Dawn of the Jed (21 page)

“Should I offer a reward?” I asked.

“I guess. How much?”

“Dad owes me allowance, so that’s five bucks there.”

“OK, what else have you got?”

“I just told you. Future allowance. Five bucks.”

“That’s it, Jed? Seriously? You don’t save? You don’t do extra chores?”

No and no, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud.

“I can kick in, like, another twenty,” Anna said. “But you can just put ‘Reward.’ We don’t have to say how much.”

I put “Reward” right under “Lost Dog.” I added my contact information at the bottom, clicked save and print.

Everything hit me as the printer hummed to life and leaflets rolled out one by one. The best thing that happened to me in a long time was gone. Tread accepted me for who I was, the one who would always be there no matter how much I messed up. Even if I yelled at him because I was mad at the world, I knew he’d still be waiting for me at the front door, wagging his tail (assuming he didn’t bury it). Anna was important, too, but I couldn’t bury my head in her neck and pet her until I felt better.

And Luke? Tread was four legs and a tail above Luke. A part of me still believed Luke and I could patch things up, but that part was as detachable as my limbs. If Luke honestly needed space to deal with Tread’s creation, I could give him that. For a while. But if he couldn’t accept what happened—couldn’t accept Tread—then there was no way I could accept him. Our friendship would be over.

I pinched my nose to keep from crying. It didn’t work.

“Jed, I know we’ll find him,” Anna said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “He’s out there somewhere just waiting to be found. We’ll keep looking as long as it takes.”

That was the odd thing. I knew Tread was OK. I felt it, maybe because of our connection. Something in our Ooze.

The scary thing, the one truth I could not ignore, was that Tread hadn’t come back. I was pretty sure he felt that connection, too, and could use it to come back to me.

I knew deep in my zombie bones that Judith told us the truth. Somebody took Tread. Maybe even had him chained up in the yard.

All I could see was Tread straining to get free, pulling and pulling at the chain, his collar sinking deeper into his neck.

I had to block out that vision and focus on something else.

I was going to put up posters. That was that.

“I figure if we go from Dublin to Harvard streets, and Featherstone to Michigan, that will cover it,” I said, pointing at the blue dots scattered across the map. “Each dot is where we put a flyer. They’re about two blocks apart. That should do it.”

“Do you have a pencil?” Anna asked.

“A pencil? Like, the wood thing that makes marks on paper? I don’t know, let me check my drawer of useless and ancient stuff where I keep my phone books.”

“Fine,” Anna said, reaching for her purse and pulling out a pen. She went to work on the map, connecting the dots. I thought she was planning a route until she showed it to me.

The blue dots formed a pretty reasonable dog.

“That’s your subconscious working,” she said. “Who knew zombies had a subconscious?”

That’s when I told Anna the really crazy thing I was thinking.

“You don’t think Robbie was the one who took Tread, do you? I mean, what would he want with Tread? No way would he do it because Ray told him to. He can’t stand Ray. And there are a million ways to terrorize me that don’t involve something so blatantly criminal. He’s evil, but a felon? I’m not so sure.”

Anna made another mark on the map. An X. Right where the dog’s butt was.

“Not crazy when you think Robbie lives on your dog’s anus.” She laughed. “Maybe our first stop before putting up any flyers.”

“Do you think they mow the lawn or vacuum it?”

“Both. That’s just unnatural.”

Anna and I stood outside the world’s most perfect front yard. The lawn was a deep green, perfectly clipped as if each blade were measured and laser-cut.

Note to self: a laser-powered lawnmower was the ultimate man machine.

I had expected something quite different. A fence with iron spikes. Garden gnomes wearing camouflage. A “Beware of guard alligator” sign.

But all this home and garden perfection? It hardly fit Robbie’s image.

“You could putt on that lawn,” I said.

“Or eat off it,” Anna said. “The lunch ladies could learn something about cleanliness. Seriously, if the mold on the Leftovers Buffet had been trimmed this well, the health department probably wouldn’t have condemned it.”

“Inspectors were not amused when the art class sculpted animals out of all that mold. And speaking of sculpting plants … ” I pointed to the hedges on either side.

They looked like waves rolling toward the sidewalk. Paint them blue, and they’d look just like the ocean swells. Not one leaf dared interrupt the effect.

“How do you do that?” I said.

“No idea,” Anna said. “But being obsessive compulsive helps.”

The house was just as immaculate. White with green trim, and a porch with decking that was a slightly deeper green to match the lawn.

Even weirder, everything was spotless. No brown leaves, no sticks of any sort, and certainly no stray Burger Bucket wrappers.

“Their secret lives under the porch,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Landscape elves.”

“Landscape elves?”

“Definitely. My guess is some of those cookie-baking elves decided they’d had enough of bending over a hot stove all day. They bolted from the oak tree and started a splinter elf group, one dedicated to irrationally perfect yards.

“Like a lawn cult.”

“Exactly.”

I was shocked to see this was how Robbie lived. Someone as ugly as he was inside did not deserve this kind of beauty.

“I’m actually shocked to see this,” Anna said.

“Yeah, right,” I said as she read my mind, which is what girlfriends do.

“But one thing bothers me even more than all this perfection,” she said.

“The quiet?” It just hit me I didn’t hear any birds, as if they knew this was a poop-free zone.

“Sort of,” she said. “No barking. I was hoping Tread would have felt you with the connection you guys have.”

She was right. I should have heard Tread by now. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe Tread just ran away. Maybe he was hiding somewhere waiting for me. Or maybe a black unmarked van pulled up with guys in white coats jumping out, snaring Tread so they could perform—

“Anna, what are you doing, you can’t just walk right up like that,” I said in an urgent whisper.

She was already halfway up the walk to the front door by the time I noticed.

Anna stopped and turned.

“Jed, there is only one way to know if Tread is in there.”

“But they’ll see you!”

“Ya think?”

She continued toward the door, and I quick-stepped to join her.

“You sure about this?” I asked as we stood side-by-side at the front door like, I don’t know—visitors. Victims just didn’t drop in on their tormentors like this. Antelopes didn’t stop by the lion’s den to say hello.

“We’re not spies. We’re kids. Looking for a dog. Simple.” She pressed the doorbell. A sound like a church bell came from inside.

That’s when I knew. Tread was inside. I felt him. And he was, well, not happy. Nervous. Maybe even scared. He didn’t want to be here.

“Tread is here,” I said, grabbing Anna’s hand. “We have to go. Come back when we can surprise them, maybe when they let him out.”

I took two running steps in the opposite direction. Felt a tug.

Anna didn’t move.

“Sorry,” she said, handing back my left arm. “Just hold onto that for now, we’ll reattach it later.”

“But, Anna, seriously,” I said, staring at her. Pleading with her. “We can’t confront Robbie like this.”

“May I help you?” A woman’s voice, coming from the doorway.

I hid my left arm behind my back and swiveled my head toward the voice.

She was in a blue dress. Pearls. Brown hair pulled tight into a bun. On the younger side. And attractive.

The surprises just never ended.

“Mrs. Zambrano?” Anna said.

“Yes?”

“I’m Anna and this is Jed. We’re friends of Robbie.”

This was getting worse. Getting personal meant at least three head-first trashings outside the cafetorium, and a de-pantsing, the location of which was yet to be determined.

“It’s so nice to meet Robbie’s friends,” Mrs. Zambrano said. “Kids come by so rarely.”

“Maybe it’s because they fear tracking dirt on your front yard,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Jed, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just said some of his friends are lacking in manners.”

“What’s that behind your back, Jed?”

“Funny story,” I said. “Sometimes my arm … you see I’m not … I don’t want to make this weirder than it is … ”

Best thing to do was come out of the casket and be honest. I brought my arm around to the front.

“Oh, you’re that zombie boy,” Mrs. Zambrano said. “Robbie has told me so much about you.”

“Actually, I prefer ‘cardiovascularly challenged.’ Zombie is such a broad label. And Robbie talks about me?”

“Of course. It’s not like you see a zom—I’m sorry, I mean one who is differently biologically abled. I have some thread and heavy-gauge sewing needles if you’d like to get fixed up real quick.”

“That would be real nice if you don’t—OW!”

“Young lady,” Mrs. Zambrano turned to Anna. “Did you just kick your friend? While I’m standing right here?”

“Sorry, but we came here because we’re looking for a dog,” Anna said. “Jed’s dog. Tread. And Robbie told us he found Tread and picked him up for us.”

I had stepped into some sort of alternate reality where elves did landscaping and Robbie was our friend. Could this get any weirder?

“Sounds just like my son, he is so kind.”

Yup. Weirder it was.

Mrs. Zambrano turned her head and as impossible as it seemed, she shouted delicately, as if her voice excused itself while going up the stairs and into Robbie’s room. “Son, you have friends! It’s about the dog you found.”

No answer.

“Robbie? Will you come down here for a minute, please?”

Silence.

“I’m so sorry, can you give me a minute? You see, Robbie lost his dog just a few months ago. He buried it himself in the backyard. Made a little cross for it. Just left him heartbroken. Since then, he hasn’t been interested in getting another dog, until one followed him home. And, well, he seems to have gotten attached. Let me go see what he’s up to.”

The door closed so gently it didn’t make a sound.

“Robbie had a dog?” I shook my head. “He doesn’t seem like a dog person.”

“I had him pegged for cats,” Anna said. “Lots of them. Crazy Cat Guy.”

“I was thinking guinea pigs. Stuff he could torture and no one would notice.”

Anna put her hand on my arm (the one still attached). She squeezed it.

“Maybe this is way out there,” she said, “but what if this wasn’t about you? What if he took Tread because he wanted Tread?”

“The only reason he took Tread was to hurt me,” I said, the warmth of Anna’s hand on my arm lingering, even after she removed it. “He could have had any other dog. He chose not to. Until mine showed up. Oh, and ‘followed him home,’ though you and I know this was a dognapping.”

“I know that’s how it looks. But Tread isn’t just another dog. He’s a zombie dog.”

“And Robbie hates zombies. He makes that pretty clear, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Exactly, so why would he want a zombie dog?”

“Like I said, to hurt me. We’re back to where we started.”

“No, Jed. Not to hurt you. Maybe that was a nice benefit on the side, but he chose Tread for another reason. A reason that does not apply to any other dog.”

She couldn’t be thinking what I thought she was thinking. Could she?

“He chose Tread … ” Anna paused.

I finished. “Because Tread can’t die. He’s already dead.”

“We have a winner.”

“I find that really hard to believe because it would suggest Robbie has feelings. The only way I can keep hating him is because he’s a bully and nothing more. If he has another side to him, I don’t want to know.”

“So let me ask you,” Anna said. “Did you really think Robbie would live in a house like this?”

“Not at all.”

“What were you expecting?”

“A shack. Filled with dead things. Chalk outlines on the driveway. A crew from ‘Cops’ waiting across the street.”

“Wow. You gave it a lot of thought. And yet look at this place. I’m beginning to think it’s good that this happened. We need to rethink—”

“What the hell are you doing here, Zomboy?” said Robbie.

It is just unnatural for a door not to squeak.

“And with your Joyless Wonder, Anna. Hey Dark and Useless, the strange bright object in the sky is called the sun, since you probably haven’t seen it since they started the Twilight Channel.”

“OK, maybe it’s not so good this happened,” Anna said, still looking at me.

“You need to get the hell outta here before I add to the number of punishments I’ve already thought of since opening the door,” Robbie said.

“As soon as we get Tread,” Anna said.