A Living Dead Love Story Series (64 page)

The Elders watch me approach, hands tied in front of me. The room is eerily silent except for the squawking of my shoes on the varnished gym floor. There is a single chair set up in front of the Council, and the Sentinels lead me to it.

I picture Dad walking in, sitting in this same chair. Looking at the Elders' skeletal faces and long, veiny necks, their coal-black eyes and popcorn-yellow teeth. What did they say to him? How did he respond?

Knowing Dad, he probably approached the meeting in a clinical manner, studying their skin, their nostrils, their eyelashes, wondering if I might look like that in three or four hundred years. The thought of Dad analyzing the Elders even as they chastised him almost makes me smile.

And then I think of Stamp. Right here in this chair. Did he know what was happening to him? Has he figured it out yet? And the $64,000 question: where did they both go after the Elders gave sentence?

The six Elders stare back at me, glossy eyes bulging out of their shrunken heads, frail but menacing in their identical white pajamas. I know they're probably not really pajamas, but that's what they look like—either that or karate uniforms, and why would they wear those?

Vera stays standing by my side after the Sentinels have shoved me into the chair and stepped away. She looks down at me, but I ignore her, so I don't know if she's scowling or shaking her head or what. Eventually, she approaches the Sentinels.

She turns and points to me (as if she could possibly be talking about anyone else; the
bleachers
, maybe?). “The third and final prisoner, gentlemen.” That sounds so Vera. So precise, so clipped, so accurate.

They nod slowly, some imperceptibly.

One of the Elders in the center grunts. “What is she accused of, Keeper?” His voice is crackly.

I squirm a little and look away, but I can't miss any of this, because who knows when I might see the Elders again? Or anyone else, for that matter?

I sit up a little, hoping to hear Vera better.

“Maddy is the reason Dr. Swift, who allowed the Zerker to escape, is here, Elder.”

“How is that possible, Keeper?”

“Elder, he is her father.”

The Elder, who is obviously the ringmaster here, is fleshier than the rest, which means that rather than being 500 years old maybe he's only 300. He wears a blond wig. A good one but a blond one. I'll call him Blondie for that.

Blondie says, “How is it that she brought him here?”

“For protection, sir.”

“You know all this,” I shout, rising.

Sentinels come out of nowhere to shove me into my seat.

“This is
not
news! You
allowed
him to stay here with me. He's a doctor! Even better, he's a coroner. You wanted his help studying the Zerk—”

“Silence,” says Blondie, never raising his voice but implying all kinds of violence with those buggy eyes and bulging veins. “Prisoners are not to speak unless spoken to. Keeper, what of the girl? What did she do to help the Zerker escape?”

Vera turns to me, looking hesitant. Then she turns back to Blondie. “Elder, Maddy knew her father took the Zerker out of her cage at night for additional studies without the consent or consultation of trained Sentinels assigned to guard her. Maddy knew the danger and, despite being in Keeper training, never reported it.”

Blondie nods, looking left, then right. One by one, though it takes a while, the other Elders nod.

“Maddy,” says Blondie, pointing to me, his finger skeletal and bone pale just like the Ghost of Christmas Future in that old movie Dad made me watch with him every December. “Rise.”

I jump up and stand in place, but something's not right. Everyone is still looking at me funny.
Nobody's
saying anything, and it feels like I'm forgetting something.

Vera cuts me a look and nods toward the table.

I gulp and nod back and walk to where she's been standing this whole time.

Up close, Blondie looks even worse. The skin of his nose has pulled back so that he has almost no nostrils, and his lips are gone, showing giant yellow teeth even when he isn't speaking.

“Maddy, for the crime of aiding and abetting the Zerker's escape, you are hereby Vanished. I can't say I wish you well out there, but I can say I'm sorry things turned out this way. We had high hopes for you. Good luck on the outside.”

With that, the Super Sentinels move in, helping the Elders up and scooting them outside. Before I know what's happened, I'm looking at a row of empty tables.

W
hat's Vanished, Vera?
What does that even mean? Why can't anyone ever just say what they
mean
around this stupid place?”

I'm leaning against the empty picnic table where Blondie and his skeletal friends just sentenced me to . . . something.

Vera has pulled the single chair up next to me and is sitting in it, as if she's the one who just got Vanished or whatever. She seems more relaxed now that the Elders and Super Sentinels are gone.

She looks up at me. “It's kind of the same as being banished.”

I knew it. Stupid Elders and their stupid Elder words. “So why don't they just say that? Why are they always talking in code?”

She frowns, looking at the pocket flap on the side of her thigh and trying in vain to get it to lie flat. “It's an Elder thing.”

“So what, then? We're banished from Sentinel City?”

She looks up and makes a crumple face. “Where's that?”

I sigh. “Here. It's what Dad always called it. And Dane and I picked up on it. And Stamp and even Courtney. And I dunno. It's kind of a thing.”

“Sentinel City. I think I like that. I think the Elders would like that, too.”

She smiles but doesn't answer my question. I ask it again: “We're all banished?”

“Just you and Stamp.” She shakes her head. “At least you'll be together.”

“And Dad? What about him?”

Her eyes grow darker right in front of me. “Maddy, he's a Normal. We can't very well let him wander around grumbling about Zerkers and Sentinels and whatever else he learned while he was here. Besides, he's learned more about Zerker physiology and rehabilitation in months than we have in decades. He's being transferred to ZED, where we can keep a closer eye on him and his studies this time.”

“ZED?”

“Zerker Education and Dismemberment.”

Gross. “Sounds cheery.”

“Believe me, it's better than the alternative. Although he'll basically be a prisoner there, at least he'll still be working in his field. In fact, as a coroner he's one of the most qualified physicians at ZED.”

“I'm sure that will make scrubbing up in handcuffs all the more worthwhile.”

She opens her mouth to speak but bites her lip.

I wish I had that kind of self-control. If I did, I probably wouldn't be here, on the verge of being Vanished right now. I look at my feet. “And Dane? What about him?”

“Seriously? He's a Sentinel now. He's been out on patrol since after you and Stamp and your father were apprehended.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing what Sentinels do. Looking for Val and any other Zerkers she may have befriended or created since your dad let her out.”

I glare at her, but it's too late to defend Dad now. Besides, that's only half of the equation. “And Courtney? Who's she going to support now that Dane's out in the field hunting for Val?”

Her eyes get big, and she slaps her palms onto her knees. “I can't believe this. You just got Vanished by the Council of Elders and you're worried about Courtney?”

I shake away the shame and press her. “Courtney. Courtney. I'm not tired. I can do this all night. Courtney. Tell me: what's going to become of poor Courtney?”

“She's Sentinel Support. Where do you think she is?” Before I can answer, she adds, “Out in the field, supporting Dane.”

I don't know which fact hurts more: that I won't get to say good-bye to Dane or that he'll be too distracted by Courtney to notice I never did.

I shake it off and glare at Vera. “So explain this banishment business. What is it? Temporary, 200 years, what?”

“Incredible,” she says, almost to herself. “It's forever. That means you are banished from Sentinel City, as you call it, but also from anywhere Elders, Keepers, and Sentinels gather. You're banished from our shelter, from fresh brains, from our uniforms and order and, most of all, from our protection. You are no longer one of us.”

“But I
am
one of you. Look at me; look at you. We're the same.”

She shakes her head, not smiling, not frowning. “We're not the same. I'm not Vanished.”

I stomp one foot. “So, basically, you're saying I'm no better than a Zerker at this point.”

She cocks her head and studies me. “That's
exactly
what I'm saying.”

I shake my head. “Good, whatever, fine. If that's all it takes to get kicked out of Sentinel City, then—”

She's on her feet and in my face in seconds. “All it takes?” She paces, boots squealing as she pivots with military precision. “You're lucky you're still re-alive. I know you think we are violent creatures, but look how we live. Look what we've built. You may not think much of Keepers or Sentinels, but believe you me, this planet would be overrun with Zerkers if it weren't for us.”

Her tone softens. “You could have been a part of that. You were so close to finishing your training and joining us. To joining
me
. I would have loved to work with you, watching you grow and evolve. You could have helped us keep the world safe from them. Instead, you . . .”

“You can't think of anything, can you? All that crap you sold the Elders, whatever BS you dragged up on me, you can't say it to my face now. You probably can't even remember it, because I didn't
do
anything. I was sitting there in the library, trying to figure out how to get Dane back, when all this happened to me. So if it's that easy to get kicked out of your zombie tribe, well, good luck saving the human race!”

I walk away and she reaches out, yanking me back with both hands on my shoulders. Her grip is both firm and tender, if that makes any sense. Like one hand wants to toss me out on my ear and the other wants to pull me in for one last hug.

She does neither.

“Listen,” she hisses, face close to mine. “Once you walk out those doors, the Sentinels take you and you're no longer under my protection. I want to give you this.”

She reaches into a pocket and slides out her pen.
The
pen. The electric one. The one I've been begging her for since, oh, I dunno, forever.

“But why?”

She looks away, then back to me. “Every spare Sentinel has been out hunting for Val. Every one. And we still haven't found her. I think she's out there, waiting for you. I think you'll need this more than I do. Besides, there's more where that came from.”

I take it, but my hands are still tied in front of me, so I hold it awkwardly. “Won't they wonder where yours went?”

She avoids my gaze. “By the time they ask, you'll be gone and out of our reach. I'll wait until then to blame it on you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She releases me, but I don't walk away just yet. “I would have made a good Keeper. You know that.”

She nods, but that's as far as she's going.

“This is all BS. You know that too.”

That's too much. “Your father let a violent
Zerker
escape. He cost the life of a valuable Sentinel. He put this whole facility and every Normal within the next three counties in danger. And you're the one who brought him here. I don't think I overstated my case to the Elders at all when I said you were partly to blame for Val's escape.”

I nod. “Then I have nothing more to say to you.”

Apparently she has nothing more to say to me either.

I walk toward the double doors, awkwardly sliding the pen down my gray granny panties in case the Sentinels search me on the way out. This way, even if they catch the Eliminator, they might miss Vera's pen. I wait for her to say something, to warn me or apologize or even yell or maybe thank me.

Nothing.

She says not a word, and I'm too proud to look back to see if she's waving or even watching me with a sad look on her face.

Beyond the glass window in each door, I see the Sentinel shapes waiting for me.

I pause just before pushing through, watching them watching me, waiting until they inch forward just enough, and then—slam—I whip open the doors and conk them on the foreheads, just for the hell of it.

S
tamp is waiting
in the back of one of those tacky tan vans, hands on his knees but no chains, cuffs, zip ties, or even duct tape binding them.

The van is sitting there, backed into the motor pool at the end of Sentinel City. It's idling, as if it's been waiting for me.

“Hi,” Stamp says as the Sentinels dump me in next to him like last week's garbage. “Where you been?” He sounds perturbed but upbeat, almost as if he can't wait to get started on some big adventure and he's kind of glad I'm along for the ride.

“Sorry, Stamp.” I move across from him so I can spread out a little. “I was busy getting Vanished, you know?”

One of the Sentinels takes an Eliminator and pops the scalpel side open, slicing through my plastic zip ties before turning around without a word.

“What's that?” Stamp crinkles his nose.

The Sentinels slam the back doors, and a few seconds later, I feel their heft as they climb into the front seats. The van pulls out right away, tires spinning, as if they can't wait to get rid of us.