by D. C. Gomez
I looked around and made up my mind. I rushed the accountant at full speed and tackled her to the ground. She at least had the decency to look surprised. We did a quick roll and we were both on our feet in seconds. I did not like how quickly she moved.
“You don’t give up, do you? That’s a shame, little girl. Don’t you see, you’re nothing but a tool? As soon as the horsemen get tired of you, they’ll discard you. You’re irrelevant.”
Wow, Pestilence had done a number on this one. She was projecting some severe self-hate.
“OK lady, you know I can’t let you go.” I needed to turn this conversation back to the present moment.
“Right. Like you have much of a choice here.” She proceeded to throw an impressive combination of punches and kicks.
I blocked most, but a few punches landed on my ribs. She was a lot faster than me, but only because she had the advantage of not running and fighting all through God’s creation all day. I managed to land a kick on her side. Instead of going down, she got furious. She was a lot stronger than she looked. She grabbed my arm and I’m not sure how, but she flipped me over her shoulder. I landed on my back, out of breath and hurting all over.
“I’m done with this game. You’re not worth my time.”
I was on the ground seeing stars, completely dizzy. She walked over to her picnic basket and pulled out a revolver. I was pretty sure she had real bullets in there and not paintballs.
“Hope you said your prayers, little one.” She aimed and I couldn’t even focus enough to be afraid.
Before she could pull the trigger, she got hit by a truck. I couldn’t believe that had happened. The truck hit her so hard she flew straight into the lake. That was the last straw; this day was nuts. I dropped flat on the ground and closed my eyes.
“I told Constantine that boy was going to kill somebody someday.” I opened my eyes again and Death was standing over me. I pulled myself up to look at what she was staring at. Shorty was climbing down from his truck and I lost it. I started laughing.
“Thank you! I have been saying that all week. I’m just glad he hit her and not me.”
Death laughed as well. “That makes two of us. I’m not sure the world is ready for Shorty to be an Intern.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. That was a great mental picture.
“Oops. Sorry, boss lady. I thought I hit the brakes, but not quickly enough. Do you think she’s going to make it?” Shorty was looking at the lake and then back at us. I wasn’t sure if he was remorseful for hitting her or for getting caught.
“Not that one, dear. She has a trip planned and not where she was hoping,” Death told Shorty.
“Sorry, sir, I mean Death. I know we weren’t supposed to kill the zombies.”
Death smiled at Shorty. “She wasn’t a zombie. Just an evil apple. I’ll leave you in good company, my dear. I have some deliveries to make.”
Death walked on water toward the accountant. If that’s how Jesus looked when he walked on water, no wonder the apostles were amazed. That was one impressive sight.
“You heard boss lady? Death said I was good company!” Shorty was fixing his hair and ironing his shirt with his hand. “You know Death has style. That is one elegant black man. Smooth.” I looked at Shorty and then at Death and smiled. I liked Shorty’s version of Death. Smooth.
“Are you planning to stay on the ground all day, boss lady?” Shorty asked very cautiously.
“You might need to help me, Shorty. Everything hurts now.”
Shorty rushed over to help me. By the time I was back to a vertical position, dozens of cars were pulling into the parking lot and surrounding the park. Shorty and I looked around, puzzled at this new development. I was leaning on Shorty when the doors to every vehicle opened in unison and people poured out of them. It was like watching synchronized swimming, but scarier.
“Are we being attacked by storm troopers?” For the first time that was an accurate description on Shorty’s part. They were all wearing white hazmat suits.
Eugene emerged from the front vehicle, giving orders. “Everybody move out. Tag anything that doesn’t look human twice. If not sure, tag it again. Don’t take any chances. Hurry, people. We’re on a deadline.”
“It’s about time he got there.” I jumped at the sound of Constantine’s voice. I forgot I had my earpiece in.
“Eugene, what’s going on?”
“I brought you some backup,” Eugene answered me as he got near. “Damn, what happened to you? You’re looking rough, babe.” Shorty and I just glared at him.
“Shorty, remind me to slap him once I stop hurting.”
“Don’t worry, boss lady. If you forget, I got you covered.” I smiled at Shorty, who was holding most of my weight.
“Who are your friends?” I asked Eugene.
“I got the CDC to quarantine Texarkana,” Eugene replied with a huge smile.
“Which side?” Shorty asked, looking concerned at the large group of people running everywhere.
“Both sides, plus most of the surrounding area.”
Shorty and I were looking at Eugene with our mouths open.
“On what grounds did you get them here?” I was pretty sure I was missing something.
“It was easy. I just reported a zombie apocalypse in Texarkana.” Eugene was extremely proud of himself.
“What? The Centers for Disease Control has a zombie code?” I have heard everything today. I was pretty sure I hit my head when I fell.
“They do and it also helps that I’m on the board.” Eugene gave me the most charming smile. “It’s part of my responsibilities as a rookie. Besides, we need to administer my plague killer to both infected and healthy, and they’re the experts.”
“Attention, all non-zombies!”
The three of us turned in the direction of the park. Constantine was broadcasting his voice, probably using the drone. “I recommend you hit the dirt in three, or you will get blasted by the CDC. One…two…three. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh good, Constantine got my message. Got to go. I must supervise the dissemination.” Eugene was smiling like a kid at Christmas. “You two, tag these two and everyone on this side. Hurry now.” He yelled orders at two poor individuals in hazmat suits. The two storm troopers, as Shorty kept calling them, ran up to us. Before I could see what they were doing, I was injected in the arm with some strange syringe.
“Ouch!” Shorty yelled at the guy next to him.
“Easy now, tiger. I’m still alive.” I told the one fixing me.
“You’re safe to go now.” The guy told me and kept making his way around the park, stabbing people with shots of vaccine.
“Shorty, I’m done. Can you please take me home?” I probably looked as miserable as I felt because Shorty just smiled at me.
“Of course, boss lady. You did great today.”
Shorty patted my arm and walked me slowly around the truck. I was so beat I didn’t care if he put me on the tailgate. I climbed slowly into the cab. Shorty buckled me in and closed the door. The last thing I remember was falling asleep as Shorty was jumping into the driver’s seat.
CHAPTER 38
IT was past seven when I woke up. I wasn’t feeling nearly as exhausted as earlier, but I was struggling to get out of bed. I needed to check on Bob and Bartholomew and make sure everyone had made it back OK. I took a quick shower. My hair was greasy and all matted. I usually didn’t move in my sleep, so I was surprised I looked so rough. When I got out of the shower, I felt human again. I did a double check to make sure I wasn’t turning zombie and didn’t know it.
When I entered the loft, all the boys were around the kitchen table. Conversation stopped and they all stared at me.
“Oh, thank God. I was afraid I was going to leave without saying goodbye to you,” Eugene said as he got up from the table.
“You’re leaving so soon?” I was taken aback. I knew Eugene couldn’t hang out with us all the time, but I was hoping he was staying longer.
“Wow, the CDC moves fast.” How did they get all that done so fast?
“Well, it helps when you work all night,” Eugene told me.
“All night? How long have I been sleeping?” I was missing a huge piece of information.
“About twenty-eight hours,” Bartholomew told me.
“What? And you guys didn’t think to wake me?” It was Sunday already.
“We checked on you to make sure you were still breathing,” Bartholomew told me with a smile.
“Isis, you were delirious. That’s how tired you were,” Constantine told me from the table. “All the running, the stress, and then the fact that you drank three shakes in one day crashed you.”
“Is drinking three shakes bad?” There were side effects to those shakes. I knew it.
“Calm down now. It’s nothing bad; it’s the normal side effect of being wired. You were eventually going to crash. You just crashed hard. Shorty had to drag you up the stairs.” Constantine was shaking his head as his spoke.
“How is Shorty? Is he OK?” I didn’t remember much from the point I climbed in the truck with him.
“He’s doing great,” Bob told me with a smile on his face. “Working his crew to deliver former zombies to their homes and cleaning up disaster areas. He said you told him he could keep the truck. So he’s living the dream.”
All the boys were staring at him.
“I thought I said I would talk to Constantine.” I rubbed my wet hair, trying to remember all the details from yesterday. “Are you one with him keeping the truck?” I asked Constantine cautiously.
“I already raised our insurance and added premium coverage to his plan,” Constantine replied.
“What’s premium coverage?” I didn’t think I was familiar with that.
“It’s like full coverage, but triple, to cover all the pedestrians Shorty is going to hit,” Constantine said.
The rest of us laughed.
“Of course, he can keep the truck. I’m not going to find another cleanup crew as reliable as Shorty that doesn’t ask any questions. I’m willing to pay the price for good help.” Constantine winked at me.
“We won’t get to see you anymore,” I said to Eugene, a little discouraged. He was part of our family now. Life-threatening situations were great ways of bonding people.
“I have good news. Death talked to the Mistress and convinced her that we should continue our collaboration. Death said this was a great way of creating a unified front.” Eugene was bouncing up and down with joy.
“Did that work?” I was surprised Pestilence had agreed to that.
“Death suggested you guys come one week and we come here the next. That way the burden would not fall on one organization to always travel. The Mistress freaked. Instead, she offered I come and visit every week, so you guys don’t have to worry.” Eugene finished with a grin.
“Wow, Death is good. I’m impressed,” I told the group.
“Oh, it’s payback. Death will always have the last word,” Constantine told us.
“Eugene, we need to get going. I need to make sure you make it back in time for your curfew.” Bob told Eugene. “Isis, your dinner is in the fridge. Eric said you’re not allowed to drink any more shakes for three days. Death said you need more sleep. So as soon as you finish your food, head back to bed. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Normally I would have argued about all the instructions and me not being a kid, but I was so tired I had no energy. Bob eyed me suspiciously. “I promise. I like that plan.”
“Boss, you want to go for a ride?” Bob asked Constantine.
“Sounds great. We can stop by Sonic and get a blast,” Constantine replied.
“Can I get a blast? I haven’t had one in years.” Eugene looked so young now.
After all your hard work, you can have two,” Constantine told Eugene as he headed out the kitty door. We’ll even get you enough for the rest of the interns. You’ll be a hero for life! Isis. Food and then bed. No delays.” It seemed Constantine also had to have the last word.
“If you two need anything, call me. OK?” Bartholomew and I looked at each other and nodded back at Bob. Eugene rushed over and gave me a big hug.
“See you next week, Isis.” I hugged Eugene back.
“I can’t wait.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and he took off.
“Bye, Bart. I must hurry before those two leave me.” Considering they were both downstairs already, Eugene was probably right. I wondered what Bob and Constantine talked about on their many drives.
I opened the fridge and found a covered dish with a note addressed to me. Bob left me instructions for my supper. I peeked inside the container. Bob had made me cheese tortellini. Bob was a life-saver. If I weren’t so tired, I would have done a little dance.
“Bart, what did I miss while I was in my coma?” I leaned on the counter and watched Bartholomew while my food heated in the microwave.
“Nothing much. Police recovered the body of the accountant from the fountain. Eugene coordinated the efforts of the CDC and made sure all victims were properly treated. Ana and Joe have recovered and are on bed rest. The media is going crazy. Pretty much all you would expect after a zombie apocalypse.”
That was an excellent summary by Bartholomew. I walked over to the freezer and pulled out a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. I handed Bartholomew the ice cream and a spoon.
“That deserves a celebration then,” I told Bartholomew. I joined him on the table with my food. “How are the schools handling the fiasco?”
“They’re already planning next year’s event,” Bartholomew told me as he took the lid off his ice cream.
“What? After that giant disaster, they’re doing it again?” I was holding my fork in midair.
“Zombie Apocalypse II is on. College Bowl has been nixed. Terminator and I have been asked to return as defending champions in the combat dance competition.” Bartholomew did a couple of head rolls followed by shaking the haters off his shirt.
“That’s my bro.” I gave him a fist bump and he returned it with a huge smile. It was nice to see him smiling again and at peace with himself. “I’m glad Texarkana is making the most out of this.”
“Hey, if Salem can be the home of the witches, we can have zombies,” Bartholomew said.
“So true.” I took another mouthful and was grateful Bob loved to cook. “Tell me, what happened to Texarkana being calm and quiet?”
“We moved in,” Bartholomew told me with a mouthful of ice cream.
“That’s right—I forgot,” I said, laughing. We were dangerous to the real estate market.
“I almost forgot. You got another package.” Bartholomew jumped from the table and ran to his workstations. I got tired just looking at him.
“Here you go.” He handed me a small box wrapped in white paper. I did a quick look-over and then ripped it open.
“Do you have any idea why Antarctica-Bob sent me a ceramic penguin?” I asked Bartholomew. The little thing was cute, maybe two inches tall and full of detail.
“Hey, it has your name on it and a number.”
Bartholomew was right. On the back my name was written and the number 776. “A little weird, but we do work for Death.”
“That pretty much sums up everything in our lives.”
“It’s a thankless job, but somebody has to do it.” Bartholomew was full of clichés today.
“It’s not thankless. The souls appreciate it. We do make a difference. A small one, but a difference nevertheless.” I smiled at Bartholomew.
“In that case, you won’t mind heading to New Mexico on Tuesday. We have a streaker on the loose.” Bartholomew eyed me from his side of the table.
“Never a dull moment,” I said.
“Never.”
“In that case, fill me in o
n the details while I eat. I want to be in bed before those two come back.”
The tension in our home had vanished. I was looking forward to finding the lost souls now; I made a difference to them. I just prayed for a couple of boring weeks. I needed a break.
Forbidden War
CHAPTER ONE
“Eugene, you really know how to show a girl a good time,” I told Eugene as I followed him down the old path.
“Oh come on Isis! What better way to spend a Saturday night than collecting specimens.” I was sure Eugene was trying to be charming, but considering we were crawling around a cemetery at night in the middle of Texarkana, his charms weren’t working for him.
“Do you know how suspicious we look wandering around here four days before Halloween?” I asked him softly as I looked around the place.
“Oh Isis, this part of town is deserted on the weekends. Besides, of all people, you should be used to cemeteries,” Eugene told me without looking my way. “Remember, you work for Death.”
“Eugene, I see dead people. That doesn’t mean I hang out in cemeteries during my free time,” I said.
Eugene was right about one thing: I did work for Death. I was Death’s Intern in North America. Normally, that statement made most people panic. We terrified the poor souls who knew about us. We did have a terrible reputation, after all. Especially me. Death’s Interns had a reputation of being a menace to society. Honestly, it wasn’t our fault. For some strange reason, trouble had a way of finding us. For those who were blessed with not knowing about the supernatural world, they still believed Death came to take their lives, and that just wasn’t the way it worked.
The truth was completely different than what most people believed. Death was in the business of transporting souls to their final destination. Depending on the individual’s beliefs of their after-life, Death would deliver them there. In other words, Death was the UPS for souls. Anything that interfered in the delivery of the souls was the Intern’s job to find and fix.
