Dead (A Lot)

by Howard Odentz

  After almost going cuckoo himself, he got it together enough to steal the fancy bow and arrow combo as well as the backpack. He filled the pouch with anything useful he could think of. Useful meant five-hour energy drinks, power bars, the handgun, some ammo, and a set of new hand grips for his new bow.

  He was so juiced on energy drinks by the time he ran into us, he didn’t know which end was up. To be honest, I give the kid a lot of credit for not having a complete meltdown when Prianka and Trina threatened him with their guns. If wetting himself in front of total strangers was the worst thing that happened to him, he got off easy.

  After he piddled a little, he ran off into the woods, and we left, so he followed us into Greenfield to see if maybe he could make nicey-nice.

  The rest, well, we knew the rest, except the part about Stella sending him to help us.

  “So why did Stella send you?” I said with a confused look on my face.

  “My dad was really into the forest,” explained Bullseye. “From as far back as I can remember, we went camping and fishing, even hunting. He taught me how to use a bow and arrow, but I guess what’s more important to you guys is he taught me all about guns.”

  Prianka leaned forward. “You know how to shoot?”

  He backed into his chair, probably still a little scared of her. “I know how to shoot. I know how to load. I know how to assemble, disassemble, clean, and respect firearms.”

  “Stella’s got our back,” laughed Jimmy. “You know, she totally disapproved of us having guns at all.”

  “I know,” said Bullseye. “She lectured me about that, but I think when everything happened with, um, what’s his name again?”

  “Sanjay,” we all said in unison.

  “When everything happened with Sanjay, I guess she figured you needed to know how to use them.”

  “So she sent you?” I said.

  Bullseye nodded his head. “Yup. She told me to teach you all how to shoot responsibly.”

  “I can dig it,” said Jimmy. The rest of us agreed. Sanjay stared at a candle, his eyes glazed over in the dim light.

  “There’s just one problem,” said Bullseye.

  “What would that be?” I asked.

  “I shot three different, um, what do you call them?”

  “Poxers,” said Trina.

  “Poxers—right. I shot three different poxers since I had the handgun—all of them right in the head.”

  “We’ve torched dozens,” I said. “And . . .”

  Ryan looked out the dark window, his face a mask of worry. “The thing is, I shot three of those things right in the head at almost point blank range.” His eyes started to well up. “They just got right back up,” he sniffed. “They just got right back up.”

  52

  OKAY, SO THE movies had their mythology all wrong. Zombies didn’t need their brains to function, or at least poxers didn’t. Shooting them in the head didn’t do anything. For now, the only thing we knew for sure was that they burned like tissue paper.

  Since we lost the kayak back in Greenfield, Trina and Prianka went out to the barn to find a wheelbarrow for Sanjay to sleep under. I put the Ouija board back in the box, mostly because I thought the whole thing was way too freaky for words. Me, Jimmy, Bullseye, and Sanjay went back to the living room where the little guy curled up again on the couch. He folded himself into a tight ball with his face buried into a corner.

  Bullseye sat by the fireplace staring at Sanjay.

  “My cousin’s autistic,” he blurted out a little too quickly. His face turned red. “Um, but Stella says Sanjay’s really special.”

  “Yeah, he’s been a lifesaver,” said Jimmy. “I hope he snaps out of this funk, soon.”

  Andrew parked himself over Sanjay like a permanent shadow. “Lifesaver,” he chirped in an unreal child’s voice

  Bullseye jumped.

  I smiled. “Chill, man. The bird can speak.”

  “I thought only parrots did that.”

  “Apparently not,” I said. “If Sanjay was in a more talkative mood, I’m sure he’d tell you all about Andrew and what he can do.”

  Unfortunately, Sanjay wasn’t talking, and my stomach was tied in knots. We sat there in the candle light, each lost in our own thoughts. My sister and Prianka came in after a while and set up a relatively clean wheelbarrow upside down on the floor. We pretty much understood that none of us had any intention of sleeping in separate rooms. Everything was too new, too raw. We all felt a lot more comfortable camping out in the living room.

  Every once in a while we heard Newfie bark outside. Sometimes he was near the house, and sometimes he was way off near the tree line. I imagined Sprinkles patrolling the fence and couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. The chuckle, however, caught in my throat.

  Sprinkles was gone.

  Everyone was gone.

  Jimmy lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against the couch. Trina snuggled into him, and he put his arms around her. Prianka sat on the couch by her brother. I joined Bullseye by the fireplace.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jimmy said. “I don’t get why they burn so easily.”

  “Who knows,” I sighed. “Just be thankful they do. My mind’s still blown that a bullet to the noggin doesn’t do squat.”

  Bullseye nodded his head. “I know—and I’m a good shot.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t hurt them,” whispered Prianka. She sat in the gloom, not looking at anyone or anything.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Her voice was like frost in the air. “They’re still flesh and blood or whatever that black gunk is. We can still shoot one in the leg or shoot their eyes out.” Her words sounded so cold and matter-of-fact, she gave me the chills.

  “Okay—scary,” I muttered and wrapped my arms around my knees.

  “No, seriously,” she said. “Just because we can’t kill them without a match doesn’t mean we can’t cripple them. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t think of them as people anymore.” She looked right at me. “It’s either us or them, and I choose us.”

  “I second that,” said Trina as she leaned further into her Jimmy pillow. Seeing my sister so comfortable with Jimmy made me wonder if Prianka wanted me to be like that. Did she want me to put my arms around her or make her feel safe? True, I didn’t have the pythons that Jimmy had, but I was still a dude and all indications were that Prianka sort of liked me. Or she did until I let Poopy Puppy get torn apart. I’m sure she blamed me. Maybe if I put my arms around Prianka Patel, I would very quickly be in a world of pain.

  Still I wondered. Did I even want to be next to her on the couch? I think I did, but I wasn’t sure. I have to admit, that kiss back at Stella’s was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

  The wind blew outside, and Newfie barked again in the distance. I rocked back and forth, lost in my own confused thoughts. After another long bout of silence, Bullseye said he was cold. I was, too, so we took a flashlight and went scavenging upstairs for blankets and pillows. We took everything we found and brought them back to the living room, spread blankets out on the floor, and divvied up the pillows.

  “You want help setting up Sanjay underneath the wheelbarrow?” I asked Prianka.

  She stared at me, probably just as confused about us as I was. “That would be nice,” she said. Together we fashioned a little sleeping area for him. Prianka gently guided her brother inside and lowered the upturned dome over him. She just sat there, her hands resting on the scratched, plastic top, her eyes shut.

  I looked at Jimmy and Trina. My sister was staring intently at one of the candles. Jimmy was watching me. He nodded his head and half-smiled encouragingly.

  Bullseye had curled up with a blanket and pillow and was already asleep.

  Almost before I knew
it, I gently put my hand on Prianka’s shoulder. She didn’t flinch, which was a good thing. She sat there for a moment longer before slowly rising to her feet. My breath caught in my throat when she took my hand and entwined my fingers in hers. Together, we slipped out of the living room to the hallway.

  We didn’t say anything. We were both comfortable in our silence. I backed against the wall and pulled Prianka to me. I thought we were going to kiss again, but instead, her head found my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her, and the sweet fragrance of her hair wafted into my nostrils.

  “I’m sorry about Sanjay,” I whispered. “I wish I could have protected him more. I wish I could have saved Poopy Puppy.” The words sounded funny coming out of my mouth, but Poopy Puppy was practically one of us, and I didn’t save him. I couldn’t save him.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she sniffed. “None of this is. This is all some mad scientist’s idea of a bad joke to create Necropoxy in the first place. That’s all.”

  “But I could have done more,” I said.

  “You’ve done everything,” she whispered and crushed up against me. I stood there for a long time, relishing the warmth of her. Suddenly it hit me. I did want to protect her. I did want to engulf her and keep her safe. I even wanted to listen to her insult me or just be plain, old Prianka, because there was something about her that just felt good and right and real.

  As if she sensed what I was thinking, she tilted her head up and looked at me in the dim light.

  We kissed—even better than the first time.

  In that moment, I felt safe and protected, too. Maybe this is what Trina and Jimmy felt. Who knows? The feeling was great amidst a world in chaos.

  I didn’t want to ever let her go.

  53

  WE ALL SLEPT well that night. None of us got up to blow the candles out before we finally fell asleep. They just dwindled down to nothing. Once, during the middle of the night, I woke up and listened to the quiet of the house—so strange without the clicking of a clock or the quiet hum of a refrigerator.

  I fell back to sleep thinking about Prianka. When I woke up the next morning I quietly disentangled myself from the spider web of blankets and pillows and tip-toed off to the bathroom to stick a finger full of toothpaste in my mouth.

  If I got the chance for another kiss, I wanted to be minty fresh.

  Andrew followed me into the bathroom. I jumped when he flew through the doorway and landed on the toilet.

  “What do you want, seed head?”

  He just stared at me before hopping up on the counter and tapping the faucet with his beak.

  “Sorry. It doesn’t work.” He continued to eyeball me with those creepy black orbs. “Fine—come on.” We both must have been in a good mood, because I stuck my hand out, and Andrew tentatively hopped onboard. I padded out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the kitchen.

  While Jimmy and I mended the fence yesterday, the girls had unpacked all the food from the car and set our bounty on the counter. We had some jugs of bottled water, so I rummaged around the cabinets until I found an empty jar with a screw-top lid. I unscrewed the cap, set it down on the kitchen table, and poured Andrew a capful of water.

  He was more than grateful. I poured a little for myself, too, swished around to rinse my mouth out, and was about to spit into the sink when I realized there was no tap water to wash my morning spittle down the drain. I rolled my eyes and walked quietly down the hallway to the front door and turned the lock.

  I squinted as I swung the door open and light poured in, so I put my hands over my eyes as I stepped out on the porch to spit over the railing.

  It was cold, like October cold. I could see my breath as my eyes adjusted to the morning light. Newfie was sleeping on his side in the entrance to the barn, his big, black coat heaving up and down. I saw him shake his paws a little like he was chasing a dream poxer.

  “You get him, boy.” I said. “You tear him to pieces.”

  The llamas were already grazing in the pasture. The turkeys weren’t awake yet, or I think I would have heard them. How long would we last before we singled out one of them for dinner? More importantly, which one of us was going to do the deed? Killing a poxer was one thing, but ending something that was living? That somehow seemed wrong.

  There was something interesting and philosophical about that thought, but I wasn’t feeling either interesting or philosophical at the moment. I was pretty much just feeling cold.

  I went back inside and closed the door behind me. The house was dark and gloomy with all the shades drawn. The thing was, I was sick of the darkness and the things that hid in the shadows. I went around the house, starting on the second floor, and pulled the shades up everywhere. Back down in the living room, I lifted the shades there, too, and in minutes everyone was awake.

  Trina yawned and stretched. She had spent the night wrapped in Jimmy’s arms, and he was reluctant to let her go.

  “What time is it?” she croaked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll miss World History. Oh, crap, I forgot. There is no more world. History’s dead.”

  “I’m cold,” shivered Bullseye.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty chilly, too,” agreed Jimmy. He propped himself up on his shoulders and reached for Trina. “Hey, I need your body warmth.”

  “And I need some food that’s not potato chips,” she said as she got to her feet.

  Prianka lay on the couch, her hands cradling her head. She stared at me with dark eyes that spoke volumes about how last night never happened and if I said anything to anyone she’d staple my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

  That’s how I read it at least.

  I threw her a sideways smile, which was one of my cuter looks, if I do say so myself, and motioned my head toward the upturned wheelbarrow. She nodded and got up. Together we lifted it to get at Sanjay.

  He wasn’t there.

  “Where’s Sanjay?” Prianka gasped.

  “Not far, I’m sure.” I knew yesterday was a long day, and we were all zonked when we crashed, but I’d like to think we weren’t that far gone to let him slip away without someone noticing.

  Prianka stormed out of the living room and started canvasing the first floor. I knew he wasn’t on the second floor, because I had just come from there. I could feel a rush of adrenaline wash through my body. I guess there’s nothing like a kid disappearing to get the blood pumping first thing in the morning.

  Jimmy pulled himself into his chair. “Amber alert,” he yawned.

  “Got him,” I heard Prianka yell from the back of the house.

  We filed down the hallway to a room that my aunt and uncle called the library. They had an old computer on an even older desk. There were piles of papers and magazines everywhere, and the walls were lines with books that Aunt Ella probably scavenged from Salvation Army or Goodwill. She always told me that a good book could never go bad. Without TV and the Internet to distract me, I bet we were all going to have a chance to test that theory.

  Sanjay was sitting in the middle of the floor with Andrew, who once again eyed me warily, which meant he had already forgotten our little bonding experience. Sanjay was surrounded by books and was once again methodically flipping through them, page after page.

  “What is all this?” demanded Prianka as she looked from my face to Trina’s and back to me.

  “What is all what?” I stooped and picked up one of the books. Immediately that creepy creepy feeling washed over me. I dropped the book and picked up another. Not good. Not good at all. I looked at Trina with that ‘help me out’ expression on my face.

  “Let me see,” she said and grabbed the book I was holding out of my hands. She read the cover out loud. “Summoning Spirits,” she said.

  I handed her another title.

  “The Blac
k Arts,” she read. A third one was called, ‘The Complete Tarot.’

  Prianka gently pulled the book Sanjay was flipping through out of his hands. Like a robot, he reached out and hooked on another one, placed it in his lap, and started leafing through the pages. She turned the book over and read the spine.

  “Oh, that’s just great,” she said. “1001 Spells and Formulas.”

  Jimmy burst out laughing. “I’m, I’m sorry,” he said, but the giggles just spilled out of him. They were infectious. I tried really hard not to catch them, but it wasn’t easy. Trina’s shoulders started to shake up and down, then a raspberry of guffaws burst between her lips.

  I looked up at Prianka. “Hey, reading’s fundamental, right?”

  She shook her head and turned away from all of us.

  “Prianka, come on,” said Trina between another bout of the sillies. “We told you our aunt and uncle were a little different.”

  “A little different?” she snapped, her voice beginning to rise. “A LITTLE DIFFERENT? What is this place, Hogwarts?”

  That’s all she had to say. We all burst out laughing, even Bullseye. Andrew cackled and crowed. Finally, whatever made us all laugh, caught up with Prianka. She tried to contain the smile that was forcing her mouth into a curve, but she couldn’t. She snorted, and all of us, including Prianka, laughed so hard we almost cried.

  All the while, mute or not, Sanjay was absorbing every book and every detail like a sponge.

  54

  THE DATE WAS Tuesday, September twenty-first. If Uncle Don’s watch was right, the time was just around 7 a.m. Counting backwards to 7 p.m. last Friday night, which was close enough to when this nightmare started, we had been in the land of the dead for just about eighty-four hours.