Special Dead (10 page)

Ani didn’t think the question
was rhetorical, but she didn’t have an answer, so she reopened her book.

*   *   *

She bumped into Joe on the way
back home. He wandered down the hall with his fingertips on the wall, rapture
painted on his face. When he saw her he held his hand in front of his face and
rubbed his fingertips together.

“That’s amazing.”

“What’s amazing?”

“I didn’t realize how dull I’d
gotten. Everything feels so...real.” He ran his fingertips down her cheek, and
she felt a blush she knew wasn’t real. “Smooth.”

She laughed. “You’re not being
very smooth, no.”

He smiled. “No, but you are.”

She touched her own cheek. The
rubbery, too-hard skin didn’t yield as a living person’s would. About as close
as her head got to “smooth” was “hairless.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” He grabbed her hand
with both of his, gliding over her fingers with his own. It was too forward, and
she meant to pull back but didn’t. He sighed. “Timing.”

She opened her mouth to ask him
what the hell he was talking about, but he kissed her cheek and took off down
the hallway. She stared after him, mouth open.
Okay...
.

She turned around and stepped
around the corner almost right into her mom.

“There you are, sweetie.” She
kissed Ani on the cheek, right where Joe had. “I thought we were going over
precalc after dinner.”

“Oh, have you eaten?”

“It’s eight o’clock.”

They turned toward home.

“Sorry. Sam and I were studying
virology.”

“What was it tonight?
Retroviruses?”

“Bacteriophages.”

“Oooh, bacteriophages.” She
prattled on about why bacteriophages were so interesting as they settled in and
opened Ani’s math book to the upcoming chapter. She seemed disappointed to get
back to math.

If I knew it
was this easy to distract her, I’d have studied virology years ago!

Chapter

15

School
was agony. It took them three times as long to get anywhere because Kyle couldn’t
move faster than a drugged kindergartener. The steel rings protruding from his
flesh were surrounded by raw, red tissue, making it obvious that he’d struggled
against the chains while in the bath. Ani could feel his frustration in every
clank. His obnoxious, praise-me-for-my-stupidity confidence had vanished into a
sullen funk that cast a cloud over the whole class.

Teah wouldn’t stop crying, and Lydia wouldn’t stop
enabling her pity-party with hugs and sympathetic looks and coos of sympathy
and sad smiles and little broken-heart drawings made in red crayon. Mike was
Mike, struggling to comprehend as Mr. Foster broke up third grade material into
fifteen-minute chunks, happy to color or play Jenga by himself when Mr. Foster
turned his attention elsewhere. At least his brooding, love-professing memories
hadn’t returned.

Mr. Gursslin’s class didn’t improve. He ignored
Ani, and she chose politeness over self-advocacy. By mid-week she’d stopped
even trying to ask questions. It took effort, but she ignored both Kate Jackson’s
snide, cheerleader’s glare and the fawning reverence of the black-clad nuts. At
least she was learning some math.

Mrs. Weller’s attitude didn’t improve, either, but
she did start teaching. They moved from
Catcher in the Rye
to
Le
Morte d’Arthur
, when it became obvious that Lydia and Kyle wouldn’t even
try to understand what they read. Devon loved it, though, and buried herself in
Sir Thomas Malory’s work when they got back to the lab.

Joe’s color improved over the next few days,
though Ani saw little enough of him. Every evening they whisked him from the
bus to the lab to monitor the progress of the Phase VII inoculation, and he
didn’t get back until bath time.

When she got home Thursday evening, the sound of
her piano greeted her through the door, a mix of melodies overlapping and
overriding one another in a B-flat, A, C, B-sharp motif. She took care not to
make a sound as she stepped through the door, closed it, and set down her
helmet.

Dr. Herley’s hands danced across the ivories. He
wore a gray tweed suit that matched his hair and bushy, Santa-like beard. Without
turning around he said, “Do you know what I’m playing, young lady?”

She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. She
stepped up next to the bench and said, “Busoni’s fantasia contrappuntistica.
The B-A-C-H motif is a dead giveaway. But you’re improvising a bit.”

His mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a
smile. “Am I?”

“You are.”

“And how do you know?” He held the chord and
looked her in the eyes.

“Because there are just over a hundred pianists in
the world who are known to be able to play the whole thing from memory, and in
the August edition of the
Rochester Review
you admitted that you’re not
one of them.”

He didn’t smile. He played another three lines,
then slid off the bench. “I heard a rumor that a talented girl from Ohneka
Falls can do it.”

Ani looked at her feet. “Mostly. My fingers aren’t
as nimble as they used to be, so the tempo lags on the most intricate parts.”

He said nothing for a moment, then, “Show me.”

She sat and played. Twenty-five minutes later she
sat back, her foot on the pedal to prolong the last chord. She didn’t dare look
at him.

“Interesting.”

Ani waited better than anyone alive. The silence
stretched, and she let it. He broke before she did.

“You’re not a natural virtuoso. How did you
accomplish this?”

She grunted at the frank appraisal. “Practice. I’ve
had nothing but time.”

She waited again until he spoke.

“Do it again.” She did it again, but he cut her
off three minutes in. “Let me see your hands.”

She held up her hands, conscious of their pallid,
dead appearance. He grabbed them, and knelt to look her in the eyes.

“These, they’re gifts from God. They’re wondrous
and capable of anything.” He let go and rubbed his hands on his pants. “But
they are cold. Too cold.”

She smiled. It felt weird to not be in the
slightest self-conscious. “Dull, we call it. There’s no warm-up, no cool-down. Everything
is what it is, all the time. And I can’t feel the keys like I used to.”

“These are excuses. We’ll crush them.”

And they tried. He gave Ani exercises, all of them
difficult, and barked corrections when she screwed up. His sparse praise drove
her onward. At some point she became aware of her mother standing off to the
side, watching. Ani had never worked so hard in her life, and at the end of an
hour her exhilaration matched her frustration.

When their time ended, Dr. Herley gave his mother
a quick pianist’s bow. “Good evening, Doctor Romero,” and then he was gone.

Her mom’s slow clap sounded mocking, though Ani
knew it wasn’t. “Well done, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She turned to the piano and
repeated the exercises. Then again. And again and again and again. At ten fifteen
her mom interrupted by cradling Ani’s head to her breast.

“You’re overdue, sweetie. Bath time.”

Ani sighed and tore herself from the piano. Five
minutes later she sank into the viscous, slimy, ice-cold liquid, making sure to
suck it down her throat. As it filled her lungs, she contemplated the mixture
of confidence and impotence that would’ve haunted a normal girl’s sleep.

Chapter

16

Friday’s half day of parent-teacher
conferences presented an interesting problem for the district:  they couldn’t
both hide the zombies from public view and hold conferences that included Mr.
Cummings and Mrs. Weller, as contract required. Dr. Romero insisted that the
Special Dead and their parents be allowed to attend conferences just like
anyone else but was turned down by the board of education.

Devon’s and Teah’s moms stopped
in right at noon but stayed just long enough to verify that their daughters
were performing to expectation—A’s and C’s, respectively. By 1:00 pm, under the
watchful eyes of Foster, Pulver, and Romero, Ani and the others had already
played a psychologically crippling amount of Jenga. Ani, Sam, Devon, and Joe
broke off from the others to play Scrabble. Ani was struggling to find a use
for an X and a J when the door opened.

Mr. Benson entered, followed by
two soldiers, four civilians, then three more soldiers. The room got crowded
fast.

Sam’s dad’s permanent scowl
held even his daughter at bay. Lydia’s mom stepped in for a hug, as did Joe’s
dad. Mike’s dad lurked by the door, shoulders hunched beneath a light jacket. Ani
didn’t think they’d been in the same room together since he’d broken up with
her mom.

“Hi, Mr. Brown.” Ani forced a
smile. Her mom’s murderous eyes could have flensed skin off him, but he wouldn’t
meet them. Instead he gave Ani a half-hearted wave and approached Mike with a
reluctant shuffle, cutting off at the last minute to talk to Mrs. Pulver. Ani
hugged her mom, careful not to crack her jaw with the helmet. “I see everything’s
normal on that front.”

Her mom clucked her tongue. “We
are not having this conversation. Now or ever.”

Ani squeezed a little harder,
then let her go. “Is there anything you want to talk to my teachers about?”

She shook her head, her eyes
still on Mike Sr. “It’s not like I don’t know how you’re doing or why. I
already took off Mr. Gursslin’s ear, and don’t have any issues with anyone
else.”

Mrs. Stuber’s raised voice
caught her ear. “—can’t have an ‘F’. She’s here all goddamned day, there’s no
way she can be failing.” Lydia tugged at her shirt, her wide eyes filled with
anxiety. What little brain she had couldn’t handle being the source of
acrimony.

As the badgering continued, Ani’s
mom kissed her on the helmet—an odd gesture by any standard—and walked over to
calm Mrs. Stuber down. Deprived of her Scrabble partners, Ani sat next to the
only person not engaged in conversation.

Kyle’s sullen glare shifted to
her as she made herself comfortable in Teah’s seat. “What do you want?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just
figured I’d keep you company while everyone’s talking.”

He spat nothing at her feet. “What,
pity party for Kyle ’cause his daddy didn’t show? Fuck off, I don’t care.” His
flat, dead eyes didn’t reflect the hurt his voice betrayed.

Ani tried to downplay it. “No,
I’m just bored and thought you would be, too.”

“I’m not bored.”

“Whatever.”

She grabbed a crayon and a
piece of paper and used doodling as cover to eavesdrop. Lydia’s mom finished
badgering Mr. Foster and started in on Ani’s mom, who told her she wasn’t in
charge of academics. Mike’s dad exchanged a few sentences with Mr. Foster, then
waited by the door without even talking to his son. Joe and his dad spoke in
low tones, impossible to decipher in the cacophony, but they ended the
conversation with a big hug. Sam and her dad saw each other regularly, so they spent
their time watching the rest of the group.

Minutes later, all the extra
people filed out, leaving the usual crowd, plus Dr. Romero and Mr. Benson.
Devon rolled her eyes toward Ani’s mom.

“What now, Doc?”

She responded with a loud sigh.
“Now we go home.”

*   *   *

Ani did the math in her head as
the syringe stabbed through her midsection.
A minute to log samples, two
minutes to detox, two more to change.
It would take Dr. Banerjee at least
five minutes to get from the examination room to his office, where Mike waited
in his guest chair. She could make it in three.

Ani had seen Mike through the
little safety window when she’d walked by and had made up her mind. Whatever Dr.
Banerjee was doing to him, it wasn’t on the books. She had to know, and that
meant getting a sample of...of whatever it was.

She hugged her mom and changed
back into her clothes, dropping the empty phial that she’d palmed into her
pocket as she stepped into her jeans. She worked fast but tried not to look
rushed; her mom’s raised eyebrow told her she’d failed. At least Dr. Banerjee
didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Put the wash in the dryer when
you get home, sweetie.”

She grinned. “I will.” She
pulled the T-shirt on and ducked out the door. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Doctor Banerjee!”

They called their goodbyes as
she shuffled through the hall, conscious of the cameras at every corner. Her shuffle
dragged into a limp, her old hip injury slowing her as it always did when she
tried to hurry. Thirty seconds later she passed Dr. Banerjee’s office, stopped
in feigned surprise, and waved. She just managed not to look at the security
cameras.

“Hi, Mike!”

He sat inside, cradling a huge teddy
bear in his massive arms, and didn’t seem to hear or notice her. On the far
side of the desk sat a large syringe filled with a thick, emerald liquid.

She stepped to the door and
opened it. “Sure,” she said for the benefit of the surveillance weenies. “What
do you need?” Stepping inside, she shut the door and patted Mike on the cheek
on the way by.

He smiled up from the bear, his
white teeth huge where his gray gums had receded. “I have a teddy.”

“He’s very nice,” Ani said. She
pulled the phial from her pocket, picked up the syringe, and injected a tiny
amount of the green fluid through the hydrophobic rubber top. She tucked the
phial in her bra, looked down to make sure it couldn’t be seen, and set the
syringe back exactly as she’d found it. “What’s his name?”

“Teddy,” Mike said. “He’s fluffy.”

“Yes, he is.” Soft footsteps
approached in the side hall, the back passageway reserved for the living.
Here
goes.
She kept her voice as natural as she could and turned her back to the
door. “I told you. We can’t play Jenga right now because we don’t have any
blocks.”

Mike beamed. “I like Jenga. You
want to play?”

She sighed. “We can’t, Mike,
and you’re not even supposed to be in here. Come on, let’s go home before you
get into trouble.”

Mike’s eyes drifted over her
shoulder, and he grinned.

“Ani?” Dr. Banerjee’s soft
voice came from inches behind her ear. She turned around and didn’t have to
fake a worried look.
Don’t see through this. Please.

“Sorry, Doctor. Mike was in
here messing with your bear, and he asked me to come in and play Jenga.”
Don’t
babble.
“We were just leaving.”

He didn’t say anything.
Instead, he set down his briefcase, draped his suit coat over his chair, and
leaned on the desk.

Mike grabbed her hand and held
it to his cheek. “Ani?”

The recognition in his voice terrified
her. She looked down, and for once he wasn’t smiling. He looked desperate,
lost, alone. “Mike?”

He smiled his dumb smile, the
moment gone as fast as it came. “Hi, Ani.”

Dr. Banerjee cleared his
throat, drawing her eyes up. “Ani, go home. Mike and I have a little business
left.”

“It’s not his fault. He doesn’t
know any better. I can take him home no prob—”

“I’m not going to punish him.
Now go on.” The up-turn of his lips couldn’t be a smile. “You’ve got laundry to
do.”

She was halfway out the door
when he spoke again.

“And Ani?”

“Yeah?” She poked her head back
through the door, eyebrows raised.

“I won’t find you in my office
again. Not without my expressed invitation.”

“No problem.” She schooled her
face to neutrality as she walked down the hall, humming Brahms all the way.

She got home and pulled out
some blank sheet music. She spent ten minutes composing utter crap, and wrote
between the clefs: 
He’s giving Mike this.

She buried her nose in the
pages as she walked to the laundry room and loaded the dryer. She folded the
top page into an envelope with the phial, then tucked it into the top of the
lint trap on the dryer.

*   *   *

Her mom got back minutes before
the washing machine buzzed.

“Can you get that?” Ani said. “I’m
in the middle of this coda, and I don’t want to lose it.”

She heard the sigh from a room
away, then forced herself to keep working as her mom banged around out of
sight. She heard the telltale squeak of the lint trap lid, then nothing for a
split second before regular sounds resumed.

Smart as her
kid.

After the dryer kicked on, her
mom called out. “Sweetie? Why don’t you get out that precalc? I have a few
minutes before I run out.”

“Where are you going?”

“The store.”

“Okay.” Ani put away the disastrous
excuse for a composition and pulled out her math book, notebook, and a second
pencil. She was halfway through the homework when her mom sat beside her.

She picked up a pencil and
scowled down at the problems. She scrawled out a few solutions, accurate as far
as Ani could tell, and amidst them wrote,
What did you do?

What I had to.

Not smart. AT
ALL.

I know. You
have to find out what it is.

Her mom frowned at the page for
a moment, then wrote,
Yeah.

They did the rest of her
precalc together.

*   *   *

At 1:00 pm Joe slid into the
doorway, his socks gliding across the tile floor. “Saddle up!”

Ani looked up from the piano
and raised an eyebrow. It was impossible not to match his grin with one of her
own, but she had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”

“Mr. Benson has a Christmas
present for us! Get your shoes on!”

“It’s October fifteenth,” she
protested, but she got up.

“Exactly,” he said, as if it
made sense. When she didn’t move he continued, “Homecoming.” When she still
didn’t reply he threw up his hands. “Mr. Benson’s taking us to the game. Let’s
go!”

“That’s...not possible.”

“Are you coming or not?”

She put on her shoes.

*   *   *

Ani stumbled into the zombie
yard and squinted through the afternoon sun. The small set of bleachers in the
grass told her that this actually might not be some kind of cruel joke. A crowd
had gathered next to the athletic fields, in blue-and-white or green-and-white,
depending on their loyalties. Those not staring at the Zombie Yard stood, stiff
backs toward the school, steadfast in their determination to neither
acknowledge nor validate the dead students behind them.

Ani clambered up and took a
spot next to Joe. “You weren’t kidding.”

He shook his head without
taking his eyes from the crowd. “Nope. The park’s totally flooded, and Red
Jacket’s field is hosting the girls. It was either here or postpone the game.”

“Huh.” Ani grinned. It had been
a long time since she could sit back and enjoy a soccer game, and it was a joy
even if she didn’t recognize most of the players. Her thoughts drifted to
Keegan Taylor, who had been a constant presence on the sidelines in past years.

Her hand
closed on his throat, dug her fingers into his neck, and tore. Blood gushed,
hot and sweet, staining his tuxedo a deep crimson. His mouth gaped, shock and
terror in his fading eyes as she buried her face in the—

“Hey,” Joe said. “You still
here?”

She blinked, an unnecessary
gesture from a past life.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just hard to
see from back here.”

His sad smile told her he didn’t
believe her, but he shifted so that their legs touched as he turned back to the
game. She grabbed his hand. His fingers twined between hers. He smiled without
turning away from the field.

“Your mom’ll see.”

“I know.”

He smiled, but neither said
anything nor let go.

Teah wandered over to the
fence, Lydia on her heels. They sat in the grass through the first half of the
game, at which point Bill arrived in his hoodie and sunglasses. Ani couldn’t
hear what they said, but the mopey tone told her everything she needed to know.

Ohneka Falls trailed 3-2 with
five minutes left in the game. The crowd screamed as Kevin Palermo drove the
ball up the field, flanked by star senior Jeff Rock. The goalie hesitated, then
dove left toward Jeff as Kevin passed the ball.