Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1) (4 page)

“Okay, Miss Griswold,” Carson said.

She turned to me and I said the obligatory, “Yes,
Miss Griswold.”

Just as she moved out of hearing range Carson
said, “Hag.”

Nice, I thought. Those kids never get caught being
themselves.

Griswold turned around and yelled, “Time for
dodge ball, pick your teams.”

The guys gave a collective groan and the girls
didn't look any happier. Today was a class to survive. At least I got
to look at Jade, the highlight of PE.

Jonesy gave me a questioning look from across the
gym, Carson and Brett were fast moving from irritating to becoming a
problem. One that I planned to contain, creatively.

Jonesy
would scheme, John would deliberate and I would definitely do
.

CHAPTER 4

“How was school today?” Mom asked, the chatty
one in the family. I looked at Dad, who set his trade publication on
the table.

Reluctantly I set down my fork even thought the
hamburger helper was waiting to be engulfed, I said, “Ah... these
two guys and I talked and it didn't go so hot.”

I had their full attention.

“Which kids Caleb?” Dad asked in his
reasonable way.

“Carson and Brett.” Mom would remember them,
they'd been flippin' me crap since fourth grade.

“Oh those two,” Mom waved a dismissive hand.
“They're not in your league, don't let them make you feel
diminished sweet-pea.”

Sweet pea
!

“Alicia, let's not get elitist on him here...”
Dad said.

“You might have a small point.” Mom held her
index finger and thumb together in illustration of just how “small.”

His eyes narrowed. Uh-oh, here we go, just when I
though we'd get something accomplished.

Mom held up a finger to ward off Dad's comment
that hovered on his lips.

“
Kyle,
those two,” she struggled for the right word, “buffoons, have
been a nuisance for the last three years that I know of,” she
looked for confirmation. I held up five fingers, she was going to
by
God
,
Make Her Point, “
Five
and
it's always the same thing.”

Dad
opened his mouth, but before he could say something she went on,
“They don't like Caleb because of what you do honey. They feel
threatened.”

Quick dad!

Dad
turned to me. “What was the problem?”

Dropping the Zombie Bomb didn't top my list of
casual conversation but...

“Remember the Biology thing?”

“You passing out?” Mom asked. “Several
times?”

Yeah
that. The frog thing.

“Yes, we've never gotten to the bottom of those
episodes,” Dad leaned back in his chair.

I flipped my fork back-and-forth, back-and-forth.
“I sorta got to the bottom of it. I have AFTD.”

They stared at me like I'd just sprouted a giant
second head. Huh, this could be going better.

I
told them about the cemetery, the corpse and the growing tide of
problems with Carson and Brett. This was a lit match to the C and B
fire. They'd been itchin' to get something on me since middle school
started almost three years ago, before even.

The silence went on for a few moments, then,
“Caleb, let me recap this. You,” he cleared his throat, “have
caused a dead body to rise from its grave?”

“Yes Dad, that's what I just said.”

And
he was the smart one of the family.

Mom asked, “Is this what you were doing last
night running around with the Js?”

Yeah,
running around with the Js, doin' some corpse-raising. Average night
on the town,
right
.

Out loud I said, “Well, yeah, but I didn't mean
for it to go like it did.”

“How did you mean for it 'to go'?” Dad asked.

The
whole thing went down when Brett and Carson wouldn't get off my back
about fainting. AFTD was the cherry on top of their cake. They'd been
up my ass forever cuz they could. But they couldn't quite nail their
bullshit to anything. I'd been a moving target until now. John had
defended me by telling them I had AFTD. I was unconscious so he
improvised. I wasn't looking stupid on purpose, there was something
real going on. Should've just let them think whatever. I mean, it was
Carson and Brett; they're morons.

To
my parents I said, “I thought if I proved I was AFTD, that it was
an ability, they'd lay off.”

“There were precursors to this episode?”

He
had to know the why.

“Yeah, it started before Science class. But,
there was other stuff before, small stuff.”

Dad's eyebrows shot up, him being a scientist and
all.

“We were dissecting frogs for the class project
and I started having trouble from the beginning,” I said.

Now
that I think about it, I'd had trouble with the
Understanding
Insects
section too. Images of wings speared arose in my mind's eye.

“What kind of trouble son?” Dad asked.

“The kinda trouble that other kids notice and
think you're sick or retarded.”

“
Caleb
Sebastian Hart! That is
not
appropriate.” Mom's hands were glued to her hips. I wasn't too
concerned about being politically correct.

“Just a second Ali.” Dad was okay with it. “So
you didn't mention these,” he hesitated, “fugues?”

“I guess I should've told you but everything was
getting weird and their voices were buzzing all the time.”

“Whose voices?” asked Dad.

“
The
frogs,” I replied logically, shrugging. But frogs weren't
all
I heard.

“Ah, what were the frogs... saying, exactly?”
Dad's eyes burning twin holes through me.

“Well, they're not saying words exactly but they
feel things, miss things, they,” I swallowed hard because this part
bothered me. “They have memories of their life before they died.”
It made me sad, but crying was for losers so I opened my eyes really
wide. That helped.

Mom gave me the “I'm worried about you stare”.
I was worried about me too.

“These dead creatures are communicating with
you?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, that's what AFTD is about, Dad. Before we
started the dissecting, I would have a blackout, but they were
short.” I thought about the roadkill, the insect dissections,
shuddering.

“Like bursts or movies playing in your head or
what?” Dad asked.

“
It's
like
I
am
them.
”

Mom's hand covered her mouth.

“
...
and I can see what they did. When they were taken from the rivers and
marshes, they felt,” I thought about the murky memories and their
simple minds, “... lost. There was one frog that remembered eating
a snake. They screamed when we cut them Dad,” I said in a low
voice. God, this was sorta awful. “That's when things got really
bad
with
Carson and Brett. They thought I was trying to suck up attention or
something gay like that.”

“Caleb...” Mom's voice filled with warning,
“homosexual reference.”

“Mom, come on!” I said loudly. “We don't use
it that way.” This was important and she was worried about my
words! Annoying!

“Ali, let's stay on task here.” Dad was the
champion of that (snark-snark).

“Okay, so how long have you been experiencing
these... episodes?” Dad asked.

“Probably...” I thought about it. Easter was
over and I knew when. It was around Valentine's because we have that
lame winter break that's not long enough to do jack, “... a couple
of months.”

“That's a long time for symptoms you chose not
to address with us Caleb.”

I had a stab of guilt, looking down at my
half-eaten food. I was used to being open with the Parental Unit, but
this had a huge confusion factor.

Mom leaned over and gave me a hug. I let myself be
hugged in the good mom-smell then pulled away. I gave her a weak
smile.

She smiled back. “It'll be okay.”

Adults always say that, even when it's crap, my
smile evaporating.

Dad said, “This doesn't have to be a death
sentence Caleb.”

No pun intended.

“You know that if they find out that I can
corpse-raise I'll be rammed right into one of those spook jobs.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms like boiling water. I looked from one to
the other. “You remember that other kid, the corpse-raiser,
Parker?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other.

He nodded.

“He tested as a five-point on the APs. That was
big news,” Mom said.

Dad said wearily, “Jeffrey Parker, that's his
name. It wasn't just AFTD, there were other classifications that he
had aptitude for.” Dad raked a hand through his hair, it needed
cutting too, standing in errant spikes. I looked at him in surprise,
I thought AFTD was it for him, that he couldn't have other abilities.

“
And
where
is
he now?” I asked softly.

Mom looked at her hands while Dad looked me in the
eye. “He works for the government.”

Of
course he would
.
The government was thrilled to make us all into little robots just as
early as possible, with everyone in the job they were “meant” to
be. Instinctively I understood I didn't want the job they'd want for
me
.

“
So
what does this mean for him Kyle?” Mom asked.

“It means we keep it quiet for now. For how
long, I don't know. The APs are quite soon,” he looked at me and I
nodded. “We have a short amount of time to manufacture a
contingency.”

“I
told you that 'playing God' was going to come back and bite us all in
the butt. Just because the potential for paranormal ability was
discovered didn't mean that it gave our government the right to
experiment on our children,” she huffed.

“It's water under the bridge Ali. We signed
Caleb up for kindergarten and he was inoculated along with everyone,”
Dad stated.

When
the government saw my dad's and the other scientists' findings on
proof of gene markers for paranormal abilities, all mixed up there
with you're-gonna-get-cancer someday they went insane. Suddenly,
everyone wanted to know if they could read minds or some crazy crap
like that.

Memories of the microchip implantation still felt
fresh, the needle piercing flesh the same day we learned our ABCs.
The needle glinted as it swung in an arc, bound for our vulnerable
necks. I shook the memory loose like the teeth I'd lost in that not
too distant childhood.

I looked at Dad, “So what's the plan? Do I have
to be like, scared here?” I was pretty damn anxious.

“I need to find out a little more about how they
administer the test. I'm familiar with the Science portion as I was a
part of the revision.”

“English, Dad,” I said.

“I helped build the model.”

“So, you can, what, manipulate the results?” I
asked.

Mom's heart was in her gaze. This was her worst
fears realized. Here I was, the kid of a liberal, freedom-seeker and
a groundbreaking scientist. Who would think I'd be a
Cadaver-Manipulator? Seriously?

“
No,
I can't do anything as profound as that. But, I can find something
that may cause some latent dormancy,” he said rubbing his chin
rhythmically. “There's a drug I can acquire, which will counteract
the
inoculation that you were given almost ten years ago and your most
recent booster. It won't last, but it may help you test weaker.
However,” he stared at me, “this won't go away. It's here
forever. You were born with this potential. And because of scientific
advancement, it's a permanent manifestation. And to answer your
question, yes, we should respond with extreme caution. The government
uses certain 'loopholes' for nefarious purposes. We are American,
Caleb. That means something. Our freedom is precious. No one,” and
his brow furrowed, “should be forced into a life-long position, job
or be exploited. There is no liberty in that.”

My
palms began sweating with just the thought of losing my independence
that way. I didn't know what I was gonna be
.
But I sure as hell wasn't going to be some government slave! I rubbed
my hands on my jeans, leaving the wetness there.

“Do you know what the component was that the
pharmaceutics used in the inoculation?” Mom asked Dad.

“No, but it's a cerebral-based stimulant so a
mild depressant should counteract.” Dad's chin rested on his fist
in I'm-formulating-a-plan mode.

“So, you're gonna give me a drug and I'm not
going to be a smart scientist's kid?”

Dad
smiled, Mom didn't. “It's not that funny Caleb,” she continued,
“we never hear what really became of the Parker boy but there have
been mutterings...” she gave Dad a significant look.

He
glanced her way then said, “Again, it means that discretion is the
greater part of valor here.
Extreme
discretion.”

Why
couldn't I have just been one of the people that talk to the dead?
Or, better yet, see ghosts? That's pretty safe. The government
doesn't care much about those guys.

Dad wanted to see my abilities in a “controlled
environment.”

Didn't
want a cemetery-repeat right now, thanks. I told mom she had narrowly
escaped the Js for supper and she rolled her eyes.