Death 07 - For the Love of Death Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Deegan

  Shame fills me. I shouldn't have told. Even if it is Gramps. And Clyde.

  Dad told me never, ever. Never.

  Tell.

  I press my forehead against the car window. It’s a polymer mix of glass and Lucite. Shatterproof.

  I can’t stop the tears.

  The steering wheel creaks under Pax’s grip. He’s pissed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My words fog the window.

  “I know.”

  Silence. Then, “It’s just… if anyone finds out you can will those things into existence…”

  He doesn’t finish.

  He doesn’t need to. They won’t study me; they’ll kill me. The HC is gone, but our government is still active.

  There will always be plotters, Dad says.

  “It's like you,” I say.

  I shake my head. “No. Me seeing other dimensions alongside our world, traveling to them, is not... hell—collapsing it.”

  I turn on him. “Do you think I want this?” Fury rides my voice like a passenger.

  He pulses the car to autopilot, and the iconic green figure of a man blinks on in the middle of the odometer, casting eerie emerald phosphorescence on our faces.

  Pax looks at me, his eyes so much like Gram’s it makes my breath hitch. Trees hurtle past as we move at one hundred fifty-five miles per hour. The sensor softly beeps, alerting the car to obstacles.

  “You know I don’t think that,” he says.

  My lip trembles. “Don’t be mad, Pax.” Another tear leaps out of my eye, escaping like a traitor down my face.

  “Come ’ere.”

  He holds out his arms, and I climb onto his lap as I used to back when the talents started to hit me.

  Like a punch. One after another, after another.

  The car blasts us toward our house as I sit in Pax's lap in comfortable silence.

  The sensor bleats like a goat and we jerk our eyes to the windshield.

  Another car is parked in the middle of the road. The middle of the sky.

  Pax's arms convulse around me, his casual embrace going to crushing instantly.

  Our velocity is too great. We’ll crash.

  “Dee!” Pax hits the red button where dome lights used to reside back in the day. In the year 2049, we think our needs. Except for the one Pax executes.

  Fine netting bursts out of the interior seams, capturing us in a web so fine and tight I can’t breathe.

  “Pax!” I grunt, panicking.

  The car flips as though in slow motion, in a maneuver to avoid the car in front of us. Our speed makes it impossible to compensate, and it lands against the invisible pulse rails, hitting the ground once and bouncing hard. My stomach heaves, but I’m too frightened to puke.

  The roof caves in as we tumble.

  The net holds me against Pax, and I scream. He tightens his arms around me a second time, and my ribs shriek in protest.

  One of his arms bursts through the webbing, a tensile strength seventy times the human capacity to stretch to breaking.

  He slams his palm into the roof, keeping it from crushing us.

  “Pax,” I whisper.

  His arm snaps, and he yells.

  The car flips one more time and lands upright.

  It spins slowly in a single revolution, righting itself on the tracks. The correction is possible. Pulse tracks cover the entire surface of the earth, even houses.

  the auto sensor proclaims.

  A breath shudders out of me.

  I wipe away the netting, and Pax groans. “That fucking hurt.”

 

  We burst out laughing.

  “That’s a no shit.”

  Pax tries to move. Falls back. “Unlock.”

 

  “I hate her voice.”

  “Bee-otch for sure.”

  Pax groans.

  We smile.

  The door opens and I crawl over my brother, half-falling outside.

  the tiny voice grates.

  “Yes,” Pax says with a heave as he rolls out.

  A whir and clicking sounds and I frown, looking at the sensor gauge.

 

  Pax straightens outside our car. Its beat up roof looks like a crimped bullet. He staggers forward, his own frown holding steady, and grips the door rim with his good hand. He grits his teeth.

  “Authenticate.”

 

  My eyes meet his.

  We turn, looking at the moron who blocked our path. We shouldn't have gotten in an accident anyway. All vehicles are equipped with safety avoidance. It's been in place for a decade.

  The car is gone and men stand where it was.

  Men with guns.

  *

  “Dee,” Pax says.

  I swallow. “Yeah?”

  Be ready.

  Yes, I mind-whisper back.

  I chance a glance at Pax and his skin has a grayish-white tinge.

  Shock.

  “Pax… you’re scaring me.”

  He’s holding his arm, jerking his jaw toward the crew of men in suits. “They’re scarier.” He flicks his gaze to mine. “Get behind me, Dee.”

  I do as he asks.

  “Hello, Mr. Hart,” Mr. Cheerful greets us.

  I scan the area for witnesses. However, with the void of children, that translates directly to no games, no school, no… whatever.

  No soccer moms are whizzing by to see a big brother moment.

  The man before us moves like a spider.

  I figure he’s Random, but I can only guess. It’s not like my best friend, Pritzi. It’s her gift. She knows and can locate any Random in the world. Of course, she’s keeping that part to herself.

  There are five of them. All early twenties.

  No, one is older.

  “We have been inviting you for a long time, Mr. Hart.”

  Pax grimaces. “Listen, I keep looking around for my dad when ya say my name like that. And”—he moves his body fully in front of mine, utterly blocking their view of me—“I’m not a fan of your techniques.”

  Spider lifts the muzzle of his gun.

  “Don’t,” Pax says.

  He says it like a warning, not a suggestion.

  “We're not here to harm, Paxton.”

  “Clearly,” I mutter.

  Quiet, Dee.

  Pax's teeth begin to chatter. The losers move closer.

  Fuck, they've got a Null.

  How many? I ask.

  Five points, of effing course.

  “You won’t listen to our business proposals, so we became creative.”

  “Is it because I wouldn’t go out with you guys? Feelin’ all rejected and shit?”

  Oh, Pax. He has to stir the hornet’s nest.

  The man’s face falls into hard lines. His gaze tries to find me behind my brother’s body.

  “What about your sister? Does she want to ‘go out’ with us?” His smile is cruel.

  Pax tenses.

  They find his weak spot. He’d let someone take off his legs like an ant underneath a magnifier. But if they were to threaten me…

  “You touch her and you die.”

  Yep.

  “Tsk, tsk, Paxton. You have a very unfortunate temper.”

  “Good thing you’re aware, now buzz off.”

  I breathe in and out slowly. The other four inch closer.

  Twilight edges toward us, stealing daylight. Pax notices.

  My heart thuds, palms slicking with sweat, mouth going dry. Pax, I'm going to do something bad.

  His emotions come hard and fast in my head like an old-fashioned shutter of a camera.

  Guilt, responsibility and love coalesce, bursting over his words: No. You won't have to.

  They wear all black, moving in the growing shadows as the sun sets below the horizon. T
angerine bleeds over us, the colors wash their clothes to the color of a bruise.

  I glance at Pax as the sun sinks.

  He blinks, and a thin iridescent sheath slides over his slate blue irises.

  Hang on.

  Spider sighs, waving his hand. “Get the sister.”

  Pax takes my hand. “The fuck you will.”

  One of the other's screams, “His eyes!”

  Spider's gaze arrows down on Pax and he bellows, “Get him!”

  Too late.

  Pax blinks again and we're gone.

  Yet we still remain.

  Pax has tried to explain it to me. As though our earth is a hard cover book from the past set upright, each page almost touches the next as it fans between the back and front cover, thinly separated.

  Multiverse theory. Proven by the late physicist Stephen Genning. Each paper-thin slice is another world. Another dimension. But Paxton can see the other worlds with his second eyelid.

  Proven but unexplored. Until now.

  He brings me against his side, and the assassins whirl around inches from us.

  Worlds from us.

  As long as Pax touches me, I can see too.

  When Pax begins to slide, I go with him.

  “Pax!” I scream.

  Don't pass out!

  He falls to the ground in this world and I hang on. As long as I touch him, I can see.

  His eyes flutter. Then shut.

  The men in our world appear to swim behind a transparent veil, though it looks like a sheet of running water separates us. I'm on my knees next to my brother when I hear a furtive noise behind me.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the bitch Dee-gan.”

  I look up, and Brad Thompson stands before me. Not the Brad Thompson of my world but of this one.

  His hair’s longer, I notice randomly. I swallow hard. “Get out of here, Brad.”

  I roll my lip into my teeth to keep the panic at arm’s length, gripping Pax’s hand so hard I’m probably cutting off circulation.

  “You just pop up like a bad penny, as they say.”

  His creepy use of Gramps’ expression deepens my unease.

  “What?”

  “I got rid of you, yet here you are. With your undead brother along for the ride.” He swivels his gaze to Pax, peacefully sleeping in an injury-induced unconsciousness.

  “That’s okay. It was so fun killing you the first time, I’m not going to question the unreality of you showing up again. This time, you’ll stay dead.”

  In that moment, I want to be a Body like Pax so much. I hurt with the want of it. I could crush his windpipe, protect myself with that Herculean strength.

  Instead, Brad tears me off Pax. The world goes black, our contact severed.

  I'm blind.

  Helpless.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Caleb

  I jerk the receiver off the old rotary wall phone, punch in Gramps’ number, and wait.

  Maybe a thousand landlines still exist in all of America. Because of our house’s age, we’re grandfathered. Even with my penchant for the antique and vintage, it’s still awkward and heavy to use. I press the circular celluloid earpiece against my ear and wait through five rings. Of course, Gramps doesn’t have an answering machine. His thoughts would be, If he’s home, he answers.

  Jade’s wide eyes stare up at me.

  I shift my weight.

  “Hello?” Gramps voice bellows into the phone like falling gravel.

  “Hey Gramps, it’s Caleb.”

  “I know who it is. I’ve got caller ID as part of my bundle, y’know.”

  Caller ID. The most archaic thing on the planet.

  Jade’s lips quirk, easily making out his side of the conversation, seeing as how he’s shouting.

  “He needs another ear replacement,” she says quietly. I nod, putting a finger to my lips.

  “Right. Listen, Gramps… Deegan and Paxton are MIA. Ya know where they are?”

  Jade and I stopped at two kids. Felt like ten. There wasn’t enough protection in the world for our kids as Randoms. We still worry.

  The open line buzzes. “Both the kids were here. Pax and I changed the oil out on the Camaro…”

  Good, Pax needs that connection.

  “There was a little incident with Deedie.”

  Jade covers her mouth with a hand. I wrap her forearm with my hand. Images flow. She nods, taking a shaky inhale.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Clyde brought her. Some ruffian is trying to vamp her psychic energy right out of her.”

  “Brad Thompson.” Jade throws her arms down by her sides, color spreading across her cheekbones.

  I’m so pissed it should be illegal. I can feel my old friend Rage come knocking. I concentrate on my breathing.

  I hate some of these Randoms. My prejudice is worse than everyone else’s is, because I was part of the problem.

  Now we have abilities in the few kids left who aren’t catalogued. Like trees, they have all kinds of branches.

  This shitty Null is also a Drainer. Our government won’t give them a name, but we leftovers will.

  What Thompson is doing is illegal. His father is also the head of the Sanctions. He pulls every undead legislation he can.

  The prick.

  Jade plucks my sleeve, and I cup the back of her head with my free hand. “Is she okay, Caleb?” She worries at her lip with her teeth.

  Gramps says, “She’s okay, Caleb—just shook up.”

  A breath whistles out of me.

  “Okay. So here’s the $64,000,000 question: where are she and Pax?”

  Silence.

  I hear Gramps do a swipe of his face with his palm. Deep exhale.

  “Should’ve been home ’bout now, son.”

  Jade shakes her head. “They’re not,” she whispers.

  I say into the phone, “They’re not, Gramps.”

  I don’t ask why my zombie, Clyde, happened to be corpse-on-the-spot for Deegan. I don’t ask why her Null guard was absent. I don’t ask any of that. “Gramps…”

  “I’ll find her.”

  “And Pax?”

  “Don’t worry about him. He needs to figure out his own way about Ali, son.”

  The mention of Mom’s impending demise is a wound that continuously seeps.

  I open my eyes, and my wife cups my face.

  I tip my head, putting my forehead to hers.

  “Do I need to raise the dead?” I ask, my breath caressing Jade's face.

  A beat of time drums between us.

  Can’t take that shit back.

  “Not yet. I'll roar out there in my Bronco and flesh out this bullshit.”

  My lips twitch.

  “Be careful, Gramps.”

  He barks a laugh into the phone and I straighten from Jade, holding it away from my ear.

  “If anyone's touched a hair on either of those kids' heads, there will be a shitstorm they'll never recover from. They'll stink until they die.”

  Gramps.

  “I'll meet ya,” I say, ignoring his paranoia rant.

  “Do ya know what route Pax generally takes?”

  An alarm sounds and Jade yelps, throwing a hand over her heart.

  “Hang on!” I give the phone to Jade.

  I stride to the wall and depress my thumb on the pad, also obsolete. Many people have full cognitive pulse operation. Mind to signal.

  I'm not ready for that.

 

  The message appears as scrolling letters.

 

 

 

  My heart stutters.

  Pulse cars don't get in accidents.

  They have monitors sensing obstacles and implement counter measures to avoid them.

  I race back to the phone and tear it out of Jade's hand, mouthing sorry as I
do.

  I grip it so hard the plastic squeaks in protest.

  One word. “Gramps.”

  He hears me because he listens so hard.

  He always has.

  “I knew some strange-ranger shit was going to go down.”

  “How?” I ask. “You're not a paranormal.”

  “Pfft.” He grunts. “Gut instinct.”

  “This changes things.”

  “Not really… the guns were always gonna go.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Probably don't need the arsenal. Organics will be there already.”

  “Not if the wrong people show up.”

  Adrenaline comes to fuel Rage.

  Swell.

  Jade's eyes widen at my emotional signature.

  “I'll meet you,” I say.

  “Call Clyde.”

  I hit him like a ton of bricks. My summons is pure, strong. Agonized.

  The response is nearly instantaneous. Master.

  The kids, Clyde, they've been in a car wreck.

  A second of tomblike silence.

  I will be at your home momentarily.

  Then he is gone from my consciousness.

  “I just put out the SOS, Gramps.”

  “Good. Going to blast off and see if the kids are okay.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  An empty dial tone sings in my ear.

  I gently replace the receiver.

  Jade is coming back from the pulse monitor on the wall.

  She grabs my hands.

  “Caleb, are the babies alive?”

  I reach out to our two children. Both possess high levels of AFTD.

  A beacon to my ability, a lighthouse in the fog of humanity.

  Like knows like.

  I strike out in all directions, my power fanning away from me in great swaths.

  Nothing.

  Not a return. An echo. A ripple.

  I open my eyes.

  We're touching.

  Jade knows.

  “No…” She backs away. “They can’t be dead.”

  I quickly shake my head. “No, they’re not dead.”

  She leans in, her eyes searching mine. “But are they alive?”

  The lie trembles between us. But we only do truths.

  I let me hands fall. “I don’t know.”

  Tears shatter her face like wet fear.

  I don’t explain because I don’t need to.

  Jade knows where I’m going.