Infinity (17 page)

Caleb frowned at him. "What are you waiting for?"

Lightning to strike him, 'cause let's face it, that was much more likely to happen than the most popular guy at school inviting him to watch an infamous Bubbisode.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

A sly grin curled Caleb's lips. "My enemy's enemy is my friend."

"Who's your enemy?"

Caleb shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you ... and I know what you're thinking. How can a guy as popular as me have any enemies or problems, right?"

Yeah, basically. "I haven't noticed you being slammed into anyone's locker lately."

"That's because you're not around me all the time. Trust me. Life's not easy for anyone. Everyone has scars they're afraid to show and we all get slammed headfirst into a proverbial locker from time to time by someone bigger and badder."

Riiight. He was more than sure that Caleb's idea of a bad day was no match for his. "What? Your parents ground you for driving your mom's new car or did you forget to tell the maid to pick up your room?"

Caleb didn't respond to his sarcasm. "You going to call your mom or not? No real sweat off my nose, one way or another. I'm just trying to be neighborly."

/ swear if I get drenched in pig's blood, I'm going after you with an ax.
Taking the phone from Caleb's hand, Nick punched in the number at the club.

Tiffany answered on the sixth ring.

"Hey Tiff, it's Nick. Is my mom nearby?"

"Sure, sug, hang on."

While Nick waited on his mom to get to the phone, Caleb went to stare into one of the store windows. He still wasn't sure why Caleb was willing to do this. Even though he knew Caleb, they'd never hung out before. Caleb had transferred into school not long after Nick had and though they'd had many classes together, Caleb hadn't really spoken to him in school except on rare occasions. Such as to tell him to move his punk butt out of the way so Caleb could get to his locker.

An extreme loner in spite of being popular and playing on the football team, Caleb ignored most people. No one knew much about him. He never talked about his home life or parents. If anyone ever asked a question about it, he changed topics. But it was obvious from his clothes and bearing that his parents had more cash than most, and the rumors around school said his dad was one of the richest guys in town.

Of course rumors also claimed Caleb was an ex-con who'd learned to play football injuvey. One rumor even claimed he'd killed his dad and then sold his liver on the black market.

Given what Caleb had said a minute ago, Nick figured it must be bleak at his house. Why else would a guy with his kind of looks, money, and popularity be wandering the streets on his way to see two lunatics give lessons on fighting off nonexistent creatures?

Then again ... after all that'd happened today, zombies weren't so fictional after all.

"Nick? Are you all right?" his mom asked as she came to the phone.

"I'm fine. I'm just a couple of blocks away. I dropped off Liza and met a friend from school on the street--"

"Hi, Ms. Gautier," Caleb called into the phone.

Nick ignored him. "It's Caleb Malphas. He wanted to know if I could go with him to Bubba's store and attend one of Bubba's classes."

"Oh Lord, what's he teaching tonight?"

"Zombie survival."

His mom let out a tired sigh. "Is he going to have dynamite there again?"

"I doubt it. The ATF was pretty strict after the last incident. Anytime the authorities step in, Bubba usually lays low for a while."

'And how long is it going to last?" she asked.

He looked at Caleb. "How long is it?"

Caleb flashed a mischievous grin. "It's supposed to be an hour, but usually Bubba or Mark has a serious injury about thirty minutes in and we have to break for a hospital run. Sometimes they come back if they can get in and out of the emergency room fast enough or the burns aren't too bad. Most times it ends early. I'd tell her an hour though 'cause we need to factor in the time it takes to stop laughing so hard we can walk again."

The sad thing was, Caleb wasn't joking. "About an hour, Ma.

"And you won't be alone?"

"No, ma'am. Caleb's with me and he's a good-sized guy." "How old is he?"

Nick clenched his teeth in frustration. Why did he have to play this game with her all the time when it was only a matter of a simple yes or no? Dang, his mom should have been a lawyer. "How old are you?"

Caleb paused as if he had to think about it. "Fifteen."

"Fifteen," Nick repeated into the phone.

"What do his parents do for a living?"

This time his temper snapped and he spoke before he could stop himself. "What does that matter?"

"It matters to me and if you want to go, I want an answer."

Nick rolled his eyes at the response that grated on his last nerve. "What do your parents do?"

There was a strange look on Caleb's face. When he spoke, his tone was completely stoic. "My dad's a broker and my mom is his eternal unwilling concubine who sold her soul to him to buy the equivalent of a Ferrari."

Nick let out a long breath. Caleb definitely had a way with words. "His dad's a stockbroker."

"His mom?"

"She's a housewife."

His mother hesitated before she continued grilling him. "Is he a good boy?"

"No, Mom, he's Satan incarnate. In fact, once it's over, we're going to get liquored up and tattooed, then find some cheap hos and have a good time with his trust fund."

Caleb laughed.

His mom, however, did not share that sense of humor. "Don't you take that tone with me, Nick Gautier. I'll ground you till you're old and gray. Now answer my question."

Would she never appreciate his sarcasm?

Realizing he had to play nice, Nick took the attitude out of his voice. "Yes, he's a good boy. Never been in trouble at school and he's on the honor roll. Captain of the football team. All-around psycho serial killer who hides bodies in the fridge whenever his parents go out of town."

Well... he'd tried to remove all sarcasm. Thing was, for him, it was an impossible task.

Caleb laughed again, then leaned in to speak so that Nick's mom could hear him. "I also eat babies for breakfast and torture small animals for fun. My therapist says that I'm making real progress though."

His mother responded with a sharp note. "Don't you boys get smart with me."

Nick grinned at Caleb. "Sorry, Mom. We couldn't resist."

She spoke to her boss, then came back to Nick. "All right. You can go, but I want you here in an hour."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be there." "I love you, baby."

Nick felt his face turn bright red as he turned away from Caleb. "I love you too," he said in a low tone. Then he hung up the phone and returned it to Caleb. "I don't want to hear no crap from you about that."

Caleb held his hands up. "Don't worry. Wish I had a mom I could love. Mine's a psycho hose beast who begrudges me every breath I take. Besides, you didn't make kissing noises at her. So what's to mock?"

This time. And it was only because Caleb was here that he didn't.

Caleb put the phone in his pocket and led the way toward Bubba's store.

As they walked, Nick's thoughts went back to Stone and the oddity of their meeting. "What do you think Stone was doing behind Liza's store?" It wasn't like him to be out alone. His brand of cowardice usually needed an audience to perform for.

Caleb jerked his chin in the direction of the full moon. "He was probably prowling around with his buds and found some Dumpsters with trash in them to sniff."

"Huh?"

"It's a full moon, Nick. I'm sure the animal in Stone took over. He was probably trying to teleport somewhere and because of his young age, screwed up the jump. I think he landed behind the doll store 'cause Liza was summoning the gods earlier tonight and her powers called out to him or something. They might have even interfered with his."

Nick snorted at his worthless answer. "Ah, gah, you're not going to start with all that werewolf crap too, are you?"

"You don't believe in them?"

"I only believe in zombies and only because I've seen them today. The rest... total caca."

Caleb shook his head. "You live in New Orleans and you're Catholic, not to mention friends with Bubba and Mark, yet you don't believe in demons, werewolves, or vampires?"

"The only vampires I've ever seen are the Goths trying to get a glimpse of Anne Rice's house, who drink strawberry sodas and tell each other it's blood."

"You're such a skeptic."

And Nick took a lot of pride in that too. He didn't like the idea of anyone putting anything over on him. Better to be jaded than a victim. "I take it you're not."

"I believe in it all."

"Why?"

"C'mon, Nick, haven't you ever been walking down the street and just felt the hand of evil brush down your spine? You know that tingle. That sense that something isn't right, but you don't know what it is. That's a demon by your side, boy. He's sizing you up to toy with."

Nick didn't believe a word of what he was trying to sell. "You're just trying to mess with my head."

"I'm trying to prepare you for the real world."

"The real world is getting a good job, paying your bills, and keeping your nose clean." Staying off death row.

Caleb gave him an arch stare. "Wow. You've totally bought into that namby-pamby status quo."

"It's not status quo. It's the truth."

"Whatever you say." Caleb stepped up on the curb as they reached the Triple B. He moved ahead and opened the door to let Nick enter first.

"Store's closed. There's no classes to--" Mark's voice broke off as he came out of the back room and saw them.

"Oh. It's you guys. Come on in."

Nick scowled at the strange welcome. "What's going on?"

Mark didn't answer as he walked past them and went to the door they'd just entered through, locked it, then turned the closed sign around. "You won't believe this." He motioned for them to follow him into the back room.

Oh goody. He couldn't wait. Whenever Mark uttered those words, it was always a doozie.

But the minute he entered the back, Nick pulled up short. Bubba and Madaug were sitting in front of the computer--oh, that little wanker. How could Madaug be here after not picking up the phone all day?

Nick wanted to choke him.

Madaug's glasses were slightly askew on his nose as he tugged at his short hair while reading through the code on the screen.

"How did he get here?" Nick asked Mark.

Mark gave him a droll stare. "Walked."

Nick scoffed at him. "Seriously. After all we've done to locate him today, when did he pop back in?"

"Couple of hours ago." Mark stood opposite of Nick and Caleb.

Oblivious to them, Madaug pointed to a line of code. "See, Bubba. That's what I was talking about. This algorithm was designed to subliminally repress their anterior cingulate cortex while this one stimulated the orbital frontal cortex and amygdala, thereby raising their serotonin levels."

Nick scowled at Caleb, who, thankfully, looked as confused as he felt.

Bubba and Mark, however, seemed to be fluent in the geek speak that left him baffled. "Yeah." Bubba scratched at the stubble on his chin. "But I don't see how that gave you control of the hypothalamus."

"It doesn't really. Only the somatic nervous system should be affected with a small byproduct of elevated stress in the hypothalamus that should have inhibited his aggressive behavior. What I can't figure out is how I lost control. What did I miss, Bubba?"

Nick cleared his throat. "I can tell you what I'm missing. A clue. What are you people talking about?"

Mark cut a sideways look to Nick. "Zombie Hunter."

Nick had to bite his tongue to not respond with
no, duh.
"And that would be different from all the other discussions you guys have had how?"

Mark let out an aggravated breath. "Not killing zombies, Nick, playing them."

Madaug turned toward Nick to answer. "I invented a video game called Zombie Hunter. That's what we're working on."

Nick smiled. "Oh, that's cool. Can I play?"

"No!" Mark, Bubba, and Madaug shouted all at once.

Bubba took a swig of his soda. "Trust us, Nick. This is one game you don't want any part of."

"Why?"

Madaug pinned a gimlet stare on him. "Because anyone who plays it gets turned into a zombie."

Oh yeah right... Nick didn't believe that for one instant. "Bullcrap."

"Nah, man, it's true." Bubba indicated Madaug with the can in his hand. "Your little friend here is quite brilliant."

Yeah, brilliant at getting shoved into lockers....

Nick couldn't understand how Madaug could be bright enough to figure out how to program a game, but not fly under the radar of the people who wanted to abuse him.

Madaug pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I learned that a specific sequence of light and sound can actually alter brain waves and override them. See, the brain is like a computer and if you can bypass certain programming, you can hack in and change someone's core hard drive."

Nick had to give him credit, it sounded impressive. "How did you learn this stuff?"

"My mom's a neurosurgeon atTulane and my dad's a research criminal neurologist. They have really boring conversations at the dinner table and force me to listen to them while I eat my mom's really bad cooking. My dad's doing a study right now on ways to inhibit violent behavior, which is what gave me the idea for the game. I took his notes, did some independent research, and then had Bubba teach me the core programming to build levels for the game that would alter their brain pattern."

Caleb hit Nick in his good shoulder. "See what you can learn when you listen to your parents?"

Nick scoffed. "That ain't what my parents talk about." But if anyone ever wanted to learn how to pole dance or gut a human being, Nick was the one to talk to.

That, however, was another topic and not helpful tonight at all... then again, the gutting
might
come in handy if more zombies came for him.

"So who has the game?" Nick asked Madaug.