Orpheus: Homecoming (The Orpheus Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

Several weeks passed, the previous crisis not forgotten, but in the rearview mirror. The teams knew their jobs and did them efficiently. Every other day, Jameson took Orpheus and Lena up for a bird's eye view of the island. As Lena had suspected, their activity on the island was changing the zombie landscape. The flights allowed her to update her maps and make any necessary changes to the mission plan.

Ethan, Rachel, Tim, and Fish were entirely maintenance-free at this point. Their squad members had bought in to their leadership, so outside of the briefings, Orpheus almost never had to talk business with them. At night, unless he went out of his way to socialize with them, he was free to do his own thing.

His own thing consisted almost exclusively of reading, watching TV, and going to sleep.

He called Jackie every night without fail.

That wouldn't change just because tonight was Halloween, either.

Halloween.

The night that kids walked around dressed up as monsters. That was somehow more and less funny now.

Thompson had told him that sales of zombie costumes were way down. Orpheus had no idea if the reporter was joking, but it would make sense for several reasons.

His tablet computer started to ring. He looked at his watch; Jackie was two hours early on the call. He figured that she'd be handing out candy right now. He pressed the answer button and found that he wasn't that far off.

Jackie started right in. "Hey, babe, I know I'm early, but there's something I just had to show you." The camera panned too fast for his eyes to follow, and then he was looking at a group of trick or treaters on his front porch. He saw a Spider-Man, a Transformer (he couldn't be sure which), a couple of soldiers, a cowboy ... the kids were waving, but that was the only thing that he noticed. His wife seemed to want to show him something big.  "Jackie, what am I supposed to be looking at?"

He heard her disembodied voice. "Look harder. You'll see it."

He did, and then he did. It was the tomahawks that gave it away.

The two soldiers? He was looking at two young boys dressed in a him costume. "No way," he said.

"We're totally you!" one of them yelled, and the other one raised his tomahawk above his head and cheered (the way he was waving it around, Orpheus hoped it was fake). The rest of the kids just kind of went kid nuts. Their blood sugar had probably been spiking for the last hour, anyway.

"I see it, guys! That's awesome!"

They cheered louder.

The tablet swung around again and Jackie's face filled the screen. "How great is that? I almost cried when I saw them. I'm going to give them so much candy."

"I have a better idea. Look in the coffee table drawer. There should be a stack of these." He pointed to the lyre patch on his arm. "Maybe it'll be a collector's item someday."

"Oh, perfect!"

"I'll call you later?" Orpheus asked.

"Nope. You have a party to go to. Ethan's orders. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She kissed the screen. "Love you!" She put the tablet down and he was looking at his ceiling fan. Just before the call disconnected he heard, "Dude, we totally just talked to Orpheus!"

Orpheus sat there for several seconds after the call ended. His face hurt from smiling so much. He'd long since stopped worrying about his public perception. Trager had mentioned that Orpheus and his people had an absurdly high Q Score. Orpheus didn't bother asking what a Q Score was, but he did look it up later. It was better to be liked, he guessed.

But the trick or treaters? That made him think about Ethan when he was a child. He knew he had Ethan's love and respect, but the unadulterated hero worship dried up as he matured and realized that his old man had a hundred faults.

It was nice to get a taste of that one more time. For a moment, he felt younger.

His creaking joints told a different story, but he was good for a party tonight.

He made the trip to the cafeteria.

The "party" was pretty much what occurred in the Zom Shelter on a nightly basis, only on a grander scale and with a whole lot more food. The cooks must have been working on the appetizers alone for days. There were no costumes, of course, but the Halloween music and decorations lent it a festive feel. The first thing he did was grab a plate and load it up with pigs in a blanket. A scoop of mustard completed his meal, and he ate them while he walked through the crowd. He nodded or waved to what felt like everyone before he took up residence at an open table.

Fish leapt into the seat beside him. "Try the bacon-wrapped scallops. They are absolutely delicious."

Orpheus looked at the HDTVs at either side of the cafeteria. They showed a familiar zombie movie, though Orpheus couldn't quite remember the name. "That your doing? Of course it is."

"Hey, it's a training film. Always Be Learning, that's my motto."

"I can see that. What's the booze situation?"

"Absolutely under control. Relax, would ya?"

Orpheus mimed punching a time clock, and had no idea if Fish even knew what the gesture meant. "Where is everybody?"

"Ethan and Tim are playing poker. For funsies, of course. The gals are, hold on a sec," he scanned the crowd, "they're dancing with each other, which actually means that they're dancing with the twenty closest guys, I think."

"Where's Jen?"

Fish's smile slipped a little. "I can barely get her out of the lab. She's there now. I just brought her a plate. She's fine, other than the obsession to find out what happened."

"I'll talk to her tomorrow. No one understands unhealthy obsession better than me."

"Thanks."

"Go play, kid."

Fish jumped up again. "En route!"

Orpheus watched him go and envied his energy. Back in the beginning, Orpheus had thought Fish was nothing but a clown, and that he'd get himself or someone else killed. Orpheus had never been more wrong about anyone, with the possible exception of Martin Trager. Fish's concern for Jen made him concerned, too. There was no doubt that Orpheus' anger at the failed antidote was a big factor in her pushing herself like she was. He'd had broken it, so he'd fix it.

He finished his food and went back for more. He took Fish's advice and grabbed the bacon wrapped scallops, and they were winners.

"Where you sitting?"

Jameson.

"Right there."

"Whatever you're getting, get me some, and I'll take care of the beer."

"Good deal."

They sat down at the table within ten seconds of each other.

Jameson said, "Trade ya," and slid over a beer. Orpheus reciprocated with a plate of food. Jameson tore into the food and they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes while they both ate and drank.

Jameson was fitting right in. He and Orpheus seemed to find reasons to hang out with each other after quitting time. A good part of it was that they were close in age, shared a love of sports and cigars, and were fathers of grown kids. Another thing that Orpheus wouldn't even admit to himself was that there was a giant hole in his life where Mutt and Sam used to be. Mostly, Orpheus thought, it was because that when you scratched the hardass exterior, Jameson was a pretty cool guy. It was odd, because when they were on the island the first time, their few interactions bordered on unpleasant. But that was a pretty stressful time, and he'd come through when he was needed. Orpheus still couldn't believe that Jameson hadn't left them to die in the hospital, given his affiliation at the time.

Jameson had earned his trust, and those few people were always welcome on the island.

"That was some good shit right there, Holt."

"My second plate's sitting like a brick in my stomach."

"Come on. Let's go walk it off, old man."

"You're two years older than I am."

"And still I'm not the one complaining about their digestive issues. Let's grab a smoke. I'm buying."

They exited through the large double doors and stepped into the parking lot. Jameson offered him a cigar and a lighter. Orpheus was about to light up, but he noticed that his companion wasn't doing the same.

"Wasn't this your idea?"

"What?"

"The cigars. It was your idea."

"Yeah. Right, right."

Jameson lit his own and took a draw.

Orpheus could feel that something was wrong, but didn't say anything. They smoked, this time the silence was covering up for something. Orpheus's suspicions were confirmed when he caught Jameson surreptitiously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"We're friends, right?" Jameson finally offered.

"Yeah."

"No, I mean we're
friends
friends."

"I'm not kissing you, Ron."

Jameson barked out a laugh but said, "Would you quit screwing around? I'm serious, for once."

"Yes, of course we're friends. Now what's going on with you?"

Jameson exhaled, his cigar smoke mingling with the water vapor in the cold October air. "I don't know how much longer I can stay here on the island."

"What's the matter? Something going on back home?"

"No, not back home. With me."

"And?"

Jameson just came right out with it. "Lymphoma. My second bout."

That response was completely unexpected, and he had no idea how to react, so he said as much. "I don't know what to say."

"Nothing to say, really. I already got six bonus years. The prognosis this time around is nowhere near as rosy, even with the chemo. And I can't go through that shit again."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I didn't tell you this because I needed anything from you. I told you so you and you alone would know why they're going to "catch" me drunk flying soon. They'll fire me, I'll pack my shit, and I'll just disappear. There are some places I want to see, people I want to talk to. But you above all people deserve to know the truth. I don't want anyone else's sympathy. I'd rather they focus on doing their jobs."

"Thanks," was all Orpheus could think to say.

"You're welcome. I'm not going to leave you high and dry. I already have another pilot in mind to take my place. I'll show her the ropes, and then poof on out of here."

"If you want to keep it a secret, don't you think it'll raise a few red flags if you just brought another pilot on board?"

"Well, that's why you're going to request her."

"And how am I going to do that without tipping anyone off?"

"You're a smart guy. You'll figure something out."

They smoked for a few minutes, neither one looking in the other's direction.

"This pilot," Orpheus said, "is she any good?"

"Real good. She should be. I taught her everything she knows, and the rest is just in the blood."

"In the ...? This is your daughter? Why would you send her here?"

"She wants to be here more than anything, but she didn't get selected. But I figure that your request will count for a lot. I haven't always been able to give her everything she deserves, but I can give her this last gift."

"Does she know?"

"About my relapse? Nope. And until I'm sure that the end is fucking nigh, she won't. The last thing I want is for her to waste her life taking care of me."

Orpheus didn't respond, and Jameson seemed disappointed.

"Nothing to say to that?"

Orpheus moved his hands in small circles around each other, trying to formulate his answer. "It might not be the way I'd handle it, but I'm not in your shoes."

"I wrestled with it for a while. But it's the right thing. Promise me you won't tell her."

"I'm not in love with it, but you have my word."

"And promise me that you'll take care of her."

"You have to ask? I'm taking care of you, and I don't even like you."

That elicited a laugh from Jameson. "Oh, you fucker."

"You sure you don't need anything else before we go?" Peg Morelli asked of her daughter again. How many times that was, Jackie had lost count.

"Mom, go. Have a great trip. I managed to take care of myself pretty well before I lost my island home."

"I know, I just worry about a few things with Cam being, you know."

"She worries about everything," Donnie said good-naturedly. "That's not ever going to change, Peach. So embrace the hovering."

"You stop it or this vacation will go very poorly for you."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. Jackie walked them to the door and ran them through their checklist to make sure that everything was in the car. Luggage? Wallets? Snacks? Check, check, and check. She kissed her parents on the cheek and opened the door. "I'm fine. In fact, I see some wine in my future, as well."

Her parents were halfway down the walkway when Donnie stopped and said, "Seriously, though, do you need -"

"Go already!"

"Okay, okay, we're gone, we're gone."

Jackie watched them back out of the driveway. She waved and shut the door after the tail lights had disappeared from view. She leaned against the door. "I'm sure that Ethan thinks I'm the same way. Well, mother's privilege."

She leaned against the door and just listened. The house was as silent as she could remember it ever being. No kids, no parents, even the dog was sleeping. She missed her family with all of her heart, but she could still appreciate the value of being alone. The quiet was good for the soul, and it would be over before she knew it.

Jackie glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to make sure that everything was ready and take a quick shower. Drying her hair was out of the question, and she just wanted to get the grime off before her guest showed up. She took a quick trip into the kitchen. The wine was breathing, the glasses were clean, and the snacks were in the cupboard.

She trotted to the upstairs bathroom and was downstairs fifteen minutes later to answer the doorbell. She was still toweling off, and her date was early. Not annoyingly so, but Jackie would've liked to have been able to throw on something other than the closest sweats. She could clean up in a few minutes.

She opened the door and stood face-to-face with the man from the gun club, the nice one who had shared the line with her.

"Hi," he said, a charming smile across his face. "You look nice."

"Um, hi," she returned. She wasn't sure about the smile on her own face.

He took a few very slow steps toward her, that smile still beaming. Instinct compelled her to step back into the foyer, but she was unable to speak. Although the door was open, he wouldn't be visible from the neighbor's house and, with the porch light off, a passerby on the street probably wouldn't see much, either.

She mentally kicked herself for not checking the window first. Her discomfort turned into a very real fear, and she tried to slam the door, but he stopped it with a stiff arm and she had no leverage to close it any farther. He reached his right hand behind him and produced a gun, the same Beretta that she had noticed at the club. Cam's gun. He didn't point it at her, only kept it at his side in the most nonchalant manner she could imagine. The way he was tapping it against his hip was unnerving. She almost wished that he did aim at her.

"Man, I thought that those geezers were never going to leave." Then she got her wish, as he put the barrel inches from her forehead. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Her feet refused to comply for a few seconds, but she got her mouth working. "What are you doing? Please don't do this."

He placed the barrel to her forehead this time and pushed. The steel forced her head to crane backward at an awkward angle. She had no choice to walk backward to alleviate the pressure, which was exactly what he wanted. "Hurts, don't it? Trust me, I know." He was in the house now. He kicked the door shut with his heel. He kept the gun trained on her and said, "Don't move. Not even a little." He half-turned to the door and threw the deadbolt.

The sound of the door closing was bad, it made Jackie think of all sorts of horrible parallels. But the sound that the deadbolt made when it was slammed home? Given the context, it was the worst sound that she'd ever heard.

The intruder finished securing the door and turned back to her. "I know that your parents are gone, so I'll ask you one question: Is anyone else here? Do not lie to me."

She didn't need to lie. "No."

"If I see anyone else, you're all dead."

That shook something loose. "Wait, my dog. He's in our bedroom."

"Is your dog going to be a problem?"

"He's like forty pounds and he's behind a gate upstairs."

"I see a single hair come anywhere near me, you know what happens."

She nodded.

"Good." He didn't say anything for a moment while he looked around. He poked his head into the living room and the dining room. He seemed to be satisfied and said, "Let's get something to eat." He flicked the gun in the direction of the kitchen, and she led him in. They got to the table and he said, "Stay." She stood rooted to the spot where her husband would usually sit. She'd give anything to have him burst through the door now, but she was on her own.

The man looked around the kitchen. He took the wooden knife holder and dropped it, knives and all, into the trash. He was taking no chances with her. "I figure that any wife of his might actually be willing to cut someone if needs be. Consider it a grudging respect." He got down on a knee and inspected the underside of the table. "Or shoot them. Stay there."

She did.

"Now I know that a man like that has to have several guns stashed around the house. You're not going to get close enough to use any of them, understand?"

Jackie was trying to keep herself aware, ready. She apparently didn't answer quickly enough for him, because he exploded. "I asked you if you fucking understood, bitch!!!"

She actually jumped in her chair. "I do, I do." She kept her voice as calm as possible, but she was terrified of this man. She didn't even know what he wanted.

"So this is the Holt place, huh? This is nice. You have a very mature decorating style. Most women ... at least the ones I've met ... put in overtime to be as trendy as possible, shit they saw in ten different magazines, and it just turns out a mess. You? Classic. It works."

The sudden change in demeanor didn't alleviate her fear at all. It had the opposite effect. But at least they were talking, and she wouldn't be psychologically bullied by this man. He clearly wanted her for something, and it didn't seem like she was the target at all. "So you know who my husband is? I thought you were just the unluckiest burglar in town."

He snickered. "Lady, I know exactly where I am. And I don't give a shit who your husband is. Oh, hey, you have one of those German coffee things with the cups." He moved to the counter and casually rotated the holder, checking out the selection. He ejected the old cup and placed the new one in. "Mugs?"

"Cabinet to your left."

"Gotcha." He pulled one out immediately and held it up. It was decorated with a horde of zombies. "Really?"

"You wouldn't believe how many things like that were given to him as homecoming gifts."

"That seems kind of insensitive, don't you think?"

"Actually, yes. But he shrugged it off."

He motioned to the Merlot on the countertop. "What's with the wine?"

"I was looking forward to a nice, quiet night reading."

"I get it. It'd be beer and porn for me, but quiet time is quiet time, right?"

This,
Jackie thought,
is the single most surreal conversation I've ever had.

The intruder said nothing else while the coffee brewed. A gurgling sound signified that it was done. He took the mug out and inhaled deeply. "I'd offer you one, but I don't want it chucked at my face."

The thought had definitely crossed her mind, and she was still scrambling for another way out.

"Let's grab a seat and have a little chat." He motioned for her to sit down first. She almost sat in her husband's seat, but thought better of it and moved to the one on the corner.

"Something wrong?"

"I hate kitchen chairs with arms, but they belonged to my husband's parents." She motioned to the next chair. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

She settled in and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. It came as no surprise to her that he took the seat on the opposite corner. He wasn't taking any chances with her at all. She almost felt complimented.

Her eyes were drawn to the steaming black coffee in front of him. "Creamer's in the fridge."

"Oh, no need to ruin it. I'm sure you have questions."

She did. "Why are you here? If you know who my husband is, you have to know that just going as far as you already have is pretty dangerous for you."

"Well, life is a risk."

"But you said you don't care who he is."

"I wasn't being completely honest with you about that."

"Or at the club."

"Hey, I never said anything at the club. Anyway, I guess I do have a bit of a grudge against him, but that can be wiped clean if he does a little job for me. No muss, no fuss. In fact, if he does that, you don't have anything to worry about, either. I'll leave both of you alone."

"Then why not just ask him?"

"Come on, really? I'm not asking him to drive me to the airport. He might have to get dirty."

"And you think that this is the best way?"

He shrugged. "It's the way I chose. No going back now."

The conversation was making her feel a little better about her circumstances. He wasn't after her sexually, he didn't seem all that eager to hurt her (although she had no doubt that he was willing, if it came to that), and if he was telling the truth, there was a way for everyone to get out in one piece.

She wondered about the "job," though. The vagueness worried her.

Still, she was in a better place now than she was twenty minutes ago. "So I have your word that if my husband does what you say you'll leave my family alone?"

"I didn't say exactly that."

Now she was confused. "What
did
you say then?"

"I said that you and your husband can go on your way. And I mean that."

He took a long sip of his coffee and savored it for a maddening length of time. Jackie wanted to scream at him to hurry up, but thought better of it. When he finally did speak, it chilled her blood.

"But Ethan ... now that's different. Personal."