by T. A. Brock
“Are you okay?” she whispered. “D-Do you need water again? I think I have some in my backpack.”
He shook himself. He didn’t feel dehydrated. No, his problem was something else entirely.
“No,” he said. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
He should have let go of her hand, but he couldn’t make himself do it. So he pulled her down the path that led to some of his favorite plots.
Cori didn’t say a word.
Not until he pulled up in front of an ancient looking mausoleum. Etched in the slate colored rock was the name, HAWTHORP. It had always been one of his favorites. Someone made sure there were roses there at all times. In the summer they were yellow and peach. In the fall they were usually pink, sometimes purple. In the winter, white. But in the spring—as it was now—they were always, always red.
But it wasn’t the flowers that he liked. It was the stone itself. Angels, so beautifully carved, were posted at each corner. The one on the right had bright eyes and a joyful expression, her wings uplifted to the heavens, one palm resting on her heart. The angel on the left was the antithesis of the other. This angel was weeping, clearly distraught, mournful. Her wings were sagging and folded in, her hand pressed to her chest as if she were in pain.
The sight gave him some sense of calm, although it left him confused. He supposed it was meant to be representative of how a person might have conflicting feelings about death. On one hand you might mourn the loss of your loved one, but on the other you might rejoice that he is now in heaven. But then, Grayson didn’t believe in heaven…
And his death hadn’t been the end for him. No, his had culminated in something downright atrocious. Something wrong.
“Is this someone you know?” Cori asked, bringing him back.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t know anyone here.”
“Oh.”
“I just like it. I think…I think I would want mine to be like this one.”
He really did realize he was being creepy. He just couldn’t help it. It was who he was, how he was. Usually he kept it to himself. Now here she was, bearing witness to it firsthand.
He looked over at her. She was fixed on the sad angel. A tremble fluttered through her—he felt it where their hands linked—and then she pressed her lips together. He’d seen her do that yesterday, just before she started crying.
“What is it?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. Stared at the ground. Squeezed her eyes shut.
“It’s just that…my, uh…dad. He died a couple months ago and this is…well, it’s hard.”
Her dad. Grayson immediately felt sick. He’d brought her to a cemetery of all places. What a stupid thing to do. He wanted to kick something. Because he should’ve known about that. Aiken probably knew.
“I didn’t know,” he said finally.
She let out a little nervous laugh. “How would you?”
“You wanna go?” Dumb question. Of course she wanted to go. Who would want to hang out in a cemetery when they were mourning the death of their father? Better question: who would want to hang out in a cemetery at all?
Cori shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m tougher than I look.” He was beginning to realize that. “See, no tears.” She blinked her lids a couple times to prove it. But why did he have the feeling that she would be crying herself to sleep when night fell?
“Well, that’s good because you haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
She crinkled her nose, an expression Grayson was coming to like. “The best part? You do realize we’re in a graveyard. The graves are the best part.”
“Come on, shrimp. I’ll show you.” He started toward the river.
“What did you call me?”
“Shrimp.” He popped the P.
She rushed to catch up with him. “Shrimp? Why would you call me that?”
“It’s just a little nickname I came up with the first time I saw you.”
“But…why?”
He smirked. “It’s obvious isn’t it? You’re tiny.”
She let out a sound of outrage. “I am not tiny.”
“Um, yes you are.”
“Just because you’re a giant, does not mean I’m tiny.”
He gave her a look. “You’re tiny.”
“Whatever. Giant.”
His face cracked a little. Or rather, he must have grinned. “Just doesn’t have the same ring as ‘shrimp.’”
“I’ll think of something,” she muttered.
Just then they crossed through the tree line. He stopped suddenly, causing Cori to run into the back of him.
“Ooof. What—”
“Here we are. The river. Or part of it anyway.” Really it was more like an oversized creek. The water was up today since it’d been raining and it rushed by in a dull, steady roar. It was hypnotizing, mesmerizing. It was like a Pied Piper’s song, calling to him. As always, he wanted to jump in. Instead, he settled for removing his boots and soaking his feet. Instantly his cells responded, soaking up the cool, fresh liquid.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
Cori came closer to the bank where he was walking through the current with his boots and socks in one hand and his jacket in the other.
“Try it,” he said.
“Nuh uh.” Her bangs brushed her face as she shook her head.
“What? Don’t you like water?”
“Oh, sure,” she muttered, a look of annoyance on her face. “I like swimming pools and showers and the stuff you drink. That kind of water.”
Grayson ventured over to the rock ledge and sat down. The water was high enough that his feet were still immersed.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” He eyed her. “If you weren’t here, I’d rip my clothes off and dive in.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Yeah, right.” But he thought he saw a faint blush.
“I’m serious.”
“It’s cold. You would freeze,” she insisted.
Nope, not him. Zombies were impervious to the cold. In fact, the colder the better. There was a reason morgues had freezers.
He simply shrugged. No need to point out that detail, especially when she likely hadn’t forgotten that mysterious bathroom incident. He was lucky she hadn’t asked more questions about it. But humans tended to do that, ignore what they couldn’t explain.
Cori tip-toed through the muddy grass until she’d reached the rock ledge and then carefully sat down cross-legged next to him. Her shoes stayed on, of course.
“So…you really like it here?”
He nodded, trying to read her. “You don’t?”
She cocked her head, looking around. “It’s just so…dreary.”
He supposed she was right. The craggy moss-covered rocks and drooping foliage supplied a perfect setting for the incessant drizzle.
“I like dreary,” he told her. Dreary meant moisture. Moisture meant life. For him especially, it meant life.
They were such opposites, the two of them. She was like a desert cactus—one with blooms, of course—craving the dry and arid, and he was like the moss on the rocks, always requiring moisture. Or maybe he was that slimy scum stuff that stuck to the bottom of the river bed. Either way, total opposites.
Why was she his Save?
“Well, on a normal day,” she said, “I wouldn’t like dreary too much. But I guess today it suits my mood so it’s kind of nice. And you’re right, this is definitely better than the graves.”
They were quiet for a while, both of them just staring at the bubbling stream in front of them.
“Since you don’t like the wet, I’m guessing you don’t care too much for Asher.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know really. I lived in Indiana my whole life so…” Another shrug. “What’s that on your neck?”
Grayson fingered the pocked mark that was several shades darker than his skin. Every zombie had one, a skar. Besides being bitten by a zombie who’d reached the Age of D
eath, there was another way to be turned. Though he had no memory of it, it had happened for Grayson that second way—several injections of zombie blood to the vein in his neck. The poison had left a nasty circular scar, the size of a nickel. He supposed he was lucky his wasn’t a bite mark like Aiken’s and Leiv’s.
“Birthmark,” he said. Not a lie exactly, though it was more correct to call it a death mark. It marked his birth as zombie.
Silence creeped between them.
He wasn’t good at small talk. Apparently neither was she, so he decided to just say what was on his mind.
“Why did you help me, in the hall, when I needed water?”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see that she’d turned to look at him, but he remained staring at the stream. Safer that way.
“I helped you because you needed it.”
Such a simple answer, yet it amazed him. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve done the same thing if the situation arose. If it were Aiken in the hall mid-water-cramp, would he have helped him get to the bathroom?
“But I wasn’t nice to you.”
She snorted. “No. You weren’t.”
“And you still helped me.”
“Yeah.”
He rubbed his palms together, a nervous gesture he tried to avoid. “Because you’re good.”
She fidgeted next to him. “Oh, come on. Not that again. I told you, there’s nothing wrong with—”
“No, I mean…” He met her gaze. “You’re good. You’re a good person.”
Their eyes were locked, but she blinked several times and swallowed hard.
“I just…did what I thought was right. No big deal.”
But it was a big deal. She didn’t know how big a deal.
Grayson looked away, into the thick green of the trees that surrounded them. “I don’t think you understand how bad…” He shook his head. “Never mind.” Just shut up. He didn’t talk to people like this, and why should she be any different?
“I think I know what’s going on here.”
He truly doubted that but he glanced at her anyway. Those sweet blue eyes were so compassionate in that moment that he found it difficult not to reach for her. But if he did, then what?
“You’re sick, right? That’s why you looked like that. And why you needed water.”
She thought he was sick. This was getting dangerously close to complicated.
“Not exactly,” he said.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
He couldn’t talk about it. She could never ever know what he was. Which was exactly why he should’ve stayed far, far away from her. But now, here they were.
“I’d rather talk about something else.”
“Okay. What would you like to talk about?” She reached for a small round rock and bounced it in her palm.
“Let’s talk about you.”
“Me? I’m really not that interesting,” she insisted.
A few days ago he might’ve agreed, but not now.
“How come you didn’t go out with Aiken?”
Cori blinked a few times before answering. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to, I guess.”
“Why?” he pushed.
She shrugged and kept bouncing that rock. “Sometimes I just don’t want to be sociable. Yesterday was one of those times.”
“What about tonight? Are you going to go with him?”
She narrowed those pale blue eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged, trying to give off the vibe that it didn’t really matter. “Just wondering.” His tone was cavalier to help get the point across.
Cori chucked the pebble into the flow. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“But you don’t want to,” he readily reminded her.
She shrugged again but didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” she laughed humorlessly, still looking at the water. “I could stay home by myself like every other night, eat stale pizza for dinner, and go to bed at eight o’clock. Or…” She took a deep breath. “I could stop being a recluse, go out with my friends, and maybe, just maybe, stay up until eleven.”
He didn’t want her anywhere near Aiken. Peg and Rex were okay, but Aiken…he was dangerous. There must be something he could do to keep Cori away from the Reaper. Had to be. Because he may not know much about the girl sitting next to him, but one thing he did know: she was good—too good for a zombie.
Chapter 12
None of Your Business
CORI DIDN’T REALLY LIKE the way the conversation was going. It was too focused on her and her loser-ness (Peg and Rex would’ve been proud of her for that one). Really, she needed to learn to paint herself in a better light—as her mom had always told her. But then, brutal honesty was more her style, and yeah, her life kinda sucked at the moment so why hide it.
She was about to attempt a subject change when Grayson leaped up from his sitting position. It startled her, but before she could ask him about it, he put his hand up to silence her. He cocked his head to one side as if listening. Cori tried too, but she didn’t hear a thing. Not even the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. He snapped his head around, first in one direction, then the other, looking for some apparent threat. His nose went up in the air. It was almost animalistic. Then all at once, he seemed to relax, coming out of his aggressive stance, his shoulders loosening.
A question was on the tip of her tongue—along the lines of, “What the heck was that all about?”—but something stopped her. A beautiful, tall, dark-haired, must-be-a-supermodel something. The woman—girl?—bounded out from the trees and straight into Grayson’s arms. She was clad in hipster jeans and a shirt that showed her pierced belly button.
“Gray! Oh, thank god. I knew I’d find you here. Something terrible has happened. It’s Leiv, he’s—”
“Raina,” his eyes darted to Cori and then back to her.
“—been taken in for questioning. They didn’t say why. They just came and took him and, and…I don’t know what to do.” She was in tears, Cori noticed. Whatever was happening, the girl was completely distraught.
Grayson shook her a little. “Raina, this is Cori,” he said in a strange way. Why was he talking like that, like her name meant something?
Then it hit her. This chick wasn’t just someone, she was his girlfriend. This explained so much. Like the way he held her, protectively. Like the way he was consoling her—so gentle for someone whose go-to expression was brooding.
Suddenly, the girl—Raina—looked at her and it was clear that she was seeing Cori for the first time. She stepped away from Grayson but still gripped the sleeve of his shirt, the skin of her knuckles white.
“Oh! Uh, I…thought…uh…” She seemed confused.
Cori stood, since she felt like an ant looking up at two giants. Not that standing helped much. Was everyone in this town tall? And talk about awkward, she had to get out of there. Raina certainly wouldn’t be happy finding her boyfriend in a secluded place with another girl. Cori was pretty sure stuff was fixing to go down.
“I’m just gonna go,” Cori said, backing away. She resisted the urge to put both hands up in a placating gesture.
“No,” Grayson barked. It made her jump because she’d forgotten he could talk like that. Geez, he’d been almost normal today.
Raina looked back and forth between Cori and Grayson. Cori wanted to assure her that she had nothing to be worried about. She and Grayson weren’t even friends, much less anything more.
“Raina, go on home and wait for me there. We’ll figure it all out when I get there. Okay?”
She was nodding. “Okay, yeah. But Gray…”
“Everything will be all right. I’m right behind you, promise.” His tone was gentle once more and something about it made Cori’s chest hurt. He loved this woman, Raina. You could hear it in his voice.
Raina nodded hesitantly and turned away. She glanced back once at Cori and then disappeared
into the trees.
Cori waited until Grayson turned to her before trying her exit strategy again.
“So, uh, thanks for getting me out of class and everything but I think I’m just gonna—”
He was in front of her so fast she didn’t even know how he’d gotten there. “You should stay away from Aiken.”
Okay. “Why?”
“Because.” His voice was hard steel.
She crossed her arms over her chest. He stepped closer until they were almost touching. Uncomfortably close.
“Because why? Because you don’t like him? If that was a good enough reason to stay away from someone, I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”
His mouth was a grim line, his eyes lit from the inside. When he didn’t say anything else, she stepped around him to leave.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
She kept walking. “Home.”
He didn’t say anything else and she didn’t really expect him to. When she got to the gate of the cemetery, she dared a glance back. Grayson was nowhere to be seen, so she stepped through and went toward home.
Along the way it started raining. It was a longer walk since she was coming from the cemetery instead of school so she was left with extra time to think. Even with him being bossy, she was glad she’d gone with him. She hadn’t expected to enjoy the wet cemetery. And her suspicions about Grayson being sick were confirmed. She wondered if his girlfriend knew. He seemed like the type to hide it. Cori was curious what disease he had, but she wouldn’t push him to talk about it.
As for his warning about Aiken, she thought it was baseless. Aiken was as nice as they came. And he was happy and easygoing and, well, basically perfect in every conceivable way. Which was exactly why she wasn’t going out with him tonight—even if Peg and Rex were coming. She was the opposite of everything he was: not happy, not easygoing, and not perfect. Hanging out with him too much would only bring him down. At least with Grayson she was on an equal playing field.
