Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [36]
“How was the zoo?”
I didn’t have time to measure, but I think I jumped about twelve feet. I twisted in pain from the sudden jerking movement, my eyes rolling over to Brooke. She stared at me from her perch on my easy chair. Either she was a light sleeper or she hadn’t been napping at all.
“Sorry,” she said. “Forgot you were sliced and diced.”
I sucked in a breath and settled slowly back onto the couch. As uncomfortable as I felt, Brooke had to feel way worse. “No, my fault,” I said. “I guess I’m a little wound up.” I looked at her more closely. “Is that my Alkaline Trio T-shirt?”
“Yup.”
“Man, I just got that.”
Brooke tried to look down at the shirt, but failed. “You took me to see that show, Sam, and I listened to those CDs you let me borrow. Something tells me they’d be strangely okay with their T-shirt’s new use.”
I couldn’t really argue with that.
“It was the guy with the potato, wasn’t it?”
“I thought you didn’t remember your—you know.” I pantomimed slitting my throat, a slightly misguided attempt at levity. But I couldn’t say “death” to her. I just couldn’t.
“I don’t, not really. But I’ve been seeing pieces, mostly from when I was in the box. Voices talking—one sounded familiar.”
“His name is Douglas.”
We sat for a minute in an uncomfortable silence.
“He’s scary, isn’t he?” Brooke’s voice was quiet, serious. I had never heard her sound like that.
“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” It was scary when someone threatened everyone that you loved. If I didn’t do what he wanted, what would happen? An accident for my neighbors? My sister’s head in my freezer? My stomach dropped thinking about it. There was no way to know where he’d strike, and no way to guess what I could do to keep everyone safe. And no point dwelling on what might be—I’d go crazy if I kept that up. I shifted a little in my seat. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s it like? You know…” I trailed off, waving vaguely at her head.
“Being a head? What do you think it’s like?” Her voice took on an edge.
I imagined it would be horrible, but I waited for Brooke to continue. I needed to hear it from her, and I thought she needed to vent.
“I’ve been stuck in your apartment all day watching the news to see if they’ve discovered my body yet. It’s weird, Sam, really freaking weird. I’m dead, but I’m not. When I see a commercial for restless legs syndrome, I start to cry, and I can’t tell if it’s because the commercials are so annoying or if it’s because I’m jealous of their legs, restless or otherwise.” She paused to blow a hair out of her face. “And I just blew a hair out of my face. Something totally normal, but now I have to wonder, How did I do that? All of the simple things are suddenly complicated.” She frowned, but it quickly morphed into Brooke’s beatific smile. “On the upside, I no longer have to work at Plumpy’s.”
I looked away, staring at the blank TV. Even in her position, Brooke was trying to stay positive. I wanted to be positive for her too, but I felt sick inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Brooke—Brooke’s head—staring at me. I wanted to reassure her, but I didn’t think I could be very convincing. I wanted to crumple in on myself.
“Sam, this isn’t your fault.”
I lay back against the couch, not really seeing anything. I closed my eyes. “In what way is this not my fault?” I asked.
“He killed you as a message to me. Without me, you would still be alive. If I’d had a better slap shot, I wouldn’t have broken that taillight and none of this would have happened.”
“A lot of things in life would improve if you’d work on your aim. But you didn’t kill me,” she said, eyes intent. “He did. You can’t take the blame for every psycho in Seattle.”
“But I can try.”
Brooke laughed, and I felt a little better.
I heard the rattle of keys and the lock tumbling over. Ramon entered, keys in one hand, a pile of books in the other, and a paper bag in his mouth. The keys went into his pocket, and he tossed the bag at me. It felt hot, and I could hear the crackle of foil inside. A familiar,