Broken Heart 7.5 - The Adventures of Zombie Larry Read online

  “Larry?”

  Jenny’s voice filtered down from the tree house. He shook off the memories, and began the climb. His thick fingers and sneakered feet didn’t do well on the thin strips of wood. He slipped a few times, but finally, he managed to get to the square hole cut in the bottom of the tree house. It was at least a decade old, and the floor creaked ominously as he crawled onto it.

  Jenny was prepared. She had two battery-powered lanterns, a stockpile of energy bars, chocolate, and bottled water. She even had pillows and a sleeping bag. “I figure you can hang out here until… well, we figure out what to do next.”

  “Thank you, Jenny. You’re a good friend.”

  She beamed at him.

  He remembered that his daughters used to smile at him like that, especially if he’d said yes to candy or to an extra bedtime story. Fifty years. He could never, ever get those years back. His life had been stolen.

  “Why are you… you know, alive?” Jenny was studying him, her smile giving way to a frown.

  “This.” He pulled the gem out of his pocket. “It’s a wishing stone.”

  “Wishing stone?” She looked skeptical, which made him laugh. The child lived in a town with vampires, dragons, werewolves, and zombies, but the idea of a gem that granted wishes seemed unbelievable to her. He tucked it back into his pocket.

  “A long time ago a mage named Merlin made it. It’s dangerous, Jenny. A lot of people would like to get their hands on it. People who aren’t very nice.”

  “Why don’t you wish it away?”

  “I can’t. There are rules. Especially for the guardian.” One wish per person. He’d never made a wish on it. He hadn’t known what it was until after Lila died. She’d transferred guardianship to him the day before she passed away, and told him what it did mere minutes before she breathed her last. He would never know why she didn’t wish away her disease. Had she already made a wish? Or did she want so badly to be free of the gem, she preferred to die? He wanted to believe enough in her love, in her loyalty, to think she would’ve never left him and their daughters alone unless she felt as though she had no choice.

  The day his girls disappeared, he’d intended on going to the stone’s hiding place and wishing for their return, but Ean had found him first. And killed him.

  After he died, he had no idea where he’d gone. He didn’t remember. Not heaven, not hell. Not even limbo.

  One night, he’d woken up in his desiccated body fighting in a battle right out of an Orson Welles screenplay. It turned out that Queen Patsy had called forth the dead in the Broken Heart cemetery to fight demons and vampires trying to destroy the town.

  After the fighting was over, and they had won, he could only think about staying out of the grave. He knew there was something he was supposed to do, but not what. And he hadn’t known his name, or even what he was. There was only that insistent, driving urge to remain upright and moving.

  Then he’d found the gem in Stan and Linda’s backyard.

  The moment he touched it, everything instantly came back, and he’d made the wish to live again. He’d felt the heat and the power of the magic—and then… well, he’d woken up in a snowdrift, then in Ralph’s Honda, and finally in the bed at Queen Patsy’s house.

  “I have to find my daughters.”

  “No problem,” said Jenny. “I’ve been Googling all the over the place.” She pulled out a small laptop.

  Larry understood that technology had made many leaps since his demise. He’d seen enough computers on his ramblings to know what they were—even if he wasn’t sure how they worked. Curious, he watched Jenny flip open the machine and start tapping on the keys.

  “Their names are Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, right?”

  “Yes,” said Larry. “How’d you know?”

  “Tamara and I looked up their school records.” Tap, tap, tap. “You filed a missing persons report a couple hours before you disappeared.”

  “Did they… were they…” He swallowed the knot his in throat. “Found?”

  “You mean dead?” She looked at him, sympathy in her gaze. “Not here. But…” She turned the laptop around and showed him the screen. “Adoption records for Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, both with the last name of Stotten. They grew up in Tulsa, and still live there. They got married, had kids, and grandkids.”

  “Adopted?” Bea had been six, and Cathy eight. Now his own children were older than he was. He’d been returned to the age he’d died, which made him thirty-two.

  Jenny shrugged. “There’s nothing about them being found in town. Or how they ended up getting adopted.”

  Had Lila’s brother kidnapped them, and then somehow grown a conscious, allowing them to return to Tulsa to be adopted? His stomach squeezed. Had Ean adopted them?

  “Who raised my girls?”

  “Leticia and Ernest Mortimer,” said Jenny.

  Larry frowned. He’d never heard of them.

  “Is it really important to know how they got there?” asked Jenny. “You wanted to know what happened to ’em, and now you do. Bea’s an accountant and Cathy’s a doctor.”

  Larry looked away, his eyes hot with tears. His daughters were alive, and apparently doing well. And what could he do? Show up and say, “Hey, I’m your dead father?”

  “I’d like to see them,” he said. He just needed to make sure they were okay. “Can you find out about Ean Whittaker?”

  Jenny nodded. While she worked, he ate one of the energy bars. It wasn’t too bad, but the chocolate bar was much better. He’d forgotten how great food could taste.

  “Dead.”

  Larry blinked. “What?”

  Once again, she turned the computer around and handed it to Larry. On the screen was an article from the Tulsa Tribune. It was dated the same day he’d died.

  Three men and two little girls had been in a car accident. Apparently the car had stalled on a train track and been broadsided. Only the girls had escaped unscathed.

  “My daughters lived,” said Larry as he returned the laptop. “And Ean and his goons died.”

  Maybe Lila had made a wish, after all. It would be just like her to plan ahead like that, and very much like her to give up her own life for their girls. He felt oddly at ends. The driving force behind his re-animation, and his own wish to live again, seemed to be moot.

  “What now?” asked Jenny.

  “I don’t know.” He unwrapped another chocolate bar. “I’ll go to Tulsa and see the girls, and then… well, I guess I could live in Broken Heart.”

  “Your house is kinda falling down,” said Jenny. She chewed on her bottom lip. “They’re gonna want to test you and stuff.”

  “Who?”

  “Doctor Stan.”

  Larry shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  He reached over and chucked her under the chin. “You’re a good kid, Jenny.”

  “What-ev-er.” She rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was pleased by his compliment.

  “I guess we don’t have to hide out then,” said Jenny. “I can take you home. Mom and Dad will help you.”

  “Okay,” said Larry. He was still the guardian of the gem’s power even though he couldn’t wield it. He’d used his wish. But maybe it could be used to help Broken Heart and the people who lived here.

  “C’mon,” said Jenny. She shut the laptop and shoved it into a backpack. Then she grabbed one of the lanterns. “If I’m not back for breakfast, Mom’ll flip her sh—er, stuff.”

  “Flip her stuff?”

  “Yeah,” she said, blushing. “It’s one of the crazy things us teens say.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She scurried to the hole and made her way down the trunk. Then Larry followed, a little more sure-footed this time.

  Jenny waited for him, and then turned to make her way through the woods toward her house on Sanderson Street. Larry paused and looked up into the night sky. In his pock
et, the wishing stone pulsed warmly, just like a heartbeat.

  Just like a second chance.

  Bonus Stories About The Magic Gem!

  DEAD YOU HEAR THAT?

  “Where the hell is that damned box?” I paused and looked over my shoulder. I don’t know why I bothered. We were in the attic of the house on Sanderson Street, which was where I’d lived with my kids while I was alive, and for a little while as a vampire. It’s a long story. Anyway, my family and I had moved back into the house after vacating the Silverstone mansion. I wasn’t too sorry about leaving there—it was huge, dusty, and a bitch to clean. Also, I got a lost. A lot.

  “She’s not here, Jessica,” said my husband. My sexy Irish vampire bent over a trunk and dug through the contents. “And quit lookin’ at my ass.”

  “I wasn’t,” I protested, moving my gaze away from his butt. (P.S. Fantastic view, peeps. Better naked, but hey, I’ll take it where I can get it.) As for the “she” Patrick was talking about—that was my daughter, Jenny aka She Who Rules the Bad Words. My inability to stop cursing had put enough money in the Cussing Jar to pay for a Wii. Needless to say, I was paranoid. Jenny popped up out of nowhere with that damned jar. I think she’s saving up for a PlayStation 3. Or college.

  Patrick straightened. Cobwebs clung to his longish black hair. He plucked them out and sighed. “You know we’re rich, right? Wealthy beyond measure. I could buy you new decorations. I could buy you an entire factory that made decorations.”

  “But these are family decorations,” I whined. “Stuff the kids made. Like that Frankenstein Bryan made from a coffee can… and that pumpkin candle thingie that Jenny painted in 2nd grade.”

  “I can buy you new children.”

  “Patrick!”

  He grinned; and lust zipped through me as hot and quick as lightning. He knew it, too, because his smile went all sexy. “Screamin’ is traditional on Halloween, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not Halloween.”

  “I still want to explore the screamin’ issue. We should practice, I think.”

  Patrick tended to blur my good judgment—well, what little I actually had. It’s not like I’d ever get a medal for good decision making. Still, I felt like I should at least try to accomplish the mission that had brought us to the attic.

  “The sooner we find the decorations,” I said, being all practical and responsible, “the sooner we can get to that screaming thing.”

  Patrick drew me into his arms and kissed me until I couldn’t feel my toes. Then he stepped back and looked down at me, tender desire illuminating his silver gaze. “As you wish.”

  “Don’t even try, Sucky McSuckpants.”

  He laughed. Then he let go of me and headed toward the opposite corner. I followed him to another towering pile of boxes, none of which I’d bothered to label. We each took a box. I found baby clothes; Patrick found Christmas lights.

  The last box held the treasures I was looking for. Most of the items had been created by either Jenny or Bryan. When Rich, Jr. got older, I imagined he’d make a few things to add to my trove. He was my adopted son (part of that long story I mentioned earlier) and I loved him to the bottom of my undead heart.

  Something glittered among the stick-figure witches and the orange and black paper chains. I plucked it and held it up to the wavering yellow light that barely cut into the dark attic. Not that Patrick and I needed too much light. Our vamp vision was awesome.

  The gemstone was orange and about the size of a kiwi. I’d never seen it before and I wondered how it had gotten into the box of Halloween goodies.

  “Let me see it, love.”

  I handed it to Patrick and he spent a quiet minute studying it. “There’s magic here,” he said.

  “Uh-oh. The good kind, or the bad kind?”

  “I don’t know. It’s too faint to tell.”

  “Well, let’s give it to someone who can figure out what it is.”

  “Dr. Michaels then.” Patrick stood and picked up the box of decorations. Because he was part Sidhe, he could fly, so he lowered himself through the attic trapdoor easily. I could do the same trick, but I choose to use the ladder.

  When we got to the kitchen, Patrick put the box on the table. We’d wait until the kids got home from school to go through the stuff. Rich, Jr. was hanging out with his grandpa, and I was only slightly worried Ruadan was somewhere doing something he shouldn’t.

  Patrick took out the gem and examined it again. “It looks kinda familiar.” He handed it to me and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “I’m goin’ to call Stan and hand it over to him. Maybe he can figure out what it is.”

  How had something magical ended up in my attic in a bunch of Halloween decorations? I’d never seen it before. Had one of the kids found it last year and just thrown into the box thinking it was Halloween-y?

  Patrick finished his phone call. “Dr. Michaels will pick it up later.”

  “You know what I wish I had?” I asked, rubbing the gem. It was feeling a little hot. I didn’t have a pulse, much less a temperature, so it wasn’t me generating the heat.

  “Chocolate?”

  “Why do you always assume that’s my wish?”

  “Because it always is.”

  “This time it’s something different.”

  Patrick looked at me, a smile flirting on his lips.

  “I want those Godiva pecan pie truffles.” I grinned. “In bed. With you.”

  He laughed and wrapped is arms around me. He leaned down for a kiss then paused.

  Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.

  “Dead you hear that?” I asked.

  Patrick looked at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Really? Why do you try to work ‘dead’ into every sentence?”

  “‘Cause I still think it’s funny.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  We hurried up the stairs, following the odd sounds to our bedroom. Patrick opened the door and we peered inside.

  Little foil-wrapped balls were raining onto the bed. Thanks to my vampire nose,

  I could smell the gourmet delight that was Godiva. I pushed past Patrick, who protested and tried to grab my arm, but hel-lo, ain’t nothing or no one getting between me and a freaking bed full of Godiva.

  I grabbed one of the truffles, unwrapped it, and stuffed into my mouth. “Oh, my sweet lord,” I said, “it really is a pecan pie truffle.”

  “Jessica, where’s the stone?”

  I tossed him the gem and crawled onto the bed. I made a space, said a brief prayer of thanks that I no longer had to worry about widening my ass, and started unwrapping truffles.

  “You made a wish while holding this,” he said.

  I glanced at him, a half-unwrapped truffle in my hand. “Do you think it has more wishes?”

  “I think if it does, it’s a very dangerous object.”

  “Well, Stan will figure it out. We can lock up it the Consortium vault, but right now…” I patted the bed. “We have chocolate. All we need is nakedness.”

  Patrick locked our bedroom door, put the weird orange gem onto the nightstand, and then climbed onto the bed, pushing aside the truffles. From that look in his eyes, I had a feeling things were about to get messy.

  In a screamingly good way.

  Zombie Poetry

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh. Uh. Uh.

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh? Uh?

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh!

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh… uh… uh.

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh; uh.

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh: Uh, uh, uh.

  Uuuuuuh.

  Uh? Uh. Uh!

  Brains.

  TUESDAY, THE 13TH

  “What’re you doing?” asked Linda as she entered the basement lab. Her husband, Dr. Stan Michaels, removed the gem he’d been studying under some fancified scientific doo-dad. “Oooh. That’s pretty.”

  “Jessica found it in her attic in a box of Halloween decorations,” he said. “Patrick sensed mag
ic. He said it granted Jessica’s wish.”

  “Chocolate?” asked Linda.

  “Apparently it rained pecan pie truffles in their bedroom.”