Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [34]
There were three pandas in the enclosure. Two of them ambled about, stopping to gnaw on the occasional clump of bamboo. But the third sat on his own in the far corner, and I couldn’t help but notice that the other two wouldn’t go near him. And that he wasn’t eating bamboo. He held some in his paw, and he stared at it, but he didn’t eat any. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s dead.”
A kid had wandered up behind Douglas and, after overhearing him, started to cry. The kid ran to his mother, grasping onto her slim waist. She glared at us and walked away. Douglas didn’t seem to notice.
“What was that?” I asked.
“The big male, Ling Tsu, died his first night here. The zoo panicked. They had promoted the exhibit for weeks, and Ling Tsu didn’t even belong to them. Someone I do considerable business with gave them my number as a…temporary solution until they can sort things out.” Douglas stared evenly at the pandas. They could have been furniture for all the reaction he had to them. “The zoo was in a tight spot, things being what they are with China and all.”
“What’s wrong with China?”
Douglas turned his stare on me, but this time it was tinged with derision. “Trade imbalance, human rights violations, contaminated medicines?”
I shook my head. I tried not to watch the news. Too depressing. They just don’t make very good episodes of it anymore.
Douglas sighed again. “Lead-based paint on toys?”
“Oh, right. They made a reference to that on Law & Order, I think.”
I watched as one of the pandas did the slow panda version of a frolic. “So, you’re telling me the zoo commissioned you to make a zombie panda in order to avoid a potential international incident,” I said.
“In a nutshell, yes.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this because…?”
“Because you’ve seen it, Sam.”
He said my name like I was a disobedient child. I got the feeling that Douglas wasn’t used to people doubting his word.
“Sorry, but this thing sounds a little far-fetched for me. And why on earth are you showing me this anyway? Here, kid, an undead panda. Enjoy?” I shook my head. “Screw you, Douglas.”
“You insolent—” Douglas cut himself off and took a deep breath. He turned those cold eyes on me, and I stepped back, just a fraction, but enough for him to see how much he scared me. Fine, let him see.
“I brought you here to make a deal, Sam. The panda is just an example of a larger idea. People die inconveniently all the time, too. Senators, heads of state, CEOs, dictators. Sometimes other people need to keep them around just a little longer. That’s what I do. The right people with the right money have my name. They could have yours, too.”
“I don’t follow.” Why would I want politicians to have my name? Politics gave me a rash.
“Power, Sam. I’m offering you power and wealth. I could teach you, if you want. Your power isn’t great, but I could bring it out, show you how to make the most of it. I’ve kept governments from collapsing. And it’s not just politics. Do you think the Stones would still be on tour without my help?”
I mulled that one over. Really, it could be any of the Stones. They’d been living the rock ’n’ roll life for quite a long time now. And while it was easy to picture Mick as the undead, it had to be—“Keith,” I said, pleased with my quick turnaround. Douglas didn’t look too impressed with my answer, and I guess it was kind of obvious. Ramon had been operating for years under the assumption that Keith was a cyborg, and being undead wasn’t far off from that. Same general idea, just different method.
I began to wonder what he meant by politics. Zombies in the Senate and as heads of state actually cleared a lot of things up for me. In fact, if you told most people that the White House was being run by the legions of the undead, they’d probably just say, “Figures.” Who else was Douglas keeping alive? An image of Jimmy Carter flashed in my mind. Would he start campaigning for the rights of the reanimated if he passed from the mortal sphere? “Is it Jimmy Carter? The queen? She’s been around a long time.