The Dishonored Dead (17 page)

“I should have told you yesterday, but so much happened I forgot. We’re going out to dinner tonight. On a double date.”

“With who?”

Denise gave him a very forced smile. Through her crooked, rotted teeth, she said, “My sister.”

Conrad sighed. “Come on, you know that isn’t a good idea.”

She was still giving him the forced smile. “That’s not all.”

“It gets worse?”

The smile faded as she slowly nodded her head.

“How?” he asked. “How could it possibly get any worse?”

Everyone in Olympus
knew who Anthony Bruno was. Every time there was a zombie attack and a Hunter kill mentioned in the news, Anthony’s name quickly followed. He had only been a lawyer for a few years and was already starting to build his reputation. Many people saw him as a troublemaker, a rebel rouser, while others saw him as a kind of working class hero. The mission statement of his law firm—which right now was just Anthony and two legal aides—was that he would do everything to help protect the rights of the family members of those whose children had turned into zombies.

And, apparently, for the last three months he had been dating Conrad’s sister-in-law.

They went out that evening to a restaurant in the city, nowhere close to The Restaurant’s posh standards but a place that nonetheless required its male guests to wear a tie and jacket. It was the four of them—Conrad, Denise, Jessica, Anthony Bruno—and when the two couples first met in the foyer, hands were shook and hellos were said and each of them did a good job of putting on smiles. Denise had pleaded with Conrad to go through with this, explaining how Jessica thought she was in love, and it meant a lot not only to Denise but to Jessica that Conrad show his support and do his best to act civil.

Anthony was relatively young for a lawyer, still in his early thirties, but he had a boyish smile and a way of making everyone his friend that Conrad couldn’t help but take to immediately. If he didn’t know what Anthony Bruno did for work, he might have actually liked the man, but as it was he felt it best to stay on his guard and only answer questions when they were directed at him.

The hostess took them to a corner booth lit by a large candle in the middle of the table. They ordered drinks, appetizers, and after they had ordered the main course, Denise asked Anthony how he and her sister had met.

“You mean Jess never told you?”

“She did. But I want to hear your version.”

Smiling broadly, Anthony said, “There isn’t really much to tell. Jess here delivered some documents to my firm one day and happened to leave her wallet. She came back a few hours later, completely hysterical. She said her entire existence was in her wallet and that if she lost it … well, I don’t know why, exactly, but I asked her out for some coffee afterward. She accepted, and … here we are.”

Conrad took a sip of wine. The urge to roll his eyes, to get up and leave, to scream out his frustration, was almost too much. Denise had already told him Jessica’s side of the story. How his sister-in-law, who never dated a guy for more than a month, who had always flirted with Denise’s boyfriends in high school, had had her eye on Anthony Bruno for a while. This had of course seemed odd to Conrad, because while Anthony was good-looking, he wasn’t very rich or powerful … at least not yet, and that was where Conrad figured his sister-in-law saw the attraction. Get in on the ground level, stay with him through the tough times, and when he hit it big—because despite what Conrad thought, he knew eventually Anthony was going to make it big—she would be sitting pretty for the rest of her existence.

But she needed a way to meet him, a way that wouldn’t be too obvious. And one day documents needed delivered to Anthony Bruno from her firm and she jumped at the chance, already with her plan in mind. She left her wallet at Bruno’s law firm and walked out, went back to work, sat at her desk for a few hours before she began looking for her wallet. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere. She freaked out, really playing the part, and one of the firm partners suggested she call Anthony Bruno’s firm to see if it was there. She picked up the phone, dialed only six numbers, and acted like she was talking to the legal aide who answered and who told her yes, they did have her wallet. When she hung up, she asked the partner if she could hurry over there right this moment, right this instant, and the man, seeing the desperation in her black eyes, said sure, why not.

One thing about Jessica, Conrad knew, the girl was a great actress. She really was in the wrong line of work, but it didn’t matter, because she went back to Anthony Bruno’s firm, she played her part perfectly, and later that evening they went out for coffee and she was charming and gave him her number and—surprise, surprise—he called her the next day.

And so now here they were, three months later, sitting in a corner booth in some fancy restaurant a few blocks away from the Herculean, a candle flickering light in the middle of their table.

Anthony Bruno placed his arm around Jessica. Jessica rested her head on his shoulder. She smiled and closed her eyes, held them shut a moment, and when she opened them again she stared straight at Conrad.

And Conrad, despite his best efforts, coughed out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Anthony asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, please, tell me.”

“It’s just this joke I heard earlier today. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Anthony stared at him hard for a moment, then took his arm away from Jessica.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he said, offering Denise an uncomfortable smile.

Conrad said, “You didn’t want what to come to what?”

Denise grabbed his leg below the table, gave it a tight squeeze.

The smile was now directed at Conrad. It was no longer uncomfortable but rather tight-lipped and menacing, Anthony’s white-capped teeth almost glistening in the candlelight.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Conrad, but Hunters killed my brother.”

The candlelight flickered, playing shadows off those teeth.

“He was ten and he turned and Hunters came to kill him. And from that moment, the moment they chopped off his head, my family began to suffer. Our neighbors wouldn’t talk to us anymore. The kids at school, they avoided me, and when they didn’t, they were making fun of me behind my back. My mother lost all of her friends. My father lost his job.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you’re not. You’re just a Hunter, and killing zombies is what you do. You don’t care about the families involved. You don’t care about the fact they had no say in what happened. You just come in with your broadsword, swing it, and that’s that. Or”—and here the tight-lipped smile became a sneer—“you torture a living child until his father can’t bear it anymore.”

Silverware clinking on dinner plates, music drifting about the room from hidden speakers, people joining in hushed conversations: Conrad wasn’t aware of any of it. He was hardly even aware of Denise’s hand on his leg, still holding tight.

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’ve spoken to Eugene Moss. He told me everything that happened inside his home. Unlike what the news told everyone in the world, he told me the truth.”

Denise’s hand on his leg squeezed tighter.

“Yes, yes,” Anthony Bruno said, waving a dismissive hand, “he was the one who placed that bomb at your headquarters. There’s no arguing that. For that he is indeed guilty, and for that his public execution is inevitable. But correct me if I’m wrong. Isn’t the Hunter Code meant to keep Hunters in line? Isn’t it meant to make them responsible for their own actions? Isn’t it true that they are not in fact above the law, but below it just like everyone else?”

The hand squeezed even tighter, trying to hold him in place.

“You Hunters look at me as the bad guy. But I’m not the bad guy. I hate the living just like everyone else. They all deserve to die. But at the same time, don’t those dead who are affected because of the living deserve rights too? Why should they be punished for something they have no control over?” He paused. “Or should they?”

Both of Conrad’s hands had been folded on the table. Now he unfolded them, reached down to take Denise’s hand off his leg. At first she refused, keeping her hand there, squeezing his leg even more, and it was only when he gripped her wrist tightly—so tightly some of the skin gave away under his grasp and he could feel the bone—did she let go.

He started to slide out from the booth, intending to just leave, when Anthony spoke again.

“Jessica tells me you and Denise have a son. She says he’s almost ten. Now what if something were to happen to him, Conrad? What if he were to turn? Should you be punished for that? Should you be held accountable?”

He’d stood up, started walking away, but now stopped.

“I might as well give you fair warning,” Anthony said as he too slid out of the booth and stood up. “You and the three other Hunters inside that house are going down. I still don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to personally see to it myself. It’s not my usual type of case, and I wish I didn’t have to, but there’s a reason why we have the law, and the law needs to be followed.”

His back still to the lawyer, Conrad’s hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides.

“But don’t worry about your family. I’ll make sure nothing happens to your wife and son.”

Anthony Bruno walked forward until he was standing right behind Conrad. He placed a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezed it gently.

“I figure I’m doing the right thing here,” he whispered. “I don’t have to give you fair warning, but I’m doing it anyway. Because I love your sister-in-law, Conrad, and hopefully I’ll marry her someday. Which means I’ll become family to your wife and son. And I don’t want to see them hurt.”

“Anthony?”

“Yes?”

“Since you’re giving me fair warning, I guess I should do the same for you.”

The hand left Conrad’s shoulder. “Regarding what?”

“This,” Conrad said, and turning quickly, he raised his fist and punched Anthony Bruno square in the face.

Norman’s call woke
him early the next morning.

“Get up and get dressed,” the captain said. He named an airport just outside of Olympus. “Meet me there as soon as you can.”

Conrad sat up in bed. Denise’s side was empty. He asked what was going on.

“It doesn’t matter what you wear. Uniforms will be provided. Just make sure to bring your broadsword.”

His eyes quickly cleared of sleep. “Sir? What’s going on?”

“It’s Heaven, Conrad. We’ve found it.”

Chapter 23

She could hear
him moving around upstairs, his footsteps frantic, going from one end of the bedroom to the next.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

They sat at the kitchen table, Kyle with a bowl of cereal in front of him, Denise a glass of gray juice.

“Just finish your breakfast,” she said. “You don’t want to be late for your bus.”

Above them a door opened, closed. More frantic footsteps. They moved out of the bedroom, into the hallway, and she took this as her cue to get up.

“Mom?”

Ignoring Kyle, she went to the sink. She stood there and stared out the window at the bird feeder on the deck. No birds converged around the feeder this morning—there weren’t even any squirrels—but a butterfly caught her eye, a gray flitting shape flapping its way across the lawn.

Conrad’s footsteps hurried down the stairs. They paused. Then they started up again, now headed toward the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad,” Kyle said, but Conrad didn’t answer. He went straight to the basement door, opened it, hurried down the steps. Moments later he was back, holding a case at his side, staring across the kitchen at Denise. She knew this because she could faintly see his reflection in the window.

“I need to go away for a while,” he said. This was directed at her but it was Kyle who replied, asking where Conrad was going. “I can’t tell you, kiddo.”

“Will you tell me when you get back?”

“Sure thing.”

She was still holding the glass of juice in her hand. She didn’t realize until this moment just how tight she was holding it, that if she wasn’t careful she might shatter it.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Conrad said. “I love you both.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

In the window, Conrad’s faint reflection waited in the doorway, staring straight at her. He just stood there, staring, until he turned and disappeared. The heavy sound of his footsteps, the front door opening and closing, and then it was Kyle’s voice that broke the heavy silence, asking, “Mom, are you mad at Dad about something?”

And what was she supposed to say to this? How was she supposed to explain not just what happened last night, but the past twelve years?

“Mom?”

She released her grasp on the glass. She poured the remaining juice into the sink. She watched as it swirled around the drain, listened as it was sucked into the pipe.

Then she turned, smiled at her son, told him that of course she wasn’t mad at his father, why would she be?

“You didn’t say goodbye to him.”

“I didn’t?” She held a hand to her head, closed her eyes. “It must be this headache. I think I need to lie down.”

This answer seemed good enough for Kyle. He finished his cereal, took his bowl to the sink, rinsed it out. He hurried through the kitchen and grabbed his lunch, his backpack, and gave Denise a quick hug.

“See you later,” he said.

Denise stayed where she was in the kitchen. She couldn’t seem to move. Her hands, as if working of their own volition, wrapped themselves around her belly. Her twins were in there now, becoming more and more animated by the day, and she wondered not for the first time if bringing them into the world was a good idea. Conrad played a major factor in this decision. Not just because his job kept him away almost all the time—and having him back these past couple of days had been nice in a way, while at the same time they had been unnerving—but because there was no saying how much longer he would be around. The news the doctor gave him wasn’t good. He said a year, maybe two, and that was if Conrad continued to apply his prescribed lotion regularly, which she knew he didn’t.