Don't Wake the Dead

by C. C. Wood

  “Are you saying you think this was a stupid idea?” I asked, wondering if Stony and Blaine felt the same.

  He studied my face for a moment. “I don’t think any idea you could have would be stupid, Zoe. This has been fun, I just didn’t want you thinking that you had to do something like this every week. You might not be tired of it yet, but you might feel differently in a few weeks or months.”

  I shook my head. “No way. We worked hard on these episodes. We should celebrate them.”

  Mal smiled at me. “Have I mentioned lately that I’m glad you’re working with us?” he asked.

  “Nope. But I believe you might have pointed that out several times yesterday,” I quipped.

  “Well, I am glad.”

  Until recently I hadn’t realized how foreign the feeling of happiness was to me. It had been so long since I was genuinely unfettered and happy that I’d forgotten the sensation.

  In the last few weeks, my eyes had been opened and I wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible.

  As we ate cake and ice cream, I pulled up the YouTube app on my smart TV and found the episode.

  “Y’all ready?” I asked.

  There was a chorus of agreement and I started the show. My heart raced as the opening credits played and I saw myself onscreen. It was strange to be watching myself on TV.

  As Mal began his introduction for the episode, my doorbell rang. Without thinking I got to my feet and moved to answer the door.

  Before I took more than two steps, Mal’s hand curved around my elbow and he pulled me to a stop.

  “Let me answer the door,” he insisted.

  I nodded my agreement and stood behind him as he glanced out the side window.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” he muttered under his breath, unlocking the door and throwing it open. “Good evening, Sheriff Daughtry. What can I do for you?”

  The sheriff didn’t seem surprised to see him. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” he declared.

  I followed Mal out onto the porch. Sheriff Daughtry’s eyes flicked to me, but he didn’t say anything about my joining them.

  He removed his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I received the preliminary results from the ballistics test and neither of the weapons you had on the scene matched the spent rounds.” He looked as though he had something else to say, but he stopped speaking.

  “Is that all?” Mal asked.

  The sheriff took a deep breath. “I…well, I went to Steven Dwyer’s residence today and he appears to be gone. When I contacted his employer, they told me that they hadn’t seen him since last week.”

  “Really?” Mal asked.

  “He hasn’t been into work since the day you were run off the road,” he commented.

  “What a coincidence.” Sarcasm dripped from Mal’s words.

  “Look, I had to consider every possibility on the scene that night. You come to me, accusing an upstanding member of the community of murder without proof, and then a few days later you’re shot at and run off the road by a vehicle that matches the description of his vehicle. It was suspicious,” the sheriff replied defensively.

  “Of course it was. There’s no reason that we could have been attacked because I confronted Dwyer with the fact that I knew he committed murder.”

  I glanced away from the sheriff’s face because the exasperation so clearly written in his expression made me want to laugh.

  Sighing heavily, the sheriff continued speaking without responding to that statement. “I wanted you to be aware that we’re actively looking for Steven Dwyer. No one has seen his wife since last week either, so we believe they may be together.”

  “In other words, we should watch our backs?” Mal asked.

  “I only wanted to notify you that you’ll be able to pick up your weapon at the sheriff’s department in two days and that you should be aware that we have yet to make contact with Dwyer.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I’m assuming that Zoe and I are on our own when it comes to protecting ourselves,” Mal replied.

  I could practically hear the sheriff’s teeth grinding at the antagonistic attitude that Mal was exhibiting. “I’ll arrange for deputies to drive by Ms. Thorne’s house and the hotel several times a day.”

  “I’m sure that will be very effective.”

  I hid my snort of amusement behind a cough before I said, “Thank you, Sheriff Daughtry. I appreciate your concern for our safety.”

  The sheriff’s dark eyes narrowed as he weighed my words and the sincerity behind them.

  “If you have any questions, please call the department and leave a message. I’ll get back to you,” he assured us. “Y’all have a good evening.”

  As he walked out to his car, Mal muttered beneath his breath, “Yeah, just like he got back to me on the last six messages I’ve left for him.”

  He had a good point.

  Mal turned and looked down at me. “It looks like I’ll be staying here for a little while longer. That okay with you?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, as long as you don’t try to make me work twenty-four hours a day. Oh, and you pick up your socks and put the toilet seat down.”

  Chuckling, Mal wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me back inside the house.

  “I haven’t left the toilet seat up since the unfortunate incident of 2010.”

  “Sat down when the seat was up, didn’t you?” I asked smugly.

  Mal shuddered. “It was the worst ten seconds of my life.”

  Chapter

  I woke up later than usual the next day. Probably because my body tensed at every little sound or creak, as my anxiety-ridden brain interpreted the noises as the furtive footsteps of a psychopathic murderer.

  When I came downstairs, I could hear Mal talking to someone in the kitchen. My feet stopped abruptly as I entered and saw who sat at the table across from him.

  “Hey, Zoe,” Mal greeted me. “Your mom didn’t want me to wake you. We’ve been getting to know each other.”

  My mother folded her hands on the tabletop. “Yes, we have.”

  While my mother preferred to use many words to get her point across, she could also do a damn good job with just three or four. I wondered what she was doing here. When I hadn’t heard from her after I’d nearly died, I assumed that meant we were no longer on speaking terms. Period.

  “Uh, hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m doing well, thank you.”

  Mal brought me a cup of coffee. I thanked him as I reached for it and took a sip. It surprised me to discover that he’d added half and half and sugar, exactly how I liked it.

  I glanced at him with wide eyes, but he was already heading toward the living room.

  “I’ll give you two a little privacy,” he stated.

  Bemused, I watched him leave the kitchen. He knew that my relationship with my mom wasn’t the best, I’d mentioned it in passing more than once, yet he’d waltzed out of here without a care in the world.

  Apparently, he would protect me from a threatening sheriff but not an overbearing parent. Then I frowned when I realized that I expected him to protect me at all. I decided to worry about it later because right now, I had a bigger problem sitting to my left.

  I sipped my coffee again and my eyes darted to my mother. I knew I should say something, but I had no idea what.

  As the silence between us grew longer and longer, I finally blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “I’m not sleeping with Mal.”

  From her withering glare, I realized that was exactly what she was thinking after finding Mal in my home so early in the morning.

  “I didn’t say you were,” she answered primly. “Though it’s probably best if you don’t since you do have to work with him now.”

  The tone of voice she used when she said “work” made the nape of my neck prickle with irritation.

  “Are you here to lecture me about my career and relationship choices?” I asked, focused on keeping my words even and
calm.

  My mother sighed. “No, I’m not.” She paused, toying with the handle of her coffee mug. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I’m here to apologize.”

  Convinced I’d hallucinated the last statement, I asked, “What?”

  The look my mother flashed me was scathing. “I said I’m here to apologize.”

  “Uh, okay. I wasn’t sure I heard you correctly,” I explained.

  When I didn’t speak again, her lips pursed tightly, as though she’d just eaten something sour. “I’m sorry.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for everything that had happened between us in the last few years, or just for the fight we had a couple of weeks ago, but it didn’t matter. My mother never apologized. At least not to my father or me.

  She probably never would again.

  “I’m sorry that I lost my temper,” I replied.

  She blinked at my words and I realized that she hadn’t expected me to reciprocate. I tried to remember the last time I’d apologized to my mother for anything and couldn’t think of a single instance. It was a similarity between us that made me uncomfortable now that I was aware of it.

  Mom tilted her head in a sharp nod. “Apology accepted.”

  And just like that, it was over. I wondered if she would be able to bite her tongue when she thought I was making the wrong decision.

  We drank our coffee in awkward silence for a few minutes before my mother spoke again.

  “Malachi seems like a very nice young man,” she commented. “Not at all what I expected.”

  Intrigued, I asked, “What did you expect?”

  “Just…someone a little less mature, I suppose.”

  “You mean you expected him to be a total loser who still lived with his mom, right?”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe.”

  “He studied history at Baylor. The other two men on our team studied film and art history at Baylor. They met their freshmen year. They’re very intelligent, even if they are a bit eccentric.”

  My mother studied my expression. “You look so happy just talking about them. Happier than I’ve seen you look in a long time.”

  I nodded. “I am. I wasn’t necessarily unhappy before, but I didn’t enjoy my job the way I enjoy working on the show.”

  “I, uh, watched the episode last night. I must admit it was interesting. Especially when that odd medium woman was sprayed in the face with the shower. I’m just glad that your…resident ghost didn’t pull a similar prank on me.”

  I struggled to keep the shock from showing on my face. My mother admitted not only that Teri was real but that she was glad she hadn’t done something mean to her.

  “Well, Teri wasn’t pleased with how the medium was, um, representing her. Or that the medium was a complete fake and con artist.”

  “She did seem a bit over the top,” Mom admitted.

  “A bit?”

  My mother chuckled. “More than a bit.” She got up and refilled her coffee cup. “I’m looking forward to watching the first episode with you in it,” she stated.

  I couldn’t believe that my mother intended to keep watching the show. Then I remembered what happened during the first episode.

  “Um, Mom, I might need to warn you about the next show.” When she didn’t speak up, I continued, “We filmed it in the cemetery in Springtown, the one with the glowing headstone,” I began. “And, well, something happened while we were there.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Do I really want to know?”

  “Probably not, but I don’t want you to get an unpleasant shock,” I admitted.

  “I think I know,” my mother replied, bringing her coffee cup back to the table. “It never happened to me, but I could always feel them when I went to a graveyard as a child. The dead.”

  I blinked rapidly. My mother’s complete change in attitude was throwing me for a loop. Just a few weeks ago, she would have had a coronary if I mentioned feeling a connection to the dead, much less raising a zombie.

  “You did?”

  Nodding, she took another sip of her coffee. “It was an odd sensation. It was like their souls were watching from a distance, just waiting for a chance to talk to me.”

  “I know exactly how that feels,” I said. “It’s the same after the sun sets, only stronger. It’s as if they can reach out then. Sometimes they do, you know, come to talk to me.”

  “Their spirits?” my mother asked.

  I shook my head. “Not quite. It’s like an echo of their personality is there, but it’s faint. But sometimes the newer graves, they…” I trailed off.

  Her eyes widened and she put a hand to her throat. “They what?”

  I bit my bottom lip, not sure how to break it to my mother that I was some sort of zombie commander.

  “Let’s just say, the bodies sometimes come to visit me.”

  “Come to visit you?” she asked, an odd expression on her face.

  “Well, the graves open up and then the body climbs out,” I explained in a rush. “You might call them zombies.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “That never happened to you?” I asked.

  She shook her head, lifting her hand from her throat to cover her mouth.

  “It only happens after dark,” I said quickly.

  “I’ve never been to a graveyard after dark,” my mother admitted.

  “It’s not my favorite thing.” I glanced at my mother. “I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid you won’t want to answer.”

  “You can ask me,” she replied, “but I can’t promise that I’ll want to talk about it.”

  “Do you ever miss it?” I asked.

  “Miss what?”

  “Being able to see spirits, talk to them.”

  My mother hesitated, staring down into her cup. “It’s been a long time, Zoe. I haven’t seen a ghost since I started high school. At the time I was incredibly relieved because it meant that your grandma would stop punishing me.” Her eyes flicked to me. “Your dad told you about your grandma, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I was glad that it was gone. I have been for years.”

  I wondered if that was why she freaked out when she realized that I inherited her ability, but I didn’t ask aloud. I could tell that my mother had a difficult time discussing this and the peace we’d established was too new for me to test it just yet. I wanted to be able to talk to my mother.

  She smiled, but it seemed sad. “I thought that your life might be easier if I could discourage you from using your gifts, because I honestly felt mine was better. But lately I’ve begun to wonder if that was true.”

  “I used to think my life would be less challenging if I didn’t have these gifts,” I replied. “But for the past few weeks, I’ve been glad.”

  “I know this may be hard to believe, honey, but I’ve always wanted you to be happy. I just didn’t think about the fact that your version of happiness wouldn’t be the same as my own.”

  My throat tightened at her words, but I didn’t want to be sad. This was a first for my mother and me. We were communicating.

  “Oh my God, Mom,” I gasped.

  Eyes wide, she straightened, “What’s wrong?”

  “We sound—” I paused for effect. “Normal. Quick, tell me I’m making a poor life choice.”

  She stared at me for a moment then she laughed. “It’s not that unusual for us to get along is it?”

  I didn’t answer verbally, just lifted an eyebrow.

  “Well, too bad. I think I like being normal with you,” she replied.

  “Okay, but let’s keep it to a minimum until I get used to it. It’s a little scary.”

  My mother shook her head. “Well, on that note, I have to be going. I have an appointment at the salon.” She rose and carried her mug to the sink, rinsing it out before she stuck it in my dishwasher.

  I wanted to laugh as I watched her because there were five mugs sitting around the sink that I hadn’t bothered
to put in the machine. Some things never changed.

  I waved to her from the front door as she climbed into her car and drove away. A chill raced up my back making me aware of Teri’s presence behind me.

  “I thought I heard the voice of Satan. How is your mother?” she asked.

  Smiling, I shut the door and faced her. “Different. I think the exorcism took this time.”

  Teri scowled at me. “Aw man, does this mean I have to be nice to her when she comes over?”

  I glared at her. “Teri, she can’t see or hear you.”

  “Yeah, but the next thing you know you’re gonna make me stop moving her car keys or putting bugs in her purse.”

  “Oh my God, don’t you dare!”

  “See what I mean?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s started already.”

  Chapter

  Later that afternoon, I was stretched out on the couch, reading a Regency romance, while Mal worked in my kitchen.

  I’d never realized how much work filming a YouTube show could be until Mal moved into my house. He was constantly on the computer or the phone, scheduling shoots, editing scripts, or doing any number of things that needed doing.

  I tried to stay out of his way, but it was beginning to drive me a little nuts. Though he was professional, he was completely disorganized and he could be a great deal more efficient. I just had to figure out how to broach the subject with him.

  “We have to talk,” Mal said, coming out of the kitchen.

  I lowered my book to look at him. “About what?”

  “It’s easier if I just show you,” he replied. “Come take a look at something in the kitchen.”

  Frowning, I replaced my bookmark and followed him into the kitchen. I shook my head at the state of my table. There were notebooks, papers, and other miscellaneous items everywhere. I shuddered to think what the desk in his home office might look like.

  “What am I looking at?” I asked.

  “This,” he answered, pointing toward the computer screen.

  It was the number of subscribers to our channel on YouTube.

  “Wow, we have one hundred thousand YouTube subscribers?” I asked.