Kiss of Life (14 page)

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She kissed him again, lower on the neck, stifling a giggle as she thought about how she could help him with his "rehabilitation." Her hand rubbed his broad shoulders and she turned and slid into his lap, kissing him on the cheek. She felt his arm and it was like steel.

He turned toward her and she looked up at him, smiling, then kissing his cheek. It would be so much easier if he could just grab her and hold her and plant his mouth on hers. Maybe he couldn't now, she thought, but perhaps with proper encouragement, he would, soon.

"Phoebe ..." he said, his voice a husky rumble.

He died for you, she reminded herself, lifting her lips to his open mouth.
First kiss.

"Stop!" he said, his voice loud enough to rattle the dishes in their cabinets. His arm uncoiled like a spring as he tried to stand up, shrugging Phoebe out of his lap. She fell on the floor with a loud bump.

"Stop," he repeated, looking away.

Phoebe was stunned. She sat there on the floor in the Garritys' kitchen, looking at Adam, not knowing what to say.

"I thought," she said. "I thought you ..."

Adam shook his head, unable to meet her eyes.

She stood up, got her bag from the corner of the kitchen, and went home, her cheeks burning.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

"Y
OU WANT ME
to go in with you?" Margi asked as she parked.

Phoebe shook her head and opened the car door. She still wasn't entirely comfortable with her friend's relative lack of driving experience.

"No thanks, Margi. I really appreciate this."

"No worries," she said, "I need the practice. Buzz my cell when you want me to get you, I'm only fifteen minutes away."

"Okay. Thanks."

She waved good-bye, wondering if she'd even be here if Adam hadn't dumped her. Literally.

Phoebe's heart was in her throat as she walked up the narrow steps, too afraid to knock on the door. She knocked anyway.

Faith answered a moment later. "Oh hello, Phoebe," she said, somehow managing to look and sound happy and sad at the same time. "Please come in."

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"I wanted to talk to Tommy," Phoebe said, stepping into the mobile home. She was annoyed at the hint of apology in her voice. She had nothing to feel sorry for.

"Certainly," Faith said. Then she hugged her.

When Faith released her she stood back and Phoebe thought that she was on the verge of tears. Her sudden show of emotion made Phoebe feel like crying too.

Faith brushed at the corner of an eye. "He's in his room. Karen's already there."

"Karen?" she said, an unexpected jealous flash bringing warmth to her skin.

Faith nodded. "Trying to talk my son out of his quest, or something," she said. Her next smile brought real warmth to her worry-lined face. "But you know Tommy's mind can't be changed once it's made up about something."

Phoebe smiled. She knew. His singularity of purpose was one of the things she most admired about him.

"Sometimes I think what makes these kids come back from the dead is just plain stubbornness," Faith said, laughing. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks." She could hear Karen's voice from down the hall.

"Well," Faith said, getting out the milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup for herself, "if you change your mind, help yourself."

Phoebe said she would and walked through the living room to Tommy's room. Karen was standing by Tommy's desk, her hands waving, telling Tommy that he was wrong. A hot spike

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of anger bloomed inside her as she watched Karen berating Tommy, who sat in passive stillness on the edge of his bed. Despite the harshness of Karen's delivery, Phoebe felt as if she was intruding on a moment of deep intimacy between them, and almost stepped away. Before she could, Tommy saw her in the doorway and the blue of his eyes seemed to brighten. A moment later he willed himself to smile. Phoebe knocked lightly on the door jamb.

Karen turned. "Phoebe," she said after a pause. "Thank heavens, another sane person in the room. Will you please help me talk some sense into him?"

"I don't think I could do that," Phoebe said. Tommy rose from his seat. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and battered white high-tops. His room smelled like Z. Phoebe liked it.

Karen grunted in frustration and turned away.

"I was afraid you'd go without saying good-bye," Phoebe said, holding her left elbow in her right hand. Tommy looked at her, and she was having a difficult time looking back, not because he was dead, or because he could stare without blinking for hours at a time. She had trouble returning his stare because there was something there, something that wasn't longing exactly, but longing and love and sadness and understanding all wrapped together. No one ever looked at her with quite that combination of emotions. It was this look and the feelings it caused in her that first attracted her to him, but now she found herself wilting before the intensity of it.

"I ...will never ...say ...good-bye ... to you," he said.

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Phoebe held out her hand. He took it.

"But I thought...you said ...good-bye ... to me."

Phoebe was aware of Karen taking a seat on the edge of Tommy's computer desk, her arms folded across her chest and a chagrined expression on her flawless face. But Phoebe didn't care.

"I did," she said. "I did, Tommy, but ...but I didn't want it to be forever."

Tommy looked away. "But you ... don't know ...what you ...wanted it to be."

"No. No, I didn't. I don't."

He let her hand slip from his. "I don't know when I'll be back."

He looked sure of himself again, Phoebe thought. It was something that was missing in the weeks since Adam's death, that sense of purpose.

Phoebe bit her lip.

"I know," she said.

"You know?" Karen said. "You know? What is the ...matter with you, Phoebe? He can't ...leave. He's our ...leader ...for heaven's sake! King ...Zombie. Baron ...Samedi."

She took Tommy's arm, and Phoebe's. Her grip was cold but insistent.

"You can't ... go, Tommy. I'm ...sorry it didn't work out ...between ..."

Tommy raised his hand, cutting her off. "I have to go," he said.

"They all ...look up to you, Tommy. They ...
need ...
you. They ..."

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Horrible choking sounds came somewhere deep within Karen. Her grip on Phoebe's arm tightened painfully.

"Karen," she said, reaching for her with her free arm as the other went numb in Karen's unbreakable grip. Karen's eyes looked pained and scared--lost, the lights behind the crystals fading. Phoebe ignored her own pain and stroked Karen's cheek.

"Shhhh," she said, and repeated it until Karen focused on her. She began to calm down, finally releasing Phoebe from her death grip.

"You ...can't...go ...Tommy," Karen said, her "breathing" ragged, the sound of a slow fan with a piece of paper caught in the blades. "I ...they ...need you."

Tommy took her face gently in his hands.

"Karen," he said, his voice a calming whisper, "that's why I need to go. Because you need me."

And Phoebe knew, watching him, that that was the truth. If he really was "Baron Samedi, King of the Zombies" as they all suspected, he wasn't going to be able to rule his kingdom from Oakvale, Connecticut. He'd have to go elsewhere-- Washington, probably. Somewhere he could get government recognition for the undead. The guilt lifted from her shoulders. He wasn't leaving because of her.

Faith appeared in the doorway. "Is everything okay in here? Karen, honey, are you--"

"We're fine, Mom," Tommy said, still holding Karen, still looking at her as though he could pour his own strength into her simply by staring. "Thank you."

Faith looked at Phoebe for confirmation and received it.

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"Okay, then," she said. "Can I get anyone anything?" "We're fine, Mom. Really."

When she left, Karen sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't," she said. "I can't do it, Tommy. I'm not ...you."

"You don't need to be," he said. "Just be ...yourself." She gave an ironic laugh. "Sure."

"They look up to ...you," he said, "and the living too ...more ...than me."

Phoebe saw an odd expression cross Karen's face.

"For all the right reasons, I'm sure," she snapped, running both her hands through her long platinum hair, which seemed to frizz out in her distress. "What about...the Web site? How are you going to do the Web site?"

"I'm not," he said, a smile stretching one corner of his mouth. "You two are."

Karen looked at Phoebe and back again.

"What?" they said in unison.

He smiled. "You are. It will be part of your work-study credit at the foundation. They are going to ...pay ... for everything. The hosting, the fees. Advertising, even, so we can reach more of...our people. They are going to pay ...you ...for your work."

"Tommy," Phoebe said. "We can't do that. It's your site."

He shook his head. "That is ...the problem. It needs to be ...more than that. You are a ...great writer, Phoebe. I think if...you ...did a blog, it would be as helpful for ...the dead ...as it would be for the living."

Phoebe thought of the poems she'd written for him, and let

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the full weight of the compliment settle upon her. Tommy used the moment to turn his attention to Karen.

"And you ...could be too ...Karen. If you bothered. You are one of the most ...gifted ...people I've ever known. In every ...sense of the word."

"But mysocalledundeath, Tommy," Karen said, ignoring him. "You can't stop ...doing that."

"I won't," he said. "The foundation bought me ... a laptop. Wireless ...Internet."

"Wow," Phoebe said. "What will you do for power?"

"Libraries, bookstores. Bus stations. Wherever I can find ... an outlet. I'll e-mail the ...road reports ... to you ...and you ...can post them."

"So we are going to be your employees?" Karen said. "I've already ...got... a job."

"This is ...more fun ...and it will get ...you out of the lab. Or Davidson's ...office."

"Well, that's pretty ...cool," Karen said. "But ... do you really think it is a good ...idea for the foundation to fund this? And have access to all of your subscribers?"

Tommy sat on the bed next to Karen. "I...put a lot... of thought into that question," he said. "It is ... a risk. But I think the benefit ... of the risk ... is great. I think with their ...backing ... we can really reach a lot of people. Traditionally biotic, too, especially with Phoebe ...writing. The foundation has resources to get the site

more ...media ...attention. We have an opportunity to make ...our cause ... a real youth movement."

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"A youth movement," Karen said with a wry smile. "In this country, only the young die good."

"That's funny," Tommy said. "You come up with that one yourself?"

"Pretty clever, aren't...I?"

"Yes, Karen. You ...are." Tommy said, and again Phoebe felt like an intruder.

As though he could sense this, Tommy turned toward her. "What do you ...think, Phoebe? Will you help ...us?"

I'll help you, Tommy, she thought. "You know I will. I joined the program so I could learn more about the differently biotic and how I could help."

They talked a little more after that, about what needed doing and how it could get done. Tommy spoke with unrehearsed passion about how good this project was going to be for the community of the dead. He was leaving in the morning.

She and Karen left into the chilly night air after hugs all around. Phoebe had on her puffy black coat with fake fur; Karen wore her usual uniform of short plaid skirt and white blouse. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you in there," she said.

"Oh." Phoebe was amazed at how her friend seemed to shimmer and glow in the moonlight. "I'm a little freaked out too."

"He's still totally in love with you." Karen said. "Adam too. You get all the good ones."

Karen wouldn't have believed that if she'd seen Phoebe flat on her butt in the Garritys' kitchen, she thought.

"No, I ..."

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"Shh. Denying it will only make me more jealous. You know it's true and it's okay. They aren't wrong to fall in love with you. I'm a little in love with you myself."

A reply caught in Phoebe's throat, and her cheeks went warm in the cool air. She wasn't sure if Karen was kidding-- should she make a joke of it, or tell Karen not to worry, there was someone out there for her too and all that jazz? She hadn't told anyone what had happened between her and Adam. She wasn't at the point where she could talk about her relationships with anyone, because she felt so many conflicting things.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking," Karen said. "Someone's out there for me too. Don't worry, I've got plenty ot them chasing me. Just not the right ones. Hey, looks like your ride is here."

Phoebe looked over at the entrance of the trailer park, where the headlights of Margi's mom's car swung a wide arc and cut through the darkness to illuminate the patch of dirt where Phoebe and Karen were talking.

"So, we partners on this?" Karen said, holding out her hand.

"Partners." Phoebe clasped it.

"You want a ride, Karen?" Phoebe asked as Margi gave the horn two quick beeps.

"No, thanks. It's a beautiful night and I promised Mai I'd go over and read to him for a little while. I want to say hey to Margi over there, though."

Phoebe thrust her hands into her pockets as Karen skipped over to the car, smiling as an old Echo and the Bunnymen tune from back in the day wafted out along with the heat