by Susan Hatler
“The security guard,” he said, but frowned, obviously puzzled. “Okay . . .”
“This looks like a supermarket warehouse.” I waved around me, hoping he was getting it. “But we’re only seeing what they want us to see, not what’s really here. Hence the secret part of a secret operation.”
Jonathan nodded. “Owen said his source was positive they were making artificial bodies here. And wasn’t the warehouse at least twice this big from the outside?”
“There must be a secret door to the back,” I said, as we both hurried to the shelves. I pulled can after can from the shelf, searching for a secret doorknob or clue. Then I gasped, holding a can of peaches in one hand and can of prunes in the other. Behind the cans I just removed was a shiny silver handle. Without thinking, I pulled it.
“Wait—” Jonathan started, but it was too late.
A door, disguised as shelves, opened at the opposite side of the room.
Jonathan ran over and threw his body in front of mine as if to protect me from whatever danger might come from behind that door. Million-dollar bodies? What were the chances they weren’t protected by some kind of grizzly watch dog? We peered at the doorway, but nothing came through.
I sucked in a breath. “We have to go in. Count of three?”
Jonathan nodded, then grabbed hold of my hand. “One, two . . .”
We burst through the doorway at the same time, entering a large room with gray walls that resembled an over-sized laboratory. Hundreds of tables stretched uniformly across the room. A single white sheet was draped over each table, covering the bulky mass that lay beneath the sheet. A tall white-haired man in a lab coat stood in front of one of the tables, doing something we couldn’t see since his back was to us.
“What’s he doing?” I said.
I must’ve whispered louder than I’d thought because the man turned around, and appeared to be shocked to see us. He turned to me. “Who are you?”
“Uh, who are you?” Not my greatest comeback, but I hoped it would throw him off.
The white-haired man grabbed the phone next to him, punched in three numbers, then loud alarms screeched throughout the room in pulsing beats.
Maybe I should’ve answered who I was. Oops.
I covered my ears. “This is not good!”
Jonathan rushed toward the white-haired guy, pulling a pair of handcuffs off the guard’s utility belt on his way. He handcuffed the guy to the table, then turned to me.
I approached one of the white tables numbly, my fingers wrapping around the edge of the white cloth that dangled over the edge. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the sheet and peered beneath it. A bare arm lay perfectly still. My hands flew to my mouth, and the sheet fluttered back down. “It’s a . . . body,” I said, gasping.
“What gender?” Jonathan asked, coming toward me.
My eyes bulged. “How should I know? It’s not like it’s wearing pink or blue.”
He grabbed hold of the sheet, lifting it higher than I had. “It’s male.”
I pointed to the white-haired man who was yanking desperately at the handcuffs. “Sir, is this an artificial body? One of those bodies you’re going to sell to the government to boost the military?” I yelled over the deafening alarm.
The man gaped at me. “H-How do you know about that?”
“I have my sources,” I said, unable to believe how much I sounded like Owen.
“This is a closed facility,” the man said frowning. He was short, skinny, and cuffed to a table. Not exactly a threat.
“Sir, please tell us if this is an artificial body!” Jonathan yelled, his voice filled with desperation as he shouted over the alarms.
The man’s wiry brows came together. “I don’t know what you’re doing here with this girl, Michaels. But Whitman and Rooney will be here any minute and you’re fired.”
Poor Michaels. I hoped he’d get severance.
“What should we do?” Jonathan said.
I pressed my palms against my ears. It was hard to think over the blaring sirens. “Zombie the body, and see if you can walk and talk in it.”
“What if . . .?”
I snatched up the phone that the white-haired dude had used, and started punching buttons randomly hoping to stop the alarms from shrieking. “What if what?”
Jonathan’s face went white. “What if it’s just a dead body?”
I dropped the receiver, and it clunked on the table. “Your spirit would pass on. Isn’t that what Owen said happens when you’re in your body and it dies?”
Shouting voices echoed through the doorway, so I ran and shut the vegetable-can door we’d come through. I twisted the pathetic-looking lock on the door, wondering how long that would keep the other guards out. My gaze shot to Jonathan.
He stood at the end of the table, staring down at the body, which lay perfectly still under the white sheet. A chill curled up my spine.
Did Owen’s source really know what he was talking about? I mean, he’d been right so far. But was this possible body worth risking Jonathan dying? No way. So he might have to live his life without a body. There were worse things, right? If I wanted to hang with him, he could always borrow someone’s body for an afternoon. Like this guard’s body. He was young and kind of cute and—
The door behind me rattled.
I gripped the door handle, pinching the tiny lock between my fingers, not knowing how long I could keep it from turning completely. My gaze latched onto Jonathan’s. “We need someone to confirm this is an actual, operable artificial body before you can zombie it!”
He careened over to me, gasping. “We already tried that. They won’t listen to us.”
I gaped at his chest heaving in and out. I’d never seen him so rattled. In my hand, the door handle started to turn. I bit my lip. “They’re trying to come through.”
He placed his hands on either side of my face, staring into my eyes. “This is why we came here. I have to do this,” he said, calmly.
Someone pounded the door behind me, which vibrated against my back. “Open up!”
“No!” My eyes burned and I shook my head. “It’s too risky. We’ll find another way to get you a body. It will take time, but we can do it together.”
The lock behind me turned with a click and I somehow twisted it back.
“Amy . . .” His eyes welled, and he pressed his forehead against mine. “I can’t live like this anymore. It isn’t right invading people’s bodies, and this might be my last chance. If it doesn’t work . . . well, I got a few more days than I was supposed to, right?”
My throat tightened, squeezing so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Don’t do this. Please,” I begged, watching helpless as his gaze turned steady.
“Zombying you was the best choice I ever made,” he said, then pressed his lips to mine.
My insides turned liquid as our mouths came together. A rush of heat shot throughout my entire body. Everything that was happening slipped away and all that was left was Jonathan’s warmth flowing through me. There were no guards banging on the door. No mom disappointed in me. No teachers at school that hated me.
And it wasn’t the guard kissing me.
It was Jonathan.
Then he tasted me, and I was lost. Floating, as if I was in the zombie zone. I slid my hand around his neck, and pulled him closer. My thoughts were only of Jonathan. This boy I’d never seen, but had shared so much with.
All too quickly, he broke away. He leaned toward my ear. “I won’t forget you.”
“Jonathan, don’t . . .” I reached for him, my fingertips brushing against his sleeve. I gaped after him as he dashed to the table, and leaned over the white cloth. He closed his eyes.
“No!” I yelled. The door behind me burst open, slamming into my back, and knocking me down to the hard concrete floor.
Black boots clomped loudly against the floor on either side of me as they ran past. I lifted my head, then watched in horror as the guard Michaels’s body went slack and fell to the floor. I gaspe
d.
Jonathan had gone into the body on the table.
He might be dead.
And that’s when I realized I loved him.
****
My tears burned as I lay on the floor, propped up on my arms, and stared at Michaels’s body. Maybe Jonathan hadn’t gone into the body on the table. He might’ve pretended to faint to throw the other security guards off. I had to check for myself.
I army crawled as fast as I could across the floor toward the vacant body. Black boots stepped in front of me, blocking my path. The guy grabbed my arm, and I cried out, “Wait! I need to see if he’s okay!”
“Stay down.” The security guard pushed a knee into my spine, forcing me back to the ground.
The second uniformed man knelt beside Michaels’s body, then flipped him over. His eyes were closed, his facial features were slack. The guard patted Michaels’s cheeks. “Michaels? You all right, man?”
Michaels didn’t move. My headed pounded from the fall, from the blaring alarm, and from not knowing if Jonathan was dead or alive.
Suddenly, the alarms stopped. The silence was deafening, ringing in my ears.
“Can one of you remove my handcuffs?” The white-haired guy in the lab coat held his shaky hand up, and one of the security guard’s uncuffed him. “Michaels burst in here with the girl. He told her about the bodies, which is a direct violation of the confidentiality agreement. There will be serious consequences.”
“Stay calm, Dr. Plummer.” The bigger of the two men said. “We’ve got it under control.”
Bodies. The white-haired man, Dr. Plummer, had said bodies. Dead bodies or artificial bodies? I wanted to ask, but my mouth was frozen shut. All I could do was stare at Michaels’s body, hoping for a sign of life. For a sign that Jonathan was still in the body. That Jonathan still lived.
Then, suddenly, Michaels took a deep breath.
A whimpering sound escaped me, and hot tears slipped over my cheeks. Unable to move with the dude’s knee still in my back, I reached for him. “I thought you were dead.”
He blinked several times slowly.
I thought about the first time I’d felt him Friday night. I’d felt him in class, while reading my Maisy’s Meow. Then later, he’d moved the pen. I remembered the suction feeling that surrounded me in the hallway when he’d pushed me out of my body. The warm bath feeling when he’d vacated my body, and swirled through me as our spirits meshed together as one. The electric feeling of his kiss, only minutes ago. “Say something, Jonathan.”
He stared at me, his brows coming together. “Who’s Jonathan? Who are you? Where am I?”
My heart stopped.
“After he locked me up with his handcuffs, he kissed her, then he fainted,” Dr. Plummer said, rubbing his wrists, which had been freed. “Maybe he felt guilty . . .”
Michaels squinted at me as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “You were with the other kids outside. You had that minister, who wanted to zombie me. What on earth did that mean?”
“Michaels is delirious,” one of the guards said. “We can’t have an ambulance come here, but we should get him to a hospital. He needs to be checked out for possible concussion.”
I dropped my forehead to the cold, hard floor, and stifled a sob. It wasn’t Jonathan. It was the real Michaels. Jonathan had left the guard’s body. Wait a minute. If Jonathan had gone into the body beneath the sheet, it was possible he was still alive. If the body had been artificial, that is.
I twisted and bucked, but the guard tightened his grip on me. “I have to examine that body on the table. It’s a matter of life and death,” I pleaded.
Dr. Plummer crossed over to us, then shifted the white sheet over the bare arm that I’d uncovered earlier. “There’s nothing here, miss. I don’t know what possessed Michaels to bring you on a tour back here, but you’re both in a lot of trouble.” He turned to the other guards. “Take her out of here.”
“No!” I yelled, fighting against the guard as he pulled me to my feet. “I have to see if he’s okay. Let me go. Tell me what kind of bodies are under there, Dr. Plummer. They aren’t dead bodies, are they? At least tell me that,” I said, then kicked the guard’s instep.
He grunted, but held my arm tight as he dragged me toward the exit door. “The more you resist, the more trouble you’re making for Michaels.” He led me outside the warehouse as I kicked and screamed—in between sobs—then over to a security car parked at the curb by the fence. He shoved me into the back seat and closed the door. “Stay in here and cool off. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
I reached for the handle and yanked it. Locked. I would’ve climbed out the driver’s door, but a thick metal grate had me caged in like a prisoner. I banged my fist against the window at the guard’s retreating figure. “Let me out of here, you creep!”
The guard rubbed his ankle, then shot me a look that held zero sympathy. Then he disappeared back inside the warehouse. Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked him so hard.
Frustration surged through me and I punched the metal grate. Ouch! Not too bright, Amy. Not bright at all. I bowed my head, thinking of Jonathan. He would’ve stood up if the transfer had worked. That had to have been a dead body. Owen had it so wrong.
I slumped back against the seat, hot tears streaming down my face. Jonathan’s spirit had died. And it felt like my fault. I should’ve made Dr. Plummer tell me what kind of bodies were under those creepy white sheets. Maybe if I’d begged harder, then Jonathan would still be here.
Bright green eyes appeared in my mind, along with that confident, dimpled smile. My face contorted as I fought a sob. It wasn’t fair. He’d survived the car crash, and been sent to me. Why? To die four days later? What was the point? I rubbed my nose with my sleeve, then glanced at the window where a pair of blue eyes peered back at me.
I shuddered, then blinked, trying to see clearly through the black mascara drops that impeded my vision. It was a guy. His muscular shoulders were bare, so were his six-pack abs, and he had a white sheet wrapped around his waist. What the . . .? My heart wanted to believe it could be Jonathan, but my head didn’t know what to think.
He gestured for me to roll down the window.
I wiped my eyes, then pressed the automatic window button, but nothing happened. Of course. The car was turned off. I raised my shoulders, wondering what the guy expected me to do. I mean, hello? I was locked inside a vehicle.
Wait a minute. Locked in. Not locked out. I pointed to the outside door handle, which the guy pulled, and the door opened.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m obviously not completely with it. Are you okay?” he asked.
I studied this guy as he pulled the door open the rest of the way, wondering if it had been an artificial body underneath that sheet. If so, this might really be Jonathan. Hope crept through me. He had blue eyes, short dark hair, and looked like he worked out regularly. Oh, and he appeared to be naked underneath that sheet. Not that I was looking.
“Amy?” he said, the corner of his mouth turning upward. “We have what we came here for. You ready to get out of here, or what?”
Tingles darted across my chest as I realized what he’d just said. My eyes watered, and I bit back a sob. “Jonathan?”
“It’s me, baby. Like my new look?”
I stared at him a moment, then play-punched him in the arm. “I said not to try it. Not to. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“Not likely.”
I bit my lip. “But why didn’t I feel you the way I usually do?”
He shrugged. “Maybe because I wasn’t in the zombie zone. This is an actual artificial body I’m inhabiting. Owen’s plan worked.” He brushed his lips against my cheek, reached for my hand, then helped me to my feet. Shutting the door softly, we checked to make sure none of the guards were coming out of the warehouse, then we took off running toward the gate.
Jonathan was alive. He had a new body. We could finally be together.
Chapter Thirteen
/> It turned out that Reverend Gabriel had been hovering in Owen’s truck the entire time, so he reclaimed his body shortly after Jonathan and I left for the warehouse. After a lengthy discussion with the minister, Owen promised the four of us would come to the church for a more detailed explanation later this week. Then Reverend Gabriel borrowed Brynne’s car to go home since, as he explained, his family was probably freaking out about his unexplained absence.
When Jonathan and I had run safely past the security gate, Owen and Brynne hopped out of Owen’s truck and threw their arms around us. There was a brief jumping party, then we hauled booty back to Owen’s truck and he sped away with no security guards pursuing us. Yay!
“I can’t believe you guys pulled that off.” Brynne twisted around in the front passenger seat, and faced Jonathan and me in the back seat. “You nabbed a million-dollar artificial body and got away with it. He looks so real.”
“He is real,” I said, wondering how we’d pay off a million-dollar debt. We couldn’t exactly ask for a payment plan when we’d taken the body without permission. Huh. We’d have to worry about that later. I scooted closer to Jonathan who’d put on the pair of sweatpants Owen had in his backpack for P.E. The pants were tight on him and rode up his calf due to his bulky military physique, but I didn’t care. He had his own body—for good.
“And he’s kind of cute. How old is he?” Brynne asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Sixteen.”
“No,” she continued. “How old is the body?”
“How should I know? He looks maybe eighteen?” I blew out a breath, and turned to Jonathan. “After we get my car from school, I’ll take you home to your family so you can tell them you’re alive. Danielle’s going to be so happy.”
“Who’s Danielle?” Brynne asked.
“Jonathan’s younger sister.” I kept out the fact that the girl had a crush on Owen. Poor Brynne had experienced enough with learning Owen had been mistakenly crushing on me. And had kissed me. Ew.
Jonathan slipped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me even closer. “It’s a relief being in a body, knowing I didn’t boot anyone out of it. It’s still weird, because it’s not me. But I’m sure I’ll get used to it with time.”
