by Eros, Marata
Alex walked over to him and said, “I'm not brainless, dickhead .”
Liking it.
He shoved the guy toward the double doors, his friend's moaning a background symphony as he flew the fifteen feet to the doors, blasting through them entirely and landing with an audible thud outside.
Glass and wood sprayed everywhere with a deafening shriek.
Griswold barked out a laugh. “Unclassified, my ass. Looks like you've been holding out on me , Sims.”
Yeah, he'd outed himself good. Oh well, drastic measures had been needed.
She looked at Sophie, her foot planted on Skinny's shoulder. “Morris, go directly to the principal's office. Tell her to pulse 911; that we have a situation here.”
Jonesy said, “Can I go with her, Miss Griswold?”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You think you're capable of going from here to the office without some calamity falling on your head?”
There was a bloated silence.
Finally, Jonesy nodded. “Yeah.”
“Humph! Okay, get moving. And go around,” she spun her finger, indicating that Sophie and Jonesy needed to avoid Stocky in the hall.
****
Their stories checked out. They were legitimate government personnel, visiting the school to do a random check of a handful of freshman representing each group of paranormals.
Packing Hardware. Hmm.
Bullshit. My group knew better.
Griswold got a vacation for taking things to the “physical” level. Whatever the hell that meant. I never thought I'd give the enraged cow a break but she had stuck up for us. Hell, protected us. Like we mattered. Who knew?
We'd have some lame sub. Jonesy would work the sub over, whoever it was, in typical Jonesy modus operandi.
We agreed to meet at the hide-a-way right after school ended because there was another Null found dead. Recent . Like a kid from the next town. Our killer was circling closer all the time and Tiff and I were feeling the pressure.
We were in the school commons and the pulse-chime had just sounded its ending tone for the day. The high school commons was different than middle school. We had stacked lockers that had pulse locks (pretty important since there were a few Lock Manipulators at KPH).
I was turning when Sophie said, “Hey, Caleb?”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“I've got a friend I think might be pretty cool. I just met her but she seems nice and I was wondering...”
“Who?”
“Mia Cote.”
“Hell, no!” Jonesy spat out. “She's that traitor that got the cops on Caleb's dick when he raised grandma at Scenic.”
Bry flinched.
I guess the memory was still pretty fresh.
Tiff said, “Okay, she blew it. But, let's address how frickinʼ scary that whole day was.” She punctuated her statement with a bubble the size of a softball.
We watched, fascinated as she maneuvered it back into her mouth after popping, getting the excess with her tongue.
Kinda talented.
John broke away from staring at Tiff. “She has a point, but we can't take anyone on that's new unless they have something intrinsically beneficial to offer.”
“To offer who?” Jade asked.
“The group,” I said, understanding John's hesitation. Bry was cool but we couldn't have a butt ton of mundanes loading us down. Speaking of which. “Have you found out yet what ya are, Jonesy?” I asked.
He shrugged. “No clue. They don't know yet either. I popped on the AP but they think it's a new ability.”
“I don't want to know, actually,” Sophie muttered.
He smiled. “I told you how skilled I am, right?” He waggled his brows.
“Yeah, many times,” she said, unimpressed.
John and I exchanged a glance. Those two were so perfect for each other it was scary. But we were pulling the No Interference Card. Let ʼem figure it out.
Bry said, “What is she, Tiff? Sophie?”
Sophie said, “She's a Photographic.”
“Yeah, so? What the hell good is that?” Jonesy asked.
Tiff's eyes heaved upward. “It's a pretty awesome skill for school, college, and all that happy crap.”
Alex said, “Yeah, that is like, ʻno studying neededʼ—awesome.”
“Why study?” Jonesy asked seriously.
“Ah, to pass, dinkus,” Christi said, having just heard the tail end of the conversation.
Jonesy's eyes became like razors on Christi. “And you're so brilliant, right?”
“Smarter than you.”
“Prove it, gorgeous,” Jonesy said.
Sophie huffed in the background.
“Because, I just read somewhere that there can only be an IQ difference of fifteen points between siblings,” Jonesy said.
Jonesy was reading ? I'd heard everything now.
He looked at us all staring at him dumbfounded. “Thanks for the love, assholes.”
John barked out a laugh.
“Okay, bestow your wisdom,” Christi said, tapping her foot. Then, “What does that have to do with how smart you are?”
“I was thinkinʼ of your bro, Brody.”
“Yeah, what about him?” she demanded, crossing her arms under a perfect set of ta-tas.
“See, I know he's a dumbass because of his buds. That got me thinking—if he has the same IQ as the rest of his pals—which is roughly equivalent to a shovel, then where does that put you, sweetheart?”
A dull red blush colored Christi's throat and face; she turned on her heel to Bry. “It's me, or them!” she hollered in his face, stomping her foot.
Stomping her foot. People actually did that?
Bry fumbled around, clearly thinking about the whole Appropriate Response thing.
After a few seconds of silence rolled out Tiff said, “Can't take back the pause.”
Shit in a sock.
Christi whirled on Tiff. “You're a sick bitch. You and your creepy friend.” Her eyes fell on me. “And your creepy grandpa and all your shitty-ass friends. And,” she looked at Jonesy, “you're black too!”
Jonesy was stunned, but recovered. “See, there's the proof, you just noticed . I rest my case. I've been African-American for like fifteen years, brainiac.”
“Ugh!” she nearly shrieked, shoving Bry and storming off.
We watched her hot body walk away and it was bittersweet for the guys. Mainly bitter.
“Well, that's a relief to not have the Complication of Christi,” I said neutrally.
Bry mourned out loud, “She was so hot!”
“Oh, get over it! She would only be good if she didn't speak!” Tiff said, spitting out her gum into the trash separator and folding a new piece into her mouth.
Alex shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Dude, just get a blow up doll. They never talk back.”
“That's very disturbing, Alex,” John said.
Jonesy said, “I don't know, there's something practical about it.”
“Oh my God, seriously?” Sophie said, her mouth hanging open.
Jade said, “Yeah, don't make me agree with Christi about anything.”
Wow, time to rein in the girls before there was trouble. “Okay,” I held up my palms in supplication, “bring Mia, we'll see how she gels with the group.”
“Gels?” Jonesy asked.
“Jonesy,” John said in warning.
“Right,” he smirked.
He was way more clever than we gave him credit for.
Jade gave me a kiss that was entirely too short. More later, I thought.
She, Tiff and Sophie walked off and Jonesy's eyes were glued to Sophie's ass, per usual.
John said, “God, Jonesy, just ask her out.”
“Yeah, maybe you could get over the fixation with her ass,” I said.
“It's kinda big,” Alex said.
“Rotund,” John corrected.
Alex gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Hey guys, thanks. I think I'm an
ass connoisseur, and hers is near-perfect,” Jonesy said indignantly.
I was thinking Jade's was perfect, which I mentioned.
“Nah.” And he was treading carefully here, good thinking. “She's got the small, ʻwhite-girlʼ butt.”
“Sophie's white,” John said.
“No, mixed. She's got some sista in her,” Jonesy said emphatically.
Okay.
He shrugged. “What can I say? It is one of her best features.” Then he got a dreamy look. “Her eyes aren't half bad and, she's kinda smart too....”
Jonesy was bitten by the love bug. Join the crowd .
We were all staring at him as he came back to himself, trying to shrug it off like it didn't matter. “Whatever, I'm not that into her.”
Ah-huh.
None of us said anything when he turned around to look at her one last time as we crossed the threshold of the school to the outside.
The last vestiges of summer drifted above our heads in a sky so deep a blue it was a bruised violet.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The earth felt warm in my hand, the dirt slipping through my fingers like water. It was almost mid-September and the summer had left its heat firmly imprinted. Autumn was still only a promise.
I stood.
Smith came over to stand beside me. “Hey Caleb, what do you think?” I looked down at the fresh body, the smell somewhere between open sewer and rotting meat.
“I'm not raising another one of the murdered kids. That's what I'm thinking.” Gum snapped behind me, echoing in the meadow we stood in.
Garcia, Gale and all the techs (I thought of them as dead-techs, not sure why), looked up, startled by the noise. They looked at Tiff, who unfazed by anything shrugged like, whatever.
She flipped her hood up, effectively hiding.
I looked at her and yanked my head back.
She walked over.
“I think we need to touch her,” I began.
“Kinda weird it's a girl,” she commented.
I nodded, it was. Most Nulls were guys; nobody knew why.
Smith looked at the strangled girl, shaking his head. “So totally wrong.”
We agreed.
“I know that with Caleb, we may be able to get a vibe for the killer. We didn't get squat from the last corpse except it was kinda crazy. Raising them isn't gonna work. We need to feel what they remembered,” Tiff said.
There was a commotion from behind me and I turned. Dave Smith, my AFTD teacher was here.
My shoulders slumped . Perfect.
Garcia was shaking his head.
I walked over there.
Smith saw me and said to Garcia, “That's my student there and he needs to have guidance. He's too skilled to be here without some supervision from another AFTD.”
That was definitely not having my back. Smith was turning into the category of: Dickhead Adult. I wasn't thinking he'd pull a surprise on us like Griswold and turn out okay.
“I appreciate your concern for Caleb, Mr.—” Garcia began.
“Smith,” he replied, putting his hands on his hips.
He was getting his war paint on (the Skopamish came to mind randomly). Hadn't that been a nice little disaster?
Smith looked at me for help but I wasn't really digginʼ on him busting in on our crime scene, stirring the paranormal pot and all that happy ho-ho shit.
“Mr. Smith,” Garcia began, “we have a five-point Null here.”
John Smith walked over to Teacher Smith. “We have things under control. There's no cause for concern,” he said in a neutral voice.
Teacher Smith's eyes narrowed. “But you're not using just Caleb. Tiffany Weller is complementing him in his exercises. You may not be sufficient for containing whatever might happen.”
Smith the Null's eyebrows shot up, and he folded his arms. “What do you mean? I can shut anyone down. That's why I'm working homicide.”
Smith leaned against the yellow tape. “Listen, you have, in theory, some very disturbed potential zombies, if they escape the control of this five-point AFTD and his rechargeable side-kick—”
“Hey!” Tiff interjected, pissed. The battery reference wasn't appreciated.
Smith's eyes flicked to Tiff and he shrugged, truth hurts , that look said. “You may have a zombie on the rampage, and they cannot be stopped except by fire. You have a Pyrokenetic on staff?”
Smith stared blankly at my teacher.
Gale walked over. “Thanks so much for your concern. But, I need to ask you to go, this is an ongoing homicide investigation and civilians aren't allowed inside this perimeter.”
He looked down at Gale, way down. “You'll regret not including me.” Smith's gaze shifted to me. “You're going to raise one of these victims and lose control of them. And then we'll see what happens.”
“Wait a second,” Garcia said. “Why is it any different than any other zombie?”
Smith looked smug.
Our Null glowered.
“Because, in theory, a person killed violently has the last life impression , etched on them in such a way, they're not normal when they rise.
And how were zombies normal ?
“You're saying—what—they're ʻcrazy zombiesʼ?” Tiff asked.
Smith the Teacher nodded. “That is not entirely accurate but it's close enough.”
“They're insane because—?” Garcia began to ask.
“Because that was their last point of reference,” John Smith answered.
“That was the last memory. Their last anything,” I said.
Smith the Null and my teacher was nodding.
We stood around for a long moment. Finally, Garcia said, “I think we were going to try another method today.”
Smith looked at me, aghast, “Did you already raise one of the murder victims?”
I looked at the G's, wasn't sure what I could answer.
Garcia nodded. “Yeah.”
Smith pegged his hips with his hands again. “Humph! Well, how did that go?”
A memory of the zombie pushing his guts inside the cavity of his body and straddling me with his hands biting into my flesh came to mind. “Not that great.”
He threw up his hands like, I told you so .
Tiff stared at me. “Are you kidding?”
Garcia's glare stopped her comment in its tracks.
Her mouth closed with a snap.
There was a pause in conversation where the only noises were the tools of the dead techs, their gloves snapping on and coming off. The the low drone of the incessant buzzing of flies filled the space, rivaling that of the dead which called to me.
The wind brought the scent of decay to our nostrils—the fragrance of murder.
Gale shook herself from the news. “Okay, thank you so much. We will take what you've told us under advisement. For the time being, Caleb and Tiffany are acting as consultants until there is a break in the case. We have a powerful Null assigned, who is on site the entire time. Things are under control.”
He smirked down at her. “Let's hope that's the case. Don't discount my expertise in this matter, officer .” Which came out sounding vaguely like, bitch .
Bobbi Gale took it that way too, her eyes sharpening on him like knives. “Again, thank you so much, ” she replied.
I heard, eff-you very much. I was getting pretty good at translating adult-speak.
Smith stood to his full height. “I offered my services here. You are endangering these minors. It's on your collective consciences if the worst happens. This could have been avoided had you acted like reasonable adults.”
“Go now, or I will take you in for harassment. We've been patient; we've listened to your arguments. Enough,” Garcia said, his hand hovering around his utility belt.
Interesting.
Smith's eyes met Garcia's, and there was a strained moment when I thought that Smith would challenge him further.
Don't do it, bud.
“Fine. But, don't call me when things go sideways and you don't h
ave a safety net. You're out of your element.” He gave me a last, penetrating stare and stalked off.
“That was frickinʼ weird,” Tiff said.
Yeah.
“What's all that about, Caleb?” Gale asked.
I shrugged, watching Smith's retreating back. “Ah, last week he said I should ask you guys if you needed help with the investigation. I forgot about it.” Just a few things going on in my life right now, thanks.
Garcia looked after him. “That's your, what, teacher?”
“Yeah, he's one of my core AFTD.”
“Not very cool, him showing up here and throwing his paranormal weight around,” Smith the Null said.
“Maybe he's a glory hound?” Gale commented.
“I don't like that he knew where to find the crime scene,” Garcia said quietly.
Yeah, how did he find it?
“A leak?” Smith addressed the question to Gale and Garcia.
“Must be,” Gale said.
By mutual consensus, we made our way to the body. The smell got worse by the minute.
Tiff didn't even bother to be cool about it, but held out a stiff hand and a dead tech handed her a mask.
I was okay with the smell. It was a little like fresh zombie for me. I was breathing through my mouth even though it hurt my ribs a little. They were still sore from the fun gang beating a few days ago.
Tiff and I sunk to our haunches, gazing at the corpse.
One tennis shoe was gone from the body, leaving an ankle exposed. The pressure of the whispering was almost painful, and I turned to Smith, the beat of the call like an errant drum, its percussion incessantly thumping inside my head.
“I need you to tune up some.”
“How much?” Smith asked.
“I don't know, just do something, I'm dying here.”
His face took on that blank look when he started to think about his ability. We'd talked about it before and his ability was a lot like mine. Unlike me, if he just let it leak all over the place, mundanes didn't notice. If he was around paranormals, well, he had fun with it.
Nobody thought zombies popping up unexpectedly was very fun.
The whispering began to recede like the tide leaving the shore. Okay—bearable again.
Tiff and I looked at each other over the body, her mossy green eyes were wide like fifty-cent pieces.
