Her bra is undone and floating over her boobs. Blood drips from her hand, splattering the cement floor like a leaky faucet.
I hear each drop.
Some kind of primal slippage happens. It’s like my skin slides off me and I become… something else.
With a roar, I’m sprinting across the expanse of concrete. The old building takes my slapping footfalls and spins them around the room, casting the noise back at me. A handful of seconds pass from the time I see Dee to when I’m close enough to Thompson that he looks up in surprise.
Probably figures he has an impenetrable fortress.
Right.
Death energy hits me like a ton of bricks, and I stagger just meters away from laying hands on the prick.
He straightens with a smarmy salesman’s smile. “What? You dick—did ya think I’d just be in here doing the pickle tickle with sissy and no reinforcements? No.” He wags his finger in mock-reprimand. “I see she’s definitely the one with the brains in the old Hart clan.”
I fall to my knees in a numbing tide of energy brain drain. A five-point AFTD rounds the corner, and my eyes bug.
Fucking Parker.
Not the Jeffrey Parker from my Earth, the family man who does reconnaissance for relocating the dead like my dad does.
No, this is a different dude. A guy who didn't make choice A at the fork in the road.
His choice leads straight to hell.
“You feel like Caleb,” he says casually as he throws more death juice at me and I shudder under the oppressive weight.
“Young.” He licks his lips. “Untried and unsophisticated.”
I see red. What an assjack.
I check on Dee, and her wide eyes nail me.
Hoping.
Then Mitch is there. “What are you doing?”
I look up at Mitch from my hands and knees. “Screwing off, douche. Get Dee!”
Jeffrey lifts his lips. Must pass as a smile for him. “No. I owe this sick little boy here. He gets his playthings, and I get unlimited power. It’s a tradeoff I wish to continue.”
“You mean money, you dick nozzle,” Jonesy says from somewhere behind me.
Glittering hazel eyes bore holes through Jonesy. “If you like, Mark Jones.”
“If I like, if I don’t. You were always a chameleon type. You go where the wind blows you. Whatever’s good for Jeff is good for everyone.”
Jeffrey throws his head back, laughing. “A perfect description, though broad.”
I give Mitch a nod and he moves toward Brad Thompson. I’m not gonna get distracted when my sister’s all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Thompson sees the moving mountain of muscle coming for him. “Jeff, nail this meathead.”
Parker looks at Mitch like a bird eyeing a worm. He paces toward him, and Mitch bares his teeth, hissing at him. His mouth and eyes are perfect again.
Dee’s leaking on him. Even though… God, I can’t look—even wounded, her death energy runs around, finding everything dead.
“Is little Miss Hart a level five?” Jeff asks, moving to Dee.
“Don’t touch her!” I shout from the floor. I shake my head like a bull before charging.
Parker gives a little shudder, his lean frame trembling slightly. “I don’t do teen girls.”
My stomach sinks with relief but tightens with his distinction. What does he do?
“But you’ll let it happen, won’t you, Jeff?” Brad asks with a smile.
Parker gives a curt nod, as if he’s not happy about it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and call the zombie family forward.
I can hear the frown in Parker's vocie. “Don't, or I'll make them mine, Paxton.”
I pierce Jeffrey Parker with my stare in the gloom of the warehouse.
He looks resigned.
I'm determined.
Dee moans softly, shaking her head at me.
“Submit.” Parker moves to Mitch’s position. He has both palms out, one at me, the other at Mitch.
“How?” I ask.
Parker doesn’t turn to me while he’s talking. “I take energy through Brad.”
“Where is he getting it?”
“Her.” Jeffrey points to Dee.
God, Brad is an energy death vamp here, too. Giving Dee’s energy to bolster Parker.
Essentially, my sister is draining me.
Mitch stalks the four meters to Parker and punches him square in the jaw.
The Parker of this world is equally adept at hand-to-hand fighting, flinging his head to the side in avoidance as he plows into Dee's zombie with killing intent.
Like there's another kind.
“He’s already dead, asshole—don’t bother.” I stand. Parker’s distracted with Mitch, so I make my way to Brad.
He smiles, and I meet Dee’s eyes. She shifts her stare behind me.
I chance a glance and take in the small horde in the shadows.
George and fam, Sophie, Mia and Bry (somehow full of bruises), Jonesy, and Archer come closer to my position, skirting around the mass of waiting zombies.
Where the hell is Uncle John and Tiff?
Somehow, Parker locked me down but now he’s getting his ass handed to him by Mitchell.
Awesome timing.
I creep toward Brad. I want to get to Dee so bad I can taste it, but Thompson might surprise me with some jacked-up skills he can tear out of his ass.
I circle him.
“I'll have Jeff call the horde,” he says pleasantly, rocking back on his heels.
I take in Mitch and Parker tearing each other apart. “Go ahead.”
He stares at me.
I flex the death muscle, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh the only noise in the warehouse.
And Dee panting. Why won't her hand stop bleeding?
My gaze skates over her hand, catching sight of her nails lying like chipped teeth on the floor beneath her seat, blood-soaked pliers beside them.
The vision of her crimson nails etches itself onto my brain.
I crash into Brad. I’m an emotional mess. I should’ve been thinking with my Karate brain instead of how pissed I am over Dee.
He throws me onto my back as he hydroplanes on top of me. My heels meet his gut and I use his momentum, flinging him over me and onto the ground beyond.
I jump, whirling. The horde boxes us in.
Shit.
Jonesy eyes me. “Hey, man. I love ya, Pax, but you better do something about the undead pack here.”
I flog them with death energy.
Not something Dad has taught me how to fine tune. Random hordes don’t show up on my Earth. Our hordes’ job is to work in stations. We have zombie garbage collectors now.
Here, they have whorehouses.
It’s all wrong.
My energy stuns them, then they keep shambling along. I look over at Mitch. He has Parker in an armbar. Parker smiles, and that’s when I know we’re in trouble.
Mitch goes flying, and Parker dusts his hands off. Mitch lands at my feet.
Blinks. Stands. He curls his fists and moves to return to Jeffrey.
I shake my head.
“Go make this clown a soprano.” I jerk my head toward Thompson.
Mitch smirks at Brad.
Thompson's eyes travel the six-foot-five Mitch and swallows. Everything’s great when you have a helplessly bound girl as your torture toy, until you’re faced with her pissed off zombie.
There's a strange kind of justice in that.
“Parker!” Thompson shrieks.
But Mitch has the cowardly bitch by the throat and chucks him about ten meters. He sails impressively to the other end of the warehouse, tumbling into some old cardboard boxes. Mitch is at Dee’s side instantly and I turn away, dismissing them for the moment. He’ll protect her.
Meanwhile, Parker’s horde is within touching distance of the group.
John and Tiff burst through the warehouse doors.
Parker smirks. “Well, this must be old reun
ion time.”
He sees our confused expressions. “What? Oh… I know you’ve got some Dimensional in the mix here. You’ve found yourself on another Earth. However, in this one, you’re all dead. The elder Thompson has kept his progeny happy with his torture of the dead ones.”
Parker’s eyes glitter at John and Tiff. “I imagine this might get interesting.”
Tiff takes a look around as I walk to Mitch and my sister. Mitch stands with Dee in his arms and adjusts her blouse to cover her bra.
Bastard. Thompson needs to go die.
Tiff blows a huge bubble, and a zombie reaches out to touch it. She thwacks its hand and it falls off the wrist, smacking the ground with a wet sound.
She looks at Parker. “Shit job on the dead, dickless.”
Parker narrows his eyes at her.
“I never forget a number. You’re a level two. Before you died.” He kicks up his chin. “Don’t fuck with daddy, little girl.”
“Oh, yeah.” Tiff takes John’s hand and sucks her huge bubble back into her mouth. “I’m not any level two here, pal. Or didn’t ya consider that when you let your alligator mouth overload your canary ass?”
Parker runs at her, the zombies turning to hiss at Tiff.
I hear her whisper it, but Parker doesn't.
Mine, she says.
They turn their hissing faces to Parker and Tiff grins, sober as I’ve ever seen her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Caleb
“What in the blue hell was that back there, Caleb?” Gramps asks as we struggle forward.
My stomach is a slick, roiling wave of lumbering heat. I’ll toss cookies any time, but I can puke and move on.
Pax needs me, and maybe Deegan, too.
I can’t bring death, but fire is a handy substitute.
Gramps drags me, my arm around his shoulder, my folks bringing up the rear as we snag them on the way. I glance back at Dad, and he nods. Mom looks worn around the edges, her reserves depleted.
“Y’know Pax blinked Deegan et al to save Mom.”
“Yup.”
“This world”—I grimace, my lower leg a shrieking nightmare. Gramps is all but holding me up now—“has some of the same stuff ours does…”
“Except those handy robots.”
Handy.
“Uh… anyway, they only allow Organics here, so we were identified from the beginning.”
“That wonderful Organic was used,” Mom says behind me, gasping to get the words out.
I don't reply. I killed Jezebel, not much to say.
“It's not your fault, Caleb,” Dad says.
But it is.
“Dog-eat-dog. Not a lot of choice. Building burning down, pesky AFTD using whatever corpse was lying around to do his dirty work,” Gramps sums up.
A knoll rises like Custer’s last stand. At the top sits a huge cannery warehouse-type building. The words “King County Salmon Hatchery” are painted in a fading apricot scroll.
Gramps leans forward. “What's that?”
Zombies. They fill the top of the hill.
Great.
“Mow through the pack of rot, pal.”
I shake my head at Gramps.
Gramps eyebrows cock. “What do ya mean?”
“I can't bring the death here.”
“Pfft…. burn them, son. Zombie torches.” He shrugs, and Mom moans.
Gramps turns to Mom, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “Peanut, it’ll be okay.” He gives her a tender glance. “You hanging in there, sweetheart?” He chucks her beneath the chin.
It’s odd how she and Gramps look the same age, what with his regeneration motoring along.
Mom nods, but her lip trembles. A little bit of a shock. Bound to happen. The cancer cured on a foreign planet, killer bots, and zombies I can’t control.
A young woman screams, and I know it’s Deegan before it stops.
“Deedie,” Gramps says, whipping his head toward the building.
He looks at me.
“Go!” I shout.
Gramps tears off, and I limp up the hill on my own. The zombies turn to me, and I don’t know them.
I light the fire inside me and push it out, giving birth to flame. Heat rolls off me and swims toward the horde.
They scream as if they’re alive.
It hurts worse than my shattered leg as I pass them. Corpses who should be my allies convulse in pain from my fire and lay writhing on the summer grass. It catches on fire around them because I suck at my new ability. I’m a sniper with AFTD, and as a pyro, I have the finesse of a hurricane. Terrific.
The parents trudge behind me. Mom pukes from the smell. Rotten meat on fire will do that to a person.
Dad’s a sympathy puker, and he goes next.
I grab Dad and jerk him behind me. He hauls Mom, and we tumble inside the building.
I shut the door to keep the smell and corpse wildfire I began from entering as easily.
The sight greeting me is worse.
Zombies are everywhere, my kids are a mess, and for some reason, Parker is here. Well thank God.
Then he sees me standing there, and the pressure of death comes over me.
He’s not my Parker. He’s some alternate dickhead. Fucking swell.
I look for Jade in the chaos.
A brown arm shoots up from inside a zombie mob.
“Hart! A little help!”
Jones.
Jade's wide eyes meet mine through a crack in the dead shambling bodies. Thank God.
Where the hell is Tiff? I frantically scan the interior of the building, skipping over enthusiastic corpses.
Oh.
She shoots after Parker.
“Tiff!” John screams.
The horde moves away from my friends, my wife, and toward the false Parker.
Parker and Tiff face each other and I move to Jade, flicking my gaze to Deegan and Pax.
Deegan is in Mitch’s arms. I stall out at her injuries.
“Jade!” I yell, and she runs into my arms. My gaze commands Mitch, but he doesn’t need anything to know what he has to do.
He brings me my daughter.
My eyes burn as if they’re on fire when I see the state she’s in.
“Daddy,” she cries, and I take her from Mitch. My leg nearly gives out.
Paxton jogs to me as I lay Deegan on the ground. He and I kneel beside her.
Paxton covers her hand, and I snap my teeth together when I see she doesn’t have nails on three of her fingers.
“I don’t have telekinesis here, Dad.”
Great revelation. I nod because I can’t speak.
Mitch's stare locks with mine. “I left him alive for one of you.”
From one murderer to another, I think.
Pax says, “Go ahead, Dad.”
Brad Thompson’s blood has soaked his jeans from belly button to mid-thigh.
His crotch is flat where his cock and balls should be. I'm fiercely glad in a way I haven't been in years.
I miss it.
His eyes roll in their sockets toward my direction. Though the pain must be excruciating, he says, “I almost got to dip the wick, Mr. Hart… unfortunately, you interrupted a fine titty grope…” He smiles through blood that defines his teeth like scarlet thread and spits it out.
I step forward.
“Don’t matter,” he says, the blood loss acute. “I’ll heal even this.”
I shake my head. “No, you won’t.”
“Yup,” Gramps says, coming forward with a cinder block that weighs thirty-plus pounds. “You’re as worthless as tits on a nun.”
He drops the block on Thompson’s head. Brains pop out of his skull like a broken egg. Spinal fluid, chunks of gray matter, and thick, bloody bits seep out from under the concrete block.
Gramps harrumphs. “Heal that, punk.”
Mitch watches it all, unblinking, while Pax heals his sister and Jade stands vigil.
The horde moves toward Parker, then they turn to Tiff.
Stalemate.
It really gets weird when I show up.
As a corpse.
*
Pax
After Gramps does the cement splat to that loser, Thompson, I notice my blanket call to the dead fam works.
They move through the huge doors, a raging fire behind them. Moans from the dead penetrate the noise inside the warehouse.
Fire simmers at the building’s edges, and I wipe sweat off my brow.
Smoke and flame shoot up high enough I can see it through the windows, which stand four meters high.
Parker scowls. His zombies move to flank Tiff. They each grab an arm.
“Pull her arms off,” he says casually, stepping beside her and not looking back.
“Aunt Tiff!” I shout.
Her wild eyes meet mine. Then she’s screaming as the zombies pull her in opposite directions.
I scoop deep and give a verbal command that is sure to satisfy: Brains this way.
They drop Tiff as if she has the plague and move toward Thompson.
Disaster averted.
Tiff jogs over, and they ignore her.
“Nice job, Pax.” She claps me on the back then grimaces.
Imagine it kinda hurt to use her arms right about then.
Uncle John strides over, burnt orange hair in all directions. “Tiff, dammit.”
She puts her fingertip on his lips. It’s all she can reach anyway. “Cool it, stud. I still have arms.”
He grabs her, hugging her so tight she squeaks. “Don’t do that again, Tiff. I can’t lose you.”
She looks up at him. I’m seeing intimacy in the middle of this crazy world with a lunatic Parker and my family as zombies.
It's the only normal thing around.
“Me either,” she says with a goofy smile. “Let's beat feet.”
I scan the windows. I can’t see outside because the fire surrounds the building.
We’ll never get out alive.
Then I see corpse Paxton and get an idea.
It's a good one.
It'll save us from Parker and the fire.
Story of life. You can't have anything good unless it comes with sacrifice.
I call my dead family to me to die.
True death.
They come.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Death 07 - For the Love of Death Page 16
