The Broken

by Sean Michael Frawley

forgetting something? A giant polar bear zombie just tried to kill us. Sorry if I was a bit distracted."

  "Yeah, and you did such a bang up job with that one, didn't you? Let's face it. If that idiot cop hadn't shot the bear, we'd all be dead." Tom picked up a frying pan and began searching the baseboards that surrounded the island of cabinets. "And another thing, they're not zombies. They're Broken."

  "Whatever." Who did Tom think he was? Link put aside his natural impulse to counter attack and focused on finding the camera. Of course, if the camera was busted, would it even matter if they found it? Though he still did not entirely comprehend the ramifications for losing it, he knew enough to realize he did not want the blood of the world on his hands. Somehow he needed to help set things right. Yet with each passing second, his hope of finding the camera began to fade.

  "You don't think the Skia we freed could have taken it, do you?" Link asked.

  "Freed?" Tom said.

  "Let escape. Whatever."

  "We?" Tom said.

  "Okay! I get it. The one I accidentally helped to escape. Happy? Is there any way it could have taken the camera? If it's just a shadow, that is."

  "Not if it was still a Skia. Without a body, they can't do much."

  "You call that not doing much?" Link indicated the disfigured bear carcass on the ground. "That was a Skia, right? If that thing was taking the day off, I'd hate to see them at work."

  "That was a Broken. There's a big difference. Didn't you listen to Nana at all?" Tom checked his watch and appeared to ponder something. Then he pulled out a cell phone and scanned the tiny display. He tapped the screen a few times then returned it to his pocket.

  "Is that Mrs. Kidacki?" Link said.

  "No."

  "Who was it?"

  "None of your business, butterfingers. Just keep looking. The camera is the important thing now."

  "What difference does it make if the bear got shot? Can it die again?" Link knew that Tom's patience was growing short, but he pressed on.

  "What?"

  "The bear. It was already dead. What difference does it make if it gets hit by a couple extra bullets? Dead is dead. Or is it...undead in this case?"

  "Think about it. And stop asking such stupid questions. What controls your body?" Though he was talking to Link, Tom continued to scour the floor.

  "Your brain?" Link glanced back at the dead bear. Gunfire had ripped so many holes in its skull that it was hard to tell the back of its head from the front. "Oh, I see."

  "So if their brain is destroyed, the Broken turns back into a Skia? But then..."

  "Do you always rely on other people to do your thinking for you? Just find the camera."

  Link knew he possessed shortcomings. He had been the first in line to point this out when Mrs. Kidacki had announced that he was one of the Chosen, but he couldn't help but feel that he shouldn't have to defend himself from someone who was supposed to be helping. "What's your deal, Watcher?" Link grabbed him by the arm and forced him to look into his eyes. "Like it or not, we're on the same team. So you think I'm an idiot. That doesn't change the fact that the world could end if we don't work together."

  "I told you two to stay put!" Officer Dansby roared. "What are you doing up here?" He stepped over the fallen bear as if it were nothing more than a discarded suitcase. Oddly enough, yelling at people appeared to have a rather calming effect on him. Once he reached Link and Tom, he tucked his notepad away and glared at them as he waited for a response. "Well?" he said when none came.

  "We're searching for Mrs. Kidacki, sir. We think something may have happened to her," Link said.

  "Your friend down there is hurt pretty bad. Why don't you go stay by his side? I'll do a sweep of the rest of the house and see what I can find."

  "Yes, sir," both boys said in unison, happy to be relieved of a duty they didn't want in the first place.

  On their way toward the stairs, Link saw sunlight stream in through the front door. The storm finally appeared to be subsiding.

  Just then, Mr. Hartkins burst in from the outside. He didn't even take the time to throw his keys into the ceramic dish. Seeing Link in the kitchen, he made a beeline straight for him. His breaths were short and shallow.

  "Are you okay, Lincoln? What happened? What's that horrible smell? Is Ayden..." His gaze dropped to the mutilated polar bear. "Is that...a bear?"

  In the middle of his rapid-fire questioning, two paramedics carried Panch up the stairs on a gurney. A third paramedic ran alongside of them, suspending a large packet of plasma in the air, which was attached to Panch through an IV drip in his arm. The small group wove their way through the wreckage and over the fallen bear with the agility of professional dancers. They squeezed past Link's dad, who had been forced back by the doorway, unable to move even to get out of their way.

  Only Panch's pale face was visible as they went by. They had covered the rest of his body in linen blankets to keep him warm. Link tried to get his attention, but Panch appeared to have lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  A fourth paramedic, who followed closely behind the others, approached Link's father. Her self-assured demeanor reminded Link of royalty. Her uniform was neatly pressed and looked as though it had never been worn. She formed a stark contrast to the young Officer Dansby, who once again appeared to be dangling on the precipice of a nervous breakdown now that he had stopped yelling at people.

  "Excuse me, sir," the woman said. "Are you the father?"

  Mr. Hartkins stared at the bloody boy being carried out of his son's bedroom on a gurney. Then he took one long look at the lady asking him questions. He looked over at Link. He looked down at the bear. He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He opened his mouth and said, "I forgot to put my keys away," and then he promptly passed out onto the hallway floor.

  42

  Just the Facts

  The group settled into the living room. They gave a wide berth to the people from animal control still cleaning up the mess. Link had explained the situation to both his father and Officer Dansy to the best of his abilities but had chosen to omit a few of the crazier aspects of the story such as the dog attack, the camera, and the fact that at any moment another Broken might appear at their doorstep, eager to devour them. Link's dad nodded as if he understood. At least, it was clear that he wanted to understand.

  "So what you're telling me," he said, "is that a polar bear escaped from the zoo, broke through the living room door, then tried to eat you and your friends? But our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Devereaux, saw Celia's rolling pin fly out of the kitchen window. So she called the police. And that was when Officer Dansby came into our house and rescued you all by shooting the bear before it broke down the door to your bedroom?"

  Dansby beamed with pride at the retelling of his courageous act of heroism.

  "Meanwhile, another neighbor, who also happens to be your grandmother," Mr. Hartkins said, pointing at Tom, "somehow sensed that there was danger and came to help. But now she is missing. Oh, and at some point that poor Pooch fellow was bitten. When did that happen again?"

  "Panch, Dad."

  "No. No, thank you I don't need any punch. You might want to ask our guests here, though. After such a harrowing experience, they're bound to be thirsty."

  "No, Dad. My friend's name is Panch."

  "I see. All the same, would anyone like a spot of tea? Juice? Some milk perhaps?"

  Officer Dansby shook his head. "No, thank you. But I do need to ask you a few questions. Did you know anything about the bear, sir? What I mean is, to your knowledge, had there been any bear sightings in the area?"

  "You mean in Pleasant Meadows?" Mr. Hartkins scratched his head. "To be completely honest, I didn't even know we had a zoo. How did nobody see this thing coming? Did anyone report it missing?"

  "Not that I am aware of. You said that you were working with clients all day, and you are..." Dansby thumbed through his notes, "a realtor. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, but I don't see how that-"

&
nbsp; "Just answer the questions, sir."

  "Yes. I am a realtor." Clearly struggling to process everything, Mr. Hartkins turned to Link and gave him a thumbs-up. "Great news about the Briddick house, though. Good thing, too. Looks like we'll need a bit of extra cash to replace a few things around here. I wonder if our home owner's policy covers us in case of a polar bear attack."

  "Sir, I need you to focus." Officer Dansby was losing what little patience he had left. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  "Terribly sorry, Officer. Won't happen again."

  Dansby seemed to sense that talking with Mr. Hartkins would get him nowhere. Instead of wasting any more time, he handed everyone a card. Though he faced Mr. Hartkins for his final speech, it felt as though he were talking to Celia. "Please call this number if you think of anything you haven't already told me. Doesn't matter the time. There's voice mail."

  "What about my grandmother?" Tom asked, unable to mask the concern in his voice. "Don't you need more of a description or something?"

  "Actually, you've given me all the information I need. A squad car is already patrolling the area. If she's in the neighborhood, we'll find her."

  Then with a surprising display of tenderness, he said, "Don't worry, son. She'll turn up. She'll be home safe and sound before you know it. Probably just a little disoriented. As a trained professional, I am ready to handle this sort of thing, but it can really affect the untrained. What am I saying? You've already seen me at work. You know how good I am, so don't you worry. We'll have