Dark Chocolate Demise

by Jenn McKinlay

  Just then, Marty came running up. He clapped his hands to his bald head and cried, “What the hell is going on here?”

  “He started it!” A buxom redhead, wearing a zombie maid’s outfit complete with cheesy fishnet stockings, pointed at Oz. “He grabbed my breasts!”

  “I did not!” Oz protested. His voice cracked and his face turned bright red, visible even under his thick gray makeup. “I tripped and fell on . . . er . . . you.”

  Mel glanced back at Tate and the big man. They were rolling across the ground. Tate had his arms and legs wrapped around the giant man, making it almost impossible for the guy to get a solid punch in. That didn’t stop the ogre from rolling until Tate was on the bottom, where the man tried to head butt him.

  “A little help here!” Tate yelled as he dodged the cranial smack-down.

  Mel, Oz, and Marty moved in to help, when three Scottsdale police officers on bicycles rolled up.

  “Uh-oh,” Marty said.

  Seven

  The officers wasted no time in grabbing the big guy off of Tate. The skanky girlfriend immediately got into the officer’s face, pointing at Oz and shrieking about how he had jumped her, and her boyfriend was just protecting her.

  Mel recognized one of the officers as being friends with her uncle, Stan Cooper, who was a detective on the Scottsdale PD. She gave him a little wave and he came over.

  “Mel, I almost didn’t recognize you with your brains coming out of your forehead like that,” he said. “Not your best look.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is,” she said. She fingered the latex on her forehead that was beginning to itch. “Good to see you, Henry. How are Jackie and the kids?”

  “Good, everyone is good,” he said. They were quiet for a moment and then he gestured to Tate, who was talking to another officer. “Friend of yours?”

  “Yes, Tate Harper,” she said. “Uncle Stan can vouch for him. He’s a good guy, but that thug accused our employee of trying to feel up his girlfriend, and Tate was forced to intervene.”

  “I didn’t!” Oz protested.

  The officer smiled at Oz’s genuinely alarmed face.

  “Officer Henry Dodge, this is Oscar Ruiz,” Mel introduced them and they shook hands.

  “Can you tell me what happened from the beginning?” Henry asked Oz.

  Marty stepped forward, looking like he wanted to add to the conversation, but Mel gestured him back. He made a huffy sound but held his silence.

  Oz explained how he was going on a break and got jostled in the crowd. He accidently brushed up against the mean girl, and the next thing he knew her crazy boyfriend had him up in the air by the front of his shirt.

  “Stay put,” the officer said. “I’m going to check in with my partners.”

  “You don’t think they’ll arrest me, do you?” Oz asked as Henry walked away.

  “Nah, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Marty said. “And look at that guy. I bet he has a rap sheet as long as his beard.”

  “Let’s hope,” Mel said. “Some outstanding warrants would be nice, too.”

  It wasn’t long before Tate, looking a bit rumpled and missing the dagger that had been lodged in his skull, came back over to them.

  “It’s going to be just a few minutes,” he said. “They’ve got some witnesses that are telling them exactly what happened, how the guy jumped on Oz and that I backed him up.”

  He and Oz paused to knuckle-bump each other while Marty thumped them both on the back. The testosterone was so thick in the air, Mel was pretty sure she caught a whiff of it on an inhale.

  “Why don’t you and Marty head back to the van,” Tate said to Mel. “We don’t want anyone messing with the coffin, and we still have a lot of brain cupcakes to move.”

  “Really? I thought they’d be the most popular. No, huh?” Mel asked.

  “The Dark Chocolate Demise with the coffins on top are definitely the favorites,” Tate said. “We should remember this for when we open our franchise.”

  Mel heaved a sigh. Tate had been working on expanding her business for the past few months, ever since he quit his high-powered investment job. It had caused some friction between them, mostly for her, as he was trying to take the bakery to the next level, while she was content with things just as they were.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Look, if the officers need us, let them know we’re over there.”

  “Got it,” Tate said. “Hey, has anyone seen Angie?”

  He was scanning the crowd for his zombie bride, and Mel knew he was wishing she’d been there to see him take down the big baddie. Probably, because it was usually Angie who led with her fists and punched out the bad guys.

  “No, but if I see her, I’ll send her over,” Mel promised.

  Together she and Marty worked their way through the crowd to the van.

  Halfway there, she saw some uniformed members of the Zombie Defense Squad. All role-playing had apparently been suspended during the fight as the squad and zombies all mingled and stood up on their toes, trying to see over the crowd to find out what the ruckus was about. This reminded Mel of Marty’s earlier departure from the van.

  “What happened to your two new buddies?” she asked.

  Marty scowled. “Nothing.”

  Which Mel took to mean he didn’t want to talk about it. Silly Marty. Had he not known her for over a year?

  “When you say nothing, you mean . . . ?” she prompted him.

  “You’re just not going to let it go, are you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Fine.” Marty stepped around a family of undead, and Mel had to move quickly to keep up. “If you must know, they tried to capture me.”

  Mel stifled her laugh enough to ask, “How?”

  “They had a whosiwhatsis in their backpack. Sort of looked like a humane mouse catcher. Not sure how they thought they were going to stuff me in there, but I got Olivia to run interference while I escaped.”

  Now Mel did laugh. Marty gave her an outraged look, which only made her laugh harder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really, it’s just, why you?”

  “Danged if I know,” Marty said. “Every time they pointed that goofy gizmo at me, it started flashing and beeping like all get-out.”

  “Well, obviously, it’s faulty,” Mel said.

  “Yeah,” Marty said. “Unless . . .”

  “What?”

  “Unless I died and now I’m a ghost, like in that movie Tate made us watch that scared the snot out of me.”

  “The Sixth Sense?” Mel asked. When Marty nodded, she shook her head. “No, because that would mean that everyone who comes into contact with you has the ability to see dead people. You. Are. Not. Dead.”

  Marty nodded, looking relieved. “You’d tell me though, right?”

  “I promise,” Mel said. “The minute my hand passes right through you, I’ll be sure to scream and let you know.”

  She patted the sleeve of his suit just to reassure them both that he was very much alive and kicking.

  They pushed through a group of rowdy teens dressed like dead rock stars to reach the van. It stood deserted with no line as everyone had rushed over to see the fight.

  As they unlocked it and climbed into the back, Mel said, “Push the brains.”

  “Okay, in all my eighty-plus years, I never thought anyone would say that to me,” Marty said. “What about the coffin? Shouldn’t one of us be out there with it?”

  “Oh, I forgot,” Mel said.

  Marty made to back out of the van, but Mel put her hand on his arm.

  “Not you,” she said. “No more napping.”

  “Aw, but I’m tired,” he said. “And it’s all plush and soundproof.”

  “Yeah . . . no,” Mel said. “I’ll go out until the others get back.”

 
Mel hopped down from the van and circled around to the front where the coffin was propped. She noted the lid was open, which was a surprise since she was sure they’d closed it. Then again, there were thousands of people here. It would have been easy for someone to open it while they were away.

  She hurried forward and noticed the big poufy white dress hanging out the side. Of course!

  “Very funny, Ange,” she said. “While you’re napping in the coffin, your fiancé was getting his butt stomped. Oh, but don’t tell him I said that. If he asks, tell him I said he was whuppin’ the big hairy beastie.”

  Mel peered over the side. Angie was wedged in the casket on her side with her hair and veil covering her face. Her dress was crammed in around her. It had never been a sparkling-clean gown, given the fake blood and all, but now it seemed even more dingy with dirt streaks and rips and even more fake blood.

  “Angie, did you hear me?” Mel asked. “Tate was in a brawl.”

  Angie didn’t move. She didn’t even twitch at hearing that Tate had been in a fight. That was odd. Mel had expected Angie to explode out of the coffin and go kick some butt on behalf of her man, which was normal Angie-operating procedure. Maybe she really was asleep.

  “Angie!” Mel reached into the casket and shook Angie’s shoulder. It felt wrong. “Angie!”

  Mel began to shove aside the veil and hair, trying to see what was wrong with her friend. One of Angie’s arms flopped out of the casket. Mel started and then smiled. Obviously, Angie was having fun with her and playing the zombie bride to the hilt.

  “All right,” Mel said. “You win. You startled me. Now come on, we have cupcakes to schlep.”

  She grabbed Angie’s arm to help her out of the coffin. Her skin was cold to the touch. Too cold. Instinctively, Mel put her fingers over the pulse point on Angie’s wrist.

  There wasn’t one. Angie was dead.

  Eight

  Mel dropped Angie’s arm. She tried to push aside the veil and Angie’s thick dark hair to see if her friend was breathing. Her hands were shaking too hard to function, and she was whimpering like a wounded animal as tears clouded her vision.

  “Damn it, Angie,” Mel cried. “You’re freaking me out. Quit the act!”

  Angie didn’t move, and Mel knew. She knew it was true. Her friend was dead.

  Hysterical, Mel spun around and faced the crowd. “Help! Please somebody, help!”

  As if this was a part of the event, no one moved at first. Terror and frustration made Mel charge the crowd. She grabbed the first normal-looking person she could find and yanked them back towards the coffin.

  “My friend is . . .” She couldn’t say it. “Help me!”

  The man stared at her as if he suspected a con. He approached the coffin as if fully expecting the body in it to jump out at him. She didn’t.

  He reached forward and took Angie’s arm. He gave Mel a bug-eyed glance and then shouted over his shoulder.

  “Oh, my God! She’s telling the truth—this woman is dead!” he shouted to the friends he’d been walking with.

  At that, his friends hurried forward and began to help him get Angie out of the coffin. Mel dashed around the side of the bakery truck and pounded on the window. Marty glanced up and before she could say a word, he was rocketing out of the back of the van.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “We need to find Tate,” Mel gasped. Snot and tears were coursing down her face, making it hard to talk or breathe. “It’s Angie.”

  “Is she hurt?” He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake. “Where is she?”

  Mel choked; she couldn’t form the words. She pointed to the coffin in front of the van. “She’s d—”

  “What?” Marty dropped Mel’s arms and raced to the front of the van, where the three men were trying to maneuver Angie’s body in its voluminous gown out of the casket.

  Marty darted forward yelling, “Call an ambulance!” to a woman nearby.

  Mel followed in a stupor. Her ears were ringing. Her vision was blurry. She couldn’t breathe. Her brain was refusing to register anything in front of her, and she felt as if someone had reached inside and yanked out all of her innards.

  Someone took her arm, and yelled, “I think this woman is in shock.”

  The world tilted sideways and Mel felt woozy. She blinked and tried to suck in enough air to stay conscious. She couldn’t faint. Angie needed her. Tate needed her.

  Her legs gave out and she leaned heavily on the person who’d taken her arm. People were shouting and she was jostled as someone grabbed her other arm.

  “What’s going on?”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Mel!”

  She glanced up and saw Tate and Oz running towards her. She shoved away the person who held her and stumbled forward.

  Tate caught her as she wobbled on her feet.

  “Mel, are you all right?” Tate cupped her face and checked her eyes as if looking for signs of an injury or illness.

  Mel’s voice sounded garbled even in her head. She gestured behind her and finally managed to say, “No. Go. There.”

  Tate looked over her head, and his already pale face went deathly white. He let go of Mel and bolted towards the bride being lifted out of the coffin.

  “Angie!” His shout was hoarse and so full of terror that Mel felt her own heart clench hard in her chest.

  Oz grabbed her arm to steady her, and they hurriedly followed in Tate’s wake.

  “What’s happening?” Oz asked. His voice sounded scared and vulnerable, and Mel wished she could lie and tell him everything was okay, but it wasn’t, and she knew it never would be.

  “Angie!” Tate shoved his way through the men who’d lifted Angie out of the coffin. He knelt beside her and began to push back her veil and dark hair.

  Mel got a glimpse of the front of Angie’s dress. It was saturated in blood, not the artistic splatter she and Tate had flicked onto each other with paintbrushes and laughter, but rather a full-on soaking of blood. Mel felt bile splash the back of her throat, and she gagged.

  “What’s going on?” someone demanded, but Mel couldn’t look away from her friend’s body. Her throat felt as if it had hardened, and no words were able to pass. “Never mind, I’ll see for myself.”

  Mel felt someone brush past her and she watched as a woman in a gown knelt beside Tate. He turned to look at her once, twice, and then he yelled. He stood up and grabbed her and crushed her to him.

  “Are you real?” he cried. Then he kissed her face all over. Angie was blinking and smiling and—

  Angie!

  Mel glanced from the body to her friend and back and back again. She grabbed Oz and hugged him hard. Relief hit her like a brick to the temple, and she didn’t pause to stop and think but instead launched herself at her two friends.

  “You’re alive! Oh, thank god, you’re alive,” she said.

  She wrapped her arms about both of her friends and squeezed them in the tightest hug she could manage.

  “Can’t breathe,” Angie cried.

  Mel quickly let go and stepped back. Oz reached around her to give Angie a bear hug before giving her back to Tate.

  “I love you guys, too, really, but what’s going on?” Angie asked.

  Just then Officer Henry bustled through the crowd. He was talking into his radio and he knelt beside the body of the woman on the ground. The sound of a siren in the distance alerted them to an arriving ambulance.

  Henry pushed aside the last of the woman’s hair and veil. She was young and pretty, like Angie, but not Angie. He checked her over and with a sad shake of his head, he stood and began talking into his radio again. Mel didn’t need to hear him to know that he was reporting that the woman was dead.

  “Oh, wow,” Angie said. “She’s dressed as a bride like me.” Then she put it all together. She lo
oked at Tate and then at Mel. “You thought that was me.”

  Mel nodded, still not really sure she was up to talking. The men who had helped to lift the woman out of the coffin began to back the crowd up to make room for the other bicycle officers who arrived.

  “What happened?” Angie asked. “How did she get here?”

  Tate looked at Mel as if he was wondering the same thing. Mel cleared her throat and started to explain.

  “She was in the coffin. When I saw her, I thought you were pranking me,” she said to Angie. “I couldn’t see her face, because she was on her side, but her dress looked like yours so I just assumed . . .” Mel pushed back her toque with a shaky hand and saw a smear of the woman’s blood on her hands. “I think I might be sick.”

  “Come on,” Tate said. “Let’s move to the side, where you can get some air.”

  They circled around the van, where Marty and Oz joined them. Marty borrowed a folding chair from the T-shirt vendor next to the van and helped Mel sit down.

  “Put your head between your knees if you need it,” Marty said. “I’m going to keep an eye.”

  Mel wasn’t sure if he meant he’d watch the body or the coffin, but she suspected he meant the coffin.

  Oz went into the van and came back with a cold cloth that he put on the back of Mel’s neck. It helped a bit.

  Marty stood by the corner of the cupcake van. He was peering around the corner, reporting the goings-on.

  “Ambulance guys are here,” he said. “Oh, no.”

  “What is it?” Tate asked. He was standing with an arm around Angie’s waist as if afraid to let her out of his sight again.

  “There’s a commotion,” Marty said.

  “I guess an actual dead body at a zombie walk would do that,” Oz said.

  “No, this, ah.” Marty stalled out of words and rubbed the back of his head as if he could generate the right explanation with a good scalp massage.