The Death Series, Books 1-3

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  I nodded, I got it. Being an Empath, I couldn't say that was a huge improvement. If anything it made her situation more complicated.

  The microwave timer beeped. Mom put an oven mitt on, scooping the dish out and transferring it to the table. She flicked a pat of butter inside, mixing it in through the cut corn. Dad and I watched.

  Mount Rainier sat before him on the plate. Mom laughed. “Too much?” she asked with a grin.

  “I think... yes,” Dad said with a smile of his own.

  I heaped my plate full of mashed potatoes, then put some corn on top and mixed the whole mess up with my spoon. Next came two pieces of the best fried chicken in the world. No gross skin to give it that squishy feeling in my mouth. Mom watched the whole event with that look on her face she had every time I ate.

  “What?” my parents asked at the same time. Jinx, I thought.

  “Just thinking about the justice that the Js could do to this meal, Mom.”

  “Hmp! That's an understatement,” she grunted.

  Mom knew what the Js could do to a meal.

  We cleared our dishes and I got the Homework Question, a ritual I could do without.

  I jogged over to the stairs to ascend into what the Js called the “bat cave.” My room was nothing more than a hole under the eaves of the half story of our house. It was dark and had a separate place where the Js and I could game and hang.

  I jerked the door open, making that pleasant sucking air sound and flung myself on my bed, whipping it shut as I was in the air. I flopped over on my back and read some more from where I left off about Parker:

  ...we were unaware, of the ramifications of this particular ability. Parker's abilities were the first true, full-scale five-point AFTD abilities we've seen since the inception of the inoculations in 2015 and even into the present day. Now, we have seen many AFTD children manifest one of the five commonly known characteristics or “points” for this category.

  “Dr. Daniels, please explain to this readership exactly what Affinity for the Dead means? I have to assume, that like myself, there are many people out there that assume teens which manifest this ability are mainly able to communicate with the dead. But, if what you're saying is true, there may be quite a bit more to it than just communication.”

  “You're right, Tim. The five, main sub-categories for AFTD are as follows: Cadaver-manipulation, Hauntings, Medium/communication, Cadaver-control, Murder/traumatic victim location, and Death Impressions. Now the first and third abilities are obviously linked, with the last being the most common manifestation of this ability. The Parker child manifested all five categories. I cannot overemphasize the rarity of all five points of a little understood ability such as this being a part of one person's skill set. We didn't realize just how rare that was until ten years later; there has not been another case that encompassed all five.”

  “Beside having all five categories, is there anything else that makes Parker special?” Anderson asked.

  Laughs “Yes, Parker is an extraordinarily rare case. Most importantly, since his assimilation into our military, we have not been able to study his abilities further, which is a national tragedy. I am at liberty to say that. He works in a capacity that has not been explained and is under a top secret umbrella that even the scientific community cannot breach.”

  “Why can't we all know what Parker is up to? Don't we have a right to know?” Anderson queried.

  “I am not at liberty to answer that. However, I can say that if there were another 'Parker', his or her outlook would not be broad. He or she would almost certainly, in theory, be a very interesting commodity for certain groups.”

  “Which groups?” Anderson asked.

  “Any group in which raising cadavers was politically advantageous.”

  I put the papers down on my chest and rubbed my eyes. I felt the full flesh crawl march up my body and settle uncomfortably at the base of my neck, where the short hairs like to stand on end. Mom called that “getting the creeps.”

  Yeah... those.

  I was afraid of this. My parents were afraid of this. Dad putting me on meds, going against the rule-follower I knew him to be, scared the crap out of me. Making a fist with my hand under my chin I rolled over on my stomach. I thought about Jade and the dog. Sighing, I got up, swinging my legs onto the floor. I stood up and walked over to my pulse-top. Plunking down on my chair, I pressed my thumb onto the pad.

  Hello, Caleb Hart... accessing...

  I thought: subject; murder, AFTD-related.

  The display lit up with news and one article struck as soon as I saw it; although it was older:

  Twenty-year old AFTD Policewoman Bobbi Gale “Discovers” Murder Victim Leading to the Arrest of Pierce Dickson

  by Tim Anderson

  Boy, that Anderson guy gets around, I thought. I read on:

  Another police deterrent slash victory in what can only be classified as a paranormal ability, which is labeled as the most misunderstood of all, is now taking a foothold as post-inoculation children come-of-age and enter the workforce in occupations that showcase these unique skills. In this instance, Ms. Gale, after testing as a two-point in the AFTD category (in the nationwide Aptitude Tests given eighth graders), excelled in the subsequent, specialized school she attended and upon graduation was given a coveted role in the police department of her choice.

  This trend of using people in important capacities such as law-enforcement cannot be a bad one. Considering that paranormal ability is not just given to people driven to do the right thing. There are criminals out there, as Ms. Gale, when asked to speak for this article, is quoted as saying, '...Are now our most powerful criminals, using all their talents for evil...'”

  Wow...I hadn't considered what it would be like if, say, a Carson showed up with paranormal skills. I shuddered thinking about the trouble that dickhead could make. Of course, it was possible. I threw that errant thought aside and bent to do more reading.

  Ms. Gale was quoted as saying, when asked how she was able to find these criminals, she responded with,“It's a difficult ability to quantify.”

  No kidding, I thought, duh.

  “But, I'd have to say it's the dead... they speak to me. It seems that when someone dies violently, there is a 'footprint' they leave, an impression of who they were. I follow that trail and sometimes, I get lucky and can put it all together.”

  When Gale was asked if she was satisfied with her work, she responded with an emphatic, “yes,” but added that she was very, “... glad that she didn't have all the categories of AFTD.”

  When asked why, she responded simply that it was, “..more than she wanted to deal with.”

  I depressed my thumb on the pad and thought: writing.

  A blank page asserted itself in the middle of my monitor which hung suspended above my desk. I tapped my fingers on the desk, struggling to write. This was my least favorite homework; writing. I guess one paragraph I could manage. History was second period and I needed to do a paragraph per day synopsis. Thought and pulsed to the school before second period Monday through Friday. Mr. Peterson was cool but current event stuff sucked. Who cared what was happening, seriously? I had to care more than I wanted and was pissed about it.

  I sat thinking about what to write in my paragraph, struggling with the spelling, as usual. My desk had a built in thumb pad so I just laid my thumb on it and thought: this sucks ass guffaws

  The phrase lit up on the screen and I howled, slapping my knee, comic relief. I finally got a grip and thought: erase phrase. It disappeared. That last phrase may have affected my grade. I felt giddy at the prospect. I tapped my fingers again and thought:

  Copy & Paste header. The article header lit up.

  I amended: and include author.

  Anderson's name glowed on the screen.

  I thought: This past event is about a girl cop that has the paranormal ability, AFTD (Affinity for the Dead). This ability usually means that somebody can communicate with the dead. She uses her ability to
find criminals that have murdered people.

  I paused, taking my thumb off the pad a second, then laid it on the pad again, and resumed thought: She says that she can hear impressions from people who've died, that if they were murdered she can feel a trail of their emotions. Sounds like this is damn handy.

  Huh... thought: erase profanity. “Damn,” disappeared.

  Thought: Pulse to Mr. William “Billy” Peterson, History teacher at Kent Middle School.

  That done, I glanced at the illuminated numbers on the bottom of the computer screen. I depressed my thumb, very lightly. Mom would kill me, literally, if I put my thumb through another pad and thought: sleep.

  The screen became dark, only the green clock numbers continued to glow in the lower right corner.

  Nine-thirty already, time to pulse John. Weird that I hadn't heard from Jonesy today, he was always pulsing.

  My pulse was stuffed in my back pocket and digging into my ass. I whipped it out and pressed the pad. The pads for the pulse-cells were a lot tougher to wreck I thought with satisfaction, and thought: John Terran.

  Green letters appeared: Initializing.

  Then: Hey butt-wipe, finally got around to pulsing. Busy with Jade? Laughs John Terran

  No, numb-nuts, if you must know, I just finished my PE! CH

  Past Event? Yeah, I figured you'd finally get your butt kicked and do homework- John Terran

  Are you ever gonna edit your name to initials like everybody else does so I don't have to see your whole, stinkin' name? Smirks CH

  I like it this way, it irritates everyone sarcasm-much- John Terran

  Off-topic-CH

  K- John Terran

  I was talking with Jade and we may do better to rein Jonesy in with doing the thing at the cemetery with the ass-clowns- CH

  Why? John Terran

  She knows Brett, or did, and says she thinks he'd never let it go, be bent on big-time payback, baby- CH

  How does she know Brett? Besides, ya know Jonesy, he's got this thing buzzing around in his head and he'll want to see it through- John Terran

  sighs Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that- CH

  She and Brett were actually friends a couple of years ago. I guess his dick-headed-ness is a more recent development- CH

  Huh... really? John Terran

  Yeah, I guess his dad makes her dad look normal- CH

  No, profanity block! John Terran

  Yeah, no profanity block! CH

  Well, I guess, we'll just have to tone Jonesy down as much as possible just in case he gets out of control- CH

  laughs okay Caleb, good luck with that- John Terran

  Hey, where is Jonesy? I haven't heard from him- CH

  He got his profanity block! busted over homework and can't pulse- John Terran.

  How do you know if he can't pulse? CH

  Because I pulsed him and his mom answered- John Terran

  ouch well that blows.-CH

  Yeah- John Terran

  Okay, see ya tomorrow-CH

  K, see ya- John Terran

  I touched my pad and thought: sleep.

  It powered down instantly. I looked at my suspended monitor, as slim as my pulse and the glowing numbers stared back at me, ten-forty four.

  As if by magic, Mom hollered up the stairs, “Caleb! Bed!”

  “K!” I hollered back. In the morning it was school, at night it was bed. I rolled over on my back, realizing that my clothes were on.

  I undressed quickly and threw the whole lot on the floor. I looked down at them and shrugged, picked them up and made a tight ball, making a basket into my dirty laundry hamper, thinking, have I ever used that? I didn't know. I flopped back down on my bed and grabbed my book. I liked to read before I fell asleep. Not the lame stuff the school assigned but cool authors, like Stephen King. Now that was a tight author. I began reading and didn't think about the other stuff until the next day at school where I was reminded by a surprise source.

  Did I say I liked surprises?

  CHAPTER 12

  Something was... something was wet. Gross! I lifted my head off the pillow and I swear, there was the Lake Erie of drool. I did an abbreviated push-up and hopped out of bed, swaying a little as the blood rushed to my head. I surveyed the mess, looking for some clothes. I glanced at the alarm and my hand flashed out and flat palmed it just before it went off. Couldn't believe I had not slept past the alarm. I dug around in the clothes pile on the floor and leaned over the laundry hamper and looked in at last night's clothes that were in there. Huh, I grunted to myself, Jade would certainly notice if I wore the same thing two days in a row.

  Dejected, I stalked out of the room in nothing but boxers. I thudded down the stairs where I encountered Mom, leaning with one hand against the counter top and the other holding a steaming cup of java.

  “Hey now, you look a little rough.” She smiled. I thought that was rich coming from her, miss queen-o'-beauty and light in the morning. I threw her a sullen look and made my unsteady way to the laundry room. Mom followed.

  “Caleb, don't go back there and start rifling around, foraging for clean clothes. If you'd actually wash some, this would not be an issue.”

  I ignored that and plowed forward. There, in a dim little corner were all the mismatched clothes. I rifled through the whole thing and got a vintage AC/DC T-shirt that was littered with the fine holes on the bottom (a theme with my shirts), and threw that on.

  Mom put out her hand and quietly said, “Maybe a shower would liven you up.”

  I scowled harder, then a vision of Jade popped into my head. She showed up smelling like a vanilla bean and I was there smelling like... like... a kid that woke up in a pool of drool. Life just seemed complicated now. Where were the days when you could just be? I grabbed some mismatched socks, the last pair of boxer briefs, no free-ballin' for me and took off for the shower.

  I took an extra-long time in the shower and even cleaned my feet. Feeling super spiffy and primed I glanced in the mirror. It was fogged up so swiped it with my arm. I searched carefully for signs of my impending manhood. Seeing nothing (I think I had, like, three armpit hairs), I left the steam pit of a bathroom.

  I sat down in front of a fried egg sandwich. “Huh, what gives?” I asked Mom.

  “I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

  For today she was absolved of her sins.

  Dad strolled in. “Hey Pal.”

  “Hey.”

  “You showered!”

  I scowled, showering was an event that warranted comment?

  Parents.

  “Caleb, I was thinking that we try some experimentation in the cemetery, in a controlled atmosphere, one in which there isn't a charged, emotional dynamic.”

  Dad looked at my expression.

  “Don't worry about how you do, son. It's about gaining some control over this ability.”

  I wondered if having the Js with me would make it easier or harder? I deliberated. I decided it would be easier with the Js than without. After all, it had been them from the beginning of this whole mess.

  Mom put her hands on hips encased in pajamas, her favorite outfit, and added, “I want to be included too. The Js get to go.”

  Sliding onto the bench beside me, she gave me a level stare.

  “I read most of the papers that John gave me.” I told her. “The main scientist, Daniels-something...”

  “Byron, Byron Daniels,” Dad interjected.

  “Yeah. He said that if there were another Parker, that the kid would be limited to what certain groups wanted.”

  Mom sent Dad the oh shit look and he gave a minute shake of his head, later.

  “You know this Dr. Daniels?” I asked Dad.

  “I know of him. He works in related fields.”

  I looked at the clock and stood up, Mom gave me a hug.

  “I haven't died mom,” I said, pulling away.

  “I understand,” she commented, “but sometimes moms just want to squeeze their boys.”

 
; “I know,” I said and took off for the door, whipping my hair out of my face. I turned and walked out the door, jerking my backpack off the chair as I went. I stuffed my feet into my shoes, closing the door behind me. I was looking forward to another day with Jade and my best jamming day of the week. Little did I know that the day would start off weird and just get stranger as it wore on.

  ****

  The school commons was in the center of a humungous room with circular tables. Lockers flanked the entire room and bled down into the halls leading to our classes. Eighth graders had the commons lockers and the sixth and seventh (sevies) graders dealt with the jostling hallway. We all hung out in the commons and stalked each other's activities. I had time before Morginstern's class and could hang with the Js before and if I was really lucky, Jade.

  I spotted Jonesy right away, his dark face a chocolate dot in the crowd. He raised a finger in salute and looking around I didn't see John or Jade. Sucked.

  Jonesy wore that expectant expression I knew so well. “Hey man, what's up?”

  “I heard you got nailed for skipping homework.”

  “Yeah, I had to make up, like, ten CE's.”

  My mouth hung open. “My parents would've executed me for that many missing current events.”

  Jonesy looked down and shuffled his feet, then looked up with a sheepish expression. “Yeah, no pulse for now...”

  “No pulse?”

  Incredible.

  “Yeah, but my mom knows I am going to hang with you all day Sunday so I either didn't do that,” NOT an option for The Instigator to be absent, “or no pulse for a week.” Spreading his hands out, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.