The Last Death Worm of the Apocalypse (Kelly Driscoll Book 3)
Page 25
“Under my door,” Raum said. “How quaint. Will a small monkey in a red fez be delivering it?”
“What about the movie ticket discount?” Forcas asked.
“All of you are still bound to the building, so it doesn’t matter,” she told them. “You’ve never used that amenity.”
“And what about the library?” Vassago said. “Are you going to keep us from reading?”
“Yes. You’re free to read in your own units.”
“That’s not fair!” Crocell said.
“You nearly destroyed the building again,” she pointed out.
“That was Charlotte!” Crocell said. “Mostly.”
“You used your death worm lap pool loophole and opened the portals to other dimensions, letting more monsters fly in. You admitted it, remember? Don’t you think that also had something to do with it?”
Crocell shrugged and studied his feet.
“Well, it did. And do you have any idea how much it will cost the city to capture them? Who knows what will happen with our taxes.”
Raum gave her an ingratiating smile and leaned toward her. “Be reasonable, Kelly. We’re the board of directors.”
“Right, that’s another thing. The board of directors no longer exists.”
“What are you talking about?” Forcas said. “We’re standing right in front of you!”
“Didn’t any of you watch What’s On Your Mind, Amenity Tower?” she said. Her reboot may not win the Conseil d’Administration Award from the French-American Building Manager’s Association, Pothole City Chapter, or the Trailblazer Award, presented by the Amenity Tower Community Committee, like Roger had, but it didn’t need to.
“What’s that?” Forcas said.
“The new local access show on channel nine.” She didn’t tell them that Tom would be running it for a while. That’s why she didn’t rename it after her or anyone in particular—it was about the building.
“What happened to—” Crocell started.
“The show? I renamed it,” she said, with a slight smile. “The reruns of Roger’s show are still available.”
“If there’s no board, how are you going to run the building?” Raum asked, smirking.
“Everything will be put to a vote. Honestly, the board is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“A vote?” Raum said. “Hold on, Kelly. You can’t dismantle the board! I’ll go to Claw and Crutty and—”
“Everyone wants to go to Claw and Crutty,” she said. “They should start a radio talk show. But the thing is, I already talked to them, and they’re willing to give it a try on a provisional basis, especially since the most recent incident. It’s done, for now at least. You’re not free of the building, but you’re free of serving on the board.”
“But that’s what we do!” Forcas said in a wheedling tone.
“You must realize that it’s going to be difficult to get the requisite number of votes,” Raum said. “Even if you chase down every resident, and even if the voting is online, it won’t be easy.”
“I’m willing to try it,” she said, in an arid tone.
The possible downside, which she certainly wasn’t going to mention, and which she had already considered, was that the board would have even more time on its hands to plan nefarious things and read the apocrypha for ways to break their binding to the building.
She also knew that it helped to have structure. If they had too much time on their hands, it could backfire. But after weighing her list of pros and cons, the pro column won out.
Workers dismantled and carted off the lap pool, and replaced it with a standard death worm agility course, with weaves, jumps (winged jumps, tire jump) and tunnels, along with an A-frame, a teeter-totter, sway bridge, platform jump, and swing plank.
The fit and show had been such a hit (with Shock Barf winning in the end), despite the portal opening to other dimensions and Charlotte revealing her true form, that the residents lobbied hard to build a permanent course.
And since Raum and the rest of the board rigged the amenity survey, the residents hadn’t particularly cared about the lap pool, anyway.
It would take a year for Ultra-Amenity Tower to rebuild their amenity floors, which were destroyed by the enormous Godzilla-squid monster who flew in from the portal and attempted to mate with the top of the tall, sensuously curvy building. Their insurance had agreed to pay for residents to use Amenity Tower’s amenities, which built up their own reserve and gave them some extra money to make a truly excellent agility course. Plus, there would be a live judging panel for the Pinnacle Award, which Amenity Tower won by default.
“Looks like they’re enjoying the new amenity,” Tom said, coming to stand next to her.
Kelly turned to face him. “Tom…”
The giant water scorpion frowned. “Oh, no. Corporate had second thoughts about me being the new assistant manager, did they?”
“That’s not it. Listen, I—”
“You changed your mind.” Tom exhaled. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“No, I didn’t change my mind. I’m taking some time off. Medical leave, actually.”
“Oh no! Were you injured?”
“Not really. But my doctor strongly encouraged me to take a month off. And while I’m gone, you’ll be managing the building.”
Tom recoiled in horror. “What? Oh no, I can’t—I’m not—”
“You can and you are. You’ll be interim manager. And don’t let that make you feel insecure. Be yourself, and don’t panic. Would you be all right with returning to assistant manager when I come back?”
If she came back, she thought.
“Oh yes. I would prefer that.”
“I talked to Claw and Crutty and arranged for them to send you a temp to help with paperwork. You’ll be fine. Display that Pinnacle Award proudly—we earned it.”
“The residents won’t be happy with this,” Tom said. “They’re attached to you.”
She smiled. “Good luck with everything, Tom.”
She hated to leave after being promoted, but the doctor she saw two days after the whole thing had strongly recommended it, and so Claw & Crutty approved paid leave.
Amenity Tower was once again one of the few relatively intact buildings left standing after the board had opened the portals to other dimensions, and after her former quasi-boss caused so much damage to the patio and the west side of the building. That meant more construction to annoy Af.
When she got back to the SSI building, covered in slime and dirt and whatever else, she found Coleman Grether sitting against the wall of the large bathroom next to the tube room, nearly hysterical at the loss of Ultra-Amenity Tower’s destroyed amenity floors. The SPs kept trying to give him different Cluck Snacks, but he rocked back and forth, pale and sweaty. “I can’t start over, I can’t start over,” he muttered. “All those amenities, just… gone.”
“He can’t stay here; we’re leaving.” Kelly gave it some thought, and gingerly took Grether’s cell phone and handed it to him. “Unlock it, please.”
He reached out a quavering index finger and tapped in a passcode. She took the phone back and scrolled through his contact list until she found a cell number for Becky, who agreed to come pick him up and drive him home.
Her father, after moving all of his lab equipment back to Mr. Yellow’s old office, had a small tantrum over having to move everything into the RV she parked in the alley behind the fire escape.
“Why can’t I stay here?”
“You can stay here, if you want,” she said. “Some of the SPs are staying. I’m taking some time off—we’re not under siege again.”
Archie cast a worried look at the office. “I wish you had decided this before we moved everything here.”
“If you want to come, and I hope you do, get your stuff moved into the RV tonight. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”
Becky showed up twenty minutes later on the security camera. Kelly let her up, surprised to see that the (fo
rmer) amenity consultant seemed far more level-headed than she did when she met with her.
“You!”
“Me,” Kelly said.
“You weren’t really in the market for a unit, were you?” Becky asked.
“Nope.”
“I hated that job, anyway. It stressed me out. C’mon, Coleman. Let’s go.” Becky pulled him up and led a still-discombobulated Coleman Grether out the door and into the elevator.
Kelly closed the door after them and finished packing, missing Af.
The RV, which she’d rented with a long-term rate, had a kitchenette, two bathrooms (one with a shower), multiple beds, and an eating area. By the time she drove away from the SSI building, it was filled with Tubiel, Firiel, and Dave; one cranky father, one flavors lab, and more than enough Cluck Snack products to last for a month.
As she drove east toward the highway and the sunrise, the SPs passed trading cards of fungi, water insects, and birds, and Archie got to work. She wondered how long she’d have to stay away, and if she would ever want to come back—or if she would leave her hard-fought job to Tom and his six dexterous arms.
Before sunset, they stopped at an RV park that temporarily housed the Traveling Miniature Museum of Construction Dioramas, which evidently specialized in dioramas depicting the construction of buildings large and small, including single-family homes, barns, shopping malls, high-rise condo towers, corporate skyscrapers, and stadiums.
The SPs were desperate to go look, so she went with them, sipping a coffee and feeling torn: she had her father, and the SPs and a lot of other things, but she didn’t have Af. She couldn’t even get in touch with him. He’d probably decided to give up on being human, which she couldn’t really blame him for.
Her father went chasing after what he called “an intriguing vapor,” muttering about “flavor markers” and something about Canadians.
She noticed one high-rise condo model that looked shockingly like Amenity Tower. The diorama showed tiny workers working on the top half of the building. Only one of the little windows had any detail, on the second floor of the building.
Using one of their complimentary magnifying glasses, she gave the diorama closer scrutiny and gasped.
She saw her office, with a tiny version of her. There was her bag, her green desk lamp, the new Cluck Snack product the chicken gave her, her wall-mounted stag-horn fern, her bright yellow chair. It was definitely her office, and that was definitely supposed to be her.
Tubiel raised up on his toes and she put the glass in front of him so he could see. He stared at it for a minute and looked up at her with one nod. Tubiel had seen her office before.
On the windowsill perched a seagull with a rolled-up piece of paper in its beak. Tubiel reached out and she almost stopped him, but didn’t. He carefully extracted the paper from the beak and unrolled it so both of them could see. It read:
That barn may look unfinished, but head down the road and you’ll see that it’s not. -Af
Stunned, she dropped the note. The breeze caught it and Tubiel went running after it. He pulled her over to the diorama with the barn, made sure she looked at it, and whistled for the others. He pulled her back to the RV, and put the keys in her hand.
She had no idea how Af did it, but she drove the RV down the road, hoping it was the right direction.
“Are we going to lunch?” Archie called out from the back. “Can it be waffles?”
Half a mile down, she saw it, set way back from the road on a huge plot dense with mature trees. She parked the RV and didn’t get out right away. Tubiel took the keys from the ignition and opened her door.
Af came out to meet them. Her Af, in human form.
“Af, how…?”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I want to show you this place.” He took her hand and led her inside the barn, an open, airy place. The huge kitchen was stacked high with boxes of Cluck Snack products, which the SPs ran to, and a state-of-the-art flavors lab was set up in a loft area, where Archie went, wide-eyed. A row of bunk beds lined the back.
“What is this?”
“I went back for a while. I was given a choice. I could become human, without any conditions, except that I could never go back to my angel form—even if I wanted to.”
She held her breath. “And?”
“What does it look like?” He spread his arms wide and grinned. “I chose you and everything that comes with you. I wanted us to have a place where we wouldn’t have to worry.”
“You can’t change back anymore? You’re completely human now?”
He nodded. “I’m even going to finish writing my book.”
“You mean, The Fallen Angel’s Survival Guide: Your Ultimate Handbook for a Bound Lifestyle?”
“Now that I’m not bound anymore, I feel like I can write about it. It was too depressing while I was still going through it.”
She indicated the barn. “Does this mean you’re not going back to Pothole City?”
He smiled. “It means I can go anywhere you want to go.”
“Right now, I want to be here.”
“Let me show you around,” Af said. They walked toward the kitchen and Kelly said, “Seriously, though: what did that chicken say to you?”
Nina Post is the author of seven novels, including Danger Returns in Pairs, Danger in Cat World, Extra Credit Epidemic, The Last Condo Board of the Apocalypse, The Last Donut Shop of the Apocalypse, One Ghost Per Serving, and The Zaanics Deceit. She lives in Seattle. To stay up-to-date on new releases and get exclusive subscriber-only bonuses, sign up for Nina's newsletter at http://www.ninapost.com/newsletter/
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Book Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Closing
About the Author
Copyright & Publisher