123
" The next twelve hours in the Stiff were decidedly less than pleasant. After several heated rounds of the License Plate Game, Pip decided to invent the Flick Ferbus in the Ear Game, which soon became the Ferbus Yells So Loud He Bursts Eardrums Game. Elysia yelled at him for yelling at Pip, causing Pandora to yell at everyone. “Shut the hell up or I’ll wrap this car right around a tree, and don’t you think for a second that I won’t!”
“But he’s flicking me!” said Ferbus.
Uncle Mort turned around in his seat. “Are we in preschool, Ferb? Is he breathing on you, too?”
“Actually, he is. And he still won’t give me credit for spotting the Alaska plate first.”
“Because you didn’t spot the Alaska plate first,” said Pip.
“PIP, I SWEAR ON ALL THAT IS HOLY I WILL POP YOUR EYEBALLS OUT OF YOUR HEAD AND EAT THEM WITH A SIDE OF YOUR LEFT—”
“Enough!” Uncle Mort yelled. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
125
" Why are we down here?”
“To stock up on weapons.” Uncle Mort crossed to the far wall. “We need lots of ’em. Driggs, pick that up, it’s not going to kill you—” Driggs gave him a look. “Okay, it won’t further kill you. Take a couple of these, too.” He handed Lex and Driggs a few thin vials of Amnesia each.
“What are these for?”
“Weapons. Aren’t you paying attention?” He walked to yet another wall and began to load up on items that were, at long last, recognizable as instruments of death.
“Guns?” she asked, surprised for some reason. “Not, like, Amnesia blow darts?”
“Oh, which reminds me.” He took something else off the shelf.
“What’s that?”
“Amnesia blow darts.”
Lex shook her head. “But why guns, if we have all of this other cool stuff?”
“Because despite our best efforts to use Amnesia as much as we can instead of lethal force, we’ll probably need to kill some people, and guns kill people.” He moved on to the next wall and began rifling through more gadgets. “Or people kill people. I forget how the hippies say it. Now, this one’s for you, Lex. I’m going to need you to guard this with every meager iota of attention span you have left. Okay? I’m trusting you with this. Don’t lose it.”
Lex got all her hopes up—even though she’d gotten to know Uncle Mort pretty well by now and should have known better than to get even a small percentage of her hopes up. And sure enough, the item he gave her caused the smile to evaporate right off her face.
“Don’t lose it,” he repeated.
Her eye twitched. “What is it?”
“What does it look like?”
“An oversize hole punch.”
“Exactly.”
“What?” she boomed as he went back to his papers. “You get guns, and Driggs gets the deadly Heisman, and all I get is an office supply?”
“Yes. Don’t lose it.”
It took every ounce of Lex’s strength to not kick the bubonic football into his face. Noticing this, Driggs swooped in and wrapped her in a calming, solid embrace. “Relax, spaz,” he said.
“But he—”
“—wouldn’t give you a bazooka. Oh, the unbearable trials and tribulations of the living.”
Lex deflated. Nothing put things in perspective like remembering that your boyfriend had been killed not a few hours earlier and was now stuck in some hellish existence halfway between life and death.
“Sorry,” she said, giving his arms a squeeze, happy that she could even do that.
“That’s okay. Human problems are hard. Hangnails and tricky toothpaste tubes and getting shat on by birds and the like.”
“Mondays suck too,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Oh, Mondays are the worst "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
128
" I grow weary of this talk,” announced Tut, digging around in a bag attached to the camel. “Where are my figs?”
Kloo let out a sigh. “That boy and his figs.”
“I know,” Cordy said dreamily, staring at his six-pack. “What a tasty slice.”
Lex had to get out of there, but she didn’t want to panic anyone. “Remind me again why he’s still with you?” she said, inching away from them.
Cordy glared at her. “Because we are an item,” she said testily. “And I’ll thank you to keep your jealousy to yourself. I’m sorry that you ended up with a weird-eyed freak while I got the leader of the ancient world, but that’s just how the camel spits.” She dug her heels into Lumpy and waved. “We’ll see you around, okay?”
“We’re leaving?” Poe said, incredulous and bitter. “So soon?”
“Silence, Mustache,” Tut yelled down to him. “You irk me.”
Poe scowled and started muttering to himself. “I shall shove him into a vortex, I shall. The one at Mount Rushmore, right up Jefferson’s nose . . . "
― Gina Damico , Scorch (Croak, #2)
129
" Driggs turned to Lex. “What is happening right now?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” said Lex, equally confused.
“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Broomie said, slamming her bottle down on the table. “That rotten-ass bastard LeRoy and his blind-ass puppets running this town like a stupid-ass carnival, that’s what.”
She looked at the Juniors as if she expected them to have the capacity to respond. But there they sat, like a pile of open-mouthed dead fish.
“I’m sorry,” Driggs said politely, folding his hands up under his chin, “but I’m going to have to ask you to rewind a little here.”
“Rewind? Sure. Twenty years ago, China. Middle of a monsoon. My mother’s water had just broken, and my massive noggin showed no signs of slowing—”
“Okay, fast forward,” Driggs jumped in. Pip looked ill.
“Orphaned and shipped off to Australia?” Broomie suggested, as if offering chapter options from her autobiography. “Arrested after stealing half a million dollars’ worth of pearls? Freed by LeRoy and brought to DeMyse? Promoted to the second-highest office in the city?”
“Okay, right there,” said Driggs. “Go.”
She gave him a wide grin. "
― Gina Damico , Scorch (Croak, #2)
130
" His eyes were getting that intense look again, so Lex tapped him on the shoulder. “So,” she said loudly, “what’s our next move?”
He blinked a couple of times. “Well, it should be slightly easier to move now that it’s getting on toward nighttime. Fewer people around, less likely we’ll be spotted. On the other hand, things will be much quieter, and with you elephants stomping around, there’s a greater chance of someone hearing us—”
“Hang on,” said Elysia. “We’re not stopping for the night?”
Uncle Mort paused to stare at her. “We’re a little pressed for time here, Lys.”
“Yeah, but—” She looked to Ferbus for help. “It’s just that we’re kind of, um, exhausted.”
“And hungry,” Ferbus added.
“And some of us really have to pee,” said Pip.
Pandora raised two fingers. “And other things.”
Uncle Mort irritably ran a hand through his hair. “So what are you saying?” he asked. “You want to camp out for the night? Where do you propose we do that?”
“Well, obviously we can’t stay here,” said Lex.
“But we can’t leave until we know where we’re going—”
“For cripes’ sake, enough with the drama!” Pandora said, blowing past him. “Everything is a crisis with you people. Stairs are hard, that tunnel’s too small, my sister died—sack up already! You really want somewhere to sleep?” She flung the front door open. “Come on. I know a place.”
***
“The National Museum of Grimsphere History?” Elysia said, reading the sign before them.
“OH no,” Ferbus said. “We’re not going to have to learn things, are we?”
“And risk pushing out the space in your brain devoted to basic motor skills?” Pandora said. “Heavens, no. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
133
" At least the awkwardness between her and Driggs had dissipated. This was no more evident than the afternoon Lex caught Driggs lying face-down on the ground of the Lair, allowing scores of black widow spiders to crawl over his body. “Again?” Lex said, exasperated. “Really?”
“You gotta try it,” he said contentedly into the floor.
“No way. They don’t like me the way they like you.”
“Probably because you don’t cry yourself to sleep in their presence,” he said, quoting her taunt from their big fight. The whole thing had turned into something of a running joke between them. Often, when bored or uncomfortable, they repeated the insults they had hurled at each other that night, loudly guffawing at each reiteration. This is what is known as a defense mechanism "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
134
" Cordy,” Uncle Mort interjected, “helpful things. Please.”
“Sure, yeah,” Cordy said, still staring at her honeybunch’s biceps. “What do you want to know?”
“You can see into all the windows, right? What’s going on?”
“Well, ever since that alarm went off, everyone’s been going schizoid. The place is swarming with guards—all looking for you, I assume?”
They nodded.
“Well done. I think so far you’ve thrown them, but . . .” She looked up. “They’re all over the place, especially the next few floors.”
“Residential.” Uncle Mort nodded. “That’s where they’ll be thickest. What about near the top, in Executive?”
Cordy shrugged. “I don’t know—the windows are blocked to us for the uppermost twenty floors or so. Sorry.”
“Damn, she’s good.” The sparkle in his eye left little doubt that he was talking about Skyla. When Lex looked offended, he crossed his arms. “Hey, if we were defending this building instead of attacking it, you’d be very impressed right now.”
Cordy pointed at him and gave Lex a questioning look.
“Uncle Mort has a girlfriend,” Lex explained.
“Whaa?” Cordy said.
“Don’t even ask. It’s beyond our powers of human comprehension.”
“Gross!”
“They even have a weird pool table euphemism for the dirty stuff.”
“Super gross!”
“Here’s an idea, Cordy,” Uncle Mort said, his irritation barely contained. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and keep a lookout for us?”
Cordy pouted. “Fine.” She leaned in to Lex and pointed back at her uncle. “I want to hear more about the lovefest later.”
“You really don’t. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
135
" You’re just a kid. Have fun. Go play in the fluff.”
“Not over here, though,” said a pale, miserable figure from behind a nearby pile. “I’ve constructed a Fortress of Solitude.”
Lex watched the dentist for a moment more, then gave up. “What’s wrong, Edgar?”
“Nothing.” He pouted. “Okay, everything.” He sighed dramatically as he approached, greasy black hair falling into his face. “I bit my tongue this morning, I dropped guacamole onto my favorite boots, Teddy Roosevelt made fun of my mustache, and—oh yeah—I’m dead.” He crossed his arms with a small huff.
“Hey, Quoth,” Lex said to the bird atop his shoulder, “go poop on Teddy Roosevelt.” The raven gave a slight nod as he launched into the air and flew over to the tangle of presidents, where he stopped, aimed carefully, and dropped a plump white bomb directly onto the face of America’s twenty-sixth.
Edgar stuck out his tongue. “Where’s your big stick now, Teddy Bear?”
“Dammit, Poe!” Teddy roared, shaking his fist. “I’ll get you for this!”
Edgar let out a screech not unlike that of a seven-year-old girl. He dove back into his fortress, sending clouds of the white fluff into the air. Lex watched them float around, her mind clicking onto something—
“Oh my God, that’s it!” She jumped up from the desk. “Elysia, I’ll catch you later. Edgar—you’re a genius.”
“I am aware of that,” a muffled voice replied "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
136
" Driggs, you go out and watch for a break in traffic. Once it’s clear, give the signal, and we’ll scramble onto the escalator as quickly and as quietly as we can.”
“Are you nuts?” said Lex. “People are going to recognize us!”
He withdrew his hand from his bag, something golden glinting between his fingers. “Not with this.”
“The bubonic football?” Lex said. “What are we going to do, sneeze them to death?”
“Oh, if only our paltry weapons were as destructive as Lex’s diabolical wit,” Uncle Mort countered, deadpan.
“I’d say diabolical wit is something that runs in the family,” said Pandora.
“Don’t forget the superiority complexes,” Ferbus added.
“And the bossiness!” Pip threw in.
Uncle Mort cleared his throat. “As fun as it might be for us to all sit here and pick apart all the delightfully whimsical foibles of the Bartleby family, we’ve kind of got a war to fight here, remember? Let’s go do that "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
137
" Lex grabbed a near-empty ketchup bottle and shook it vigorously over the onion rings that had been given to her. When nothing came out, she ran to the door of the diner and stuck her head in. “Dora!” she yelled across the restaurant. “Would it kill you to replace these ketchups once in a while? I know you treasure your relics from the Stone Age, but it might be time to let go!”
The elderly proprietor hobbled over. “What a mouth on this one,” she grumbled to herself, practically throwing a new bottle at Lex. “Whatever happened to respecting your elders?”
“Isn’t that what paleontologists are for?”
Pandora scowled, her wrinkles like crags. “Young lady, you are the rudest, most despicable hellion ever to disgrace the grounds of this establishment.” Her frown transformed into a hideous gaping grin. “You remind me of me.”
Lex smiled. “Thanks, Dora. Oh, this morning’s weirdest was a guy choking on a hamster.”
“Sweet sassy molassy,” Pandora said in awe. "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
