Kiss of Life

by Daniel Waters

  "Three ...weeks ...sir," was the slow, slow reply.

  George was staring at the whiteboard, his tall gangling frame like a six-foot-tall undead question mark.

  "What was it like?" Alish asked. Jacinta didn't answer right away, either confused by the question or by its inherent rudeness.

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  Tak and the rest of his crew made an appearance just as the party was winding down. Phoebe watched Karen fix Tak with a withering glare.

  "Nice of you to show up," Karen said to Tak.

  "We've been ...busy," he said. Despite his promise to "be good," he made a point of not shaking hands with Alish. He looked at the Hunters as though the sight of their living flesh was repellent to him. He did his stupid little trick with his cheek too, keeping it hidden from view until he was a couple feet away from them, brushing back his lank black hair with a bare-knuckled hand so they could get a good up-close view of his teeth. The Hunters both flinched, and Karen told him how cliched he was becoming.

  Phoebe noticed something in Angela's expression, though: recognition. Angela, unlike Alish, did not offer her hand to be refused.

  "You aren't...doing enough," Tak said.

  Alish asked him what he meant, but Tak had already turned away. Karen was about to apologize for him when Popeye pushed his way over and thrust one of his recruitment posters into Alish's shaking hands.

  "Be all...that you ...can be," he said. He lifted his right hand, the one with all the skin removed from knuckle to wrist, and reached for his glasses.

  "Thank you, Popeye!" Karen said, trying to interpose herself between him and the Hunters.

  Alish didn't notice her alarm. "This is wonderful!" he said, looking at the poster.

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  Popeye stopped. "What?"

  "This poster," Alish continued. "It's brilliant. The way it captures the grim reality of the undead experience."

  Popeye removed his hand from his glasses and peered over Alish's shoulder. "Really?"

  "Oh, yes," Alish said, his bony fingers passing along George's image. "The colors, the way it shows the boy's obvious pride in being a zombie ...even the font and the fine print. It is a remarkable composition."

  "You really ...think so?" Popeye said. "I ...created it."

  "Really? This is a fine piece of work. A fine piece. Such a powerful message. May I keep it?"

  "Yeah! I mean ...sure. The more people that see ...my work ...the better."

  "Would you do me a favor?" Alish said, gazing intently into Popeye's dark lenses. "Would you inscribe this for me?"

  "Um, yeah!" Popeye said, patting the pockets of his leather jacket. "I think ...I've got... a marker ...upstairs."

  Phoebe watched him rush away, in search of his marker. When she turned back to Alish and Karen she almost laughed out loud at Karen's expression.

  "Mr. Hunter," Karen said. "That was ...that was ..."

  "Ms. DeSonne," he said, "in my position, I have to deal with bullies of all stripes. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling beneath their furry brows. "It gets easier and easier each day."

  She smiled back at him, but Phoebe thought she looked uneasy.

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  "Phoebe, would you come with me a minute?" Karen said, leaving the Hunters socializing with Tayshawn, who had reluctantly promised to talk to them. "I want you to hear something."

  Phoebe followed her over to Takayuki. "Do you have a minute, Tak?" Karen asked with mock sweetness.

  "For you," he said, "I have an ...eternity." Phoebe couldn't tell if he was trying to be charming or sarcastic.

  Once they were in the kitchen Karen asked him about George, whether or not he could be responsible for the animal slaughters in Winford.

  "George?" he said. "Impossible. George is not ...fast ...enough. Just to get to ...Winford ... is a major ...ordeal."

  "One of your other ...pals?

  Tak shook his head. "The Sons of Romero ...would not ...butcher ...house pets."

  "Sons of Romero?" Phoebe said, wondering if being a Son of Romero meant they were going to act like movie zombies. Tak pretended that she hadn't spoken, that she wasn't even in the room.

  "That's cute," Karen said quickly, as though trying to defuse the tension between them. "You think of it ...all by yourself?"

  He shrugged, only one shoulder raising. "Of that crime ...we are ...innocent."

  Tak was a lot of unpleasant things, but Phoebe didn't think he was a liar.

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  "Karen," Tak said, "why don't you ...come with us . . next time?"

  "Please. I have a ...job. Two jobs."

  Tak showed his teeth. "We'd love ...to ...have ...you.'

  Phoebe watched Karen cast her diamond eyes toward the heavens, but again she had the feeling that Karen was amused maybe even charmed, by Tak's actions.

  She herself was less amused when she saw Tak and hi: cronies leading Adam and some of their guests upstairs.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY

  HAD TROUBLE WITH the stairs right leg left but made it. Made it in time for Tak Smiley's speech. Cooper whispers. "Is that ...Tak? Is that the ...guy ...Karen talks about?" "Smiley." Last stair.

  "This is ... the wall," Smiley said, waves bare knuckle hand at the photographs. Cooper, Melissa, Smiley, Popeye, George, Thorny. Popeye stands next to Thorny shows knuckles shows ribs looks dead. Deader than dead. Thorny leaves.

  Smiley continues. "These are ...your people."

  Hundreds of photos. Zombies, deadheads, corpsicles. Poloroids, jpeg printouts. Kids looking scared. Step. Cooper and Melissa looking.

  "Our ...people. The ...returned dead. Zombies." Dragging the "Z" like drag left leg. Zzzzzombies.

  "Here ... I am," Cooper said, pointing at a curling sheet

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  of computer paper. Smiling at Smiley.

  "Thought you ...looked ... familiar," Popeye said, Popeye clapping Cooper on back, all smiles and light now.

  "The beating hearts ...want us ...gone," Tak said. "The ones ...downstairs ...are no ...different."

  Melissa, writing.

  "Not all trads are ...bad." Cooper said, shaking his head. "Alish and Angela ...are good to us."

  "Like they are ... good ... to pets." Tak tapped on the wall. Melissa writes, holds up: LIKE U?

  Tak smiles. "We had nothing ...to do ...with ...the incidents ...you refer to. All part of the ...bioist...conspiracy ...to destroy us."

  Tak waited, no reply. Turned back to the wall. "Half... of these ...kids ...have been returned to death. True death. And what...have they done?"

  Melissa crossed-out writing, started again. Cooper's answer never came.

  "You know ...zombies ...that have been destroyed. You ...lived ...with them. Does the ...foundation ...protest? Do they ...demand justice? Do they do anything more than ...hold you captive ...and stick you ...with needles?"

  "I'm not... a captive ...I'm ..."

  Melissa flips sign. George stares so hard, almost funny.

  FATHER FITZPATRICK

  Tak shakes head, lank long hair flicking against leather, tendons creaking. "You can't look to ...the beating hearts ...for

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  sanctuary. In the end ...they just make it easier ... to round us up."

  "What about the work ...that Tommy ... is doing?" Cooper said. Strength there beneath goofy exterior.

  Tak looks at Cooper. "I wish ...Tommy ...well. My hope ... is that... he reaches...Washington. I fear ... he will not."

  "What do you ...think ... we should do?"

  "I think ... you should be ... with your people. With ... us."

  Popeye put his arm around Cooper's shoulder, squeezed. George reaches out, touches Melissa's mask. Gently. She doesn't flinch.

  "We will be ...ignored ... by our country ... no longer. We will ...continue ... to make noise," Tak said, "until ...they ...can no longer ...destroy us ... at will." Taps wall. "For ...them. For our ...people."

  Want to clap. Don't. Look at wall instead. Have no idea what Tak t
hinks he is accomplishing.

  Call from below, time to go. Popeye and Tak thank Cooper and Melissa for time. George waves. Follow them out. Smiley stops at top of stairs, turns.

  "You, Adam ...you should ... be with ...us."

  Contact. Eye contact. Smiley doesn't look deranged. Looks concerned. Earnest.

  "I'll think ...about it."

  Smiley nods, claps arm. Small gesture, big impact. Tayshawn at bottom of stairs like standing guard. Angela waiting, says van has to go.

  See Phoebe in doorway. Phoebe turns away.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Phoebe went over to Karen's house when Undead Studies was over. She was fairly exhausted after the Haunted House event, but Karen was still in go mode, talking about all she felt they had accomplished with the visit. As she watched the dead girl talk about how important it was that the Hunter Foundation spent its money on the right things, all Phoebe could think was how wrong Karen had been when she told Tommy she didn't have any leadership skills.

  Dinner at the DeSonne household was strange indeed. Karen's father did most of the cooking, although Karen helped him chop vegetables for a salad. Mr. DeSonne insisted that Phoebe not help them but instead "relax" in the living room, where Karen's little sister, Katy, was playing with a trio of small stuffed bears.

  "Mommy has to work late," Katy told her. "Can I touch your hair?"

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  "Sure," Phoebe said, leaning forward so Katy could drag stubby fingers through her hair. Her mother would be eating at the office, her father said, and would not be in until later.

  When dinner began, Karen sat at the table watching them eat spaghetti and salad, listening without comment as her father asked Phoebe some questions about school and the work study, which he referred to as the "special class." Karen would lean over to wipe her sister's face with a napkin whenever the tomato sauce threatened to cover it.

  When they were done eating, Karen helped her father clear the dishes, another activity he forbade Phoebe to help them with. Phoebe noticed that Karen didn't speak much as they worked, and her motions were almost mechanical as she moved around the kitchen. Maybe she was reading too much into things, but Phoebe thought that Karen's father was doing everything he could to keep from touching her.

  Katy used their absence to lean over and touch Phoebe's hair again.

  "They say my sister's dead," she whispered, "but I think she's the prettiest girl in the world."

  When the dishes were away, Mr. DeSonne had Katy say good night, which for Katy was a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek for her sister and for Phoebe.

  "I like you," she said, her breath warm against Phoebe's neck. "Come back and play with Karen?"

  "I will," Phoebe promised, and Katy bounded down the hall after her father.

  "Cute kid," she said to Karen when her chores were done.

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  "The best," Karen replied. "She was born nine months after I died. Kind of weird, huh?"

  Phoebe didn't know what to say to that. She followed Karen to her room in the basement. The room was colder than upstairs, and the cellar floor was hard beneath the thin carpet. There was a musty scent in the air that Karen had tried to cover with various scented candles and plug-in air fresheners.

  "The basement used to flood," she said, reading Phoebe's mind. "Sorry."

  "No worries," Phoebe said. "It's a little dark down here for work, though. We don't want to go blind."

  Karen turned on a few lights, and they sat on the edge of her bed. She saw Phoebe staring at a small silk pillow atop a pair of normal pillows.

  "Yeah, it's the one from my coffin," Karen told her.

  "I'm sorry, Karen. I..."

  Karen waved. "Don't worry about it ...really. My parents bought me a really nice one, lacquered wood with a white satin lining and pillow to match. I came back before I got to use it. And guess what? The funeral home had a 'no returns' policy! So I kept the pillow. Sometimes I lie down on the bed and put my head on the pillow, and I daydream about dreaming."

  "What did you do with the coffin?"

  Karen shrugged. "I wanted to keep it, but my mom thought it was too morbid. She didn't even want me to have the pillow, but I was ...insistent. I think they sold the coffin on eBay."

  Phoebe took her printed copy of "Words from a Beating Heart" from her bag.

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  "Karen," she said, "I'm sorry I was so cranky with you today." Karen smiled. "You wouldn't be saying that...just because I'm about to read ...your story, would you?" "No."

  "Hey," Karen said. "Don't worry about it. You've got a lot on your mind. You're entitled to be cranky."

  She nudged Phoebe with her shoulder. "I remember what it was like to be alive too."

  "Karen ..."

  "Kidding, I'm kidding. Now are you going to let me read that, or ...what?"

  Phoebe reluctantly handed over the papers. She looked around the room while Karen read, trying and failing to keep from looking for Karen's reactions to her words, and then trying and failing from being disappointed when there weren't any.

  "I really like this, Phoebe," Karen said finally. Phoebe let out her breath, realizing how much Karen's approval meant to her.

  "Really? You think so?"

  "I really do. I wasn't ...sure if Tommy's idea of having a ...living ...person write for the site was such a hot idea. After reading this not only do I see why it was a good idea-- but I think you're the perfect person to do it."

  Phoebe thanked her and paused.

  "I wrote Tommy a poem when we ...when we first really became friends."

  "I know. He had it in his locker." "You knew?"

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  "Everybody knew, honey. The community of the living weren't the only ones scandalized at first, if you must know. Tommy had dead people calling him a sellout even then."

  "Tak."

  "Not just Tak. Not everyone is as moderate as you think. There's a lot of jealousy and bitterness among 'my people.' And Tak isn't really such a bad guy."

  "He's not?"

  "No. He can be quite ...sweet ...sometimes."

  Something in Karen's tone stopped her. Karen was rereading her blog entry, her smooth white skin spectral in the glow of the computer.

  "Karen?"

  "Mm-hm?"

  "Did Tommy talk about it with you? About me, I mean?" Karen turned toward her, her eyes seeming to hold the glow of the monitor a moment too long. "He did." "And?" "And what?"

  "And what did you think?"

  "About him dating a beating heart?" Karen said, her pale lips in a thin smile. "I didn't have a problem with it, actually. And that was before I really knew you, even." She shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling in perfect sync. "People should be happy."

  "And once you did get to know me? What did you think then?"

  "I thought he had great taste." Karen looked at her, and

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  Phoebe had the same sensation of falling that she'd experienced when looking into Tommy's eyes that first night in the woods.

  "Why do I feel like I'm not really answering ...your question," Karen said, lifting her hands in exasperation. "What is your question, Phoebe ...Hello, Phoebe?" Karen said before realizing why Phoebe had hesitated. She lowered her arm, too slow a gesture for it to be reflexive.

  "Karen, I ...did Tommy tell you how he felt about me?" she said, stumbling.

  "Yes, he did," Karen said, crossing her arms in front of her, picking at the cuff of her sleeve with her fingers

  "He told me he was in love with you, Phoebe," she said, her expression not changing, making Phoebe wonder if the subject was causing a rare emotional retreat in her. Then her face softened and her diamond eyes sparked and flared with a sudden and momentary white light.

  "I think he meant it too."

  Phoebe turned away. "Sometimes I thought ... I thought that it wasn't me, you know? It wasn't me but the idea of me. Like I wasn't really important. What was really important was that I was alive."<
br />
  She looked back, feeling shy and self-conscious, and Karen's pursed lips did nothing to relieve those anxieties.

  "Because you were living," the dead girl repeated. "Phoebe, maybe that was ...part of it. Is part of it. But the two of you had just met, right? You're sixteen. Didn't you ask yourself the same question yourself?"

  "What do you mean?"

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  "Well, how do you know you weren't going out with him just because he was a zombie?" "I wasn't."

  "Are you sure? Dating a zombie really takes the whole edgy goth chick thing up a whole new level, don't you think? How many of the other little goth girls can say that they dated a zombie?"

  "It wasn't like that," Phoebe said defensively.

  "I know it wasn't, honey," Karen said. "Tommy's a lovable guy. He's brave, he's handsome--if he were still alive he'd be every girl's dream. And you're pretty lovable yourself, you know. I sometimes wonder if you have some kind of chemical or mutant pheromone or something you put out that drives everyone crazy."

  "A mutant pheromone?" Phoebe smiled.

  "Hey, stranger things ...But look: you took interest in him as a person, Phoebe," Karen said. "Sometimes that's all anyone really needs to fall in love. Wasn't that what you were trying to say in your blog?"

  "I guess so."

  "I think it was, Phoebe."

  "What else did he say?" Phoebe asked, hoping she didn't sound too eager.

  "Not much else," Karen said, but Phoebe thought she could detect a far-off twinkle in her crystalline eyes, like the flare of some distant sun. "He's a very private person despite that ...blog. Plus he probably didn't want to hurt my feelings."

  "Hurt your feelings? Were you in love with him too?"

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  "All of us dead girls were a little in love with Tommy," she said, "but how do you know I wasn't in love with you?"