The Down Home Zombie Blues (31 page)

Jorie had never felt so alone.

21

“Hungry?” Theo’s voice broke into Jorie’s troubled thoughts as the Essuvee rumbled away from Suzanne Martinez’s companion facility.

She took her gaze away from her scanner, where she’d outlined the initial parameters for her reprogramming virus, and—after a short conversation with her stomach—nodded. “I need to get this transferred to my T-MOD. We have more peanut butter, yes?”

“Is three hours going to make a huge difference?”

She interpreted that to mean he wasn’t intending to head back to his residence—and her tech—right now. “Overall, no.” Everything was so uncertain without the tech and a team to compile needed facts. “But I can’t afford any more mistakes here.”

“You haven’t—”

“I have.” She recited the list of sins that were now emblazoned in her mind. “I should have alerted Tamlynne and the ship when I picked up that dead zone. I don’t know if Captain Pietr would have listened to me. Probably not, and, yes, I could have risked his questioning my competence. But Tamlynne would have listened. Acted. She would have been ready for Prow. And Rordan—”

His hand squeezing hers stopped her words. “You don’t know for sure. Second-guessing yourself is going to create more mistakes, because you’re not going to trust your instincts when you need them.”

“My instincts say I need to get this program started.”

With a sigh, Theo turned the vehicle around. “Okay, get it started. But my instincts say you need a break. You’ve immersed yourself in this for too long. We have an old saying about not being able to see the forest for the trees. You understand that?”

She did. “But—”

“We’ll stop home. You get your computers working on this thing. Then I want to get you out of the forest for a while. Plus,” he paused and glanced at her quickly, then back to the traffic ahead, “I’ve been thinking about how the Tresh hone in on your tech. The more we’re there, the greater risk we have of a confrontation with them.”

He had a point. Still…“You’d rather return to find a zombie has sliced up your main room?”

“Than confront it? Yes. Every confrontation distracts us—distracts
you
—from what needs to be done. Every confrontation risks lives. Something happens to you, Jorie, and we have no hope of stopping these things. You’re the only one who understands how they function.” He slowed the vehicle as the dangling lights changed to red. “If we could all go live at Zeke and Suzanne’s for the next week until the zombies are stopped, I’d be a lot happier.”

“The shields are secure,” she argued.

“The shields tell the Tresh where you are,” he countered.

But the shields were necessary to protect the tech, and the tech was necessary to stop the zombies. She understood his concerns but saw no options. She went back to her calculations on her scanner, not raising her head until Theo guided the land vehicle behind his structure.

Armed, they both exited the vehicle and—as she temporarily dropped the back sector shields—entered his residence. But nothing challenged them. She gave him an “I told you so” nod as she headed for his bedroom. Once on the floor, she segued her small scanner to the larger of the two MOD-tech units.

She was peripherally aware of Theo moving about his residence. At one point he changed his shirt, buttoning up a new one, then brought her a glass of water.

“Done yet?”

“Almost.” She wondered how long she could keep saying “almost.” Once the programming began running, it didn’t need her input. But working with the familiar MOD-tech, speaking Alarsh into her oc-set’s mike, was comforting.

Then Theo was kneeling behind her, hands on her shoulders. “Now, Jorie.”

It wasn’t a question. She sighed and stood. She had a feeling she knew where he wanted to go, and she fully understood. But it made her nervous—and not only because she’d be away from her tech. “Two, three sweeps,” she told him as they entered his kitchen. “Then I must get back here.” The back door clanked shut behind her. She sealed his residence’s shields and followed him down the porch steps.

“I want to see my aunt and uncle. It’s Christmas. You understand what that means?” he asked as he backed the vehicle out of his residence’s narrow paved accessway.

“Only that it’s a day of observation for you. An important one.” She glanced at him. Moonrise was approaching, the world’s natural light dimming. It was an experience that still struck her as odd. Shiplight was so much better. More consistent.

Plus, moonlight meant night, a time the Tresh preferred to move. She shook off her unease and went back to his question about his Christmas. “You’re also thinking you might not see them again.”

He looked over quickly. “You reading minds now?”

She’d known that’s where he wanted to go because it’s what she always did before she left on a dangerous mission: see the people most important to her. “I’ve spent most of my adult life either targeting a sentient or being a target. Every time I see Galin, I always treat it as if it’s the last one.”

“Galin?” Theo’s voice had a strained note. “Don’t tell me. Another concord?”

She frowned at him. “Not with my brother!”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Sadness trickled past her heart. “Yes.” It had been three galactic years since she’d seen him.

“Is he a Guardian too?”

She shook her head. “He designs starship jumpdrives. The thing that makes—”

“I understand jumpdrives. Hyperspace.” He lowered the pitch of his voice. “Warp Factor Ten, Mr. Data.” He pointed one finger. “Engage.”

Warp factor? How did he know the term? “Warp Factor Ten is fiction and, besides, denotes an infinite velocity and therefore is impossible.”

They were stopped due to the edict of multicolored lights. Theo stared at her. She stared back. She felt that for some reason her comment had startled him. The vehicle moved forward again.

“What size do you wear?” he asked.

His question made so little sense in the current conversation about her brother and jumpdrives that she tried translating it in a few other galactic tongues. It still made no sense. She gave up. “Size?”

He plucked at his shirt. “Clothing size.”

“What does that have to do with jumpdrives?”

“Nothing. But it has everything to do with Aunt Tootie and Uncle Stavros.” He slowed the vehicle again, then turned left into a large paved area. “God bless Walgreens. They never close.”

“Never clothes?”

Theo disengaged the vehicle’s engine and twisted in his seat. “The shorts, sweater, boots”—he tapped her arm, then her leg—“won’t pass muster with Tootie on Christmas. But I stopped here last week to get a soda. It amazed me what these places sell now.”

“Soda?” Jorie was very lost.

That feral smile played over his lips. “You’ll see.”

What Jorie saw, as she followed Theo into the establishment, was a commissary. A decent-size one with a wide selection of items, most in brightly colored boxes. He threaded his fingers through hers and brought her to an aisle that contained…clothes. Not many. Most appeared to be shirts of the type Theo favored—short-sleeved and round-necked. But these were lettered:
Life’s a Beach
. And
What Happens in Bahia Vista Beach Stays in Bahia Vista Beach.

“Just some touristy stuff,” Theo said. “But this might work.”

It was a slender sleeveless dress, ankle length, deep green in color splashed with large white flowers. The material was very lightweight but soft. It looked like something worn in Paroo, and she said so.

“Hawaiian,” he said.

Another nonsensical word.

“Flip-flops,” he said, dropping a pair of white sandals dotted with lots of tiny gold beads on the floor next to her feet. “Women wear them everywhere these days.”

Dress and shoes were chosen in the proper size. A colorful satchel with a shoulder strap was added, along with a soft, long-sleeved light-blue shirt—sweatshirt, Theo termed it—with
Bahia Vista, Florida
on the front and a matching pair of shorts. Jorie followed Theo to the front of the commissary and watched him hand greenish pieces of paper to a pale-skinned female with purple streaks in her short dark hair and a line of gold hoop earrings draped over the outside curve of her left ear.

“Wow, who does your hair?” the female asked her.

“She’s not from around here.” Theo draped one arm over Jorie’s shoulder. “Somewhere she can change into this dress?”

“You guys going to a beach party? Customer restrooms are in the back. Go down the vitamin aisle and you’ll see the door.”

“Thanks.” Theo nudged Jorie forward. “Merry Christmas.”

Jorie felt silly changing her clothes, but she understood. In many civilizations, mode of dress was indicative of stature. Theo was taking her to see cherished elder family. When in Vekris…

She put her tracker clothes, socks, and boots into the plastic bag provided by the commissary and her scanner inside the satchel. She took a moment to scrub freshwater—so delightfully plentiful here—over her face and run wet fingers through her hair. Then she pulled the dress over her head. It was rather nice, narrow at the waist and flaring slightly over her hips. Slit up both sides. Good. If she had to run or kick out in battle, she could do so. She slipped her feet into the sandals—definitely not battleworthy.

Then she marched out of the small room.

Theo was leaning against the wall. His eyes widened. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she blushed.

Theo stared at her as if she were the last morsel of peanut butter in the universe and he was starving. “Hot damn.”

Hot? She did feel a little warm.

He slipped his hand into hers. “C’mon. Aunt Tootie can’t wait to meet you.”

“So nice to see you got dressed up, Theophilus,” Aunt Tootie said in mock sternness as Theo opened the back door and stepped into her kitchen. Savory, mouthwatering aromas of meat juices and the yeasty tang of baking assaulted him immediately.

This was the house that he’d always thought of as home—a rambling pale-yellow stucco Florida ranch with the ubiquitous barrel-tile roof, on a corner lot filled with scrub palm, orange, and grapefruit trees. The house was within a few blocks of the bayou—a site of much boyhood mischief—but it was Aunt Tootie’s kitchen that held the most memories.

He swept the small, silver-haired woman into his arms, chuckling. Tootie was laughing too. She’d been a cop’s wife since she was twenty years old and was well used to her husband appearing in all manner of dress when he was working, and she believed Theo—in jeans and a black silk camp shirt that covered his gun on his hip—was working today.

Jorie’s outfit, however, was another matter. The shorts and long sweater would have been an immediate negative in Tootie’s eyes.

He kissed her cheek.
“Kala Christouyenna,”
he told her, wishing her a Merry Christmas.

Tootie stood on tiptoes to frame his face with her hands and kissed him soundly on both cheeks.
“Kala Christouyenna! S’agapo.”

Theo watched dark-brown eyes twinkle. “Love you too. Now…” And he turned her slightly.
Here it comes.
Tootie had hated Camille on sight. “Titania Petrakos, this is Jorie Mikkalah.”

“Jorie.” Tootie extended her hand, her face and tone completely unreadable. She would have made an excellent detective. “How nice to meet you. Welcome to our home.”

Jorie took her hand. “Thank you. Theo said”—she glanced up at him, and he saw an unexpected sadness in her eyes—“this is a family time for you. I’m honored that you permit me to share it.”

The first flicker of emotion crossed Tootie’s round face. A softening? Theo wasn’t sure. “It must be difficult for you to be away from your family. Theo said you’re from—”

“Up north,” Theo put in with a wave of one hand, delineating some distant place. Real distant. “Way up north.”

Tootie patted Jorie’s hand. “You’ll get to experience your first Greek Christmas, then.”

Thank God it was a Greek Christmas. Had it been one with a turkey and green beans on the table, there would have been a lot more explaining to do when Jorie didn’t know what those dishes were.

But hungry people eat instead of talk. Theo and Jorie ate, and ate well. Jorie’s fondness for peanut butter quickly extended to his aunt’s cooking, and the obvious delight on her face as she tasted each offered dish and treasured each morsel gave a whole new meaning to the word
savoring.