At the last minute, she touches Mitch and I can’t rein it back fast enough.
He brightens. Every abrasion and wound against his person vanishes.
His eyes roll back and he falls into the wall.
“What. Is. That?” he asks, eyes a little buggy.
“I'm an Organic.”
He frowns in confusion.
“What year did you die?” I ask.
“2010.”
“Ah—that’s why. Grandpa Kyle found the markers five years later, and everybody got dosed.”
“Is there a book or something?”
A zombie wanting to read up on history. “I think we just get you back to your Earth. Then you don’t have to worry about all the junk that’s happened since.”
Mitch straightens. “You’d like that.”
I don’t lie. Can’t. “Yeah, I would.”
I glare at him, daring him to break the eye contact.
He doesn’t.
The doorbell does.
Gramps walks to the window, pulling the curtain aside then flicking it closed.
“I think we got bigger fish to fry. Sanction Police are calling.”
Dad looks at Gramps.
I look at the zombies. I tell them where to go, thinking, attic.
They move fast.
I wave my hand in front of my nose. Still smells vaguely like eau de rot.
“What is it?” Mitch asks.
“Can ya act like a living guy for the next half hour?”
Some of my desperation must leak out, because he says, “Will they hurt Deegan?”
There's a heartbeat of understanding where I think he might be on board.
“Not on our watch.”
He nods.
It's settled between us for now.
Gramps gives each one of us a look. It says everything so eloquently.
Mainly, let me handle it.
Gramps opens the entry way door and the Sanction Police stand at the front stoop.
We have so much more to worry about than my sister's zombie crush.
Club Rot in the attic.
Or the fact that we're keeping Dee's little black hole secret to ourselves.
For some reason, Clyde stands between them.
In cuffs.
Dad's gonna lose it.
Then he does.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Deegan
Daddy shoulders past everyone and takes hold of Uncle Clyde.
My power leaves me, Pax’s sliding to mine like a river whose forks meet.
Our power hits Dad’s, and it swims into Uncle Clyde.
The SP Null tries to nullify Dad. And that might have worked, except with a family of AFTDs, it’s hard to get a handle on power that is as automatic as ours is.
Familial.
It sweeps Uncle Clyde, and he shoves the SPs aside.
One is telekinetic and leverages himself back onto his feet and the broad concrete porch as soon as he falls. He retreats, swinging a palm at Uncle Clyde, who sails into one of the brick pillars.
It holds, but Uncle Clyde lands in a pile at the base.
I scream.
My energy is sentient, thinking of where best to serve the need at the moment. Zeroing is painful to contain.
Using it is the deepest inhibition I possess.
Mitchell is suddenly there as Telekinetic jerks a baton out of his sheathing.
“Caleb!” Mom calls.
I turn and feel my power.
Dad moves to me.
Mitchell folds himself around my body.
“Ah!” I yell against Mitchell and a little bit leaks out. Like a fire I can't put out I aim it at something that doesn't matter.
The baton.
Pax is close to the SP. Sweat runs in rivulets into his eyes, and he shakes his head. Telekinetic holds him against the porch post. Uncle Clyde’s rear is on the ground.
The Null meets my eyes.
“No, Deegan,” Mom says.
I zap the baton. I don’t have anywhere for the power to go. I have to let it out.
We’re all scared of what might happen if I try to reabsorb it.
There’s a sucking noise like a reverse pop, and the baton disappears.
Well… not all.
A stub sits in the SP's hand. I let out a shaky breath. If I'd gone lower I could have black holed his thumb or something.
Telekinetic freaks, dropping the decapitated weapon.
Gramps holds his card up, sticking it in their faces.
“Grandfathered, chumps! Don't be using force if ya don't want the business end.”
He spins the shotgun like a twirler in a jamboree.
The Telekinetic pales.
Dad holds his hands up. “Settle down everyone.”
Oh, that’s great, coming from him.
The Null moves his gaze to what’s left of his partner’s baton, and he frowns.
“It would have been fine if you hadn’t attacked us, Sir.”
Probably.
Dad asks, “Why do you have a grandfathered zombie in cuffs?” He glances at Uncle Clyde then glares.
Null folds his arms. The insignia on his breast is as awful as what the sanctions stand for.
A crude, B pulsemovie human form shuffles inside a circle with a scarlet line through it. Zombie hate, the last form of racism.
“Reports of numerous violations have come in. Ten unique witness signatures pulsed footage to our central station.”
The Null's turns to Mitchell, and I stand in front of him.
“ID.” The Null holds out his hand.
The Telekinetic checks out Gramps’ card. “It’s legitimate.”
The Null flicks his eyes to the laminated holographic card Gramps probably wears in his sleep. “Haven’t seen one of these in a while.”
Gramps grunts.
“Why is Clyde in cuffs?” Dad repeats.
The Null sighs. “Again—he is out against regulations, unaccompanied.”
Uncle Clyde strides over, lips parted. I know he’s syphoning from the three of us. It’s a bath of goodness for a zombie. “I felt death energy. It was off, and I came to check.” Uncle Clyde gives the two jerk SPs a speculative look.
“Next time, go with your wife.” The Null laughs. He’s being deliberately mean.
Gramps clubs him in the jaw with the butt end of the shotgun.
He crumples to the ground.
Telekinetic clenches his fists. “Just because you have A Card doesn’t mean you can do anything.”
His face takes on the blankness of pulse to mind. He’s alerting others.
“Try me.” Gramps says, “You are the one who came here with a grandfathered zombie cuffed, ready to interrogate a family based on what? Pulse-witness.” Gramps makes a disgusted noise.
“So easily doctored.” Pax rolls his eyes.
“We can’t be the ears and eyes of the world. When illegal zombie activity is reported, it is our duty as Sanctions to investigate.” He gives Gramps a sour look, trying not to escalate the violence. I can tell he wishes he had his baton.
“So you just arrested a wandering zombie as you came here?” I ask from Mitchell’s hold.
He turns his gaze to me. “Yes. It is what we do.” He shifts to Mitchell, who stiffens against me.
If we were in the other Earth, they’d know who we were right away. They would know Mitchell is a zombie.
Telekinetic can’t tell.
“I asked for your ID.”
“Forgot it. I don’t live here.” Mitchell thinks he’s helping.
I close my eyes. Of course ID is behind the ear. It wasn't anything but a card like Grampsʼ free pass back in 2010. It's an immediate tell he's not current in his time line, but from one years ago.
There's only one answer.
A cuff sails out from Telekinetic's waistband and latches onto Mitchell's wrist. “I know where you'll be going.” Telekinetic leers.
I shake my head, panicking. “Daddy! Don't let him take Mi
tchell.”
Dad tried to tell me about the AFTD-zombie bond. I just didn't get it. Have to experience it, I guess.
Mitchell holds up his wrist as though he's never seen it before. “Why do I have a handcuff on me?”
Telekinetic's brows cinch in concentration.
Mitchell grunts in resistance, sweat shining on his face.
The other cuff goes on.
I latch onto Telekinetic, my hand a vise on his arm.
“Don’t,” he manages to squeeze out, his eyes round.
My eyes burn with my emotion. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“Dee, no!” Pax screams.
The center of the cuff disappears, and Telekinetic falls back. He moves his gaze to me then to the cuffs.
“Where the hell does my shit keep going?” he bellows.
“I don’t know,” I say. Because I don’t.
Telekinetic’s eyes close.
“He’s pulsing someone!” Gramps says. “Get in the house!”
Clyde ushers us in and I cringe, knowing I’ve done a bad thing. I’ve made a weapon, and cuffs of the Sanction Police’s disappear via a black hole of my making.
It is one guy's word against mine.
But that's all they need.
Dad and Mom look at each other, then at me.
I shake, crying. “I'm sorry! They were going to take Mitchell.”
Mitchell’s chain and cuffs rattle. “Why is this a big deal? Deegan, what did you do?” He takes my face in his hands and looks deeply into my eyes. Cold metal slides against my skin.
“I… do you know what a black hole is?”
He smirks. “I passed science.”
Pax laughs, and we turn as a group to give him a dirty look.
“Chill guys, a little levity.”
Mitchell doesn’t look away as Pax’s zombie family mills down the stairs again.
“I can make them,” I blurt.
Mitchell smiles, running a thumb down my jaw.
My parents are watching, and I kinda want to die a little.
“Nobody can do that, Deegan.”
“Deedie can,” Gramps says.
Mitchell’s eyes flick to his then away. “I’m trying here, everyone. I’ve been told I’m dead, that there are people in this Earth of the future who can raise dead people. Control them.” He looks at me. “I acknowledge that. I feel it.” His gaze takes in the room. “Then we had the guys on the porch.”
“Sanction Police,” Pax says as though bored.
“Yes. And he made my hand move to the cuff without touching me.”
“Telekinetic,” Dad supplies.
“So there are a huge number of different abilities, and they just keep showing themselves. Now I’m supposed to believe that this girl…”
I don’t want to be young to him.
“…is somehow able to manufacture black holes out of thin air?”
“I know it's a lot to take in,” Mom says and he gives a disbelieving chuckle, folding his arms and stepping away from me.
I feel our separation like a small death.
Get it together, Deegan.
“May I?” she asks.
Dad sighs. “Go ahead, it’ll save time. But I’d love to know why they don’t seem to need answers to the Spanish Inquisition.” Indicating the zombie family.
I look at the family Pax raised. I don’t know, either.
Mom moves toward Mitchell, and he stands his ground. I take her hand.
“She can give you some answers. It’s quicker than talking about it.”
Mitchell looks from me to Mom and finally nods.
Mom touches Mitchell.
They stay like that for ten minutes.
When she lifts her hand, he looks at us all silently for a time.
“This world is worse than the one I just came from.”
Gramps nods. “Some of it, probably. But we don’t have slayer robots here.”
Dad looks thoughtfully outside as the SPs wait patiently at the porch for whoever will come to meet them.
His gaze finds us.
“Yet.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Paxton
“Okay.” I look at the fam. Deegan's ten shades lighter than normal—kinda received a shock today so okay. Dad and Mom look a little worse for wear, Uncle Clyde and Gramps look fine and my zombies look good.
Well, pretty good if you think pulse-boards, like the signage that used to clog the highways of the past. Great from fifty feet away but up close? Not so much.
“I think we should get out of here before someone comes to investigate Dee's little accident.”
Mitch's eyes go hard like flint. That guy.
“She's in danger. Your mother made sure I'm aware.”
“Jade, Mitch.”
He nods in her direction. “If they find out she can control anything like that, they'll take her.”
I know this. That’s why I want to get the hell out of Dodge. Gramps will stay because he wants to wrestle the clowns. Dad will want to hide Mom and Dee for protection.
I want to see what Dad’s old buddies can do.
I tell him.
He shakes his head. “It’s been a couple of decades of everyone’s lives being back on track.” He swipes a palm in the air. “I don’t want to dredge stuff up.”
I give him a look between disbelief and anger. “Dad, come on. Uncle John and Aunt Tiff will totally want to kick ass on this thing. What about Archer, Jonesy, Sophie… Mia and Bry?”
Mom hangs her head. “They don’t have much talent anymore, Pax. It was a big blow to our friends when they had great paranormal skills for a few years, then after the mass sterilization… nothing. Or not much.” I catch her nervous eye flick at Dad.
Sirens begin to wail in the distance.
Mitch opens his mouth, closes it.
“Spit it out,” Gramps says.
Mitch’s gaze dances on the people in the room. “We don’t have infertility issues in my world.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
He holds his hands out. “We eradicated that the year I died. It was groundbreaking science.”
Huh, parallel breakthroughs at the same time.
“Like the cure for cancer?” I ask bitterly, though Mitch can't know the reason.
His brows rise in partial question but he nods.
Something to file away for later.
“If we’re going, let’s go.” I turn to Dad. “They’ll take Clyde.”
None of us says anything about Dee.
Mitch pulls her against him, and I roll my eyes. But we’re on the same side, so I’ll allow it.
For now.
“Okay.” Dad slaps his hands against his thighs as he stands.
“Where to?” I ask.
Gramps shrugs. “How about Jonesy? He’s good with chaos.”
I glance at Dad. He looks resigned to the inevitable.
“Get in the Outback.”
I laugh. It’s gotta be bad if we’re using that. My smile fades as the sirens grow louder.
Dad moves swiftly through the house. With a little clever help from Gramps, he's built a car that's like a tank.
He keeps it below the house in an underground garage. When I was in high school, he could cart the entire basketball team in the thing. It’s not traceable. Gramps’ tech friend jury-rigged that whole program. He has a card, too.
We shoehorn everyone in there and hover out of the basement-style garage. Mom and Dad, Gramps, Dee, five zombies, and a partridge in a pear tree. It’d be funnier if Dee wasn’t on the line.
Dad’s alarm goes off.
They’re in our house.
Gramps turns, his palm presses against the safety glass of the vehicle.
“Bastards,” he breathes out harshly.
We move through the air, top speed and undetectable.
*
“Jonesy!”
“Hey, my man! How's it hanginʼ?”
Dad says, “We need to co
me over. As a matter of fact, we're on our way.”
“Oh, hey—Caleb, bro, I dig your enthusiasm, but I’ve got myself some lady company. Not a good time.”
“Jones, listen, I’m in a bind here. I’m bringing Jade and the kids… and some others.”
A loud, feminine moan emanates from the pulse-speaker, and Mom’s face goes beet red.
So funny. Jonesy.
“You’re on speaker, Jones.”
Gramps snorts.
A clearer-sounding Jonesy comes back. “Thanks for having my back there, Hart.”
“Anytime,” Dad replies in a dry voice.
“Okay man, you’ve effed my mojo, so what’s doin’?”
“I’ve had a little zombie trouble…”
“Nice. I thought you were out of the racket.”
Dad smiles.
“I am. The kids…”
“Say no more! The kids are working the undead angle. I dig, I dig. Bring everyone here. I’ve got the love shack down below.”
Mitch’s eyebrow shoots up, and I give him the signal with my hand. I’ll explain it later.
“When you cominʼ?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“ʼKay, catch ya in ten.”
The line dies with a short beep.
“What does that do?” Deegan asks. “Because Jonesy is weird, Dad.”
“He’s not weird sweetheart, he’s….”
“Free,” I finish.
“That's being generous,” Gramps mutters.
Dad clenches the steering wheel though it’s on autopilot. “He’ll go with whatever crazy thing happens.”
“Sounds like a wild card type of guy,” Mitch says.
Dad turns around briefly. “You have no idea.”
*
We arrive at Jonesy’s. It’s the same house in which he was raised. His mom and dad are gone now, and he’s inherited it.
It’s quite a pad.
Jonesy made an assload of bank with the electric company he took over.
We suspect it might have gotten a little help. It’s a well-traveled rumor that some paranormals retain residual abilities. That the cataclysmic disaster of sterilization and paranormal reversal was not absolute.
Paranormals now considered Randoms don’t want anyone knowing they have anything left if they can hide it.
It can be dangerous.
Dee and I are catalogued and since there are so few, the government doesn’t seem too alarmed. If what I see is true, plenty of Minors are running around.
Death 07 - For the Love of Death Page 10