Kiss of Life (30 page)

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Looking like she can't believe her son is in the room with her. Maybe not wanting him in the room with her.

"You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"

Stop, look. Words take time take longer when emotions come first.

"No."

Smiles nervously. Lets go of shoulders, hands shaking as she lights a cigarette.

"There was a boy here to see you earlier, Adam. At least I think he was here to see you; he left when he saw me looking at him through the window. A boy with long, black hair and a terrible scar. He was just standing at the edge of the woods in our backyard and watching the house. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Nod. Nod.

"Is he a friend of yours, Adam?"

Says name over and over, like she's afraid to forget it. Or afraid that son will forget it. Is he a friend? Complicated. Not friend, but he is a zombie. That makes us something. Decide to assent.

Nod.

Exhales, smoke leaving lungs like the soul leaves the body. What replaces?

"That boy scares me, Adam." "Me ...too."

After, left leg right walk to bedroom, think about Phoebe. Phoebe has the night off, going with friends. Margi and Colette, Weird Sisters. Good. Glad. Glad for Phoebe, happy happy glad. Happy.

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But worried too. Killing house pets, digging graves. Dangerous activities sure to end in tears. Like dating the dead.

Right leg left hoof it outside to practice. Around car on blocks, across grass. Practice, practice, focus. Forms coming easier now bend leg flex wrist. Focus.

Phoebe almost died because of date with a zombie. Became zombie because of Phoebe's date.

Forms. Concentrate on the forms.

Phoebe. In danger all over again.

Takayuki doesn't wait long. Comes out of woods like he's made of collecting shadows. Wastes no time.

"Adam. I wanted ...you to know ... we did not ...desecrate ...the cemetery."

"Didn't...think so." Didn't, really.

Tak, nonplussed. "It is ...part of their ...plot ... to destroy us."

"Stop ...helping them. No ...pranks."

Tak would spit if he could. Can't. "The 'pranks,' as you ...call them ... are our way ... of telling ...humanity ... we will not... go away."

"Not...working."

"You haven't a right to ...accuse." Leather creaks when he walks. "You, who ...fraternize with ...the living."

"My way ...of...telling ...humanity ...I ...won't go ...away."

Lie. No politics. Just love. Love Phoebe.

Tak looks, doesn't answer. Scared? Not scared. Shrewd.

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"Regardless. I didn't come ... to argue ...but to ...ask." "Ask ...away."

"You should ... be with us... Adam. The others ... would welcome ...your presence. Your ...strength." Very shrewd.

"It does not ...matter ...that we ...disagree. It's ...healthy. I disagreed with ...Tommy. But in the end ...we're both ...zombies."

"In ...the ...end."

Stands, folds arms. See his teeth moving. "I'm not...looking for a sidekick. Most people ...zombie or beating heart...want to follow. I'm looking for ... a partner."

"Flattering."

"Think about it." Eyes are dark but clear through his straight hair. "Decide ...before ...the living ...decide for you."

Gone, back to the woods. No trace, never a trace. Decisions. Master Griffin encouraged decision, best ever. Or is it--Phoebe in danger? Bend knee, arms out. Decide.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

"DID YOU KNOW
the real witching hour is at ...three a.m.? That's in seventeen minutes," Margi said, looking back at one of the few light sources left in the room. Colette's face looked smooth and flawless in the spectral light as she leaned against the foot of Margi's bed. There was only room for one and a half people in the bed, so in a show of solidarity the girls joined Phoebe on the floor with sleeping bags.

Familiar meowed, content to have the bed all to himself.

"But really it feels like ...any other ...hour ... to me."

Phoebe yawned. She had started to make a comment about how nice this was, how long it had been since the three of them had a Dawn Patrol, but then she realized that Margi and Colette had done it every single night since Colette moved in, although only one of them slept.

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"I don't know," Margi said. "Some hours seem a little more magical than others." "If you ...say so."

"You aren't getting depressed again, are you?" Margi said. "I'm fresh out of zombie Prozac."

Colette tossed a pillow at the burrito-like shape Margi represented in her sleeping bag, where it landed with a soft plop.

"We used to play board games," Phoebe said "And make ...s'mores." There was a hint of sadness in Colette's voice.

"God, we were corny." Margi wriggled in her sleeping bag. "Hey, C.B., you up for a game of Life? We'll spot you a couple of those little peg-people."

Colette stuck her tongue out at her. "And then Margi ...would tell us about all the boys she was crushing on."

"I did not!"

"And that would take up half the night," Phoebe said, stifling a giggle as Margi popped up, her spiky hair matted and flat on one side.

"Which would end ...the Dawn Patrol," Colette said, "because she would ...put us ... to sleep."

"Har har," Margi said. "You used to fall asleep before eleven o'clock anyhow, so what would you know?"

"Remember the time ... we each drank ...like ... a pot ... of coffee?"

"Phoebe's dad actually yelled at us," Margi said, laughing.
"Phoebe's
dad. Mr. Low-Key himself. He had his pj's on."

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"'I have ... to give a ...lecture ...tomorrow,'" Colette said, in a fair but off-tempo rendition of his speech.

"We used to tell ghost stories," Phoebe said.

There wasn't any immediate reply. Phoebe wondered if there would ever be a time where she could get through the night with Colette or Adam without every other thing she said being ironic or tragic.

"That was ...fun," Colette said, letting her off the hook in her soft, gentle way. "You always had ...the best...stories."

"Aw, thanks."

"Mine were ...boring. And Margi's always had ... a guy with a ...hook ...and too much ...sex." "A matter of taste."

"I liked Margi's stories," Phoebe said. "Yours too." "Hey, C.B.," Margi said, "why don't you tell Pheebes about dying?"

Phoebe tensed up while waiting for a reply. Tommy had shared the manner of his death with her on the night Adam had been shot. He died in a car crash that also killed his father-- only his father didn't return. The fact that Margi already knew Colette's story caused the sadness to flare in Phoebe's chest; it was another reminder of the closeness her two best friends shared, and how she was on the outside of that closeness.

"It was ...weird," Colette said. "The after part. The death itself ...was stupid. I drowned. I might have ...had a seizure ...or something. Who knows. One minute I was breathing ...the next I ...wasn't."

"You were wedged in a branch," Margi said. "That fallen

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tree we used to jump off. You already weren't moving by the time I got to you."

"Yeah. Stupid. Anyhow ... I was floating after that. I mean I was ...already dead ...but it was like I was floating. Well, sinking. There was this blue light about... a mile away ...and I was just sort of sinking toward it. I remember I ...looked at my hand and it was ...blue ...too ...but I could see ...through it."

"Were you scared?"

"No, not ...really. The water was cool ...not cold but cool ...and I was going down to this ...blue light."

"I read this thing about how when people die and come back--not zombie people but like heart patients and stuff--the light is really this chemical thing in your brain," Margi said.

"Now why would you ...even say ...that?"

"Sorry, I just thought it was relevant."

"It's my ...story. I'll decide what's ...relevant."

"Jeez. Don't get huffy."

"Anyway," Colette said, her eyes tracking the arc of Phoebe's throw pillow to Margi's head. "This ...floating ... to the light took about a day. But I wasn't ...impatient. It was weird, because it...wasn't boring ...either. But the closer ...I got...the faster ... I sank. And when I was near ...the light ...my grandmother ...floated up to me out of ...the light."

"Really?"

"Really. You wouldn't ...have recognized her ...because she was young ...and made of light. But I did. She hugged ...me."

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"No way."

"Way. But not really ...hugged ...because our light bodies kind of ...
mixed.
There were other ...people ...around.... too. One of the things ...she said ...was that I couldn't stay. She was ...sad. I asked her why I ...couldn't stay, but then ... she disappeared. The light disappeared, everything. All ... at once. And then I was ...going up. Like I was dust being ... vacuumed. It... hurt. I was losing ...pieces ...of light."

"What do you mean?"

"It was like ... I was shedding ...beads ... of light. It was ...freezing. And then I was ...back."

"You were back. As in, back in your body?"

"Yes. And I ...was ...naked. In the dark. On a long ...metal ...table. It was dark ...and I could ...see. I tried to ...move ...and I couldn't. At first. It took ...hours ...I guess. I got ...off...fell ...off...the table. There was another ...body ...under a sheet."

"You were in a morgue?"

"Funeral ...home. I got up ...took one step ...toward the door. And then ...someone ...came into ...the room."

"Oh, God," Margi said. "I hate this part."

"He ...started screaming. He was young. College boy, maybe. He was screaming so ...shrill. I wanted to ask ...for help. My mouth opened and ...water came out."

"Ugh."

I've never ...heard ...screaming ...like that. He grabbed a ...push broom ...and started hitting me ...with it. Like I

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was a ...monster. He broke it ... on my ...back. I couldn't even ...feel it." "Oh, Colette."

"He ...jabbed ...stabbed, really ... me with the broken handle ... in the side. He was still...screaming. He was going ... to do ... it... again ...when a man ... in a suit...ran in ...and ...pulled ...him away."

"Welcome back," Margi said.

"It was horrible ...the way he screamed."

Phoebe didn't know what to say.

"The man in the ...suit ...put his coat ...over me. He tried to help me ...sit."

"And then it sort of went downhill from there," Margi said.

"Colette," Phoebe said, crawling out of her bag and over to her. "I'm so sorry. That's terrible." She sat next to her and put her arm around her shoulder, and Margi came over and did the same.

"Not ...fun," Colette said. "But I'm here ...now. With my ...friends."

"Better late than never," Margi said, yawning.

Phoebe thought Colette's smile was tinged with sadness, as though she was leaving a part of the story out, but it was hard to tell in the green light.

They were quiet for a few moments. They were well into the witching hour by now, and Margi had closed her eyes and was snoring softly against her dead friend.

"Colette," she said, "do you ever think of the blue light?"

"Every ...day."

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"Do you think it was heaven?"

"I don't ...know," she said, "but I know ...my grandmother ...was there."

After getting Colette her iPod so the music wouldn't disturb their sleeping friend, Phoebe checked her e-mail on Margi's computer.

"I've got one from Tommy."

Colette was so intent on working the selector wheel to queue up a new playlist that she didn't hear her. Phoebe turned back to the screen.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Dear Phoebe--

I wanted to let you know that I really loved your second "Words from a Beating Heart" column. I've talked to a number of people our age, living and dead, about the site, and everyone was very excited about "Beating Heart." One dead friend I met while I was staying in New Jersey said that your voice has really done a lot to "humanize" the Web site. A funny comment, considering.

BTW, I sympathize with you about trying to get Karen to contribute a little more with the site. Her "I'm not creative" schtick is really tired. I've sent her some harassing e-mails, but I don't think I'll be any more successful at getting her to do it than you were.

I'm not so sure about her T-shirt idea, though. Did she