The Resurrected Compendium (30 page)

"She might've made some upgrades since I was here last."

"Your mother." Kelsey looked at the house, the image she'd had originally of a woman with gray hair in a bun and skirts of lace fading into...well, she didn't
 
quite know what. But something different than she'd had before.

Dennis smiled. "Yep. My mother."

"But you're sure she's inside."

He nodded. "Yeah. She's on lockdown, that's for sure. I thought as much. But then I thought maybe..."
 

Kelsey waited for him to finish, but he was already backing up, away from the fence. Toward the truck. "What?"

"I thought maybe she'd be looking for me. Waiting."

Kelsey knew that tone, of someone who didn't want to admit how hopeful they'd really been. Or how disappointed they were to be wrong. She reached for him, but Dennis had already turned his back to her to focus on the truck. He opened the door, but didn't go into the cab. He looked over his shoulder, caught her with her hand out. Some inscrutable expression crossed his face, but before she could study it long enough to figure it out, everything went dark. And out here in the middle of nowhere, that meant inky black.

"Shit," Dennis said.

"What's going on?" Kelsey froze, mindful of how that fence had shot from knee-high to taller than her head in a second.
 

"They're on a timer. When I tripped the fence, it set everything else in motion. We should've moved faster."

Was he blaming her? She limped a step toward the giant shadow of the truck she could barely make out. "I'm...sorry? But can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

In the next second, a match flared, highlighting the lines and planes of his face. He held it close to a cigarette, then shook it out. The cherry glow at the tip of the cigarette wasn't bright enough to see anything by, but that glimpse of his face had been haunting enough. Narrowed eyes, thin mouth. Dennis had already proven himself handy with a gun and determined to survive at any cost, but now that hesitant charm that had earlier so slayed her had disappeared.
 

This guy looked dangerous and scary.

"Mom had...issues." Dennis drew on the cigarette, making the tip glow bright for a second before he went into shadow again. He threw it down, ground it out. "She wanted to make sure she was safe. That I was safe. C'mon. We'll need to move fast. You stay in the truck."

She recoiled. "What? No!"

"You'll be safer." He sounded no-nonsense, not interested in argument, and the way things were going down, Kelsey had no desire to argue with him.
 

But there was no way she was going to let him make her into a doll.

"I'm not staying out here by myself," she told him evenly, keeping her voice from hysteria. Men dismissed her easily enough as it was. She'd learned not to dissolve, it only made them less likely to pay attention to her. "What if something happens to you?"

He moved closer. "It could. Then you'd take the truck, and you'd drive the hell away from here."

"Why don't we just drive away now?" She asked.

"Because...it's my mother," Dennis told her. "I need to make sure she's okay."

Kelsey hated feeling stupid, and she sure did now. When was the last time she'd had anyone in her life she'd be so concerned about? Tyler, maybe, though the fact she'd bludgeoned him to death and dumped him overboard into the Atlantic Ocean to be consumed by sharks had taken some of the fondness out of her memories of him. It would be a long time before the memory of his bared teeth, snapping at her face, would no longer overlay the thoughts of him brushing the hair out of her face the first time he'd told her she was beautiful.
 

"Right. Sure. Of course." She nodded and stepped forward. "Let's go. I'm ready."

Dennis opened the truck door, sending light spilling out so she could clearly see his expression. It wasn't condescending, but it wasn't encouraging, either. "With that foot? You can't keep up. Stay in the truck."

"Keep up with what?" She cried, frustrated. Terrified, actually.

"That fence is just one thing. One," Dennis said. "She's got dozens, hundreds, of security measures in place. I know some of them, but I'm sure she's put up more since the last time I saw her. And I'll need you in the truck when I get the garage open."

Kelsey tested her weight. The foot was better since he'd wrapped it, but he was right. She couldn't run with it. And her wrist, while better, was still weak. She frowned, looking into the truck bed. Then at the house. "But how will I know you're all right?"

"Just wait for me. I'll be fine." Dennis looked grim and not that convinced. "You'll have the gun. Lock the doors. Don't come out for anything, for anyone, but me."

Her shoulder still ached from the last time she'd shot the gun, and Kelsey touched the bruised spot gingerly. "Fine."

"Start the truck. Get ready. When I open the garage, you'll have to back it inside. Can you do that?"

"Yes." She put aside her annoyance. He wasn't being a dick. He was matter-of-fact, setting out what she needed to do. She could do it.

Dennis waited until she'd climbed up into the cab and started it. He slammed the door and rapped on it. She looked down out of the window at him, her heart starting to pound in anticipation of whatever it was. Whatever was coming. She rolled down the window.

"Are you ready?" Dennis asked.

Kelsey said yes.

36

She looked so small inside the truck, her golden hair gleaming like sunshine just before the overhead light winked out. The engine roared. Dennis stopped himself from opening the door and making sure she knew what she was doing. He didn't have time to give her a lesson -- she'd said she could do it, and he'd have to trust her. Right now, he had to get inside the house before Mom's security system got fully into gear.

The fence had only been the first, and not even close to being the most extensive in Mom's arsenal. It didn't matter much -- Dennis wasn't planning on going up to the front door. Or the back. He needed to open the garage and get the truck inside, make sure the supplies would be accessible from inside the house. There was no key, no handle, no lock to pick. There was a small box set against the side of the wall with a keypad inside it. He knew the code. It was always his birthday. She never changed it.
 

That wasn't going to be the problem.

Dennis broke off a twig from the bush against the wall to flip up the front of the box. He used it to punch in the numbers, too, in case she'd added electricity to it. She hadn't, which meant that whatever waited for him inside was going to be worse than a little tingle. With a rumble, the garage door opened. Dennis pressed himself against the wall, bracing himself for anything shooting out as the door opened, but again, nothing. He knew better than to think she'd gone soft. He also knew the garage offered nothing for anyone.

Well. Nothing but possible death and dismemberment. He thumped the back of the truck for Kelsey to go.

He meant to jump around the front as she backed up, to keep the truck between himself and the garage, but the big vehicle didn't roll smoothly. It leapfrogged with a roar. He caught a glimpse of Kelsey's grim face through the front window as he jumped out of the way, still managing to get in front of the truck, though it was already halfway into the garage.

She stalled it there, the cab still fully outside the door. He could see her mouthing words of frustration. The engine ground.
 

Above them, the garage door creaked.

Shit.

"Move!" He slapped the hood. "Kelsey! Go!"

Kelsey, focused on whatever she was trying to do to get the truck moving, didn't look up. The creak of the garage door was even louder than the grinding, cranking engine. He looked up, catching a glint of metal from the underside of the door.

He slapped the hood again. The engine roared to life at last. Kelsey looked up with wide eyes, open mouth. Dennis jumped onto the bumper, fingers tucked tight into the grill, ignoring the sting of heat and sharp metal.

"Go!"

The truck moved with a jerk, nearly spilling him off. Dennis clung to it, looking up at the door. Metal glinted like teeth in a hungry mouth. The truck stalled again, this time just inside the garage door.

The door came down fast, without a sound, plunging them into darkness so thick and deep it made the outside seem as bright as a day at the seashore. It slammed into the ground so hard Dennis felt the rumble of it all the way through him.
 

His back stung. The door had skimmed his shirt, tearing it and scraping the skin beneath. It had come down so close there was no room for him to move. He clung to the hood of the truck, the metal searing his cheek.

The interior light came on as Kelsey opened the door. "Dennis --"

"Get back inside!"

Too late. With the door down, there was no place for them to go. She paused with the truck door open, looking for him but clearly missing him in his place pinned between the truck and the door.

"Get back inside the truck," Dennis said in a low voice, trying no to trigger anything else set up to trip from a certain decibel level. "Close the door."

"But --"

Too late. From either side of him came a the ratcheting noise of metal on metal, gears grinding. The light from the truck didn't spread enough for him to see, but Dennis didn't need to. He'd installed them, after all.

"Get down, on the floor!" He shouted as he shrank himself as best he could in the space between the truck and the door, arms over his head.

They'd be little protection against the arrows, but it was instinct. Head down, arms covering his ears, he still heard the thwack-thwack of the arrows releasing from their ports built into the garage walls. Then the thud-thud of the steel-tipped, specially manufactured spear arrows as they punctured the sides of the truck in neat, carefully placed rows.
 

Round one.

Round two
.

Then a pause. Dennis didn't move. He'd been holding his breath and let it out now as slowly as he could. Red sparks danced in his field of vision, but he wasn't going to pass out. One of the arrows had passed so close over him he swore it had parted not just his hair, but his scalp. A fine trickle of blood traced its way down one cheek.

He couldn't see or hear Kelsey, though the interior light was still on. If she wasn't dead, he hoped she had the sense to stay down, because the first two rounds were just a warning. Dennis shifted, wondering about the trigger. Noise? Motion? Or just timing? How long would he have to wait?

He had his answer in another minute. Without warning, another volley of spear arrows flew in staggered rows. A few of them spanged off the sides of the truck or flew over without hitting, but enough of them impacted to shake the vehicle. One punctured the hood close enough to his hand to numb his fingers from the vibration.

Seconds ticked by while Dennis tried to shift without breaking anything. Three rounds of arrows, that was it. Or was it? Who knew what she'd done to the place since he'd left?
 

Anyone who hadn't been expecting the volleys would certainly be dead. As it was, Dennis counted himself more than lucky to have escaped with just a few scratches. His entire body ached from being squeezed between the truck and garage door, but he could deal with that.

He drew in a breath to suck in his gut and wiggle free. Around the side of the truck, he pulled open the door all the way. He'd already psyched himself into finding her torn and bloodied, so for the first few seconds that's what he saw -- Kelsey's arrow-shredded flesh.
 

When she uncurled herself from the passenger-side floor and launched herself into his arms, Dennis staggered back. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a woman in his arms this way, all hair and soft skin, arms and legs wrapped around him. She sobbed a breath into his ear. His name. He held her close.

"Hey, hey," Dennis said. "It's going to be okay."

Kelsey relaxed her grip on him enough to let her feet touch the ground. She looked into his face, her eyes wide and mouth trembling. "I wish I could believe that."

He did, too.

37

Dennis had pulled a small first aid kit from the truck's glove box, and Kelsey used the antiseptic wipes to clean the number of small scrapes all over him. She didn't have a single one, a fact she found astounding, considering how many of those arrows had ended up inside the truck's cab.
 
She tried to be tender, but it had to hurt him. He took the sting without a grimace.

"Can't you tell her it's you?" She asked quietly when she'd dabbed away the last bit of trickling blood and wiped her hands clean. "Won't she let you in?"

The door from the garage into the house looked normal enough, but Dennis had shown her that it was made of metal and required a passcode to open. He knew the code, but they needed to get ready for what waited for them inside. Based on what she'd seen already, Kelsey wasn't at all sure she was ready for it.

"It won't matter. Besides, she has to know it's me."

"She has cameras?" Kelsey packed up the first aid kit carefully, thinking they'd probably need it again, and that was if they were lucky enough that a few bandages and some antiseptic cream could take care of whatever happened to them.

"Yes." Dennis ran a finger over the scrape on his neck.
 

"But she won't let you in?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Mom and I had a falling out, you could say. She told me when I walked out the door, not to come back."

"But...this is different, isn't it?" Kelsey was no stranger to the weird ways families could "love," that was true. But if she hadn't killed the bitch who'd been her grandmother, she was sure the old woman would've let her back in the house when it looked like the world was ending. She never would’ve gone, of course. But if she had, Grandma would’ve taken her in.

"This is what she's been waiting her whole life for. Something like this. If I'd been in there with her, that would've been one thing. But since she's in there and I'm out here..." he shook his head again. "She'll assume I'm part of it."