“Are you kids okay?”
Paco just nodded. The preacher arched his eyebrows and peered over his bible at Mrs. Addington, but kept babbling about Jesus and angels and what not. Paco still wasn’t listening, but Sophia seemed interested, so he just kept pretending.
Paco wanted to throw a rock at the preacher, shut him up. How could he still believe in heaven when his dead parents were standing just a few feet away? The preacher said something about their souls being with the lord, that only their shells remain, but Paco didn’t believe it. Not with the way Mama kept looking at him, kept groaning and grunting and clicking her teeth. It was her, not some shell. She recognized him, he knew she did. Papa was different. He didn’t even look their way, just rocked back and forth on his feet, staring into the distance. The deputies stood in a circle around them, arms crossed, every one of them wearing cowboy hats and dark shades. He recognized one of them as the man he saw apprehend the addict the other day at the grocery store.
“Son?”
Paco squeezed Sophia’s shoulders as he stared at their parents. There had to be a way around this, had to be a way to let them stay home, dead or not.
“Son? Did you hear me?”
Paco turned toward the voice. “What?”
The preacher stood in front of him now, clutching his bible and smiling. “I asked if you’d like to say anything, maybe share some fond memories?”
“No.” He wanted everyone to leave. If he had to hear this preacher talk about God for another second, see those deputies surrounding his parents any longer, he would crack, he knew it.
“And how about you, young lady?” the preacher said as he leaned down toward Sophia.
Paco pulled her away. “No, she doesn’t.”
A frown bunched up the skin on the preacher’s face as he stood back up and glared at Paco. “I see.” His eyebrows shot up his forehead and a smile forced its way onto his mouth. “Well, let’s say our goodbyes, then.”
“I don’t want to,” Paco said. “Why do they have to take them?”
Mrs. Addington squeezed his shoulders. “Sweetheart, they have—”
“I don’t care!” He didn’t even realize he was crying, but a breeze cooled the tears on his face. “They’re not all the way dead. Mama recognizes me…look at her.”
The preacher and Mrs. Addington turned toward Mama and Papa who shuffled in place within the prison of deputies. Sophia looked up at Paco with squinting, yet unblinking, eyes.
“Uungh.” Mama’s glazed-over eyes landed on Paco and she seemed to be pleading with him. She reached out with an unsteady hand, took a step forward, but one of the deputies pushed her back.
“Don’t you touch them!” Paco stormed forward, but warm, soft arms wrapped around him and held him back.
“Let them go, sweetheart. You have to let them go.” Mrs. Addington’s breath smelled like cinnamon.
The preacher nodded toward the deputies and pursed his lips. With Paco’s weeping echoing into the air, the deputies loaded Mama and Papa into their van.
“No…no, wait!” Paco burst from the woman’s arms. Mrs. Addington swiped for him, but he dodged it and ran toward the van. Sophia hadn’t made a sound, just stood there watching everything unfold.
One of the deputies, the big muscular one from the grocery store, stepped forward with an outstretched hand. His face showed no emotion. But Paco took care of him with a kick straight to the nuts—just like he always wanted to. The man fell to his knees and gasped as Paco ran around him and straight for the van.
Mama and Papa were in the back already, a couple of deputies strapping them to the wall. Paco tried to climb in, but was pulled out by various muscled forearms.
“Don’t hurt him.” The preacher came jogging up, his bible still clutched in his venous grip. “Just let him say goodbye…he’s only a child.”
“We don’t have time for this. We’ve got a schedule—”
“For godssake, just give the kids a couple of minutes.” Mrs. Addington, with Sophia’s hand in hers, scowled at the deputies. Paco had his gaze pinned to their joined hands, hoped the old woman didn’t notice how cold his sister’s flesh was.
The deputy with the throbbing testicles rose to his feet, bared his teeth, then turned to his men. “Give ’em a few minutes. Won’t hurt nothing.”
The men parted and allowed Paco access. He hopped the bumper and crawled his way to Mama’s feet, wrapped his arms around her legs. “Mama…please don’t be dead. Please…”
“Bleck…ngh…” Her teeth clicked as she leaned toward him, her arms already strapped in and immobile. Then a soft, coo-like whine seeped from her throat.
Paco looked into her eyes, as white as pearl onions, but behind the milky haze there was recognition. He turned to Papa who stared at the ceiling as his jaw worked up and down like a cow chewing invisible cud.
“Paco?” Sophia was placed into the van by one of the deputies, and again Paco watched the man’s reaction, but the deputy didn’t seem to notice her smell or cold flesh. Sophia took tentative steps toward Paco, her eyes darting back and forth between their parents.
“Come here, Sophia.” He took her into his arms and together they hugged Papa, who didn’t so much as look at them. His attention was held by the ceiling and a wet clicking sound emitted from his throat. Hot tears rushed down Paco’s face. Sophia only stared, her brow just slightly furrowed. Paco turned back to Mama and hugged her, nestled his face into her icy neck. Sophia did the same, whimpered softly as she folded herself into Mama’s lap.
“Okay, kids. Time to go.” The deputy that Paco had kicked smiled in at them. “I’m really sorry.”
“Come, now. Let me take you kids to my house for some hot peach cobbler, hmm?” Mrs. Addington smiled though Paco could see the pain beneath it.
With one last glance at Mama and another rocking sob, Paco pulled Sophia along as he exited the van.
“Don’t forget, son,” the preacher said. “Their souls are with God. Take comfort that—”
“Get off my property,” Paco said. “Everyone…everyone just leave. Get out of here!” He found himself sitting on the ground, dry leaves crunching beneath him and blowing all around him. The scent of autumn was something he always enjoyed, but as Sophia joined him there, lay her head on his shoulder, the scent was covered up with the odor of the early stages of rot.
Everything became blurry as another wave of weeping took him, and he buried his fingertips into the earth and clawed chunks away.
“I’ve got them,” he heard Mrs. Addington say. “I think maybe you should all go.”
Tires crunched over dry dirt and pebbles and in an instant, Paco and Sophia were orphans. Just like that.
“What do we do now?” Sophia said.
“I, I don’t know. But I promise I won’t let anyone take you away. I’ll take care of you.” He said this in a whisper and he felt her nod against his shoulder.
“Kids?” The old woman’s voice was soothing in a way. “I wasn’t kidding about that peach cobbler. Got vanilla bean ice cream, too. Nothing like hot cobbler with melty ice cream on top.”
The last thing Paco wanted was food, plus he worried about Sophia being around the old woman for too long.
“You know,” Mrs. Addington said. “When they took my Harvey away after he died, I had a real hard time about it. I know how you feel.”
Paco sniffed, wiped his nose with his sleeve. “You do?”
“Yes, I do. Why don’t we talk about it, hmm? I’m sure you’ve got lots of questions.” She held out a shaky, weak-looking hand, and Paco took hold of it, got to his feet with Sophia’s cool arms wrapped around his torso.
Mrs. Addington’s was just down the dirt road, but as they made the short trek, Mama’s whimper was all Paco could think about. And the look in her dead eyes. He thought that maybe he could still save her, that maybe Mrs. Addington knew where they were taking her, and he could bust her out somehow, bring her back home where she belongs. And Papa too, whether he recognize
d Paco or not. They were his parents, goddamnit, and they belonged at home with their children.
“Come on in, kids.” The old woman held her screen door open and Paco, with Sophia attached to his side like a leech, stepped into the warm house. The smell hit him right away, sweet and mouth-watering. His stomach bubbled. “Smells good, hmm?”
He nodded, sat at the kitchen table where the old woman had pulled chairs out for them.
“Let me just serve you kids a couple of big ol’ hunks. Nothing like—”
“Where are they taking my parents?”
The smile on Mrs. Addington’s face melted like the ice cream she had plopped onto the steaming dessert. She held the bowls with shaky hands, set them in front of Paco and Sophia, then took a seat. “Have you heard of Ted Fleet?”
“Everybody has. The meat guy with all those commercials.”
“Yep, he’s the one. Your parents are being taken to his processing plant in the city. Just like every dead person around these parts, just like my Harvey.”
Paco’s fist slammed onto the table, rattling the bowl and knocking the creamy spoon over. “For meat? Is that what you mean? They…they can’t! They—”
“I know it’s hard, sweetheart. I know, believe me, I understand. But it’s necessary, it really is. Your parents could help others. Isn’t it a nice thought that you could rest when you die? Haven’t you ever eaten dead meat before?” Mrs. Addington seemed to realize her mistake and covered her mouth, thinned her eyes. “Of course not. Otherwise your parents wouldn’t…I mean…oh shut up, Addie.”
“I’m not hungry,” Sophia said as she swirled the dessert and stared at it with a curled lip.
“We couldn’t afford it. I asked Mama and Papa about it all the time…because I was scared. Scared to die and wake up again. I was scared it would hurt…or that I’d get lost or something. And now they… Shit. Shit! It’s because of me this happened. All of this is my fault…Papa would have never brought—”
“Stop that talk right now, Paco. Won’t do you a lick of good thinking that way. I used to blame myself for Harvey’s death, told myself I could’ve done more for him. The guilt damn near killed me.” Mrs. Addington cleared her throat, brushed her bangs from her forehead. “This isn’t your fault, honey. Not even a little bit, you hear me?”
Paco just shook his head. “But it is. No matter what you say…my parents are dead because of me. Because I made them feel bad for not having enough mon—” A choking sob cut off his words and Paco laid his head on the table and let the grief take him over. He knew it was true. Knew the second he walked into the house and found his entire family dead. If I didn’t give Papa such a hard time about it…about that stupid goddamn meat…he would’ve brought home a hog or a deer or…this would have never happened.
A cold hand gripped his arm. He reached out blindly and squeezed his sister’s fingers, turned his head away from her and wiped his tears on his sleeve.
“It’s okay, Paco. It doesn’t hurt.”
Paco’s face twisted into another grimace, but he fought back the tears. He pulled Sophia in closer and squeezed her. Her smell swirled into his nose, and it reminded him of the corpse in the back of Papa’s pickup. The thing could barely lift its own arm, and Paco pondered how long it had been dead before Papa found it. How long it had been just wandering around, lost and confused and scared.
The meat was bad. Spoiled.
Paco had heard the warnings from the television and radio a million times. If you find one of the dead loose, contact the authorities. Do not eat wild dead people. Bad meat can be dangerous.
“Paco?”
“Huh?” The ice cream in his bowl was completely melted now, and he wondered how long he had been lost in his own thoughts. “Sorry…I was just thinking about—”
“The meat was bad,” Sophia said.
Paco ran his hand through his hair and clenched his teeth. He just couldn’t believe his parents were gone. He took a long look at Sophia as she absently prodded at her cobbler with the spoon. Why can she talk? Why is she different than Mama and Papa, or anyone else?
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of that happening. How did he…?” She stopped, cleared her throat. “Enough of that, hmm? How is your cobbler?”
Paco hadn’t touched his. “I can’t eat right now.”
“I understand.” The old woman stood back up and picked up the full bowls of dessert, shuffled toward her kitchen sink.
“So they’re taking our parents to the plant to be turned into dead meat. People are going to eat them, little by little, right?”
Without turning toward him, Mrs. Addington said, “Yes. All of the dead go there.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“In the city, sweetheart. But you can’t save them. They’re dead.”
Paco stood. “But…but Mama knew me. She—”
“Part of her, maybe. But she’s gone, honey. Gone. I know it’s hard, but the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can heal.” She shuffled back toward the table with a ceramic cookie jar in the shape of a penguin. “Here.”
Paco just stared at it, then reached out and took it. Sophia stood beside him and clutched his arm with her icy fingers. “What’s this?”
“It’s all I’ve got. You’re going to need it.”
He pulled the penguin’s head off, set it on the table. Stuffed into the jar were wads of folded money. “I don’t…I don’t get it.”
“Your sister is special, sweetheart. I could smell her a mile away.”
***
Back at his house, Paco had his and Sophia’s bags packed. Though he brought the money back home with him inside of the ceramic penguin, it was now in a Ziploc in his suitcase, buried under two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, and five pairs of underwear and socks. He didn’t count the money, but Mrs. Addington told him it should be enough for food and a hotel for a few weeks. She told him to contact her brother, the doctor, and have him run some tests on Sophia to see if he could help. Or at the very least, see why she was able to function so well even after death.
“I don’t feel completely good about sending two kids into the city alone,” Mrs. Addington had said. “But you’re a young adult now, Paco. And I know you’ll take good care of your sister. I haven’t been to the city in…god, over twenty years, but I can’t imagine it’s changed much. Harvey used to drive me into the city for romantic dinners a few times a year. It’s beautiful, especially at night.” Her forehead had wrinkled up as she stared at the floor. “My brother…he’s a good man, a smart man. Great doctor, best in the city, or at least that’s what he used to say.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” After his adrenaline had calmed, he felt for the first time how scared he was to be headed into the city. He didn’t like being in charge, didn’t like being responsible for his and Sophia’s safety. They had never left Bear Creek before, and imagining driving away from his town made his stomach tingle.
“Oh, sweetheart, I would only slow you down. Hard enough for me to walk from the bed to the restroom, let alone go galloping into the big city. And I can’t see good enough to drive you kids.”
“I know how to drive,” Paco had said. “Papa showed me, used to let me drive into town.”
Mrs. Addington handed over handwritten directions to the city along with the ceramic penguin and a card with her brother’s name and number on it. “Now once you get there, you call that number. Tell him Addie sent you, okay? And tell him I said I miss him. Once he finds out what’s going on with your sister, he’ll help, I’m sure of it.”
“Well…can’t he just come here? To your house?”
She shook her head. “No, I…I can’t see him. It’s complicated, sweetie, but I just can’t. Not after…not after what he... But you kids need help, and he’s the one to help you. And he’s a damn good doctor. Plus, all of his equipment is there, so it would be best for you to go to him.”
“Th-thank you, Mrs. Addington.”
The old woman pulled him and Sophia in f
or a warm embrace. Pecked a wet kiss on both of their foreheads. “Always loved you kids. I think it was you two and your parents that kept me sane after I lost my Harvey. And I always knew you two were special.”
She told Paco that maybe Sophia was the missing link between the living and the dead, that maybe everyone was wrong about what they thought they knew about death. As Paco watched his sister pick out her clothes and pack her bag, he just knew someone could help her. Dead people aren’t supposed to be able to think, and to Paco, that meant Sophia wasn’t dead. Not all the way dead, anyway.
But she stinks. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even blink her eyes.
He tossed their bags into the back of Papa’s truck. Lying on the scratched, blue metal of the truck bed was Papa’s rifle. Paco picked it up, checked it for ammo. Empty. The gun was heavy and he pictured Papa holding it, peering through the scope looking for deer. A dark liquid had dried and turned crusty on the metal of the truck bed. Some of it had collected in the corner, right behind the driver’s seat, and made a thick, black paste. Flies frenzied over it, buzzing as they suckled the putrid jelly.
“Sophia, you almost ready?” He was at the gun cabinet where he grabbed all of the ammunition he could carry.
“Can I bring Myron?”
He grinned. Dead people don’t play with dolls.
“Of course you can. But let’s get going.”
“Kay.” She came into view at the top of the staircase, holding her doll by the hand. As she took the first step, she slipped, her eager smile transforming into a grimace, and she rolled down the stairs head over heel. The doll tumbled with her, and when she hit the floor, Paco heard a loud crack, like a twig snapping.
“Sophia!” He dropped the boxes of bullets and jetted toward his crooked sister.
She sat up and giggled. “Whoops.”
She smiled at Paco, but it did nothing to calm him. Because she smiled at him sideways, her neck bent at a sharp angle. She didn’t seem to notice as she scooped up Myron and cradled him.
Addicted to the Dead Page 4
