Reanimated Readz by Rusty Fischer Read Free Book Online

with a handwritten “Tips” sign. “No, Randall, honestly…that’s too much.”
    I go to still her hand but I know what she’ll do when my ice-cold flesh touches hers, so I don’t. Instead I just back away and say, “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t mean it, Brandy.”
    She looks at it a little greedily. “Okay then.” But she pockets it instead of returning it to the otherwise empty tip jar. I smile and sit at a tall two-top table near the metal bins full of bagels.
    They smell a little yeasty, which can be overpowering to my zombie sense of smell, but I keep my head buried in the big blue Slushee and hope for the best. Brandy saunters out from behind the counter, a moist rag in hand, and wipes the table next to me just for something to do.
    “How’s school?” I ask her, not as a private detective but just because I’m curious. It’s been three months since Local Order 90671, which precluded all Reanimated Persons from attending public school. I never thought I’d miss slamming lockers and number two pencils and rubber chicken cutlets under neon yellow gravy, but…I do.
    “School’s school,” she says, inching her ripe derriere onto the barstool across from me and picking at the threads of the rag with bitten-down nails. “I finally made the cheerleading squad.”
    “Awesome,” I say, with genuine enthusiasm.
    Then she frowns. “Yeah, well, they were pretty much begging for warm bodies once the top seven cheerleaders got infected last year. I mean, it was pretty hard not to make the team after that.”
    “Don’t sell yourself short,” I say, the sweet Slushee causing my dry mouth to tingle.
    “How are you holding up?” she asks, avoiding my eyes.
    I wonder, in that moment, if she knows I had a thing for her all along, or if she just isn’t very comfortable sitting knee-to-knee with a zombie.
    “I’m fine,” I say, and she sighs.
    “Is it fun working here?” I ask, hoping for a few clues. It may seem unorthodox to talk to the subject of an open investigation, but we in the biz call it “hiding in plain sight.”
    Besides, I’m probably the last person—sorry, the last reanimated person—Brandy would ever think was checking up on her. And, if you hadn’t noticed, she’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the box.
    “It’s all right, I guess. I wish more people from school would stop by. Everybody’s so busy these days. You remember Ryan Fletcher?”
    I perk up. Maybe she’s going to tell me they’re dating and I’ll earn my money while still taking the next two days off. “Yeah?”
    “He got a job with the Reanimation Patrol. First in our class to get hired under the new law. He’s pretty stoked. Didn’t you guys used to pal around?”
    I think of Ryan and his short blond hair that always stayed spiky, even under his helmet. “Sure, before…well, before.”
    Her eyes get a little sad, and I think maybe she’s not so slow after all. “Yeah, you and Ryan and Brock and Jim Phillips used to be pretty tight.” She flicks her eyes my way. “Before, I mean.”
    “Kind of like you and Amy Brennerman,” I remind her. Amy is a reanimated person, too. I see her from time to time at the County Brain Bank, where we stand in line to get our twice-weekly feeding.
    Sad eyes again. She gets up, takes the rag with her. “I miss Amy,” she says in a small voice.
    I finish my Slushee, wait for her to say something about Brock. She doesn’t.
    “Well,” I say, getting up and tossing my half-finished drink in the trash. “Thanks for the Slushee. Good luck with cheerleading.”
    But she’s snickering, laughing, and I pause at the door to look down at my flannel shirt to see if I’ve spilled some blue juice from the drink.
    “What’s so funny?” I ask.
    She makes a squishy face and says, “I just got your joke from earlier. About the brain freeze. I didn’t know zombies could be so…funny.”
     
    ***
     
    Brandy lives in a run-down apartment building near the Beaver Falls