by Tonia Brown
“You mean who she credited?”
Jonah snorted. “I mean who she blamed. It was all your stupid idea, but she seemed to think it was my fault. Why was that? You were always the mastermind behind the stunts, but I always got blamed.”
“No way, man. She knew I was… what was it she used to call me?”
“’Impulsive’.” Jonah had to smile at the very word he had used to describe his brotherly love for Dale just a few hours ago. “She said you were too impulsive to think of something so clever.”
“See?” Dale pitched a handful of mud at Jonah. “How can I be such a mastermind if I’m so impulsive?”
“Trust me. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Jonah tried to wipe the thrown wad of mud from his shirt, then decided it didn’t matter. He was caked in mud; one more handful wasn’t going to make things worse. “Get back to work. And be quiet. I don’t feel like spending what little night I have left in jail.”
“Don’t have to,” Dale announced as he pulled his latest treasure free from its muddy confines. “Bingo.” He held his thumb aloft.
“Good. Let’s get out of here before that damned dog makes another appearance.”
They returned to the hotel—both caked with mud, and Jonah exhausted. After taking turns at the shower, they spent another hour trying to figure out how to patch up Dale’s hand so it wasn’t quite so obvious that he’d lost his thumb. In the end, they went for a full gauze wrap, with the thumb lying against his palm as if bound in place after a sprain. It looked believable, but more importantly, it looked like he still had a thumb. Dale took the time to concoct a ridiculous story about how he’d hurt himself.
“If Candy asks,” Dale said. “I’m gonna tell her I slipped on the wet bathroom tiles after hearing you cry out like a little baby because you saw a spider.” The zombie grinned wide, a sure sign the dead man was trying his best to bait Jonah for an argument.
But Jonah didn’t care. He was just that worn out. Crawling into the bed, he said, “Okay.”
The wind sucked from his sails, Dale huffed in scorn. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”
“Tell her whatever you want.” Jonah made himself comfortable between the cool sheets. It never ceased to amaze him how well he slept in hotel beds. He supposed it was exactly what heaven felt like—a cozy but strange bed.
“Whatever I want?”
“Yes. Just leave me alone. I need to sleep.”
“I’m gonna tell her all about how I had to come out and kill the spider one-handed because I sprained my thumb and all.”
“Fine.” Jonah clicked off his lamp and motioned for Dale to turn off the other ones.
“And I’ll tell her that you cried.” Dale clicked off the lights one by one. “You actually cried actual tears.”
“Whatever.” In the ensuing blackness, Jonah relaxed, his muscles unwinding and his mind unraveling. He had never been so sleepy in all of his young days.
“You’re gonna look like a wussy,” Dale teased in a sing-song voice, from the darkness of the room.
“I don’t care. Wake me in an hour.”
The zombie paused, then said, “It’s almost six. You do know that?”
“Yeah. I got it. It’s six and you hurt your thumb protecting me because I’m a wussy. A very, very sleepy wussy. So please leave me alone.”
Dale paused again before he asked, “You want me to wait here?”
“Stay here. Go for a walk. I don’t care.” And he didn’t. He was too tired to care about anything. All he wanted was time alone with that precious hour of sleep.
“I could let you sleep longer?”
Jonah almost said, “Yes. Yes I would like a few hours’ sleep. Thank you.”
He almost said, “That would be delightful, old chum.”
He almost said, “That sounds fucking awesome. You’re the bestest friend ever!”
He almost did, but he didn’t. What stopped him from saying any of these things was what the zombie said next.
“I’ll just hang out with Candy until you wake up. I’m sure we can find something fun to get up to.”
It was the way he said the word ‘fun’, The emphasis he placed on that single sound. The inflection of his pronunciation. The way he rolled it off his tongue, as if it were one of fun’s many synonyms, and not the innocuous word itself.
A word like ‘enjoyable’.
‘Entertaining’.
‘Amusing’.
‘Pleasurable’.
At the thought of Dale pleasuring Candy, Jonah’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright in the bed. “No!”
“No?” Dale asked.
From the sound of his voice, Jonah could tell he was already near the door. Ready to stalk into the night and pounce upon Candy. Ready to steal her affections while poor Jonah slept away his chances with her. Ready to please her in ways Jonah knew he couldn’t.
“No,” Jonah said, in a softer voice this time. “No need to put us behind schedule. Just wake me in an hour. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll be fine.” Jonah considered the chances that Candy was an early riser, and added, “Maybe you should stay here, after all. Why wander around at this hour? Wouldn’t want to get lost or something.” He laughed a nervous little titter.
Dale’s flat voice drifted across the gloom, unamused. “We just spent three hours canvassing this entire town by foot. I don’t think I’m going to get lost.”
“Just stay with me. Okay? I want to know you’re safe.”
“Okay. Geesh, man. No need to get all possessive of me.”
Jonah ignored the mild sexual jab. “One hour. No later. Got it?”
“Got it. You’re a wussy. I’m a hero. One hour.”
“Whatever. Goodnight, hero.”
“G’night, wussy.”
Jonah nestled into the cool sheets, stretching his tired muscles, sinking into that precious place called sleep. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and for the briefest of moments, all was well.
All was calm.
All was rest.
From this haze of half awareness, Dale whispered, “Jonah.”
“Shut up,” Jonah hissed.
But Dale didn’t shut up. “Jonah. You need to get up, man.”
Jonah cracked an eyelid and winced at the intrusive brightness. “Why did you turn the lights back on? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Yeah, but—”
“For Christ’s sake, man, I only have an hour. What is so important that it can’t wait an hour?”
Dale looked down at Jonah, a flash of pity crossing his face as he said, “Had.”
The tone of the single word was disquieting. Enough to make Jonah sit up in the bed and ask, “What?”
“Had. You had an hour. You said to wake you up in an hour.” Dale shrugged. “So I am.”
Understanding came upon Jonah with all the force of a charging rhino. He ripped the clock from the bedside table and stared at it. The green glare of glowing numbers agreed with Dale, confirming that Jonah had indeed slept his allotted hour.
“How?” Jonah asked as the clock slipped from his numb fingers. “Why? I swear I just closed my eyes.”
“I hate when that happens,” Dale said. “Joe?”
“Joe?”
In his good hand, Dale held out a steaming cup, which validated the worst.
When did a dead man have time to make coffee?
While Jonah was asleep, that’s when.
Sipping at the bitter liquid, Jonah realized that the zombie had packed most of their things. “I don’t feel like I slept at all.”
“Happens to me all the time,” Dale said.
“How do you usually deal with it?”
“Easy. I just go back to bed.”
Jonah groaned. “I don’t have that luxury.”
“Of course you do. Checkout isn’t until noon.”
With nothing but his good hand, Dale zipped his last bag and set it beside the door. He was surprisingly adept at u
sing one hand. Which made Jonah wonder just how much practice the man had at doing things one-handed, and what his other hand was up to during those times. His skin crawled at the thought.
“Go back to sleep,” Dale added.
“No.” Jonah pushed the cup at Dale and slid out of the bed. “We need to get back on the road.”
Dale’s laughter was soft, but still held that mocking tone Jonah had long since gotten used to. “What’s the hurry, man?”
“What’s the hurry?” Jonah asked, pulling on his pants. “The hurry is my soul.”
“Your soul? I thought we were after mine.”
“Yes, but if we don’t get it, I lose mine too.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” As Jonah rushed to dress, the zombie sat on the bed and mulled over this revelation. At length, he asked, “You mean you’re risking your soul to save mine?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Jonah stopped packing to look up at Dale. “Because you’re my friend.”
“Yeah, but… that seems like a pretty stupid thing to do.”
Unable to hide his hurt, Jonah’s voice cracked. “You wouldn’t risk your soul for me?”
The zombie’s answer was as flat and lifeless as his body. “No.”
Cutting his eyes at the dead man, Jonah had to remind himself to whom he was talking. Black and white, and no sense of moral values. “That’s because you don’t have a soul. Let me assure you, the real Dale would.” With a huff, he returned to his packing.
The dead man continued to stare hard at Jonah. “Are you sure?”
This gave Jonah pause again. If things were reversed, would Dale have done the same thing? Jonah wanted to scream a resounding yes, but after spending so much time with the core of Dale’s unfettered being, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Instead of answering the question, he dodged with accusations. “I know I’m new to this whole selling my soul to the Devil business, so forgive me if it seems I made a stupid deal. Maybe I did.”
He headed to the bathroom for one last sweep, leaving the zombie to stew.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dale finally called after him.
Tired of this line of arguing, Jonah popped out of the bathroom and yelled, “It means that maybe if you didn’t sell your soul to piss off Daddy, none of this would be happening!”
Dale shook his head as he got to his feet. “I didn’t sell my soul to piss off anyone.”
“I know you can’t remember—”
“I didn’t sell my soul, Jonah.”
The words, though confident and heated, didn’t make any sense. Jonah thought perhaps he was still dreaming. Sure. That was it. He was asleep and this was all just a dream. Wasn’t it?
“I have done a lot of stupid things in my life,” Dale said, in a voice that sounded anything but dreamlike. “But I’m positive that I didn’t sell my own soul.”
“Then why does the Devil have claim to it? Aside from the obvious fact that you are and have always been a paramount sinner of sin.”
“Hey now, no need to insult. I might have not been the best man, but I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. I mean, if going ass to mouth makes you a sinner, then Hell has gotta be an awfully full place.”
“Okay then, wise guy. If you didn’t sell your soul, why does Lucifer have it right now? Why were you sent away from California? Why couldn’t you return? Huh?”
Dale closed his eyes, furrowing his brow in deep frustrated ruts before he shook his head again and said, “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember because it has to do with your father. He said you sold your soul to make him mad.”
“That’s retarded.”
“I know. But since the Devil has conveniently blocked all memories of your dad, don’t you think it’s possible?”
Once again, the zombie screwed up his face in thought. “Sorry, man, but I don’t think I did. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t sell my own soul.”
Jonah drew deep slow breaths, trying to steady his tired nerves before taking up the argument again. “Look—” was all he got out before a knock rose from the door.
“You guys awake?” Candy’s muffled voice asked.
“Crap,” Jonah whispered. He pushed Dale out of the way and cracked the door just a bit. There stood his dream girl, fresh-faced and raring to go. “Morning.”
“Morning,” she said. Taking a good look at him, she grimaced. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
Jonah yawned. “I didn’t get much sleep. Someone kept me up all night.”
“Ah. Dale’s a snorer, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Hey,” Dale said, as he pulled the door from Jonah’s hand, opening it wider. “I’m right the fuck here.”
Candy giggled. “Sorry. Listen, I took care of the bill last night. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Aw,” Dale cooed. “Jonah’s first hotel room paid for by a woman.” The zombie wiped at his eyes as he added, “They grow up so fast.”
Jonah did his best to ignore the antics. “No problem. We’re just getting dressed.”
“I’m packed and ready to go when you are,” Candy said, patting her ever-present bag.
“I promise we won’t be long. Give us a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Candy said, then left them alone again.
Jonah sighed as he closed the door. She seemed to get more beautiful every time he saw her.
“I promise we won’t be long,” Dale said in a high-pitched whine, followed by a hearty laugh.
“What?” Jonah asked.
“You’re already pussy whipped.” Dale gave a light flick of his wrist and made the accompanying sound of a whip striking a target.
“I was just being polite.”
Dale sniggered. Jonah blushed.
“You could use a lesson in manners,” Jonah snapped. “You’d think a man who sold his soul would—”
“I told you,” Dale said, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. “I didn’t sell my damned soul.”
“Okay. Okay. We’ll talk about this later. Just get the stuff to the car.”
Dale saluted Jonah and shouted, “Yes, sir!”
“Stop being an ass.”
“Yes, sir!” the zombie shouted again, his grin growing with each ‘sir.’
Jonah rolled his eyes as he pushed Dale toward the door. Before the zombie reached the handle, Jonah stopped him again. “Wait. I meant to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“You need to be careful around Candy.”
It was Dale’s turn to roll his eyes. “Shit, man. I said I’d join your little team. I promise I won’t lead her on anymore. I’m on your side now.”
“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I would like to reiterate that I don’t need your help in that department. And besides, I’m talking about you being dead.”
“What’s being dead gotta do with it?” Dale narrowed his eyes at Jonah. “You think I can’t get her ‘cause I’m dead? Is that it?”
“No. I think she’s smarter than you give her credit for.”
Dale’s nostrils flared. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
Jonah paled at the anger in Dale’s voice. “Nothing. I just meant-”
“You think she won’t fuck me because I’m dead.” Dale was on Jonah in seconds. He snatched the smaller man up by the collar and pinned him against the opposite wall with a single, powerful hand.
Jonah gasped and choked as he kicked the air and clawed at Dale’s hand for release.
“You listen here, you little shit,” Dale growled. “I don’t need a heartbeat to make chicks dig me. All I need is five minutes of her time, and she’ll be begging to ride my cock.” Dale grabbed at the member in question with his wounded hand. “Dead, alive, undead, it’s still bigger than yours and will always be fucking better. So unless you want me fucking the shit out of your little girlfriend in the next five minutes, you
better learn to respect me. You got that?”
Through the exploding pain of slow asphyxiation, Jonah managed to find the power to nod. Dale snarled, curling his lip as he tightened his grip for one more maniacal second, then he released Jonah with a grunt. Jonah slid down the wall into a coughing pile of quivering fear. The zombie continued to tower over him, a low growl rolling from his dead throat.
“Dale,” Jonah whispered between hoarse coughs. “Please believe me. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you can get any girl you want. Jesus, I’ve said so a hundred times before.”
“Then what the fuck are you talking about?” Dale demanded.
Jonah rubbed at his sore neck, eyeing the zombie warily. “I think she’s catching on to you being dead.”
“And?”
“And if she catches on, it might freak her out.”
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t it freak you out?” Jonah could pinpoint the exact moment that Dale understood; his dead eyes widened, his dark mouth formed a small oval.