Sons of Sludge (Postmortem Anomalies Book 1)

by Josiah Upton

  “It's your daughter,” I say. “And not just what happened at school today. It's something much bigger than that.”

  Gordon, whose glass of juice is perched on his lips, stops drinking, swallowing what remains in his mouth with an audible gulp. “What about her?” But before I can begin to speak, he holds up a hand. “Hold on a second, son – please, please don't tell me you're going to propose to my daughter.”

  “Propose?” I scoff, amazed. “You mean, ask her to marry me? Are you serious?”

  “Look, I'm not sure how fast kids move these days. And don't get me wrong, you're a great guy. But you and I both know marriage isn't in the picture for Genny...” A grim look comes over his face. His eyes, which almost appear to be glistening, lower to the cup in his hand. He swishes the liquid around inside it, watching a small vortex form, before taking a drink, and slamming it down on the kitchen counter. His back is to me, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Not now, not in the near future. Not ever.”

  “That's what I want to talk about, your daughter's future.” I take a deep breath, wondering how on Earth I can express what I'm getting at. “I... I know of a way to save her.”

  “Save her?” Gordon turns around, his eyes squinting with skepticism. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, there's a way we can avoid what will happen to her.”

  “Are you talking about a cure?” He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “Trust me, if anyone would have discovered one by now, it'd be me, and we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

  “No, not a cure,” I say, frustrated that it's dragging on this long. “Containment. I know how to keep Genny at home after she transforms, to make sure you're her guardian. And I know how to get the money for it, too.”

  “The money?” he asks, and I nod. “$500,000?”

  “Yes, every last dollar of it.”

  “But, but – how?”

  I pull out the folded APA notice from my pocket. It's been through hell and back ever since it transferred from Caesar's hand to mine this morning, and I place it now in Gordon's hand. He unfolds it and squints, his face making a strained expression as he tries to read it.

  “NOTICE TO EMPLOYEES OF THE UNITED STATE AGENCY OF POSTMORTEM ANOMALIES: CASH REWARD FOR THE CAPTURE ANY UNREGISTERED HYBRID...” He stops reading, the strained muscles on his face dropping to their original position. “This is that posting I've seen all over the office, the Collars trying to save face for that little bus incident that happened last month. Where did you get this, Zaul?”

  “Caesar.”

  “Oh, well, that explains it,” he says simply, shaking his head. “That man sees a Hybrid on every street corner, behind every bush. Probably in his bowl of cereal every morning. Of course he believes there's a multitude of 'Uggers' out there, just waiting to be nabbed. But how is someone like me – someone who lives in reality – going to stumble upon an unregistered Hybrid Reanimate?”

  “I know one,” I say, almost wishing I could put the words right back into my mouth. I didn't imply it was me, but now, the discussion is inevitably heading that direction. Soon, Gordon will know exactly who his daughter has befriended.

  “You know of an unregistered Hybrid Reanimate?” he questions, his open mouth turning into a curious grin. As I expected, it's obvious he thinks I'm either lying or joking, or delusional, or simply mistaken – anything but telling the truth. “You? A seventeen-year-old kid from Pueblo, who goes to school with my little girl? You?”

  Keeping a stone-serious expression, I slowly nod.

  Gordon's disbelief turns into delirium. Loud chuckles escape from his plump, bearded face, his hand slapping down on the kitchen counter. And though he's laughing hysterically, he's crying as well. I thought tears were only reserved for humans experiencing great sadness, so what I'm witnessing baffles me. Whatever is wrong with Gordon, he's not taking me seriously, and no mere words will make him. Even if I flat-out said what I was, it would only elicit more bizarre, uncontrollable laughter. No, I have to show him. It was going to come to that sooner or later.

  For the first time in my second life, I decide to willingly drop the facade I've carried on for years, to break the number one rule of living as a Hybrid in disguise, and take off the mask in front of a human being. I slowly remove the wig from my head, exposing my gray, veiny scalp, and Gordon immediately stops laughing.

  “I'm the Hybrid you're going to turn in,” I say. “I'm the one. It's me.”

  Chapter 42

  Gordon overcomes his initial shock, and lets out a shriek of fright, one you'd expect to hear from a woman. With his eyes wide, mouth agape with terror, his trembling hands start to fumble behind him, searching for something. They find what they're looking for when a large wooden block holding kitchen knives is knocked over. He grabs the biggest by the blade and winces in pain, but quickly switches to the handle, holding it out in my direction.

  “Stay away!” he commands, the knife shaking tremendously in front of him. “Stay away!”

  “What are you doing?” I ask, hands in the air. I take a step towards him, completely unfazed by the brandishing of his blade. If Jensen could survive a shotgun to the chest, this dull threat isn't cause for concern. “It's me, Zaul.”

  “Back, I said! BACK!”

  Before I can make any more advances, any more attempts to reason with him, I'm stopped by the sound of light footsteps overhead, quickly flying across the second floor hall, and down the stairs. Next I smell her, and then, I see her. The human girl that brought me to all this in the first place. Genny.

  “Zaul!” she screams, stopping at the kitchen entryway. Her eyes travel to my exposed head, then to her father standing across from me, and finally to the APA notice lying on the counter. Her look of surprise instantly transforms into glaring intensity. “YOU – DIDN'T.”

  “Genny, get out of here! He's a Hybrid! Leave the house, go nextdoor, tell Caesar to...”

  Genny ignores her father's commands, stalks right up to me, and pushes me in the chest. Then again, and again, making me back up against the kitchen table. The shoving gives way to hitting, her petite fists slamming on my chest, over and over, until she collapses onto me, burying her face into my shoulder. Her sobs are the only sound that fills the otherwise silent kitchen.

  “How could you?” she says, looking up at me with tear-soaked eyes. “I told you not to do it, you jerk. How could you...”

  Her face falls back into my shirt, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist. I begin to regret my decision, knowing that very soon I will be locked away, in a place that is beyond the reach of her warm arms, her tender touch. Forever blocked from this feeling. Forever alone. I know it's the only way left now, but I hate it.

  Gordon is still standing off to the side, his mouth still wide open, his hand still clutching the kitchen knife. He slowly eyes us, looking up and down at the entwined bodies of me and his daughter. “Wait, you already knew Zaul was a Hybrid?”

  “Yes,” Genny says, pulling away from me, wiping her nose. “And you can't do what he says, Daddy, you can't! Don't turn him in!”

  “You knew about that, too?” he says, looking around the kitchen at nothing in particular, totally lost in these new revelations.

  “It's a terrible idea,” she declares, turning back to me.

  “It's the only way,” I insist.

  “No, it isn't! We could run away, we could get out of here...”

  “And I already told you, that won't work...”

  “HOLD IT!” Gordon screams. “No one is running away, no one is leaving the kitchen, no one is going anywhere... not until you answer this one question: Are you here to eat me, or to eat my daughter?”

  “No, Daddy,” Genny sighs, walking over to him. “He doesn't eat people. He never has. He's the same person he's always been. The boy you let walk through the door just a few minutes ago, the boy you gave a ride home that one day, whom you've had dozens of civilized conversations with. The boy I met at school. It's Za
ul.”

  “But he is a Hybrid, though, right?” Gordon asks, still having difficulty believing what he's seeing, still standing defensively with the knife in his hand.

  “He's more than that,” she says, looking back my direction, her blue eyes causing me to ache terribly inside. “He's my friend.”

  “Well, I think your 'friend' has some explaining to do.” Gordon breaks away from his daughter, walking over to the kitchen table, and pulling out a chair. I expect him to lift it up, and smash it over my head, for all the pain and confusion I've caused him and his daughter. All the lies, and all the danger that surrounds me. But instead, he sits down in it. “Have a seat, Zaul. I want you to start from the beginning.”

  “The very beginning?” I ask, reluctantly sitting down across from him.

  “Yes,” he says. “Right from square one.”

  So I do. I start with my past, or what little I know of it. I tell him about Gibbs, that he isn't really my uncle, but a black market caretaker, feeding me and training me to fit in with society. I describe my day-to-day routine as a Hybrid in disguise: my pork diet, the medication I have to take, the Prisoner inside that I must always keep under wraps. I disclose the true nature of my relationship with Caesar, what happened that day at the zoo, and how Genny discovered my condition. She remains quiet for most of the story, occasionally chiming in with an opinion, or a different point of view on events involving her.

  “So, when did you come up with this plan? To let me turn you in for the reward money?”

  “This morning,” I answer, “when I was over at Caesar's house. He had just told me our Mortetine arrangement was done for good, but gave me that APA notice as a sort of joking consolation. That's where I got the idea. But I had to move fast, because he also mentioned that the Collars were closing in on a potential unregistered Hybrid hiding out in Pueblo, using six years of black market paper trails. I thought it was me they were looking for.”

  “Was it?” Gordon asks, leaning forward, eagerly awaiting the continuation of my story. But this is the part that I dread, where I wish I could just stop talking and pretend like the day ended there. The events surrounding my discovery of Jensen's secret are still unknown to Genny, and they are so violent and horrific that I don't know how I'm going to tell her or her father.

  “No,” I say slowly, staring down at the kitchen table. The image of Jensen's head, there one second and gone the next, fills my mind. “Turns out it wasn't me.”

  “It wasn't?” Genny asks, suddenly perking up in her chair. “Then, what's the big rush? Why do you need to get turned in today? There's still time!”

  “Let him finish, sweetie,” Gordon says with a raised hand, before turning his attention back to me. “Now, if it wasn't you, then who was it? Did you ever find out?”

  “I did. It was my English teacher, Mr. Jensen.”

  “Jensen?!?!” Genny exclaims, interrupting again. “That guy with the weird smile?”

  “Yes. He was doing exactly what I was doing, living a double life, masking his condition. No one ever knew, not even me. But I figured it out while waiting in the office, when he came in to talk with Vicky. I always felt there was something strange about him, but it was the way he acted in that moment, and the look in his eyes, that confirmed it for me. And it provided a new plan. I was going to turn in Jensen instead, give the reward money to you, and keep myself out of containment.”

  “But obviously, that didn't work,” Gordon states. “Or else you wouldn't be here right now, asking me to call the APA on you. What happened?”

  “Something went wrong,” I say, the images coming back. “Horribly wrong.”

  I describe in graphic detail the nightmarish events that followed, eliciting cringes and gasps from Genny and her father. I stop right up to the point where Jensen pounced on top of Dalton, and I held the shotgun up to his temple.

  “What did you do, Zaul?” Genny asks, her voice shaking. She must already know the answer. I can't bring myself to say it. “What did you do?”

  “He did what he had to, sweetie,” Gordon says softly, reaching over the table to place his hand on hers, and giving me a grim, knowing look. “He did what he had to. Let's just leave it at that.”

  Genny's face turns white, her hand covering her open mouth. Yes, I did what had to be done. The alternative would have been Dalton's gruesome death at the hands of Mr. Jensen, and the only way to stop it was to take him out. But I still killed someone. I still ended a life. And if this is the feeling I get from her knowing about that, how will it be when I mention how I entertained the thought of Dalton's murder? I can't disclose that dark detail, so I decide to keep it to myself.

  “With Jensen dead,” I continue, “the reward money was mine for the taking. But Dalton insisted on taking half, leaving me with only $250,000. That wasn't going to be enough. I lost my temper, and accidentally revealed my condition to him. I panicked, knocked him out and locked him in a closet. Got out here as fast as I could.”

  “And that's why you're in such a hurry,” Gordon surmises. “When that little twerp wakes up, he'll ruin everything.” Genny and I both give him a startled look. “What? It was an engaging story, it made me want to root for you – even if you are a criminal with the desire to eat human flesh, who almost kissed my daughter...”

  “It's not just a story, sir,” I say, interrupting his train of thought. “It's the reality. Either way, I'm going to containment, and I'd rather use that reality to my advantage, to save the only thing that's ever mattered in my unholy existence. You need to make that call, and you need to make it now.”

  “No!” Genny shouts, standing up from the table. “You can't do that to yourself, not for me. I won't let you.”

  “He's right,” Gordon says, taking my side. “There are no other options, and it's only a matter of time before he's captured anyway. In this situation, it's the best outcome anyone could hope for.”

  “But it's my life,” she stresses, pointing a finger at herself. “My life. My future. Don't I get a say in this?”

  “I'm sorry, sweetie.” He stands up from the table, walks to the kitchen counter, and picks up the small telephone next to the refrigerator. “It's the only thing we can do.”

  “Daddy!” She charges towards him, and tries to pry the phone away from him. They wrestle over it for a moment, until something changes in his face, a look of fear and anger and desperation coming over his features. He slams the telephone back down on its base, grabs both of his daughter's shoulders in his hands, and forcefully sits her back down at the kitchen table.

  “NO!” he screams, his voice thundering throughout the house. His body is shaking, his face red, eyes welling with tears. “No, Geneva! I will not allow you to ruin this, just because you want to be a silly, selfish little girl!”

  The tears are now coming down in full force, rolling off his cheeks, landing on his shirt.

  “Ever since you were born, I dreaded the day you would be taken away from me. I tried everything I could, spending endless nights researching for a cure, but it never came. While other fathers were playing with their children, teaching them things, reading bedtime stories, I was down in that basement, putting every minute, every dollar, every ounce of my blood and sweat and tears into a cure that NEVER CAME!!!” He shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “I failed. I failed at every turn. I couldn't make up for my mistakes, for what I had done to you or your mother. And while I foolishly pursued fruitless endeavors, I lost my little girl in the process.”

  Gordon wipes his eyes, his face becoming sterner and more resolute as he regains his composure. “But now, this is another mistake I refuse to make. I won't let an opportunity like this slip by, the chance to keep you in my life, and to keep you safe. I am making this call. Is that understood, young lady?”

  Genny, now crying heavily, reluctantly nods her head and sits down in the chair next to me. While Gordon punches the numbers in, taking the first steps toward sealing my fate, her red eyes move to mine. There's no
more fiery anger within, no more stubborn opposition. Only pain and sadness.

  “I'm sorry,” I say, feeling stupid for offering such weak restitution. “This isn't what I wanted.”

  “What did you want?” she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.

  “I wanted you to have a future, and for me to be in it.” My hand reaches over, and finds hers. She squeezes it. “I wanted to be there by your side, the day you transform. To be the first face you see when you opened your eyes, hoping that by some chance you'd remember me.”

  “And if I didn't?” she asks. I feel her hot tears as they fall down onto my hand.

  “Then, I'd get to become your friend all over again.”

  “You'll always be my friend, Zaul. Whether I'm able to realize it or not. I know I'll never find another one like you, human or Hybrid.” She lifts her head up from my shoulder, looking into my eyes, placing her hand on my chest. “You're special, Zaul. I can tell that you were, even before you came to this condition. It's like a light, trapped inside you, but bright and brilliant still. I've seen it coming out, shining through your dark, closed curtains. You're special. Don't let anyone else tell you you're not.”

  We stare into each other eyes for a long while, longer than I've ever held the gaze of another. This will be the last time I see her, the last time her face will be this close to mine. I can't stop staring at the soft skin of her lips, the shallow breaths coming in and out from them. An undeniable urge wells up inside. Not the urge to kill, or to rape, or to devour. It doesn't come from my evil Prisoner, but from somewhere else. Somewhere good. Maybe that light that Genny was talking about. But the urge grows, until it's all I can think about, all I can feel. This is my last chance to answer that call.

  “Zaul?” Genny says softly, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. I begin moving towards her, my body outside of my control, bringing my face even closer to hers. I will have my light and warmth, my heat and intensity, and I must seize it now, before it's kept out of my reach forever. There is nothing else to do, nothing else to think about in this moment. My lips are now only a few inches away.