The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead (6 page)

I thought about all the townspeople with the jimmies. No one had any idea of how the condition spread so quickly. I was scared because I’d touched Jim—touched his blood. I needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.

I was about to call 911 when a text came through. I thought it was Holly.
I’m outside your house. Where’s your truck? Should I knock?

It was Missy. I didn’t answer. I was dirty and scared. I needed a doctor. Didn’t I have enough on my plate? I told myself I was a good person, I didn’t deserve this. But I couldn’t ignore her—I had to do something. And what about Jim? He’d have to wait. I decided to go to Missy’s house to have a talk.

By the time I got there, she was waiting at the door, barefoot, legs shaved, dressed in tight cotton shorts and a soft V-neck T-shirt with no bra. She knew how to get me to come to her. I was like a trained dog. She played me with a bad hand, and I fell for it every time.

“I was at your house, you know,” she said as I came up the walk. “Want to come in?”

I stood at the front door, glaring at her. Something made me want to hit her, but I knew if I resorted to violence she might go to Holly right away. She smelled so good.

“You need to stop this.”

“It’s like I told you, Dave. I’m fighting for us.”

My anger seethed as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, pressing her warm, luscious body close.

“Ew, what do you smell like?”

She turned her head and took a deep breath. Then she rubbed up against me again. I was still attracted to her and I felt myself getting aroused—I’m sure she felt it too because she rubbed harder. And that made me even angrier. I pulled her arms off me and stepped back.

“I know you still want me, Dave,” she said.

“I’m not leaving Holly.”

“Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“Yes.”

She pulled her T-shirt up, revealing her firm breasts. I tried not to look at them.

“Still not leaving her?” she said.

I reached over and pulled her shirt down. “Stop it, Missy.”

At first she looked hurt. Then her face turned angry, and she raked her nails across my face. I backed away, holding my cheek. It stung. I felt the wet, sticky blood.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She stood there, defiant, as I headed for my truck. “Say hi to Holly for me.”

I didn’t look back.

“Did you find him?” Holly said when I got home.

“No. I checked his house and everything. It looks like he hasn’t been there for a long time.”

“How did you get so dirty? And what happened to your face?”

“It was dark. I fell.”

She came up to give me a kiss, but I motioned for her to stay back.

“Sorry, I don’t smell too good. I need to shower. There were a lot of dead animals.”

“Animals?”

“I think he’s been eating them.”

“Oh no. That poor man.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Guess his luck ran out.”

I sat in the small plastic chair rather than on the examination table with the white butcher paper when the doctor walked in.

“Hey, Isaac.”

“Dave, what’s this all about? I don’t have time to visit. There are a lot of actual sick patients.”

“I know, I saw your waiting room.”

Dr. Isaac Fallow was a medical examiner but still had an internal-medicine practice in town. He was a genial man, somewhere in his sixties. He’d been our family physician, and I’d known him since I was little. It was Holly’s day off, and to avoid suspicion I had made a lunchtime appointment.

Isaac motioned for me to take a seat on the examination table, stuck a thermometer in my mouth, checked my blood pressure and took my pulse.

“I’m worried about this thing spreading through the town,” I said.

“So am I.” He checked my eyes, ears and throat. “Be still.” He listened to my heart, then checked my breathing. “You seem fine. Want a sucker?”

“The other day one of those sick people came into the store. I think I might have been exposed to something.”

“Well, we don’t know how this thing spreads, but what I’ve noticed is that in each case the person was either bitten or infected with the blood of another sick person. Did the customer bite you?”

“No. I think I might have touched something that had their saliva on it, though.”

“I see.” He put his things away. “Well, did you wash your hands right away?”

“I used hand sanitizer.”

“Soap and hot water is still the best. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Great. Do you know what this thing is?”

“No, but it seems to act like a virus. Might be related to the flu. We just don’t know yet.”

“I’ve noticed it changes people’s mood.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that too. There’s a rage factor in some cases.” He was halfway out the door.

“Any advice?”

“Don’t piss anyone off. See you, Dave.”

Here was the Missy problem.
Did I tell Holly everything and hope she could forgive me? Or did I try to stop Missy before Holly found out?

Like I said, I’m a wuss and I avoid confrontation. I didn’t want to tell Holly the truth. Sure, I was scared she’d get mad—but I was more afraid of her leaving me. That might sound stupid coming from a guy who spent six years of his young life getting drunk. I’d already proven I didn’t give a rat’s fart about things like marriage and family and living a good life. Shit, who knows—maybe I’d changed.

All I wanted was to protect what I had. But I knew confronting Missy again would piss her off and make her blow the whole thing up. So I had no choice but to confess. Next to quitting drinking, it was the hardest thing I ever did. It meant telling the actual truth. I went all in.

It was getting dark outside. A hot wind blew, rattling the windows. In the distance, sirens wailed. Holly sat across from me at the kitchen table. It was hard to read her expression, but it looked like shock.

“Say something,” I said.

“Why?”

I saw a hurt that would never heal—not in a lifetime of good deeds. If I became a missionary and spent the rest of my miserable, groveling existence ministering to lepers, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would take away the pain I saw in her eyes.

“I don’t know what made me get mixed up with her. No idea.”

“Where …” She poured herself more tea. Stood by the stove and looked at her quivering hands. “Where did you meet her?” Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.

“The gym. It started out as talking. Just talking. There was never any discussion of … They were conversations to pass the time.”

“Yeah, I can see how that could lead to sex.”

“She asked me to follow her home because she was scared of a break-in.”

“So you were being noble. Did she ask you inside? Did you look under her bed? Did you role-play?”

“I left. But after that one time I don’t know what happened. It’s all mixed up in my head. I let myself get sucked in.”

“Those nights you were gone.” She was crying and holding herself. “You said you were with Jim. And I thought you’d started drinking again. What a relief.”

“I broke it off. That night I went to find Jim I went to her house afterwards and told her. I never wanted you to know. She thinks we were meant to be together. She said she wouldn’t stop till we were.”

“And what did you say, Dave?”

“I told her to forget it. Look, I never wanted you to know. She’s crazy. I just want to protect us.”

“Oh. I guess you’re forgiven then.”

We sat for a long time. A faraway, bone-chilling shriek tore the silence. I told myself it was a mountain lion. I had no idea what was going through Holly’s mind.

“What’re you going to do?” she said.

“Tell her that you already know. That I don’t care what she does. I’m hoping she’ll come to her senses and leave us alone.”

“But you said she’s crazy.”

“Crazy, confused …”

“Will she try to hurt us?”

“No. Maybe—I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Do what you need to. I can’t be around you right now.” She put her cup in the sink and walked out.

Despite the pain in my gut, I felt the worst was over. Things would be rocky for a while, but I could see Holly forgiving me. I’d gone to her with the truth. I wanted
her
—not Missy.

Sometimes we lie to ourselves to get through the next five minutes.

The next day was Saturday. I had slept on the couch in the TV room. Holly went out early—I don’t know where. After I showered and dressed, I called Missy and told her I wanted to meet. I heard her excitement and wished I could avoid seeing her.

When I arrived, she was waiting on the porch, ready for action. I’d already been through hell with Holly. Now it was Missy’s turn. There’s nothing worse than delivering bad news to women. I hoped I wouldn’t get good at it.

“Want to come inside?” she said.

“Let’s take a walk.”

Her house stood at the edge of the forest. Though it was after nine, the air was already hot and sticky. We walked behind her house and found a trail that led into the woods.

“I told Holly everything.” I looked straight ahead as we walked. A deer cut across the path in front of us. Squirrels scampered around in the pine needles.

“Oh.”

“So now you know I was serious when I said this is over.”

She took my hand and we stopped. “But it’s not over.”

“Missy, Holly knows everything. There’s nothing you can do to us.”

“I never wanted to
do
anything to you, Dave. I want us to be together.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you think this is a game? That you can just … be with me for a little while, then go back to your life?” Her hand was clutching mine hard—it hurt.

“I don’t love you.”

The words stopped her cold. She released my hand and backed away like I’d slapped her. Behind her, Jim staggered towards us from the shadows.

He looked crazy, with what was left of his clothes draped over his bony, putrefying frame. Most of his hair had fallen out and his eyes were scaled over. All of the flesh around his neck had slid away, exposing dry, dark red muscle and a grey esophagus. He moved towards Missy, his head twitching.

“Missy!”

“What? You want to apologize?”