by Birch, S. C.
“You honestly think she will thank you for this? If you go and visit your family without her?” Owen asked.
Jack smiled, “She doesn’t need to know.”
“You.” Owen stumbled backwards a little, “You weren’t going to come back.”
“Nope.” said Jack. “You were right. Last night. Once I turn to the rotting side, you guys will need to kill me. But you can’t do that if I’m not here – oh shit!”
Emily marched to Jack and slapped him hard across his face, “Don’t ever think about leaving without me!”
“Owww! Jesus!” Jack shouted and rubbed his cheek, “Stop fucking hitting me!”
“Then stop giving me a reason to!” Emily screamed. She glared up at Jack with her fists clenched. The slap was a kindness compared to what she really wanted to do.
“C’mon! Why didn’t you stop her?” Jack asked.
Cameron shrugged his shoulders.
“If she hadn’t of done it, I would’ve.” said Owen.
Cameron pointed at Owen, “That’s why.”
“Oh my God! I’m the one that’s dying here. Can’t I do that on my own terms?” asked Jack.
“No!” yelled Owen and Emily in unison.
“Fuck it then. Why not bring Lucy and Daniel along too and make it a proper fucking day out?” Jack shouted. “Oh, I know! We can have a picnic and go to the zoo and take a stroll in a park and talk about our feelings! What an amazing day out that’ll fucking be!”
Now what those in the driveway hadn’t realised is that they were all being incredibly loud. They of course managed to wake up the sleeping souls in the Fort Room. So Lucy and Daniel wandered out to see the action and caught the tail end of the conversation. Daniel was oblivious to the whole thing, but Lucy took it the wrong way.
“Oh, brilliant! Now there’s something apparently wrong with us doing anything but it’s fine for the five of you?” she shrieked.
Jack waved her off. “Don’t be stupid!”
“Stupid?” Lucy scoffed.
“Yes, fucking stupid!” Jack turned back to Emily. “Don’t hit me, okay? I just – I just don’t want to make this shit any harder for you than it already is. Okay?”
“Oooooh.” Lucy said to herself as she realised that she had been quite stupid.
“Just shut up and get in the car, shithead.” ordered Emily.
“Yeah, about that. It’s kinda broken…” Jack said.
“Then take mine.” said Owen.
“We won’t all fit though.” said Daniel.
“I do have another two in the garage. I’m rich, remember?” said Owen.
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Jack asked.
“Nope!” Emily confirmed.
Owen headed inside and collected his keys from the table beside the door before going outside again. He chucked a pair of keys at Jack then turned to his garage. Owen lifted the door to reveal his other two cars; a bright red classic Mustang and a gleaming white sporty number.
Jack placed one foot in front of the other as he approached the two cars, “Please tell me these are the keys to the Mustang.”
“Yes.” Owen said, “Yours now. Just please for the love of God don’t scratch it.”
Jack ran to Owen, grabbed his cheeks, and planted a kiss square on his forehead, “I love you.”
Owen shoved him away, “Yeah, I know you do, weirdo. Just don’t crash it. You have a reputation.”
“No promises.” Jack said.
***
The Mustang drove along with Jack sitting behind the wheel, trying his damnedest not to think about the fact he was going to die in two days. It was just him and Emily. Everyone else squeezed into the Impala, including Mortimer. There was a long discussion about whether he should go or not. But Owen didn’t want to leave Mortimer on his own for the best part of a day. Plus, his car, his rules.
“So what are their parents like?” Daniel asked.
Both Cameron and Owen (they had met Mr. and Mrs. Brooker many times before) erupted with laughter.
Grace had also met them many times before but didn’t think that they were anything worth laughing over.
“You’ll find out soon.” Owen said.
Daniel shifted his gaze between the two in the front seats, “Why are you laughing?”
Cameron calmed himself down. “What do you think the parents of those two might be like?”
“A bit mad?” Daniel asked.
“And that’s your answer.” Cameron said.
The Brookers travelled through the roads, this time avoiding all the undead (Jack felt a little guilty about turning his soon to be brethren into roadkill) until he skidded outside a little shop in a deserted looking street. He flew out of the car, smashed open the shop door, and picked up as many packs of tea bags as possible before chucking them in the back seat of the car and driving off again.
“What was that?” Emily asked.
“Mum wants teabags.” Jack said.
“Oh, okay.”
Jack flicked his eyes at her. Emily was looking out the window and she seemed calm. He smiled a little.
There was no music, no talking, no Brookerness inside the car. The only sound over the engine was of the steering wheel being tapped by Jack’s thumbs. The closer they reached to home, the louder and quicker the tapping grew.
Jack turned a corner and pulled into carpark facing a long and tall concrete block filled with flats. The thumb tapping stopped. Jack sat in the car looking ahead towards door number Twelve. He continued to clutch the steering wheel, feeling it under his hands. The only thing he could feel. Until his sister grabbed his arm. He looked to her, she smiled as best she could, and Jack did the same.
Owen parked ahead of them and Mortimer burst out the car and ran straight for number Eight. Jack chuckled as he watched Owen chase after Mortimer and take him back towards the Impala. The other inhabitants of the Impala climbed out, and still Jack continued to watch.
“Let’s go.” said Emily, still holding his arm.
But Jack kept staring. Until Grace’s gaze caught him. The corner of her mouth flicked up for just a moment before she gave Jack a little wave. After taking a long and deep breath out, Jack left the car. He walked straight to his house and tried to open the door. But it was locked. So he slid his key in and tried turning it, but it didn’t budge.
“Who is it?” asked a deep voice from behind door number Twelve.
“It’s me, dad.” replied Jack.
“It’s who?” asked another voice from behind the door.
“Mum, it’s me! Just open up! My key’s not working, is the snib thing on?”
There was a long pause before his dad spoke up, “How do we know it’s you?”
Jack sighed hard. “You can either, right, look out the window or the peephole thing or remember what your son sounds like. Or, even easier, you can take the snib off the door and I can let myself in. I’m fine with any option.”
“Hmmmm.” replied his dad from behind the door, “What’s the secret password?”
“What? I dunno. You never told me we had one!”
“Have you asked about the password?” asked his mother.
“Yes,” replied his dad, “he said we never gave him it.”
“Oh, now, I’m sure I did on the phone.”
“Well you didn’t, mum.” Jack said.
“No, I’m sure I did, you know, when we spoke this morning.”
“Can you please just let us in?” Emily asked.
“Is that you, Em?” asked their dad.
“Yes, dad, it’s me. Open the door.”
There was another long pause, “What’s the password?”
“Dad? Is the password milk?” Jack asked. He grabbed the door frame and let it take his weight.
“Err, hang on. Fiona? Is the password milk?”
“Jack?” asked Emily, “Why would the password be milk?”
“I don’t know! Mum kept going on about milk this morning. Just took a swing in the dark.
”
“No, son. Password’s not milk.” shouted his invisible dad.
“Daaaad!” Jack whined and leaned further into the door, “You actually just acknowledged that I’m your son. Will you please just let us in?”
There was a looooooong pause before their dad finally spoke up again. “But you could be a burglar pretending to be our son.”
Jack sighed and hung his head. “Dad, just why would anyone do that? And why would they do it with Emily?”
Emily rounded on her brother with a look of utter revulsion, “You never say that again!”
And Jack looked down at her confused, “Say what?” and he stared at Emily. Then it sunk in. “Oh God!” Jack screamed.
From behind the Brooker Mania, Mortimer freed himself from Owen and scuttled to door number Twelve this time.
Accepting defeat, Owen nudged Daniel’s arm, “See why we laughed?” he asked.
Daniel and Lucy were in no way prepared for Mr. and Mrs. Brooker. Instead they just gawped at the mad scene unfolding by the door.
“Dad! Will you please let us in? Mortimer’s getting cold.” pleaded Jack.
“Oh, is Mortimer with them?” asked Mrs. Brooker.
“Yes, mum, he’s right here.” replied Jack.
And that’s when the door finally unlocked. A tall man with square shoulders, a square jaw and head, square legs (he was very cube-like) with thick dark hair opened the door, grabbed his son by his jumper, and hauled him into the house. Jack stumbled as he tried to get his footing.
“Oh, look at you!” said Mrs. Brooker. She was short, thin, and had masses of red hair erupting from her head. She pulled her giant of a son in and gave him a cuddle.
“Quick, Em, get in! It’s not safe outside!” Mr. Brooker whispered and waved his arm in stiff, jerked movements and motioned everyone into the tiny flat. “Oh, Owen! Cameron! Jack didn’t say you would be coming. Get in, boys. And hello, Grace. You look just lovely, as always,” Mr. Brooker winked as Grace walked into the house.
“Hello, Mr. Brooker.” replied Grace with a smile.
Mr. Brooker smiled back with a little more gusto, “Oh now, you know I don’t like it when you use formalities, Grace, makes me feel old!” he laughed a loud roar of a laugh at his own wit before noticing he had two strangers in his little home, “And who’s this then?”
“Hello, Mr. Brooker.” said Owen, “This’s Daniel and Lucy.”
“Oh!” said Mr. Brooker to Lucy, “Owen did say you were beautiful, but I must say I was not expecting someone quite as radiant as yourself.”
Owen squirmed while Lucy beamed.
“Well, thank you very much!” Lucy said as she shook Mr. Brooker’s hand. “I’ll be sure to ask Owen more about how beautiful he thinks I am.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Owen said and walked past them, “Enjoying this?”
“Immensely.” she replied.
Mrs. Brooker had now pulled Emily in and held her two children, “It’s good to have you both home. And you both look so well.”
“Err, thanks, mum.” Emily said.
Mr. Brooker shut the door and locked it before kneeling and rubbing Mortimer’s ears. “Who wants some tea then?” he asked.
“That would be lovely.” said Lucy.
“Me too.” said Owen.
Mr. Brooker stood up, “You know what? I will make enough for everyone. Fee? Do we have any milk?”
“And we’re back at milk.” said Jack as a dull headache started to appear.
“Not sure, darling. You will need to check.” Mrs. Brooker replied, “Hello, everyone. Didn’t see you there!” She scurried forwards and as soon as she was beside Owen, shut her eyes tight, “Hello, Owen! Look at this! A celebrity in my house! I watched some of your interviews. You did very well. You are such a charismatic young boy.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brooker.” Owen said, he wrapped his arms around her and planted a little kiss on her cheek.
“Oh dear!” she exclaimed, “I’ve just had a kiss from a Hollywood star.” Mrs. Brooker started fanning herself down with her hand, grinning with delight. She opened her eyes and scanned the living room then scurried over to Cameron and again, shut her eyes, “Cameron. It is lovely to see you again. How are you doing? Have you been keeping my toerag children in check?”
“Eh, I’ve been trying.” said Cameron, his face a mix of confusion and sheer joy.
“Well, it’s no easy task, so you just do what you can.” And again, Mrs. Brooker opened up her peepers and scanned her living room, then shut them, “Grace, my sweet. How are you?”
Grace cuddled Mrs. Brooker and smiled, “I’m good, thank you.”
“Oh, sweetie, I am glad of that.” said the forcibly blind Mrs. Brooker, “You know I do so worry about you.”
“I know.” replied Grace with a smile (which was lost on Mrs. Brooker).
While all this was going on, it should be noted, Owen and Cameron had made their way to the sofa and were trying their utmost not to laugh and the twins, who were sitting on the floor across from the sofa, were trying their utmost not to groan.
Mrs. Brooker turned to the last two and again, slammed her eyes shut, “Daniel and Lucy, wasn’t it? Well, it is lovely to finally put a face to the name. On you come in, dears, come sit down.” she said, grabbed their hands and led them to the large brown sofa.
Grace slid herself through the cramped living room and sat beside Emily, it was a habit. Mrs. Brooker sat down on the armchair furthest from the front door and left the one closest free, that was Mr. Brookers.
“Oh for -” Mr. Brooker mumbled, “You three! In here and help me!”
Mrs. Brooker scurried away while Emily and Jack dragged themselves in after her.
“Is she alright?” Daniel whispered.
“Yeah, she has this, err, condition …” said Cameron, trying his hardest not to laugh.
“Cam. Don’t laugh. That’s awful.” Lucy whispered.
Then Owen tried to hide his laughs.
Lucy looked at them both in disgust while Grace looked around the familiar room. It was the same as always, a trillion photographs (obviously not a trillion, but it felt it, the photographs took up almost all the wall space) of the twins who in each photograph either looked distressed, mortified beyond belief, exhausted or furious. Almost everything in that room was brown. Brown walls, a brown sofa with matching brown armchairs, brown coffee table, brown sideboard. It was almost entirely void of any colour other than brown. Except the curtains. They were a rather garish white.
“What kind of condition?” Daniel asked.
“Well,” Owen swallowed a laugh, “she, err, she can’t look at people when she talks to them.”
“What?” Daniel asked, but just then the four came back with a tray of teacups, a jar of sugar, a teapot and the last of their milk reserves.
“Here you go.” said Mr. Brooker as he set down the tray on the coffee table then took his seat. “Oh, and I saw you all mentioned on the news! Don’t be telling people to leave their homes. It’s not safe!”
“What? Dad, we weren’t, like, telling people to go out and kill things! We were saying that if you did, you know, make sure you’re safe about it.” said Emily.
Mrs. Brooker leaned forwards and filled the teacups before plopping four heaped spoons of sugar into her cup and adding milk. “Well,” her eyes shut, “I think that it is remarkable. You know, teaching people how to be safe. I am very proud of you both.” she said, grinning.
“Thanks, mum.” Jack said.
“See, I knew those silly little videos of yours would be worthwhile in the end.” said Mrs. Brooker.
“What?” Mr. Brooker shouted as he loaded his fifth spoon of sugar into his cup, “No you didn’t. You always said it was a waste of time! It was me that was proud of him.”
Mrs. Brooker drew in her whole face, “Oh, you liar! It was you that said he should get a real job!”
“No,” said Mr. Brooker as he added the milk, “I always encouraged him! Remember, I alwa
ys told you he would achieve more than Emily! Ever since they were kids. The stronger twin and -”
“Well whatever way it goes,” interrupted Jack whilst adding his sixth sugar into his cup and holding Emily’s hand at the same time, “they helped people. Have you watched them?”
“Oh no, dear,” said Mrs. Brooker, “you know I don’t care about all those internettey things.”
Jack pulled in his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Yep.”
“Internettey?” Cameron asked.
Jack glared hard at Cameron who looked like he was having an embolism he was sniggering so hard.
“Don’t even…” Jack mouthed.
“Oh, Cameron, you know, all the things that Jack does in his room with the computer.” said Mr. Brooker.
“Oh yeah.” said Owen who was talking to Cameron, but kept glancing over at Jack and also sniggering, “Jack’s always on those sites. Late at night. On his own. In the dark. Didn’t you know that? It’s really unhealthy.”
Emily shuddered hard.
“Okay!” Jack shouted, “Moving on.”
The two boys continued to snigger like, well, boys.
Jack jerked his gaze between his parents, who, thankfully, seemed oblivious to what was going on.
“Oh!” Mrs. Brooker exclaimed as she pulled away from her tea, “Where are my teabags?”
“In the car, mum. Will bring them in later.” replied Jack.
Mortimer bounded up to Mr. Brooker and curled up on his lap. Mr. Brooker rubbed Mortimer’s ears while saying “Oooooh who’s my boy.” And as his daughter loaded her seventh spoonful of sugar into her tea he shouted, “Em! What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, err, I cut myself.” Emily replied, then looked up to Owen.
Owen smiled a little and poured milk into his tea.
“What? Let me see!” gasped Mrs. Brooker.
“Mum, can you just -” started Emily but before she could continue her mother grabbed her hand and reeled it in.
Mrs. Brooker unwrapped the bandage and gasped again. “Emily! You need to be careful! There are people out there now who like blood! Here, I have something for that.” Mrs. Brooker set down her tea and disappeared into the little halls of her house.
