Chapter 54

CHAPTER 54

B y five, the large meadow below Pike's huge A-frame was pretty much filled. He called his place a cabin, but it was about ten times the size of the hovel I'd left behind in Colorado. Rose and I took the Pathfinder with Maggs enjoying the back seat all to herself. Luke drove his minivan and I made a single snarky comment about it, but Rose corrected me, telling me that it was really practical and that Luke had pretty much been the taxi for Darius and Poppy and Mei and Owen and the Weed Brothers for years before they got licenses. And that Marley and Darius had labored over it for months to convert it to electric, and she wished they'd do the same to this gas-guzzling Pathfinder.

I silently vowed never to mention minivans again. To anyone.

We parked the Pathfinder next to the vehicle which will never be mentioned by name again. There were a lot of cars here, meaning the town was pretty much deserted. It seems Ozzie had been held in high regard. For a brief moment I thought about how many people would attend my funeral and the sad truth was: no one. At least before I'd landed here in Rocky Start.

Maggs got out with us. Poppy had given her special dispensation and she no longer wore the cone, and she was showing no inclination to chew the bandage off. A well-worn path led from the field downhill, which seemed to be the way to go since everyone else was heading that way. It wound through the forest until coming out in a clearing on the edge of a small mountain lake.

The sun was over the western mountains and the slanting rays reflected off the dark, flat surface of the water. It was really quite a setting, and I could see why Oz had wanted to go out in style here.

A number of people were gathered around a boat ramp. There was Coral next to Pike in that monstrosity of a hat, which Rose said needed a crow. Why? I have no idea. Lian was there. Betty Baumgarten, looking like the innocent little old lady she wasn't, next to Melissa Merriweather dressed all in white, apparently willing to forgive not handling the arrangements since she was in the crowd. Some tall, pale guy in a black suit nodded a big head at Rose and sort of half waved; Rose waved back and said he was Geoffrey Nice, the other funeral director. The shop owners along State Street that Pike had introduced me to were here. Even Barry. Not the Ferrells because Pike and I had talked to them about surveillance of the town and they'd promised to keep an eye out. I got the sense that even in death, they were afraid of Oz.

When we got closer to the water's edge and the concrete boat ramp there, I could see a body in a gold-painted rowboat that Reggie had taken the seats out of and modified with wood carvings of a dragon, front and back, to become a Viking mini longship. It seemed a shame that it was going to be burned because those carvings were damned good.

It was short for a Viking longship but big enough to contain Oz: a large man, now shrunken with age and death, dressed in full combat gear, the sterile jungle fatigues and old school LBE—load bearing equipment—that dated him. All the better for when he reached Valhalla to await the call to action by Odin to Ragnarok, to fight the jotnar .

Most players know Norse mythology because it is, frankly, martial and bleak. I hoped Oz would have plenty of time to quaff some ale in the hall before that last fight .

The boat was lined with red velvet. Oz was stretched out on a low platform with an AK-47 on one side and a Ka-Bar knife on the other. The jotnar were going to get their asses kicked, although I did find it sadly fascinating in Norse mythology that the good guys lose Ragnarok. That was the kind of afterlife the entity controlling my life could certainly conjure up and one I deserved.

There were five people standing there on either side of the boat ramp, and it took me a moment to realize who they were because their faces were white with makeup and they had blood trails running from the sides of their mouths, their eyes ringed with black, the boys' suits ripped and bloody and the girl in a blood-red prom dress with the skirt cut short and ripped and the top part dotted with charred bullet holes, her black hair standing up in spikey curls. She saw me and smiled and waved, and I realized it was Poppy, with Darius, Marley, Owen, and Reggie, and when Mei walked up and joined them, equally made up and wearing one of her mother's suits that she'd vandalized with fake blood and what looked like real bullet holes, I turned to Rose and said, "What is that?" and realized she was laughing and fighting back tears at the same time.

"Zombies," she said. "We were all at breakfast one morning, and Coral was talking about the kind of funeral she wanted, and Pike said he didn't want a funeral, he wanted to be planted in the weed field so he'd go into the plants and get smoked into heaven, and then Oz said, ‘I want to go out big, a Viking zombie funeral that everyone will remember,' and we all laughed." Rose sniffed. "I thought he was kidding at the time, but we should have known better. Pike's giving him his Viking zombie funeral." She shook her head. "Look at Poppy. She's beautiful even as a zombie."

I looked back at Poppy, who evidently had no investment in her beauty: She looked like pure screaming hell and was obviously happy with that, growling at the few little kids who crept up to look at her, holding her hands out and staggering in true zombie mode while they shrieked and laughed and ran away.

And I realized Oz had been smart and was getting exactly what he'd wanted. He was providing a party, a spectacle that people would remember for a very long time and talk about fondly. Good memories. The Norse gods would approve of this send-off.

Then a Viking war horn sounded, a real honest-to-goodness one that sounded like Vikings were heading into battle, and Pike stepped up to the head of the dragon rowboat and the crowd hushed. There were a couple hundred people there now, most of them hanging back, but the six zombie kids arranged themselves around Oz in his longship, a phalanx of the dutiful undead, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the lake. Maggs settled down in front of Rose and me, head on her paws to watch what the foolish humans were up to.

"This is the funeral Oz wanted," Pike said, his voice carrying. "But a true Viking's funeral isn't complete until his boat is filled with things to take to the afterlife. We'll give you some time to pay your respects and put whatever you've brought for him into the boat, and then we'll give him the final send-off." He looked over at us. "Rose? You want to start us off?"

Rose walked over, taking something out of one of her apron pockets. It was a rectangle about five by seven, a slab of something wrapped in what looked like an army green t-shirt. She stood beside the dragon boat coffin for a moment and then she said, her voice a little too high, "I washed your favorite t-shirt, Ozzie, and put something inside it to sustain you on your journey." She put the package on his stomach and straightened his jacket for him, still fixing things for him, and then she put her hand over his heart. "I love you, Ozzie. Thank you for saving my life and my baby's life. Thank you for nineteen safe years. Thank you for giving us . . . everything . I will never, ever forget you."

Then she stepped back beside me, and I put my arm around her because she was crying pretty hard now.

"What's in the package?" I whispered in her ear.

She blinked up at me, smiling through her tears. "Lasagna inside one of his favorite shirts, of course."

I nodded. Of course. "How did you know to bring it?"

"Pike put a notice on the online community bulletin board. Facebook." She frowned at me. "We have to get you on there. "

I started to say no because I do not do communities, but Poppy stepped up next and took a beat-up paper flower out of her dress, one of those cheap red crepe paper poppies veterans give away on Veterans Day, this one faded and crumpled, like she'd had it for years. "You were the best grandpa anybody ever had," she said, her voice tight with unshed tears. "So I'm going with you to Valhalla." She put the paper poppy inside his LBE. "And you're going to be with me. Always. I love you, Ozzie. I always will. Thank you for loving me."

Then she stepped back, crying, and Rose took a step toward her, but Darius was there.

I like that kid.

Not everybody came up to the boat to say something, but enough of them did and most of them muttered something to Oz and tossed things in. Finally, when the sun had gone down and the place was lit by torches, Coral went up, pressed her silk panties from the will into his hand and said, dramatically of course, "I will love you forever, Oz," and then did a short speech about the magnificence of his penis and something about being able to crack walnuts with his glutes, which was TMI in my opinion. Pike went up after her and said, "Godspeed, Oz," and gave him back the watch he'd received at the will reading. There was a story there and I was sure it was full of derring-do in foreign lands. He appeared too choked up to say more.

And then he turned to me, swallowed hard, and said, "Max?"

Okay, nobody had told me we'd be giving Oz gifts, and I'd never met him, so I didn't have much to say to him, but the eyes of a lot of people were on me, so I went forward. The boat up close smelled of gasoline, undercut by the flowers some people had tossed in—did they even know Oz?—but strong enough that I was pretty sure that boat was going up in flames quickly.

Oz looked like he'd been carved at the same time the Vikings hit Ireland, but it was a face of strength and purpose, no mercy there, the real power in the town, the guy who got things done. I could respect that.

So I took that beat-up badge that Pike had tossed to me, and I put it on his chest over the lasagna. And I thought about Rose and Poppy and Darius and Luke and the Weeds and the others gathered round, protected now by Pike, who was not Ozzie, who wasn't a ruthless bastard, and realized what Pike had realized a couple of days ago.

This town needed another ruthless bastard.

At least for a little while. Turns out I do have some job qualifications.

I looked up to see Pike scowling at me, and I realized he thought I was throwing the badge away.

"I'm gonna need my own badge," I told him, keeping my voice low. "This one is Ozzie's." Then I looked down and said, "I've got this, Oz. Rest in peace."

Then I went back and put my arms around Rose, who was sobbing so hard that I knew she couldn't have heard me.

Pike had, though.

First time I ever saw the old bastard looking relieved.

He nodded and the Weed Brothers, one on each side, swung wooden mallets, knocking chocks out of the way, releasing the dragon rowboat, and the other kids stepped back. It slid down the boat ramp and onto the water with enough velocity to head outward.

Then Reggie stepped forward with a compound bow, an arrow with a torch head notched. Marley lit it with his lighter and it flared. Reggie drew back the string and released. The flaming arrow flew out across the water and thudded solidly into the interior of the boat. For several moments it just flickered there, then it caught whatever they'd soaked the velvet on the interior of the boat with and the flames roared up into the dark sky, and I heard Marley say, calmly, "Maybe too much fuel."

"There's never too much fuel," Reggie said.

The boat slid farther out into the dark lake under the moonless sky, blazing fiercely. I had my doubts that Oz would be ashes before the boat sank, but I'd underestimated the Weeds because the hull of the boat wasn't burning as fast as everything else, so Oz burned for a good long time before the hull gave out and the boat sank into the deepest part of the lake.

I noticed the distinct odor of weed being smoked.