Dead To Me

by Anton Strout

  I moved back to Jane.

  “Won’t they start craving the taste of our yummy, yummy human flesh?” I whispered.

  Jane covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. When she regained her composure, she said, “I’m pretty sure they’ve been fed for the evening. Last thing Mr. Bane wants is for them to start wandering the building in search of…snacks.”

  I shuddered at the thought. I wondered what exactly they had been fed earlier, but Jane cut me off before I could ask.

  “Relax, Simon. They don’t normally feed them on human flesh anyway. The building would be empty in a week! It’s mostly cow brains and entrails. They also seem partial to hot dogs from street vendors.”

  “Well, that’s of some comfort,” I said.

  “Besides, human flesh is an occasional treat…like catnip for cats,” she said with a wink.

  I wasn’t sure if she was pulling my leg or not, but now was not the time for a lengthy discussion of the culinary habits of the undead. I pushed it all out of my mind and smiled. “Lead on, milady.”

  I kept close behind as Jane led, none too curious about what might happen if I should stray. We made our way out of reception and down a short hall that opened into a large bullpen. I was relieved to see that there were only two zombies in sight. Jane stopped at a door bearing her name and swiped a card at it. It clicked open and we stole inside quickly, shutting the door behind us.

  She flicked the overhead light on and I stood there momentarily in awe. Her office was huge. It was littered with ultramodern Norwegian furniture that was so nice it made me want to burn down the next Ikea I saw. It sure beat the shitty secondhand desk I had been assigned back at the D.E.A. Jane’s hand brushed against my cheek and I mistook it for affection until I felt her lift my jaw back into place.

  “Look,” she said. “I’m sorry that evil pays better. Isn’t that part of its appeal, after all?”

  She turned away and went straight to work searching her old desk and pulling out anything personal she came across. She laid a framed picture of some very corn-fed-looking parents of the Kansas variety on top of the pile.

  “Do your parents know?” I asked. “About you working here…”

  She pulled out a sheaf of papers and began sorting through them. “No, and they never will. They think I’m working for an animal rights group.”

  “I suppose you could spin it that way. Some sort of ‘Save the Zombies’ angle…”

  “Fudge!” she said, throwing down the papers. “It’s not here.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “The manifest on item one-six-eight,” she said as if I knew what the hell she was talking about.

  I looked at her with the kind of blank stare usually reserved for the zombies themselves.

  “Better known to you as ‘that wooden fish thingie’? I should have all the details here on where it’s being stored, but they’re missing.”

  “Keep looking,” I said. I placed my flower box on her desk to help out with the search.

  Since it was Jane’s office, I really didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. I left her to go through the rest of her drawers while I packed her personal effects into my bag. Jane had made the choice never to return here after this, so whatever I could do to help her get out of here quicker, I would.

  Her desk was cluttered with stuff. Pictures, a squishy little stress-management toy, a collection of breakfast cereal action figures. The Trix Rabbit, Count Chocula, Booberry, the Lucky Charms leprechaun, even the Cookie Crisp bandit! I was in love. Good thing I was wearing the gloves or the nostalgia of all these items might have put my powers into overload, leaving me flopping on the floor like a fish.

  A small collection of plants occupied one corner of the desk, but they would have to stay behind.

  I hadn’t told Jane why I was looking for information on the fish or that it had been Irene’s. All she knew was what she had seen the first time I came into the League swinging my bat. Just because her days with the Sectarians seemed over didn’t mean she was getting full disclosure about my assignments at Other Division.

  If Jane chose to be taken into the fold of the Department later, which I hoped she would, she might find out everything concerning my mission to reacquire the fish so we could discern what happened to Irene’s soul. For now I was quite content to keep it a mystery. My dealings with my favorite ghost girl were complex enough as they stood. My department’s line of “on a need to know” basis came in handy once in a while, and just then it was helping to alleviate some of the guilt I felt for keeping Jane in the dark.

  She checked the same drawer she had just taken the papers from again. “It should be here!”

  “Looking for this?” said a familiar European voice from behind us.

  I spun around. Faisal Bane was standing in the middle of the room, smugly holding up the missing manifest—the one that listed the wooden fish. Behind him, a section of the wall that had been there a moment ago had now slid back to reveal a hidden alcove. Tricky! “Or perhaps you’re looking for your Hello Kitty coffee mug?”

  He produced said object in his other hand, examined it slowly, then threw it as hard as he could toward the opposite wall. It smashed against a picture of the Manhattan skyline and shattered, pieces of mug and picture frame showering the carpet. Jane gasped.

  “No! Kitty!”

  I grabbed the box of flowers, and pulled the bat free from it, sending flowers flying in every direction. Another figure stepped from the darkness behind Faisal and into the light. My stomach sank as I recognized the man’s face. I had seen it every day back at the Department of Extraordinary Affairs. It was Thaddeus Wesker. The Inspectre had confided that Wesker was an undercover agent here, but right now he looked every bit on the side of evil.

  “Un-uh,” the Director of Greater & Lesser Arcana said. He flicked his arm in my direction and I felt the bat pull free from my hands. It twirled end over end toward Wesker and he plucked it from the air.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Hello to you, too, Simon,” Wesker said. “I am the head of Greater and Lesser Arcana, after all, or did you forget?” He turned to Faisal with a grin on his face. “I told you if we waited they’d eventually come sniffing around for it.”

  Faisal turned his head. “Is this the one you mentioned?”

  “Yes,” Wesker sneered. “He’s one of their precious little Other Division.”

  “So young!” Faisal said as he looked me over. “Apparently, they’re desperate to replenish their fading numbers, eh?”

  It was bad enough that Bane was here, but now there was Wesker to contend with, too. Maybe this had been a setup. Maybe Jane was in on it, too, playing me all this time while secretly helping the Sectarians…

  “Leave him alone,” Jane said and surprised me by moving between me and the two of them.

  Bane waved her away with a dismissive gesture. “Save your theatrics, Jane, and put aside any misguided thoughts of heroics, would you?”

  Despite the growing fear in my chest, my male ego went “Doh!” I should have been the one to step forward. Stupid gestures were my bailiwick, not hers.

  “Bully,” I heard her mutter. Fast as a shot, Faisal closed the distance to her and drove his fist into her gut. Jane crumpled to the floor without a sound. There went the idea that she was secretly on their side.

  “I don’t let my subordinates talk to me like that,” he said as he stared down at her, “and I certainly won’t let a traitorous whore like you either.”

  Wesker moved to stand by Faisal’s side, but his attention was all on me. I glared at him and said, “I see only one traitor here and that’s Wesker.”

  Faisal continued to ignore me, but Wesker took a step in my direction, my bat held over his shoulder loosely in one hand. “Well, Mr. Bane, what do you recommend I do with him?”

  Faisal grinned as he turned, his eyes menacing me. “Well, he did bring his own bat. Cave his skull in with it.”

  30

  An o
veractive imagination can be both a blessing and a curse. For instance, when I think of supermodels, I consider what my mind can conjure up a great benefit—wildly imagined slow-motion pillow fights, for instance. But conversely, when I had just been told that my skull was going to be caved in, I would have rathered that my mind couldn’t conceive—down to the last detail—what that might look like. Cracked shards of bone digging into my brain, my gray matter poking through, clumps of bloody hair…but then again, it was enough to snap me out of my useless stupor and into action.

  Jane was down—but hopefully not out—for the count, so it was up to me. With Wesker in possession of my bat, I reached behind me toward the desk and grabbed whatever my hand fell upon. A green-domed banker’s lamp. Just great.

  I didn’t figure my training in Unorthodox Fighting Techniques would be coming into play so soon, and I was untested in a real-life dangerous situation, but I had little choice. Giving a tug, I tore the cord free from wherever it was plugged into and started swinging the lamp in wild circles over my head. Wesker backed closer to Faisal and there was a genuine look of concern on his face that hadn’t been there a second ago. I pressed what I thought was my advantage and let the lamp fly.

  When people replay a moment in their head, there is a clarity that the actual moment itself never seemed to have. That’s how it was with me anyway. In the playback in my head, I now understand what happened as I let loose the lamps of war, although the moment itself passed in a heartbeat.

  Evidently, my training had paid off more than I thought. I had worried about timing the release of the cord so that the lamp would head in the right direction, but my aim proved perfect. The lamp snaked out from my hands, the cord feeding through my fist as it flew and the glass dome exploded against the back of Wesker’s head. I had been aiming for Wesker’s face, but what I hadn’t counted on was that he would turn away from me to clock Faisal with my own bat. Wesker wobbled, but didn’t drop as he whacked the leader of the Sectarians across the shoulders. Faisal dropped faster than a one-hit wonder from the pop music charts, but Wesker remained standing.

  “Son of a bitch!” Wesker shouted. He cautiously felt the back of his head and examined his fingers for blood as he stumbled around the room. “What is wrong with you?!?”

  Surprisingly, he threw my bat back to me, and I caught it midair.

  “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help here?” he hissed as he crossed to me and got in my face. “Or didn’t they teach you that anyone attacking your enemy is an ally?”

  I looked at Faisal spread out on the floor. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. I picked up the manifest from where it lay next to him.

  “You knocked him out cold!” I said.

  Wesker glowered at me. He moved to Faisal, squatted down, and examined him. “Could you stop stating the obvious and do something useful? It’s only a matter of time until he comes around. And we’ll need to be out of here when he does. Check your woman there, would you? I need to secure our prisoner.”

  I had forgotten Jane in the heat of the moment, but I did as Wesker instructed and checked on her. She was unresponsive as I scooped her up, and I stopped for a second as something dawned on me. I turned back to Wesker.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Prisoner? We’re taking Faisal with us?”

  Wesker sighed. “You don’t miss a word, do you? Yes. Look, I honestly don’t know what we should do with him, but I know I don’t want to just leave him here. We’re not sure if he saw me hitting him with the bat from behind or not, so we take him in until we find out what he recalls. We’ve got nothing we can technically detain him for, but at least if we take him in to the D.E.A. like we are arresting him, maybe we can find out if my cover’s been blown. Now wake her up.”

  “Did you see what he did?” I shouted. “He punched her!”

  Wesker jumped up from where he knelt and crossed to us. “You act as if that matters, Simon.”

  “Are you telling me that hitting a woman doesn’t matter?”

  He squatted down next to Jane and produced a tube from his own pocket. He removed the stopper and waved it under Jane’s nose. She began to groan and sputter as she turned her head away from it.

  Wesker gave me a look of contempt as he stood. “I’m telling you to see the bigger picture here, newbie. Ideas like ‘a man shouldn’t hit a woman’ don’t ultimately matter in the fight between good and evil. You hold on to these archaic notions and these cultists will kill you while you’re still processing which chivalrous deed to act on first. I’m as sorry she got punched as I would be for anyone being punched, equal rights amendment aside, but you want to know what I’m most sorry about? That this woman here is actually relying on you to save her.”

  I looked at him, and all I wanted was to smash his face in. “Why are you helping me if you hate me so much?”

  “It’s not about you, newbie. Again, think of the big picture! You think I’m going to let my personal dislike of a snot-nosed upstart like you distract me from my purpose here? Think again.”

  I pushed him away from Jane as her eyes fluttered open and I helped her to her feet. “You okay there, Janey?”

  “Owie,” Jane said. She was trying to play off the pain. She winced as I stood her upright. “You sure we’re not dead yet? It sure feels like I’m dead.”

  “I’m afraid that’s just wishful thinking on your part,” I said.

  She smiled, but it faded as she caught sight of Faisal Bane lying on the floor. “My God, did you do that?”

  Before I could answer, Wesker snorted. “Him? Please! He couldn’t fight his way out of a fifth grade choir practice!”

  “Who’s he?” Jane asked, eyeing Wesker suspiciously.

  “Wait,” I said. “You both worked for the Sectarians and you don’t know each other?” Of course, their paths had crossed the night Wesker cut Jane’s line—but with a rare show of discretion, I decided not to bring that up right now. We had some pressing things to accomplish right now.

  “It’s a big organization,” Jane said. “There’s a lot of skulking that goes on. There was even an official Lunch and Learn: Skulking 101, but no, I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him.”

  “Oh, believe me,” Wesker said snidely. “The displeasure is all mine.”

  “Well, you’re awfully unpleasant,” Jane said with a look.

  “Yes,” he said. “I know. It’s part of my mystique. Look, I’d love to stand around and chat all night with you and Prince Harming here, but I do believe we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

  “Such as getting out of here alive?” Jane asked. She must have been feeling better because she seemed to be back to her feisty self. Wesker ran to the door, peered out, and then shut it. He turned to Jane.

  “Faisal’s been talking about you,” Wesker said. “Do you know that the Sectarians set that corporate headhunter—Jason Charles—after you? We don’t want to make it easy for him to find you now, do we? I don’t think it helps that we’re hanging around in your old office. We need to get out of here.”

  My guilt rose up at the mention of Jason Charles, and thoughts of vengeance over Tamara filled my head.

  “I already know he’s looking for me. I’ve been evading him for days,” Jane said proudly. Score one for Team Petty Victory!

  It didn’t last long, though. Wesker snapped out of whatever state he was in and looked the two of us up and down. “Why the hell are you wearing matching outfits?”

  “It’s how we got in,” I explained. “Delivery people.”

  “Classic,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

  “Hey! It worked, didn’t it?” I fired back.

  “Ahem…guys?” Jane said. She ran back to her desk and began to pack the last of her things. “I really hate to get in between the two of you verbally assaulting each other. It’s very macho and all—thanks for the effort—but we really need to come up with a plan and quick. I don’t see how we’re going to get Faisal out of here.”

  Ja
ne was right. We were falling apart here. Connor would have been disappointed. Lock picking our way into Irene’s apartment was one thing, but I knew he wouldn’t have approved of us breaking into the Sectarians’ office. And the petty way I was losing focus of our objectives by letting my emotions over Tamara and my dislike of Wesker rule the situation went against everything Connor had trained me for.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m sorry. For everything. Thank you for saving us.”

  “Finally!” he said with exasperation. “A little gratitude!”

  “You know,” I said, “you’re really not making this easy.”

  He shrugged and said, “Why don’t I make things real easy for all of us then? I think I know how we’re going to get our large European friend out of here without drawing too much attention on ourselves.”

  Thaddeus Wesker smiled with the perverse pleasure of one who relished the role of leadership. “You two dress-up playmates should be tickled pink about it. I’m promoting you.”

  I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t like what he was about to suggest.

  “Welcome to the world of professional carpet cleaning,” Wesker said.

  31

  The plan was this: Jane and I would roll the unconscious Faisal Bane into a carpet, essentially making a human burrito, and sneak him out of the building. The foolishness of the plan was further complicated by the fact that as we rolled Faisal Bane into an oriental carpet, it looked exactly like a carpet with a body rolled into it.