“And you guys get on my dick about what I say?” Jonesy said, both hands on his chest.
“Ah, hold on there. Not all of us want to be 'on your dick'.” Sophie said.
Tiff and Jade laughed, raising their hands.
“I think Jonesy was using it as an expression,” Alex clarified, pushing his glasses up with a finger.
“How many of us want to be on Jonesy's dick?” Bry asked. “Raise your hand?”
Mom popped her head out of the open window. “Are you kids talking about penises?”
Oh My God.
“Not really Mom...”
“Well, I don't want any inappropriate dialogue out there.”
“Don't worry about it, Ali. We're just discussing the merits of porn!” Jonesy yelled.
I put my face in my hands. This couldn't be my life.
Jade started rubbing my back.
Mom got up and Gramps grabbed her wrist, whispering in her ear...there were a few more words and she sat back down.
Gramps had placated. Wow, that was close.
I looked at the group. “No body talk, K?”
“Your mom sure has cantaloupes about stupid shit,” Tiff said.
True, but...
“She's okay, she just wants to think I'm acting good.”
She shrugged. “I think our parents are kinda distracted with having all of us running around all the time.”
Bry nodded, agreeing.
We started to get into the groove, dragging lounge chairs over to the fire and all of us paired up. None of us said anything about Sophie and Jonesy sharing.
The stars filled the sky and this far out there was little light pollution (as Mom called it). We sat quietly, whispering about school, the hide-a-way, stuff.
The adults started to filter out on the back deck, crossing the huge lawn and all the couples that had been practically lying on top of one another tried to shift apart so it looked better.
Jonesy's parents and mine weren't impressed. “Pop, are you sure you want this group overnight? It's mixed you know... I think it may be...”
“Don't worry about it, Alicia. If I can't handle them I might as well give up now.”
Mom glanced at me, worry on her face. “You have to let him go, honey. He's raising corpses for God's sake, he can handle a little overnight mixed company. He's responsible. Aren't ya?” Gramps said, his eyes boring into mine.
I nodded. Like I'd say no.
The Parents and Jonesy's parents rolled out the driveway, Helen and Mom waving as they left.
Gramps plopped down. “Okay kids, here's the deal: no sex.”
Nuclear bomb detonated.
John and Tiff looked at each other awkwardly; Bry and Christi (after she got done gasping like a trout) just stared at Gramps.
Jonesy said, “Not here, Mac. The timing's off.”
Gramps looked at him.
“You shut your pie-hole,” he said, pointing a stout finger at Jonesy, who looked back at him like, who me?
Sophie pushed him off the lounge chair and he got all caught up in the handrail and she fell on top of him with a squeal.
“See what I'm sayin'?” he said from beneath Sophie. “I'm a chick-magnet.”
“Ugh!” Sophie said, using more elbow force than necessary as she used his torso to leverage herself up.
“Hey! That hurt.”
“What-ev-er!” she hollered back, her curly hair a riot around her head. She shoved it behind her ears violently.
Gramps was wiping the tears that were rolling out of his eyes from laughing so hard.
“I guess maybe not so much warning was needed,” he said, his gales of laughter breaking off into a random chuckle.
Sophie settled back into the chair and Jonesy got up and brushed off grass and a pebble or two. He pulled up a log (as close as he could get to Sophie) and sat down.
Gramps started telling funny stories about his childhood and naturally Gran came up.
“Did Mom ever tell you about Gran and what she said?”
Gramps got a puzzled expression. “No.”
Huh, I guess it fell on me. I had forgotten about it until now.
“Yeah, before we really knew the full extent, of my abilities.”
“The Scenic episode?” Tiff interrupted, snapping her gum, making Jade jump.
I nodded, sounded like a pulse show. “Yeah.”
Gramps made the circle with his finger, go on.
“Anyway, she told me to tell you that she was sorry. His face changed and became unreadable. “She said you'd know, Gramps.”
“Yes, I do,” he responded.
We waited. When it seemed like forever and there was no explanation coming I asked, “What was it, Gramps?”
He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped, dangling between them.
“You kids are too young to understand the prejudice against paranormals but, back when I was a boy, if you were 'special' you didn't want to announce it.” He watched the fire dying down, poking it with an empty marshmallow stick.
“Now, not to take away from the importance of your dad's discovery Caleb but,” I nodded and he continued, “paranormal phenomenon is not a 'new' reality. People have been showing flashes of abilities for millennia. All your dad did was validate what we already understood. The pharmaceutical moguls capitalized on it... and here we are.”
John was frowning, that was his “thinking-on-it” face. “So, how does this pertain to you?”
“Not just another pretty face, eh?” he said, his gaze steady on John, who I knew had a blush going in the dark, the firelight obscuring it.
“When I was a little tyke,” and he swung out his hand to indicate a kid about five, “your gran would walk me to church and we'd pass the quiet neighbors park.”
“Huh?” Jonesy said.
“Cemetery,” I said, automatically translating Gramps weird way of talking. It wasn't weird to me, but I could tell by the other kids' faces they weren't catching on. Well, John was, his parents were one hundred and five.
“Anywho, I would catch emotions of the dead. Just little snatches here and there and I would tell Gran. She would give me a swat to my backside.”
We were all quiet. It seemed really cruel to spank a kid for an ability; totally lame.
“Don't be too harsh on her, kids,” he remonstrated when we all looked pissed for the five-year old he'd been.
“It was a different era. Nobody wanted anyone to be different. We all wanted to fit in. After awhile, I stopped saying anything.” He shrugged.
I understood wanting to be normal even though it wasn't ever gonna happen for me.
“So, when I raised Gran, she... ah, figured out that maybe it 'ran in the family'?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“Kinda smart for a zombie,” Jonesy said, shuddering.
“Not as smart as Clyde,” Bry said ominously.
Gramps gave me a sharp look. “Who's Clyde?”
I brought Gramps up-to-speed on my main zombie dude.
“Just a warning, Caleb.” His eyes had never been more serious. “Be careful with this. I think something here stinks. And you're working this serial killer shindig.”
I don't know if I'd call it that, but...
“You need to watch out that your power doesn't just get a mind of its own.”
“What do you mean?” Jade asked and Sophie nodded.
“Your power has responded to stress, duress, conflict, et cetera?”
I nodded, true.
“Why would it be so out of line for it to start cleaning up shop when things get exciting?”
Like maybe thinking for itself, taking charge of situations ahead of my thought process.
He was nodding in the firelight as he saw from my expression that I was connecting the dots.
“So, it could just, engage and do what it thought I needed, with or without my...” I began.
“Consent,” John finished.
“Bingo,” Gramps said.
> Shit.
“Hang on, son. Don't borrow the worry, I just want you to be aware of the potential.”
Terrific News.
So, Gramps was the reason I was diggin' on the dead. Who knew? It made sense that there was already someone in my ancestry who carried the gene for it.
Jade said after a few minutes of quiet. “You know, come to think of it, my grandma had the second sight.”
Gramps was nodding. “It's safe to say that all of you that are manifesting these abilities may have a relative in your past that had the gene before you.”
Jonesy said, “Oh yeah! I forgot to say: I get to go to KPH.”
He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
All the kids started talking at once and Gramps did a shrill whistle, splitting our eardrums.
Everybody shut up.
“Nice that you told us, ya doofus,” Tiff said, her gum popping.
“What are you?” John asked, ever practical.
He shrugged. “Don't know. Unclassified...” he gave a sly look at Alex. (I sure could have used him during the gang-beating, I thought randomly.)
“I think you guys are losing the focus,” Jade said.
I looked at her, pressed into my body, her sweet-smelling hair up my nose. “What?”
“He gets to go to KPH, with us!”
“Well right, but we'd all love to know what he's slingin',” Bry said.
Christi nodded. “Yeah, what if he has some creeper ability?”
We all looked at her.
Don't ask, don't ask.
Gramps asked, “What does that expression mean?”
Wonderful.
Alex pushed up his glasses. “An individual who lurks about with an enigmatic, 'weirdo, avoid-at-all-costs' vibe...”
Huh, I didn't think that could be quantified...
Gramps puckered his lips, miffed.
“You're a mundane?” he asked Christi.
She nodded.
He looked at all of us. “Who else is?”
“Well, I was before yesterday's AP test,” Jonesy said.
Bry raised his hand; that left him and Christi.
“Does that bug you that you're mundanes?” he asked the pair.
Bry shrugged. “Only when I feel like I can't use my skills to defend myself.”
“What skills, gnome-magnet?” Jonesy said.
“You clearly have a magnet fetish,” Tiff said through a wad of gum.
“Do not.”
Bry and Tiff bumped knuckles.
“Right....” Sophie said and Jade and I laughed.
Gramps held his hand up. “The way I see things, there are three types of mundanes: one group would love to be paranormals, the second group is irked because they're not, and the final group hates the paranormals because they don't understand. That lack of understanding, in combination with their hate is a powerful force. Which do you two fall under?”
He held Christi and Bry's eyes.
Bry shrugged. “My sis is AFTD so to love her, I gotta accept what she is. She can't help it. Seriously, at this point, it's kinda like having green eyes instead of brown.”
The kids were nodding, true.
Christi didn't nod.
“What about you, young lady?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know.”
Gramps tightened the noose. “You just said, 'creeper abilities'. Are there some that are preferable to others?”
She rolled her pretty (bourbon-colored) eyes up into her head. “Of course! I mean, who'd want to be 'all about' the undead?”
Nice. She really had the IQ of eggplant.
Gramps had just expounded on his “fun” childhood with the undead-flash-a-thon. Wow. Just wow.
He laughed. “You're missing the point. There are no 'cool' abilities. They just are.”
All the boys looked at Alex, whose small chest swelled with pride.
Gramps' brows arched.
John nodded. “Show Mac your skills.”
Alex ducked his head shyly and stood.
Gramps stood as well. “Caleb, is this going to make something irrevocable occur?”
Ah, I didn't think so. But things did have a way of getting out of hand sometimes.
Alex looked down at his trunks that were just barely dry, his tee not offering an ounce of warmth. It was good the night was sultry, we had true Indian summer weather and no wind.
He eyed Gramps' boat in the water. And yeah, it was completely illegal. It was a million years old and had huge actual fuel jets, which he had retrofitted for natural gas, the chrome of the pipes gleaming in the firelight.
Alex waded into the water until it came up to mid-thigh, the boat a bulky shadow behind him.
“Ah, Caleb, I'm wanting to know what's going to happen to my baby,” Gramps said.
“Just watch, Gramps.”
“You're gonna shit a brick on this,” Jonesy said.
“Language, young man,” Gramps said automatically.
Jonesy sighed, foiled again.
John smiled because Jonesy was fearless. He would have said the same thing in front of the President.
Alex scooped the side of the boat to him and untethered the ropes from the front and back cleats. He leaned forward, his torso just skimming the cold lake water. Sliding his arm completely under the back end of the boat, only his shoulder showing, he lifted the back end totally out of the water, the drips cascading to his body and running down his head, then neck, soaking the tee he wore. He slid the rest of his body under the boat and Gramps came on board then. “Hey, hey, that's not safe...”
Alex grinned, swinging his opposite arm to the front end and stood, balancing the boat while he stood underneath it in the middle, the sound of lake water splashing like rain all around him.
“Holy shit,” Gramps whispered.
Jonesy was nodding. “See, what did I tell ya?”
We knew that Alex had the super-human strength but...
“Damn,” Bry said. “That's impressive as hell!”
“I think maybe Bry just joined group one,” Tiff said.
I agreed, looking at the ridiculously undersized, nerdy Alex. It was an absolute unreal sight.
“Okay,” Gramps said. “Put her down, nice and gentle, sir.”
Alex lowered the boat until he was underwater, then swam out from underneath it, his tee plastered to his skin, his ribs in stark relief.
Bry waited until he was out of the water and gave him the damn-you're-great-to-know guy clap. Alex looked like he'd won the lottery.
Gramps grinned. “Now that was...”
“Righteous,” Jonesy said, fist-pumping.
“Exceptional,” Gramps finished, smiling slightly at the J-Man.
Alex's teeth started chattering and Gramps physically pushed him over to the fire. “Use your head, boy, I know you've got more than rocks rollin' around in that noggin.”
Alex was still glowing from having an arguably cool ability. Lots of guys would kill for that.
Gramps stretched, reaching around to put a palm on his lower back. “About time to turn in, I think.”
John looked at him. “You didn't do too bad with Hamilton today, Mac.”
Gramps was cool like that.
“Yeah, his brand of logic wasn't going to work on my property.”
“Where would it work?” Bry asked.
Gramps folded his arms across his chest, palming his chin. Finally, after a full minute he said, “Nowhere.”
We laughed and Gramps put dirt over the fire, squelching the flame into ash, the night's blackness edging in around us like ink.
CHAPTER 19
I had a fat weekend at Gramps and my ass had dragged down my stairs to the kitchen table then out the door to school. Onyx gave me the cold shoulder 'cuz I hadn't towed him along to Gramps.
He didn't even stand by the window.
I sighed. It was damn Monday all day long and into the night.
Of course, I had AFTD class first perio
d and no one I knew except Tiff was in there. She was studiously decimating her nails as Smith droned on about the dead.
Ceci Cline was staring at me which was creeping me out. I wondered if she knew that Carson and the goons had planned on jumping me. I was so lucky Clyde had showed up I thought for the millionth time.
At least the whole group had a little vacation from school.
That rocked.
Suspension forever for all I gave a shit. Jerkwads.
“Now,” Smith droned, “I heard there was an incident of violence perpetuated against you this weekend, Caleb.”
Huh? Oh, yeah. “Ah, yeah, some jerks tried to beat the crap out of me.”
Smith's eyes got wide at my blunt description and Ceci looked down at her shoes.
Hell-yeah, she'd known, the bitch. Tiff had put it together and was giving her the Tiff Look. Of course, the merit of Tiff was, as a girl, she could hand Ceci her ass and I could watch.
A smile spread over my face as I fantasized.
“Mr. Hart?”
“Yeah?”
“I asked you a question...”
I gave him a blank face.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which reminded me of my dad, all the ends sticking up wildly.
“I was saying we could learn much about your zombie showing up.”
I shrugged. “I have nothing to tell. I mean, Clyde just showed up, I hadn't 'called' him or anything, he was just there.”
He began to pace; reminded me of the crazy Biology nut I'd had last year. What was his name.? He was obsessed over bees.
“In theory, a Cadaver-Manipulator who also possesses Life-Transference,” he looked at me for confirmation and I nodded, “would have a leakage problem with their gift.”
We all looked at him, Ceci jerking up her chin defiantly.
“In layman's terms, the dead would begin to think autonomously of the host.”
Well that cleared it right up, thanks.
Tiff went back to her intense fingernail exam and Ceci's eyes dropped to her desktop.
He was losing us with the jargon.
“Okay,” he paused, scrubbing his face, “we've got a zombie...”
We nodded, gotcha.
“...and said-zombie is connected to a powerful AFTD, say, a five-point.” All eyes turned to me, granted, there was only a handful but it still made me uncomfortable. “The host, in theory, should not need to consciously communicate to the zombie. The zombie should have a thought process that is interdependent.”
The Death Series, Books 1-3: Death Whispers, Death Speaks and Death Inception (The Death Series, Volume 1) Page 56
