Undead Much?

by Stacey Jay

  “Yes, we are,” I hissed, risking a look over my shoulder and breathing a sigh of relief as I realized we’d made it out of the line of sight without being observed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming to see you.” He grinned and tucked his hair behind his ears. “It was really nice talking to you the other night. Even before I was dead I didn’t meet many girls who could carry on a conversation.”

  “Cliff, I—”

  “I mean, about girl stuff, sure, but not about life stuff. But I did hang with a lot of potheads.” He laughed as we continued down the sidewalk in the general direction of his cemetery. “Not to judge, but . . . yeah. I just really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

  “Well, thanks, but Cliff . . .” God, how was I supposed to tell him to get lost after that? “I don’t know how to say this, um . . .”

  “I wasn’t supposed to come back, was I?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. The dude was weird, but at least he was perceptive. “Not really. Actually, not at all. I’ve never had someone come back.”

  He nodded. “You looked pretty surprised, and I haven’t seen anyone else like me hanging around the cemetery. I couldn’t go back to sleep, or death or whatever, so I thought I’d try to find some fellow dead to chill with, but . . . no luck. ”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, patting him on the back. He sounded so sad. The poor guy must have been really lonely, not to mention scared. “So you’ve been at the cemetery all this time?”

  “Mostly. I hit a homeless shelter for a shower and change of clothes and then sort of um . . . liberated some reading glasses from the drugstore.” He grinned, and for the first time I noticed how warm his eyes were. They were this rich, greenish brown that seemed to glow when he smiled. “But it was theft for a good cause. I didn’t want to go home and risk getting caught trying to sneak clothes or glasses out of my room. I figure my parents have been through enough.”

  Wow. He was really strong. I can’t say I would have been able to keep from running home to Mom and Dad, no matter how upset it would make them to see me come back from the dead.

  “That must be hard.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I’ve got to do. I can’t go home, at least not until I see . . . until I know if . . .” His words trailed off as he came to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. I turned to see him wincing in pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah . . . no . . . I mean, I always had these headaches, but they’re worse now. And sometimes I can’t remember . . .”

  “Can’t remember what?”

  He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. “I can’t . . . I see them, I know they’re coming,” he said, his breath getting faster and his hands gripping his head. “You have to stop them . . . there are so many . . . red eyes, pieces of blue and gray . . .”

  “Cliff!” I grabbed him as his legs collapsed, but I wasn’t strong enough to hold him upright. He was fairly short for a guy—maybe only an inch or two taller than my five-four—but he was pure muscle. In fact, I was surprised at how solid he felt as I guided him to the ground. He was hiding a pretty decent body under those baggy jeans and sweater.

  A pretty decent dead body, Megan. Don’t start setting this guy up with your friends. Figure out how to get him the rest he deserves.

  The inner voice was right. Cliff was nice and funny and a hidden hottie, but he was also dead. Besides, I didn’t really have any friends.

  “They won’t listen . . . the heart . . . one heart . . .”

  “What heart? What are you—”

  “Habeo are transit.”

  “What?” Was he speaking in tongues or was this the beginning of a seizure? Should I grab a stick and try to wedge it between his teeth?

  “One heart, just one heart.” He groaned and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball on the cold ground. “Crap, I lost it. It’s gone.”

  “Just try to breathe.” I smoothed his hair out of his face and tucked it back behind his ear, relieved he seemed to be recovering from his episode. “Take deep breaths in and deep breaths out.”

  “I don’t think I breathe anymore. But thanks.” He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his fingers above his eyes. “Dude, that was a bad one.”

  “It looked like it.”

  “And pointless.” He shoved his glasses back on and slammed a fist down onto the concrete, making me jump. “It’s so hard to tell what they mean anymore. It’s making me nuts.”

  “What they mean?”

  Cliff rolled onto his back. “The pictures. I get these pictures in my head when the headaches come. Most of the time they’re things that are really going to happen.”

  “Like, future things?”

  “I’m sort of psychic.” He darted a nervous look up to where I sat beside him. “I know that sounds crazy, but—”

  “Hey, I talk to dead people and fight zombies—who am I to judge?”

  Cliff laughed. “You’re also pretty cool.”

  “Thanks, that’s what all the Undead say.” I rolled my eyes, unable to keep from thinking about all the people who didn’t think I was cool at all. I still couldn’t believe the Enforcers thought I was a Very Bad Thing, let alone all the Elders over at SA. They’d known me since I was a baby and should realize what type of person I was.

  “I sense all is not well in the world of Megan Berry. What’s going down with you?” he asked, putting on this new age guru accent.

  For some reason I couldn’t keep from answering him. “Some people think I did a really bad thing I didn’t do.”

  “People who should know better?”

  “Yeah. And there’s no evidence that I did anything wrong, so . . . I can’t understand it.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, then reached out and took my hand. “It’s not what you did or didn’t do. It’s who you are.”

  “Who I am?” I asked, startled by how nice it felt to hold Cliff’s hand.

  His skin was pretty cold, but his touch was as comforting as Dad’s hand rubbing my back. He gave off good vibes, even as a dead person, so I could only imagine the kind of energy he must have had in life. Cliff had probably been one of those people who made everyone smile, just by being around. It was a shame the world had lost him.

  “That’s what I see,” he said.

  “I thought your visions didn’t work any more?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said it was harder to see what they mean.”

  “And you see that I’m in trouble because of who I am?” I asked.

  “Or maybe . . . what you are? There’s something different about you, and it scares a lot of people. That’s all I can tell for sure.”

  I sighed and tried to hide my disappointment. For a second there, I’d thought Cliff was going to tell me something I didn’t know, but it was just the same old thing. “Yeah, I know. I’m like a supercharged Settler of the Dead. Rare and weird and scary.”

  He smiled and his thumb ran lightly over the top of my hand. “I don’t think you’re weird or scary. Maybe a little rare, but in a good way. I certainly feel better than I did half an hour ago. I was so drained, but talking to you . . . well, it’s just good.”

  For a second energy jumped between us, an awareness that, had I not had a boyfriend and had Cliff not been dead, I would have called attraction. My entire body buzzed and my head spun dizzily. It was a cross between the low-blood-sugar feeling I get when I skip breakfast and the seconds right after I pull away from Ethan’s kisses, which was more than disturbing enough to make me yank my hand away from Cliff ’s.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get you back to your crypt,” I said, jumping to my feet when the dizziness passed. “Maybe I didn’t seal your grave right last time. I can’t remember doing anything different, but it was late and—”

  “No, it’s cool. I’ll show myself back,” he said, standing beside me. “You did everything fine. I could feel your mojo big-time, but my body wouldn’t do what you were telling it to do. I’m not ready to
rest. I’ve got something I have to do.”

  “I’m supposed to help you with that, you know, help you complete your unfinished business. That’s sort of my job.”

  “Not this time.” He smiled. “I think this time it’s my job to help you. I saw you in the woods the other day. The others almost killed you.”

  The brown eyes I’d thought I’d seen right after I’d hit my head. It had been Cliff. “You were spying on me?” I asked, backing away a few steps, thinking about the weird feeling I’d had at the hospital. “Have you been following me?”

  “No. Well . . . maybe,” he said. “But I’m not the only one. You’ve got a living tail too. Don’t look now, but that beige car down the street isn’t empty.”

  “Crap.” I closed my eyes, not needing to look at the car to guess who was inside. Settlers’ Affairs had someone watching me. Beige was, after all, their signature color. “Great, now we really have to go.” I turned and headed down the sidewalk, knowing my SA watchers would start to get suspicious if it took much longer to put Cliff to rest.

  “Fine. But please believe me,” he said, hurrying after me. “I would never hurt you. I only want to help.”

  “Thanks, but really, I don’t need help.” Well, I did, but not from an Unsettled. “The best thing you could do for me is to go back to your grave and try to rest in peace. Believe me, I’m in enough trouble already, and if the Enforcers or anyone from Settlers’ Affairs sees any more weird zombies hanging around—”

  “Zombie. Wow, it’s really weird hearing that word and knowing someone is talking about me.” His voice was soft and that ghost of a smile still on his face, but I could tell I’d hurt his feelings.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, it’s cool. I’m a zombie, guess I better get used to it,” he said, a hint of anger in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m worthless. There’s something I need to do and I’m going to do it, and nothing anyone says is going to stop me. Not even you, Megan Berry.”

  He turned around and raced off the sidewalk and through my neighbor’s yard, headed toward the cemetery. I yelled his name as he left, but all he did was wave.

  For a second I thought about really going after him, but decided against it after peeking around to see that the beige car hadn’t moved from its position a few blocks away. Didn’t look like they planned on following me to make sure I Settled Cliff even though I hadn’t marked him with a halo like I was supposed to.

  “Stellar work, guys. At least spy thoroughly if you’re going to spy.” Typical SA. For an organization that had stayed a secret from humanity for hundreds of years, sometimes I was amazed at how halfassed their work was. But then, the older I get the more I realize a lot of adults don’t give a crap about doing their jobs well—including important people like teachers and policeman and doctors who are supposed to be educating the precious youth of America and saving people’s lives. So why should I be surprised that SA had its share of incompetents?

  I didn’t know. But I was.

  This time, however, my tail’s laziness would work to my advantage. I’d just cut through my neighbor’s yard and chill out in their tree house for a few minutes before circling back to my house. If I waited even twenty minutes, the SA spies wouldn’t know that I hadn’t gone to seal Cliff’s grave. My mom and dad had deliberately chosen our house for its prime location, only minutes’ away from two of the town’s four graveyards.

  As for Cliff, I had no idea how to handle him, but at least he didn’t seem dangerous. Besides, the sun would be setting soon, and I really didn’t want to be out in the dark with a dead guy. Of course, I didn’t want to be back at my house under surveillance either. I didn’t know where I wanted to be, but I couldn’t deny that the last half hour with Cliff had been one of the nicest I’d spent in awhile.

  What that said about my social and home lives, I didn’t want to examine.

  CHAPTER 8

  I suspected the world was ending when I caught Mom chowing meat, but when Monica stopped me on the way into school Thursday and insisted I let her help me clear my name, I knew the earth was in serious trouble. Monica Parsons being concerned for my welfare was totally a sign of an impending apocalypse.

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. SA and the Enforcers have their heads so far up their asses it’s ridiculous. We have to figure out a way to prove you’re innocent.”

  “Did Ethan call you?” I asked, suspicious of my meddling boyfriend.

  Sure, he’d apologized for pushing the Monica issue, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her a call and plead for help on my behalf. He’d do just about anything to help me . . . which made me feel warm and fuzzy and guilty as all heck.

  The weird moment with Cliff was still bugging me. I’d never felt anything but pity or concern—or occasionally irritation—for an Unsettled, never friendship, and certainly never more than friendship. No one had ever made me tingle except Ethan, and the fact that the second guy to incite anything moderately tingle-esque in me was dead, bothered me. Big-time.

  “Why would your boyfriend call me?” Monica wrapped her scarf around her neck and huddled inside her puffy white coat. It was freezing out this morning, and I kind of wished we’d taken this chat inside the school rather than over by the benches near the parking lot. “Is there trouble in paradise?”

  “Everything’s great. Better than great,” I snapped. “He just said something yesterday about asking you for help. He thought you’d be interested to know we might have had a non-Settler watching us with those zombies that day in the woods.”

  “What? You’re kidding me.”

  “Unfortunately, no.” I quickly filled her in, then pulled the ribbon out of my pocket. “He found this. I’m betting it was from a cheer spy trying to scope out our fund-raiser.”

  “Those little biatches.” Monica snatched the ribbon from my hand. “If we get relocated because of one of those freaks, I’m going to shove a spirit stick right up—”

  “There’s a chance they didn’t see anything and we’ll both be fine,” I said, cutting her off before she could totally flip. “But I think we should try to figure it out for sure one way or the other. I was planning to crash the cheer table during lunch to see what I can find out.”

  “You have first lunch, right?” she asked. I nodded. “I have second, so I’ll do the same thing. They’re going to be at Pizza Pie tonight for the joint fund-raiser, so at least we’ll have something to talk about.”

  “Right,” I said, silently cursing myself. I’d totally forgotten about the joint fund-raiser at the new pizza place near the highway. They’d promised us 5 percent of sales and to let the customers choose which team they wanted to support when they paid their bill. Our job was to hang out and solicit supporters and bring in business. Unfortunately, I’d also booked myself for a late-night investigation session with Ethan. “What time does that start again?”

  Monica narrowed her eyes. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t, I just—”

  She sighed and turned to trudge up the hill as the first bell rang. “Don’t worry, it’s cool. I can’t say I’d be stressing about fund-raising if I were in your place.” Wow, Monica was being so nice. It was quite possible she had been body-snatched along with my mother. “But seriously, you’ve got to figure a way out of this mess. I heard my dad talking to one of the Elders last night. Whatever forensic tests they’ve been waiting for came back, and it doesn’t look good for you.”

  “What kind of forensic tests?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, I couldn’t tell from hearing just Dad’s side of the conversation, but I did get this much, they’re totally planning to lock you up and throw away the key.” She paused and cocked her head to the side. “I’m actually sort of surprised to see you. I thought the Enforcers would have taken you into custody last night.”

  “What?” God, this couldn’t be happening! Everyone had lost their minds! Was there no sanity left in the
world? I hadn’t done anything! What in the world could these “tests” have shown them, besides that I was completely innocent?

  “I mean, I could be wrong, but—”

  “No, you’re probably not wrong.” I sighed, swallowing the burnt rubber taste that had risen in my mouth. I couldn’t let Monica’s news make me lose it. I had to stay sane and focused so I could prove to all the crazy people how crazy they really were. “But maybe they figure the spies are keeping an eye on me for now.” I nodded to my right, in the direction of the beige sedan that had followed me to school.

  “Wow, you’ve got spies.” She made a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Aren’t you a bad girl?”

  “This isn’t funny, Monica.”

  “Of course it isn’t. You’re screwed unless we figure something out. It’s a done deal. I mean, you’ll get a trial and everything, I guess, but it sounds like a formality. Everyone’s sure you’re guilty.”

  “I know,” I said, trying not to let my terror and confusion show. Did we really need to go over this? I knew I was in trouble, what I didn’t know was how to get out of it.

  “I don’t know what they have on you, but if it’s enough to totally discount the fact that no Settler has ever been convicted of—”

  “Nothing!” I yelled, then lowered my voice when a couple of guys in front of us turned to stare. “Nothing, I swear. They won’t even tell me what I’m being accused of. I mean, I know it has to do with raising those zombies, but I don’t know why I’m the only suspect. They’re supposed to be sending the formal charge to my house today, and hopefully that will give me something to go on, but—”

  “Well then, whoever really raised them must be a Settler, and probably a super-powerful one like you.”

  “Right.” Duh, Monica. I figured that one out a while ago.

  “And whatever forensic evidence they’ve got must prove that.”

  Okay, not so duh. She was probably on to something. Settlers’ Affairs’ tests must have implicated me in some way. But how? I knew I hadn’t done anything. At least . . . not on purpose, which made me wonder again if there was any way I could have made something happen without even knowing it. Of course, if that were the case, I was in as much trouble as if I had raised those zombies on purpose. If SA thought I was raising SRUs with my super-Settler mojo, I’d be stuck in a magical containment unit and never set free.