A Boy and His Corpse (12 page)

              “Somebody please…open the basement door,” Alan said flatly with his eyes still closed.

              “Oh, yes, of course,” James said before bounding up the steps. The door opened and James came back down grinning.

              A woman with a red ponytail and a black suit came down first with her arms held behind her back. A zombified, Agent Heinzelman, kept her captive.

              “Oh, don’t hurt her, Alan,” Lorraine said. “She’s not a bad person.”

              Lorraine was about to touch Alan’s shoulder but James grabbed her wrist.

              “Don’t,” he told her. “He needs to keep his concentration. Alan, put her in the corner.”

              Agent Heinzelman forced his captive over next to Mort.

              “You won’t get away with this,” she said.

              The next Agent that came down the steps made them creak so loudly that Herbert was afraid they would snap and trap them all in the basement. The Agent’s gut bounced and wobbled as he was brought down the stairs with his arms held behind his back. Agent Covington’s broken neck bobbled back and forth like a spring as he hurried the fat man into the corner with his partner.

              Lorraine smiled at the scene.

              “Now
you
I don’t mind being captured,” she said to the obese Agent. “Serves you right, you fat thing.”

              “Daaaaad,” Alan croaked.

              “Yes, son?”

              “Can you…take over for me…Just for a little while. Please?”

              “Sure, son,” Herbert said. “Drop connection in three, two, one.”

Herbert felt the spirit of his son retreat from the corpses as he jumped inside of them. It took less than a second.

             
“Can you still make the call while you’re inside them?” James asked. Herbert nodded.

              “What do you want me to say to him?”

              “Tell them that we have his new necromancer.”

“Fine.” Herbert said. “Is that it?”

“No. Also tell him that we have demands he has to meet if he wants Alan on his side.”

              “Demands like what?”

              “Just call him.”

              “How are you feeling?” Lorraine asked Alan.

              “I’ll live,” Alan said, turning his head from side to side, stretching his neck. He turned his attention to his father. “Make sure you let him know that I still want my wrestling league. I’m going to take a short nap.” He lay down and put his hands behind his head.

              A part of Herbert wanted to shake his son. “
What did I tell you about that wrestling crap, boy?
” But another, even deeper part of Herbert wanted to reach down and give his son the biggest hug of his life. Here was Alan, his only child, finally digging deep within himself and moving corpses. And, not only that, but he was also still as tenacious as ever about starting an Undead Wrestling League. In that moment, Herbert made a pledge to himself. One way or another, he would get his son that wrestling league. Even if nobody saw it (as nobody
could
see it since no one could know that corpses walked the Earth), he would still make sure that his son had it, one way or another. Mr. Rovas could go to Hell.

              “And what do you want out of all this, boy?” Herbert asked James. “I know you aren’t doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

              “You’ll find out after you call him,” James said. “Just make the call, get him on the line and then shut up. Dial and put it on speaker. I’ve got some things I want to say to that man.”

              “If you’re going to do all the talking, then why don’t you just call him yourself then?” Herbert asked.

              “Because he doesn’t have Mr. Rovas number. Isn’t that right, James?” The red haired Agent in the corner said. “He never gave it to you because he knew he couldn’t trust you. Traitor.”

              James paid her no mind. “Make the call,” he told Herbert.

              Herbert dialed and pressed send.

              But as the phone rang, Herbert tensed up.

             
Something isn’t right.

“Hello?” came the voice at the other end.

James spoke first: “Is this Mr. Rovas?”

“That it is,” the man said at the other end of the line. There were a few seconds of silence before the man on the line continued. “James Krompholz, what an unexpected surprise.”

President Rosewater

              “Alright, you can go now,” Rosewater said once he saw that Mr. Rovas didn’t have a gun. “Go help outside with crowd control.”

              “I’m afraid we can’t do that, sir,” Hernandez said.

              The President ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair. “Why not?”

              Hernandez’s face sported a frown that made his chin jut out. “We just can’t, sir.”

“You’ll do as I say. This man is a personal friend of mine and we have to discuss personal matters. So leave. That’s an order.”

              “But, sir, if you don’t mind me asking, who is this man?” Adams took a step forward and gave Rovas a long once-over, his hand resting on his service weapon.

              “A friend,” Mr. Rovas said, and for some reason, the way he said “friend” bothered Rosewater. “You don’t have to leave the house, but you can’t stay in this room. The President and I have to discuss something in private. If you want to stay, you’re welcome to, but go upstairs.”

              The secret servicemen looked at each other and nodded.

“I’m going to have to check you for weapons,” Hernandez finally said. “Adams, check the other rooms.”

              Adams nodded.

“Check all you like,” Mr. Rovas said as he raised his arms. “But check fast because we’re pressed for time.”

Hernandez patted Mr. Rovas’ body up and down while the other secret serviceman looked about the rooms. When Adams finished, he poked his face in and shook his head.

“Nothing dangerous,” he said.

Hernandez’s entire face crunched up like a flower just about to blossom. “Okay,” he said. “Stay in this room where we can watch you. We’ll wait outside. But if this man makes a single move, we’re coming in and pulling you out.” He looked at Mr. Rovas. “We’re prepared to use lethal force.”

              “Of course,” Mr. Rovas said. “I just need to talk to him for a little while. It will be quick.”

              The two secret servicemen looked over their shoulders as they left. They took up their normal shoulder-to-shoulder wall stance on the front stoop, leaving the front door ajar.

              When they were gone, Rosewater grabbed Mr. Rovas by the lapel and brought him closer. “What are we going to do? Alan killed—”

              “Wait, what?” Mr. Rovas wiped the President’s hands off him. “
What did you do
?”

              “I know you didn’t think I was going to go see Andrew—”

              “Alan. His name is Alan, dammit,” he sighed. “Take it from the top. What happened? You saw Alan?”

              The President told him the story. When it was all over, Mr. Rovas dragged his hand down his face.

              “You stupid, stupid man,” he said.

              “You have to do something about—”

              Just then, the phone in Mr. Rovas’ pocket rang. He took it out, looked at the number, and put his finger to his lips. He clicked on it.

              “Hello,” Mr. Rovas said into the phone. He put it on speaker. There was a layer of silence on the other end.

              “Is this Mr. Rovas?” The voice sounded familiar to the President.

             
“That it is,” Mr. Rovas said, leaving a pregnant pause before he said, “James Krompholz, what an unexpected surprise.”

             
Who
? The President wondered.

“Good,” came another voice from the phone. “Because I have some demands and you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

              “Oh? And where’d you get that idea from?” Mr. Rovas asked.

              “From the fact that we have two of your agents hostage.”

              Rosewater’s nose wrinkled. “Hostage” was a funny way of saying “dead”.

“Tell me something I could give a crap about,” Mr. Rovas said.

“Well, how about this?” James said. “Your boy, Alan, can control multiple corpses at a time now.”

Rosewater shivered. Visions of the hand going through agent Heinzelman’s back rocked him again.

              “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Mr. Rovas asked.

              “Because,” another voice said, and this one Rosewater knew. It was Herbert’s. “I saw it for myself, and we can prove it.”

              Mr. Rovas shook his head and gave Rosewater a searching glare. The President looked away, ashamed. “Well, let’s just say Alan
can
control multiple corpses now. Where does that leave us?”

“Back to demands,” James said.

“What kind of demands?”

              “I want my family back for one. No questions asked. And when this whole Armand Raad situation is over, I’m done being a secret agent. D.O.N.E. Done. I don’t want anything more to do with it any longer.”

              Mr. Rovas closed his eyes as if in deep meditation. When he opened them again, they were decisive and clear.

              “Fine. Done. If Alan can truly control more than one corpse at a time, and he can do it
competently
, not all herky-jerky like he does with Mort, then you can have your family back. I’ll even deliver them to you personally.”

              There was whispering on the other end and then Herbert’s voice returned.

              “It’s me, Herbert.”

              “Yes, yes. And what do you want?”

              “No more robots,” Herbert said.

              “They’re not—” Mr. Rovas began before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, no more robots. Anything else?”

              “I want my son to have good health benefits,” a woman’s voice said on the other line.

              “Nice to hear you voice again, Lorraine. Fine. That’s easy enough.” Mr. Rovas said. “Done.”

              “One more thing,” Herbert said. “After this mission is over, my boy wants to start an undead wrestling federation.”

              “Come again?” Rosewater asked.

              Mr. Rovas gave a single, sharp laugh.

              “No,” Mr. Rovas said. “That one I can’t grant you, but nice try. I’ve seen you banging Mort up. That  I can’t allow. You of all people know that.”

              A new voice came on, and it was one Rosewater didn’t want to hear again for the rest of his life.

              “If you don’t let me start an undead wrestling league after this is all said and done then I’m not helping you,” Alan said.

              “Look, I’d rather settle this matter face to face,” Mr. Rovas said. “I have to see these newfound abilities in person after all.”

              “Where and when?” James asked.

              “At home base, of course,” Mr. Rovas said. “In an hour.”

              “Fine. At the base in an hour.” The line clicked and went dead.

              Rovas put the phone back in his pocket and looked to Rosewater.

“What now?” Rosewater asked.

“You go back to Washington and wait,” Mr. Rovas said. “I’ll handle everything from here on out. Don’t worry.”

“And what about Israel? What do I tell—”

“Don’t worry about Mr. Lampel. I’ll deal with him.”

“You’ll…” the President squinted.

“There’s a lot that you don’t know and for good reason. Just be prepared for anything in the next few hours, and go with the flow. Trust me.”

He offered out his hand and they shook. For some reason, President Rosewater got the feeling he was shaking hands with the devil.