Return of the Jed (27 page)

Then again, I’d be just another inflatable bag of flesh.

Like everyone else.

Finally.

I assumed the Substance Z-Ooze mix would perform as Dr. Armendariz expected, so I knew I was getting ahead of myself. This was a guy convinced a silent film was evidence of vampires. If I showed him a pair of size twenty-eight sneakers, would he blog how he’d found proof of Bigfoot? If I wrapped Luke in several layers of bandages and told him to moan while walking slowly with his arms out, would Dr. Armendariz start screaming about ancient Egyptian curses?

Just where was Dr. Armendariz? I called out his name.

“Yes?” He popped up from the corner, where he’d been crouching over something.

I decided to test my theory Dr. Armendariz was nothing more than a misguided crank whose medical degree had been awarded by a university in a country even Google couldn’t locate.

“Were you ever abducted by aliens?”

“Once,” he answered. “They were visiting from the Netherlands. They thought I’d stolen their car, so they got into my backseat and ordered me to drive to their hotel. Which I did, and then they found their vehicle. Just a misunderstanding.”

“Not aliens from Scandinavia. Aliens from another planet.”

“Extraterrestrials? Don’t be silly. Everyone knows there’s no such thing.”

“Just when I thought I had you figured out.”

“Fine, but I must get back to work. First …”

Dr. Armendariz reached toward the metal table at the foot of the bed. Dad, Luke, and I exchanged nervous looks as his right hand roamed over several dangerously sharp things. If given a choice, none of us would allow the good doctor to possess potentially lethal instruments, let alone handle them in a medically related way.

He settled on what appeared to be a pair of pliers, but one so shiny you could see your reflection in the sturdy handle. I breathed a sigh of relief, or thought I had since I had little experience in sighing. Perhaps I would get better if I one day had to breathe to survive.

“Ah, perfect,” Dr. Armendariz said, returning to his crouch in the corner.

That’s when I noticed what he crouched over.

Only it was not a “what.” It was a “who,” and a very special one at that.

“Dad, can you see what he’s doing?” I asked, since Dad had a much better angle.

“Looks like he’s petting Tread and muttering something,” Dad said, peering into the corner. “I don’t think I like him around your dog with an instrument designed to pull stuff.”

“Me neither,” I said.

I hopped off the table, my knees buckling slightly. I stumbled to the left, and overcorrected, tripping to the right before righting myself. The light-headed feeling took some getting used to.

“Dude, you’re walking just like a zombie,” Luke said, grabbing my elbow to steady me. “What’s gotten into you?”

I shook my arm free and stepped over to Dr. Armendariz, still kneeling over Tread, who was stretched out on his back, tail wagging.

The doctor smoothed his free hand along Tread’s tummy, curling his fingers for a nice belly rub. Tread loved belly rubs.

“Can I ask you what you’re looking for?” I said. Dr. Armendariz’s rather sweet actions failed to ease my fears of a man holding a tool designed for yanking.

“Nothing, just admiring your dog,” Dr. Armendariz said. “Very nice coat for a zombie. I thought it would be drier. Flakier.”

There was something flakey here, and it wasn’t my dog’s fur.

“The secret is in the conditioner,” I said, going along with him. For now. “When it says ‘Full body’ on the label, it doesn’t mean the body it’s used on has to be a person. Or even technically alive.”

“Jed, it is remarkable how well you accept your condition,” he said.

My spine stiffened as soon as I heard the “C” word.

“As if it were normal to be undead. That is very commendable of you. But it doesn’t have to be that way forever.”

The pliers moved so quickly, I could only watch what happened with no time to react. The teeth clamped on the base of Tread’s tail and twisted. A sharp snap, and the tail pulled away clean, trailing a few drops of Ooze as Dr. Armendariz held it in front of him as if admiring his butchering.

“What did you do?” I screamed, stretching for Tread’s tail. Dr. Armendariz turned away, my body bouncing off his back. I launched myself at the doctor, the two of us going down in a heap.

Hands gripped under my arms, and I flew a few feet off the ground. I landed on the exam table, cushioned by the padded vinyl. But it couldn’t protect my ego, now severely bruised after being thrown like a ragdoll.

“Easy sport,” Dad said, his hand on my back offering support and restraint at the same time. “We don’t attack people, even when they do amazingly stupid things that shouldn’t be tolerated by anyone, even undead dogs.”

I flipped on my back, pushing Dad away so I could see what had happened.

Dr. Armendariz still held Tread’s tail, the furry appendage sagging in the pliers’ grip. Tread, who hadn’t uttered a sound when his most enjoyable body part was torn from him, sat in front of the doctor, his nose in the air sniffing his stolen tail.

“What the heck, doc?” I said. “What are you thinking? You can’t just rip off his tail like that!”

“Young man, relax—”

“Relax? Here’s what I think about relaxing.”

I shoved off the table and prepared to lunge when arms wrapped around me from behind.

“
Et tu
, Luke?” I said.

“No need to swear, Jed, it’s just you need to calm down so we can figure something out.”

“He’s right, son,” Dad chimed in. “Let’s give the doctor time to explain before you fly off the handle.”

“I’ll fly off whatever I want to if he hurts my dog again,” I said. Tread licked Dr. Armendariz’s tail-free hand, not helping my case.

“Jed, I want to perform a small experiment that required the removal of your dog’s limb,” Dr. Armendariz said. “I thought the tail would be the easiest and most efficient.”

“Why didn’t you ask?” I argued, then assumed a low-pitched doctorly voice. “‘Young man, would you mind if I de-tailed your dog to prove just how truly crazy I am because I’m an idiot who thinks vampire movies are real’?”

“Jed,” Dad said. “Respect. Please.”

“Dad, you saw what he did, right? Am I the only one here who thinks you can’t go wrenching off tails whenever you want to?”

Luke released his grip and grabbed my shoulders, turning me toward him. “I’ve been your best friend how long?” he said.

“Forever.”

“Right. Through the best of zombie times, through the worst of zombie times.”

“Not always through the worst of zombie times,” I said, remembering how Luke had disappeared when the NZN Network distributed its anti-undead propaganda.

“True,” he said, dropping his hands. “But I have been through a lot of it. And there have been
a lot
of worst zombie times. What if there didn’t have to be any more?”

I flashed back on my conversation with Brain. I had thought about being normal at least a million times. Now that there was a chance to be normal, I just wasn’t sure.

I looked at Luke, then at Dad. And there it was.

Sympathy.

They wanted the best for me. I knew how much Dad loved me, he always reminded me. I knew he’d continue to love me no matter what happened.

It would be so much easier on him, Mom, even Luke, if I were no longer a zombie. Life would be so much less complicated.

This wasn’t just about me. It was about them too.

Luke wasn’t the most perceptive kid on the planet, but he did see the battle going on in my head.

“Let’s just see where this goes,” he said.

“Dad?” I said.

“Up to you, son. We can just listen to him for now. Or we can get the heck out of Dodge. Your call.”

If I knew where all this was headed, so did they. The only difference—I wasn’t sure
I
wanted to see where this went.

I sat back on the exam table. As Luke said, no harm in listening to the man.

“Let’s keep going,” I said. Maybe Dad tried to hide it, but the faintest smile flickered on his face.

I wasn’t sure whether it made me feel better or worse.

Dr. Armendariz removed Tread’s tail from the pliers and placed the instrument so softly on the steel table it didn’t make a sound. He looked toward Dad.

“Tread has removed his tail many times, yes?” he asked.

“Many times,” Dad said. “He probably spends more time tail-free, since he loves to pull it off and bury it.”

“And normally you would put it back with duct tape?”

“And staples, especially if it was around dinner time, and he’d wag his tail a lot.”

“What if we try something different this time? Would you be able to assist me—”

“Dad,” I interjected against my better wishes.

“Son, please?”

Fine. They wanted someone to be brain-dead, I could be brain-dead. I was born for it.

Dr. Armendariz reached into his pocket, producing a small glass vial. I didn’t need to see it closely to know what it contained.

“Here I have an amount of Substance Z so tiny, you can barely see it,” Dr. Armendariz (aka “Captain Obvious”) said. “The strength of Substance Z, and now Ooze, still amazes me. A little goes a very long way.”

He looked at Dad. “If you would hold the tail in place, I’d like to inject this bit of Substance Z into the base. I think you will be amazed at the result.”

“As long as you promise it won’t hurt Tread,” Dad said.

“He won’t even feel it, trust me,” Dr. Armendariz said as I mouthed along, knowing exactly what he’d say.

Dr. Armendariz handed Dad the tail and retrieved a syringe from the metal table. He flicked away the safety cap and plunged the needle into the vial, extracting a few drops.

“If you please,” he said, motioning Dad to position Tread’s tail back where it belonged.

Luke and I watched as Dad snapped Tread’s tail into place, something he’d done dozens of times before. Dr. Armendariz leaned close and inserted the needle, needing less than a second to empty its contents.

Tread whipped his head back and licked furiously at the injection spot. Dr. Armendariz cupped Tread’s muzzle and slowly lifted the dog’s head until Tread’s gaze met his. “Good boy. You probably feel a tingling, something you’ve never sensed before, but just wait. You’re going to be a new dog when we’re done.”

Tread returned to steadily licking as soon as Dr. Armendariz released his muzzle. “Luke, would you mind handing me the electromagnetic field generator from the table, please?”

“The whooziz what?” Luke said.

Anticipating my friend’s reaction, I grabbed the two tweezers connected by a coil and handed the device to Dr. Armendariz. I wasn’t sure why.

“Mr. Rivers, please hold the tail still as I finish,” Dr. Armendariz said.

“Should I get Tread’s tongue out of the way?” Dad said.

“No need. Everything will be fine.”

Dr. Armendariz toggled the small switch on the device and bracketed the base of Tread’s tail with a metal clip about the size of a clothespin. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty.

Nothing happened. Tread continued to lick. Dr. Armendariz removed the device and flicked the switch.

One glance at Dr. Armendariz’s face told me all I needed to know. Whatever he was expecting hadn’t happened.

“Mr. Rivers, you may release the tail, thank you.”

Dad stood up, hands on his hips. “So that’s it?” he said.

“That’s all,” Dr. Armendariz said. “A bit anticlimactic, I will admit.”

Luke whispered in my ear. “I sort of thought there would be buzzing and a flash of light. Especially if this was supposed to take the zombie out of Tread.”

My stare stayed riveted on my dog. If something was happening, we’d know sooner than later.

Tread lifted his head and jumped to his feet. He twirled in place, playing his favorite game—“Catch, rip off, and bury the tail.”

In seconds, his jaws latched onto the tail. He continued to spin, his prey in his grips. By one or two spins it would come loose, and Tread would look for a place to start digging.

Only this time the tail remained in place. Three, four, five spins. Ten. Twenty. I’d have laughed if I didn’t know what this meant.

I looked at Dad, then Luke, fearing the worst. And that’s just what I saw.

They sported matching grins.

I tapped the “Connect” button and heard the familiar ring. Before it could ring a second time, the screen lit up with Anna’s face.

Behind her was the familiar The Cure poster. She was sitting at her desk in her bedroom instead of in her living room watching TV with her parents. We’d have privacy, which I needed.

“Jed, right on time,” she said, her accustomed smile vanishing as soon as she saw me. “Hey, what happened? You look like you just finished a big bottle of Life Sucks. Or did you wake up on the wrong side of the dead?”

“Good one,” I replied, my voice lifeless instead of its usual undeadness.

“I know you’ve had some rough times down there, but I haven’t seen you like this, not even when you kept having your limbs ripped off in wrestling,” Anna said, her tone edged with concern. “Thank goodness your limbs go right back on. I thought I’d have to pay two bucks to visit you as Turtle Boy, the Human Torso.”