Death & Co.

by D. J. McCune

  Adam listened to her heels click a retreat and pushed away his fruit salad without appetite.

  He thought about going straight to bed, then decided to face the music. He hadn’t seen his brothers since the night before. When he peered into the tiny TV den there was no sign of Aron but Luc, Chloe and Auntie Jo were all squeezed onto the sagging sofa watching some people running around and screaming. They were being chased by a man who had chainsaws instead of hands. When he caught up with one guy and lopped his head off they roared their contempt at the pitiful spray of blood that came out of the corpse’s neck. Even Chloe looked disgusted. ‘There’d be, like, ten times more than that!’

  Sure enough, when Adam entered the room Luc paused and twitched his nose delicately. ‘Does anyone else smell sick … ?’ he muttered. Then Luc winked and Adam slid inside, feeling sheepish but hoping the worst was over. The film came to a satisfactorily gory conclusion, screen awash with blood and body parts. The others seemed to enjoy it but a few scenes reminded Adam of the earthquake victims. He tried to take a detached interest in it all – after all, he was going to be a pretty useless doctor if he couldn’t look at a bit of blood.

  When it was over, Auntie Jo flicked off the TV. She was wearing another one of her collection of vast, brightly patterned kaftans. Adam was pretty sure there was a whole mountain village somewhere being kept afloat by her insatiable kaftan demands. She pulled out her laptop and her doughy fingers danced across the keys so she could perform the nightly ritual of reading them their horoscopes. She loved horoscopes, even though she scoffed at them. ‘As if the Fates are going to paint their intentions on the sky for some sweaty little mortal to write about!’ When she got to Adam’s she put on her thrilling ‘horoscope voice’ to read it to him. ‘A fateful pairing will soon show you your destiny. Seize it boldly – nothing ventured, nothing gained!’

  Luc snorted. ‘Best pair him with a sick bucket then.’ He stretched luxuriously and nudged Chloe with his toe. ‘Bring me a cup of tea, wench!’ When Chloe retaliated with a string of four-letter words Luc just laughed. ‘I’m only training you for when you get betrothed.’

  Chloe scowled at him. ‘I’m not getting married. I’m going to be a Luman.’

  Luc sniggered. ‘Yeah of course you are. That’s why Mother keeps giving you piano lessons and cookery classes.’ He changed his voice, doing a faultless impression of Elise’s accent. ‘A Luman’s wife must be an excellent hostess.’

  Auntie Jo frowned. ‘Times are changing, Luc. Chloe might be High Luman one day – and then she’ll be your boss. You’d better be nice to her.’ She turned to Chloe and grinned. ‘Anyway, she doesn’t have to get married. I never married and it didn’t do me any harm, eh?’

  Chloe glanced at her and looked away, affronted. Adam felt a surge of annoyance. All right, Auntie Jo looked a bit of a mess at times but they saw a lot more of her than they did of their mother. Elise was usually too busy cleaning something or perfecting some new recipe. Chloe sighed and heaved herself to her feet. ‘I suppose I could do a bit of piano practice before bed …’

  Luc bounced up beside her. ‘Yeah, I better go myself.’

  Auntie Jo’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Just for a little walk. Exercise helps you to sleep better. You should try it.’

  She snorted. ‘That’s what we have whisky for. One hour, Luc. No parties, no girls, no trouble. And make sure you have your keystone. Nathanial might need you later on.’

  Luc’s face fell. ‘It’s Aron’s night on duty. Anyway, they’re already on a call-out.’ He saw Adam’s unspoken question and made an impatient gesture. ‘Two cars on a motorway.’ He smacked his hands together and shrugged. ‘Racing your mates plus fog equals stupid dead people.’ He followed Chloe out into the hall, poking her until she yelled at him.

  Adam sat with Auntie Jo in companionable silence. The fire was dying down and Morty and Sam lay sprawled in front of it, dozing. They were Irish wolfhounds, a gift from ‘Uncle’ Paddy and they took up most of the available floor space. They were supposed to be working dogs – trained in Ireland and wearing Mortson keystones on their collars – but Nathanial rarely went on a job big enough to need them. They were underused and getting lazy. Adam felt lazy himself.

  Auntie Jo sighed deeply, absorbed by something on her laptop. Adam glanced at her sidelong. She was warm and shabby and occasionally vulgar – the polar opposite of his mother. Elise tolerated her rather than liked her and it was very clear to all of them that Auntie Jo was the black sheep of the family and a ‘bad example’, especially for Chloe. It was hard to believe that she was Nathanial’s sister – and yet in spite of her bolshie nature and barbed remarks she was fiercely loyal to her brother and he to her.

  Adam still didn’t really know why she was living with them. Once he had overheard Elise talking about a betrothal that had ended. Auntie Jo always wore a silver locket round her neck and occasionally when she fidgeted with it the catch would open. On one side was her keystone; on the other an old photo of a man. Adam had always wondered who he was – maybe the man she had planned to marry? Certainly for all her bravado sometimes Auntie Jo seemed a little bit … lost.

  Adam didn’t like thinking about it. He didn’t care what she had done or why she was living with them – he was just glad she was there. Elise was an excellent hostess but a less enthusiastic mother. She was better at talking to guests at her Luman dinner parties than she was at talking to Adam. In a funny sort of way it was Jo who was the heart of their home. ‘Do you like living here?’ he blurted out, without really meaning to.

  Auntie Jo answered without looking up. ‘Of course I do. I have toast, whisky and fast broadband. I even see you lot when it suits you. What’s not to like?’

  Adam paused, not sure how to put his thoughts into words. ‘Well … I suppose I was thinking … didn’t you ever want to go and do something?’

  Auntie Jo did look at him now, one eyebrow arched. ‘What do you mean, do something?’

  Adam was already regretting the direction this conversation was taking. ‘Well, I know you didn’t get married and all but … Couldn’t you have gone and done something else?’

  Jo pulled a face and set her laptop down. ‘I wasn’t really brought up for anything else. Anyway, what would I do? Where would I go?’

  Adam stared at her. ‘You could go anywhere. Anywhere in the whole world.’

  Jo frowned. ‘But why would I want to do that?’

  Adam chewed his lip. ‘There’s a whole world out there. I mean, that’s why it’s good to go to school and pass your exams and get a good job and be able to go and see everything.’

  Jo muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Lot of bloody nonsense.’ But Adam wasn’t letting her get away so easily. ‘No, but seriously. You could have gone off travelling. Backpacked round Australia! Hung out in Thailand!’

  Jo sniggered and waggled her ample torso beneath the kaftan. ‘I’m not sure Thailand’s ready to see this booty in a bikini. Anyway, what’s the point?’

  ‘Well, I guess the point is to live your life. You’re going to die some day, you see.’ Adam’s throat was clenched. What was wrong with his voice? It sounded broken – odd and breathless.

  Auntie Jo clutched her hands to her heart. ‘I’m going to die?!’ She started laughing at the look on his face but her expression softened. ‘Adam, you think too much about things. We are what we are. We’re not like other people. The only job I ever wanted was to be a Luman and women have never been allowed to be Lumen. So that’s that.’

  ‘Would you be one now if you could?’

  She shrugged. ‘Probably. But it’s too late for me. I doubt it will even happen in Chloe’s lifetime. Maybe she’ll marry that Irish Luman and her daughters will be able to work.’

  ‘It’s so old-fashioned, all of it. Girls can do everything now!’ Adam shook his head at the madness of it all. After all, his father was stretched to the limit, desperate for more Lumen. If Chloe, Aun
tie Jo and all the other women could be Lumen – problem solved! It was only stupid tradition stopping them.

  Auntie Jo snorted. ‘Change takes a long time. Look at your mother. That woman could rule the world if she wasn’t stuck here making casseroles all day.’

  ‘She hates me.’ The words came out before Adam could stop them. He froze, feeling small and stupid, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

  Auntie Jo frowned. ‘She doesn’t hate you, Adam. Elise loves you. She just doesn’t want you to fail.’ She hesitated. ‘Failure isn’t the done thing in our world. Elise wants you to be a good Luman, not feel ashamed about being a bad one. She nags you because she cares.’ She laughed, a little bitterly. ‘Trust me, I’ve seen what happens when a Luman doesn’t fit in to our world and there’s no happy ending. So … just keep practising. You’ll get better at things.’

  The clock struck midnight. Adam stood up and stretched. He still had an hour of homework to do before he crawled into bed. He paused at the door and looked back at Auntie Jo. She was staring at the dying glow of the fire, face blank. Suddenly she reached down the side of the sofa and pulled out her ever-present hip flask. Adam watched her and felt an odd mixture of love and anger. ‘I’m sorry you can’t be a Luman.’ His voice sounded small. ‘I don’t even want to be one. I wish we could swap places.’

  Auntie Jo took a swig of whisky and sighed. ‘I know. Those balls are wasted on you, boy.’ She gave a sudden cackle of mirth.

  Adam scowled and went upstairs.

  Chapter 4

  Over the next two weeks Adam was left in relative peace. There were no call-outs big enough to need him, which meant he could get through the day at school without falling asleep. Aron still snorted contemptuously every time Adam entered a room and neither of his parents had much to say to him. He should have felt grateful but occasionally he felt them watching him and exchanging significant looks. At times like that he gritted his teeth and pretended not to notice.

  School had become his real refuge. At break times he would sit in the library and listen to Dan and Archie and Spike moan about being there, desperate for the weekend to arrive. He would nod and agree but sometimes he felt like leaping to his feet and telling them they were idiots! They had no idea how much of a fight it was for him to be here.

  They were still obsessed with The Bulb’s plan to cancel the Japan trip. The after-school wrestling had been deferred, thanks to the outrage caused by the mud-wrestling email – but it was a hollow victory compared to the horror of losing the Japan trip. Spike had snooped around further and found that it didn’t suit The Bulb to go because he wanted to take them to a wrestling camp that week, in the hope of unearthing a hidden passion for the sport. Spike ranted and Archie clung misty-eyed to his tattered manga chick picture – but in the end it was Dan who gave them the brainwave they needed.

  He was in his usual seat, munching through a small mountain of pistachios. Archie was sketching a new manga strip and Spike was scowling and muttering as he checked The Bulb’s latest emails. ‘He wants to take our whole year group to some place in Scotland. They’ve built this giant wrestling school in an old army camp. We have to eat badger steaks and egg yolks for a week and sleep on camping mats. It’s supposed to make us more aggressive.’ He sat back and gave a despairing groan. ‘He always ruins everything! All those lovely supercomputers in Tokyo! And that mad git wants us to spend a week in a shack strangling each other!’

  Archie stared bleakly at his manga strip. ‘I’ll never meet a ninja chick in Scotland.’

  Adam squinted at the pictures. ‘Do ninjas usually wear bikinis?’

  Archie gave him a withering look. ‘It’s not just any bikini. It’s an armoured bikini. She can shoot poisoned darts out of it.’ He made vague hand movements somewhere around his chest. ‘Pow pow!’

  Dan was crunching his way through his pistachios, a dreamy expression on his face. ‘If only there was a big wrestling tournament in Japan at the same time.’

  Spike froze. ‘What did you say?’

  Dan continued to stare into space. ‘You know, a wrestling thing in Japan. Something that would make The Bulb want to go there.’

  Spike stared at him. ‘You are a bloody genius.’

  Dan nodded, an agreeable expression on his face. ‘Yeah, I am sometimes.’ He hesitated. ‘And just remind me, why am I a genius today?’

  Spike grinned around the table. ‘Because that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say there’s this amazing wrestling tournament in Japan the week we’re supposed to be there – and then The Bulb will want to go!’

  Archie looked up from his drawing. ‘Yeah, but there isn’t any tournament.’

  Spike drew a long, shuddering breath. ‘I know there isn’t. We’re going to make one up!’

  Adam frowned. ‘But their wrestling is different – it’s sumo. You know The Bulb isn’t interested in sumo. He told us before – it’s just fat men in nappies running around cuddling each other. He thinks it’s for wimps.’

  Spike rolled his eyes. ‘So we’ll pretend it’s a different type. A special kind of wrestling that hardly anyone knows.’ He gave them all a fiendish grin. ‘He’s going to lap it up!’

  Archie glanced at his bikini-clad ninja, expression torn between hope and scepticism. ‘But how are you going to do all this?’

  Spike raised his hands skywards, as if asking heaven for strength. ‘Oh ye of little faith! It’s easy. We’ll set up a fake email account and a fake website. Keep it simple. Then we’ll send him a few emails as bait and reel him in!’

  Archie’s face fell. ‘Oh. I thought you actually had a real plan.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I mean, I know The Bulb is stupid – but even he’s not that stupid.’

  Spike was grinning again. ‘You only think that. Trust me, when it comes to computers The Bulb is even dumber than you can imagine.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Remember I had to go to his office back before Christmas? He was blaming me for something –’

  ‘– which you did,’ Dan interjected.

  ‘Which is entirely beside the point,’ Spike continued, glaring at Dan. ‘Anyway, it was really early in the morning and his secretary was sick. She’d turned his computer off and he couldn’t even figure out how to turn it on. He kept stabbing at it with his giant fingers. It was getting embarrassing so I turned it on and showed him how to give me a detention slip. I even printed it for him. Trust me, he won’t believe it’s possible for someone to set up a fake email account. He’s a moron.’

  Adam tapped the tabletop. ‘It might work,’ he admitted. ‘But don’t make it too easy for him or he’ll get suspicious.’

  Archie nodded. ‘Yeah, make it sound like some secret society of ninja wrestlers or something.’

  Dan sat with a Zen-like smile. ‘This is the best idea I ever had.’

  Spike snorted. ‘Right, I need to think … Has to come out of Japan … proxy server, that’s what I need … bounce it through Russia.’ He descended into unintelligible muttering, fingers pattering across the keyboard. Two minutes later he sat back with a look of satisfaction. ‘I’ll have to do the website later but that’s the account created. Now all we have to do is send the first email.’ He frowned and suddenly shoved the laptop towards Adam. ‘Here, you write it.’

  Adam stared. ‘Why me?’

  Spike shrugged. ‘Team effort. Archie can help you.’

  Adam stared at the screen for a few moments. He did know a bit about sumo because Nathanial had once sent a sumo wrestler’s soul into the afterlife. The man was a ‘stable master’ – a sumo trainer who ran his own school. He had been visiting London and had choked on a piece of toffee.

  Adam shuddered at the memory. He chewed his lip, waiting for inspiration to strike. Slowly he began to type, the others chipping in occasional suggestions, until at last all four of them were staring at the finished email.

  Dear Bulber-san,

  It has come to our attention that you were once a great professional wrestler and that yo
u will be visiting our country. As you know Japan is the home of real wrestling. We do enjoy watching your fake wrestling on the TV (it is very entertaining) but here in Japan it is considered a suitable hobby only for little girls and old women in retirement.

  If you would like to learn more about real men’s wrestling we might be willing to consider admitting you to one of our dojos. Our mystical art form combines some movements from sumo and Western wrestling but the rest is a great secret, revealed only to a chosen few. However, there would be certain conditions. Only those who are worthy can cross our sacred threshold of learning.

  The Sensei

  Adam looked around the table. ‘Are we really doing this?’ Three heads nodded in unison. He hit the ‘Send’ button.

  Spike took the laptop back just as the bell rang and clicked into The Bulb’s inbox. After thirty seconds there was a subdued ping and their email appeared. He looked around the table, face carefully nonchalant. ‘It’s amazing how much you can achieve with one laptop and one break time.’

  Adam shook his head in wonder. ‘You’re going to end up in one of those high-security prisons.’

  Spike smirked. ‘Nah, mate. I’m going to be too busy ruling the world.’ He stood up and winked. ‘Catch you later.’

  Adam was still grinning as he walked into biology a few minutes later. Melissa was already at the bench, gathering together the equipment they would need. She smiled when she saw him. ‘Somebody’s in a good mood.’

  Adam shrugged. ‘Yeah, not bad.’ He threw his bag under the bench and helped her gather test tubes and pipettes. It was getting easier, working together. Melissa had been cautious for the first couple of lessons but now she was starting to relax. They had even chatted a bit this week. It probably helped that Adam could speak in full sentences around her now.