Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)
Chapter Four

Joey loved his job at the pet shop. Needing to work nights had limited his choices to factory work or waiting tables until this job popped up. The shop was pretty much the same as any other Mom-and-Pop pet store with one exception. In one small, very dark corner near the back of the store lived a variety of highly unusual and exotic creatures. All of them were nocturnal and required a great degree of attention while awake. Precise temperatures needed to be maintained in their tanks. They all needed to be fed live food. Some of them ate crickets. Some ate goldfish. A few ate mice or other small rodents. Most of them would have eaten one another if given the chance. One of Joey’s favorites was technically a saltwater plant with luminous stamen that would lure unexpecting fish to their doom. He couldn’t imagine anyone could afford to keep a pet that needed to be fed saltwater fish daily. Most people found it difficult to maintain a saltwater tank that housed a couple of clown fish or damselfish, but using them to feed a plant, that’s someone with some disposable income.

Joey was on his way to meet Danny, the store manager. Danny had been sticking around longer at night since the arrival of the turquin viper and her half-dozen eggs. She resembled a copperhead in markings but was the most gorgeous shades of turquoise, green and teal that Joey and Danny had ever seen. Her scales looked wet, almost metallic. The eggs themselves were exquisite. They looked like polished turquoise nuggets with gold veining swirled throughout.

Danny had agreed to accept delivery of the snake despite Reese’s opposition to the idea. The future owner of the snake, a once popular musician known more for his eccentricity than his music, had purchased it on the black market without having the necessary equipment to care for it. He told Danny he would make it worth his while. Neither he nor Danny had expected the nest of eggs. The additional care of a nest of exotic viper eggs was far beyond the abilities of a rock oddity. The promise of ten thousand dollars and one of the hatchlings was enough incentive for Danny to override Reese’s veto.

Besides, Reese was pregnant with their first child and they could use all the help they could get.

Joey paused at the front window to watch the puppies and kittens frolic in the piles of shredded cedar. Owning a dog was a dream of Joey’s. He planned on getting one just as soon as he could. Checking his watch, Joey slipped into the shop. He usually got to the shop a little before closing so he and Danny could go over the night’s schedule. Today he had arrived a few minutes earlier than usual because Reese was dropping by. Joey hadn’t seen her for the past couple of weeks and was eager to see how she was doing and how her baby bump had grown. Having no real family to call his own, he was thrilled to be considered a member of theirs.

Reese was sitting on the front counter looking at her Chuck Taylors dangling below her when Joey entered the shop. The cowbell attached to the door clanked noisily, startling her. She quickly glanced up and saw Joey. Immediately, a smile popped onto her face.

“Joeeeey!” Reese squealed as she hopped down from the counter.” Give me a hug.” Joey obliged.

“You look great! How do you feel?”

“Like a cow in striped leg warmers smuggling a bowling ball.” Reese was indeed wearing striped leg warmers, but a cow she was not. Since she had adopted the multi-layered “Flashdance” look it would be hard to tell if she weighed ninety or two hundred and ninety pounds.

“I see what you mean. Horizontal stripes were never your friend.” Joey replied, placing one hand on his hip while swishing a pointed finger in front of her.

“Thanks a lot, jerk wad!” Reese batted at Joey making him bob and weave in order to avoid getting smacked.

“Hey! You said it. C’mon, show me the bump.”

Reese pulled back on her sweatshirt to highlight not a bowling ball but a moderately sized loaf of rye bread.

“Can I touch it?”

“It is a her and, yes, you can touch her.”

Joey ran his open hand back and forth across the baby bump. ”Have you thought of a name?”

“Not yet. We thought we would let the moment inspire us.”

“So, does that mean if it’s, let’s say, raining she might get named Puddles?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Cool. So where’s the proud Papa?”

“Wit is in back with that stupid turquin thing. He thinks tonight might be the night.”

“Really? I better get back there.” Joey crouched down, set his cheek against Reese’s belly and whispered “See ya later, Puddles.”

Reese ran her fingers through the top of his hair, smiled and sent him on his way.

Danny sat hunched on a stool, having a staring contest with the turquin viper. The viper sat coiled around her nest of eggs, her head firmly centered over the top of the coil. An eighth inch thick glass panel was the only thing between the tip of Danny’s nose and the flicking tongue of his opponent.

“Hey, Danny.” No response. “Danny.”

“Huh? Wha-? ” Danny turned to face Joey. “Oh, Joe, it’s you. When are you going to start calling me ‘Wit’ like everyone else does? ‘Danny’ sounds weird. ”

“Okay, Wit, what’s going on?”

“Look at her. She seems so on edge, like she’s nervous about something. Maybe the eggs are ready to hatch.”

“She sure seems agitated. Maybe it’s because there’s a dork with his nose pressed up against her nursery window.”

“More likely it’s the thought of spending another evening with you.”

“No, she likes me. We have a lot in common.”

“And what would that be, a love for pińa coladas and long walks in the rain?”

“First of all, it’s getting caught in the rain. Second, anyone who would quote that song and get the lyrics wrong is at a level of dorkiness that would prohibit the ability to grasp…”

Joey and Wit’s conversation was interrupted by the clang of the cowbell. They looked toward the door, peering over the aisles of pet supplies like a couple of prairie dogs. Reese turned to face the visitor. He was little more than a ribcage clad in a leather jacket and jeans. His taught, pasty white skin and even whiter hair gave the impression of a Billy Idol wannabe. The lack of a shirt and abundance of chains around his neck completed the look.

“Sorry, sir, the shop is closed,” Reese apologized.

“Where is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where the fuck is it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Let me check. Wit, this gentleman would like to know where the fuck it is.” Reese’s voice quivered a bit, getting louder as she called out. Wit moved quickly to the front of the store, placing himself squarely between Reese and the unwelcome visitor.

“Hey there, Buddy, what can I do you for?” quipped Wit, trying to keep it light.

The Ribcage rocked back on his right foot as a length of pipe slid down from his sleeve and into his right hand. It clanked as the end rebounded off of the tile floor. Wit felt something clank in the pit of his stomach. He looked back at Reese and jerked his head, motioning that she should leave.

“Reese, why don’t you take Joey and look for it in the back room.”

Reese cautiously moved away from the counter, stepping sideways, always keeping a clear view of the intruder. The Ribcage inched forward, prompting Wit to raise his hands in disapproval.

”Just tell me what you want. No need for any rough stuff.”

“Too late.”

The pipe arced up from the floor, barely missing Wit’s groin as he lurched backward into the check- out counter. Spinning to his right, he was able to avoid the pipe on its downward swing. The showcase on the check-out counter shattered, spraying the surrounding floor with bits of glass and cubic zirconia studded dog collars. Wit searched frantically for something he could use to protect himself. The first thing he could grab was a can of dog food that promised “a shiny, luxurious coat within six weeks of use.” He threw it at his assailant with all his might. To Wit’s dismay the can sailed back at him in the form of a dented line drive, nailing him in the solar plexus. The room went a little fuzzy as Wit dropped to his knees. The Ribcage grabbed Wit by the front of his shirt and pulled him up so they stood nose to nose.

“Where’s that fuckin’ snake?”

“You know, there are other adjectives.”

“Show me the snake or your head will end up like that . . . “he said, pointing at the shattered display case with his pipe, The Ribcage struggled to replace the correct word.

“Dog collar?” asked Wit.

“No!”

“Dog tag?”

“No!”

“Chew toy? C’mon, help me out here.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“There’s that word again.”

“AUGHHH!”

The Ribcage, further enraged, shoved Wit backward and grabbed onto the pipe with two hands. He raised the pipe over his head as if he were readying a giant sledgehammer at a carnival game. Wit stumbled a few steps, backing into the front window display. Reaching back, he grabbed for a fistful of wood shavings with the thought of peppering his assailant’s eyes. Flinging the handful forward he realized what he had hoped to be a spray of cedar was, in actuality, a small grey tabby kitten. The airborne kitten twisted to right itself, colliding claws first with the face of the attacker. Tiny nails raked against the pasty white skin leaving hairline tracks that were slowly turning red. The kitten finished with a back flip, sticking the landing. The momentary shock of being hit with a kitten slowed The Ribcage’s advance enough for Wit to regain his footing. He swatted at the light switch, killing the lights, and sprinted toward the back of the shop.

“Joey, get Reese outta here!” Wit yelled as he overturned an empty parrot cage, trying to create a speed bump behind him. Wit veered toward the stock room door. An ear piercing buzz came from overhead as Joey and Reese pushed through the emergency exit. As Wit caught a glimpse of the lights in the alleyway he was tackled from behind, the impact launching him into the wall of aquariums holding the exotic pets.

Wit hit the wall hard. One end of the top shelf broke loose from the wall, sending a train of tanks sliding down the shelf, crashing to the floor. Wit crumbled, his tackler still wrapped around his waist. He twisted himself around to face his assailant, kicking to untangle himself from his grasp. The Ribcage scrambled to his feet, grabbing his pipe from the floor. Wit caught a glimpse of the pipe in mid-backswing. He threw his arms up to cover his head and braced for impact. The pipe whizzed past his ear, shattering the tank next to his head. The Ribcage crouched down and reached into the tank’s remains, extracting the turquin viper.