Generation Dead (33 page)

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The grip relaxed, and Margi rubbed Phoebe's arm as though to erase whatever pain she might have inflicted.

"I'd love to," she said.

School was a blur, but Phoebe always found the days they headed over to the foundation to be like that. They got to leave an hour early, which helped, but there was something about the sheer anticipation of heading over to the DB studies class. Anything could happen there, unlike her other classes, which even after only six weeks seemed like a dull and predictable routine.

And then there was lunch, which usually was the fastest time of the day but seemed eternal due to Adam's hulking presence a few tables away. He sat with Whatsername, which gave Phoebe feelings of guilt that she didn't quite understand.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Margi asked as she scraped the final remnants of a chocolate pudding cup with a plastic spoon.

"Talk to who?" Karen said. Phoebe had insisted that they sit with Karen, and Margi had not protested too much, for a change.

"Adam. He and Pheebs got in a fight," Margi said, licking her spoon.

"Oh," Karen said as Phoebe hit Margi. Karen hadn't brought a lunch today, and Phoebe thought she seemed a bit more like her nonchalant self.

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"It wasn't a fight," Phoebe explained. "Just an argument. People argue."

Karen nodded, and reached over to pat Phoebe on the arm with her long, cool fingers. Her nails were painted a fiery red. "Don't waste your time fighting," she said. "Life is too short. Trust me."

"Speaking of that," Margi said, getting the last of the pudding off the spoon, "why do you guys think you came back, anyhow? There are so many theories. Something in the water, something in the inoculations American babies get--

"Mold spore," Karen said. "Don't forget the mold spore theory."

"Yeah, right!" Margi said, pointing at Phoebe with her spoon. "I told you so!"

"There's even crazier ideas out there," Phoebe said. "Alien abductions ..."

"Signs of the Apocalypse," Karen said.

"Too much junk food."

"Fallout from Chernobyl."

"The power of prayer."

"First-person shooter games."

Phoebe and Karen looked at Margi, who held up her spangled arms in a defensive posture.

"Hey, I don't write the news, I just report it."

"What is a first-person shooter game?" Phoebe asked.

"You, know, one of those computer games where you go around blasting things."

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"Usually zombies," Karen said. "Never played one in life or death. Might explain ...Evan and Tayshawn, though. And Tak. But that's it."

"Who is Tak?" Margi asked. Karen pretended not to hear her.

"Uh, Karen," Phoebe asked, "as a ... a differently biotic person, why
do
you think you came back?"

Karen smiled and leaned back in her chair, stretching. She had on a black bra beneath her near-sheer white blouse.

"Well," she said, "speaking as a differently biotic person, I think the cause for my return, and the return of differently biotic persons everywhere, is simple. There is only one answer."

"Which is?" Margi asked, and Phoebe nudged her with her elbow.

"Magic," Karen said, and winked. "Come on."

"I'm serious, Margi," she said, and Phoebe could not penetrate her expression to determine whether or not she really was serious. "It's magic."

"Well, that's enlightening," Margi said.

"Sorry. You asked."

"Karen," Margi asked, "would it be okay if I asked you a personal question?"

"Aha," Karen said, leaning forward and over the table so that her face was about six inches away from Margi's. "Whenever someone living wants to ask a personal question of the dead, it is either, How did you die? or What was it like when you were dead?"

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Phoebe felt herself flush with embarrassment, and even her brash friend looked a little sheepish. "I was going to start with the first one, yeah."

Karen nodded and leaned back again. "You aren't the only ones with telepathetic powers, you know."

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"Oh, honey," Karen said, grazing Margi's face with a light caress of her fingertips. Margi, Phoebe noticed, managed to keep from flinching. "Some people say we don't have feelings ... to hurt. I know that you are trying to understand, not hurt, so don't you worry."

"Okay."

"And I'm going to answer your question. The first one. But just the one, and then this interview is over, okay?"

Phoebe and Margi both nodded, and then all expression left Karen's face. The light that seemed at times to twinkle in her diamond eyes went out. The transformation was so sudden and unexpected that Phoebe was shocked.

"I took ...pills. A bottle ...full ... of them. And I ...drifted away," she said, her voice growing more and more faint, as though she were drifting away right in front of them. "I killed ...myself."

"Oh no," Margi whispered. Phoebe reached out to Karen and held her arm, as though trying to tether her to this earth. Karen turned her expressionless gaze on Phoebe and the light slowly began to return to her eyes.

"So now you know," she said. Karen lifted Phoebe's hand to her mouth and kissed it as she stood up from the

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table. "Don't tell anyone. See you in Undead Studies."

"Oh my God," Margi said as Karen walked away, "I can't believe it."

Phoebe looked down at the peach-colored imprint of Karen's lips on the back of her hand.

"Can you believe it, Pheeb? Karen would be the last person I would expect to commit suicide. And I thought that suicides didn't come back."

Phoebe couldn't take her eyes off the kiss, like a tattoo on her pale skin.

"Hey, Gee," she said, "did you hear her say telepathetic? I've never used that word with Karen." "She said telepathic," Margi replied.

Phoebe shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure she said tele
pathetic
. Our word."

"Well, I don't think I've ever had a real conversation with her before," Margi said, "so she didn't hear it from me."

"I know," Phoebe said, resisting a strange desire to bring the back of her hand to her own mouth. "That's what I mean."

For some reason, the fact that Karen had used one of her and Margi's code words seemed more mysterious to Phoebe than the revelation of her suicide. Karen was just plain different--truly more differently biotic--than other people, zombie or otherwise. She contemplated this until the announcement to meet the Hunter Foundation van called her from her sixth period class.

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She could see that Adam was already in the bus, making a point of sitting in the back, pretending to be engrossed in a paperback novel.
Wuthering Heights
, Phoebe thought. The three dead Oakvale High students--Karen, Tommy, and Colette-- were also on the bus.

Colette, she thought. Karen must have heard the word from Colette. She was happy she had solved the mystery, but sad that she no longer had anything to distract her from her feud with Adam.

"Rotten egg," Thorny said, beelining past her and ascending the steps with two energetic hops. Phoebe sighed and climbed aboard, taking the seat next to Tommy near the front. All the other students but Adam were within a few seats of each other, a fact not lost on the ever-aware Thornton Harrow-wood.

"Hey, Adam," he called as the bus doors closed and the driver pulled away from the curb, "what are you, antisocial?"

Phoebe turned back, but Adam didn't even look up from his novel.

"Something like that," he said.

"Is something wrong?" Tommy asked her.

"No," she said, turning back toward him. "Nothing much."

Phoebe avoided his gaze, which was penetrating even on days when she had nothing to hide.

At DB class, Kevin and Angela were the only two people in the room when they arrived. Sylvia apparently had not finished her mysterious "augmentation," Margi had yet to be readmitted into

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the class, and Evan would not be returning. Phoebe went to get coffee before sitting down, and Karen followed her over to the counter.

"Hey, where's Tayshawn?" Thorny asked.

Phoebe looked over her shoulder as she made herself a blond coffee and saw that Angela seemed to be having difficulty turning up the wattage on her smile.

"St. Jude's told me that Tayshawn has not been back to the shelter in a few days. They do not know where he is, and he has not checked in at the foundation."

Phoebe sipped her coffee and then realized that Karen was staring at her.

"Could you make me one of those?" she said, pointing to her Styrofoam cup.

"Take mine," Phoebe said. "It's a little too sweet."

"Oh, that's just you," Karen said, taking the cup in both hands as though drawing from its warmth, and then she took a delicate sip.

"So he's what, missing?" Thorny asked. "You don't know where he is?"

"I'm afraid not," Phoebe heard Angela respond.

"Jeez," Thorny said, "people are dropping out like flies."

Phoebe had her coffee ready in time to see Adam hit Thorny in the back of the head with his open palm.

"What?" Thorny said.

"Have a little respect."

"What? What do you mean?"

Phoebe felt bad for him, watching as the realization crept

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over him. She sat on the sofa between Colette and Tommy. "Oh. Oh, yeah," Thorny said.

Angela ran her tongue over pursed lips. "Well," she said, "the first thing that I would like to talk about today is the loss of one of our classmates. I must say that I was surprised when Principal Kim informed me that none of you signed up for counseling. I would think that Evan's death has left you confused and hurting, and you should know that the private counseling available to you will help you with those feelings."

"We had mandatory counseling," Adam said. "Which should have been a start," Angela replied, sounding annoyed.

Phoebe looked around the room. Inappropriate or not, Thorny was right: they were dropping like flies. No one said anything until Tommy cleared his throat with an odd wheeze.

"You should know that Tayshawn ... is fine," he said, "but he will not be ...returning ... to class."

"You've seen him. You know where he is?" Angela asked.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me where?" "No."

"Can I ask why?" she replied. "You know we are only concerned for him, the same way we're concerned for all of you."

Tommy nodded. "I know. But he has a right ... to his privacy."

Angela was about to respond when Thorny interrupted her.

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"Can I ask a question? I'm not trying to be funny, either. But how do we know he won't be back?" "Tayshawn?"

"No, not Tayshawn," he said. "Evan."

Adam's hand rose above the back of his chair and tagged Thorny on the head again, a gesture Phoebe thought extremely hypocritical after all of the insensitive comments he'd made at the Haunted House.

"Ow, quit it," Thorny said, slapping back at the larger boy as Angela asked Adam to keep his hands to himself. "I'm serious. How do you guys know that Evan isn't going to come back again? He did once. Is there any chance it could happen again?"

Tommy answered.

"We can be ...destroyed," he said. "Whatever it is that...brings us back ... we need our ...brains ... to survive." "Oh."

"Evan's brain was ...was ...stopped," he said, "with no hope of...starting it again."

"Oh jeez. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I asked."

Phoebe closed her eyes. It was almost too horrible to contemplate.

"What about other internal organs?" Adam asked. "Do you need a heart?"

Karen slurped her coffee. Angela looked annoyed with her.

"There are different theories on that, Adam," she said. "Some differently biotic persons seem to not have any problem existing without organs that you and I need to survive. In most

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of the case studies those organs no longer appear to have any real function, and in fact are incapable of function. It is hard to tell, of course, because there isn't a big enough pool of people to study."

"Study me," Karen said.

"Most?" Phoebe said, before Angela could respond. "Excuse me?"

"You said
most
. In most case studies the organs do not appear to have any function."

"Well," Angela said, leaning back in her seat, "it is unfortunate that Alish isn't here to comment, because he is far more familiar with the work than I am. But there have been a few cases where differently biotic people seem to have, or have developed, some organ uses. There was a girl who had a functioning pancreas, I recall."

"I wonder if my bladder works?" Karen said, taking another sip of coffee.

Phoebe noticed that Angela was all but ignoring Karen-- she was that unnerved by her coffee break.

"And ... there was another case of a boy whose heart began to beat again. He had started to manufacture blood cells."

"How do these guys move their muscles without blood?" Adam asked. "Is that what the augmentation process does? Regenerate blood and organs?"

"No, the augmentation process isn't geared specifically at regenerating organs," she said. "It is more about surgically enhancing a differently biotic person to have a higher level of functionality."