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

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  John opened the fridge. The interior was deep, probably two feet plus. Rust edged the inside, spreading out from the corners like a burnt-orange spider web. Jonesy pulled out the two shelves and sailed them like Frisbees over John's head.

  “Hey! Watch it,” John said, ducking.

  Jonesy laughed. “Hold your shorts, Terran. You'll live.”

  “Kick out the back, Jonesy,” I said.

  Jonesy did a super graceful dance move where he sorta hopped, then jumped, bending his knee and swinging it out at the same time. A ripple appeared where his foot had struck, the back buckling.

  Jonesy struck again, and the buckle widened from top to bottom

  “Come on Jonesy, I thought you were all-that-is-boy,” John antagonized.

  “I,” kick, thunk, whack, “am!” The whole back gave, splitting open to reveal the darkness on the other side.

  John whipped out his LED light and turned it on. A dim glow wove a murky path through the gloom.

  “Come on, let's go.”

  And in we went.

  There was only enough room to crawl. The dust turned all of us into sneezing, wheezing messes.

  After about eight feet, I said, “This isn't going to work.”

  John lit a match. “If there isn't enough oxygen, this match won't stay lit.”

  We all stared at the wavering flame. It continued to burn brightly, like a beacon.

  “Okay so what now?” Jonesy asked.

  John shook out the match. “There's enough oxygen this far back that I think this tunnel here might open up into a bigger space. Keep moving.”

  We crawled for about three more minutes, then the way narrowed. I twisted through the last bit and came out into a space large enough for me to stand. John emerged seconds later.

  John said, “Wow.”

  Everywhere around us were stacks of compacted cars. Several were precariously perched above our heads, acting like a ceiling. I wasn't worried. I figured they'd been there for a decade, and they probably weren't ever going to come down.

  “Come on, morons. Stop gawking and haul me out of here!”

  John and I turned to see Jonesy wedged in the part of the tunnel. John barked out a laugh that made Jonesy give him a death glare.

  “I like it,” John said.

  “We can't get out if he's in the way, smart one,” I said.

  John sighed. “You're right, but it was fun while it lasted.”

  We went over and each took an arm. I counted to three, and we jerked him out like an eel out of an oil can.

  Jonesy grabbed his knees and stood up, brushing the dirt off his jeans.

  “Thanks for the help, tards,” Jonesy delivered sarcastically.

  I smirked, looking around and whistled. “This is just the guy-cave we had in mind.”

  John took out another LED light and turned it on.

  “Where are you getting all the lights?” Jonesy asked. “And how did you know the combo for the lock?”

  John shrugged.

  “I read some documentary about pre-pulse security. They said sometimes commercial sites used the address numbers for security codes, or even the last four digits of the phone number, things that they could all remember.”

  “You mean, ding-a-ling?”

  “Yeah, Jonesy, actual non-pulse phones,” John said.

  “Why is this here?” I asked, indicating the big bubble room of forgotten cars.

  “It's like I was hoping,” John said. “It’s a pocket of space that was trapped, something they missed.”

  “The workers missed?” Jonesy asked.

  “Yeah. Just think of that job—all day long, smashing cars, trying to remember where you did it last. It'd be a bitch to keep track of.”

  “How would you know?” Jonesy asked.

  “I didn't. I guessed. When Caleb wanted to do the hideout here, I thought it might be a possibility.”

  “How do the girls get back here?” I asked.

  “Girls!”

  “Come off it, Jones. Jade, Sophie, and Tiff are included.”

  “There's Bry and maybe Alex, too.”

  “We can do it,” John said.

  “Does your mom still have that camping gear?” John asked Jonesy.

  “Yeah, we haven't camped much. Why?”

  “Light?” I guessed.

  “Yeah. I don't think we need heat, but if we can get a lantern, a bottle of propane, and some blankets, we could have a halfway decent place.”

  John looked at me.

  “What now?” I asked.

  Jonesy grinned. “I bet John is thinking we need some zombie action.”

  “What do we have to do?”

  Jonesy pointed at the tunnel. “We need to widen this some. No big deal.”

  Jonesy's ideas were always a big deal.

  “I agree with Jonesy, we just widen this tight spot,” John pointed to the squeeze that had plugged Jonesy like a cork in a bottle, “and we put them back.”

  I put them back.

  He turned to Jonesy. “What do you think? A one or two zombie job?”

  “Hey! Don't ask him. They're my zombies,” I said.

  John told us we'd also need some milk crates.

  “Where are we gonna get those?” Jonesy asked.

  I didn't have a clear picture of what a milk crate was.

  “Here,” John said. “It's a dump, after all.”

  “What are those gonna be for?” Jonesy asked.

  “Tables, chairs, storage, whatever,” John said.

  “Okay, let's get out of here before it gets too late,” I said.

  We crawled out of the tight tunnel the way we came in: slowly.

  Jonesy had the most trouble.

  He finally climbed out, arching his back.

  “We gotta remember, these old freezers are not safe. They self-lock.”

  “What do ya mean?” Jonesy asked.

  “We close the door from the inside, and we're screwed. Back in the day, kids would hide inside, accidentally close the door, and... well, ya know.”

  “I never heard of that,” I said.

  “Yeah, you wouldn't. We don't have bogus stuff like that now. Hell, they make up committees of people just to think up safety features,” John said. “Anyway, we gotta put a door stop in there so we don't lock ourselves in and get busy dying.”

  “Okay,” Jonesy said, “but we need to keep it open in a way people don't notice.”

  “We can just jam a piece of cardboard in there,” I said. “No problem. But we need to go. I gotta get home and take care of Onyx.”

  “Yeah, let's not get the parents all interested in what we're doing,” Jonesy said.

  “My parents don't give a crap as long as that four-point-oh GPA is still there,” John said.

  We walked out of the dump and through the gate.

  Jonesy stopped and told John, “You're kinda a putz not to let us know about the lock thing.”

  John grinned. “Yeah, but I wanted to see if you'd climb it. Even Caleb did.”

  Jonesy shook his head, smiling. “Anyway, remember that we have girls to protect now.”

  “Protect from what?” I asked.

  “I don't know... whatever.”

  “You get kinda squirrely when we get in tight spots,” I said.

  “Right, but I'll protect the chicks. You... you're on your own.”

  “Gee... thanks,” John said.

  ***

  Onyx met me at the door.

  His tail wagged like an ink spot in the middle of the doorway. I rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  The Boy has returned and is pleased because he is a Good Dog. I will lick the Boy's hand.

  Onyx licked my hand, leaving a wet and slimy streak. He looked so happy that I didn't have the heart to wipe off the goo in front of him.

  The Dog pressed his nose to the Boy's body and caught some interesting smells—real trash (tantalizing) and metal boxes and earth. Such good smells. He also smelled the other Boys. What had the Boy
done?

  “Good dog. Gooooood dog,” I said, scratching the sweet spot behind his ear.

  Wag, thunk, wag.

  Mom had her nose buried in her dedicated reader, and Dad was taking notes—with a pen!—while looking at his pulse-top. Onyx trotted past them and went to his food bowl.

  Where is the person-who-feeds him? The food is here all the time now. The Dog paused. He surveyed the pack. They did not seem to be interested in the food. This new thing was confusing. He would wait and see what the pack did.

  Ignoring the food in his bowl, Onyx walked over and lay down on one of Gran's blankets. Mom had an endless supply of those.

  “What were you up to all this time, pal?” Dad asked.

  Going to the dump, exploring it illegally, finding a dangerous boy-cave so we could hide from the authorities.

  I shrugged. “Just screwing around, exploring.”

  “Sounds like the heat may be abating for the interim, Caleb.”

  “Huh?”

  Mom translated, “I think what Dad's saying is that the government may no longer be interested in you.”

  Doubt it. “That's not what interim means,” I said. “That was a vocab word last year. It means temporary.”

  Dad nodded. “You're right, Caleb. I don't have a crystal ball. I don't know that they'll always not be interested. For now, we have a reprieve. But if they find out you're not a two-point, we're back to square one. A stay of execution.”

  Mom put her hand on his. “We agreed to take it one day at a time, Kyle.”

  “I agree, honey, but let's be prepared for the inevitable.”

  “They'll eventually find out,” I said.

  Mom nodded, and Dad said, “Yes.”

  Oh, well. “What's for dessert?”

  They laughed and Mom said, “Nothing stops the appetite.”

  Right.

  Mom told me there was chocolate pudding in the fridge. I went to the kitchen and dished out a bowl of the chocolaty goodness. I took my dessert into the living room.

  “So what's your plan for the weekend?” Mom asked.

  I swallowed a huge mouthful of pudding. “I'm going to hang with Jade tomorrow night. I guess not much Sunday. Oh! The Js and I are gonna explore—”

  “Going to,” Mom corrected.

  “Going to check out this cool, haunted house.”

  Mom did the fish thing, her mouth opening and closing. I had that effect on my parents sometimes.

  Dad stared at me for a second. “This is not keeping a low profile, Caleb.”

  “It was Jonesy's idea. And we’re not going to a cemetery.”

  Not really.

  “Well, that may be, but you're aware you can control ghosts. Haunting is another issue to contend with.”

  “Jonesy has some... interesting ideas,” Mom said, “but he doesn't seem to think things through.”

  Totally doesn't.

  “Just be careful, Caleb,” Dad said. “We trust you. Keep in mind how wrong things went at Scenic with Gran.”

  I wouldn't forget that. Licking the spoon clean, I walked over to the sink. I filled my bowl with gray water to let it soak until Mom did dishes.

  Onyx followed me up to my bedroom. I flopped on my bed and grabbed one of Mom's old books.

  I cracked open the book, feeling its hefty weight in my hands like a promise spoken, kept, and realized.

  CHAPTER 26

  I woke up with something pressing into my rib cage. I pushed it onto the floor where it landed with a clunking sound. I looked down, blurry-eyed, and saw that it was the book.

  I lay back, groaning, and flung my arm over my eyes. Onyx came over and pressed his wet nose to my face. He gave my cheek a single lick.

  Gross.

  The Boy seemed sad about something. The Dog restrained himself and gave the Boy a single lick after inhaling the fragrant Boy smell. He would wag his tail and the Boy would notice and tell him the Good Word.

  I didn't want to hurt Onyx's feelings so I patted his head and said, “That's a good dog, Onyx.”

  That got his tail wagging, beating loudly on the wood floor.

  I laughed. “Okay, boy, okay.” I thought, You're a good dog.

  The Boy had put the word-smells in his head, and it sounded like the Good Word. The Dog wagged his tail.

  If Onyx wagged any harder it would take his butt off.

  I swung my legs around and put my feet on the cold floor. Geez, maybe I needed a rug. Onyx stood, still wagging his tail. I searched the floor for something to wear. Looking around, I realized that being organized meant I couldn't find anything. Finally, I found one pair of clean socks in a drawer. I sighed, looking at the dirty clothes in the hamper. I sorted through the thing, silently thanking Mom for not getting me anything white anymore. Sorting colors was for chumps.

  I scooped a huge pile of dirty clothes into my arms. Onyx rushing ahead as I stumbled down the stairs, looking around the laundry to see where I was going.

  “What are you doing?” Mom asked. “Oh! Laundry? Miracles never cease. Don't forget to take Onyx out.”

  I glanced at Onyx patiently waiting by the back door. As if he’d let me forget….

  I went to the laundry room, stuffed the whole bundle into the machine and added some soap.

  Mom rounded the corner. “Did you remember how much soap to put in?”

  Busted.

  “Ah... I put in this much.” I held up my hand with my index finger and thumb about two inches apart.

  “No! You're going to wash the world, honey. Scoop some out.”

  I scooped until she was happy, then turned on the machine

  After that, I opened the back door for Onyx.

  I watched him run around the “potty area.” It was the lamest name in the world, but the lady from the animal shelter had said using the same words they used at the shelter would keep things consistent for Onyx. I think he would have taken a growler just about anywhere, being as it was his absolute favorite thing to do. As I thought this, he did the old hunch-back, laying a steamer on the gravel—a prize to be scooped up later, by me, of course.

  We went inside and I smelled pancakes. Dad was on his pulse-top, reading boring news or looking at stocks. I plopped down in my seat, whipping out my pulse to talk to Jade.

  Caleb: Hey, hotness.

  JLeC :Hi! Whatcha doin'?

  Caleb: Just sittin' here waiting for the deelish pancakes!

  JLeC: Jealous! Are they fruit pancakes?

  Caleb: no! They're regular.

  JLeC: What do you have against fruit? It's good for you!

  Caleb: That.

  JLeC: What? That it's good for you?

  Caleb: That.

  JLeC: Okay. What's the plan?

  Caleb: I want to show you the new place.

  JLeC: Are we being careful here?

  Caleb: Always.

  JLeC: Okay... what time?

  Caleb: Three o'clock. I'll pick you up.

  JLeC: Idk, do ya think it's good for you to come to the neighborhood?

  Caleb: Yeah. Are there more problems with your dad?

  JLeC: Not atm but he goes off in random rages. He's definitely not predictable.

  Caleb: Doesn't matter. I won't hide.

  JLeC: I know. That's why you're so special.

  Caleb: You're special too, ya know.

  JLeC: Thank you ☺ See ya later.

  Caleb: See ya.

  “Who's that?” Mom asked, putting a stack of pancakes down in front of me.

  “Jade.”

  “No more pulsing at the table,” Dad said. “What are you guys doing later this evening?”

  Third degree. “Ah...we're just going to walk around and stuff.”

  They looked at each other, parental radar detection system on line.

  Mom said, “You two are welcome to be here at the house.”

  “I know. We just want to walk around. It's warm now,” I said.

  Dad nodded. “The summer stretches before
one, shimmering in its ethereal beauty.”

  Mom and I stared at him.

  Dad shrugged. “Just waxing poetic.”

  “Well... don't, Dad.”

  Mom burst out laughing, batting her eyelashes.

  Dad smiled at her.

  Geez.

  I slipped Onyx a wad of pancake.

  The Boy handed the Dog some wonderful food stuff, full of life and not the dead food that he was accustomed to eating from the building-full-of-dogs. It was because he was a Good Dog. The Boy's word-smells filled his head, and the Dog was happy and wagged his tail.

  Onyx did a subtle wolf-down of the pancake. He was a great dog. Dad caught the whole food thing and gave me the look that said Mom should not find out. I nodded.

  After breakfast, I headed for the bathroom to complete the shower hassle. I had gotten used to being clean and didn't like the grimy feeling anymore. Not that I would admit that to the Js or anything. Dudes on hygiene... no.

  I stepped out of the shower, swished the towel over the mirror, and examined my face. Jade would be up close and personal. No zits—check. No unsightly man-hair on the face—check. But I did need a haircut.

  I got dressed then went downstairs and told Mom about the hair situation.

  “I'll give you a buzz, son,” Dad said.

  “Okay. Can you not make me look like a retarded nerd?”

  “Caleb—” Mom started.

  “That's an oxymoron, it's not technically a put-down,” I said cleverly, using yet another vocab word.

  Dad tried not to grin and failed.

  Mom frowned. “I loathe the whole retard talk. I thought we had moved past that.”

  “Apparently not!” Dad badly hid grin.

  “Okay, not funny! You goons do the male bonding thing.” Mom huffed out of the room.

  “Nice, Dad.”

  “Once in a while, I have a moment of clarity. I'll have to sweet talk her later.”

  The haircut took forever. Dad said he needed to taper it for styling. I just itched, and my feet got hot.

  Mom came back and surveyed the pile of hair growing on the floor. “What about the little hairs getting all over and inside your clothes?”