The Dishonored Dead (20 page)

“You were the one that requested I go. I never asked for it. And you wanted to know what happened in there, so I’m telling you. It was a slaughter. It was a massacre. Every single living thing there—even those dogs and the rest of the animals—were killed.”

“Are you done?”

“Not yet. Remember what you asked me before, about whether those bars are keeping me out or you in? Well if those bars weren’t there right now, if it was just you and me? I’d kill you without any hesitation.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. Now leave.”

“One of these days those bars aren’t going to be there anymore. There’s going to be nothing to protect you.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

“You can get up and walk away, that’s fine. But don’t continue thinking I’m a Tracker. I’m not. I’m a Hunter. I always was and I always will be. And if there’s a zombie, I’m going to kill it.”

Gabriel had been walking away, his back straight, headed for the adjoining room. Now he stopped and glanced back.

“It’s my understanding your son is ten today. What if he turns? Are you going to kill him?”

Conrad shot up from his chair, threw himself at the bars, but the bars maintained their purpose: they kept the dead out and the living in.
 

Chapter 26

The party had
already started by the time he arrived home. A dozen cars were lined up along both sides of Orchid Lane. He parked one block down and with his broadsword secured in its black case walked as quickly as he could without full out running. Past the mailbox with the attached balloons bouncing in the breeze, up the walkway, through the front door with the sign announcing PARTY THIS WAY, down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Here he took in the mess—plastic plates, cups, forks, spoons, knives, all scattered over the table, the counter, even in the sink. On the table were the remains of the cake. It had originally said HAPPY 10
^TH
ANIMATION DAY, KYLE! in cursive script on top, with two Hunter broadswords hugging the bottom, but now most of it was gone, eaten, only bits of letters remaining.

Through the windows he could see everyone out on the deck, gathered around the picnic table. He started that way but hesitated when he remembered the black case. He turned toward the basement door, quickly went down there and rearranged the rubber storage containers, hid the case, then started back up the stairs. He reached the top just as the deck door opened and in walked Denise and Jessica, both with cone-shaped hats on their heads. They were talking, laughing, and when Jessica noticed him first—she always seemed to notice him first—the smile on her face faded and she became quiet. Denise looked over and saw him. She opened her mouth, started to speak, but right then Jessica turned back around and went outside.

“You’re home,” Denise said.

“I’m home.”

They stood about ten feet apart, neither seeming able to move toward the other.

“You were there, weren’t you.”

Conrad nodded.

“How did it go?”

“You had to have seen the news by now.”

“The news doesn’t always tell the whole truth.”

“It did this time.”

“So it’s totally gone? Heaven, the living hiding there—they’ve all been destroyed?”

Conrad thought of the moving river of black uniformed Hunters, about the screaming and bleeding zombies, about the huddled mass of women and children, about being covered in all that living blood.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re all destroyed.”

She came forward and wrapped her arms around him. She placed her head on his shoulder. The kitchen was suddenly silent except for the clock on the wall and the voices outside.

“Conrad?” Denise said after a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Does this have to do with your sister?”

She leaned away from him and searched his face.

“What’s her problem now?” he asked.

“You tell me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Did you have Anthony Bruno’s firm closed?”

He stared back at her.

“Please, be honest with me. I won’t be angry with you if you did. I hate the prick as much as you do. But … did you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This morning he had a visit from some men from the Government. They shut him down. They told him that he and his staff are lucky, that they could be viewed as living sympathizers, but now that Heaven had been found and destroyed, their services were no longer required.”

“So he’s done?”
 

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Conrad was silent a moment, thinking about this.

“Well?” Denise said. “Did you … have anything to do with it?”

“Jess thinks I did, doesn’t she.”

“She has no reason to believe you didn’t. Especially after the other night.”

“Well,” he said, and put his hand to his wife’s face to caress her dead flesh, “I had nothing to do with it. This is the first I’m hearing about it. Should I, you know, say something to her?”

“Not right now. Let me talk to her first.” Once again she embraced him, held him tight. Then she stepped back, smiled up at him, and said, “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m so glad you made it in time.”

“Time for what?”

“Kyle’s already opening his presents. And I’ve saved the best for last.”

The first thing
he noticed when he stepped outside was the number of people he didn’t know. Maybe twenty kids, a dozen parents (mostly mothers), and he didn’t recognize a single face. The only person he did recognize besides his sister-in-law was Thomas, standing off in the corner, smiling at him and giving him a small nod. And now everyone else was looking at him, this latecomer, wondering if this was Kyle’s father.

“Dad!” Kyle said, shooting up from his place at the picnic table. There were opened presents everywhere, a lot of wrapping paper, a few empty boxes. Kyle even had to kick a few of these out of his way to get to his father, who crouched down to hug his son.

Into his ear Kyle whispered, “You were fighting at Heaven, right? Right?”

Conrad watched the people watching them. “That’s right, buddy.”

“So it’s over now? All the living—they’re dead?”

“Yeah.”

“And now it’s no big deal you’re a Hunter, right?”

“Well,” Conrad said, but before he could say anything else the door opened and Denise poked her head out.

“Kyle, are you ready for your last present?”

Kyle moved away from his father and turned to his mother. He nodded quickly.

“Then go back to your seat and close your eyes. No peeking.”

Kyle did this without a word, passing his friends and their parents, all who were still sneaking glances at Conrad. Thomas was still smiling at him, nodding, and Conrad mentally prepared himself for the assault of questions his neighbor would ask later.
 

Once Kyle was seated, once he had his eyes closed, Denise stepped back inside and came out a moment later with the puppy in her arms. It had a gray bow on its collar and kept squirming around, trying to get down. Conrad worried the puppy would bark and spoil the surprise, but the dog remained quiet, the only thing giving it away some of the kids gasping and saying oh wow, that’s so cool.

Kyle kept his eyes closed just as his mother had told him, though he was smiling now. He knew what this last present would be—hadn’t he been asking for a dog for months now?—but still he played along, did everything that was asked of him, until Denise finally made it to the table, set the puppy down on the discarded wrapping paper and boxes, and said, “Okay, Kyle, now you can open them.”

But before Kyle could, the puppy barked. Then Kyle’s eyes were opened, he was smiling even more, and he said, “
Yes!
This is
awesome!
”

Denise stepped back, a camera now in her hands. She had already taken three snapshots when Kyle stood up and began making his way toward her.

“Thanks,” he said, “thank you so much,” and Denise, standing in front of Conrad, opened her arms to embrace her son.

But Kyle walked right past her. He went straight to his father and once again placed his arms around him, saying thank you thank you thank you, barely even aware when his mother, her face suddenly stolid, quickly turned away.
 

She’d locked herself
in their bedroom bathroom, and no matter how many times Conrad asked her nicely, she refused to open up.

“Go away.”

“Come on, Denise. This is stupid. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course you’d say that.”
 

“Stop being silly. You’re overreacting.”

At once the door swung open and there stood his wife, her face set, a crumpled tissue in her hand that was not spotted with tears but rather with dead flesh.

“Don’t say that to me. Don’t you
dare
say that to me.”

He stood there, only a few feet away, wanting to reach out to her, hold her, but knowing he shouldn’t move an inch.

“What do you do for this family?” she said. “Besides working, besides providing, what do you
do
?”

“Listen, I know you think you’ve been slighted—”

“You don’t know what I think. You always want to be the man in charge, our protector. You always want to tell us what it is we think. But do you want to know the truth? You don’t know anything.”

She had started toward him, her finger raised, but now dropped it. She turned away and walked over to the bed. The bedsprings squeaked as she sat down on the edge.

“Then again,” she said, her voice now soft, “I don’t know anything either. I never know anything about you. About what you’re doing. You have this new promotion … but what is it?”

“You know I can’t—”

“Let me finish.” She stared at him, her gaze at first soft, then hard, and slowly shook her head. “I know about them.”

“What?”

“Those men watching Kyle. Thomas brought them to my attention yesterday. He said they were following our son. So I called the police. You weren’t here to talk to about it, so I had no choice. And do you know what happened? Instead of the police coming, one of the men got out of the car and came up to the house. He introduced himself and asked me what the problem was. I told him the problem was he was following my son. And do you know what he said? Can you even guess?”

Conrad was silent.

“He said you—you, Conrad—had set this all up. That they were ordered to monitor our son to keep him safe. Keep him safe from what, I asked, and the man said, from becoming a zombie.” Shaking her head again, she stared up at him and said, “I don’t get it. Why would you … how could you
possibly
think our son would become a zombie?”

“It’s complicated.”

“No it isn’t. It’s very simple.”

A knock sounded at the closed bedroom door, and a voice said, “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”

“Look,” Denise said. “Your son is calling you.”

“Stop it.”

“Dad, I need you to come outside with me.”

“Well? Go with him, Conrad. You’re his favorite parent.”

“What were you going to say before? What’s very simple?”

“Dad?”

“Those men,” Denise said. “I want them gone. Kyle doesn’t need them. He’s a good boy. He … he won’t become a zombie.”

“Dad, can you hear me?”

“Do you want to know the truly awful thing? Having those men watch our son just proves that you don’t trust him. And not telling me? Well, that just proves you don’t trust me either. So let me ask you. Who do you trust?”

Conrad continued staring at Denise. Like so many times before he wanted to tell her everything. Even if it meant breaking his promise to Norman, breaking the Hunter Code, he wanted to let her in on all his secrets. He even opened his mouth, meaning to start saying these things, when Kyle knocked even harder—“Dad, come on!”—and Conrad quickly turned away, went to the door, and opened it.

Kyle, his cone-shaped hat still on his head, reached for him immediately. He grabbed his father’s hand, told him to come along, and then Conrad was being led away, down the stairs, through the hallway into the kitchen, through the kitchen and out the door onto the deck.

And there everyone was, the same children and adults, all standing on the lawn, leaving the deck completely empty except for the two of them. Only Conrad quickly realized there were more people than before, maybe fifty or sixty more, and at once he understood what had happened, he remembered what Kyle had asked him earlier, but before he could say anything or head back into the house, Kyle shouted:

“This is my dad! He’s the greatest Hunter in the world!”

The crowd began applauding at once. They clapped, they cheered, they stomped their feet. And they kept applauding, until the claps and stomps and cheers died away and the chant started up, everyone chanting speech … speech … speech.

Chapter 27

For the past
two days it had been raining off and on, storm clouds invading the sky for an hour at a time and then moving away or dissipating altogether. They’d been lucky last night, having only put up with what the rain had left behind, the muddy parks and fields, but it looked like tonight they would have to face the rain head on. A heavy layer of clouds had coated the sky, blocking out the stars and the moon, and off in the distance, past the expressway, they could hear the irregular rumble of thunder.

Tonight they were going through the area around the Shakespeare, working their way through overgrown bushes and trees and grass. Only a handful of bold insects played their dead songs, the rest having decided to wait out the impending storm.

Last night they’d been following James, which meant tonight they were with Ruth. That small, very quiet zombie with the long hair pulled back into a bun, hiding beneath her hat. She moved cautiously through the trees and bushes, as if snapping a twig or tearing off a leaf would cause irrevocable damage to the ecosystem. Even when she moved through the tall grass she did so slowly and purposefully, pushing the swaying gray strands away with a gentleness Conrad had never thought a zombie could possess.