The Undertakers (18 page)

Bombshell

Haven was about kids, and kids are about games and television.

The Rec Hall was the largest sectioned-off area of the Big Room—and with good reason. Inside it were smaller plywood rooms that included everything from air hockey tables to video games—all for free. This made the Rec Hall easily the most popular place in the Undertakers' HQ.

And the TV room was easily the most popular place in the Rec Hall.

Six older but working twenty-five-inch televisions had been lined up along the walls. Each TV was currently being watched by a handful of off-duty Undertakers, and these groups were frequently bickering over their competing volume levels and selection of programming. Cartoons here. Sports there. Game shows over there. There was one TV showing CNN, which I honestly didn't think I'd watched for more than five seconds in my life.

It was a noisy place.

I'd come here from the meeting because I couldn't think of anywhere else to wander. Curious eyes watched me as I slipped through the rain of wooden beads that covered the Rec Hall's only entrance. They followed me as I moved dejectedly down the short corridor toward the video arcade.

At least fifteen kids were there, sharing the dozen available machines, with the Burgermeister easily towering over the rest. He was playing Mortal Kombat, and as I watched, Dave's cartoonish, muscle-bound fighter victoriously turned its hapless opponent into sushi.

The Burgermeister threw his big fists skyward. “I rule!”

“Nice job,” I commented.

He beamed. “There's my man! How'd the meeting go?”

“Um,” I began, noticing the way the other kids were eying me. “Let's go next door, okay?”

“Sure!” Dave replied loudly. “One of you dudes take my game. Me and my man here need to talk!”

Inwardly I sighed.

We went into the air hockey room next door, which was currently unoccupied. “So? The meeting!” Dave demanded.

“Keep your voice down,” I told him. “These aren't real walls, ya know.”

“Right. Sorry. What happened? Did they talk about us? Where they're putting us, I mean?”

“The Moms,” I said. Then as the Burgermeister moaned, I added, “Tom wanted to put me into the Angels.”

“What? You kidding?”

I shook my head glumly.

“Man! That rocks! Think you can get me in too? I mean, maybe not right away…but in a couple of months? Seriously I don't think I can stand doing the dishes and collecting trash. What am I, a maid?”

“I don't think it's gonna happen,” I said.

“You don't think what's gonna happen?”

“I don't think I'm going to be an Angel.”

Dave's expression slackened. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because I don't think I'll be around here much longer.”

I told him what happened at the meeting, finishing up with my own long, stupid speech about finally striking back at the Corpses.

“Anyway,” I concluded, “I just mouthed off to the head honcho—right in front of all his under-honchos. Do you really think he can keep me around after that, no matter who my dad was?”

Dave thought about it all for a full minute before latching onto exactly the wrong point. “So it's true what everyone's been saying? Your dad was the cop who started the Undertakers?”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And he was the only adult to ever See the Corpses?”

“Well, at least until Tom and Sharyn turn eighteen.”

“Whoa! Like, no wonder you're so good!”

I frowned. “What?”

“I'm just saying that you must have, you know, inherited all your game from your old man.”

“My game?”

The Burgermeister rolled his eyes. “Your fighting skills, dude! And the way you always know what to do!”

I groaned. “Dave, I almost got us killed last night.”

“Yeah? Well, if I'd been in charge, we'd never have gotten outta the kitchen! You think any of those other geeks could've done better?”

I felt utterly flabbergasted.

“I'll tell you something else,” Dave continued. “That thing about taking the fight right to the Corpses sounds dead-on to me! If you do get kicked out, I'm going with you!”

Before I could form a reply, a new voice added, “Me too.”

Helene stood in the doorway, smiling.

I hadn't seen her since the night we'd sparred. That had been more than a week ago.

“Hi,” I said.

Her smile widened. “Hi yourself.”

Dave said, “Helene, right?”

“Right. And you must be Dave Burger.”

“That's me!” The boy grinned proudly. “Except everybody calls me the Burgermeister.”

I hadn't actually noticed anybody beside me calling him that but decided not to say so.

“Well, um…Burgermeister,” Helene said, her smile faltering, “I kind of got something private to talk to Will about. Could you…?” Her voice trailed off. She flushed.

I suddenly felt like crawling under the cement floor.

Dave looked back and forth between us. “Oh! I get it! Hmmm…think I'll go catch me some SpongeBob.” He gave me a hard slap on the back. “Don't do nothing I wouldn't do.”

And off he went, whistling.

Helene said nervously, “I guess maybe I should've waited until later, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Is he going to—talk about us or something?”

“Probably,” I said.

“And that doesn't bother you?”

“I've got an army of Corpses who want to do experiments on me,” I said. “
That
bothers me.”

Helene lowered her eyes. “Yeah. Listen, I meant what I said just now. The crew boss meeting just ended, and Sharyn told me what went down. If Tom kicks you out, I'm going with you. I think a bunch of others might too.”

“I didn't say what I said to rip the Undertakers apart,” I told her.

“I know that.” She came closer and whispered, “Truth is, a lot of us have felt like fighting back for a long time. But Tom's always shot down the idea. He says we're not ready yet—that we've got to increase our numbers.”

“I've heard his argument.”

Helene nodded. “But while we're picking up kids, the Corpses are multiplying too! Our best guess is that they control a third of the cops, including the chief of police. There's even a Corpse on the city council! We don't know where they're coming from, but more are coming all the time. So no matter how fast we grow, we're always going to be outnumbered.”

I considered this. “I can't believe Tom doesn't realize that.”

“He says he does but that it doesn't change things. He says that right now, staying alive has to be our first priority.”

“And yet Tara and Kyle are dead,” I remarked bitterly.

Helene's expression twisted into a moment's grief. “Yeah.”

“Tom's a good leader,” I told her.

“He's a
great
leader,” Helene agreed at once.

“And a good guy,” I added.

“That too. But he's wrong, and you're right. We've got to start fighting back—before the Corpses take over the whole city.”

I studied this pretty girl and wondered vaguely if I still had a crush on her. I wasn't sure. Right now I just didn't seem to have any room for those kinds of feelings.

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Um…I'm really sorry about what happened at First Stop.”

Thinking she meant last night's Corpse attack, I replied, “What for? You weren't even there.”

She scowled. “Not
that!
Last week! When I beat you up!”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I'm sorry.”

I shrugged. “I had it coming. I was a jerk talking to you the way I did.”

She grinned. “Well, maybe a little. So—we're cool?”

“We're cool.”

Abruptly Dave's voice boomed from the direction of the TV room. “Yo, dudes! Get in here! Quick!”

Alarmed by something in his tone, Helene and I shared a wary look and ran out together.

This time there were a lot more kids in the TV room, and the sets were all tuned to the same channel: NBC local news. There, behind a news desk on some City Line Avenue sound stage, sat Kenny Booth. Of course, he was still wearing Kyle's body, only now it was wrapped in a fancy tailored suit.

“Look at this!” Dave exclaimed, pointing wildly at the screen. The other kids shushed him.

Words ran below Kyle's gray, dead face.

NBC News anchor Kenny Booth announces his bid for mayor.

Kenny Booth was speaking, his voice authoritative and trustworthy. It was Kyle's voice, but naturally nobody could recognize that but us. “So in light of Mayor Runston's resignation and with the emergency election just two weeks away, I feel a sense of community obligation to offer my services to the city of Philadelphia.”

“Holy crap!” Burt Moscova muttered. I looked over and saw him standing beside his brother Steve.

“I realize that this will be a shock to many of my more loyal viewers. It certainly came as one to my own director, Pete Reubens, when I informed him of my intentions this morning. But please know that I haven't made this decision lightly. Philadelphia has suffered a terrible blow with the loss of Mayor Stuart Runston, especially under such circumstances. I feel compelled—no, check that—obligated to present myself as a candidate for his post. If elected, I will bring to City Hall not only my long experience with the day to day affairs of this city that I've come to love in the three years that I've lived here but also an honest man's determination to avoid my predecessor's political and moral stumbles.

“I thank you.”

Silence fell over the Rec Hall. All eyes were staring glumly at the televisions, which were now all playing the same car commercial.

Suddenly the Burgermeister laughed and barked, “A Corpse mayor!” Then, looking around, he added, “What's everybody so down about?”

“What's everybody so down about?” Steve echoed incredulously. “We just heard Kenny Booth say he's running for mayor!”

“Yeah?” Dave asked. “So what? Who cares who's mayor? I couldn't have told you who the last one was!”

Steve threw up his hands in disgust. “Don't you get it? If he wins, that Corpse will effectively control the entire city! Never mind that he could promote other Corpses to important positions! Never mind that the office of mayor of Philadelphia is often a good stepping stone to the Pennsylvania governor's office in Harrisburg! As mayor, Booth could send the whole police department after us! He could use every resource this city's got to hunt us down!”

The color drained from the Burgermeister's face. “Oh,” he muttered weakly.

“Yeah!” Steve snapped. “Oh!”

I glanced over at the curtained doorway. Filling it, with his sister beside him, stood Tom.

Our eyes met.

I said, “We can't let this happen.”

Dissent

At eight p.m. on Tuesday, the Undertakers gathered.

It was a pretty big deal—one that took some time to set up, especially considering the forty Schoolers who had to be called back from the field. But finally, all 122 Undertakers were onsite—something that, according to Helene, was very rare.

And usually meant trouble.

The kids had all come together in an open area of the Big Room—some standing; others sitting Indian-style on the concrete floor. An unhappy murmur rumbled through the crowd. It reminded me of the impatience in the air right before a school assembly, except that instead of boredom, it was nervousness that had stuck ants in our collective pants.

Tom moved through the crowd, greeting almost everyone by name. Finally he climbed onto a folding chair that Nick had set up for him. There, standing tall and in easy sight of everyone, the Chief of the Undertakers spread his arms.

The murmurs stopped.

He cut right to the chase—no empty speeches for Tom Jefferson. “Undertakers, Kenny Booth just announced on the news that he's making a run for mayor.” The murmuring started up again as those who hadn't yet heard this news reacted to it. Tom waited for the chatter to die down. Then he said, “Now, as y'all must know, Philly's old mayor, Stu Runston, resigned two weeks ago after getting nailed in an appropriations scandal—the same scandal that's cost the jobs of half the city council. It's the biggest political shake-up this town has ever seen. At least a dozen city officials are looking at resignation or even jail time.”

I hadn't heard any of this, although Helene, standing beside me, nodded sagely.

Dave asked, “What's an
appropriation?
”

No one replied.

Tom continued, “It's a situation that we've been monitoring real close, especially since we suspect the Corpses are somehow behind it. Thing is, they ain't never before tried anything quite this big—and we ain't been sure if this is really them or just normal human stupidity.

“But Booth's announcement today settled all that.

“This here scandal has totally fouled up the city structure, leaving what's called a
vacuum at the seat of power
. Bottom line: the way things stand, there ain't nobody really in line for mayor, and Philly needs a mayor.

“The city charter's got this special election amendment that allows for an acting mayor to be elected to finish out Runston's term. That election's been called for the first Tuesday in November—two weeks from today.

“So—two weeks ain't a lot of time for a mayor's campaign. But then Kenny Booth ain't your normal candidate. Even though he's only been in town for a few years, he's gotten himself a big fan base. Fact is, he's the most trusted news dude on this end of the state. Y'all have heard of him. Maybe before you started Seein', some of you even liked him. If so, don't let it bum you out. Everybody likes him.”

“Now, there are other candidates—a whole bunch, in fact. But ain't none of them as respected as Booth. That's why we think Booth really has a shot at becoming the mayor of Philadelphia.”

He paused, letting his analysis sink in. This time, when the murmuring started again, Tom talked right over it.

“We always figured the Corpses were after some major political power in our world. But so far none of them's ever gotten this close. Seems they're finally making their first big move. I know I don't got to tell y'all that a Corpse mayor would make our troubles a whole lot worse.

“Now, a good friend told me a little while ago that we can't let this happen. Well, he's right. But stopping it ain't gonna be easy. To start with, the Hackers are digging up whatever dirt they can on Kenny Booth. Of course, we already got a file on him and on any other Corpses with high-profile public gigs. But for this, we've got to look harder and find something that we can use to cost him this election.”

I listened, frowning.

Beside me, Dave whispered. “Who cares about the election? I say, let's waste the jerk!”

Helene replied, “How? Even cutting their heads off doesn't do anything permanent!”

“Shhh!” I snapped.

Tom's tone grew somber. “There's another thing. We lost Tara Monroe and Kyle Standish to the Corpses last night at First Stop—betrayed by a mole. They both gave their lives so the recruits they were assigned to protect could get away safely. Their deaths are a tragedy—both to the Undertakers and to me personally—made all the worse because it seems Booth has decided to take Kyle's body as his own for now.

“I'm grievin', and so should y'all. But remember that Tara and Kyle would want us to keep up the fight.”

He lowered his head. “At ten o'clock there's gonna be a memorial for them both. Obviously we don't have Kyle's body. But Tara's will be laid out on a cot, covered with a sheet, and I know I don't got to tell y'all that that sheet ain't to be messed with. This is about grief, Undertakers…and it's about respect.

“Now, each of you who wants to will get the chance to say something about either Tara or Kyle or both. Talk as long as you want. But when it's done, let it be done. Later tonight her body'll be dropped off outside a local hospital. I really wish we could do more than that. But this is war.”

When he raised his head again, the Chief's eyes were shining with renewed conviction. “Starting tomorrow, we go after Booth. But in the next two weeks, it'll be situation normal for most of y'all. Schoolers get back to their gigs. Chatters and Hackers keep doing their things.

“On top of all that, we'll be staying on Kenny Booth like gum on his shoe! We're going to go everywhere he goes, see everything he does. We
will
find something that we can leak to the media or to another candidate to bring him down! And we're gonna do this in Kyle and Tara's memories! Undertakers, are you with me?”

The crowd cheered explosively. Applause, whistles, and wild shouts filled the air.

“Are you with me?” Tom asked again, louder this time.

The crowd cheered again, even more powerfully than before.

When things settled down, he said, “Go on and ask me stuff. Whatever you're feeling, put it out there.”

Tom spent the next half hour fielding questions. Some were pretty smart: Can we get electronic bugs inside Booth's office or house? Can we try to somehow squirt him with saltwater in front of cameras? Should we volunteer to help out some of the other candidates? Tom promised to consider all these ideas.

Other questions were less smart—or maybe just less mature: If Booth becomes mayor, will he order the cops to shoot us on sight? What if the Corpses kill off all the other candidates to make sure that Booth wins? Can we hunt down the First Stop mole and kill her? These Tom handled with patience. No, even if he wins, Booth can't order Seers to be shot in the streets. No, the Corpses are too smart to start assassinating candidates. And no, we're not going to kill a girl who's just as much a victim as anyone else.

The Undertakers, he stressed, don't kill people.

We're just kids, and Booth knows it. In fact, he's counting on it.

At last the meeting ended. Tom reminded everyone to stay for the ten o'clock memorial. Almost immediately the gathering broke up into little groups—all discussing the goings-on.

I watched from a distance as Tom jumped off his chair, went straight to Elisha Beardsley, and started talking to the Hacker Boss.

“That was pretty short, huh?” Dave remarked. “I don't think he talked for more than five minutes, and the rest of it was stupid questions.”

“Not all stupid,” I said.

Actually the stupid questions seemed like the only ones he really had answers for
.

“It's always like that,” Helene told them. “Tom keeps these things short. Anything more than, like, ten minutes, and everybody starts falling asleep. We're Undertakers, and we're not used to sitting and listening to speeches. We need to be doing something.”

“Can't argue with that,” I said. Without another word, I headed off toward Tom and Elisha. As I got close, I overheard a little of their conversation.

Elisha said, “He doesn't go every Sunday night—just once a month or so.”

“And you dug this up how?” Tom asked, clearly impressed.

“His private calendar on the NBC-10 network.”

“Way cool, Elisha!”

Grinning proudly she said, “The truth is, Heather's the one who finally broke through their firewall. She worked on it all afternoon.”

“I got to remember to thank her for the effort,” Tom promised.

“You should. Heck, she already thinks you're dreamy.” Elisha laughed, and Tom made a playful show of pretending to punch her.

“Where's he go on Sundays?” I asked, marching right to them.

Startled, the two kids looked at me.

I added, “We're talking about Booth, right?”

“Um—hi, Will,” said Elisha.

“Keep digging,” Tom instructed her. “Find out how he gets there and how long he stays.”

Nodding, Elisha disappeared into the dwindling crowd.

I turned to Tom. “Where's Booth go on Sunday nights?” I asked again.

“Bro, we need to talk.”

“We
are
talking.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course I did. “Sorry about this morning,” I told him.

“Don't be,” Tom replied. “You said what you felt.”

“I thought maybe I embarrassed you in front of the crew bosses.”

The older boy grinned. “Well, you did
that
too.”

“Sorry,” I said again.

“Thanks. But that ain't what we need to talk about.”

“Tom, are you gonna kick me out?”

“What?”

I steeled myself. “I mean—I understand if you are. I just want to know so I can—well, get ready, I guess.”

To my surprise, Tom burst out laughing. “Will! If I tossed out every Undertaker who got in my face at a bosses' meeting, my own sister would've been out on the streets years ago! Forget it! It ain't important.”

“Oh. Sorry. Then what
did
you want to talk to me about?” I asked, although inside I was sighing with relief.

“Well, if you'd quit your apologizing, I'd tell you.” He was still laughing.

“Sorry,” I repeated before I could catch myself.

With an effort the Chief got his amusement under control. Then in a more serious tone, he said, “Listen. I think we'd better hold off on the Angel thing.”

I frowned. A moment ago I'd been deeply relieved not to be exiled. But now I was just as deeply disappointed. “How come?”

“Well, partly because some of the bosses ain't digging it. Now, if it was just that, I'd say let's ride it out. But the other part is that right now, you ain't in the right frame of mind for that kind of work.”

“The right frame of mind?” I asked, suddenly irritated. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're pissed off—and you got every right to be. But an Angel in the field's got to stay cool. Anger can make you reckless, and I won't risk nobody running off and going outside the scope of a mission. It can get their fellow crewers into trouble.”

“I wouldn't do that!” I exclaimed.

“Didn't say you would. But you
are
pissed.”

“Of course I'm pissed! Look at everything that's happened! Look at Tara and Kyle!”

Tom shrugged. “Just give it a month. Until then I'll put you on any other crew you want. Then when you're more settled, we'll try the Angels thing again. I still do think it's the place for you—once you're really ready for it.”

“I'm ready now!” I insisted.

“No, bro. You ain't.”

“But in a month, the mayor's election'll be over!”

“I know.”

All of a sudden, I got it. “You're afraid I'm gonna go after Booth!” I snapped.

“Crossed my mind.”

“Would it be such a bad thing?”

“It could get you killed,” Tom said. “I figure that counts as a bad thing.”

“So what? It's my life, isn't it?”

Tom's eyebrows rose. “Maybe you should tell that to your mother and Emily, huh?”

I looked away.

Tom waited.

Finally, feeling defeated, I said, “Do I have to be a Mom?”

“Not if you don't want to be.”

“The other recruits'll get jealous.”

Tom shrugged. “They'll get over it.”

“Why do I get special treatment?”

“Because you're a special case,” he replied. “You know that.”

And I did, although I still didn't entirely understand why. Could it really be because of who my father was? Tom seemed—well, smarter than that.

“I'd like to try out the Brains,” I said.

Tom looked surprised. “You wanna work for Steve?”

“Is that okay?”

“Sure. I just didn't expect it. Well, go ahead and report to the Brain Factory whenever you're ready. Make sure you tell Steve it's only for a month.”

“Okay.” I walked glumly back to where Dave and Helene still waited. The girl was twirling her hair nervously. Dave cracked his knuckles.

The Burgermeister spoke first. “You getting kicked out?”

“No,” I replied. “But he's holding off on my Angel training.”

“Why?” asked Helene.

“He thinks I'm too—emotional, I guess.”

She considered this. “So where
is
he putting you?”

“He gave me my choice. I asked for the Brains.”

Dave grimaced. “What for?”

I ignored the question for now. “Booth's got something going down on Sundays. That's what Tom and Elisha were talking about. Apparently it's something that he does every month.”

“
What
does he do every month?” Helene asked.