Spore (4 page)

I wish.
“No. Afraid not.” Sean set aside the charcoal and slid the pop into the fridge.

Mare handed him a gallon jug of milk. “What, then?” She tilted her head, giving him a sideways glance. “What’d you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I just helped some naked people that came out of the tree farm. They—“

“Naked people?” She sniffed, grimacing, as she handed him a carton of eggs and a bag of produce. “Let me guess. Transient streakers who haven’t showered since last September?”

“Close, but no.” Perishables put away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tried not to sound like a lunatic. “Naked dead people. Ten of ‘em.”

She frowned, nodding as if it made perfect sense, then placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “You have a sunburn. Did you push-mow the backyard again? Without a hat?”

He kissed her and pulled away. “Nope. I ought to tell you they dirtied every sheet in the house, even the embroidered ones we got from your grandma. The first batch is in the dryer.”

She stood frozen in place, her mouth working for a moment, before following him toward the living room. “Sean, wait. You’re not making any sense. Tell me what happened.”

He stopped in the archway and turned to face her as he tried to explain. Judging from her expression, he didn’t do a very good job, but she listened, nodding in the right places, until he finished.

“Sean. Babe,” she said before taking a breath. “This isn’t possible.”

“I know. But it happened.”

“And
how many
news crews came?”

“All of them. Well, Eight, Five, and Thirteen, and a few newspapers. Fox hasn’t shown up yet, but CNN called for a quote. Apparently no one else will talk to them at all.”

He shrugged. “I got sick of the interviews and finally locked them out and unplugged the phone so I could get back to Ghoulie’s new issue. Murph’s sent a stack of emails wondering why I haven’t shown him at least the prelims.”

He let out a harsh breath and met Mare’s gaze. “He’s been called to a meeting with our publisher in the morning. Our sales are so crappy he’s worried they might use any excuse to cancel us, especially if we miss deadline again. I can’t tell him I’m late because of what’s happening with the…the tree people.” He turned away and headed toward his workroom. “What if he hires another artist? Ghoulie doesn’t make much, but I can’t—“

“Sean…” she said, reaching for him. “Forget Ghoulie. Forget the money. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or something?”

“Wish I had. The news crews’ cards and a sheet from the sheriff are on the counter.” He shrugged again, knowing he sounded like a nutter. “I’d better get back to work.”

He’d just righted his stool and gathered his pens and sketches when Mare walked into the little bedroom they used as a studio and office. She stared at her handful of papers and cards. “How? Why?” She blinked, shaking the documents at him. “I went to high school with Mindy Howard! Her funeral! This can’t be real.”

“I know, hon. It should be all over the TV news sites, maybe their teasers. Might even show one of my interviews.”

She nodded, dazed. “Were they rotting? Like zombies?”

“No. Just scared, confused people. They looked perfectly normal, not scary at all.”

She let out a nervous laugh as she read the sheriff’s sheet again. “Ten confused zombie scam artists. In my house. Yaaay.” She folded the paper and stuffed the business cards inside.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Think so.” She forced a smile and took a breath, her color improving. “How’re the layouts coming?”

“Okay, I guess. Finally started working on them ‘round noon thirty so I’m way behind.”

“Better you for a change than everyone else,” Mare muttered. “At least you’ll catch up. Murph is the procrastinator. Surely Black Pawn knows that.” She looked past him to the drawing table. “Who’s the kid? Thought you were doing Ghoulie.”

Kid? What kid?
Sean turned and took an immediate step back, crunching Mare’s feet as he stared at a ghostly image in the blackened full-page illustration. A naked child screamed from within the darkness and clawed bloody streaks on a cinderblock wall. His feet were sawed off at the ankles, the exposed ends of his fibula and tibia coated with bright blood and dark filth.

Chapter Five

Her poor bare feet scorched and bleeding, and her legs aching and quivery from the long cross-country trudge, Mindy wiped sweat from her sunburned brow as she limped toward her mother’s acreage in the northern county.

I hope Mom’s there, that she hasn’t moved, too.

Since it was only a few blocks from the hospital, she’d walked to her house first, expecting to find Jeff busy fiddling with his stocks online like he did most Sunday afternoons, but two middle-aged women lived there. They had been rather suspicious of a barefoot woman in scrubs asking for the previous owner.

She’d left before they could call the cops.

In town, few paid any notice to her but out in the county it seemed like every car slowed down to assess her intent. A farmer who had to be seventy suggested a bodily-fluid exchange for a ride, and a teenage kid in a rusted out Honda offered to give her a lift, no strings attached. She declined both.

Tattered feet or not, the long walk gave her plenty of time to think.

She’d seen desk calendars and newspapers before leaving the hospital. All agreed it was Sunday July 19, 2015, not Friday November 23rd, 2012. Even if she could explain away the heat, humidity, and green fields—which she couldn’t—all of those calendars left little room for doubt.

She’d lost almost three years. She had no idea where she or the time had gone, only a normal sequence of memories, then blinking awake in Sean’s backyard.

In her previous memory, it had been nearly dusk and spitting sleet after a long day of Black Friday sales at the mall. She had stopped at the Git-N-Go in Madrid for gas, then turned north again on Highway 17. All that was clear.

Did I make it to Luther? To Highway 30?
she wondered as the curvy, paved road she walked on turned north. Instead of following the pavement, she walked straight into the muddy ditch. She limped across a meadow to the far side and entered the thin strip of woods separating the paved street from the twisting gravel road her mother lived on. She’d used the same shortcut countless times as a kid, and the well-worn path comforted her feet like an old friend.
Maybe Luther,
she thought, ducking under a low branch.
Maybe. But, no. I didn’t cross—

She stopped, heart hammering, as a mud-flecked Boone County Sheriff’s car sped north on the gravel road ahead of her. She ducked, crouching behind a tree, but it had already passed. She heard the cruiser leave the gravel to pull onto the paved road. Still crouching, she turned to track its journey. Lights on but without a siren blaring, it sped away, heading toward Boone.

Were they looking for me? Did they come to warn Mom about me?

Mindy let her heart rate settle before she crept forward, then crouched again near the edge of the woods to watch her mother’s house. Her mom’s familiar SUV sat in the drive, and the house looked the same, but Mom had planted red and white petunias out front instead of her usual peach colored impatiens.

Tears stung Mindy’s eyes.
Oh, Mom, you know those are my favorite! You never stopped hoping I’d come back!

Another car approached, and Mindy ducked behind a scraggly bush. The car pulled in the drive and stopped, tires skidding on gravel. Her younger sister, Danielle, scrambled out. Dani was pregnant, her dark hair cut short, and she ran to the house.

She eased back to sit on her heels, her mind churning.
Dani. Pregnant. At Thanksgiving she thought Mikey was about to ask her to marry him. Maybe a Christmas engagement. Maybe Valentine’s day. But soon. They were so cute together, so happy.

Mindy stood.
Almost three years is a long time. I don’t know what happened to me, where I was, but I’ve missed so much.

She smiled and limped out of the woods onto her mother’s front lawn. She expected to see their aging golden retriever wander around from the backyard, slow but happy to see her. Instead, a small dog barked from inside of the house.

Three years too long,
she thought, feeling a tight pang of sadness at the absence.
What was I thinking? He would have been twelve, almost thirteen. Far too old for a large dog.

Mindy had not yet reached the deck when her mother yanked the front door open. She’d been crying, her haggard face blotchy and red, and her rich brown hair had become white with flecks of steely gray. She was emaciated, a mere husk of her soft self, and leaned on a cane like an old crone. Mom. Who’d been a laughing and vibrant fifty at Thanksgiving.

“Get off my property before I call the sheriff!” Mom screamed. “They were just here, and they told me all about you! Swindler! Cheat! Trying to ruin the memory of my Mindy!”

Mindy winced at the decaying shell her mother had become. “Mom, please,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she grasped the stair rail. “I’m so scared, I don’t know—“

“You’re not my daughter, and don’t you try to trick me!” her mother screeched. “My Mindy died! She DIED and you’re a filthy bitch for even thinking you can—“

Dani tugged on their mom’s arm. “Come on back in the house.”

I died?
Mindy thought, knees threatening to buckle even as she reached toward her mother, still so far away.
I really died? Oh, Mom! Please don’t leave me here alone!

Dani said, “I’ll take care of this, okay, Mom? Your heart… You know what the doctors—“

Mom wrenched her arm free and snarled, “You get off of my property right this minute, or I’m calling the sheriff. You hear?” She stomped into the house, leaving Dani staring down at Mindy.

“You better go.” Dani crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll drag you to the end of the driveway myself if I have to. She’s sick. She doesn’t need this stress.”

Mindy wiped away tears and met her sister’s gaze.
I’m not dead or missing, I’m right here. Dani’s my baby sister. She has to believe me, she HAS to.
“I… I know this is going to sound crazy, but I really am me.”

Dani closed the door, cutting off their mother’s wails and took an angry step toward Mindy. “No, you’re not. I had to identify her body because her asshole husband didn’t have the balls. She’s dead. My big sister’s
dead
. And you’re some sick—“

What? No! Jeff! What’s happening?
Mindy steadied herself before she crumpled to the ground. “How’d I die?” she asked, her voice quaking. “Where’s Jeff? Why is—“

“My sister died in a car accident, but you surely knew that before you came here, just like you know her husband’s name.”

Mindy searched her memory for a detail, any detail, which might confirm her identity. “I also know you played flute but gave it up your junior year, despite being the best in band. You said it wasn’t a challenge anymore, but you really quit because you had a crush on Trent Sparks and he thought band kids were stupid.”

When Dani’s eyes grew wide, Mindy said, “You got your first period while we were at our cousin’s house. He kept teasing you about being on the rag and Mom yelled at him then took us home. You like caramel on ice cream, but won’t eat it in candy.”

Dani paled and grasped the deck railing. “How did you know—“

What else? There has to be something that’ll convince her.
“Your first date with Mikey was to see
Twilight.
You hated the movie but said ‘he’s a keeper’. Last I knew, he still was.”

“Still is,” Dani said, nodding.

Mindy managed to smile despite her trembling lower lip. “Christmas engagement?”

Dani took a step down the deck stairs. “No, actually, it was while we were planning your funeral. He said he didn’t want to wait anymore, didn’t want to lose one moment we might have together.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “We were married by Christmas, pregnant with our daughter by Easter. We named her Melinda, after you.” She wiped the tears away. “Oh, God, how can you be here? This can’t be—“

“I was driving home in sleet, I remember it like it was just a few hours ago, then next I knew, I’m in some guy’s yard. Standing there. This morning. Almost three years later, in July.”

“This has to be a lie,” Dani said. “It
has
to. What you’re saying is impossible. Dead people don’t come back.”

“It’s the truth. It happened. You have to believe me.”

Dani pursed her lips and shook her head. “You do look like her, sound like her, but Mindy’s dead.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Mom can’t take this, all right? Mindy’s death and all the legal shit broke her heart, broke
her
, and she’s been sinking ever since. I’m just thankful she’s still with us. If you give her false hope that some miracle happened, and it’s a lie, it’ll kill her. I can’t let you do that.”

What?
“What’s wrong with Mom? What do you mean ‘all the legal shi… What legal stuff?”

“Your calcu…, no,
Mindy’s
calculating shit of a husband had insured her for over a million dollars before the accident. Grieving husband, my ass. We caught him fucking her best friend at the visitation. He ran off and married the tramp before my sister was cold in her grave.”

Mindy took a step back, shaking her head. “He
what
?”

“You heard me. Big shot banker cheating bastard son of a bitch. Bad enough he treated Mindy like stale bread, but Mom blew her savings suing him. Turned out the brakes were bad in Mindy’s car and the airbag malfunctioned. Wonder how
that
happened?”

“No, my Prius was fine! It had to be! Jeff just bought it for me, brand new, in October.”

“Yep. Mindy picked out her car three days after he bought the insurance policy. The dealership had proof all parts were new, but the crash investigator said Mindy’s brake hoses were old and cracked. Was only a matter of time before they went bad, and on a highway, on ice, with a malfunctioning airbag…” She shrugged. “He sued Toyota and won, then insurance paid up. Was quite a windfall.”

Mindy’s paced, her mind churning.
Jeff would sue whoever was responsible, definitely, but what Dani’s suggesting is nuts. He wouldn’t kill me, he loved me!

Dani sighed. “Mom tried to prove it was his fault, but the court decided she was being greedy, him being a grieving widower and all. He danced off scot-free
and
a millionaire. So instead of trying to talk my dying mother out of her last few bucks, why don’t you swindle the cold-hearted fucktard my sister married? Least he’s loaded.”

“That’s not fair. I know Jeff can be a controlling jerk, but he does love me.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Yeah. And denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Mindy pursed her lips at the familiar phrase and stared out to the driveway. She’d considered leaving him a few weeks before Thanksgiving, had even contacted a lawyer, but Jeff controlled the money, her friends, her freedom, and any possibility of escape. “Where is he?” she asked. “A couple of lesbians are living in my house and I have no idea—“

“Got promoted more than a year ago. Took the skank and moved to Minneapolis. I hear they spend a lot of time at a time share in Barbados.”

Minneapolis might as well be the moon, if I have to walk there.
Mindy let her breath out in a huff and sat on the bottom step. “Any more bad news?”

Dani descended the stairs, lowering her pregnant bulk to sit beside her. “Isn’t that enough?”

I guess it is.
Mindy looked out to the dirt road curving into the woods. “Mom pretty bad?”

“Yeah. Heart, blood pressure, some scary digestive issues.” Dani paused to chew her lip. “They just did a biopsy last week. Might be colon cancer, might not. We’ll know in a week or so.”

Jeff. The dog. Mom. Me.
Mindy clasped her hands between her thighs. “What a mess.” She sighed and stood. “I should just go. Thanks for telling me the truth.”

She took two steps then Dani said, “Your feet look like shit.”

“Walking barefoot from the hospital kinda does that.”

“You don’t have any shoes?”

Mindy turned to face her sister and managed to meet her gaze. “I don’t have
anything
.”
Not a husband, not a family, and certainly not any stupid shoes.
She plucked at her scrubs. “I stole these when I escaped from the hospital. They’re the total of my worldly possessions, and they’re not even mine.”

“Dammit, dammit, dammit. I must be crazy.” Dani shook her head. “I can give you a couple of bucks to—“

Mindy turned toward the driveway again. “It’s okay,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll manage. Take care of Mom.”

“Wait.” Dani stood and walked toward her. “I have some of your old stuff. I picked it up when Jeff was throwing it out. You can have that. And when’s the last time you ate?”

“I haven’t. Not since—“

Dani held up a hand to stop her. “Get in the car. I’ll get Mom settled then we’ll get you something to eat, and decent shoes. I can do that much at least.”