The Zombie Playground Page 13

  “But that’s not all,” she continued.

  “What?”

  “He needs an extra player. I was curious, Paul. Have you ever swung a golf club before?”

  Paul didn’t run away in terror or tip his glass over in trepidation. He took another bite of his Chex Mex, and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brin opened her eyes to the sounds of chipping and chirping. She rolled off her bed and tumbled toward her upstairs window to see a bird resting on a tree branch. Its face and body were yellow, and its wings were Oreo black-and-white. She watched it jerk its head back and forth, before it dive bombed down toward the front lawn and disappeared across the street. Watching the bird take flight brought another sight into view down below: Paul hitting golf balls from one side of the lawn to the other. Brin smiled. Sometimes she forgot Paul was a vampire. Sometimes she thought of him as a little orphan boy who had never truly had a place he called home. Watching him take practice swings with the sand wedge, Brin knew that with each passing day, Paul was becoming more and more comfortable in Grisly, Nevada, and with her.

  She yawned and pulled up her cell phone. They were to report to Macabre at 8:30 A.M. to be ready for a 9:00 tee-off, so Brin had set her alarm for 7:00. She blinked a few times. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  It was already 8:15.

  “Oh shit!” Brin screamed, and raced into the bathroom to take a shower.

  Twenty minutes later, Brin entered the hall. She passed her mother’s bedroom on her way downstairs—the door was open and she could see her mom sleeping—but she decided not to wake her up. Her mom had seen some horrific things yesterday, and she felt it best to let her rest.

  Brin opened the garage door and walked outside to see Paul still working on his swing.

  “You’re not bad,” she said.

  “Thanks. I’ve been golfing all the way back since the 1920’s.”

  “The 1920’s? Well, then, you’ll probably be the best one on the course today.”

  He shook his head. “Problem is I haven’t played since 1997. I may be a little rusty.”

  “1997? I wasn’t even born in 1997.” Brin stared at him. “How old are you, Paul?”

  “I’ve been around awhile, let’s leave it at that.”

  Paul smiled and posed in his sleek attire. It was the first time she was able to get a proper look at his outfit. Paul was wearing one of her brother’s green golf shirts and a finely pressed pair of Dockers pants. His hair was slicked back and gelled, and a white golf glove was already dangling off his left hand.

  “I found your brother’s golf clubs. I was hoping I could borrow them?”

  “Yes, of course.” She didn’t—couldn’t—turn away from him. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just… you look so… human.”

  “Nothing makes you look more human, or dopey, than golf clothes.”

  “You don’t look dopey.” She took a step forward and grabbed his sand wedge. “Grab the bag. We’re late.”

  Paul slung the bag over his shoulder and followed Brin to the garage. She couldn’t help but laugh as she placed her golf bag in the trunk.

  “What?” Paul said, placing his bag on top of hers.

  “If someone had ever told me I was going to play a round of golf one day with a vampire, I think I would’ve asked for a peek into that overactive imagination.”

  Paul closed the trunk. “Well… here I am.”

  “There you are. All right, let’s do this. Let’s play some golf.”

  ---

  A guard picked his nose with great attention to detail as Brin pulled her Jeep up to the entrance to Macabre Golf & Country Club. The gate was closed, and the guard didn’t look thrilled to see more unexpected visitors.

  “Hi there,” Brin said.

  The guard didn’t respond. He crossed his legs in his high chair and removed a cigarette from his mouth. “Yeah?”

  “Uhh, we’re here for the tournament.”

  He shook his head. “Golf course doesn’t open until May. You’ll have to come back then.”

  Before Brin could say another word, the guard closed his sliding door, like he was in a public bathroom and needed some privacy. Brin stepped out of her car and knocked on the window. He opened it again.

  “What is it? What do you want?” He said it like he hadn’t just spoken to her. She felt like Dorothy trying to speak to the short, portly doorman in The Wizard of Oz.

  “We were invited to a tournament today. We know the co-owner. His name is Clyde Cleaver, and we were personally invited by his son Colin.”

  “Ahh,” he said. “You know the Cleavers, do you?”

  “I go to school with Colin, yes.”

  “What’s your handicap?”

  Brin just stared at the man. “I don’t see how that pertains—”

  “Well, I thank you for coming,” the guard said, “but I’m sorry to say that the players have already teed off. You’re too late! I apologize.”

  “What?” Brin said. “It’s only 8:45. They weren’t supposed to tee off until 9:00!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Can you call over there? See if they’re waiting for us?”

  “I can’t let you in,” the guard said. “Good day.”

  He went to close his sliding door again, but Brin leapt forward and kicked it back open.

  “Listen, asshole,” Brin said, “I have had a really, really shitty couple of weeks, and I need this round of golf today, you understand me? I need it right now like I need oxygen! So you let me in that gate, or I’m calling the cops!”

  The man smiled. He took a step outside the stall, revealing himself to be dressed not in security attire but in a polo shirt and black slacks. Brin noticed for the first time that, despite the man’s dark skin, he had similar facial features to a young man she had recently come to know.

  “Colin was right about you,” he said, giving Brin an unexpected hug. “You are quite the feisty one!”

  “What?” She didn’t hug back. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man pointed to a black Sedan in the distance, where Brin could see Colin waving at them from inside.

  “Clyde Cleaver,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brin.”

  He stuck his hand out but Brin was too in shock to shake it. She finally did, knowing that it was in her best interest to stay on the man’s good side.

  “I… uhh…”

  “It’s OK,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I called you an asshole. I thought—”

  “I would’ve been upset if you didn’t. My son’s a little stinker. He saw you guys driving up, and he told me to pull the prank on you.”

  “Where’s the real guard? Is there one?”

  “I gave him the morning off.” He smashed his hands together and smiled big. “So what do you say? You ready to hit the links?”

  “More ready than ever. But… umm… this will be the only prank pulled on me today, right?”

  “The only one by me, I promise. I can’t attest for the others.” The man leaned in toward Brin’s ear. “Just so you know, my son has a giant crush on you. Don’t tell him I said so, you do with this knowledge what you will.”

  He clapped his hands and shoved his elbow up against a button inside the stall, opening the large black gate. Brin returned to her car and waved to Mr. Cleaver as he sauntered toward Colin in the distance.

  “That was weird,” Paul said, hunched over in the passenger seat.

  “You’re telling me.”

  She hadn’t found the dad’s practical joke very funny, and she was taken aback by his revealing comment about his son. Colin Cleaver likes me, she thought. Just think. I could be Brin Cleaver. Have a daughter named June and a son named Beaver!

  Brin expected to see a parking lot past the gate, but such was not the case. She navigated up and down two hills, made a right, then shot straight ahead toward the clubhouse. While the grass looked rather sickly—northern Nevada
weather usually promoted more snow skiing in the winter than golfing—the marvelous sights around her gave Brin an exciting preview for what was to come.

  The clubhouse was completed, except for some touch-ups that needed to be done on the front doors, and the parking lot, so large it could handle enough cars for a dozen tournaments, expanded all the way to three practice putting greens on the far right. Brin parked next to Ash’s Volkswagon Beetle and stepped out into the morning sunshine.

  “Beautiful day,” Brin said.

  “Sure is,” Paul said, emerging from the other side. “You said most of the course is in the trees, right?”

  “Yes, I did check with Colin about that. I didn’t tell him you were a vampire, though. I just told him you were trying to avoid skin cancer.”

  “And that I hate wearing sunscreen.”

  “Correct. He said all but one of the holes are surrounded by trees. You should be fine.”

  “And again, it’s not that the sun bothers me,” Paul said. “I just can’t be under it all day. I’ll get sick. I’ll vomit up blood for everyone to see. And that wouldn’t be good.”

  “No. It wouldn’t.”

  “BRIN! OVER HERE!” Ash shouted from across the way. A group of players, young and old, were huddled by the driving range.

  Brin and Paul grabbed their golf clubs and made their way to the concrete. It felt so quiet and secluded up on the hilltop, walking to the driving range; Brin almost wished there were more players and staff around. Two weeks ago she had spent a weekend in a location surrounded by nothingness, and here she was again, closer to home, but still a mere speck in the middle of a vast landscape that seemed to be miles from any busy street or neighborhood. She hated to think it, but Brin felt like she was right back in Bodie Ghost Town again.

  She ignored the thought and smiled as she approached Ash. She didn’t have to fake the smile. He looked so ridiculous that she busted out laughing.

  Ash didn’t look ready to play a round of golf; he looked prepared to dance and sing at a child’s birthday party. He was dressed in the kind of golf clothes goofy Scottish men turn down for better options. He wore a Christmas-colored sweater, with bright yellow shorts, and a pair of rundown tennis shoes. He had on his black-framed glasses, instead of his contact lenses, and his wardrobe was completed with a circular orange cap on the top of his head.

  “Good morning, Ash,” Brin said. “You look… interesting.”

  “I thought I would look as distracting as possible,” he said, “so that none of you will be able to focus.”

  “Because you suck at golf.”

  “I don’t suck. I just… could be better.” He rolled his eyes at Paul, then turned back to Brin. “You brought him?”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Is he any good?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you,” Paul said, with a sense of combativeness.

  “Game on, vamp,” Ash said, louder than necessary. “Game on!”

  “Hey!” Anaya screamed from the parking lot. “Don’t start without me! I’m coming!”

  Brin could sense a body stepping toward her, and then she felt a hand graze her ass. She turned around to see Colin, staring out at the parking lot.

  “Oh, look,” he said. “Here comes the walrus.”

  “Hey!” Brin said, taken aback by his comment. “Be nice.”

  “Should be interesting to see if she’ll be able to walk all eighteen holes.”

  “What?” Ash added. “We’re not taking carts?”

  Colin shook his head. “No carts. Don’t have them yet. We’re walking the whole way.” He giggled and pointed at Anaya, who was already breathing heavy as she approached the edge of the parking lot. “So when this Frost chick bites the dust on hole seven, I hope one of you comes to her rescue.”

  “You’re an ass,” Brin said to Colin, who was nearly five inches taller than her. She couldn’t believe his mean-spirited attitude. It was like he was a whole new person. “You know what? I’m gonna be the one laughing when she has a better round than you.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen.”

  “I bet you she will. I’ve seen her at tryouts. She has her faults, but she can make her putts like a seasoned pro.”

  “Well, what about you?” Colin said, leaning in awkwardly close to her. “Are you gonna beat me, Miss Skar?”

  She glared back at him. She could smell French fries and animal meat on his breath. “I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Hey,” Ash said, pushing Colin away from Brin. “You ever heard of personal space?”

  Colin’s lively and flirtatious demeanor changed in a millisecond to one of vindictiveness. “You want me to send you away, geek? I’m the one who invited you here.”

  “All right!” Colin’s dad Clyde shouted from the driving range, before Ash could put up a fist or two, and waved everyone on. “It’s time to decide on the teams!”

  Anaya stepped up to Brin just in time, and the quintet walked over to Clyde. Brin didn’t recognize most of the other players, especially the adults. But she did recognize one other player.

  “Tristan, right?” Brin said.

  “Uhh, yeah,” the Grisly High freshman said. “Hi again.”

  Brin opened her mouth to ask the boy another question, but Clyde stepped in to make a little speech.

  “All right, welcome everyone, to this top secret and very special tournament. There are exactly twelve of us, so there will be three teams of four. Before we begin, let me quickly introduce everyone…”

  He pointed out three more adults, all men in their mid to late forties, one with eyebrows thick as caterpillars, and another badly pockmarked. Colin had invited two more of his friends, two guys she had seen around school but had never had classes with. And then Colin’s younger brother introduced himself.

  “I’m Crispin,” the boy said. He looked no older than twelve.

  “Nice to meet you, Crispin. I’m Brin.”

  “I’m Ash,” Ash said, shaking the boy’s hand.

  “And I’m Paul.” Paul went to shake his hand, but the middle school student took two steps back, like he was afraid to touch him.

  “Umm, hi,” the boy said. He immediately turned around and stepped toward his father.

  Brin couldn’t believe it. It’s like he knows Paul is different.

  “So we’re not playing for any trophies, but we are playing for a very special prize, particularly for those of you who aren’t my kids. Prize for first place is a year of free golf at Macabre, starting this Memorial Day when we have our grand opening!”

  Brin leapt high into the air. She had been excited for today’s round of golf, but now she was ecstatic: A year of free golf? Holy shit!

  “What about your sons?” Ash said. “Won’t they get free admission to the club anyway, since you own it?”

  Clyde shook his head. “Only if they win. Even if you are my own flesh and blood, you’re not getting into this club for free. And you’re certainly not getting all the free food and drink that comes with it!”

  Brin’s jaw dropped toward the ground, past the ground, all the way past the core of the Earth. “Free food and drink is included, too?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “For a whole year?”

  “That’s correct!”

  “Oh my God,” Brin said, and she immediately turned her attention to Anaya. The big girl looked back at Brin with a cold stare. The competition was officially on.

  Totally, freaking amazing.

  “Now,” Clyde said, “it’s time to pick our teams. Crispin?”

  The boy pulled a small bucket out of the side of his bag.

  “OK,” Crispin said, “everyone, pull a popsicle stick out of the bucket to determine if you will be in group one, two, or three.”

  As Brin stepped toward the bucket, she tried to imagine her perfect foursome. She’d definitely like Anaya to be on her team, so that their competition could be made even more immediate and fierce. S
he’d want Ash, of course, and then Paul, too. It would be a mini-Bodie reunion.

  She picked her stick.

  “What are you?” Colin said, once again grazing Brin’s ass with his hands like he figured she wouldn’t notice.

  “Number one.”

  “Sweet! Me too!”

  Brin shook her head in disgust. She wasn’t in the mood to spend eighteen holes with a guy she was coming to learn was not the sweetheart back at the cemetery but really, deep down, a douchebag. “How wonderful.”

  Clyde was in the third group, as was his son Crispin. Ash picked his popsicle stick and grimaced for all to see.

  “What is it?” Brin said.

  “Group two. Damn, I never get in your groups, Brin! Anyone want to trade?”

  “No trading,” little Crispin said, like he was the commander-in-chief of today’s operation. “Those are the rules!”

  “All right, well, who’s in group two?” Ash walked over to the guy with the pockmarked face. They exchanged awkward greetings, then immediately turned away from each other.

  Brin smiled at Paul. “OK, mister. Your turn.”

  Paul pulled up the stick. “Two,” he said.

  Brin sighed. She turned to Crispin. “Can we please have some trading here? I’d really like Paul to be on my team.”

  “Sorry,” the boy said. “Rules are rules.”

  She turned to the father. “Mr. Cleaver?”

  He just shrugged and wrapped his million-dollar golf bag around his pudgy belly. “All right. Is that everyone?”

  “Nope,” Anaya said, approaching the bucket. Only one popsicle stick remained. She picked it up and shoved it in Brin’s face. “Number one, Miss Skar.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bring it on, Frost.”

  “Oh I will.”

  “Hey, hey,” Colin said, pressing his arm against Anaya’s pregnant-sized belly and his hands against Brin’s breasts.

  “Hey, yourself!” Brin said, pushing his hand away.

  Colin took a step back and said, “No bloodshed on the course, OK?”

  “That may be difficult,” Brin said.

  “I won’t need to draw blood,” Anaya said. “I’ll destroy you with my score.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”