Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  Tonight, however, his family would have to wait. He’d be lucky to get two hours of sleep, if that, but the good news was that Annie Dixon was waiting for him in one of the coolers back at work. Annie always greeted him with a warm smile whenever he grabbed a burger at the Longhorn in town. Flowing red hair set off her radiant green eyes that always made him hard beneath their sparkle, no matter how much he focused on the menu.

  Last week, she finally dumped her grease monkey boyfriend, Luke Donovan, and Connor nearly asked her out. Unfortunately, by the time Annie brought the check, he’d lost his nerve and, boy, had he felt the barbs when he returned home later that night. Even sweet old Mrs. Johansen called him a chicken-shit pussy, saying he couldn’t get laid in Hawaii. Before Connor could prove her wrong, a blood clot caused Annie’s brain to hemorrhage and she never opened those beautiful greens again.

  He shed another grin as the marina came into view. Connor always wondered what Annie looked like naked and tonight he would find out and that called for a celebration. Lightning clawed at the sky and, for a split second, Connor could see all of the houses anchored in the tall pines dotting the lakeside. The thunder that followed came swift and heavy, vibrating the steering wheel in his hands. Storm or not, he would make time for a pit stop at Doc’s.

  Normally, he didn’t like being around people who could talk back, especially drunk ones, but he was dying for a cold brew and would just have to suck it up. It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when he actually enjoyed the company of the living. In fact, there was even a time when he almost tied the knot. But two and a half weeks before the big day, Kathy left him for someone else. Someone named Michelle. Said it wasn’t him, it was her. So he ended up getting a kitten instead. Balmer was nine years-old now and the only breathing female in his quiet farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

  Sometimes he felt lonely living in the big house his deceased parents left him and sometimes he felt like others were getting too close. Connor spent a lot of time on his front porch, sipping coffee or beer, rocking back and forth, and watching the town of Minot creep closer. Cigarette after cigarette, the new outlet malls, snap-together houses, and Chipotles inched closer with an unsettling determination.

  Snorting, Connor eased up on the throttle as the two dock lights gradually turned his face an insipid shade of white. Just like Reed’s face. After docking Frank’s pontoon in its assigned slip, Connor tied up and clicked his dress shoes down the wooden dock. The wide planks creaked beneath his weight and he could see the gold van with Allan’s Funeral Home scrolled across the side from here. It looked like a toy from this distance. Lit by a single lamp, the elevated parking lot was buried in the trees and shrouded in shadows, deserted as the rest of the lake. He got closer and his heart did a quick flip when he saw Annie Dixon standing naked outside the back of the van. Red hair blew in the soft breeze, exposing her creamy breasts. Tipping her chin down, she narrowed her eyes and watched him climb the steep lot. His shoes reluctantly scraped against the pavement, blood turning cold in his veins. It was hard to tell if her skin was pale from the moonlight or from being dead for three days. She raised a heavy looking arm and pointed at him with a bent finger. He stepped in an ice cream cone some punk kid dropped earlier in the day and looked down. When he dared look up again Annie was gone. Hastening his pace, Connor swept a loose lock over his head and loosened his tie. “Yep, I need a beer.”

  Lightning flashed behind him, sending a jagged bolt into the water with a bloodcurdling sizzle. Connor stumbled forward with a burst of warm air ruffling his hair from behind. Brushing oily strands from his face, he turned back to the lake, grimacing when the smell of burnt hair hit him. “What the hell?” he murmured, watching wispy trails of smoke rise from a patch of water that reminded him of a witch’s pot. He scratched his head, wondering how close he just came to getting fried to death. At last year’s National Funeral Directors Association convention, Connor learned that lightning kills six thousand people around the world each year, second only to flooding for deadly weather. He blew out a long breath. “Okay, that was weird,” he said, watching the circle of water settle much quicker than his racing pulse. A few seconds later, the lake glassed over again like nothing ever happened.

  Shrugging it off, Connor turned for the van and hurried up the hill, not seeing Reed Walters open his blue eyes beneath the murky water. Nor did he see the lids pop back on Connie Oberman - the town’s head librarian for the past fifty years. Or Tim Elgin, the high school football coach who suffered a heat stroke last summer when temperatures crossed the one-hundred-degree mark and he insisted upon practicing anyway.

  Connor didn’t notice any of the people he and Frank dumped in the lake over the past several years open their eyes underwater because he was already in the van, trying to decide if he should order a bottle of Bud or a Jack and Coke when he got to Doc’s.

  Chapter Two

  Nomophobia

  Pouring Cocoa Pebbles into a big red bowl, Rory glanced at the microwave clock again just to make sure he had really slept until almost noon. He groaned. The funny thing was all he wanted to do was go back to bed because that was easier than waking up to find out that moving back into his parents’ house wasn’t some bad dream after all.

  “You’re just now eating breakfast, Rory?” His mom waltzed into the kitchen with a spring in her step, drenched in sweat after a late morning run.

  “This is lunch, Laura,” he said, pouring milk into the bowl too fast and spilling cereal onto the granite countertop.

  “Don’t call me that,” she replied, grabbing the coffee pot and emptying the last of the thick brew into a coffee-stained mug.

  “How can you drink that after a run?”

  Returning the pot to the burner where it sizzled, she snatched a paper towel. “Keeps me regular,” she replied, wiping her brow. “Why pay a hundred bucks for a colonic when you can just drink Starbucks?”

  Rory frowned and took a seat at the round table in front of the open French doors, catching a glimpse of a German Shepherd darting after a squirrel by the sun splashed pool. “Okay, that’s way too much info. I’m getting ready to eat here.”

  Leaning back against the counter, she stared at him over the steaming mug, bird calls floating in through the doors. “Any new ideas for the book?”

  “Lot of ideas,” he said, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “No good ones.”

  “I’m sure something will come to you. You’ve always loved Sci-Fi.” Tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind an ear, she blew on the coffee. “Any new job prospects?”

  “Not unless I want to work at Walmart or Target in the next town over,” he said, his bed head suddenly making him feel vulnerable to attack. “And even then, how many people are really looking to hire a movie critic?”

  “Too bad Blockbuster went under; they had staff picks.”

  “And I would’ve worked there too! Sit around all day watching movies and helping out hot soccer moms. Talk about living the American dream.”

  Laura took a careful sip and swallowed, dabbing at her glistening neck with the paper towel. “Well, keep your chin up, sweetie. You just got back and, who knows, maybe the Daily News will call. Weirder things have happened.” Her eyes thinned. “Much weirder.”

  Rory stopped the spoon in front of his mouth. “Like what?”

  She hit him with a limp shrug.

  Pushing the cereal into his mouth, he crunched down and shook his head. “I doubt Minot’s paper has the budget for a new coffee maker.” He paused to swallow. “Even if they did hire me, I’d probably end up laid off all over again.”

  “You should take a break from the whole thing and call Rachel. When was the last time you two talked anyway?”

  Wiping milk from his chin with the sleeve of his Night of the Comet t-shirt, his mind drifted back to that sunlit day three years ago. It seemed like just yesterday he was sitting in his parents’ driveway, ready to blow out of this one-horse town forever. “Last chanc
e,” he had said hopingly into his cellphone.

  Rachel’s faint sobs interrupted the thick silence that followed. “I just don’t get why we can’t do a long distance thing for a while,” she said with a sniffle. “Maybe after I’ve been to visit a few times, I’ll change my mind.”

  Anger had heated his core at her ridiculous suggestion because he knew her better than that. He knew she’d never leave this town. Minot wasn’t just her home, it was her world and she never expressed much interest in anything outside of it. No, long distance relationships were for people too afraid to cut the cord, people who enjoyed throwing good money after bad. Rory didn’t want to become that guy, constantly calling and texting and Skyping. Always checking up on someone he was getting to know less and less with each passing day.

  “Rory?”

  His eyes dialed back into focus, watching Scout chase something in the backyard. “She’s dating someone else now.”

  “Who?”

  “Clutch Thompson.”

  “Thompson? The country club Thompsons?”

  “One and only,” he replied, forcing more cereal into his mouth and wondering what she saw in that guy. Clutch moved here during Rory’s sophomore year at Minot State University and he didn’t get the chance to know him very well but he knew enough. The guy was a show-off/jag-off with a capital JAG. The kind who didn’t need college because Daddy already carved out a path paved in gold.

  In the end, Rory lost the girl and the job and was right back where he started. He shook his head, imagining the sordid small talk he would face tonight out at the lake. All of his old friends would be dying to know how in the world he ended up back here with his tail between his legs and a bank account running on empty.

  Laura cleared her throat. “You should just take the job your father offered you. You don’t have to start right away.”

  He ran a hand down his greasy face and bit his tongue.

  “You’d only be in the used lot long enough to learn the ropes,” she said before he could protest. “Then he’d move you into the showroom.”

  “Mom, I’m not becoming a used car salesman. I used to write a column, not car loans.”

  “I know you did, honey, and we’re very proud of you. We really are, but it would only be until something else came along.”

  Rory shifted in the high-backed chair and began flipping through his iPhone, seeing ten years from now play out against the screen. “I can’t take the chance of ten years slipping by and I’m still selling cars. No offense to Dad, but that’s not me.”

  Laura set her mug on the island and crossed the room, stopping behind his chair to massage his shoulders. “I know it’s not, sweetie.” She worked at unraveling the twisted knots running up his spine. “I think the movie blog is a great idea for now.”

  “It’ll help keep the rust off anyway.”

  “You know what? You should just take the whole summer off and be a kid again,” she said just as the doorbell rang.

  He grunted. “I doubt Dad will go for that.”

  “Don’t worry about it; I’ll talk to him when he gets home from work. If he can afford a new Corvette, you can afford to take a break.” The doorbell rang again and she stopped the massage. “Maybe we can catch a matinee this afternoon,” she said, squeezing his shoulders and turning for the front door. “I’m so excited you’re home!”

  He waited for her running shoes to squeak into the spacious living room before checking to see if Danielle had called or texted or messenger pidgeoned. Fucking something. But she hadn’t, so he set the phone down and rubbed his puffy eyes with both hands. He didn’t know why he wanted her back but he did. After losing his job, it didn’t take long for her true colors to shine through and he didn’t blame her. It’s not like she would’ve wanted to come here.

  “Yo, what is up, big baller?”

  Rory turned to see Woody stroll into the kitchen. His shaggy blond hair, white coral necklace and long board shorts made Rory smile. The guy was still going for the surfer look even though he’d only been boogie-boarding two times on vacation in high school. The long skinny limbs pouring from a tight tank top made him stand out that much more against the thirty-six thousand down-to-earth, no-nonsense residents of Minot and Rory appreciated his dedication.

  “Woodrow, my man!”

  Woody fist-bumped him and pulled out a chair, smacking his head on the small chandelier hanging over the kitchen table as he sat down. “Dammit,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Am I bleeding?”

  “You’re not bleeding.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “If that leaves a mark, I’m going to be pissed. I can’t have any facial injuries impeding my chances of a summer fling.”

  Rory laughed and pointed to the ceiling. “My money says the only thing you’re banging this summer is that light.”

  “Rory,” Laura groaned, her running shoes squeaking back into the sunlit kitchen. “How’s work, Woody?”

  He smiled, showing off perfect rows of teeth that were as white as his necklace. “Can’t beat free beer and hot wings.”

  “Well, thank you again for the drinks the other night,” she said, opening the fridge. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Woody leaned on the table and gazed longingly at the tight running pants clinging to Laura’s backend as she poked around in the refrigerator. “You know you and Mr. C always get the cool-guy discount,” he replied, licking his lips. She came back out with some water and yogurt and Woody snapped his attention back to Rory, who greeted him with a harsh frown.

  “In that case, we’ll just have to hit B-Dubs more often.” Pulling the lid back on the yogurt, she licked the top and threw it away. “You hungry, Woodrow?”

  “Oh, I’m good, thanks. I’m going to grab something on our way out to the lake.”

  Rory grimaced and kicked him under the table.

  Laura puckered her brow, eyes shifting to Rory. “You’re going to the lake today? Oh.” She glanced at the moving boxes clogging the hallway and her shoulders sank a little. “I thought we were going to a movie,” she said, stirring the yogurt.

  Rory shot him a look. “Nice one, Spicoli.”

  Crossing his leg, Woody began wagging a checkered Vans across his knee like a nervous dog. “Rachel’s going to be there.”

  Laura stopped the spoon in front of her mouth. “I think the lake sounds like a great idea. Go get some fresh air and shake everything off.”

  Grinning, Woody flashed him a quick wink. “Party Cove, baby.”

  “I’m out.”

  The grin dropped from his face. “Oh come on, Rory! It’s just one night and this is your chance to win her back.”

  “I don’t want to win her back, Woody.”

  “Yes, you do,” Laura said.

  Woody scooted his chair closer to the table and lowered his voice. “Listen, the stars are literally lining up for this to happen. Danielle is ancient history and that’s the way that whole thing was supposed to go down. Tonight is your chance to right a wrong and put the future back on track.”

  Rory vehemently shook his head. “Ancient history? We just broke up like a week ago or something.” Grabbing a salt shaker from the middle of the table, he studied it through distant eyes. “Everything I see reminds me of Danielle.”

  Woody frowned. “Even a salt shaker?”

  “She loved salt. Put it on her pizza and everything.” Rory blew out a wistful sigh. “We had so much in common.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” Laura rolled her eyes. “She was a Psychology major, Rory. It never would’ve worked out. She would’ve been psychoanalyzing you up and down.”

  Rory pressed his lips together. “She did always say my germaphobia was a sign of depression.” Grimly, he shook his head. “Made me sad.”

  “Dude, trust me, you will forget all about Danielle as soon as you see Rachel. She cut her hair off and that baby girl is looking hot!”

  Rory’s face folded. “She cut her hair?�
��

  “And not many girls can pull that off either.”

  The spoon clattered into the bowl and he sat back in the chair. “She cut her hair? This is a moral travesty!”

  “I’m sure she looks adorable with short hair, Rory. Get a grip.”

  Woody smiled and locked his fingers behind his head. “Come on, man. We’ll get a bonfire going, pound some brewskis, play some strip-badminton. It’ll be like a Kid Rock video.”

  Laura giggled. “In that case, you better wear your good underwear. And make sure you’re back by tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got some more storms rolling in.” She paused for a long sigh. “Just got the pool cleaned up after the last one.”

  Rory’s face soured. “Did you shave your armpit hair?”

  Woody dropped his arms to his sides. “No.”

  Rory’s eyes fell to the phone sitting on the table when he thought he saw a green flashing light indicating a text message from Danielle saying she’d changed her mind and can’t live without him. But it was as dark as the feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What about Clutch?” he asked, spooning some cereal from the side of the bowl into the milk. “Won’t he be there telling everyone about his latest trip to Venice or Amsterdam or Build-A-Bear?”

  Woody threw his head back and laughed. “He totally does that bragging shit too. Super obnoxious. But don’t worry, bro, I’ll distract him long enough for you to lay some ground work with Rachel.”

  “Ha! And give her another chance to rip my heart out? No thanks.”

  “Oh Rory, stop being so dramatic!” Laura opened the freezer. “The poor girl was terrified of leaving so cut her some slack. Everyone makes mistakes, even you.”

  “Clutch is actually a pretty cool guy,” Woody said, pulling his phone from his shorts and tapping at the screen. “But he doesn’t matter, because Rachel still has eyes for you, gangster.”