Badass and the Beast: 10

by Shrum, Kory M.

  “Let’s go find the kid,” I grumbled.

  The parents slept on the main floor, but the girl was upstairs at the end of the hallway. I wondered how the girl felt sleeping so far away from her parents as I opened the door and crept inside. Ally slipped in behind me and in the momentary light from the hallway, I could see the little girl’s bed tucked into the corner.

  A little fawn colored head popped up and began to growl at me. I lifted my hands up in front of me in mock surrender, but this didn’t help my cause.

  “Hush, Winston,” a small girl said from beneath a pile of blankets.

  “Ah, good, you’re awake,” I said and went to the edge of the bed. “I’m Jesse.”

  “I’m Emma,” she said.

  “How old are you Emma?” Ally asked.

  ‘9 and a half,’ Emma said. “Are you a death agent?”

  “Death replacement agent,” I said. “And yup, that’s me.”

  “Am I really going to die?”

  “Did your parents tell you that?” I asked. Because if her parents told her she was going to die, that was pretty morbid.

  “Mom and Dad won’t tell me anything,” she said. “She says you guys are just here to look after us today, but I heard them talking. Mommy was crying about it. She’s really scared I think.”

  “You seem pretty brave,” I told her.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty good at this.”

  “Really?”

  “This will be Jesse’s 38th replacement,” Ally said on my behalf. “And she’s never failed to save anyone.”

  The girl looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. “What can I say? I’m awesome.”

  She smiled and scratched Winston behind the ears.

  “Why is he called Winston?” I asked

  “Like Winston Churchill,” the girl said and grabbed the pug’s cheeks. “My dad says he’s got floppy cheeks like Winston.”

  To demonstrate, the girl pulled each of the fuzzy cheeks out, stretching them to an impressive distance.

  “Only my dad called them jow—jow—”

  “Jowls?” Ally asked.

  “Yeah,” the girl smiled. “He’s got big jowls.”

  Winston snorted as if he was offended by this assessment of his face.

  “Well it is very nice to meet you, Emma and Winston,” Ally said and tucked the girl in a little tighter. Then she gave Winston a scratch behind his ear.

  “You need to go to sleep now, OK?” I told her. “I’ll be right here.”

  “I’m nervous,” she said.

  “I know it is hard,” Ally said, rolling Winston over and scratching his belly. The pug went all soft on her and his left hind leg started twitching in time with her scratches. “But you need to be perfectly normal today, OK? It will make it easier for Jesse if you just do everything you usually do.”

  The girl dutifully closed her eyes.

  When we heard her breath slide in to a slow steady rhythm, we went to the bedroom wall and rested our weight against it.

  “How am I doing?” Ally asked.

  “Great,” I told her as the pug snored.

  “Now what?” Ally asked.

  “Now we wait.”

  I fell asleep. It’s a big no-no on the job, but it happened. I jerked awake at the sound of Winston barking. My heart hammered in my chest as I saw Winston drop down from the bed and then yak on the carpet.

  “Gee-zuz,” I said and pushed myself onto my feet. The room spun and I was light-headed. I thought I’d just stood up too quickly. Despite the room spinning, I made it to the bed to check on Emma.

  Something was wrong. Her breath was shallow and rapid. When I started to shake her, she didn’t respond. I was pretty sure she was unconscious.

  “Shit,” I said and feel her labored breath. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Winston threw up again.

  “Ally,” I said. Ally was still sleeping, her head hung to one side. “Ally wake up. I need your help.”

  Ally woke up but had trouble standing.

  “Shit, not you too,” I said.

  “What’s happening?” she asked. “I feel sick.”

  “Emma is sick too and the dog apparently.”

  “Carbon monoxide,” she said.

  I remember the long list of possible whole-family deaths from the FBRD manual. Carbon monoxide was one of them. Carbon monoxide is an odorless gas that causes thousands of deaths each year. It is the leading cause of poisoning death in the United States.

  “Shit,” I said. “Get up. We have to get everyone outside.”

  Ally managed to stand and pick up the heaving Winston. I grabbed Emma and stumbled downstairs with her toward the front door I entered hours before. My heart was pounding from the exertion and my head felt like it was splitting in half. I fell into the wall several times, and probably crushed Emma’s arm once or twice, but somehow the four of us, Winston included, made it outside. I placed the girl on the damp grass beside Ally. Ally sat down, trying to catch her breath.

  I pressed my hands to Emma’s chest and didn’t feel the tug of death. “Come on, come on.”

  “What’s happening?” Ally asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “She isn’t dying yet,” I said. Then I looked around and realized we were the only ones out here. “Where’s Cooper and Cindy?”

  “They’re probably inside,” she said.

  “Shit,” I said and felt like I’d already said it too many times tonight.

  “What are you doing?” she asked after I checked Emma once more to make sure I had time, then started back toward the house.

  “They’ll all die if I don’t,” I told her. “Call for help.”

  It was true. They couldn’t stay in the house. Unless Cindy and Cooper were touching the parents, they were dead. And even if they’d all passed out holding hands, the parents could still die if they weren’t moved to safety, away from the gas.

  I took several lungfuls of clean air then covered my face. I didn’t think it would help, but just breathing it in seemed like a stupider idea. After finding a bathroom and an office, I finally found the bedroom.

  “Help me,” Cindy said. She sat in the floor holding the mother in her lap. “I feel so weak.”

  “This is what you get for calling me short,” I said and bent down to help Cindy carry out the mother. We made it outside more easily than I had with Emma. Probably because the bedroom was more of a straight shot to the front yard. As soon as we laid the mother down beside Emma, who I checked again, I stood one last time.

  “What are you doing?” Cindy asked, the sleeping mother in her night shirt draped over her lap.

  “I’m going back for the dad,” I said.

  “You’ll never be able to carry him.”

  “Then come with me,” I said, but I’d asked too late. Cindy fell down dead on top of the woman, who had just jerked awake, coughing and gagging violently.

  “Oh no,” Ally said. “What—”

  I reached over and grabbed Cindy’s phone, then handed it to Ally. “Make sure they know where we are and that we’ll need oxygen.”

  I was about to go back inside and help Cooper when I felt Emma’s death—the pull reached up from her little body and grabbed ahold of me, yanking me down into its current.

  I placed a hand on Emma’s chest.

  I needed to give Ally more instructions. Someone needed to go inside for the dad and Cooper, but none of this came out.

  I was falling down, down, down into the damp earth. The last thing I saw was Emma’s eyes opening, her mouth forming the O of an impending cough. The last thing I felt was a little wet pug nose pressing against my skin.

  Then the whole world went black.

  I woke up in the hospital with one of those little masks over my face to help me breathe. The bright lights were horrible. I managed to sit up without vomiting on myself, so yay for small successes.

  Ally was there by t
he bed.

  “Oh thank God,” she exclaimed, as if she’d just won the lottery. Her hand clutched her chest as if she was afraid her heart might fall out of it. “I thought you were dead.”

  I snorted. “I was dead.”

  “But seeing it,” she said. “Jesus, I didn’t realize you’d be so—dead.”

  “How is Emma?”

  “She’s fine. They’re all fine. They were treated with oxygen.”

  “How did the dad get out?” I asked.

  “Cooper got him out to the backyard.”

  “Cooper seems like the real team player,” I grumbled. “How about the pug?”

  “They treated him with oxygen too. He’ll be just fine.”

  It was my turn to give an audible exhale of relief. “Good. I’d be super sad if anything happened to those jowls.”

  “I’ll get better,” she blurted then. “I promise I’ll get better.”

  “Better at what?” I asked.

  “At everything. Now that I know what to expect, next time I won’t make any mistakes. I won’t fall asleep. I won’t forget to call people or provide the right information or—”

  “Whoa,” I said, surprised. “Calm down.”

  “I just wasn’t sure what to expect, so,” she tried to go on.

  I laughed. “You’ll never know what to do. There will never be a way to completely prepare for a replacement. That’s just the nature of the job. Now that you know how crazy it is, are you sure you want to do it?”

  She looked down at her hands in her lap, and I realized maybe I’d asked too much of her.

  “You really don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.

  The air in my chest left me and I considered putting the oxygen mask back on. “No.”

  “I’ve heard that’s normal for people like you,” she said. “Once you die, you sort of forget about everything from before.”

  It was true. Most of my life before my first death was long forgotten. I remembered some things—not the best things, and more than enough, if you asked me—but most of it was gone.

  “We were friends,” she said. “We were friends for a long time.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a handful of small squares—photographs on glossy paper. In the very first picture, my face was pressed against Ally’s cheek. We were maybe twelve or thirteen and giving each other bunny ears. I flipped to the next photo and we were a little older. Ally was in the driver’s seat of a red Buick, a mom car for sure, and I was in the passenger seat, obviously holding the camera. The selfie angle was easily identifiable. I was making a dumb face while Ally laughed beside me.

  “We were friends,” I repeated.

  “I can tell you all about your mom and where we went to school, and I have references,” she said. “In case you think I’m just some creeper who photoshopped this and is stalking you.”

  I snorted. “You don’t seem like the type.”

  “I want this job,” she said. “I know you don’t know me—anymore—but I’m still your friend. And I want to help you.”

  “So you aren’t freaked out by what I do?” I asked. I couldn’t bring myself to give her back the photos just yet.

  She laughed. “It’s weird, I won’t lie. But I can handle it. I’ll figure it out. I’m just happy you’re alive.”

  What else could I say? “OK, it’s all good then. I’ll tell Brinkley.”

  Someone knocked on the door and I looked up to find three smiling faces.

  “Come on in,” Ally said. “You guys look great.”

  The mom and dad still had dark circles under their eyes, but Emma looked great. Maybe Ally was just being nice.

  “You did it!” Emma cried and skipped to the side of my bed giggling. I awkwardly returned her hug while her mother reprimanded her.

  “Come on, Emma,” her mother said. “Give her room to breathe.”

  “How’s Winston?” I asked.

  “He’s good. The veterinarian gave him oxygen just like the doctors gave us,” Emma said.

  “They won’t let us have him or any of the other pugs until we fix the water heater,” the father said.

  “Is that what caused the CO leak?” Ally asked. I caught myself staring at her, trying to remember her from before. A sadness hardened my chest when I realized I couldn’t.

  “The water heater wasn’t properly ventilated,” the dad confirmed.

  “I wish they’d give Winston back,” Emma whined.

  “Who has him?” I asked. Thoughts of the high-kill shelter raced through my head.

  “The pug rescue took him back,” the mother said.

  “Winston is a foster dog?” Ally said with quite a bit of enthusiasm. When I gave her a puzzled look, she added. “So he is available for adoption?”

  The mother smiled. “Yes. We love to foster the dogs, but we sure hope Winston will find his forever home.”

  Emma didn’t look like she wanted that at all.

  “Emma,” I said. “I want to ask you for a big favor.”

  “Sure,” Emma said. “You saved my life.”

  Ally laughed at the kid’s gusto.

  “Are you sure? It’s a pretty big favor,” I said.

  She placed a hand on her heart. “I promise.”

  I took a deep breath. “Can I have Winston?”

  For just an instant, her face crumpled. Then her dad squeezed her shoulder. “Remember what I said?”

  Emma nodded. “Sometimes we’ve got to let people go, especially if we love them because we want them to be happy. They aren’t meant to be with us forever.”

  When she said this, I couldn’t help but think of Rachel.

  I fed Winston a celebratory potato chip. We were celebrating a couple of things. First of all, that he was officially mine. After a few weeks of interviews, house visits and talks, the Metro pug rescue agreed to give Winston over to me permanently. I had the signed papers to prove it.

  And Winston seemed pretty happy about our new arrangement. Or maybe it was just the potato chips.

  We were also celebrating the fact that I’d finally unpacked the last box from my apartment and was officially settled into my new house.

  As if Winston and I needed any excuse to share a bowl of chips.

  Ally came through the front door and called out to announce her arrival. I heard her keys hit the table by the front door before she appeared in the living room.

  “You two look cozy,” she said and handed me a stack of mail before plucking a chip from the bowl. “And I see the last of the furniture has arrived. It looks good in here.”

  “You’ve got good taste,” I said and she did a little bow for show.

  Winston pawed at my hand and I gave him another chip. I caught Ally’s glare and knew she wanted to reprimand me for feeding him junk. Instead she only smiled.

  “I suppose he deserves to be spoiled a little,” she said.

  “His barking did wake us up and save our lives,” I said. I don’t point out that I would’ve survived anyway, but I would’ve also been all alone again. I wasn’t ready for that.

  I pinched Winston’s jowls and shook them. “Who says you have to be a big beefy badass in order to save the day?”

  Ally laughed at us.

  “What?”

  “I think you made a good choice,” she said.

  “With the house?”

  “And with Mr. Churchill here. You guys are a lot alike.”

  “Are you saying I have jowls?” I asked.

  “No, but you share many other amiable traits. You’re both a lot of gusto in a little space. You’re both protective.”

  We both have mysterious pasts, I thought. Neither Winston nor I knew where we came from. Well, maybe he knew but he wasn’t telling anyone, and that was OK. Because we had each other now—me, Ally, and Winston.

  I didn’t know how long now would last. Maybe I’d have to let them go someday, like I had to let Rachel go. I’d worry about that later.r />
  For now, life was good.

  About the Contributors

  Mikel Andrews

  “Follow the Fox”

  Born in St. Cloud, Minnesota, and raised in the tiny town of Annandale, Mikel quickly learned that if he wanted to experience real adventure he would have to create it. Always striving to create the most unique and refreshing tales, he sailed through high school and went on to attend St. Cloud State University, majoring in Creative Writing and minoring in Journalism. Working at a video store and writing for the campus newspaper got Mikel through college. And plenty of retail, serving, and ice-cream making has carried him the rest of the way, giving him the time to write.

  His specialties include supernatural, suspense/mystery, fantasy, humorous, and young adult writing. His favorite writing style is 'faux memoir.' He also enjoys a good pizza. Mikel has recently returned to civilization after a long year and a half on the North Shore; a beautiful—and inspirational—exile. With new ideas and a streamlined style, Mikel Andrews will be a name of which you'll be seeing more often.

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  Shelly M. Burrows

  “Dark Waters”

  Shelly M. Burrows is the co-author of Blood Moon (Dark Moon Series #1). Her partner in crime and best friend is Michael S. Stewart.

  She is mother to an amazing young man, whom she affectionately calls Bug. She was born in Saginaw, Michigan and spent her formative years in Youngstown, Ohio. Shelly graduated from Chaney High School and went on to receive her Bachelor's Degree in Criminal Justice Administration from the University of Phoenix. She currently resides in North Carolina, though she'll always be an Ohioan at heart. She has a love of books, and enjoys reading crime dramas, mysteries, and of course romance. Her goal is to one day have her own in-home library.

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  Jasie Gale

  “Head Under Water”

  Jasie Gale is allergic to the internet. She doesn’t tweet, she rarely facebooks, and she hasn’t blogged in forever. In fact, it’s caused friends to suspect her demise on more than one occasion. She smokes too many cigarettes, drinks too much whiskey, and eats too much red meat. She has unusually tiny feet, which is good, because she often finds them in her mouth.