The Undead Uproar Page 14

  “Okay.”

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t yell if I think you’re putting your life on the line and doing something stupid. I probably won’t be able to stop myself.”

  “That seems fair.”

  “Good.” He linked his fingers with mine. “We have an hour until we have to be back at the hotel. What do you want to see?”

  “Well ... I wouldn’t mind riding one of those trolleys.” I pointed at the quaint transportation vehicle that was pulling to a stop. “It looks fun.”

  “Trolley it is.” He tugged me in that direction. “During the ride, you can tell me what you and Max were talking about in the hallway. Don’t bother denying it. I saw you with your heads together.”

  “We weren’t talking about anything serious.” That was mostly true. “He just kept saying how cute we are.”

  “I have a feeling he said more than that.”

  He did, but in this particular case, what Jack didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

  WE WERE BOTH IN REMARKABLY high spirits when we hit the hotel. Millie and Bernard sat in lobby chairs, seemingly amused when we arrived.

  “Your hair looks a little crazy, Charlie,” Millie noted. “Has someone been running his fingers through it?”

  Jack shot her a warning look. “We were working.”

  “Whatever.” Millie was much more interested in messing with me than Jack. “Where have you been?”

  “We went on the trolley,” I replied, flopping on the couch across from them. “It was fun. I’ve never been on a trolley.”

  “Down here I think they’re referred to as streetcars,” Jack corrected.

  I opted to ignore him. “They were really great trolleys.”

  Millie’s smile was indulgent ... and then she sobered. “Are you serious?”

  “Where would I ever ride on a trolley in Michigan?”

  “I don’t know.” She slid her eyes to Jack. “Is it wrong that I now want to get a list of things she’s never done and make sure she can cross everything off in the next year?”

  Jack shrugged as he sat next to me. “I’m kind of there with you. I’ve never considered myself much of a streetcar person, but she had so much fun I now love them.”

  Millie snickered. “You’re a softie at heart, Jack. I never thought I would see it –let alone say it, but you are.”

  “Yes, well ... .” He turned his eyes to the other side of the lobby, to where Laura and Leon were sitting together looking at a tablet. “How long has that been going on?”

  “Since you left,” Bernard replied. “She’s flirting with him as a way to annoy you and he’s flirting with her because he’s curious to see how far she’ll take things. He doesn’t especially like her — heck, no one does — but he seems amused by the game.”

  “How do you know she’s flirting with him because of me?”

  “Because we’ve met her,” Millie answered. “Oh, and she keeps asking him questions about how he knows you and whether or not he thinks you and Charlie will last. She’s convinced you’re only with Charlie as a way to drive her crazy. She actually told him that.”

  Jack frowned. “She’s delusional.”

  “Yup.” Millie shifted her gaze to the front door as movement stirred there and then her face fell. “Speaking of delusional, Chris found an expert for us to talk to. He secured a conference room and everything.”

  Jack shifted so he could look in that direction, his mouth falling open when he realized the man in question was wearing shiny pants that made noise when he walked ... and a cape. No, really, he had a cape.

  “What the ... ?”

  “That’s Marius Garret,” Bernard volunteered. “He’s a local psychic of some renown.”

  Immediately my insides began to crawl with worry. “Psychic? Why do we need a psychic?”

  “Because Chris will believe anyone if they tell him what he wants to hear,” Jack groused. “I can’t believe he went this route again.”

  I was understandably curious. “Again?”

  “He’s done it before.” Jack didn’t look happy when he turned back to me. “He calls whatever psychic has the most juice in the area — even when the guy is obviously a charlatan, like what we’re dealing with now — and then believes whatever he says. He’ll start making decisions based on what this guy says. And it always ends in disaster.”

  I flicked my eyes to Millie. She always stood up for Chris. Jack tended to lean toward the pessimistic. Even Millie looked agitated, though. “Has he ever managed to stumble across the real deal?”

  “Nope.” Millie shook her head, her eyes keen when they latched with mine. “Not that he knows of anyway. I’m sure this guy is just as bad as the others. Whatever he says, don’t react. That’s how these guys make their money. They read people. Don’t wear your emotions on your face, Charlie.”

  It was a pointed warning, one I didn’t take lightly. “I’ll do my best.”

  GARRET HAD A LOT OF RESTLESS energy and it was on full display as he prowled the conference room Chris had secured. He seemed to be putting on a show, and even though I was naive and young and hadn’t crossed paths with a lot of other psychics — real or imagined — I could tell right away he wasn’t the real deal. That was a relief, although I still felt exposed.

  “Someone here is not a believer,” he announced, suddenly standing ramrod straight in the center of the room and lifting his chin as high as it would go. “Someone is draining the positive energy from the room. Who is it?”

  Jack immediately raised his hand. “That would be me.”

  “I’m not sure I believe in zombies either,” Leon offered. “If you need a positive-energy environment, perhaps Jack and I should leave. We can wait for the rest of you at the bar.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that and turned quickly to see if Jack was going to agree. Instead, he merely sat in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and glared. “Just do your thing so we can go to dinner. I’m not in the mood to sit here and watch you practice your soliloquy for whatever theater troupe you’re participating in this week.”

  Millie snickered and Laura shot him an appraising look. Me? I simply felt sick to my stomach.

  “The end of the world is upon us,” Garret announced, his tone grave. “We’re at a crossroads. The world could fall into the abyss if we pick the wrong path. We cannot let that happen.”

  “Wouldn’t there be more dead people wandering around and biting people if we were really in the middle of an apocalypse?” I asked, giving in to my baser urges and speaking before thinking. I knew better, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “I mean ... we have a lot of missing bodies, but not many deaths. Every movie I’ve ever watched about the apocalypse leads with millions of deaths.

  “From The Walking Dead to The Stand to I am Legend, the one thing that’s needed to kick off an apocalypse is the demise of ninety percent of the population,” I continued. I’d come this far, I saw no reason to turn around. It was already too late to keep Garret from focusing on me. “All we have are people who seemed to have died of natural causes and might be wandering around so their relatives can see them. That’s not really an apocalypse.”

  “I hate to agree with Charlie — mostly because she’s using movies and television shows as proof — but she has a point,” Jack noted. “I mean, think about it. If the world is coming to an end, why aren’t we seeing more signs?”

  “This is just the start,” Garret shot back. “Every apocalypse has a beginning. They can only be shut down if you manage to find a solution before things get out of hand.”

  “That seems like a convenient answer,” Laura argued. “Basically you’re saying it might be the apocalypse.”

  “No, it’s definitely the apocalypse.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it is.”

  “You still haven’t said why.”

  “Because it is.”

  This conversation was getting us nowhere fast and I found I was suddenly struggling with a headache
. “Tell us what you’re seeing,” I suggested, rubbing my forehead. “You must be reading certain signs. What are they?”

  “And what do you mean by signs?” Chris queried. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

  “He’s made a pronouncement about the end of the world,” I explained, impatience making me bold. “There are often fifteen paranormal harbingers of doom. We’re talking the Mothman, the black bird of Chernobyl, Nain Rouge, the Flying Dutchman, demon cats and so on. There are tons of them and they’re all supposed to warn us of horrible things that are about to happen. If Mr. Garret is seeing signs that point to an apocalypse, I would like to know what they are.”

  Jack gave me an appraising look that was also tinged with worry. “Do you feel okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Believe it or not, I have a headache that only popped up with this guy.” I jerked my thumb in Garret’s direction. “That doesn’t change the fact that I want an answer. What harbingers are you seeing?”

  “Not everything in life is a harbinger, young lady.” Garret was haughty. “I believe there are other things we should be worried about.”

  “I’m with Charlie,” Millie interjected. “I want to know what signs you’re referring to.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  Chris looked uncertain as he glanced between Millie and me, but he ultimately nodded. “I would like to hear about the harbingers, too.”

  “Fine.” Garret tapped his foot, as if he was impatient and we were wasting his time. “I’ve seen the white stag.”

  “Is that a sort of bachelor party for white dudes?” Leon asked. “If so, it sounds deathly boring.”

  Jack smirked but managed to hold in a laugh. “What’s the deal with the white stag?”

  “It’s a Celtic legend,” I answered before Garret could. I knew he would draw out his answer for dramatic purposes, and I had no interest in that. “Supposedly, if you see the white hart — or stag, in this case — then something bad is about to happen. There’s nothing in the lore about an apocalypse, though.”

  “I know how to read the signs.” Garret was defiant. “That’s hardly the only sign, though. I’ve also seen black-eyed ghosts. You know what that means.”

  Jack looked to me for an answer.

  “Black-eyed ghosts have been seen in almost every country,” I explained. “Supposedly they sneak into people’s houses but only show up when something bad is supposed to happen in that individual’s life. They’re not harbingers of the apocalypse.”

  Garret made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a snort. “And what about the running of the foxes? I’ve seen them in the streets right before dawn.”

  That one was trickier. “That’s also an Irish legend,” I said finally. “It’s about the death of the head of household. Do you guys have foxes here?” I asked Leon.

  “I’m sure we do, but I’ve never seen any in the city,” he answered.

  “That’s why it’s a harbinger of our doom,” Garret intoned.

  “Or a pack of dogs running the street,” I argued. “I want to know what specific things you’ve seen that would lead you to believe we’re facing the end of the world.”

  “I’ve heard the cries of the banshees,” he snapped. “How can you explain that?”

  “You live close to Bourbon Street. I’ll bet you hear banshees every night. Where we come from you just call them drunken morons having a good time.”

  A huge grin cracked Jack’s face as he regarded me, emotion pouring out of him. The dominant one was pride, and it threw me for a loop.

  “What?” I asked, self-conscious.

  “That was amazing,” he said as Garret began cursing under his breath and railing at Chris. “Even though you believe we’re dealing with zombies, you totally dismantled him.”

  That hadn’t been my intention. I only realized after the fact that I’d managed it with minimal effort ... and in spite of the fact that my headache was growing. I had no idea where the discomfort had originated from, but I was steadily becoming sicker.

  “So, you’re happy?” I asked finally.

  “I’m thrilled.”

  “Great, because I’m going to throw up.” I knew I couldn’t make it to the bathroom. Instead, I stumbled to my knees and grabbed the nearest trash receptacle before immediately vomiting.

  “Oh, geez!” As Laura squealed and Hannah hurried over to help, Jack held my hair from my face as I lost the remnants of my lunch. “You don’t have to be so brave next time if it’s going to make you sick. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

  It was nice to hear, but that didn’t change the fact that I was shaking with sickness. What in the world was going on now?

  Fifteen

  “I got a cold cloth.”

  Jack’s fingers were gentle on my neck as I knelt on the floor and rested my head against the toilet seat. I’d managed to make it into the bathroom, but just barely. “Here.” He dropped the washcloth into place and moved his fingers to my forehead. “You’re not hot.” He was talking to himself more than me.

  “I’m okay, Jack.” I hoped I sounded strong, but the way my voice croaked told me I was anything but. “I’ll be okay. It must be something I ate.”

  “You just had a po’ boy for lunch. I had the exact same thing. I’m fine.”

  “Maybe I have a weak stomach.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced and his hand was back on my forehead before I could protest. “I think I should take you to the hospital.”

  That sounded like a terrible idea. “How does this warrant a trip to the hospital?”

  “You’re sick.”

  “Lots of people throw up without going to the hospital.”

  “Yeah, but ... .” He trailed off when the bathroom door opened to allow Hannah entrance. If she was disgusted by the sight in front of her, she didn’t show it.

  “I came to make sure Charlie is okay.” Hannah’s smile was encouraging as she crouched next to me. “Can I examine you?”

  “I’m just sick. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow morning.”

  “Well ... I want to be sure.” She moved her fingers to my throat and asked me to tilt my head up. I did, but it made me feel worse. “I don’t notice anything that’s swollen. That’s good.”

  I flicked my eyes to Jack. For the first time, something akin to panic rolled through me. “It’s just a quick bug. I’ll be fine.”

  “We just want to make sure,” Jack assured me as he brushed my hair from my face. “You went down fast, Charlie. You have to understand, that frightened us.”

  Oddly enough, he looked shaken. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him react this way. “I’m fine.” I felt the need to reassure him. “I just got hot really fast … and then sick, which you were a witness to. I swear I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Let Dr. Hannah tell me that,” he teased. “You’re many things: smart, sarcastic and funny among them. But you’re not a doctor.”

  I was frustrated. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Shh, baby.” Jack stroked his hand down my head, his eyes on Hannah. “Should I take her to the emergency room? I don’t care what she says. I care what you say.”

  Hannah looked amused at the declaration. “I don’t see anything terribly wrong with her right now. She might be dehydrated. In this heat and humidity that’s a real concern. You two were wandering around. Was she drinking water?”

  “I ... don’t think so.” Jack glanced at me. “I guess I’ll need to keep you hydrated from here on out, huh?”

  I was still marveling at the fact that he called me “baby.” No one had ever called me that. “I just want to rest for a little bit,” I admitted. “You guys can go to dinner and I’ll close my eyes. I’m sure I’ll be better by the time you get back.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Jack offered.

  I managed to hold off a groan, but just barely. “I think you should go with everyone else. All I’m going to do is sleep.”

&n
bsp; He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. On this one point I was firm. “You can’t sit in the room and watch me sleep. That’s weird.”

  Jack looked to Hannah for confirmation.

  “Totally weird,” she agreed, bobbing her head.

  He made an exasperated sound. “What if you need something while I’m gone?”

  “I’m going to sleep.” I meant it. Exhaustion was seeping into every bone. “You’re going to go out, have a good time and leave the worrying behind. I’m fine. I just ate something funny. Maybe they really did lick my sandwich because they heard me call it a poor boy.”

  “Fine.” He slipped his hand around my waist. “I am getting you upstairs and settled whether you like it or not, though. I want to make sure you’re safely in bed before I go.”

  “Sure. Whatever makes you feel better.”

  “I heard that sarcasm.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  JACK HAD TO BE TOLD TWICE more that sitting by my bedside and watching me puke wasn’t acceptable before he finally left. He was reluctant — which was sweet — but all I wanted to do was close my eyes. Finally, he tucked me in with promises that he would check on me before disappearing.

  I drifted off quickly. I was fairly certain I was dealing with a bug that would pass after a few down hours. Part of me predicted I would sleep straight through until morning. Apparently, that wasn’t in the cards. I was barely down thirty minutes when I heard a strange noise.

  “Jack, if you came back I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, rolling so I could look in that direction. I expected to see his sheepish face staring at me. Instead, I found a blonde in a ponytail — pants so tight they had to be painted on — watching me with curious eyes. “Who are you?” I scrambled to a sitting position and made a face when my stomach lurched. “Ugh. Now is so not the time to puke again.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t puke,” the woman agreed after as she walked into my bedroom. She didn’t strike me as threatening. She was about my size, young, and looked to be carrying enough snark on her shoulders to feed a small village. “I’m a sympathetic puker. If you puke, I’ll puke. That’s a whole heckuva lot of puke.”