Spore (22 page)

“Guess I’d better double check to make sure I don’t forget anything then get you to that interview. Don’t want to be late.”

“No, we don’t,” Mindy whispered as he left to lumber down the hall and up the stairs again. Smiling at the girly space unicorns on the folders, she finished unpacking Hailey’s school supplies.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sean bought new locks and an alarm at Lowe’s—
so much for meat this week
—and nearly had the front lock installed when a middle-aged couple walked up.

“You’re the spore guy, right?” the man asked, reaching for the woman’s hand. “Sean something?”

“Afraid I am,” Sean sighed as he held the lock pieces together so he could thread the first screw. He held the second between his lips and mumbled, “What can I do for you?”

“We’d like to buy a plot,” the man replied. “I… I did some checking and this area’s cemetery plots usually run about five hundred dollars, give or take.” He paused to glance at his companion. “We’re willing to offer three times that. Cash.”

Sean dropped the screws and stood. “You’re what?”

The woman trembled, but stared Sean in the eye. “We have the money. We, we just need to borrow your yard for a while.”

“I, I…” Sean shook his head and tried to make sense of it. “
What?
”

The man said, “Our son. Taylor. They found him two days ago, discarded like garbage behind a bar in Ames. You might have seen it on the news.”

Sean shook his head. He’d avoided the news.

The man took a breath and straightened his spine. “We’ve learned that local cemeteries are refusing to bury accident and murder victims. They’ll only take them if they’ve been cremated. If we do that, he’ll be gone forever. But, you, you’ve been helping with these spore things. Helping to bring people back.”

“He was nine,” the woman said, thrusting a picture toward Sean of a plump, dark-haired boy laughing while riding a bumper car. “Please. We just want our son back. You’re our only hope.”

“Fuck,” Sean muttered under his breath. He cut his gaze to the deputy sitting in the cruiser and the zombie gang sitting on the curb reading comics. “You do know it’s illegal to bury bodies anywhere but a cemetery, right? So what happens when we all go to jail?”

“We’ll pay for your lawyer too,” the man said.

When his wife whispered, “Kurt, you know we’ve maxed out—“ he hushed her.

“We’ll sell our house if we have to. Our cars. Have a bake sale. I don’t know. We just want Taylor back.”

“I have a lawyer,” Sean sighed. “And money isn’t the issue.” He ran a hand through his hair and cursed again. “Just a minute, okay? Wait right here.”

The couple nodded and he left the door standing open as he went in for Mare.

She sat at the computer scanning in yesterday’s pencil layouts. “Murph’s having convulsions,” she said without looking up at him. “Needs those inks now.”

Sean rolled his eyes.
Fuck Murph.
“Yeah, well, I have something a bit more pressing,” he said, then explained the couple on the porch.

Mare stood, her face pale. “They want to bury their
kid
? Here?” When Sean nodded, she whispered, “We might already have two in the basement!”

Sean sagged, nodding. “I know, I know.”

Mare paced. “Crap, crap, crap. We can’t let folks bury people here. Pets are one thing, but…
People
?!”

“But we can’t just let a kid be dead, either. Fuck.” Muttering, he tore a scrap of sketch paper off the pad and wrote on it before handing it to Mare. “Sound reasonable?” he asked.

She read quickly and nodded. “Think they’ll go for it?”

“Shit if I know,” he said, leaving the studio. “But at least a nine-year-old can tell us who to call.”

The couple stood on the porch, fretting as they waited, and they watched him with hopeful, terrified eyes.

“I can’t,” he said, thrusting the paper toward them so no one else could see, despite two of the zombie gang craning their necks. “It’s illegal, and in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a deputy parked out front all the time who will surely arrest me if I allowed it. While I truly believe the spores are people who deserve the same rights as everybody else, I can’t afford to go to jail. I understand your pain and am truly sorry, but I can’t help you.”

The couple read the note. Both nodded, their mouths dropping open.

Sean gave them a gentle smile. “Do you understand?”

The woman looked up, blinking away tears. “Just this?” she whispered. “That’s all we…you have to say?”

“Yes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, we do,” the man said. “Yes. Thank you for your time.” Then they left, his arm coming around her as they walked to their car, weeping.

I have a feeling this is going to become too common.
Sean scowled and knelt to return to his lock, tucking the scrap into his pocket.

The first screw set easily, but the second fought him. He’d just got it to thread when he heard footsteps approach.

“Mr. Casey?” a man said. “I’m here from Life Progress dot com. I’m sure you’re aware agricultural pesticides are to blame for the rise of dead people as far south as St. Louis and the panic it’s causing. Can I get an interview for our site?”

Sean tried not to sigh as he finished setting the screw. “Let me finish this first, okay?”

“Of course, sir.”

Sir. Ha! No one calls me sir.
Shaking his head, Sean finished installing the lock and tossed his screwdriver into his toolbox. “Go ahead, but make it quick,” he told the reporter as another weeping, desperate family pulled up in a minivan.

Mare sat in the passenger seat with her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

She stared out the window. “And not shoot my mouth off? I dunno.”

Sean glanced at her as they passed a slow-moving hay baler. “Maybe she doesn’t know anything. Do you want to forget it? “

“No. She worked there. She knows
something
. I just really don’t want to talk to your mother.”

“I don’t either. But you know I can’t leave you at home alone. Not with all the crap that’s happened lately. Besides, it gets us out of the house together. Think of it as a date.”

Mare huffed. “Some date.”

They drove in silence to Boone. As they approached his mother’s house, Mare’s hands clenched and unclenched and she continually shifted in her seat.

Sean pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. “It’ll be okay. Once I ask my questions, we’ll leave. Quick.” He stepped out and Mare sighed as if facing dental surgery via chainsaw. She opened the door.

Helene, as usual, scampered out the front door to meet him, but her smile froze into a toothy rictus as she saw them. “Sean! So glad to see you! Such a marvelous surprise!” she said, waiting for them near the steps.

Can’t even acknowledge her, can you, Ma?
Sean grasped Mare’s hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.

Helene said, “Where’s that nice girl you brought last week? She was adorable, even if she’d been dead.”

“Delighted to see you too,” Mare muttered under her breath.

Hang in there, babe. We’ll get through it.
Sean made himself smile at his mother. “She’s in Des Moines. Had some spare time today, so I thought we’d stop by for a visit.”

Helene held his face in dry, cleanser-scented palms and stretched up to kiss him. “Always happy to see my baby.” She patted his cheek and let him go. “The comic doing well?”

“Great. It’s great.” He nodded toward the door and tried to lead Mare to the stairs, but his mother remained in the way. “Can we talk insi—“

Helene stepped in front of Mare, blocking her access to the steps. “Rosemary! There you are! I’d have missed you if it wasn’t for your pretty manicure!”

Mare shrugged and glanced at her free hand. “Mindy brought home a bottle and did my—“

“It is a lovely Smuckers strawberry color, dear, but wouldn’t a mocha be less likely to clash with the poop?”

Mare released Sean’s hand and walked away. “That’s it. I’m going back to the car.”

“Babe, wait,” Sean said, turning, but Mare kept walking.

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Helene soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “She’s just having one of her moods. You come on into the house; I’ll make you something to eat.”

Goddammit.
Sean turned. “Stop treating her that way. Just
stop
.”

Helene blinked, her eyes wide and innocent. “What way? I complimented her and she stomps off in a huff.”

“That was no compliment,” he snapped. “I thought you could be decent for ten damned minutes, but nope. Not you. Mare’s job gets your uptight OCD germophobe panties in a twist so tight you can’t help but be nasty.”

Helene gave him a coaxing smile and patted his chest. “Now, sweetie, you know that’s not true.”

“Because you’re not wearing panties today? Never took you for going commando,” Mare said from behind Sean. Both he and his mother jumped.

Helene took a startled step back. “Of course I’m wearing panties!”

Mare stood beside Sean. “Then why are they twisted? That must be very uncomfortable and could cause chafing, which could lead to bed sores and infection. Perhaps a good sponge bath and a hospital gown would work better for you. I’d be happy to provide both.”

Helene ground her teeth and balled her hands. “Don’t start with me, Rosemary.”

“It’s Mare. And you started it a freaking decade ago.”

“I did no such thing! Sean! Tell her I did no such thing.”

“You did, Ma,” Sean said, grasping Mare’s hand.

“She had no right to touch…” Helene’s face turned red and she spat out, “His
thing
!”

Mare stood her ground. “You sat for almost an hour with him in a shitty diaper. You wouldn’t change him, so I did.”

“You had no right to touch my husband’s thing!”

“Ex-husband,” Sean corrected, trying to help Mare. Both women turned to glare at him and he stepped away, hands up in warding. “I’ll just referee from over here.”

“It’s not a ‘thing’, it’s a penis,” Mare said, returning her attention to Helene. “And when a man can’t get up to use the pot, sometimes he’ll get feces on his penis. I clean up sick old men all day, every day. Nasty old crones like you, too. People poop. Someone has to clean it up. Deal with it.”

“You’re filthy. Going through life with excrement all over your hands.”

“Nah, I wash ‘em about a zillion times a day and use sanitizer. My hands are cleaner than yours.” She paused to smile. “Just think,
Hel
, someday someone just like me will be wiping shit out of your ‘thing’. It’ll get up in there, and she’ll have to dig to get it all out. Won’t that be
fun
?! It’s a party for everyone! I’ll take pictures, it’ll be so grand.”

“You do not have permission to clean my, my…” Helene cleared her throat then settled on, “My personals.”

Mare stood nose to nose with Helene. “Oh, I won’t clean you. I’ll make you sit there in your own filth just like you made Pat. I’ll let it get dried and crusty. Let it draw flies. Let it stink. Just like you did.”

Sean turned his gaze to his mother and awaited the next bombardment in an oft-delayed but inevitable battle. They were hollering in the front yard on a Saturday, with kids biking by and folks doing lawn work. He smirked.
In Mom’s neighborhood, no less.

“I’d get you fired if you left me like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Because we’ll stick you in the cheapest, crappiest, most understaffed nursing home we can find. You’ll have some poor little immigrant wiping your ass and cleaning out your ‘thing’. That’ll make it even better!”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Might not have a choice. You know we don’t have any money and can’t afford quality accommodations. Geesh, Hel, even you should realize that!”

Helene drew in and huffed out a few breaths. “He was hard. The old pervert. You actually expected me to touch him, clean him, when he was like that?”

“Men get that way! Jesus!”

“I didn’t touch it when we were married, and I damn sure wouldn’t touch it when he was
nasty
.”

Mare covered her mouth with her hand, but couldn’t hide the laughter burbling out of her. “Oh my God. That’s it, isn’t it? I’m not afraid of some old dude’s poopy dick, but you couldn’t even bear to touch your husband’s during your marriage?” She turned aside, nearly doubled over in mirth. “Holy mother of God, you’d have a heart attack if you knew what I did with your son’s.”

“Hey!” Sean said, sudden heat rising on his cheeks. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“Maybe that’s why you were an only child,” Mare giggled. “Your mom’s penile-phobic! It makes so much more sense now. Oh, God. Did you even clean Sean’s when he was a baby, or just wipe around it?”

Helene flushed and crossed her arms over her belly. “You have no right to talk to me that way, and you certainly have no right to touch my son!”

“Oh, please. We’ve been together since college. If you’ve heard of it, we’ve probably done it. A lot. How’s that feel, Hel?”

Helene pressed her lips together, her breath coming slow and furious. “Is this why you came here? To insult me? To disgust me with how you’ve corrupted my son?”

Corrupted me? Heh. Most of the kinky stuff was my idea.
Sean cleared his throat and tried to wish his embarrassment away as he segued into the reason for their visit. “Um, actually, we were talking about something in your scrapbook.”

Helene narrowed her eyes at Mare. “My scrapbook?”

“Just had a question about one of your mementos, Ma. Can we take a look?”

Helene swallowed, her wary gaze darting between them. “I don’t know. What memento?”

“Geesh, Ma, does it matter?”

Mare grasped Sean’s hand and started to lead him away. “I told you she wouldn’t let you look at it.”

“Yeah, guess you were right.” Sean waved and turned toward the car. “See you later, Ma.”

“No, wait!” Helene called, following them. “Don’t go. Just… Why now? You’ve never wanted to look at my scrapbook before. Even when you were little. Even when I asked you to.”

She stood there, wringing her hands, her face an odd mix of pale terror and flushed cheeks, and a single bead of sweat rolled from her temple to her left ear. Sean felt pity for her, more than he imagined he could. “Why do you think, Ma?”

“Because of that dead girl you’ve befriended? And those things you said on the news?”

He nodded, but said nothing. Mare, too, remained silent.