Wow, that Tiff.

Chen looked at Diego. "Are you... can you breathe?"

He nodded briskly, his eyes on Tiff. He slowly took his hands away from his throat.

A glaring red mark stood there like a nasty comma.

Chen's eyes narrowed again and they flicked to Diego's. "What's that on your throat?"

He shrugged, his breathing starting to return to normal. I was thinking Tiff had delivered a nice jab. She probably couldn't get away with that again. They were on to her now, the element of surprise, a chick's best weapon, was gone.

CHAPTER 3

Clyde & Bobbi

Clyde stood in front of Roberta "Bobbi" Gale, shielding her from the gang of men clenching solid hickory bats. He had not yet determined if he could do what he needed before one of the fools laid their hands on Roberta.

Bobbi had her hand buried at the back of Clyde, the scratchiness of his suit rubbing pleasantly at her palm as the men closed in.

It had seemed harmless ten months ago when she had decided that nothing was more important than exploring her connection with Clyde.

Her job.

Her position in the community.

Her safety.

All those things had been torn away when she'd hung on the chasm of choice.

When she dove into her decision, she had landed with bruising force.

Bobbi Gale had a notoriety that she hadn't bargained for. She wasn't famous, she was infamous. This was the first case of a zombie not going to ground, being kept alive, a second life after the first. It was possible because she was AFTD. Her low-level Affinity for the Dead fueled Clyde, their mere proximity allowing him to live again.

With her.

No one could quantify the new precedence. So, prejudice against the walking dead and anyone that would think to have a relationship with a zombie was fodder for cruelty.

Like now.

Clyde couldn't get enough of the technology of the current era. On a daily basis Bobbi would show him something new and he took to it like a duck to water, each new discovery a simple joy.

Everywhere they went, people stared. It wasn't that Clyde looked dead, he didn't.

But he was.

It was everything about him was different, his manner, his speech, his clothing---all. And so many knew about the two of them, encounters such as these were not uncommon. But it'd been months. Gale had thought she was out of the fire of it but no.

The first man approached, the bat held in a meaty fist gone white at the knuckles with tension. "Come on corpse-boy, take your licks and we'll show your lady a good time," he grabbed his crotch lewdly, "with real men. Men that are alive."

Clyde looked warily at he who had spoken, then replied, "You will do nothing of the kind, vagrant," Clyde said in his offhand manner. He tried to keep an eye on all five of the men, but it was difficult at best.

"Well then, we're gonna put a hurt on ya!" Beefy said. Gale whispered behind Clyde. "Let me take point."

"No, Roberta, I will take care of this scallywag and his cohorts and be done for the evening."

Stubborn man, Bobbi thought with a small smile. Then, with her last sense of police directive still beating inside her head she warned the group, "He will hurt you. It'll be our word against yours..." she began and Beefy's friend whipped his greasy hair out of his eyes and replied, "I think you're done being a cop, lady. They don't want no corpse-humpers on the force, right boys?" He laughed derisively and Bobbi felt Clyde tense as he said, his fists curling in readiness, "You have let your intellect stand testimony before your words and been found wanting."

"Huh?" Beefy asked, beating a rhythm with the stick against his open palm.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. "He said you're a dumbass."

"Roberta..." Clyde warned. She giggled behind him. He hated foul language from a woman.

"I'm sorry, he brings out the worst in me."

"Noted, Dear Heart," Clyde said as Beefy gave a roar to defend the size of his inconsequential brain and rushed Clyde.

At the same time as the other four moved in.

Beefy connected the hardwood with Clyde's open palm. The resounding smack was deafening in the alleyway behind the pulse theater.

Clyde grasped it, swinging it as it hit his palm and bashed the blunt end into Beefy's head. He dropped where he stood and Gale yelled, "Not too hard Clyde!"

Clyde never remembered his strength.

Two of the men crashed into Clyde and the other two went for Bobbi. Not that it'd help them, she was trained for hand to hand combat and was proficient.

It got a little exciting when it was two big burly gents against a one hundred ten pound woman, skilled or not.

One got a handful of her hair and she fought not to scream like a girl as Clyde whaled on the two who had charged him.

She spiked a defensive jab into the throat of hair-puller and he staggered backward, his hands laced on his throat. She drove into him, pummeling his stomach with peppered jabs; quick, lethal and deliberate.

He fell on his ass, the air leaving his body. Bobbi turned, and was hit in the perfect spot on her jaw. She instantly felt herself begin to lose consciousness.

Bastard, she thought as darkness cloaked her.

Her last thought was that she hoped Clyde beat his ass.

Clyde bent the hand that had driven into his belly back to the wrist and heard a satisfying wet snap as the bone gave to the unnatural and acute pressure. He flung his arm out in an almost dismissive gesture at the other and clotheslined him. He went ass over tea kettle, as a gymnast would, on Clyde's immobile arm. He landed on his back with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.

Clyde had a random thought about the old game Red Rover. Red Rover, Red Rover... come on over! He smiled and it looked like a snarl on his face as he straightened in time to see one of the ruffians hit Roberta.

A thin veil of rage clouded his senses, his zombie nature demanding recompense. His eyes shifted to the ruffian's head and he thought briefly on the living tissue encased therein.

A delicacy.

He shook his brief musing away with a pang of regret and roared to Roberta's defense, springing with lithe grace... he flew from a standstill into the one who had punched a woman.

His unseemly demeanor would be his undoing.

Clyde rolled him over and the man screamed.

Clyde hissed, words were not needed, he thought. Almost tenderly he cranked the man's head back, the pulse in the hoodlum's throat jumping around underneath skin held taut from the hold.

Clyde smiled. He barred his teeth as he opened his mouth to kill the human that would cause harm to Roberta.

The woman he loved.

*

rescue

I ran headlong toward the front of the theater, scenting trouble.

Scenting death.

Clyde was in trouble and I couldn't get a bead on Bobbi either. I was so in violation of about fifty-one different probation laws that had been slapped on me but it didn't matter, he was more than some zombie.

He was Clyde and we were connected through death.

And now life.

Somehow, I knew he was in trouble.

I rounded the corner and saw teeth readying for a strike.

Shit!

"Clyde!" I screamed.

He hesitated, balancing between desire and servitude.

I put some meat behind my command, "Release him!"

Clyde dumped the head that he'd been holding and it cracked against the pavement.

Huh, not real gentle about crap.

His gaze met mine and I shook my head. "You can't kill everyone!"

Clyde stood, wiping the dirt off his trousers. "It is not everyone, Master."

"Caleb."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. I sighed.

"What happened this time?" I asked, jamming my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.

He held up a finger as I heard some low groaning from behind us on the street. Where some dude that was all-muscle with a layer of fat lay writhing around on the pavement.

What a clusterfuck.

He strode to where Bobbi lay, a welt the size of a plum (about that color too) lay on her small jaw. He scooped her up with ease, pressing her against his muscular body.

Apparently, what you did in life followed you in death. Now that Clyde was alive again and fully restored (so to speak, hardy har har), he was built like the farmer he'd been. Tough work, day in and day out. No gym time, it was unheard of in that day. If someone had a physique full of muscle, it was hard-earned from labor.

His had been hard-earned for sure.

He stood holding Bobbi, a still burden in his arms and said, "They were planning to cause harm to Roberta."

I frowned, I could sorta see his point. If someone was going to hurt Jade, they'd pay.

Hell, they had, hadn't they?

I nodded. "Okay, let's get the hell outta here before the world o' cops roars in and hands us our asses."

Clyde blinked and I refined my phrasing, there was probably too much time between the eras for him to bridge the verbal gap.

"The cops will come and we'll get in trouble. Again."

Clyde nodded. "I see. It would go badly for Roberta as well."

Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Like her being on suspension with pay wasn't a fun gig already?

We took off, me on a dead run and Clyde jogging with a woman in his arms, not even breaking a sweat.

In my experience the dead didn't sweat.

A little smile rode my face and was gone, exhaustion taking up residence where worry had been.

CHAPTER 4

ten months prior

We filed back into the courtroom, the recess over. After Clyde had answered the questions about life and death... his, that is; the courtroom had been overrun with noise, mayhem and general disorder.

Jowly Judge couldn't contain it so he called a recess. I felt like I was in the playground at recess and the teacher on duty had nailed a couple of bullies. If it hadn't been so serious it might've been fun. As it was, Mom was a wreck, Dad was holding her together, and Gramps was taking copious notes to paperwork all the asshats to death with all that the American Law had left to provide.

At least I was able to see the Js and Jade for a half hour. They'd been waiting outside the courtroom for just such an occurrence. I was sorta surprised to see them and asked Jonesy about it.

*

"Listen man, it's you, right?" Jonesy asked, then explained further when I frowned.

He jammed his large hands on his hips. "I told Terran and Jade that since you were in the mix, some wild crap would happen, chaos would ensue, and if we hung around long enough, they'd dump everyone out here to clean up the mess."

Huh.

Jonesy shrugged and John smirked while Jade smiled.

I opened my mouth then closed it again.

"You can't deny my logic, Hart... and," he held up a finger, "you sprung Clyde on the jury and that dude's got snark in spades, my man."

John said, "He's subtle... but yes. Anyone with an IQ over a hundred is going to get his brand of undermining sarcasm."

"Well, that takes out a lot of people," Jade said with a sly smile. I hooked an arm around her waist and she tucked in next to me.

John cocked a brow. "We rubbing off on you?"

She held her index finger and thumb almost together. "A little," grinning.

Jonesy did an exaggerated nod. "Good, Jade's trainable."

She frowned.

He threw up his hands. "It's a compliment, don't get torqued about it!"

"Somehow, it never sounds like a compliment Jonesy," Jade said in a level voice.

"Yeah, pal... work on it. You feel me?" I asked, some of my tension from the trial coming back to sink its fangs into me. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Alright... ya bunch of bitches are so sensitive, PMS-mucho!"

John barked out a laugh. "Yeah, we're so the offenders here."

It broke the tension I'd been feeling and we laughed.

I loved these guys.

The court dude came out and called me back in.

As I walked toward the huge doors, the armed guards moved in, flanking me.

Like I was dangerous or something?

I jogged back and kissed Jade on her forehead and gave a nod to the Js.

I broke through the huge wood doors and came to stand at the little table I shared with my defense attorney.

Clyde was still seated at the witness stand.

Our eyes met and he gave me the second wink of the day.

I winked back.

*

now

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mom asked and I jerked my head away from the window. I'd been staring out into space thinking about the courtroom again.

"Ah... nothing," I said.

Dad raised a brow. "You were really a million miles away. Are you still ruminating about the trial?"

Tough to hide crap from the Parental Unit. Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah."

"Dreams?"