You Are So Undead to Me (3 page)

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Authors: Stacey Jay

Tags: #Romance Speculative Fiction

BOOK: You Are So Undead to Me
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“Can you give me your address before death, William?”
 
My pen flew across the paper as he rattled off an address not too terribly far away. Then I asked him for a phone number and a list of surviving immediate family. You had to get all the basic details out of an Unsettled before you let them tell you whatever was bothering them so much they actually had to crawl out of their grave and go looking for supernatural intervention. If you didn’t, chances were you’d never get the 411.
 
Once they spill their guts, zombies can’t get back to their graves fast enough, and it’s never a good idea to try to slow down a determined zombie. They are freakishly strong. The movies have that right, but the whole eating-brains thing—completely bogus. Only Reanimated Corpses crave flesh, and they don’t care about your brains. They’ll eat whatever they can get their teeth into.
 
I shivered again, wishing I’d worn the matching brown shawl that came with my dress. The scar on my shoulder had faded and hardly anyone noticed it anymore, but I suddenly wanted it covered up.
 
Clearing my throat, I did my best to concentrate. Josh could be here any second, no time to angst out. “Now, William, tell me what it is you don’t like about your death.” Okay, so that wasn’t standard lingo. I’d just watched too many
Nip/Tuck
reruns over the summer.
 
“I just wanted to tell my girlfriend, Sherry, that I never went out with that skank at the mall. I mean, I took her to the corn dog shack once, but I’m planning on . . . I mean I
was
planning . . .”
 
His voice wasn’t sad as much as confused, but I still wanted to give him a hug and probably would have if it hadn’t been for the smell. It had to suck coming to terms with your own death. But he kept stinking worse and worse the longer he was indoors, killing my urge to hand out friendly snuggles. That windy night must have been helping air him out while he was still in the doorway.
 
“But you were planning to . . .” I prodded gently. I felt way bad for the guy, but the clock was ticking. Two minutes if Josh was on time!
 
“I was planning to tell my girlfriend that I still loved her. And to tell Monica to go back to the Gap and leave me alone, you know?”
 
Well, well, if it wasn’t old home night at the Berry residence. There was only one skank named Monica who worked at the Gap—my fellow Settler, Monica “I put the psycho in psycho hose beast” Parsons.
 
How ironic would it have been if he’d ended up on
her
doorstep instead of mine? Maybe that was why the powers had summoned me back into service for the night, to spare William the agony of seeing Monica after death. And now everything would go back to normal and I would be spared Settler service until another of the Monicster’s victims needed to come get some post-burial business off his chest.
 
Riigghht . . . and Josh is going to show up with flowers and kneel down on one knee before he asks you to homecoming.
 
As if summoned by my slavishly devoted thoughts, the doorbell rang.
 
He was here! One minute early!
 
“Wha?” William jumped, clearly startled by the noise. He stumbled forward, knocking into me hard enough that I bounced off the computer hutch and then back into his undead arms. We fell to the ground in a heap, and by the time I untangled myself, Josh was ringing the doorbell again and my dress was covered in grave dirt.
 
Argh! Now I was going to reek!
 
“Hey, Josh!” I yelled through the door, hoping he couldn’t hear William groaning as he stood up. “I’ll be right back! I . . . forgot my purse!” Frantic, I ran for my room, mind racing as I tried to figure out what I could throw on that was clean and would be even remotely as cute as the word’s most perfect sundress.
 
I skidded to a stop among the piles of clothes on the floor and started to strip. I was
not
going to let my first date with an older, cooler, drop-dead-gorgeous guy—okay, I’ll admit it, my first real date
ever
, since I hadn’t been allowed to get in cars with boys last year—be ruined by a zombie blast from the past. If Mom was right, if my powers had somehow been reactivated after lying dormant for so many years, then I would deal with it. But I would deal with it
later
.
 
I’d struggled into a tightish pair of Seven jeans and was flinging tank tops in ten different directions, searching for something that wasn’t too schoolish looking for date wear, when I heard the crash.
 
“Crap!” I ran back to the front door, pulling on the shirt I’d had in my hand as I went. A quick look down at my chest revealed I’d had the misfortune to choose the LOOKING FOR A SUGAR DADDY shirt I usually only wore to dance class.
 
Great, real classy choice. But there was no time to change now. William was careening around the living room like a college freshman at his first kegger, banging into things, knocking Mom’s Lladró porcelain collection to the ground. I was
so
dead. William was even now crushing beneath his feet the collectible mommy figurine Dad had given Mom when she was pregnant with me.
 
Of course, if I skipped out now, hoping Josh wouldn’t notice the weird undead person roaming around in my living room when I opened the door, I would be in even deeper monkey-flinging poo than collectible destruction could ever cause. I would
never
be forgiven for leaving my zombie unattended.
 
And probably never allowed out of the house either.
 
Groaning inwardly, I raced back to the door. This was so horribly unfair! I was going to have to tell Josh I couldn’t go out and deal with William. Grr! Couldn’t this déjà zombie action have waited until our second date? Or at least until Josh had already asked me to homecoming like I’d dreamed he would do tonight over a greasy bucket of popcorn?
 
“Josh?” I shouted at the door, wincing as another Lladró crashed to the ground behind me.
 
“Um, yeah. Are you . . . coming out, Megan?” he asked, his voice so perfectly sexy I was fairly certain I was going to pass out from disappointment.
 
“I can’t. I . . . I’ve got . . . My family has guests and I can’t leave.”
 
“But I thought you said you forgot your purse?”
 
“Um, no! I said I forgot the . . . worst . . . the worst thing I had to tell you. Which was that I couldn’t go out with you tonight.” William was moaning now. I had to make this quick with Josh no matter how stupid I sounded. If I didn’t finish up with William, he was going to go Rogue and then I would be dead.
 
Because my mother would
kill me
if I let a zombie of mine go all rabid and start terrorizing the populace because I’d forgotten to send him back to his grave. Rogue zombies weren’t like Reanimated Corpses. They weren’t hungry for blood, but they could cause a hell of a mess and scare the average population to death if they got loose.
 
“So anyway, I’m so,
so
sorry. I’ll call you later, okay?”
 
“Can’t you at least open the door? Come out for a few minutes?” he asked, sounding—justifiably—like he thought I was nuts.
 
Crash. Groan. And then William was headed toward the back door. Ahh! “Nope, can’t come out talktoyoulaterbye!”
 
I dashed to the back door, scrambling after William as he fell down the porch steps, one of his arms falling off along the way. Leaping over the appendage, refusing to waste time puking, I lunged for him, managing to get a hand on his other arm.
 
“Thank you, William. I’ll take care of telling Sherry you still love her and thought Monica was a skank—now go rest in peace!” I shouted. Immediately he calmed down, his groans transforming to one long, satisfied sigh.
 
Then he was gone like a flash, moving with the preternatural speed of any naturally Unsettled. Which would have been fabulous . . . if he’d remembered to take his arm with him.
 
Great. This was going to be a
lot
of fun. Before I recorded his info in the book Mom was hopefully finding, I was going to have to take his arm back to his grave—which I had no idea how to find. Even staying home and calling Jess for a sulk session over missing my date would be more fun than this. Of course, having my gums resurfaced would probably be more fun than this.
 
Hurrying inside, I grabbed a garbage bag to hide William’s arm in, not bothering to tell the parents buried in the closet where I was going because I knew Mom would
freak
. Then I headed out to my bike, praying Josh was far away and wouldn’t see me trolling around Carol on my bicycle. If my weirdo behavior at the door hadn’t turned him off, thinking I’d lied about not being able to leave the house certainly would.
 
Then not only would tonight
not
be my entrée into the realm of popularity, it would be the nail in the coffin of my terminal uncoolness.
 
CHAPTER 2
 
Judging from the path he’d taken out of my backyard, I figured there was only one cemetery William could have gone to. And
of course
it was the one farthest from my house.
 
I was dripping with sweat by the time I reached Mount Hope—which is not on a mountain, so I don’t know what the people who named it were smoking. Mount Hope is a pleasant little patch of green not too far from the river that, thankfully, has almost no trees, so I could see well enough to read the names on the headstones in the fading light.
 
It was going to be dark soon, however, so I wasted no time. I hadn’t been out after dark by myself in five years, and I wasn’t ready to start now.
 
Flinging my bike to the ground, I dashed through the cemetery, searching for fresh graves. There were only two, and the second headstone I checked belonged to William Peyton Anderson—BELOVED SON AND GRANDSON, TAKEN TOO SOON. My heart did a little flip as I read the inscription, but I refused to cry. Now that he had his earthly business off his chest, that beloved son would be going to a better place. And all I had to do was get his arm back to him and
I
would be too: home, with my secret chocolate stash.
 
After quickly scanning the cemetery to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I pulled William’s arm from the bag, trying not gag at the combo of stiff skin and smushy stuff underneath. I wasn’t going to think about smushy stuff or the slight wriggling I could feel coming from the decomposing flesh. Maggots happen. It’s a fact of life.
 
I set the arm on top of the dirt, then sat back on my heels. I rubbed my shaking hands on my jeans, even though I knew the smell wouldn’t come off until I’d had a nice long shower. Man, I wished I’d thought to bring hand sanitizer! The whole Settler gig was so gross. No wonder I’d done my best to forget all the repulsive details.
 
Okay, okay, now I just had to relax and think. What was the command that would make the arm sink through the dirt to rejoin the rest of William? I closed my eyes and dug back through my mental files, searching for any spark of inspiration, but all I got was brain static. Brain static and a few images from the night of my attack—the red eyes, the graying teeth tearing through my pajamas, the feel of those strong hands gouging into—
 
“Errr!” I groaned through my tight jaw, eyes flying open.
 
Why couldn’t I remember anything but those freaking Reanimated monsters? I was sure I’d known the second-stage dissolution spell at one point, even though I wasn’t supposed to have been studying those things until I was at least thirteen. What had happened to all those memories, to the mental files of the girl I’d been before the attack? In my dreams I always remembered the commands I should use to work the different spells, but by the time I woke up in the morning, they were gone.
 
Of course, it wasn’t like I’d been trying to stay current with the Settler lingo. The very opposite, in fact. And now I was going to pay for being in Denial with a capital
D
.
 
I could still remember bits and pieces of my former life and knew the basic stage-one Settler stuff my mom had made me stay fresh on for the last five years. But for the most part, I drew a big freaking mental blank where Settler lore was concerned. Which meant the only way I was getting rid of this dead person’s arm was the old-fashioned way.
 
I was going to have to dig. With my hands, because I. Didn’t. Bring. A. Shovel.
 
“Shit!” I cursed, grabbing a handful of grave dirt and flinging it at the arm.
 
“Nice language.”
 
I spun around, heart pounding, doing my best to hide the arm with my body as I checked out the guy who’d snuck up behind me. He was tall, but not Josh tall, and was dressed a little like one of the emo skaters who hung out near the Dairy Queen, his lean frame made even leaner by his fitted black jeans and striped sweater. His dark blond hair hung down over one eye, obscuring his face, but not so much I couldn’t tell he was totally hot.

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