Death Series 08 - Death Blinks

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  The dismantled bot drops like a sack of discarded tools.

  “Damn, that is fine.” Jonesy chuckles.

  I fight tears as I cover my face with my hands.

  “Sorry, pumpkin, but those pesky bots bring their friends, and we could have a challenging situation on our hands.” Gramps awkwardly pats my back.

  Challenging situation. My fingers split, and I look between them.

  Sophie and Jonesy are bickering quietly. Dad, Mom, Aunt Tiff, and Uncle John seem to be scheming by a copse of trees.

  Clyde and Mitchell stand together, their backs to me and, I instantly understand they're on guard.

  I don't see Bry or Lewis. I frown. What happened to them? I redirect my attention to the now-silent bot.

  The body parts gleam dimly in this world's late afternoon.

  We got lucky on the blinked location. There is a stand of sparse woodland between us and what appears to be a main road.

  “Need a good cry, Deedie?” Gramps asks.

  I scowl at him.

  He chuckles. “Is this a bad time, like girl time?” Gramps is trying for sensitive and coming off lame.

  Not again. “Gramps!” I huff, jerking to my feet.

  “That's better.” He gives me a light thump on my head.

  Maybe my period is going to start? Seems like every guy on whatever planet we go to needs to get a two-by-four between the eyes.

  I dust off my pants and glare at Gramps. At least the tears are held at bay, and I don't want to puke anymore.

  He tosses his calloused palms up in the air. “Listen, Deedie, we needed you to take care of the bot, and I was closest. We can't have it doing an Invasion of the Body Snatchers call-out.” His dark eyebrows, now peppered with gray, shoot up.

  Oh that's reasonable. Reference cinema as an analogy for this creepy-ass world.

  I grunt, scanning the environment for my brother. Where the hell is Pax?

  Right here.

  I turn at the sound of his voice inside my skull, and he stands about two meters away.

  My vision blurs, and he strides to me. “Paxton,” I cry out in relief.

  My brother wraps me in his arms. “I didn't know what was happening; I was so scared,” I whisper against his black T-shirt.

  Pax leans back, pushing a single strand of hair off my forehead as he cups the back of my head. His slate-gray-blue eyes are soft when they look at me. “Nah. Like I'd ever let anything happen to you, Dee.” He swipes my tears away with his thumbs and jerks his eyebrows up. “Did you feel my cool blink?”

  I nod, suppressing an eye roll. “How'd you blink me remote?”

  Pax shakes his head. His longish hair swings in his eyes, and he flips it back. “Don't know. Felt you. Wanted the group together. Or some part of my subconscious was working toward it.” He locks his fingers together then lets them drop. His gaze finds Mitchell.

  He's already watching us with narrow eyes, while Uncle Clyde continues to restlessly survey the perimeter.

  I study Pax’s and Mitchell's expressions. Why can't my brother and my hot zombie get along?

  Probably because my brother knows I think my zombie is hot.

  I sigh. “Bot world?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

  Pax lifts a shoulder. “You zapped Bot Face back there.” He yanks a thumb at the bot pile behind us.

  I cast my eyes at my ruined All Stars as I shift my weight. “Yeah.”

  “Hey,” Pax props my chin up with a finger. “Fuck the bots. They're not even alive.”

  “I love it,” Jonesy says, walking up to us. “What's so cool is there's just a bot head, flying around somewhere in parts unknown.” He snorts, making a twirling motion with his finger. “It's beyond cool, and if you two morose Harts can't see the humor, God help ya.”

  Gramps grunts.

  Pax and me give Gramps the look, and his grin just gets broader.

  “It's not that they can't see the humor. It's that everyone in our world is having ten kinds of cows because there was illegal dead people.” Sophie taps her foot. She's wearing the dumbest footwear on any planet.

  I don't know if I can handle all my parents’ friends in one spot.

  Mitchell and Uncle Clyde walk over. I sense Mitchell is at one hundred percent.

  Mitchell places a possessive hand on my nape. Pax glares at the gesture, but Mitchell doesn't take his hand away.

  “ʼKay Dee. Time to put lover-boy back to rest. Home world. Home dirt.”

  Mitchell shakes his head. “Nope. Not leaving Deegan.”

  Paxton steps closer.

  Lovely. I'm the meat in the testosterone sandwich.

  “I got this, Mitch.” Pax's lips twist.

  “You got lucky, Paxton. You managed to blink Deegan out of that Reflective world and then blink us all back to my world.” Mitchell looks around them and at the vague outline of a town that looks suspiciously like the Kent of our hometown. “But this is not the place where I died. This is another time. A future I was never a part of.”

  Pax crosses his arms, so close to me that I feel the heat of his body. His anger.

  “Not my problem.” Pax's eyes flick to mine. “Deegan, no offense. Dee”—his gaze sweeps back to Mitchell's—“doesn't have great control. When Brad Thompson pulled his moves—hell when she felt endangered, Dee put out the call. Could've been any handy corpse who responded. She's a four-point.”

  “I don't know what that means. Points? Whatever”—Mitchell waves his hand in Pax's face, and I know the motion is like the red blanket in front of the bull—“the point is, Pax…” He pauses, those blue eyes like chips of ice that nail my brother. “She called me—it could have been anyone, like ya said. But it wasn't. And now I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere until Deegan is safe.”

  “I can make you go to rest,” Pax says in a low voice full of promise.

  Pax is AftD in this world. I put my hand on his arm. The skin feels like stone-covered flesh. “No, Pax.”

  Dad and Mom walk up. “What's going on?” Dad asks, looking at the three of us.

  “Deedie's got a crush on Mitch here, and Pax has taken exception to it.” Gramps jerks up his trousers and smooths a palm over his salt-and-pepper flat top.

  I close my eyes. Outed by my great-grandpa. Is there a rock I can crawl under?

  “We don't have time for this,” Mom says.

  Time for what? My crush? This planet? Talking? Gah! Then the impossible happens.

  My period starts—in the middle of bot-world chaos and in front of my zombie I’m crushing on.

  I burst into tears, and every man moves away like I announced I have leprosy.

  Mom glares at everyone and moves in to hug me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Paxton

  Dee, what's going on?

  My period just started.

  What? Like right now?

  Yeah.

  Holy crow! Timing is dumb.

  Yeah.

  Okay, we'll figure this out.

  Mom is hugging Dee. She latches on to her arm, and her face changes as she reads what's happening. “Oh Jesus, Deegan.”

  If my mom is using the guy on the cross's name, things have gone to shit.

  “What's the trouble?” Gramps asks.

  Dee cries harder.

  Mitch tries to touch her, and she jerks away. I like that part. Not gonna lie. Prick.

  He stares daggers at me. Old Mitch knows I've got the lowdown on what's bugging Dee, and he's in the dark.

  Special sauce, that. “Dee's got her cycle, and we're gonna have to figure that out,” I announce calmly.

  “Pax!” she screams at me.

  Mitchell's face puckers. He looks at Dee.

  Her face couldn't be more red.

  Mom says, “Paxton Sebastian Hart, you could have handled that a lot better.”

  I shrug. It's 2049. Guys sure as shit know that girls bleed once a month—and walk around doing it. Amazing.

  And not so many women in my h
ome world. It's not a bad thing—having a cycle.

  “Way to go, ya tool,” Mitch says.

  I whirl toward Dee's zombie. “Listen, Mitch. It's not a damn secret. She's a girl. We didn't plan to jump. It's not 2010 anymore, where no one talked about shit.”

  Dee sits on her butt and crosses her legs.

  “You're a dick,” Sophie says as she walks by and punches me in the arm for emphasis.

  What in the fuck is the hang up?

  Dad glowers at me. “She might just be your little sister, Pax, but she counts on you to have her back.”

  How do I not have her back? I mean—fuck! We have to get Dee corks or something so she doesn't bleed out. Practicality, guys.

  I stomp toward where I know the medical clinic is. They'll have menstrual cleansers there. Let's face it—no matter what world we're on, chicks bleed. If they're lucky enough.

  Holy fuck. An epiphany forms. I whirl, searching for the one face I want to see.

  Tiff faces me, and I don't have telepathy, but I can read her expression, despite her tears.

  “Pax,” she breathes.

  I know. My heartbeat climbs into my throat, and I know. “You're on the rag?” I ask hopefully, my eyes jumping around her features.

  Then Uncle John punches me, and I go down hard.

  “Good job,” Mitch says in the background.

  Dick.

  “No!” Tiff bellows, throwing herself beside me where I lay flat on my back.

  I blink. And no, it's not changing worlds, guys. Stars wink on and off in my vision.

  Terran's wild hair stands up in auburn tufts, and his pale-blue eyes are hard flints of angry sky as they gaze down at me.

  “Fertile,” I croak through a rapidly swelling mouth.

  Uncle John fists my thin T-shirt and tries to jerk me up.

  Fuck this.

  I toss him a few meters behind me, my Body strength doing all the work. I hear his crash landing and smirk.

  I concentrate on mending the wound on my face, remembering I'm a three-point Organic here—or healer. Whatever name they use in bot world.

  My lip stops throbbing. Blood discontinues flowing. I sit up, and Tiff's mottled greenish-brown eyes hold mine.

  “You did this,” she says, crying and laughing at the same time.

  I lift a shoulder. “Didn't mean to, just blinked.”

  Aunt Tiff throws herself at me, and I catch her in my arms. Her rapid heartbeat flutters against me like a hummingbird’s wings.

  “I think I'm in love with you.”

  I pat her awkwardly. Gawd.

  “What in the blue fuck is going on?” Gramps says in a rough voice.

  Tiff leans away, swiping at her tears.

  “Tell me why my best friend attacked my son and everyone is so interested in girls having periods?” Dad's eyebrows rise, his steady brown eyes pegging the group.

  Sophie raises a hand with an old-fashioned tampon. “I have supplies.”

  How is that?

  She whips out a sparkly violet purse with small hearts running rampant. It's attached to a belt loop on her denims. At her feet is a large suitcase-type orange purse.

  Seriously?

  Mom studies the group with a frown. “Who is having a menstrual cycle?”

  Dee crosses her arms, glaring at me.

  Sorry, Dee.

  Screw you, bro.

  I wince.

  Sophie, Mom, and Tiff raise their hands.

  No awkwardness. None. At. All.

  Uncle John walks over stiffly, giving me a glare.

  Whatever.

  He sinks to his haunches beside Tiff and strokes a gentle finger along her face. “Does this mean?”

  She nods, more tears falling over the dried tracks of the last.

  I stand, brushing all the forest debris off my denims.

  I go flying in the next moment and land on my ass again. My teeth click together, and I bite my tongue half-off.

  “No, Mitchell.”

  I crack an eyelid open, and Deegan's zombie is bearing down on me.

  We're just gonna have to go, I guess.

  I leap up just as his big zombie ass barrels into me. Fuck, but he's strong.

  We crash into a nearby tree trunk, and it snaps, throwing us into the pile of limbs and leaves as it falls behind us.

  Something invisible tears us apart.

  It's hilarious, too. Mitch is swinging at the air, trying to get to me.

  “There's some things about this world to commend,” John comments in a dry voice.

  I follow the direction of his gaze, and Sophie's arms are flat out like she's ready for super hero cape land, face in hard lines of concentration as her aqua eyes slit on us. “If you bozos are done with the male testosterone fest, I'll let you down.”

  I can't help it; I laugh. Sophie is telekinetic here. Unbelievable.

  Sophie drops me on my ass—from about twelve feet. “Argh!” I scream like an abused pirate, my hands cradling my ass. “You broke my butt bones, ya witch!”

  Dee is suddenly there.

  I scowl up at her. “I'm sorry,” I grit between my teeth.

  Dee grins. “You look pretty silly holding your butt cheeks, bro.”

  Probably. “I am, Dee. Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings.”

  She nods, then her face bleeds to red again. “It's just. I've never had a period before. And—gah.”

  Oh.

  Yeah, she answers mentally.

  I grab an amputated tree limb and jerk myself upright, grimacing when the torn ends stab me.

  My ass is killing me.

  I concentrate on healing my butt, which, yeah, was fractured in the drop. I squint at Sophie.

  She smirks. “Took care of your dumb ass.”

  Mom scowls at her. “You didn't have to be so rough.”

  Sophie snorts. “You were always too soft on the kids, Jade.”

  Dad puts an arm around Mom's shoulders. “Son.”

  I nod. “I gotcha. But I know what's what. If we can avoid Thompson long enough…” I leave the rest unsaid.

  So much doesn't need to be spoken aloud.

  Everybody on my planet knows that the Terrans can't have kids.

  Jonesy fist-pumps in the background, jerking his eyebrows up and down.

  Uncle Clyde pipes in. “This is a most unseemly conversation. In my day—”

  “Amen,” Gramps says without encouragement, a permanent scowl affixed to his face.

  Right. I throw up my hand. “Well, guys, pusleflash—those days are over. We have hardly any fertility. I blink us to bot world, and all the females of the group have a period.”

  I look at Sophie. “Normal for you?”

  She blushes. I'm just stepping in all kinds of shit. “I've been carrying that same tampon for twenty years,” she confesses in a soft voice.

  “What?” Tiff asks, surprise written all over her.

  Sophie lifts her chin defiantly. “I hoped. I had no man, girlfriend. Just me. And how old are we now?” She throws her palms up then slaps her thighs to punctuate her point.

  Old, I think, but I'm not stupid enough to say.

  Deegan carves a scathing look at me, and I just jerk my shoulders up.

  I won't say anything.

  Mitch strides over, and Dee puts a hand on his arm.

  I watch his face soften on her.

  Better not put your joystick in my sister. I shudder. Disgusting thought.

  “So what we've got here are a bunch of females from our world who can't have kids. But here—they can?” Gramps asks, getting to the crux of the thing.

  “Looks like,” I say, spitting out the remaining blood from Uncle John's love tap and the subsequent zombie toss.

  “Sorry, Pax,” John says, spreading his palms away from his lean body, face flaming tomato red.

  “It's okay,” I mumble.

  Tiff claps her hands. “This is fantastic, John,” her eyes sparkle like green lamps of happiness.

  “I know, spit
fire.” Uncle John draws her in close against him, stroking her hair.

  It's Dee that doles out the bad news. Genius IQ. Sometimes, it sucks ass to be brilliant. That level of self-awareness would blow. Glad I'm just bright.

  “I think we would have to… uh…” She bites her lower lip. “Engage in intercourse on this world, for it to be effective.”

  Dad blanches.

  I scowl. At Mitch.

  Dee's zombie raises a hand. “Dead guys. I'm dead. Stop looking at me like you need to kill me again.”

  “I do not think your status of alive or dead is relevant, young man.” Uncle Clyde turns the flaps of his suit jacket away as he places his hands on his hips, regarding Mitch.

  No way. “Don't you touch Dee,” I say.

  “Pax!” she yells at me. “Don't assume stuff.”

  I look at Mitch's face and see what's there. What I knew would be there. “I'll assume as much as I want.”

  “She's not of age, man,” Mitch argues reasonably, then looks at Gramps and Dad. Finally, he narrows his sights on me. “Deegan just turned seventeen.” He flicks a glance to Dee, and she opens her mouth. “No, Deegan,” Mitch says in a low voice. “You're still underage.”

  Mom blushes. “I don't want Deegan with a zombie.” She shivers.

  Dad begins to move toward Mitch.

  “But, she's not underage.” Mom's voice rings with conviction, and Dad turns.

  “I will kill any guy who touches Deegan.”

  That's so realistic, Dad. I roll my eyes.

  Mitch crosses his arms, glaring at all the men.

  A harsh laugh rockets out of Gramps. “Great sentiment, kid. But the reality is: Deegan can have sex with whoever she wants.”

  Dee and I groan.

  Gramps. There is a thing as too much honesty.

  “I'm not having sex with anyone! I'm having my period!”

  “Thanks for the information, Deegan,” a voice says from a safe distance.

  I know that voice.

  I turn slowly, and my breath oozes out of me.

  The Brad Thompson of our world smiles. But his eyes aren't on me, Mitch, Dad, Gramps, Jonesy, Uncle John, or even Clyde.

  No.

  His eyes are all for the females of the group. The two I care about most in this world are included in his rapt attention.

  “Don't,” Thompson's eyes move toward my dad.

  Dad's probably gearing up for another torch session.