I can't believe I'm beating Jackson at Guitar Hero, I thought. This just doesn’t seem possible. I tried not to focus on it too much for fear it would distract me. I could see him getting frustrated that he wasn't doing better at the game. He tried to hide it, like when he missed a note he'd turn and play it off like he was distracted, or start telling us a story from when he was on tour.
“Ozzy's tour manager worked with us on the Australian leg of our last world tour,” he said, when he missed a bunch of notes in a row on Paranoid. “Great guy. Real solid.”
We reached the battle stage of the rock legends version. That meant we had to play against the computer's choice for us to advance to the last level of the game and win. The guitarists included Dave Navarro, Joe Satriani, Jimmy Hendrix, Slash, Carlos Santana, Jimmy Page, Jack White, and last but not least, Jackson Everrest. I was randomly matched up against Hendrix. Luckily I had played against Hendrix before. I matched him note for note on Purple Haze for the first part of the song and did a decent job keeping up the rest of the way through. It was enough to advance, but just barely.
“Not bad,” Jackson complimented me. “If they ever figure out how to turn these things into real instruments you'll have a smashing future.”
“Thanks,” I said, setting the plastic guitar down and taking a seat on the couch next to Benji. I hadn't noticed while I was playing, but Felicity had moved closer and was watching us both intently. I turned to look directly at her and she looked away toward Jackson, trying to pretend she hadn't been looking. Her nacre skin seemed so soft and white, like light from the moon was glowing off her. Her hair fell in bright red vibrant curls against her neck, standing out in shocking contrast. I got the feeling she could sense I was staring at her so I looked away quickly, trying to pretend I was yawning.
The computer began to shuffle through the remaining guitarists, looking for a match for Jackson. All the characters whooshed past at once until one was left—Jackson Everrest.
“This is like a nightmare,” the real Jax said. “Like an evil computer version of myself come to life to torment me. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” Benji practically shouted.
Even though it was one of his biggest hits, My Soul to Take, Jackson seemed to have trouble with it from the start. He needed to switch fingers to hit the lower keys and his timing was really off. He quickly grew frustrated as his artificial avatar blazed through the notes effortlessly while he kept getting loud reverb clangs from hitting the plastic keys too late. He cursed and spat on his own floor. No one said anything. During the long guitar solo he stopped and took the controller off altogether, giving up. I looked over at Benji who could barely hold in his surprise.
“It's a stupid game anyway,” Jackson vented in frustration. “I don't know why I keep messing with it.”
The screen flashed the words YOU LOSE as the avatar Jackson flicked his pick at us and threw up a devil finger salute.
“Jackson,” Felicity said calmly, “it's okay. It's just a game.”
“I know,” he said, reaching over and flicking on his guitar amp. He picked up a black Les Paul guitar from the stands near the console and plugged it in. He put his foot on the amp and rested the bottom of the guitar on the top of his thigh. “Can a game teach you this?”
Jackson ripped into a guitar solo filled with racing notes and mind melting progressions. Benji's jaw literally fell wide open. I'm pretty sure mine did too. It was far beyond anything we could possibly have imagined. Jackson looked up at us and laughed out loud.
“You really are fans?” A satisfied smile spread across his face before we could nod in reply. Was Jackson really begging for our attention by putting on a private show for us in his living room? I didn't have to ask because before we could answer him he began laying into the instrument again, giving it all he had. The sounds coming out of it were unreal and we were transported into his world. His hands moved so fast, they almost seemed to blur. He was like a guitar god! He finished and Benji and I wildly began to applaud him. The look on his face said it all. His ego was just getting a taste of what it really wanted.
“You want more?” Benji practically leaped to his feet in response. I turned to look at Felicity. She looked slightly annoyed that Jackson was acting up for attention. I shot her a look that was somewhere between 'I told you so' and 'what can you do?' She let out a heavy sigh, like the whole weight of the world was on her shoulders. This wasn't just her being upset that Jax was showing off. This was something deeper, something not visible on the surface.
“That was amazing,” I said, standing up. Jackson stopped playing mid-song and turned to me. Benji just stared with his mouth hanging open like a prize bass. A quick glance down told me that Felicity had to stifle back a laugh with the back of her hand. I had just been shown what Jax could really do. “I hope you don't mind me interrupting, but I wanted to rinse off and get cleaned up before dark. The sun is almost all the way down and I heard you're not partial to indoor lighting. A wise decision, I might add, but one that leaves me pressed for time.”
“Of course,” Jackson said, setting his guitar down. Benji shot me an angry look for interrupting our personal once-in-a-lifetime concert. “The guest bathroom is three doors down the hallway on the right. There should still be towels in there. I haven't had any company since the maid was last here, other than the lovely Felicity Jane.”
“Awesome,” I said, walking past him and down the hallway. I turned on the water and was splashing my face when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Felicity.
“Here,” she said, handing me a thick, brown candle and a book of matches. “Just in case it gets too dark to see.”
“Thanks,” I said. She stood there a minute, like she had something else to say. She bit her lip. I was sure she was going to share a secret with me. I waited but after a minute when she didn't say anything, I started getting annoyed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she muttered. She turned and walked away. I shut and locked the door.
“Geez,” I griped out loud to myself. “What's her problem?”
I lit the candle and shook out the match. The smell of sulfur filled the small room making my eyes water. I blew my nose on some tissue, then went to throw it away and stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting in the wastebasket was a bunch of hypodermic needles. I leaned in to get a closer look. There were wads of cotton with what looked like dried blood on them. The realization hit me all at once—Jackson was a drug addict! That's why he was sick. He was trying to get off heroin. Was that why Felicity was here?
I decided not to mention it to Benji. The last thing he needed to worry about was his idol being a junkie. I'd only seen stuff like this on television, but I'd heard that dope fiends were capable of anything when they were going through withdrawal.
It might not be safe to stay here long, I thought. Let's just hope he has enough stuff to keep him high as a kite until tomorrow. We'll have to leave soon for sure.
Chapter Fifteen
I ran a cool bath and used a hand towel to sponge away the chlorine from the pool. It wasn't nearly as good as the hot shower I'd taken in New Lompoc, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be either. For the moment we seemed to be safe. I knew that it could change at any minute, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. The recent madness and chaos and insanity taught me that it was more important than ever to hold on to the good times. You never knew how long they were going to last.
When I got back out to the kitchen, everyone was sitting around the kitchen table eating by candle light. They'd covered the windows with black sheets to cut down on the amount of light they put off.
That may be the only reason they haven't been attacked up here yet, I thought.
Benji had opened up a can of Chef Boyardee beef ravioli and was eating right out of it with a fork. He looked more content than I had ever seen him. Jackson was picking at a bag of freeze dried ice cream, the kind we were told astronauts ate when we were little kids. I knew now why Jax
wouldn't be eating. The drugs were all he cared about. That's how he stayed so skinny. Felicity had what looked like a plate of steaming beef fajitas with rice and beans.
“I thought you said you didn't have gas or electricity.” I said. “How did you cook that meal?”
Felicity looked up at me and smiled.
“It's from the food rations kit,” she explained. “Cooks in the bag, ready in under five minutes.”
“You're kidding?” I said. “That's amazing. It looks like real food.”
“Survival in style,” she said. “Plus all I have to do is throw out the bag when I'm done.”
“Too bad it tastes like low end fast food,” Jackson said, still picking at the chalky pink block in front of him. The fire he'd had in him earlier was steadily going out. Now he looked pale and sickly. He'd used up all his energy trying to impress us.
“Really?” I said, a grumble rolling through my stomach as if on cue. “I'd kill for some Carl's Jr right about now.” Felicity made a face I couldn't decipher.
“Felicity, would you please be so kind as to make our guest one of our finest meals-in-a-bag, my love?”
“I can make it,” I said. “You enjoy your food. I'm sure I can figure it out.” Jackson dismissed me casually with a wave of his hand. I found the bags of ready-to-eat meals on the counter. They had every kind of meal I could imagine, from sweet and sour pork to beef stroganoff to lasagna. I grabbed a bag that read Jamaican Chicken and flipped it over to read the directions. It said to pour water into the top portion, seal, then pull a cord on the side and it cooked right in the bag. I took some bottled Voss off the counter and got to work.
“There is still some soda in the fridge,” Felicity said.
“Thanks,” I said, opening the door and pulling out a two liter of Coke. Nothing in the fridge was cold.
I guess the video game console is more important than the food, I thought sarcastically. Why do they even bother to keep this stuff in the fridge if they aren't going to keep it cool?
I grabbed my meal bag. It was now piping hot. I pulled the top open and steam poured out along with the smell of delicious chicken.
“Grab it from the bottom,” she suggested.
It was cooler down there. I took the whole bag and my cola to the table and sat down next to Jax. I was so hungry that I dug right into my meal. I didn't care if I burned my tongue. The last thing we'd had to eat was the fruit cocktail back at the high school and I'd thrown up half of that.
“How is it?” Jackson asked.
“Surprisingly good for food from a bag,” I said in between bites. I was suddenly overcome with hunger. “You're not going to eat?”
“Naw,” he said, flicking his freeze dried ice cream away from him. “I played in Jamaica once. Big benefit in Trenchtown. Home of Bob Marley and the Wailers.”
“Did you get to meet Bob Marley?” Benji asked. Felicity giggled. Jackson smiled and turned to him.
“I wish,” he said good-naturedly. “Bob Marley died before I was born.”
“Oh,” said Benji, looking embarrassed.
“You know what?” Jackson continued. “You can still feel his spirit when you walk through the streets there. He stood for love and peace and unity through music and that message is still alive today. So in a way, you can say he lives on and I did meet him there.”
Benji blushed. He had bags under his eyes. He looked almost as exhausted as Jackson.
“How long did you sleep this afternoon?” I asked.
“He didn't,” Felicity said. “He followed me around asking me questions about my career as a child actress and whether or not I had a twin sister for when I shot Double Trouble in Acapulco like he read on some fan site. He's got quite an active imagination.”
“How do you know if you don't ask?” Benji looked worn out. He was getting fussy at being teased. His battery was going down. It had been a long day by any standards.
“After that, Jackson was up and feeling better,” Felicity said.
“That's when he challenged me to a guitar battle,” Jackson said. He was starting to look green around the gills. If I hadn't seen his trash in the bathroom I might have asked to inspect him for bite marks. “He's got the heart of a rock star.”
Let's just hope he never inherits any other rock star organs, I thought.
“He's been up for almost two days now,” I gave him a worried look. “I think it's time to get some rest. We wanna get back out on the road tomorrow.”
I expected Benji to put up a fight at the suggestion of going to bed but instead he looked relieved, as if he had been waiting for someone to order him around.
“You can use the bedroom next to the one Xander slept in,” Felicity said. “That way you will be close to each other.”
“Does it have a bathroom in it?” I asked.
“Yours does,” she said. “Why?”
“I think I broke the one in here,” I said turning to Benji. “Don't go in there.”
“Good night,” Benji said standing up. He couldn't get out of there fast enough.
“I think I'm going to call it a night as well,” Jackson said.
“You feeling okay?” Felicity asked with a note of fresh concern in her voice.
“Better than okay,” he said with a sad smile. “I'd say this is the best I've felt in years and I have you all to thank for it.”
“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” I said, trying to show my appreciation. “It was very kind of you.”
“It's not a problem,” he said. “In a lot of ways I was waiting for you. Now I can finally relax knowing that she will be taken care of if anything happens to me.”
“You're really sick then?”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Jax,” Felicity said fiercely. “You are going to be fine.”
“In more ways than I can explain,” he said to me, ignoring her. He put his hand on my shoulder and stared into my eyes. “Take whatever you want. I mean it. I have more than I will ever need. I have been very blessed in this life. I never understood that before. I wasted so much time on so many useless things in this forgettable world. I wish I could do it all over again.”
“You've brought a lot of happiness to people all over the world with your music,” I said, and I meant it. “Kids like Benji. You have a wonderful gift.”
“They never tell you that it comes with a curse,” he said cryptically. “It was nice to meet you.” He walked over and kissed Felicity on the head. A single tear escaped from her eye and rolled down her cheek, just like the way Demi Moore soundlessly cries in movies.
“Sweet dreams, angel,” he said. “See you in the morning.”
He turned and walked out of the room, back down the long dark hallway full of awards and honors, disappearing out of sight.
“I guess that just leaves you and me,” I said. “You feeling tired?” She shook her head no. She seemed to lose all interest in her fajitas. “Me neither. Must have been the nap. What do you want to do now?”
“You don't have to do that,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Act like everything is okay,” she said. “I know the bathroom isn't broken. You figured out what's wrong with Jax. Admit it.”
“I guess I did,” I said. “The trash can was full of used needles and bloody cotton balls. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together with that kind of evidence. You want to talk about it?”
“It's not his fault,” she said. “Drugs are a big part of the music industry.”
“You mean like they are in Hollywood?” I didn't know if I was stepping over the line. I hoped I didn't sound condescending.
“Exactly,” she said. “So now you know why I am here. I came here to try to help him get clean, before the zombies took over the whole world.”
“Why didn't he just go to rehab?”
“He did,” she said, letting out a big sigh. “We met in rehab, actually. In Malibu.”
“I don't re
member you going to rehab,” I said. “What were you addicted to, if you don't mind me asking?”
“It's fine,” she said. “I was taking prescription pills. A lot of them. It started out as a way to get through long days on the set but before I knew it, I was taking something every hour just to get by. I had several doctors giving me almost anything I asked for. I'm lucky I didn't end up like Michael Jackson.”
“Isn't that the kind of thing the tabloids would have a field day with? Under-age actress checking into Betty Ford?”
“My agent worked hard to keep it out of the news,” Felicity said. “She told everyone that I was suffering from exhaustion. We canceled the Disney movie I was supposed to be shooting in Fiji. She threatened to sue anyone who let it out. They wanted me to go on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew. My mom wouldn't have it. She said I needed to be away from the cameras, that they were part of my disease. She was right. I checked into the in-patient rehab program and stayed there without television or computer or any contact with the outside world for thirty days.”
“That doesn't seem so long,” I said.
“It felt like an eternity,” she confessed.
“Were all the people there celebrities like you?”
“No,” she said. “That's what made it so hard. Most of them were just rich kids with drug problems caused by boredom and privilege. There were a few housewives, a CEO who snapped under the pressure and started shooting junk, and a horror author strung out on speedballs.”
“Anyone I would know?”
“Probably,” she shrugged. “I know it doesn't really matter now but I don't feel comfortable naming him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. Force of habit. Go on.”
“Jackson was the only other famous person there,” she said. “The others didn't treat us all that well, to be honest. They were pretty nasty. Detoxing off drugs can really bring out the worst in you.”
“What would they do?”
“They'd throw stuff in my face when we were holding outside sessions,” she explained. “Stuff they'd read in a magazine about my father dating girls my age, or about my little sisters death. They'd talk about my mother and call me names, or quote lines from movies I'd been in. It got really bad. At one point I honestly wanted to kill myself.”
Zombie Attack! Rise of the Horde Page 15
