Badass Zombie Road Trip (12 page)

How did Jonah like his coffee and, by extension, his women?

Dale looked up to his dad and recited, “Ground up and in the freezer.”

Dale said this with such flatness, such grim authority, that the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The effect left Jonah nauseated, as if he had just borne witness to something awful.

“I see,” Dale’s dad said. The smirk was long gone.

“He’s only joking,” Jonah squeaked. “I take cream and sugar. Thanks.”

“Anything for you?” The man looked to his son for an answer, but Dale ignored his father and returned to the stack of movies. The elder Jenkins let out a soft sigh, then said, “Make yourselves comfortable. I expect we have a lot to talk about.”

As the older man disappeared into the kitchen, Jonah took the recliner across from the couch, leaving Dale to sit next to his dad. The zombie had finished inspecting the movies and had moved on to the rack of CDs. Jonah was appalled at the lack of interest the dead man was showing in the situation. “Dale.”

“What?”

“Come over here and sit down.”

“Why? I’m more comfortable when I move around.”

“Because the man opened his home to us. The least you can do is pretend to care.”

Dale straightened. “And why should I care? From what I can remember, he cut me out of his life years ago. I don’t even remember him now. Why should I care?”

“Dale—” Jonah started.

“He has a point,” the elder Jenkins said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a steaming mug in each hand. “I haven’t been there for him.”

“See,” Dale said, as he sat on the far end of the couch. “Daddy says I’m right.”

“There’s still no need to be rude,” Jonah mumbled.

“I wasn’t sure what to think when I saw you on the sidewalk,” Mr. Jenkins said, joining his son on the couch. “And now that you’re up here, I can’t help but wonder what this is all about.”

Jonah floundered. He had sort of hoped Dale and his usually gregarious personality would just take over the conversation and fish for the info they had come for. But the zombie, who had spent the last few hours talking Jonah’s ears off about trivial matters, was eerily quiet. He seemed distracted. He rubbed his swollen belly and glanced back and forth about the room, as if looking for something.

“Mr. Jenkins,” Jonah started.

“No need for formalities,” the elder Jenkins said. “You can call me Mike.”

“Okay. Mike, I don’t know what you think we are here for, but …” Jonah paused and ran his hands through his hair as he wondered what to say next. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Let’s start with names.”

“Of course. I’m Jonah. Jonah Benton.” Jonah nodded to the zombie. “And Dale you already know.”

Mike raised his eyebrows at Jonah’s name. “That’s quite a name, Mr. Benton. So, Jonah, what are you two doing here?”

Without warning, Dale said, “Hey, I have a question for you.”

Finally. Jonah was beginning to believe he would have to do this alone.

“Yes?” Mike asked.

“Where’s the can in this place?” the zombie asked.

Jonah groaned. That wasn’t exactly the kind of assistance he was hoping for.

Mike pointed to a door. “Through there, last door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Dale wandered off in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay,” Jonah said. “I guess you’re wondering what we want. I … that is we…” Jonah exhaled an exasperated breath and rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know how or where to start.”

Mike sat back and stared down his long nose at Jonah. “Then let me help by guessing that this has something to do with Dale’s soul.”

Jonah started. “Yes. How … how did you know that?”

“Because Dale is here in California. So his soul must be in the hands of Lucifer. As per the agreement. Yes?”

Jonah blushed at his foolishness. “I wasn’t sure you knew about that.”

A grin rose to the man’s lips for a brief moment before the stony look returned. “Let’s just say I know enough about it.”

“I wish you’d tell me.” Jonah bubbled with a nervous giggle. “Because I still have no idea what is going on.”

“Dale didn’t explain things?”

“Well, truth is, he didn’t get much of a chance. And now,” Jonah paused to shrug. “Now he can’t seem to remember much of it.”

“I see.” Mike leaned forward to place his mug on a coaster. When he leaned back again, he narrowed his eyes at Jonah. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you do know? And we can put together the pieces as we go. Tell me about my son.”

Jonah did just that. He sketched a quick history, including Dale’s love of the guitar, which seemed to make the old man happy. Then Jonah detailed the morning’s events, skipping over the fact that Dale was no longer among the living. There was no need to trouble the man with that tidbit if they didn’t have to. Once Jonah was done, Mr. Jenkins whistled low.

“That’s quite a story,” he said.

“I know,” Jonah said. “But I swear it’s true.”

“I don’t doubt it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had a run-in with Lucifer.”

“I kind of got that idea.” Jonah gulped at his now-lukewarm coffee. “So, tell me, how did he get into this mess in the first place?”

“Dale?” Mike fell quiet for a moment, thinking over his answer carefully before he said, “You know how kids are. Always pushing their parents’ buttons.”

Jonah didn’t really know how kids were, since he neither had any of his own, nor did he have any plans to. “Yeah, but … selling his soul? He couldn’t have been much more than ten when—”

“Nine,” Mike interjected. “He was nine when it happened.” The man stood and went to the window, staring out in silence at the city sprawled below.

Jonah stared at Dale’s dad, wondering what to do now. He also wondered what in the world was taking Dale so long in the bathroom. Surely the zombie couldn’t … he wasn’t … Jonah switched his mind back to the man at the window rather than contemplate what the zombie was up to. By himself. In the bathroom.

“He was just acting out,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Mad at the world because his mother had passed on.”

“I don’t think I quite understand,” Jonah confessed.

“He did it to make me notice him.” Mike turned to face Jonah, a look of profound sorrow on his aged face. Either that, or practiced grief. On a Jenkins, it was hard to tell the difference. “I’ve never been very good at playing the father. I never had time for a son, with the law firm and all.”

A light went on for Jonah. “You’re a lawyer?”

“Yes, and a pretty damned good one.”

Jonah whispered in awe, “Good enough to get your son out of a deal with the devil.”

Mike shrugged off the idea. “In those days, I had a very busy practice. I also had an angry son who’d just lost his mother. But I didn’t have time for his antics. Getting into fights at school. Destroying public property. He was a little punk. The more he acted out, the more I ignored him.”

“Until he caught your attention.”

“That he did. I didn’t believe it at first, of course. But when Lucifer came to collect his goods, I had to act fast. I asked for a few days to say goodbye to my only son, and Old Sentimental Scratch let me have them. Instead of spending my last few hours with the boy, I spent those days poring over the contract until found a loophole.”

The pieces fell into place for Jonah, tumbling into a perfect picture with every word the man spoke. “The contract was only good in California.”

“That’s what the Devil gets for using an earthly notary.” Mike snorted at the idea. “The moment I realized Lucifer’s mistake, I sent Dale off to live with my wife’s sister and—”

“Clare?”

Mike grimaced at the name, his grief slipping into anger for a moment before sliding back into sorrow. “Yes. His aunt, Clare, took the boy with the understanding that she was supposed to ship him off to some of her relatives across the country. She had to get him as far away from California as she could, as fast as she could.” He sat again and added, “Which I thought she did. I was under the impression Dale lived far, far away from here.”

All at once, Jonah was embarrassed for Dale. The man’s father went to great lengths to save his soul, and Dale ended up hanging close to the very state to which he couldn’t return, as if mocking his father’s efforts. Jonah felt like someone should apologize for Dale’s thoughtless actions. “I’m very sorry.”

“Why should you apologize? He never listened to me. Hell, Clare never liked me, either. I’m sure they just ignored me out of habit. It kind of serves Dale right that all this happened.” Mike spoke with a tinge of hatred, as if he both loved and loathed his child at the same time. Which, after living with Dale for so many years, Jonah supposed he understood. Mike cocked his head at Jonah and asked, “Are you sure Lucifer said to ask me?”

“He said, ‘Ask Mr. Jenkins.’ He must have meant you, because Dale’s tried to think of the hiding place all day, with no luck.”

“He never was very bright.”

“Yeah, but in his defense, Dale isn’t in the best shape right now. Being without a soul, well, I think it must take it out of you.”

“I can see that. He looks dead on his feet.”

Jonah winced at the accidental pun. “You have no idea.”

“How did you find me?”

“The letter you sent. We followed your return address.”

“Letter?” Mike furrowed his brow. “I never sent a letter.”

“Sure. I have it here.” Jonah dug around in his jacket and pulled out the still-sealed envelope, handing it to Mike.

The man took it and stared at it. “I never sent this.”

“Then who did?”

“I have an idea.” Mike then opened the thing, which Jonah thought was pretty rude. But instead of a letter, the man pulled out a postcard. Mike inspected the card for a moment, then passed it to Jonah.

Jonah took the postcard and eyed it with uncertainty. The front bore a beautiful photograph of a yawning cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites peppered the picture, reaching far back into the expanse of cave. A cartoon couple rested in one corner of the picture, in full bride and groom regalia. Bright yellow letters named the place as ‘Linville Caverns, North Carolina.’

“Turn it over,” Mike said.

Jonah did, discovering, to his surprise, that the postcard was addressed to one Jonah Benton. The physical address was that of the apartment in which he now sat. The empty space for messages had a few simple words written in a flowery script:

Wish you were here.

There was no signature.

No return address or name.

No indication of who it was from.

“I don’t get it?” Jonah half said, half asked.

“Linville Caverns is in North Carolina,” Mike said, as if that were supposed to explain everything.

“I still don’t—”

“My son was supposed to be in North Carolina for the last fifteen years.”

Again, understanding lit Jonah’s mind with burning clarity. “Ah.”

“Indeed.” Mike stretched his legs across the coffee table. “I’m going to give you one guess as to who both of these are from.”

“Lucifer,” Jonah hissed. If Mike’s letter arrived for Dale before they left for Reno, then the Devil had indeed planned all of this well in advance. Satan must have known Dale wouldn’t open the thing, and even worse, that Jonah wouldn’t let his best friend just throw it away. How many spies did the Devil have? And just who were they?

“He’s laughing at all of us, you know,” Mike said. “Dale. Me. You. Especially you.”

“I know.” Jonah clutched the postcard in a trembling fist. “But he won’t be laughing for long. I’m going to find Dale’s soul and fix this mess.”

“Listen, I know you just want to do good by your friend, but if I were you, I would give all of this up.”

“Give it up?”

“You are no match for him. He’s just stringing you along. There are no honest deals with Satan, trust me. Dale got off lucky once. But even he couldn’t get away with it forever. Call off the bet. Take your soul and go home while you still can.”

“But … but Dale is your son. How can you say that?”

Mike never blinked. He never flinched. “I lost my son fifteen years ago. That man in my bathroom is a stranger to me. Save yourself and forget about him. Go home.”

The man had a point. As callous and unfeeling as it was, it was still the truth. Dale had ruined his relationship with his father, and now the old man had no love left for the boy. Jonah supposed he couldn’t blame Mike. But he couldn’t just give up on Dale, either.

“I can’t,” Jonah said. “He’s my friend.”

“Suit yourself. I suppose we are done here?”

As if on cue, Dale returned to the living room. “You guys sort it out?”

Jonah nodded and got to his feet, slipping the postcard into his back pocket. “I think we are ready to go. Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Jenkins.”

“No trouble at all.” Mike showed them to the door. Before Jonah could leave, the man held out a small card. “Keep in touch. Let me know how it goes, if you can. And call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”