Dead Matter by Anton Strout Read Free Book Online

I helped him out of the elevator, but by the time we reached his apartment door, Jane looked ready to drop.
    “Oh, my God,” Jane said, straining under Connor’s deadweight. “It’s like having a two-hundred-pound baby. I’m so not changing his diaper.”
    I propped Connor against the wall as I determined which key would unlock the door.
    “At his age, they’re called Depends,” I said, finally finding the right key.
    Jane laughed, and Connor’s head stirred.
    “I can still hear, you know,” he muttered. “And when I’m feeling better, I’ve got an ass kicking ready just for you, kid.”
    “You’ve had enough ass kicking for today,” I said, “most of it on the receiving end.” I turned the lock and the door swung open. “Let’s get you inside and sit you down.”
    I reached just inside the door and felt around, flicking the switch I found to light up Connor’s living room. The room lit up. All along the exposed-brick walls of the main room were vintage movie posters, many of them featuring Connor’s fave, Humphrey Bogart. Another wall was completely white, doubling as a built-in movie screen with a set of four deluxe theater seats right in front of it. Jane looked impressed.
    “This is better than the IMAX at Lincoln Center,” she said. Jane stepped into the room but stopped immediately. I wondered why, but a second later, I knew.
    Something sour filled the air, like milk or cheese gone bad. Half-empty pizza boxes were stacked everywhere like a creepy game of trash-inspired Jenga. This level of disarray was a total departure from Connor’s anally organized desk back at the office.
    “Sorry ’bout the mess,” he said. “If I had known I was having company, I would have bulldozed.”
    A lone leather couch ran along the opposite wall and we deposited Connor down onto it. I clicked on a lamp next to it, angling it to look at his face. Apart from the eyes swollen shut, it looked like there was more blood than actual damage, which was good. I looked up at Jane.
    “You wanna check his bathroom for some kind of first-aid supplies? Gauze, bandages, anything …”
    “Is that part of your nurse fantasy?” she said, but headed off into the apartment to find the bathroom.
    “Ix-nay on the urse-nay in front of our work colleague, hon,” I called out after her.
    “Seriously,” Connor muttered. “I’d hate to add vomit to all this mess just because of your cutesiness.”
    I pulled off my coat and laid it over one of the theater chairs before kneeling down next to Connor.
    “So, I said, looking for further signs of damage. “Is that the sort of thing you’ve been doing with your time off?”
    “What the hell do you care?” Connor said. The sudden venom in his voice made me pull back. It was quite unlike the Connor I was used to. “How I spend my vacation time from work is my business. Hell, I’ve accrued more than enough time off in the past five years.”
    “That’s the thing, Connor,” I said. I looked him dead in the eye. “You don’t really take vacation … like, ever . And then you take almost a whole month at once? I mean, look at your place. This isn’t like you at all.”
    Connor looked away. I wanted answers, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. Instead, he sat there in silence as we waited for Jane. She returned with an armful of plastic bottles, a few tubes of ointment, and a few boxes of gauze pads and Band-Aids.
    “Will this do?” she asked, dropping it all on the couch next to Connor.
    I nodded. “Thanks.”
    I grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, poured it onto one of the larger gauze pads, and used it to wipe away some of the blood on Connor’s face. Little pockets of bubbles arose to show where the skin was broken. Connor let out a slow deep breath.
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “No worries,” Connor said. “It’s all my own doing.”
    “Yeah, about that,” I said, switching to a fresh pad of gauze. “Just what the hell was all that about in the graveyard,