One Ghost Per Serving

by Nina Post

  “Now can I go to a better school?” Taffy said, putting earplugs in her ears. Eric sat under the table with her.

  “I want to take this to the lab.” She held out the box.

  “Let’s go now,” he said. “Unless you wanted to get in line. I hear they have pizza.”

  “Maybe next week.”

  When they scurried out from under the table, Eric crouched down and she got on his back.

  “I can run faster than you,” she pointed out.

  “But I need a shield.” He hoisted her up and secured her ankles.

  Taffy gave him directions to the science lab. When he got to the door, he crouched down again and she slid to the floor. He barricaded the door behind them and she went to a sink at one of the lab stations to wash up. She dried her hands, pulled on a pair of blue gloves, then opened cabinets and took out some equipment. Eric took a coiled piece of red-and-white nylon rope from the teacher’s desk and jammed it in his back pocket. He went to the corner of the room by the window, near a slick poster of the Periodic Table and a diagram of a frog’s anatomy.

  Out the window, Eric watched as a tiny silver car pulled up next to DZ’s Aston Martin. A man in his thirties slammed the door, paused, nearly clawed off his navy blazer then threw it back into the car, slamming the door even harder the second time. He was average height, with brown hair, khakis, a blue collared shirt, and a gray tie. He stalked over to DZ then spoke with his head forward in an accusatory way.

  DZ put up a hand and went over to the jungle gym. The angry guy followed, yelling the whole way. Did DZ park in his teacher-of-the-month spot? Whatever the case was, he was really letting DZ have it. DZ seemed surprised, like angry guy was a tree that had suddenly become a person and expressed anger toward him.

  “Taffy, don’t let anyone in here but me.” Eric got up and turned to her. She had on a pair of clear safety glasses and a lab coat. He wished he had a video camera, and made a mental note to record her in the lab soon. It occurred to him that he could probably dedicate the rest of his life to making documentaries about Taffy. Whatever else he screwed up, it didn’t matter. If he had to go through that, had to make every choice, every decision again in the exact same way so Taffy could exist, then he could make his peace with it. Even with Rex.

  “And if anyone gets within ten feet of you –” Eric warned.

  Taffy held up a propane torch and turned it on. It flared and hissed. “I know.”

  “Good. Okay. I’ll be outside.”

  “Is this really a good time to relive your youth on the jungle gym?” Rex said, following.

  “As good a time as any.” Eric pushed up the window, climbed out, then closed it behind him. He jogged to an open Nidus delivery truck, which housed dozens of pallets of snack boxes. He found the manifest in the cab up front. There weren’t just snack boxes, but pudding, too.

  “Nidus Pudding,” Eric read from the manifest. “The only pudding clinically proven to stop diarrhea,” he said in a quote tone, remembering the slogan. He opened one of the pudding pallets.

  There was a swath of product brochures on top of the pallet. The brochures folded out into three sections: testimonials from doctors and from customers, nutritional information and recipes, and on the last flap, a vintage ad – in the way a DeLorean or a Tab ad was vintage. It featured a boy, maybe eight, with thick hair in a bowl cut and a suit that looked custom made for him. He held a pint of pudding. The text read, I Suffer from Diarrhea, And the Only Thing That Stops It Is Nidus Pudding!

  DZ had spun and jumped onto a merry-go-round in the playground, and Angry Guy kept trying to grab a bar to stop it. Eric strode up, reached out as he stepped forward, grabbed one of the rails, then pulled the thing to a complete stop. DZ stumbled. Eric yanked him off the merry-go-round by the shirt and guided him in the direction he was already going until DZ hit the ground. Eric put his knee on DZ’s chest.

  “I should kill you right now.” Eric pressed his hand into DZ’s windpipe. “And who the hell are you?” he said to Angry Guy.

  “Nathan Watling.” He put out his hand for Eric to shake, which didn’t happen.

  “You work with him, Watling?” Angry Guy’s last name sounded like a bird to Eric, spoken by an announcer in hushed golf commentator tones: ‘The National Audubon Society’s Christmas Watling count is underway, with volunteers following specific routes in search of the elusive blue-throated Watling, last spotted here in 1968.’

  Nathan cleared his throat. “I’m the VP of operations for –”

  “Cynosure,” Eric said.

  “Yeah.” Nathan winced, like he was ashamed.

  “Do you know who I am?” Eric said from his kneeling position.

  Nathan nodded and looked at the ground. “Eric Snackerge.”

  Eric took DZ’s aviators from his front shirt pocket, stood, then crushed the glasses under his heel. It felt petty, but it felt good, too.

  “You feel nervous?” Eric said to DZ. “Or maybe you feel like you ingested some kind of microbe. Either way, you could be in danger of watery, non-bloody diarrhea.”

  DZ grimaced. “Don’t talk to me about diarrhea!”

  “Why,” Eric said, “because your family forced you to be the face of Nidus anti-diarrheal pudding in their ads?”

  DZ sucked in a breath and retreated, like the words physically hurt him. “How do you know that?”

  Eric had actually just guessed that the kid in the Nidus ad was DZ. He remembered that DZ, before he knew who DZ was, had mentioned that Nidus was a family company. And Nidus was the parent company of Quantal Foods.

  “Nidus Monolithics is your family’s company,” Eric said. When DZ didn’t answer immediately, Eric pressed harder. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. YES!”

  Eric lowered and softened his voice. “You must have had a hard time at school.”

  DZ’s eyes glistened. He turned his head all the way to one side. “My father made me star in their TV ads from age six to twelve. Everyone called me Davinrrhea. For years.”

  Eric nodded. “That’s why you go by DZ.”

  “I was tormented every day, but did my father care? Did he even listen? I was good for sales, so he kept using me in the ads.” DZ’s nose was running but he didn’t wipe it off. “It didn’t matter how miserable I was.”

  “The only thing that mattered was sales,” Eric said, suddenly feeling like He Who Cleans House from group, and wondered, when did he start calling it ‘group’ like it was a familiar thing?

  “I can’t get away from them!” DZ screamed, spit flying. Eric and Nathan jumped an inch. DZ reached across his lower back and pulled out a stubby flashlight-looking object. With a jerk of his wrist, the object extended out to a glowing sword. DZ hit it flat against his own leg and it made a recorded clanging sound. Then he held it out to Eric.

  “Look,” Nathan said to DZ while pointing at the sky. “A flying robot!”

  DZ looked. Eric grabbed the sword and threw it behind him.

  “He loves robots,” Nathan said.

  Eric reached into his pocket and took out the length of rope. He dragged DZ to a sitting position against the merry-go-round and pinned his legs. DZ yanked up his shirt sleeve, revealing a fingerless glove with built-in hand claws. He swiped out and skinned Eric’s shoulder. Eric pulled his arms and twisted DZ’s wrist to the side until he yelped. Then Eric ripped off the Velcro glove and threw it off to the side. He forced DZ’s arms behind him and tied his hands to one of the rails.

  “You’re rich,” Eric said.

  “Very.”

  “But it’s their money. His money.”

  DZ clenched his jaw. “I spend it and I spend it and I spend it –”

  Nathan interrupted. “He does. He spends the hell out of it.”

  “ – But there’s always more,” DZ said. “It just keeps coming. I can’t get rid of it.”

  “That’s horrible,” Eric said. “I’m so sorry.”

  DZ either didn’t get the heavy sarcasm or chose to ignor
e it.

  “You got your group of enchanters to embed the commerce spirits in the Quantal Organic Yogurt so you could still be rich, but from your own money,” Eric said. “Am I close?”

  “Exactly!” DZ said, blinking fast.

  “But you didn’t care who you hurt,” Eric said. “My life, for example, meant nothing to you.”

  “I don’t even know you,” DZ said.

  “Oh.” Eric laughed. “Then it’s okay.”

  “Right!” DZ said brightly.

  Eric headed back into the school to find Taffy. He hoped she was still safely ensconced in the lab. Nathan followed him.

  “Hey, uh, Eric –”

  “Mister Snackerge to you, asshole.”

  “I … Look, I know that you’re mad, and justifiably so –”

  “You’re damn right, VP.”

  “But see, that’s the thing. I don’t want to be VP anymore. At least, not with Cynosure.”

  Eric glanced over his shoulder at Nathan but kept walking. He reached the window of the lab and pushed it up.

  “Taffy!”

  The room was empty. Eric cursed under his breath. He checked around the room just in case. After the cafeteria, he wouldn’t be surprised to see her hiding under something.

  “Taffy!”

  Nathan climbed in through the window. “I want to start my own promotional firm.”

  Eric snorted. “Really? Cynosure not corrupt enough for you?”

  “No, it’s the opposite. I –”

  Eric went out into the hallway and immediately flattened himself against the wall so he wouldn’t be run over by the people pushing through the hall.

  “I want to start a promotions company based on strict ethical controls,” Nathan yelled from three feet away where he stood plastered against the wall.

  “I don’t care!” Eric yelled back.

  Eric put up a knee to block a janitor who had yogurt all over his face and a bad rash on his neck, then tried moving down the wall toward the cafeteria. “Taffy!”

  “Sweepstakes, contests, games – all meticulously audited and monitored,” Nathan yelled, and guarded his face against a female teacher who was grasping for him.

  “So what?” Eric inched sideways. The floor of the hallway was littered with crushed snack boxes. Kids and adult staff trampled them and skidded on them and picked them up to eat them. They wiped the yogurt off the floor and licked their hands.

  “I want you to work with me!” Nathan yelled, even louder.

  “You must be joking.” Eric yelled.

  “No!”

  Eric reached the cafeteria and called out for Taffy again. She darted out the door into the hall and layered herself against the wall. “I think I found to a way to neutralize the spirits,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

  “He’s not my friend,” Eric said.

  “His future business partner!” Nathan yelled.

  The hall had cleared out and was quiet. Eric found this even more troubling.

  “Why is he yelling?” Taffy said.

  Eric shook his head.

  “Anyway,” Taffy continued. “I need to get back to the lab. I can do one snack box at a time, but I think it’s too late. This infection, it’s not host-to-host, right?”

  Eric squinted. “I don’t think so. It’s more like yogurt-to-host, or whatever you would call that. One person can’t spread it to another person, I don’t think. But his promotional company –” he pointed a finger at Nathan, “is deploying this infected yogurt to high-traffic locations.”

  “I didn’t –” Nathan stammered.

  “Stadiums, schools, any place with lots of people,” Eric continued, keeping focused on Nathan, “and this is just the first school. It doesn’t spread by interaction, but the source is getting deployed to more and more locations, so it’s spreading fast and we have to make sure it stops here.”

  “Phase 3,” Nathan said, grim.

  Taffy leaned against the wall. “I tested the yogurt from the boxes. Whatever is in there is resistant to high temperature and fire, freezing, chemical disinfectants, and desiccation. To do more, I would need stool cultures with acid-fast staining.”

  “Taffy, no. It makes me nervous to –”

  “I promise I’m careful,” she said.

  He reached out and took her hand. It was small, and calloused on the pads. She was still so young, but he knew when she was ten years older, it would feel like she was twelve just a few days before – an accordion of time, squeezing and expanding. He didn’t want to keep snapping awake, heart racing, in a state of panic about time passing and how he was living his life. He wanted to be a better example for her, not a cautionary tale of what not to do.

  He reluctantly let her hand go. “I have to go back outside. I left someone tied to a playground ride.”

  Taffy widened her eyes. “Is he wearing a shirt with a guitar on it? If so, he’s been there,” she glanced at her gigantic watch, “for at least sixteen hours.”

  Eric tilted his head at Taffy and narrowed his eyes at her. “No, it’s a different guy.”

  She shrugged. “Good. Fine.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Nathan said.

  “Why do I have to have so many hop-ons?” Eric said.

  Taffy heard him and said, “Your gastrointestinal tract has millions of –”

  Eric narrowed his eyes.

  “Right,” she said, with a brief smile.

  Eric charged back to the playground and Nathan jogged to keep up with him.

  “He’s untying the rope!” Nathan said. DZ was leaning over in a standing position, removing the last of the rope knots. Eric vowed to work on his knot-tying skills and started to run. A loud motor sound buzzed from the copse of trees just to the side of the playground. A tiny helmeted figure on an ATV roared up in front of DZ, who hopped on the back. They zipped away.

  “That was Cyril, his intern and valet,” Nathan explained to Eric. “So, listen, I’d really like to sit down with you for a few minutes and talk about what –”

  “I’m not going to discuss this with you,” Eric said.

  “Discuss what?” Nathan said innocently.

  “The job offer,” Eric said, distracted.

  “You mean the job offer that comes with a competitive base salary and profit sharing?”

  “Yeah, that. After what you guys did, I’d rather work for a warlord.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Eric stalked back to the school. He wished Taffy would just keep a phone with her. Willa kept buying Taffy cell phones, and Taffy just stacked them up in her room. For all he knew, she used them to contact extraterrestrial life. He tried to remember the ending of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

  Rex appeared next to him, on the other side from Nathan.

  “Where have you been?” Eric said, as quietly as possible.

  “Where do you think?”

  Eric nodded. Rex had been close.

  “Josh is on his way,” Rex added. “He’s affected, but okay to drive.”

  “What do you think it’s like working for DZ?” Nathan said. “I barely feel human anymore. Just taking Quantal Foods as a client in the first place was an ethical violation, but that contest was – I mean, if the FBI knew about it,” he exhaled, “and if the public found out, there’d be a class-action suit filed every day for a year.”

  Eric stopped. “Then why the hell did you work for him?”

  “That’s a fair question.” He exhaled. “I went into business with him because he was energetic and enthusiastic. It was infectious.” Nathan dropped his eyelids and shook his head. “Bad choice of words.” He gave a weak laugh. “DZ was fun to be around, was always coming up with ideas. I thought it was good that he was my opposite. Optimistic. Spontaneous. But over time I saw the underside of his charm: the compulsive shopping, the hysteria, the mood swings. And when I realized that he wanted to take over the world – literally, take over the world via a subsidiary of the family company he detests – it was too
late.”

  Eric kept walking and stared straight ahead. “Somehow I still find myself not caring.”

  “No, I saw you with DZ in that playground,” Nathan said. “It sounded like you cared a little.”

  Eric stopped and turned to look at Nathan. “Calculated manipulation.”

  “I know real empathy when I see it,” Nathan said.

  Eric cut away and opened the doors to the school. He walked through the floor cover of destroyed snack boxes like he was walking through a muddy bog.

  Nathan grimaced when he looked down at the cuffs of his pants, which were coated with yogurt.

  “You’ve got a little commerce spirit on your pants there,” Eric said, and chuckled. He reached the lab and opened the door.

  “Hi Dad. I managed to get some stool samples –”

  “Taffy, gross. How? No, never mind.”

  “I took the usual precautions,” she said.

  “The usual precautions?”

  Taffy raised her safety glasses. “A commerce spirit embedded in nanomaterials in the yogurt enters the body through the gastrointestinal tract. The symptoms start there, so there was plenty of shedding in the halls and the cafeteria.”

  “Shedding?” Nathan said.

  “Vomit and diarrhea.” Taffy removed her glasses and set them on a table. “Don’t worry, I took every precaution. I’m not an idiot.”

  Nathan looked queasy and went to sit down at a station in the middle of the room.

  “The spirits would stay in the body.” Taffy headed to her station.

  “She’s right,” Nathan said. “DZ said they were bio … bio …”

  “Biopersistent.” Taffy cleaned some equipment. “They’re not digestible. They cause symptoms, which aren’t immediately fatal, but that’s the body fighting it. After a while, maybe the body gets used to it.”

  Rex pawed through the things Taffy had on her station, including the yogurt samples.

  “You did,” he said to Eric.