Dawn of the Brain-Dead Read online

  The lady lowered her window and looked out with confusion. “Hi.” Her voice was sluggish and strange.

  Sam’s first thought was, drunk.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?”

  “Mmmm... ‘M ok. Thanks...”

  “I think you hit that wall back there.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Sam sighed. She would have to say something her bosses might not like. “You don’t look so good, ma’am. You want to go park? Wait a little before you go home?”

  “Nononono, I’m fine,” she said, waving Sam away. “Low blood sugar.”

  “What?”

  “’S low blood sugar. Didn’t let me eat lunch at work. ‘M ok.”

  “Um, you might want to have a sandwich or something before you leave then, because...”

  “I had tunafish! ‘M good!”

  Sam watched the woman’s head loll toward the steering wheel and knew the knot in her stomach would not go away if this customer drove off. The exit lane was only fifteen feet away from the ramp and she was already too crooked to get in without backing up.

  “Well, can I help you with your ticket?”

  “Wow, that’s so nice!” The young woman thrust her ticket, along with a crumpled twenty at Sam, leaning back on the headrest again.

  “Yeah...” Walking toward the machine in the lobby, Sam grabbed her phone and dialed the office.

  “Empire Parking, this is Marcus.”

  “This is Sam over at Seven-One. I have a situation.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a lady here. She’s messed up. I don’t think it’s safe for her to be driving.”

  “Well, you know we can’t–”

  “She scraped the wall from the basement pretty good with her car. And she has been knocking around down there.”

  “You think there could be damage to the structure?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Okay. try to keep her there. I’ll send a manager to fill out a damage report. Don’t let her leave until we can get the report.”

  “Got it.”

  The woman looked confused when Sam returned with her ticket and her money. “Ma’am, the machine isn’t working right. I talked to my manager, and he said he needs you to wait until he comes to help.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Mmm...” Sam walked back to her post by the gate. She kept her distance, just in case and exhaled with relief when she saw the woman fall asleep.

  Sam stood around, keeping a weather eye on the customer. Her car was almost blocking both lanes, but things were still dead.

  Had this crazy drunk been what John had meant? She doubted it. As far as she knew, while he could read probability lines, see the future, he’d never been that accurate. Her hands were itching to pull her phone out and send him another text, demanding to know what he was doing back. No, she told herself, pacing to keep the concrete from chilling her feet, better to not get involved.

  Five minutes later, a police car, and ambulance and Marcus all arrived on the scene. The night manager looked smug as he walked up. “You thought I was just bringing some forms over, huh? I got your back, Dejardin.”

  Sam nodded, watching the emergency workers confront the woman. The customer started off drowsy as they opened her door, but that dissipated as the realization she was in deep shit set in. “She said she’s got low blood sugar.”

  “I bet she did,” said Marcus, crossing his arms. “How many times you think I’ve heard that one?”

  Sure enough, the cops sat her down and administered a breathalyzer. Then they put her in the rear of a cop car and told Marcus they’d be arranging for a tow truck for the car. In the back of the police car, the young woman made a horrified face and vomited all over the window. Sam’s skin crawled as the black puke rolled down the glass. Even the cops made faces.

  After the ambulance and the police had gone, Marcus shook his head. “Good job, Dejardin. I have no idea what that lady was drinking, but she blew a one-point-oh.”

  “Jesus. What is wrong with people these days?”

  The manager shrugged. “It’s spring, I guess.”

  “Oh man, you will never guess what happened tonight,” said Sam as she took off her shoes at the kitchen door. There was no answer.

  She ventured into the living room, peeling off her jacket, but the lights and TV were off. Did he go back to his place? She put the jacket away in the closet and discovered his in there. Because the rest of the house was dark and quiet, she checked the bedroom.

  He’d fallen asleep, propped up on some pillows with his laptop open. It was unusual for him to bring work home with him, but it happened sometimes. She peeked at what was open on the desktop and found a presentation he’d been working on. Feeling a pang of guilt, she hit save, closed the laptop and set it on the bedside table. Then, she got changed and climbed into bed.

  “Hey,” he said, rousing as she adjusted the blankets. “How was work?”

  “Good. I stopped another drunk driver,” she said, scooting closer to him.

  “Another one? Wow.”

  “I know.” She took a deep breath and rolled over. “You didn’t tell me you were giving a presentation at work.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said, yawning and putting his arm around her.

  “Nah, it’s a big deal. And I’m a jerk for never asking you about your day.”

  “It’s okay. My job never has as much drama as yours does...” and a moment later, he’d drifted back to sleep.

  Sam lay there, looking at the ceiling. Truth was, she wasn’t tired yet. She usually came home from work wound up. But John had come back, and she wanted to remind herself that she had something better now, and that he couldn’t make her cry again.

  The text was still on her phone. She considered deleting it, but that felt too sneaky.

  Had she ever told Shane about John? No. But then, there were a lot of things about the last two years she hadn’t told Shane. He’d met her friends, and they hadn’t told him either, since Sam had made it clear that the weird part of her life was over and she would just be a normal person here on out. No more fighting the forces of evil, no more saving the world. That whole thing was done, and she didn’t need to risk scaring Shane off with talk of ancient history.

  Plus, it wasn’t like she and John had ever been together. There wasn’t the word for the train wreck that non-relationship had been.

  She closed her eyes, meaning to sleep, when she heard her phone buzzing in her purse. It was four in the morning. Whatever it was, it could wait.

  It was unusual for Sam to wake up with Shane, but Saturday morning was an exception. She heard him singing in the shower, a ridiculous falsetto finding its way out with a little steam, through the cracks in the door.

  The sun peeked between the blinds, bright and uninvited. She squinted and rolled over, but it was too late. She already too awake to go back to sleep. The only thing left was to drag her butt out of bed and get over to the coffeemaker.

  On her way to the kitchen in her T-shirt and pajama bottoms, she heard Shane turn off the shower and open the bathroom door. The aroma of shampoo and musky body wash filled the air. “Morning, Baby,” she said, not looking back.

  “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She bent to scoop her cell out of her purse and absently unlocked it. There were several texts waiting for her. “Looks like my phone was blowing up last night...”

  “More drama at work?” He came into the kitchen in a pair of track pants, rubbing a towel in his hair and making it all cute and messy. She stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his nose. His skin was still damp and smelled amazing.

  “Let’s hope management didn’t announce something crazy... remember Art Fair?”

  “You mean, where you worked four back-to-back shifts and weren’t allowed to sit?” he said, frowning. “Yeah, I remember Art Fair.”

  Sam started the coffee and turned her attention to the messages while it brewed.

  Heather J:

  I saw a guy over at 7-4 puke black

  So gross 0_o

  Jesus R:

  WTF are people drinking???

  Heather J:

  Idk. Dude was super fucked up

  A pit grew in Sam’s stomach as she scrolled through the conversation. Another one? Could be some seriously strong alcohol was getting popular, like the Fireball craze that had been going over Christmas. Detriment, a new liquor claiming to be Jagermeister’s more screwed up cousin, had been on the market for a little while with some acclaim among the college students, but something was nagging at her. What if that wasn’t it? She closed the conversation and opened the texts from Yolanda.

  Yolanda T:

  Did I see John’s dorky cape wearing ass?

  You better not be texting yo ex

  Yolanda T:

  Don’t make me come over there

  Swear to God

  “Oh, crap,” said Sam, barely noticing she spoke aloud.

  “What’s up?” Shane was next to her, pouring himself a cup.

  “Just... just some strange shit at work. We’ve had some people puking straight-up black. It’s really gross.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. What the hell are people drinking?”

  “That’s weird. We had a temp do that at work yesterday.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, guy came in drunk. Like, slurring, and dozing off in his cubicle. Hank and Joe were taking bets if he would get fired, but then he just threw puked this black stuff all over himself and someone called an ambulance.” Shane looked happy, despite the graphic nature of the conversation. “Wow, can’t believe I forgot I had a work story to tell you.”

>   “Aww,” she said, hoping her smile hid any worry, “I’m so proud of you.”

  Later, Shane went out to get them some lunch, a special treat before a particularly trying day. Sam, not without a twinge of guilt, called Yolanda.

  “You seen John yet?” asked Yolanda, by way of saying hello.

  “No. He just sent me a weird text, which I didn’t appreciate, and that’s it.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “’Watch your back.’ I have no idea what he’s talking about. Where did you spot him?”

  “I’m not telling you until you promise you will not get mixed up with that dude, okay?”

  “I’m not. I have no interest in him anymore.”

  “What about his cousin? The fine one?”

  “Smith? No.”

  “Good. You have a good thing with Shane, and I don’t want to see you mess that up.”

  “I know.”

  “But, you got to figure something’s going down if he’s here, right?

  “Pretty much. I’d feel a lot better if I knew why he was coming around again.”

  “And what the hell with that text message? Watch your back? If you decide to warn someone, like, actually warn them.”

  “Right?”

  “That shit pisses me off.” Yolanda sighed. “What do you think is happening?”

  “I don’t know. But if John’s back, it’s gotta be something big...”

  “You going to tell Shane?”

  Sam hesitated. That was the thing, wasn’t it? “Do I have to?”

  “I think you should have done it a long time ago. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be. I told Noriko, and we’ve only been together for like, what, six months?””

  “I was hoping this wouldn’t be part of my life anymore!”

  “Well, that was dumb. I get you were pissed at John–”

  “I wasn’t just ‘pissed at John...’”

  “Okay, whatever,” said Yolanda. “Look, I got to go. I’ll see you at work.”

  When they hung up, Sam felt more alone than she had in a long time. She wasn’t happy, hiding her past from Shane. Well, not so much hiding it as just never mentioning it. Lying by omission was still lying, and she had a feeling even that was about to get a lot harder.

  And, if she told him the truth, would he believe her?

  “Maybe I’ll come see you at work later.” Shane was watching her put on her shoes before heading out.

  “No, Baby, the traffic will be insane. You’ll spend so much time just trying to get there and back...”

  “I know, but I miss you.”

  She smiled and beckoned him over for a goodbye kiss. “Let’s go somewhere fun tomorrow, okay? And we’ll have a nice dinner or something.”

  The touch of his lips left her cheeks feeling warm, even in the soggy, cold weather, and he waved her off as she pulled out of the driveway. She was leaving for work early, which sucked. Usually, giving herself an hour to drive the twenty minutes to downtown Ann Arbor was enough, but experience told her that wouldn’t cut it that day; football had a tendency to fuck everything up.

  As she merged onto the highway, her guilt only deepened. “I know I should tell him,” she muttered to herself. “I love him, so I should tell him, right?”

  For a while, she thought she might have missed the brunt of the rush to get downtown. She sped past the on-ramp from the mall, a notorious traffic hang-up, suspecting she was too lucky by half.

  She took back roads, trying to avoid Stadium Boulevard, already shut down for the game. Cutting down a residential side street, she hit the traffic. There was a jam stemming from Main, but at least Sam had made it off the highway. With no other option, she turned up the radio and waited, edging her car forward now and again. With forty minutes to spare and only four blocks to go, Sam wasn’t worried about being late.

  Unfortunately, this left her alone with her thoughts.

  Over and over, she played out talking to Shane about what she and her friends referred to as “the booger monsters from hell incident,” or the narrowly averted vampire civil war. It always started well enough...

  “Hey, so you know last year, when you were finishing up your degree...?” And then, it spiraled out of control.

  “I staked a guy once.”

  “Ever see someone pinned to the wall through their stomach?”

  “Do you remember when Ann Arbor exploded that one time? Yeah, that was me.”

  She sighed, putting her forehead on the steering wheel.

  The worst part was John. They’d never been together or anything, but it was like keeping his existence from Shane was cheating somehow. Had she thought about him romantically? Sure. Once or twice she’d had thoughts. But it wasn’t as though he was her ex, was it? He was a colleague. Even that didn’t ease her guilt.

  Her phone pinged for a text and since she wasn’t going anywhere soon, she checked it.

  [Unknown Number]:

  Get out of Ann Arbor now

  Sam D:

  What is with this cryptic shit?!

  Before a reply could come, she heard a police siren, low and distant, and something about it made her skin crawl. Maybe it was the creepy message, but the silence that followed was uncomfortable, the calm before a massive storm. Then, she looked in the rear view.

  A mass, an absolute herd of people was making its way down the street behind her, overtaking the idling cars like a wave of scarabs in a mummy movie. They weren’t moving fast, just drifting toward Main Street. Football fans in search of a party.

  As they flowed around her car on both sides, she felt a strange claustrophobia descend, like when she was a little kid in her parents minivan, going through the car wash. The crowd was predominantly young men, clad in U of M maize and blue. Some of them leered in at her as they passed, brushing against her mirrors, they were so packed in the street.

  Sam sat there and tried to avoid eye contact. She’d locked her doors, but that didn’t mean she welcomed confrontation, and these guys, fresh from what she assumed was a win, were pumped up on adrenaline and testosterone. Alone, female and in uniform was not a great way to be when stuck in what was a lava flow of young, hyped-up dudes.

  The cars in front of her, also encased in the human herd, didn’t move an inch and the minutes ticked by. What had seemed like a decent time cushion was being eaten away, and soon Sam was on her phone to the office. Maybe warning them she’d be late wasn’t much of a balm against the mark that would go on her record, but it would buy her a pass sometime, so she kept up the courtesy.

  “Empire Parking Systems...” The voice on the other end was both unfamiliar and irritated.

  “Hi, this is Sam Dejardin...?”

  “What’s up Sam?”

  “I might be a little late. I’m stuck in traffic.”

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “Well, you knew there would be stuff going on today–”

  The dispatcher’s tone, along with the leering crowd outside lit the fuse of Sam’s temper and it burned up real quick.

  “I leave my house an hour before shift, every day. Today, I left forty-five minutes earlier than that,” she snapped, not bothering to watch her tone if he wasn’t. “I gave myself an extra hour and a half. Was I supposed to sleep here last night?”

  “Well, thanks for letting us know, I guess,” said the voice, now less irritated than bored with the conversation. “See you soon.” Click.

  Sam half-exhaled, half-yelled as she tossed the phone into the passenger seat. “Why do I do this?!”

  The swell of foot traffic outside seemed never-ending. The Big House must have been full to the rafters, though why these people hadn’t just walked down Main Street, rather than cutting through the residential neighborhood behind it was beyond her.

  She was angry, but coping—

  A man pressed his face against her window, his tongue dark and trailing dark slime. His stare bored into hers, blood-shot and dilated. Hands like claws scraped soft, ragged, dirty nails across the glass as the rest of the crowd pushed him along. None of his peers noticing the yellowing at the corners of his eyes and mouth as he dribbled black bile. Sam stared, swallowing a scream. That man had been the stuff of her nightmares.