Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1) (13 page)

I
felt the same way about what I did, it is what it is
.

“That doesn't explain how you know that I'm
AFTD.”

“Well,
each person has a 'flavor,' like ice cream,” she perked up at the
analogy, “... so there are paranormal flavors and I started to
recognize the differences. Sometimes before they even know what
they're going to have. Mostly, I just try to not touch anyone, I
really don't want to know.”

“Who else is AFTD?” I was stunned, I thought I
was the only one, I don't know why, it could happen to anyone.

“That girl in PE.”

Well that cleared it right up, thanks.

“
Tiffany
Weller.” Jade's voice modulation rose, indicating,
do
you know her?

I thought about the name and then the face came to
me. Kinda plain girl, could be an enraged cow.

I nodded.

She went on, “About a month ago, she was sitting
outside the school, crying. I don't know her. Anyway, I asked her
what was wrong and she pointed to a dead bird just a few feet away.”

I knew what she'd say next.

“She's got snot and tears leaking all over her
face and she says something, but I can't hear because she's talking
so soft. So I lean in real close and she says, 'it whispers,'. 'What
whispers?' I asked her.

“
'Death,'
she said, '
death
whispers'.
''

“It was so fundamentally creepy that I sorta
backed away real quick, but I lost my footing and my palm touched her
back.” Jade looked far away then.

I didn't push her for more.

The sun was starting to get low in the sky, a hot
crimson ball on fire, balanced between the sky and the horizon.
Seconds ticked by.

“I
felt it all then. There was this echo,” she paused here, “I could
feel Tiffany's feelings of sadness and loss, but I could also feel,
real faintly, the bird's images too.” She shuddered then stared at
me. “You're the same Caleb. But, it is so much more... you're so
much more.” She kept looking at me, frightened and finished, “...
it's like static noise, there are so many voices.”

The orb began to drown in the horizon, painting
the sky blood red. The wash of color expanded like arms of light,
reaching out for an embrace. I looked down at Jade and understood
that she was horrified by what she could feel was going on with me,
with everyone. It was always something I had to keep the iron fist of
control over. Otherwise, it was simple misery.

The dead spoke, they spoke to me all the time.

CHAPTER 11

Mom pounced on me the minute I walked through the
door. I hucked my backpack on the chair and she gave me the
mom-glare. I sighed, trudging back out to the foyer and hung it up on
a slick brass hook. Coming back in the house I followed my nose right
into the kitchen, my stomach giving an appreciative rumble.

Mom spoke the dreaded sentence, “You have to eat
supper first.”

That
sentence never failed to put me in a crappy mood. Mom had to know
that I could probably eat the whole wonderful loaf of banana bread
and still eat. I glanced over to the cook top where the last of the
chicken was frying up. Three pieces of her chicken, plus mashed
potatoes and I'd still have room for a dessert. I scanned the kitchen
counter hopefully but knew that banana bread meant no dessert
tonight.

Mom had been looking at me in a most critical way
for the last minute.

“What?” I said.

“Your eyeballs are taller.”

This was a long standing comment. In our house,
with me being the shortest guy in the history of the world, Mom liked
to notice me growing by saying my eyeballs were “taller” than
whatever random day she had noticed before. Whatever, I decided to
play along. After all, I was riding the happy wave of having been in
the Presence of Jade.

“Huh.”

“Yes, let's go measure you.”

“Mom, don't you have some potatoes to mash or
something?”

She
gave me another death glare. The third one meant business so I
stalked over to the bathroom door. There, on the casing that
surrounded the door, were a lot of horizontal pencil marks cataloging
my growth. A very small amount of growth.

I stood ramrod straight, kinda like I did in the
locker room when we were all in there together, eesh... never pick up
the soap. I put my heels against the molding, holding my shoulders up
straight and back. Mom put a ruler on my head and made the new mark.
A low whistle escaped her mouth and I turned around, the ruler
lashing my cheek.

There, unbelievably, was a whole bunch more space
since the last mark only three months ago. I hadn't noticed at all.
Mom was measuring the distance with a tape measure.

“Two inches, Caleb. I knew it.” Mom pumped her
fist, which seemed eerily like Jonesy.

I looked at her like the screwball she was.

“So,
how tall does that make me?” I leaned in to see the micro-writing;
five-six now? Yeah, five-six.

Wow,
five-six
.

I turned my head, facing Mom. She looked down at
me, but Not. By. Much. We grinned at each other until our faces hurt.

Dad walked in and Mom went back to the frying pan,
turning the chicken. I knew the routine, it'd be in the oven in about
five minutes.

“What's going on here?” Dad asked, looking at
the two of us.

“Oh nothing much,” Mom flung over her
shoulder, then continued slyly, ”but Caleb is two inches taller.”

“Really?”
Dad drawled. “Now you remember that statistically...”

I gave Dad the hand, “Okay, but you understand
it's just a matter of time before you're all grown up.” he said for
the millionth time.

We smiled at each other as he put down his
pulse-top carrier. It was super-slim, held all the biggies, his
pulse, and that was a multi-pulse, which included his planner and all
the scientific data he needed for his job. Dad extracted a small,
deep orange bottle with a name label on it.

The cerebral inhibitor.

Dad gave the bottle a little shake, its cargo
rattling. Mom slid the glass pan of chicken into the oven. I sat down
at the kitchen table, its surface sunset-colored, from the setting
sun.

Dad loosened his tie and silently passed the
bottle to me. Which read, in part: Take one tablet in the morning
after food, take with one full glass of water, take as prescribed.

I
turned it over to the side which had all that scary crap that can
happen after you take it. It said: may cause disorientation. I
glanced at Dad and lifted an eyebrow, he looked steadily back at me
with his chin in his hand. I read on: slurred speech, listless
responsiveness and possible dizziness.

“Dad, I won't be able to do well on the AP
tests. I'm gonna be a moron.”

Mom
gave me the glare,
again
.
She hated the use of “bigotry” names. She thinks the retards (I
self-corrected), differently-abled
,
need to
not
be identified in a negative way. Overweight people and anyone that
were looked down on all fell under Mom's treat equally category.

Which meant everyone in the world.

Dad took a quick, peripheral glance at Mom and
rushed on while she grunted her annoyance in the background.

“No, I can give you a half dose, Caleb.”

Dad opened his fingers, flexing them back and
forth to indicate he wanted it back. I passed the bottle back, its
shadow a dark blot over the fading orange light of the table.

Dad studied it as mom sat down on her throne.

Mom was never one to let silences drag on. “Kyle,
you're sure that this stuff won't,” she paused for a second,
“permanently harm him?”

Dad rolled his eyes and Mom scowled.

“No. Even buying us some time to figure this
thing out would not be sufficient reason for taking chances with
Caleb.”

Mom seemed to decide something. “Good.”

“So, let's talk about the dog.” I said into
the sudden quiet.

Mom and Dad looked at each other significantly.

Mom began, “We've thought about it and decided
that after this whole mess is over,” her smile said the mess wasn't
my fault, “we will try to transition the dog into our family.”

A large breath of air escaped that I hadn't
realized I was holding.

Dad watched my obvious relief.

“Your mom has taken the time to call Sergeant
Garcia and find out where the dog is being held and gone to see him.”

Wow, I was really surprised by this. There had
always been a no pets rule in the house. I looked at Mom and she
smiled; she was a little smug about it all.

“Mom, you didn't tell me.”

“
I
know, but there's been a lot going on, with Jade, Carson, Brett and
now the testing. It just seemed you didn't need another thing to
worry about. And your unusual,” she looked up for a moment,
thinking about the word, “
connection
,
with the dog seemed a touchstone of comfort for you.”

Dad was nodding at her phrasing, they'd discussed
it.

“Where is he?” I sat up straighter, my butt
bones kinda squawking.

“He's at the King County Animal Sanctuary,”
she said.

I slumped in my seat. Good. They had a
non-euthanize policy. I allowed just the smallest amount of the
iron-fist-of-control to loosen and a wash of confused emotions
filtered through.

Wow.
The dog's emotions/impressions were all over the place. Thirst (I
thought that was odd), and above all, he knew on some level, I was in
his head and that gave him a sense of peace. He also had some memory
of another Boy, but it was faded, like a shirt washed many times. I
closed up the small link that had allowed the brief connection. I
felt fatigued. I didn't know if I was tired from the effort of
not
releasing all that pressing, eager energy that was always there, or
if just allowing a small amount had taken more control than I had.

My parents were both leaning in with identical
expressions of concern on their faces.

I smiled, releasing a big breath. “I'm okay.”

They both leaned back in their respective seats.

Dad
asked, “What was that?”

“What?”

“That whole... fugue,” Dad said.

“Oh, is that what it seemed like?”

“Yes, you didn't respond when I snapped my
fingers right in front of your face,” Mom said.

Well,
that was weird. I had been aware of my parents, but then I thought
about it, really thought about it and although I had been
aware
of their presence, I had been utterly engaged with the dog.

“I can feel the dog if I,” and like earlier
with Jade I hated trying to explain psychic stuff to someone that
wasn't, “let some of it go, just a little.”

“
And
Caleb, that's it,
that
is exactly what I wish to explore,” Dad said.

I thought he'd say something like that.

“
I
know you guys want to know how I do it. But there is really no way to
explain it. I mean, the first few times it was a complete accident.
It just happened
.
Now,
I'm trying to control it, at least all the whispering and voices.”
Another speech for me, it was trend.

“Did you read anything about the Parker kid? Did
he have these same manifestations?”

“Same,” I repeated.

Dad rubbed his chin.

Mom
said, “I want to peruse those papers that John brought over so
we're on the same page, no pun intended,” she laughed. “Your
father has already done some independent research, uncovering some
possibilities. But people are so unpredictably unique that there's
always new abilities with each individual. We're wondering what will
be in store for you.”

“Well, Dad and I have discussed the
possibilities.” Dad and I exchanged a look.

Mom's eyebrows shot up. “So what's the consensus
fellas?”

“We think, from the Parker kid's testimonial,
that Caleb may be able to control hauntings as his skill set becomes
more advanced.”

“Hauntings?” Mom asked, rhetorically.

“Yeah, Mom, ya know... ghosts.”

She
gave me a look like,
duh
.

The timer beeped and Mom stood up to retrieve the
chicken from the oven. She began dumping cream onto the potatoes
along with a generous half cube of butter, rounding out a murderously
cholesterol rich meal. She set the corn in the microwave where it
spun in a lazy circle, steaming it to perfection. The minutes ticked
by and Dad and I discussed Jade while Mom beat the taters into
submission until they were smooth, white mountain peaks.

I told Dad Jade felt uncomfortable with them
knowing her family situation.

“She
is a separate person and will be treated as such. No one chooses who
they are born to.”

I
nodded, I got it. Being an Empath, I couldn't say that was a huge
improvement. If anything it made her situation more complicated.