Croak (9 page)

There comes a time in every young girl’s life when she is instructed by a complete stranger to scale a tall ladder for dinner atop a roof, and in almost every case the best thing to do is refuse and run home to call the asylum from which the stranger escaped. But after a day of ending people’s lives and slicing through space and time with a magical switchblade, Lex figured another heaping dose of absurdity couldn’t hurt.

So she grabbed at the rungs and flung herself up onto the gently sloped surface. “Here,” Driggs said, tossing her a slice.

Unfortunately, Lex and projectiles had never gotten along very well. She caught it, fumbled, and watched as it sailed gracefully to the ground.

Lex, who had hoped to keep her athletic incompetence a secret for at least more than a day in this new town, sat down to stew and reflect on this maddening situation. Here she was, throwing her dinner off the roof in front of a strange kid with whom she’d soon be working in close proximity on a daily basis and who, for reasons she still couldn’t ascertain, was immune to her usual threats. How could she be partners with a boy who had so whimsically inserted himself into her life and who had the audacity to ignore her belligerence?

Peeved, she gazed down into the valley at Croak’s few sparkling lights. She could just make out the craggy branches of the Ghost Gum in the moonlight, its nest a small dot against the dark sky.

Driggs silently handed her the remainder of his own pizza, then watched with amusement as she wrestled with how to humbly accept it. Eventually she gave up on decorum and shoved the whole thing into her mouth in about two bites, a messy decision that she instantly regretted.

“You’ve got sauce in your nostril,” Driggs informed her.

Lex sighed. “Of course I do.” She grabbed a nearby leaf and tended to the situation. “Better?”

“Radiant.” He smiled, leaned back on his elbows, and watched her expectantly.

Lex stared back, confused. She grabbed the leaf and dabbed at her face again, but he still wouldn’t look away. “What?”

“Don’t you have any questions? I mean, Mort loves his secrets, and Zara never elaborates on anything, especially not to rookies. Which means that if you want any answers, I’m your guy.”

“What could you possibly tell me that I can’t learn from the back of a children’s menu?”

He sat up. “I know why you were brought to Croak. Do you?”

Lex inhaled sharply. She had craved nothing but information since she arrived, and now here it was, dangling in front of her like a tantalizing venti caramel macchiato. “No, why?” she said hungrily, forgetting all rules of personal space as she grabbed at his shirt.
“Why?”

“Relax, spaz.” He laughed, rocking back onto his elbows. “You’re here because of a textbook spike in misanthropic tendencies and violent behavior. The one thing we all have in common.”

There it was, spelled right out for her. An explanation. Lex’s heart leaped so high, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it jumped out of her chest and started tap-dancing across the shingles. After all this time, all the questioning, all the detentions— a concrete answer. She couldn’t wait to tell Cordy—

She grimaced. Cordy. They’d gone a whole day without talking.

This was a first.

Lex put it out of her mind. She’d book the guilt trip later.

“All of us used to be holy terrors,” Driggs went on. “The wild streaks fade as soon as we get here,” he said, eyeing her clawing hand, “though in some cases, it may take longer.”

“Sorry,” Lex stammered, letting go of his shirt. She cleared her throat. “Is that what happened to you?”

“Yep. I have not always been the bastion of virtue I am today. One minute I was an immaculate child, the next, a savage little criminal. Got into fights, did drugs, stole stuff. Got caught a few times, but I didn’t care.”

“What about your parents?”

“They didn’t care either.”

Lex thought this was very sad, but she decided not to say so. “How did you end up here?”

He brightened. “That would be Mort’s doing. Showed up one night and offered me the chance to do something productive with my life.”

“And you went with him?” Lex asked, doubtful. “Willingly?”

“Mort’s a persuasive guy.”

“What did your parents say?”

Driggs looked away and was silent. “They didn’t object,” he said after a moment.

Lex winced. She had never been any good at that whole consolation thing. “Good pizza,” she uttered instead, immediately loathing herself.

“Yeah,” he said sardonically. “Mama Celeste is a culinary genius.”

Lex swallowed this indignity and pressed on. “But why do you live with Uncle Mort?” Her eyes bulged in terror. “We’re not related, are we?”

“No!” he said a little too quickly. “I mean, no.”

“So . . . no?”

“Right. No.” He ran a hand through his hair, the roof’s atmosphere rapidly sinking into a cesspool of embarrassment. “Uh, due to extenuating circumstances, Mort recruited me when I was fourteen, and not sixteen like everyone else. I couldn’t really live in the dorm with the older kids yet, so he let me stay at his house—and four years later I still haven’t left. I like to keep the guy company,” he said with affection. “His demented ramblings warm the cockles of my heart.”

“So wait a minute. How many other kids are here?”

“There are seven of us Juniors in training—now eight, counting you.”

“And you all do the same kind of stuff I learned today?”

“Yeah, more or less. Think of it as an internship. Lasts five years, until you turn twenty-one. Then you become a Senior.”

Lex looked back at the Ghost Gum tree again, her mind swimming. Here they were, talking about all this as if it were a fun little summer camp, when in reality Lex had encountered people today in the very last moments of their lives and then proceeded to
end
them. It just didn’t feel right.

But it didn’t feel wrong, either.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “I mean, why teenagers? Why pick the most immature people on earth to handle such a huge responsibility?”

Driggs looked up at the stars, then back at Lex. “You know
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
?”

Lex stared.

“The world of pure imagination?” he added.

“I’m familiar with the world of pure imagination,” Lex said dryly. “I’m just skeptical as to how manufacturing candy is in any way similar to reaping mortal souls.”

“You know how at the end, Willy Wonka gives Charlie the factory?” Driggs went on. “Do you remember the reason he chose a child?”

“Yeah, he said adults would want to do everything their own way, whereas a child—”

“Would learn all the secrets,” said Driggs, “and keep them secret.” He flicked a pebble off the roof. “I mean, now that you’ve seen what really goes on here, have you thought for even a second of ratting us out?”

“No, but—” The wordless anxiety that had been pumping through her veins ever since Uncle Mort touched that old woman came spilling out all at once. “I just find it disturbing that people—we ordinary, mortal, dumbass people—are in charge of all this. And we’ve covered it up for, what, millennia? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Just because it’s the biggest secret in the history of the world doesn’t make it any less true.”

Even Lex couldn’t think of a snarky answer to this.

“Did I just blow your mind?” Driggs asked. “I think I just blew your mind.” With that, he pulled out a handful of at least a dozen Oreos from his pocket and shoved three into his mouth. “Tho, whatthu thik of theeeetha?” he asked, spraying her with cookie bits.

Lex picked a crumb out of her hair. “Pardon?”

“Sorry. The ether,” he repeated, giving her a cookie. “What do you think of it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “Loud? Turbulent? Really outstandingly fun?” She thought back to the swirling void. “Why is it like that?”

Driggs shrugged. “I think it has something to do with the fact that you’re traveling through every bit of humanity that’s ever existed, but all at once. Unfathomable profundity plus weightlessness plus pretty colors equals highly enjoyable.”

“And highly addictive. I could fly around in that thing all day. It’s heaven compared to the torture of Killing.”

Driggs sat up abruptly, spilling a couple of Oreos onto the shingles. “What torture?”

Lex looked at him, perplexed. “Touching the targets. When it happens, that shock you get.”

He frowned.

“You know what I mean, right?” Lex continued, concerned. “Feels like electrocution? Trust me, I touched an exposed wire when I was ten, and it was nothing compared to this.”

“That’s—” Driggs looked worried. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

Lex’s neck prickled. “What do you mean? I’m not making it up.”

He studied her more seriously now. “I’m not saying you are.”

Lex tried to wipe the anxiety off her face, but her wiping mechanism seemed to be broken. “Maybe it’s different for Cullers.”

Driggs shook his head slowly, never breaking his gaze. “No, it’s the same for everyone, whether Killing or Culling. You only feel a tiny pinch in your finger, like a static shock.”

“Oh,” said Lex. Should she go on? Or drop it? Maybe this was one of those things that people should keep to themselves, like a hatred of baby pandas or a passion for polka music. Everyone needs a secret or two.

But what made her so different?

Driggs was still staring her down. “Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

“You mean, why didn’t I bring up this one ludicrous thing amidst the billions of other ludicrous things that happened today? I don’t know, good question. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“It’s just kind of a big deal, is all.”

“Well, I’m kind of a big deal.”

A smile spread across his face. “I can see that.”

Lex exhaled irritably, dying to change the subject. “Forget it, okay? God, you’re worse than Zara.”

He laughed. “I doubt that. Nobody’s worse than Zara. What did she do to you?”

Lex shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, she was nice at first, then sort of a bitch, then—I don’t even know what.”

“Don’t take it personally,” he said. “This happens every year. The girl hates rookies. She’s the best Junior in Croak, so she gets all huffy and competitive when new people invade her turf. And since you’ve already gotten so much attention, the jealousy is probably eating her alive.”

“Attention?” Lex let out a small breath of disbelief. “From who?”

Driggs looked startled, as if realizing he had said more than he should have. “Nothing big, just little rumors here and there. Everyone’s curious about how you’ll do—you know, since you’re Mort’s niece and all.”

As if on cue, a large puff of smoke mushroomed out of the basement window and drifted up past the roof.

“Yeah, lucky me,” Lex said, sniffing the air.

“He makes it hard to tell, but Mort’s actually a certified genius. You should see the lab he’s got down there. Tons of gadgets, experiments, satellite dishes, who knows what else. He’s the one who invented Cuffs—brilliant idea, using ether-infused iron to get around the dead reception zones. And he knows more about Croak than anyone. Plus, he’s in charge of scouting out new Juniors—I have no idea how he finds them, but every year he does, hones in on them like a laser beam. It’s a gift, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make up for his lack of sanity. Or parental instincts. Or decorating skills. Did you see that hideous display of girlish vomit that was supposed to be my room?”

“Oh? You didn’t like it?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?
Titanic
is a timeless classic. The ultimate love story. One of the most towering achievements in cinematic—”

“Wait a damn minute,” Lex interrupted as his straight face began to crack. “
You
did that? On purpose?”

“Don’t girls like
Titanic
?”

To her credit, Lex really had tried. She had actually managed to converse with someone her own age for an extended period of time without feeling the need to hurl him off the roof.

But this—this was unforgivable. So she balled her hand into a fist, reared back her arm, and slugged him right in the blue eye.

She gulped down a breath of cool night air. That felt so
good.

Until another heavy
smack
echoed into the sky. A spasm of pain ripped through her face, her vision bursting into stars.

“You hit back?!” she shouted.

Driggs was gaping in disbelief at his own hand. Slowly, he recovered and looked into her good eye. “I had a feeling you’d be more insulted if I didn’t.”

Lex stared back. He couldn’t have been more right.

“You can’t hit a girl,” she said, rubbing her face.

“You hit me first.”

“So?”

“So I was defending myself.”

Lex huffed. This was going terribly. “You can’t do that!”

“It seems I just did,” he replied with a stilted laugh.

She scowled. “You are
not
normal.”

“Neither are you,” he said with a wry smirk. “And don’t worry, Lex—now that you’re one of us, no one’ll make the mistake of thinking so ever again.”

The next morning, while Lex snuggled comfortably in bed, a crash of cymbals exploded in her ear. She opened her eyes to behold Driggs clanging them vigorously, a mischievous grin on his face and a large bruise surrounding his eye.

“I hope, for the sake of your fertility, you’re wearing a cup,” she warned through clenched teeth.

“Come on,” he said, jumping onto the mattress. “It’s time for work.”

Lex moaned. “How are you so awake already?”

“If you recall, I eat a lot of chocolate.”

Ten minutes and two fights over the bathroom later, they slid into their seats at the kitchen table. Uncle Mort took one look at their matching black eyes and nodded.

“Yep,” he said to himself, drifting back to his newspaper. “That’s about what I expected.”

***

After breakfast, the trio headed out into the fiery morning sun and made their way into town.

Lex yawned. In addition to the pain in her swollen eye, the faces of those she had Killed kept her up half the night. Haunting images—the exposed heart, the yellowed-newspaper skin of the old woman, the gunshot in the man’s chest—churned through her head like a nightmarish whirlpool. Plus, she still couldn’t get used to sleeping in a room all by herself. She thought about Cordy, who was undoubtedly ready to throttle her by now. Lex hadn’t called, she hadn’t written, she couldn’t even email. Unless . . .