Praise the Dead

by Gina Ranalli

  “A what?” Lindy prodded.

  Rubbing her forehead with one hand, Jado said, “I don’t know. An idol? A deity? A savior?”

  “A god,” Jackson said.

  Jado looked at him and licked her lips slowly. “Yes. A god.”

  Instead of being frightened by this revelation, Lindy grew angry. “A god! How can anyone see him as a god? He’s a monster!”

  “Keep your voice down,” Jackson told her, nervously glancing around the diner.

  “But it’s crazy!” Lindy protested. “Don’t people know he doesn’t care about them? He doesn’t care about anything except for . . .” Her mind searched for what she wanted to say and when it was found, her face soured with disgust. “Except for having fun! Don’t they know it’s just a big game to him?”

  “Lindy!” Jackson reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You need to calm down. Now.”

  She yanked her hand away and scowled at him, sitting back on the bench and folding her arms across her chest. She knew she was still just a child, pouting for being scolded.

  Quietly, Jado said, “It’s not entirely true that he’s just doing this for fun. He knows full well what the consequences of his actions will be. Never think any different. He believes he’s a god, that he’s been blessed by the God, given this holy power as a gift. Yes, he’s having fun, but to him, the fun is just an added bonus. His true motivation is to hold the world hostage.”

  “Why?” Lindy asked.

  It was Jackson who answered her: “So he can be king.”

  “Exactly,” Jado said. “A boy king.”

  None of them spoke for a long time and when the waitress came over to check on them, Jackson told her to just bring the bill. Once she had, Jackson looked at Jado. “How do we know we can trust you?”

  A small frown creased her forehead. “I’m sorry?”

  “You know so much about all this. About him especially. You just appear out of nowhere and start rambling on about all this gloom and doom stuff. Maybe you’re not on our side at all.”

  She nodded slowly, obviously thinking about the question. Finally, she looked across the table at Lindy. “What do you think?”

  Lindy shrugged, obviously still smarting a bit from her reprimand.

  “Tell you what,” Jado said, “why don’t you ask them?” She pointed her chin towards the window and the birds still circling the sky above them. A few had perched on top of the lamp posts, all of them facing the truck stop. “Have they ever lied to you?”

  Chewing her lower lip, Lindy shook her head.

  “Then I doubt they’re going to start any time soon.” She smiled before turning her attention to Jackson. “We have a place not far from here. You can follow me there. It’ll probably be best that we get your truck out of sight for now.”

  Jackson took a toothpick from a dispenser on the table, popped it into his mouth and began to chew the end of it. “A place, huh? What kind of place?”

  “A safe place.”

  The toothpick shifted from one corner of his mouth to the other. “No offense, lady, but I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

  “I understand, but with all due respect, you need to get comfortable with it. Lindy needs to be there.”

  “Be there for what?”

  The pale blue eyes regarded him steadily, unwavering. “For her . . . education.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  More cops had come; more cops had fallen.

  Andrew wasn’t afraid of them in the least. As far as he could tell, policemen were not very intelligent people at all. For instance, not a single one of them ever thought to aim their guns at the heads of the zombies. They were always shooting them in the chest, no matter how many times this method had proved ineffective. The bullets didn’t even knock the zombies down; they just punched holes through them and, after a while, got on their nerves.

  That was all fine and good with Andrew. The more cops that came, the more zombies he added to his collection.

  He was up to four zombie cops and had collected the weapons from all of them. Unable to carry four guns, he sat on the bench, patiently messing around with them until he’d figured out how to eject the magazines and collect the bullets. These he loaded into his pockets and tossed the empty weapons aside.

  It was time to play with his new toy.

  Rising from the bench, Andrew strolled down the street with an entourage of zombies surrounding him. He didn’t think the police had been able to call for more back-up before they’d been lunch for the hungry ghouls, but he had to assume that people hiding within the buildings and observing the chaos out on the street were probably calling out to them for help left and right.

  That was too bad.

  He had a feeling that sooner or later the cops would prove to be quite bothersome. He had to make sure the numbers of his army increased until there was absolutely no way that law enforcement or even the military could compete.

  Scanning the buildings around him, Andrew tried to decide which one would have the best vantage point for all the activity below. But after a moment of looking, he shrugged. They were all the same, pretty much.

  He chose the roof of a tobacco store and proceeded to teach himself how to fire a weapon. Discovering that he had a natural talent for it, he did his best to only wound the people he took aim at, those few who were brave or stupid enough to venture out onto the street or who, for whatever reason, had no idea what was going on and had just happened along, perhaps to do a little bit of shopping.

  Andrew shot them all, barely even registering things as obvious as age and gender. Sometimes he killed them, but it was always accidental and he cursed himself every time.

  “Just wing them,” he whispered, sighting down on a young woman in a yellow dress as she parallel parked her Toyota. She exited the car, lost in her own thoughts. When she did finally glance up, there was no trace of alarm on her face. Surprise, maybe, but not alarm.

  It probably looked like an unexpected block party, Andrew supposed. Maybe a costumed one.

  He giggled and shot the woman where she stood. Her shoulder exploded and she fell back against her car, her yellow dress blooming red. In shock, she looked down at her shoulder as her purse hit the street. From what Andrew could see, she looked more confused than anything else.

  It must be confusing, he thought, to be going about your business and then—BOOM—your shoulder explodes for no reason. “Three. Two. One.”

  The young woman began to scream and Andrew already knew from experience that she wasn’t going to stop. He watched for a while more, as her dress changed from yellow to red.

  His attention wandered when his minions crowded around the young woman. One thing he loved about them: they were always hungry. They could be counted on for that. Dependable. They would never disappoint him.

  Speaking of hungry, Andrew felt his own tummy grumbling and wondered what to do about it. What was he in the mood for? Pizza? A sub?

  He turned, his back to the roof ledge, and sat for a while on the gravel rooftop. For the first time, he felt a bit of longing for his mother. He remembered telling her he was hungry and she’d always replied with, “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Eggs,” he said. “I could go for a nice fried egg sandwich, with plenty of mayo.”

  “Coming right up,” a male voice said, startling him so much he nearly dropped the gun.

  In the middle of the roof stood a tall blond man, whip thin, dressed in black.

  No, not blond, Andrew thought. That guy’s hair is white.

  Even more white than his skin, which Andrew could practically see through. The stranger also wore black, wrap-around sunglasses and shiny black boots with pointed toes.

  Andrew frowned, instantly annoyed. He resisted the instinct to raise the gun and point it. “Who are you?”

  The man smiled. “I’m a friend.”

  The boy didn’t reply, but his annoyance grew. “What’s your name?”

&
nbsp; “Jude Abenroth, at your service.” The man gave a slight bow, his long white ponytail falling over one shoulder. When he straightened up again, his pale blue eyes widened only a fraction to see a police-issue automatic pointed at his face. “That won’t be necessary, Andrew,” he said. “I’m on your side.”

  “I doubt that,” Andrew told him. He was feeling a little tired now and wished he had one of his minions up here. He supposed he could call one up once he’d crippled this guy, though, so no biggie.

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Jude asked, hands held out at his sides. “How do you think I found you? Think about it. I know your name.”

  This much was true, now that it had been brought to Andrew’s attention. “How do you know my name?”

  “I know a lot of things,” he said. “For example, I know what you can do.” He gestured to the street below. “I know that the chaos down there is something you created. And I know you’ll go on to create so much more. Unless . . .”

  Andrew sat forward. “Unless what?”

  “Unless you refuse my help, in which case your reign will be a short one indeed. Too bad, too, because it could be more glorious than the reign of any other king in the entire history of mankind.”

  Frowning again, Andrew asked, “How do you figure?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “How do you figure it will be short? The way I see it, I’m in charge now. Soon, nothing will be able to stop me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Andrew. There is one who can stop you and they’re preparing her to do so at this very minute.”

  Andrew scoffed. “Who?”

  “A girl. Young, like yourself. Gifted, also like yourself. But with different . . . motives, let’s say.”

  “Motives, huh?” Andrew scratched the side of his head with the barrel of the gun.

  “NO!” Jude shouted, taking a few steps forward, clearly terrified. When Andrew lowered the weapon, he said, “Please be careful. We can’t afford any accidents.”

  Andrew regarded the adult with amusement. “I don’t believe in accidents.”

  “No,” Jude said. “I don’t guess you would.”

  Gazing up at the sky as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Andrew said, “You know I’m in charge, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Take off those sunglasses.”

  Jude Abenroth did as he was told without hesitation, though it obviously caused him some discomfort to do so. He stood squinting in the sunlight, eyes glassed over with a thin film of tears.

  “You’re one of those albinos, huh?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I can kill you any time I want.”

  “Yes.”

  “But, you’ll get me a fried egg sandwich?”

  “If that’s what you want, yes.”

  “And you’ll tell me about that girl?”

  “I will. Everything you need to know.”

  “Unless you’re making it up.”

  “I can assure you, I’m not.”

  Andrew jumped to his feet with the ease and agility that only children have. “Let’s go, then. You first.”

  Jude gave him a brief nod, and turned to lead the way.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jado’s Cherokee bumped and rolled slowly along the two furrows of the back road, thick black forest on either side.

  Jackson scowled in the passenger seat while Lindy sat in the back, her mind clearly elsewhere.

  “How much further?” Jackson asked, still not bothering to hide his suspicion.

  “Just about there,” Jado said, never taking her eyes from the road.

  “Education,” he muttered, shaking his head. “This is insane.”

  They’d hidden his truck in some brush several miles back before they reached the turnoff. Hopefully it would remain invisible from nosy eyes even after the sun rose, but Jackson wasn’t counting on it.

  His own eyes were tired. All of him was tired, but he forced himself to remain awake and alert nevertheless. He was not only scared for Lindy, but scared to face his dreams as well. Why had they not told him of the albino? It didn’t make sense.

  Over his shoulder he asked, “How you doing back there, kiddo?”

  “Fine,” Lindy replied.

  When he faced front again, the Jeep had rolled into a clearing where a small silver trailer sat up on blocks and an old school bus stood parked nearby.

  Between the two, a fire blazed in a pit with three people sitting around it, silhouettes all of them.

  Jackson felt himself bristle. “Who are they?”

  Jado parked beside the bus and turned off the engine. “I guess you could call them . . . Lindy’s army.”

  He opened his mouth to utter some word of protest, but then Lindy was already exiting the vehicle and he was forced to hurry after her. “Lindy! Wait!” The people around the fire pit rose, instantly putting Jackson on edge. He caught up with the girl and grabbed her arm. “Hold up.”

  “Let’s introduce everyone,” Jado said, coming up behind them.

  The three of them approached the circle together, Jackson still keeping his grip on Lindy. Once they’d entered the firelight, he noticed one of the three was an older woman while the other two were both male, one a mere teenager.

  The older woman came forward first, dark eyes fixed on Lindy, hands extended. “Lindy! How nice to finally meet you.” Her voice was gentle and kind but that didn’t go far in the way of putting Jackson at ease.

  “This is Dusty,” Jado said. “Our seer.”

  The woman had a wild mane of long, blazing red hair that, though clean, looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in a long time.

  Jackson dismissed her as a threat, at least for the moment, and focused his attention on the big bear of a man who easily stood at around six-two and had to be pushing two-hundred-fifty pounds.

  Maybe sensing Jackson’s apprehension, the man stepped towards him and thrust out his hand. “I’m Sebastian.”

  He accepted the hand with a nod. “Jackson.”

  “You go by Jack?”

  “No.”

  Sebastian was dark-haired, wearing a scruffy mountain-man beard, and Jackson was surprised to see a wide smile emerge from the depths of all those whiskers. “Neither would I. I don’t trust a man who uses nicknames. Speaks of laziness to me. My name’s Sebastian and that’s it.”

  Without knowing how to respond to that, Jackson turned to the teenage boy who couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen.

  The kid was skinny and beaming. “I’m Monty.” He didn’t bother to offer a hand to shake. “Short for Montgomery.” He said this while glancing at Sebastian. “I guess I’m the laziest dude you’ll ever meet.”

  All the women laughed, but Jackson remained neutral and Sebastian’s grin vanished. He clearly did not enjoy being mocked. Jackson couldn’t blame him.

  Smiling, Lindy said hello to Monty. It was the first time she’d spoken and Jackson could see why. The boy was definitely the type girls would go for. Tousled dark hair a tad too long, a wide smile showing off ridiculously straight white teeth, and dimples like those on any pin-up pretty boy teenage girls go crazy over. A tight gray T-shirt accentuated his muscles—or to Jackson’s mind, lack thereof—and his feet were bare beneath the cuffs of his tattered blue jeans.

  Jackson sighed. A headache was coming on and his back ached. The last thing he needed was Lindy to go boy crazy on him.

  Sebastian gave his shoulder a nudge. “How about some coffee, Jackson? Just made a fresh pot.”

  After a moment’s consideration, he said, “I think I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee.”

  The big man boomed a laugh. “You ain’t kidding about that. But I got just the thing. A splash of hair of the dog in your coffee and you’ll feel like a new man.”

  Finally taking his hand off Lindy’s arm, Jackson sincerely hoped the big guy was right.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Yellow yoke smeared around
the edges of his mouth, Andrew sat in a stranger’s kitchen, his belly now full and his craving satisfied.

  “Pretty good, was it?” Jude asked, leaning against the counter.

  Andrew pretended to think about it. “Yeah,” he said at last. “But my mom made them better.”

  “Hear that?” Jude asked the woman whose kitchen they now occupied. “His mother made them better.”

  The woman, her face tear-streaked, both her eyes blackening as they spoke, attempted to sniff blood and snot back up her newly broken nose. She let out a tiny whimper, her entire body trembling with terror.

  “I don’t know what we should do about that,” Jude continued. He looked at the man seated at the table across from Andrew. “Sam? What’s your opinion on the matter?”

  Sam wasn’t in any better condition than his wife. It was possible that both his right eye socket and cheekbone were shattered, that side of his face swollen and blackish-purple.

  “Sam?” Jude repeated. He snapped his fingers loud and strong, making the woman cringe. “Wake up, Sam!”

  But Sam had checked out. Too bad, because Andrew had enjoyed his company until Jude had bludgeoned the man with his own baseball bat. Jude was thin, but apparently very strong, and very vicious.