than later.

The End

Death Speaks

Book Two of the Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Death Speaks

Book Two of the Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Copyright © 2011 Tamara Rose Blodgett
http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

Edited by Stephanie T. Lott

For Danny:

“You're hired...”

Prologue

I'm Caleb Hart, still the son of the famous scientist who mapped the human genome back in 2010... but I'm down with that now.

In 2025 my paranormal ticket was punched and I began raising zombies... accidentally. After narrowly escaping the Graysheets, (a super-secret bunch of government creepers bent on making us robots for their Evil Plan). I managed to get a great girlfriend, Jade, all-that-is-girl, survive Brett and Carson's full attention, and was ready for freshmen year at Kent Paranormal High (KPH).

I have a cop that might be trustworthy named Garcia. He and his new partner, Bobbi Gale (she's got the undead vibe too), really want some help finding the person responsible for the deaths of all those kids we ran into as ghosts last year at the caretakers shack...

Journalist Tim Anderson wrote the cool article spotlighting the Graysheets so they'd get off my back. But some nights I lie awake, thinking about my counterpart, Jeffrey Parker, and what he spends his time doing for them.

Jade's dad was in prison for a month for resisting arrest and assaulting a minor. Too bad he can't be put away forever, cuz I know he'll pop out of his drunken toaster to make us miserable again.

My thoughts frequently stray to Clyde, my main corpse...he could be a really righteous commando for an undead team. You never know when you'll need one.

Onyx is a teen's best friend and (except for Jade) the best addition of last year.

I'm feeling a little stressed out about my freshman year in high school and how my Affinity for the Dead class will flesh out (hardy-har-har), but if I can survive last year, I can do anything.

But right now it's late summer and the school year threatens to descend and shatter the fun of it all. How will I get through one day in school without the Js as my tag team? It won't be the same without Jonesy, but it'll be great to have Brett going to derelict KM where his ass belongs. I guess I'll just have to wade through it all like everyone else, me and the gang... minus a J.

CHAPTER 1

“Go in, Caleb” Jonesy said, arms crossed across his chest, standing gooseflesh riding his forearms like chicken skin.

“I will. I'm working up to it.”

John Terran, Mark “Jonesy” Jones and I were all standing on the dock looking out over the murky waters of Lake Tapps. Mom had given us a ride out to Gramps' who had lived on the lake (since the dawn of time) in a small house with the biggest (illegal as hell) lawn in the entire universe. Jade and the girls were the smart ones, beach towels thrown beneath them, sunning themselves on the lawn.

Jade looked up, her eyes shadowed by her hand. “Go ahead Caleb, you've been diving in all summer. You can't let Jonesy be the only one.”

Easy for her to say. None of the girls wanted to be lakesicles.

Jonesy gave me his best Devious Look and smiled. John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, I knew that look, he meant business.

Jade had made her comment and flopped her head back down on the towel, looking every inch the hottie lounging in a patch of sun. Sophie and Tiff lay on either side of her. But my eyes were only for Jade. She wore a bikini that was about the size of the floss I hated using, in a mouthwatering tangerine that shimmered in the afternoon light. Sophie was wearing a turquoise suit that set off her dark skin and light sea-colored eyes while Tiff had exchanged her trademark hoodie for a bikini top and shorts. Huh.

Jonesy leaned in quietly, “The girls look really dry right now.”

“Alarmingly,” John concurred.

“That's what I was thinking,” I said.

Tiff must've known something was brewing because she had the eagle eye trained on the three of us and sat up, looking alert.

Too late. We sprinted for the girl posse and Tiff was up and off her towel taking off before Jade and Sophie had barely cleared the terry cloth.

I grabbed Jade as she was trying to take off from behind, wrapping my arms around her and pinning her to my chest as I lifted her bodily off the lawn. “Caleb!” she squealed, and I lurched down the long dock, with her flailing and squealing where I heaved her off the end into the lake. Jonesy followed, with a bellowing Sophie and then there was John. Where was John? I wondered as Jade bobbed to the surface, sputtering and fuming.

John was having a helluva time getting Tiff to cooperate. His lankiness and reach drawing her in and her shrieking at the top of her lungs, “Knock it off, Terran or I'll de-jewel you!” giving John pause, as he deftly avoided her fast feet.

Finally, when Tiff and John were battling it out, he swung her with the arm he had latched onto, and she started to sail off the end of the deck. John had a huge grin on his face until her free arm swung around, using the momentum he had started and she latched on to him and their combined weight took them both over the edge into the icy water.

Jonesy looked over the edge of the deck at an enraged Sophie and an irritated (and very wet) Jade. “Looks like Terran ended up going first after all.”

Right.

I turned around thinking I was going to have to suck it up and heave Jade out of the lake on the dock ladder when Gramps appeared out of nowhere. Cripes, he was kind of a ninja.

A long cigarette dangled out of his mouth, the ash about two inches long. Just as I thought it'd fall to the ground he flicked it, stuffing it back in his mouth, his eyes narrowing. “I thought Terran was the smart one?”

“Well...” how to defend this, “he, ah, fell in by accident.”

“Accidents will happen,” Gramps said, winking. He totally knew.

He turned around without saying a word and went back to using that dumb push-mower thing on his half-acre of illegal lawn.

Jonesy looked after Gramps. “He's kinda weird, Caleb.”

Gramps turned around, his eyes lasering Jonesy.

He jumped, saying quietly, “He couldn't have heard me.”

Gramps kept on walking, throwing over his shoulder, “Yes, I did!”

I laughed; Gramps had it goin' on for an old dude!

I raced over to the ladder to pull Jade up.

“No-oh, you get your butt in here Caleb Hart, I'm all used to it now!” She crossed her arms in front of her, feet moving to tread the water. Tiff sat glaring at John who looked like a drenched greyhound, mopish hair plastered over his head and bones sticking out everywhere like tent poles.

“I'm not asking anyone for help and you...!” Sophie glared at Jonesy. “Your ass is mine!” Sophie said, swimming over to the ladder and heaving herself up, while Jonesy touched a hand to his chest, who me?

“Come on Jade, I won't dump you in again, I promise.” I gave her my most sincere look.

She said, “Okay, but help me out.”

“Okay,” I said, walking over to the ladder, she obviously wasn't as mad as I thought she'd be. I leaned over the top of the two poles that began the rungs and extended my palm, which Jade grabbed then pulled with her body weight...

...and in I went.

The water slammed into my body like an icy slap, taking my breath away. I spun in the water, heading up toward the surface. I was gonna tickle Jade until she peed, that's what I was gonna do. Then the talking started. The fish...

Images flooded my head: their life in the murky wetness, a sharp hook in their mouth...no escape, no breath, the enveloping waters of their home gone, while a bright orb of heat lay upon their sleekness...drying their flesh as a shadow moved over their still form, a mouth gasping for breath... a sharp pain...and then, nothing...

I was floating when strong arms encircled my waist and I was towed to the surface where four faces peered down at me.

“What's going on, Caleb?” Jade asked, her face a pinched mask of worry.

Tiff looked steadily at me. “Did ya have an undead moment?”

I nodded.

“You can let me go now, I'm not gonna take long showers with ya or something.”

Jonesy pushed me away. “Yeah, well, the next time you look like you're drowning I'll sic our boy Terran on ya!”

“What was it?” Tiff asked.

“Fish.”

“Geez, I'm not sensing them...”

“I didn't either until Jade pulled me in.” I gave her a narrowed-eyed look. She wasn't sure how to respond to that because suddenly Gramps' face appeared in the sea of teens, his cigarette jammed precariously between his lips. “Taking a bath, Caleb?”

I blushed, feeling stupid. “No Gramps, Jade pulled me in...”

He turned that stern face to Jade, smoke escaping the sides of his mouth. “She did, did she? Well good for her!” he said, flicking the ash in the water where it floated away to pollute and contaminate. I could hear Mom's ranting all the way from Kent.

The Js widened their eyes at the flagrant environmental contamination but said nothing, knowing where that conversation would lead: exactly nowhere.

“It's time for you to get your dead ass out of there anyway and have some lunch.” Gramps straightened, not seeing his undead pun for a mile, lighting a new cigarette with the old one.

The girls watched him, fascinated. That an adult would disregard his health so much, unbelievable. But I was used to Gramps, he was just him and that was a good thing.

The Js perked up over the mention of a lunch. “What's for lunch, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Mac, John.”

“Yeah, okay, Mac.”

“Same thing as I always fix you guys: hotdogs, and bags of chips and all the pop you can drink.”

Everyone was grinning, mine the biggest. Mom didn't allow me to have pop because it had the Evil Sugar. But when I went to Gramps, he gave me an IV of the stuff, that was fine by me.

I heaved myself out of the lake, dripping all over the deck, the dark splatters of water soaking into the wood.

Sophie huffed past me and the Js, mad for part of the day at least. We trailed after her and Tiff, the pissed girl contingent.

Jade leaned a head into my shoulder and said as we walked, my arm slung comfortably around her, “You could have just asked me to swim, ya know.” She smiled up at me.

“You didn't ask me!” I said, my thumb to my chest.

“Yeah, but it was fair. You had to get wet too!”

Feisty, I dug it!

“Way to get Sophie's attention, Jonester.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe just ask her out and get it out of your system,” John said.

“Yeah.”

Jade smiled and didn't say anything.

Smart girl.

Jonesy scowled, he wasn't quite getting it with the girl thing yet. I went ahead and said it, “Practice makes perfect, Jonesy.”

“Piss off, Hart.”

“I'm just sayin'”

“Yeah, well don't.”

“Geez, touchy-much!” Jade laughed and Jonesy wasted a scowl on her. Which made her laugh harder.

Jonesy sighed and stalked off toward the wrap around deck (in real wood). It held Gramps BBQ-er. Another illegal item as he used those old-fashioned briquettes that caused more environmental mayhem.

Gramps was busy torching the hell out of the hotdogs, taking them off the grill and mashing the whole group onto a huge platter that had a stainless, fork thing stabbed into the unfortunate center dog. Three bags of chips lay open on top of the picnic table that was clipped on all four sides with these metal clamp-things and the pop bottles lined on end, standing at attention on the red and white checkered tablecloth. A huge fishing weight lay on top of the napkins to keep them from blowing away.

Sophie looked at it curiously, wondering what it was.

Jonesy breezed in to relieve her of her ignorance. “That's for fishing.”

“I know that,” she said.

Oh, well that went well.

Jonesy scowled again, he couldn't win for losing.

“Makes a good weight for things.” Gramps stated, squirting water onto the flames to keep them low. God, was that gray water? Geez.

I thought about the memories dead fish and wasn't sure that I wanted to talk about fishing right now.

Jonesy gave up trying to get back in Sophie's good graces and dove into the food instead. Piling his plate with four hot dogs and a half bag of the chips he grabbed the first of the pop when Gramps said, “Why don't you let the girls dish up first, eh?” Without even turning.

Gramps was performing the BBQ dance, swiveling his hips, he danced in front of the circular thing, taming the flames and spearing the dogs. I guess that was a skill.

“Don't you have to register those now?” John asked Gramps, pointing to the BBQ-er.

“Yes, you do, no, I did not.”

Don't ask John, don't ask.

He asked.

“Why not?”

“Well, mainly, it's because they told me I had to.”

The girls turned to him, interested in what he had to say because Gramps was just that way. Interesting.

“All these hot-shot government types spewing their lies around and all the sheep in the country thinking that they know everything. Let them come on my property and try to enforce any of those bleeding heart laws, I'll give them all something to think about.”

Don't ask, don't ask.

Jonesy asked.

“Well, I think I'd start with the kneecaps, and eventually work my way up to the...”

“Gramps?”

He turned his head to me. “Maybe my friends aren't ready for The Solution yet.”

“I'm ready,” Jonesy said.

“Me too.” John echoed.

Brother.

Just then, there was a huge clatter as a dilapidated car drove up, had to be Bry.

He cranked open the door, which squealed in protest. Saved by Bry. I did a mental forehead-wipe.

“Hey guys,” Bry said moving into range of Gramps.

“Hello, Mr. Weller.”

“Hi Mac, how's it goin'?”

“Fair to middling...”

Bry raised his eyebrows and I translated old-guy-speak, “Average.”

“Oh, right, I gotcha.” He said, plopping down next to Tiff and wading right into the food with typical teen boy gusto.

Tiff gave him The Look. Apparently, she had a special one reserved just for sibling interaction. “Ya gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” wolf-slurp-gulp, “just need to fuel up, didn't have anything at work,” he said, his cheek already distended with a half a hotdog.

Gramps was wiping his hands off on a cloth dishtowel he always kept stuffed in his back pocket. “You kids get enough to eat here?”

He looked at the girls, who all had one hotdog each, except Sophie, she seemed to actually eat food, with two on her plate.

The boys nodded, cognizant of food showing if they spoke.

Then Jade chimed in, “Do you have diet?” She pointed to the pop.

“No. I don't like that crap in the house. Very suspicious, replacing honest-to-God sugar with that fake stuff.”

Jade slowly lowered her hand and shrugged, she grabbed a Coke instead. Like she needed diet pop. Brother.

“And you...” Gramps pointed at Jade, “don't need anything with the word diet associated with it.”

“Right, ah, but I don't want to get fat,” she stated with her girl-logic.

“I wouldn't worry about that. How much do you weigh anyhow?”

Oh my God, I couldn't believe Gramps asked that question! The boys physically paled and John started choking on his hot dog while Jonesy pounded his back to help unstick the lodged morsel.

Jade sat there for a second, balancing the Dreaded Weight Question with the fact that A) he was an old guy and maybe didn't know he stepped in it and B) that every boy there would then know what she weighed.

“Probably a buck five, I'd bet,” Bry said.

I slapped my forehead, I guess he was clueless too, no wonder he didn't have a girlfriend!

“Actually, I weigh around that.” Jade said as neutrally as possible but Tiff wasn't neutral.

“You never ask a girl what she weighs. It's just, ugh!”

“Yeah,” Sophie said.

Gramps looked perplexed.

John, who was breathing again thanks to Jonesy's enthusiasm, answered, “All girls think they're fat and asking about weight just points out this issue.” He spread his hands wide as if to say, simple, huh?

Well, not really.

“That doesn't make any sense. She's obviously skinnier than a rail, look at her.”

We all looked at Jade. Yeah, she was pretty small.

Gramps shrugged, starting to scrape off the grill. “No diets! Men like women with a little meat on their bones!”

“Amen to that,” Jonesy said, putting his foot in it. It was well known in boy circles that Jonesy was a booty man.

Sophie looked at him and smiled. He grinned right back. All was forgiven.

Huh, I guess he was practicing after all.

****

Bry had been late because he had to work during the summer. Us gonna be freshman had it good as nobody gets to work before sixteen anymore. (Gramps had a LOT to say over that.) Bry worked, as he called it, as a “landscape gopher.” He ran around doing all kinds of gardening crap for rich people.

We all cleaned up our plates and put them in Gramps' sink.

“Where's the gray water thingy?” Sophie asked.

Gramps' standard response to everything, “Grandfathered.”

“Ah, okay. So, where do I?” She looked around in confusion.

I took the plate from her and stopped up the drain and began running the hot water, which churned out about sixty gallons per second, steaming as it landed against the white porcelain. I then added soap and bubbles formed.

The Js followed suit since they knew their way around the house better. They scraped their plates right into the trashcan as Tiff said, “Wow, no separator. How does he get away with that?”

“Grandfathered,” the Js said in unison.

Gramps barked out a laugh and nodded at them, good thinking.

Bry took a real look around the house, noticing all the non-sanctioned stuff.

“Well,” Gramps responded, “I take all my trash to the Kent Separator and give them my, I-don't-give-a-tree-hugging-damn-card, and they have to suck it up and take my trash,” he said with a grin.

The girls gasped, the Js grinned and a big smile started to form on Bry's face.

Brother.

“So, let me get this straight,” Bry said, looking around. “You don't believe in saving the environment?”

Gramps planted his hands on his hips and I was eerily reminded of Mom, who had a similar stance right before she was gonna Make Her Point. “It's the principle Bryan, that these tree-hugging liberals and bleeding heart types aren't going to tell my old ass what to do. It rubs me the wrong way.”

No, really?

Gramps had a way with his delivery, he and Jonesy got along marvelously.

Huh.

Bry was dying to swim after a hot day in the sun battling the plants so we took off to unearth Gramps' canoes. He had two biggies, one orange and the other blue. We piled into them, two guys in each one and had canoe fights for two hours. Jonesy would hit the flat end of the oar, skimming the water's surface and the arc of water would catch Bry in the face. Jonesy, a natural athlete, was so consistent with this maneuver that Bry leaped out of the canoe. Tipping me out in the process, as he swam to Jonesy, who in a state of panic jumped out of the canoe and headed for shore.

Bry tipped the Js' canoe, effectively drowning John (who was guilty by association) and swam with a vengeance for Jonesy. His muscles bunched and worked and Jonesy's terror at getting nailed made him speedy. In the end, Bry caught him and gave him a few hundred dunkings.

Gramps strolled up and said diplomatically to Jonesy, “Better say 'uncle' or Bryan here is going to feed you to the fish.”

“Uncle!” Jonesy screamed.

The girls giggled at Jonesy's girl-like squeal. Which, of course, made us all turn to them and triangulating their position, we all swam after them like bees to honey. They thought they were safe in the water! They squealed as we approached, laughing so hard they weren't making good headway. As we got to them, I could hear Gramps' laughter in the background, just another summer day at the lake with a bunch of energetic teenagers.

He didn't know the half of it.

CHAPTER 2

We straggled out of the lake like a pack of drowned rats, heading to the munched up pile of beach towels and started drying off.

“I need to take off soon. Who's gonna need a ride?” Bry asked.

We all looked at each other. Mom was gonna pick me up in an hour and I figured that Bry didn't have the room for us all and I said that.

“Nah, I can stuff the whole crew in there.”

We looked speculatively at the car, not sure if it could hold us.

Not sure if it could make it.

“Thanks, but it might be a hassle and there aren't enough restraints,” I said.

Bry shrugged. “Okay, suit yourself.”

Gramps was picking up around the lake's edge where the concrete met the water. Back a million years ago when Gramps was a “young stud,” as he always explained, he had a super-fast jet boat and used to water ski. I couldn't wrap my mind around that.

“You kids coming next weekend?” Gramps asked, bending over to get a towel off the grass.

He shot me a look in question, but Jonesy was the one that answered, “Hell yeah!” He did a fist-pump.

Gramps said, “Language infidel.”

Jonesy said, “Ah, right, sorry.”

John and I smiled. Only Gramps could truly put Jonesy in his place.

“I want to. Dumb school starts in two weeks and then summer's over,” I said with true dejection.

John said, “It's not going to be that bad. We're finally freshmen and you can get some training.”

Yeah, training.

Zombies: sit, stay, roll-over, play dead. Perfect.

Jade put her arm around my waist, her flesh warm against the damp band of my swim trunks, squeezing my side. I half-turned, pressing her body into mine.

Bry yelled, “Tiff, come on.”

Tiff was running around, trying to collect all her crap (for a guy-ish acting girl she sure had an ass-load of gear).

“Hold on to your trunks, ya pain.”

Bry sighed and walked over to his car, turning to Gramps he said, “Thanks, Mac.”

Gramps gave him a smile. “Anytime.”

Just then, a car full of kids came slinking past Gramps' front gate, swung open to accommodate Bry's car. Slowing to a crawl, I squinted, trying to recognize the driver.

It was Carson Hamilton.

My sworn enemy, the jerk-off that had given me a truckload of crap last year and finally declared an uneasy truce. I narrowed my eyes into slits. What the hell did he want?

“Hey isn't that...” Bry started.

“Yeah,” Tiff answered.

“This can't be good,” John said.

“What are those dickheads doing here?” Jonesy said.

Gramps walked up giving Jonesy The Look again but was distracted by the honking.

It was Brett, leaning over the top of Carson, palm flattened out on the steering column, laying on the horn with his body.

“What in the Sam Hill is going on here?” Gramps asked rhetorically, throwing the towel down, hitching up his pants and striding over to the car.

Oh crap, this was going to get bad. Gramps had less of a filter than Jonesy.

I jogged to keep up with Gramps and just as we got to the car, Carson yelled, “Having fun with the fags and sluts, Caleb?” Then Brett gave the middle finger salute to Gramps and I.

Gramps leaned forward, a vein pulsating in his forehead. Oh, wow...

Carson tramped his foot down on the accelerator, peeling out where the asphalt met the driveway. Gravel sprayed up under the tires as they spun off, two or three hands waving out of the car. All with strategic fingers splayed.

Guess which ones?

Jade walked up behind Gramps and I, her beach towel clutched tightly around her. “I thought they said they wouldn't bug us.”

“Well, that's a long time for those morons to have 'bully-amnesia',” John said.

“It's been what? A whole two months?” Bry asked.

“Two and half,” I said.

“Who was that carload of assholes?” Gramps asked, lighting a fresh cigarette that bobbed distractingly as he spoke.

“Some creeps from our school losers,” Sophie said.

“Why would they be here, though?” Tiff asked logically.

“I don't know, but it can't be good,” I said.

Gramps turned, shielding his eyes from the fading sun. “They have people out here in Driftwood Point?”

I didn't think so. Hell, it was thirty minutes from Kent, well out of the range of cruising territory.

Bry snapped his fingers. “Wait a sec,” palming his chin, “isn't Carson a freshman? What's his dumb ass doing driving?”

Good point.

“You guys didn't know? He was held back.” Sophie said.

Figures.

The Js nodded and Jonesy asked, “He's how old then?”

Tiff rolled her eyes. “Gee, I wonder Jones? Sixteen maybe?”

She had him there. Ya had to be sixteen to drive. Mama and daddy must've paid for that special summer driving course.

“That makes sense, I mean, his parents probably heat the house with bundles of cash thrown into the fireplace,” Bry said.

“Nobody has fireplaces anymore, bright one,” Tiff said and Bry shot her the shut up look. Still, he was right; they were loaded.

My parents made decent money (my dad the bigwig mapping the human genome and that). But Mom thought we needed to “stay grounded,” or something. Whatever: show me the money. That's what I'm talkin' about.

Gramps (who we'd forgotten about, he'd been so quiet) said, “Sounds like you have a spoiled brat on your hands.” He looked at me. “Is this that mouth-breather that's the fire-starter?”

I nodded.

“Swell,” Gramps said. “I'll be prepared the next time.”

Wonderful, I wasn't looking forward to my Gramps becoming the flaming inferno.

Gramps saw my expression and laughed, ruffling my hair (no small thing as we were almost eye-to-eye now). “We've got John-boy here and he'll set him straight, right John?” he asked, turning the laser eye on John.

John was a psychic Null, if he was “tuned up,” nobody was torching anybody.

John's faced reddened and he said, “Yes, sir.” The Js weren't sure about admitting the whole paranormal agenda to adults. But this wasn't any adult. It was Gramps, he was disqualified as a real adult.

Gramps smiled at him and the tension slipped down a notch. “Caleb, pulse your mom and tell her you're ready to go.”

Bry shook his head. “Never a dull moment with Caleb.”

“That's part of his charm, Bro,” Jonesy said.

Right.

“Might be a family thing,” Bry said, his glance encompassing Gramps.

I hadn't considered that but maybe he'd rub off on me. The world could only have so many Jonesys and Gramps'.

“Well, thanks,” Bry said, sticking his hand out and Gramps shook it, clapping him on his back. “Come back next weekend with the kids, Bryan. You're always welcome here.”

Bry nodded, turning to get the screaming door open. Jade ran over to hug Gramps and he was stiff as a board, awkwardly patting her back and doing the backward lean.

“Thanks so much for having us over, I had a great day!” she said.

I knew better than anyone how much a normal family event meant to Jade. Her dad had been sprung from prison last month and she was on edge that he'd pop up like a drunken piece of toast in her life again. I knew, in my guts, that we hadn't seen the last of him but I never said anything. All the guys in the gang knew and we had our eyes peeled for his abusive bullshit.

I didn't like that Carson and Brett were back on the scene and so far from our home turf. Huh, something to think about later. There was always a new complication.

“Hey,” Gramps said.

I raised my eyebrows, Jade moving back to my side.

“Where’s Black Dog?”

“Onyx?” I said.

Gramps shrugged, he liked calling him Black Dog, anything to be contrary. Mom came by that honestly.

“He's at home. Mom has a cow when he comes home smelling like wet dog.”

“Humph!” Gramps muttered. “She oughta be okay with that. He's part lab, he can't help himself. And she had our dog in that lake for three months straight every summer until she moved out. Sleepin' on her bed every night... as a wet dog.”

Really?

I slung an arm around Gramps. “Was she a neat teenager, Gramps?”

“Who? Your Mom?” He laughed, slapping his knee. “That's rich? Neat, hell no!”

Interesting. Ammunition for later.

“Okay, see ya dudes later,” Tiff said, having heaved herself in Bry's car.

Bry gave the guy-salute to the rest of us.

“See ya,” Jonesy said.

The car lurched and choked out of the driveway, making the long limp home to Kent.

****

Mom and Gramps quietly talked by her car window. After what seemed like a long time, Gramps tapped her car door and squeezed her shoulder.

Turning to us kids, he said, “Next weekend if the weather cooperates.”

Mom smiled. “I think it's okay Pops, after all, it's past the Fourth, no worries,” and they shared a laugh. I never did get that but I guess the summer didn't get nice until after Independence Day. Whatever, if it was above sixty degrees and not raining (and sometimes when it was) we came to Lake Tapps, period.

The girls piled into the back with the Js and it was a tight squeeze. “That's not going to work. Here, let me move this stuff.”

Mom got all her crap off the front seat where it lived all the time: dedicated reader, her purse and a hoodie. Geez.

“Jade, sit by me. Caleb can sit by the window, the Js and Sophie can hop in the back.”

“We woulda never fit in Bry's car,” Jonesy remarked.

“Never,” John said.

“That wreck? Caleb, I think we've spoken before about Bry's car not being safe enough for you to ride in,” she said, fumbling with her water bottle, lip gloss and all the other crap that had rolled out of the purse (suitcase). Jade and she were collecting it all and putting it back in her (yawning chasm) purse.

“Mom, it runs but we didn't have enough restraints so I opted out.”

“Opted out?” she said, a sly smile appearing on her face.

I smiled back, nodding.

“See, Ali. Caleb, my man has some...” Jonesy started.

“...discernment,” John finished.

Sophie and Jade rolled their eyes.

“I like it,” Mom said.

We crammed into the car, Jade squeezed between Mom and me, never complaining. We backed out of Gramps' driveway.

As I turned around to wave, Gramps stood on the front porch, legs apart and planted firmly on the stoop, cigarette stuffed between clenched lips. He stayed there until we were out of sight. A lone figure equal parts stalwart and imposing. He was part of what made up my internal barometer of right and wrong.

Gramps got me.

I watched him until he was a dot in the distance. I sighed, turning around, thinking of Brett and Carson making a reappearance after being MIA all summer. Whatever the significance was I didn't like it.

“Gramps told me about Brett and Carson showing up,” Mom said, her eyes trained to the road.

“Yeah, they're back on board.”

“It's okay Ali, A) Mac will attack, and B) Brett will be going to derelict KM.”

Uh-oh.

“I went to that school.”

It became alarmingly quiet in the car.

John saved it with a hail Mary. “My folks too. I guess it's gotten pretty bad in the last couple of decades.”

Minor fumble.

“On that note, I don't wish for Pop to get involved with that element,” she said, worry slipping into her tone. “He's old and volatile and could add fuel to the fire.”

Fuel to the fire with Carson. Nice. Gramps? He wouldn't do that.

Right.

Mom looked at me then back at the road. “I guess that wasn't the best play on words. Caleb, you haven’t told Pop much about those two have you?”

Enough.

Out loud I said, “Just the highlights, Mom.”

“Ugh! I wish you hadn't...you know how your dad feels about Pop knowing stuff about the family. He gets riled up easily.”

“It'll be okay, Dad can handle it.”

Time for off-topic. “I think I've decided to help Garcia.”

The Js said, “Really?” at the same time.

Mom's eyebrows came down into a straight line. “I know that you want to help with their murder investigation but I don't like the idea of you in harm's way, you and Tiff,” she tacked on.

“Tiff and I can't leave it alone, Mom. You know that. Besides, this is a chance for me to do something with the AFTD.” Affinity for the Dead was worthless unless I could help people. It was cool as hell that I could jerk zombies out of the ground but I wanted to do more. Running into the ghosts of those dead kids filled me with purpose. I could help and I wanted to help.

“Dad's cool with it.”

“Your mom has a small point,” Sophie said.

I turned around in my seat and gave her a glare that said clearly, don't help me, thanks.

Sorry, she looked back, but undaunted, she finished her thought, “What if that loser is alive, still killing kids and he catches on to the fact that you're the AFTD brains behind the tail on him. Yeah, he's going to really want you guys to keep breathing.”

Again, thanks so much for that, I thought sullenly.

Jade came to my defense, “Sophie, you remember how awful it was at the cemetery shack. Remember how sad it was? How many there were?” She shook her head, giving a small shudder at the memory. “He has to try. That's all he's saying. He and Tiff want to give something back.”

“Yeah. I mean, we survived last year with the Graysheets and all the other zombie crap and the drunken adults.”

Thanks Jonesy, another big help.

Jade looked down at her lap, her hands tightly clenched, knowing that one of the drunken adults had been her dad. I covered her hands with mine, splitting up their nervous embrace and holding them in one of mine. She looked up at me with a grateful smile, Mom ignoring the small intimacy.

Silence rolled out for a time, the highway stretched before us and we entered the valley area of Kent, cruising past Kent Station. I noted the Seattle Post-Intelligencer satellite office where I'd spilled my guts to Tim Anderson about the Graysheets; the loser, super-secret government group.

Professional creepers.

Jonesy stared at the Station as we roared by, Mom pausing at the railroad tracks then moving forward.

“Let's check out that new horror movie, what's it called?” he asked.

“Nightmare on Elm Street XX,” John said in a droll voice.

Sophie and Jade laughed. “Are you serious? Twenty?”

“I remember Pop seeing that in the theaters when the first one came out,” Mom said.

“Really?” That struck Jonesy dumb, almost.

Mom laughed. “Really.”

Jonesy plowed ahead, “Well, what do ya say? Let's do it.”

Sounded good but I looked at Jade. I knew Tiff'd be down with it but Sophie and Jade, they liked those movies where some guy saved a girl after a bunch of talking and no action.

What was the name of those lame-ass movies? Oh yeah, chick-flicks.

“A man cannot live on chick-flicks alone!” Jonesy shouted into the quiet of the car, the girls wincing.

“Jonesy, volume,” Mom said.

“Right, sorry.”

“We'll go see a girl movie next time,” John promised. His voice belaying how utterly cool he thought a kill them all movie would be.

The promise of violence was close enough to taste.

“You guys just want to see a bunch of Alpha males bash everyone and helpless females prance around until they get saved with the possibility of the gratuitous breast scene thrown in,” Sophie announced with confidence.

Right, so?

“I heard breasts but I don't know what all the other rant was about,” Jonesy said.

Cripes.

Sophie opened her mouth to spew forth her girl-wrath when John interjected, “I think we just like the movie as a whole, we're not trying to cop a look at naked bodies.”

“Speak for yourself, Terran.”

Oh hell. “Ah, hello? My mom's in the car, morons.”

Discussions with the words naked and girls in the same sentence should not be uttered in front of The Parents.

At which point Mom burst out laughing along with Jade and John. Sophie and Jonesy looked puzzled, her glaring at him and he with the what? look on his face.

Just another ride back from the lake.

Mom pulled up to Helen and Bill's house and Jonesy piled out. “Thanks Ali.” He slammed the car door practically off the hinges. Turning, he gave me the thumb signal that I needed to pulse him later. I gave him a chin-bob in acknowledgment and he disappeared into his house.

The car started to roll and Mom looked disapprovingly at the lawn as we drove away. “Looks like it's barely legal.”

“It is,” I said, defending Bill. Bill believed in a lawn as a man's God-given right.

“Humph,” she muttered. “The flower beds are nice if a little redundant.” I sighed.

Mom, the gardening-Nazi.

“Not everyone lives for gardening, Mom.”

Jade smiled. “I have sure learned a lot this summer, Ali.”

Mom smiled back. “You're an apt pupil.”

I almost did a huge eye-roll (kinda against guy-code), 'cuz Mom had a new prodigy and it wasn't me.

Jade and Mom continued their discussion of plants all the way to Jade's house, (Sophie and John had already been dropped off).

I walked her to the door, noting her sexy white cover up and how it contrasted with her cafe-au-lait skin. Sun-kissed, Mom called it. Forget that, I wanted to kiss it. All of it.

She looked over her shoulder at me just then. No Empath skills necessary. She knew that I dug her. Her smile said it all. She dug me too.

We got to the door and I looked around. Great, no adult eyes and I put a hand on each side of her rib cage, relishing the smallness. I could almost meet my hands when I encircled her waist.

“Don't, she said, backing up,” which I ignored, pulling her closer.

She giggled. “It tickles.”

I lowered my head and brushed my lips with hers, drawing her in tight against my body, every curve melding against me like it was tailor-made for it. She drew her mouth back and I pressed mine against hers until she opened her mouth and I licked a line against her bottom lip, nipping it a little.

She liked it, wrapping her arms around my neck, her fingers working their way through my hair. As we stood there making out on the porch, I let my hands wander over her body and they ended up on her little round butt and with not much effort (a buck five, remember), I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Now that was a position worth keeping for awhile but Mom honked the horn and we had to disentangle. I let her body slide down the front of mine, her fragrant hair tickling my nose on the way. I pressed my lips against her forehead and squeezed her, not really wanting to let go.

She looked at me with her heart in her eyes and our hands lingered, until our fingers slipped out of their union. Jade walked backward 'til her butt hit the door, opening it from behind, never taking her eyes off mine and mouthed, love you.

What could I say to that. Me too, I mouthed back. The door closed and I turned around, walking back to the car, Jade a constant thing on my mind. She just kept becoming more, way more.

CHAPTER 3

I didn't feel like one of those dudes that's easily overwhelmed but Kent Paranormal High was huge.

I looked up at the school, only ten years old, and thought: I was gonna have to use the spinning weather vane in my head to find my way around. A guy could get lost, a completely uncool prospect.

I hung around front by the big, glass doors and waited for the group. We picked up our roster today and everyone agreed seven-thirty was the time to do it. Not too early, not too late.

Jade showed up first in her new school clothes which made me look at the same crap I had from June. Huh. Mom had dragged me to Zuimez to get new jeans because the old ones (besides having shredded knees) were three inches too short and doin' the crotch grab, a total no.

She wore a cute little mini that barely covered her butt (I liked that but I didn't like the way the other guys were gonna look at her, I'd wanna kick all their asses). Her long, green shirt that was almost the length of the skirt, two pearl buttons at the neck shimmering a little when she moved, and her trademark silver hoops swinging as she walked toward me.

“Hey,” she greeted me softly, and I planted a kiss on her lips, smelling her body spray, so much a part of her, that great vanilla smell.

She put an arm around my waist and we stood there in comfortable silence, just hanging 'til the rest showed.

It wasn't long before John showed up with Alex. Sophie straggled in right after, then the Weller duo made up the last of us.

Bry was a junior this year so there was a stream of kids passing him and he was nodding every other second.

“Well, gotta split. Off to Kent Lake, just dropping off the sib-spawn.” That got a glare from Tiff, but Bry was tough and mock-punched her in the arm. Nice.

Tiff turned, rolling her eyes (Wow, she must stand in front of the mirror to perfect that). I couldn't help noticing she'd pulled out all the stops and bought a new hoodie for this year. The Weller kids took their hoodies damn serious.

Bry walked off and we got back to the business at hand.

“Hey Alex, how goes it?” I asked.

“Good,” he said, nervously hitching up his glasses.

“How come you don't do the laser on your eyes, you could lose those glasses?” Sophie asked logically.

“No chip, no laser,” he replied.

“No kidding?” Jade asked.

He looked at her. “Yeah, my parents are big-time paranoid about all that imbedded chip technology. They think the government is keeping tabs on us with that stuff,” he said, pushing up his glasses again.

John and I looked at each other. Yeah, duh.

I looked at Alex. “What are you anyway?” I always meant to ask but was too busy enjoying the break from all the chaos of last year to be curious enough to remember that Alex had pinged paranormal on our eighth grade Aptitude Test last spring.

“Ah, I'm gonna be unclassified this year.”

Huh, that blows. He's something but nobody knows what?

John clapped him on the shoulder, making him move a half a step. He probably weighed less than Jade. Geez. “It'll be okay. I heard that class is the biggest this year it's ever been.”

“They don't have a handle on dick. Adults think they've got all our paranormal skills mapped and they just flat don't,” Sophie said and Jade nodded.

We'd gone round and round with this last year. There were too many unknowns and the adults were too perfect to admit it. Kids were cropping up with new paranormal abilities and not always on schedule. Even Jonesy's school (at least Bry would be there) was going to do another round of AP Testing in the first two weeks for all incoming freshman. They had to. Or they'd have Paranormals popping up like weeds in the mundane flowerbed, not good.

We were all quiet for a second. “Doesn’t feel the same without Jonesy,” Sophie said.

I had to agree with her there and John nodded. Alex, who didn't really know Jonesy just watched all of us mope about his absence.

“Nah, we don't need him. He got all our collective asses in trouble anyway,” Tiff said, blowing the hugest bubble I had ever seen and snapping it so loudly I felt Jade jump beside me.

“Touchy,” she said, looking at Jade.

“No, I just, I just was startled, is all,” she said, looking down at her feet. Tiff was kinda in-your-face sometimes. Jade, well Jade wasn't. Of course, Jade was a little sensitive. Being an Empath and having an abusive, drunken dad will do that to a person.

We trudged into the school and stood in the line waiting for the roster.

As soon as we were all through, we compared our schedules.

John and I snapped our heads up at the same moment.

The enraged cow, Griswold, was our PE teacher again this year.

Jade and Sophie groaned and Jade said, “Griswold?”

“Yeah?” Tiff smacked. “I don't care, she can get at me.”

“Yeah, she'll do that,” I said with confidence.

“I had her last year and kept her in line,” Tiff said.

“Really?” Jade asked. “She was just...”

“...her,” Sophie finished.

“Yeah, that,” I said.

“Who's Griswold?” Alex asked.

“In the dictionary where it says, 'Fun-sucker'...”

“Ah, I don't think that it's actually in the...” Alex began.

I waved that away dismissively. “Anyway, there's a photo of her. No. Definition. Needed.”

Alex looked at John who said, “True.”

The girls chimed in, “True.”

“I'm not really that skilled in PE,” Alex said.

We all looked at him, kinda pathetic and puny with his slightly uncool clothes and horrible glasses. But, there was something about Alex that was interesting. John dug him, for starters. Plus, he had some cool theories about comic book messages from other Paranormals. We'd explore that later, maybe at the Jonester's house.

“You call Garcia yet?” Tiff asked as we made our way to the lockers.

I looked over at her, an errant kid knocking into my backpack. “Hey man, sorry...” I looked at him. Geez, a thousand kids if there was one.

“No, I've been putting it off. Maybe we can do it together.”

She stared at me, then said slowly, “Yeah, okay. But, I don't wanna get sucked into your undead drama again.”

That didn't make a ton of sense, since she was AFTD too.

Sophie and Jade stopped, looking at her. The swarm of kids milling around us.

“I think you kinda are already,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, you can't really go through all that we did last year without being a part of it, Tiff,” I told her.

Tiff shifted her weight, moving her tennis shoes back and forth over an invisible spot on the recycled quartz flooring. “I guess. I just don't want it to get so crazy like it did. My brother, he got pretty beat up, and you almost got taken...”

We moved against the lockers, too much jostling with the kids. “The Graysheets aren't after me now; we can use what we have to find that scum-bucket that's killing kids.”

She nodded. “No, they're not after you, now.” Her eyes met mine, the green flecks in them bright glitter in the brown. “I'll pulse you later.”

A long breath escaped me that I didn't realize I'd been holding. Good, I didn't want to do it alone. Her words lingered in my head, battering the inside of my skull, they weren't after me now.

Like, at this moment.

I looked at the group and we silently walked away, Jade's hand an abiding comfort in mine.

CHAPTER 4

By far the AFTD class was the most interesting. I'd give it that. They knew I was going to be there. Only the second 5-point AFTD ever in the fifteen years since paranormal markers were discovered.

It was hard to go from being a teenager that never wanted to be noticed for anything exceptional, to being the star pupil. My AFTD teacher actually had AFTD.

I guess the bozos had learned something after the mess with Jeffrey Parker. The other 5-point had accidentally raised a teacher that had A Really Bad Weekend and ended up dead, then came back to school wanting to serve Jeffrey. Righteous.

This teacher seemed pretty cool even though he was older (there were some okay adults but too few to count on it happening with any regularity).

He perched on a stool that looked super uncomfortable.

“Okay, people.” He searched our faces (there were only ten of us in the whole high school of 1300 kids). “This is our 'get to know you' day, and we may just as well talk about the pink elephant in the room first thing and get it out of the way.”

Great.

Everyone turned and looked at me. So much for blending in, at all.

Dave Smith studied me, finally saying, “As I am sure many of you are aware, Mr. Hart here, shook up the paranormal community late last year with some extraordinary events that led to possible government involvement.” (Ah, no “possible” about it, I thought.) “Mainly, I am very pleased to have a rare, 5-point AFTD in my class. This is an opportunity of a lifetime and I'm thrilled to have Caleb in the class. Welcome.”

I thought the applause would start now but no luck. Tiff had a smirk that lit up her whole face and a big bubble popped, the sound echoing in the room.

Smith turned to Tiff, pointing to the separator, which he held out. “Miss Weller, please make your timely deposit.”

Tiff sighed, stomping over to the separator and throwing the gum in, making a wet plop as it landed.

Smith turned back to me. “As I was saying,” his glance briefly landing on Tiff, who had her chin balanced on her fist, her foot swinging a mile a minute, “We welcome Caleb and hope to learn more this year than ever before.”

We all stared blankly at him.

“Right!” he slapped his knee, standing. “Let's go over the five points and then you will receive your syllabus via pulse-pad.” He turned to us, his eyes lighting on the desks as a unit. Seeing that we had our pulse-pads, he turned and began to write down the categories.

He wrote for awhile, finally turning to the class. We looked at the white board and it looked something like:

Impressions/Sensing the Dead: One-point

Hauntings/Ghosts:Two-point

Murder/Traumatic-victim location: Three/four point

Cadaver-Manipulator: Five-point

*Cadaver-control: Five-point

Life-Transference in Theory: Six-point

Smith turned, facing the class while Tiff gave me The Look like, hey unheard-of six point, how ya doin'? I looked back, that was one morsel no one needed to know about just yet. Parker knew and so did the Graysheets.

A skinny girl with braces raised her hand. “Yes, Miss Cline?” Smith pointed to her as she lowered her hand.

“Ah, I was just wondering how many points you were?” she asked nervously.

“That's a great question. The truth is, Caleb has changed the requirements for who can instruct this class. I was the highest numbered AFTD in the country and was recruited for this school when it was made known that Caleb was a five-point. Of course, there is only one other, documented case, at that level. He does not appear to be available for teaching.”

Or anything else, I added cryptically.

“However, teachers who deliver classes where there are students that are five-points or multi-tiered, as is the case with Astral-Projection paranormals (I instantly thought of Sophie), need to have a teacher who is on par, or very near equal in paranormal ability. Gone are the days when a mundane can teach. We simply need a like-paranormal.”

I didn't understand why that wouldn't have been the case from the very beginning. I looked over at Tiff who was absently chewing on her nails waiting for anything of interest to happen (a person could die waiting for that).

We worked through all the prelim crap that you have to go through the first day of school and wrapped the day up in Griswold's PE class. Unbelievable.

Griswold stood at the front of the class and the only good thing was that the whole gang was there, including Alex (who I had a feeling was gonna be part of the group).

“Listen up, people. Some of you may know me from Kent Middle School.” Her eyes bored into each kid who had come from KMS, her eyes rested on ours a trifle long, I thought. “And I expect to have even less disciplinary problems with some of you.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “For those students who are new to my class dynamic,” her horrible voice wheezed out in its grating tone, “this is it: you have two choices in my class, my way or, my way.”

As I saw it, that wasn't exactly a choice. The new kids looked around in confusion but they'd get it eventually.

“We have shared time together. No one and I mean no one, even the President of the United States, interrupts my class.”

She said this every year. I wasn't thinkin' the President was gonna show up, duh.

She droned on about some other useless crap and we got right into the calisthenics. We were still in alphabetical order and guess who I was next to? You got it, Carson Hamilton. Didn't it just suck to have the last name Hart when it got my ass next to his for the next four years? Because that's what it would be. PE being mandatory now throughout high school.

“Doing any corpses lately?” Carson asked like the girl he was.

“Piss off. Thought you called a truce, Hamilton,” I said, thinking about the drive-by and flip-off session at Gramps.

“Nah, I'd have to find someone interesting or more stupid than you. Besides, I've got skills now, you're no match for me. Or that crazy bitch girlfriend of yours.”

“Leave Jade out of it, dickhead.”

Carson smiled. “Make me.”

Griswold was suddenly there. “Well, some things never change. Is there going to be an issue needing my attention here, boys?”

“No, Miss Griswold,” but my voice said, yes.

Her eyes narrowed on my face. “Tell me in a way that I'll believe next time, Mr. Hart.”

She swung that square head with the beady eyes on Carson. “And you...” she had her finger hovering underneath his nose because damn, had he grown over the summer, “I don't care who your relatives are, in this class your butt is mine and I know what you mutter underneath your breath when you think you're so smart. Stay stupid and you'll stay off my radar. Got me?” she asked, placing her hands on her plump hips. Why were PE teachers hogs anyway? Made zero sense.

Carson laughed and leaned into her, their noses almost touching and he said, “Whatever...”

I couldn't believe a teacher talked to him that way and that he talked that way back. She was a tough he-she, I'd give her that. “Take your attitude straight to the office, Hamilton.”

“Fine, whatever...” he said again, making a show of starting a little flame in his hand and blowing her a kiss.

“Go!” she almost yelled, pointing at the door. He went but looked over his shoulder at me, grinning. Wow, what a way to start freshman year. Then he gave me the middle finger salute as soon as she'd turned her back.

I guess there was some comfort in his consistency. If he'd been nice, something would have been up.

Jade looked over at me. I just mouthed, later.

After PE ended and that first day of school was finally over, I could relax. The whole crew was in PE so we just went by our lockers and threw backpacks in and took out pulse-pads. Our parents had a lot of thumbprint signatures to make for all the BS paperwork about rules, discipline and syllabus stuff.

We moped around outside the school, missing Jonesy. Finally, Sophie said, whipping out her pulse, “I'm gonna just pulse him.”

We all had the new pulse phones now. My parents had gotten mine for my birthday last October, but like everything, prices had come down and all the kids had them. They were such an improvement over the old method: texting. Who'd want to enter everything with their fingers? Now we could just depress our thumb on the pulse-pad, and think our conversations and they appeared.

Damn handy.

We huddled around her while she pulsed the J-man.

Hey Soph! -MJ

Hey Jonesy, whatcha doin'? -SM

Well, survived the dumb-ass first day of school and had my man Bry at my back so all's good. What about my boys, what are they doin'? -MJ

“Tell him to meet us at the hide-a-way,” John said.

“When?” she asked, looking at me.

I held up four fingers.

Soph, are you holding down your thumb, I'm getting big-time feedback -MJ

Sophie lifted her thumb, all her internal dialogue was all mixed up with answering us. Oops.

They’re right here...they wanna meet at the dump.-SM

You goin' with? -MJ

A light blush rose on her cheeks and she shooed us away to finish the pulse without an audience.

Interesting.

“He's comin' by with Bry in the car,” she said.

We pulsed the Parental Authority but for Jade it was her aunt (couldn't live with her dad because he was a total Psycho and her mom was dead). And Alex, well... I think he lived with his grandparents.

Bry rolled up in his car while we were discussing transportation.

Perfect timing.

He and Jonesy got out of his car, the thing steaming like a casserole out of an oven. “Hey dude, looks like your car is imploding,” John remarked.

“Nah, she's still running,” he said, whacking a hand on the hood to emphasize its sturdiness and a hubcap popped off, rolling down the road that led out of the school. We all watched it as it made its way into the main street where cars started swerving to avoid it.

Jonesy looked on with interest. “Do ya need that for it to run?”

“Nope,” Bry said.

“No harm, no foul then!” Jonesy said, unfazed.

Sophie and Jade looked doubtful. “What if that happens to a tire.”

We were all quiet for a second, then Tiff said, “All the restraints work?”

Right. That'd work, I guess.

We all climbed in and made our way to Kent Refuse. We could discuss the day in detail and figure out a new scheme. Well Jonesy could figure out a new scheme.

We drove all the back roads so the cops wouldn't get excited about eight kids. (Even though Tiff said restraints, there just weren't enough so we were flirting with death...) Oh well.

Bry's car rolled up in front of the familiar fence and we piled out, all of us stretching out the kinks from the tight quarters of the car.

John said, “That isn't going to work, we need someone else to drive too or some of us ride our bikes. I feel like I can't breathe.”

“Shudup ya complainer!” Jonesy rallied, popping every bone in his body until Tiff told him to knock it off. He ignored her totally and did it until I told him to knock it off.

He did, smiling.

“Our dude Bry's got the wheels, he's King Transportation until one of you morons can get your license.”

We all rolled our eyes.

“Ah-doy. Some of us aren’t' even fifteen yet.” Sophie said.

“I am,” Alex piped in.

We all stared at him, he was smaller than everyone except Jade.

“Seriously?” Jonesy asked, all tact.

Alex sighed, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah...summer birthday. Studies have shown that males do better if they're on that cusp of the age range for attending school if they are slightly older. It can be an academic advantage.”

John was nodding while Bry and Jonesy looked at Alex suspiciously.

“Okay. Let me get this straight, you're what, three months older than me so you have an 'academic advantage',” Jonesy said.

John interrupted, “Don't try to figure it out Jonesy, he'll drive sooner, that's the cool part.”

Jonesy nodded. “I guess. Do ya have your permit at least?”

Alex nodded. “Of course.”

Jonesy screwed up his face and mimicked Alex, “ 'Of course'.”

Alex looked confused and Jonesy slapped him on the back. “Listen nerd-head,” and he winked at John who had opened his mouth to protest, “we only need contributing members to our little soiree here, so you,” he pointed to him, winking, “have to put out or get out.”

John had his head buried in his hands, so I plowed forward, explaining while Bry tried not to laugh and the girls glared at Jonesy, who blithely didn't notice as usual.

“What Jonesy's saying, dude, is you being smart isn't enough, we have John here.” John threw up his hands, stalking off. Huh, I guess I was making it worse as I saw Alex's narrow shoulders slump. “And you are unclassified... so, we have to be cautious.”

“Right, my bro Caleb here,” he pointed to me and I did a mock-bow, “is doing the undead program. Soph can spy on the world.” She leveled a dirty look his way. “Jade knows how everyone's feeling, Bry's got the wheels and takes the beatings.” That got Bry grinning. “John keeps the dickheads on a leash like the dogs they are and... Tiff is on the same wavelength as my Zombie-man, Caleb.”

Jonesy finished his speech spreading his arms wide, feeling very full of himself when Jade said, “You're being a jerk, Jonesy.”

“Yeah, that,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, Jones...can you rein in your self-love for like, two seconds and see something from somebody else's perspective?” Tiff asked.

Jonesy looked puzzled for a second then said, “Ah... no. Not really.”

John groaned out loud.

Alex didn't say anything, he just walked over to Bry's car and putting his hand under the car, he grabbed the frame and lifted the car to the height of his head.

With one hand.

The girls gasped and Bry shouted, “Hey...! What the hell! Can you, ah... put my car down?!”

John and I had our mouths hanging open when Jonesy said, “Sounds like our man Alex has been holding out on us.”

Unclassified my ass.

Alex looked at Bry and like he was putting a teacup on a saucer, he gently put the car down. It gave a little bounce, settling quickly.

Nobody said anything for a minute, but Jonesy's wheels were turning, palming his chin thoughtfully. “I guess you'll do.”

John sighed again.

Bry said, “Ah, this rounds out the group nicely?”

Tiff barked out a laugh.

“No offense, Alex, but you don't look... ah...” Sophie started.

“No, he doesn't, but he is,” Jade said.

We all nodded but it was John that said it best, “Maybe we're some kind of variety-magnet or something.”

Bry nodded. “But, I haven't heard anything about...”

“Super-human strength,” John added.

“Yeah,” he looked down on his fingers, ticking off the different paranormal abilities, “A-P,” he nodded to Sophie, “Empath, Zombie-empathizer...”

“Hey!” Tiff and I said together.

Bry laughed, and kept cataloging, “Null,” he winked at John, “Smart-ass,” he finished, pointing to Jonesy.

Jonesy smiled, “Everyone has their job, Weller.” They had a moment while I was thinking of what this would mean.

“Have you told the teacher that you're most definitely, classified.”

“No, they're on a need-to-know basis,” Alex said.

Okay. Who was I to bitch about keeping paranormal skills under wraps?

“Well, let's not stand around with our thumbs up our asses, let's get to the hide-a-way and discuss crap,” Bry said.

“I like it,” Jonesy agreed.

We trooped off to the hide-a-way with Alex in tow.

CHAPTER 5

I came home to Onyx meeting me at the door. Swinging my backpack on the chair I hucked my shoes off in the foyer and cruised into the kitchen to check for food.

“Hey, pal,” Mom said.

“Hey,” I said, rooting around in the pantry.

Mom didn't even turn. “Don't get in there and toss anything back. I'll have supper ready at 5:30.”

Damn.

“You can have a small slice of banana bread to tide you over but no more.”

Thank God because my stomach was a roaring inferno.

I sliced a puny bit off the loaf and plopped down on the chair at the kitchen table. Onyx sidled up to me, wagging his tail, hopeful. I put a crumb aside to save for later.

“How was your first day of high school?”

“Boring,” I said, absently stroking Onyx's black head.

“What about your AFTD teacher?”

“Smith? He's okay.” That reminded me, he'd never told us how many points he was...

The Dog thought the Boy smelled different and wonderful today, he would press his face against the Boy...

Onyx was being annoying with the sniffing. “Knock it off, Onyx.” I said, displacing his nose from my jeans, where it had been glued moments before. He gave me the you're-being-cruel look and wagged his tail. Oh brother, I slipped him the crumb while Mom wasn't looking.

Wag-thunk-wag.

“That reminds me, do you have paperwork for me to pulse?” she turned, giving me her full attention.

“Yeah, it's in the backpack.”

“Okay, don't forget because they'll penalize us.”

I think I had that down now.

I walked over to the backpack on the chair and hung it up on the hook before Mom could rant and got the pulse-pad out and handed it to her.

She immediately opened it, depressing her thumb on the pad.

The luminescent green letters sprang to life: Authorized, legal guardian of Caleb Hart, Alicia, mother.

I walked away, she had it.

“Hey,” she called out and I looked back, “was it okay without Jonesy?”

I thought about it, deciding it blew. “Not really. Kinda boring without the Jonester.”

She nodded. “He'll have another Aptitude Test at Kent Lake, right?”

“Yeah, but none of us think he's gonna pop anything.”

“Going,” she corrected automatically.

I shrugged, thinking back to the hide-a-way conversations earlier.

*

“Come on, it's not that bad, Jonesy,” Bry said.

“Speak for yourself, Weller. No strangeness, no freak-club.” Jonesy indicated all of us sitting around. “No crappy jerks to try and entice into traps...”

Speaking of which. “Saw Carson today, definitely not on with the truce.”

“Yeah, what happened Caleb?” Jade asked.

“Just vague threats but he back-talked Griswold and got a trip to the office.”

“Nice! Right out-of-the-box? Not bad for the first day of school...” Jonesy said, not without admiration.

John made a noise in the back of his throat, it sounded suspiciously like a swear word. “What Caleb is saying,” he said with a tone of voice that clearly said, sharpen up, doofus, “he is on our radar as possible trouble.”

“He was never off mine,” Bry said with gravity.

“Who's Carson?” Alex asked.

We all turned to him.

“What?” he shrugged. “I just moved here last year.”

“A total issue,” John expounded.

“Clearly... but?” he threw a questioning look at me.

“He's a fire-starter that hates me and keeps sucking up other losers to stand up and take notice of our group.”

“Why? I mean, of all the kids to worry about, you're just...”

“Normal,” Sophie stated.

Jade nodded, agreeing.

That was about the highest compliment I'd had in a long time.

“Except for the...” and John put his thumb and index finger really close together, “the little zombie-contingent.”

There was that.

Alex nodded. “Okay, does it have anything to do with your dad?”

Tiff looked at him. “Pretty insightful.”

“I have my moments,” he squeaked out.

“Yes, Carson just has to be the most popular, rich, perfect guy,” I clarified.

“I think he's a dick,” Tiff said.

I smiled, she did have a way with tellin' it.

Jonesy nodded and John had agreed as explanations went that was spot-on.

“I don't know, it's been like fifteen years since my dad did the mapping of the genome, who cares anymore, really?”

They all looked at me.

“I'm just gonna say it. We're all paranormals because of what your dad started,” Jade said the obvious.

“It just keeps coming back to that. If he hadn't discovered the markers...” she held her arms out, like, we'd all be mundane.

Jonesy, who had zero desire for introspection said, “Anyway, back to my important first day of school...”

Tiff rolled her eyes and Sophie looked on with interest.

“Everything sucks donkey dicks except for Math, and Science is okay too. The rest... hell... I feel like one of Caleb's zombies in there.”

I frowned, was there something bad about being one of my zombies?

He saw my face, waving away my displeased expression. “But, here's the thing, they've moved up the,” he did airquotes, “ 'you-may-have-a-righteous-paranormal-ability test' to this Friday.”

Really?

“I guess we can hope,” Sophie said quietly.

Jonesy gave his full-toothed grin to her, a sparkle in his eyes and she grinned back.

Bry interrupted our conjecture, “What about the cop-angle, Hart?”

I looked at Tiff, who shrugged.

“I thought you were gonna call?” I said to her.

“Nah, let's do it together. Besides, you're the shit and all.”

Huh. I didn't know about that but I wanted to help out.

“Okay, when I get home, I'll let The Parents in on the plan.”

“Your mom's going to have a bunny.”

“Why do you guys always say your parents are going to have some random animal?” Alex asked.

Jonesy looked at him. “Gotta keep up with the verbiage, pal. Gotta be a thinker,” he said, tapping his nappy head with a finger.

John had to turn and look somewhere else to keep from busting out laughing.

Tiff saved it. “You're such an intellectual force, Jonesy.”

He glared at her, “I can be... ya know, you Weller's...”

I lifted up a palm. “They're mouthy but they put out, Jonesy.”

“True,” John said.

“I guess,” Jonesy said grudgingly.

I summarized, “We need to meet back here and find out what's happening with Jonesy. And I will have answers about what Tiff and I are gonna do about the child-killing-creeper and how to stop him. And, John...?”

He turned to me, the ghost of a smile still hovering on his lips.

“Fill Alex in on everything, he needs to be brought up-to-speed. With the way things work around us, anything could happen and I don't want him to be a mushroom.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Kept in the dark and fed shit,” Jonesy said without preamble.

Nice.

Bry laughed. “You guys...”

“They have their charms,” Tiff elaborated.

“Okay, Friday then?”

It was settled, we'd have answers and direction for the year, and it didn't include schoolwork.

*

“Caleb!” Mom snapped her fingers in front of me.

Huh? I whipped my head in her direction and I was standing where I'd been but lost in my thoughts of scheming.

“There you are, thought I'd lost you! What were you so deep in thought about?” she asked.

“Ah, I was thinking about what my friends and I were talking about.”

She looked a question at me.

“We are waiting on Jonesy's Aptitude Testing for this Friday and I need to get a hold of Garcia and Gale and figure out the creeper who's doin' all the killing and...”

“Officers Gale and Garcia.”

“Right.” Whatever, I thought.

“Actually, they're going to be dropping by after supper tonight.”

Mom wasn't too sloppy of a schemer herself.

“Okay...?”

“They have to talk about everything with a parent present.”

“Not for long,” I said.

“You're not grown-up quite yet, Caleb.”

“Fifteen in October.”

“Yes, but not legally independent until sixteen.”

Dad breezed in, tossing his pulse-top on the couch along with his briefcase thing full of papers, really? Papers? He even used a pen sometimes to write. Retarded.

“Who is not independent?” he said, messing up his hair with his fingers.

Mom sighed, noticing. “Our son, honey. He is in an all-fired hurry to grow up.”

Mom was heating up to a rant.

“Is this about Officers Gale and Garcia's visit tonight.”

“Listen... guys...”

They turned to me mid-sentence. “I need to pulse Tiff and get her and her parents here too. She wants to help.”

“That's fine. She and her folks are welcome here.”

I was surprised. “I thought you didn't really dig her that much, Mom.”

“She has sort of grown on me,” she said in a droll way.

Dad nodded. “Smacks one a little of...”

“Jonesy,” Mom finished.

“That's it!” Dad said, snapping his fingers.

He came up behind Mom and wrapped his arms around her waist.

My total cue to leave.

“When's supper?” Dad asked. “Do I have time to clean up?”

“Sure, want company?” she asked in that super-awkward sweet voice.

I looked at them, getting out of there in a hurry. Geez, parents. “I'm gonna go pulse Tiff now...”

“Okay,” Mom said, kinda dreamy, eyes only for Dad.

Eesh.

I bounded up to my room, Onyx on my heels. I whipped out my pulse and thumbed it, scrolling through the contact list until I got to Tiff:

Initializing.

Glowing letters filled the screen.

Hey Hart, how's it hanging? TW

I had to remind myself on a weekly basis that Tiff was a girl... like now.

Ah... good. Did my mom get a hold of your mom? -CH

Yeah, they're gonna be over at your place at 6:30.-TW

Are ya nervous about the whole deal? CH

Nah... I wanna kick that guy's ass...killin' all those kids, I've never been able to scrub it outta my mind, have you? -TW

No.-CH

K... see ya @ 6:30.-TW

Cya.-CH

I depressed my thumb and thought: Hibernate.

The screen went dark and I sat there on my bed thinking about a murder investigation and how the pressure fell on two kids in high school to find a guy that had, so far, killed ten kids. The remains had been found in the old cemetery where the ghosts had been last year. Kids our age. A disquieting thought.

****

Tiff came skulking through the door in her trademark hoodie, black jeans and matching All-Star tennis shoes. (But, unlike Jade...she probably shoots hoops, she had that look) accompanied by her parents on her heels. It was weird to see her subdued. In fact, I didn't think it was possible.

Her mom gave her a glance and said, “Tiffany, hood.”

“Mom...” she started in.

“Do it,” her dad said, looking alarmingly like an older Bry.

She flipped the hood back, her face revealed.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Where's Bry?”

She rolled her eyes and Mom's eyebrows shot up.

“He's out with this girl...”

“Already? Geez, that was fast.”

“Nah... he's been eye-ballin' her all summer.”

“Tiffany...” her mom gave her a warning tone.

She turned to her mom. “It's okay mom, it's just Caleb.”

I ranked. Nice.

“I didn't meet her at Gramps...?” I said to her as we wandered off to the family room.

The parents spoke quietly with the Welle's and I had a chance to look at them. Wow, maybe Bry would be kind of a big dude. Wait, check that; he already was. Mrs. Weller was tall, like a couple of inches shorter than Dad. But Tiff was a shrimp.

I asked her about that.

She shrugged. “I don't know, that height gene passed me by but I got hit with the AFTD right between the eyes.”

“That's not so great of a trade-off.”

“It'll be cool if we can help the cops,” she said.

I nodded, it would validate our AFTD asses, that's for sure.

There was a knock at the door and Onyx gave a soft woof. Showtime.

Garcia came in and introduced himself to the Weller’s; we listened in abject boredom.

“Gil Weller,” Tiff's dad said, pumping Garcia's hand, “and this is my better half, Shirley.” She stuck her hand out, looking him almost in the eye.

“Good to meet you, Sergeant Garcia.”

He smiled in that disarming way of his. “Just call me Raul. I think we'll be communicating a lot. So, no need for formality. This is Officer Bobbi Gale.”

They all looked at her, way down, she was Jade's size. Maybe she was a buck ten, I thought, smiling a little.

“What's so funny?” Tiff asked.

“I was just thinking about Bry saying Jade was a buck five, and thinking Gale was about the same size as her.”

“God. That was the lamest comment ever.”

“It was Gramps... he just... I don't know...”

“He was born without a filter.”

“Like Jonesy...but not.”

“No, Jonesy is sorta harmless, but your Gramps... he's an old dude that can kick ass and take names.”

Yeah he was.

Shirley Weller gave a sharp look to Tiff, had she heard the swearing?

Tiff nodded at my expression. “Maybe, she's got, like... super-hearing or some crap. Bry and I have given up, we mime now. We'd rather look retarded than get our asses quarantined to the house.”

I heard that. But, I didn't have any siblings so I couldn’t empathize as much.

“Mac's your mom's dad?”

I nodded.

“Man, she is completely different than him!”

I nodded again, polar opposites.

“It was fun hanging out there this summer.”

“Yeah, it was. If we still get good weather we can be out there almost to Halloween,” I said.

“Don't they drain the lake?”

“Yeah. I don't remember when but I'll ask. My mom will know.”

The cops stopped all the hand-shaking BS and came to stand in front of Tiff and me.

Bobbi Gale said, in that contralto voice that so didn't match her, “Did ya guys have a good summer?”

“Yeah, it's been fun,” I said.

“Action-less for once,” Tiff said.

I knew what she was talking about.

Garcia said, “This will probably change that.” Our gaze went to the folder in his hand.

“First, we need to have your parents pulse their consent,” Gale said, placing her pulse-pad on the coffee table where it sat like a rotting tomato.

“Gil, are you sure that the kids, should be exposed to this?” Shirley asked.

He turned to her. “We've hashed this over to death. These kids are watching movies that are more realistic than the crime photos. And this,” he pointed to Garcia's burden he held against his chest, “is real. These are kids that are the same age as Tiff and Caleb.”

I interrupted, “We're ready. What good is AFTD if we can't catch the bastard that's doing this?”

Nobody corrected my language.

Gil studied my face, taking my measure, then he turned to Shirley and she nodded. My folks already knew that my life was always gonna be dangerous. They just wanted to be part of it so they could help prevent as much as possible.

Good luck with that. We'd barely escaped last year in one piece: I was almost beaten up by two different dads, kidnapped by the Graysheets and stalked by the loser-duo, Carson and Brett.

Our respective parents pressed their thumbs to the consent form that illuminated Gale's pulse-pad, then leaned back in their seats where Garcia was spreading the crime photos like a deck of cards in front of us.

A fan of dead bodies splayed out before me, my first thought was: definitely not like a movie. Tiff paled a little and I gave her the guy clap on the shoulder, she steadied right up. Good.

“This is pretty graphic, so if someone needs to leave and take a moment...” he looked at the adults' faces, finally settling on mine and Tiff's, she nodded, we're okay.

It was utterly horrible and...very real.

One photo in particular caught my eye and there was something about it that stirred a memory I'd had it last year too. A flash of red and some concrete.

Garcia's eyes were pinned on me. “Have you thought of something Caleb?”

“This body...” I pointed to one that had the remnants of some clothes around it.

“The one with the red sweatshirt...” Gale pointed.

She and Garcia looked at each other.

“What?” Tiff said, her faced a pinched mess, it was getting to her.

“This is the oldest body and...” she looked helplessly at Garcia.

“The child was reported missing about ten years ago. And, we have made a positive ID.”

Who? What was with all the cloak-and-dagger shit?

Garcia said, “It was Brett Mason's younger brother.”

WTF?

Tiff and I gaped at each other. Brett had a younger brother!? News to me!

Mom said, “I remember hearing about that, because the boy was so close in age to Caleb but I didn't make the connection.” She covered her mouth, looking shell-shocked.

Us too.

Dad had the thinking-about-Science-thing look. “The boy would be...how old now?”

Gill said, “Isn't that the family that has all the domestic...”

“Stuff,” Shirley answered, nodding confirmation.

“Could it be...?” Tiff began, “the dad,” she whispered.

“No,” Garcia said. “He's been cleared, he has an alibi.”

Too bad, I thought, he was a putz and needed to be put out of his misery.

We all started talking at once and Gale said, “Guys!”

We stopped talking, looking at her. “We need to think about this as a local job.”

Wasn't it local?

She saw my face. “We hadn't excluded the possibility of a transient. Someone that lived here for a time, but moved on. But we know now that it is someone familiar with the area, someone who may have contact with kids by profession or some other means.”

Hell, that sucked. Tiff and I looked at each other. Sure would have been easier if it had been Brett's dad. Or even better, Jade's I thought dreamily. That'd rock...

Garcia bent toward me, using the well of silence that Gale had produced to ask me, “You looked like you were remembering something...”

I nodded, I'd had that same fleeting fragment of memory edging around my head that first day I pointed out Jade to Jonesy and then he'd elbowed me and It'd slipped away. I told Garcia what I remembered.

“But what does this have to do with the dead body?” Tiff asked.

I shrugged, I wasn't sure but somehow, they felt connected. The photo reminded me of the memory.

Gale was nodding. “It's possible that somehow you're having a death-connection.”

Garcia looked at her. “Non-paranormal speak, please. Just humor us mundanes, would you?”

Garcia had a little edge to his voice. I guess there was a learning curve getting used to the paranormals. Or, maybe it was just Gale. She'd take some getting used to. She was definitely her...all the time, whether ya wanted it or not.

She blushed a little. “Ah, there's this thing we're trying, with some of the AFTD's where, they get some vibes or whatever, that they can connect to a real-life incident.”

She looked expectantly at us and we stared blankly back... what?

Dad stepped in, “Let me try...do you mean that if there was a time in Caleb's life, that he ever met the victim, then said victim...” he paused, “passes, he can connect the memory to the death?”

She exhaled. “Yes, kinda. I mean, it's the AFTDs who are great murder/trauma locators that are good at this 'death-connection' thing. And, of course, they have to actually have a memory to connect. Not everyone is lucky enough.” She looked at me. “Or unlucky enough to have stumbled on the victim when they were alive to have the memory connection after their death.”

“You mean that I looked at the photo and immediately connected it to that memory and my AFTD 'knew' it was related.”

She visibly relaxed. “Yes.”

Wow, this just kept getting weirder.

Fine, now what. “So now what do I do?”

“We want you to touch all the bodies and see if you have more connections.”

Tiff huffed next to me, “Why do you need me then?”

“You're his amplifier, right?”

Tiff nodded. That was a swift nameplate for her.

“You can help him... connect.”

“He has to touch dead bodies?” Mom queried, looking ill.

“I could raise them, they'd have to, ya know... answer me.”

Garcia rubbed his chin, back and forth, like a nervous habit. “How old would you say this memory is?” he asked without answering me.

I thought about it. “Old.”

He raised an eyebrow. I thought more. “I wasn't in school for sure, I don't know, maybe earlier.”

He looked at Mom. “Maybe we could get you to think of places you may have frequented and narrow down the most public. We're sure that some of these kids were abducted in everyday locations, in broad daylight, right under their parents' noses.”

Shirley's hand flew to her mouth and Mom gasped. “Do you think...?” she began.

Garcia was nodding. “I do. I think it's plausible that Caleb may have witnessed the abduction and somehow seeing Jade connected it even before he saw this.” He tapped the photo of the broken body on the table, the neck twisted, the clothes' brightness faded by age and the dirt that had caressed them for a decade.

Wait a sec, something didn't add up. “What does Jade have to do with it?” I asked, a worm of worry burrowing through my body, my palms growing clammy. It made me want to pulse her this second. I would the minute we were done here. Brother, creep-factor one hundred.

The cops stood and so did the parents. More hand-shaking while Tiff and I silently communicated by look how fast this had gotten bad.

Garcia was talking to us and I had missed it, my thoughts consumed with Jade... I wanted to make sure she was okay. It wasn't rational but the hell with it, I would calm down if I could pulse her.

“....and then you can....”

“What?” I asked. The Parents' eyebrows lowered into that uni-brow position that's code for perk up or die. Right.

“Excuse me?” I corrected. The eyebrows relaxed.

One lecture avoided.

“I was saying...” he looked at me, knowing I'd been off in dreamland, “that you and Miss Weller need to come down to the station and check out the bodies.”

No problem, Mr. Officer, just let me pencil you in so I can come do a little corpse-grope. Geez.

Out loud I said, “Okay. When...” I looked at Tiff, who shrugged noncommittally, “do you need us to come in?”

Garcia thought about it for one second. “Tomorrow would be great.”

“We know that you just started high school but...” Gale added.

“We know how important this is for...” Dad started.

“Everyone,” Shirley said and the dads nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “We'll do it.”

The cops walked to the door and Gale turned. “Remember, I'll be there too, you're not going to have to do it on your own, Caleb.”

“I know,” I said and looked at Garcia.

“Oh...” he slapped his forehead. “Yes, you could raise one of the victims but, there is a theory about that...”

I raised an eyebrow.

“They're not sure if traumatic-victims remember their attackers. The same thing that allows AFTDs to find them may disallow a Cadaver-manipulator to get a confession or whatever.”

We'll just see, won't we?

“Okay, but, since I can... I should.”

“Have you ah...” Gale asked as her hand landed on the doorknob.

“No, I took the summer off,” I said.

She looked relieved. “After the year you had, raising zombies probably didn't sound so hot.”

I shook my head, it didn't sound so hot now either.

The cops looked at us. “You can't tell anyone. This is a police matter and if word of the investigation were to get loose...” Garcia trailed off.

“It could endanger you guys,” Gale said.

“How?” I asked.

“It's like Sophie said, 'the murderer isn't gonna want us breathing if he knows you're on to him'.” Unhelpful-much Tiff, I thought, seeing Mom's expression.

“They already know we're gonna be working with ya,” Tiff said.

He nodded. “Yes, but they don't know details. Impress upon them the need to stay quiet. Especially with Mr. Jones, who seems like a loose cannon.”

Loose cannon! I saw my parents look at each other with the mention of Jonesy.

“Okay,” I said and Garcia looked first at me, nodding then turned those cop eyes on Tiff.

“Yeah, I won't talk,” she answered.

“Good,” he said, tipping his hat to all the assembled parents, the silver shield winking in the low light of the end of the day.

CHAPTER 6

Tiff and I met at the door of the Kent Police Station at the same time. She had a wad of gum stuffed in her mouth and could snap, I swear, ten ear-splitting bubbles one right after another...like she was doing now.

“Tiff... please...” I said, my ears in pain.

“Calm down, you should try it, Hart, it settles your nerves.”

Yeah, it was so calming. And monkeys fly out of my ass.

“I think I'm gonna be okay, after all, it's a bunch of the dead ...” I said while I held open the door for her. Slipping through, she ripped her hood back as she came through. She stopped suddenly and I almost plowed into her, throwing my hands up to keep my balance as I went on tiptoe. She had her pulse in hand, her thumb depressed, nodding her head.

“What?” I said, kinda irritated.

“It's Bry. He wants to know if he can bring the chick he's been diggin' on to the hide-a-way Friday?” she asked, and I had to peer around the mammoth bubble to see her. She snapped it and suddenly, her hazel eyes filled my line of sight. Geez... with the gum.

“I guess. Wait, is she okay?”

Tiff shrugged and said, “Don't really know her, kinda girlie, kinda annoying.”

“Why cuz she's 'girlie' or cuz...”

“Yeah, all of that.”

“You like Jade.”

Tiff looked at me. “She's cool, even if she wears pink.”

That was a crime I guess. I liked the way Jade dressed. Huh.

We walked in and I scoped the receptionist's desk. An older gal sat behind the desk with a huge pulse-screen in front of her and three thumb pads. She saw us and held up a finger, her other hand with her thumb depressed on a huge thumb pad the size of my credit-card sized pulse.

Tiff and I waited and she popped her gum. I think that's what finally got the gal off her pulse conversation. Who could think with all that noise? But whatever, it was sure effective.

She looked up at us. “What do you kids want?” eying us up and finding us wanting somehow.

I leaned forward. “We're here to meet with Officers Gale and Garcia.” Mom would have loved that.

She straightened in her chair, looking us over again. “You're the AFTDs?” she asked, a look of suspicion on her face.

I was used to that, didn't even faze me. I had been through too much to be intimidated by, I looked down at her name tag, Lovestein, and her opinions of people with Affinity for the Dead. Besides, she had a retarded name, I noticed uncharitably.

I let what I was feeling show on my face and she pursed her lips. “I'll let the Officers know that you're here then.” She swiveled in her chair, pressing an aggressive thumb on the pulse. Staring at us disdainfully, she turned away, lifting her thumb, then depressing it again.

“Officers Gale and Garcia will be with you momentarily,” her eyes wandered to a hard-ass bench by a wall flanked by a plastic plant. “Take a seat, kids.”

I didn't like the way she said kids.

We huffed over there and threw ourselves down on the bench, our butt bones protesting.

“Geez. What was her problem, the enraged cow?”

“No, that's reserved for Griswold.” I scolded Tiff, knowing that there wasn't another Griswold in the world. She was one-of-a-kind.

Tiff barked out a laugh. “True, dude.”

Garcia came jogging up which made me sit up straighter. “Hey kids,” he said, his smile preceding his greeting. He might be okay for an adult.

“Is somethin' goin' on?” Tiff asked.

“Yes, we have not transported all the other bodies yet and thought we could take the squad car over to the cemetery and get a gander at them there.”

A gander?

He looked at us and we looked at each other.

“Not that it's not really cool to have a cop-car ride and all...” Tiff began.

Garcia's eyes narrowed. Nice intro I thought, and interjected, “But maybe going back to the cemetery with all the fun ghost and Graysheet memories. Maybe, we're not feelin' it.”

Garcia looked around, saw Lovestein giving us her full attention (I noticed how she suddenly didn't have any pulse answering to do) and said quietly, “Why don't we head to my office real quick and we'll talk more there.”

We got up and as I passed a staring Lovestein, I had an insane urge to stick out my tongue. I swear it had been years since I'd felt that impulse. As I turned back to follow Garcia, Tiff stuck her tongue out at Lovestein.

It was a moment.

We left Lovestein back there with the open mouth, gasping fish look.

Tiff looked at me, never breaking stride and I mouthed, nice.

Garcia shut the door behind us and I looked around. His office was all homey and I raised an eyebrow. I thought he was a man's man, his office looked all metro-sexual.

He shifted uncomfortably and said, “Gale and I share this space.”

Gotcha, I was down with that.

“Oh good.” Tiff did a mock-wipe-the-forehead, “You had us worried,” she said with a straight face and I laughed.

“Anyway,” Garcia said, frowning slightly, “we figure that you kids may get a better 'reading' if you're where the bodies were dumped.”

I guess that made sense but I didn't like going back there. A lot of Bad Bullshit had happened there and I had an aftertaste still.

Tiff looked uncertain, “Is Bobbi gonna be there too?”

“Yes, we have the whole forensic team there.”

I said it out loud, “You must have had to pull some big-time strings to get two minors on a crime scene this big.”

Garcia started working over his tie, smoothing it down, cupping his hand and running it down the length, doing it again, finally, “Yes, ah...actually, there's been a lot of pressure from the brass to get this thing solved. And that's not the only pressure we've received...the only source.”

“They want us to solve it. They need our help.”

He nodded. So, the adults needed us.

I liked it. Tiff turned and grinned at me, she liked it too.

“Okay, we're in,” I said.

****

We left the police station and got into the disgusting police car. I had to ask, “Don't you guys ever get these things cleaned?” I looked around, not able to make purchase on any surface because they were all mucked up with mystery stains, again.

Garcia's brown eyes met mine in the rear view mirror. “Every week,” he said neutrally, and pulsed the engine on.

He began backing out of his stall when another cop ran up frantically, knocking on the glass, the rapping causing Tiff and I to jump.

Garcia opened the window. “What is it?”

His wide eyes were panicked. “There's another one.”

Garcia just stared at him. “Where?”

“Scenic Cemetery.”

“Damn. Okay.” He looked at the two of us kids. “I'll be right there.”

Officer Cline looked at us. “What about these two?”

“I'll figure that out.”

He looked at us dubiously. “Okay, but...”

Garcia gave him a glare. “I said I'd figure it out.”

Cline threw up his hands, begging for mercy. “Fine, whatever, it's your ass.”

“Yes, it is.”

He pulled away from the curb and got moving, throwing the lights on the cruiser, speeding toward my home away from home.

“What's goin' on?” I asked.

His eyes flicked to mine, going back to the road, then back again. “Detour.”

“What's happened?” Tiff asked.

He exhaled loudly. “We've got another kid.”

“A dead one?” I asked stupidly.

“Is there another kind?” he asked.

Tiff glared at him.

“Sorry, it's just, this case is getting to me.”

His eyes looked at us again. “Listen, you two wait in the car here. We're not cleared for you to be at a fresh crime scene.”

“Oh, come on!” Tiff wheedled. It must have been effective 'cuz I saw Garcia wavering. He pulled up, still eying us.

“Let me get a verbal...” he said, whipping out his pulse. I saw his thumb land on the pad and knew he was gonna work his cop-magic.

“What time is it?” Tiff whispered and I looked at my old Timex, the crystal busted during all the Cemetery Fun last year. I tilted my wrist back and forth until I could tell. “Straight up four o'clock.”

She looked back at Garcia, busy on his pulse and whispered, “Do ya hear 'em?”

How could I not? The dead were howling for release, the kind of release only I could give.

I nodded.

“It seems worse today.”

“Maybe it's this murder. Maybe, it causes a different 'vibe' or something.” I shrugged.

Garcia turned and said, “Pulse your folks. If they give a verbal then it can be umbrella-ed under the consent they pulsed last night.”

We stared blankly at him, English-please. I mean, damn, make it snappy. There was a corpse-a-coolin'.

He sighed, “Pulse your parents and see if it's okay for you to be at a fresh murder scene and if they say yes, I won't get in trouble.”

Huh. Okay.

My pulse to Mom went something along the lines of this:

Hey Mom.-CH

Hi honey, how are things going? -AH

Ah... Officer Garcia needs us to see a fresh body cuz some kid just got creamed today and they think they may get to the murderer faster.- CH

Oh... well, I don't think your father and I want you having those images in your head, Caleb. We're going to have to say no on this.-AH

I'd nail her with reason, I figured since Mom wasn't really logic-driven... although, sometimes that bit me on the ass... I depressed my thumb again.

Mom, come on... what difference does it make if the body is all bones or if it's all guts and stuff? -CH

Caleb, listen to me...this will never leave your head, these things will live inside you, be a part of who you are forever.-AH

I know, Mom. This is what I am now. I was meant to do this. If I can help...-CH
sighs, alright, but know this: the minute you can't handle this, we need to reassess what direction we choose in the future. Just because you're AFTD doesn't mean that chunks need to be taken out of your emotional health.-AH

I lifted my thumb. Geez, Mom (mental face-palm).

I depressed it again and thought:

Okay, thanks.-CH

Wait.-AH

Yeah? -CH

Did Officer Garcia have you phone...I mean, pulse? -AH

Yeah, he did.-CH

Well that's something, I guess. We'll talk more when you get home.-AH

Okay Mom, thanks.-CH

Love you, sweet pea.-AH

Geez.

...You too.-CH

I looked at Tiff, who nodded. Lifting her pulse. “My dad.”

“You didn't talk to your mom?”

“Nah, she'd have a pineapple if she knew I was gonna see something like this.”

Her parents were birthing fruit now.

“Well, my mom wasn't thrilled either.”

“What would your dad say?”

I waved that away. “He's totally into the Science groove, they'd have to put up the yellow tape just for him.”

She laughed. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “For real.”

Garcia was gearing up outside and swung the door open. “What'd they say?”

“It's okay,” I said and when he swung his head to her she nodded.

“Okay, hop out.”

We did (and I avoided a big scaly patch of something on the corner of the seat just as my butt cleared it).

Garcia smirked when he caught a load of my expression.

Funny, real funny.

****

We got out of the cruiser. All comedy disappeared when the sea of noise came rushing in like the tide coming to shore. Geez. The dead were loud. So much noise... I covered my ears with both hands, feeling momentarily dizzy. I'd gone the whole summer, avoiding all cemeteries. After all the accidental corpse-raising, I'd just had a normal summer, goofing around at Gramps' and hanging out with the Js and Jade. But that was like smoke in the wind now. I better re-acclimate, fast.

Tiff looked at me, she was okay but she wasn't what I was. I knew where the body lay the minute my foot hit the ground. Where was John when I needed him? I sure could use his psychic Null skills about now. He'd tune the worst of it out.

“You okay?” she asked, Garcia looking on.

“Yeah, but I could use a Null about now.”

“We have one on the way, you going to be okay?”

I nodded. I was gonna have to be.

We walked forward, the warm breeze of Indian summer lifting the sweaty strands of hair off my forehead. We started up the knoll, the great Douglas Fir trees swaying at the top, sentinel and waiting. The yellow tape swayed in the light breeze, the color standing out like a flag of warning.

Hiking up there, my head buzzed like a swarm of bees were trapped and searching for escape. Tiff made a low sound in the back of her throat and went to take my hand but I shook my head, that'd make it worse for sure. It'd notch my undead crap up to something I maybe couldn't deal with.

“Let's pull out the big guns when we absolutely have to and not a minute before,” I said.

She nodded, looking a little buzzed.

At the edge of the tape, I could see where the corpse lay and Garcia turned me bodily, his large hands cupping my entire shoulders. “This is going to be really bad. Don't feel bad if you throw up. It can happen. In fact, it happens to all of us at some time or another.”

Throw up? The barf-o-ma-tic was not in My Plan.

I nodded. I wasn't gonna back down now. He looked at Tiff and she nodded, already shaky.

It was the smell that hit me first. Somewhere between the copper of blood and open sewer. Like the shitters you had to use at the crappy rest stops. I felt my lunch start to rise and was sure that I was gonna spray it when I had a sudden inspiration. Maybe I could just think about the kid as a zombie already and that'd rein in the reaction. Because, right now, inside my head, I was definitely thinking about the kid as a kid, not a zombie.

I turned to Tiff. “Listen,” I started, but she had her eyes glued on the corpse and was doing the shallow breaths through her mouth, “I have an idea.”

When I told her she said, “That's kinda brilliant, Hart. But if I upchuck in the next ten minutes, call me a liar.”

We looked back at the team and the dude that looked in charge nodded to Garcia and he lifted up the tape, at the same time he clipped name badges on our shirts. We walked forward and that's when I knew visualizing wasn't gonna work on this one.

This was way-worse than road kill.

I sank to my knees beside the corpse and it spoke to me...

It screamed to me.

My head felt filled with the mudslide of its pleas. Its pleas for release. It was a boy, a boy my age and his head leaned at an awkward angle, things had been done to him, I didn't know what, but it didn't take a great amount of imagination to figure it out. I looked over the chest, seeing the fragility of bones and ribs. They offered not protection now. His intestines had been splayed out and looked like obscene worms.

Tiff gasped, doing the quick swallows, then split for the perimeter, where I heard her start gagging. That made me want to puke too, but I was hearing stuff and that overrode the horror in front of me.

Who I was rose to the surface, but the AFTD squelched it. Me-Caleb, was horrified. But the AFTD part spoke for me.

That power rushed through me now. There was no warning, no bartering. It poured out of me like the vomit spewing from Tiffany in a spine-tingling moment of shattering glass...spilling over the dead boy, his body jerking in response.

Oh shit-in-a-sack, I thought dreamily. I'd forgotten how great it felt to let it loose. Garcia saw the body twitch in response to the growing power and yelled, “Oh hell. Get the Null, I wasn't ready...Gale!” he screamed. “Where is she?” he bellowed.

The lead forensic guy said, “Hell if I know, Williams said she was running behind.”

Garcia flung a hand through his hair and strode over to me, the muffled sounds of Tiff puking in the background. “Listen Caleb, let's just rein this in until Gale shows up, the Null will be here any time.”

He reached out as if to touch me.

“Don't touch me right now, it'd be bad,” I said with real feeling.

His hand hovered, and he thought about it... pulling back. Just then a frantic looking cop came running up, his uniform all out of whack. “Why'd you let him get going?”

“I didn't, he just... I don't know... oh hell, look at that.” Garcia said helplessly.

Yeah, look at that.

The corpse sat upright and started piling his guts back into the open cavity of his body.

Tiff took that opportunity to turn around in her barfing to check out the activity, took one look at the corpse, and started puking again.

Geez.

I concentrated on the corpse, sorry... zombie, and gave him the last of the juice, concentrating my efforts like a weapon, I shoved out everything I had and said, Live.

And he did.

Right before our eyes he filled out, like water in a cup, he transformed before us standing as he did. A reversal of fortune, his eyes coming alive in their sockets.

They moved to me. “Master,” he breathed out, the wash of it like a stain of rot.

“My God,” the forensic tech said.

Gale came bounding up. “Raul! What the hell?” she shrieked.

“Yes, what the hell,” Garcia repeated dully.

“Why didn't ya wait? Holy crap, we have a live one here! And, he's a murder vic...” Gale said as she slapped her forehead.

“Where's the damn Null?” Garcia shouted to no one in particular, never taking his eyes off the corpse. That was okay, because the corpse wasn't taking his eyes off me.

Perfect.

Tiff walked up, wiping a shaky hand over her mouth. “Wow...he looks, alive,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“He looks wrong somehow, though,” she said.

And how do zombies look right? I wondered.

He turned those wet, glittering eyes toward her and she stepped back. “I think he knows what ya are, Tiff.”

She nodded. “He knows.”

“Why did you wake me?” he asked.

I gulped. This was the hard part and I guess the Null had arrived because suddenly the underlying buzz was gone, but the dead I raised was sharp-as-ever, an insistent presence inside my skull.

“I can't do anything with this,” the Null, Williams, said. His palm extended toward the boy victim, now a zombie.

I gave him an unfriendly look, I didn't need this, we were here for answers and Tiff had come unhinged.

The zombie took a menacing step toward the Null and all hell broke loose.

Garcia stepped forward, thinking he was going to restrain the kid-zombie. And in one, fluid motion, guts still bulging out grotesquely, he took Garcia's outstretched arm and using his own momentum, threw him over his shoulder, where Garcia began rolling down the hill toward the police cruiser.

Gale said, “Oh shit.”

Yeah, that about covered it.

Tiff grabbed my hand and the zombie stopped, his hand balled up on the forensic guy's lab coat. (Did they wear those to bed, like pajamas, I wondered wildly), and swung his gaze to me and Tiff... something about us connecting physically had given him pause.

Gale came forward and the zombie bared his teeth at her and she stepped back.

Aggressive sucker. I guess if I'd been murdered I'd be pissed too. Hey...

“Let him go,” I said in a low, clear voice. The zombie let his hand trail down the poor guy's coat and left little gobbets of flesh behind. I guess I'd done a hasty job of construction there. Maybe I'd do better next time.

“Listen, Gale, this zombie's different.” I said, the zombie looking at each person at the crime scene, taking in their faces. He was way too thoughtful, too sharp by half for my liking. I could feel my control on him was tenuous at best. I needed to get answers or get him back in the ground. Or both.

“Ya think?” she said, and I was reminded of how young she was. Barely out of the police academy.

I nodded. “I think being murdered has changed something.”

Garcia finally made it back up the hill and the zombie turned on him, hissing.

For cripe's sake. “Stay back, he's different. Violent. I don't know if I can hold him,” I said.

My power strained for control, seeking that connection that once it clicked, like a lock and a key... I had him and he was mine. But right now, I flat-out didn't.

Garcia stopped, grass stains all over his uniform, his hair standing up with dirt in it.

“Ask him!” Gale shouted and the zombie gave her his full attention, the smell of rot so fresh that even I choked on it. I wanted to puke so bad the back of my throat burned with it.

Garcia and the forensic tech coughed and the Null, disgusted with all of us said, “For God's sake, do I have to do everything?” He lunged forward, all-about-the-moment.

“No!” Garcia said, trying to intervene.

But the zombie leaped forward, meeting Null-boy in a macabre dance, their bodies smacking with a meaty thud right above all the lab equipment.

Geez, this guy was retarded. John would have never pulled this!

“Do something, Caleb!” Tiff screamed.

I strode forward, hauling Tiff behind me, her heartbeat struggling for freedom in our sweating palms and she tripped and I jerked her up to her feet, amazed by the adrenaline I had surging through my body.

It made my moves jerky and sporadic but not the zombie, he was a thing of fluid grace, and he was using that while he strangled the Null.

“Stop!” I flung out, sucking off Tiff then looking around frantically for Gale, who practically threw herself at me.

I grabbed her forearm, with absolutely no finesse, flinging out my undead energy like rice at a wedding.

The corpse hesitated, grinding his fingers in the tender flesh on either side of the Null's jugular and he screamed but it came out in a muddled gurgle.

He wasn't stopping.

I let go of the chicks and walked over there, taking him by the shoulder, the flesh giving some under the pressure in a disconcerting way, shifting beneath my hand...sliding.

He slapped my hand away and my arm went numb from palm to elbow.

Hell, that hurt.

I was in control here. I was the necromancer, not him. I wasn't gonna let him kill this guy. Even if he was an ass-hat.

I bent down on all fours, my jaw hanging over the forehead of the Null, my eyes meeting the zombie's, his fingers continuing their slow crush on the Null, his eyes bulging and an alarming purple hue was taking over.

“Listen to me, stop this...” I was struck by a moment of insight, “he is not the one that hurt you... I... I promise.” I felt utterly ridiculous negotiating with the zombie, but he looked at me, stopping the mindless esophagus trample.

Something about the tone of my voice broke his concentration and he straightened so fast I fell back on my butt, my hands thrown behind me to brace my fall and he flew over the Null with that uncanny grace (some of the really juiced up ones can).

He landed on my chest, straddling me, while all my breath left my chest in a solid rush and I couldn't take anything in. I looked up into his face.

He jutted his face down to mine and I gagged on the smell, feeling the distention of his bowels pressing against my torso. I was losing my consciousness, no air, his hot stagnant breath filling my nose.

Then he said the words, “He was like you...”

Who was like me? I thought, the edges of my consciousness getting fuzzy and gray.

There was a commotion behind me and Garcia said, “Let her. What more can go wrong?”

Jade was there in my peripheral vision. Oh God, no. With a surge of energy I heaved and bucked. Trying to distract him, feeling her warm hand grasp my shoulder, I threw my hand up behind me and she released my shoulder, catching it midair. Her power bathed me like warm honey, sliding down to that well deep inside me. The part that felt the dead, and I used that now...draining it and heaving it into the zombie.

His head flung back, his mouth open, the teeth standing out in his ruined mouth like a bundle of maggots and I thought... rest.

He threw his body off mine, where he landed, on all fours, squatted down, looking at us for a heartbeat. He turned and scuttled to where the chalk mark was outlined and melded into position. The ground opened, pouring over him in a smooth ripple, covering him like bugs swarming an anthill, then slowing and moving no more.

“That went well,” Tiff said, the Mistress of Understatement.

“Not really,” Gale said, letting out a shuddering breath.

Williams, the almost-strangled-Null sat up, holding his throat gingerly and the forensic tech came over. “Here..let me see what you have here...” he said, moving Williams neck first to one side, then the other.

The Null put his hands down and I hissed in a breath. There were fingerprint-sized welts like dirty strawberries marring the flesh of his neck.

He looked over at me. “You could have waited. That thing about killed me,” he croaked out hoarsely.

My eyes narrowed. “Well, excuse me for living but where were you?” I'd had about all the incompetent adults I could handle for the day. These were the police?

I wasn't impressed.

I looked up at Jade, her eyes burning pools of liquid emerald. “Hey babe, nice you could show up.” I smiled at her, thinking she was a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“What were all the police doing while the zombie tackled ya?” she asked, looking at the adults' faces, everyone dropping their eyes but Garcia.

He looked back at her steadily. “We dropped the ball. Not all my people were in place and things got out of hand...”

I grunted. Out of hand, ya think?

He looked at me, frowning. “I've come through for you Caleb, cut me some slack, I'm just one guy. I don't think the team knew how fast things can go wrong.”

I did.

Gale said, “Okay, we can point fingers all day and into the night but we need to find out if you figured anything out from him. And,” she pointed to the chalked body that wasn't there, “we're gonna have to dig him out,” she said, rolling her eyes.

I stood up, wiping grass and crap off my ass, pulling Jade over and giving her a soft kiss on the mouth...right in front of the adults. They could suck it up; my girlfriend had saved the day.

“Hey, why are you here anyway? At a secured crime scene?” The forensic tech asked Jade.

She looked at Tiff, who shrugged.

“I pulsed her,” Tiff said.

I looked down at her, leaning back. “That was speedy.”

“I was close,” she said.

Huh, have to ask why later. Jade and I walked over to the chalk lines that had outlined the body of the boy.

I looked over at Tiff and she came over too, her hoodie a deep green, her skin echoing the color. She still looked like she wanted to barf out more cookies.

“You okay?” I asked.

She looked at me. “I don't know, it was pretty effed-up I'm not gonna lie.”

Yeah.

I went down on my knees beside the silhouette lines of the body, my hand hovering over ground that was disturbed only by the tech's footprints in the grass.

Gale watched me. “Where is he?”

I twisted my head to the side, looking up at her. “Six feet under.”

She laughed, I didn't. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I was all out of comedy for the moment.

Garcia looked back at Jade. “How'd you happen to be so close?” his expression taking in the three of us. He suspected we'd blabbed. That pissed me off on principle.

She shrugged. “I just was.”

She had a bead on me. Empaths were cool like that. I smiled down at her and she grinned back.

She had my back. It was just that simple.

Garcia snapped his fingers. “I got it. She's an Empath. There's not much you can keep from her, huh?”

“Pretty much,” I said, smiling without humor.

Everyone was just standing around, so Garcia took things in hand, giving people tasks to accomplish. Finally, he turned to our loose group. “We still need to go to the original scene.”

Tiff and I groaned. Seriously?

He nodded, seeing our enthusiasm he smiled. “I know it's been a rough start...”

Tiff laughed.

He sighed. “Listen guys, we have to go to the scene straightaway and have you look it over, then we can get the bodies back to the morgue, cataloged, and finally put to rest properly.”

Jade looked a little sick with all the cop-speak. To her, they were still kids. I wrapped her up against my body. “It's okay, we'll do the next part without you.” I whispered in her ear. “Thank you....I love you.”

She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with what she felt for me. “I could feel your fear; I was so scared for you.”

“Me too.”

We looked in each other's eyes, a silent understanding of how close things had come to getting really bad.

Jade looked around. “Okay, I guess I'll take off now, and let you guys, get to whatever you have to do,” she said.

Totally avoiding saying the words: dead bodies.

“How'd you get here?” Tiff asked.

“My bike,” Jade said.

“Pulse me later,” Tiff said.

“Me first,” I said, giving Tiff a Look.

She laughed. “Relax Hart, so territorial.”

I pointed my finger at her. “You got that right.” grabbing Jade and kissing her one more time.

Gale sighed. “Okay, enough PDAs, let's get movin'.”

I waved at Jade and she walked off. I watched her leaving and Garcia watched me. “Man, you have it bad.”

My gaze slid to his. “Wouldn't you?”

He laughed. “I guess I would, she's a special girl.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I walked down the hill with Tiff, the cruiser anchored at the bottom. Our ride to another death episode.

CHAPTER 7

Tiff and I looked at each other as we pulled up on that dirt road where there was hardly room to park and seeing it narrow...finally disappearing into the trees. That about undid me. I hadn't returned to this spot since June 13th (Friday the 13th to be exact) when the Graysheets lost all sense and came to take me. To do, God-knows-what, but whatever they had in mind, I didn't want. My friends and I had barely escaped by some lucky helicopter crash and now, through their exposure in the press, I had a break. For how long, I didn't know. Now here I was, back at the old cemetery again to relive the memories.

Garcia's police cruiser slowed, gravel crunching under the tires and slowed to a purring stop. The engine idled and he turned around. “Okay. So, just to be clear: I don't want any corpses raised for the rest of the day.”

Tiff did a slow blink.

I jerked my thumb at her. “She can't.”

“No, but she seems to help a lot.” He turned his face toward her. “No being an undead assistant today.”

“Hey, whatever, Officer Garcia. But, if things get squirrelly, I'm gonna do what needs doin'.”

He sighed, defeated. “Okay, listen, just don't try to do anything.”

We nodded. He knew that was the best he'd get out of us.

We walked up the road, little more than a path where it opened up to the graveyard. It was as I remembered it but not. It had seemed silvered and gray, standing in the moonlight with the faded picket fence like shattered teeth in a sea of hair. Today, in the late afternoon light it appeared whitewashed, everything different shades of white in the glare from the sun.

Tiff shielded her eyes. “Damn, it's bright.”

I nodded. Then I saw it, a lone flag of red in between the grave markers like a spot of blood on linen.

“Come on,” I said and Tiff tramped after me.

There was a whole different crew at this scene and I didn't recognize anybody.

“Ah, here is our Null for serials,” Garcia said, pointing to a guy that looked like a grown-up Alex.

We said hey.

He stuck his hand out and I instantly liked him more than Williams, who had clearly been a Ri-Tard.

“John Smith,” he introduced himself, giving me one hard pump. He did the same for Tiff but maybe going a little easier on her hand.

She looked kinda bemused, dropping his hand. “Is that your real name?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh...it seems so common,” she said in that off-hand way of hers.

“Easy to remember,” he answered.

True, I thought.

“Okay,” Garcia rubbed his hands together, “let's get started.”

Tiff and I walked the few remaining feet to the body, looking at the others all around, stakes marking their interment positions. Creepy.

It was Brett's younger brother, laying there at my feet that I couldn't move my gaze from. He spoke the loudest.

I looked at the Null. “You pretty good?”

“I'm a five-point,” Smith said neutrally.

Well hell, that rocked, my eyes widening. “How come you're working for the cops?”

“It's not the money that's for sure.” He winked while Garcia rolled his eyes.

“Okay you two, get the ball rolling,” Garcia said.

I looked back down at the body, then back at Smith. “I need you to tune out the others.”

“The other cadavers?” he queried with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, can you....” I began and his hand reached out, encircling my forearm and Tiff inhaled sharply.

It was instantly silent. I tried to reach out with my fist of power, the fingers of that imaginary hand reaching out like flags whispering on a wind only I could see, but there was nothing.

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He had me there. Damn, he was powerful. It also let me know what John would be when he was twenty-five.

I smiled back. “I gotta say, you're doing okay.”

He nodded. “How much?”

“If you can control your focus, say, just to let me hear this one.” I pointed to the body that lay at my feet, the red clothing hanging off bones strung together like monkeys in a barrel.

He nodded, a look of concentration overtaking his face, and just one whisper came to me then, “Rescue me.”

That voice skipped over the surface of my brain, trailing its fingers on a chalkboard and at the same time it felt strangely good, I shivered.

“What?” Tiff whispered.

I shook my head, bending down, Smith hunkering down beside me. I was in the fog of the undead where background noises didn't interfere with the process.

Garcia started talking and I heard only snippets of it, ...is okay.... can you help... don't let...”

It was swirling, white noise buzzing, because my hand was on that red sleeve, the weave rough underneath my fingertips and a flood of memories came into my mind like a river without a dam:

Extreme dizziness, a spinning thing without end, laughing kids using their feet to push off.

A male [presence] with candy, his face fuzzy...I could almost make it out then it fell out of my vision, the boy turning away, holding...candy...

Frantic thoughts of a mother he could not find...

A dark car that smells of trash and other things...

Pain... no... no more...where is my mommy....

Screaming, white heat...then blackness.

The minute I regained consciousness, I woke up screaming with Smith above my face. He reached out and touched me, sending that current of memories streaming away into the ether and I was quiet and still.

There was silence.

My fragmented mind came back in jagged pieces like a glass jar being filled up with marbles. I could see Tiff, Garcia and Gale. Tiff's face told me so much. She looked worried, and for Tiff to be worried it was bad. I was on my back and that reminded me of Biology last spring. The frogs.

I stuck my arms straight above me and Smith and Tiff each took one and hauled me to my feet. I staggered a little and put my hand on a gravestone, immediately snatching it back when a undead current snaked its way up my arm like a live wire.

“Could you 'tune-up' one-hundred percent or something? I'm kinda having a moment,” I told Smith.

He did and it stopped. I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in a shaky rush.

I looked at him with all the gratefulness in the universe.

Garcia glowered at the Null. “You couldn't prevent him from passing out?”

Smith turned on him. “You try to hold the only five-point C-M and see how you do. How'd our boy Williams do over at Scenic? I heard that was a SNAFU!”

Garcia strode over to him, their noses almost touching and Tiff and I took a step back. Were they going to kick each other's asses, right here?

All the forensic people had stopped what they were doing, staring at the two of them.

Gale, (who seemed to have uncanny adult radar) saw violence brewing and jogged over there, slipping between the two of them, putting a hand on either chest.

“Knock it off, both of you. This isn't helping!” she said, disgusted. “We've got two teenagers over there risking themselves for this investigation and you two dogs have to run around peeing in corners. Figure it out!”

Garcia took a walk and Smith came over to me.

“Ah, what's going on?” I asked. I was still getting my act together, wiping a trembling hand over my mouth, trying to steady the quaking.

Gale made a water bottle appear from nowhere, uncapping it and giving it to me. “No gulping. Small sips.”

Right.

I took a sip and felt a little better.

He rolled his shoulders into a shrug, answering me. “Raul, I mean, Officer Garcia, and I don't always see eye to eye on stuff. And,” he said quietly, “he's pre-inoculation.”

So? my look said.

“Some cops feel out of control when they can't be a part of the process...” Gale shrugged.

Garcia didn't like paranormals or...?

Interpreting my expression, Smith shook his head. “It's not like there isn't a lot of the prejudice out there for us, Caleb. It's more like helplessness. He wanted you to not get hurt and couldn't trust that this was part of the process for you to get information and I would safeguard you through it.”

Oh.

“You remember my partner, Officer Wade,” Gale said.

Chuck, I nodded, remembering.

“Well, he had some of the same issues. He felt like he was out of the loop when paranormal crap went down.” Smith raised an eyebrow, “sorry... stuff, (Gale waved away her borderline swear word), and that is something he's getting used to now. Garcia needs...”

“Time,” Smith said simply.

“Well,” Tiff said, smacking fresh gum in her mouth, “he better get a handle on that 'cuz he was gonna open a can of whoop ass on Officer Smith here.”

Smith smiled. “I don't think we were quite there yet.”

It'd looked plenty there to me.

Garcia came back over, throwing a hard glance at Smith but saying nothing. “So, you doing okay?”

No. “Yeah.”

“What do you have for us?”

I thought about it. “He was taken in a park.”

“Do you know which one?”

I nodded. “It's not there anymore. I mean, I don't know. I haven't been in,” I thought about it, Mom used to take me to that kiddy park... “maybe ten years now.” I shrugged. “It's by Meeker Middle School or it was.”

Gale nodded. “I know the place. They took all the play equipment down, safety regulations.”

Tiff said, “Kinda like dodge ball.” We laughed.

The adults looked at us with a question.

“Private joke,” I said.

They looked away, talking amongst themselves and I noticed it was getting pretty close to supper. I knew because The Hunger was making itself known. Translation: my stomach was digesting my spine.

Smith said, “I'll take the kids home.”

Garcia looked like he'd start barking at the end of his chain or something. Gale put her hand on his forearm. “Raul...” he looked down at her, his gaze softening.

Interesting.

He looked back at Smith and those eyes cooled right back down. “Okay.”

He turned to me. “Pulse me when you arrive. I want to make sure you're okay. And tell your folks we have a lead now thanks to you,” he said, clapping me on the back.

Smith, Tiff and I walked to his car and he unlocked it straight from his pulse. It was one of the new ones. It could probably wipe your ass if you wanted it to.

So cool.

I saw Tiff salivating over it from the corner of my eye and she mimed her thumb over an imaginary pulse, I mouthed back, I know...

Smith caught us checking it out and said, “Want to see?”

“Yeah.” I laughed.

Tiff and I leaned over the pulse and she said, “John would have a kiwi if he saw this, being a tech-boy and all.”

It had one of the new fingernail-sized thumb pads that lets ya use just a part of your finger for pulsing and, it had magnetized clipping. Some kind of your-organic-matter-syncs with the pulse. So no, in-the-pocket hassle. You just stick it against your hip and it sits there.

“Okay, I'll show you guys the coolest thing.”

He depressed his thumb (just barely 'cuz it was a thumbnail pulse), and thought into it: attach, then he let it go and I watched it hover in the air for a second and attach to his hip. Totally awesome! Tiff and I stared at each other.

But something disturbing had occurred to me. Could it attach, like anywhere? I asked him that.

He laughed. “You mean like...”

“Some dumb-ass walking around with it stuck to their crotch,” Tiff said delicately, a bubble bursting, echoing slightly.

Smith barked out a laugh. “Well, aren't you eloquent?”

Tiff just shrugged, snapping her gum. He gave me his attention, answering, “Ah, I guess you can attach it anywhere you want,” and his eyes swung to Tiff who stared blankly back.

Unflappable.

“But,” he continued, “most people just use the hip because that's where pulses usually go.”

I didn't know about that, mine was always digging uncomfortably into my ass.

We got into the back of his cop car and I noticed that his wasn't as gross as Garcia's.

“This is a better ride than the G-man,” Tiff observed for me.

Smith looked at Tiff in the rear view mirror like, huh?

“Garcia,” I answered for her and she held out her palm like I was insanely brilliant.

“Oh. Well, he has a lot of criminals he transports and I mainly hit crime scenes after the crime has been committed.”

Made sense.

We were quiet on the way to our respective houses and pulled up in front of the Weller house. It was a huge place with a tree standing guard in the front lawn and a tire swing hanging from it. Toys littered the front yard in a distractingly colorful way.

“Where'd you get that old tire?” I asked, knowing that sucker was way-illegal.

Tiff's smile got wider and she said, “A certain refuse station had a ton lying around.” She winked.

I got it. The dump. Bry must have hauled the thing around in his crappy car.

A little kid about five years old zoomed out the front door looking a lot like Tiff's mom, Shirley.

Tiff opened the door and he leaped into her arms. “Tiffie!” he shrieked in a most annoying way.

In that moment I was deeply glad I was an only child.

“How many Wellers are there?” I asked, Smith looking on with interest.

She looked at me, ruffling the kid's hair. “I have four younger brothers.”

Geez, that explained a buttload about Tiff. She's always jockeying for position.

“What? Your parents are trying to repopulate the world?” I asked.

“Somethin' like that,” Bry said, walking up to the cop car with the hottest chick in the world. So this was the one he'd been eye-ballin...

She was tall and slim, but had weight in all the right spots. Long red hair, not carrot-colored like John's but like a deeply burnished copper penny, [not that those were around anymore], but I had a few in a jar. Whiskey-colored eyes that took up about half her face. Wow.

Then she spoke and ruined it. “Is this the AFTD pair?” she said in a voice that rivaled Griswold's, her eyes filled to the brim with loathing.

Tiff looked at me and made a face and I knew I was in for it. I started having the insane urge-to-laugh-at-inappropriate times.

Like now.

It started from my gut and gales of laughter pealed out and it appeared that I was laughing at Miss Hotness. Which I was, which made me laugh harder.

Smith looked alarmed and Tiff said quickly, “Catch ya later, Hart.”

She took off before her laughter began, the coward.

I sat in the back of the cop car with tears streaming down my face and laughed. Bry glowered at me and his girlfriend said, “Is he retarded or something?”

Bry looked mildly offended on my behalf, then looked at Miss Hotness and rethought his priorities. “Not usually,” he said with barely-there tact.

“Well, he is today,” she said, huffing off. She looked as good walking away as coming but I couldn't appreciate it because I was laughing so hard and she was clearly, a raging bitch.

I hiccuped to a stop and said to Bry, “Good luck with that!” then started howling again. He slammed the door on me, jogging after the witch. Who was probably looking for her broomstick about now. She was gonna throw that sucker in low gear and take it for a spin, chasing all the Weller kids around with a pointy hat jammed on her head.

Smith pulsed his car to start and turned to me. “She was a piece of work.”

I nodded. “Yeah she is.” I wouldn't be able to wipe the grin off my face if it killed me.

He said, “You handled that well.”

Which made me laugh again. Smith shook his head and started driving and my pulse vibrated. I looked down at the screen, wiping tears away from my eyes:

The MJ light illuminated and I depressed my thumb on the pad and thought: accept contact.

Guess what Hart? -MJ

Idk...CH

Kent Lake flat-lined today.- MJ

No profanity-block! -CH

No profanity-block! -MJ

Quickly, I thought:

Multiple-contact and all my contact names for the group came up.

Hey- JLeC, John Terran, AS, BW, TW, SM

Okay, J-man, tell the group.-CH

Maybe I didn't want them all to know.-MJ

I have proven myself and would appreciate knowing everything. John has filled me in on it all anyways.-AS

Okay...Sims, but you have to grow on me...I'm like a fine wine...

Jonesy! Get over yourself and tell us what's happening! -SM

Soph...don't get your panties in a twist. -MJ

What happened at the school, Jones? -TW

The school flat-lined.- MJ
silence.

Like the chopper at the cemetery in June? John Terran

Kinda like... profanity-block! You connect-the-dots fast, Terran!-MJ

No electrical activity whatsoever? -AS

Nada. They couldn't even get the back-up pulse generators going.-MJ

Are you profanity-block kidding me? I've never heard of that happening! -BW

Well, it happened and it was great...the adults were scrambling around like eggs trying to get everything back online and nothing! It was righteous! -MJ
rolls eyes you're still gonna have to do the homework, Jones.-TW

What are they speculating? -AS

Good question, Alex.- John Terran
mock-bow Thanks.- AS

Can it, dip-profanity-block, they think they've got an unclassified in the school.-MJ

I'm unclassified.-AS

Not like you, obviously...hey, I thought you were smart? -MJ

Knock it off, Jonesy...this is serious. Maybe it's some wacko! -JLeC

Jade's right....when do they think they can get power back on?- CH

Already done, my man.-MJ

When? -John Terran.

Soon as school was over.-MJ

Definitely a student.-AS

Yeah, the kids leave, the power comes on. Two plus two equals four.-BW

Not for everyone laughs -TW

Just wanted you clowns to know shrugs -MJ

K, we're still meeting at the hide-a-way on Friday? CH

Yeah.- Multiple-contact response

Six o'clock then.-CH

I'll have the AP results then, too.-MJ

Great, we'll all sleep like babies tonight knowing that.-BW

Piss off Bry.-MJ

See you guys on Friday.-John Terran

Signing off.-AS

Signing off? Seriously?

See ya.- Multiple-contact response.

Jade? -CH

Still here.-JLeC

I'm in the back of a cop car so I'll pulse you later. -CH

K...Garcia's? -JLeC

No...it's a long story.-CH

You okay? -JLeC

Yeah...ttys, Love you.-CH
smiles Love you too.-JLeC

Smith rolled up to my house and turned. “You say your friend is a Null?”

“Yeah.”

“He any good?”

“Maybe better than you. Someday.” I winked. “Thanks for your help today.”

He nodded.

I turned with one foot on the cement sidewalk and one in the car's floorboard. “What's with you and Garcia?”

Smith stared at me for a second. “You're not a big talker are ya?”

I shook my head, not really.

“Bobbi and I used to go out.”

So? I shrugged.

“I think he likes her and doesn't like that I was in the picture before.”

“Isn't that kinda adult info. for me to have?”

Couldn't believe he was sharing.

“Not so much. But, you and I might work together more and I would rather treat you like a peer than not. You're a powerful paranormal and that needs a dose of healthy respect. Also,” he smiled now, “like Gale said before, Garcia just missed the inoculation and maybe is frustrated over that.”

I shook my head. “I don't get that. I think maybe it's the criminals that are paranormal that's the problem. You're reading him wrong.”

After last year and all that Garcia had risked for my motley crew of friends, I was a believer that he stood for what he was supposed to:

serve and protect.

CHAPTER 8

I wasn't seeing enough of Jade and needed a rendezvous (that was a damn fancy word that had come up from Jade. She was forcing herself to take French as a foreign language class this semester.)

I remembered the conversation exactly:

*

“You should take Spanish, and all our other friends can take a different language and then we'll all know something different.” She had looked up at me with those deep eyes I'd been busy drowning in and I snapped back to attention.

I looked at her as if I was really interested in listening to school-talk. What I was really interested in was... and my gaze drifted to her mouth.

“Come on Caleb,” she'd said. “You don't see the logic?”

I didn't, and told her so. I was trying to figure out some way to take all Vo-Tech but so far, I hadn't managed it. I had to take my paranormal ability class, core, which meant all the normal sleep-through-thems: Math, English, Science, and History. That left me with one fun class (PE, duh). Which would have been fun but Griswold was teaching it this year at KPH so nothing was exciting. That left Affinity for the Dead...which was not fun yet but definitely interesting.

Focus Caleb, I thought, dragging my lustful gaze away from her mouth. That would work for about ten seconds.

“And you're taking French why?”

“I am French,” she said.

“I thought you were Cherokee Indian?”

She nodded. “That too.”

She smiled at me and I grinned back.

I could totally work this angle.

“So, since you're French (LeClerc), I was thinking that meant you could French kiss me?” I said, lifting my eyebrows.

She stepped closer to me, and I reached for her, pulling her in tight against my body, where she fit like a puzzle piece.

And we tried that whole French thing out.

Finally, we broke apart, my hands lingering everywhere on her. There were so many fantastic parts of Jade, but it was her eyes that my gaze always came back to. They were full of what she felt for me...unguarded and vulnerable, her love for me a thing that lived there.

I never got tired of looking into them.

*

I pulsed her. All this thinking about Jade made me want to see her. Supper was over and it was time to connect, with all the cop stuff today, I hadn't had time. We were still in that lame first week of school where we're getting “reacquainted” and suffering through review of... I don't know, everything. That meant no useless homework, yet. Onyx pushed his head underneath my hand and I absently stroked it.

I ripped my pulse out of my back pocket and it clattered to my floor. Damn thing. It was so light, sometimes it flung itself all over the place when I got it out. I thought about Smith's and how great it would be to have a pulse that had the hover feature. You drop your phone and no big deal, it slaps back on your hip without dropping. Sweet.

I depressed the pad and thought: Jade LeClerc.

Initializing.

Hi.-JLeC

Hi...I'm home now, no homework, wanna get together? -CH

Yeah! But...

What? -CH

Brett and Carson...and some other kids are hanging out in the neighborhood and it might... ah, cause problems.-JLeC

I didn't like that whole pack of dogs over there sniffin' around Jade.

Caleb, you're not lifting your thumb...

Oops, I lifted then depressed again.

I guess ya know how I feel then.-CH

I always have.-JLeC

Right, Empath.

Anyway... let me bring more people then.-CH

I don't want a brawl...any violence or whatever.-JLeC

There won't be, I swear! -CH

Is Jonesy going? -JLeC

Pause in pulse communication.

Maybe...-CH

That's what I'm talking about.-JLeC

Nothing will happen if they don't start something.-CH

I know you won't start anything ...but, our group, as a whole... is awfully good at finishing things.-JLeC

She had a point there.

K, here's the thing, I'll pulse the world and tell them the parameters, come over so we can hang out and it'll all be okay.-CH
reluctance... K.-JLeC

I really want to see you.-CH

Me too, Caleb.-JLeC

And another thing...I can't protect you if something goes wrong if I'm the only dude in a pack of wolves...you got me? -CH

Why does it always come down to that? You protecting me? -JLeC

Cuz you're the girl and I'm the guy...it's part of my job description laughs -CH

Not real funny, Caleb.-JLeC

Don't worry about it, Jade. I love you, I don't ever want to see you hurt. And I'm trying not use the Zombie Enforcers shrugs-CH

****

I shrugged out of my clothes and bundled them up...hesitating just a second, I finally threw the whole mess in the hamper (I only had dirty clothes in there now). The fragrant, eau de zombie cologne clung to them and I didn't think Jade would think that was manly.

I opened my closet and had exactly two things hanging in it, over the hanger pole-thing, not on actual hangers. I grabbed the jeans and ancient T-shirt with a jerk, ripping it off the pole and the thing clattered to the bottom of the closet with a rattling bang.

“What was that?” I heard Mom yell from downstairs.

I picked the pole-thing up, putting it back in the plastic cups and heard Mom coming up the stairs.

Crap.

She knocked and immediately walked in and I wondered if the knocking really did anything? I mean, seriously? If you're just gonna barge in...

She looked at me, then wrinkled her nose, putting her hand to her mouth. Mom glanced over at Onyx, who had his nose stuffed in my dirty clothes hamper...his tail swinging back and forth.

The Boy's clothes smelled very interesting today, the Dog thought. The Boy had been around dead things and the Dog wanted to know more. The Dog pressed his nose to the fragrant smells again, as a point-of-fact, if The Dog dug down further... he might be able to find more interesting smells...

“Your room reeks like graveyard again, Caleb.”

Huh.

“That's because I was at one with Garcia and Gale, Mom.”

“Ah-huh. But why does your room smell bad?”

Great, as explanations went, I wasn't interested in Mom freaking out over another Zombie Episode.

“There was some trouble at the cemetery...”

Mom's eyebrows dropped like a brick over her eyes and I rushed on before a mondo-rant could start. “We had a Null, Mom. It was fine.”

“It doesn't smell fine, Caleb,” she said.

She spared a glance at Onyx, who was now digging enthusiastically through my heap of dirty underwear.

Why do dogs always like the sickest smells?

I sighed, I was standing there in my boxers with my new clothes in my arms. “Can we talk about this later? I told Jade I was gonna pick her up soon,” I said, pointedly looking at the clean clothes I was holding.

“Going,” Mom corrected me. “I want the full scoop later, pal.” She pointed a finger at me. “And your father will too.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

She turned and I followed her, Onyx trotting reluctantly after us. I watched my footing down the stairs, which were dimly lit and steep. “Where are you going tonight?” Mom asked.

Details, details.

“Bry's going to pick me up and we're all dropping by Jade's house... and then, I don't know... I hadn't thought that far ahead. I haven't seen Jade much since school started and now this police thing...”

Mom glowered, she was handling Bry's hunk-of-shit car situation better now that she had Met The Parents. That seemed to always crank her down a notch if she was freaking about a new kid. My parents needed to trust me more, I mean, would I hang out with losers?

Really?

After my shower, I threw on my clothes, brushed my teeth and flew out of the bathroom. Bry and Tiff were already there and the Js stormed into the house a minute later.

“Where's Alex and Sophie?” I asked.

“We're pickin' em up,” Jonesy said, staring past me into the kitchen.

Bry laughed. “You're always on the prowl for grub man.”

Jonesy looked at him. “And you're not?”

He had him there.

Bry crossed his arms and Mom came out of the kitchen with a plate full of cookies. Well, thank God for that.

We dug in.

After three cookies, Bry commented, “Aren't we supposed to get going to Jade's?”

Oh crap! Yeah!

“Hang on, I gotta brush the teeth again.”

Jonesy gave me a speculative look. “What's with all the big-time hygiene fetish, Hart?”

“Girlfriend,” Tiff and Mom said at the same time.

Bry barked out a laugh and Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I wouldn't talk, Bry. What about Barbie?”

He returned her glare. “That's not her name, ya squirrel, so shut-up.”

“Hey!” Mom said.

We all turned to her while I was mid-stroke on my teeth. “No shut-up talk allowed,” she glowered at us, hands on hips.

The Wellers looked chastised. “Sorry,” Bry mumbled, looking at me like, wow, dude, is this the word-maze you live in?

Welcome to my world.

It's not like Mom had five other kids to distract her or something. No-oh. She had plenty of time to concern herself over phrasing.

Teeth finally cleaned we took off down the stairs, piling into Bry's car and Jonesy said, “We pick up Soph next, I don't want Alex sitting on my lap.”

“You just like her butt, Jones,” Tiff said uncharitably.

Jonesy winked. “I do like booty and she has a fine one,” he expounded. “But,” he said, holding up a finger, “I don't want a dude on my lap.”

“Homo-phobe-much,” Tiff said.

Jonesy shrugged like, ya caught me.

We swung into Sophie's driveway and she was saying something to her mom who didn't look a thing like her. She was dark like Jonesy. Sophie turned, waving to us. Her smile slipped a little as she surveyed us all packed in there like sardines. Thankfully, her mom had gone back inside and maybe didn't notice the restraint harness issue.

There weren't enough.

“Where am I going to sit?” she asked.

Jonesy waggled his eyebrows and she sighed but, it seemed like she was faking it. I was just wondering when these two were going to proclaim their couple-dom. Jonesy spent most his time denying he liked Sophie and watching her butt constantly, and she spent a lot of time making him feel stupid, which was futile because Jonesy had enough self-esteem for the universe. She'd never put out his self-love fire.

She succumbed to his charms, sitting on his lap and he made a big groan about how heavy she was and Sophie elbowed him and they grinned like the idiots they were. Brother.

Alex was last and his neighborhood was right next to Jade's and Brett's. It was a little bit better off and didn't have that distinctive, ghetto-vibe but it was still questionable.

He was already waiting outside in his polo shirt, glasses sliding all over his face, and glaringly white tennis shoes.

A fashion disaster. But damn, was he strong.

He shoe-horned himself in between the Weller siblings and being as he was about one hundred pounds, they managed.

“So tell me,” Bry said.

I threw my elbows over the middle of the front seat, which took some doing, with the Jonesy-Sophie sandwich on one side and John's bony parts digging into mine.

“I wanted to see Jade and with school and the police thing...”

“Yeah, tell us about that,” Jonesy said.

“We're not supposed to, numb-nuts,” Tiff said.

“Hey,” he mumbled behind Sophie's hair. “Stop busting my balls over this, I wanna know details.” He blew a chunk of her hair out of the way and shot Tiff the, get screwed look.

She turned around in a huff with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Anyway,” I said slowly, giving them The Look, “she said Brett, Carson and a bunch of their friends were at Brett's and she thought it'd be bad if I came over.”

“Probably got that right,” John said in his sure way.

“They're ass-hats, it's their plan to make people miserable,” Jonesy said.

I leaned back and he turned around, Tiff had dropped her arms and was listening. “Carson Hamilton? Are you kidding? He was bad before he could torch-the-world but now...wow.”

“He still needs an accelerant, right?” John said.

Alex nodded. “But a jerk like that... Hell, he'll do anything to get what he needs.”

“Hate to break it to you guys but their little posse has expanded,” Bry said.

Silence filled the car.

“Who?” I asked.

Bry shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Spit it out, Bry,” Tiff said.

I looked over at Jonesy who had his arm around Sophie and she leaned back against him. Kinda cozy.

“Christi’s brother, for one,” Bry continued.

Tiff slapped her forehead.

Who was that?

Tiff elaborated, “Barbie.”

Oh her, that figures. She was a bitch on wheels so her brother must be terrific, or whatever the counterpart was to that. Huh.

“Who's she?” Sophie asked reasonably.

“She's a chick my brother digs that has the same IQ as Mick’s hamster,” Tiff said, smacking her wad of gum.

“Who's Mick?” John asked, trying to keep the cast of characters straight. It had a way of unraveling.

“My little brother, Michael,” Bry said.

“That kid I saw today?” I asked.

“No, it's another one,” Tiff answered.

Geez.

Jonesy waved this away. “Who cares about the girl? What does her brother have to do with anything? Who gives a ripe, hairy rat's ass?”

A grin slowly unfolded on Tiff's face and Alex shook his head, saying, “You've got a way with words, Jones, I'll give ya that.”

Jonesy smiled. He knew it.

Bry dropped the bomb, “He's a fire-starter too and he's older.”

“More control. More finesse,” John said.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed with resignation.

“This can't be good,” I said. “And I don't like those ass-clowns being around Jade.”

Jonesy looked at me. “Don't worry, Brett won't let anything happen to her.”

I whipped my head around to him and I heard John sigh.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him, my heart speeding.

Jonesy shrugged. “Just what I've been hearing around.” He twirled a finger in the air and Sophie avoided my eyes.

“Sophie,” I all but yelled, and she flinched, Jonesy narrowing his eyes at me. “What's going on?”

“Well, she didn't want to cause trouble...” she began.

I could practically feel my blood start to boil. I was gonna maim him if he'd done something to Jade.

She saw my expression and shrank back from me some, and Jonesy said, “Cool it, Hart. It's not Sophie, dude, it's Brett. Keep your focus.”

Right.

I mentally told myself to calm down.

It sure wasn't working.

She continued, “He's been trying to see her lately.”

“When?” I barked out and Jonesy gave me a warning glare.

“Sorry...” I said. “When?”

“Just since your Gramps' house.”

Oh nice, the middle finger parade and screech-out-of-there episode.

“What does any of that have to do with Jade?”

Sophie shook her head. “We don't know exactly but she just tells him she thinks it's better if they don't talk.”

But it was in her eyes.

“What else?” I said tersely.

“He's been hanging around her bedroom window.”

Eff-me.

“Dude, he's some kinda perverted stalker-type,” Jonesy said helpfully.

Yeah, that.

“Maybe he's just trying to apologize,” Alex said.

We all looked at him.

“Or maybe not,” he said.

Brett was definitely not the apologetic type.

“So, to recap this dandy little disaster,” John began and I raised an eyebrow at his words, “we have Brett stalking Jade, your brainless girlfriend's older brother has taken Carson the Corrupt under his wing and he is a how-many-points-fire-starter?”

Bry held up five fingers.

Perfect.

“Any more good news, Bro?” Tiff asked caustically.

He was quiet for a minute and that made me nervous-as-hell.

“Yeah, it looks like Carson's got a girlfriend.”

God...who'd go out with him?

“No accounting for taste,” Alex said.

No shit.

Bry pulled up to Jade's place and we sat in the sweltering, cramped car when he expounded, “She's AFTD.”

Oh, just beautiful. Tiff turned around and looked at me, staring at each other we thought about that group of kids, growing larger. And the disquiet of having one of our own on their side.

Who was it? I thought as I exited the car, the door squealing on its hinges and hanging at a crooked angle.

Just then, Jade bounded out the front door, the glare of the sun blinding us like bleached bones off its whiteness, twilight beginning to encroach, shrouding the bushes that clung to the foundation.

She looked into my face and knew in about three and half seconds something was terribly wrong.

Part of it was that we had a new threat and she hadn't told me about it.

CHAPTER 9

Jade slowed as she drew closer, her face searching mine. “What?” she asked.

My arms were crossed over my chest and I had a fleeting thought that a fight with my girlfriends was not on my to-do list but I needed a little damn help when it came to protecting her. Jade not telling me about Brett wasn't helping.

She was hard to be mad at though. I eyed her up, digging on how awesome she looked in her tight green T and bright white zippered hoodie. My anger wavered. Then I thought about what the potential of Brett was and it solidified again.

“Sophie told me about Brett.” I said simply, my anger at her dishonesty-by-omission making my body stiff. The others stood around the car, awkwardly trying to look anywhere but at us.

“Oh Caleb,” she said, approaching me. I stepped back. If she touched me, I was toast. She hesitated and dropped the hand that had been reaching out for me. “I didn't want to say anything. It's no big deal.”

No big deal.

“It is a big deal. Brett is seriously effed-up and just wants someone to be sympathetic. It doesn't need to be you.”

“I don't want to be mean and I do feel bad for him,” she said, her eyes pleading with me.

My heart twisted.

I hoped she wasn't touching him to get the Brett-intel. 'Cuz I wasn't down with that. How could she feel bad after what went down last year?

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Please, Caleb, it's just not in me to treat him bad. He hasn't tried to hurt me.”

Yet.

Suddenly, we heard scuffling and raised voices and turned at the same moment.

Through the portal of the open gate I could see my friends facing off with Carson and Brett who stood at the edge of Jade's fence perimeter. Two guys flanked the ass-clowns, Ceci (from my AFTD class) and Barbie were also there.

I looked at Bry and could see from his face he was battling emotion. Here was his hot (bitchy with a capital “B”) girlfriend who had showed up in the battle zone with her brother.

Things were not looking up.

Jade and I looked at each other, our unfinished business lingering between us uneasily, and walked out of the gate together.

I was immediately struck by how much older the other two guys were. Juniors? I didn't know for sure but I was damn glad that I had gone to Judo practice even when I wanted to do everything else instead. Last year made me realize a few things: I wouldn't always have the dead at my back, that my friends, and Jade needed me to be more.

More than just a puppet master of the dead.

Bry, the Js and Alex moved up behind me and the girls behind them.

A silence filled the void of the moment, the lot of us guys taking the measure of one another, the older two guys looking over Bry the longest.

The one on Carson's right said, “Why are you slummin', Weller? Gotta hang out with the kiddies?”

Barbie (okay Christi, I thought reluctantly), glared at him and said, “Don't jump his crap, Brody. He's with his sister, right baby?”

Baby?

I could feel Tiff's eye roll, no paranormal assistance needed. Sophie snickered and Christi narrowed her eyes.

This was going well.

Bry swallowed, here was the time when you spoke plainly. “Yeah, Christi, Tiff is here but these guys are still my dudes.” He shrugged.

I could have hugged him. But I didn't. I stood, legs spread apart, my arms crossed on my chest, saying nothing.

Jade broke the uneasy silence, “I told you, Brett, that Caleb and I are going to see each other. We're the same, we're both paranormals, it makes sense. Ya know, us being together.”

Brett's intense brown eyes looked her over possessively and it fired up every guy instinct I had and ones I didn't. He acted like he was the one dating Jade, not me. He needed an attitude adjustment for sure.

I was so volunteering.

Little known fact: guys always do a mental scan on another guy. The question is always the same: could I take him if I needed? Am I the fiercest dog in the fight?

I didn't know.

I was checkin' out Brody and if Barbie was tall, he was much taller, over six feet, even a little taller than Bry. The other guy just screamed bad news; he was shorter but built like Jonesy. He had the physical potential. Strong and fast. I didn't like it.

The Js didn't either and Alex looked positively green.

Alex! He was like, kick-ass strong! But, I guess he wasn't wanting to give it all away yet. Geez.

“It's never gonna make sense, Jade. He's bad for you...with all his frickin' undead creepers. You need to be around someone that's a mundane. That's where the balance is at,” Brett said in a way that told me he was repeating himself.

Huh. I didn't like Brett making any kind of remote sense and Jade listening to any of it either. Tiff huffed at the comment about the undead. I was insulted too. Like he was “all that” because he was a mundane. But he was eying my girl and she was Empath so he used that excuse when it worked for his arguments. Great.

“Let Jade think for herself. You don't need to be doing any convincing,” I said.

“Yeah, man, that's über-uncool. Ya know she's dating Caleb. Stop lurking around in dark corners trying to make moves,” Jonesy said.

John and Alex nodded.

Carson said, “It's a free country, assholes, he can be and talk to whoever he wants, you chumps can't do shit about it.”

Bry turned to Brody. “You guys are older, let Brett, Caleb and Jade figure it out. And,” he looked at them, “you're hanging around them why? They're freshman.”

Good point, as Brody had been the one to call us “kiddies.”

Brody and his pal shuffled around, finally the other dude said, “There aren't a lot of Fire-starters. We're a tight group...you feel me?”

Bry didn't, saying, “What does that matter? You can see what kind of guy he is, Diego? He started every piece of crap circumstance with Hart last year, said he'd be neutral this year. Yet, here he is, stirring up the shit again. He just loves the smell, like a fly to sewage.”

Yeah, that.

Carson's hands balled into fists and Ceci backed away from him, looking at me, fear standing in her eyes. My face asked her the question: why? But that was the age-old thing, nice girls dug bad dudes. It defied wisdom but happened anyway.

Carson gave her a look and she cowed away from him. It made me sick. His face swung back to mine.

Bry was staring at Christi but she was standing by her brother.

Nice loyalty too.

“Listen...” Jade began, her hands twirling about her nervously. “Brett, I wanted to try and help you a little because, I know that stuff is bad at your place.”

Brett gave her an ugly look and I could feel my blood percolate. “You don't need to explain why you're nice Jade, he doesn't appreciate it,” I said.

“Yeah he does, a little too much,” Jonesy said and Sophie nodded.

See, I was on to something.

“Yeah, I do, Caleb,” Jade said, moving away from me a little.

Huh, this was a disturbing development.

Brett stepped forward to meet her and that's when my resolve broke, I simply couldn't let her be that close to him. He was entirely too familiar with violence as the answer and I didn't want Jade in the path of it.

Brett's eyes flicked to mine then landed on her. “But, we can't be friends the way you want. I love him,” she said with quiet intensity.

“You think you do,” Brett clarified, saying it to her and looking at me.

She shook her head. “No, I do. He makes me feel more like... more like... what I'm supposed to be. That's a good thing right? When someone else can make you feel complete?”

“Listen, I hate to break up this love-fest, and I know you girls are all romantic fools...” Diego began, “but I'm pullin' the boredom card. Carson, you said he was gonna come over here, get this girl,” he looked at Jade. “Jane? Julie...?”

“Jade, dip-shit,” I said.

“Watch your mouth, kiddo,” he said, that look in his eyes. You know the one: shut up or suffer.

“Make me.”

Bry looked at me. “Caleb...”

“Nah, Caleb's right. These dudes come over here, peeing in corners, and we're just supposed to swallow their crap. I don't think so,” Jonesy said.

The girls looked at each other nervously, even Barbie looked at Bry. Even in her very small, Pooh-sized brain she was seeing the potential for things to go wild.

I could feel it in the air; it had a swollen silence that buzzed with life.

Maybe things would have shut down then because Diego was deliberating on how he could save face and put me in my place without a brawl.

But violence is its own beast and finds its way through a willing host.

Brett reached out and grabbed Jade, hauling her up against him. He was so fast about it she couldn't even respond and he latched his mouth onto hers, cranking her head back while he did it, his hand fisted in her hair while she struggled against him.

A red haze fell over my vision like a shroud and I walked around the back of Brett while he was man-handling Jade and took the flat part of the sole of my foot and slammed it into the back of his knee, effectively making his knees buckle underneath him.

He took Jade to the ground with him, my efforts to free her and hurt him failing. He threw her on the ground and rolled over on top of her.

I roared in rage, flew from my position and tackled him. When I landed, a foot connected with my ribcage forcing the wind from my body and that's when I heard the girls start screaming. I could see Jade trying to crawl away and Brett still after her.

Diego's face swam in front of mine right before his fist connected with my jaw, and then Bry was hauling him off. Meanwhile John was getting pounded by Brody while his dumb-ass sister was screaming over and over again. God, she was like Griswold. My ears rang as I sought Jade out. She was still fighting Brett, who had both her wrists above her head and was hauling her off somewhere in the yard like a sack of potatoes.

I rose up on all fours, spitting out blood, rising to my feet, I started an unsteady trot to Jade and Carson got in front of me.

He had a lighter and ignited it at the same time that a fireball appeared in his hand. “Brody!” he screamed.

That gave Brett pause, while Jade screamed for me beneath him.

Brody was busy, Jonesy hammering his sides with both fists, rocketing punches like heavy metal music, while John lolled on the ground, nose bleeding. But Brody was a junior, and Jonesy was giving it his all when Brody landed a punch that laid him out.

Bry and Brody looked at each other for a brief moment before Bry and Diego began hammering each other.

Tiff wasn't going to take that lying down and launched herself on Diego, doing what girls do: she bit his shoulder like the gum she chewed, worrying on him like a dog with a bone.

He threw her off, turning on her, he backhanded her so hard she flew about three feet and Bry roared like a wounded animal. His sister lay on the ground dazed with Diego looming over her.

I let the power out. I had been trying to contain the situation, manage it but there was no managing this. When guys started abusing the girls, that's when we brought out the guns.

The undead guns.

Like fingers reaching... they sought, feeling with the greatest of finesse and speed for anything close that could help. The power knew what it needed, what would neutralize this threat and there was always the dead.

They were always here.

It found what it needed and the power squeezed around them like a mighty fist, pulsating once, ripping them out of the ground...they came to the summons.

I could feel them moving toward me; coming home.

Heat built around me and I smelled something. My hair was starting to burn. Alex came at me in a full sprint, throwing his hoodie over my head and I was momentarily blinded, but my face wasn't burning which was an improvement. Still all I could think about was Jade. As Alex fell on me, cloaking my head in his hoodie, trying to put out Carson's fireball, I heard John scream, “Caleb!”

I tore the hoodie off, some of my hair clinging to it like ashen fingers. Brett had hauled Jade up to her feet, one arm around her waist and she stared at me with eyes that were wide and frantic.

I looked at where her gaze was and my breath stilled:

The gophers were back and behind them, Indians.

All the kids stood in various stages of beat-up, looking at the undead spectacle before us. I looked at Ceci and Tiff, (who was still on the ground).

“I'm sorry,” Ceci whispered. “I couldn't help it when you sent out the call.”

Carson looked at her with such withering contempt she took a shuddering inhale, and striding to her, he shoved her so hard she landed on her ass. I hated him for doing that to a girl.

The Indian that was closest to her swung its gaze to Carson, I could feel its sluggish life, connected to me by a thread, and to a lesser extent both Tiff and Ceci. Somehow, I had siphoned off them and gotten more than I bargained for.

The Indians were perfect. Perfectly lifelike.

I bet that's what the losers were thinking about now...more than they bargained for too.

The Indian looked like he had stepped out of my History pulse. He wore a band of colorful beads that had a huge, single feather standing at attention at the back of his head.

Though I had to say, it was the arrow trained at Brett's head that got my full attention.

“Unhand her, white skin,” said the Indian, who was a zombie, the cadence of his speech stolen from an era long past.

I looked at the gophers, numbering ten at least, that waited patiently at his feet, the two warriors at his side with their arrows trained on Carson and Diego, respectively.

Well, didn't this take care of shit?

I left my zombies on point. I strode over to where Brett held Jade and as I was walking, I balled up my fist and using my forward momentum popped him right in the face, nothing too hard, but a deliberate, fast jab.

It had the desired effect, he released Jade and she fell into my arms, sobbing.

“I'm so sorry, I thought... I thought I could be nice...” I stroked her hair while I watched Brett gauge what his options were; his eyes flitted from me holding Jade, to the three zombie Indians with arrows trained on his posse, and stood shakily to his feet.

“Put those arrows away, guys,” I said.

“He was abusing a female of the tribe,” the same Indian said.

I looked at him. What was this? I looked down at Jade, tears streaks drying on her face, her green eyes shimmering seawater. She shook her head, she didn't get it either.

“Explain,” I said.

They put their arrows in the quivers that rode low on the right flank of their bodies.

Ceci and Tiff came to stand next to us. Diego, Brody and the other ass-clowns gravitated toward each other. Water seeks its own level.

“This young female is tribe. She is not Skopamish., nevertheless, she is tribe.” I took in the choker about his neck, the fierce face, the war paint still on it, the bare chest with little more than a tanned loincloth and leather shoes that traveled from his feet to his calves.

The trouble was the eyes, I'd missed those somehow in the raising and they were like rotten fruit in his sockets; everything perfect but those.

Carson was inching away and then one of the other warriors grabbed him roughly and hauled him against his body. “You do not go until our master says you may go.” Then the zombie opened his mouth and a dank tongue, stained black by rot, gave a long, wet lick on Carson's face, jaw to temple. Carson screamed like it hurt, but I knew it didn't, it was just that gross. The zombie smiled, his mouth a gaping hole, many teeth missing at the entrance.

Wow.

“Okay, Jade, do you, ah...?” I began.

“Caleb, listen, we're going to start drawing a crowd,” John said reasonably. Like every day we raised Indians that were over one hundred and fifty years old. Yeah, right.

The third warrior had put away the arrows but a tomahawk lay naked in his hand. I saw a delighted look come over Jonesy's face and knew I had to wrap this up.

“Get your zombie off me!” Carson wailed.

It grinned, giving a squeeze and another lick; Carson cringed, screaming again.

“As much as I love this, and I do,” Jonesy said, winking, “we need to get the, ah, war party back in the ground and the...” Jonesy looked at the gophers who were definitely worse-for-wear, many without eyes at all, “menagerie, back,” he pointed to the ground.

“They're Muckleshoot,” Jade said.

Rang a dim memory bell.

The lead Indian turned its dead gaze on Jade and it was like a physical weight. “We are Skopamish.”

“That is not what they call your tribe, now,” she said.

The zombie looked at me and I stared back. I really did not want to explain the whole “What happened to the Indians thing.”

“I am Cherokee,” Jade answered by way of explanation.

“You are tribe,” he said as a statement.

No splitting hairs, my Indian zombies.

She sighed. “Yes.”

He nodded, then turned his attention to me. “Why do you let the white skin abuse your woman?”

Brett spit out a loogie of blood on the ground. The other two zombies watched it land with casual interest.

“This one,” I jerked a thumb in Brett's direction, “means to move in on Jade, and I was trying to convince her of that and she is sympathetic.”

The zombie's brows furrowed. He was trying to wrap his mind around the nuances of it all.

His warrior friend had less trouble. “He needs to make acquaintance with the tomahawk.”

“Yes!” Jonesy yelled, slapping his fist into his other hand. “Now that's what we're talkin' about! See how simple things were back then? He moves in on Jade, and whack.” He smacked his fist into his open palm and all the girls jumped. “He gets somethin' that's gonna Leave A Mark.” Jonesy put his hands on his hips, a look of supreme approval on his face.

The gophers started squirming in position, some making furtive attempts at circling the other group of kids.

Barbie shrieked, “Those things are getting closer! I hate all the AFTD shit! All of you shouldn't even exist!”

Bry frowned. “Ya know, my sister's AFTD. It's like having blue eyes, Christi, you can't help it.”

She looked at him, expression sullen. “Can't she just,” she waved her hand around at all the dead, “rein it in or something?”

I wanted to know what the “or something” was.

I was dying to know.

So was John. “There is no 'or something', it is what it is, brightness.”

She gave him the scorching female look but John wasn't having any of it, he just looked back at her levelly.

“Listen, undead-lover, get these frickin' creepers back in the ground, before we torch them right now,” Brody said.

“John,” I tossed casually over my shoulder. The zombies closed in behind me, the gophers swarming around my feet like brown water, mewling contentedly.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Why don't you 'tune-up' in case I misunderstood the intellectual potential here,” I said, looking at each one of the losers.

Jade pulled away, looking at Brett. “I'll never go to you. Just leave me alone!” she yelled.

That's when all hell broke loose, Carson and his buddy Brody ( two stupids sometimes equal a disaster), combined their powers and I felt the heat engulfing my body just as a gopher leaped from its perch at my feet, landing on Brody, who now had a gopher hat. It began to burrow in earnest and Brody began screaming in a most satisfying way.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my balls were starting to cook.

“John!” I shrieked.

“I'm full-throttle. They're too strong!” he said in a strangled voice.

Alex!

I turned my attention away from the Fire-starters for a critical moment to scream for Alex and that's all that Brett needed, jerking Jade off her feet, she screamed, “Caleb!”

Jonesy followed my reasoning. “Time to earn your pay, A-man! Get your scrawny ass over there and do your thing!”

Bry went right to the source of the fire as I sprinted over to Brett where I could see Jade's eyes as she faced me bouncing on Brett's shoulder as he took off with her. God knows where.

The only time I'd ever seen Alex look sure was now, as I reached out to grab Jade from Brett he latched on to Carson's wrist, fire leaping from that boy to the other. As Alex ground his teeth together Brett, 'cuz he was such a slow-learner, got another jab to the back of the knee.

I hauled Jade to me as he fell forward and whipped her around, carrying her at a jog to where Alex was using his small hands to throw Carson ten feet. My zombies, merrily burning, had Diego pinned. Their faces grimaced against the heat, the directive to protect the corpses instinctive for me.

The smell of the burning zombies was permeating the air, the foulness beyond description.

John lay on the ground and Sophie was leaning against the car with Ceci and Tiff on either side, dazed looks of shock riding their faces. I flew over there and deposited Jade, who looked like throwing up could be a plan, gave John the look as I rolled past. He was alive anyway.

Alex was hanging on for dear life and Carson lay in an unceremonious heap on the ground. Good. One down, three to go.

Barbie had her head buried in Bry's chest. Traitorous bitch.

“Alex, let go!” I screamed, watching blisters form on his arm as he tried to find purchase somewhere to take care of Brody who had singed half of my gophers. Their bodies smoked in a grisly heap that smelled like garbage and raw meat. I heard a girl start throwing up by the car.

No distractions, I needed to get control of this little disaster.

My zombies were strangling Diego, even though he probably was deserving. Ah-hell. “Stop strangling him,” I said.

They slowed down but weren't stopping.

I guess I had to really mean it.

Huh.

“Stop!” I yelled, with real intent.

They dropped him like a hot rock, their gaze swinging to me.

Just then, a cop car pulled up.

Well shit.

Garcia got out, his baton leaving its sheathing as his foot found the ground. In one fluid motion he jogged over to where I stood. Taking in the scene must have been something. The charred gophers, the unconscious kids lying about, the girls at the car spraying vomit.

I bet it looked pretty bad.

“What in the Sam Hill is going on here?” he asked, his eyes roving the corpses, the kids lying around.

Jonesy broke in, “Well, it's like this...”

“Ah-uh, not you.” He pointed at Jonesy. “You wouldn't tell me something straight if your life depended on it.”

Busted.

Jonesy's mouth closed with a snap.

Gale came over with her hand pressed over her mouth, the smell was that bad. Rank.

“This looks really bad,” Gale said, getting a load of the zombies.

She and Garcia stared at the Indians. The Indians stared back.

“Are they... are they... what I think they are?” Gale asked. She was AFTD, wasn't she getting the sense of them?

I nodded.

“We are Skopamish, female,” Lead Zombie said.

The cops' mouths actually fell open and I smiled. In the middle of this chaotic mess, I smiled. I suddenly remembered Jade and turning around I spied her next to Sophie. Jade was patting her back as she did the psychedelic yawn. Huh, alright-y then. She gave a small wave back.

Garcia visibly came to himself. “Okay, we have zombies and,” he looked at the gophers, a couple still milled around my feet, groveling and mewling, “and moles?”

“Gophers,” I said.

“Right.”

Gale just stood there stupidly staring. “Why don't you go see how the girls are doing?” Garcia directed her.

They were still barfing, that's how they were doing.

He looked back at me, the zombies stared, and the gophers mewled. Carson lay on the ground, Brett was walking toward us and Diego was coming to his senses (whatever those were) on the ground, bruises blooming on his neck as we spoke.

Garcia stared. Finally saying, “There seems to be a trend here.”

I opened my mouth to respond and he held his hand up. “The whole summer passes, without incident. Then,” he swiped his palm at the carnage, “this starts happening again.” He stuffed his baton back and put his hands on his hips, one eye on the zombies, who stared unnervingly back.

“Officer Gale,” Garcia called loudly, his eyes never leaving mine.

She jogged over. “Yes?”

“Are we going to need back-up for this little catastrophe?”

Her gaze met mine. I shrugged. I didn't know what the plan was. Crap like this happened enough that it was feeling alarmingly normal.

“Can you...” he pointed to the zombies, a tomahawk in each hand.

Hell, that made six total. I could see by his face that Jonesy was checking out the weaponry count as well.

“...neutralize this?”

Gale gave him a condescending look. “Definitely, Raul. I think I can make them, pause... for like, I don't know, three seconds... before they scoop our eyes out with an arrowhead.”

“Thanks. That's just what I wanted to hear. Comforting,” Garcia responded.

“Well! He's a five-point Garcia, unless you're willing to shoot him; he's in charge here, this is his corpse-party.”

They both looked at me. I guess there was no explaining everything.

I tried for the truth; I'd had moderate success with that before.

“I came over to see Jade.” She slid up beside me, putting her hand in mine. “And this turd...” I looked over at Brett, who glared back.

“Caleb...” Garcia started in warning.

“Okay, Brett-boy, came over here and stuffed his nose in our business, then he forced Jade to kiss him! I couldn't let that go!”

“Officer Gale.”

“Yes.”

“Please see if the rest of the kids are alive.”

“Yes, sir,” Gale said, making her way to where Carson lay. I could see his chest rising and falling. He was gonna live.

Garcia watched my indifferent assessment of Carson, he sighed. “Caleb, why are we here doing this again?”

“He's kinda a perv-rapist type, that's why,” I countered.

Brett came at me then and I was ready for it. He barreled into me, knocking Jade over as he did and I released her hand so she wouldn't get dragged down with the two of us.

He managed a good jab to my chin. Hell that hurt, same spot, and I jerked my knee up for a ball-cruncher and he deflected, but it caught enough of his nuts to make his teeth ache. He rolled over on his side just as Garcia grabbed both our hands, bending our thumbs back to meet our wrists. We howled in unison.

“Knock this shit off!” he roared, patience gone.

“Raul! Look out.”

Too late.

The zombies really take exception to my pain, I guess.

Lead Zombie had Officer Garcia's head leaning back, fingers sunk into his hair, the neck a long, clean line for the taking, the metal from the tomahawk winking in the sun.

I screamed, “Stop!” for the first time since this happened feeling like someone may die because of my choices.

The war cries broke the air in a shattering shriek that made my ears ring and my gorge rise.

Alex saved it. Using his wounded forearm, he struck the zombie hard in the chest, the tomahawk falling away in a spinning arc, embedding itself in the gate. The gate swung closed from the impact, at the same time my zombie hit the fence, flying through it.

Garcia was still battling the other two, Brett and my hands long-released from his grip.

“Stop!” I told them and they did. Standing straight to look at me.

Lead Zombie was trying to make his way back through a fence that now looked like it had missing teeth. Leave it to a zombie to try and use the same route. No going through the gate or something simple like that. Oh no, same old same.

Garcia looked like he'd had his bell rung but he got to his feet. He saw Chief Zombie advancing. “Can you make him stop?”

“Not if you pull another 'subdue' number like ya did,” I said.

“Raul, he's right. We know now that all the C-Ms have zombie-loyalty,” Gale said.

Hadn't learned about that in my AFTD class yet. All I knew, for a certainty, was that my dead battalion would pull out a can of whoop-ass if I was threatened. Screw “zombie loyalty,” more like, “zombie vengeance.” It kinda made the line black and white. Sometimes it was nice not to have ambiguity. I smiled at my internal vocab, must've knocked something loose in the scuffle.

Another cop car pulled up. Cripes, was the whole world o' cops gonna show up?

John Smith, the Null, got out of his vehicle and I swear the tension notched up. As a matter of fact, I know it did because my zombies moved closer to me and got their weapons ready.

All the human emotions were leaking all over everyone and the zombies were gearing up for battle.

Holy hell.

The kids were all around the cops and zombies now. As I looked around I noticed that the girls were the only ones that weren't beat up. Well, I guess Tiff was because she got hit by Diego. So, the Weller kids were gonna go home all beat up. Again.

Figure the odds on that happening?

“What's going on here?” Smith asked, taking in the mess. Then, as he looked, really looked, he asked, “Are those Indians?”

“We are Skopamish, white skin,” Lead Zombie said with a tone.

Smith humphed, staring a second longer he shook his head. “Okay, I got the call for backup. What's the problem officers?” Then he caught sight of the pile of gophers and the lingering smell.

“Wait a sec, are these guys,” he gestured toward the zombies, “are they dead?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Wow,” Smith whistled. “I know I shouldn’t say it but, I couldn't tell.”

“Yeah, I borrowed some juice from the girls by accident.”

“Not very good control, Caleb,” Smith chastised.

Details, details. I shrugged my shoulders, so sue me.

“Okay, let's get the chief here and his crew, back where they belong.” He suddenly noticed the vermin running around. “And these guys too. I have to say, Caleb, they're sort of creepy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Ya think?” Barbie/Christi said helpfully.

Bry tried to shush her but, of course, to no avail, she was just one of those chicks that never got when to shut up. She was a believer in Going On.

The zombies were not believers, picking up on everyone’s mutual prissiness with ole Christi, they moved as one and latched on to her arms.

Lead Zombie leaning close to her face, he laid the only dull part of his blade against the underside of her jaw.

Bry blared, “Caleb!”

“Hang on, it's lesson time for Barbie,” I said.

“You would do very well to hold that pretty tongue of yours when our Master has utterance. Tongues can be severed.” He stroked the underside of her chin with a feather's touch, a degree of finesse I would not have thought possible with a weapon like that. But he managed, oh yes indeedy.

I watched Christi's eyes roll up in her head right before she dropped like a box of rocks in a dead faint.

Well hell, that was super-effective.

Jonesy was restraining the urge for a high five. I couldn't believe it. I think it was the first time I'd witnessed Jonesy actually thinking first.

The zombies lowered her gently to the ground. These guys were smart. They reminded me of Clyde, I thought, having a pang of nostalgia.

“Caleb,” Smith said.

“You've had your fun,” Garcia said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, he was not getting it. “Listen, this dill-weed came on to my girlfriend, by force, started this effing brawl, then, when us freshmen couldn't defend ourselves against the upper classmen and then they started hitting the girls. What else could I do?”

Garcia turned his attention to Diego and Brody, his eyes like slits.

Out came the notepad.

Well, finally. Maybe he meant business.

He did.

“Names?”

“Raul,” Smith said.

“What?” Irritated.

“Let's take care of this first.” Smith said, jerking his head toward the Indian Tribe.

“Right,” he said, tapping his pen on his notepad, then closing it with a snap.

He turned to me. “Caleb, make these Indians,” the zombies turned their dead gaze his way, “ah... Skopamish... go away.”

I looked at my zombies, then at the pile of dead gophers (really dead, as it turns out because by God, fire was a zombie-cure-all).

I summoned that fist of power. It came, like water cascading down rocks, it flowed through me and out my hands and into my zombies, who threw back their heads, lips slightly parted. It felt good for them too. Right, natural.

I said, “Go and rest.”

Lead Zombie lingered, thoughtfully looking at me, then turned, sprinting. They used the gate this time, disappearing through it silently, as silently as they'd appeared.

CHAPTER 10

I had Jade stuffed under my arm, her head just brushing my chin. Garcia and Gale were taking statements while Smith and John talked quietly by Bry's hunk-of-shit car.

I bet they had a lot to talk about.

Gale had all the stuff spread out on the grass from her first aid kit and was trying to patch up all the kids. The Js and I looked a little worse for wear but didn't need attention like Diego and Alex. Alex had gotten his arm cooked and it was a blistering mess. The older two boys were giving him wary eyes. He was worth pause. He had shoved a zombie, which then traveled fifteen feet and blew through the fence. Not any zombie either, a warrior Indian. Skopamish. I was thinking about how they were a nearly humorless people; sitting there stone-faced during the whole incident.

Except for Carson getting the lick treatment. That had been worth nearly the entire episode.

“What's so funny?” Jonesy asked me.

“I was just thinking how funny it was that Carson almost got frenched by my zombie.”

Jonesy nodded, agreeing. “It's some kind of perv-fetish I bet. He denies it but we know the truth.” He tapped his head...feelin' the moment. John nodded and Carson strode over to me.

“Shut your effing mouth, Hart. If you were normal this conversation wouldn't be happening, we wouldn't be here,” he said, his eyes shifting over to the cops who had stopped their processes to look at us.

“Caleb, those types of comments aren't helpful.” Garcia said in a tone of voice that clearly said, duh.

Carson smiled triumphantly. My next comment wiped the grin right off his face. “And you're so normal? You and your buddy Diego? How normal is it for you to shove your girlfriend?” I looked over at Ceci standing with Tiff.

“He didn't shove me that hard!” Ceci said defiantly.

“I doubt your dad would see it that way,” Garcia said, giving her a steady look. She looked down at the ground, moving a pebble with her shoe.

There was no accounting for taste but her defending Carson was wrong on about a hundred different levels.

“And then your classy friend smacked Tiff.” I looked over at her, a red welt on her face with a small cut, punctuating my point.

“So, if we're just talking normal, I think you're on the losing end. And,” I held my finger up, “I'd say you being a Fire-starter puts you on equal footing when it comes to paranormal weirdness, ya tool.”

Carson was just not bright enough to connect-the-dots, but he was just smart enough to know that I was showcasing him in the worst possible way.

It was easy, he was such a dick.

He came for me, reaching out and grabbing onto my forearm and I wrapped mine around his as Jade backed away. I used his own momentum against him, carrying him over my extended leg in a judo move that was one of the first I'd learned. He pinwheeled his arms, dropping on his back on the ground, his painful grip on my arm never lessening.

His eyes bored into mine and he squeezed out, “Your deadness is not going to put out my fire, freak.”

Jonesy poked his head in next to mine. “Glad you're a fan, dip-shit.”

Garcia tromped over, tore Carson off the ground and glared at me pointing. “Get in the car, Caleb.”

Ahhhh. Banished to the disgusting back-of-the-cop car, again.

Brother.

Jade covered her mouth so the smile wouldn't show and I gave a half-hearted wave as I grinned back.

Not just a corpse-raiser.

I watched through the window of the cruiser, trying not to touch anything while the cops milled around administering first aid. Garcia had his finger practically up Carson's nose, his attention shifting between him and Diego. Obviously, beating girls got his ire on line.

Good, I hope those losers get what's coming.

Gale, Smith and Garcia finished up and with his trademark notepad put away, he walked over to the car, the girls trailing after him.

Garcia ripped open the car door. “Get out, Caleb.”

I got out.

I could tell that Garcia was steamin'-pissed. “This will go down in your permanent record, Caleb. You've already got your get-out-of-jail-free card, but you have to start taking responsibility for your ability.”

What was that “card” he was talking about?

He looked at my face, sighing. “Never mind, what I'm saying is...when things get hairy, you can't just call out the dead.”

“Why not?” Jonesy asked logically.

He looked at him, Jonesy stared back, no question was off-limits to the Jonester.

“Because it incites the violence that escalated today,” Garcia said.

Jonesy and the group gave him blank expressions.

“What Officer Garcia is saying...” Smith began, and Garcia gave him annoyed eyes. He forged ahead, “is that if you guys had just beaten the snot out of each other, it would have just gone away. When you brought out the zombies, Carson and Diego had to bring out the flames.”

“So no more Team Rot?” Jonesy asked.

Garcia threw his arms up and stalked off. Gale gave him a sympathetic look and came to stand next to Smith, her small body in sharp contrast to his. “We can't show favoritism, Caleb. We know those other kids,” (who had been given their walking papers I noticed), “they're bad news. But if we're to be impartial we have to weigh that you had an army of undead...” Gale trailed off.

“And vermin,” Smith added.

“Gophers,” I corrected.

He shuddered. “Whatever.”

Gale gave him a sideways look and continued. “As guys, they felt like once that barrier had been passed, they had to 'one-up' you.”

“Is that a technical term?” Smith asked.

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“So what is the report?” I asked.

Her look was steady. “Basically, you're on everyone's radar as 'willing to use'.”

“Is that another 'technical term'?” John asked.

“No, that one is 'actual',” Smith responded.

Huh. Things weren't looking up.

“Okay, whatever, I'm down with that but, look at our man here,” Jonesy paused, letting his eyes fall on Alex who was cradling his arm, his glasses perched crookedly on his face. “They torched a limb, they should get their asses handed to them,” he finished, folding his arms across his chest.

Smith had to turn away to hide his expression as Gale said, “Language, Jones.”

Garcia had regained his composure and entered back into the conversational party. “This is when you have to grow up. It's not later, it's now.”

Bry frowned. “That sounds alarmingly lecture-ish.”

Another technical term.

Garcia's gaze swung to Bry. “Yes, and he needs one. Take a look in the mirror when you get home. You keep hanging out with Caleb, and this is what you have to look forward to.”

“Raul,” Gale said as Smith frowned at Garcia.

John shot me a look, Garcia is sorta unraveling.

Garcia struggled with his expression, finally saying, “You're on notice. I don't want to respond to another call like this one.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

It was Jonesy who was eloquent for once. “I hope the flame-twins got 'put on notice' too.” narrowing his eyes at Garcia.

An expression of rage took hold of Garcia's face and then was gone. But I could feel Jade notice as she drew in a breath. The boys sharpened right up and Gale put her arm on Garcia's forearm. “Let's take off, Officer Garcia.”

His title startled him out of some internal dark spot that festered and clung to him like a shroud.

He pointed a finger at me and said, “Remember what I said.”

Turning, he walked off with Gale, his head leaning next to hers as she said something to him.

The kids waited until their cruiser pulled away. Smith stood staring after them, an expression of puzzlement standing starkly on his face.

“What's going on with Garcia?” Sophie asked.

I shook my head, it'd been weird. Obviously, the Fire-starter team should've had equal billing, especially if you factor in the girls' getting knocked around.

“Something's off,” John said, palming his chin.

Smith shrugged. “Everybody can have a bad day.”

Suddenly, we all heard a chiming sound...and Smith held out his hand and his pulse hovered in mid-air then flew into his hand.

I thought Alex was gonna shit a green apple on the spot. John was trying to maintain non-drool status.

Jonesy spoke for us all, “That is a righteous pulse, dude!” He fist-pumped for emphasis.

Alex floated over to Smith but he was busy pulsing and held a finger up, wait. Then he depressed his thumb again, then one last time. Finally, he looked at Tiff and I.

“Okay, there's been a break in the case I need you,” he gestured with his pulse at Tiffany, (Alex's eyes tracked it like a starving animal watching a steak), “and Caleb to come with me.”

He looked at the rest of the crew, Jonesy, Bry (and stupid Christi), John, Sophie and Jade.

Ugh, that reminded me, I turned to her, “What about your Aunt?”

“She's gone on some 'woman’s wellness' thing for the weekend.”

“Yeah, Jade was picking up her gear to come over to my place. Andrea just left,” Sophie said, her gaze traveling to the pile of gophers.

Huh. That was a lucky break.

Smith and I looked at the crispy critters.

“Okay, one more sec,” he said, depressing his thumb on the pulse-pad again. Finally, he looked up. “Looks like bio-hazard will come and...” he waved a vague hand toward the gophers, “take care of them.” Smith was All That Was Guy, but I could tell Gopher Pile was over the top for him.

He turned away from them and addressed the group, “Okay, the AFTDs will come with me. The rest of you guys: scat, to your respective digs. You got me?”

“What about Ceci?” Jade asked.

Smith turned, one leg in the car. “She took off with that kid...” he thought about it for a second, “Carson?”

We nodded, he was unforgettable to us, for all the wrong reasons.

I turned to Jade. “We can talk later?”

She nodded. The silence clung to us with the weight of unsaid things. The number one being: Why was she talking to Brett? He kept proving his lack of worth all over the place. I frowned; just thinking about it...put me in a crappy mood. We hadn't resolved anything.

She saw my frown and took her thumb, smoothing out the furrow that had appeared between my eyes. Her smile took some of the sting out of leaving her.

I looked at Sophie, “Jade's going with you now?” she nodded.

Jonesy broke in, “Calm down, Hart, you can see her this weekend.”

I was a total blank.

“Isn't Mac having that thing at the lake house?” John asked.

That's right! I forgot about it. Every year for Labor Day, Gramps would do a huge BBQ and all the friends could hang.

I nodded, grinning, a built-in day of fun with the friends and the last bang before summer slid into fall. Nice.

Jonesy said, “Yeah, Memorial Day is worthless but at least we don't have to go to lame school.”

Christi/Barbie rolled her eyes (of course). “It's Labor Day, doofus.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “So how does that change a day off from school?” he said with typical Jonesy-logic.

Alex said, “He kinda has you there.”

She crossed her arms and huffed off deeper into the yard and Bry followed her, trying to sooth her ruffled feathers.

The Js and I looked after them.

“I couldn't go out with someone like that,” John said.

I nodded, duh.

Jonesy said, “I could.”

Alex and the rest of us said in unison, “How?”

“Ear plugs,” he said.

Sophie slugged him in the arm. “Hey!” he said, rubbing his arm.

“Girls have important things to say!” Sophie yelled.

Jade's eyebrows arched. “Her?”

Sophie looked after Christi, who had her finger in Bry's chest, berating him, the burnished red of her hair catching the light, her hotness paling before her behavior.

“Not so much.” Sophie relented.

Jonesy held up his hands like, see what I'm talkin' about. I guess Sophie had been trying to do the “stick-up-for-the-girl-thing.” But who could support a troll in a beauty queen's body?

She needed to find a new bridge. Like anywhere but Kent.

“Come on, kids. Let's book,” Smith said impatiently.

I hauled Jade over to me and laid one on her mouth. (I'd have liked to do more.) But I wasn't about the supreme PDA With an Adult Present. She giggled and tried to push me away and I squeezed her tighter.

Tiff said, “Can I sit in the front?” eying how gross the back seat was.

“Nope, keep Caleb company in the back, why dontcha?” Smith said.

Nice.

I released Jade, letting my hand slide down her arm, our fingers parting like reluctant taffy.

“Hey Bry!” Tiff yelled indelicately and he turned to her like, are you kidding? I'm talking down the girlfriend...a little help!

Apparently that fine detail was lost on siblings. “Supper's at six!” she said, emphasizing it with a nice slam of the car door.

Bry's shoulders slumped and Barbie continued. He was back to square one.

I hopped in next to her, closing my door and said, “That was helpful.”

She grinned. “I'm on a full-frontal assault with that chick.”

Smith looked at her in the rear view mirror. “Isn't that your brother?” he asked, carefully backing out.

I gave the Js the thumb signal to pulse me, John nodded and Jonesy gave me a good-natured middle finger salute. Perfect.

I looked through the dirty glass until Jade's face disappeared and turned to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah, but ever since he started dating that retarded girl...” Tiff shrugged.

“Let me tell you my theory,” Smith said.

We waited.

“She isn't that stupid.”

We opened our mouths to protest and he shook his head to silence us. “It's been my experience that someone as irritating as her...well, it's a skill. You have to be somewhat smart to have that particular skill set. You may have more than you bargained for with her.”

No shit.

Tiff humphed, crossing her arms across her chest. She wasn't gonna give up that easily.

“And, on top of that, her brother is a Fire-starter and is friends with that mouth-breather, Carson,” Tiff said.

“Brody?” Smith asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“So, it stands to reason that they're related...” he let his thought trail off and we sat on it, mulling it over.

“Brett and Carson don't need to add any IQ to their gang. Them being stupid was the best thing we had going for us,” I said.

Smith's eyes met mine in the mirror. Something to be aware of, his look told me.

Right...gotcha.

“Anyway,” he began, carefully pulling into the parking stall closest to the police station and turned to look at us, “one of the lead forensics just pulsed on my secure thread.” Excitement lit his face and I was momentarily blinded by what he said next, “They have sampled enough tissue and determined what links the children's deaths.”

We leaned forward, what could it be?

“They were all Nulls.”

CHAPTER 11

We were in a dim little room with a rectangular, Formica-surfaced table, stale crackers and CFC-free Styrofoam cups littered its surface.

The lead forensic, Sam Buckley, tried to explain his findings. “Of course, it wasn't the first thing we looked for. But, as we became more proficient in excluding the obvious, we started looking for the zebras.”

How do zoo animals come into all this?

Buckley sighed as he took in my puzzled expression and Tiff was deep into biting her nails, her eyes flitting around the dingy corners of the room, so bored that weeping was the next step.

“In med school they told us, 'When you hear hoof beats, it's probably a horse, not a zebra'. This is what we did in this case. We had all these children, viciously dispatched. But for what reason? That's when we started running the DNA analysis. Our forensic geneticist,” I rolled my eyes at this and he gave me arched brows, “found the anomaly right away.”

Smith held his chin in his hand, thinking. “One thing that doesn't make sense.” He looked at Buckley. “That one victim, Mason's brother, he was killed a decade ago. How could he be classified as a Null, now?”

Buckley looked at me for a heartbeat. “When Dr. Hart and his team mapped the genome, well... that was the determining factor. Those kids are gone, but they were predestined to be Nulls. We have the technology to identify that marker. Their deaths don't negate the inevitability of their ability. We have someone targeting Nulls.”

That made no sense.

Smith was nodding, pacing around in a large circle in the room, Buckley tracking his nervous tension as he walked it off. “Someone would have to know these kids were Nulls. How?” Smith said, turning to Buckley.

Buckley shrugged, responding. “That's not my area, I just report the findings and offer my speculative opinion based on the science of it all.”

Smith stopped pacing. “What do you think, though? As an opinion.”

Buckley stood there, his lab coat rumpled, his bald head gleaming under the old, now-illegal (think grandfathered) florescent lighting.

“I'd have to say that it's an insider.”

“Wait a sec. If the first victim, Brett's brother, would've been what, four?” I asked.

Smith nodded.

I was on the edge of a revelation. “It would be someone at the school.”

Buckley shook his head. “No. I was thinking law enforcement or maybe government.”

Certainly the government sucked eggs but it didn't feel right for this. It didn't fit.

Smith scrubbed his face. “Okay, I think it's obvious that it's an insider. Someone that either 1) had access to confidential records or 2) had someone identifying the paranormals.”

The men stood there thinking and I felt like I was circling around the answer when Tiff threw in, “Aura Reader, brainiacs.”

Aura Reader.

Smith's smile broke across his face, snapping his fingers and turning to Tiff like he'd hug her.

“No touchy,” she said, warding him off with a hand.

“Right,” he said.

“Okay, I'm going to pulse Gale and Garcia and report this,” he said as his hover-pulse floated to his hand.

I didn't think I'd ever get used to the hover feature. Judging by Tiff's face, she felt the same.

Buckley was oblivious, thumbing our conversation onto his pulse-pad. “Okay, you kids,” he looked at us. “You should be looking at Nulls as targets, all Nulls. This criminal has most likely been doing this since the first of the paranormal markers were labeled. Why are they after Nulls?” he shook his head.

John.

Panic gripped me and as I looked at Tiff, knowledge bloomed like a horrible flower on her face. “John,” she breathed out.

John would be a target, John was in danger.

“Smith!” I yelled, Tiff coming to stand beside me.

Startled, he looked up from his pulsing.

“My friend, my friend, John Terran, he's a Null.”

Smith stopped pulsing.

“We need to get over there. Now,” I said.

He shook his head. “These began with older deaths, Caleb. There isn't sufficient evidence to indicate that it's the same killer. Except, of course, they were all Nulls.”

Yeah.

Buckley looked at him. “I think Caleb may be right. Just because this is what we've found, thus far,” he shook his head, “it may mean that the killer has found another site.”

“What site?” Tiff asked.

“Another burial site,” Buckley said.

Oh my God. There were possibly more?

“You're right; we can't assume this guy is done. He may be actively taking out Nulls.” He looked at me. “We'll go by Terran's house, okay? First, I need to tell Gale to go back five years on missing kids reports, see if there are others and try to make a connection on Null manifestation discovery and subsequent disappearance.”

“Well, get hot, I mean, John is busy at his house doing some tech- love with Alex and doesn't know some creeper is smelling blood in the water.”

“Shark,” Tiff said.

Yeah, like that.

“Aren't his folks home?” Smith asked.

“Yeah, but they're like one hundred and five,” Tiff said.

“Really?” Smith asked, eyebrows raised to his hairline.

Tiff gave a hard eye-roll. “Aren't you the cop here? No...they're really not that old, but they're ancient.”

Yeah, John's folks were older than Gramps.

“I guess they could do a fair job of bludgeoning with their canes,” I said.

Buckley laughed. “Well, maybe your sense of humor will stay intact as you visit the next burial site.”

“You're saying that like it's an absolute, Sam,” Smith said.

He nodded his head. “I've seen this type of death rampage before, and this type of killer continues until he's shut down. They don't want to stop. There is some kind of compulsion. They feel they're doing some kind of service for the 'greater good'.” he finished, his hands falling from the airquotes he'd just done.

“Could it be a girl?” Tiff asked suddenly.

Buckley shrugged but it was Smith that answered, “Typically, serial killers are almost always men.”

“From the evidence I have, it would have had to be a formidable woman to execute these murders.”

Smith gave him the look. I knew what that stood for: watch it, these guys are just kids.

Buckley hesitated, looking at Smith. “Listen, you guys brought these teens in on this, they're old enough to know the details.”

Smith sighed.

Buckley gave his full attention to us. “The perpetrator separated, in all but two of the deaths, the cervical vertebrae,” he reached to show Tiff on her neck and she backed away. He shrugged and put a finger on me instead, it gave me the flesh crawl. “Here, at C-7 and here, at C-6. That separation caused immediate paralysis and then the blunt force trauma was administered,” he paused, “causing death.” His hand slowly lowered and he made eye contact with us.

Tiff and I were quiet, thinking about an adult that felt they were somehow doing something right by killing those children.

“Okay, enough. I'm taking the kids by their friend's house. And,” he looked at Buckley, “Gale will be slogging through the missing person's reports. We should have some commonality soon, if there's any to be found.”

The men shook hands. Smith jerked his head at the door and we moved out. Tiff gave a last look at Buckley. He was worth a stare. After all, he spent more time with the dead than the living.

My kind of dude.

CHAPTER 12

We stood awkwardly at John's front door, waiting for a parent (or way-better, John himself) to answer.

No luck, it was John's mom. She peeked out from behind the doorway, saw it was me and opened the door. “Why, Caleb, it's a pleasure to see you again.” she said, sweeping her hand in front of me and Smith and Tiff trailed in after us.

I was always super-nervous at John's house. One great reason was the plastic on the furniture. Mom would have done back flips with the petrochemical off-gassing on that. It brought a smile to my face. They were über-tight-ass adults. I think she dusted fifteen times a day. John's room looked like Kid Museum to me. I sighed, this would take some thinkin' on my part.

Just then Alex and John came out. Alex's glasses still hung by a broken thread on his face and the arm wrapped in the gauze with a sling. John gave me The Look: what's up?

Oh nothing, pal. Just some psycho with a hard-on for Nulls. Nothing special.

Out loud I said, “We've had a break in the case.”

Smith stepped up beside me. “Maybe we could sit down somewhere,” he said, eying the yards of plastic with trepidation.

Tiffany let about twenty bubbles snap and burst in a row, causing all of us to jump. Mrs. Terran was on it, she held out a small trash separator casually, beefing it up about a foot under Tiff's mouth.

Pointing a finger toward the top she said, “A new home for the nastiness we call gum.”

Tiff looked at her and she stared back, her gray eyes bright and unruffled in her wrinkled face. Wow... Tiff was so not prepared for the intellectual force that was John's mom. I was thinking she should cave now and not bother. Tiff deliberated. Finally, she spit the gum out in an unladylike glob that hit the rim, and slid down to the bottom, leaving a gross snail-trail of green ooze on the way down. Geez.

Smith watched this all with fascination.

Mrs. Terran spun on her heel and said, “Of course, how rude of me.” The tone of voice did not sound like she felt rude. “Join me at the table.”

She strode over to a table that gleamed under a hanging LED chandelier with polished arms. We all stood uncomfortably around it and she said, “Sit, please.”

John and Alex slid into place and Smith stuck out his hand. “I'm Officer John Smith from the City of Kent Police Department.” She shook his hand and the rest of us sat.

“What I say must be held with the strictest confidentiality for now,” he began, “but, due to the nature of what we've discovered and your son's proximity to Caleb, we feel you're on a need-to-know basis now.”

I looked at Smith and he nodded. “Garcia knows. It's okay.”

Huh, maybe he was off his period now, I thought uncharitably.

“What does this have to do with John? He is not one to participate in anything untoward,” Mrs. Terran said, her eyes unwavering.

No. He was just too smart to get caught.

John gave me big eyeballs across the table. I gave an imperceptible nod back. Don't worry about it, the nod said.

Smith sighed. “It's not anything he's done, Mrs. Terran.”

“Please, call me Joan.”

Huh, I guess adults got status rights, she was still Mrs. Terran to me.

He nodded, continuing, “You may have heard on the news about recent developments on the murders of the children at that old cemetery by Hwy 167?”

“Clemen's Cemetery. Yes, I was aware. We remain updated about current events, especially those which impact us locally.”

John was busy dying in his chair across from me. I guess there were more embarrassing parents than having one that was famous.

Almost.

Smith leaned back against the chair, folding his arms across his chest. He decided something. “Mrs. Terran,” ignoring the Joan-thing entirely, “the killer is targeting Nulls.”

Comprehension flooded Mrs. Terran's face and she gave John a piercing stare, as if somehow he had caused the eagle-eye of the killer to fall on him.

His face suffused with a dull brick color and I saw Tiff squirm out of the corner of my eye. This was awkward.

“He is in danger. All Nulls are in danger. We suspect that the killer may be in a position in which he's in close proximity to kids, access to confidential records and such. John's association with Caleb makes him even more vulnerable because Caleb and Tiff, as AFTDs, are helping track the killer through his death trail.”

“And you, Mr. Smith; you are a part of this investigation in what capacity?” she asked, carefully folding bird-like hands with blue veins captured in milky skin.

“I'm a Null.”

“How many points are you?” she asked.

“Five.”

“I see. Are you not afraid yourself, Mr. Smith?”

Smith shook his head. “I am their protector, their advocate. He has no pattern of killing adults that we're aware of.”

“I think that may change, Mr. Smith. As you circle his lair, pressing in upon his complacency, he may lash out, capturing all the Nulls together... making us essentially vulnerable here.” She gestured with a palm, taking in the greater space around us.

John jerked straight up in his seat, he'd thought of something. Alex nodded alongside; they both got hit by the intellectual whammy at the same moment.

“It's anarchy,” John said.

Smith looked at him sharply. “Explain.”

John was excited, his elbows glancing the table top, so thrilled to tell his idea that he totally missed his mom's frown. “If all the Nulls were not here, this would be an oasis of chaos.”

Huh, kinda poetic, Terran.

Alex expounded, “We'd have no protection. No way of policing the paranormals. They'd have to be stopped with...”

“Force,” Smith said.

We all looked at one other.

It was Mrs. Terran that summed it up, “If the Nulls were extinguished, then that would leave us undefended and stronger action could be taken. By whom?” she paused rhetorically. “By the same people or another entity like them, waiting for this moment to squeeze their fist-of-control, taking out the paranormals as a group. By death, containment or worse.”

“What's the 'or worse'?” I asked.

She looked at me in the only way she knew how, with condescension. “That, Caleb, would be experimentation with the blessing of our government.”

Back to that again, I thought, remembering the Graysheets.

Tiff was remembering too, giving me wide, frightened eyes.

“What concession of protection are the police willing to provide?” she asked, her arms carefully steepled on the table, sweatered elbows causing no mar upon its perfection.

“We're still looking into that. But, with the number of Nulls that fall in the under-eighteen, high risk category, a random patrol would be all we'd be able to shake out until we validated more man power.”

“Or another child dies,” she said with surety.

Ouch, she was right. I watched Smith cringe and I was with him. It was the hard new reality.

There was a creeper gunning for the Nulls and John was in the crosshairs.

CHAPTER 13

I couldn't get Jade out of my mind.

I knew that she was Safe at Sophie's. But after what we'd discovered, the brawl in her yard, the unresolved issue with Brett sniffing around, I had to admit I felt unsettled.

For an extra dose of worry, her dad was out of the slammer.

I lay in my bed, absently stroking Onyx, thinking about the complications of my life, different than last year but somehow the same. Maybe this was what life was? A series of crap that popped up like weeds, some became a jungle and some stayed in line. But pulling them constantly was becoming a chore.

The Boy seems troubled, the Dog thought. He would stay close to him until the somber mood was gone. The Dog thought all of this would go away more quickly if the Boy threw the toy that smelled of him, that was soft and made an interesting noise that the Dog liked.

Caleb watched Onyx jump off the bed and grab that sick-smelling doggie toy. He couldn't understand why he liked it. The squeaker was shot-to-hell and it had been a peach color when Mom had bought it and it was some kind of pale sherbert now, with stiff spots where he had slobbered on it. He approached Caleb, giving him eyes that blended with his black face, his tail wagging, the gaze steady and faithful.

Ah-hell. He needed some time.

I got off the bed and we tore down the steps and out the door.

Mom called after me, “Caleb!”

“Yeah?” I said, my hand on the knob for the front door, the metal warming under my touch, Onyx waiting impatiently for me to manage The Parent.

“Where are you going?”

“Takin' Onyx out to play with his ball-thing.”

“Okay, supper's soon!”

“Yeah!”

“Yes, what?”

I rolled my eyes, this Nazi-response stuff was getting on my last nerve.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Thank you, acknowledgment is a good thing.”

Right.

Onyx raced out ahead of me and I launched the sucker as far as I could. He watched it arc, judging its trajectory then sprinted after it, nose down, all business.

The Dog saw the wonderful soft thing twirl above his head and the smell of it wafted on the wind to him, spearing his nose, giving the Dog the direction he needed to race after it...which he did. He lighted upon it, grabbing the fragrant mass into his mouth, giving it 'soft mouth'. Which made the Dog pause, a sensory memory of his other life sliding just out of the reach of him...he remembered a similar game with the Other Boy, a game in which he needed to not use the sharp things in his mouth for the toy...

“Onyx!” Caleb yelled, seeing that he stood there with the ball-thing in his mouth, staring. What? Was he having a dog moment or something?

The sound of the Boy's voice shattered the memory, and the Dog came to the new Boy, his tail wagging, all memories displaced by the anticipation of another toss.

I hucked the thing again, wiping off the dog-grossness on my jeans when my pulse vibrated in my pocket. My face lit up when I saw it was Jade:

Activated: Top-five contact- Jade LeClerc

Still at Sophie's? -CH

Yeah, I'll be here the whole weekend.- JLeC

I'll see ya at school tomorrow and then Gramps is having the BBQ @ his place Sat.- CH

Oh yeah? Hope it's hot weather.- JLeC
shrugs idk...you know how it is around here.-CH

Listen...we didn't really get a chance to wrap up the crap about Brett.- CH
disruption in pulse conversation

I know. But, seriously, Caleb, nothing happened. I don't think he'd hurt me. Look at what's going on...from his perspective. His brother was one of the victims of this psycho, his dad makes mine look...tame. Idk, he needs a friend and it makes me feel bad to be a jerk to him.-JLeC

She couldn't be serious! I thought, lifting my thumb so it wouldn't railroad straight to her pulse.

strong emotive response Jade...wow, is there some amnesia bull-profanity-block happening here? Didn't we just get in the biggest profanity-block-ing brawl in your yard, for cripes sake? Did he not just try to drag you off, cave-man style and kiss you? Have you forgotten that? He is not safe! This is what I was talking about last pulse: I need help from you. I can't protect you when I'm not around and you airquotes 'feeling bad', for Brett makes you vulnerable to his profanity-block! -CH
disruption in pulse conversation
crying I didn't mean to make this...happen between us. I don't know what to do! He lives by me and what happened today...I didn't want to kiss him! I don't get him! He knows I don't like him! -JLeC

I got him.

Hell...Jade, don't cry. Let's just...let's get together tonight and talk in person. I need to see ya. Come on...Sophie will be cool with it.- CH

Idk...Sophie's parents don't like boys coming over.- JLeC

What the hell? I was starting to feel panicky now. I tried to get a handle on this. I took another tactic:

How about you guys meet us at the hide-a-way? Then you're meeting us somewhere and not at her house? -CH

Pausing BRB -JLeC

I died a little while I waited. Jade was the only person on earth that made me feel unsure of myself. I hated that, but I loved her. Why was life so complicated? Onyx stood patiently at my feet wagging his tail, the gross blob in his mouth. I ripped it out of his mouth and chucked it again, he sailed after it. My screen lit back up:

Okay, Sophie wants to know what time? JLeC

Idk, let me round up the troops and we'll meet with whoever can come tonight at 8.-CH

That doesn't give a lot of time, with school tomorrow and all.- JLeC

We don't need a lot, I just want to get this behind us right away, figured out. I don't like it hanging around.- CH

Like a black cloud.- JLeC

Yeah, like that.- CH

K, see you @ 8.- JLeC

Love ya.-CH

U2.- JLeC

****

The Parents watched me pork down on the spaghetti and meatballs. I was trying not to shovel but the self-restraint had turned ugly. Dad watched with something like a smile and Mom was frowning. The Hunger had overtaken my thought processes but the frontal lobe was still on line. Maybe there was hope.

“So, to recap, Caleb: this Null...” Dad began.

“Smith,” I mumbled through noodles while Mom scowled. I was dangerously close to showing my food as I talked and that would provoke the Food Lecture. Which should be avoided at All Costs.

“Right. He thinks that all Nulls are in danger?”

I nodded, slurping a ton of milk to facilitate the load down the pipe.

“Caleb, you're going to have digestive problems. No one is going to steal your food!” Mom said.

Well, probably not but... I swung my forearm around the perimeter of my plate and Dad barked out a laugh.

“I give up!” Mom huffed.

“Okay, back on track. The police will be patrolling the Null's homes?” Dad continued.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

Mom stared. “Can you expound on this a little?”

Mom was sounding frustrated. I didn't feel compelled to expound. For me, it was all about conveying information and then everything else was just fluff. Mom liked fluff.

Dad sighed. “Normally Caleb, I am not a big believer in the superfluous, but, we may need a tiny bit,” he held his index and thumb apart by the smallest measure, “more information. Especially in light of the events that transpired last year.”

Fine.

I looked at the clock and realized there was only an hour until showtime with the gang. The parents saw my glance.

“Keeping you, son?” Dad said, getting a tone.

Brother.

“No. It's just there was this thing that happened at Jade's.”

The silence swelled in that ominous way it does when you're gonna drop a bomb.

“Remember stupid Carson and Brett?”

Mom frowned at the description but Dad said, “Unforgettable.”

Okay, he was down with it. “Well, they're back and their little group has grown.”

“What happened at Jade's?” Mom asked, worry making the angles of her face show in stark relief.

“There was a fight.”

Mom slapped her forehead.

Dad said, “Zombies make an appearance, son?”

I scrubbed my face. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Mom said.

“Hang on, Ali.”

Mom rolled her eyes.

“Garcia, Gale and that new guy, Smith, showed up and got it all under control. But now that Carson has picked up an older kid, who's a fire-freak too, and he's dating an AFTD...” I trailed off.

Dad's eyebrows shot up.

“Really,” I stated.

“That's not great news. Why did this escalate into a fight?” Mom asked.

“Because it could. 'Cuz that's what they're always gunning for. Because Brett digs Jade and I want to kill him.”

“Caleb!” Mom yelled.

Dad's brows fell low over his eyes. “Really, Caleb?”

Kinda “No, but he pisses me off.”

“Language.”

I turned to Mom. “Mom, please.”

“Caleb, watch your tone with your mom.”

I shoved my plate away and stood, Onyx backing away from his beg-spot.

“I'm going to the hide-a-way at eight. I need to straighten this crap out with Jade. I can't think with Brett doing the stalker, lurk thing with her.”

The Parents watched me walk my plate over to the sink. I scraped the non-protein stuff into the compost canister under the sink and used the gray water spigot to rinse off.

Mom walked over and came to stand beside me, I was abusing the faucet, turning it on and off with hard strokes, her eyes looking at mine.

I turned and we faced each other. “I trust you, Caleb. But don't forget who you are. What you are.”

I looked down at her, realizing I'd grown taller than her sometime this summer. “I never forget it. I think that it's part of my problem right now. Sometimes, Mom,” I looked at Dad, “I just want to be what I was before. I don't want this bullshit right now. I wanna just hang with my friends and be a regular boyfriend to Jade.”

Mom didn't correct my language.

Normally, I felt better when I could bounce crap off the Parental Unit, but tonight, I just didn't want to be in my house. Hell, I didn't even want to be in my own skin. This whole paranormal thing was blowing.

Big time.

“Caleb,” Mom said.

I turned before I hit the front door, I'd get there early, I thought, itching to leave.

“It's a school night, not past ten.”

Dad said, “Be careful.”

“Okay,” I said, sliding through the front door.

I turned around once and saw Onyx watching me through the narrow side-lite, a plaintive whimper escaped him.

I'll be back soon, boy, I thought at him.

The Dog watched the boy leave and had A Very Bad Feeling. Sometimes the Dog would have a feeling like that. It always meant that something Bad would happen. He did not like the Boy out of sight. His tail did not wag. Instead, the Dog sat down by the low window.

He waited for the Boy's return.

CHAPTER 14

I put my pulse away, the Js were coming. The Wellers were gonna have to sweet-talk parents that may have been getting sick of them leaving the house and coming back abused. But they'd show, somehow.

I pulled my pulse back out and thumbed in my thought: Jade

Hey.- JLeC

Hey...I'm already on my way there.- CH

Huh? Why? -JLeC

Had to get out of the house. The Parents were starting to get on my nerves. -CH

I looked up, keeping my bearings on the side of the road, I'd been walking for awhile and had just passed Scenic, the dead humming their music... calling to me like a lover; I mentally clamped down on their melodic song... concentrating. It was getting a little easier.

I swung my gaze away, seeing the hill appear that signaled the dump at its crest. I looked down at my pulse again.

smiles ...they're pretty cool parents, Caleb! JLeC

Yeah, I hear that...but, lately, I just don't want to listen to their reasonable-ness about all this profanity-block I have goin' on that is my weirdness.-CH
proximity alert!

Caleb! Look out! -JLeC

I was hit from behind with what felt like a ton of bricks. My pulse flying out of my hands as I lurched forward, plowing into the sharp gravel, my palms saving me from a face-plant.

I flipped on my side and blindly swung my leg out in a defensive jab, sweeping it in the path of whoever stood closest. As they landed beside me, I registered it was Carson.

Big surprise.

What I wasn't planning on was Brody, Diego and Brett beating the snot out of me too.

I tried to get to my feet but Brett landed a good one to my ribs and I felt something integral give. I yelped, staggering to my feet when Brody's fist connected with my jaw and my face rocketed back almost knocking me on my ass.

“Hold 'em!” Carson bellowed.

Diego and Brody came for me, Brett close behind them. I tried to focus for the zombies but everything was happening too fast and in all the control I'd mastered in the last year, my power just didn't automatically leak anymore. I was so stressed that I couldn't seem to pull it out of my ass if my life depended on it.

It sorta did.

I was taller, I was stronger, I took Judo, did pullups, pushups and all but none of it mattered against the dismal ratio.

I wasn't going to make four to one.

But still, I fought.

When Diego latched onto my arm I swept his legs and threw him into Brody like a bowling pin. But they were older, it just caused them to stumble and fall, springing back up with a bucket that overflowed with more pissed off.

Carson got into it then, coming from behind and dragging me into a chokehold while Brett delivered a nice one-two to my stomach, my ribs screaming under the onslaught.

“This is what you've been beggin' for, Hart. This will teach you that you're no better than the rest of us.”

My trunk was a burning disaster, the pain roaring up and engulfing me. Brett's fists kept connecting, with Diego and Brody each holding an arm. The chokehold was working its magic and I could feel myself slipping, beginning to sag against Carson's forearm.

Then, as in a mirage, I saw someone advancing in the distance, gaining fast, sprinting. My vision swimming in streamers of fog, everything in triplicate.

The figure drew close and I knew I might get relief when Carson yelled, “Fuck me!”

It was Clyde.

They dumped me on the ground to concentrate on the one zombie that apparently didn't need a lot of juice to get his groove on.

I didn't move... couldn't move. I spit out a glob of mucus that was mostly blood and it landed in a dull heap, only a foot away from my head. Clyde tracked it like a falcon.

“Gentleman, you abuse my master. You will cease and desist.”

“Piss off, creeper,” Carson said, all bravado. Throwing his foot out casually it connected with my abused side. I groaned in response.

That fast, Clyde swung both hands out and grabbed Carson by the torso and flung him ten feet into a neighboring tree. He slid down, his bell rung and out.

Clyde turned his dead attention to Brody and Diego, who were taking shallow breaths. Clyde had been raised in a hurry and was little more than a skeleton with some skin hanging on. I was impressed. I hadn't even felt my call; thought I hadn't had time to use my power. But he was very near the surface of my call and came.

He came.

I lay there helplessly while my zombie started in on the other boys, smelling like fresh death.

First he knocked Diego and a struggling Brody together and I could feel heat building. Brody was fumbling with a lighter, the flame ignited and it roared up Clyde's arm, but my boy didn't feel pain. He crushed the hand that held the lighter and Brody screamed and wailed.

Clyde was grinning, his teeth white marbles in a black mouth.

Brett was backing up, his arms straight out, hoping to placate Clyde, who he'd already become acquainted with.

Clyde was a believer in follow-through. Dumping the injured jerks where they stood, they landed about five feet away from me and he began to track Brett like prey.

I suppose to Clyde, he was.

“You learn quite slowly. As I recall, we had a similar event one year past,” Clyde said, his partial tongue making everything sound like mud pie.

Clyde, I thought, my mind a literal fog, consciousness running along a thin tether. I needed to get this managed because I thought Clyde would see things through.

All the way to the end.

He turned those eyes to mine, the only part of him that was whole and complete. “Yes, Master?”

“Don't kill him, Clyde,” I whispered.

He looked at me for a heartbeat's pause. “I will not kill him.”

He turned away from me and hissed at Brett, “A lesson will be learned here this day.” He charged at Brett, who tried to escape but Clyde tackled him from behind.

I saw it all unfold in slow motion, Clyde leaping through the air, the sleeves of his dress shirt sailing behind him like a flag shredded into dirty strips, caked dirt riding it in crumbling bits.

They landed together in the center of the road.

As they grappled, Bry's crappy car rolled to a stop, parking behind the rolling pair. As I watched, Clyde had straddled Brett's body, his posture stiff, his arms before him, fingers twined like talons around Brett's neck.

Then the head-banging started.

I had noticed that was a zombie-trend.

All roads lead to head-banging, I thought, feeling shocky.

I heard Jade scream, “Caleb!” I saw her feet as she rushed over to me, my cheek pressed into the rough asphalt. My stomach rolled, I thought I was getting ready to toss my cookies.

She bent down and a pair of emerald eyes, wide-as-saucers looked into mine. “Oh my God! John, Jonesy... Caleb needs,” she looked at me in horror, the small hand I had held five hundred times covering her face, despair filling it, “a hospital.” I watched fat tears chase each other down her face.

I felt bad for her pain but I was using all my focus not to barf.

“Brett,” I croaked out, through a throat raw from abuse.

Jade smoothed my hair off my forehead, the tears running down and falling off her jaw, her lips trembling. “I'm so sorry.”

“Brett,” I repeated.

“What... oh.” She turned around and the kids parted.

Clyde was gone.

The Js rushed up, saw where I was looking and Jonesy said, “Clyde split.”

John grabbed my wrist with one hand and grabbed his pulse, depressing it with a thumb. He counted to himself. “Shit. He's erratic.”

He turned his head and screamed for Bry. The Weller kids came at a jog. “Did you pulse 911?”

“Hell yeah. Can't ya hear them?” Bry asked.

I could hear the pulse sirens wailing in the distance.

“They're coming, Caleb,” Sophie said, hanging onto Jonesy's hand like a lifeline. He stroked hers absently, not even aware that he was doing it. John had his arm around Tiff. Jade had her hands floating above me, not sure where they could land without it hurting me.

The Js looked at each other. “He's gonna need an Organic,” Jonesy said.

John nodded at Jonesy, no arguing that.

Jade covered her face as an ambulance arrived and ground to a halt, all the kids' bodies lying everywhere.

The last thing I knew were the paramedics landing on their knees beside me, their uniforms of red looking like flowing blood against a field of gray.

My vision narrowed and I folded into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 15

I was in a fog of semi-consciousness, that place when you're clearly awake, but too asleep to respond. I heard voices. My Parents had shown up for the fun. I knew, because the smell alone told me I was in the hospital.

I cracked an eye open and everything spun around, gradually calming into stillness (pretty sure things aren't supposed to move unless you are). A nurse hovered over me, her palms making their toe to head trip again.

Without stopping she said, “He's awake, but don't touch him while I'm doing this.”

Two anxious faces sprung up and I had the need to laugh but my ribs felt attacked so I said no on that one. I turned my head a little and Jade popped out of the chair she'd been sitting in, rushing up to my side, her face telling me how much she wanted to touch me. She met the nurse's gaze over my body and she gave Jade an imperceptible shake of her head, not yet.

My parents had obviously not had just a cow but a whole herd. I am sure that Mom went ballistic when she was pulsed by whoever (please let it not have been Jonesy).

Jade looked like she was gonna bawl again.

“It's okay.” I turned to the nurse, Jezebel, of all names. “You're an Organic, right?” She nodded at me, her hand never stopping. Finally, she halted her movement with a final sweep of her hand.

The Js were standing off in the corner and I motioned them over, only the vaguest tweak from the ribs, I looked at Jezebel. “So...what's going on?”

“What's going on is that you have some very brave friends that responded quickly.” She gave John steady eyes and he blushed a fine, true red.

“What? Did you save me, bro?” I asked.

“Apparently,” John said.

“No shit?”

“Caleb...” Mom warned. Dad shook his head at her, I guess I got some slack here in the Gonna Die Place.

“Yeah, you went into...” Jonesy's face scrunched up and Jade rolled her eyes.

“...respiratory arrest,” she finished.

He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that!”

Mom said, “This was a very near thing, Caleb. And I, for one, am not going to make light of it.”

Jezebel glanced at my parents, nodding. “Your friends got you help in time, but you were greatly compromised: three fractured ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, a concussion.” She looked at me.

“But ya fixed him, right?” Jonesy said, the finer details of The Incident completely lost on him.

She smiled at his enthusiasm. “Yes, but there is some residual...” she looked up, thinking, “repair that will need to take place. His body will still need to recuperate. I just gave it a huge head start.”

Jezebel tucked the hospital linen right underneath my chin in a manner so similar to my mom's I looked at her and Mom smiled back at me. Tears stood in her eyes while Dad held her against him.

“Listen, guys,” Dad started, “I think we need a moment with our son.”

The Js and Jade nodded and left, Jade giving me a glance over her shoulder mouthing, I'll be here.

I nodded.

Jezebel said, “I'll be back in,” she looked at the pulse-clock on the wall, “twenty more minutes.”

She left in a blur of white and Mom, who'd been brave that whole time, let the tears she'd been holding fall.

Dad turned her into him and said, “Shush, he's alright. He's okay, Hun...”

She pulled away. “He almost wasn't though, Kyle.”

Dad looked at me over her head. “Garcia paid us a visit right after you left. You just missed him.”

Mom turned. “He went over everything in great deal. And Caleb, he wasn't painting a pretty picture of you.”

Yeah, I'd been getting that from him.

“But, in view of what transpired today...I'd have to say that the burden of proof is on him. Those kids are obviously the problem. You don't go and gang-beat one person and be taken seriously.”

“As a point of fact, I have a call in to each one of the parents and have filed a formal complaint, with Garcia,” Dad said.

Go Dad.

“There is a point which troubles me,” Dad said, his finger up. “The Js said that Clyde showed up.”

Just talking about my favorite zombie coming to play!

Mom frowned. “What's so funny, Caleb?”

“I think there's some internal monologue going on...?” Dad asked, a smile on his face.

Sometimes I dug Dad, he just got me.

“Yeah,” I grinned.

“Huh,” Mom huffed.

“Anyway, I didn't actually raise anything. I didn't have time, they took me down from behind.”

“Cowards,” Dad ground out uncharacteristically.

Mom swung her face toward him.

“You don't nail someone from behind it's...” he tried to explain.

Jonesy walked in. “It's against Guy Code.”

Dad nodded his head. “Correct, Mr. Jones.”

He bowed, getting that twinkle in his eyes. “I have a plan for Righteous Retribution.”

“No,” we all said in unison.

He looked foiled but not beaten. I hoped he didn't get together with Gramps and cook up a Solution. Gramps was very talented in that area.

“Go on,” Dad said. The Js and Jade came back in my room.

The door opened and suddenly there was the Weller duo and Alex. Christi was nowhere to be seen. Well, thank God for small favors.

“So, I was just trying to defend myself.” I shrugged my shoulders, while I was lying there, remembering. I took a shaky breath. “They were holding me...” I took a deeper breath, letting it out slowly.

I wasn't gonna cry in front of Jade.

“Clyde, he was just there. At first, I just saw something off in the distance, then, when it came closer, I saw it was him.”

They all looked at me.

“He gave them a chance. He really did. Except, when Carson kicked me again. Well, I guess he took it personal.”

“Personally,” Mom corrected absently, rubbing her arms like she was cold.

None of us were, but there was a good case of the creeps running around the room.

“So you didn't 'call' him?” Dad clarified.

I shook my head. “Not consciously.”

John said, “I think we should all be asking ourselves what happened to Clyde.”

Silence filled the room and my stomach fell into my feet, I'd never laid him to rest!

“Ah, does this mean we have an errant zombie running loose?” Mom asked to no one in particular.

“Direction-less?” John said.

“Righteous!” Jonesy air-pumped a fist.

“Wonderful,” Dad said, scrubbing his face twice in a row.

Garcia poked his head in the door. “May I talk to Caleb now?”

Dad gave him a look I had a hard time identifying, then he nodded. Mom and Jade came to the opposite side of my bed.

The notebook cleared his shirt pocket and I was back to kinda hating him a little. I hadn't liked the way he'd given the gang equal treatment. I mean, I knew that I'd raised the Dead Team, but only when things got squirrelly with the Torch Team. Choices, choices...

“Let's get right to it, Caleb. The Organic said that you have about ten minutes,” Garcia said.

Let's.

I gave him raw, accusing eyes, they were the only ones that I could. I was pissed, I was hurting still and felt like he hadn't taken it seriously enough when the thing happened at Jade's.

“Okay, I got it. I know I should have understood the danger level a little better.”

Mom humphed. He looked at her and Dad watched Garcia watching Mom. I don't think the Fam was too keen on Garcia right now. Gee, I wonder why? I was going to pull up a chair, let him just try to take on Mom, he couldn't back her into a verbal corner if his life depended on it.

“Alright, let's recount what happened,” he said.

I told him and he listened, asking questions in key places.

“So, now, it's my understanding that you unconsciously raised,” he looked at his notepad, “Clyde,” tapping it. I nodded confirmation. “And he is...” and he spread his arms wide.

“Somewhere?” Jonesy answered logically.

Garcia pointed his pen at Jonesy. “You-quiet.”

John covered his grin with a hand and Jonesy looked hurt. He thought he'd offered a solid explanation.

“Wait a sec,” Jade said. Everyone looked at her. “This is so-not important.”

Garcia raised his eyebrows, clearly, it was.

She shook her head. “No, Caleb got hurt. Wherever Clyde is, I don't know. But right now, Caleb needs protection. Those boys... They could have killed him,” she said.

“They almost did,” Bry said and Tiff nodded.

“Just wish we'd been a little earlier,” Alex mourned.

I shook my head. “No guys, it would've been a replay. They were all about making me suffer. It was individual. Personal.”

“I guess you've been taking self-defense,” Garcia quizzed.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Was he serious?

“After last year... I just wanted to be more prepared. I can't always count on the undead to have my back.”

Even though they did.

“I'm talking to all the parents involved. Some will be easier than others. This type of bullying...” Garcia began

“I think it's more than 'bullying',” Mom said.

He nodded. “You're right. If they'd been over eighteen, they'd be in jail right now.”

“Yeah, what gives on that? Don't they have to take a vacation in Juvie?” Bry asked.

He shook his head. “They'll have pulse monitors.”

“Nice,” John said.

Mom released a big breath.

That was awesome, if they came within fifty feet of me it would be auto-police pulse.

Garcia held his hand up. “Don't get excited yet. Both Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason are under sixteen.”

“No,” I said. “That bozo is driving,” remembering the flip-off session at Gramps, “he got held back. He's sixteen.”

Garcia frowned. “He told me fifteen.”

“He's just smart enough to be evasive,” Bry said shrugging.

“And he's hanging out with older kids,” John said.

“Water seeks its own level...” Mom said.

Garcia looked around the room and said, “I need you other kids to clear out, except you, Miss Weller.”

They trooped out, Jonesy gave me the thumb signal for pulsing later, and I nodded.

“I want to address the case right now. The new developments.”

“I have a question first,” I said.

He waited.

“Why did the pulse give a proximity warning?”

“Who were you on pulse with when it gave the alert?” Garcia asked.

“Jade.”

“She's Empath, right?”

I nodded.

“From what I understand, an Empath would be linked to you on some level because of the viral nature of the pulse.”

Dad nodded, he was following. I was struggling.

“Which means that she was getting some residual danger impressions from thought processes in proximity to you physically,” Dad elaborated.

“You mean, that their intentions were transmitted to Jade and she somehow 'told' the pulse there was danger. That I was in danger?” I asked.

“Essentially, yes.” Dad agreed.

So, Jade kinda tried to warn me without knowing it.

Cool.

I didn't think that was gonna be covered in her Empath core class.

“Does that clear it up?” Garcia asked.

“Yeah.”

“That's a nice feature,” Dad said.

“Keeps crime down,” he agreed.

I just bet it would. Thinking of all the losers trying to lurk, sneak and creep. Made all the skulking around a little tougher. Nice.

“So, you two kids are aware that Nulls have been identified as the target group of the killings,” Garcia said, getting back on track.

We nodded.

“This is a critical break through. We're pulling all the missing kids reports and cross-referencing Nulls under eighteen, to identify possible victims.”

“Smith will be in touch. There will be more bodies, eventually. We're all hoping that we don't have fresh bodies turning up. Unfortunately, this type of killer will murder until stopped. We have to presume that he is still planning and executing this target group. You kids need to be vigilant. Smith reported that he visited the Terran house so they are aware that John is under watch.”

We nodded, they knew. I swallowed and heard a dry click. After my close call, I didn't like to talk about John and others who might get hurt. I just felt like we were all sitting ducks.

“That's all for now. You have a two-week respite to not worry about that group.” he paused, looking at me significantly.

“Wait a minute. They have pulse-monitors for two weeks then they're scot-free?” Mom ranted.

“It's the maximum we're allowed by law. They're minors, Mrs. Hart,” Garcia said.

“Kyle...” Mom implored.

Dad gave a hard look at Garcia. “I'm not happy with this as a resolution. What if,” he looked at me lying pale and recovering in the hospital bed, “those young men try to gang up on Caleb again? When there isn't an Organic on shift, at just the opportune moment, with a high enough level? This one happened to have surgical expertise.”

Dad ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “There's no way for this to end well. If they enter my home with intent to harm my son, I will not treat them like minors, Sergeant Garcia. They will cease to be children; they will be criminals. Period.”

Garcia's eyes narrowed into slits. “You're not circling vigilantism, Mr. Hart?”

Dad thought about it, eventually nodding. “I will not willingly let my family come to harm, Sergeant. It's not going to happen. I will defend them to the best of my ability. I'd be more than happy to reiterate this stance to whomever cares to hear it. I am American. This is my child. He will not be defenseless against this threat.”

“Fine, duly noted. You understand my hands are tied. This is the fullest I can maneuver or prosecute. I will also be speaking with the families, making them aware of the transgressions against Caleb and what the ramifications will be,” Garcia said.

They looked at each other and something shifted inside me for my dad then, a physical reaction. I always knew on some level that he loved me I just never realized how much.

CHAPTER 16

The Boy smelled strangely...the Dog sniffed him and sensed injury...an injury which was healing. The Dog sniffed more deeply; several injuries. He wagged his tail, he sensed something had cleansed the injuries; making them smell “old.” The Dog did not know what that may be but was deeply relieved when the Boy returned, that horrible feeling of doom slipping away at his arrival.

“Yes, yes, I'm glad to see you too.” As I was petting Onyx, I noticed he was acting weird, taking big lungfuls of my smell. Probably smelling that gross hospital. Eau de Sick.

“I have supper ready too,” Mom said.

Great, I was starving. I'd missed school, had to spend the night at Camp Sick and was finally home. Friday loomed large with a hang session at Gramp's place tomorrow. The Organic said she'd worked me over but I still felt stiff and sore. Just think how I would've felt if she hadn't? Better not to dwell on that too long.

“Okay, Mom. How much longer?”

She looked at me critically. “Do you need to do something?

Yeah, I was desperate for some time with my girl.

Out loud I said, “Need to pulse the Js.”

“And Jade?”

I smiled. “Yeah, maybe I could find some time for her too.”

Duh.

“We can hold off for another half-hour or so.”

Good.

“Thanks, I'll be back down,” I said.

I walked up the stairs instead of taking them two at a time, with Onyx tripping into the back of me because the pacing was off. Taking out my pulse as I palmed the door open I sat on my bed. I wasn't about to lay down, I was completely tired of that.

Activating: top-five contact: Jade LeClerc

Hi...how are you? -JLeC

I'm okay. But we never did get to talk.- CH

I can come over tonight. With everything that happened, Sophie's mom feels sorry for you so she told me I could.- JLeC

Seriously? -CH

Yeah! -JLeC

Good...I doubt the Parental Unit will let me do anything tonight anyway.-CH

They shouldn't, Caleb. You need to give your body a chance. -JLeC

But the Organic.-CH
pulse interruption

Whatever! I know they're supposed to be able to 'manipulate all living tissue/organs/blood' but that doesn't mean that it erases the trauma. For once, would you not be a guy about it? -JLeC

I wasn't sure how not to be a guy, but...

I guess I'll take a night off fun.- CH

We can still have fun just hanging out. We don't always have to go somewhere.- JLeC

K, give me an hour. I need to de-scuz and eat, then we can watch a movie or something.- CH

Or something.-JLeC

Yeah smiles-CH

That,'or something'...that's what I like.- JLeC

Me too. -CH

Cya.- JLeC

:D- CH

*

Hey! -JLeC

Yeah? -CH

What movie? -JLeC

Zombie Apocalypse 20-CH

Are you kidding? -JLeC

Yeah...some Empath you are.- CH

Nice! Ttys- JLeC

:b-CH

I swiped my thumb on the pad: hibernating.

I couldn't wait to see her. For once, everything should remain calm. I hadn't had a day that went smoothly since summer ended.

As it turned out, the night wasn't going to be calm and neither was Saturday at Gramps.

But a guy can dream.

****

Jade was playing nurse in my bedroom after some über-awkward wrangling with the Parents. The whole, “keep the doors open,” and all that other shit that parents raged about because we may kiss... or something.

We were doing a lot of the “or something.”

She lay like a warm line against my body, tight against me and I was amazed how perfect a fit she was. My hand was buried in her hair, clenching my fist in the silk of it and I used my hand to turn her head into my mouth. My other hand rode up and down her side, finally landing on her jaw, where I ran a finger up the softness of it.

Sitting up, I loomed over her and started brushing little kisses along her neck and she gazed up at me with a flushed face, heated by proximity and what we were doing. My hands were on either side of her head, holding my weight up and when I got down to that great place between her breasts with my mouth, she put her hands on my chest, where I held myself, suspended in a push-up position.

“What about your parents?” she asked breathlessly.

“What about them?” I murmured, kissing her mouth again.

She put her hands on me again and I lifted my eyebrows.

“I don't want your mom to walk in, I'd die.”

I looked down at her, so beautiful lying on my bed underneath me, her hair fanning around her like black water. Jade was the only person I felt tender about. I took some of the hair that had worked its way over her face and tucked it behind her ear, kissing her temple as I did...

“Ahh...” I groaned, “you make me crazy.”

She smiled. “You do it to me too.”

We made out some more, thoughts of my parents dim for us in that moment of passion.

I rolled Jade over on top of me and her curtain of hair fanned around my head like a cocoon, at once suffocating and intoxicating in its heat and perfume. She was a soft weight on the front of me and we kissed while my hands made their way to the small of her back and I pressed her against me and she gasped.

I broke away. “What?” I asked, a little more than half-gone.

“We better stop,” she said.

“I don't want to.” I said, knowing she was right, my parents were here, we were almost fifteen. Hell, I sure didn't feel fifteen. I felt like an adult.

She rolled off me and lay on her side and I flinched; ribs still weren't one hundred percent yet.

She saw my face. “What?” her hand floating above my torso.

“Ribs.”

“Oh, you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah! Damn, if I can't have my girl on me, I'm in trouble!”

That got the smile I was going for.

We lay like that for a long time, side-by-side, her head crammed underneath my chin, my arm around her, our breathing becoming synchronized.

Mom shattered it all, calling upstairs, “Caleb and Jade, get down here please.”

We gazed into each other's eyes. Our feelings a tangible thing in the room, having this time with her had been amazing. Back to reality. We untangled our limbs and trudged downstairs.

I knew the shit had hit the fan when I could hear Onyx softly growling. I instinctively put Jade behind me on the staircase, halting her progress.

“Just a sec. Let me see what's going on.”

I crept down the dimly lit stairs and saw Onyx with his hair standing on end. Then I heard Mom's voice. “Ah, yes, but my husband is not at home and I think it would be best for you to return when he is.”

“Listen lady, I'm not leaving here until I have my girl. I know she's here, 'cuz Andrea is out-of-town at some stupid thing for women.”

Jade's dad.

Wasn't this just dandy?

I couldn't have him doing something to Mom. I chewed on my lip, I felt kinda weak from the whole nightmare yesterday and my girlfriend had her hand bunched up in my shirt, her body pressed against mine.

She was on the step behind me and our heads were at equal height when she whispered into my ear, “My dad, Caleb. She can't let him in. He might do something.”

Yeah. Kinda what I'd been thinking.

I looked at my shattered watch crystal and just managed to make out the time. Five o'clock, Dad would be home soon...but soon enough? I didn't know.

I turned around and looked straight in Jade's wide, frightened eyes. “Don't come down, no matter what.”

She grabbed me before I could move forward. “Don't Caleb. You're still hurt, and he's mean.” Her eyes stayed on mine, never leaving.

“My mom's down there, Jade. I have to.”

She lowered herself onto the step and I moved forward, toward danger.

****

I popped out of the narrow staircase into the foyer and LeClerc stood there, a meaty palm planted on the door and my mom's thin hand holding the edge of it.

Her knuckles showed white under the subtle strain of keeping the door from opening.

Onyx didn't look my way but he knew I was there.

I didn't tell him it was okay.

The Dog smelled the male outside and recognized that he was pack to the small female that the Boy so often smelled of now. The Dog knew the danger from this male, he smelled his fragrant anger, wild and intense. He was like the one that had taken the Dog before he found his new Boy; this was a Bad Male. The Dog was certain that he meant to harm the Alpha Female. The Dog growled to warn the Alpha. The Dog wanted the Alpha Male to come home from the metal box that smelled foul and had holes that were sometimes there. The Dog sensed that the time was near for the Alpha to return. There was a new smell that was around the pack's cave and it was a dead smell...but the Dog felt a comfort because the Boy smelled so often of this. The Dog waited, preparing to defend with the pack.

I stood behind Mom and met LeClerc's eyes over her head.

“Well, if it isn't your smartass kid... the zombie-lover,” he said, slapping the door open with the palm that had been there.

Mom's hand flew off and she stepped back into me. “Oops...sorry honey.”

Geez...“Mom, get over here.” I said, putting Mom behind me.

Six months ago, I remember thinking she was so big and now she seemed so fragile before the six foot, two hundred pound raging psycho that had just worked his way into our foyer.

Where the hell was Dad?

Onyx got a whiff of the deal and growled more, LeClerc's eyes flicked to Onyx.

The Dog kept his dominant eye-contact with the Bad Male. This male needed to know that the Dog would not back down when a feral entered the pack's cave.

“Caleb!” Mom screamed as LeClerc grabbed her and all sense of restraint I had flew out the window when I saw that guy's hands on my mom, as she struggled underneath them.

Everything unraveled then, Jade came down the steps, LeClerc caught sight of her and Onyx lunged at him, clamping onto his leg and worrying at it like it was his favorite bone.

In a fit of bellowing rage, LeClerc shoved Mom into the wall, she bashed her head and started to slide down the wall, obviously fazed.

“Jade!” I hollered. Cripes! “Get back upstairs!”

But too late, LeClerc had grabbed her hair as she turned and jerked her back, at the same time, kicking out with his leg to try and get rid of Onyx.

Ignoring Jade's cries was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

I plowed into the fray and LeClerc, apparently ramped up to beat all, slapped her across the face to subdue her.

A red haze clouded my vision, I took the base of my foot and plowed it, side-long, into the back of his knee, effectively dumping him to the ground, my ribs squawking like crazy.

He took Jade down to the floor in his abusive embrace.

I didn't hesitate. Treating his head like a soccer ball, I kicked him with everything I had and he released Jade, sitting up on all fours like and enraged bull, shaking his head in a fit, his handprint a mar against the cafe au lait of Jade's skin.

I wanted to kill him; it stood like a stale taste in my mouth, filling it. The word sung in my head: kill, kill, kill.

Then, filling the doorway was Clyde.

Fuck me.

Our eyes met in perfect understanding and I couldn't take back what I'd been thinking.

And Clyde didn't want me to.

Going straight for LeClerc, he plunged right into him like sliding into third base and they barreled into the wall. Two picture frames came crashing down on top of them and glass shattered everywhere.

Clyde, apparently not the wasteful type, flat-palmed his hand into the glass, all of it sticking to the oozing rot of his palm and began to smear it into LeClerc's eyes.

“Aagghhh!” he bellowed, fists flying into Clyde wildly.

Clyde's garbled speech reached my ears, “You will cease and desist this behavior, you troublesome dolt.”

Smear, crunch, whack, thunk.

I walked over to Jade, hauling her up, out of the way, and against me where she hiccuped back sobs. “I thought he was going to...going to... that it was going to be like before.”

I shushed her, hugging her tight against me, stroking her hair while Clyde worked his magic on her dad.

I noticed in a detached way that some globs of Clyde were falling on LeClerc, causing him to scream as the wet, slithering flesh plopped on his face.

I smiled.

I took stock of Mom who was starting to look more alert when Dad sailed in through the garage door. “Whose car is...” he began, then his hand came over his nose and he began to breathe through his mouth until he saw Mom, then he screamed, “Ali!” Dad rushed over and caught sight of what the smell had been about.

I was kinda used to it.

“Caleb, who is this? Stop him!”

Dad looked on with horror, then swooped in, picking Mom up.

“Caleb...” Dad turned with Mom in a cradle hold and slammed his thumb into the Fam pulse. Several seconds passed and he released his thumb.

“Dad, did you call the cops?”

Clyde was squeezing LeClerc's throat and his face was turning an alarming shade of purple.

“Clyde, give it a rest.”

Clyde didn't.

I left Jade next to Dad and walked over to where Clyde was strangling Jade's dad, hunkering down. “Clyde!”

His eyes swept to mine, his fingers lost in the meat of LeClerc's neck. “He will never stop, Master, he will continue to hunt you. I must...”

“You must stop, Clyde.”

Although I really appreciated his efforts, I had to say.

I threw some juice at Clyde, underscoring my command and he loosened his hold on LeClerc. Planting his knee in his chest, he used LeClerc's body for leverage and stood. He stared at me, only a couple of inches taller now, but oh, he was so much more.

He was in tough shape. My original, unconscious call had raised something with purpose, but not enough form. He was really decomposed. I felt a little guilty, Clyde deserved to look better.

Huh, I'd do better next time.

My parents and Jade stared at Clyde, but he had eyes only for me.

“Ah, thanks, Clyde. But, ah... you better go now, 'cuz the cops will be here and I'm starting to get in trouble for zombies popping up like jack-in-the-boxes.”

“Akin to the toy which winds?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Technically, it was zombie-in-the-box but I felt that might be what my parents called, “splitting hairs.”

Mom, was definitely more alert now. “Has he been the one making the separator bins smell?” she yelled, disentangling herself from Dad, who let her slide down the front of him, but kept her pinned to his body. None of us were too keen on getting close to LeClerc, who was writhing around on the floor moaning. He reminded me of a snake who'd been poked.

Staying out of range, thanks.

The Dog was relieved when the Dead One entered the cave. He smelled of the Boy in a way that the Dog did not understand but accepted... his nose never lied. The Dead One had subdued the feral and the Boy was Alpha to the Dead One. The Alpha Male had returned and the Dog would stand down. Protectors of the pack were in place now and the feral was in great pain. The Dog could smell the Bad Male's agony and it brought a primitive and savage satisfaction. This was as it should be. The Dog sat, watching the Boy make the sounds with the Dead One.

My eyes narrowed on Clyde. “Have you been...hiding out here, Clyde?”

“Why, yes. You were incapacitated before, Master. There was nowhere to go but I am able to follow your. signature, as it were. Therefore, I found myself here.” He inclined his head slightly in deference, another blob of flesh sliding off his skull and landing with a splat on the tile entryway. I watched Mom watch it fall with something between surrealism and disgust.

Brother.

Dad looked at me, like, what the hell. “Explain,” Dad said tersely.

Jade came away from the safety of my body, facing Dad. “My dad,” she looked down at the undulating heap on the floor, “came over here looking for me,” and even I could hear the dry swallow of her throat, “and he... hit,” she looked at Mom, who smiled and nodded back at her in encouragement.

Jade didn't go on. Couldn't go on.

Mom said, “Actually, he shoved me into the wall.”

Dad and I gave Mom A Look.

“One in the same, Ali,” Dad said.

There was no diffusing it, if you touched a woman in anger, basically, you were A Loser. Dad and I got it, most guys got it.

LeClerc needed more lessons from Clyde.

Maybe, like a final lesson.

Clyde was following my train of thought. “You tell me, 'do not kill him' but your heart says you wish his death. His imminent death.”

Thanks, Clyde: didn't really want to share the whole tamale with The Parents.

I sighed, hearing the wailing sirens of the cops coming, again.

The cops parked outside the house and Garcia (of-effing-course) came at a sprint, gun drawn, Smith and Gale at his heels. They burst through the door. (Let's have the whole world over, I thought randomly 'cuz, why not?).

They trained their guns on Clyde, who stood stock-still. I heard Gale gag, you know the type: the pre-barf cough, she was gonna toss her guts on the floor to join the rot.

Nice.

“Mr. Hart, what is going on here?” Garcia said in a low, fierce voice, his gaze a steady menace on Clyde.

“I think, from what I can piece together, Jade's dad came here to get her, assaulted my wife, and Caleb's zombie who was never put to rest took command of the situation.” We all looked down at Jade's dad who had ground glass embedded in the flesh of his face and throat. “And I came in and ascertained a 911 call was in order,” Dad finished.

“Ya think?” I said to no one in particular.

Gale had holstered her gun, a hand over her nose, shallow breaths escaping between her fingers.

Clyde regarded her. “You. I know you.”

“She's like me,” I responded to Clyde.

“Not exactly. She is not a Master. But she feels... very good.”

Cripes, zombie love for Gale.

She backed away a little, smart girl.

Clyde switched his gaze to Garcia. “The Master is under threat.”

He swung a palm to indicate Jade's dad. The skin on his knuckles was gone from the abuse of Jade's dad, sloughing off with every squeeze.

Clyde had everyone's attention, especially Garcia.

“Did we not just discuss your future, Caleb? A future where you stop raising everything and using it as a weapon?” Garcia said, his eyes on Clyde, along with his gun, but his words were all for me.

I was getting tired of Garcia.

“Why don't you get your gun off my zombie?” I said disrespectfully.

Clyde hissed at Garcia, his black mouth opening, decay wafting out in an errant rush.

Dammit, I couldn't let emotion rule because Clyde was tuned into my frequency, wasn't he?

“Clyde, cool it, I got this.”

Clyde straightened, his dead gaze glittering on Garcia, taking his measure. Garcia didn't know it but Clyde was calculating range, not judgment.

Zombies weren't huge on ambivalence.

“Caleb...” Dad said, warning me about my behavior.

I gave him a look, and he looked back, watch it, pal.

I sighed. “Listen, like my dad said, he came to our house. He shoved my mom.” My hands balled into fists and Clyde sidled closer to LeClerc. Garcia motioned with his gun at Clyde to move away from LeClerc. It wasn't until I gave the signal that Clyde moved to stand closer to me.

“This is the danger I was talking about, Caleb. You're dangerous.”

“Only if you threaten me,” I said, giving a look at Clyde.

Gale and Smith were looking at Garcia. Slowly, Bobbi Gale took verbal charge. “I don't sense,” she swallowed as Clyde gave her a zombie-smile (black mouth, a couple of teeth, partial tongue), “that the zombie will act unless you threaten Caleb, Raul.”

“I'm not threatening Caleb,” Garcia said.

“He feels like you're threatening his zombie,” she responded.

“What does the zombie matter?” Garcia asked.

“It matters,” Gale and I said at the same time. We looked at each other. She got me.

Of course, she was AFTD.

Smith said, “Garcia, we don't need this show of force. I'm a five-point Null, I think I got this.” He splayed his arms out away from his body like, duh.

Garcia holstered his weapon, looking at Smith like bitch-slapping was an option. What the eff was happening with Garcia?

Everyone in the room let out the breath they'd been holding. Clyde stared at Garcia, his guard was still up and the smell was a cloud of rot. I was okay, but the rest of the group had their hands over their noses.

Mom said, “Caleb, would you have... ah, Clyde, step outside for a moment please?”

What was left of his eyebrow cocked and some of it fell on the floor. Huh, he was in tough shape.

“Clyde, can you go outside just for a sec?” I asked.

“Of course, if that is what you wish. But, there are those present who give me lingering doubts about your safety.”

Huh.

“Tell ya what, why don't I call you if things get stupid again?'

He nodded, leaving to stand outside the front door.

Everyone's hands dropped off their noses.

I looked at Garcia again. “Anyway...LeClerc needs to get the shaft because he touched my mom. He broke into our house, he was going to hurt us, it's jail time for him.”

“That's not for you to decide,” and Gale opened her mouth to rebut Garcia who continued before she could, “but he has violated the terms of the restraining order that Andrea LeClerc initiated, so you're in luck.”

Dad gave an apologetic look to Jade then said, “We're pressing charges. That man laid hands on my wife while she was here unprotected...”

Clyde cleared his throat discreetly from outside. Dad looked at him. “...almost unprotected.” and Clyde nodded. “There should be a clear consequence for this behavior. My son has just returned from the hospital and was in no shape to offer assistance; he shouldn't need to.”

Get at me.

Smith whipped out his pulse-pad and laid his thumb on it. Facing Dad he said, “Ready.”

Garcia and Gale hauled up a struggling LeClerc and Jade pressed herself against me. Garcia slapped cuffs on LeClerc as Dad detailed the events as they happened, pausing to let me fill in the blanks. He was almost finished when there was a voice from outside the door.

“Excuse me?”

This was unbelievable! The Organic from the hospital was here. She was doing a polite, backward lean from Clyde, who hadn't budged from his sentry post at the front door, her hand covering her nose.

“Master?” Clyde asked.

“Nah, she's okay Clyde.”

A tension that had been running through Clyde eased.

He was on it.

My zombie bodyguard. Nice. The Js were gonna really appreciate this.

Speaking of which there they were. I could see John's red hair flopping as he walked, a half a head taller than everyone else. Well, wasn't this turning out like usual.

A catastrophe followed by everyone on earth showing up.

“Hey Clyde, how's it goin'?” Jonesy asked, squeezing past Jezebel the Organic, with John on his heels.

I smiled, I couldn't help it.

“I have rights!” Jade's dad bellowed into Gale's ear.

“Not right now, when you decided to violate the terms of your parole, your rights were negated,” Garcia told him.

Jade trembled against me and I sucked her in tighter.

John came up to me. “What now?” he asked.

“What's this crap all over the floor?” Jonesy asked delicately and Mom slapped her forehead.

Brother.

Gale smiled while she struggled to subdue LeClerc, who was so into resisting arrest.

Again.

He was a slow learner, the doofus.

Smith had just shut his pulse-pad down and was turning to look at LeClerc when Jezebel asked, “Is this a bad time for Caleb's follow-up?” her eyes flitting from LeClerc, to mine, to my parents, the cops and finally settling on Clyde. He was straightening the shredded lapels of his suit jacket.

Huh, yeah, kinda a bad time.

Mom shrugged. “No, he needs to be seen after yesterday's ordeal,” she paused. Then as an afterthought said, “Excuse the odor.”

Clyde sniffed at that and she shot him the, I'm sorry but ewww-gross look.

This was all so weird. Jezebel stepped through the lingering cops, corpse and creep and came directly in front of me.

Giving me a severe look she said, “You were supposed to rest today.” Her hand hovered over my core, and with a nod of satisfaction she stepped back. “You're subjecting yourself to way too much excitement here, Caleb.”

The Js snickered behind me.

Too Much Excitement, yeah, that was so Not My Life.

Mom's hostess ability came on line and she said, “Jezebel, thank you for coming, you can come into the living room and look Caleb over in there.” She looked at Jade, then the Js. “You guys can come too.”

“No way...” Jonesy said. “I'm staying out here with our man, Clyde.”

John nodded. “Stuff could go down, what if Caleb needed us to manage things while he's playing patient?”

Mom and Jade rolled their eyes. “Fine,” Mom said with a tone.

Jonesy shrugged, he knew future food was more or less secure, no worries.

Jade was more than happy to go with me, leaving her dad in the foyer.

But, as I turned around he had reached out with his cuffed hands and latched on to the molding that ran the perimeter of the door. Smith had already made a wide berth around Clyde and Garcia was trying to jerk LeClerc off the wood.

“Allow me,” Clyde said, and before anyone could do anything, he latched onto LeClerc and heaved him right out onto the front lawn.

We all just stared at the spot LeClerc had been. Then, how he'd evacuated the atrium and now lay in a heap on the lawn.

“Damn man! You never disappoint, Hart!” Jonesy said, fist pumping.

That was me, Mr. No Disappointment.

“This is so out of hand I don't even know where to begin,” Garcia said, scrubbing his face.

“Raul, let me stay behind and deal with...” and she looked at Clyde, who strode over to her.

How she maintained her position was beyond me but she stayed rooted to the spot. His body came to stand in front of her. All that decomposed strength waiting, the vibrating energy of the dead coming off him in waves.

“How may I be of service, necromancer?”

Gale gulped. “Caleb! A little help!”

I walked out there, leaving the gang inside, the Js standing in the door opening, Dad standing behind them, John was taller than he was now.

Clyde leaned into her, smelling her neck.

Okay, this was getting frickin' weird.

Gale mewled but did the lean, staying where she was.

Garcia's hand hovered over his pistol. “Caleb!”

“Get off me, I got this.” I looked at him, and he looked back, we were really starting to have a misunderstanding. “Stop being a panicker,” I said. “Clyde.”

His head bent over Gale, but his eyes flicked to me. “Why don't you step away from Gale and we'll go from there.”

He straightened, looking at Gale like a drowning man, his skin sloughing, but his eyes looked disconcertingly human...very human.

She straightened up. “Thanks.” Shaky.

“Welcome.”

Garcia looked from one to the other of us. “Okay, I want it,” he pointed at Clyde, “back wherever he came from.”

Smith said, “Come on, Raul, let's get back to the station, get bozo the clown booked...”

“I heard that!” LeClerc hollered from the lawn.

Smith and Garcia sighed, walking out together. “We'll keep in touch.” Garcia pointed to me and I knew he meant the case.

“Tiff would love the clown reference,” John commented.

“Yeah, she would,” I agreed.

“It qualifies his shit,” Jonesy said.

“There are ladies present, young man,” Clyde said with menace.

Jonesy looked at Clyde. “Right. I didn't think about that.”

“Possibly a pastime you should embrace,” Clyde responded.

“What?”

“Thinking,” he said, the suffix lost to the garble.

Jonesy looked offended but didn't say anything more.

Thank God.

Jezebel poked her head out from between all the males at the door.

“Okay, let's get hot, daylight's burning.”

I trudged back in and turned once to give Clyde the signal that could he, by God, stay out here so I didn't have Mom pissed at me for the grave smell in the house.

He nodded, his eyes on Gale, and hers on him.

CHAPTER 17

Jezebel gave me a clean bill of health and I was über-relieved because we had a big weekend/sleepover planned for Gramps and I'd never missed a Labor Day weekend at his house since I was born.

As a Level Five Organic, she knew what she was doing. Although, I had the distinction of being her first minor to heal. Big surprise, that.

Right now, Clyde was a problem that we needed to deal with. He couldn't hang around in the garbage separator. It was somehow, wrong and Mom was having a turtle about it.

Parents.

Gale, the Js, the Wellers (minus that dumb honeypot, Christi), and Alex had stopped by the house. It was Saturday morning and we were gonna deal with Clyde first then get hot at Gramps'.

“Let's swing by the cemetery and get Clyde back to rest,” Gale said. Looking at all of us her gaze finally came to rest on Clyde. She struggled with some emotion that I couldn't understand but something was down, that was for sure.

She turned to me. “Caleb, you and Tiff can put him to rest, right?”

We nodded.

“Okay, let's get to the cemetery.”

I turned to Clyde. “Clyde, can you meet us at the cemetery?”

“The place I dwell when I sleep in the earth?”

I nodded.

He stared at me. “Yes, I will rendezvous with you there...” he looked at a timepiece, the only whole thing of his outfit, “...twenty minutes from now.”

“Hey, does that work?” Jonesy asked, eying the pocket watch.

Clyde's perfectly human eyes met Jonesy's. “Yes.”

“Damn, Caleb, you gotta get organized! The eyes and the watch?”

“Clyde needs a makeover,” John said.

“Yeah,” Tiff said, snapping a bubble.

“Raise in haste...”

“Don't say it,” I warned Jonesy.

He grinned, a slash of white in the shadows.

Gale rolled her eyes. “Bry, can you take your sister and Jade, we'll meet up there.”

“Ah, I want Jade with us. The Js can go with the Weller's.”

She shrugged, whatever.

Mom poked her head out the front door. “Are you going to take care of Clyde, then meet us at Pop's?”

I nodded.

“No dawdling, get straight there.”

Dawdling, yeah-right.

The Js were facing me and giving me the big Puss Alert.

Dumb-asses.

“Okay Mom, don't worry about it, I think I can handle a simple corpse rest with Tiff and the Police Officer in Attendance.”

“Anyway,” she said, undeterred, “in light of your hospitalization, I want to be humored. So do it.” This was getting close to the I Will Eviscerate You lecture so I agreed in order to circumvent that possibility.

I grabbed Jade's hand and got in the creepy cruiser again, noticing it was as gross as all the rest I'd ever been in.

We watched the scenery whiz by. “Where's Sophie?”

“She's going to meet us there,” Jade said.

I nodded.

As our hands intertwined I looked to see if Gale's eyes were on the road. They were.

I leaned over and put my mouth by her ear, kissing the outside edge, my lips brushing up against the cold metal of her hoop, the heat from my mouth warming it.

Smiling. “That tickles,” she giggled softly.

I liked making her giggle.

“Later we can swim at Gramps', it'll be nice and private.” I was envisioning her in that tiny swimsuit she had.

Her eyes met mine. “Caleb, we can't always make out.”

Why not?

“We can sneak some time in,” I said, unfazed.

She grinned. “Okay,” as her cheeks colored a soft pink.

We passed under the gate for the cemetery, the swirling scrolls marking our entrance.

Gale rolled to a stop as close to Clyde's plot as we could get. I looked at my watch and noticed we had ten more minutes until my boy showed up.

Gale turned around in the seat. “What's going on with Clyde?”

I shrugged, who knew?

She sighed. “I mean, why is he constantly popping up?”

I barked out a laugh, thinking about the jack-in-the-box thing.

“Ah, not funny, Caleb.”

I shook my head. “No, it's just, the way you said it made me think of something else.”

Snark.

Jade looked at me with raised eyebrows and I gave her the, later look.

“The theory on corpse-raising is once raised, they're easier to raise again,” Gale said.

That'd been my experience; I think I'd bypassed theory totally.

“I didn't try to raise Clyde. And him running around was because I didn't get a chance to put him back because of the hospital thing,” I said.

“Why do you think he responded?” she asked.

We got out of the car and I slammed the door. Looking around, I took my time answering. The great fir trees swayed in the wind, their branches almost caressing the ground.

I leaned on the top of the car's hood. “I think because he was my first, ya know, corpse to raise and we're just connected. I'm not gonna lie, I don't really know. Clyde just feels tight, ya know?”

“Like a friend?” Jade asked.

I nodded. “Kinda... but, more like a body guard. A zombie body guard.”

“He feels different than the others,” Gale said, with a shiver.

Huh.

Clyde broke through the tree line after she said that, his feet a slimy mess, the muck inside his shoes oozing out of them.

Must've run, I thought.

He turned his gaze to me as the Weller car brought up the rear, the Js piling out. Then his eyes went to Gale's.

Jonesy rubbed his hands together. “K, let's get cookin', I'm dying to go to Mac's.”

Clyde scowled at him, which made another ball o' flesh slide off and land on the grass. Facial expression really took a toll I was noticing.

“Okay, chill, kinda touchy for a corpse,” Jonesy said, getting nervous.

Bry said, “Jonesy, could you just not.”

Jonesy crossed his arms, huffing.

I walked over to Clyde and we looked at each other.

“Thank you,” I said.

He inclined his head, “If I may be presumptuous enough to add counsel before I go.”

Okay.

“Those young men, who caused you such harm....”

“The doofus brigade,” Jonesy said.

“Quiet, Jonester,” John said and Jonesy huffed off, parking his ass on a tombstone, his head in his palm.

He swung his face away from Jonesy and back to me. “They are not a light threat. I have known people before that are without a conscience. There are people like this now, in your time. There will be more to follow. I advise you use whomever you have at your disposal to dispatch this threat.”

“Kill 'em all, right?” Tiff clarified.

Clyde inclined his head again and Officer Gale stuck her fingers in her ears and chanted, “Not listening, not listening!”

“As plans go, I can't fault it,” Alex said.

Bry said, “I like it.”

“You guys, listen, there's always going to be a Carson. Look at what's happened. He got into high school and sucked up a couple more clones,” Jade said.

“Losers proliferate,” John said.

Alex laughed. “Yeah, what he said.”

Clyde leaned in real close and I stifled a gag, poor guy. “We are connected now, you understand this?”

I nodded; I was so getting that.

“It is as if I rest below the surface of a restless pool of water. One ripple and I awaken. There is no denying that I will respond to you when you are in distress, no matter what the distance. It is compulsion now.”

Great.

Gale approached. “So, you are not in control of this?”

Clyde looked at her with disbelief, planting a rotting hand against his chest. “My dear, I never was, I never was. He,” and he pointed at me, “is in charge of all that is dead. Caleb has brought me closer to being alive again.” He closed his hand into a fist, the skin stretching close to splitting, the meat of it lightly touching his chest.

With that Clyde walked to his grave, lying down on it. I released the stranglehold of my power. It leeched out from my splayed fingers, hitting Clyde like a two by four. He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his mouth, the grass rolling over him like green water.

We all stood there quietly for a minute then Tiff said, “Huh, you didn't even need me, I feel hurt.”

I looked at her. “Be glad that I didn't!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jonesy said.

Gale just shook her head, “I'm going to forget Clyde was encouraging murder. Yeah, I think I've got amnesia on that.”

Wish we all did.

CHAPTER 18

I think I could smell Gramps' house from the cruiser as it swung onto Driftwood Key Road. He would already have his BBQ-er lit up, ready for the dogs and burgers. I couldn't wait. I looked at Jade and she had a smile on her face. This summer had mattered for her. Spending time with my mom, gardening (Gee, pick me), and weekends at Gramps had been good for her to spend time with my normal family.

Well, mainly normal. 'Cuz Gramps was kinda his own thing. I was thinking he and Clyde would see eye-to-eye on a few things. Yeah.

Gale dropped us off at Gramps' and lingered. I told her to hold on and ran over to Gramps.

He was flipping burgers and dogs already. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was noon; my belly rumbled. I guess the smell was the only reminder needed to Awaken the Beast.

Gramps said, “Hello there, Caleb. Who's your friend?” he asked, pointing the tongs at Gale.

“Yeah, about her...” I began and he raised his eyebrows at me. “She sorta helped out today and I think it'd be great to...”

“The more the merrier is what I always say,” he said, flipping a burger and keeping his eyes on the BBQ.

Sweet. Gramps could never say no to the chicks.

I jogged back to the cruiser and Gale said, “Okay, you guys have a good time...”

“Listen, Bobbi, Gramps wants you to hang out with the Fam.”

That wasn't exactly accurate but it was the best way to put it.

She looked skeptical. “He doesn't know me...”

I shrugged. “He likes a crowd.”

The right crowd, I thought.

Bry's car limped up the driveway and parked in front of the garage door. Alex, the Js and the Wellers got out and shut the doors at the same time and the passenger door fell off with a big clatter on the concrete driveway, shuddering and bouncing in a slow spin.

We all looked at it until it fell still.

Gramps walked over and said, “Caleb, go watch that BBQ-er.”

Hell, Dad had a natural gas one. I didn't know anything about briquettes or whatever outlawed fuel source Gramps used.

Geez, I trudged over there.

Bry and Gramps looked at the door laying on the driveway. Bry had a bemused expression but Gramps was resolved. “I can weld this sucker on after lunch,” he said, palming his chin.

Bry's eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you'll never use it again but it'll stay on there like super glue.”

“Super what?”

“Never you mind,” Gramps said, checking out the perimeter of the hole left by the door. “Yeah, I'll get my grinder out and rough this surface up,” he smoothed his hand along the edge, “and it'll be good as new.”

“Ah, what about...” Bry pointed to that pesky little point-of-entry challenge.

“Well, your friends have one door in the front and two behind. They can figure that out, right?” Then he looked over at me. “Caleb,” he bellowed, “how are those dogs doing?”

Who the hell knew?

Out loud I said, “I got this, Gramps!” hollering back.

“Ah-huh,” he said in a tone that clearly said, I'll believe that when I see it.

More parents rolled up: Sophie's mom to drop her off and Helen and Bill, Jonesy's parents. Where were my folks? I asked Gramps that.

“Your mom is bringing some food.”

“Like what?”

He looked at me, dead serious. “Everything else.”

Huh. That sounded awesome, Mom could bake like a fiend.

Helen and Bill walked up to Gramps, who had run over and worked his magic on the grill.

He strode over to Bill, pumping his hand off in his typical, over the top handshake. “Bill, good to see you,” murderous guy-clap to the shoulder as Bill stumbled forward.

“You too, Mac. Thanks for inviting us to your little soiree, here,” Bill said, looking around at the biggest green lawn he'd probably ever seen, which rolled all the way down to the shore's edge.

“Look at this lawn,” Bill said with more than a hint of awe in his voice. “My dad used to have a lawn like this. How do you get away with it?”

Oh brother, I thought. He's gonna Make A Point. I so knew where Mom got that.

“Grandfathered.”

“No shit?” Bill said incredulously.

“Bill, language,” Helen said, not without affection.

“Right, sorry. But, look at all this,” he spread his hands out. “And he's using real briquettes, I can smell them.” He stuck his nose up in the air sniffing like it was the priciest scent produced.

What was the big deal anyway? Mom was totally into the environment to the gnat’s ass. But Gramps was... he was Gramps.

Just thinking about them conjured my parents out of thin air. They pulled up and the Js suddenly became the most helpful kids on earth. Jonesy was first in line to haul all the food (there was a ton). I think Mom had baked the universe. Gramps was nodding in that approving way of his.

“Your mom can bake up a storm,” he said, piling all the burgers on one side of a huge, stainless tray and the dogs on the other.

Mom sailed over to Gramps, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Hey Pops.”

He pulled her into a hug. “How's my girl?”

“Ornery.” She smiled.

“Excellent,” he said, grinning back.

They'd be fighting inside a half-hour, I thought. They were so much alike and yet, not at all.

Funny but true.

Sophie walked over, her mom pulling away in her car. “Hey, how's it goin?”

We told her.

“So, Clyde was zombie on the spot?” she laughed.

“Yeah, but, here's the thing... he is getting...” I began.

“Terribly lucid?” she said in her adult way.

“Yeah,” Jade said.

“I'm gonna get my trunks on,” Bry said to the group.

“Where's Barbie?” Jonesy said from the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“Don't worry, Jones. She's coming,” Tiff said, punctuated by an eye roll.

There was a collective groan and Bry sighed. “Come on guys, I know her brother is an asshole.”

Helen said, “Language!”

Jonesy sorta cringed. Huh, I guess my mom wasn't the only Vulgar Language Radar Queen. How do they always hear it, anyway?

“Sorry,” Bry muttered and Helen huffed off with her hands on her hips, that hair of hers still looking like lost-animal-zoo-time on her head. Brother.

“Anyway,” he began again in a soft voice, “I'm still diggin' on her and trying to not dwell on that ass-wipe Brody.”

“Well, good for you but he was one of the eff-ups that gave Caleb the got-nailed-by-gnomes look.”

“I've had that look before,” Bry said, noncommittally.

Yeah, he had. Probably minus the internal fun, though.

“I hate gnomes,” Tiff said with a shudder, casting a nervous glance around the lawn.

Lot of lawn, lots of room to have lawn décor.

“Don't worry,” I laughed. “Gramps doesn't believe in clutter,” I said making airquotes.

“K, let's get the swimsuits on,” John said.

“No-oh. You gotta have priorities,” Jonesy said. “And that'd be food.”

“Your parents don't make you wait the hour after eating before going in the water?” John asked.

We all looked at him like he grew a second head.

“Ah-no. What kind of horse shit is that?” Tiff said, smacking some fresh gum.

John turned a little red, struggling to explain, “Well, my parents...”

“...are super-ancient,” Jonesy finished.

John looked like he was going to say something then threw up his hands in surrender. “Yeah.”

I clapped John on the back and winked at Jade. “Let's eat...then change.”

We all walked into the house and Mom had spread the food on the picnic-style table Gramps had set out for the teenage horde. It looked like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

We dug in.

****

It was well-past supper. The second round of stuff had been consumed and I had eaten until the threat of puking was close, then finally had to hang it up. It was still light out and all of us were considering a righteous canoe fight, girls against guys when Carson's dad showed up.

That is how weird the day ended, my nemesis' dad showing up. Sorta put a damper on things.

Dad sharpened right up and walked over to the driveway. Like it was the most normal thing in the world that Carson-the-Creep's dad had arrived at the family BBQ.

It so wasn't.

Gramps gave me a look then came over. “Who's this jackass?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Carson's dad.

I told him.

“Well, I'll be damned. That SOB has brass cajones, I'll give him that. He may need a little persuasion,” Gramps said, getting That Look.

“Ah, Gramps, let's see what Dad can do.”

“Okay, Caleb. Your dad gets a little time to be diplomatic, and then, I will implement The Solution.”

Jonesy was nodding. “See, Caleb, that's what I like about Mac here, he's got contingency plans.”

I don't think Jonesy was really up on the total four-one-one on what Gramps' Total Solution would be for this.

I knew things were gonna get interesting when Hamilton started jabbing my dad in the chest with a finger.

The kids got quiet and I walked over there; Gramps on my heels and Mom charging behind us.

“Listen, I know you're a big-shot scientist but I don't think you appreciate my position,” jab-jab with the finger. “I speak for the people and we don't need an AFTD corrupting our school and threatening my son.”

Dad took the finger that was jabbing him, giving it a sharp twist and he flung it back at the guy. “Your political position has nothing at all to do with Caleb or his abilities. It was your son that did more than threaten mine. He injured my son, badly enough to warrant an overnight hospitalization and the attention of a Level Five Organic.”

Hamilton crossed his arms across his chest ( I was getting totally why Carson was such a bully-type). “So you claim.”

“So I know,” Dad said.

Gramps said, “Here's the deal. You need to get your pompous ass off my property right this second or I will escort you in a way I know you will not like.” His tone of voice said it all.

Gramps had been a Navy Seal back in the day and could still throw his weight around. He was the one that encouraged those push-ups I was doing all the time.

Hamilton's smile went from condescending to full on grin. “Look, old man, you're not going to tell me what to do. I can be and say whatever I want.”

Gramps belted him right in the face and Hamilton stumbled back, landing hard on his ass. Not wasting any time Gramps strode over, jerking him by the back of the collar. He dragged him out to where the driveway ended, Hamilton spluttering about his rights, his heel-marks trailing after him.

That worked really well for him.

Gramps dumped him on the gravel threshold that separated the driveway from the road's shoulder.

“I'd stay down if I were you,” Bry said, having run up behind Gramps. Hamilton's beady eyes shifted from Gramps, to Dad, to Bry, deciding he'd had all the excitement he needed.

“I'm getting in my car now,” Hamilton said, eying the group warily.

“Good thinking,” Gramps said, brushing off invisible dirt from his creased old-guy-pants.

Hamilton stood on shaky legs, walking over to the car. He turned, a safe distance from the group. “This isn't over, Hart. I will prosecute you for this.”

“Grandfathered,” Gramps said in his matter-of-fact way and I heard Jonesy chortle in the background.

Brother, what a mess.

He burned out, gravel kicking up and hitting Gramps' wood fence.

“Isn't he a winner,” Gramps stated.

“Oh Pop, couldn't you have...”

“Been a sissy? No, not on your life, Daughter.”

Mom sighed. “Are you okay, honey?”

Dad clenched his fists. “Yes. The gall of that man to come here, to your dad's place and make those erroneous accusations. Without even a remote basis in fact, it was untenable.”

“From what Caleb tells me, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with that family,” Gramps commented.

Helen and Bill strolled up. “What a horrible man. How did he get voted into office?” Helen asked.

Oh, shit.

I knew this was a Big Opener for Gramps. So did Mom, who slapped her forehead.

“Well,” Gramps began, “it seems like the flock voted him in, doesn't it?”

Helen looked puzzled. “What flock?”

Don't ask, don't ask. But she was Jonesy's mom, so of course she asked.

“The Sheep,” he said, like duh.

Jade giggled beside me; she really dug Gramps. To her, he was invincible. He'd just handed Carson's dad his own ass; he was pretty high in all the kids' eyes right now.

“Oh,” Helen said, not really knowing how to respond to that.

Join the club.

Gramps turned. “Okay everyone, chow's ready, the interloper has gone, time to continue the festivities.”

We all walked back to the BBQ area where a big fire pit was full of illegal wood.

“Oh, Pop, are you really going to burn that,” Mom asked, pointing to the fragrant and neatly bundled wood.

He nodded. “Yup.”

She sighed.

Bill shook his head and Dad expounded, “Grandfathered.”

“Right,” Bill said. “I guess that is where the garbage can and lack of a gray water spigot comes in too.”

“Yeah,” I responded.

“I'm not using dirty-ass water to wash my dishes.” Gramps said and Helen flinched at the language while Mom quietly sighed again.

Jonesy and the kids grinned. Gramps was expert at making everything über-awkward and not noticing that he made it that way.

It was kinda terrific. Unless you were on the receiving end.

The fire was blazing and Gramps had all the marshmallow sticks out and stuck with a marshmallow, handing one to each kid.

When he got to Christi, who had arrived right after Hamilton left, she said, “I'm on a diet.”

He just stared at her until she took the stick. “Fine,” she huffed and his eyebrows jacked down over his eyes. “Thank you,” she tacked on.

Maybe she was smarter than she looked.

There was a somewhat peaceful silence, where the adults talked quietly and the fire crackled, twilight sliding into night as we sat together on log rounds with uneven surfaces, pea gravel lining the pit, a rusty circle holding the chunky pieces of wood.

I watched the firelight flicker on Jade's face, the sun having kissed her a good one today, her cheeks pink, her mouth red. My gaze lingered on her lips and she laughed at my look. She knew I was diggin' on her, thinking about studying French again. I looped an arm around her shoulders and she cuddled in next to me.

It was Helen that got our full attention. “Bill and I have good news.”

We all looked at her expectantly.

“We're going to have a baby,” Helen said.

What the hell?

Jonesy spewed a chunk of hot dog at the fire where it landed with a plop, sizzling in the heat.

Mom recovered first. “Well, that's... ah, wonderful news.”

Bill was grinning to beat the band and Jonesy looked like he was going to puke. It's not every day that you find out, at almost fifteen, definitive proof that your parents have sex.

Wow, so uncool.

“Ah, could you guys like...have warned me?” Jonesy spluttered, completely discombobulated.

“Well, son, it's not like we were asking permission,” Bill said with arched brows.

All the teens looked uneasily around at each other but Tiff said, “We have a big family and I always thought it was kinda weird once I met you guys, that the Js and Caleb were all only children. Now Jonesy gets to change poopy diapers and all that happy shit,” she said, juggling a hot marshmallow in her mouth.

Mom gave Tiff a severe look but she didn't notice, going on, “My youngest brother is only five and my mom's pretty old.” Shrugging.

She looked a confirmation at Bry who nodded, adding, “Yeah, she's like forty-something,” he said.

The parents all blanched at forty-anything being old.

I thought between Tiff and Jonesy something horribly obtuse would be uttered.

Of course it was.

John said, “Women over forty can successfully have children. In fact, there has been a significant increase in births in the over-forty group.”

Helen beamed at him and we looked at him like he needed to go die. I mean, who would even care enough to know that?

Apparently Alex. “And...” he said, adding to the knowledge base, “the incidence of Down Syndrome has been lessened with the marker's discovery and...”

“... the subsequent pharmaceutical moderator,” Dad finished.

“So maybe my parents won't have a flipper-baby?” Jonesy said.

Tiff barked out a laugh, shrugging. “Maybe they'll get lucky.”

Bill looked ready to punch Jonesy and Helen appeared crestfallen.

“What?” Jonesy said.

“Shutting up would be good right now,” Sophie said.

There were a few awkward moments of silence and then Gramps suggested going inside to play some lame card game called Pinochle. He herded the adults inside and turned his face at the last moment, the light from the fire reflected on it as he winked.

He was making the adults go away so us kids could sit around.

We all sat there poking our sticks into the fire, Christi piped in and said, “I feel bad about my brother hurting you, Caleb.”

Maybe she was okay, I thought.

Then, she ruined it by qualifying, “Not that I'm an AFTD-lover or something.”

Tiff glowered at her and Bry looked kinda embarrassed. She just had to go. I didn't care if she was the hottest girl alive. She was always casting spells and stirring her cauldron.

“And you guys get on my dick about what I say?” Jonesy said, both hands on his chest.

“Ah, hold on there. Not all of us want to be 'on your dick'.” Sophie said.

Tiff and Jade laughed, raising their hands.

“I think Jonesy was using it as an expression,” Alex clarified, pushing his glasses up with a finger.

“How many of us want to be on Jonesy's dick?” Bry asked. “Raise your hand?”

Mom popped her head out of the open window. “Are you kids talking about penises?”

Oh My God.

“Not really Mom...”

“Well, I don't want any inappropriate dialogue out there.”

“Don't worry about it, Ali. We're just discussing the merits of porn!” Jonesy yelled.

I put my face in my hands. This couldn't be my life.

Jade started rubbing my back.

Mom got up and Gramps grabbed her wrist, whispering in her ear...there were a few more words and she sat back down.

Gramps had placated. Wow, that was close.

I looked at the group. “No body talk, K?”

“Your mom sure has cantaloupes about stupid shit,” Tiff said.

True, but...

“She's okay, she just wants to think I'm acting good.”

She shrugged. “I think our parents are kinda distracted with having all of us running around all the time.”

Bry nodded, agreeing.

We started to get into the groove, dragging lounge chairs over to the fire and all of us paired up. None of us said anything about Sophie and Jonesy sharing.

The stars filled the sky and this far out there was little light pollution (as Mom called it). We sat quietly, whispering about school, the hide-a-way, stuff.

The adults started to filter out on the back deck, crossing the huge lawn and all the couples that had been practically lying on top of one another tried to shift apart so it looked better.

Jonesy's parents and mine weren't impressed. “Pop, are you sure you want this group overnight? It's mixed you know... I think it may be...”

“Don't worry about it, Alicia. If I can't handle them I might as well give up now.”

Mom glanced at me, worry on her face. “You have to let him go, honey. He's raising corpses for God's sake, he can handle a little overnight mixed company. He's responsible. Aren't ya?” Gramps said, his eyes boring into mine.

I nodded. Like I'd say no.

The Parents and Jonesy's parents rolled out the driveway, Helen and Mom waving as they left.

Gramps plopped down. “Okay kids, here's the deal: no sex.”

Nuclear bomb detonated.

John and Tiff looked at each other awkwardly; Bry and Christi (after she got done gasping like a trout) just stared at Gramps.

Jonesy said, “Not here, Mac. The timing's off.”

Gramps looked at him.

“You shut your pie-hole,” he said, pointing a stout finger at Jonesy, who looked back at him like, who me?

Sophie pushed him off the lounge chair and he got all caught up in the handrail and she fell on top of him with a squeal.

“See what I'm sayin'?” he said from beneath Sophie. “I'm a chick-magnet.”

“Ugh!” Sophie said, using more elbow force than necessary as she used his torso to leverage herself up.

“Hey! That hurt.”

“What-ev-er!” she hollered back, her curly hair a riot around her head. She shoved it behind her ears violently.

Gramps was wiping the tears that were rolling out of his eyes from laughing so hard.

“I guess maybe not so much warning was needed,” he said, his gales of laughter breaking off into a random chuckle.

Sophie settled back into the chair and Jonesy got up and brushed off grass and a pebble or two. He pulled up a log (as close as he could get to Sophie) and sat down.

Gramps started telling funny stories about his childhood and naturally Gran came up.

“Did Mom ever tell you about Gran and what she said?”

Gramps got a puzzled expression. “No.”

Huh, I guess it fell on me. I had forgotten about it until now.

“Yeah, before we really knew the full extent, of my abilities.”

“The Scenic episode?” Tiff interrupted, snapping her gum, making Jade jump.

I nodded, sounded like a pulse show. “Yeah.”

Gramps made the circle with his finger, go on.

“Anyway, she told me to tell you that she was sorry. His face changed and became unreadable. “She said you'd know, Gramps.”

“Yes, I do,” he responded.

We waited. When it seemed like forever and there was no explanation coming I asked, “What was it, Gramps?”

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped, dangling between them.

“You kids are too young to understand the prejudice against paranormals but, back when I was a boy, if you were 'special' you didn't want to announce it.” He watched the fire dying down, poking it with an empty marshmallow stick.

“Now, not to take away from the importance of your dad's discovery Caleb but,” I nodded and he continued, “paranormal phenomenon is not a 'new' reality. People have been showing flashes of abilities for millennia. All your dad did was validate what we already understood. The pharmaceutical moguls capitalized on it... and here we are.”

John was frowning, that was his “thinking-on-it” face. “So, how does this pertain to you?”

“Not just another pretty face, eh?” he said, his gaze steady on John, who I knew had a blush going in the dark, the firelight obscuring it.

“When I was a little tyke,” and he swung out his hand to indicate a kid about five, “your gran would walk me to church and we'd pass the quiet neighbors park.”

“Huh?” Jonesy said.

“Cemetery,” I said, automatically translating Gramps weird way of talking. It wasn't weird to me, but I could tell by the other kids' faces they weren't catching on. Well, John was, his parents were one hundred and five.

“Anywho, I would catch emotions of the dead. Just little snatches here and there and I would tell Gran. She would give me a swat to my backside.”

We were all quiet. It seemed really cruel to spank a kid for an ability; totally lame.

“Don't be too harsh on her, kids,” he remonstrated when we all looked pissed for the five-year old he'd been.

“It was a different era. Nobody wanted anyone to be different. We all wanted to fit in. After awhile, I stopped saying anything.” He shrugged.

I understood wanting to be normal even though it wasn't ever gonna happen for me.

“So, when I raised Gran, she... ah, figured out that maybe it 'ran in the family'?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“Kinda smart for a zombie,” Jonesy said, shuddering.

“Not as smart as Clyde,” Bry said ominously.

Gramps gave me a sharp look. “Who's Clyde?”

I brought Gramps up-to-speed on my main zombie dude.

“Just a warning, Caleb.” His eyes had never been more serious. “Be careful with this. I think something here stinks. And you're working this serial killer shindig.”

I don't know if I'd call it that, but...

“You need to watch out that your power doesn't just get a mind of its own.”

“What do you mean?” Jade asked and Sophie nodded.

“Your power has responded to stress, duress, conflict, et cetera?”

I nodded, true.

“Why would it be so out of line for it to start cleaning up shop when things get exciting?”

Like maybe thinking for itself, taking charge of situations ahead of my thought process.

He was nodding in the firelight as he saw from my expression that I was connecting the dots.

“So, it could just, engage and do what it thought I needed, with or without my...” I began.

“Consent,” John finished.

“Bingo,” Gramps said.

Shit.

“Hang on, son. Don't borrow the worry, I just want you to be aware of the potential.”

Terrific News.

So, Gramps was the reason I was diggin' on the dead. Who knew? It made sense that there was already someone in my ancestry who carried the gene for it.

Jade said after a few minutes of quiet. “You know, come to think of it, my grandma had the second sight.”

Gramps was nodding. “It's safe to say that all of you that are manifesting these abilities may have a relative in your past that had the gene before you.”

Jonesy said, “Oh yeah! I forgot to say: I get to go to KPH.”

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

All the kids started talking at once and Gramps did a shrill whistle, splitting our eardrums.

Everybody shut up.

“Nice that you told us, ya doofus,” Tiff said, her gum popping.

“What are you?” John asked, ever practical.

He shrugged. “Don't know. Unclassified...” he gave a sly look at Alex. (I sure could have used him during the gang-beating, I thought randomly.)

“I think you guys are losing the focus,” Jade said.

I looked at her, pressed into my body, her sweet-smelling hair up my nose. “What?”

“He gets to go to KPH, with us!”

“Well right, but we'd all love to know what he's slingin',” Bry said.

Christi nodded. “Yeah, what if he has some creeper ability?”

We all looked at her.

Don't ask, don't ask.

Gramps asked, “What does that expression mean?”

Wonderful.

Alex pushed up his glasses. “An individual who lurks about with an enigmatic, 'weirdo, avoid-at-all-costs' vibe...”

Huh, I didn't think that could be quantified...

Gramps puckered his lips, miffed.

“You're a mundane?” he asked Christi.

She nodded.

He looked at all of us. “Who else is?”

“Well, I was before yesterday's AP test,” Jonesy said.

Bry raised his hand; that left him and Christi.

“Does that bug you that you're mundanes?” he asked the pair.

Bry shrugged. “Only when I feel like I can't use my skills to defend myself.”

“What skills, gnome-magnet?” Jonesy said.

“You clearly have a magnet fetish,” Tiff said through a wad of gum.

“Do not.”

Bry and Tiff bumped knuckles.

“Right....” Sophie said and Jade and I laughed.

Gramps held his hand up. “The way I see things, there are three types of mundanes: one group would love to be paranormals, the second group is irked because they're not, and the final group hates the paranormals because they don't understand. That lack of understanding, in combination with their hate is a powerful force. Which do you two fall under?”

He held Christi and Bry's eyes.

Bry shrugged. “My sis is AFTD so to love her, I gotta accept what she is. She can't help it. Seriously, at this point, it's kinda like having green eyes instead of brown.”

The kids were nodding, true.

Christi didn't nod.

“What about you, young lady?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know.”

Gramps tightened the noose. “You just said, 'creeper abilities'. Are there some that are preferable to others?”

She rolled her pretty (bourbon-colored) eyes up into her head. “Of course! I mean, who'd want to be 'all about' the undead?”

Nice. She really had the IQ of eggplant.

Gramps had just expounded on his “fun” childhood with the undead-flash-a-thon. Wow. Just wow.

He laughed. “You're missing the point. There are no 'cool' abilities. They just are.”

All the boys looked at Alex, whose small chest swelled with pride.

Gramps' brows arched.

John nodded. “Show Mac your skills.”

Alex ducked his head shyly and stood.

Gramps stood as well. “Caleb, is this going to make something irrevocable occur?”

Ah, I didn't think so. But things did have a way of getting out of hand sometimes.

Alex looked down at his trunks that were just barely dry, his tee not offering an ounce of warmth. It was good the night was sultry, we had true Indian summer weather and no wind.

He eyed Gramps' boat in the water. And yeah, it was completely illegal. It was a million years old and had huge actual fuel jets, which he had retrofitted for natural gas, the chrome of the pipes gleaming in the firelight.

Alex waded into the water until it came up to mid-thigh, the boat a bulky shadow behind him.

“Ah, Caleb, I'm wanting to know what's going to happen to my baby,” Gramps said.

“Just watch, Gramps.”

“You're gonna shit a brick on this,” Jonesy said.

“Language, young man,” Gramps said automatically.

Jonesy sighed, foiled again.

John smiled because Jonesy was fearless. He would have said the same thing in front of the President.

Alex scooped the side of the boat to him and untethered the ropes from the front and back cleats. He leaned forward, his torso just skimming the cold lake water. Sliding his arm completely under the back end of the boat, only his shoulder showing, he lifted the back end totally out of the water, the drips cascading to his body and running down his head, then neck, soaking the tee he wore. He slid the rest of his body under the boat and Gramps came on board then. “Hey, hey, that's not safe...”

Alex grinned, swinging his opposite arm to the front end and stood, balancing the boat while he stood underneath it in the middle, the sound of lake water splashing like rain all around him.

“Holy shit,” Gramps whispered.

Jonesy was nodding. “See, what did I tell ya?”

We knew that Alex had the super-human strength but...

“Damn,” Bry said. “That's impressive as hell!”

“I think maybe Bry just joined group one,” Tiff said.

I agreed, looking at the ridiculously undersized, nerdy Alex. It was an absolute unreal sight.

“Okay,” Gramps said. “Put her down, nice and gentle, sir.”

Alex lowered the boat until he was underwater, then swam out from underneath it, his tee plastered to his skin, his ribs in stark relief.

Bry waited until he was out of the water and gave him the damn-you're-great-to-know guy clap. Alex looked like he'd won the lottery.

Gramps grinned. “Now that was...”

“Righteous,” Jonesy said, fist-pumping.

“Exceptional,” Gramps finished, smiling slightly at the J-Man.

Alex's teeth started chattering and Gramps physically pushed him over to the fire. “Use your head, boy, I know you've got more than rocks rollin' around in that noggin.”

Alex was still glowing from having an arguably cool ability. Lots of guys would kill for that.

Gramps stretched, reaching around to put a palm on his lower back. “About time to turn in, I think.”

John looked at him. “You didn't do too bad with Hamilton today, Mac.”

Gramps was cool like that.

“Yeah, his brand of logic wasn't going to work on my property.”

“Where would it work?” Bry asked.

Gramps folded his arms across his chest, palming his chin. Finally, after a full minute he said, “Nowhere.”

We laughed and Gramps put dirt over the fire, squelching the flame into ash, the night's blackness edging in around us like ink.

CHAPTER 19

I had a fat weekend at Gramps and my ass had dragged down my stairs to the kitchen table then out the door to school. Onyx gave me the cold shoulder 'cuz I hadn't towed him along to Gramps.

He didn't even stand by the window.

I sighed. It was damn Monday all day long and into the night.

Of course, I had AFTD class first period and no one I knew except Tiff was in there. She was studiously decimating her nails as Smith droned on about the dead.

Ceci Cline was staring at me which was creeping me out. I wondered if she knew that Carson and the goons had planned on jumping me. I was so lucky Clyde had showed up I thought for the millionth time.

At least the whole group had a little vacation from school.

That rocked.

Suspension forever for all I gave a shit. Jerkwads.

“Now,” Smith droned, “I heard there was an incident of violence perpetuated against you this weekend, Caleb.”

Huh? Oh, yeah. “Ah, yeah, some jerks tried to beat the crap out of me.”

Smith's eyes got wide at my blunt description and Ceci looked down at her shoes.

Hell-yeah, she'd known, the bitch. Tiff had put it together and was giving her the Tiff Look. Of course, the merit of Tiff was, as a girl, she could hand Ceci her ass and I could watch.

A smile spread over my face as I fantasized.

“Mr. Hart?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked you a question...”

I gave him a blank face.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which reminded me of my dad, all the ends sticking up wildly.

“I was saying we could learn much about your zombie showing up.”

I shrugged. “I have nothing to tell. I mean, Clyde just showed up, I hadn't 'called' him or anything, he was just there.”

He began to pace; reminded me of the crazy Biology nut I'd had last year. What was his name.? He was obsessed over bees.

“In theory, a Cadaver-Manipulator who also possesses Life-Transference,” he looked at me for confirmation and I nodded, “would have a leakage problem with their gift.”

We all looked at him, Ceci jerking up her chin defiantly.

“In layman's terms, the dead would begin to think autonomously of the host.”

Well that cleared it right up, thanks.

Tiff went back to her intense fingernail exam and Ceci's eyes dropped to her desktop.

He was losing us with the jargon.

“Okay,” he paused, scrubbing his face, “we've got a zombie...”

We nodded, gotcha.

“...and said-zombie is connected to a powerful AFTD, say, a five-point.” All eyes turned to me, granted, there was only a handful but it still made me uncomfortable. “The host, in theory, should not need to consciously communicate to the zombie. The zombie should have a thought process that is interdependent.”

“Okay,” Tiff said, snapping gum. “So Caleb raised Clyde...”

“Is that the name of the zombie in question?” Smith asked.

I nodded.

She continued, “And he knows what needs doin', even if Caleb doesn't 'call' or 'ask'?”

“Exactly.” Smith looked relieved.

“Caleb didn't consciously 'call' Clyde. But, because of physical proximity, coupled with extreme duress,” in my periphery vision I saw Ceci squirm around, “he had enough 'thought process' of his own, to respond to the threat to the host.”

“The host being Caleb,” a boy in the back of the class called out.

Smith nodded. “If the host had ill intent and was also powerful, well, the result of everything could have been much different.”

The class grew quiet, chewing on that lovely fact.

“There's no way to control it then? I mean, I could do like...a sleepwalk-with-the-dead parade?”

Tiff laughed. “Nice, Caleb.”

“Not so funny, Tiffany,” Smith responded solemnly.

“It's Tiff, Mr. Smith.”

Smith ignored her, going on, “The pharmaceutical giants are even now fashioning a suppression drug that would be a broad depressant. It would negate abilities from manifesting say, in the middle of sleep.”

I thought of how Clyde had been skulking around the garbage separator. Huh.

Tiff flipped up the hood on her standard hoodie, effectively hiding her expression, which looked kinda like, screw you and the horse you rode in on.

I stifled a laugh, hiding it in my hand like a cough. She was truly great.

The bell shrilled and Tiff grabbed her backpack and pulse, her thumb on it and mine vibrated:

I'm gonna commit suicide if Smith is flappin' his gums the whole year about this profanity-block. -TW

Should I be offended that you don't give a ripe profanity-block about my subconscious raising an army-o-dead.-CH

Profanity-block-no! Who cares? I mean, seriously, if you were gonna do gnome-genocide on everyone, wouldn't you have done it by now? -TW
laughs I guess...ya know, you were talking about magnet fetishes with Jonesy.-CH

Cut the crap, Hart, Jones is totally dumb, not that I don't think he's a player. -TW

Tell me what you really think! I still think you have a problem with gnomes.-CH

Everyone knows that they're never in the same place in the yard in the morning.-TW

What-the-profanity-block! -CH

It's a phenomenon. I'm sorry you're too lame to notice. NMP.-TW

Not her problem? Huh.

A hand landed on my shoulder and with a thought, I put my pulse to sleep as Tiff glided by, her eyes landing on Smith for a fleeting second then meeting mine in a better you than me look.

“Stay after class for a moment, Mr. Hart.”

“I don't have that long. I've got Griswold next hour, Mr. Smith.”

He grimaced in sympathy. Apparently, she was real popular with the adults too.

“Okay quickly then: I heard through the grapevine that you and Tiffany Weller are working in collusion with the police for the apprehension of the serial killer that's murdering the Nulls.”

A red flag of warning hit me between the mental eyes. I suddenly wished Jade was here so she could do the whammy on this guy.

“Yeah,” I was in the keep-info-from-the-adult mode (which always came naturally, I noticed).

“I just wanted to offer my help as an AFTD in case they need an adult in the mix.”

“Ah, thanks, but I think we have it.”

“Will you tell Sergeant Garcia?” he asked.

I nodded. Weirder and weirder. What were these two talking back and forth about? Supposedly the whole thing was hush-hush. I'd talk to John Smith about it, he'd tell me what was doin'. Garcia seemed to be on perpetual PMS-mode. I didn't want to dick with the drama on that.

****

I could see Griswold's sour pucker from my position on the floor perfectly. All the teens were surrounding me in a circle, my arms burned and shook. I'd been late because Smith had wanted to flap about the investigation. Nice. So now I was doing extra push-ups and Griswold (as usual) was all about me failing.

Which just made me not want to, of course.

Jade was behind her making faces, which I appreciated and I was containing my expression because every ounce of me wanted to rest. I was on the seventy-ninth one in a row. Over the summer, I had increased from forty a night in June and I was up to seventy.

“Just cry Uncle, Hart and I will let you just get a demerit for not suiting up on time.”

“No...” I ground out. “I can do the hundred.”

Jade smiled and Jonesy fist-pumped while John slapped his forehead, clearly saying, stubborn swine.

Yeah, I kinda was.

I pumped out another ten, my arms on fire, but no snow on the mountain. Which made Griswold glower harder; she hated that my form kicked ass. Of course it did, or Gramps would have put his foot in my ass. I gave a little smile remembering his drill sergeant ways:

“Caleb, your ass is so high you're catching snow on the mountain! Keep it straight! Elbows by your side, chest on the floor...no rest, back up. Pump it Pal! Get moving! Oh... for the love of God...

Gramps got down next to me and pumped out the next twenty like melting butter out of the pot.

Hell, I'd never be as strong as him.

He saw my expression, and reading it correctly, he said, “Stronger!”

“What?” I gasped out between a poorly executed push-up.

“You'll be stronger than me one day.”

Today was apparently Not The Day.

My girlfriend's eyes were on me but for a different reason; she was so hot! I pumped out another three... I was certainly not gonna cave in front of My Woman!

Ninety-three

Pump-gasp-burn...

Ninety-nine.

One hundred!

“Hmph!” Griswold made a noise in the back of her throat. “Walk it off, Hart.” She waved the clipboard at the indoor track that circled the basketball court.

I walked it off.

“Come on people! Show's over. Get your butts over there and do your warm-up for dodge ball.” She grated on our ears.

The sissified version of dodge ball.

The Js gave me guy claps on the back. “I guess you could climb that fence at the dump pretty easy now, huh, Hart?” Jonesy asked.

I nodded, yeah, probably could. Not that climbing that dumb thing was first on the list.

My arms felt heavy and fatigued. I'd gone over my push-ups-for-the-day. Amazing what ya could do with an audience.

Jade came up beside me and squeezed my bicep. “Nice job there, stud.” She winked.

I looked down at her in her super-short shorts (I was a fan), and her high-top sneakers and matching tee. Griswold's only allowance on suiting up was we had a choice of footwear. So, Jade chose the snazzy All-Stars.

I looked down at her feet and said what I thought, “You have elf feet, Jade.”

She looked down at her feet. “No, they are the right size for me.”

Mine looked like surfboards next to hers. “You have huge feet but not like John,” she said, looking pointedly at The Feet that were John's.

We looked at John who was skinnier and taller than last year and wore a size fourteen. (I was only a twelve.)

Sophie said, from slightly behind us but next to Jonesy, “You know what they say about a guy's feet.”

Actually, no.

Tiff piped in. “They say that there is a direct relationship between feet and penis size.”

Jonesy stopped walking. “No shit, frickin' Terran has a donkey-dick?”

Griswold, who was without paranormal skills of any kind still seemed to have exceptional hearing.

“Jones, front-and-center.”

“Shit,” he said dejectedly.

“Now!” she yelled and we all restrained ourselves from covering our ears.

He jogged over there and she pointed to the floor. “Give me a hundred like your good friend, Hart. Seems to be a trend today with you boys. Buck up!” Her beady eyes flicked to mine before returning to Jonesy. “You had me last year, you definitely know what the deal is. Just because you're here for the first time today, Jones, doesn't mean that I'm going to be soft.”

Yeah, we knew.

The double doors opened and two suits came in, who I recognized immediately formula people. The one guy that had looked like he was starved and smoked (illegal) was with a stocky dude. They were part of the AP Testing brigade last year. What did they want here now?

I didn't like it.

Then Jade said, “Those are the government guys.”

I whipped my face to stare at her. “Which ones?”

“The Graysheets,” she whispered. “They were the ones that were messing around with your locker.” Her eyes were wide and frightened. We sure didn't need a repeat of last year.

John, Tiff and Sophie made a loose circle around me. Then we walked over to stand behind Griswold.

Jonesy said from the floor, “Ah, duh? Am I gonna do these or not?”

“Stand up for now, Jones. But you owe me fella,” Griswold said.

“Right,” he said, obviously scheming on how to get out of it.

Not because he couldn't do a hundred push-ups, he so could. But because she wanted him to. He was against following the rules on principle. Jonesy Principle. It was a lengthy and unspoken code that only he fully understood.

“We need to speak with a Caleb Hart,” the scary-skinny said, then continued, “and Tiffany Weller,” he finished, his eyes already on mine.

Nope, still not liking it.

I need not have worried because these guys didn't get it. They were gonna have to deal with Griswold.

“Sorry, Gents. This is my class, and more importantly, my time. You'll have to have more than desire to interrupt my class. This is Physical Education. Get it?”

The skinny guy blinked.

I kinda got the feeling that it was a first for him, being talked to like that.

Jonesy liked it, a grin breaking out over his face. They were getting a taste of the Force That Was Griswold. And he wasn't going to be a push-up king just yet.

All show of civility scattered on the wind as the skinny guy held up some papers in his hand, folded neatly. His fingertips were stained yellowish brown with nicotine.

“Huh. You two are slow learners. Here's the deal: you leave now, and address My Students on their time, with their parents in attendance, of course. Not on our mutual time. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” stocky said, flashing the piece he was packing under his jacket as skinny made a move for Griswold.

But she was ready.

Effing-incredible.

We watched in awe as our PE teacher, who was secretly so much more, turned her pudgy body into Skinny, grabbing his hand, wrenching his thumb back to his wrist and he howled. She responded by head-butting him and he started to go down.

Stocky leaped forward and she said in her special voice, “Do it and I will slam the flat of my palm into your nose and the cartilage will spear your brain.”

He hesitated, hovering between decisions.

I was thinking Griswold might need a little help. “Alex!” I yelled.

“Right here,” he said.

“Show this chump the door.”

“Okay,” he said.

To which stocky replied, “Beat it, brainless. We're here for the AFTDs.”

He planted his hands on his hips, he was powerfully built and low to the ground. One of those dudes you knew did wrestling and martial arts in the day... probably still did. He had a way of moving I recognized on my judo instructor.

Alex walked over to him and said, “I'm not brainless...dickhead.”

He shoved the guy toward the double doors, his friend's moaning a background symphony as he flew the fifteen feet to the doors, blasting through them entirely and landing with an audible thud outside. In a deafening shriek, glass and wood sprayed everywhere.

Griswold barked out a laugh. “Unclassified, my ass. Looks like you've been holding out on me, Sims.”

Yeah, he'd outed himself good. Oh well, drastic measures had been needed.

She looked at Sophie, her foot planted on Skinny's shoulder. “Morris, go directly to the principal's office. Tell her to pulse 911; that we have a situation here.”

Jonesy said, “Can I go with her, Miss Griswold?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You think you're capable of going from here to the office without some calamity falling on your head?”

There was a bloated silence.

Finally, Jonesy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Humph! Okay, get moving. And go around,” she spun her finger, indicating that Sophie and Jonesy needed to avoid Stocky in the hall.

****

Their stories checked out. They were legitimate government personnel, visiting the school to do a random check of a handful of freshman representing each group of paranormals.

Packing Hardware. Hmm.

Right.

My group knew better. What a crock of shit that was.

Griswold got a vacation for taking things to the “physical” level. Whatever the hell that meant.

I never thought I'd give the enraged cow a break but she had stuck up for us. Hell, protected us. Like we mattered. Who knew?

We'd have some lame sub. Jonesy would work the sub over, whoever it was, it was his modus operandi.

We agreed to meet at the hide-a-way right after school ended because there was another Null found dead. Recent. Like a kid from the next town.

Our killer was circling closer all the time and Tiff and I were feeling the pressure.

We were in the school commons and the pulse-chime had just sounded its ending tone for the day. The high school commons was different than middle school. We had stacked lockers that had pulse locks (pretty important since there were a few Lock-Manipulators at KPH).

I was turning when Sophie said, “Hey, Caleb?”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“I've got a friend I think might be pretty cool. I just met her but she seems nice and I was wondering...”

“Who?”

“Mia Cote.”

“Hell, no!” Jonesy spat out. “She's that traitor that got the cops on Caleb's dick when he raised grandma at Scenic.”

Bry flinched; I guess the memory was still pretty fresh. Huh.

Tiff said, “Okay, she blew it. But, let's address how frickin' scary that whole day was.” She punctuated her statement with a bubble the size of a softball.

We watched, fascinated as she maneuvered it back into her mouth after popping, getting the excess with her tongue.

Kinda talented.

John broke away from staring at Tiff. “She has a point but we can't take anyone on that's new unless they have something intrinsically beneficial to offer.”

“To offer who?” Jade asked.

“The group,” I said, understanding John's hesitation. Bry was cool but we couldn't have a butt-load of mundanes loading us down.

Speaking of which. “Have you found out yet what ya are, Jonesy?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No clue. They don't know yet either. I popped on the AP but they think it's something new.”

“I don't want to know, actually,” Sophie said.

He smiled. “I told you how skilled I am, right?” He waggled his brows.

“Yeah, many times,” she said, unimpressed.

John and I looked at each other: they were so perfect for each other it was scary. But we were pulling the No-Interference-Card. Let them figure it out.

Bry said, “What is she Tiff? Sophie?”

Sophie said, “She's a Photographic.”

“Yeah, so? What-the-hell good is that?” Jonesy asked.

Tiff did a hard eye roll. “It's a pretty awesome skill for school, college and all that happy crap.”

Alex said, “Yeah, that is like, 'no-studying-needed'-- awesome.”

“Why study?” Jonesy asked seriously.

“Ah, to pass, doofus,” Christi said, having just heard the tail end of the conversation.

Jonesy's eyes narrowed to slits. “And you're so brilliant, right?”

“Smarter than you.”

“Prove it, gorgeous,” Jonesy said.

Sophie huffed in the background.

“Because, I just read somewhere that there can only be an IQ difference of fifteen points between siblings,” Jonesy said.

Jonesy was reading? Wow.

He looked at us all staring at him dumbfounded. “Thanks for the love, assholes.”

John barked out a laugh.

“Okay, bestow your wisdom,” Christi said, tapping her foot. Then, “What does that have to do with how smart you are?”

“I was thinkin' of your bro, Brody.”

“Yeah, what about him?” she demanded, crossing her arms under a perfect set of ta-tas.

“See, I know he's a dumb-ass because of the company he keeps. That got me thinking, if he has the same IQ as the rest, which is roughly equivalent to a yard tool, then where does that put you, sweetheart?”

A dull red blush colored her throat and face; she turned on her heel to Bry. “It's me or them!” she hollered in his face, stomping her foot.

Stomping her foot. People actually did that?

Bry fumbled around, thinking about the whole Appropriate Response thing. After a few seconds of silence rolled out Tiff said, “Can't take back the pause.”

Shit-in-a-sock.

She whirled on Tiff. “You're a sick bitch. You and your creepy friend.” Her eyes fell on me. “And your creepy grandpa and all your shitty-ass friends. And,” she looked at Jonesy, “you're black too!”

Jonesy was stunned, but recovered. “See, there's the proof, you just noticed. Wow, I rest my case. I've been African-American for like fifteen years, brainiac.”

“Ugh!” she nearly shrieked, shoving Bry and storming off.

We watched her hot body walk away and it was bittersweet for the guys. Mainly bitter.

“Well, that's a relief to not have the Complication of Christi,” I said neutrally.

Bry groaned. “She was so hot!”

“Oh, get over it! She would only be good if she didn't speak!” Tiff said, spitting out her gum into the trash separator and folding a new piece in her mouth.

Alex shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Dude, just get a blow up doll. They never talk back.”

“That's very disturbing, Alex,” John said.

“I don't know, there's something practical about it,” Jonesy said.

“Oh my God, seriously?” Sophie said, her mouth hanging open.

“Yeah, don't make me agree with Christi about anything,” Jade said.

Wow, time to rein in the girls before there was trouble. “Okay,” I held up my palms in supplication, “bring Mia, we'll see how she gels with the group...”

“Gels?” Jonesy asked.

“Jonesy,” John said in warning.

“Right,” he smirked.

He was way more clever than we gave him credit for.

Jade gave me a kiss that was entirely too short. More later, I thought.

She, Tiff and Sophie walked off and Jonesy's eyes were glued to Sophie's ass, per usual.

John said, “God, Jonesy, just ask her out.”

“Yeah, maybe you could get over the fixation with her ass,” I said.

“It's kinda big,” Alex said.

“Rotund,” John corrected and Alex shrugged.

“Hey guys, thanks, but, I think I'm an ass connoisseur and hers is near-perfect,” Jonesy said indignantly.

I was thinking Jade's was perfect, which I mentioned.

“Nah,” and he was treading carefully here, good thinking. “She's got the small, 'white-girl' butt.”

“Sophie's white...” John said.

“No, mixed. She's got some sista in her,” he said emphatically.

Okay.

He shrugged. “What can I say? It is one of her best features.” Then he got a dreamy look. “Her eyes aren't half bad and, she's kinda smart too....” he trailed off.

Jonesy was bitten by the love bug.

Join the crowd.

We were all staring at him as he came back to himself, trying to shrug it off like it didn't matter. “Whatever, I'm not that into her.”

Ah-huh.

None of us said anything when he turned around to look at her one last time as we crossed the threshold of the school to the outside.

The last vestiges of summer drifted above our heads in a sky so deep a blue it was a bruised violet.

CHAPTER 20

The earth felt warm in my hand, the dirt slipping through my fingers like water. It was almost mid-September and the summer had left its heat firmly imprinted. Autumn was still only a promise.

I stood and Smith came over to me. “Hey Caleb, what do you think?” I looked down at the fresh body, the smell somewhere between open sewer and rotting meat.

“I'm not raising another one of the murdered kids. That's what I'm thinking.” Gum snapped behind me, echoing in the meadow we stood in.

Garcia, Gale and all the techs (I thought of them as dead-techs, not sure why), looked up, startled by the noise. They all looked at Tiff, who unfazed by anything shrugged like, whatever. She flipped her hood up, effectively hiding.

Nice.

I looked at her and jerked my head in my direction and she walked over.

“I think we need to touch her...” I began.

“Kinda weird it's a girl,” she commented.

I nodded, it was. Most Nulls were guys; nobody knew why.

Smith looked at the strangled girl, shaking his head. “So totally wrong.”

We agreed.

“I know that with Caleb, we may be able to get a vibe for the killer. We didn't get squat from the last corpse except it was kinda crazy. Raising them isn't gonna work. We need to feel what they remembered,” Tiff said, speaking her thoughts out loud.

There was a commotion from behind me and I turned.

Dave Smith, my AFTD teacher was here.

Perfect.

Garcia was shaking his head and I walked over there.

Smith saw me and said to Garcia, “That's my student there and he needs to have guidance. He's too skilled to be here without some supervision from another AFTD.”

That was definitely not having my back. Smith was turning into the category of: Dickhead Adult. I wasn't thinking he'd pull a surprise on us like Griswold and turn out okay.

“I appreciate your concern for Caleb, Mr....” Garcia began.

“Smith,” he responded, putting his hands on his hips.

He was getting his war paint on (the Skopamish came to mind randomly). Hadn't that been a nice little disaster?

He looked at me for help but I wasn't really diggin' on him busting in on our crime scene, stirring the paranormal pot and all that happy crap.

“Mr. Smith,” Garcia began, “we have a five-point Null here.”

John Smith walked over to Teacher Smith. “We have things under control. There's no cause for concern,” he said with the no problem here, Pal voice.

Teacher Smith's eyes narrowed. “But you're not using just Caleb. Tiffany Weller is complementing him in his exercises. You may not be sufficient for containing whatever might happen.”

Smith the Null's brows shot up. “What do you mean? I can shut anyone down. That's why I'm working homicide.”

Smith leaned against the yellow tape. “Listen, you have, in theory, some very disturbed potential zombies, if they escape the control of this five-point AFTD and his rechargeable side-kick...”

“Hey!” Tiff said, pissed. I guess the battery reference wasn't appreciated.

Smith's eyes flicked to Tiff and he shrugged, truth hurts, that look said. “You may have a zombie on the rampage, and they cannot be stopped except by fire. You have a Pyrokenetic on staff?”

Smith stared blankly at my teacher.

Gale walked over. “Thanks so much for your concern. But, I need to ask you to go, this is an ongoing homicide investigation and civilians aren't allowed inside this perimeter.”

He looked down at Gale, way down. “You'll regret not including me.” He looked at me. “You're going to raise one of these victims and lose control of them. And then we will see what happens.”

“Wait a second,” Garcia said. “Why is it any different than any other zombie?”

Smith looked smug and our Null glowered. “Because, in theory, a person killed violently has the last life impression, etched on them in such a way, they are not normal.”

And how were zombies normal, I wondered?

“You're saying...what, they're 'crazy zombies'?” Tiff asked.

He nodded. “That is not entirely accurate but it's close enough.”

“They're insane because...?” Garcia began to ask.

“Because that was their last point of reference,” John Smith said, getting it.

“That was the last memory. Their last anything,” I said.

Smith the Teacher was nodding.

We stood around for a long moment. Finally, Garcia said, “I think we were going to try another method today.”

Smith looked at me, aghast, “Did you already raise one of the murder victims?”

I looked at the G's and Garcia nodded. “Yeah.”

“Humph! Well, how did that go?”

A memory of the zombie pushing his guts inside the cavity of his body and straddling me with his hands biting into my flesh came to mind. “Not very well, actually.”

He threw up his hands, I told you so.

Tiff stared at me. “Are you kidding...?”

Garcia's look stopped her comment in its tracks. Her mouth closed with a snap.

There was a pause in conversation where the only noises were the tools of the dead-techs, their gloves snapping on and coming off, the low drone of flies buzzing an incessant noise, rivaling that of the dead which called to me. The wind brought the scent of decay to our nostrils, the fragrance of murder.

Gale shook herself from the news. “Okay, thank you so much. We will take what you've told us under advisement. For the time being, Caleb and Tiffany are acting as consultants until there is a break on the case. We have a powerful Null assigned and who is on site the entire time. We have things under control.”

He smirked down at her. “Let's hope that is the case. Don't discount my expertise in this matter, officer.” Which came out sounding vaguely like, bitch.

She took it that way too, narrowing her eyes to slits. “Again, thank you so much,” she replied.

I heard, eff-you very much.

I was getting pretty good at translating adult-speak.

He stood to his full height. “I offered my services here. You are endangering these minors. It's on your collective consciences if the worst happens. This could have been avoided had you acted like reasonable adults.”

“Okay. You need to go or I will take you in for harassment. We've been patient; we've listened to your arguments. Enough,” Garcia said, his hand hovering around his utility belt.

Huh.

Smith's eyes met Garcia's and there was a strained moment when I thought that Smith would challenge him further.

“Fine. But, don't call me when things go sideways and you don't have a safety net. You're out of your element.”

He gave me a last, penetrating stare and stalked off.

“That was frickin weird,” Tiff said.

Yeah.

“What's all that about, Caleb?” Gale asked.

“Ah, last week he said I should ask you guys if you need help with the investigation. I forgot about it.” I shrugged.

Just a few things going on in my life right now, thanks.

Garcia looked after him. “That's your...what, teacher?”

“Yeah, he's one of my core AFTD.”

“Not very cool, him showing up here and throwing his paranormal weight around,” Smith said.

“Maybe he's a glory hound?” Gale said.

“I don't like that he knew where to find the crime scene,” Garcia said quietly.

Yeah, how did he find it?

“A leak?” Smith addressed the question to Gale and Garcia.

“Must be,” Gale said.

By mutual consensus, we made our way to the body. The smell got worse by the minute, Tiff didn't even bother to be cool about it, but held out a stiff hand and a dead-tech handed her a mask.

I was okay with the smell. It was a little like fresh zombie for me. I was breathing through my mouth even though it hurt my ribs a little. They were still sore from the fun gang-beating a few days ago.

We hunkered down, Tiff and I. One tennis shoe was gone from the corpse and an ankle was exposed. The pressure of the whispering was almost painful and I turned to Smith, the beat of the call like an errant drum, its percussion incessantly thumping inside my head.

“I need you to tune up some now.”

“How much?” Smith asked.

“I don't know, just do something, I'm dying here.”

His face took on that blank look it got when he started to think about his ability. We'd talked about it before and it was a lot like mine. Unlike me, if he just let it leak all over the place, mundanes didn't notice. If he was around paranormals... well, he had fun with it.

Nobody thought zombies popping up unexpectedly was very fun.

The whispering began to recede like the tide leaving the shore.

Okay, it was bearable again. I looked at Tiff over the body, her mossy green eyes wide like fifty-cent pieces and I nodded at her.

I let my face fill with an unspoken question: you okay with this?

She nodded in response.

We touched the ankle at the same time...without gloves. There was no transference without that skin contact. Her hand was beside mine. As she slipped her pinky on my hand, we fell into the memories of the slain girl.

I panicked and Smith saw it. Immediately he tuned up more.

The corpse was so close to being a zombie I could taste the rising on my tongue.

“Oh God, she wants to be alive again!” Tiff whispered in a strained voice.

“Yes. Shh,” I said, concentrating... using every ounce of what Smith was dulling to keep from raising the girl.

*

The Girl's hands hurt, wrapped together, twist-ties biting into the tender flesh of her wrists, the blood throbbing above the binding. Her breath coming in quick gasps, the cloth from the bag that covered her face making her suffocate with heat. She needed to escape this place that smelled like damp earth and rotting vegetation. What had she done to deserve this?

The Girl heard a door open and close and she could feel a malicious presence above her...breathing. The need to pee burned in her bladder like low embers in a fire.

“Please, I need to go... I need to go to the bathroom,” the Girl said.

The cloth bag was torn off her head and a few strands of hair came with it, the stinging of her scalp reminding her that she lived... still.

The Man wore a mask but the female did not. She knew the man was tall but the Female, she was younger, with stringy, dark blond hair.

“Take her to the bathroom.”

The Female nodded, scurrying over to the Girl who cringed away from her.

The Female had been the one to lure her to the man. Everyone trusted a woman... her parents had said to never trust strangers.

She hadn't. She knew this Female.

The Girl looked at her with accusing eyes, burning hatred making her eyes ache with it.

“I'm sorry,” the Female whispered, “he makes me tell him,” she said as she pulled the Girl up to a standing position, all the blood rushing to her head, she swayed, forced to lean on the traitorous Female for balance.

The Girl struggled to the commode, emptying her bladder for a moment that lasted into eternity. Finally, she stumbled as she was simultaneously dragged to the dank mattress on the floor.

The Girl looked at the mattress in horror, old blood and... other things smeared, splattered and in various stages of aging, covered the mattress, not a part of it undefiled.

She whipped her head back and forth... “No, no! Don't put me back on that!” she began to struggle in earnest.

It suddenly occurred to the Girl that she would not live. That is why the Female showed her face. The Girl would die here in this cellar with the smell of slow death filling her nose.

The Man approached her, shoving her on the bed. “Leave us!” he yelled at the Female.

She cast one last glance at the Girl and in that moment her face was etched forever in the Girl's memory as the hands of the tall masked Man wrapped around her throat...death hovering over her consciousness like a rank vapor. He pressed on her throat, saying, “Without you, there can no longer be them...”

The Girl looked at her captor, her breath scorching her lungs, begging for release, the pressure and unbearable weight a screaming torture within her.

The Girl's vision began to narrow to a single point, the peripheral edges blurring, her last conscious thought was the Female's eyes:

They'd held fear.

But the Girl was no longer scared, her vision going to black.

She died... surrounded by rage, death and decay.

CHAPTER 21

Someone was shaking me. “Caleb! Caleb!”

Panic, someone was panicking.

I opened my eyes and Smith was above me, naked relief standing on his face.

“You had me scared. You and Tiff, both.”

I looked at the sky above me, the clouds rolled and the dead-techs were in a loose circle, looking down at where I lay, on my back, which was not where I started.

I asked the obvious, “What happened?”

Garcia pushed his way through the techs. “What did you see?”

Gale frowned at him. “Just a sec, Raul. Let's see if he's okay first.”

Smith looked at Garcia. “Yeah.”

Garcia crossed his arms. “He and the Weller girl are fine. Obviously, Smith was able to contain the corpse.”

“It was a near thing, Raul. You know, that nut-job teacher was right. With the two AFTDs at work, well,” he tore a hand through his hair, “it was very close.”

The dead-techs looked at the three cops, shifting their weight from foot to foot.

“Take the body,” Garcia said.

They swooped in, loading the corpse into a black vinyl sheeting- type bag that zipped from top to bottom.

Gale saw me looking. “Body bag.”

Right. Great. I'd sleep better knowing that.

She gave me a weak smile. Guess things had gotten kinda tense when Tiff and I were doing our fugue together. I looked to my left and met Tiff's eyes. She was flat on her back too.

“Do you know her?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Smith sharpened right up. “Who?”

“There's a girl that's helping the killer.”

Smith squatted down beside me. “Can you tell us something about her?”

I told them everything. How the victim had known the accomplice, had trusted her. That somehow, she had led the victim to the masked man. His ending comment got Gale's full attention.

“So we have some guy that... what? Thinks that getting rid of Nulls will do...”

Tiff and I looked at each other. “I got the feeling...” she paused, staring at me, I knew what she was going to say, I'd been with the dead girl too, “that he thought that if the Nulls were gone, then it would somehow, take away the paranormals.”

The dead-techs looked up at that, then got busy carrying the girl's body out, its singing presence getting fainter as she floated under the hands of the living to the hearse that waited to swallow her forever.

****

I was propping a heavy head up in both hands when Mom said, “Elbows, mister.”

I sighed, never a break on etiquette, I thought. I slid them on my lap and resisted the urge to put my head against the wall. It just felt too heavy to sit on my neck right now.

Mom put the plate of pot roast and mashed potatoes in front of me and for a second I thought I'd gotten away with No Vegetable. Then she plopped a spoonful of sick peas on the side. I looked at them sitting there looking disgusting and sighed again.

Dad steepled his fingers, pressing his chin into the nest of them. “Okay, obviously something's bothering you. What can you tell us?”

He smiled as Mom put his plate in front of him, fully laden with artery-clogging butter and sour cream stuffed into the center of the taters.

Mom sat down and watched me work through spinning the condiments into a froth of deliciousness in my mashed potatoes.

“Spill it, Pal,” she said.

“Well. I didn't raise anything.”

“Thank God,” Dad muttered and Mom frowned.

“You still smell...” she wafted her hand around, “...vaguely like grave.”

Close proximity to dead bodies will do that to a person.

“I'll get stuff off later, Mom. Right now, I'm digesting my own spine.”

Mom wrinkled her nose and Dad laughed. He could relate.

I stuffed a hunk of meat (full of ketchup) into my craw and chased it with milk. I did that about three more times and when the gnawing in my belly was a dull roar, I told the Parents what the deal was.

The Hunger was abated but not satiated. I shoveled food as I spoke until Dad asked, “So, you were able to clearly identify who was assisting this murderer, but not the killer himself.”

I nodded, it was so frustrating. Neither Tiff or I knew the female that had lured the victim. The guy was a mystery too.

“He was a nobody. Dark hair, tall, voice was just like everyone's...” I trailed off, my frustration obvious in my tone, the set of my shoulders, the way my fork stabbed the peas.

“His voice? Was there a regional diction that you could ascertain?” he asked.

I stared at Dad.

“Does he speak like people from our area?”

I thought about it. Yeah, he was from here.

“I think so. He hardly said anything, he whispered, like he was trying to disguise his voice. We know he's got it in for the Nulls. He's got some lame idea that if he kills all the Nulls, that somehow it will make it tough on the paranormals.”

Mom's hand flew to her mouth and Dad and she exchanged a charged look.

“What?” I asked, setting my fork down on my plate, my huger temporarily forgotten.

Dad pushed his plate away. “I think we're talking about anarchy.”

Okay. Whatever the hell that means? “What does it mean?”

Mom answered, “Essentially, Caleb, if you do away with all Nulls, then who would protect us from the paranormals?”

Gotcha. All the paranormal criminals would have no reason to worry, no end result. They could run around, doing all kinds of immoral shit and there would be no one to stop them.

Sounded like John's idea.

“That's sorta big! I mean, he can't kill all the Nulls!”

Dad stared at me. “Actually, maybe there's a huge group of these...killers. After all, there isn't an inordinate amount of Nulls. Maybe the police should be looking into missing children's cases, nationwide. Possibly, this is not a local trend.”

Wow, just wow.

“We couldn't be figuring this out on our own, Kyle. They have people working on all this constantly, experts.”

“That's why I think that we may have a new idea. They are constantly chewing on this. Maybe, with different people working together toward a common goal but with different methodology, it hasn't been put together yet.”

“Never underestimate zealotry,” Mom said.

“Exactly my point. That's why when my research gets all bound up, I have a new pair of scientific eyes look at it. That fresh set can sometimes see things I did not. Maybe that's happened here.”

“They're looking for horses,” Mom said.

“And it's zebras,” I said.

Dad smiled. “Right.” He pointed his finger at me, and then did the thumbs up.

Huh, maybe it was a gang of weirdos together. Trying to exterminate the Nulls, and let the paranormals become a threat.

I had a question. “Okay, so they kill all Nulls. Paranormals are causing trouble. So what? What purpose does that serve?”

“Well, Caleb, who do you think would have to take care of the problem then? Do you think they would be discriminate about who was taken out of the equation or not?”

The government. They would extinguish a threat... a national threat.

My face showed what I realized, a terrible reality where half the teens in the USA would be taken in the name of safety. Most of which would be innocent of any wrongdoing.

Mom paled. “How could the government get away with it? There are too many people who would never stand for the sanctioned murder of our children simply because they were paranormal. My God, it's like the holocaust, Kyle.”

He nodded. “Yes. Diabolically clever, really.”

“They'd never get away with it Dad,” I said.

He shrugged. “Maybe they wouldn't, 'get away with it',” Dad made airquotes, “but it would cause troubling questions to be raised and a negative spotlight to be cast on the paranormals. Even if that bright light was not warranted.”

We sat in silence. I picked up my fork and Onyx head-bumped my hand. He was begging for a morsel. I covertly slipped a small hunk of meat under the table as Mom was dishing up her bird portions.

Mom changed the subject, “So...I hear John's birthday is coming up.”

“Yes,” Dad clapped his hands together. “The big one-five.”

I looked at Dad. He was so lame sometimes.

“What?” He shrugged.

“Honey, I don't think Caleb is thinking it's an important birthday.”

She looked at me expectantly.

I nodded. “Yeah, what do I get out of mine? Big deal...no voting, no driving, no emancipation...”

The Parents heads' whipped up from their plates. “Gotcha,” I said, pointing a fork at them.

“Nice, son. I thought you liked living here...” Dad said, mock angry.

“I do. I just like jerking your chains.”

“Humph,” Mom said, unimpressed.

“What are you boys doing for John's birthday?” Dad asked.

“Definitely a combo-fest,” I said.

“Oh right. I forgot, Jonesy's is the next day,” Mom said.

I nodded. Actually, “Ah, that reminds me, I was going to ask...” I sat there awkwardly, which of course, made the Parents stare more.

I spit it out. “Jade's birthday is at the end of the month and I was going to get her something but...”

“You're not sure what?” Mom asked.

I sighed in relief. Geez. I was kinda stressed about what to get.

“Hmm, that's interesting that there's a gaggle of your friends that have these early fall birthdays.” Dad smiled, he'd thought of something that amused him.

Wonderful.

“So, that makes Jade an 'older woman'.” Dad laughed at his cleverness.

Mom didn't.

“Don't joke, Kyle, it's important to get just the right gift. She's an important part of Caleb's life and we want to get something that gives that the nod but doesn't give her the idea they're getting married next week.”

I felt a little light-headed when Mom said the “M” word.

Dad looked at me in alarm. “Are you okay son, you look pale.”

I put my head between my knees and said, my voice muffled, “Ah... I don't ...it's not...” shit, “...it's not that big of a deal. Can't I just get her a stuffed animal or something?”

“At fifteen, Son? Isn't that a trifle juvenile?” Dad asked.

I whipped my head up and it swam, the food undulating in my stomach in a slick lump. Geez.

“I don't know! It's not like I've had a harem before Jade.”

“Okay, calm down, we'll think of something,” Mom said.

“I am calm, you're the one talking about weddings.”

We sat there together as the cuckoo clock chirped six times in the background, shattering the silence.

Dad suddenly grinned. “I like that she's older than you, Caleb.”

Mom scowled.

Whatever, Dad's sense of humor was totally warped sometimes. My birthday was in October, I didn't think that was that big of a difference, one month.

“Okay.” Mom made the slice the neck gesture with her index finger and Dad raised his brows. “One thing at a time. What is happening?”

“Well, Gramps said he'd have a party thing at his place next Friday.”

“You know, honey. Your dad, sometimes things get a little dicey at his house,” Dad said.

I was thinking of Hamilton showing up, and the posse that flipped us off in the car. Yeah, shit went down at Gramps, no doubt.

Mom put her hands on her hips. Wonderful, looked like A Point would be made soon. “Pops couldn't help that horrible man showing up and threatening you.”

“Maybe he could have not broke his thumb though, Mom,” I said.

“He did?” Dad asked, making the crooked mouth.

I nodded. “Yeah, heard it in school.”

“He could have pressed charges,” Dad said, trying not to laugh.

I shook my head. “No,” I said through slurping the rest of my milk. “Too embarrassed.”

Dad nodded his head. “I can see that. It's not every day that a man twenty years your senior...”

“Hands you your ass,” I finished.

“Caleb Sebastian Hart!” Mom said.

Cripes on a Crutch.

“Sorry, Mom, but Gramps he's got it goin' on.”

She threw up her hands, totally in denial. “He was just defending his rights.”

Ah-huh, right.

Dad changed the subject, “How are your classes going?”

Translation: are you flunking anything?

“I'm passing, Dad.”

He grunted.

I thought of Smith showing up at the crime scene. I told them about that.

“Seems like he was terribly out-of-line going there,” Mom said.

Dad palmed his chin. “Let me know if there are any other untoward details popping up with regard to Mr. Smith.”

“Okay.” I pushed my chair out and brought the empty plate to the sink.

“Use the...”

“Mom! I got this.”

Dad laughed.

Life as Usual.

CHAPTER 22

I was stuffing all my crap in my locker when Jonesy came up behind me, “Hey...”

I swung my head in his direction. “Hey.”

He shuffled around looking uncomfortable. “What?” I asked him from the ground. Jonesy was never uncomfortable, something was up.

“I don't know if my mom can come to the thing this weekend.”

Huh, that sucked, she was helping my mom with The Birthday Feast. Critically important: food.

Jonesy saw my expression. “I know dude, but she's barfing up a lung right now.”

Huh? “Why?”

I didn't think Jonesy could blush. “Remember, she's pregnant.”

Oh, right.

“So? What does that have to do with the food?”

He shrugged. “I don't know, she says she can't even stand the smell of her own pee.”

“God-damn, that's a total over-share, Pal.”

“So shoot me, I'm so thrilled about it too,” he said, somewhere between pissed and mortified.

The rest of the gang showed up and he told me with his eyes to stay silent.

No way, too precious for words.

“Listen, John, do you think your mom can make some food and crap for the party at Gramps?”

John looked at Jonesy, who was being uncharacteristically silent. “I don't know, she is so her...”

“Andrea will make something,” Jade said helpfully, sensing (no Empath skills needed) there was something brewing.

Sophie said, “My mom will pitch in too.” She shrugged and I thought Jonesy would break down and french kiss her on the spot, he looked that grateful.

John frowned but it was Bry and Tiff that said, “Our mom can, hell, she makes ten pounds of potatoes a day anyway.”

“Really?” Alex asked.

Bry nodded.

Holy shit, that was more food than I could wrap my head around. I started to get a dreamy look on my face and Jade elbowed me. “Snap out of it, stud.”

I smiled down at her, she just didn't understand the importance of feeding.

The guys looked damn serious; they understood the food program. Hence, Jonesy coming to me in advance, in order to outline the dilemma.

“I thought your mom was gonna help Caleb's?” Bry asked logically. His tone said, it's no problem that she can't, but let me know what to tell my mom.

All comedic quips absent, Jonesy opened his mouth and closed it again.

Like sharks sensing blood in the water, the kids closed in.

“What's going on, Jones?” Tiff asked.

“His mom's doing a puke-a-thon whenever a smell bugs her,” I said.

“Oh yeah, your dad knocked her up,” Bry said tactfully.

John looked at him. “Not helpful, dude.”

He shrugged. “What's the big thing? I mean, I've got four younger brothers. And a sister,” he tacked on before Tiff could ream him.

“Yeah, but are your parents still breeding in their forties?” Alex asked.

This was going so well, I hated to break up the, let's nail Jonesy fest, but...“Yeah, the food thing is going to be okay, the girls have manned up.”

Alex pushed up his glasses and I thought we'd escaped extreme awkwardness when he blew us away with, “So, is it you visualizing your parents having sex that's the problem or maybe it's because the pregnancy proves it?”

This from the inflatable doll fan, eff-me.

Jonesy's veins were standing out on his head and he looked, pissed, ill, or both. “I do not, for shit's sake, visualize jack about my parents!”

“Huh, well, I wasn't saying that you were. Just that it was a possibility...”

Bry interrupted, a grin spreading over his face. “You know, Sims, your social skills are really interesting.”

Alex smiled, affirmed for the next half year from the oldest male in the pack.

Nice.

Jonesy had a cool rebuttal for sure but the bottom-feeders came by just then.

Great timing, as usual.

Must be done with their involuntary vacation from school, I thought dismally. Things had been so righteous without their skulking asses lurking around.

“I guess you heard what happened,” Carson strolled up, his butt-buddies tagging along behind him. “After your abusive grandpa man-handled my dad.”

Brett smiled, he loved the thought of Jade getting the idea that there were problems in my family too.

“Well, he didn't have the right to come over to his house and try to start something with my dad, Carson. He started it all,” I pointed out.

“He escalated it,” John clarified.

“You think you're so smart,” Diego said, striding over to John and getting right up in his grill, same height, big poundage difference.

Bry walked over to the two of them. “Knock it off, Diego. Don't be a tool.”

He turned to Bry. “Listen Weller, I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, after the way you treated Christi.”

Bry looked surprised. “I didn't treat her bad. She broke up with me. It was her choice.”

Word traveled fast on the high school gossip highway.

Brody looked in Bry's direction. “She doesn't want to hang around weirdos. She's got taste, is what she's got.”

Ah-huh.

Jade and Sophie were hanging back, uncertain of the outcome with an all-guy group.

That was probably smart.

Jonesy wasn't unsure, he had rebounded from his earlier awkwardness. “She's the one that didn't fit. Did she tell ya about the IQ relative-to-sibling statistic.”

It was the quintessential moment: Brett, Carson (with Ceci), Brody, and Diego waiting to be Informed by the Jonester.

John actually groaned out loud.

“What are you saying?” Brody asked, fists clenched.

The first period bell shrilled but we ignored it.

“I told her that siblings only have a difference of fifteen IQ points.”

“So?” Diego said, like, WTF?

Jonesy smiled.

Well hell.

“I told her that since I knew you guys were as bright as shovels, that put her, ya know, like dog IQ”

“Hey!” I said, insulted for Onyx.

Jonesy caught on quick. “Except Onyx.”

Alex slapped his forehead and Bry sighed.

“You stupid shit, you got some kind of a death wish? Come on guys, let's see how he likes being a punching bag,” Brody said.

“Don't you touch him, you delinquent!” Sophie said.

Wow, didn't she know the Rule? Do not engage a violent guy.

“Yeah!” Jade added.

Cripes!

Carson and Brett looked at her. “Stay out of it, Jade,” Brett said, his face worried.

Brody walked over to the girls. “You bitches shut up.”

A red haze made a reappearance, momentarily blinding me. I forgot I was in school, I forgot where I was, I forgot everything but getting to Brody.

I two-strided it over to him, never breaking stride and took the flat of my foot and drove it into the back of his knee, a new favorite move of mine, collapsing him where he stood. He folded like a deck of cards. I was grabbed from behind and threw my head back into the skull that was inches behind mine, hearing a satisfying crunch, arms loosening their hold. I turned around and crouched down, getting into classic Judo defense position.

They weren't going to catch me from behind again.

Jonesy was wading through the fray, a huge-ass grin riding on his face. He moved directly to where John was, giving me a look to see if my ass was going down but I was still standing. He rushed Diego, body surfing the air, tackling him mid flight and the two of them went down together with a crash, backpacks flying.

Jade and Sophie squealed and Ceci yelped, Carson and Brett wading in, their eyes trained warily on Alex, they switched their attention to Bry.

I guess they weren't such slow learners after all.

Brody was howling and clutching his nose (which was oozing blood between his fingers), my imminent demise filling his eyes.

Diego was trying to pound on Jonesy but John rode him Bronco style, and Diego was desperate to shake John off like a worrisome gnat. But John clung, both hands buried in Diego's hair. (I guess if he wasn't such a girl about it, there wouldn't be any hair to hang onto.)

Dave Smith, my weird-ass AFTD teacher, came into the circle of struggling kid., Bry took a good one from Carson in the jaw even as he blasted a fist in about the same place on Brett, who stumbled back, losing his balance and falling on top of John, who was riding Diego, who was trying to beat the snot outta Jonesy.

Wonderful.

“Okay, what in the world? Boys!” Smith grabbed Brett off Diego and pushed John off Diego and jerked Jonesy to his feet by the hood of his hoodie.

He looked at Diego and Brody. “Do I need to get a Null here boys?”

“I'm a Null,” John said.

“And you've been so helpful, obviously!” Smith said.

John blushed and became interested in his shoes.

“Are we in high school here? Because, I was thinking it was middle school again. Explain. In fact, explain on the way to the Principal's office.”

Everyone made groaning sounds.

“You deserve it for acting like five-year olds.”

He turned to Ceci, Jade and Sophie. “You girls get to class, I will get someone for you if there needs to be a story corroborated.”

They took off, Jade giving me the sympathy look.

****

My mom was talking to the principal and was so unhappy.

“I recognize, Mrs. Hart, that there will be a scuffle or two, even with the upperclassman. But, you understand our policy...our zero-tolerance stance on violence here.”

“Yes, I am aware, Ms. Chen.”

“Then you would understand why Caleb will get a warning only because of the event of last week, in which the same group of young men was involved in the attack on your son.”

“What will be done with them?” Mom asked.

I watched the Principal's almond eyes narrow on Mom momentarily. “They are under the 'three strikes, you're out' policy like everyone.”

“So what offense is this?”

“This is their first offense on school grounds.”

Mom humphed. “What about the attack on Caleb?”

She looked apologetic. “We are aware that these boys have a record now with the police. But we can only manage what happens here.”

“What about me? I want to tell you what they did,” I interjected.

She held up her hand, and as she lowered it, she brushed a large paperweight that held papers anchored on her desk. Actually, they were my friends' records.

“And you will. Right now, as I have the story it appears to me as if you were the instigator.”

Mom leveled me with the Death Glare and my palms grew damp. I wiped them on my jeans.

“It's not like it sounds, Mom.”

“What was it like then?”

“That turd Brody,” Mom scowled, I forged ahead, “he called Sophie and Jade, 'bitches'.”

Mom made a lowbrow on her forehead. “Well, really? How's your tolerance for sexual harassment, Ms. Chen?”

Mom was on it, Chen was in trouble. Maybe Dad could show and they could tag-team her.

It made me smile, which was not the appropriate response.

Chen looked at me sharply, her black hair swinging as her face whipped in my direction. “I hope you do not find our interchange amusing, Mr. Hart?”

“No...” I stammered, and I could feel the need to Laugh at Inappropriate Times coming on. Mom saw this and became alarmed.

Mom distracted her with, “That boy is dangerous. He was obviously trying to incite violence from the others by engaging the girls negatively.”

My face was contorted and I was doing the crooked mouth to keep from laughing.

“What's wrong with your mouth?” Chen asked.

That was it, the dam burst and I started howling.

Chen looked at me like I had lost my marbles, which made it worse.

“Caleb!” Mom nearly yelled.

“Sorry Mom,” I said, wiping the streaming tears. It was just too much. Here was Chen, with her panties in a colossal wad over me inciting a riot (right) when the older boys were obviously the problem. It was just perfect.

“What is wrong with him? This is serious,” Chen sputtered.

“I understand but this happens sometimes, when he's under duress.”

That made me laugh harder.

Suddenly, two noses were pressing on the glass outside the office; the Js.

Chen sighed, giving up on me and motioned for them to come in.

Jonesy took one look at me and said, “Cool it, ya fool.”

I doubled over and John shook his head.

Mom folded her arms over her chest. “If you can stop being ridiculous for two seconds, maybe you can get to your class? Do you think you can manage that?”

I hiccuped to a stop. It was critical that I didn't look at Chen.

The Js saw that I was having trouble and looked at Chen, a slow grin spreading on Jonesy's face.

Chen stood up, running her hands down her sensible pencil skirt. She looked like she was in mourning, all black. Black hair, black skirt, hose, shoes and silk tee. Weird. Kinda goth for an in-charge chick like Chen.

“Your parents are coming to pick you up. There will be a one day, out-of-school suspension for the both of you.”

John paled and Jonesy shrugged.

John's parents were going to take his entrails out and hang him with them. Jonesy could probably manage Bill and Helen, they were immune to news of their son now.

“Mr. Hart. Stay out of trouble. Brody Smucker and Diego Billings will have a three-day suspension, Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason will have a one-day.”

Her eyes bored into the Js and John got a red as a fire engine blush but Jonesy didn't even falter. “Those clowns should get more days.”

Oh cripes. Mom put her head in her hands but Chen said, “That may be, Mr. Jones. I am well aware of Mr. Mason and Mr. Hamilton's social interaction issues...”

I barked out a laugh and she gave me The Look. “Sorry,” I mumbled, making the crooked mouth again.

Mom saw. “Caleb, get moving.” She pointed at the door.

I stumbled out the door, barely containing myself. I looked at my watch and saw that I had maybe ten minutes left of first hour, AFTD. Not looking forward to that. At. All.

I was doing okay and then the Js jogged up behind me.

“Nice in there, Hart. What, you couldn't put a cork in it for like, five minutes? It's amazing Chen didn't do a pecker-pull,” Jonesy said.

John and I flinched. That sounded painful.

Jonesy ran a hand over the top of his nappy hair and it sprang back to life like an errant rug. “At least Smucker and Billings are outta here for three days. A little reprieve from their suckiness,” he said and John nodded.

“Smucker?” I asked.

“Yeah, that dillweed Brody.”

“That's him and Christi's last name?”

John and Jonesy were looking at me oddly.

“Yeah.”

“Like the jam?”

John shrugged. “Yeah.”

I howled again. Somehow, thinking of those sibs in terms of food was hilarious.

The Js stared at me, puzzled.

Jonesy clapped me on the back. “Suck it up, hysteria king, or Smith is gonna stick you in some coffin.”

Right, I took deep breaths. What a weird-ass day.

I got into class and Ceci gave me a dirty look. Guess she was all put out that Carson the Creep wasn't gonna be at school tomorrow.

Gramps would say, cry me a river. I was gonna get right on that.

Tiff gave me the guy nod, lifting her chin up a fraction of an inch.

I gave it back as Smith tracked my progress to my seat and I flung myself into it, heaving my backpack on the back of my chair.

“Mr. Hart. How did your chat go with Principal Chen?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed. “I'd like to make a case study on the group of killings that are presently going on in our area.”

Tiff and I looked at each other. We weren't allowed to talk about this.

He saw our expressions. “It's based on whatever is public knowledge.” He put his hand out like, everything's cool here.

I wasn't buying it. Hadn't he just tried to bulldoze the crime scene? What did he care, anyway? And how was he AFTD? He seemed so old to be a paranormal. Like, he was balding for cripe's sake.

“I have a question,” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Hart.”

“I was wondering when your original inoculation was?”

Tiff was nodding; it was a good question.

“I was in the first group.”

“I thought that everyone was done in 2015,” I said, for once feeling pretty good about knowing more stuff 'cuz of my dad.

He shook his head. “No, not all. There were a group of us that were a 'placebo' group.”

I knew what that was: some people were injected with the real juice and others got saline solution.

I guess he got a kick of the real thing.

“There were a few in my group that manifested unique abilities.”

Something stunk.

“Who was in your group? Not mundanes, Mr. Smith,” I asked.

There was a small silence. “Jeffrey Parker, for one.”

Okay, now we were getting somewhere.

“He's in some freaky government op thing, right?” Tiff said in typical eloquent style, snapping a bubble.

Smith cringed, holding out his small trash separator, but responded, “There is evidence that points to Parker's affiliation with a government entity.”

Evidence my ass. Tiff looked at me and rolled her eyes, throwing the wad of gum in the can.

“So,” he clapped his hands together, my earlier humor slipping away like autumn fog that faced the cold, “...about the victims. Let's talk about a zombie's state-of-mind and how it differs at the time of death if say, someone is murdered versus someone that dies peacefully.”

Was death peaceful?

I didn't think so.

CHAPTER 23

Mom hovered anxiously around Helen, who was in a reclined position on the chaise lounge on Gramps' illegal grass.

“Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?” Mom asked anxiously.

“No,” Helen groaned, her forearm making an indentation on her hair (I hadn't thought that was possible). “I feel ridiculous. I am forty-two years old; I've been pregnant before, this should be easy.”

Mom said, “Well, I didn't think it was.”

I left The Vicinity before they discussed the Dreaded Childbirth Stories.

My posse of dudes were all here, sucking down pops. Jonesy already had the next can of Coke on the picnic table in front of him. He and John clicked cans together. “Happy birthday, Terran.”

John nodded. “You too.”

They slugged their pops and I slid in on top of the bench seat next to Jade. It was the last week of September and the sky had that surreal deep blue, the type that it got right before autumn came.

We sat there quietly for a second and Jade said, “Fifteen is so lame.” Her voice was glum.

I squeezed her against me. “Why?” I pressed a kiss on the top of her head and she gave me a wan smile.

“Because, if we were sixteen, we could drive, we'd be sophomores...”

“Ah, I've gotta take that dumb-ass Driver's Ed in the summer because of my birthday,” Jonesy interrupted.

“Me too,” John added.

Bry said, “That's what you do if you got a fall birthday. Otherwise, it's the biggest teaser in the world turning sixteen but not done with the class part. That sucks.”

We all nodded, Bry was the only one of the group that had wheels.

Alex was wearing the longest board shorts in the world, like capris. Wardrobe-challenged much. “When do you turn...?”

“Seventeen?” Bry said.

“Yeah,” Alex said.

“December.”

“Why were you at school when the goon squad tried to be losers again?” I asked.

“Ah, news flash, Caleb, they're not trying,” John said.

I nodded, true.

“Droppin' Tiff off.”

“That was lucky,” John said.

“Don't believe in luck,” Jonesy said.

“I could have helped,” Alex said indignantly.

“Right. But you wanted to keep things secret,” Jade said.

We all looked at each other. “I think that's out now,” I said.

Bry lifted his brows and I expounded, “Alex threw a formula-guy through the gym door.”

Bry's head whipped to Alex and he ducked his head, pleased with himself.

“Like, pushed him...?” Bry asked.

“No, it was a superman,” Jonesy said, throwing both arms straight out in front of him.

“Cape time,” John agreed.

“What happened that he had to go through the door? Just askin'!” Bry said.

I told him the whole deal; them trying to force Griswold to let us go with them, how she'd managed their suit-asses, how they were packin' heat; all of it.

“This sounds a little like Graysheet-action to me,” he said.

We nodded. It had to us too.

“Can you believe Griswold?” Jonesy said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I thought she really sucked...” Jade said and Sophie nodded.

Tiff said, “Well, she really sucked for them!”

We laughed then John said, “We'll have a sub until Griswold gets back.”

“Maybe she won't come back. Ya know, like the government freaks will get her.”

We chewed on that. Finally, I said, “No way, they wouldn't want her around for any long term stuff. She'd totally cramp their style. She's gotta be In Charge.”

Gramps hollered for us to get over and suck up some food.

Didn't have to ask us twice. The guys jogged over to the BBQ-er and Gramps turned to us. “Why don't you swine let the girls go first?”

Right.

Tiff, Sophie and Jade looked at us and Jade said, “Let them go... we don't need to 'feed' so bad.” And she smiled.

I'd teach her another French lesson later. I grinned back and she looked like she was getting me.

We piled back around the picnic table and the adults (except Jonesy's mom, who looked kinda green) ate at the “adult's table” right on the deck.

We put our heads together. “What are we doing for Jade's birthday?” I asked.

She looked down at her plate for a second and I lifted her chin with a finger. “What?” Her green eyes were filling with tears.

“I think that my dad is going to try to come by and make me do something with him.”

“Ah, no. I mean, he can't, right?” I said, completely blown away with the thought of that turd being around Jade.

She shook her head. “The restraining order has expired and we have to prove that one needs to be re...”

“Implemented,” John said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Bry leaned back against the fence the table was shoved up against, an ugly cyclone thing (you got it, illegal). “I say if you're not there he can't find ya.” and shrugged.

“The hide-a-way is a good solution,” John offered.

“Yeah, the only thing we have to worry about is Clyde showing up,” Jonesy said.

I looked at him. “Why would he?”

“It seems that whenever you get within two miles of Scenic, dead shit happens,” Bry said.

Alex, Tiff and Sophie nodded.

Huh.

I thought about Jade celebrating her birthday in the dump. “Ah...I was thinking about a cleaner place.”

We were all quiet.

She shrugged a shoulder. “It's okay, I just want it to be private, my friends around Mia can come too.”

Jonesy rolled his eyes. “She's gonna have to do a show and tell for me to have enthusiasm with her joining our coolness.”

Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. “Not your coolness. She will be added to the girls' coolness, Jonesy.”

He opened his mouth to say something and Tiff suddenly asked, “When's your birthday, Hart?”

Jonesy smiled.

Brother.

“Halloween,” he said and made the sign of the vampire cross.

Bry leaned forward. “No shit?”

I nodded.

“That's funny, Hart. I mean really. That's like the height of weirdness.”

“Irony,” John added.

“Pretty cool,” Tiff said. “I mean, it fits and all.”

Jade smiled. “I think you're the one that will have to have a huge party, Caleb.”

Whatever, it wasn't an important birthday or anything. It's just like Jade said, only fifteen.

“So, when is yours?” Tiff asked Jade.

“Next Saturday.” Jade said.

“Almost October...” Alex said.

Yeah. “My mom will bake a cake. What's your favorite?” I asked.

She smiled. “Banana.”

Figures as a girl she'd have to have lame fruit as part of it.

The guys made faces.

“What?” Sophie huffed. “Banana is perfectly respectable.”

“Chocolate is the only way to go,” Jonesy said.

“Pllleeeassse, that's so missionary position.”

He turned to Sophie with a glint in his eye. “And you'd know, huh?”

Mom said, from about two football fields away, “Did I hear a sexual innuendo?”

Oh. My. God.

Jonesy laughed, pointing at Sophie. “She's acting inappropriately Ali. I am being defiled,” he said, his hands coming to his heart.

Mom didn't buy it for a second.

“It was just an expression,” Sophie said, her face a dull brick color.

“You kids watch what you're talking about over there,” Gramps said. “Or, I'll have to think of some creative tasks for you to accomplish.”

I gave the group The Look. Gramps had talent, he could keep us working for hours.

“Why's that so bad?” Tiff asked. She had obviously never been Tasked by Gramps before.

“Ah-duh, Tiff. He'll have us picking each other's belly lint with tweezers for like, five and a half hours.”

“I was thinking toe jam,” Alex said for a crystal clear visual.

“Eewww!” Sophie said and Jade made the gag face

Tiff laughed. “You guys are so tame, you should be in my house.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Bry agreed.

“I don't think I want to hear the Weller stories,” Jade said as politely as possible.

“Probably not.” Bry agreed.

We started to polish off the food, our plans for Jade's birthday weekend set when Gramps gate swung open and the formula-guys waltzed in.

They were the same ones from school.

On Gramps' property.

Gramps slowly stood, taking in the measure of the pair and said to me, “Caleb, go in the house and get the puppy.”

Oh shit.

“Pop,” Mom began and he looked at her and her hand fell away from his sleeve.

Jonesy looked at me. “Don't tell me the puppy is some sissy thing.”

“Not from Mac it's not,” John said and Bry nodded.

It so wasn't. I jogged into the house with the suits marking my progress.

I grabbed the KEL-TEC KSG bullpup shotgun that Gramps had trained me to use. He said it was the very best home self-defense weapon.

I checked that the safety was on and jogged back to where he stood, the nose of the shotgun pointing at the grass. My judo training, however short, swirled at the back of my head.

Gramps was big on preparation.

Mom covered her mouth with a hand and Helen said, “I think I'm going to sit down.” She looked around. “And watch the drama from there.”

Bill nodded, settling her in a chair and called Jonesy over with a hand.

“What in the Sam Hill is going on here? Who are these guys?” Bill started in.

Jonesy shrugged. “They're the guys that were lurking around during the AP Test last year.”

“So, they're okay,” Bill clarified.

Jonesy thought about it. Finally, he shook his head. “I don't think so, Dad.”

Bill straightened. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”

Jonesy put a hand on his arm. “Mac's got this, Dad.”

Bill looked at Jonesy, nearly his height now. “What do you mean?” He lowered his voice, “He's older now, Jonesy.”

Jonesy nodded. “Doesn't matter, he's got it goin' on, Dad.”

Bill waited with Jonesy and I gave the puppy to Gramps, stock first, like he'd shown me.

The suits put their hands under their jackets. “Hold up there, fellas.” Gramps said, pressing the muzzle of the shotgun under the tender flesh of Skinny-who-Smoked. “What are you doing on my property, packing heat, without being properly introduced?”

“Mac...” Dad began.

“Not now, Kyle. We need to get these introductions out of the way and then we can swap spit and take long showers. Right now, I don't know their plan.”

Stocky said, “Are you Mackenzie O'Brien?”

“I am,” Mac said, the muzzle never wavering.

“Can you take your gun away, sir, so that we can talk to the group here?”

“No.”

They stared at each other and whatever Stocky saw convinced him of Gramps' intent.

Gramps wasn't much of a negotiator.

“Alright, I'm going to disarm,” Stocky said.

“Slow Pal, or we're going to see daylight through his head.”

That was it for Helen, who ran to the house, making pre-barf sounds.

Huh.

Jonesy looked after her and Bill shrugged. “Nothing stops it,” he said, not without sympathy.

Stocky took Smoker's gun from the holster and put it on the ground and I gave Dad a look and he picked it up and put it out-of-reach. He repeated it with Stocky's gun.

Gramps hadn't moved. “Now the ones at the ankle, fellas.”

Stocky sighed, reaching to lift his pant leg up to reveal a super-small gun there too.

We put his and Smoker's guns with the others.

Stocky planted his hands on his hips like, well?

Gramps lowered the muzzle and stepped back carefully; never lowering his eyes from the two of them.

“Not to be redundant but what are you doing on my property?” Gramps repeated warily.

The two looked at each other, then the loosely assembled crowd of teens and adults.

“We're sorry to intrude...” Stocky began, his hair lifting off a head that was almost bald, the suit sitting on him oddly, his muscular physique pushing it out in all the wrong places.

“No, you're not,” Gramps began.

“Mac, would you just let him speak please,” Dad said.

Gramps looked at Dad and neither flinched.

“My paranoia is justified, Kyle. You could use a healthy dose yourself. Especially after the last year.”

Dad sighed. “It is not that their appearance here doesn't give me pause, but I'm not presuming it is the imminent threat that you appear to.”

Gramps grunted, “I always get excited by guys that show up with guns; always.” His eyes narrowed on them.

Smoker put his hands together, imploring. “We need to take the AFTDs...”

Mom said, “Absolutely not. My son is not going anywhere. And I don't know Tiffany's parents, but since they are not here right now, I will speak in their stead, emphatically no.” She placed her hands on her skirt, the bells sounding off and tried to look intimidating. If they let her Go On it would be. I could speak from experience.

Tiff had sidled her way over to me. It was feeling a lot like last year.

Bry and the Js came over too.

It was Alex that got the clowns attention. “The Body can stay there,” Stocky said, pointing at Alex. “We don't want to have to hurt him.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” Gramps said, his hand stroking the butt of the puppy.

Jade got behind me and I turned to her. “I need room, stand back.”

Why? she mouthed.

I grabbed her wrist and her mouth became an “O.” She was getting what was happening here. Maybe they just wanted to talk to us but I hadn't a grain of truth from the lot of 'em last year and I was picking up on Gramps' uneasiness.

He had a point: guys with guns. Duh.

I couldn't help Gramps if Jade was too close.

I looked at the Js and John nodded back, he'd do what he could but a Null wasn't any help against mundanes. Jonesy was a mystery and Bry was a mundane.

Hell, things weren't looking good. They'd effectively separated Alex from us and he was the one dude we wanted at our backs.

“We need to warn them. We have reason to believe that the serial killer is aware of the kids trying to help with the investigation. We have paperwork that allows us to take the kids in for questioning.”

Gramps raised the muzzle again. “No.”

Bill said, “This is America, last time I checked. We are not interested in being bullied because of some paperwork. Our children are not leaving with you.”

Smoker looked at Bill. “It's not your child we need, Mr. Jones.”

“Any child,” Helen said, having returned to the group, wiping a shaky hand over her forehead. “You're not convincing us of anything but the intentional cloaking of your motives behind contrived reasons. Can't sugarcoat a turd,” she said.

She was so Jonesy...only an old chick. Weird.

Smoker was momentarily distracted by her hair as she gestured when speaking then he looked at Stocky. “Show him the papers.”

Dad stepped forward. “I will look at them, Mac. Maybe, for the time being, you can put the gun down again?”

Mom looked at Gramps and he said, “Fine.”

The suits let out a breath.

Dad looked at the papers while Bill and Helen looked over his shoulder. Mom and Gramps had their eye on the suits and the teens milled around, not willing to go any closer to the formula-guys.

I looked at Dad's expression, which went from neutral to disbelief. It says here that you think the killer is on the inside?”

Smoker nodded. “The kids could be working the case and there may be someone, a lab tech, a crime-scene fly...”

“What did you say?” I asked.

He looked at me. “This isn't really supposed to be discussed in front of...”

“I'd just go for it,” Gramps said.

Stocky looked at the two of us. “You two kind of cut from the same cloth, eh?”

“Pretty much,” Gramps said. “Now talk.”

“It could be a forensic tech...”

Wow, that narrowed it right down since I'd met probably a hundred since Tiff and I began. Tiff confirmed this thought, rolling her eyes so hard I only saw the whites.

He continued, “or it could be someone that goes to the crime scenes and just watches.”

“Sometimes these sick shits like to see the aftermath,” Smoker elaborated.

Huh.

Tiff snapped her head around and said, “Smith.”

“What, the Null?” I asked.

“The Teacher,” she enunciated slowly.

Wow, shit. Of course.

“You've thought of something?” Smoker asked, moving forward.

“Stay where you are,” Gramps said.

He hesitated and slid something out of the cuff of his button up sleeve and put his opposite thumb against it, he held it for a second and five dudes poured into the yard.

Wonderful.

Gramps didn't hesitate. “Ladies! Get yourselves behind the gents.”

The chicks all congregated behind Gramps, Bill, Dad and the teenage boys.

I heard Helen say, “I think I'm going to be sick again.”

More formula-people. They loosely circled Stocky and Smoker.

Unfazed, Gramps said, “Reconnaissance, fellas?”

Smoker nodded curtly, “It's all about the greater need, Mr. O'Brien and our need is great.”

Stocky said, “Hand over that weapon, O'Brien.”

Gramps smiled. “You know when you'll get it, don't you?”

Mom said, “When you pry it from his cold, dead fingers,” she said by rote.

Smoker smiled. “That can happen.”

“Caleb,” Gramps said.

“Yes, Gramps.”

“Have I told you about this place. How old it is?”

What?

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess I got the last piece of land that had Indian burial grounds on it.”

My mind was spinning, churning out the possibilities.

My Dad apparently, was thinking faster. “That can't be, you'd have to ...”

“...be grandfathered,” John finished, surprise dulling his voice.

Sweet! I grabbed Tiff's hand and she mine but it was Gramps hand that latched onto my forearm. “Bring them Caleb, bring them all.” His eyes held mine, calm and deadly serious.

*

The Dog saw the Bad Men appear in the Old Alpha pack's yard and growled. He knew that the Bad Men wanted his Boy, he could smell them. He could also smell the Boy's kind here...buried in the soft earth. He wished to stand beside the Boy. He whimpered: how to get the glass to be gone? The Dog looked for a way to be with the Boy. There! He would break through the soft material that was very small holes, he backed up, using the top of his head and his forefeet to tear the mesh of this strange portal...

I felt Onyx break through the screen just as I released my power, all of it sweeping through me and using Gramps and Tiff like conduits.

I was vaguely aware of the formula-people's panic as they drew their weapons out of their suits, training them on us and I said in a voice that didn't sound like mine, “Can't kill me if you need me.”

“Stalemate, guys,” John said sorta loving the moment.

Onyx roared up to my position, pressing his body against my leg and a burst of power shot through me as hands broke through the grass.

Gramps said, “Oh, hell in a hand basket.”

The guns that had been pointed in our direction were pointing now at the once-perfect lawn. I was suddenly reminded of the gophers. That's what it looked like: limbs like small trees had burst from the ground, and the zombies poured out of the earth.

****

Well, it was almost funny, but not for the formula-people, who were now faced with Indians.

Skopamish again. I guess they had been pretty prolific back in the day.

The whole tribe was here and it was not the same guys that I had raised (perfectly) by Jade's house with the last mess.

Smoker screamed, “Fire people! That's the only way.” He began to run for the driveway gate, where I was sure they had all kinds of goods in the trunk.

I turned to the nearest Indian. “Get him.”

He made a war cry and sprinted after Smoker, easily overtaking him while Stocky went for his weapons on the grass. Gramps was faster, catching him in the back of the neck with the butt of the puppy.

He went down like a sack of potatoes. Tiff and I kept our hands clasped. Two agents went for Gramps and Dad waded in while the other three faced off with the remaining tribe.

My zombies had a blade in one hand and a tomahawk in the other, swinging them loosely at their sides, semi-circle. The agents tore out their guns, save one.

Gunless looked at me and tapped his head. “Five-point Null, brat.”

Shit!

I looked at John. “He's a Null. Can you do a reversal or something?”

John shrugged, watching Gramps doing hand-to-hand with an agent, Dad was kinda getting a beating but hanging in there and Helen was barfing on the grass while Bill watched over her with a look of this-can't-be-happening.

I sympathized but I was kinda getting used to it.

Just part of the fun the Hart family offers. That'd make them pause for future get-togethers.

The Gunless Null strode toward us and I saw the Chief straddling Smoker, banging his head into the concrete driveway.

Zombie protocol, head-banging.

With my mind, I called the tribe to me and the Null didn't even hesitate, reaching out to grab me, when John leaped in front of him, grabbing his tie and hanging on for dear life.

“What the hell,” Agent Null shrieked, flinging John off, who whipped around and hung on to the back of his leg like a dog.

Speaking of which, Onyx had slunk forward and now had a teeth-latch on the guy's shin.

“Fuck! God-damn,” he said, trying to kick, limping forward to reach Tiff and I. We drew backward.

The Boy would not be taken by the Evil Man...the Dog began to clamp down on the Bad Male's appendage. The Dog would communicate with the dead creatures that the Boy controls. The Dog looked at the nearest creature who wore clothing made of animal and something on his head that was like the things which smelled delicious that flew above his head.

'Save the Master,' the Dog thought at the nearest one, who turned its glittering eyes to the Dog. His gaze comprehending, then shifting to the flailing male that was now injured by the Dog's sharp mouth.

The Dog held nothing back, hanging on to the leg of this Bad Male that had come for his Boy, the Boy's companion grabbing the other leg.

Caleb saw Onyx communicate something to his zombie and the Indian turned to Agent Null, swinging his tomahawk in the air, the arc of metal catching the sunlight, briefly blinding me.

He made a shrill war cry and brought the sharp end down on the shoulder of Agent Null with a meaty thwack!

The tomahawk bit about four inches in, nearly separating the shoulder from the torso. Agent Null keeled over. His blood sprayed, geyser-style in the air, hitting the faces of both the nearest zombies and the agents. The zombies immediately licked the blood off their faces with black tongues.

Huh, I kept missing that.

The formula-people stumbled around, arms pinwheeling and trying to wipe blood from their eyes, then they opened them and the eyes looked like stranded egg whites in their faces.

“Caleb!” Mom screamed, breaking my concentration.

Dad was being straddled by an agent and Gramps had gotten his guy down and out.

“Some help here, Caleb!” Gramps yelled.

I turned to the next zombie, his headdress of feathers hanging slightly askew and said, “Save my dad.”

The zombie raced over there and as an afterthought I said, “No chopping!”

Jade had started throwing up in the grass and Jonesy said, “Come on, Jade, it's just a flesh wound.”

Not helpful. I let go of Tiff and raced to Jade who put her hand out, “I'm sorry! It's just so gross!”

Lots of barfing going on.

Agent Null was bleeding out on Gramps' lawn, he was gonna die.

The tribe, John, Onyx, the rest of the girls and Mom came to stand next to me. Dad hobbled over. “Caleb, call off the dogs, I think that zombie over there is going to permanently maim that guy.”

I looked over at the agent that had tried to beat the shit out of my dad and couldn't work up to a point of sympathy.

The Chief came back to the circle, dragging Smoker behind him, the back of his head a bloody pulp.

Cripes.

The other agents backed up, their guns pointing at the group.

The Chief said, “This one struggles no more,” he said, dumping the body like so much trash at my feet. He turned his body to look at the remaining agents, his whole body poised for battle and for violence.

“What is he saying, Caleb?” Mom asked from behind me.

I looked at her. “What do you mean, Mom? You were standing right there.”

“He's speaking Injun,” Gramps said.

Nice.

I laughed and the agents shifted uneasily. No one acknowledged the agent who lay dying at my feet.

“No Gramps, I hear them perfectly, they're speaking English.”

Dad and Mom shook their head. Jade came over, taking my hand. “No they're not, Caleb. I don't know what they're speaking but I don't understand them. They kinda sound like my grandma did.”

I looked at Tiff who shook her head. “I don't know either.”

Huh.

“Someone call the police,” Dad said, cradling an arm while Bry hopped to it, pulsing 911.

I looked over the tribe, the one zombie's hand clinging to the tomahawk, the blade wet with blood, shining like black oil, their eyes not leaving mine.

“Thank you for coming to my call, Tribe of the Skopamish.” giving a little bow.

The zombie who had almost cut off the arm of Agent Null laid the flat of his tomahawk against my heart, bloodying my shirt.“You call, and we shall answer.”

I nodded solemnly as the sirens wailed in the distance, turning to Tiff she came to my side and Jade released my hand, maybe she'd had a little much for one day. “Let's get them in the ground.”

“My beautiful lawn...” Gramps intoned sadly.

“Pops!” Mom said, like...really?

“It'll be okay, Gramps. Check it.”

I willed the zombies to the disturbed earth, their forms sliding into the mounds as smooth as molten lava down a mountain. One minute they were here, the next, we were staring at an over-fertilized, half-acre of illegal, water-guzzling lawn.

*

The same cops always came but this time McGraw (of the elemental show-off disaster last year) came bounding up. Aryan Nation crew cut in place and Gale, Garcia and Smith-the-Null rounding out the pack.

This was gonna be special.

The Dog growled, licking the delicious taste of the Bad Man off his lips. He saw the pack that all smelled the same...but there was one that did not like the Boy, one who wished harm for the Boy. He growled, the Dog thought it would be very good to make his Master aware that the Bad Male had arrived. The Dog understood that the Bad Male was camouflaging what he really was but the Dog was not fooled. His nose never lied. The dead creatures were not here to aid the Boy and the Dog understood the Boy was nose-blind. The Dog must identify the Bad Male for the Boy.

Caleb almost missed grabbing Onyx by the collar as he lunged at the group of cops that were approaching, guns naked in their hands.

“Knock it off, Onyx, you bad dog,” I shook him slightly, he was never aggressive. What the hell was the matter with him?

McGraw's eyes lighted on Onyx. “You have a vicious dog there, Caleb.”

“No sir. I think it's all the commotion with the formula-people trespassing on Gramps' property today.” I said in my best diffuse-the-adult voice. Mom raised an eyebrow and I was hoping she wouldn't blow it, she could smell A Tone a mile away.

The cops trained their weapons on the remaining agents. Gale sunk to her knees by the agent that my zombie had nearly amputated. “We need a medic,” Her thumb dropped to the pulse at her side.

Ya think?

After about three seconds she raised her eyes to Smith. “What about the other guy?”

Smith looked down at Smoker, his skin grayer than usual, and bent over him, taking his pulse. “Thready, but there...”

Garcia slammed his pistol into its holster. “Okay, can someone, anyone, tell me what is going on here in as few words as possible?” Out came the notepad.

No one said anything but then Jonesy said, “These ass-clowns showed up and wanted to take Caleb and Tiff in for questioning because they think the serial creeper is skulking around the crime scene and knows they're helping...”

Garcia opened his mouth to say something and Jonesy took a lungful, continuing, “so he called the Zombie Tribe again and they diced and sliced up the formula...”

“...people,” I said slowly, in awe of Jonesy's rant.

“...Yeah, and then when their pet Null got his ass handed to him the other agents were going to cooperate and you guys showed up.”

He smiled. To him it was the Undeniable Logic at work again.

My parents both bowed their heads and Helen and Bill looked on helplessly as Jonesy's words sunk in.

Garcia opened his mouth and then Jonesy added one more thing, “Oh, and our man Caleb, here, he can speak Indian too.” He swept out a palm toward me like, how cool is that?

“Language, young man. I'm not feeling that bad,” Helen said.

Somehow, I didn't think it was the language that got the cops' attention.

“Incredible,” McGraw said. “Is he always like that?”

Tiff grunted. “Jonesy? Yeah.”

McGraw shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the Fearless Commentary.

Finally, Garcia said, “Okay, maybe...” he looked around, dismissing my parents as shell-shocked. Come to think of it, Dad was looking a little gray and Mom was paler than usual.

His eyes landed on Gramps. “Okay, you are a... what?”

“Grandfather to Caleb.”

“Fine. I won't even address the state of your property and how it breaks every environmental law we have and even ones we don't have.”

Sophie, who had been quiet so far piped in, “He's 'grandfathered', Sergeant Garcia.”

Wow.

Jonesy smiled. He was such a bad influence on us.

Gramps looked over at Sophie and gave her a small smile. “The state of my property should be the least of your problems, Garcia. Let's start with these government boys illegally entering my property to seize my grandson and the little girl here....”

He looked at Tiff and she humphed, “I'm fifteen in November!”

Bry gave her an elbow in the ribs and put his finger over his lips like, would ya shut up for cripe's sake!

He smiled again, “...and I defended what's mine. My daughter and her friends, whoever has express invitation to be here was here. They came barging in and I got the puppy.”

Smith looked over the bullpup and nodded. “Good home-defense weapon, that.”

Gramps nodded and Garcia slapped his forehead, his pulse vibrating. He pressed his thumb to the pad, nodding several times, lifting then depressing.

“We're going to need a level five Organic to get this mess contained.”

Huh, why contain it? Let these two assassins rot for all I care.

I guess some of what I thought must've leaked out on my face because McGraw's eyes narrowed on me. “You seem a little more mature this year, Caleb.”

I shrugged, how do you answer that one? Seemed like a word-trap set by an adult that didn't like me.

Not answering seemed smarter, I thought as I drew Jade in next to my body. He eyed Jade up, which I didn't like and Onyx growled again. Onyx had Asshole Alert on full throttle today.

The paramedics came and landed on their knees by the two suits. Two bright red dots in a sea of green and we moved back to talk quietly as the rest of the formula-people began talking with Garcia and McGraw. Gale walked over to us.

“Okay, spill it,” she said to me.

I laughed. “It's what Jonesy said. They barged in here, threatened to take us and I had to call in the zombie troops. Plus, they had a Null, he was going to shut me down.”

That got Smith's attention. “How many points?”

“He said five,” holding up my palm, fingers splayed.

Smith palmed his chin. “There aren't a lot of fives running around.”

“In any ability,” John said.

“Amen,” Jonesy said.

Smith looked over at the medics working on Agent Null and Jezebel the Organic came jogging to their side.

“Looks like he might need to engage in a little physical therapy in the future. It'll make his Null stuff take a back seat for a little while,” Smith said.

“Nah...like I said, it's just a flesh wound,” Jonesy said.

Bry was nodding. “Yeah, he'll be okay.”

Tiff, who thought the boys were serious said, “No...doofus, that zombie about chopped off that guy's arm.”

“It'll leave a mark,” John said with a straight face.

Jade laughed and Dad smirked, even Bill lightened up.

“It's hopeless,” Sophie said.

“And now they know about me,” Alex said.

We all looked at him, his board shorts swimming around his waist, his glasses hung off his nose crookedly. I swung an arm around his narrow shoulders. “It's okay dude, at least your mom doesn't complain about the house reeking like cemetery all the time.”

That coaxed a small grin out of him. All the same, we looked around as the cops talked to the suits and the parents wove in between the destruction at their feet.

The silence was broken by Jonesy. “So, is it time for cake yet?”

Helen and Mom groaned and Gramps looked at him, placing a big palm on top of his bristly hair. “It's the perfect time, champ.”

CHAPTER 24

It was as special as I thought it'd be. All the teens balanced their cake on their knees while the cops questioned us for two hours. Basically: they couldn't nail Gramps for his home-defense tactics, my zombies showed up because I was “in fear for my life,” and they [formula-people] had brought weapons. It was a total stalemate because these chumps and their perfect paperwork was all in order. They had truly, on paper, only wanted to question us.

Yeah, and monkeys were gonna fly out my ass.

Finally, they all left with the promise of getting together with the cop-squad (as I was starting to think of Gale, Garcia and Smith). After all, the formula-people had turned the spotlight on a new problem: the serial killer was an insider.

Where had they gotten their information? Who knew? we had all wondered about that very thing. Obviously, it would be someone that had access to the paranormals and who was manifesting what. And then there was the female that lured the victims. What a mess.

Gramps was having a second piece of cake and I watched Helen's face change color. He pointed a fork at me. “That worked me up into a fine appetite, young man.”

The Js laughed and the Parents scowled. Dad had his arm in a sling from the sprain he received when one of the agents had done a hyper-flex on the thing, a fat lip (a pouty girl look that wasn't right on his face but I didn't say), and a huge scrape from temple to jaw.

Taking one for the team.

“Pop, I'm worried,” Mom said.

“Don't you worry, Peanut,” Gramps said, stabbing another bite of cake. “I have pulse wires around this place, timed for random settings. Let 'em try.”

Huh, I didn't think Gramps was gung-ho for hi-tech stuff.

The teens put their forks down at the same time. “So that means...” Bry began.

Jonesy made the bomb sound with his mouth, his hands bursting above his head.

John and Alex looked surprised and Mom sighed.

“Isn't that on a 'need-to-know' thing, Mac?” Jade asked and I smiled at her. She was smart too.

Smart was Hot.

He grinned like she was his prize pupil. “It is but I think this group can handle it.” His gray eyes, so like my mom's it was eerie, looked at each person.

Slowly, everyone nodded and Bill said, “They pissed me off. They came here and were going to essentially kidnap some of our children.”

Great, I knew that would start the political talk from Gramps.

“Back in my day...”

“Pop...”

He held up his hand. “Just a sec, Alicia.”

Mom's mouth closed with a snap. That would have never worked with anyone else.

“We followed our Constitution. Now, it has been amended five hundred fifty million times and we can barely have a gun for our homes. The criminals have more rights than the innocents.”

“Well, damn, Mac, you sure have enough weaponry,” Jonesy said.

“Language,” Helen said.

Jonesy rolled his eyes and Bill gave him The Look. “Sorry, Mom.”

Gramps was giving the crooked mouth and I suddenly realized where I got the urge to Laugh at Inappropriate Times from.

Could've done without that.

“Do you really have a minefield here, Mac?” Bry asked and the teens leaned toward him, waiting for the word.

He nodded. “Not like what you're thinking. Nobody's going to die, but they may leave a little lighter.”

Tiff barked out a laugh. “Involuntary amputation.”

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“Speaking of that, I heard something really funny,” Tiff said.

We looked at her. “It's a joke about clowns,” she continued.

Bry frowned. “You hate clowns.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Gnomes, dummy.”

“Whatever, they're all pretty creepy,” Jade said and I looked at her. Hadn't known she had it in for them.

“Anyway,” Tiff said, protracting the syllables “What do you do with an amputee with wings?”

Holy shit, Mom was gonna have a goat. I looked at her quickly and her breathing had become erratic and her eyes were beginning to bulge but Tiff wasn't known for catching subtleties.

“I give, what?” Jonesy said, vaguely interested.

“You put chain saws on all the stumps and set them loose on the clowns.”

Alex and Tiff started howling but nobody else.

Sophie and Jade looked at Tiff as Mom was gasping in the background. “That's truly twisted,” Sophie said.

Tiff was trying to rein it in.“It's an old one!”

Alex turned to the rest of the teens. “And you said I was weird for the blow-up doll!?”

All the parents and Gramps looked at Alex. Who realized that little gem got them thinking in the wrong direction.

He began to stutter some response when Bill held up his hand. “I think we're going to forget we heard that last thing.”

“You kids are a weird group,” Gramps said without rancor.

Bry, the only mundane said, “Let's talk about that.”

Gramps looked at him expectantly, “We have two kids that have a thing for the dead...”

“I wouldn't say I have a 'thing' for them...” I started and everyone stared at me.

Okay.

Bry discounted my comment, continuing, “...an Empath who dates an AFTD, a girl that can project her spirit or whatever, a super-human strength guy, a Null and then the real-kicker, a mystery paranormal.”

We looked at Jonesy.

“Exactly my point, son, a motley crew,” Gramps said.

“I guess what I mean is that's the 'new normal' now,” Bry said.

Gramps face lit up. “Been meaning to ask, where's the cute little number you had here last time?”

“Barbie,” Tiff clarified.

Gramps frowned. “No, I thought her name was Chloe, Cindy, Christine...”

“It's Christi and yeah, she dumped me.”

We were all quiet for a second.

“She was a hot little ticket.” Mom frowned at Gramps. “But she thought a lot of herself.”

“She needed her broomstick all the time,” Jonesy said and Gramps laughed. “Plus, she was big-time prejudiced.”

Helen and Bill looked at Jonesy, like elaborate.

He shrugged, hesitating. “She didn't like AFTD's and she didn't like me because I'm African-American.”

Gramps scrubbed a rough hand over his face, thinking. Slowly, he said, “I think, for someone that thinks like that,” and he tapped his head, “they don't like anything or anyone that's different.”

“She liked that horse's ass Carson. Because he's the same as her brother, Pyrokenetic,” Sophie said and no one corrected her language.

Gramps nodded. “That exactly affirms my point. Whatever she deems as 'acceptable' should be all there is, in her opinion. What she doesn't understand is that we're this big.” Gramps put his index finger and thumb a hair's breadth from touching. “Our differences are our strengths. It's her ignorance showing.”

“Which is a way to prove you're stupid if anyone was doubting,” John said.

Dad looked at him. “Where'd you hear that?”

“My dad. He said purposeful ignorance is the same as stupid.”

Dad nodded. “Pretty close.”

Jonesy said, “More jokes, this is too heavy for the birthday bash.”

I laughed. “Did you think your birthday was going to turn out this way?”

Jonesy looked at me seriously. “Dude, with you anything can happen. And,” he pointed his spork straight in the air, “I did get cake so everything's cool,” he finished, spearing a bite and popping it into his mouth.

The simplicity of Jonesy.

CHAPTER 25

The week kept grinding on, Alex had been put into the first core class for what they were classifying as (surprise!) Body. This quantified anyone who manifested physical attributes beyond normal range. Throwing zombies and people fifteen or twenty feet apparently qualified.

Go figure.

They were completely puzzled by Jonesy but he wasn't too worried. He was in the school he wanted to be in and thought about it like this: (he told me during Algebra I, when we should've been studying), “...I figure, my skills will come on-line when I need them. Like when some catastrophe happens when I'm with you. It's perfect.”

I slunk down lower in my seat. “Sometimes, I just want to get together and hang, and not have a bunch of strange shit come up.” I flung my hood over my head as the Math teacher droned on about integers.

Jonesy socked me in my arm and I stifled a very un-guy-like yelp. “Hey, dumb-ass, save that for the losers.”

His almost-black eyes got very close to mine and he said, in a voice unlike the one he normally used, “Cut the Emo shit Hart. We need you to be you. You feel me?”

We stared at each other. I knew what he meant, but maybe I didn't always want to be the reasonable one. I wanted a vacation from all this crap: the government, the losers riding my ass, and especially this murdering freak that was targeting the safety net of all paranormals.

John, who was completely ignoring the lecture because he'd tested out of integers two weeks ago said, “It sucks Caleb, but sometimes people get dealt the shit-end of the stick and you have to work with what you've been given.”

“Misters Hart, Terran and Jones...would you boys like to share what's so critical that you need to compete with my important talk on Integers?”

Wonderful.

John saved us with, “Both Jonesy and Caleb had some questions on your first lecture from yesterday and I was bringing them up to speed, Mr. Tyler,” he lied smoothly.

They stared at each other for about ten seconds. “That is very helpful, Mr. Terran, next time, try to restrain your enthusiasm for a time when I am not also talking.”

“Okay.”

That was a close one.

We survived the boring Math and were shoving all our crap in lockers that weren't next to one another (freshmen got the shaft on choosing locker placement).

Jade, Sophie, Tiff and Mia came walking up. I glanced at Mia then right back to Jade, all gorgeous, as usual, in skin-tight black jeans that flared at the knee and almost dragged the ground, hot pink ballet flats poking out underneath.

Jonesy dug an elbow into my ribs. “Wake up, dip-shit.”

I laughed. “Was I staring?”

Jade grinned. “Kinda.”

“Totally,” John said without too much accusation as he was sort of staring at Tiff.

I think there was a group-shift going on.

I hadn't seen Mia since the unfortunate Scenic Incident in which I had raised Gran last year and the Weller kids looked like battering rams.

She was one of those girls that didn't look her age, but looked eighteen already. I knew she was around our age.

“How old are you?” Jonesy asked, unconcerned by manners.

Bry, who had just walked up, heard Jonesy's question. “You're a sophomore, right?” he directed at her.

“Yeah,” she said, flicking a piece of stick-straight, honey-colored hair behind her shoulder and I saw Bry track it. Huh, I wasn't the only one in the group with a staring problem.

Mia had grown up and Bry was noticing.

Tiff looked sorta miffed and said, “Let's talk about Jade's birthday.”

A frozen fissure spread in my gut and landed into the center of my brain like a block of ice I had utterly forgotten Jade's birthday was tomorrow. I tried desperately to contain my expression but the Js' smiles froze on their faces in an odd, zombie-like way.

Hardy-har-har.

“Cool, yeah,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “But, I think she's coming by my place first, then we'll swing by the hide-a-way. My mom's got all kinds of food and crap ready.”

“And banana cake?” Jade asked hopefully.

I swallowed and it hurt going down.

“Right!” I croaked out.

Jade gave me an odd look then looped her arm through mine, (over my hoodie, thank God; no-touchy, no-telepathy), kissing that tender spot she could reach right under my ear.

I would have given my life on the spot for her as she whispered, “Love you, Caleb.”

I turned her in my arms, flat-palming the small of her back as I pressed her hips into mine. “I love you more,” I whispered back.

“Get a room!” Jonesy hollered.

We smiled and broke apart. Payback was a bitch and Jonesy's time was coming, I thought as we walked away and John and I watched him watching Sophie.

Love was an Alice in Wonderland hole and he was white-knuckling the edge, his feet dangling above the precipice.

****

I raced in the front door, slamming my backpack on the chair and jogged into the kitchen, Onyx on my heels and I almost mowed Mom over.

“Hey!” she yelped.

“Mom, thank God!”

She had a spot of flour on her nose and her apron on which usually meant kitchen business.

I dared to hope.

“Did you remember it was Jade's birthday tomorrow?” I asked all in one breath.

She put her hands on her hips, a wooden spoon stabbing out from her side. “Of course, silly.”

I sunk down into my normal seat at the kitchen table. I had been saved from certain death by my mom.

The Gift!

My head snapped back up and I stood up as if goosed. Dangling off one of Mom's fingers was a silver chain with a heart.

My hopes sunk and she saw my face. “What?”

“Thanks, Mom...but, I need to pick something out for her.”

“Oh,” she said, wrapping the whole thing in her fist.

“Listen, .can we go to the store so I can pick something out. I like what you got for her, but I want to pick something out myself.”

“Okay.” She looked at the pulse-clock hanging on the wall. “If we hurry, we can get to the store and back before the cake's done.”

Onyx wagged his tail, standing close to Mom because he knew who was in charge of the food.

The traitor.

“Okay,” I said, relieved.

She ripped off her apron and we piled into the car.

*

The choices were endless. Everywhere I looked was jewelry and I can see why Mom thought she was helping. I looked over at her leaning forward and talking quietly with the clerk as she handed over the necklace. I thought about what Jade wore all the time...just the silver hoops.

Mom walked over to where I was. “Any luck?”

I shook my head. I'd know what I wanted to get her when I saw it.

I sighed.

“I was thinking a necklace would be good because she wears the same earrings all the time. And a ring is too formal...so, that leaves a bracelet or a necklace,” Mom said, thinking out loud.

I looked at all the bracelets, she was small and they were all the standard size so that probably wouldn't work. My eyes scanned the racks of necklaces until suddenly I saw it- a charm.

I walked over to it and asked the clerk, “Is that a dream-catcher?”

“Yes it is,” she answered, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

It was beautiful and delicate, like Jade. In its center was a small green stone, it twinkled as I moved the charm and the “feathers” moved.

Mom raised an eyebrow and I answered her unspoken question, “She's Cherokee Indian, Mom.”

Mom got the look in her eyes when she'd made a connection. “Ah, that explains her unusual coloring, but not the last name?”

“French,” I said. A sudden, unbidden image of us making out swept through my mind.

Mom's eyes narrowed and I quickly said, “So, I thought she'd like one of these.”

“Does she have one?” Mom asked, distracted for the moment.

I nodded. “There's one strung along the back of her bed.”

“You've been in Jade's bedroom?”

The clerk's eyes widened.

Yeah I had.

“It's no big deal, Mom. Anyway,” I said, exasperated, “her grandma gave it to her mom when she was a baby and it was tied over her cradle and it's been on every bed since. It's supposed to ward off bad dreams.”

“Dream-catcher,” Mom repeated.

“I'll take it,” I said and the clerk smiled.

As Mom turned away, the clerk winked at me.

Winked.

CHAPTER 26

Jade and I were up in my room again, entangled on my bed where I'd snuggled her up against my chest, my chin resting on her head. In her hands was the charm I'd bought her in the nick of time. As I'd left the store, I'd remembered to buy a chain for her to wear it on. I wanted to see that little charm sitting between those sexy bones that marked the center of her throat.

For now, she kept stroking it, making the small, sterling “feathers” move where they glittered in the filtered light through my gauzy curtain.

Her head fell back into the well of my shoulder and I lowered my mouth to hers in the invitation it was. My lips moved over her mouth and I cradled the back of her head with my free hand and pressed her lips harder to mine. She gave a small moan and turned in my arms, the necklace clutched in her hand, she got up on her knees, those green eyes looking directly into mine. “I love you, Caleb Hart.”

My heartbeat leapt into my throat. She knew how I felt, she was in my arms, and not all of it was love, there was a dose of lust in there too.

She laughed. “I feel that way too.”

I felt heat creep up my face, busted.

“It's normal for us to want to be together that way.”

“You haven't gotten the 'too young' lecture?” I asked.

She nodded. “Memorized it.”

We sat for a moment locked in each other's arms. Not one to waste time, I began exploring her mouth again but she pulled away. “How long have we been together?”

Huh, had to think about it. “Six months, I guess.”

“Right. So, nobody knows where we are or how we feel but us.”

I pulled away to look at her. “Where is this coming from?”

She lowered her face.

She had my full attention now. I pulled her closer until our chests were touching and she had to lean her face back a little to see me. She reached up and moved the hair out of my eyes and it fell back down.

She smiled.

“Aunt Andrea has been giving me grief about seeing you.”

“What? I thought she was okay with us...”

“She doesn't like all the danger with the zombies showing up all the time.”

“They don't show up all the time,” I said.

She looked at me. Okay, maybe more than I wanted.

“Still, the only time you've been hurt was by your dad.”

Her face fell and I immediately felt like a tool.

“Shhh, don't cry.” I swiped a tear off her cheek. “I didn't mean anything except with all the zombies that show up, none of them ever hurt you. They protected us. Look at Clyde!”

She laughed through her tears. Clyde was, well, he was Clyde.

Jade settled down, plopping on her butt and sitting cross-legged on my bed. Onyx saw his opportunity and leaped up next to her where she buried a hand in his fur.

As she stroked his head she said, “All the zombies are cool.” She paused, thinking about that. “Well, the smell is God-awful. But ya know, they make it happen. They've saved us. Especially that one last year.”

The warrior. I'd never forget how completely perfect he was, juiced up with one of the Graysheets life-force. He had been a thing of beauty.

“But, my dad is running around and Andrea worried about my safety. I've got a feeling is all. I wanted you to know; I feel like something is going to tear us apart.”

Her lip trembled and I moved in, catching it between my teeth and she giggled, trying to push me away.

But not too hard.

Falling back on the bed, we made good use of our time. My words ringing in her ears.

“I'm not going anywhere...”

*

Mom had outdone herself (even for her), as I looked at all the food. She had fried twenty kilos of chicken, made brownies, a cake and had a case of pop standing by.

“How are we gonna get all this stuff to the hide-a-way?” I asked.

“Mia's bringing her car too,” Jade said.

“Who's Mia?” Mom asked.

Great. “She's that girl from Scenic when the Weller kids got trashed.”

Mom nodded. “Isn't she the one that went to the police? She's driving? She looked about twelve.”

Jade laughed. “Last year she did...she's Tiff's friend.”

“Oh. What high school does she attend?”

“KPH, Mom,” the questions were getting kinda annoying.

Mom cocked an eyebrow.

I sighed. “She's a Photographic.”

Dad rounded the corner and I knew that the conversation was gonna take more time.

“A Photographic, eh? That sounds interesting.”

“Okay, I give: what's a Photographic?” Mom asked.

Jade answered, “Mia explained that she can remember everything she's seen.”

“That's not technically paranormal,” Mom said skeptically. “People can have extraordinary memories.”

“They can....” Dad said slowly. “In this case the 'para' would indicate an ability that is far beyond the usual range.”

Like zombies thrown through fences.

Mom grunted, “Handy.”

The Js burst through the door trailed by the Weller’s, Mia bringing up the rear.

Mom laughed. “This is Mia?”

She and Dad stared. I looked at her; I guess she was worth a look or two. Gone was the dirty blond hair and skinny boy look. Eyes that were a mossy green glowed against hair the color of dark honey.

Judging by how Bry acted, Christi the Barbie was a distant memory.

Thank God for small favors. She had to go.

“Okay,” Mom said, breaking up her awkward parent comment. “When do you kids plan on being home tonight?”

We looked at each other. “How about one?” I asked hopefully.

Dad shook his head. “Call me paranoid...”

Jonesy opened his mouth and I shook my head.

“... but, I think midnight-thirty is plenty late.”

“Ah, how long have you been driving, Mia?” Mom asked.

“Since July. My parents got me in the summer Driver's Ed.”

“Before you go...” Dad said and I groaned.

Out Loud.

Dad held up his finger. “I've never met a Photographic before, can you show us an example?”

Mia shrugged, her bare shoulder lifting, the Js watching along with Bry. Funny, they were like a pack of dogs, scenting. Nice.

Dad pulled out a DNA strand likeness. (Ya know, we have that hanging around the house. Real normal.)

She leaned forward, staring at it and we all got quiet like when old guys play golf.

She looked at the comparison strand and gave it back to Dad. Maybe a thirty-second gander and she was done.

He gave her a blank and she filled in the areas that she thought were correct and gave it back.

He took her sheet and put it over the original; they matched.

“Holy crap! That's righteous! I want a class with you...in fact, we can be study partners.”

She looked at Jonesy like he was a bug and said, “Not a chance, Jonesy. You'll have to muddle along on your own.”

“You'll regret that, ya know. You wait, I'm gonna have cool skills and you're gonna need me.”

“Going to,” Mom corrected compulsively.

Brother.

“Time to go!” I said, before my parents started corralling all my friends into some kind of wacko, show-and-tell paranormal fest with Nazi-word fetish undertones. No.

The girls carefully opened Bry's heap o'metal and Mia's sporty little Smart Car. Between the two cars, we heaved all the food in the back.

Jade said, “Maybe I should hold the cake?” It was a triple-decker with lavender flowers on the top.

“Nah, it'll be okay,” I said as she rolled her lower lip into her teeth.

“I'll take it!” Jonesy said.

“No!” Jade and I leaped forward at the same time.

Jonesy looked hurt. “No offense, dude, but you're not known for being careful,” Alex said, walking up with Sophie.

Jonesy's expression darkened. “Ya know, if you weren't so necessary, I'd have to rethink your group status. Especially with your pervness.”

Alex grinned, he was catching on to Jonesy.

“While all this clever repartee is stimulating, I think I've digested one of my own organs and want to get to the hide-a-way so we can gorge,” John said logically.

“You know, you've got a real fixation with food, Terran,” Tiff said.

“Look at him!” Jonesy said.

We did, he was running about one hundred fifty pounds and six foot something.

“I'm manly in my own way,” John said, crossing his windshield wipers across his body.

“You'll do, Terran,” Tiff said, winking. I liked her more, letting John keep his manhood intact. Now, if we could get the hell outta here before Jonesy said something.

Mia tried to get a big box of stuff into her car. It looked like it should wind up; it was that small. However, it ran one hundred miles to the gallon. She probably filled it up once every two months.

Bry rushed over there to help her with the box. All the guys smiled and Tiff frowned. I guess their friendship would change if those two dated.

We started toward the dump, rolling up to the outside gate and parked. John got out of the car and jogged over to open the massive padlock. It clanged open, falling against the metal pole.

CHAPTER 27

We lay in a scattered pile, bellies distended, languid after the birthday banquet.

“Wow,” Jade said, laying her arm across her stomach.

“Yeah,” I agreed, groaning as I sat up.

“You'd be okay, ya walrus, if you hadn't had ten pieces of chicken,” Jonesy said.

I cocked an eyebrow. “And what did you have?”

Jonesy rolled his eyes skyward. “Seven or eight.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes on him.

“Maybe nine,” he corrected. Then he said, “I think you had what? Three or four yourself, sweet thing.”

“Girl's gotta keep up her strength,” she said.

“Yeah, I don't know if you look strong but you look healthy!” Jonesy said with admiration.

“You don't think I look fat?” Sophie asked and every guy in the room stopped breathing.

The F word. Cripes. Uttered by A Girl.

It was a total trap any way you answered. We watched Jonesy maneuver the word bomb. He had so much finesse. Geez.

“Nah, you've got the full booty thing goin' on and I like that.”

Huh, clever.

Sophie gave him a radiant smile.

That was close.

“You know what you need here,” Bry said.

We all looked at him, a nap maybe?

“A fridge.”

“Yeah! You're right. No more lame-ass coolers,” Jonesy said.

“Logistics guys,” John said and Alex nodded.

“Yeah, where are you guys going to get the electricity?” Mia said.

“Do you think there's some still here we can like, siphon?” Tiff asked the room.

Jade looked around and said, “What about one of those long extension cords? If there's a working plug, maybe we can snake it back to here.” She spread her arms, indicating the center of the dirt floor filled with upside down milk crates, “and plug it into a mini.”

“I gotcha,” Mia said. “My older brother has one of those in his dorm room at college.”

“A fridge?” I asked, trying to get a visual.

She nodded. “It's super-small, just enough to hold some drinks.”

“Perfect,” Bry said.

“Wait a sec, does anyone have an extension cord up their ass for this fun little idea?” Jonesy asked.

Nobody did.

Sophie stood. “Let's check out the dump, people throw away perfectly good stuff all the time.”

We trooped out there, a little slow with all the food and pops sloshing around. John swung the fridge door open and the sun hit our faces. Slanting low now, nighttime was moving in, the last of the day's polish receding from the sky.

Sophie looked at the fading light. “K, let's book, maybe we've got, I don't know, twenty minutes until it's too dark to see.”

We scattered, looking for the elusive cord.

John was far away, up to his elbows in crap. “Alex found an outlet!”

“Got it!” screamed Jonesy, hauling up a torch-bright orange cord that took both of his arms to heave over his head in triumph. He jogged over to where Alex was. The girls, Bry and John made a loose circle around Jonesy.

The outlet for the juice looked in bad shape. “It's been exposed to the elements for a while,” John said.

Alex touched a cracked plastic box that had been a halfway covering at one time but now had a spider-web crack formation and was yellowed with age. “I don't know, Jonesy, looks decrepit. Maybe we keep looking for another outlet.”

I looked at a sky that was blood red, a stain of purple like a bruise overtaking it. “It's gonna be dark soon, we'll give it a try then explore alternative beverage storage in the hide-a-way later.”

Sophie rubbed her arms, feeling autumn creeping in as night stole over us. Jonesy took off his hoodie and gave it to her and she threw it on. “Thanks.”

“Welcome, Soph,” Jonesy said.

“Ah, the hell with it. I'm gonna give it a shot. If it works, we've got juice to the core of our lair and we can have what we need right there,” Jonesy said.

“Are ya sure Jones?” Tiff asked.

He shrugged. “What can happen?”

The guys looked at each other.

Bry said, “Here.” He held out his hand. “Let me give it a shot.”

“I can,” John said.

I nodded like, any one of us guys can.

Mia said, “I can do it too, you know.”

“No way,” Bry said.

She looked up at him and he got that dazed look. “You're going to pull the 'macho-card'?”

“Yeah,” he said.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

She wasn't going to duke it out with him. Females have all the power, the ones that didn't get that weren't paying attention. Duh.

He held it in his hand, leaning forward. He looked at Alex who flipped the plastic box, exposing the outlet and jammed the pronged end into the holes.

Nothing happened.

“We're not gonna see the electricity working. Does anyone have something we can test it on?” I asked.

“Yeah, just let me get that toaster that's been jammed up my ass so we can figure this out,” Jonesy said.

“Nice sarcasm, Jones,” Tiff said, rolling her eyes.

Jade ran back into the tunnel and came back out a minute later. “Try this.” She held up a lantern that wasn't a dinosaur propane-fueled monster.

“Nice,” I said, kissing her on the mouth.

Then I kissed her again.

“Hart!” Bry said.

Right.

He grabbed the lantern and found the opposite end of the cord and plugged the lantern in.

Nothing. Well-damn.

Jonesy planted his hands on his hips, and rolled his shoulders. “That blows goats. I wanted this to happen.” He stalked over to the lantern, with every intention of jerking it off the end of the cord. The instant his hand touched it, the lantern lit up like the sun, the orb of the light looking like the moon was captured inside the glass.

Jade covered her eyes. “Okay, great it works. Maybe something needed to be, ya know, jiggled around.”

Jonesy howled and started to jiggle around.

“Knock it off, none of us want to see you spread your love around, Jonesy,” Bry said with a laugh.

Jonesy put the lantern down and the light went out.

“Did you turn it off?” I asked. Because it hadn't dimmed, but stopped instantly.

We got closer to the lantern and Bry picked it up, shaking it, looking at the on/off switch. Nothing made it come back on.

“Shitty connection,” Tiff said and Bry nodded.

“Bullshit! It worked like it was on fire for me,” Jonesy said, thumb planted in his chest.

He swooped down and picked it up again to do his own check.

It flared to life, a beacon in our eyes.

We looked at Jonesy and he looked back.

A slow smile spread over John's face and Alex and Sophie looked like a couple of kids that had swallowed the canary.

“What? What are the dumb looks for?” Jonesy said, swinging the lantern around, the light making a nauseating arc of brilliance against the gloom.

“Looks like you're Electra-man,” Tiff said.

“Are you kidding me?” Mia said.

“No. Looks like Jones can, ya know, manipulate the juice,” Tiff restated.

Jonesy said, “Listen guys, I don't think because the lantern came on for me...”

Holy shit.

John and I looked at each other at the same time. “The chopper!”

“The school!” John said.

“WTF?” Jonesy wailed. “Clue me in ass-hats!”

Jade was nodding. “Last year at that old cemetery...”

“Clemen's?” Bry supplied.

“Shut up, let her talk,” Tiff said and Bry glared at her.

“...that helicopter just died and then, at your school all the power failed...” Jade trailed off.

We all looked at Jonesy.

He put his palms up. “I haven't tried to do anything.”

I rolled my eyes this time. “Listen, that's how it always is. This accidental crap leaks out all over the place and before you know it, you're making it happen.”

“Remember the road-kill issues Caleb had last year?” John said.

Jonesy nodded. “Hell yeah, that was creeper-city.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don't get your boxers twisted over it, Hart,” he said.

Jade laughed and I looked at her and she laughed harder.

“She's laughing at your junk, Caleb! She's unmanning you,” Jonesy caterwauled.

“How do you know he wears boxers?” Jade asked reasonably.

Nice.

“Okay back on this electric thing...” he said, ignoring the underwear reference completely.

“Here's the thing,” John began, “if he has Electra-Magnetic he can control more than just electricity.”

Alex picked up the thread of conversation because he had the Geek Thing Going On. “Yes, from what I've read, an Electra-Magnetic can manipulate both natural and man-made electricity and that would include pulse,” Alex finished, adjusting his glasses.

“Let's test it on something!” Jonesy said.

Nobody moved.

“What?”

I thought fast. “If you're making choppers fall from the sky and school building pulse power systems fail, we probably don't want to dick around with this 'cuz something big may happen.”

“Like total city power failure,” John said.

“Or lightning striking,” Sophie said. Jonesy put his arm around her and she leaned into him. “Don't worry, I'll just let all that lightning shit hit all the ass-clowns,” he said.

“That's a long list, my friend,” Bry said.

Tiff nodded solemnly in agreement.

“There has to be a smart way to experiment with it,” Alex said, eyes steady, palming his chin that was shaped like a cone.

Mia said, “If he just made the connection,” she smiled at her pun, “tonight, maybe, with so little control... he needs to tell his Unclassified teacher and see how they handle it. The adults will have a...”

“Protocol? I don't know, they couldn't determine what he was so far... they weren't testing him right,” John said.

“It wasn't comprehensive enough. They needed a broader battery of tests,” Alex agreed.

“And it happened when you were under stress before,” I said.

“That's so textbook for a first manifestation, Jonesy. Early manifestations are almost always brought about because of an emotional burst. Like Sophie being taken by that Graysheet,” John said.

Jonesy thought about it. “I was pretty freaked about that ass-wipe taking Soph.” He unconsciously drew her in next to him and their hair, so much alike, mingled together in a fluffy cloud.

“Okay, so I'm an electra-whatever. Great, let's go figure it out.” He turned to Jade. “Are you okay, birthday girl...with a little fun?”

Jade nodded, lacing her fingers through mine. “Let's do a little test run.”

My pulse vibrated. I put up a finger to the others and depressed my thumb:

Hi, it's Sergeant Garcia- Garcia, Raul- KCP

Hi, what's going on? -CH

We have a situation again, another murder scene.-Garcia, Raul- KCP

What? Distress who? -CH

You know I can't disclose a victim identity on pulse, Caleb.-Garcia, Raul- KCP

Okay- CH

We need to pick you up, where is your location? Is the Weller girl with you? -Garcia, Raul- KCP

Yeah.- CH

I've triangulated your pulse, we'll be there in ten minutes.- Garcia, Raul- KCP

I depressed my thumb, ending the pulse and beginning anew:

Forward pulse message to Tiffany Weller, The Parents

Initializing

Target message pulsed

I thumbed my pulse to hibernate and watched the green characters fade.

Almost immediately they flared back to life:

Hey Pal, looks like you're working tonight. Keep Mom and I updated.- KH

Okay.- CH

Jade touched the skin of my arm and her eyes widened as she got what program was going down, tactile-much.

I drew her into my body again, hugging her. “I'm sorry,” I whispered against her hair, “that your birthday is interrupted.”

She leaned back. “Somebody died, I think I can get over it.”

The kids all looked at Tiff and I.

Tiff walked over to me. “We on tonight then?”

I nodded.

“Huh, my best laid plans foiled by a corpse,” Jonesy grumbled.

We rolled our eyes, Jonesy was so him.

CHAPTER 28

It was Ceci.

Ceci Cline. Carson's girlfriend, our fellow AFTD.

Tiff was barfing in the bushes and I was thinking I didn't want to do this anymore. How was this possible?

I knew her. She couldn't be dead.

I went over to Tiff who was somewhere between sobbing and barfing and put a hand on her shoulder.

She turned her head and I could see her face in profile, illuminated by the crime scene halogens, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

“I'm never gonna have that image out of my mind!” she said in a shouted whisper, her voice hoarse from the vomiting.

Gale walked over, her shadowed silhouette becoming larger on approach. She hunkered down next to Tiff. “You okay?”

She nodded and Gale gave her a cup of water. She gulped a ton then spit it out into the bushes. “My mouth tastes like ass.”

Gale barked out a laugh and stood. “I guess you'll be okay.”

Tiff stood and Gale said, “I'll give you guys a sec.”

Tiff whirled on me as soon as Gale was out of sight and put a finger under my nose. “Don't you tell the guys I puked, Hart.”

I almost laughed but kept it together through sheer grit. “Hey, I would’ve barfed too if I wasn't so used to the smell.”

She shuddered, looking over at the still silhouette of Ceci.

There was shouting and we turned. I said, “Oh God, it's her dad...”

Smith the Null and Gale were trying to restrain him but he broke through, racing to his daughter, picking up her limp form, he shook her.

“Wake up, baby.” Her broken neck lolled into one of his big palms and he howled, his head thrown back, spittle flying out of his mouth.

Tiff and I watched his grief and it struck us mute. It was such a raw wave of emotion we were suffocating in it. I flashed on an image of what my parents would do if I were Ceci.

Better not to.

Garcia, Gale and Smith stood on the perimeter, watching their fellow officer shriek his rage and grief to the heavens, unable to comfort him. Unable to make her live again.

Officer Cline's eyes fell on me.

He laid his daughter's body down and rose slowly to his feet. Shaking a finger at me he said, “You can raise her. You can bring my baby back!” His eyes were wild, moving frantically in their sockets, back and forth, back and forth.

Tiff moaned and moved behind me. I knew just how she felt but I remained where I was as Cline stalked to me. In my peripheral vision I could see Gale, Garcia and Smith advance on him but he'd get to me first.

His fist wrapped the front of my shirt into a knot and he drug me to him. Our height being the same, made our eye contact uncomfortably intimate.

He shook me. “Bring her back, Caleb. You can do it. She told me so. That you were like her, but... you can bring her back!”

My teeth rattled as he shook me with the force of his grief.

“I can't! She won't be Ceci. She'll be something else!”

Garcia tried to untangle Cline's fingers from my shirt and it wasn't happening. He flung Garcia off, no small feat, and then Smith was there.

“Come on, Cline, let the boy go. He can't do it.”

“He can!” he shrieked in Smith's face.

Gale put a chokehold on him from behind, her feet on tiptoe, and Smith worked his hand, prying finger by finger off while Garcia tried to restrain his other hand.

“Get her out of here!” Garcia shouted at the dead-techs.

They moved.

“No,” Cline wailed. “Don't take her! She can't be dead, she can't be!”

And with that, he allowed his hands to be loosened from my shirt and he slumped to the ground. He cried like his heart was shattering in his chest, big wracking sobs that sounded like they hurt.

I'd never seen a man cry before.

I'd never seen a parent lose their child.

I felt another chunk of my childhood slide away as I listened to his weeping, Tiff's head pressed against my back.

****

Even I felt sorry for Carson when we got to school Monday. He was a dumb-ass but his girlfriend had been brutally slain by what the news whores were dubbing, “The Null Negator.”

Mom had hated the moniker saying, “Shoddy journalism. It's not an actual word, you know,” her hands buried in the dough for a pizza.

Dad and I had looked at each other. Nothing took Mom unawares. The words were still critical.

The Parents had looked at me for such a long time that I had squirmed under their mutual gaze.

“What?” I'd asked.

Dad steepled his fingers. “It's not just Nulls now, Caleb.”

“A girl from your class!” Mom all but shouted, viciously punching the dough in its center.

That was how my Monday began (but Mondays sucked anyway, so no surprise there).

We were all quiet in our AFTD core class, Ceci's seat sitting empty, some of the girls silently crying.

Dave Smith said, “We're going to take this day off to just talk about what's going on. These murders were not something our community was worrying about, especially the AFTD community.” He took off his glasses, absently polishing them as he spoke. “But now that one of our own has been stolen from us, it's like I said. They need me.”

God, he was still on that?

“Listen, no offense Mr. Smith, but they don't need you or anybody else right now. They thought they had it figured out but now all their speculations aren't accurate,” I said with a tone.

Smith's eyes narrowed. “Maybe Ceci should be raised. In theory,” the class groaned and he held up a finger to stop their noise, “an AFTD victim would be different altogether.”

We were quiet, we just couldn't wrap our minds around her absence. It meant something that an AFTD was the victim. It was a message, somehow. Why had she been picked? It was not lost on me that she was a cop's daughter or that she had been dating Carson. It was spiraling into some kind of tornado. I was hoping I'd survive it, and catch the creep that was nailing kids.

Class ended and I all but leaped out of my seat to seek out Jade when Smith blocked my path. “Talk to the police, Caleb. I think I can really help.”

I was getting sick of his interference but wasn't sure how to get away with saying anything and also not get in trouble.

I tried for that half-eye, dazed expression that Jonesy was expert at and he sighed, shaking his head. Smith figured I was a grunter (which was fairly accurate), but I was pretty sharp right then. I didn't wamt him hanging around like a languid fly on a pile of shit while Tiff and I tried to figure it out with the cops.

I slunk out of the class satisfied that I'd escaped notice but knowing it was temporary.

Jade was waiting, leaning up against the wall with a foot against it and her backpack cushioning her torso. Her signature silver hoops flashed in the LED lights of the hall and there, riding in a delicate web on top of her collarbone was the dream-catcher necklace. Wow, it looked good.

Check. She looked good.

She moved forward, a slight sway to her hips. The noise faded around us and she moved into the circle of my arms like a warm shadow melding against me. I put my mouth on hers and pressed it to her, my lips moving over hers.

“PDA!” Griswold growled, as she pistoned by, swinging her arms like a Nazi.

Jade jumped then laughed, covering her mouth.

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she's back already.”

“She's not so bad. She took care of the government creeps.”

There was that.

I began walking with her to our next class and we passed Carson, who would normally never miss an opportunity to flip me off or offer general debasing annoyance. Not today. Today he slid through the crowd, eyes on the floor, solemn look on his face.

Jade shuddered.

I turned to her. “What?”

“They're leaking on me.”

“Who?”

She shook her head, as if clearing it, her hair sliding around on her shoulders like black water.

“Everyone,” she whispered into my shoulder.

Brother, must suck to be an Empath.

“I thought you had to touch people?”

She nodded. “Usually, but this is called a collective.”

I stared at her, an unspoken question on my face.

She sighed as we stood outside the door to Literature One. “If many people are thinking or feeling the same thing, it can overtake the physical perception.”

“So, since we're all thinking sad thoughts, about the same...” I struggled here, “event, then you don't need the touching because of the sheer amount of ...”

She nodded, “...emotion. Their emotions are focused on Ceci's death.”

She exhaled in a shaky breath and I squeezed her to me. Pulling away, we walked into English together. It was gonna be a long damn day.

CHAPTER 29

I walked toward the front door and saw Onyx standing at the window beside it, his tail a black windshield wiper. It made me feel a little happier because the day had been something to survive.

I turned the knob and immediately sensed that there was someone there.

Jade's Aunt, Andrea, was sitting perched on the edge of our couch with a glass of iced tea and some cookies on a plate in front of her.

I would have been down with that but Dad was home early and that made my bullshit meter sing like a trumpet.

Dad looked up and Andrea nervously wiped her hands off on her pants.

Huh.

My parents and Andrea stood. She gave me a nervous smile and said, “I'll let you all talk about some of the things I've mentioned.”

She walked by me and I looked at her as Onyx gave a soft growl, deepening my sense of foreboding.

Onyx had a sense of things.

Mom and Dad looked at me and I just knew.

“You can't see Jade anymore, son,” Dad said the minute she was out the door.

Those words sucker-punched me and my lungs felt on fire, smothering. I couldn't possibly breathe. Not see Jade? What the fuck was happening here?

Mom moved to touch me and I leaned away, her hand dropping. She looked helplessly at Dad and he continued, “She thinks time with you right now, when this investigation is ongoing for the murderer... well, she thinks it puts Jade in danger.”

Mom said, “So do we, Caleb. Andrea has a point. When it was only Nulls, it didn't seem so terribly close.” She gave a small shrug.

“But now this murderer is moving toward your immediate circle. Don't they have an officer assigned to randomly patrol John's house?” Dad asked.

I nodded, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

Jade. I needed to get to Jade. Stupid Andrea was going to drop that bomb and Jade was gonna freak.

Onyx whimpered, bumping my hand.

The Boy's scent had changed and become charged with tremendous anxiety and fear. The Dog looked around him to see if there was an imminent threat, seeing none, he leaned against the Boy to lend pack-comfort. He smelled the Boy's anxiety and somehow the Dog had the sense it had something to do with the small female that the Boy wished to mate with. There was a threat to the female? Why was she not here? The Dog bumped the Boy's hand.

“She can't do this. We are being punished for this deranged dipshit!” I yelled, my hands in fists. I wanted to punch something, anything.

“Calm down, Caleb,” Dad said. “I know it's not fair, but she is her guardian. She has to take this threat seriously.”

“Whatever!” I flung out. “Jade is safer with me! I can protect her! Do you think she's safer with her dad, or just her and Andrea? Listen,” my voice lowered to a furious whisper, “she is naked without me, she's already been targeted. The killer, if he's halfway smart, is looking at every one of us. Andrea didn't do anything but strip her of protection.”

I straightened and my parents stared at me.

Finally, Dad said, “All of what you say makes sense, but Caleb,” and he put a hand on my shoulder and I struggled not to throw it off, “she is in charge of Jade.”

“Hell! Couldn't you guys talk reason with her? Dad...Mom...” I looked at them in frustration.

“We tried to outline some basic principles of common sense,” Mom ticked off a few things that they'd mentioned, “your zombies have been sort of opportune,” she hesitated over that. “And now that you are working out and attending Judo, you two are together all the time, Jonesy and the Weller boy are around. Also, the addition of Alex isn't awful either.”

“She didn't want to hear that, son. She had her mind made up before she arrived and there wasn't a lot that could have changed it.”

I calmed down a little then. It was good to know my parents thought it was over the damn top too.

“I need to see her, Dad. She's going to freak; she's going to be scared.” Onyx whined again and I buried a hand in the soft fur of his head.

Dad shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry. I can't willfully go against her wishes. I suggest you pulse Jade and summarize some of the things which were said.” He spread his hands away from his body like, our hands are tied.

Mom's hand covered her mouth, standing tears in her eyes and Dad cradled her into his chest. “She'll be alright; they're going to apprehend this whack-job.”

Whack-job?

I grunted in frustration and disgust and stalked off. I heard Mom say, “Caleb...”

Dad quietly responded, “Let him go. Give him some time, Ali.”

Time! The hell with that. I went straight up to my room, popped the latch on my window and slid out onto the roof.

I wasn't leaving Jade to the mercy of fate. As I balanced on the roof, my pulse vibrated.

Initializing...

Jade LeClerc:

Caleb! Distress Andrea just told me... sobs...

Break in pulse transmission...

I know, I'm coming right over...

No! She said she'll pulse the police if she sees you while this...investigation is going on...

Extreme stress detected in voice modulation; does emergent situation require medical or police assistance?

Jade! Calm down...you're alerting the pulse danger alert system! CH

Break in pulse transmission

I'm sorry! I was just...I didn't think she'd do it.- JLeC

Hang on...meet me on your roof by your bedroom window.-CH

...Okay...come soon, Caleb, I'm scared.- JLeC

I turned and looked through the window, wanting to take Onyx so bad but how to get him off the roof? I looked around, not seeing anything that would work. Dammit, I'd have to leave him.

He seemed to know he couldn't come and whined, his paws resting on the wood windowsill, a soulful look in his eyes.

Sorry boy, I thought at him, not this time.

The Dog had the terrible feeling of something bad happening again. The Boy's smell was filled with protection for the small female. She was in danger. The Dog could help as only pack could. He realized the Boy needed to leave through the clear solid hole that was usually not gone. He wished to come and help the Boy. He whined...as the Dog watched the Boy maneuver off a tall surface that looked very unsure in its footing. The Dog was amazed the Boy could navigate its treacherous shaping. He laid down on the soft nest in the Boy's private cave and waited, his unease increasing.

I hated, hated sneaking off while my parents were downstairs but I wouldn't be able to think until I'd laid hands on Jade, made sure she was okay. Maybe I had about two hours or so until supper.

I booked to my bike, picking it up from its perch along the side of our house and looking around covertly; taking off, pedals twirling, ass in the air. Pumping furiously, I made my way to Jade's house, thoughts of her filling my head into a swirling fog of anxiety.

****

I shimmied up the lone tree (the same one that Brett had, I thought sourly), and eased up next to Jade's window, my feet planted in front of me and spider crawled to the sill. It was an older house and the pitch of the roof was steep. Way older than the other homes that surrounded it. The window jutted out from the main body of the roof, having its own, smaller roof topping it, with wood grids and wavy, distorted glass.

Jade's face suddenly appeared behind one of the panes, making it waver like she was underwater and I was fiercely gripped by another wave of unease. She used both hands to slide the window up, the thing sticking on the way.

“Come in,” she said.

I did, looking around and seeing all the same stuff she always had. Her room was really neat. She had an iron bed in a pale pink. The dream-catcher that her grandma had made when she was born was strung from one of the stiff, iron posts to the other, its intricate bead work running the entire length. The bed was ultra-Jade, girlie and ornate, she had a pure white bedspread thing on the top with swirly patterns all over it.

Her room smelled like a great big vanilla bean.

We sat down together in the little alcove that had a seat built in under the window, a flowered cushion flung on the top.

I held her small hands in mine and looked into green eyes that were full of tears and I felt bad. Jade had such a tough route. Her dad was a drunken loser, her aunt wasn't really thinking straight. No mom and she was dating a guy with zombies popping up all the time who also helped the cops run around looking for a killer.

Not real normal.

“What is she trying to do to us, Jade? I mean, I will take care of you. You're safer with me. Doesn't she get it?”

She looked down at our entwined hands her hair falling forward and I put some of it behind her ear, trailing a finger along the outside, making her shiver. I loved the way she reacted to me, it was one of the things that I liked the most. We just seemed to fit.

She looked up then, her lips parted. “She thinks she's protecting me, Caleb. After,” she swallowed, “my dad, she's really over-protective.” She shrugged.

“I don't like this sneaking around shit.”

She nodded. “I guess that's what we're going to have to do, though. What choice do we have?”

We sat for a few moments in silence. “Ya know, I think she's kinda right.”

Jade looked at me in surprise.

“We can still see each other in school...”

She shook her head and I raised my brows.

“She wants us to break up.”

“What?!”

“That's why I'm so upset!” she said, the tears cascading down her face. I pulled her to me, pressing her head into my shoulder.

Were the adults insane? What the hell was Andrea thinking?

I thought about our options. I hated being young sometimes; it was the lamest.

“We could fake it...” I said.

She pulled away, a puzzled expression riding her tear-stained face.

“Fake it?”

“Ya know, just pretend until this whole thing is over. You know they're going to catch this bastard soon and the dumb aura reader that's working with him...”

“Even our friends?” Jade asked, sniffing.

Whoa, that seemed like too much.

I shook my head. “No, that's too much pressure. But, if a few key people thought we weren't together, it may even get back to his ears.”

She didn't ask me who He was.

I stood up and so did she. “In fact, this is probably the best solution for a temporary fix.”

Jade rolled her lower lip into her teeth, biting nervously. “Okay, maybe. But for how long?”

“A couple of weeks; max. Before my birthday.”

“That's three weeks away!” she said, looking out the window where the leaves on the tree I'd climbed were starting to turn color.

“It'll be hard to pretend, Caleb,” Jade said.

Yeah, it would.

I shrugged. “We can do it... to keep you safe.”

I tilted her chin up with my finger. “We can do anything,” and I kissed her as she went on tiptoe to reach me. Her fingers moved up in my hair that had gotten long. We melded together and I picked her up, her legs going around my waist as I carried her to the bed. We did a slow fall to the surface of it and started moving into each other, our kisses getting deeper, my hands moving over her body.

“Jade!” Andrea yelled up the stairs and I groaned. There was always an adult interrupting Jade and me. Couldn't they go die? Hell.

I looked down at her and she turned her face to the side. “Yeah?” she called back.

“I need your help with supper!”

“K, I'll be right there.”

She turned her face toward me and we stared at each other, my arms in the push-up position over her. I noticed her lips were swollen from my kisses, her face flushed with color, the green of her eyes a molten emerald and I didn't want to leave her.

I wanted this moment to go on forever.

“Me too,” she whispered, sensing it all from her hands wrapped around my forearms.

I dipped in for one last lingering kiss and stood. Her hands trailed down my arms as I slipped away. I jerked open the window and backed out of it, fingers gripping the rough wood of the sill.

She looked at me and with a half-sob she gripped my shirt and tugged in my face for a last kiss, retreating and slamming the window shut.

I watched her wavering form through the glass as she moved to the door and through it.

She never looked back.

I wanted to puke.

It was my plan but somehow, I had a bad feeling about it.

As it turned out, besides AFTD, I wasn't too bad on intuition either.

CHAPTER 30

The next two weeks were the worst of my life. Jade and I had to act like we didn't like each other. Tiff and I were called in twice for suspicious clues that turned out to be nothing and I was stuck in a ton of core classes that had me bored to weeping.

What was really interesting was that Jonesy was still an Unclassified but we all knew what he was: an Electra-Magnetic. It was sweet. Once again, the adults were in the dark (like mushrooms, singing in their own shit). I liked it that way. The ones I thought were bad were sometimes good, the ones that were good sometimes weren't.

Brett was trailing after Jade and I was on a fine line of tension all the time. She'd spread around the school that we'd broken up and there were a few guys that had taken notice (of course) and Brett was the main one. Always there, always following.

As I was cramming my pulse-readers into my locker, Jade walked by and I stared at her like a guy starving; the sweep of her back with the hair falling in the middle of it, swinging as she walked by. The pink tee she wore underscored by a chocolate-colored lace cami. Her pink flats peeked out from skintight pants, but her face was a pinched mask.

Looking away, I scrubbed a hand over my face and when I looked up Sophie was there. I looked for Jade but could barely make her out. She was getting swallowed in the crowd with Brett trailing after her.

I stood so fast that I was light-headed, my fists curling. I actually moved to go after him when Sophie put a hand on my shoulder and I remembered she was standing there. Jonesy walked up and put an arm around Sophie.

“Hey,” he said.

My eyes strayed to where Jade had been. I looked back at Jonesy, “Hey.”

“Looks like you're wantin' to put a hurt on somebody.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it who I'm thinkin'?”

“Yeah,” I ground out, my fists like hammers by my side.

“Caleb,” Sophie started, “she's not liking it any more than you are. She's as helpless as you.”

“I'm not helpless. I'm steaming, effing pissed.”

Jonesy smiled. “About that...”

John arrived with Tiff, Bry and Mia. “Did you get the pulse, Caleb?” Tiff asked.

I looked at Tiff. Shit, I turned to my locker and found my pulse where I'd left in on the lone interior shelf at the top of the lockers. I depressed the pad and a message was there from Garcia:

Another crime scene; location under strictest confidence.- Garcia, Raul-KCP

Location as follows:

I thought my password again to unlock the location and looked at Tiff with surprise and she raised a finger to her lips.

Right, couldn't say it out loud. I nodded my understanding.

I began to pulse Jade, I just had to make that connection. Right now, until this shitty investigation was through...it was all we had. The strain was taking its toll. My thoughts touched on Brett again and my expression darkened.

Jonesy got in my grill. “Listen Hart, calm down...”

I looked down at him. Not by much, we were closer in height than we had been. We were towering over the chicks now. A superb development.

“I can't help it. That turd is scenting on Jade and she's not into it at all,” my fists clenching again.

John shrugged. “Just ask to be taken off the case. It's interfering with your life.”

“No,” Tiff said. “We're in it for the long haul. And it isn't gonna be much longer. It's bigger than us,” she motioned to everyone milling around in the hall, spilling out into the huge commons area.

I hung my head and muttered, “Tiff's right, but it blows.”

John clapped me on the back. “Man up, your birthday is coming up and I bet you this will all be over by then.”

John was trying to cheer me up but I was in my own black cloud of agony.

At least we could go to Gramps'. It'd be bonfire time, all the little kiddies out trick-or-treating and us around the fire trying not to freeze our asses off.

“We're going to your grandpa's right?” Sophie confirmed.

I nodded.

“No lake, though?” John asked.

“Yeah, it'll be drained by then,” I said.

“Bunch-o-stumps, Hart!” Jonesy said.

I shook my finger at him. “We're not doin' any of the shootin' off fireworks this year. Gramps about got his ass handed to him for that.”

What a disaster that'd been. Jonesy thought it was a great idea to light the fireworks on the exposed stumps that poked out of what was left of the lake water.

“Nobody hands your grandpa his ass I'm just sayin',” Tiff remarked.

Alex walked up. “What about asses?”

We all looked at him and Jonesy said, “We're just talkin' about Caleb's grandpa, perv-boy.”

Alex gave a puzzled expression, “Why are we talking about old guys' asses?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “We're not! Jonesy, ugh!” She threw up her hands and he leaned in close to her and whispered something in her ear that caused her to giggle.

Cozy.

“You guys are aggressively fixated on body parts,” Mia commented.

“Only one!” Jonesy said and Sophie's eyes narrowed.

Nice, the ass fetish back on-line. John and I shared a full look and trudged off to class, right after school I was gonna have to do another crime scene. Strange that Tiff and I weren't going right away.

I hauled out my pulse to let Jade know but instead of the message I should have sent, I pulsed what was swimming in my head, never leaving my mind:

Initializing

Jade LeClerc

Hey.- CH

Hi...it's good to get your pulse.- JLeC

I gotta see you...can you sneak out between Science and English and meet me by the restroom? -CH
nods I love you- JLeC

Me too.- CH

Pulse to Hibernate

I watched the green luminescence fade and sighed with relief. We'd sneak a moment and that would get us through today. I was so done with My Plan. It seemed doable in the beginning but it was pretty much sucking ass now. Having to act like the moon didn't set on Jade's head was not working. And that ass-clown Brett needed to back the hell off.

*

I pushed Jade up against the small alcove wall that separated the boys' and girls' bathrooms, my palms planted on the wall on either side of her head, her chest pressed against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, her breath warm on my neck. I moved in and kissed her before she had a moment to think, groaning.

God, I missed her.

She kissed me back, all too briefly, then pushed her hands on my chest.

“What?” I asked, my hand falling to take a chunk of her hair between my fingers, playing with the silk of it.

“You're going to another crime scene?”

My eyes flipped up to meet hers.“Yeah, Tiff and I. Another murder.”

“God!” she half-yelled and a few kids in the hall looked over at us as they poured out of their classes and I moved away from her, feigning indifference for the eyes that found us together.

The green of her eyes darkened and I knew a huge girl-rage was coming on. “I need this to end, Caleb.”

Duh.

Some of what I was feeling must have showed on my face 'cuz she went on, “I mean it. I am tired of pretending,” she said as she lowered her voice, “I want us to be together again.” She put her hand on my forearm, stroking the skin and that chemistry we had sprung between us. Our gazes locked, the hall with the other kids melting into the background. I actually did a stupid thing and began to move toward her again, to hell with appearances when Brett walked up.

“Hey guys.” he said with a smirk, shattering that swirling heat. It dissipated like mist.

Brett hadn't missed the growth spurt train and we stared at each other for a tense interval.

Finally, Jade said, “Hey Brett.”

He broke the stare and looked at her with eyes that softened. He was gone on her, even I could tell.

“What are ya doin' hanging around with him?” he asked, jerking his head in my direction.

She shook her head. “Caleb had a question about a class...” she trailed off and our eyes met. Her hand on my skin a burning memory.

“Okay, why don't we go to Science together?” Brett asked.

Jade nodded, and my heart paused in my chest. “See ya, Caleb,” she said with a sad little wave.

I watched her walk away with Brett, their size a huge contrast. He was so big compared to her. I felt like a loser. The final blow was him glancing over his shoulder and sending me a wink.

The fucker.

Mia walked over, seeing my expression. “Sorry, Caleb.”

I looked at her. “I want to kill his ass.”

She shrugged. “You got to see this through, like Tiff said.”

I nodded. “See ya later.”

I stalked off to class.

I had made up my mind. They'd have to find someone new. I wasn't gonna risk losing Jade. Nothing was that important.

Even death.

CHAPTER 31

I looked over at Tiff and she shrugged her shoulders. We were back at Clemen's Cemetery, both on our bikes.

“They didn't pick you up?” I asked.

“No, Garcia said to meet us here.”

That was weird. Usually there was always a cop picking us up to take us to the crime scenes.

“Ya know, it's weird that the killer would do somebody else at this cemetery.”

The same cemetery where all the fun with the Graysheets had been had. Yeah, that.

I nodded. “Yeah, this whole set-up is weird.”

We dismounted and I got my pulse out to let the Parental Unit in on where I was but Tiff stopped me.

“Don't pulse anyone, I had to use my password to unlock this location. We're not supposed to say.”

“My mom won't like not knowing where I'm at after school.”

“She gonna have a cantaloupe?” Tiff asked.

I laughed, I couldn't help it. “Nah, I'm thinkin' that would kinda hurt, duh.”

Tiff rolled her eyes. “Ya know what I mean! Is she gonna like, alert the media or something?”

I thought about it. Maybe.

“She's kinda a panicker...” I began.

“What about your dad?”

I shook my head. “No, he'll think it through logically.”

“That's great considering how illogical your life is.”

There was that.

We heard voices and trudged up the same path we'd trudged just a few months ago on a hot summer day. The season was different, the feelings the same.

“I hate this place,” Tiff whispered.

I shrugged. “Yeah, nothing good has happened here.”

“It's a friggin' trend,” she said.

We got to the top of the knoll where the old wood fence stood, its slats like decaying teeth wrapping the perimeter of the old graveyard.

I caught sight of Smith the Null, Garcia and Jade.

What the hell?

Tiff whipped her head to me. “What the hell is goin' on?”

I shook my head. “Not sure, but I don't like it.”

Things did not add up here. Where were the dead-techs? The tape, the body?

Actually, there was a body. As we approached, I recognized it was McGraw. His pulse was in his hand, sightless eyes looking into a sky that was growing dark.

My heartbeat quickened and I said to Tiff in a whisper, “Be ready.”

“K,” she whispered back, her voice shaking.

We stood within ten feet of Garcia, Smith and Jade. My eyes sought Jade's and I found terror there. My power welled to the surface like a wave to shore and stopped.

My gaze shifted to Smith.

“Oh my God, he's tuned up,” Tiff said.

Eff-me.

My eyes traveled back to Jade and that's when I saw it. Smith had a gun pressed to Garcia, a defenseless Jade in the middle.

Smith reached out with a hand and stroked Jade's hair and she whimpered.

“Don't touch her,” I said in a voice choked with rage.

“I'm sorry Caleb, I never saw it,” Garcia said.

“Shut up, Raul,” Smith commented conversationally, never taking his eyes from mine.

“Your little girl here...” Smith said, sinking his hands into her hair and jerking her against him as she yelped.

I moved forward. “Don't,” Smith said, cocking the hammer with a dull click and pushing it into Garcia.

Our eyes met. I was helpless to protect her. I could feel my power swirling like smoke in a glass box. Fingers seeking escape, constantly moving for exit.

Finding none.

Tiff moved closer and Smith's eyes moved to her. “Stay where you are, death-lover.”

Wonderful.

“Jade... Jade... I'll get you outta here, I promise,” I said, my voice breaking.

“No one is going anywhere. This place is about to get a little more full,” he said toeing McGraw on the ground. “He was a little too sharp for comfort but it was her that I was worried about.”

I looked at Jade and her face filled with regret.

“Explain to lover-boy how you got my complete attention.”

She glared at him and he jerked her again, using her hair like a handle and she screamed.

I moved without knowing it and he took the butt of the gun and hit Garcia in the face with it; Garcia fell to his knees.

“Stay put Caleb, or it will be Jade next. Don't think I won't. I love to hit girls.” He pressed Jade against him, his gun a black disaster in his hand.

My fists clenched, my jaw locking on the enunciation. “Tell me Jade.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I thought, I could talk to one of the policemen about you. That I could tell them how much of a strain it was for us but...”

“Too upset? Fine. I'll explain,” Smith said.

Garcia made his shaky way to his feet. As he did a girl came out of the caretaker's cottage and my memories burst out of me in a sickening rush.

It was the Aura Reader, the one that had been in the crowd when I saved Onyx.

I looked at her and then at John Smith. They looked alike.

Smith smiled. “You got it; she's my sib, Caleb. Right under all your noses and you never knew. She was pegging all the Nulls, and doing a bang up job until Garcia called you in.” His eyes narrowed on Garcia.

“Watch him,” Smith said.

Apparently, that meant put a gun on him. His sister walked over to where Garcia stood, blood ringing his mouth, the side of his jaw swelling grotesquely.

She put the barrel of a shotgun against his back and looked at me. “I'm not the shot my bro is here, but the spray will leave a mark.” She barked out a laugh.

Nice girl.

“You did McGraw?” Tiff asked.

“Oh yes. It was a long time coming for him.” He waved that away. “So, as I was saying, your plaything here,” and he shook Jade again and she bit her lip to keep from screaming again. “She came by the precinct today to defend you!” he laughed. “Anyway, I caught her before she came inside and directed her to my car.”

God, this was so awful. She'd been trying to get me out of this mess on the sly, so I wouldn't have to do it myself. I closed my eyes briefly; she was so much more than I thought.

And here she was in the killer's arms.

Damn. Tears of anger and frustration flooded my eyes.

He went on, “And I was fully tuned, this Empath couldn't get squat off me. She'd never know. But that's not what her strength is? Is it, doll-face?” he said next to her ear through gritted teeth. “She can get all kinds of readings off of things, Caleb. She's not just an Empath, she's clairvoyant too...”

Jade was starting to hyperventilate as he held her in a deadlock, her hair straining away from her face.

I'd never wanted to kill someone.

I did now.

“I told her to get in the car and she touched the door handle...and her face gave everything away. She knew what I was, what I'd done. All that careful planning and deception, ruined by this girl.”

“Come on, John. Whack them already, leave them for the crows,” his sister said.

As if by macabre cue, a crow landed on a grave marker and cawed, its slick inky eyes lighting on McGraw's body.

Her face was turned away and Garcia used that moment, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun he twirled it. On the upswing, he bashed it into her head before she could react and she sunk to the grass like a stone in water.

He trained it on Smith. “Let the girl go, Smith,” Garcia said in a voice garbled by his swollen mouth.

“You'll regret that,” he said calmly and flung Jade at Garcia, her hair streaming behind her with the speed of the throw. Garcia instinctively dropped the gun to catch her and Smith turned the gun on me.

There I stood, paralyzed in the moment.

Suddenly McGraw was standing in front of me, his dead body a shield.

“What the blue fuck?” Smith shrieked and Tiff looked at me, stunned.

It wasn't my power.

Smith started to unload into McGraw, his dead body jerking as the rounds penetrated.

Out of the woods came Jeffrey Parker and my head became light, the situation so acutely insurmountable I could hardly breathe. In my peripheral vision, I saw Garcia had Jade and Tiff stood at my right as Smith clicked empty.

He smoothly reloaded and pointed it in my direction as Clyde burst through the opening Parker had made.

Holy shit.

Parker had two zombies with him, I could feel them as they drew near and Smith whipped out another weapon.

Flame-thrower. But it was ultra-modern, mimicking a gun.

I saw the blue at its tip and shuddered, he was going to take on the zombies.

Tiff grabbed my hand and I fed off her like a starved battery while Smith was distracted.

I used my power like a honed arrow and screamed my mental call to Clyde: Protect! I yelled with everything I had, my mind ringing with the command.

I siphoned from Tiff and she sunk to her knees. I watched Clyde become more, his eyes filling in, his clothes mending themselves, hair sprouting on his head.

A glittering intelligence came alive in his gaze.

That gaze landed on Smith and with the barest glance at Parker, he and the other two zombies worked in unison, flanking Smith.

Smith had his gun on Parker and the flame-thrower pointed at Clyde who inched closer. “Call your dead dogs off or I kill you.”

“You've got the wrong AFTD, it is Caleb that is the threat.”

I had let go of Tiff's hand and was a mere three feet behind Smith when he spun on me, gun in hand. I looked at that slick metal hole facing me and my stomach dropped just as Clyde barreled into him. They fell on me, their combined weight pinning me to the ground.

“Caleb!” Jade screamed.

Smith released his gun and pulled a knife from the waistband of his pants, the hover pulse falling from his pocket and zipping into the blade as it tried to reconnect with his body. I watched the blade rise in the air above me, the dying sunlight glinting off the metal as it arced and Clyde's teeth sunk into Smith's neck, an arterial spray splattering my face. Clyde and the zombies mewled at the smell of copper in the air. They surged forward, Smith a squirming gurgling mass on top of me. They yanked Smith off of me.

Then the zombies fed.

I lay on my back. My enemy, Jeffrey Parker, was above me. His silhouette was a black shadow, lined in red as the sun sunk like a fiery ball behind him.

Garcia walked over, the feeding of the zombies in the background a grotesque music. He had Jade in his arms, his face broken up.

I sat up. “Is she okay?”

“Passed out.”

I looked to where Tiff was throwing up.

Great. I looked at Parker, who was watching the zombies drag Smith off a few feet, his arms flailing less and less, then finally stopping.

“You're going to let them kill Smith?” I asked him.

Parker nodded. “Do you think this is the worst I've seen? I've done?”

Garcia and I stared at him.

Smith's sister began to stir on the grass. Garcia laid Jade down and looked at Parker. “I know who you are and who you work for.”

“You know nothing.” Parker said, his gaze steady. “I won't hurt the girl,” Garcia's eyes took in Tiff and me. “Or them.”

Garcia strode over to Smith's sister, handcuffing her and using zip ties to secure her ankles together. She wasn't going anywhere.

Jade lay beside me pale and unmoving.

Without the Null tuned up my power was there for the using. But it would be an impasse. Parker was a five-point too. Without the nifty Life-transference, but more experience.

We were equal. I was shaky; Tiff was barfing.

I stood, that was an improvement. We faced each other.

“They don't know, Caleb. They don't know I'm here.”

Who?

“The Graysheets?” Garcia asked, coming over.

“Graysheets? Oh, who I work for. That's your moniker?” he laughed. “I guess that works. Yeah, they don't know. But we have Caleb on a monitoring system right now. His clever father put a lot of heat on them last year. We needed to lay low. The respite will not last forever, Caleb. They will come for you. McGraw is who alerted me that you were in danger.” He scrubbed his face, looking at McGraw, a zombie with spots of fading daylight leaking through his body.

“He was a good man,” Parker said, his arms planted on lean hips, nerdy look replaced with determined hardness.

Garcia snorted. “Him?” McGraw turned his rotting eyes to Garcia and he stepped back.

“Yes. He was deep undercover.”

“I'll say,” Garcia said, moving his jaw from side to side.

I kept my eyes on Parker and walked the few feet to Jade, her chest rising and falling. I flicked my eyes up to Parker, then over to the zombies, who returned my look with steady regard. They stood, leaving Smith's body, their mouths decorated by his blood. In the twilight it looked black. My stomach turned at the sight and Smith's sister started howling.

“Shut up or I send them to you as well,” Parker said smoothly.

She shut up.

“You need to leave. You've killed the murderer.”

“By zombie,” Tiff said, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie.

Garcia nodded. “And take them with you.” The zombies turned to look at him and he shuddered.

Tiff and I couldn't relate. They had done something terribly necessary and they were ours. Somehow.

Jade groaned and moved a little on the grass and Parker looked at his two zombies and then Clyde. “He's yours now. You can't just raise whatever you want. Did you call him?”

I shook my head.

He nodded. “He'll come now whenever you're under duress. It's just what it is. Be prepared. They don't stay as they were, they become more.”

I looked at the perfection of Clyde, who looked entirely human except for the clown-mouth in red.

Cripes.

“I'm going.” The zombies looked at Parker, moving to stand beside him. “These are my soldiers now. They never go back-to-ground.”

Garcia started and my mouth dropped.

Parker smiled. “There is much you do not know about being a five-point. And as you do know... you are much more.”

Sirens wailed in the background and Parker's eyes narrowed on Garcia.

“Guilty,” Garcia said, his hands spread.

“I must go. We will see each other again.” Parker turned, and began to jog for the forest perimeter, the buzzing of the cars from the highway a droning in the background. I watched them melt into the woods, their shapes swallowed into the dark embrace of the forest.

Parker had saved me.

Clyde stood staring at me, waiting.

He looked achingly human.

Jade came to, her head whipping around. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” I said, gathering her into my arms.

“Is it over?” she asked.

Garcia and my eyes met. “Oh yeah, it's over,” I said.

Flashlights found us. Officers surrounded us, coming from below, guns drawn.

Gale reached us first. “It was Smith?”

Garcia nodded.

“Crap, Raul, I would have never...”

He nodded. “None of us did.”

They looked at McGraw, no longer animated, having fallen to the ground when Parker no longer needed him. Garcia shook his head when she looked a question at him. Then her eyes found Smith's sister.

“That bitch helped him,” she stated.

Garcia nodded. “She identified the Nulls and he killed them.”

Gale looked confused. “Wait a sec. How was the Mason boy killed almost ten years ago? That means...”

“He was one of the first, like my AFTD teacher,” I said.

“So, he was like our age when he started killing kids? Brett's brother was a Null,” Jade said.

I nodded. “He was a serial killer when he wasn't even an adult. And that sick sister of his was helping out.”

“She'll sing. Oh yes, she'll sing like a canary down at the precinct,” Garcia said with surety.

The other cops swarmed around us like bees to a hive, jerking Smith's sister to her feet and dragging her off for a nice little trip to the station.

Gale said, “Let's get your statements downtown.”

I wasn't letting go of Jade for anything, ever again. I took my pulse out and pulsed the Parents.

Initializing

Mom- CH

Where are you, young man? -AH

I had to go to a crime-scene and things got stupid...can you and Dad meet us down at the police station? -CH

Pause in pulse transmission

Yes, we'll be there in ten.- AH

K, I'll explain everything then.- CH

Pulse to hibernate

I used a watered down rag that one of the cops gave me to wipe Smith's blood off my face. Tossing it on the ground and turning to Jade I kissed the top of her head and stood with her leaning into me. I noticed Clyde watching Gale again.

“Must I leave and go to where I rest, Master?” he asked.

I nodded. “I don't know what Parker was saying exactly about our connection, Clyde. But it may mean something different for us in the future.”

“What connection?” Gale asked.

I explained everything, including the zombie soldiers that were never laid to rest.

“Does this mean that he,” and she pointed at Clyde and swallowed so loud I heard the click, “could be alive again?”

I shrugged. “I don't know, but the facts are: his don't rest again. They behave like zombie body guards.”

She circled Clyde and he followed her motion, following her with his eyes. Without warning, his hand snaked out and gripped her wrist, hauling her against him and she yelped.

He leaned in and I said, “Clyde!”

“Do not fret,” he said, his eyes going back to Gale's. “Why do you regard me thus, necromancer?”

“I am not like him,” her eyes darted to me then back to him, her wrist curled between their chests, his form looming over hers.

“Ah, there you are wrong. You do not command me but I feel you in my skull, a pulsating warmth of life. You are the same flavor as my master, like the girl,” and his gaze drifted briefly to Tiff then back to Gale again, “but different.”

“Do you not feel that tether which binds us?” he asked, every tooth straight and white in his mouth.

Guess I got it right this time.

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy.

“Caleb!” Garcia said.

“Clyde, let her go, please,” I said.

He slowly released her wrist, and she stepped back, rubbing it, her gaze wounded and shocky. He'd taken her by surprise.

Clyde turned to me. “Has the danger passed?”

I nodded.

“I will go then back to whence I came.”

He turned to go and I called out, “Wait!”

I ran to him and stuck out my hand, he wrapped his around mine and we shook.

Like men do.

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” he said and with a final look at Gale, was gone.

I came back to where Jade and Tiff stood. Gale was still cradling that hand, her eyes where Clyde had been, an indecipherable expression on her face.

We made our way in the murky gloom, the flashlights casting swaths of bluish-white light just ahead of our footsteps. We arrived at the squad cars, their bright blue and red strobes spearing the darkness with artificial color.

We piled into the back of Garcia's cruiser and as we drove away I was struck by something:

Clyde hadn't smelled like the dead.

CHAPTER 32

I was exhausted but happy. Finally. We were almost to Gramps' and it was a Halloween that was clear and cold. I'd had to commit to wearing a coat, which seemed vaguely uncool. After all, with Jade curled up next to me, I felt pretty warm.

The week leading up to my birthday had been full of questions, speculations, confessions. Best of all, Jade and I were no longer separated.

Zealots that belonged to the separatist group, Mundanes Unite, had raised John Smith and his sister Anne. Mom had explained to me that it was a group set on the control and incarceration of paranormals.

In other words, Professional Creepers.

The Smith kids had never had a chance in a household like that. Day in and day out, they were preached to about how dangerous all paranormals were. It was only a matter of time before someone snapped.

Garcia had gone to each family personally, delivering the news of the killer's demise. Brett's family took it the hardest. To think that John Smith had chosen a toddler at the same park that I was in, that I was playing at that day. Well, it had been a terrible, near miss.

It could have been me.

It didn't make sense that Ceci had been targeted. But Anne Smith had confessed they used her death as a distraction to lead the cops away from the Null theory.

A distraction. Somehow, I didn't think Officer Cline would think about it that way. Ever.

The cops kept the tidbit about the zombies eating Smith out of the papers somehow. Parker was kept under wraps too. He'd been listed only as a “good Samaritan.” I wasn't so sure about that but I knew one thing:

He'd saved me. A supremely weird development.

I didn't know how to feel about that part. He was neatly in the “bad guy” box. Now I'd have to rethink his role in my life. He'd gone against the Graysheets to help me. Why?

And he had zombies with him all the time. It was a new world order, I thought. Too bizarre for words.

As we got out of Bry's car, I saw Jonesy and my parents huddled around the fire, their breath misting and a smile broke over my face. The first one in what felt like a million years.

Mia's car pulled up after Bry's and the rest of the group got out, finding a spot by Gramp's ginormous fire.

Jade was crammed in the crook of my arm and we slowly approached the fire. The moon rode high over our heads, the stumps in the lake bed frozen spears dotting the horizon.

Dad looked at me. “Happy Birthday, Son.”

“It's been a helluva year, Caleb!” Gramps agreed, stabbing a dog through the middle and hanging it over the flames.

I laughed. “Yeah, it sure has.”

“I hope it's not a trend. I, for one, want things to settle down,” Mom said.

John and the other kids were solemn but Jonesy broke the mood.

“Settling down is not part of the program for Caleb. Excitement follows him around.” With that, he bent Sophie back where she stood and laid a big one right on her mouth.

In front of his parents.

“Young man, you get your tongue out of her mouth right now!” Helen said (obviously over her bout of morning sickness or whatever).

Alex sprayed pop into the fire and it sparked back and hit Mia's hoodie, which started to smolder. Bry leaped over and jerked off her sweatshirt and half her top came off with it, exposing her bra.

Mom said, “Oh my.”

Jonesy, (his tongue firmly out of Sophie's mouth), had missed the fire part and said, “Are we really taking clothes off?” in a hopeful voice.

“No, you ass-hat, Bry was trying to help Mia!” Tiff said in a huff.

“Looks like it,” Jonesy said in a droll way.

John barked out a laugh and Jade smiled up at me.

Looked like things were back to normal.

For tonight.

The End

Death Inception

Book Three of The Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Death Inception

Book Three of The Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Copyright © 2012 Tamara Rose Blodgett
http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

Edited by Stephanie T. Lott

For:

Reader Shannon French

CHAPTER 1

1929

Margaret “Maggie” Parker felt the warm breath of him on the nape of her neck before kisses fell like soft rain and the tug of her apron strings loosened in his capable hands.

He was insatiable, her Clyde. And she loved him for it.

Clyde looked at Maggie, her large pale green eyes brimming with trust and he felt his resolve strengthen again to make an honest woman of her.

Soon.

He studied the lightweight and slightly sheer flowered dress she wore; it clung to every curve. He ran his rough hands down the smoothness of her arms and gooseflesh rose in response to his touch. Clyde smiled as she managed a feeble attempt to resist his advances while cooking at the hellaciously hot stove. It was the beginning of summer and jamming wood in the box for a hot supper seemed almost sacrilegious, what with summer's heat upon them. The sultry night lifted her natural fragrance to waft between the two of them, roses and morning glory, an intoxicating mix.

Clyde sighed, wrapping his strong arms around her. If only he could get ahead of the loans on the farm. Maggie turned in the circle of his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest, she grabbed one of his large hands and kissed the scabs that marred his knuckles from the fighting. He smiled down at her, the smooth skin of her hands contrasting with his wounded knuckles.

He pulled her away from the stove and toward the staircase.

“No, Clyde!” she squawked in mock horror, “supper will burn.”

But he saw the desire light in her eyes, burning there like she said the supper would.

Clyde lowered his lids to half-mast. “Turn down the heat, then.”

She flushed furiously, the pink blooming from some point down low and effusing her cheekbones a delicious rosebud color. Maggie giggled and ran back to the stove, turning down a dial that wouldn't make the stove lose its heat until the middle of the night. Once that porcelain Behemoth gained a head of steam, it stayed hot for hours.

Clyde held out his arms and when she got close enough, he swept her up into his embrace, cradling her against his chest. His height and breadth gave him the extra money they needed to get over this financial burden they faced.

Enough to give her the wedding she deserved.

The home.

The life.

They were locked in the bedroom for a long time, the supper sticking inside the pot, forgotten.

*

2010

Kyle Ulysses Hart kissed his wife's bulging belly with enthusiasm, lifting dark eyes to her bluish gray pair.

“You're terrible, Dr. Hart!” she laughed, tugging at his hair while he pressed his cheek to the warmth of her womb. Her girth would soon be a thing of the past; the arrival of their son bringing an end to her discomfort. Kyle laughed at her shyness, she was incredibly sexy with their unborn son inside her. Kyle was uniquely suited to understanding the miracle of birth and what things transpired to cause its inception.

He'd been instrumental in mapping the human genome, after all.

Kyle smiled at his wife, trying to erase the meeting he'd attended earlier with the pharmaceutical companies, making an effort to listen to Ali's prattle about the newest plant for their garden. The birth tree they'd be planting for their son. She'd already picked out a name, but he'd nixed the middle name. He liked Sebastian, after his great-grandfather. It was unique, like his son would undoubtedly be.

Caleb Sebastian Hart.

He liked the sound of that. He helped Ali off the couch and gave her a light smack on her rear as she went into the kitchen. She managed to contain the waddle with an effort even as her laughter spilled over him like musical notes.

He grinned, turning to settle down and work at his laptop as Ali readied supper. It would be very good when he began testing the Pulse Technology’s answer to the computer age, the laptop, as they knew it, would soon be obsolete.

Brain Impulse. It was the wave of the future.

Even with his excitement over scientific advance, his good humor faded as he remembered the conference from earlier that day.

Michael Dunham the Third drummed his perfectly manicured fingertips on the solid wood table of the conference room within The Human Genome Project Center.

He hated sucking up to these scientists. It was a necessary evil, however. Without their approval, the public would balk at little Johnny getting stuck with their juice.

Very powerful juice.

Dunham smoothed his tie down for the twelfth time and tried to contain his bored expression as Dr. Kyle Hart outlined the genome to the gathered pharmaceutical representatives and his scientific team that were present; who followed his summary with rapt attention.

It made Dunham want to yak on the table.

Who gave a ripe shit? Why couldn't Hart just roll over like a well-trained dog and take the money they were offering to fund the inoculations? It was confounding. Of course, the government agency that had funded the monies to make it possible for this advancement was highly covert. As far as Hart was ever going to know, non-existent.

It was better that way. Better for Dr. Kyle Hart, though he didn't know it.

Dunham raised his hand and watched Hart pause mid-sentence, a frown of concentration shifting to mild annoyance.

The sap actually loved what he did. And not for the money.

It was mind-blowing to Dunham.

“Yes, Mr. Dunham?” Kyle Hart asked, eyebrow cocked with the, I hope you understand I was just about to make an important closing point look.

Yeah, he'd gotten that.

“Thank you for expounding on your research, Dr. Hart, but it won't be necessary. We have been extensively briefed as to the markers, their discovery and the subsequent drugs that will allow the activation of said markers.” He spread his hands as if to say, let's get down to the nitty-gritty.

Kyle didn't like this guy. He stank of bureaucracy and cunning slyness. Dunham needed to appreciate the importance of human trials before widespread inoculations. It would unlock Pandora's Box. Had he considered what that might mean? Kyle wasn't going to be a part of playing God on the children of the United States.

It was not lost on him with his own unborn son would be inoculated along with everyone else.

Their eyes locked and Kyle stated, “I will not sign off on human trials.”

Dunham's smile widened into a grin. “Now that just works out fine, Dr. Hart. We don't need you to. We just need you to approve them after they're completed. Establish credibility that the drug works to enhance what may have taken evolution a hundred or even a thousand years to naturally occur. Really, the inoculations allow immediacy to what evolution would have inevitably provided.” He shrugged.

Kyle stared him down. It was nothing more than a playground pissing contest.

Prick.

Fine, but how many parents would allow their child to be involved in experimental science?

Kyle Hart didn't realize how naïve his internal question had been until they were finished with the trials.

The answer was plenty.

CHAPTER 2

1929

Clyde pegged his fists at both sides of his jaw, narrowly avoiding the swing aimed at the fragile spot every man has at their chin.

Hit it and most went down.

Every man wished to bring Clyde Thomas down. It was rumored he could take a punch. It was good news if he won a fight but bad as well. The ring leaders kept hunting up the meanest dog to step into the ring.

The heaviest-handed, the most brutal; acute and immediate.

But when Clyde won, it was a victory.

Unfortunately, he had about played out his hand here in their small town of Kent, Washington. He would need to travel, leave Maggie by herself for a few days.

He frowned at that, Clyde would rather be with her than away.

Clyde had plowed through more than the dirt in his fields of late. The betting was off now. Everyone knew he might win, so everyone was betting on his win. He had to show up in another town where he would be an unknown.

An underdog.

Clyde made a low jab that slammed into the solar plexus of a man that had not seen the bottom of a bathtub in two weeks. The smell of acrid sweat and sourness rose off his opponent in a gag-worthy cloud of filth, meeting Clyde as he drove into him, delivering punches in the classic one-two-three strike formation; jaw, eyeball, nose.

His smelly opponent got a good one to Clyde's hardened gut. Clyde used the reflexes he was known for in these parts instinctively to guide him next, landing a well-placed punch to the vulnerable kidney.

Clyde was an organ man, enough punches laid to that area and they all fell like a box of rocks.

The man went down, spittle and blood edging the corners of his mouth like gruesome lace.

Clyde gave a grim smile as the announcer swung up his arm and booming in a loud voice that rang unpleasantly in Clyde's ears bellowed, “And heeerrreeee is our winner, gents! Clyde Thomas, local boy and...”

Suddenly the crowd scattered as sirens wailed in the distance.

“Shit and Shinola!” the announcer sputtered, hiking up his pants by the suspenders, he jammed his fedora on his head and took off, plumes of dust from the dirt floor rising as he did.

Well, Clyde thought, he guessed this was where he'd be getting the bum's rush. He glanced at the stink bomb writhing around in the middle of the makeshift ring, the solid ropes of twine swinging from the disruption of the crowd scattering to the four corners of the earth and smiled.

Clyde would be long gone.

*

Theodore Glummer straightened, looking around the brawl hole. Illegal liquor bottles strewn about in the haste to scurry out of the dump like rats.

But there were a few in the paddy wagon. Oh my, yes and they would be singing like canaries when his men at the station leaned on them.

Glummer was going to find out who was enterprising enough to keep putting on these little shows for the townsfolk of Kent.

His town, by Christ.

Why could people not abide by the law? There was plenty of legal fighting to be had. Albeit without boozing or betting, but dames aplenty, where blood flew and flesh got soundly pounded.

Humanity never learned, preferring to skulk about in the whispering shadows, taunting the police into irritated oblivion.

Well, it would stop. This time one of the birds in the back of the wagon had chirped a name on the wind and he'd caught it.

Clyde Thomas.

Glummer shrugged. As far as he knew, that man was a farmer. Always been a farmer, like his daddy before him.

No matter, they'd pay a visit to that farm of his down in the valley. Lean on him right proper. If there was something Thomas knew, he'd squeal like a pig that needed slopping.

He was just one man.

Glummer strode off to that wagon, one of the officers from his squad winding the motor.

“Get 'er cranked, Lewiston!”

“Yes sir, Chief Glummer! That's what I be doin' here!” Glummer watched that fool Lewiston hand-crank the custom 1929 Packard they'd just been given by the governor of the state.

Glummer smiled. Bribe money paid well.

Another reason to be madder than a hatter over this illegal fighting ring.

They were not yet giving him his due.

Finally the engine turned over, Lewiston wiping sweat off his brow.

“Ready?” Glummer asked as he heaved his girth into the shotgun position.

Lewiston nodded, jumping into the driver's side, he tore the gear shift through the motion into first gear, cranking the wheel with both hands as it smoothly rolled away from the speakeasy where a fight had just been.

A fight Glummer got no dough for.

Bastards.

*

Clyde whipped his sweaty hair off his brow and shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand, deftly judging the position of the sun. He was almost done plowing the field for the day, the fragrant earth moving to the sides of his plow like brown sugared water off the bow of a ship.

Clyde had been up since five this morning, fatigue edged in around him like an old friend.

That damn cow would bellow and that was his alarm clock.

He could not complain overly much, Adele was a tough old broad and she'd been providing milk past when most cows would have dried up.

Clyde sighed, thinking about the expense of procuring another milker.

No matter. He would unhook his horse and get her put in the stable, brushed down and cooled off. Maybe do a light muck out so it wouldn't be such a glaring disaster in the morning.

As he swung the plow to a soft area to ease his horse through, he caught sight of sunlight glinting off glass from the kitchen window.

Maggie was starting the supper then. He could just make out an elegant arm pushing the window wide open, allowing the heat of the day to enter.

He put the plow away and freshened the horse with oats, water and a light muck. Clyde wiped his dirty hands off of his work cloth that hung from the back of his pants and sauntered out to the shady spot in the yard where the well was located. Using the hand pump, Clyde scooped out a small dig of soap from the tub and lathered it in the cold water that flowed out of the pump. The iciness felt enticingly good after the day he'd had in the field. The soap didn't lather well with the coldness of the water but it was a sight better than using water alone.

And Maggie would be much happier with his hands on her if they were clean.

Clyde grinned at the thought of Maggie.

Maggie-girl.

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flicker of light and turned as a police car hauled its way up the steep drive.

Clyde watched its progress, following the green winding ribbon of grass that bisected the long dirt road from the main drag.

He wiped his hands off carefully on the rough cotton cloth that hung on a brass ring, screwed into the rim of the well and looked up toward the house.

Trouble was coming.

He wished that Maggie was not here this day. He gazed down at his raw knuckles and thought through a careful explanation, if one were warranted.

He watched Maggie slip out the door, the sheer apron she wore barely covering her brightly flowered dress.

She looked at him. Then shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun, she walked to where he stood.

Maggie held out her small hand and he took it just as the fuzz came to a stop and three of the largest on the squad stepped out. They used their hats to knock the dust off from the travel and the Chief came forward, hand outstretched.

Clyde reluctantly released Maggie's hand and took his.

His grip came down with crushing force on Clyde's, his tender knuckles howling under the force of it.

But there was never a flicker of emotion, pain or hurt on Clyde's countenance. He had been raised hard and had become a tough man. He was gentle when there be need.

But that need was not at present.

Clyde studied the men and noted they did not possess their sidearms.

Thank the good Lord.

The Chief released Clyde's hand and Clyde could see him fight not to clench and release his fist. Clyde had given a good shake, had been told it was quite hard.

“Clyde Thomas,” the Chief began.

“Yes, that's me.”

His eyes slid to Maggie.

“This is my lady friend, Margaret Parker,” Clyde said by way of introduction.

One of the men cleared his throat disrespectfully. Maggie's eye's flicked to his.

Clyde's expression darkened, thunder rolling in, his face holding the promise of a storm.

He clamped down on his irritation with an effort, intervening before Maggie got her ire up. It was likely to happen, that fiery Irish temper rose to the surface like a bubble released underwater.

“What seems to be the trouble...?” Clyde began.

“Chief Glummer,” he supplied neutrally. Clyde took note he was a man of sloth, a full belly that couldn't be hidden by his custom-made suit. Dough must be plentiful for police, Clyde mused.

Clyde suspected he was corrupt. His stare swept the other gents that began to spread and surround him and Maggie.

Since he was a youngster, Clyde had always had a special sense of danger, his mama had said it was the second sight.

That sense was currently ringing alarm bells deep inside his psyche. He always listened, had learned to trust it.

“So, Mr. Thomas?”

Clyde nodded, keeping his eyes latched to the three that were behaving like prowling cats from the foothills of the Cascades where he and his Pa used to hunt for cougar.

“I've had my ear to the ground and a little birdie chirped about your whereabouts last night.” Glummer began to clean his tidy nail with a small switchblade. Then his eyes went to Clyde's. “Where were you last night?”

“He was with me,” Maggie said, her large seawater green eyes flashed with righteous anger in a face with creamy skin and bright red hair.

Oh no, Maggie-girl. Clyde knew she was covering. He reached out and squeezed her hand in subtle warning and she tightened her grip in understanding.

Glummer shook his head to the negative. “No, now... Miss...”

“Parker,” Maggie said in a flat voice and Glummer narrowed his eyes on her.

“... Parker. There are some that would contradict your statement. Those that place your lover-boy at a condemned speakeasy on the wrong side of the tracks.”

“Don't speak to her like that. Maggie deserves your respect. She'll be my wife soon,” Clyde said, giving him a hard look.

Glummer smirked. “But she ain't yet, is she?” He stepped forward and Clyde moved in front of Maggie protectively, instinctively.

The three moved in to flank them. Glummer said, “You won't 'fess up and come clean. We think you'll speak a blue streak if we give your honey a squeeze here.”

Glummer lurched forward to put his hands on Maggie, and Clyde responded as he always had to violence.

In kind.

Clyde slammed his elbow into one of the three that was nearest, bashing him in the nose as he slapped the flat of his opposite palm into the nose of the other. The third thug moved in behind Clyde and had him in a lock-down as Glummer grabbed Maggie.

She shrieked, whacking him over the head with her thick, wooden spatula, held strategically in the pocket of her apron, swinging the red sauce and splattering Glummer. His perfect suit now wore red spatter, some droplets speckled against the car behind him like blood.

While two of the corrupt police writhed around on the grass, holding their tenderized faces, and Clyde was held in a vise-like grip by the third, he used the man that imprisoned his arms and swung his legs up to strike Glummer in his thick gut.

“Argh!” Glummer stumbled backward, his arms pinwheeling as he fell on his giant posterior.

Clyde didn't waste time, turning, he took one of the hands that held him and pulled the finger he could pry back to the wrist. Howling, the fella let go suddenly and Clyde turned, laying him out with a solid strike to a jaw that was not used to being hit.

Perfect.

The blow knocked him out cold.

Maggie ran to Clyde, his chest heaving from the exertion of fighting them all at one time. He gathered her close and looked down at Chief Glummer.

“Get out,” Clyde said in a low voice.

The Chief made an unsteady attempt to get to his feet. “I reckon I know where you really were last night.” His eyes fell on Maggie and she glared at him from underneath Clyde's arm. “You can lie for him, but there's no boy around these parts that can take pieces out of my men like that and not know how to handle himself.” His eyes glared into Clyde's as he spit a wad of bloodied phlegm on the dirt of the driveway. “This isn't over. I want that bankroll,” he slapped his fist into an open palm. “And I'm not going to take no for an answer.”

Clyde stared at him. “I don't know what you're referencing but you're dead wrong. I don't know who is in charge of the illegal fighting and furthermore... no you won't. Be. Back. I'm no longer feeling hospitable.”

Clyde put his hands on hips strong from his labors over the years.

And fighting.

Clyde was an honest man and he truly didn't know who organized the fighting. Though he was always a participant. How could this hypocrite, little better than the swine he'd slopped mere hours before, endeavor to coerce money, come onto his property, his family's farm and threaten a woman.

They were without integrity. It was something Clyde had no use for.

Never had.

The police made their slow progress to their vehicle, the two with bloodied faces dragging their unconscious associate behind them, his heels making railroad tracks in the driveway.

Glummer never took his eyes off Clyde and Maggie.

Clyde never dropped his eyes either. Glummer was a proven snake in the grass and bore watching.

“I need more men. Of the persuasive type for you, Mr. Thomas.” He kept his eyes on Clyde like a dark promise. “And you do handle yourself like a fighter. You won't always be around here.” Glummer's eyes flicked to Maggie and his grim smile turned feral. “Don't make me do things that aren't of a gentlemanly pursuit. If you force my hand, the fairer sex may be affected.”

Clyde felt his wounded hands fist in response to the implication.

They'd be back to hurt Maggie. Whatever it took to maintain his cooperation. After all, Glummer wouldn't put a real hurt on him, Clyde knew. For once he found the instigator of the fighting, he knew that Clyde would be the star.

Anything for greed: harming females, bribing humanity into wrongdoings to gain wealth through their blood and tears.

Clyde's eyes narrowed, memorizing Glummer's face.

Marking him.

He smiled back at the Chief of the Kent Police and watched as his smile faded.

Their engine rattled and spewed as they drove off his land. A momentary reprieve.

Clyde and Maggie stood in silence for a time, watching the dust settle after their departure.

Clyde tightened his arm around her waist and she gazed up at him. “Clyde, sweetheart... they're going to return. They'll...” Maggie burst into tears, using her apron as a handkerchief against her face, blotting the dampness of her emotions.

He tipped her chin up in his large hand and rubbed a rough thumb over the smoothness there. “I'd never let anything happen to you.”

She nodded through a sheen of tears. “It's not that and you know it.” She stamped her foot on the ground and he smiled at her quick temper. “Stop being so stubborn, tell them who he is so they can...”

“They're on the take, Maggie. They want another person to bleed money from.”

Maggie shrugged helplessly. “You can't protect them at our detriment. Those thugs that pose as policeman will be back, and then what? You going to shoot them?”

Clyde shook his head.

“No, sweet honeypot,” she flushed furiously at his tender secret nickname for her. “I'm taking you with me until this thing blows over.”

She stared at him for an oppressive heartbeat, two. “Where?”

Clyde shrugged. “There are other towns that don't know who I am, I can get a larger pool.”

Maggie scoffed. “What about the farm?”

“I'll have Frank tend things.”

“Oh him? He's a ne'er do well.”

Clyde's expression softened as he wrapped her narrow shoulders in his hands. “We need the break. And Maggie...?”

She folded her arms across her lovely chest, determined to be cross with him, but she peeked up through the veil of her ginger eyelashes to gauge his expression.

“I have enough money now for the wedding, to pay off this farm... to give you the ring that matches your beauty, Dear Heart.”

She gasped, her hand flying to her chest, her large eyes widening further. “Then why do ya fight, Clyde?”

“You know why, Maggie-girl,” his eyes searched hers and she cast hers to the ground.

When she looked up he knew she'd figured it.

“How?”

He let a finger trail down her cheekbone. “I pay attention.”

Clyde pressed a gentle hand to her flat stomach, soon to be filled with his child and whispered, “I fight for our child. So that his future may be filled with choice. That he may be whatever he wishes to be, to endeavor to become.”

Maggie giggled, getting up on tiptoe, she used her palms to balance herself against the hard planes of his chest. “And what if our child be female?” she asked in her coyest voice.

His hazel eyes sparkled as he lifted her up in his strong arms and spun her until she was dizzy.

He deposited her on the soft grass and held her until she stopped swaying, their combined laughter a music he would never tire of.

Clyde answered her question, “Then she be the luckiest girl to be born.”

“Oh... why is that?” Maggie asked. Not waiting for a response she turned, running up the steps of his grandfather's farmhouse, the earlier evil of the visit from the police lost in the joyous press of the secret knowledge they'd just shared.

“Because her beauty will rival that of her mother's,” Clyde whispered. Desire flared in his eyes with heat and purpose.

Intent.

Maggie saw it and ran, laughing as he charged after her.

Clyde chased her up the stairs, catching her easily on the turn in the stairwell, the pain of his fists forgotten before the distraction of her love.

CHAPTER 3

2010

Jeffrey was scared. His skinny arms were trapped in banded restraints. Not too much different than all the other kids that were here.

Except, maybe they wanted to be.

Jeffrey didn't. His parents did. Well, not his parents. His mom was actually his bio-mom. But the dad... he was step. A step he'd like to bash in the head a few hundred times. When those government dudes had come by the house and waved some cash in front of them, they'd jumped at the chance.

Selling Jeffrey out. He was young, not stupid.

And these apes gave him the effing full-on creepers. One of said apes approached, his eyes like big, magnified fish eggs behind his glasses.

“Don't you have a minion or something to figure this out for you?” Jeffrey Parker asked, his bold gaze not intimidated in the least by the scientist's stare. Even in the face of the large needle he brandished.

“Oh yes, we do, young man.” Those bulging eyes landed on him with slithering intensity.

Jeffrey thought it'd be a great idea to poach those suckers.

“But, my colleague and I enjoy the personal touch. Quality control, young man, quality control.”

Jeffrey's eyes flicked to his name tag, Dr. Zondorae. It was identical to the other doctor.

“You're related, not colleagues,” Jeffrey said as an accusation. He just knew these two were up to something. Who the hell comes to a kid's house and bribes their parents to let them be a part of human trials for a new drug?

In secret.

Gary Zondorae narrowed his eyes on the brat that presumed to question him. Whatever good nature he possessed, vanished.

Not that he'd had any to spare.

He moved in with the needle, piercing the vein of number one hundred three.

Gary actually had two needles. He'd made a split decision with one hundred three. He'd been palming the placebo dose, but when the subject got mouthy, that clinched his decision.

This brat was getting the real McCoy.

As he strolled away, angry tears stood in one hundred three's eyes.

They didn't fall.

He tapped his clipboard with a pen, using his finger to line up the number with the name.

Jeffrey Parker.

The stupid kid didn't know what the gift was that he'd get. It could be something spectacular. He was ungrateful. Gary would have given his eyeteeth to be injected with the genetic splice. The equivalent to the shortcut to the full potential they held as humans. Why couldn't people accept change? Be brave? Embrace opportunity?

Gary knew that most of the subjects came from socio-economically depressed environments. Most of them were of inferior intelligence.

He smiled, glancing behind his shoulder as he did. Gary's eyes fell on subject one hundred three. He saw that the kid's right hand was straining in the universal and unspoken language of communication.

Jeffrey Parker's middle finger stood at erect attention, directed at Gary Zondorae.

Of course, Gary thought, there could always be exceptions to that rule as he took note of the fierce intelligence that burned within the depths of Jeffrey Parker's eyes.

He would bear watching. Gary was suddenly struck that it would be very bad if that particular subject manifested a powerful ability. A yet unknown ability. With that type of constitution, it would be unfortunate indeed.

A flash of regret surfaced in Gary's mind for giving Parker the Cocktail instead of the placebo like the others.

He walked away, the disquiet of his epiphany following silently after him.

*

Kyle strode down the corridor, humming tunelessly as he did. His thoughts focused completely on the excitement of the breakthrough that everyone within his tight, scientific group were raving about:

Pulse Technology.

He slapped Brandt's door open and grinned when he saw him bent over his lab samples.

“Hey Hart, come to gloat?” Brandt smiled.

“Definitely,” Kyle said, clapping him on the shoulder, taking note of the spot of mustard on his tie, the rumpled shirt.

“Did you spend the night on the Thinking Couch again?” Kyle asked, letting the sarcasm permeate the room.

Brandt swung his palms up. “Guilty. Come here, fellow smartass, and see this newest thing.”

Kyle's brows came together. “Aren't you under a huge smoking gun, Brandt?”

He nodded. “You know it.” When Kyle's eyes grew serious, Brandt waved it away. “You worry too much Hart. Maybe it's that paternal instinct coming online. Stork's coming soon, right?”

Kyle barked out a laugh. “Yes, quite. Now show me what you have.”

They bent over the detailed calculations and after a long while, Kyle stood, his back cracking and realigning from his hunched position.

“The very last piece is the integral intelligence puzzle of human electrode impulse to device transference.”

Kyle grinned. “Like a microwave.”

Brandt grinned back. “That's extremely simplified since it's well known people don't cook potatoes.”

“Right!” Kyle said. Then, “So when's show and tell today?”

“Two o'clock.” Brandt's eyes flicked to Kyle's. “What about you? Have the trials... finished?”

Kyle scowled and gave a terse nod. That had not gone the way he'd wanted. However, he had gained a small victory in ensuring that only a small number of children were actually given the Cocktail, the nickname his colleagues had given the drug that would unlock paranormal ability.

“Look at the bright side, Kyle.”

What could that be? Kyle thought morosely, his lack of total control over the implementation of the Cocktail taking the joy of his discoveries and dampening them with a cloud of doubt.

“What you've discovered, combined with the Cocktail in addition to Pulse Technology will be a perfect complement.” He shrugged. “We're fortunate that all this discovery and technological advance happened in synchronicity. It was meant to be.”

Kyle thought about the Zondorae brothers and winced. They were ambitiously greedy. He didn't think timing had a helluva lot to do with it all.

Kyle believed it had a lot more to do with money and power.

The heartbeat of humanity.

*
two weeks later

Jeffrey gazed into the undersized mirror above the bathroom sink, his image reflected back in a spiderweb of cracks.

He didn't look any different.

He looked lame though, he'd just started his growth spurt, as Mom called it in a rare sober moment, and he'd shot up four inches in the last six months.

That's one of the reasons the government dudes were so hot to nail his ass for the trials: poor, stupid and in puberty.

They had a couple of things right but stupid he wasn't. With a little more secret spy shit, they could have gotten an IQ test result for free. But that little detail hadn't mattered. Because Jeffrey knew that he was in the top .003% of the world population.

His Brain Number was high, weighing in at a hefty one hundred sixty. Hell, if he gave two shits he could've applied to Mensa.

Jeffrey didn't. Whenever his step-monster began giving him the Verbal Onslaught, as he liked to think of it, he just chanted his IQ inside his head. Sometimes, when Step-monster got louder, he'd just turn up the internal volume, drowning the pisshead out.

It was effective, it caused his stepdad to really believe he was dumb. Jeffrey liked handing him up the false proof whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Like now.

“...and your goddamned chores!”

“Huh?” Jeffrey deadpanned into the flushed face of Dave. Dear-old-Dave.

Jeffrey let his eyes fall to that half-eye look that adults interpreted as the Brain Fog epidemic that struck all teens. Jeffrey was exempt, of course, but had mastered faking it.

“See!” Dave wailed, stalking toward Mom, which made Jeffrey's faked stupor flicker. He better not touch Mom. Of course, Dave wasn't really his stepdad, he was just the latest Guy. Didn't matter, he wasn't going to touch his mom.

He shot Jeffrey a death glare and Mom shuddered. “He's a retard! He can't even respond with an actual word! He grunts, he's an idiot.” Dave fumed, throwing his hands up, dangerously close to Mom's face.

“He's a smart boy, Dave. You need to give him a chance,” Mom said in a weak voice.

Jeffrey hated that. Had always hated that. Couldn't she choose people that were good to her?

Good to them?

Dave grabbed Mom and shook her. Mom's hair flung back and forth like a brown whip as she tried to remove herself from his grip.

Jeffrey knew from experience that if he distracted Dave, he'd go after him instead of Mom.

She'd be safe... again.

Jeffrey rushed him from behind, his body... now five-nine instead of five-five was nearly Dave's height. But what Jeffrey didn't have was the weight of a man.

The strength of a man.

Hell, he was fourteen and didn't know how to fight. But he could take a hell of a punch.

None of Mom's Guys had ever been able to knock Jeffrey out. No glass jaw for him; it was a small point of pride.

Dave turned and did the expected, whaling on Jeffrey. The symphony of Mom's screaming a backdrop to the numb pain that began to seep in from the repetitive abuse.

It was shattered when the door burst open. A creature that Jeffrey didn't even know what to call entered their shabby rental and with it the smell of rotting garbage and ripe shit. Jeffrey looked at it upside down from his perch on the floor, Step-monster's fist poised above his face with his other hand deeply fisting his T-shirt.

“What the fuck is that?” Dave asked in a hoarse whisper.

Jeffrey had a good idea but was afraid to admit it. Its eyes found Jeffrey's and he knew it belonged to him.

Jeffrey guessed the corpse showing up cleared up the mystery of what ability he had.

Didn't get the placebo after all.

Figures.

It had been one of the abilities they'd listed as theory only. See, they knew there'd be Empaths, Telekinetics... standard issue skills. Yeah, right. It was all pretty out there anyway. But the rarest of the listed skills was Affinity for the Dead.

And this thing was dead.

As a doornail. Six feet under. Pushing up daisies. Taking a dirt nap.

It stood framed in the doorway, smelling like a rotting sewer. Mom screamed and the thing didn't even flicker.

“Master,” it said as if through a mouthful of gravel and Jeffrey's swollen eyes widened. He didn't respond as it moved in a slow and graceful shamble toward Dave.

Shock was beginning to creep in around the edges of Jeffrey's mind, grayness teasing at his reality, his consciousness.

Dave dropped Jeffrey's head like a hot rock and it bounced off the cheap vinyl floor, stained and cracked from the hordes of low-income renters that had lived there before him.

“This isn't natural!” Dave bellowed irrationally.

Well wasn't Dave the clever one?

It hissed and kept coming.

Dave pegged Jeffrey with a hard stare full of accusation. “It's not good enough that you have to be as dumb as a post and lippy. No-oh!” Dave's eyes watched the zombie Jeffrey had accidentally raised move toward Dave with grim determination. “You gotta be one of those AFTD weirdos too. Uh-huh, I see where this is going.”

Mom plucked at his sleeve with a whimper, her naked fear at seeing a dead man walk into their House of Squalor tangible. Dave turned on her like a cobra and struck, lashing a meaty palm out that laid the flesh of her cheek open. At first it was an open wound, deep and white, an oyster shell pried apart.

Jeffrey knew from experience those were the worst, they never bled at first but later bled like an open fire hydrant.

“Mom!” Jeffrey shouted, the dead guy forgotten even as he did a gagging dry cough at the smell of him. Jeffrey's anger and fear for her ignited into a neat flame. The zombie responded to Jeffrey's emotional signature, reaching out with one hand it latched onto Dave's throat and squeezed.

Jeffrey didn't know a throat could make noise when it collapsed. That thought just sorta floated into his consciousness as Mom's face dripped blood all over the dirty floor, the red mixing in with the blood that had dried before it.

Jeffrey heard a noise from behind and swung to meet the new threat just as the zombie dumped Dave, gurgling and gasping onto the floor where he writhed around without sufficient oxygen. Dave's arms slapped the ground at his side, bloody handprints decorating the dirt of the floor like errant finger painting.

The government guys were back.

They swarmed inside his house like a living wall of hornets. The one in the lead said in the cool and slightly raspy voice of a serious smoker, “Move.”

Jeffrey did, staggering backward and watched as the skinny guy with the cigarette did a double tap on Dave.

One in the head and one in the chest.

Assurance of death.

The gurgling stopped abruptly. The waving arms fell lifelessly beside him.

Jeffrey felt Dave's life become malleable as Dave blinked onto his new undead radar.

Jeffrey Parker's zombie turned at the men in black and hissed.

He pulled his gaze away from his mom's abusive dead boyfriend just as the blood began to pool underneath Dave's body and saturate the filth of the floor.

Jeffrey realized his zombie viewed the government guys as a threat and was crouching in front of him protectively.

Pretty smart for a dead dude.

Jeffrey had never felt the power of protection in his entire life, it was a heady thing. It didn't matter that he had AFTD, that his life was solely about surviving shit, that he was brilliant and nobody noticed, nobody cared.

This dead guy was going to take them apart.

For him.

As he moved in to do it, the guy with the cigarette and gun said, “Torch it.”

“Fuck me! Look at that thing...” one of the guys in black began backing up and another sprayed puke as the smell enfolded the group.

Assassins.

The skinny guy, with plumes of smoke rising on either side of his face like devil's horns said, “Give it to me, dickless.” He grabbed a thing that looked like a gun but had a blue flame like a sideways teardrop feathered at its tip.

Jeffrey realized too late what they were going to do, and his zombie responded to his distress.

He turned a devoted face to Jeffrey, the gore of strung tendons and partial flesh a chaotic dance of macabre reverence.

The dude with the silencer used his other hand to point the tip at Jeffrey's zombie as fire spouted from the end of it and lathered that face that had been staring into Jeffrey's eyes moments before, melting it like candle wax.

The zombie sprung at the trigger man, his body aflame, heat and rot coming off him in waves as the other agents sprayed bullets into its body until daylight shone through the holes like Swiss cheese.

Jeffrey puked then. Mom was moaning behind him, Dave was good and dead and this thing... that he was somehow responsible for had been tortured because of him.

At heart, Jeffrey was a survivor. That's what he excelled at. If the dead guy hadn't shown up right when he did, well... Jeffrey might be dead by Dave's hand. Jeffrey slapped a hand out against the wall to steady himself. He was beginning to make sense of it. Jeffrey had also learned to be adaptive. There really hadn't been a buttload of choice in his life anyway.

The smoldering corpse cooked on the vinyl floor, forget chalk outlines, his shape was permanently etched there. He met the flame-thrower's eyes and knew his intent instantly, even as his mind rejected the possibility.

“No,” Jeffrey whispered.

“Yes,” he said, plugging Jeffrey's mother in the forehead with the last bullet in his gun.

Of course, he thought dreamily, these guys wouldn't want any witnesses.

It was the last thought he'd ever had in his old life. Because when Jeffrey woke, everything was gone.

A new path had been laid. One he was forced to follow.

Jeffrey thought it was worse than the one he'd been on before.

CHAPTER 4

1929

Clyde put the last of the luggage in the small trunk of his 1929 Buick Coupe, slapping the metal with his palm to settle it into the latch. The new smell off the upholstered seats still assaulted his nose and Clyde gave a small smile, he took special pride in the mechanical systems and care taking of the vehicle.

He knew it would be the last inanimate object he would ever let go of. So he fought in the ring. With Maggie expecting, and the stigma associated without the benefit of marriage, he'd have to step up his pace. This would be his final spar, then he'd tie the knot, bringing the babe into the world the right way.

Clyde came around to the driver's side and jerked the handle up, the weight of the door swinging wide as he dropped in beside Maggie, the stiff and long gearshift a barrier between them. Clyde eyed her appreciatively, she wore her hair unfashionably long.

For him.

He grinned. The bob haircut that had neutered the femininity of his era had not latched onto his Maggie. No, her deep red hair swept off a smooth forehead, her pale green eyes like the fresh water of the sea. Maggie was beautiful.

She was his.

Clyde reached over and with the pad of his thumb he stroked the velvet skin of her cheek, a surge of emotion swelling inside him. He had a perfect life, charmed as a point of fact. The farm's debt stood on the verge of full recompense, his impending nuptials, and the fighting finally coming to an end. He wrapped his large hand around the soft skin of her neck, feeling the delicate bones underneath his calloused caress and placed his opposite hand on the wheel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Maggie asked, leaning her head against Clyde's forearm, their bare skin pressed together, his sleeves rolled up to accommodate the heat of the day.

He gave a small sigh. Clyde wasn't keen on sharing his mercurial thought processes. He wished to keep Maggie as insulated as possible. After all, protection was more than merely physical. It was mental as well. What kind of man would he be if he shared thoughts that were dark by his own musing?

He let his hand fall from the heated skin of her neck and placed both hands on the steering column, reflexively gripping it.

Maggie gazed at him with those eyes of hers, holding him prisoner. “You can tell me your thoughts, Clyde. You think you protect me with your reticence but it makes me feel isolated from you.” She smiled. “And,” she pointed to the wheel, “I know you don't need both hands to crank that wheel. You be strong!” she scoffed.

“You just want my hands on you,” Clyde said softly and winked.

“Aye, I do!” she said with her faint accent from her homeland, a fine blush flaring across her cheekbones in a lovely pink wash.

Clyde stared at the pulse that beat in the hollow of her throat, remembering how it felt beneath his lips and his smile became a grin.

Maggie whacked him softly with her handbag. “Scoundrel!” she huffed.

But she didn't mean it.

No, not at all; their glances locked in unspoken understanding. Clyde turned away without answering her questions about his thoughts.

He put his hand back on her, shifting once on the way down the drive. His palm heated the skin beneath silk stockings where the hem of her dress met her knee.

*

Clyde was as distracted as he'd ever been in his illegal fighting career. He'd gotten what he'd wished for: anonymity. But with that came a steep price. He remembered when he'd arrived in Olympia the day before.

The ring leader looked him up and down, a cigar of the cheapest variety chewed and wet, clamped between teeth that had not seen a toothbrush this year. He circled Clyde like a shark that's gotten a hint of blood.

When he reached out to clasp a hand around Clyde's bicep, he snapped his hand around the leader's forearm. “You don't need to touch my person to glean what I am about.”

Jonas Richter narrowed his eyes on Clyde and he met that stare with impunity. “I always feel what I'm putting in the ring. There's a lot of dough riding on you, Thomas. I'm not putting a slippery weasel in there.” His gun-metal eyes nailed Clyde to the spot.

“I've never lost,” Clyde said simply.

“A man's bound to meet his match sometime,” Richter responded, lighting the foul-smelling cigar, the wet end looked far to soggy to hold up through the forty minute smoke.

Clyde rolled his broad shoulders into a shrug.

“This isn't Kent,” Richter warned, his hard eyes like an approaching storm cloud.

“I know that,” Clyde said, restraining himself from wafting the horrid smoke away from his face, his hand tightening by his side.

Everyone smoked and Clyde hated it. Waste of a person's time and money. He'd see old men staked around like bowling pins on their front stoops, rolling their smokes.

They'd be the death of people someday, Clyde always told everyone. Mark my words, he'd say. After all, it wasn't natural to draw smoke into your lungs. Even animals fled from fire.

“One more question,” Richter paused, meeting Clyde's gaze through the fog of cigar smoke.

Clyde waited.

“Why do you fight?”

Clyde raised his eyebrows. “Why would you ask that?” No one had ever cared about his motivation. It had always been about getting him in the ring, getting money from the abuse he meted upon others. Clyde frowned.

Richter folded his lean arms over his chest, adjusting his hat. Finally he said, “Are you familiar with the expression: it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog?”

Clyde nodded. He was very familiar with that precept.

“Mark Twain.”

“That's good, Thomas.” He gave Clyde steady eyes, “Because you're gonna be needing all the heart you can get.” Richter's eyes remained unwavering. “Jack Dempsey is your opponent.”

Clyde's breath stood in the hot oven his lungs had become.

“The Indian?”

Richter nodded. “He's back to bar room brawling.”

“But... he's not out of retirement?”

“No sir, but he can, and has... put a hurt on a few men.”

More than a few, Clyde thought. He knew the vicious rumors of Dempsey's fighting style. He would get up and fight when most men would have died.

Dempsey's life had shaped him. A nomadic existence that would have left others hopeless, fueled the fire of who Dempsey became.

He fought for the love of survival.

Clyde fought for Maggie, for the child she carried within her body.

His child.

Their future.

“It's for a woman,” Clyde finally answered.

“So you'd fight Attila the Hun?”

Clyde paused, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “For her, yes.”

Richter's brows rose to his hairline, hidden briefly underneath the brim of his hat. “That may be enough then.”

“What's the pool?”

Richter clapped him on the back. “Now you know I can't let you know that, Thomas. Just fight. You're evenly matched, his reach, his height... what do you weigh?”

“Two hundred.”

“On the nose?”

“Dead-on.”

Richter nodded. “Okay... be back here at this time tomorrow for the usual prep.”

They'd be taping him. Maggie could lather the grease beneath his eyes. He'd check the lighting of the ring as well, see what the potential for glare was.

They shook hands, Richter wincing at the grip that Clyde held him in before he released him.

“That's some grip you got there.”

Clyde met his eyes, “Yes.”

Clyde walked away with Richter's eyes following after him, heading for the car, for Maggie.

Thoughts of fighting the meanest fighter of the decade stretched before him.

For the very first time he wondered if the money was worth it.

Then he caught sight of Maggie inside the Buick, the sun turning her hair into a flame, her smile full of trust and love.

For him.

Resolution propelled him forward as love made the decision for him.

****

A haze of bluish smoke hung like noxious clouds at the top of the building that housed the fight. The casement style divided windows, swung out and were held in place by locks of brass. The small amount of sunlight and air filtration barely put a dent in the smell of human bodies crammed too tightly, every other person smoking.

Dempsey slouched, calm and sullen on his hard wooden stool in his corner, black silk boxers complimenting the dusky complexion of his red skin. He was Irish, like Maggie, but his Cherokee blood marked him as the Indian he was. That's all everyone had ever seen while he was raised up.

It'd made him mean. These were not tolerant times.

Those dark eyes burned holes through Clyde.

Clyde ignored it, his eyes scanning the building for Maggie. He caught sight of her. Her red hair gleamed like a banner.

She lifted her gloved hand and he nodded back. He'd told her to stay put. Clyde couldn't have the distraction of Maggie's safety.

He'd be fighting for his life here.

Their life.

Dempsey stood, his fists hovering like a lover by either side of his face.

The bell rung.

The fighters met with a kiss of gloves, Clyde's healing fists offered temporary reprieve.

*

2010

Brandt set the electrodes on the subject and stepped back, noticing that some of his cheeseburger was smeared on his tie. Hmmm... maybe it would blend with the pattern.

He looked into Mary's eyes and smiled, patting her shoulder. “This will work like charm.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Sounds like some creepy voodoo crap to me.”

Brandt smiled. The show and tell today was a mere formality. He glanced with trepidation at the spook squad behind him and couldn't help the frown that crossed his features. It seemed like they were the boogeyman of technological advancement. Scientists were always grubbing for financial support. Too bad it was always these guys that showed up.

They gave Brandt a bad vibe.

Kyle Hart walked in through the swinging doors and Brandt was struck again by how un-scientific he looked. Hart was lean and hard, worked out a lot. Six-one and athletic, his sharp brown eyes were framed by chestnut hair that was constantly slipping down to cover his eyes. That intense gaze swept the government suits that were here to appraise where their money was going. That the innovations that were finalized were the results they'd paid for.

Kyle met Brandt's stare and a silent communication passed between the pair. Both of them taking in the group that had funded both the Cocktail and Brain Impulse Technology.

Kyle went to the last open seat in the house and folded his lean frame into the embrace of a chair of metal discomfort.

Brandt began, explaining the mechanics of Pulse to the Suits, their expressionless faces indifferently listening.

Nevertheless, Brandt went on finishing with, “So it is akin to our modern microwave, these brain 'pulse' signals are transmitted whether we intend them to be or not, even during rest. The Pulse device that myself and my colleagues have developed will harness those electromagnetic waves in a single focused burst of cognitive information, thereby allowing communication as we know it. No longer will we have to be slaves to manual manipulation. Using the digits of our body to painstakingly transmit communique is no longer necessary.”

The group looked blankly at him.

But one man opened up a cigarette case and tapped the filtered end against the dull pewter lid to pack the tobacco. His flat eyes met Brandt's. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth and lit it.

Right in the middle of the clinic.

Kyle Hart glared at him, restating the obvious. “There's no smoking here.”

He turned to Kyle, then his dead eyes shifted to Brandt's. “My smoking doesn't concern you.” It was a statement of fact. Brooking no argument, no rebuttal.

As if to taunt, he ignored the lead scientist of mapping the human genome and spoke directly to Dr. Brandt, brandishing his cigarette. He dismissed the prior thirty minutes of Pulse Tech debriefing with a sweep of his nicotine stained hand, “We have seen that the technology works,” he said, indicating Mary as she sat with the prototype pulse. Its existence would make traditional cellular phones obsolete. Texting had become an old-fashioned thing of the past.

“But the larger question looms,” he began in a voice thickened and raspy from a chain smoking habit that yellowed the whites of his eyes. “What of the security?”

Brandt's eyes narrowed. He should have known that this government entity would be all about covert methods. What elitist endeavors would they consummate once their greasy paws were on the Pulse?

Much, Brandt intuited.

Brandt flicked his eyes to Kyle's, a second dark look passing between them.

The skinny man who smoked saw it and scowled, the ash glowing red at the tip of his smoke.

“Security is an integral component of Pulse Technology.”

“Explain,” Smoker commanded, his cheeks hollowing as he took a drag.

“As I've said, everything will be driven by thought, initiated by thumb activation.”

“So,” Smoker waved his hand around and a plume of disgusting cigarette smoke wafted through the room, spiraling as he rotated his wrist, “each pulse manufactured will be individually encrypted.”

Brandt nodded. “Yes, that is exactly it. A recipient will purchase their Pulse, the activation and security coding will occur when they press their unique thumbprint against the pulse sensor pad.” Brandt took the Pulse from Mary and pointed to a pad that was just that much bigger than the size of a thumb.

Smoker stared at the unit. “Can it be specialized?”

Brandt's brows drew together. “In what way?”

“Customized for a multiple user scenario?”

“No,” Brandt said, his frown deepening. “The brain signature of each person is unique. In fact, that is why the thumb activation is the perfect complement to the device. It protects the device from security breach. The signature of the individual carries the message from point of origin to the reciprocal device. It is not meant for shared users.”

Smoker stared at Brandt. “Does the thumbprint have to be from a live person?”

Brandt swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “Of course.”

A bloated silence swelled in the room like a days old rotting corpse. Smoker's unflappable expression could be seen through the cloud of smoke that was a haze in front of his face.

He waited.

Kyle Hart turned to him, the memory of Smoker's dismissal of the most rudimentary rules of their building a flaunting red flag of disregard. “Why would that matter?”

“Classified, Dr. Hart. Besides, we're just exploring the... limitations of the device.”

Right, Brandt thought.

Kyle's eyes narrowed on Smoker then shifted to Brandt's. “It is possible for a breach.”

All the men in black's eyes fell on him, like beetles before succulent carrion. Hart plowed on, ignoring their effort at intimidation.

Or maybe it wasn't an effort.

“The trials have ended and there have been manifestations of paranormal talent in the non-placebo group. I think I may know what you're circling here.”

They waited and Kyle elaborated, “I know that you have a teen subject that has AFTD, obviously.”

Smoker gave Hart hooded eyes that missed nothing. He turned and gave a slight nod to the furthest edge of the group and a government man stood and moved to the swinging doors, turning his back to the group.

“National security, Dr. Hart.”

His man at the door never moved.

“You're hoping the AFTD can pulse through cadavers?” Kyle guessed, the leap of logic automatic.

Smoker grinned, a parody of a snarling grimace. “We're fully exploring the parameters of this technology. That's all I can say, Dr. Hart. That I even acknowledged the bent of our exploration,” he shrugged, lighting a new cigarette with the old one, “was magnanimous of me.”

Kyle ignored his comment. His skirting of the issue at hand. “What about the AFTD? Isn't he, what? Fourteen years old?”

Gary Zondorae spoke up for the first time, “He is the first true manifestation of this ability we've seen. A five-point, Dr. Hart. It was really a Theory Ability,” he said, shrugging.

“I know what he is.” Kyle leveled an accusing gaze at the pair of brothers. “If he is a Cadaver-Manipulator, he's a five-point. What about the family? What's their take on their fourteen-year old partaking in this type of 'exploration'?”

The Zondorae brothers shifted uneasily in their seats but it was Smoker that answered, “We've taken care of that. It's not a problem. Actually, it never was.”

Then he smiled.

Kyle Hart didn't like the tone of the look.

It was predatory.

CHAPTER 5

“Don't kill the messenger, Jeff,” said his tutor, Stu Miller.

“It's Jeffrey.”

Stu spread his palms away from his body. “Fine. But I have to teach you this stuff. It's what I do.”

Jeffrey didn't care dick about learning French. He didn't want to learn the four foreign languages they were cramming down his craw.

Dick. Holes. That's were that was at, uh-huh.

He scowled at Miller. He guessed it wasn't his fault... but still. He worked for Them.

Jeffrey crossed his arms and said nothing.

Miller leaned forward. “You know, I'm not half-bad. If you don't cooperate for me, they have other ways of persuading you.” His eyes met Jeffrey's with a silent plea.

Jeffrey ignored the hidden message and shrugged. They'd killed his Mom. What more could they do? Shit didn't get worse than that. Killing Dave had been a favor. Jeffrey swallowed back the lump when he thought about the zombie they'd torched. He hadn't liked that.

At all.

He'd never endanger anyone else by caring about them. Like his Mom.

Stu Miller sighed. “Is that your final answer?”

What the hell was this? Jeffrey thought... GD Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Retard.

Miller walked to the metal door, a peep hole the size of his fist, distorted by its convex shape, magnified the guard's face from the other side like he was peering in at Jeffrey from a fishbowl.

Stu depressed the buzzer that stood by the door and two of the government dudes walked in.

It was the dead animals that came with them that got Jeffrey's full attention.

What the fuck was this? He thought, his power over the dead pinging to life, linking seamlessly with the dogs. The pair were monsters, large square heads with a tan stripe down their identical noses-- their bodies, black.

Jeffrey didn't hesitate, he wasn't used to thinking crap through. He'd lived a reactionary existence of cause and effect, survival predicating swift pragmatic choice.

Like now.

He shoved his will into the dog closest to the government guy. It turned swiftly, never hesitating and chomped onto his wrist, worrying at it like a pork roast on a table.

Jeffrey leapt to his feet, surging through the door, the government dude shrieking as blood poured over the dark heads Jeffrey had just been admiring.

Kill, Jeffrey thought, without an ounce of mercy. Whatever seed of that he'd had in his old life had been stripped when they'd murdered his mom.

They'd stolen his humanity, leaving him with a shattered shell of moral precepts.

The other guy ignored Jeffrey's undead dog who'd latched onto his dickhead pal and put his steely grip on Jeffrey.

Zero brains.

Hell, the dude was strong! Felt like a vise clamp. Jeffrey tried to jerk his arm out of the guy's hand and couldn't.

Jeffrey felt his mind command the dog before the thought was fully formed and it went right for the guy's gonads.

That worked awesome.

He forgot all about Jeffrey, the zombie Rottweiler riding the loser to the ground.

Testie triumph.

Jeffrey stepped over the howling pair as five more guys in black suits raced around the corner of the testing and training facility.

Jeffrey's home.

One had a flame thrower.

No! Jeffrey shouted and the dogs raised their dead gazes to him, his emotional signature of extreme fear stopping their feasting.

Blood dripped from their muzzles, gonad-destroyer licked his chops and Jeffrey shuddered, the guy moaning and writhing around like a snake on the floor.

The lead government dude let loose on the flames and torched the dogs where they stood. The dogs howled as the heat and flame flowed over their black fur, singeing and engulfing their bodies in a wave of heat.

Hot tears rolled down Jeffrey's face as he watched the zombie guard dogs destroyed. While two of the suits each held one of his arms pinned against their bodies.

Jeffrey's hate grew larger, blackness blooming where only a seed had germinated before.

A tall skinny dude walked down the hall with purpose, a cigarette dangling from lips that held a bluish tinge. “Hold him,” he said casually.

Jeffrey Parker knew who he was.

His hate became like a universe. It orbited Jeffrey and his head felt light, weightless.

The Smoking Man said, “This is a little taste of what you can expect, Parker.” He gave a casual glance at the smoldering dogs that lay oozing on the hall floor, the medicinal white now covered in smoking gore that colored the surrounding surfaces like bloodied soot.

He leaned into Jeffrey, their faces almost touching, the smoke from his cigarette the only barrier. “Every time you do not cooperate, we're going to let all the road kill that is piling up here like an undead menagerie feel the whip.”

Jeffrey's mouth fell open.

Road kill?

The Smoking Man straightened, his hands going to his bony hips like protruding handles.

He was a walking skeleton.

“That's right,” he flicked his ash and it fluttered down like gray rain on the corpses of the dogs.

Jeffrey swiped at his eyes angrily.

“I know this is your soft spot.” He smiled at Jeffrey and he saw it for what it was. Plenty of Mom's Guys had smiled at Jeffrey that way. Like they had a dirty joke and he was the butt of it.

Emotion surged and Jeffrey was helpless to stop it as every insect that had died within a mile of the facility poured into the hall, sweeping under the doors like black fog, heading straight for the government jerkoffs.

“Fuck,” Smoking Man muttered and hit Jeffrey in the back of the head, right where it'd steal consciousness if executed perfectly.

It was obvious he'd had practice as Jeffrey crumpled into a boneless bundle next to the zombie dogs he'd called without knowing.

The cloud of bugs responding to his emotional turmoil like an automatic turnstile churned to an abrupt halt when Jeffrey's eyes closed. The bugs scattered like a changing current and swarmed back the way they'd come.

The hall turned black, the ceiling lights that were held in grid like cages softened to a pinpoint of yellow buzzing light and Jeffrey lost the battle of wakefulness, slipping into the oblivion of the abused.

“Why'd ya do that?” McKenzie asked Smoker. Even Smoker's own men thought of him that way. For he was the ghost of this little operation. He was the cleaner. He cleaned up messes no one else would touch.

They didn't even know his name.

Fine by McKenzie, Smoker gave him the fuckin' creeps. A hard thing to get in this job.

Smoker looked down at the lanky teenager on the floor, pale from the fun of the latest revelation. He'd come around, both physically and metaphorically.

Jeffrey Parker would comply, or suffer more of the same.

They'd done a little poking around and finally determined that the one area that was a painful oozing wound was the killing of the dead that were already dead.

No morbidity paradox there.

Not any dead, but Jeffrey Parker's dead. And because of his youth, his absolute lack of skill and abundance of power, he was raising every dead thing within five miles of their covert training facility.

He smiled. That just worked out Jim dandy, Smoker thought, taking a long, lung-filled drag from the stub of his cig.

He looked at his underling. “Had to be done. This kid has to know who's boss. We can't have him doing whatever he wishes.” Smoker tapped his temple, an inch of ash dropping as he did. “He'll be of no use to us, running amok... raising whatever he likes.” He looked down at Parker's still form, the reek of the dead dogs permeating even his dead olfactory senses, mostly ruined by his nasty habit.

He lit a new cig with the red hot ember of the old, dragging in soft bursts, causing the flame to ignite instantly.

Smoker blew the smoke into McKenzie's face and he swung a palm in front of his nose to banish it.

Smoker smiled.

“He's just a kid, did you have to bash him?” McKenzie persisted.

Smoker looked at McKenzie. “Ask Walter and Lents.”

McKenzie looked down at guys he'd partnered with, done surveillance with. Other shit. Cleaning up garbage for the good old U.S. of A. Of course, if the American people really knew what the price of their freedom, or imprisonment was, it would be a different nation. Walters was holding his crotch, sweat running down ashen skin with rapid breathing edging toward shock. Lents' hand dangled from his arm, hanging at an awkward angle.

“They need medical attention, right?” Smoker asked rhetorically.

McKenzie reluctantly agreed. He hated this asshole. He bossed them around, he stank... he was merciless, even for their job.

They were assassins, couldn't sugar-coat a turd.

But Smoker was the Cleaner. He cleaned shit up. He had an absolute nose for averting trouble. He'd been uncanny on operations that necessitated any degree of intuition. McKenzie shuddered to think of what he would have become if Smoker could have received the Cocktail. Thank Christ he was out of puberty. Thinking of this guy with a paranormal ability? Hell, he was creepy enough naturally.

All this passed through McKenzie's mind in seconds. He responded to Smoker in as level a response as he could, “Yeah... I'll- I'll phone it in.”

“Nah, you get cleaning up this mess and I'll pulse it.”

McKenzie whipped his head in Smoker's direction and Smoker held up the new Pulse Device.

“Shit! How'd you rate?” McKenzie said in the middle of a white hall with two torched zombie dogs and an unconscious teenager.

“How do you think?”

Right, McKenzie thought, he did what he was told.

Whatever it was, Smoker got it done.

Of course he'd be the first to get a device.

McKenzie had to know. “Do you like it?”

“Oh yes. It makes communication perfect. No matter what the interference.”

Don't ask, he told himself.

He did anyway. “What interference?”

Smoker smiled.

“Blood, or... other circumstance that would get in the way of conveying information.”

“Oh,” McKenzie said, wishing he hadn't asked.

Smoker turned on his heel, walking away. As he moved down the hall he spoke without turning, his hand raised in the air, “Clean this up. Get the C-M back to his room.”

McKenzie looked at the two on the floor, blood everywhere, the dogs stinking up the hallway enough to make him gag while the AFTD slept on the floor and he sighed.

Sometimes his job was beyond fucked up.

They began cleaning.

It took five hours. The stains were all gone, you'd never know it had happened. Only the smell lingered in the hall.

Eau de cooked corpses.

Jeffrey Parker woke up with a head that felt like a truck had rolled over. He couldn't be cleaned. His psyche had a stain that never left, spreading like an insidious disease of hate and distrust. For the ones that took him, for what he couldn't help.

Parker would find a way to take it down.

All of it.

Jeffrey Parker made a pact with himself that day. It would take patience and perseverance.

And the dead, of course.

He began to cooperate with his schooling, his natural intelligence outpacing some of the tutors; eventually forcing his ward's hand in the hiring of college-level professors.

Jeffrey Parker became fluent in five languages with a special aptitude in math and science. But it was his specialized talents that lent him the ability, when the time came, to assist another AFTD in a future he was yet unaware of.

It proved integral to his life plan.

He didn't know it then, but Kyle Hart's unborn child would be the catalyst to what he'd envisioned from that moment.

Some things were meant to be.

Caleb Sebastian Hart was no accident. No fluke of Biology or genetics. It was not at the point of Jeffrey that death began, but Caleb.

He was the death inception.

A boy not yet born, but of such critical importance that he would change history.

Jeffrey worked toward his goal.

Without fail, without wavering.

*

2015

Kyle cupped his large hands around Ali's shoulders, his warm brown eyes searching her stormy blue gaze. “You worry too much, Ali, he'll be perfectly fine.”

Ali's eyes filled with tears, she had never warmed up to the prime booster for the Cocktail. She hated the idea of medications, things that altered one's natural defense system. The breach of all the natural defenses of the body, the Cocktail entering into the last defense of the body, undiluted? Her five-year old boy being little more than a guinea pig? She shook her head at Kyle.

“Think rationally, Ali.” His eyes searched hers. “Would I let anything happen to our son? The only child we've chosen to bring into this world.”

Alicia thought about it. No, certainly not. But she was a mother and there was just something that was... instinctive about it. Being a mom was more than statistics, it was a special intuition that they all had.

And hers was ringing alarm bells so loudly her teeth thrummed with it. She knew it wasn't steeped in logic. Ali had read the release pulse on the whole deal. It all seemed reasonable.

“You know, Pop doesn't like it either,” Ali stated as a last resort.

Kyle sighed. He loved Ali's dad but... Mac was a black and white thinker.

Very.

Anything that was modern, or heaven forbid, government-initiated or driven, it made his hackles rise.

He regarded it all with express suspicion.

Of course, Mac had been a special ops military man. Maybe there was a grain of truth in there somewhere.

Perhaps Mac knew more than they realized.

“Honey, listen.” Kyle stared into her softening eyes and knew he'd won the battle but maybe not the war. “Your dad is slightly paranoid. You know this. Especially about government programs.”

“What's this about my paranoia, Kyle?” Mac asked, breezing into the living room.

“Hi, Peanut,” Mac said, nodding at his daughter, taking instant note of her concerned expression.

“Hi, Pop.”

Kyle saw the question on Mac's face and headed it off at the pass. “I was just reassuring Ali that the Cocktail will not be a problem, Mac.”

Mac narrowed his eyes at his naïve son-in-law, whom he loved but thought was a tad too trusting. He thought society was altruistic. Mac knew they'd kill their own grandmothers for the right price.

Mac shoved a dry cig in his mouth. He'd light up the second he walked outside. He opened the corner of his mouth to reply when Caleb came rushing in with his hands cupped around something.

“Whatcha got there, sport?” Mac asked.

Caleb gave Gramps wide eyes. He was a Big Man and always had a Cancer Stick in his mouth.

But he was neat and showed Caleb cool stuff. That's what Gramps called it: Cool Stuff. Learning Stuff.

“I have a bug, Gramps!”

“Ooh, ick,” Ali said with an indulgent smile but looked vaguely ill.

“Oh yeah? What kind do ya got there?”

Caleb opened his hand and a small salamander lay there gasping in his palm.

“Oh no, pal, that won't do. Let's get him out where he can breathe a mite better.”

“Pop...” Ali began, “you just want to go outside to smoke.”

Mac looked at his Environmentally Responsible daughter and shook his head. How'd she ever turned out so uptight was one of the mysteries of his life. Of course, payback was always swimmingly fun as Caleb was turning out to be a bundle of chaos. Discharging his brand of wildness throughout her neat and orderly existence.

“Yup,” Mac replied and winked.

Ali sighed. “Okay, not too long today, Pop. Caleb needs a nap.”

Caleb heard the N word and stomped. “I'm no baby! I will not SLEEP!” his shouted promise echoed in the house even after he ran out the door.

Mac turned his face away so Ali wouldn't see the smirk that was hiding there.

He was full of piss and vinegar that boy. It occurred to Mac that they might have had their hands full with more children.

Maybe just with the one, Mac thought with a grunt.

“Caleb!” Ali began and Mac turned. “Let him be, Peanut. Nap-smap! He's too old for that now.”

“But I think he needs the rest with the prime booster later today.”

“Nah,” Mac dismissed with a hand, edging closer to the door. “I think we'll just push through that whole thing Pumpkin, then take him out for ice cream after.”

“Dad!” Ali wailed.

“Gotta go, Peanut!”

Mac escaped like a coward, leaving Kyle with Ali. He could figure her out. After all, Mac would rather face five of the enemy than the wrath of his daughter's words.

God love her, but she talked too damn much.

Caleb was stuffed in the front seat of Gramp's stock, bright orange 1970 Bronco. The white top gleamed in the sun that slanted off it in the glare of early autumn. Mac slowed his stride to light his smoke and blew out a relaxing puff into the crisp air that was almost fall.

Nope, he wasn't keen on this damn Molotov Cocktail they were giving all the kiddies. But if Kyle said it was okay, then it was. His son-in-law was naïve, not stupid. In Mac's experience that could sometimes mean the same thing. But in Kyle's case it didn't.

Caleb raised a chubby hand and waved, the salamander floating belly up in the cement bird bath-dead.

Caleb had done what he was told, but not soon enough. The thing was floating around in his daughter's inner sanctuary, her prized atrium had a dead lizard bobbing around.

Marvelous.

He slipped into the driver's side, carefully putting out his cig in the old ashtray.

“Gramps!” Caleb said, swinging his legs back and forth.

“Yes, partner?”

“The salamander didn't swim when I put him in the pool in mommy's garden.”

Mac gave solemn eyes to Caleb. “He needed the water to live, Caleb.”

Caleb nodded, just as solemn. “He's dead now,” Caleb said with finality.

“Uh-huh, that he is.”

Caleb stared at his Gramps. He was Very Old but Mommy said he was also Very Brave.

“Are you ascared of dead stuff, Gramps?” Caleb asked, his eyes wide.

Mac watched his small legs pump back and forth on the seat then finally answered truthfully. Because it was easy, and it was Caleb.

The young were guileless.

“Nope.”

Caleb met Gramp's eyes. “Me neither.”

“Yeah?” Gramps said with a chuckle. Kids were a kick in the pants.

“Nope,” Caleb said, copying his Gramps exactly, “the dead are okay.”

Gramps eyes narrowed. “You don't say?”

“Uh-huh,” Caleb said.

His legs swung and Gramps said, “Buckle-up, pal.”

“K.”

Mac watched as he fiddled with the seat belt and gave his head a pat. “That's a good boy that you're not scared of death.”

“I know. All things die, right?”

“Yup.”

“I'll die someday,” Caleb said as a statement not a question.

Mac paused. “Yes, all things die, Caleb.”

Caleb sighed. “Yeah, I wish we could fix it.”

“What son?” Mac asked, his eyes on the road.

“Death,” his five-year old grandson said.

Gramps gave him an uneasy glance.

What a strange thing to say, he thought.

Mac would often think of that years later.

It hadn't been so strange after all.

CHAPTER 6

1929

Clyde was so in tune with Maggie that he swore he could hear her screaming through the fog of his consciousness.

He swung his head from side to side, clearing it as he slumped over the stool, the hard seat biting into his backside, his throbbing fists dangling between his knees.

Blood and sweat mingled to drip in a small river from his left eyebrow. It'd need stitches later.

He was taking the beating of his life. His jaw felt unhinged and one eye was swollen shut. Dempsey had gone where no other opponent had gone before. He'd gotten more licks on Clyde than all his other fights combined.

Dempsey's strikes were like blurred lightning.

Somebody shoved water at Clyde. He took a swig, swishing it around in his craw, spitting it out in the dented tin bucket that was swung below his mouth, the cut on his lip stinging as he spit the mucous-filled blood.

If he'd not been a farmer, accustomed to the grueling endurance of plowing and other tedious, plodding and inexhaustible tasks he would never have lasted this many rounds.

It was small satisfaction that Dempsey had marks littered everywhere there was flesh exposed.

Put there by Clyde's fists.

The bell rung and Clyde bounced to his feet, Dempsey's dark eyes fell on him with the glittering intensity of desperation.

Clyde felt a small shiver, goose walking over his grave, he thought errantly.

They met in the middle and knocked gloves.

The ring leader moved away and they fought.

Clyde heard everything, but most of all he heard Maggie.

He fought harder, like a bull with its horns caught.

*

Stay down, stay down, Clyde intoned, hopping from one nimble foot to the other. His exhaustion a dragging nightmare of fatigue.

The money had almost not been worth the fight. Going all four rounds with this man had wreaked havoc on Clyde's body.

Lasting only minutes, it felt like he'd lived another lifetime in the ring.

But Clyde had persevered, his constitution having won out in the end.

Simply put, he'd outlasted Dempsey. Clyde was not the better fighter, he was the better laster.

He knew it, self-delusion had never come naturally.

The ring leader counted down. “One! Two! Three!” Then he swished plank-flat arms across each other in the age old, you're out, raising Clyde's arm as victor.

That's when Clyde felt it, a precognitive flash like a silvered coin flipped midair.

If he hadn't ducked he would have been dead.

As it happened, his death was coming but not by Dempsey's hand.

It was a glancing blow, delivered like a coward from behind. After the bell.

Delivered with precision.

Clyde tried to lean in avoidance but most of the punch landed where it had been intended.

For the first time in his life, Clyde was knocked out.

He came awake in a hospital, richer, but with swelling on the brain and orders to rest.

The doctors said it was a miracle he didn't have a broken jaw.

At least he'd had that.

When Clyde opened his eyes and saw his Maggie-girl gazing down at him, her hand covering her stomach protectively, he thought he had more than that.

Much more.

*

2015

Ali kissed the top of Caleb's head and he pushed her hand away from brushing the hair back off his forehead.

“I'm okay, Mommy!” he huffed for the third time. “It don't hurt!”

He glared at her in the cutest way as Ali answered, “It doesn't hurt?”

“Uh-huh,” Caleb answered. He was a Big Boy. They could stick him with needles all day long and it wasn't gonna matter. It didn't even hurt that much. It felt like that one time when Mommy had him cut the dead flowers off the stems of her plants and that bee bit him.

It hadn't hurt either.

“Well, I'm glad,” she ruffled his hair and Caleb sighed. Mommies always had to Show Affection. Caleb's mind wandered to the view through the window. He was gonna play with the Js today. Mommy called it a playdate.

The doorbell rang and his two bestest friends ran in.

Caleb didn't like John's mom very much. She had a pointy nose and a scrunched up face like a prune.

She looked like a witch. Caleb knew he wasn't supposed to laugh at the way Adults looked but his mouth did a funny thing when he tried not to laugh.

Somehow, it always made it worse.

John's mom narrowed her eyes at Caleb and he began to giggle.

Mommy gave him The Look. It meant that he needed to Calm Down. Which made it harder to stop laughing.

“Humph!” John's mom grunted over the top of his giggling. “He's a precocious boy, Alicia. You need to take him in hand, like my John here.”

John gave Caleb a face that told him John didn't like being taken in hand.

“In my day, when a child laughed at an adult like that, they were given the rod.”

“Doesn't that sound like a CPS call waiting to happen,” Jonesy's Mom, Miss Helen, said in a voice that sounded bored. Caleb quieted up in a hurry.

Miss Helen was funny. She didn't talk like other adults.

“And you're the pillar of knowledge on the subject of child rearing, Helen?”

We all looked at Jonesy. He was diggin' for gold in his nose.

That's what Gramps called it.

“Nasty!” Helen said as Mommy handed a tissue to Jonesy, who held his prize like an obscene flag from the tip of his finger.

Joan recoiled in horror from the sight of Jonesy with a big booger on the tip of his finger and a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Caleb knew that if he'd been pickin' his nose Mommy would have ended the playdate.

Not so with Helen. “Don't be picking your schnoz now!” Helen said with a smile. “Go wash those skanky hands in the washroom, Jonesy.”

Helen turned back to Joan. “What did you say about columns?”

“Pillars,” Joan repeated quietly, having lost the scope of the conversation before the Digit Diving.

Helen waved her hand around. “Oh well, we're all just winging it! It's not like we have the parenting manual.” She shrugged and Caleb watched Mommy get the Funny Mouth too.

Joan sniffed and glanced at her watch. “I will return in three hours.” Her eyes flicked to Ali's. “Do you plan on a snack or lunch while John is here?”

“Yes, I thought they could have cookies and milk later.”

Joan sniffed again. “Very well, thank you for your hospitality.”

She pushed John forward and he came a few timid steps toward their group.

Caleb slung an arm around John, who was really skinny. He needed the most of Mommy's cookies. Caleb told him that.

John nodded, turning toward the door where his mommy had just departed. “Yes, thank you. I'd like to have a lot of Mrs. Hart's cookies.”

“Ali, John,” Mommy corrected John. Caleb didn't know why he had to use Mommy's second name all the time. He looked at the door that John's mom had just passed through. He had a feelin' it had something to do with her.

Caleb narrowed his eyes after her departing back.

Jonesy exited the bathroom and Helen grabbed his arm. “Let me smell your hands.” Jonesy stiffened as Helen ran a nose over the tops of his hands. “You get your rear back in there!” She said loudly, smacking his butt. “Don't be running water over the tops! Use soap.” She waggled her head at Ali and Mommy burst out laughing.

“Boys!” Helen said and Ali nodded in agreement.

“My mommy would have been really mad about the nose picking,” John said with utter conviction.

Helen nodded her head. “Uh-huh, that's why you have to do it in secret.”

John looked at Jonesy's mom solemnly, finally nodding his head. “Yes, m'am.”

Ali and Helen burst out laughing. “Where's the coffee, Ali? I could use a cup,” her eyes flew to Ali's, mirth held in check by a thread, “or ten... after that fiasco.”

“He's consistent, Helen.”

Jonesy walked out of the bathroom as his Mommy looked at him with affection.

“Yes, that he is.”

*

2025

Parker felt the focus of his power come online and directed it at the feet of the corpse with a precision that flowed from the tip of its tagged toe to the hair on its head. Jeffrey knew the drill, it was easy. Raising a corpse like this was as automatic as breathing.

One as newly dead as this... was nothing.

The corpse rose as if pulled by invisible strings, the morgue sheet falling away in a silken rustle.

“He looks dead, Parker,” McKenzie said, his skin littered with goosebumps. He swore he'd stop doing this damn zombie detail with Parker, but he'd been with him for over a decade now. Hard to give it up. But a zombie raising was always the same.

Creepy.

“Maître,” the prime minister of France whispered, a flap of gray skin hanging down over one eye.

McKenzie backed up, a small teardrop-shaped flame dancing at the tip of his pulse-thrower, the artificial air being pumped through the morgue's central heating system causing it to waver.

Roiling chicken flesh built higher on McKenzie's skin and he held his feet in their locked position with difficulty.

His colleagues weren't so stoic. They were as far back as they could be without leaving the room. They'd seen what Parker could do and it was always big-time Creeps.

Every. Time.

“What's it sayin'?”

Jeffrey turned to McKenzie, one of the many Jeffrey would use when the time came, a destroyer of his life- and answered, “Master.”

Jeffrey pumped more life into the zombie and watched as if an oil painting had come painstakingly to life before them. Jeffrey stared as his power infused cheeks gone the sallow with death and they began to fill in with the rich color of life, an approximation so real no one would have known he was the walking dead.

“Not too much,” Smoker said. “Don't make him look too good, Parker. Rumor had it he was a smoker, and liked his cognac.” He chuckled.

Parker's emotional reaction tipped over into the zombie and it slid its gaze to Smoker.

Its eyes filled with contemplation, knowledge and lastly- intelligence.

Smoker stayed where he was but Jeffrey smiled. The zombie knew Smoker now, knew him as intimately as Jeffrey did.

“Put a leash on your zombie, Parker, or I'll have McKenzie clean things up.”

“No, you won't,” Jeffrey said in a voice honed by hard experience. “You need this, Chimney.”

Smoker clenched his fists. He'd begun liking whenever he could beat the snot out of this zombie puppeteer. Of course, now Parker was hands off. That one had come from the top. Parker was a stubborn cuss. Slow learner. He needed to learn some respect.

Smoker had been hell-bent on giving him advanced lessons until he got the word.

Smoker thought about the next assignment with the new AFTD and smiled. Parker would be in charge of that new brat.

It was perfect. A smile grew on Smoker's face, revealing teeth like stained Chiclets in a mouth that rivaled Parker's zombies.

Jeffrey didn't like the satisfied smirk on Chimney's face. He lit up another cigarette with the last and it struck Parker for perhaps the millionth time how appropriate the nickname Chimney was.

As an added bonus, the abbreviated name rustled his Jimmies.

Parker grinned at the thought and the French Prime Minister grinned back, his mouth a sea of rot.

Hmmm... that wouldn't do. Jeffrey dampened the beautiful glow he'd given his zombie and deflected some of it to the mouth.

The mouths always gave him trouble.

When he was ready the naked zombie stood next to him, his slight paunch a small bowling ball above his limp genitalia.

The suits moved out of the way like a sea parting before a mighty ship. McKenzie gulped. He hated Parker's creepers, loathed them. He wiped the beaded sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing like a nut about to get cracked.

“What would you have of me?” the Minister asked.

“We need you to sign the papers assigning a successor to replace you,” Jeffrey replied in perfect French.

Chimney leaned forward, the smoke wafting and curling around Parker and his zombie.

The Minister hissed, snapping his newly formed teeth next to Smoker's ear with an ominous click.

The dead Minister hadn't missed, but been held back from a rightful chewing by Parker.

“Don't get cute, Parker,” Smoker said through the wall of smoke. Jeffrey shrugged.

They left and as they did a man joined them in the hall, carrying France's dead leader's clothes over his arm.

Walking to the balcony that overlooked the masses of people who waited to hear Parker's zombie proclaim his successor, they dressed him robotically.

Parker would never know what made him look up suddenly, just as they were on the verge of Frenchie executing the manipulation of the decade.

When he did he saw a form hover near the ceiling, a hazy image as if cast by an old-fashioned movie projector.

McKenzie needed no urging, his gun automatically going to the image above their heads, his nerves frayed by the zombie detail: he pointed his silencer at the ceiling, emptying the entire catalog through the apparition.

But it wasn't a ghost.

It had been a teenage girl, her form shattering like soft mist when the bullets burst through.

Parker didn't know who she was or why those bullets passed harmlessly through her. Hell, were even now embedded in the antique plaster that adorned the ceiling.

He looked at Chimney, the zombie standing perfectly still, waiting for Jeffrey's next command, absolutely oblivious to what had just happened.

If it didn't involve the necromancer, it was of no consequence.

“What the blue hell was that?” McKenzie asked in a voice that was squeezed with contained terror. “Ghost?”

Parker smiled, McKenzie was such a mundane. Jeffrey would have felt a ghost a mile away, so to speak.

“Astral-Projectionist,” Smoker answered calmly.

“Does this change our plans here today?” McKenzie asked as the other men gave uneasy glances at every corner of the room, six pairs of eyes now looking above them.

No one ever looks up.

Smoker cocked an eyebrow. “Our plans? No. Her plans... absolutely.” Then he made a circling motion in the air like, get a move on. “Parker tell him this.” He thrust papers into Jeffrey's hands and Parker told his zombie what to say.

“Yes,” it said, drawing out the syllable with a hiss and Jeffrey released his hold on the zombie. Its fluidity as it strode outside onto the balcony not compromised in the slightest when the Minister raised his hand in a natural salute to the French people who had gathered to hear his succession speech.

As Parker listened to the monotone speech of his zombie he got itchy. Finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, he asked, “Who's the girl?”

Chimney shrugged. “Don't know. Doesn't matter. We have five-point APs. They'll read her sig, nail her region. She'll get cleaned.” Smoke drifted out of the slit of his mouth. They stared at each other and Jeffrey forced a casual look of indifference on his face.

But inside, where no one knew him, a tiny grain of concern began for the girl.

Jeffrey couldn't help but notice she was around the same age he'd been when he was torn from his old life.

Now, because of a fluke of circumstance, she may never live hers.

*

The French leader was “assassinated” later that day by mysterious circumstances.

Dead again.

After conveniently having laid the groundwork for the leader that the United States wanted as lackey.

Their sock puppet was in place, the first of many more to come. With a Cadaver-Manipulator, many things were possible.

The potential was limitless.

Jeffrey didn't think they really knew how much.

Someday they would.

CHAPTER 7

Parker had been made aware of his next assignment. There was a new five-point AFTD.

The scientist's kid. Caleb Hart.

He watched him now without Caleb knowing. The father had given him a concealing concoction to dampen his ability. But his superiors had their sources. They knew exactly what the Hart family had cooked up to camouflage the boy's skills.

They had the standard issue pulse gadgetry in place but mainly, it was the Precog. She had seen what he was. She may be psychotic (and she really was) but she was always on target.

Dead on.

Jeffrey smiled at his internal pun.

He could feel the kid's power from here and it was surreal. It matched his seamlessly. Parker turned that over in his sharp mind. Was it because he was a five-point? Or, was there something he was missing? He felt an epiphany of understanding just out of reach.

But it was shattered, of course.

“Looks like the father,” Chimney commented. Parker grunted a response, he was feeling magnanimous.

“Likes that girl there,” Smoker said, indicating a petite girl that fluttered around Caleb like a pink butterfly. “But how much does he like her?” Smoker asked rhetorically.

“Why?” Parker asked anyway through his teeth, his pleasant feelings for the day moving away to be carried off by an unseen wind.

Chimney shrugged, his cigarette hardly moving. “Handy, is all. If he cared about her... we could use that.”

Yes, Jeffrey thought, he knew how that worked.

Instead he asked, “When?”

“Soon. Our intel says they're planning some kind of,” he waved his smoking hand around, lazy spirals of noxious menthol seeped under Jeffrey's nose.

He'd love it when this guy was dead.

Really dead.

“... soiree at the old cemetery.”

“Clemens?” Jeffrey asked, curious despite his irritation.

“Don't know,” he brought his pulse up and tapped it with his thumb, “got the GPS coordinates in here, name doesn't matter.”

“I know where it is,” Jeffrey said in a low voice.

“You do, do you?” Smoker said like a trap.

“Of course,” Jeffrey looked into his flat eyes, jaundiced because of his habit and tapped his temple. “The GPS is here, Chimney.”

Smoker frowned at the nickname, their stalemate relationship contrary to them both, but as necessary as breathing.

“You know where all the cemeteries in Kent are?” Smoker scoffed, taking a long drag.

“Not Kent.”

Smoker's look was comical, explain.

“The state,” Parker answered and couldn't keep the condescension out of his voice.

“So what? How important is that?” Smoker shrugged.

Jeffrey smiled at him. “You think that's nothing. Chew on this,” Parker said, getting right up close to Smoker, “that almost fifteen year old will know where the dead are too,” he said in a fierce whisper and could feel the others approaching.

“So? Who gives a rat's ass?” Chimney asked dismissively. It wasn't as if you couldn't just kill everything that moved as a solution. That was always his solution.

“You will, because that kid's going to know where all the dead are.”

“Where? Which dead?” McKenzie asked, hearing the latest bit of their conversation.

“All,” Jeffrey answered.

“The world?” McKenzie asked, his gaze seeking and finding a kid that looked like every other fifteen year-old.

“Bullshit, Parker,” Smoker said with flat indifference.

“Mark my words. That kid will be the messiah to the dead. And there are much more of them than the living. Think about it, dipshit.”

Parker stalked off, brushing past the Cloak.

Darrell the Cloak had sweat running down his face as Smoker came by in a shroud of nicotine perfume. “Don't let that go until we're all out of their line of sight.”

The Cloak nodded, his limbs shaking. It was always beyond his skill level to cloak this many. He looked around him, barely breathing, as the last of the mundane assassins passed out of the building, Parker at the lead, the only paranormal.

He made sure he cloaked Parker the longest.

He was the scariest of them all. Darrell didn't want to get killed.

Then be raised by Jeffrey Parker as one of his undead slaves.

Who would?

The field of invisible energy shivered under the fist of his internal command, a bone-crusher headache starting up from overusing the muscle to cloak six agents. It was always harder to cloak paranormals, Darrell didn't know why. He was glad Parker was the only one.

Eff it... he let the shielding cloak fall away with a great sigh. A wave of intense relief came over Darrell when he no longer clutched onto what felt like a sheet of heavy glass his sweaty grip could no longer hold, threatening to shatter over his head at the wrong moment.

Not that there was a right one.

He walked off, leaving Kent Middle School behind.

Jade LeClerc felt a ripple like a hiccup in the air, and suddenly there were emotional signatures that bleeped into existence that hadn't been there a moment before. She trailed off with what she'd been discussing with Sophie, looking around frantically, seeing nothing.

What had that been?

Because she felt it; six new people. People with intense emotions. One had seemed vaguely familiar in a way she couldn't put her finger on.

Weird. It felt like being covered with slime.

She forgot all about it when Caleb came back from his locker with his pulse-reader.

Gawd, he was so hot. She moistened her lips and purposely made an expression of casualness come over her face. What if he didn't like her? Jade was suddenly nervous, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Like when he found out about her dad. When he realized that she wasn't really very good. Her self-doubts rolled around underneath her skin like a miserable itch that could never be scratched.

Then he smiled at her, a piece of rich brown hair falling over eyes just slightly darker and she suddenly knew it'd be okay.

Caleb Hart inspired confidence.

God knew, she could use some of that.

****

1929

Clyde shifted, wincing at the pulling it caused on his abused knuckles. Didn't matter that he'd worn gloves. In the end, the softened skin had sloughed off like melting wax off a candle. They'd wrapped his hands at the hospital but it'd be a week before they were perfect. He gritted his teeth through it, shifting smoothly into third gear, the crank churning loudly.

They were approaching the last wooden bridge in the state, it crossed the great Puyallup River. At one time there had been towering Douglas Fir trees that hugged the swirling depths when his father was a boy. But the stewards of that long ago forest fell to progress.

To farms like the one he cultivated.

It was sad in a way, Clyde thought.

Clyde welcomed it when Maggie broke his contemplative silence. “Remember what the doctor said about exertion, Clyde,” her voice filled with solemn worry with a dash of reprimand.

She knew him too well.

“Yes, Dear Heart,” Clyde said, digging his fingers slightly into her stocking-encased thigh, her small gasp was a musical delight to his ears. When he turned to look upon her, high color bloomed delicately on her cheekbones, her eyes sparkled with knowledge borne from experience.

Their shared chemistry swirled between them like a drug they'd just discovered.

One they could use together.

His only warning was the widening of her eyes. He'd only taken his eyes off the road for a second.

“Clyde!” Maggie screamed, “look ahead!”

He did, slamming his stiff wheel to the left as he tore the car's shifter into neutral, killing the engine.

They stared for a handful of heartbeats at what was before them.

Clyde swung out of the body of the cab, using the door as a handle. His eyes sought Maggie's. “I have to, Maggie.”

A million thoughts went through his head: the money from the fight in the baggage compartment of the car, his intended strapped safely inside said vehicle, their babe tucked inside the sanctuary of her womb.

His eyes slid to the sight in front of him.

Clyde turned away from Maggie with an effort that was physically painful.

The smoldering bus sat, balanced as if on a teeter-totter, the nose hanging over the guardrails.

Children's hands lay flat against glass that wouldn't open.

Clyde didn't know it then, but that safety feature would not come into play until he lived again.

For now, their noses pressed against glass that held them prisoner in a bus that was ready to plunge into the icy river below.

Clyde ran, rolling up his sleeves as he did. The light headache was the only warning that anyone would have been a better candidate to rescue a busload of children than he.

Anyone that hadn't just lived through a fight with Jack Dempsey.

And won.

The bus teetered forward and with a screeching of metal against wood it fell into the murk of a river Clyde had fished in when he was a boy. The gentle branches of that time caressing the water alongside his pole while offering shade to his catch.

Clyde dove in after the screaming children, the water slapping his body with freezing pain when he speared the surface.

He could hear his Maggie screaming in the background as he used his momentum to propel his body into the depths after the retreating bus.

Her voice faded as the water pressed over the top of him like a watery coffin.

*

Maggie gripped the rail, the one that wasn't broken and watched her brave Clyde slip into the water like the perfect athlete he was. She couldn't watch him risk himself.

She did anyway.

The keys to the Buick were clutched in her hand.

There!

He popped out of the water, strong strokes bringing two children by the scruff of their necks. He laid them on shore and swept back under.

Clyde dipped down four more times.

Maggie counted the wet heads.

Eight.

She watched Clyde's chest heave with absolute exhaustion, hypothermia taking hold, his lips blue, skin taking on an ashen edge. He put his face to the sun as he swept forward again and his eyes caught hers as he plunged back in, his arm arcing once as it knifed the surface to slide into the depths again.

A horrible premonition swept over Maggie and she shuddered as hot sunlight beat down on her, the chill of the feeling sinking into her bones.

“No!” she shouted as warning to Clyde.

His eyes flashed at hers and were gone.

Maggie waited for Clyde to return to the surface.

She watched as the seconds became minutes, as the water quieted where he had been, the bus-gone.

Maggie screamed as men from an ambulance raced down the wood planks of the bridge.

“Save him!” she screamed at no one and everyone.

Maggie couldn't swim. But even if she could have, Clyde's look had been clear.

Do not endanger yourself.

Or their unborn child.

Clyde looked up from the bottom of the river, the sun a great ball of pale iridescence as shadows formed on the water's surface and came for him. Floating limbs of snakelike black latched onto his arms as he felt who he was... who he had been:

Leave.

Clyde felt heat and rhythmic pressure on his chest.

He felt regret like a lead weight which pressed down on his chest.

Then there was nothing.

And everything.

His last conscious thought as a human was how much he wished to be with Maggie. He would have done anything to remain.

But now another place beckoned. It appealed to Clyde but for reasons he could not have fathomed.

He hung there in the balance of the world he had lived in and the one which stood as invitation, finally slipping over.

*

2025

The chopper swept down over Clemens Cemetery, the teens discovering all the wonders of an illicit graveyard and truly haunted house below.

Curious bastards, Jeffrey thought, not unkindly. Had he been allowed a normal childhood, he might have been the exploring type.

As it was, he had been in the tender care of a government spook shop who had no name. His parents had been people like Chimney and McKenzie. Their discipline running abnormal lines:

Sit, stay, roll over... play dead. Or... we kill your zombies. They'd been using his undead like cannon fodder for almost ten years. He was in the middle of his twenties and had never loved anyone. His life was not normal. And Caleb Hart's would not be either.

Jeffrey was tasked with Caleb Hart's acquisition, but he wouldn't be a part of his manipulation. The challenge would be to make sure his colleagues didn't get even a faint whiff of his intentions or he couldn't help the boy.

Parker looked down from the soundless chopper and had a pang of nostalgia for the boy he might have been.

In another life, another time.

Now it was Caleb Hart's life. And he'd be damned if that'd be fucked six ways to Sunday.

Not on his watch.

He observed his people leak down the ropes like oil on water and the kids begin to respond.

This would be the theatrical performance of his career and he wasn't about to blow it.

Parker leapt out of the chopper, facing off with a power that was in harmony with his own.

His feet touched down and the death sang to him for release.

Jeffrey ignored them, his eyes finding Caleb's as he worked his way between the gravestones toward the young necromancer.

*

Brandt caught up with Kyle in the hall and plucked his sleeve. Kyle turned and they exchanged a heated glance.

“I've got it,” Brandt said in a low voice, showing a sliver of the white cap of the pill bottle to Kyle.

Hart nodded. “Thanks... I don't know what we'd do if...”

“I understand. It's sure a helluva different situation than when we began. Who was to know...” Brandt's revelation died on his lips at the sight of Kyle's brows jacked down like a brick over his eyes.

“Okay, cool it.”

Kyle frowned harder, if possible. “I know they're listening.”

Brandt ran a hand through his long hair, finally clasping it in a messy ponytail on the back of his head. “Paranoid-much, pal.”

Kyle nodded. “Didn't used to be.”

They walked to the outside in unspoken agreement.

Standing beneath the shade of a lone outcrop of trees they continued. “Who would know your kid would ping AFTD. Seriously?” Brandt stared at him for another heartbeat and said, “You think they're going to what? Use him?”

“Maybe,” Kyle looked at him. “Remember when those government men showed up? Asking questions about Pulse?”

Brandt nodded, knowing there would be a point coming. With Hart, there always was.

“Caleb's seen them hanging around the school.”

“What, before the AP Testing?”

Kyle nodded.

“Well... that makes things dicey. You know they funded the whole nut here, Kyle.”

“I know and I don't much care. This is my son. He's not going to be some...” he whipped his palm around, “experiment.” Kyle's eyes flashed. “If I didn't know better...” Kyle began and Brandt smirked.

“But ya do.”

Kyle nodded. “Yes, I do. If I didn't know better I'd say the Prime Booster had been rigged.”

“Who'd want to juice your kid with such a weird ability?”

Hart shook his head. Damned if he knew. When he could puzzle through the answer, he'd sleep better. As it was, that wasn't happening. Insomnia had become his reluctant companion.

“These will dampen him chemically,” Brandt captured his eyes and held them, “but... it will not last and it might make him higher than a damn kite. Half dose him, Hart.”

Kyle nodded.

AP Testing loomed large in the a.m. He felt so damn bad for Caleb. Couldn't he have had something that was easier to manipulate? Controlling the dead? Raising cadavers? It was going to be a life challenge. And right in the middle of puberty.

Kyle Hart didn't have many regrets. But in this case he wanted a Do Over.

Like yesterday.

He stuffed the pills in his pulse top carrier and made his way to the house.

Sometimes decisions were based on making the best choice amongst bad ones.

The worst part of it all was he felt that it wouldn't be the first time.

*

Parker called in Chimney after the teens scattered and he was left with a zombie that wasn't his... one that had been made from the energy and life force of one of his agents.

Jeffrey didn't know it then but he'd be in a coma for the next month.

Chimney smoked. He stood, surveying the mess of the graveyard and gave Parker a critical eye. They stood in bloated silence for several minutes and finally Smoker said, “Couldn't get the kid?”

“No,” Parker said.

“What in the Sam Hill is that?” he pointed a finger at the zombie cum soldier.

Parker shrugged. He didn't know but someday, it would want Caleb. Its dead eyes found Jeffrey's and moved on without interest.

Searching, always searching.

For its real master.

A kid that wasn't fifteen for a couple of months.

Fucking splendid.

Chimney slowly grinned. “That thing out there is Hart's creature?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck me,” Smoker said, taking a drag.

Jeffrey stared at the red ember glowing softly at the tip, wanting to smash it down his throat.

Chimney looked at him. “You know, you would do well to contain your expression. Everything shows.”

“Maybe I'm not trying,” Jeffrey said and Smoker barked out a laugh, flinging his butt to the ground with a practiced arc where it smoldered, waiting to cause a fire.

“Let's get started,” Chimney said.

Parker nodded.

They cleaned.

When the second crew arrived with the machinery necessary to remove the rotary blade that had stabbed the graveyard and the hundred million dollar specialized stealth pulse chopper remnants, Jeffrey left with what remained of his team.

The zombie soldier followed, its eyes ceaselessly churning through the darkness with a searching intensity that unnerved everyone but Smoker.

He didn't care what dead thing scuttled around. He hadn't been hired to give a shit. He was hired to clean.

And he was hell on wheels at that.

*

They watched Caleb leave the house and Ali laid her head on Kyle's shoulder.

He stroked her hair. “I've done what I can, honey.”

“I knew this was a can of worms, Kyle,” she whispered into his chest.

Kyle squeezed his wife tighter. There was no explanation that would make her understand that hindsight could be wished for but never used. That sometimes the best a human being on this planet could do was have the best reactions, the best intentions.

They'd have to be satisfied that they'd given him the tools necessary to cope with this unique challenge of his nature. Because it was a part of him now. There was no reversal.

No cure.

His son was a manipulator of the dead. What that would mean, and for whom... it meant different things.

For his parents it meant safeguarding and nurturing a talent that was unknown, powerful... strange.

For the Js and his future it meant friendships that were binding and lacking in prejudice.

And for those in power it might mean exploitation.

The variables were too numerous to know them all.

But Kyle did know one thing: they would watch and wait, be prepared.

Be ready.

They watched their son's silhouette until he was a dark speck of denim on the road as he crested the hill.

Then he vanished over the other side.

CHAPTER 8

1929

Maggie took a deep and shuddering breath as she straightened the tweed lapel of Clyde's Sunday best, closing the tortoiseshell buttons of his vest over the crisp white linen shirt.

The air in her lungs grew hot and painful, hitching in her body as it had each day since his death.

She still could not believe he was gone. Maggie felt like she was floating in a sea without a current and couldn't find where she belonged. Her heart hurt. She imagined all those broken pieces floating around inside her body, the sharpness tearing at the softness of her. Her soul abused and wanting.

Needing.

The coroner and morgue attendant stood stoically by as she did her useless things. None of her ministrations would bring him back from the water that had stolen his life.

But it had been the fight that had readied him for the perfect exit. He had been too injured to be a hero.

Heroes aren't made, Maggie thought, they're natural. He couldn't not be what he was. It had been one of the things that Maggie had loved so much about Clyde.

She allowed her eyes to linger over his hands that would remain forever abused and pulled a sob back into her throat while the Funeral Director, hanging in the periphery until that moment, stepped forward, giving her shoulder an awkward pat.

Maggie wanted to hop into the coffin with Clyde.

On that morbid note she extracted his pocket watch, the dull rolled gold of it glowing softly in the subdued lighting of the mortuary.

She slipped it into the vest pocket it belonged in.

But not before reading the inscription that lay etched upon its back: Your beloved, Maggie-girl.

Maggie allowed herself to be led away, one small hand covering her mouth as tears fell like hot rain, the other clutched over a belly that had not yet swollen with child.

EPILOGUE

Clyde rose from the earth like fragrant brown water, the ripples of which fell away as he came through in a languid push of warm energy that called to him.

Sung to him.

He looked around, his mind a slow-moving pond of memories and reality colliding together in a mixture of puzzle pieces that did not fit.

A young man with strange attire and unfashionably long hair stood before him and the pieces that had errantly floated but a moment before coalesced into perfect synchronicity and he knew who this one was.

A necromancer.

He also understood what he was: dead.

Clyde's next thought was of Maggie.

He swung his head, looking about him until his eyes made sense of his surroundings. He saw the year of birth and death on a grave maker that was only ten feet away.

2025, it read.

If that were the year, his Maggie was long gone.

Sadness seeped into the fog of his brain that had not thought in... decades.

But what of the babe?

All those thoughts slipped through his mind without sticking for when the boy spoke, all intellect and will bowed before the summons of him.

Clyde could feel personality within the constraints of power. All of it running off the boy like an errant tide.

Clyde was caught like a bottle in an ocean current of which he was not master.

He was slave to this one who stood before him, not yet an adult. From the looks of him, it was some time away.

Clyde answered without thinking, the word appearing in the frontal lobe of his brain automatically for his use, “Master,” he breathed out of a mouth that would not work.

The boy's eyes widened and he took a step back.

Clyde moved forward.

This is what he was now.

He desperately wished for what had been.

Or an echo thereof.

Bittersweet sadness lay hold of a soul resurrected from his place of rest.

What would wipe that stain away?

Could he live again?

Did he want to?

The man that he had been clawed to the surface and demanded recompense.

The zombie that he'd become obeyed the boy.

His objective would always be freedom.

What you wished for in life, followed a person in death.

THE END

Read on for the exciting first chapter or book four,Death Screams

Chapter 1-Death Screams

Book Four of the Death Series
by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Death Screams

Book Four of the Death Series

Copyright © 2011-2012 Tamara Rose Blodgett
http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com/

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.

Edited by Stephanie T. Lott

For My Other Mother:

You are the other mother I received,

The day I wed your son.

And I want to thank you Mom,

For the loving things you've done.

You've given me a gracious Man,

With whom I share my life,

You are his lovely Mother,

And I am his lucky Wife.

*

You raised in love a little boy,

And then gave me the Man.

~Anonymous

I love you~

CHAPTER 1

Jade

Agony.

Defeat.

Rage.

Indecision.

Jade trembled, her clasp once loose, now a murderous quaking that she couldn't shake. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip and she rolled the fullness of it into her teeth, biting just shy of pain, to relieve her mental pressure.

Nothing worked.

The Empath teacher, Megan Tulle said, “Come on Jade, concentrate. If you don't master this exercise, you'll never hone in on anything.”

Jade's brows furrowed, she was trying as hard as she could... but the emotion... the rawness of it, was a bath of filth. She just wanted to get away. She pressed, the details finally coming to her. A boy, her age... his... identity, she couldn't place him but he was familiar to her.

Finally she gave up. “I don't know who he is!” she said, exasperated.

Tulle smiled, squeezing her shoulder gently. “It'll come, you've just got to keep working on it. The negative impressions are quite difficult to manage.”

Yeah, Jade thought, shuddering.

She looked around at the rest of the class and saw various degrees of expressions. It would have been funny had she not just swept through the murky swamp of someone that was deeply disturbed. Jade rubbed her hands up and down her own arms and asked Ms. Tulle where that had come from... that hoodie she'd been touching.

“Same place we always get our stuff. Lost and found.” Tulle shrugged a blouse-encased shoulder, her sensible pumps tapping to the low music she played in the class. It was pretty lame, Jade thought, classical.

Jade deliberated. No, she needed to say something. “Ah... Miss Tulle?” she asked as Tulle began to sweep through the desks, checking on the other student's Clairvoyance exercises.

She turned, cocking a brow.

“He's bad, Miss Tulle, really bad.”

She frowned, moving back through the rows of desks. “What do you mean? I touched the hoodie myself and knew the tone of it but didn't sense...” she shrugged.

Jade tried to articulate her unease, “It's not normal negative impressions. It's got... a touch of death.”

“Death Intent?”

Jade nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because that's reportable and with you only a sophomore...?” she let the sentence trail off significantly and Jade's shoulders slumped in defeat. She wasn't sure if she wanted someone that maybe had a super-bad day, threw on a hoodie, then lost it at one of the six high schools in Kent to get nailed by the cops.

Especially Garcia and crew.

Jade's eyes dropped. She bit her lip again. She wasn't one hundred percent sure.

She met Tulle's eyes and shook her head. Tulle gave her steady eyes back. “Maybe we gave you too intense a sample this first time, Jade. We're aware that your skill set has expanded to clairvoyance and possible precog...” The “but” hung there between them and Tulle shrugged.

Jade reached out and touched Tulle, who immediately shied away. “Sorry,” Jade said. How could she forget the first rule of Empath class the prior year?

Never touch another Empath.

It was sorta like flashing your boobs in public. Jade stifled a laugh.

Tulle's eyes narrowed and Jade tried to contain herself. “What's so funny?”

“Nervous tic. I really like to laugh when things get serious,” Jade said, the ghost of a smile riding her full lips. That was definitely Caleb's influence, Jade knew.

It made her warm to her toes just thinking about him, distracting her dangerously from the conversation at hand. She felt a slight flush of heat on her face and hoped her dusky coloring was sufficient camouflage.

“Well, your thought process on this sample is serious, Jade,” Tulle was back to serious business again, studying Jade closely. “Some of the best Empaths in the state work closely with the police. If your clairvoyance is fine-tuned enough to pick up Death Intent then I suggest you start learning the difference. Now.”

With that, Tulle turned and threw the offending hoodie back in the sample tube marked: Clairvoyance Samples.

Jade sighed. It didn't matter that she might have clairvoyance in spades. She had been pegged as a level two Empath but was now showing what the committee of “they” coined as, “expanded and related abilities.” Unfortunately, when she felt violence in the samples she always had the same reaction.

Fear.

She'd lived with fear until her dad was semi-permanently gone from her life and she wasn't about to start embracing it now. Screw that noise. Caleb said she was too compassionate. She just thought she was too weak. Too scared to face someone that could be the very same flavor of attacker that she'd suffered in her childhood.

No repeats, thank you very much.

Speaking of Mr. Stud, she glanced at the pulse-clock on the wall and grabbed her backpack, nothing more than a sling, really. What did they have to carry but the required water bottle and pulse-pad? Hers was a gorgeous pack with the brand name emblazoned on the front in metallic hot pink. She knew it was an extravagance, but Caleb had seen her admiring it at the mall and snatched it up for her birthday last week and she'd been totally smitten with it.

Sweet sixteen.

Even she couldn't believe she was finally at that magical age. The verge of womanhood easing away the soft edges of childhood with insidious progression. She didn't mind, she was ready to be grown up. Ready to be independent and out on her own. Ready for emancipation from her dad. The restraining order could go into permanent effect once the paperwork went through. She so couldn't wait. Caleb felt the same. He'd wrangled his parents into helping so they could push it through. Aunt Andrea wasn't great at pushing, obviously. She'd let the last three restraining orders die out and need to be re-implemented. It'd been a huge hassle.

The bell rang for class dismissal and Jade walked through the Empath class door and saw Caleb before he saw her, his attention on Jonesy, per usual. She soaked in the sight of him, thinking she'd never get bored with Caleb. They'd been dating awhile now, gone through a ton of stuff together, and still, every day was new with him. She was thinking of how different he looked since they first got together a year and a half ago.

She saw how his thick chestnut hair fell forward to just brush the tops of impossibly long, soot-colored eyelashes as he stuffed his one hand in a pocket, the other elaborating some detail to Jonesy (who would forget it ten seconds later), the muscles of his forearm bulging from the movement.

Jade sighed, thinking that she was in lust. Not a terribly keen position to find herself in. Wasn't it the boy's job to chase her around because of her feminine wiles? Her lips curled into a smile. She thought she had that part down pat too. Caleb dug her, she reminded herself. As if on cue, he turned his head and those chocolate eyes pierced her. Pierced her heart, stealing her breath.

She moved forward, his eyes taking in her face, her body, everything, happiness and comfort a warmth cloaking her as she approached him.

*

Caleb

I stopped mid-sentence with the Jonester as I caught sight of Jade's smooth stride making her way across the hall toward me and was bowled over by her as she drew closer. I tightened my expression, I knew she'd put a hand on my skin and know everything but... couldn't a guy have a little mystery? Sometimes the Empath Girlfriend was a blast. Like when we were making out. I liked it then. A. Lot.

But now, in front of the hundreds of students filtering through the hall, I'd like to not have everyone know that I was Jade's puppet. A willing one.

Jonesy smirked. “Meow...” he began.

“I'm not whipped, Jonesy,” I growled out, itching to punch him a good one in the arm. “I'm waiting for the day when you have a girlfriend long enough to look at her like she means something to you,” I said.

Jade caught what I said as she moved in against my body and I tucked her under my chin, inhaling that vanilla smell that was Jade's.

Mouth-watering.

Jade turned her head against my chest to look at Jonesy scathingly. “You know, Jonesy... you could've gone out with Sophie,” Jade said with real feeling.

The LED lights flickered in the hall twice and Jade laughed. “Can't take back the leakage, Jones.”

I laughed and Jonesy gave me a dirty look, struggling for nonchalance. “I don't care who she goes out with,” he said.

“Right, whatever,” Jade said, disgusted.

I spoke against her hair, “Be nice, babe.”

She pulled away from me, her beautiful green eyes sparkling. “It's true. He could've had a great girlfriend instead of the skank-a-thon and been way happier.”

True, I thought. But that might be too much wisdom for Jonesy, whose expression was darkening by the moment.

“Listen Jade,” his eyes sought mine and the message he found was tread careful, pal. “She has sent me nothing but a bunch of lame-ass mixed signals. This is easier. I just date whoever and don't worry about feelings and crap. No hassles, no guessing, no perpetual PMS. You feel me?” he finished, his thumb in his chest.

I felt him. Of course, Sophie was way more high maintenance than Jade. She had a hot-ass temper and so did Jonesy. Like fuel and flame. I didn't know if it would ever work out. What Jonesy didn't recognize was he did care about her. It was in the way he looked at her. And now she was dating a dude in the peripheral group of Dickheads: that would be the Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason brigade. It was a fight waiting to happen. And Sophie wasn't above flashing her new boyfriend in Jonesy's face.

And he wasn't beyond getting into a jealous rage over it.

Denial was a beautiful thing.

“I do feel you, Jonesy. But I think it's you that's going to be feeling it,” Jade said with knowledge. I stroked her back and gave Jonesy The Look. Back off, it isn't worth it. His eyes flicked to mine then back at Jade.

Don't ask, don't ask.

“Is she going out with somebody?” Jonesy asked in a low voice.

I groaned.

Jade looked at me and smiled evilly. She would put the screws to Jonesy and he'd be feeling some pain.

Jade flicked her hair over her shoulder, a chunk making a black stripe on her bright pink backpack. The new purses of the pulse-age, I thought randomly.

She nodded, shrugging, feigning an indifference I knew was contrived. She totally knew everything about Sophie. “Yeah... I think it's some guy in her AP class.”

“WTF?” Jonesy all but yelled.

Jade jumped and I pulled her in tighter. “Hey man, effing-cool it,” I said, starting to get pissed. He was going to have to take the teasing if he didn't want to commit. He couldn't say he didn't give a hot shit then freak at the mention of a new guy scenting Sophie. Buck up or shut up.

Jonesy straightened. “Okay, you two are so smart. You know what the thing is for APs?” he asked, looking profoundly smug, which made my sense of unease deepen exponentially.

“Ah... no, Jones, can't say I do,” I said.

“Astral Projection sex, dimwits,” he elaborated like, double-duh, as Jade liked to say.

I got a visual of people humping in the air or something, like a cartoon bubble and couldn't stop the irrational laugh which ensued.

Jade put a hand on my chest. “No, Caleb. Not helpful.”

Jonesy glowered. “What's so funny, asswipe?”

Gum snapped behind me and an arm flung itself around Jade.

Tiff.

“How's it hanging, Jones?” she said with a sharp slash of a grin.

“Oh... effing splendid. Did you know...” he began.

“Sophie's having AP sex with Buddy? Yeah,” her gum snapped as emphasis.

I covered my mouth, I couldn't believe Tiff... where angels feared to tread, Tiff entered.

Nice.

Jonesy's hands flexed into fists and at that exact moment Sophie sauntered by, her hair bouncing in a fluffy honey cloud on the middle of her back, high-heeled boots clicking on the recycled quartz flooring as she came by.

What was really eye-catching was the hand that was stuck in her back pocket, an appendage on her butt.

It was Buddy, fellow AP student and possible in-the-clouds sex partner.

Well, hell.

I reached for Jonesy too late. He was over there in three strides, his chest almost touching Buddy's.

Terran came jogging up, his carrot-colored hair having deepened to copper over the last year. He grabbed Jonesy's shoulder and said, “No, Jones.”

“Not now, John,” Jonesy said, flinging John's hand off.

This was gonna get bad, fast.

“Caleb, do something!” Jade said.

Tiff said, “Nah, let them beat the shit out of each other. I never did dig Buddy anyway, he's got eyes for Carson,” she said, winking.

Brother.

I launched over there but Sophie took care of everything for all of us.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?” she asked Jonesy, her aqua eyes on fire.

Jonesy's eyes went to hers. With her heels on, they were about the same height.

“Saving you from this dumbass!” Jonesy said like, obviously. He folded his arms across a chest ripped with muscles from working all summer as a yard slave like the rest of us.

John and I were right behind Jonesy when Brody, Diego, Carson and Brett showed up.

This couldn't get any worse if I'd choreographed the whole tamale myself. I did a mental forehead slap and shifted my gaze to Jade. I wanted to know her position when Brett was in attendance. I didn't put anything past his weaselly carcass.

It didn't take a brain surgeon to see he'd picked up on the tension. Both mine and Jonesy's. I saw Brett drink in the sight of Jade and my heart sped. We'd managed the first two months of school pretty good without any problems. But now, the school quarter was coming to an end and we just couldn't seem to slide by without an altercation with these clowns.

“I don't need saving, if you hadn't noticed. Remember, you're the one that wants to go out with whatever,” Sophie said disdainfully and leaned back against Buddy, who was a good shot taller than her... and Jonesy.

A vein in Jonesy's temple kept time with his heartbeat. He looked at Sophie for a long moment and I could see him trying to calm down with an effort. Restraint wasn't a Jonesy strong point.

“What's the problem here, Buddy?” Carson asked, all smirk.

Jonesy wrecked it again by saying, “It's your Buddy here, ya know, your butt-buddy? He's making the moves on Soph... and I don't think he's good for her.”

Carson's eyes narrowed and he came forward. “And you're so great for her, Jones. Right? Cuz, how I see it, you'll go out with anything that's female with two legs.” His eyebrows raised to his hairline.

He had him there. Carson was a supreme dick, but that was Jonesy, non-committer extraordinaire.

“No comment, Jones?” Buddy asked, talking for the first time, voice laced with sarcasm.

Thunder rode Jonesy's face, the dark skin of his face taking on a purple hue.

Sophie huffed and crossed her arms.

Tiff saved Jonesy's face by sidling up to Carson and saying, “Don't you have your own dick to scorch off or something? Hell,” she swung her arm around to encompass the whole group of brainiacs, “you could probably do the whole group in like... five seconds.”

Carson moved toward her. And since Tiff so didn't know when to quit she continued as she was backing up, “I mean, a pile of millimeter sausages like you queers would be rudimentary for you?” Her gum snapped, momentarily blinding her because of size. She was brought up short by John, who'd moved behind her protectively. His long fingers wrapped her upper arms.

“Tiff... quiet,” John said in a low voice above her head.

“It's okay, Terran. Carson can't do anything, he'd get his pecker in a twist for sure,” she said, supremely confident.

I wasn't, because I didn't think Carson gave a shit. After all, daddy would bail his ass out no matter what he did.

Carson got right up in Terran's grill and Tiff had a bird's-eye view of his chest. Her head leaned into John's chest and she turned her face away.

“Keep the corpse-lover in line, Terran. Or I'm gonna rethink my position on female beating. Maybe she needs to find out first hand what kinda junk I carry?” He leaned down close to her face and whispered with menace, “Up close package patrol for you, right?”

John's face became a mask of rage, his cool demeanor replaced by heat. He pulled Tiff back and even I could see Carson had rattled her cage. No small feat.

She recovered, unfortunately. “I wouldn't do you with my dog's dick, Hamilton. Keep your pathetic parts in your pants.”

Carson moved toward her again and John put Tiff behind him as Brett grabbed Carson's arm. “Not worth it, man. Just take a chunk out of her brother's ass. Hell, she's got five. Pick one,” Brett said with his logic.

Brett-logic was so flawed.

Jade spoke and I died a little as the males from this group trained their eyes on my girl. My beautiful, vulnerable girl.

“Listen, let's just... agree to disagree,” she started.

Diego laughed. “Your friend just told us we had no dicks. Not gonna get over it fast, sweetheart.”

“I'm sure she didn't mean it,” Jade said weakly.

Tiff snapped her gum. “Totally. Meant. It.”

Wow.

The bell shrilled and Carson gave Tiff a grim look, then turned his eyes to Jonesy. “You don't have territory rights here, Jones. She doesn't want you. Go hump some willing girl, you're good at that.”

I saw the knife dig deep on Sophie's face. I didn't believe that Jonesy was having sex with a bunch of girls. He was a female appreciator though. That last had been for Sophie's benefit. If Carson could cause trouble in our group, he was all for it. The jackass.

Buddy gave a slow stroke on Sophie's arm and she gave Jade the thumb signal for a pulse in the future, her face carefully neutral. Like she hadn't just heard that Jonesy was a man-whore. Jade nodded, her face solemn.

They walked off, Jonesy's eyes trained on Sophie's back. I didn't think he was watching her butt. Unless that included Buddy's hand in her pocket.

Carson glanced over his shoulder, pegging Tiff with a look. She smoldered back at him in anger and he smirked, disappearing into the crowd.

John's eyes met mine over Tiff's head. Only two months into sophomore year and already a fire was burning.

Guess who the match was?

A Love Letter to My Readers:

As of March 31, 2011, it's been almost two years now since my first book, Death Whispers, was published. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you that has supported my writing. Without my readers, I would not have an audience for my work. Many of your emails, support via recommendation, encouragement and critical feedback/reviews have allowed my improvement as a writer and as a human being. Words are an inadequate thanks for the depth of my gratitude to you. Please know how much your support has meant, and will continue to mean in the future to come.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart~

*

If you enjoyed this book, please support the author by posting your review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iBookstore.

Please also consider recommending or reviewing the book on your blog, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Acknowledgments:

You, my reader! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!!!

Danny

Lisa

Beth & Dianne

My editor, Stephanie T. Lott, for giving my work the polish it needed!

My girl from the beginning:Shana B., thank you, words aren't enough~

My four boys and all their friends for making the dialogue possible...

A special thank you to reader, Shannon French, who supplied the name Merranda; Randi for short~

Connect with Me Online:

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Blog: http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com/

Books available now:

Death Inception (A Death Prequel)

Death Whispers (Death Series, #1)

Death Speaks (#2)

Death Screams (#3)

Death Weeps (#4)

Unrequited Death (#5)

The Pearl Savage (Savage Series, #1)

The Savage Blood, (#2)

The Savage Vengeance (#3)

Blood Singers, (Blood Series, #1)

Blood Song, (#2)

Future Titles:

2013

The Savage Principle

The Savage Protector (#4) March

Blood Chosen, (#3) May

The Reflective, (Reflection Series, #1) October