Good & Dead #1 (21 page)

The metallic glint flashed in Bell’s eyes.  Michael didn’t have a hope of holding her stare.  He looked out the window and tried to at least hold his own resolve.  This was the right decision. 

“There’s always a way out, isn’t there Michael?  Always a loophole you manage to slide into,” she glared at his scrawny torso in disgust.

Michael swallowed hard.

“Fine,” she said at last.  The all-too-familiar smile slid back into place. “But you’ll do it tonight.  And”—she pointed at him—“you’ll do it publically.  In front of these beloved friends.”

He had been envisioning something simple, easily explained, semi-peaceful.  Tanish had mentioned them having paramedics “on the payroll”: an aneurism or a heart defect was what he was leaning toward.  This was not what he had planned. 

“Why?”

“I think you mean ‘Thank you’, Michael.  I’ve already given you more freedom and more time than any other vampire in the history of the clan.”

“Why, though?” he ran frustrated hands through his hair.

A real smile spread across her pale face.  “Let’s just say you amuse me.”  She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

“I’m not that good an actor!” he called after her.

“Sure you are,” she turned back and patted his cheek with a cold hand “You saved the show, remember?”

Michael had to fight the urge to slap her hand away.  If only he hadn’t heard that woman in the alley.  His life never would have been interrupted, never been ended.  He’d be turning in his papers late and squeaking by for another semester.  He’d be settling into the fall break with Randy and everyone else.  He sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands.

“Fine,” he said, “Thank you.  I’ll do it at the theater tonight.” 
It might as well end where it started
.

“Excellent.” She sat down next to him on the lumpy mattress. “I’ll make sure our people answer the call.”  She put a slender arm around his shoulders.  “Try not to think of me as your enemy, Michael.  I’ll take good care of you.  You can leave this...” She looked around at the sparse furnishings. “…apartment.  We’ll set you up in a better school to get your degree.  I’ll find you a nice cozy spot where you can cook the books for us—anywhere in the city you’d like.”  She squeezed his shoulder like a real friend. “You can even play your video games in your spare time.”

“Great,” Michael mumbled into his cupped hands. 

“See you tonight, then.” She kissed the top of his head.  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The mattress squeaked as she rose and smoothed her black jacket.  Michael looked up when she didn’t move.  She was casting him a strange sort of assessing glance.  “You know, I think it might be time for you to meet my father.”  She put her hands on her hips. “He might just find you as charming as I do.”  She ruffled his hair.  “Figure out how you’ll do it, please.  I’ll need to tell my paramedics to look for the call.”

I have no idea!
He thought, a fine tremor of stress and anger running through his hands.

“Well, I’ll send Joseph along to help when he’s finished our errand.”

Michael cringed.  He was sure Joseph would have a lot of ideas.

Bell laughed at the look on his face.  “Sorry, little buddy.  Tanish is busy.”  Her phone chimed and she pulled it from her pocket and thumbed the screen as she spoke, “Come up with something before he gets here, then.  I’d hurry.  He’s just around the corner, setting up Chad’s apartment; I like to leave the cops some bread crumbs to follow nowhere.  He should be done in thirty minutes or so.”  Her eyes scanned the message and she smiled.  “Looks like we may know where our new friends are staying.  I’ve got to run,” she added, halfway to the door.  She opened it and walked out without looking back.

Good luck
, her voice played in his head as she disappeared. 

Michael let out a long breath and ran his hands through his hair.  “I don’t know how to do this!” he yelled at his empty apartment.  He paced angrily, reminding himself of Bell and how she had paced the same tiny spot the first time they had met.  He glared around the room, the spotless apartment offering nothing at which to direct his rage. 

He forced himself to stand still and take a deep breath. 
Calm down
, he told himself.  He closed his eyes.  Nothing had really changed.  His mother would have closure.  Randy would at least know what happened to him. 
I guess I should be grateful she’s letting me do it at all
. 

But how will I do it?

He sat at the desk and opened his computer, his fingers hovering over the keys.  What could he do in front of everyone, at the theater? 
Nothing that’ll get anyone else hurt.  Nothing that anyone will feel responsible for.
 
Nothing bloody.  Nothing very painful.  Or traumatic to witness…. 
The keyboard clacked as he put his head down in defeat
.  This is gonna suck.

He sat up and typed ‘best way to die’ into google.

Drowning was described as ‘oddly peaceful’ by a man who’d been resuscitated after going water skiing while drunk.  Michael doubted that: the panic.  Plus it would be pretty hard to drown at the theater.  Fire was nobody’s favorite except some bloggers who seemed pretty deep into a pyromania fetish.  Fire was also the method most likely to get other people killed.  Having the TARDIS reappear on top of you was fictitious.  Being shot by Clint Eastwood while Morgan Freeman narrated sounded expensive.  Hanging looked promising.  If the neck snapped it’d be quick; all he would have to do would be to hold still and wait for the paramedic to cut him down.  Michael gagged at a gif of a man swinging sharply from a gallows.  But it was convenient; he’d be up on the catwalk anyway….

But could he jump?

Michael got up and opened a bottom cupboard.  He pulled out a lumpy backpack that hadn’t been opened since they had gone to comic con their freshman year.  Inside was a wrinkled Indiana jones costume, complete with hat, flimsy prop whip and coiled length of rope.  He pulled the rope out and looked up at the ceiling.  The light fixture was original to his ancient building, and looked to be made of metal.  Michael frowned.

What’s the worst that could happen?

He might as well give it a shot, before Joseph showed up, ready to “help”. 

He dragged his chair over to the counter.  The cheap laminate countertop creaked when he stepped onto it, but held.  He clambered on top of the fridge, which hummed under his bare feet.  He had learned some rope tricks for the con.  He looped the end to make a small lasso and took aim.  Shockingly, he got the rope around the short chain on his first try.  It pulled tight, and Michael gave it a tentative tug.  It seemed solid.  

He struggled to remember exactly how to tie a noose, but got it within a few minutes.  He slipped it on and felt accomplished. 

Then he looked at the empty space between his feet and the floor.

Don’t think about it
, he told himself,
just do it
.  He closed his eyes.  He bent his knees. 
Jump!
  But his body thought about it without his permission. 

“Okay,” he shook his hands and whined.  “Come on.  You’re immortal..ish.  It’s not going to kill you.”  He bounced on the balls of his feet.  He bent his knees again, and held his breath.

Nothing happened.

“Ahhhhhhhhrggg,” he groaned, scratching underneath the rough rope.

“Come on, Michael!  Joseph is on the way!  Get it done!”

But his feet stayed rooted to the ancient appliance, and his determination waned. 
Yeah.  I can’t do this. 
A wave of the same guilt that had almost undone him the night before washed over him anew.

He sat down cross-legged on the top of the fridge and buried his face in his hands, the rope hanging barely-slack, tying him to the ceiling like a paper ghost on Halloween. 
What am I going to do?

There was a knock at the door, followed immediately by the jangle of keys.

“Michael!  I need to talk to you!”

“Randy, wait!”

Michael yanked the rope over his head, scrambling to get down.  His toe caught in the gap between the freezer box and the door.  He flailed to catch himself, but it was done.  He toppled off sideways just as the apartment door swung open.

He landed face-first on the round metal table.  His shoulder caught the cold metal edge on his way down, cutting into his neck and spraying the table and the floor with his blood.   His face slammed into one of the wheels on the office chair and sent it rolling.  He lay on his side in a crumpled heap, half under the table, blood dripping onto his upturned face.

“Jeez!  Michael!” Randy ran toward him. 

The pain pulsed through Michael’s left side so fiercely his speech was slurred as he tried to respond.

“Vreethings fin, Rund,” was all he could get out.  He tried to hide his bleeding neck and face from view as Randy knelt to help him, but his arm did not respond.  He flopped all the way onto his back, and a horrible scraping sound accompanied the move as his shoulder slid back into place.

“What in the world were you doing?” Randy glanced at the swinging noose, his expression horrified.  “Oh man,” he said, examining Michael’s injuries, “Your eye is messed up.”

Michael felt the pain that flared across his face begin to recede, and he watched as Randy’s look of confusion turned to fear.  He knew what his friend must be seeing.  Within moments, there wasn’t a scratch anywhere on him.  The only evidence of his fall was the spatter of blood that surrounded them.

The color drained from Randy’s face.  “What is this?” his voice shook, “What’s happened to you?”

Michael stammered out syllables as he tried to wipe the blood off his face.  He pushed the table aside and got to his knees. 

“Stay back!” Randy yelled.

Michael held up his hands in surrender.  “It’s okay!” 

“Just stay there!” Randy edged backward toward the door.

“I’m not moving.” Michael stood and quickly retreated to the other side of the table.  Randy’s hand was on the door.

“Randy, please wait!” Michael tried to keep his voice calm, but he couldn’t hide a note of panic.  He imagined Randy running into Joseph in the hall and never being seen again.  “Please.” He forced his voice to sound calm. “Let me explain.” 

Randy looked like a frightened rabbit, frozen, by the door.

“Do you remember how I told you that I couldn’t remember anything from the alley that night?”

Randy nodded.

“Well, that’s true.  But I do know now what happened.  I was bitten…by a vampire.”

“Give me a break,” Randy laughed nervously and glanced at the door. 

“You saw me heal,” Michael offered.  “You felt how cold I was that day at school.  It’s how I caught those keys.  It’s how I healed from that fall.  It’s how I know Bell.  It’s why the detective wants the costume.”  The words tumbled out so quickly, betraying just how much Michael had been dying to tell him everything.  Randy reeled, his face pale and full of all the denial Michael had clung to when he found out. 

“Why would they take the costume?” he asked slowly.  “I mean, it makes no—” he stopped talking mid-sentence. 

Michael cringed.  He knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure it out.

“Oh my God, Michael!  Did you kill that woman in the alley?”

“What?  No!”

“Then why do they want the costume?”

Michael’s stomach turned at the memory of the frail bodies he left lying in their hospital beds.  He had to talk around a lump in his throat.  “Do you remember the news story about the grim reaper at the nursing home?”

“That was you?” Randy pressed a hand to his mouth as though he were trying not to gag.  “You murdered those people?” 

“Bell told me I’d—” Michael hurried to explain.

“Oh my God,” He said again. “You’re a murderer.”

“Hey, you don’t know!  I did the best I could!” Michael shouted. “Bell told me that if I waited I’d lose control if I got hungry enough, and she was right!  I almost killed you that day when you fell out of the chair!  I thought I had better find somebody who was ready to go.”

“It still counts!” Randy interrupted.

“I know that!  You think I don’t know that?” hot tears filled his eyes.  “I’m doing the best I can!  That’s why I’m doing this!” he tugged on the rope hanging between them, “For you!  For all of you!  I can’t stay here!  They’ll kill you if they find out you know!”

Randy’s white face turned gray, and Michael knew his eyes were flaring silver with his own anger.

“Now, you have to go!  And whoever you run into, act completely normal.  Do you understand?  If they even suspect that you know, they’ll have no problem killing you.” Michael closed the distance between them, “Do you understand?”

Randy nodded, shocked and frightened. 

“They’ll be at the show tonight, so you must act normally.”  Michael’s face flushed and his eyes burned at the look of revulsion his friend gave him.  “Just make it through tonight and you’ll be fine.  It won’t be a problem anymore.”