The Death Series: A Dark Dystopian Fantasy Box Set: (Books 1-3) (57 page)

“We need to speak with a Caleb Hart,” the scary-skinny said, then continued, “and Tiffany Weller,” he finished, his eyes already on mine.

Nope
, still
not liking it
.

I need not have worried because these guys didn't get it. They were gonna have to deal with Griswold.

“Sorry, Gents. This is my class, and more importantly,
my time
. You'll have to have more than
desire
to interrupt my class. This is Physical Education. Get it?”

The skinny guy blinked.

I kinda got the feeling that it was a first for him, being talked to like that.

Jonesy liked it, a grin breaking out over his face. They were getting a taste of the Force That Was Griswold. And he wasn't going to be a push-up king just yet.

All show of civility scattered on the wind as the skinny guy held up some papers in his hand, folded neatly. His fingertips were stained yellowish brown with nicotine.

“Huh. You two are slow learners. Here's the deal: you leave now, and address My Students on their time, with their parents in attendance, of course. Not on our mutual time. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” stocky said, flashing the piece he was packing under his jacket as skinny made a move for Griswold.

But she was ready.

Effing-incredible.

We watched in awe as our PE teacher, who was secretly so much more, turned her pudgy body into Skinny, grabbing his hand, wrenching his thumb back to his wrist and he howled. She responded by head-butting him and he started to go down.

Stocky leaped forward and she said in her special voice, “Do it and I will slam the flat of my palm into your nose and the cartilage will spear your brain.”

He hesitated, hovering between decisions.

I was thinking Griswold might need a little help. “Alex!” I yelled.

“Right here,” he said.

“Show this chump the door.”

“Okay,” he said.

To which stocky replied, “Beat it, brainless. We're here for the AFTDs.”

He planted his hands on his hips, he was powerfully built and low to the ground. One of those dudes you knew did wrestling and martial arts in the day... probably still did. He had a way of moving I recognized on my judo instructor.

Alex walked over to him and said, “I'm not brainless...
dickhead
.”

He shoved the guy toward the double doors, his friend's moaning a background symphony as he flew the fifteen feet to the doors, blasting through them entirely and landing with an audible thud outside. In a deafening shriek, glass and wood sprayed everywhere.

Griswold barked out a laugh. “Unclassified, my ass. Looks like you've been
holding out on me
, Sims.”

Yeah, he'd outed himself good. Oh well, drastic measures had been needed.

She looked at Sophie, her foot planted on Skinny's shoulder. “Morris, go directly to the principal's office. Tell her to pulse 911; that we have a situation here.”

Jonesy said, “Can I go with her, Miss Griswold?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You think you're capable of going from here to the office without some calamity falling on your head?”

There was a bloated silence.

Finally, Jonesy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Humph! Okay, get moving. And go around,” she spun her finger, indicating that Sophie and Jonesy needed to avoid Stocky in the hall.

****

Their stories checked out. They were legitimate government personnel, visiting the school to do a random check of a handful of freshman representing each group of  paranormals.

Packing Hardware. Hmm.

Right.

My group knew better. What a crock of shit that was.

Griswold got a vacation for taking things to the “physical” level. Whatever the hell that meant.

I never thought I'd give the enraged cow a break but she had stuck up for us. Hell,
protected us.
Like we mattered. Who knew?

We'd have some lame sub. Jonesy would work the sub over, whoever it was, it was his modus operandi.

We agreed to meet at the hide-a-way right after school ended because there was another Null found dead.
Recent
. Like a kid from the next town.

Our killer was circling closer all the time and Tiff and I were feeling the pressure.

We were in the school commons and the pulse-chime had just sounded its ending tone for the day. The high school commons was different than middle school. We had stacked lockers that had pulse locks (pretty important since there were a few Lock-Manipulators at KPH).

I was turning when Sophie said, “Hey, Caleb?”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“I've got a friend I think might be pretty cool. I just met her but she seems nice and I was wondering...”

“Who?”

“Mia Cote.”

“Hell, no!” Jonesy spat out. “She's that traitor that got the cops on Caleb's dick when he raised grandma at Scenic.”

Bry flinched; I guess the memory was still pretty fresh.
Huh
.

Tiff said, “Okay, she blew it. But, let's address how frickin' scary that whole day was.” She punctuated her statement with a bubble the size of a softball.

We watched, fascinated as she maneuvered it back into her mouth after popping, getting the excess with her tongue.

Kinda talented.

John broke away from staring at Tiff. “She has a point but we can't take anyone on that's new unless they have something intrinsically beneficial to offer.”

“To offer who?” Jade asked.

“The group,” I said, understanding John's hesitation. Bry was cool but we couldn't have a butt-load of mundanes loading us down.

Speaking of which. “Have you found out yet what ya are, Jonesy?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No clue. They don't know yet either. I popped on the AP but they think it's something new.”

“I don't want to know, actually,” Sophie said.

He smiled. “I told you how skilled I am, right?” He waggled his brows.

“Yeah, many times,” she said, unimpressed.

John and I looked at each other: they were so perfect for each other it was scary. But we were pulling the No-Interference-Card. Let them figure it out.

Bry said, “What is she Tiff? Sophie?”

Sophie said, “She's a Photographic.”

“Yeah, so? What-the-hell good is that?” Jonesy asked.

Tiff did a hard eye roll. “It's a pretty awesome skill for school,  college and all that happy crap.”

Alex said, “Yeah, that is like, 'no-studying-needed'-- awesome.”

“Why study?” Jonesy asked seriously.

“Ah, to pass, doofus,” Christi said, having just heard the tail end of the conversation.

Jonesy's eyes narrowed to slits. “And you're so brilliant, right?”

“Smarter than you.”

“Prove it, gorgeous,” Jonesy said.

Sophie huffed in the background.

“Because, I just read somewhere that there can only be an IQ difference of fifteen points between siblings,” Jonesy said.

Jonesy was
reading
? Wow.

He looked at us all staring at him dumbfounded. “Thanks for the love, assholes.”

John barked out a laugh.

“Okay, bestow your wisdom,” Christi said, tapping her foot. Then, “What does that have to do with how smart you are?”

“I was thinkin' of your bro, Brody.”

“Yeah, what about him?” she demanded, crossing her arms under a perfect set of ta-tas.

“See, I know he's a dumb-ass because of the company he keeps. That got me thinking, if he has the same IQ as the rest, which is roughly equivalent to a yard tool, then where does that put you, sweetheart?”

A dull red blush colored her throat and face; she turned on her heel to Bry. “It's me or them!” she hollered in his face, stomping her foot.

Stomping her foot. People actually did that?

Bry fumbled around, thinking about the whole Appropriate Response thing.  After a few seconds of silence rolled out Tiff said, “Can't take back the pause.”

Shit-in-a-sock.

She whirled on Tiff. “You're a sick bitch. You and your creepy friend.” Her eyes fell on me. “And
your
creepy grandpa and all your shitty-ass friends. And,” she looked at Jonesy, “you're black too!”

Jonesy was stunned, but recovered. “See, there's the proof, you
just noticed
. Wow, I rest my case. I've been African-American for like fifteen years, brainiac.”

“Ugh!” she nearly shrieked, shoving Bry and storming off.

We watched her hot body walk away and it was bittersweet for the guys. Mainly bitter.

“Well, that's a relief to not have the Complication of Christi,” I said neutrally.

Bry groaned. “She was so hot!”

“Oh, get over it! She would only be good if she didn't speak!” Tiff said, spitting out her gum into the trash separator and folding a new piece in her mouth.

Alex shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Dude, just get a blow up doll. They never talk back.”

“That's very disturbing, Alex,” John said.

“I don't know, there's something practical about it,” Jonesy said.

“Oh my God, seriously?” Sophie said, her mouth hanging open.

“Yeah, don't make me agree with Christi about anything,” Jade said.

Wow, time to rein in the girls before there was trouble. “Okay,” I held up my palms in supplication, “bring Mia, we'll see how she gels with the group...”

“Gels?” Jonesy asked.

“Jonesy,” John said in warning.

“Right,” he smirked.

He was
way
more clever than we gave him credit for.

Jade gave me a kiss that was entirely too short. More later, I thought.

She, Tiff and Sophie walked off and Jonesy's eyes were glued to Sophie's ass, per usual.

John said, “God, Jonesy, just ask her out.”

“Yeah, maybe you could get over the fixation with her ass,” I said.

“It's kinda big,” Alex said.

“Rotund,” John corrected and Alex shrugged.

“Hey guys, thanks, but, I think I'm an ass connoisseur and hers is near-perfect,” Jonesy said indignantly.

I was thinking Jade's was perfect, which I mentioned.

“Nah,” and he was treading carefully here,
good thinking.
“She's got the small, 'white-girl' butt.”

“Sophie's white...” John said.

“No, mixed. She's got some sista in her,” he said emphatically.

Okay.

He shrugged. “What can I say? It is one of her best features.” Then he got a dreamy look. “Her eyes aren't half bad and, she's kinda smart too....” he trailed off.

Jonesy was bitten by the love bug.

Join the crowd
.

We were all staring at him as he came back to himself, trying to shrug it off like it didn't matter. “Whatever, I'm not that into her.”

Ah-huh.

None of us said anything when he turned around to look at her one last time as we crossed the threshold of the school to the outside.

The last vestiges of summer drifted above our heads in a sky so deep a blue it was a bruised violet.

CHAPTER 20

The earth felt warm in my hand, the dirt slipping through my fingers like water. It was almost mid-September and the summer had left its heat firmly imprinted. Autumn was still only a promise.

I stood and Smith came over to me. “Hey Caleb, what do you think?” I looked down at the fresh body, the smell somewhere between open sewer and rotting meat.

“I'm not raising another one of the murdered kids. That's what I'm thinking.” Gum snapped behind me, echoing in the meadow we stood in.

Garcia, Gale and all the techs (I thought of them as dead-techs, not sure why), looked up, startled by the noise. They all looked at Tiff, who unfazed by anything shrugged like,
whatever.
She flipped her hood up, effectively hiding.

Nice.

I looked at her and jerked my head in my direction and she walked over.

“I think we need to touch her...” I began.

“Kinda weird it's a girl,” she commented.

I nodded, it was. Most Nulls were guys; nobody knew why.

Smith looked at the strangled girl, shaking his head. “So totally wrong.”

We agreed.

“I know that with Caleb, we may be able to get a vibe for the killer. We didn't get squat from the last corpse except it was kinda crazy. Raising them isn't gonna work. We need to feel what they remembered,” Tiff said, speaking her thoughts out loud.

There was a commotion from behind me and I turned.

Dave Smith, my AFTD teacher was here.

Perfect.

Garcia was shaking his head and I walked over there.

Smith saw me and said to Garcia, “That's my student there and he needs to have guidance. He's too skilled to be here without some supervision from another AFTD.”

That was definitely not having my back. Smith was turning into the category of: Dickhead Adult. I wasn't thinking he'd pull a surprise on us like Griswold and turn out okay.

“I appreciate your concern for Caleb, Mr....” Garcia began.

“Smith,” he responded, putting his hands on his hips.

He was getting his war paint on (the Skopamish came to mind randomly). Hadn't
that
been a nice little disaster?

He looked at me for help but I wasn't really diggin' on him busting in on our crime scene, stirring the paranormal pot and all that happy crap.

“Mr. Smith,” Garcia began, “we have a five-point Null here.”

John Smith walked over to Teacher Smith. “We have things under control. There's no cause for concern,” he said with the
no problem here, Pal
voice.

Teacher Smith's eyes narrowed. “But you're not using just Caleb. Tiffany Weller is complementing him in his exercises. You may not be sufficient for containing whatever might happen.”

Smith the Null's brows shot up. “What do you mean? I can shut anyone down. That's why I'm working homicide.”

Smith leaned against the yellow tape. “Listen, you have, in theory, some very disturbed potential zombies, if they escape the control of this five-point AFTD and his rechargeable side-kick...”

“Hey!” Tiff said, pissed. I guess the battery reference wasn't appreciated.

Smith's eyes flicked to Tiff and he shrugged,
truth hurts
, that look said. “You may have a zombie on the rampage, and they cannot be stopped except by fire. You have a Pyrokenetic on staff?”

Smith stared blankly at my teacher.

Gale walked over. “Thanks so much for your concern. But, I need to ask you to go, this is an ongoing homicide investigation and civilians aren't allowed inside this perimeter.”

He looked down at Gale, way down. “You'll regret not including me.” He looked at me. “You're going to raise one of these victims and lose control of them. And then we will see what happens.”

“Wait a second,” Garcia said. “Why is it any different than any other zombie?”

Smith looked smug and our Null glowered. “Because, in theory, a person killed violently has the last
life impression
, etched on them in such a way, they are not normal.”

And how were zombies normal
, I wondered?

“You're saying...what, they're 'crazy zombies'?” Tiff asked.

He nodded. “That is not entirely accurate but it's close enough.”

“They're insane because...?” Garcia  began to ask.

“Because that was their last point of reference,” John Smith said, getting it.

“That was the last memory. Their last anything,” I said.

Smith the Teacher was nodding.

We stood around for a long moment. Finally, Garcia said, “I think we were going to try another method today.”

Smith looked at me, aghast, “Did you already raise one of the murder victims?”

I looked at the G's and Garcia nodded. “Yeah.”

“Humph! Well, how did that go?”

A memory of the zombie pushing his guts inside the cavity of his body and straddling me with his hands biting into my flesh came to mind. “Not very well, actually.”

He threw up his hands,
I told you so
.

Tiff stared at me. “Are you kidding...?”

Garcia's look stopped her comment in its tracks. Her mouth closed with a snap.

There was a pause in conversation where the only noises were the tools of the dead-techs, their gloves snapping on and coming off, the low drone of flies buzzing an incessant noise, rivaling that of the dead which called to me. The wind brought the scent of decay to our nostrils, the fragrance of murder.

Gale shook herself from the news. “Okay, thank you so much. We will take what you've told us under advisement. For the time being, Caleb and Tiffany are acting as consultants until there is a break on the case. We have a powerful Null assigned and who is on site the entire time. We have things under control.”

He smirked down at her. “Let's hope that is the case. Don't discount my expertise in this matter,
officer
.” Which came out sounding vaguely like,
bitch
.

She took it that way too, narrowing her eyes to slits. “Again,
thank you so much,
” she replied.

I heard,
eff-you very much.

I was getting pretty good at translating adult-speak.

He stood to his full height. “I offered my services here. You are endangering these minors. It's on your collective consciences if the worst happens. This could have been avoided had you acted like reasonable adults.”

“Okay. You need to go or I will take you in for harassment. We've been patient; we've listened to your arguments. Enough,” Garcia said, his hand hovering around his utility belt.

Huh.

Smith's eyes met Garcia's and there was a strained moment when I thought that Smith would challenge him further.

“Fine. But, don't call me when things go sideways and you don't have a safety net. You're out of your element.”

He gave me a last, penetrating stare and stalked off.

“That was frickin weird,” Tiff said.

Yeah.

“What's all that about, Caleb?” Gale asked.

“Ah, last week he said I should ask you guys if you need help with the investigation. I forgot about it.” I shrugged.

Just a few things going on in my life right now, thanks.

Garcia looked after him. “That's your...what, teacher?”

“Yeah, he's one of my core AFTD.”

“Not very cool, him showing up here and throwing his paranormal weight around,” Smith said.

“Maybe he's a glory hound?” Gale said.

“I don't like that he knew where to find the crime scene,” Garcia said quietly.

Yeah, how
did
he find it?

“A leak?” Smith addressed the question to Gale and Garcia.

“Must be,” Gale said.

By mutual consensus, we made our way to the body. The smell got worse by the minute, Tiff didn't even bother to be cool about it, but held out a stiff hand and a dead-tech handed her a mask.

I was okay with the smell. It was a little like
fresh zombie
for me. I was breathing through my mouth even though it hurt my ribs a little. They were still sore from the fun gang-beating a few days ago.

We hunkered down, Tiff and I. One tennis shoe was gone from the corpse and an ankle was exposed. The pressure of the whispering was almost painful and I turned to Smith, the beat of the call like an errant drum, its percussion incessantly thumping inside my head.

“I need you to tune up some now.”

“How much?” Smith asked.

“I don't know, just do something, I'm dying here.”

His face took on that blank look it got when he started to think about his ability. We'd talked about it before and it was a lot like mine. Unlike me, if he just let it leak all over the place, mundanes didn't notice. If he was around paranormals... well, he had fun with it.

Nobody thought zombies popping up unexpectedly was very fun.

The whispering began to recede like the tide leaving the shore.

Okay, it was bearable again. I looked at Tiff over the body, her mossy green eyes wide like fifty-cent pieces and I nodded at her.

I let my face fill with an unspoken question:
you okay with this
?

She nodded in response.

We touched the ankle at the same time...without gloves. There was no transference without that skin contact. Her hand was beside mine. As she slipped her pinky on my hand, we fell into the memories of the slain girl.

I panicked and Smith saw it. Immediately he tuned up more.

The corpse was so close to being a zombie I could taste the rising on my tongue.

“Oh God, she wants to be alive again!” Tiff whispered in a strained voice.

“Yes. Shh,” I said, concentrating... using every ounce of what Smith was dulling to keep from raising the girl.

*

The Girl's hands hurt, wrapped together, twist-ties biting into the tender flesh of her wrists, the blood throbbing above the binding. Her breath coming in quick gasps, the cloth from the bag that covered her face making her suffocate with heat. She needed to escape this place that smelled like damp earth and rotting vegetation. What had she done to deserve this?

The Girl heard a door open and close and she could feel a malicious presence above her...breathing. The need to pee burned in her bladder like low embers in a fire.

“Please, I need to go... I need to go to the bathroom,” the Girl said.

The cloth bag was torn off her head and a few strands of hair came with it, the stinging of her scalp reminding her that she lived... still.

The Man wore a mask but the female did not. She knew the man was tall but the Female, she was younger, with stringy, dark blond hair.

“Take her to the bathroom.”

The Female nodded, scurrying over to the Girl who cringed away from her.

The Female had been the one to lure her to the man. Everyone trusted a woman... her parents had said to never trust strangers.

She hadn't. She knew this Female.

The Girl looked at her with accusing eyes, burning hatred making her eyes ache with it.

“I'm sorry,” the Female whispered, “he makes me tell him,” she said as she pulled the Girl up to a standing position, all the blood rushing to her head, she swayed, forced to lean on the traitorous Female for balance.

The Girl struggled to the commode, emptying her bladder for a moment that lasted into eternity. Finally, she stumbled as she was simultaneously dragged to the dank mattress on the floor.

The Girl looked at the mattress in horror, old blood and... other things smeared, splattered and in various stages of aging, covered the mattress, not a part of it undefiled.

She whipped her head back and forth... “No, no! Don't put me back on that!” she began to struggle in earnest.

It suddenly occurred to the Girl that she would not live. That is why the Female showed her face. The Girl would die here in this cellar with the smell of slow death filling her nose.

The Man approached her, shoving her on the bed. “Leave us!” he yelled at the Female.

She cast one last glance at the Girl and in that moment her face was etched forever in the Girl's memory as the hands of the tall masked Man wrapped around her throat...death hovering over her consciousness like a rank vapor. He pressed on her throat, saying, “Without you, there can no longer be them...”

The Girl looked at her captor, her breath scorching her lungs, begging for release, the pressure and unbearable weight a screaming torture within her.

The Girl's vision began to narrow to a single point, the peripheral edges blurring, her last conscious thought was the Female's eyes:

They'd held fear.

But the Girl was no longer scared, her vision going to black.