The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  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.

  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 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, and 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.

  The strike had the desired effect, and he released Jade. 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 assclowns 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.”

  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.

  The zombie 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 talkinʼ 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 somethinʼ 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 ʻor somethingʼ, 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 frickinʼ 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 ʻtune-upʼ 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-th
rottle. 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,ʼcuz 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?” She was AFTD, wasn't Gale getting a sense of them?

  I nodded.

  “We are Skopamish, female,” Lead Zombie said.

  The copsʼ 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 staring stupidly. “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 warned.

  “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. His chest was 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 lo
ng-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 of wood. 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 ʻsubdueʼ 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 oʼ 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.