The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Dad leaned back in his chair. “Yes, we've never gotten to the bottom of that episode.”

  I flipped my fork back-and-forth. “I sorta got to the bottom of it. I have AFTD.”

  They stared at me as if I'd just sprouted a giant second head.

  I told them about the cemetery, the corpse, and the growing tide of problems with Carson and Brett. Those two had been itching to get something on me since grade school.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Caleb, let me recap this. You have caused a dead body to rise from its grave?”

  “Yes, Dad. That's what I just said.”

  Mom asked, “Is this what you were doing last night, running around with the Js?”

  “Well, yeah, but I didn't mean for it to go like it did.”

  “How did you mean for it to go?” Dad asked.

  The whole thing had started because Brett and Carson wouldn't get off my back about fainting. AFTD was the cherry on top of their cake. I'd been a moving target until the passing-out thing. John had defended me by telling them I had AFTD. I was unconscious, so he improvised. I should have just let them think whatever they wanted. Carson and Brett were morons.

  I said, “I thought if I proved I was AFTD, that it was an ability, they'd lay off.”

  “There were precursors to this episode?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, there was other stuff before, small stuff.”

  Dad's eyebrows shot up. “What kind of trouble, son?”

  Once I thought about it, I realized I'd had trouble with the “Understanding Insects” section, too. I had been getting images of speared wings. Gross!

  “The kinda trouble that other kids notice and that makes them think you're sick or retarded.”

  “Caleb Sebastian Hart! That is not appropriate.” Mom's hands were glued to her hips. I wasn't too concerned about being politically correct.

  “Just a second, Ali.” Dad seemed okay with it. “So you didn't mention these… fugues?”

  “I guess I should've told you, but everything was getting weird, and their voices were whispering all the time.”

  “Whose voices?”

  “The frogs.” But frogs weren't all I heard.

  “Ah, what were the frogs... saying, exactly?” Dad's eyes burned twin holes through me.

  “Well, they weren’t saying words really, but they feel things, miss things, they”—I swallowed hard— “they have memories of their life before they died.” It made me sad. I opened my eyes really wide. That helped.

  Mom gave me her “I'm worried about you” stare. I was worried, too.

  “These dead creatures are communicating with you?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, that's what AFTD is about, Dad. Before we started the dissecting, I would have a blackout, but it were short.” I thought about the insect dissections and shuddered.

  “Like bursts of movies playing in your head or what?” Dad asked.

  “It's like I am them.”

  Mom's hand covered her mouth.

  “And I can see what they did. When they were taken from the rivers and marshes, they felt”—I thought about the murky memories and their simple minds—“lost. One frog remembered being eaten by a snake.” I lowered my voice. “They screamed when we cut them, Dad. That's when things got really bad with Carson and Brett. They thought I was trying to suck up attention or something gay like that.”

  “Caleb... homosexual reference.”

  “Mom, come on! We don't use it that way.”

  “Ali, let's stay on task here.” Dad patted her hand then asked me, “So how long have you been experiencing these... episodes?”

  I thought about it. Easter was over, and I knew then. It was around Valentine's because we had that lame winter break that wasn’t long enough to do jack. “A couple of months.”

  “That's a long time for symptoms you chose not to tell us about, Caleb.”

  I felt a stab of guilt. I was used to being open with the Parental Unit, but the whole AFTD thing had a huge confusion factor.

  Mom leaned over and gave me a hug. I let myself be comforted by the good mom smell then pulled away and gave her a weak smile.

  She smiled back. “It'll be okay.”

  Dad said, “This doesn't have to be a death sentence, Caleb.”

  No pun intended. “You know that if they find out that I can corpse-raise I'll be rammed right into one of those spook jobs.” Goosebumps rose on my arms like boiling water. “You remember that other kid, Parker?”

  Mom nodded.

  “He tested as a five-point on the APs. That was big news.”

  “Jeffrey Parker,” Dad said. “It wasn't just AFTD. There were other classifications that he showed an aptitude for.” Dad raked a hand through his hair, making it stand in errant spikes. His needed cutting, too.

  I looked at him in surprise. I had thought AFTD was it for Parker, that he couldn't have other abilities. “And where is he now?” I asked softly.

  Dad looked me in the eye. “He works for the government.”

  Of course. The government was thrilled to make us all into little robots as early as possible. Instinctively, I knew I wouldn’t want any job they'd give me.

  “So what does this mean for him, Kyle?” Mom asked.

  Dad shrugged. “It means we keep it quiet for now. But the APs are quite soon. We only have a short amount of time to manufacture a contingency.”

  Mom huffed. “I told you that playing God was going to come back and bite us. Just because the potential for paranormal ability was discovered didn't mean that it gave our government the right to experiment on our children.”

  “It's water under the bridge, Ali. We signed Caleb up for kindergarten, and he was inoculated along with everyone else.”

  When the government saw proof of gene markers for paranormal abilities all mixed up there with cancer markers, they went insane. Suddenly, everyone wanted to know if they had the potential to read minds or some whacked crap like that.

  Memories of the microchip implantation were still felt fresh, the needle piercing flesh the same day we learned our ABCs. The needle had glinted as it swung in an arc, bound for my vulnerable neck. I shook the memory loose like the teeth I'd lost in that not too distant childhood.

  I looked at Dad. “So what's the plan? Do I have to be, like, scared here?”

  “I need to find out a little more about how they administer the test. I'm familiar with the science portion, as I was a part of the revision.”

  “English, Dad.” I felt my frown. “So you can, what, manipulate the results?” I asked.

  “No, I can't do anything as profound as that. But I can find something that may cause some dormancy,” he said rubbing his chin. “There's a drug I can acquire that will counteract the inoculation you were given ten years ago and your most recent booster. It won't last, but it may help you test weaker. However, this won't go away. It's here forever. You were born with this potential. And because of scientific advancement, it's a permanent manifestation. And to answer your question: yes, we should respond with extreme caution. The government uses certain 'loopholes' for nefarious purposes. We are American, Caleb. That means something. Our freedom is precious.” He furrowed his brow. “No one should be forced into a life-long position or job or be exploited. There is no liberty in that.”

  My palms began sweating just at the thought of losing my freedom. I sure as hell wasn't going to be some government slave! I rubbed my hands on my jeans.

  Mom turned to Dad. “Do you know what’s in the inoculation?”

  “No, but it's a cerebral stimulant, so a mild depressant should counteract its effects.” Dad rested his chin on his fist in his I'm-formulating-a-plan posture.

  “So you're gonna give me a drug, and I'm not going to be a smart scientist's kid?”

  Dad grinned.

  Mom didn't. “It's not funny, Caleb. We never heard what became of the Parker boy, but there have been mutterings.” She gave Dad a cautionary look.

  Dad shook his head. “Again, it means
that discretion is the greater part of valor here. Extreme discretion.”

  I wished I could have just been one of the people that talked to the dead, or better yet, saw ghosts. The government didn't care much about those guys.

  Dad wanted to see my abilities in a “controlled environment.”

  Didn't want a cemetery-repeat right now, thanks. I told mom she had narrowly escaped the Js for supper.

  She rolled her eyes. “Now this is why I had only one son... so I could have two more children later on.” She smiled, she'd always liked the Js.

  No League of Legends tonight, there was other stuff to discuss.

  The doorbell rang. Bright orange appeared like an obscure flame through the window, had to be John.

  “Come in!” I yelled.

  John lurched in with Jonesy blundering behind like usual.

  “Hi, Ali. Hi, Kyle!” Jonesy called.

  My parents smiled. John looked at the three of us, scoping reactions. I gave him the chillax expression and got up to lead the way upstairs. The stairs vibrated as if a herd of elephants jogged up them.

  John plopped into my desk chair, spinning around. “So what happened with your parents?”

  I shrugged. “It was cool.”

  As cool as it could be when you let someone in on your reanimation-skills.

  “My dad thinks that he can get some kind of cerebral downer or inhibitor for during the test, so I won't respond like a five-point.”

  Jonesy asked, “What about the rest of the test? Are you going to be all high and test stupid in everything else?”

  I shook my head. “Nah, my dad didn't think it would affect the other subjects.”

  John whipped out a crumpled mess of papers from his backpack and tried to straighten them.

  “What's that?” I wasn't excited about reading anything informative.

  “It's something I found on the Internet. It might give us some clues about what you can do.”

  I glanced at the first page.

  Affinity for the Dead or, AFTD, is not just a genetic marker but a new reality.

  Jeffrey Parker, an eighth grader, is the first to hit the radar with full-blown AFTD. In 2010, geneticist Kyle Hart and his scientific team mapped the human genome, giving us every genetic marker that we hold as humans. This invaluable information eventually led to a pharmaceutical breakthrough that has now unlocked those codes.

  Flashes of psychic ability have been witnessed for centuries but now that the key to unlock this door has been discovered, teenagers have begun manifesting different abilities that awaken during puberty.

  Parker is able to raise the dead from their graves. He claims that he “hears voices” that ask him for “different things.”

  John said, “I read the whole thing. It talks about all the different abilities we all may have.”

  “Whoa! Hold on,” Jonesy said. “I want something cool.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  His cheeks flamed. “Caleb, dude, no offense, but I don't want what you got.”

  John glared at Jonesy.

  “I'm tellin' the truth!” Jonesy slapped his knee. “What happened in the cemetery made me want to piss my pants. That dead guy... damn!”

  “What about after the test?” John asked.

  “I don't know,” I said. “I thought I'd wait and see.”

  “Not good, Caleb.” John said. “You know those butt-jabs Carson and Brett are thinking about ways to make your life miserable.”

  I had already thought of that. But I wanted to get through the testing before I tackled the terrible twins.

  “I heard Jade LeClerc saying something to Brett,” John said.

  I whipped my head in his direction. I did not want Jade near that ass-wipe.

  “Why was she talking to Brett Mason?” The girls usually walked on the far side of the hall to avoid that perv.

  “She told him to go to hell.”

  “What?” I yelled.

  “Chill out. I overheard them before sixth hour PE.”

  That would have been before PE. I’d noticed Jade didn't turn and say hi to me like usual.

  I clenched my hands into fists. “Was he doing something to her?” Just the thought of that butt-munch saying one thing to her made me want to hurt him.

  “Calm down,” John said. “I heard your name mentioned, then she told him where to go.”

  Jonesy gave a thumbs-up, “They saw me come around the corner, and she took off. Brett asked where all my queer-bait friends were.”

  He started pacing in tight circles around the room.

  Jonesy was kind of a violence lover. I could relate.

  “Did you let him have it?” Jonesy punched his other palm, making a satisfying thwack.

  John just looked at him. “Would you stop? You understand the bully laws, right?”

  Those finer details were lost on Jonesy. A huge grin overtook his face. I knew that look.

  “What?” John asked.

  “I'm thinkin' about a bit o' payback,” Jonesy said.

  Uh-oh. I knew what that meant. Jonesy had rigged payback schemes, some not so successful, for Brett and Carson in the past.

  You'd think they'd catch on.

  “Jonesy—” I started.

  He held up his hand.

  “Just listen. Brett and Carson are dumber than rocks, right? How about I have them try a cool experiment before the APs and get 'em all distracted from their plan to sabotage your life?”

  For Jonesy, that plan was bordering on brilliant. I turned my finger in a circular keep-talking motion.

  “How about the tube and Aqua Net trick?” he asked.

  We groaned. That had gone really bad last time.

  John scowled. “No way, Jonesy. You remember what happened when we tried it.”

  “Exactly! It's the perfect thing! It'll take one of them out and distract them around AP time. Then after testing, if the cerebral-whatever-it-is works, they can flap all they want.” Jonesy spread his hands wide. “If you're not popping the big AFTD guns, there's no proof.” Bow to Jonesy's invincible logic.

  Sometimes his logic bit us in the ass.

  I ran my hand through my hair, thinking furiously. It was only Monday, so we had almost a week to strategize. “Okay. Are you gonna steal your mom's hairspray?”

  “It's Aqua Net. There is no substitute,” he said, sounding mildly insulted. “We've got spiders entombed in the corners of my parents' bathroom from my mom using it forever. Pretty damn effective.”

  “Effective but disgusting,” I told him.

  Jonesy puffed out his chest. “My mom swears by the stuff. She never has to redo her hair.”

  His mom's hair was stiff. I could throw a pencil, and it would stick in there. Jonesy called his mom's bathroom time The Ritual. Aqua Net sure worked when we tried fun-with-fire. John's nose hairs has gotten singed.

  John obviously didn't like the idea. Of the three of us, John was the most cautious. Of course, he'd gotten his eyebrows burnt off. They’d taken about three months to grow back, and his parents were super pissed.

  “Come on, John,” Jonesy said, “Just restating the obvious here. Wouldn't it be cool to get those turds back and off our backs at the same time?”

  “Yeah, but if they really get hurt...”

  “They won't,” Jonesy said.

  I turned to Jonesy. “What if they tell us to stick it?”

  “I'll tell 'em the same stuff I told you. We already did it, and it's fun.”

  He gave me a sly wink because it had certainly not been fun: singed eyebrows. I could almost still taste the foul perfume even after a whole year.

  “Then, if they smell a trap, I'll say they're sissy-sucking-titty-babies.” Jonesy could handle it with his boatload-of-charm.

  John gave a satisfied nod. “That'll work.”

  The cemetery was the best place because Carson and Brett wouldn't want us to think they were scared after the raising-the-dead-guy episode. Jonesy said he'd talk to them the next day
. Meanwhile, Dad would get the cerebral-blocking drug, and I'd be set.

  I just needed to find out what was happening with Jade. Maybe I could start with a conversation. So original.

  CHAPTER 5

  John and I sat together in English. Miss Rodriguez was a first-year teacher so she wasn’t bored or raging at her students yet. Her back was to us, so I was sly-pulsing to John about Sunday. We had a satisfying view of Miss Rodriguez (pretty hot).

  She suddenly turned, burning holes into me.

  I jerked as if I'd been slapped. I had no idea what she'd said. I looked at John, and he was wide eyed.

  “Caleb Hart,” Miss Rodriguez said. My whole name. Not good. “What tense is this?” She pointed a dry eraser pen at the board.

  My cheeks grew hot, and I wanted to sink underneath my desk. I stared numbly at the sentence. My family has been making plans for a snowboarding trip.

  I glanced at Jade. She'd written PROGRESSIVE in block letters on the back of her notebook. I slid my eyes back to Miss Rodriguez, who was looking less hot every second.

  “Present perfect progressive, Miss Rodriguez.”

  She smiled brilliantly, her gaze wandering over the thirty of us.

  “It's nice someone is paying attention to the correct tense. Now remember class”—she turned back to the white board—“at this age, it is assumed that you speak correctly, now it's time to know the why. Grammar achieves this by teaching how our language supports speech.”

  My heartbeat slowed to a trot. That was close.

  I looked at Jade again, and she gave me a shy smile. I smiled back. She'd saved my ass. It was the first outward sign she liked me more than just a “hey” in the hall when we jostled through the crowd. Brett noticed our exchange and smirked. Jade glanced at him, and I watched her smile wash away.

  English ended, and we swarmed into the hall like bees, weaving to our lockers. PE was next period, and looking at my watch—a retro thing from my dad—I realized I had maybe four minutes to talk to Jade. I surveyed the long hallway, looking for her sweep of black hair. I'd once overheard her say she was part Cherokee.

  Score! I scoped the hair like a black flag in the crowd. Shiny, it spilled around her shoulders as she talked to Sophie. I waved.

  Sophie saw me and leaned forward, saying something to Jade. Jade turned, and my heart paused in my chest—her effect on me was that powerful. No guy wanted a girl to know that he was that enthralled, so I blanked my expression.