Dawn of the Jed (23 page)

“I can’t do this. I can’t bring your dog back to life.”

“You have to. Abe is all I have. If I have to force you, I will.”

Robbie stood and walked over to Tread, who sat in anticipation of a treat, or a neck scratch.

“Shake, Tread,” Robbie said, grasping the offered paw and ripping the leg from its joint.

Tread yelped, more from surprise than pain, I knew. But it didn’t make me feel any better.

“You and I know he’ll be fine,” Robbie said, dropping the leg in front of Tread. “But what if I do each leg? The tail?”

“Don’t. Robbie, please,” I choked.

“Ah, you’re seeing how it is when you lose the one thing that matters so much to you, that is always there when you need him. The one who wants to be with you because they want to, and not because of what you might do to them if they aren’t there for you.”

“Robbie—”

“Abe was my best friend. He met me as soon as I got home, followed me around until bedtime, and then jumped into my bed as I reached for the light. Even on my worst days, knowing Abe would be there got me through. I had to beg my parents for a dog. I mean, look at this place. Does it look like a house where a dog lives?”

“No.” It really didn’t.

“I worked my ass off to keep it looking like a dog-free house,” Robbie said. “But it was worth it. Then last year Abe slowed down. Didn’t eat as much. He was still there at the door every day, and he would struggle up the stairs to follow me. To be with me. Then I started carrying him. Everywhere. I couldn’t let him go.”

“I get it, Robbie, I really do. Abe was much more to you than a dog.”

“He was more than a dog,” Robbie repeated, not listening to me. “That’s why I fought so hard, even spent all my savings on a biopsy. But it was terminal. I couldn’t save him.”

“But we all lose dogs, Robbie. It’s just the nature of life.”

“That’s what I thought. Until I heard about Tread. What you did to make him. You’re going to do that one more time. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

Robbie wrapped his fist around Tread’s collar. He pulled, lifting my dog a few inches off the ground, and held him there.

I hated to see it, but it was OK. Tread needed very little air, if any at all. If that was the best Robbie had, we were going to be here all night.

Then he placed his other hand on the back of Tread’s head. And pushed.

The collar. It was slowly sinking in Tread’s neck.

Anna shot forward, launching herself at Robbie’s midsection. Her shoulder hit him just below his ribcage.

Robbie stood straight, his grasp still firm. Anna had bounced off him like a lame tardy excuse in Woodshop. With his other hand, Robbie grabbed Anna’s elbow, lifted her, and shoved her toward me.

I caught her, put my hands on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes.

“It’s OK,” I said. “It’s my turn. You need to let me do what needs to be done.”

She nodded, and stepped behind me.

“Eyes here, Zom-boy.” Robbie again lifted Tread by the collar. “You know what comes next.”

“Let’s get it over.” My voice was so calm, it scared me.

I bent over Abe, trying to focus on what I had to do. I didn’t have a choice. I would do anything to save Tread.

Anything. Even if it was wrong.

Which was exactly what Robbie was doing. He would do anything to bring Abe back.

I looked over the small body, then placed my hands on the chest, almost pulling back because it was so cold. I ran my hands along its fur, feeling for an incision. Stitches. A point of entry.

I was pretty sure Ooze needed to interact with blood or organs or whatever it was they changed.

Re-animated.

“Robbie, I need some place, I need … ”

I glanced up. Tread was back on the ground, but Robbie’s hands remained where they were.

“What do you need?” he said.

“A place, an opening. Ooze needs to … a wound, cut, something.”

Silence.

“Robbie, did you hear me? I need to cut into Abe, I need to get the Ooze inside him.”

I rubbed my hands over the cold body more frantically now. Robbie said there had been a biopsy, where a doctor makes a small cut so they can get inside and cut pieces off the tumor. If I could find where they went in, maybe I could tear it open. If not, I was going to need a knife.

“Robbie? Where did they do the biopsy? If I can get into it, make a tunnel, you know? Expose some organs maybe. I’ll need a knife. Maybe even a boxcutter, just something—”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“
STOP
!”

So much for being quiet so as not to wake the living.

Suddenly, I felt Tread’s muzzle slip into my armpit, giving me a nudge. I twisted around and hugged my zombie dog, who was now free from Robbie’s grasp. I looked up, not to say thank you, but to look Robbie in the eyes and make sure it was truly over.

But Robbie stepped past me without a glance. By the time my face emerged from Tread’s neck fur, Abe was gone.

But there was Robbie, his back turned to me, stepping off the deck and into the yard. His arms were bent at the elbow and hidden from me, as if cradling something.

He stopped, his head bent low, shoulders bobbing.

The person who made my life a living hell through almost a year of middle school was crying. “Anna, can you take Tread for a sec?”

Anna, who had already retrieved the detached leg, grasped Tread’s collar and ushered him toward the side gate.

I caught up with Robbie in a few steps. I didn’t need the flashlight to know where he was going.

“Do you want some help?” I offered. “I’m not bad with a shovel.”

He shook his head. “I’m going to need some time alone. Just get out of here.”

“Robbie, I know how terrible you feel, but that’s grief. It makes us do stuff we don’t want to do. And we can’t ever escape it. Maybe we can postpone it, but it’s always going to come back.”

“He was my best friend, Jed. My … best … friend. You know the thing I loved about him the most?”

“What?”

“He was never scared of me.”

That didn’t hit me until later. Robbie’s life revolved around instilling fear in people. It didn’t matter if you were friend or foe. Robbie scared you.

His dog offered what all dogs did. Unconditional love.

For the first time, I felt sorry for Robbie.

The ball flew in a perfect arc, as if in slow motion. At its apex it seemed to float, if only for a moment, before continuing on to its destination. I stood still, watching in awe, my hand still flexed above my head where the ball departed for its flight.

If there was still pure beauty in this world, these few seconds answered a resounding—

Clang!

“No!” Luke yelled as the ball jackhammered off the rim. “That’s H-O-R, and we all know what that spells.”

No matter how many things change, some things stay the same. I hadn’t beaten Luke in a game of Horse since—let’s see, count back, subtract the seven, carry the two—right, ever.

I had not beaten him ever.

I did get him to S once. Luke had just returned from a dentist appointment and was still woozy. He spent the first five minutes staring at the basketball saying, “So round and orange, so beautiful.”

Perfect time to play
, I thought.

He still beat me despite a serious case of brain fog caused by medications.

Two weeks had passed since the unfortunate Abe incident, and I’d done a lot of thinking since then. It was amazing how my focus sharpened when seventy percent of my brain was not preoccupied with avoiding Robbie, because he was avoiding me, just like Superman avoided kryptonite.

I saw Robbie’s weakness that night. It wasn’t that he had feelings. Even bullies have their moments. His mistake was showing them to me, and he knew it.

I devoted much of my “Crap, there’s Robbie, time to disappear” time to figure out the Luke situation. I was still mad, hurt and disgusted by his betrayal, but I knew I had to at least make an effort to make things better. I knew it as soon as Robbie told me all about my former best friend’s connection to NZN. It wasn’t the story, it was Robbie’s tone.

It was filled with delight. Robbie had already taken so much joy from my misery; I couldn’t stand to let it happen again.

I wasn’t able to work up the nerve to reach out to Luke until I saw the latest NZN alert.

It wasn’t so much the topic (“Ten Ways a Zombie is Going to Take Your Job”), but where I found it—at the mall, taped underneath the map at the entrance. At first, I was thankful for the stupidity the placement implied. No one looked at the map. It was like telling the world, “I am so clueless I can’t even find my way around an indoor shopping area without getting lost.”

Then I noticed the bold-faced print at the bottom. “Find the NZN Network on Facebook and follow us on Twitter at @NZN or #nozombiesnow.” Never mind that most people would wonder why this group insisted on no zombie snow (spacing could be more important than the message). The group had spread its ridiculous messages to social media, and that was bad news to all law-obeying two-legged zombies, of which there was exactly one that I knew of.

I checked the Facebook page and Twitter feed once, knowing how easily I could get sucked into it. It was as I feared, the page had up to 396 likes and the NZN Twitter feed had 139 followers. The usual misinformation was there (“To zombies, we taste like chicken”), but more alarming were the comments.

“Can I kill a zombie when I see it? Or do I have to wait until it actually attacks me?”

“Thanks to you, our homeowners association now forbids zombies to live here.”

“If all zombies are brain dead, are all the brain-dead zombies? If so, my boss is a zombie.”

There were two reasons to set up a meeting with Luke. The first was to bring a little less joy into Robbie’s life. The second was to build some sort of bridge because at this point, I needed Luke back on my side. If I could do that, I might be able to bring down the NZN Network.

I channeled my inner zombiness to be that guy who keeps getting up after getting knocked down (or drowned, or stabbed, or shot).

We used to spend a lot of time on the basketball court, so I thought it was the perfect place to talk. I also knew he would be unable to ignore my challenge to a game of Horse. Luke loved two things more than anything else in life—doughnuts and kicking my butt at Horse.

It took five texts to get his attention.

Jed: You up for a little horse?

Jed: Four texts, no answer. You are up to H-O-R-S. No answer this time, you lose.

Five minutes later:

Luke: When and where?

On a beautiful spring Saturday, we were on the courts at Pine Hollow. Luke knew something was up, as insistent as I was to meet him. Neither of us really said much other than “Hey” when I started the game (I always went first since it never helped).

I employed the usual strategy. One easy shot after another. The best Horse offense is holding onto the first shot, at least until your utter lameness starts to bore you as well.

After ten minutes of lay-ups, I was there. I stepped out to ten feet, attempted a bank shot, and missed badly.

Nerves. All I was thinking at this point was how to introduce the subject.

Maybe, “This NZN stuff, wow, what’s up with that?” No, too soft.

OK, perhaps, “So Luke, when did you start thinking that being a backstabbing butthead was cool?” No, too hard.

This? “All those NZN leaflets have really worked up an appetite for human flesh, and I wouldn’t mind starting with a Luke drumstick.” No, too evil. Seemed my Goldilocks attempt at problem solving was a bust.

Now he was just one shot from extending his winning streak to always (again). All we’d discussed was Woodshop and how no self-respecting bird would live in any of the houses we made, the rumors that Principal Buckley had spy cams placed in every locker, and how lame the Science Fair was going to be.

“Total geekfest,” Luke said.

“Total,” I said, still wondering if Anna had come up with anything to fight the NZN propaganda.

Luke stood at the top of the key, his favorite spot. He dribbled once, twice. Rubbed his right palm on his thigh. He closed his eyes.

He shot.

The ball swished through, barely moving the net.

Dang.

“You didn’t call closing your eyes,” I said.

“No problem. Look all you want. Take your time. We both know how this is going to end.”

“Two out of three?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How about this? I make it, I get to ask you a question, and you have to answer. Truthfully.”

Luke looked away and took a couple of steps back. He shoved his hands in his pocket, kicking at an imaginary rock.

“What kind of question?” he said, still refusing to look at me.

“I tell you that, there’s not much point to the bet. Yes or no?”

“And if you miss, what do I get?”

The thing Luke loved a distant third after doughnuts and kicking my butt was seeing someone willingly humiliate himself.

“I’ll take off my pants and wave them over my head as I take a lap around the court.”

“Really?”

“No lie.”