by Scott Craven
“Inspectors were not amused when the art class sculpted animals out of all that mold. And speaking of sculpting plants … ” I pointed to the hedges on either side.
They looked like waves rolling toward the sidewalk. Paint them blue, and they’d look just like the ocean swells. Not one leaf dared interrupt the effect.
“How do you do that?” I said.
“No idea,” Anna said. “But being obsessive compulsive helps.”
The house was just as immaculate. White with green trim, and a porch with decking that was a slightly deeper green to match the lawn.
Even weirder, everything was spotless. No brown leaves, no sticks of any sort, and certainly no stray Burger Bucket wrappers.
“Their secret lives under the porch,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Landscape elves.”
“Landscape elves?”
“Definitely. My guess is some of those cookie-baking elves decided they’d had enough of bending over a hot stove all day. They bolted from the oak tree and started a splinter elf group, one dedicated to irrationally perfect yards.
“Like a lawn cult.”
“Exactly.”
I was shocked to see this was how Robbie lived. Someone as ugly as he was inside did not deserve this kind of beauty.
“I’m actually shocked to see this,” Anna said.
“Yeah, right,” I said as she read my mind, which is what girlfriends do.
“But one thing bothers me even more than all this perfection,” she said.
“The quiet?” It just hit me I didn’t hear any birds, as if they knew this was a poop-free zone.
“Sort of,” she said. “No barking. I was hoping Tread would have felt you with the connection you guys have.”
She was right. I should have heard Tread by now. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe Tread just ran away. Maybe he was hiding somewhere waiting for me. Or maybe a black unmarked van pulled up with guys in white coats jumping out, snaring Tread so they could perform—
“Anna, what are you doing, you can’t just walk right up like that,” I said in an urgent whisper.
She was already halfway up the walk to the front door by the time I noticed.
Anna stopped and turned.
“Jed, there is only one way to know if Tread is in there.”
“But they’ll see you!”
“Ya think?”
She continued toward the door, and I quick-stepped to join her.
“You sure about this?” I asked as we stood side-by-side at the front door like, I don’t know—visitors. Victims just didn’t drop in on their tormentors like this. Antelopes didn’t stop by the lion’s den to say hello.
“We’re not spies. We’re kids. Looking for a dog. Simple.” She pressed the doorbell. A sound like a church bell came from inside.
That’s when I knew. Tread was inside. I felt him. And he was, well, not happy. Nervous. Maybe even scared. He didn’t want to be here.
“Tread is here,” I said, grabbing Anna’s hand. “We have to go. Come back when we can surprise them, maybe when they let him out.”
I took two running steps in the opposite direction. Felt a tug.
Anna didn’t move.
“Sorry,” she said, handing back my left arm. “Just hold onto that for now, we’ll reattach it later.”
“But, Anna, seriously,” I said, staring at her. Pleading with her. “We can’t confront Robbie like this.”
“May I help you?” A woman’s voice, coming from the doorway.
I hid my left arm behind my back and swiveled my head toward the voice.
She was in a blue dress. Pearls. Brown hair pulled tight into a bun. On the younger side. And attractive.
The surprises just never ended.
“Mrs. Zambrano?” Anna said.
“Yes?”
“I’m Anna and this is Jed. We’re friends of Robbie.”
This was getting worse. Getting personal meant at least three head-first trashings outside the cafetorium, and a de-pantsing, the location of which was yet to be determined.
“It’s so nice to meet Robbie’s friends,” Mrs. Zambrano said. “Kids come by so rarely.”
“Maybe it’s because they fear tracking dirt on your front yard,” I muttered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Jed, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just said some of his friends are lacking in manners.”
“What’s that behind your back, Jed?”
“Funny story,” I said. “Sometimes my arm … you see I’m not … I don’t want to make this weirder than it is … ”
Best thing to do was come out of the casket and be honest. I brought my arm around to the front.
“Oh, you’re that zombie boy,” Mrs. Zambrano said. “Robbie has told me so much about you.”
“Actually, I prefer ‘cardiovascularly challenged.’ Zombie is such a broad label. And Robbie talks about me?”
“Of course. It’s not like you see a zom—I’m sorry, I mean one who is differently biologically abled. I have some thread and heavy-gauge sewing needles if you’d like to get fixed up real quick.”
“That would be real nice if you don’t—OW!”
“Young lady,” Mrs. Zambrano turned to Anna. “Did you just kick your friend? While I’m standing right here?”
“Sorry, but we came here because we’re looking for a dog,” Anna said. “Jed’s dog. Tread. And Robbie told us he found Tread and picked him up for us.”
I had stepped into some sort of alternate reality where elves did landscaping and Robbie was our friend. Could this get any weirder?
“Sounds just like my son, he is so kind.”
Yup. Weirder it was.
Mrs. Zambrano turned her head and as impossible as it seemed, she shouted delicately, as if her voice excused itself while going up the stairs and into Robbie’s room. “Son, you have friends! It’s about the dog you found.”
No answer.
“Robbie? Will you come down here for a minute, please?”
Silence.
“I’m so sorry, can you give me a minute? You see, Robbie lost his dog just a few months ago. He buried it himself in the backyard. Made a little cross for it. Just left him heartbroken. Since then, he hasn’t been interested in getting another dog, until one followed him home. And, well, he seems to have gotten attached. Let me go see what he’s up to.”
The door closed so gently it didn’t make a sound.
“Robbie had a dog?” I shook my head. “He doesn’t seem like a dog person.”
“I had him pegged for cats,” Anna said. “Lots of them. Crazy Cat Guy.”
“I was thinking guinea pigs. Stuff he could torture and no one would notice.”
Anna put her hand on my arm (the one still attached). She squeezed it.
“Maybe this is way out there,” she said, “but what if this wasn’t about you? What if he took Tread because he wanted Tread?”
“The only reason he took Tread was to hurt me,” I said, the warmth of Anna’s hand on my arm lingering, even after she removed it. “He could have had any other dog. He chose not to. Until mine showed up. Oh, and ‘followed him home,’ though you and I know this was a dognapping.”
“I know that’s how it looks. But Tread isn’t just another dog. He’s a zombie dog.”
“And Robbie hates zombies. He makes that pretty clear, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Exactly, so why would he want a zombie dog?”
“Like I said, to hurt me. We’re back to where we started.”
“No, Jed. Not to hurt you. Maybe that was a nice benefit on the side, but he chose Tread for another reason. A reason that does not apply to any other dog.”
She couldn’t be thinking what I thought she was thinking. Could she?
“He chose Tread … ” Anna paused.
I finished. “Because Tread can’t die. He’s already dead.”
“We have a winner.”
“I find that really hard to believe because it would suggest Robbie has feelings. The only way I can keep hating him is because he’s a bully and nothing more. If he has another side to him, I don’t want to know.”
“So let me ask you,” Anna said. “Did you really think Robbie would live in a house like this?”
“Not at all.”
“What were you expecting?”
“A shack. Filled with dead things. Chalk outlines on the driveway. A crew from ‘Cops’ waiting across the street.”
“Wow. You gave it a lot of thought. And yet look at this place. I’m beginning to think it’s good that this happened. We need to rethink—”
“What the hell are you doing here, Zomboy?” said Robbie.
It is just unnatural for a door not to squeak.
“And with your Joyless Wonder, Anna. Hey Dark and Useless, the strange bright object in the sky is called the sun, since you probably haven’t seen it since they started the Twilight Channel.”
“OK, maybe it’s not so good this happened,” Anna said, still looking at me.
“You need to get the hell outta here before I add to the number of punishments I’ve already thought of since opening the door,” Robbie said.
“As soon as we get Tread,” Anna said.
“She always fight your battles? Because I haven’t forgotten the last one.” Robbie stared at Anna. “Not by a long shot.”
“Just go get Tread and we’re gone,” I said. “I know he’s here.”
“That may be true,” Robbie said. “If so, it’s where he’s staying. Unless you do me a favor.”
Robbie leaned close and whispered into my ear.
“Robbie, no way,” I said. “That’s … that’s … it’s wrong. I can’t. It’s not even possible.”
“I think it is, so we’ll just have to agree to disagree for now. See you tonight.”
The door shut, this time with a satisfying slam.
I just stood there, staring at where Robbie used to be.
Anna shook my shoulder.
“Jed, what is it? What did he say?”
“You don’t want to know.”
But she did want to know. And I had to tell her.
I needed to tell her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I walked around the side of the immaculate house, the flashlight beam bobbing in front of me before it snagged on the side gate. Robbie was supposed to be waiting on the other side, and I desperately hoped he’d fallen asleep. I was wide awake, as if it were the middle of the afternoon instead of the middle of the night.
Several days had passed since Robbie whispered in my ear. It was all I could think about.
“Jed, please don’t go through with this,” Anna said. “There are other ways. We can talk to Robbie’s mom. We can let your parents know what happened. But this, this is the worst thing you can do.”
She was right. This was the worst thing I could do. But it was the only way to get Tread back in one piece.
And I needed to get Tread back in one piece, emphasis on “one.”
“Anna, who in your life would you do anything for?” I asked, resisting the temptation to add “besides me.”
“Besides you?” she said, my heart melting just a little bit.
“Yes, besides me.”
“My mom, totally. She’s been there for me whenever I’ve needed her.”
“Dang, that kind of throws off the comparison I was going to make.” I paused. “But what if your mom was in trouble? Wouldn’t you do anything to make sure she was safe?”
“Of course, but, Jed, you’re talking about a dog. I love Tread, don’t get me wrong. But he’s still a dog.”
I flicked off the flashlight and turned to face Anna, whose amazing eyes lit up the night.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “He’s not just a dog. ‘Just a dog’ is a pet you adopt at a shelter or find on Craigslist. But Tread is a part of me. Not just because of Ooze and the whole zombie thing. He’s there for me and would be 24 hours a day if I needed him. He doesn’t get mad when I’m a jerk, and doesn’t run away if I’m in a bad mood. He’s just happy I’m there. And the one person I really trusted, the guy I always believed in, just walked away because something freaked him out. So no, Tread isn’t just a dog. He’s my friend. My best friend.”
Before Anna could say anything, I thumbed the flashlight and aimed its beam forward. I focused on the task ahead.
A favor for Robbie, but so much more.
I blocked the rest out, thinking only of Tread.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said. “If I remember correctly, I begged you not to come. Even got down on my knees.”
“Jed, I’m pretty sure you suggested I stay home, followed by, ‘I have to be at Robbie’s at two in the morning, so I have to leave my house at 1:47.’ Then you told me you’d be dressed in black and carrying a flashlight.”
“But I did get on my knees.”
“Yes, to show me where you’d be hiding in the bushes if I arrived a few minutes late.”
“Everything’s a blur right now, OK? I just need to get this done.”
We stood at the side gate. I rapped on it with my left hand, which had regained all feeling since reattachment. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Zambrano’s offer to sew it on, so when I got home I asked Mom if she could put it back on with needle and thread.
“My sewing skills are limited to using the Button Up Re-Buttoner your father received a few Christmases ago,” she said. “I’m willing to give that a shot, though. Having an arm that buttons on might be handy. Or a zipper would be even better.”
I just used staples and duct tape, as usual.
There was no answer to my knock, so I tried again. A little harder. The gate swung open.
“Hey, Zom-boy, I thought you were dead, not deaf. Not so loud. The living are sleeping.”
I guess it was too much to expect a “Thanks for coming.”
“I see you brought your girlfriend again, the only person maybe stiffer than you. Wonderful. Anyone else you expecting? Friends? Family? Loved ones?”
I stepped past him, scanning the yard with my flashlight.
“Where’s Tread?” I said, panning the beam back and forth.
The backyard was as tidy as the front. Perfect lawn. Perfect deck. The trees and shrubs were so well proportioned they looked plastic.
I was believing more and more in landscape elves.
I turned back to Robbie and repeated the question. “Where’s Tread?”
“He’s fine. Upstairs. You have more important things to think about right now.”
“No, I don’t. Go get him or the deal’s off.”
Normally such attitude would have sent me headfirst into the nearest receptacle, courtesy of Robbie and his finely tuned garbage-slam technique.
Two things worked in my favor. One, there was not a trash can in sight. I doubted the Zambranos even produced trash. They probably reused everything, like making greeting cards out of cereal boxes. Stuff that would make Martha Stewart say, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Two, Robbie needed me. I wasn’t sure if I could do what he asked, but I knew no one else could.
I wasn’t surprised Robbie remained calm in the face of my insolence.
“Wait here,” he said, disappearing into his house.
Anna tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you see it?”
“No.” I kept playing the beam around the yard, dreading what it was going to find sooner or later.
A flash of white in the corner. I aimed the beam in the far reaches of the yard. There, a cross.
“Let’s take a look.” I took Anna’s hand and followed the light, stepping as lightly as we could so as not to mess the lawn.
The cross was two feet high and about two inches wide. Letters were written across its beam. “A” on the left. “B” in the center. “E” on the right.
A-B-E
. Some kind of code? Directions? What sort of mystery lingered with these letters?
I centered the letters in the flashlight beam. “What do you think it means?”
“It means ‘Abe,’ you brain-dead douche,” Robbie said from behind me. What is it with this family and making no sound when they move?
“Abe?” I asked.
“Yeah, that was his name.”
“You named your dog Abe? Really? Why not Dan? Or Bob? Or another really uninspired name?”
I didn’t have to look at Robbie to know he’d pulled back his fist. I stared at the cross, daring him.
Until I felt something brush against my leg.
“Tread! Tread, how you doing boy?” I bent my legs to kneel, letting go of Anna’s hand so I could scratch Tread’s neck. But all I scratched was air.
Robbie yanked him back, Tread giving a choked yelp (which was pretty normal, being pulled or not).
“Not so fast, Zom-boy. We had a deal. Here’s my end, a safe and sound Tread. Well, safe anyway. I’m not so sure how sound he is.”
Robbie turned and headed back to the house. “Follow me.”
“Wait, I thought you wanted me to, you know.”
“Exactly. Over here.”
“But isn’t this where—”
“No,” Robbie interrupted. “Seriously? You have any idea what would happen if it was?”
I did. That was my biggest fear. After all, months had passed.
I fell into step behind Robbie and Tread. I assumed Anna was behind me, but I focused on what was directly in front of me.
Hoping I could do this. And hoping just as much that I couldn’t.
Robbie stepped up to the deck, Tread’s nails clicking on the wood. Curling his fingers under the top of the wrought-iron patio table, he tilted it back and slipped Tread’s lead under the exposed leg, lowering the table slowly back to the deck.
Tread whined as if knowing what was about to come.
“I’ll be there in a minute, boy,” I said. “Everything’s going to be OK.”
“It better be,” Robbie said, stepping off the far end of the deck and bending over.
He returned with a large plastic cooler and placed it at my feet.
Now it was making sense, and me very ill.
