by P. S. Power
He grinned and led them all inside.
“Remember, youngest people in the group, please get with Sammi and Cam. Everyone else, let’ see what the plans are? Colleen might have something ready for us.”
She did, as soon as they got into the living room. She had out a guitar and was playing pretty well, singing softly, her voice a little breathy, but not bad. It was just “Silver Bells” but she did a credible job of it, and smiled as he walked in.
Jake froze for half a second, thinking of Rachel. Colleen normally didn’t look that much like her. Shorter, a little rounder faced… But in that moment, in her little elf costume, she reminded him so much of her sister he nearly had to leave the room. That would look bad though, so he just sat on the floor in front of her, near a group of people from the house, mainly kids and some of the women, with a few guys worked in. Randy and Heather were both there, if on opposite sides of the space. They’d been together, and now they weren’t, but it didn’t seem like they hated each other or anything. Randy just had a new lady friend, one of the women from the police compound. There were a lot more woman left than men anymore. At the House at least. The new people were split more evenly, though the Vals had only brought women with them. Then, they only had women. They got pregnant in the regular fashion, with human men, possibly some of the other types as well.
But they always had daughters and those girls were always Valkyries. From what he could gather, Jake didn’t think they married or anything either.
Carley started waving, excitedly and moved to another group, the last large one, but made up of both men and women. More women, but if they were Killgrade’s, like she was, it had probably taken work, including that many men. Their males didn’t live long and only made up about ten percent of their numbers by age twenty or so. Several of them pulled her down to sit on the floor with them, not needing to have the idea explained to them.
Some stood, the Bawdri for instance. They probably had some anti-floor sitting taboo. That was fine, but he was too tired to stand for the rest of the day. Morris plunked down on the floor not far from him, easily sitting Indian style and most of his group did that too, if a little farther away from Jake than not. The Vals didn’t get that close, mainly, except Vickie who moved in on the other side of him, smiling, a slightly manic look in her eyes. She leaned over and whispered to him softly, warm breath on his cheek.
“She’s good.” It was barely a murmur, but Jake nodded.
Baby Becks wasn’t bad at all. Rachel had been better. Not that ability to sing meant anything anymore. She was doing a good job keeping the volume down, which Jake had to like. She very nearly hid the words in the music she was playing. It was odd, but it made the old classical song better somehow. More emotive and rich.
She played several more tunes as people listened, and finally ended on an ultra subdued version of “Dashing Through the Snow”. It made the tune dark and nearly spooky, which was interesting. People from the House applauded, loudly, since clapping didn’t draw the dead at all.
She stood and bowed a little, happy enough with the response. The whole place smelled wonderfully and his stomach was growling just a little, the scent of sage stuffing and cooked meat, sweet potatoes and pie filled the air. It wasn’t exactly like an old fashioned Christmas, but it was pretty close. He could smell the tree behind him and the scent of spices in the air.
Probably from the cider no one was drinking.
What a horrible waste of food.
Colleen looked at him, not breaking eye contact for a minute, the whole room staying deathly quiet the whole time. Then she held the guitar out to him.
“Mickey? Would you? Please?” Her voice was sweet. Soft.
Annoying.
He hadn’t prepared anything. Sure, he’d practiced pretty regularly for a long time after things ended with Rachel and even after he’d given up on making it as a singer, not having the heart to try without his best friend. But that had just been him hoping she’d come back to him. Leave whoever the jerk she’d taken up with and be his again. His friend. His love.
Rachel hadn’t, of course.
But he wasn’t ready to play anything. Or, well, he was, in a way, not having forgotten everything yet. He almost used his hand as an excuse, but everyone was looking at him as if some magic was going to happen.
“Alright, but I didn’t get a chance to rehearse. If I suck, blame Colleen.”
Tipper spoke from the back, not overly loud, but clear enough, even over the breathing of nearly a hundred and twenty people or so.
“Wait, who’s “Mickey”? I think I’m missing something.” She was looking at Jake when she said it though, so he didn’t answer, just standing a bit stiffly.
Jake raised his eyebrows at Tip and blew a raspberry with his tongue.
“Don’t try that one “Skolu”.” He didn’t explain the comment, but the woman wrinkled her nose at him when he used her real name.
Vickie didn’t say anything, but Colleen did.
“He’s our special celebrity guest for the night. Local favorite and all around great guy, Mickey Robson.” She clapped her hands as she started to move to the side. Everyone else started to then as well, once they figured
So, no pressure to perform at all.
He cleared his throat. He hadn’t sung in ten months. Not even in the shower. He’d need to adjust what he sang for that, since his voice would be all out of condition. The vocal cords had to be exercised and stretched for good range, and his just hadn’t been in a long time. It probably meant everything he tried to sing would need to be an octave down from where he was used to, or else his voice would crack.
He held his hand out to take Colleen pick, since he wasn’t going to be doing any complex fingering with his right hand if he could help it and took a second, closing his eyes. Then he started to play.
It was probably a bit different than what anyone expected, a comedy song that he’d written years before. “Let’s Mug Santa”. It got a low chuckle and clapping from the assembled people, the visitors picking up on the idea even if it wasn’t their tradition and they didn’t have a clue who, or what, Santa was.
Then he played song after song, weaving sound like he hadn’t in far too long. He was going to end on “The Green of the Tree” another song he wrote, since everyone could see what he was describing sitting off to his right, making it a good tie in. When he finished though Heather had to ruin his moment after the applause died, by speaking. Saying inconvenient things like she so often did. Darned precognition anyway.
“Will you play “Something for Rachel”?” Her blue eyes found his, her slightly stringy hair having been brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. She normally just wore it down, so this was her version of dressy, no doubt.
Jake was about to refuse, but she swallowed loudly enough that he heard it and made a small sound that sounded like a sob being suppressed.
“It’s important Jake. You said I should tell you…”
He nodded and sat back down. Right. She was supposed to tell him if she needed him to do something to make a given future happen, instead of tricking him into it. To him it was a horrible idea, of course, but she was holding up her end, wasn’t she? He set the pick down and flexed his hand for a full minute as everyone watched. This was a more complex song by far than what he’d been playing, and he’d need both hands. Honestly he doubted he could do it very well, but if he was supposed to try, so that Heather’s version of the future would work out, well he could give it a shot. How this was supposed to change anything he couldn’t tell, but sometimes little things did, according to Heather.
He lost himself in it, remembering the pain it had caused, the heartbreak, how after he played this for Rachel the first time she’d just left and hadn’t talked to him for weeks. Then when she did, it was only to return some stuff of his and tell him that she was dating some guy. She didn’t say who. He hadn’t asked. It didn’t matter. The point was just that he wasn’t good enough, right?
&nbs
p; Those feelings worked into the song, making it darker, slightly harsher than it should have been. It was a love song, but at the moment it sounded like love was one of the worst things in the world. Tears poured down his face, but didn’t influence his voice. He forgot himself, remembering how things ended the first time.
Then how they ended the second, when he’d shot her in the head to protect everyone else around them.
Because it wasn’t enough for him to just be hurt by losing her, the world insisted that he do it twice. He still had nightmares about that, a red hole blossoming on her right cheek like a tiny flower. A small and deadly bloom. Of course in real life the wound had been black, but his subconscious mind didn’t seem to care about that subtle a distinction.
When he finished he silenced the strings with his right hand, having not even noticed the ache for a bit, and stood, handing the instrument back to Colleen. No one clapped, or smiled, not this time. It should have made him feel sad or uneasy, but he just had to get out of there. Get away. He walked out of the room, careful to not step on anyone, moving past the tables and out to the back porch, just passing the kitchen, glancing only enough to see Sammi and several others sniffing and looking at things while Lois tried to work around them. The place was filled with food. Stuffed with it. There was barely room to move at all.
Cold air hit his face first, then his lungs as he went outside. It wasn’t late, still light out, but the clouds meant that dark would fall earlier that day by about forty minutes or so. No one came for him, not for about ten minutes. It was all he could do to not just take off and go home, but doing that would be foolish in the dark, and even if he started at that very moment, it would be black out before he got there. Trying multiple head shots then wouldn’t work well, and if he got caught by one of those nearly unstoppable new zombies, he’d be dead if he was alone.
Probably true even if it was daylight when it happened. He needed a much more powerful weapon if he had to fight things like that. They all did. How that would happen he didn’t know, but it kind of had too. Something had to be come up with.
The door worked behind him and Cam popped her head out. Jake looked at her, not able to help himself. If there was a noise behind you, anymore, a person just had to look. If you didn’t you’d probably be dead. The girl shook her head at him, eyes dark. She spoke urgently, voice a little higher pitched than normal, but not so much that most would notice it overly.
“Trouble. We found the person that did it.” She didn’t add anymore, but Jake followed anyway. Whoever it was, they’d better have had a good reason for it.
He just wasn’t in the mood to be kind and gentle at the moment.
When he got in there was a bit of a buzz, several people standing around another, all women, as if guarding the one in the middle from attack. Normally that would be out of place, but they were surrounded by a group of people that seemed pretty angry at the moment. No one made too much noise yet, but it was getting close. Nate saw him and waved, which got everyone to look at him instead of the person inside the circle.
The would-be assassin.
Becky Fines.
Of course it was her. That just made sense. Except for the part where she had no reason to try poisoning everyone, and as far as he knew didn’t even know what a Comtrice was, much less how to target their specific allergies.
Jake just stood back and listened to what was said, as Sammi explained it carefully.
“We tracked the poison to her belongings. She had it in her things, next to her mattress and it’s on her hands. Lois also saw her in the kitchen earlier, even though she wasn’t helping. It seems pretty clear, over all.”
“But I didn’t do it!” She half yelled the words, which got Robert to draw on her. She slapped a hand over her mouth then, getting the idea, so the dark haired, almond eyed man in black put the weapon away. His job with the military had been shooting anyone that lost it and got loud, if they couldn’t control themselves.
That wasn’t just a Jake thing. That fact made him feel pretty happy over all. It was a hard thing to do, but that others had seen the same need was a good thing. It made him feel not quite as evil.
Jake hung back and didn’t comment on the whole thing. It didn’t make sense, not at all, and was probably planted to set her up, which meant that it would be someone that knew who she was and where she slept. A lot of the people could have figured that out, but everyone at the House could have done it. He could have, except no one had left him alone for most of the day. He hadn’t even gone to the bathroom, which probably meant he was dehydrated.
Nate did insist that her thoughts didn’t show her as guilty, not of that, but Jake just tilted his head, then shook it, finally forced to comment on the whole thing. Even if it wasn’t nice of him.
“I don’t know Nate… You might just be saying that to try and save her life. Really we should force her out into the snow to fend for herself. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Isn’t that the saying Becky? You were accused, so of course you’re guilty. Well, nothing to do but lock her up in the quarantine room until after dinner, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving.” He really was. But he was also being a bit of a prick.
Still, they could save Becky some food and a few hours of contemplating the fact that being accused of something isn’t the same as being guilty might just be good for her.
“No!” Her voice was low and emphatic this time, so no guns came out. An improvement.
“I didn’t do it. This isn’t fair! How can I prove I didn’t do something like that? Someone had to have planted that stuff. Jake…” She sounded panicked, but managed to try and make the last word an accusation anyway.
Darian looked at her coolly. He was good at that.
“He was with the rest of us the whole time. Rather central to our being here, so his presence would have been missed had he left us. Plus, it’s rather unlikely that he’d have arsenic to hand. That’s if we ignore the fact that he’s The Very Good Man, which would be foolish to do. He simply cannot do something like that. Not without a good reason. Did you have any hand in this Jake?” The question was bland, but he shook his head.
“Other than getting the first drink of it, at least as far as we know? No. But that doesn’t clear Becky. Too bad that accusation was made and all. Positively means guilt you know. Yep. Same as proof for sure. Why, she doesn’t even have anyone defending her, except Nate, and really, she’s already kind of said that doesn’t count, didn’t she? I really think she needs to prove herself innocent of this. Don’t you?”
He glanced around the room, much of which clearly agreed with him, making Becky Fines and a lot of the women around her wince and shrink in on themselves. It was Odina North, Yalla that called him on it.
“Stop being a dick.” She said, a small smile on her face. It nearly started a fight as several people started moving on her, but Jake chuckled, getting everyone to stop for a second.
“Alright. I guess I should stop teasing her. But seriously Becky, if you can’t draw some parallels here, you aren’t half as intelligent as I think you are. Now, kindly go and sit in the quarantine while we all eat? We’ll set to finding out what’s going on. Seriously, that’s just to leave everyone else feeling good, in case there are doubts. If Nate says she’s innocent, then that’s what the case is. We’ll have the other Telepaths check though, if that’s alright? So that no one can claim it’s a trick?” Not as easily at least.
Lois had the food out on the tables, but there were only chairs for about ninety people. That largely meant the guests. Then Nate, Burt, Lois, the Cleaner team heads. Julio and Carley, Cisco and Dave.
Dave was the odd one out, not in charge of anything personally, not attached to any of the other groups, but he wanted to sit next to Sammi, who tolerated it, even though she was clearly trying to not lead him on. The guy liked her and well, she was old enough at least.
Everyone else had to get a plate of food and sit on the floor, with about half the people wait
ing until the first half finished, so they could wash and reuse the plates. The last fifty at least. Jake just waited, sitting towards the back of the room. He was hungry, but that wasn’t exactly something new. Everyone ate, or waited, in near silence, only the scraping and clicking of silver on the plates making sound. The people at the table kept looking over at him, but he didn’t stare back, it was an uncomfortable thing to be stared at while you were eating. It always made him feel like he had something on his face, personally.
He felt that way right now, and rubbed at it absently, but everyone kept looking at him. Was it his teasing Becky like that? It was mean of him, sure, but she kind of deserved it. He had a point right? Throwing her own words back at her was fair.
Only it wasn’t. It was just stupid. The whole thing made him want to growl, but he knew that was true. She’d been a moron, trying to accuse him of things he didn’t do, even after it was disproven, but that didn’t justify him being one in return.
Did it?
Well, no.
He got up as people started to finish, and went into the kitchen to start washing plates for everyone else. The drying racks had been set up, so he took the incoming dishes and washed rapidly, taking care to do a good job. After a few minutes someone else walked in and started drying. It was Vickie. She shook her head at him, but didn’t say anything for a while, just working with a dish towel to speed the whole thing up.
“You know Jake, half the people in there are about ready to freak.” She said it with good humor at least.
Blowing out a deep breath, letting it make his cheeks puff, Jake nodded.
“Well, attempted murder or whatever we have going on here, can do that. Not to mention the zombies outside, which come in not just two, but three exciting flavors now, and the fact that half the people in there don’t really trust the other half yet. Can’t really blame them for being a bit upset. We live with this kind of thing all the time, so it’s not new to us. That makes it easier.” He handed her a plate directly, which she took smoothly, as if used to the task.