"Pay attention to your driving and stop worrying about me," he wheezed out of his smashed nose.
Yeah, he was doing so good.
My eyes met Clyde's in the rear view mirror and he smirked. Nice to know the humor was contagious.
I'd left everyone at the dump, it seemed safer. Even with Parker there. Without his zombies. They were long gone, in pieces with my three of the Skopamish. I got a real pang of guilt over that. I hated my zombies getting Actually Dead because of me. Even the gophers having gotten the torch had been wrong on so many levels.
The clinic came into view and I screeched to a stop, parking in the emergent area. The pulse scanner read my license plate, automatically identifying the car, driver and time of day. There was no reporting stuff to the cops later. In this age of All Knowing Pulse Tech. the cops didn't have to scrounge for domestic violence or any kind of purposeful harm. If you arrived in a car and parked, you were cataloged.
I got out and jogged around to the other side, where Clyde met me. The police station was located very close to the med clinic, so when Garcia pulled up my first thought wasn't a good one.
But, he was suspended so why was he here?
Oh shit.
He hadn't had the antidote.
Gramps knew immediately and yelled, "Caleb, watch it!"
Too late, Garcia, who was all but frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, jumped on me and started whaling on me like there was no tomorrow.
If he didn't stop, there wouldn't be.
Clyde tore him off and flung him casually against a nearby tree. Garcia plowed into the trunk and cracked his head a good one.
I got up, swaying, feeling like I'd just finished a whole spin cycle inside the washing machine.
Nice.
I shook my head to clear it. "Hold him!" I said, ripping the top of the antidote off with my teeth, I spit it on the concrete sidewalk and strode toward Garcia. Clyde had his arms looped under and through Garcia's arms, pinning him against his chest.
"No!" he whipped his head from side to side.
Bobbi approached him and his eyes found hers and he started to yell in earnest then, "Corpse whore! Undead slut!"
"May I bash him around? I could convince him of some reason," Clyde said casually.
I sighed, "No Clyde. You can open his mouth though."
Clyde did, applying bruising force.
Garcia gagged, "Argh!" muffled.
"Open up," Clyde said with a smile like an evil dentist.
He was enjoying this far too much.
I applied the drop and Clyde forced Garcia's mouth closed, the absorption taking seconds. Clyde released Garcia slowly and Bobbi said, "Well, I guess we know what he really thinks."
Maybe, but where did that leave me with Jade? She'd said some stuff too.
Bad stuff. Things that I hadn't really known she felt so strongly about.
"Well that was handy, Caleb," Gramps croaked.
Oh shit. I'd totally zoned on Gramps.
He smiled crookedly at me and I saw he was missing some teeth.
Huh.
We took him inside the clinic and Jezebel the Organic was there. I bet she was thinking there was something wrong with the Hart family.
Or just me. I seemed to always be in the mix no matter what.
Gramps looked at me from the examination table, "Go Caleb. Your folks need the antidote."
Cripes-on-a-crutch, The Parents.
My mom was kinda crazy naturally.
I ran to the swinging doors, took one look at a dazed Garcia and launched myself at the Camaro. Clyde opened the door for Gale and she slid into the back seat.
Even with Clyde and Gale I felt alone in the car.
I'd never felt so lonely, or so determined in my life.
The Dog felt the Boy as he came, his intent as clear as if he had spoken. The Old Alpha had dropped the Dog off at the First Cave in which he had lived with this pack.
The Dog thought his coming was quite good.
For the Alphas in his pack were sick. The Dog did not know with what but the female was greatly affected. The Dog looked at the female Alpha now, muttering about things that made no sense. The Alpha male was playing the game with the ball that they threw into a net with holes.
Normally, he would play this game with his Boy. But today, the Alpha had been playing from the time the heat was upon the cave until it had almost gone.
He smelled of adrenaline and sweat. The Alpha male smelled of sickness.
The Alpha female had not been in the food place the entire day. His food dish stood empty.
The Dog whined, his tail pinned against his hindquarters. He stood, waiting forlornly by the hole that did not open. Standing watch for the return of his Boy.
When the thing that smelled of not good garbage rolled up outside the cave and his Boy got out, the Dog was not surprised.
The Dead One and a female who he knew from scent alone ran to the door.
The Dog wagged his tail for the first time that day. He saw his Boy give the Alpha a look of surprise and exchange a furtive glance with the Dead One.
Good.
His Boy was aware of the sickness plaguing the Alphas.
He would rectify this imbalance.
I opened my car door and saw Dad playing basketball.
By himself.
Wow, this was weird. This was a work day, he should have been long gone into some lab weirdness.
But the enhancer had changed all that, hadn't it?
But no. Here he was, almost suppertime and he had been playing ball... it looked like all day. I took in his appearance and he was wearing his pajamas.
I guessed it he was expendable to the Graysheets, so they'd given my dad the enhancer. He'd done his gig for them. They had the map for humanity, getting me out of the way was critical.
But if they'd thought that I'd pull a suicide card or some stupid crap like that? Just because everyone I knew lost it? Well, they didn't know me very well. Sure it would have been... awful.
I thought of Jade systematically going crazy and shuddered. Maybe more than awful.
"Dad?" I said and he turned, his eyes dim and slack.
Huh.
"Caleb?" he said, confused.
"Yeah, Dad. I have some medicine for you."
He backed away, his eyes slid to Clyde. "What's he doing here?"
Great... and here comes the paranoia. Loved the side effects of this shit. I bet it wasn't FDA approved. Uh-huh.
"He's just hanging out, Dad."
"I'm not keen on corpses, son," he said, trying to enunciate and failing. This enhancer crap must affect the speech area of the brain. When Dad was back on board, he'd let me know.
Clyde and I circled him like sharks in blood-infested waters.
Dad was strong but Clyde was stronger and I was determined.
We took him down on the three by three meter patch of sanctioned grass and nailed him with a drop.
Mom proved to be harder.
When I came to the door, Onyx stood there expectantly and I gave him a soft pat. "Where's Mom, boy?"
He whined in response, giving me a half-wag.
Things didn't look good.
Clyde stood in the open doorway, cradling my six foot-one, two hundred pound Dad against his chest like he was a sack of flour.
I jerked my head to the couch where a colorful afghan lay bunched.
Not folded.
My eyes scanned the house. It was a wreck. And it didn't smell. It was devoid of the good food smells that I was used to. The kitchen lay unused and dark.
When Mom popped out of the pantry with a knife, Clyde deposited Dad on the couch, comatose. As Mom flew at Clyde, the silver of the blade glinted as the last of the afternoon light caught it above her head.
"Clyde, watch out!" Gale yelled and Onyx gave a sharp bark.
"Do not worry, Dear Heart," Clyde said, latching on to Mom's arm like a snake striking.
I didn't have to tell him to be gentle. It was a river of emotion that bound us together, what I felt, he felt.
She was nuts but she was my mom.
The knife clattered to the floor and Bobbi picked it up, putting it on the breakfast bar.
Mom struggled against the force that was Clyde.
It felt somehow wrong to have my zombie restrain my mom. Some things I think a son shouldn't have to do.
Like watch their parents go crazy.
Use the dead to save them.
Feel like killing everyone associated with the Graysheets.
I'm sure there would have been clear DI if I'd been tested at that moment, Mom struggling and flailing while Clyde held her still so I could give her the drop.
Gale sat on her legs and I whispered, "Sorry Mom."
Her grayish-blue eyes looked into mine and she said in a voice hoarse from shrieking, "You don't love me."
It wasn't true. But in her impaired mental state, it was true to her.
"Don't listen, Caleb. She doesn't know what she's saying," Gale said logically.
Then why did it make me feel like dogshit?
And why did it make me think of Jade?
We put Mom beside Dad on their bed. They slept like the dead.
Not even remotely funny.
I gulped and bit back a sobbing hiccup, seeing my parents lying there like that.
Clyde put a hand on my shoulder, his hazel eyes piercing me, feeling the swollen waters of my emotions. "Some events make future ones clearer."
I looked back at him while I listened to my parents breathing in the background. Finally I responded, "Much." I was disgusted by the choices I had been forced to make. Disgusted by the certainty of ones I'd have to make in the future.
The Graysheets had been perfectly right about one thing: I was definitely the threat they'd thought I was. But did the chicken come before the egg? That's what Gramps would have asked. If they hadn't put things in motion, would I have responded like I did? We'll never know. Because they did set those events in motion. And follow-through guy that I was, I finished my part.
We walked out, Onyx racing ahead of us to hop into the Camaro.
He'd sure gotten over his fear of cars.
The Dog saw that his Boy would leave. Casting a furtive glance at the Alphas resting peacefully in their inner sanctum, he shadowed his Boy until he made his way to the foul-thing-which-moved. He loathed the box with its horrible acrid smells but sprinted to it, hoping his Boy would take him. He had a sense that the Old Alpha needed him.
The Dog was loyal to his pack.
His Boy, the Dead One and his female (that is how he thought of the female, as she had that same smell that his Boy and the Dead One had), came to be in the car.
He wagged his tail and assumed an appealing stance.
His posture was successful as his Boy slid in beside him, giving him the rough pat that he'd come to love. The Dog knew that his Boy was most pleased.
Wag-thunk-wag.
Jade
Jade awoke in Brett's arms and instantly felt awkward. Where was she? She looked around... they were outside the hideaway. Her mind was thick and she felt groggy, like she'd had too much sleep. Jade tried to wrack her brains for what had happened. She saw all her friends were milling around, talking quietly. They looked ragged, like they needed food, sleep and showers, not necessarily in that order.
She tried to stand and Brett grunted. "What?" she asked, getting upright and straightening. Her head spun and she threw a palm out, touching the fender of a stacked car. The cold metal was a relief. Solid, sure, there.
Brett responded, "My ribs, they're busted."
Jade turned to face him, looking up at him.
Gawd, when had everyone grown up? She swallowed the sudden lump that was there.
Then she remembered Howie and fear loomed.
Brett saw her face and reached out for her. She allowed her hand to be taken and her Empath vibes came online.
He loved her.
Brett loved her.
T-M-effing-I.
She snatched her hand away and he just stared. Finally, he spread his palms out to the side of this body. "I don't have anything to hide, Jade. Ya know what the deal is."
He studied her some more, asking the question that kept them safely out of Mondo Awkward Territory, "What scared you?"
"Where's Howie?" she asked in response.
Brett glanced behind her and she saw a strung out Howie, his mouth duct taped.
With cheetah print tape.
Jade's eyes found Sophie's and she giggled, shrugging. "It's what I had."
What girl carried animal print duct tape? Better question: what girl carried duct tape anyway?
She caught Alex staring and he smirked, waggling his eyebrows and Randi punched him and he laughed.
Perv-boy.
Tiff said, "It's the shit. On a desert island, that'd be one of the things I'd have for sure." Tiff thought about it some more, "and gum." A bubble went off like a bomb.
Jade shook her head, a small smile touching her lips.
Then she heard a familiar car pull up outside the fence of the Kent Refuse Station and the smile faded.
Caleb tore out of the Camaro, his eyes searching the area behind the fence for one person.
