“Mom,” Pax says.
The corners of her lips quirk. “I think it's cute.”
Pax's lips flatten.
“Where's your sense of humor, Pax?” I ask.
“I'll get one of those just as soon as things get back to normal.”
I open my mouth.
“I mean the Hart version of normal,” he specifies.
I close it again.
No lying among family.
*
The kids wanted me—little old me—to oversee the discussions with Drextel Tate, rep to Randoms for Humanity.
Like I'm neutral or some damn thing.
Of course, I thought everything seemed a tad too good to be true. Just the paranoid suspicious nature of mine rearing its head, I guess.
I keep my back to the government-standard, light-gray walls, watching Tate animatedly outline the job description.
Sounds all regular jawing to me, until he gets past the fluff and down to the brass tacks of the matter.
“RfH doesn't extend trust beyond our organization.”
“You don't trust Sanction,” Deedie interprets.
Tate shakes his head. “Dr. Hampton”—he fixes a smile in Pax's direction, and I wonder again what story or events links a man older than me with my great-grandson—“is especially motivated to protect you and your sister.”
A smile hovers over Pax's face. “No doubt.”
Tate's smile is affixed like it's glued on. “Now for the news.”
The kids stare at him, as tense as a couple of cats in a room full of rocking chairs.
“One of you two.” Tate clears his throat. “Pax and... Tara, is it?”
Pax nods, leaning back on his chair, and lacing his fingers at the back of his head.
Tate looks to Deegan. “And your zombie, Mitchell Rasmussen, Congressional Medal of Honor recipient.”
Deedie nods. “From this earth.”
Tate's smile goes genuine for a moment, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Yes, this earth.” He splays his fingertips on the tabletop. “Which brings me to the point that one of the two couples must go to Mitchell's earth and one must remain here.”
“What?” Pax says, the front legs of his chair clacking back down hard against the quartz flooring.
Tate nods. “We have a need for both talents. But now that I'm aware that an earth devolves into what Mitchell's earth becomes, that earth might need the help of the skill set that Deegan brings, more than ours. Though she might return to clean things up here on occasion.”
His flat brown eyes move to Pax. “And we need your blinking skill, Pax.” His gaze is a bonfire of intensity, not leaving Pax for a second. “For exploration. From what you've told me, your accidental blinks have gleaned health benefits. You can cure breast cancer with your acquired knowledge. We could do so much to improve our earth. Here. Now. With your help, we could send out teams to accompany you. Organics, Empaths.” He smiles, and I find it mildly evil. “Manipulators.”
Deedie cocks her head, inspecting him like a worm inside an apple. “I thought you were the only Manipulator.”
“Right,” Tate grins, “but if you were a Manipulator, would you announce it?”
“Hell, no,” Pax says instantly.
Tate meets my eyes. “What do you think, Mr. O'Brien?”
“Think you're tempting fate some.” I shrug. “But there's no getting around it all. You got two kids who have extraordinary gifts, and those talents need to be used for the good of the world. Before someone takes them and forces Deegan and Paxton to be used for bad.”
“Yeah,” Deegan says softly, her hand moving to her belly. Thinking of the little peanut in there, I figure.
“You will still have our endorsement and protection. The full backing of everything RfH has to offer.”
“How will you keep tabs on the kids?” I ask. This I have to hear. It's taken the entire family to do that, and still chaos reigned supreme.
“We suggest Pax remain here, though the choice is theirs. In this way, Pax can blink between the two earths.”
“So Mitchell and I are going to live on his earth?”
Tate nods. “We have the tech to make that information go away. His death.” He lifts a shoulder. “We're talking technology from 2049, superimposed in a 2010 earth.”
“What about my parents?” Deegan asks quietly.
His eyes shift to her, and his response appears measured. “RfH believes in total transparency as I've stated before. They'd have visitation of sorts. But it would not be the organic relationship you've enjoyed all this time.”
She blows out an exhale of pure frustration, and it lifts the fine hairs that have escaped the thick braid of her hair. “I guess I have to think about the baby.”
“You're not safe here, Deegan. We could really give you a choice, but it doesn't seem to benefit you. RfH only has so much resource for protection. We can hide you on this other earth and task you with things that benefit that place, and ʻloanʼ you out to our earth when absolutely necessary. Your brother and parents can visit you because, as it happens, there's only one certified blinker.”
Except that strange ranger that the little Reflective gal dispatched. Not doing a lot of blinking without his head.
I snort, and Tate and the kids look at me. I give a helpless shrug. Some internal monologues are better left unsaid.
Pax smirks, having a sense of how my mind runs.
“If Paxton stays here, we can dispatch teams wherever we want. He can visit you, take your parents.”
“Okay,” Deegan says slowly, “I want the number of times they can blink to Mitchell's earth.”
“There's a lot of resource involved in them coming to you, Deegan.”
Her smile is all Hart. “Right, and if I'm a commodity, I want allowances. If I need to give up disc living, my family, and basic modern everything for archaic 2010—and not even my earth—I want assurances.”
Tate sighs. “All right. Dr. Hampton has authorized me to negotiate on his behalf.”
“I betcha Lowell is going to be soft on my demands.” Pax smiles.
Tate says nothing.
“I'll give some of my allowances to Dee so she can see the parents when she wants. I mean—Mom's gonna want to see the grandkid. That's a total known.”
I have to agree.
They hammer out the frequency of visitation.
The goodbyes will suck. I'll miss my Deedie. But the truth is, she's not mine. Never was. She was always hers.
People don't belong to us. They belong to themselves.
Deedie will make her own life in the timeline of nearly forty years ago with her zombie and a bambino on the way.
Tate breaks into my thoughts. “We have ID at the ready for the timeframe which shows you older than you are.” His eyes meet Deedie's briefly. “You're technically a minor in that time for another year. Also, Mitchell Rasmussen is now Mitchell Ramsey. You'll be listed as his wife, Deegan Ramsey.”
“We're not married,” Deedie states.
“Not yet, but Mr. Rasmussen has made his thoughts clear.”
The kids appear to hold their breath.
“What did that big lug make clear?” Pax asks in sullen exaggeration.
“His intent is to marry Deegan before this transition.”
“Wait a second?” Deegan says in semi-outrage. “You discussed this with him before me?”
Tate gives a nervous laugh. “I'm afraid he cornered me and was very persuasive in fleshing out what our discussion would be.” He touches his throat briefly.
Fresh fingerprint bruises make a choker necklace stand out there.
“Yeah, sounds like Mitch,” Pax laughs.
Tate doesn't seem to share the humor. Can't say I blame him. I wouldn't want to be on the business end of that zombie.
He smooths his hair back and appears to think about what to say next. “In any event, he told me his intention, and that's when I presumed this direction for your life would be the simplest.”
Deedie sinks into the chair, looking suddenly exhausted. “I just found out I was pregnant, that I'll be separated from my family...”
Tate holds up his hand. “You can stay here—ultimately, the choice is yours. You might always be safe enough with the protection RfH can offer you.”
I read the pause. “But probably not. Human nature is stacked against her.”
Tate quips darkly, “We'd rather use a talent that's alive.”
“A talent,” Pax muses, cupping his chin.
“We're all commodities. You have to understand that. But if what we bring to the table, so to speak, is positive, then there's not an aftertaste, is there?”
“No,” Pax slowly agrees. “Wish you guys had told me what you were thinking before you pounced on us.”
“I wasn't behind that decision, and Dr. Hampton didn't sign off on that course of action. The director in charge of that ill-advised decision is no longer with us.”
“Maybe Sanction could put him out of his misery,” Deedie mutters.
Tate smiles. “We have no official collusion with Sanction.”
“Unofficially?” I ask, because I have to. Seemed like the two entities were oil and water from my perspective.
Tate spreads his hands, answering without answering. “You saw how well Hugh Easter and I cooperate. We do not share the same life goals.”
No kidding.
“Do our parents know?” Pax asks.
“No. With the exception of Mr. Rasmussen”—his hand floats toward his neck, but about halfway there, he drops it—“no one but Dr. Hampton is aware of the offer and subsequent placements.” He taps the stack of paperwork. “All of these documents have been hand copied and are in the Fort Knox vaulting pulse system.”
I whistle. That's some heavy-duty security there.
“What did Mitchell say?” Deedie asks.
Tate looks at her, shaking his head. “After he was done strangling answers from me...” He chuckles uneasily. “He said his ʻend goal was your safety.’” Tate drops his fingers from air quotes.
“Zombie 101,” Pax says then, “So Tara will stay here with me?”
Tate nods. “She's extremely safe because of her condition. If anyone were to harm a female with child.” Tate shivers. “It's an automatic sentence of beheading or flame, carried out through Sanction.”
Yup. Because they're the executioners of this time.
“But Dee's not safe, even though she's pregnant.” Pax frowns.
Tate clears his throat, adjusting his tie, and finally looks at the two kids. “She is carrying a baby, which is part undead. And as you know, Sanction reigns supreme with regard to all undead, and she is an ʻAtomicʼ?” He looks to Deedie for affirmation.
She nods. “That's not really a name we have. And the other guy that was in bot world?”
Tate gives an encouraging look, surely remembering Mr. Decapitation.
“Well, the people...” Deedie flicks her eyes to mine, and I think Reflectives. “They called me an Atomic. But the guy they killed—he said he was a Mover. He could blink and zap.”
“It's too bad he was so warped,” Pax said. “It would've been awesome to talk talent with him.”
That's right, the kid doesn't have fellow blinkers to talk with. Maybe that's a good thing. “He was bat-shit crazy,” I comment matter-of-factly.
Tate laughs and nods. “It sounds like he was mentally unstable.”
“Hell yes, a real nut,” Pax agrees, using one of my favorite terms for wackos.
“We left Brad Thompson getting zombie attacked,” Deedie suddenly comments.
“Yeah,” Pax says slowly, sitting up straighter.
“With those Reflective folks hanging around,” I add.
Tate doesn't ruffle easily, straightening his shoulders. “All the more reason to sequester you.”
Without having seen Thompson's death, there's no way to know if he survived. If he somehow made it out of that determined horde, and got his hands on someone like a Pax—or another Irvine—he would come after Deedie.
But if she isn't on this earth, he would never find her with as many earths as there are.
Pax says there are earths numbering to infinity.
And Thompson, if he's still alive, doesn't have another blinker.
Yet.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mitch
I put my foot in it.
Deegan's parents and the other zombie guy, Clyde, were discussing something in hushed tones. Her mom is crying.
“I can't believe he's gone.”
Caleb hangs his head, letting out a rough exhale and scrubbing his hand back and forth over his face.
Clyde puts his arms around his wife as she sobs against his chest.
“What's going on?” I ask, looking around the group. If there's one thing I've learned from the Hart crew, it’s that something is always going on.
Plus, I need something to distract myself. Deegan, Pax, and their Grandpa have been in that room with Drextel Tate for a solid forty minutes. I wanted to be in there badly, but it was a private discussion.
If I were her husband, they're be no negotiation on that point.
Jade looks up at me, and I'm briefly struck by how much she and Deegan look alike at first glance. But there's certain differences. Primarily, Deegan has darker skin, higher cheekbones and green eyes the color of a forest. “What's going on, is a cop we loved—had to do some terrible things for his family...” Jade covers her face, and Clyde's wife continues, “Raul was just found. He and his family—dead.”
Bobbi sucks in an agonized inhale. “They're calling it a murder-suicide, but I know Raul. He was on the verge of retirement. I know he didn't do this to himself, or his family.”
“He told us they had his family,” Deegan's dad says, clearly remembering. “Garcia had a gun on us.”
“Who?” I ask, coming into all this history without a clue.
They keep talking as though I'd never asked. I grunt, crossing my arms. Whatever.
“Gotta be Brad Thompson and Jeffrey Parker,” Bobbie says.
Caleb nods.
Jade swipes wetness from her cheeks. “Yup.”
“Wait a sec,” I say, frowning. “I thought Jeff Parker was a good guy?”
Jade whips her head back and forth. “No, it was the Jeff Parker who took Deegan, not the good one.”
Uh-huh. Lunatic details to keep straight. Then I think of the older Tara from this world and sober up in a hurry. “What happened to the Jeff Parker from this world?”
“He's okay,” Caleb says. “He made a quiet exit, slipped out from Grampsʼs when none of us were paying attention, wanted to get back to Nevaeh and see the twins.”
“I'm glad he's safe,” Jade says. “It makes all this miserable news a little better.”
Holy shit, that cop is still at Deegan's Grandpa’s house. “What about the cop from my world—O'Neil?”
“Got that covered,” Caleb says with a cryptic pause.
“I almost don't want to ask.” I raise my eyebrows
“Gramps has an underground storage area.”
I laugh. “You mean like a Mormon thing? Extra food for seven years or something?”
Clyde narrows sharp hazel eyes in my direction. “I do not disparage other religions. It is not good practice to be cavalier about othersʼ belief systems.”
I look at Clyde. Is he kidding?
The look he gives me is just as steady. Guess not. “Didn't mean anything offensive. Just trying to figure out what we're talking about. He seemed like an okay dude. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing.”
Bobbi wipes her eyes. “Definitely sounds like the worst of timing for Raul. And I don't know about the Mormon thing.” She gives me a puzzled look. “Might be more of a ʻprepperʼ deal.”
I think of not saving my brother Timmy. Timing can suck worse than getting pulled—alive—from a parallel earth. Definitely.
“Raul Garcia was my partner—I don't know—like a hundred years
ago.” Bobbi looks at me.
Cops? I guess.
They're quiet for a full half minute, clearly taking a moment to reflect. “He was a good man,” she finally says.
“It makes me want to send a second horde after him,” Caleb grinds out.
I raise my eyebrows.
He sees my expression and laughs. “I don't subscribe to do-overs. I want Thompson out of the picture forever. He killed a man who went to bat for me and my friends when there weren't many adults who would. Now he's been killed because of his association with us.”
“Don't do it, Caleb,” Bobbi says, touching his arm, “Raul wouldn't want you to blame yourself. It was an awful circumstance.”
“Yeah,” he says in soft agreement.
Deegan opens the door, sees me, and walks in my direction.
Relieved, I smile. It disappears as I check her expression—right before she slaps me.
“That's for telling Drextel Tate we're getting married before you ask me!”
Deegan storms off.
I stare after her, slack-jawed.
“Better fix that mess, son,” Caleb remarks off-handedly.
Shit.
I thought she would be happy I was serious about her. Like for-life serious.
Jogging after her anger trail isn't too tough, since I can hardly be left unaware because of our bond.
She's huddled out in the hallway, shoulders slumped. Crying.
Fuck a duck.
Two suits at either end see my approach and pull out their weapons, which aren’t like any kind of weapon I've ever seen. But I know the look of men with weapons. Seen the end of my life at too many guns and knives.
I catch up to her. “Call them off, Deegan.”
“No,” she says, sniveling.
Gripping her shoulders, I whip her around to face me. “Listen to me—this is not a game. I love you, and you're having my child. I'm not some dick who's going to sleep with you and not pay the consequences. We made a life together. And if I remember correctly, it was pretty goddamned deliberate.” I give her a small shake, and admit the rest in a hoarse voice, “It's more than I ever thought I'd have.”
Her eyes are bloodshot with tears, making them appear greener than normal. “You didn't ask.”
Christ. “I would've. I felt like I had to make my intentions known. And there wasn't a lot of time for guesswork.”
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