Dead Set (6 page)

Zoe set down the shark tooth and picked up one Mr. Danvers had said was from a lion. It was bigger than her thumb and curved like a dagger. “I don't like the sound of that,” she said.

“Don't worry,” said Mr. Danvers. “We've got another million years or so before we have to worry about poodles and tabbies taking over.”

Zoe smiled. “Want to help me put these away?” Mr. Danvers asked, reaching for the jar he kept the teeth in. He put the empty jar in the middle of the table and began dropping handfuls of teeth inside.

Suddenly the plan Zoe had been thinking about evaporated. She didn't want to steal from him after all. “Shouldn't we be separating these by species or something?” she asked.

Mr. Danvers shrugged. “I like a little chaos. When things get all mixed together, sometimes you see things you would never have seen otherwise.”

Zoe nodded, wondering how she could ever have thought about ripping off someone as genuinely okay as Mr. Danvers. She dropped handfuls of animal teeth into the jar, mentally kissing her baby teeth good-bye.

A teacher Zoe didn't recognize, an older woman wearing lipstick just a little too bright for her prim dress, came into the room. “Mr. Danvers,” she said. “The vice principal would like to see you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Messina,” he said. The woman nodded, giving Zoe a quick, inquiring glance before she left.

Mr. Danvers got up and took a sport coat that Zoe had never once seen him wear off a peg on the far side of the shelves. “Would you mind putting away the teeth for me? Just set the jar back on the shelf.”

“Sure,” said Zoe.

“Thanks,” said Mr. Danvers, and he left, giving her a quick smile before closing the door behind him. Zoe continued dropping teeth into the jar, but her mind was racing.

This is a sign, she thought. The universe wants me to take it.

Still, she dropped teeth into the jar. If she hadn't already decided to be a good girl, to not steal and just give Emmett her own damned teeth like she'd promised, this wouldn't be a problem.

What the hell does he want my tooth for, anyway? she wondered. The idea was bothering her more and more.

Zoe dropped the last of the teeth into the jar, hesitated, and then screwed the lid shut. Another second of hesitation, then she took the jar and set it on the shelf with Mr. Danvers's other science specimens.

As she picked up her books, Zoe was again hit by the image of Emmett sitting quietly in his dark shop all night, waiting for her to bring him her tooth. She set down her books and took the jar from the shelf, going down on her knees behind the lab table. She twisted the lid, but it wouldn't move.

She heard the door open. A voice filled the room. “Jim?” It was an adult. Another teacher's voice. Whoever it was took a couple of more steps into the room. “Jim?” There was a pause. Zoe didn't move. She held her breath, and from her crouched position, it felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. A moment later, though, she heard an annoyed exhalation of breath and the teacher leave the room, closing the door behind.

Zoe let out her breath and sucked in air. Her hands were shaking. She tried the lid again, but it still wouldn't move. She tapped the top of the jar on the floor a couple of times and tried again. This time the lid twisted off easily. She dumped the teeth on the floor and sifted through them quickly. In the jumbled mess she couldn't find the one she wanted. Then she wondered how long she'd been looking and when Mr. Danvers would get back. Panicked, she started scooping teeth back into the jar. When she picked up the last handful, there it was: one perfect human-looking chimp tooth. She pocketed it, screwed the lid back on the jar, and left the room as quickly and quietly as she could.

Absynthe was coming down the hallway, hiding an unlit cigarette cupped in her hand. She looked surprised, then put her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in amusement. “Outside,” she said. Caught off guard by the order, Zoe followed her.

Absynthe led Zoe around a corner of the school and into a cul-de-sac under a set of rusted, cobweb-covered emergency stairs that looked like they couldn't support even one of the skinny fashionista girls, much less a bunch of panicked students.

Absynthe held out the pack and offered Zoe a cigarette. Zoe shook her head. “No thanks. I quit,” she said. She had to cut herself off. She almost said,
I quit when I was in the hospital.
She wasn't ready to talk about any of that yet.

Absynthe put her hand on Zoe's shoulder. “Please tell me the guy you're sneaking off to see isn't Mr. Danvers.”

Zoe stared at her for a second. “What? No!”

Absynthe gave her an appraising look. “So, what were you doing in there? Checking your grades?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar,” Absynthe said, more amused than accusing.

Zoe leaned back against the wall. “The guy I'm going to see. It isn't what you think. It's more complicated. I don't know exactly how to explain it.”

Absynthe lit the cigarette and nodded. “I get it. An older guy, right? Yeah, I've been there. Watch your back. Those college boys can turn weird on you.”

Zoe almost laughed. An older guy. You're right about that, she thought. But if you only knew the rest.

“I'm a little mixed up about some of what's going on right now,” she said. “When I work this out, maybe I'll tell you all about it. Okay?” She looked up at Absynthe and the girl's face was more serious than Zoe had expected. “I'm going to have to tell someone and my mom is totally out of the question.”

Absynthe nodded. “Moms are like that. First they kill you with kindness, and then they ground your ass.” She nodded to the nearby exit. “Run off to your secret rendezvous that's not what I think. But remember that when you're done you owe me a story.”

“Deal,” said Zoe.

Absynthe gave Zoe the appraising look again. “You know,” she said, “you're cuter than I think you want to be. I was considering luring you out here and kissing you, but it seems like maybe you have enough going on right now.”

Zoe blinked at the girl a couple of times. “Oh. Yeah. I think I do.”

Absynthe smiled. “Don't worry. You're safe. For now.”

“Uh. Okay,” Zoe said, trying not to look as surprised and confused as she felt.

“Go see your sugar daddy,” said Absynthe, waving her hand toward the street.

Zoe started back along the cul-de-sac. Halfway down she spun on her heels. Absynthe was puffing away on her cigarette and looking at her. “Wait a minute,” Zoe said. “Older guys turn weird? And now you want to kiss me? I think you owe me a story, too.”

Absynthe laughed. “Deal.”

 

Five

T
he day was hot and bright. Zoe walked to Emmett's on autopilot, not paying attention to where she was going, knowing her feet would find the way. Her mouth was dry and her pulse pounded in her temples.

Then, as always—as if the store found her instead of her finding the store—she was there. She pushed her way inside, welcoming the sensation of being swallowed by the cool darkness.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted Emmett near the back of the store. He had piles of LPs stacked on top of the record bins and was sorting them into their proper slots.

“You came back,” he said conversationally, not looking up from his work.

“Sure. Why wouldn't I?”

Emmett pulled one of the white record dividers toward him, then hefted a pile of battered old Johnny Cash albums into the empty space behind it in the bin. “You'd be surprised at how many people, once they've had a taste of a loved one's real, undiluted life, never set foot in here again.”

“Not me,” said Zoe, shaking her head. “I want to see my dad.”

“Did you bring what I asked for?”

Zoe reached into her pocket, removed the chimp tooth, and held it out. She seemed to finally have caught the man's full attention because he put down the records and came to her. Zoe made sure to stand in the darkest part of the store. She didn't want Emmett to get too good a look at the tooth until she was already under the Animagraph's spell. She didn't have any real idea about how the machine worked, but she was fairly certain that it wasn't something you could just turn off with the flick of a switch, even if you realized that you'd been slipped a counterfeit molar.

Emmett plucked the tooth from Zoe's open palm. He held it up before his eyes, like a jeweler appraising a diamond. “Ohhh. A grown-up one,” he said. “How lovely. Thank you, Zoe.”

She nodded, her throat tight, her heart hammering, waiting for him to figure out her trick. But he didn't. Emmett beamed at her like her parents would do when she'd brought home straight A's.

“Can we do it now?” Zoe asked.

“Of course.” Emmett led the way to the back of the store and held the beaded curtain open for Zoe like a doorman. He seemed much happier than usual. Like the tooth had made him feel a little giddy, Zoe thought.

Then his face turned serious and Zoe's heart sank. But relief rushed over her when he began to speak.

“I need to get formal for a minute and tell you that you can change your mind and leave now,” said Emmett. “What if what you see is more than you can bear? You're going to the land of the dead. It's not an easy journey.”

Zoe shook her head. “I don't care.”

“This is your last chance,” said Emmett. “What if you get stuck? What if you're so overcome with grief and longing that you can't let your father's spirit go? What if the Animagraph breaks down? It's an ancient machine. Things can go wrong. You'll be stuck with your body in the world of the living, while the thinking, feeling part of you will be lost in a world of ghosts.”

Zoe clenched her jaw. Emmett's infuriating, exasperating questions had knocked her off balance and were bringing back some of the darkness and doubt.

“I don't fucking care.”

“Okeydoke,” said Emmett lightly. He tossed the tooth in the air once, caught it, and dropped it into the breast pocket of his work shirt. “I have to ask. Make sure you're going of your own free will. Standard disclaimer stuff.”

“Please, just hook me up.”

“At your service, ma'am.”

He put his hands on Zoe's shoulders, steered her to the Animagraph, and began fastening the claustrophobic crisscross of straps and buckles around her head. Before he pulled the blinders over her eyes, he said, “Hold out your hand.” Zoe obliged and he dropped three objects into her palm. All were white. Two were circular and one was shaped like a little plastic tube.

“What are these?”

Emmett went back to the straps. “The two round ones are aspirins. The plastic tube is a kind of herbal smelling salts. Believe me, you're going to need them all when you get back.” He stopped talking while he tightened a couple of extra-small buckles. “When you return, just swallow the aspirin and break the tube under your nose. Or, if you prefer, I could do it for you.”

“That's okay,” said Zoe. She didn't like the idea of someone else doing something that sounded so strange and oddly intimate, much less him. She wished he'd shut up about sending her away and just do it.

“I'm ready,” she said.

Emmett pulled the last few straps into place. “Blast off in three. Two. One.”

Zoe heard the familiar sound of a needle hitting a record groove. Then the ground opened up and she began to fall.

S
oon the feeling of falling became a feeling of rushing, as if she were being swept down a river in powerful rapids. Only there was no water and no sound, just the ceaseless push and pull of her body as she tumbled through the dark. The air smelled wet and rank and she might have brushed against stone a few times. Zoe felt as if she could let herself be swept along forever. There was something comforting about the idea of just letting go.

S
he was sitting in the window seat of a crowded bus. Next to her was an old woman in a yellow floral housecoat and an elaborate hat covered with fake flowers. Like a crazy Easter bonnet, she thought. Other passengers filled the aisle, holding on to overhead straps. There were old men and women, their faces liver-spotted and lined with age. There were people her parents' age and some hers. There were even some children packed together in the back.

This wasn't like a normal San Francisco city bus. It looked very old. The interior angles were rounded and there were small patches on the ceiling where the paint had peeled off. The seat sagged and the fabric had been repaired with thick, coarse thread. The big diesel engine under her feet groaned and strained at every turn.

Long shadows lay along the road but the bright lights inside the bus made it impossible to see much outside. Zoe cupped her hands around her eyes and stared out the window. Specks of rain jeweled the glass, and when she looked down, she could just make out the road sliding by.

No one on the bus spoke. No one looked around.

So, these are souls, thought Zoe. Are they new souls or old? She wondered if there was some way to tell. She leaned to the old woman next to her and whispered, “Do you know where this bus goes?”

The old woman looked at Zoe and smiled kindly. “There's only one route, dear. The buses go to and from and back again.”

“But where do they go to and from?”

She patted Zoe's arm. “It'll be all right dear. You'll see.” A moment later, the bus slowed and pulled to the curb. The doors hissed opened and the passengers started filing off.

When the old lady stood, Zoe followed her off the bus. They were parked near the corner of a very ordinary-looking street.

“Ma'am, I'm looking for my father,” Zoe said.

The old woman nodded. Off the bus, she seemed more animated, more like a real old lady and not a dreaming ghost. The other passengers were also more relaxed, moving and talking to each other, like regular people.

The old woman sighed. “How lovely.” She popped open her purse, pulled out something yellow, and put it in Zoe's hand. A piece of butterscotch candy. She gave Zoe a small wave and walked around the corner with some of the other passengers.

Zoe walked to the corner, too, as the other passengers wandered off in all directions. Everyone was moving, talking, excited. Zoe tried to get the attention of one or two of them, but they all seemed in a rush to go somewhere. Soon the street was empty. She stood under a streetlamp on the corner and watched the bus pull away.

The rain along the road hadn't made it to town. It felt like late afternoon. A fat orange sun hung midway down the sky. She was standing on a long, wide street across from a boardwalk that ran along a beach. Beyond the boardwalk, Zoe could see an old-fashioned Ferris wheel, carousel, and a wooden roller coaster that reminded her of Coney Island. The sound of tinny carousel music made her feel a little better.

She crossed the street and stood on the boardwalk, leaning on the rusting metal fence and staring out at a calm black sea, wondering what to do next. She could see people down on the beach, moving among the amusement-park rides. It was so beautiful in the late-afternoon light. It nearly made her cry. She suddenly felt very alone and lost.

Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned around and saw a man in a dark gray overcoat. Like her, he was staring out to sea.

“Dad?” said Zoe.

The man looked up. He stared at her for a second.

“Zoe?”

She ran to him and almost jumped into his arms. They held on to each other for a long time, neither of them speaking, just holding each other. A moment earlier she'd been lost in a strange city, and now she left like her heart could burst from joy.

Finally, her father stepped back a little and looked at her. “What are you doing here?” He froze, the color draining from his face. “You're not . . . ?”

Zoe shook her head. “No. I'm not dead. I just needed to see you.”

Her father pulled her to him again. “It's wonderful to see you, but you shouldn't be here.”

Zoe pushed him away, but held on to his sleeve. “Dad! Don't say that! Don't say you don't want to see me?”

He put his hand on her cheek. “It's wonderful to see you. But you still shouldn't have come here.”

Zoe pushed her father harder this time and stepped back. “Why do you keep saying that?” she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her. Tears welled up in her eyes. “What did I do wrong? Why did you have to go? Do you blame me and Mom?”

Her father took a step toward her, but Zoe took another step back. He stayed where he was and said, “Baby, I would never leave you and your mother if I could help it. But I died, and the dead can't live in your world.”

Zoe nodded, hugging her arms across her chest. “One minute you were there and then you were just gone.”

“I miss you both. And I'm mad, too, you know. I was taken away from the only people I ever really loved.”

“I used this weird machine. I saw your life from inside your head,” she said. “You were so unhappy working all the time. It felt like you wanted to go.”

“Not for a second,” said her father. He put his hands on Zoe's shoulders. “Yeah, I was unhappy with the way things were, but that was about bad choices. Work and money and things. It was never about you or your mom. Your mom and I were already talking about me working less and her working more, trying to find a little more balance for all of us.”

“Really? You swear?”

“I'd never lie to you.” Zoe's father put his arms around her and she let him. Zoe cried against his chest and this time the tears didn't feel like they were being torn out of her.

After a few minutes, her father asked, “What do you think of my new home?”

Zoe looked around. “What is this place? Heaven?”

Her father laughed. “That's everyone's first question.”

“It's not hell, is it?”

“That's everyone's second question,” he said. “We're in a place called Iphigene. It's a kind of way station. A place where you spend time before moving on.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I think it varies. A lot of things are like that here. You kind of feel your way along. Not much is written down,” he said. He grew quieter, more thoughtful. “I think you have to figure out the rules for yourself. Iphigene is kind like a video game, you know? What do you need right now, the golden key or the flaming sword? When you figure that out, you get on a bus and move on to the next level.”

“Iphigene,” said Zoe. “It reminds me of Coney Island. Kind of old and messed up, but in a cool way. Can we look around?”

Her father nodded. “Let me give you the tour.” As they crossed the street, he took her hand. Zoe smiled, feeling about six again.

They walked back to the corner where the bus had dropped her off. There was an open-air newsstand with a dark green awning. They sold magazines and newspapers in what looked like a hundred languages. A clothing store, with mannequins modeling different coats, stood next to it. Farther along was a movie theater with an old marquee where the name of the movie was announced with removable plastic letters:
JEAN COCTEAU'S ORPHÉE.
At the end of the block was a bar with a big picture window looking out over the ocean and a crescent moon on the door, where people talked and laughed in the semidark.

“Look at all the restaurants,” she said as they crossed to the next block. “Do you eat here?”

“Some do,” said her father. “I think it's another choice. I haven't eaten a bite and I've never been hungry. Some souls never leave the restaurants. They just eat and eat. I guess it's comforting. Some don't seem to know they're dead. Hell, I wasn't sure at first. But you learn.”