Hell's Detective

Chapter Twenty-one- The Problem With Feeling

"Hollowsville?" Holly muttered, looking down at the map. "What kind of a town name is that?"

She handed Ingleseid a thick, woolly jumper she'd scavenged out of his wardrobe. The moment they'd found out where the package was, Holly had started packing. The sooner they got down to this Hollowsville, the sooner they found whatever it was the Devil was looking for and got their murderous little friend off their back.

"You're sure it's there?" he asked.

She smirked. "C'mon, when am I not sure?"

"When do we go?" Tatters asked quietly.

Holly shot Ingleseid a look. They'd had a very long and one sided conversation about this in great detail when they had gone outside to 'pop down to the store.'

She took a deep breath. "Not we, Tatters. Me and Ingleseid. You're gonna have to sit this one out."

If Tatters had been entirely capable of expression, his mouth would probably have been hanging open. "Why?" he asked.

"This isn't like the other times, Tats," she said, a little desperately. "This is dangerous. Really, proper dangerous. This isn't thoughtless vampires or evil doctors, this a killer who rips people apart just by looking at them. You've seen him. You know what he's capable of."

"But I want to help," he said, and Ingleseid blinked. This was the most insistent he'd ever seen Tatters. He was being borderline assertive.

"All you've ever wanted is a normal life," Holly said. "Well, this is your chance. You don't need this. You don't need demons and angels and devils. You need your job and your freezer and your friends."

Tatters took a moment to process this speech. "I don't have any friends."

"I brought you into this," Holly said, with that air of finality that always signalled the end of an argument. "It's my job to protect you."

Tatters looked at her. Then looked at Ingleseid. Then frowned. Ingleseid had never seen Tatters frown before, and he blinked a couple of times to make sure it was real.

"You don't think I can help, do you?" Tatters said. "You think I'll just get in the way."

"That's not what I-" Holly began, but he cut her off.

"You don't know what it's like." He didn't shout, far from it, but compared to his usual just above the level of a particularly shy child on the first day of school voice, he might as well have been screaming at them. "Being dead. Being useless. I see you laughing at me, both of you."

Holly had the sort of look in her eye someone got when they saw a puppy get kicked. "Tatters, no one's laughing at you," she whispered.

Ingleseid thought about pointing out that on several occasions he had been laughing at Tatters, if inwardly, but didn't think now was the time.

"You don't even realize what you've got," Tatters said, back to his normal, quiet self. "What I would give to be alive just for a moment." Then he turned his back on them and shuffled down the corridor, out of sight.

An uncomfortable silence followed his departure. Had he just stormed off on them? Sure, there was no stomping or door slamming, but Ingleseid was pretty sure Tatters had just stormed off on them.

"Tatters!" Holly called after him.

"Leave him," Ingleseid said. "I think he wants to be alone." He had to admit, he felt bad for Tatters. Being dead wasn't exactly a walk in the park. He should know.

Holly gave a frustrated cry and kicked Ingleseid's rubbish bin. He thought about comforting her or at least asking her very kindly to release her anger in ways that did not involve kicking his things, but decided against it. She was stressed, they all were. Being hunted by a vicious killer who made people explode could do that to you.

About an hour later, they had finished packing. Ingleseid waited at the door, ready to go. Holly emerged from the corridor, looking ready to shoot something.

"I tried to say goodbye to him," she said miserably. "He wouldn't even open the door."

"The moment we get back, we'll make it up to him. I promise."

"And if we don't come back?" she asked quietly.

He pretended he hadn't heard her.

****

Ingleseid had driven half way through the city before Holly actually lifted the silence that had settled over them.

"I think we really upset him, Ab," she said.

He sighed. "We are on what is quite possibly the last car trip of our life to find something belonging to the most feared creature in Earth's history before a murderous angel gets to us, and you're worried about hurting a zombie's feelings?"

"Not just a zombie," she snapped. "Tatters. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Ingleseid said helpfully.

"How would you know?"

"Somewhere deep down in Tatters is a semblance of humanity and like all humans, he needs to know he's loved. Being told to stay behind is the ultimate rejection to him. You just need to reassure him that our feelings towards him haven't changed."

"And how do I do that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a hug?"

Holly was silent for a moment. "The stuff he said...I never knew he felt that way."

It had been a bit of a shock to Ingleseid, too. It had never really occurred to him that Tatters could have inner turmoil. It had never occurred to him that Tatters could have inner anything.

"Once upon a time, he could think and feel things like joy and love just like the rest of us. And that all got taken away. All that's left is a sort of...emptiness," he said quietly. Holly gave him a funny look, and he hastily added, "He's bound to feel slightly put out."

"Maybe I should send him back to group therapy," she said worriedly.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Tatters wants to be human," he said, silently hoping Holly would stop asking him questions. He'd already been far too insightful today. "Being around zombies isn't going to help him. Being around us, well, at least he can pretend." He knew one or two things about that. He paused. He was empathizing with a zombie. Surely that was a bad sign.

Holly looked out the window. "You think when this is over, we could just run away?" she asked heavily, like the question had been inside her for a long, long time and had just now managed to force its way out.

"Sorry?"

"You, me, Tatters. Leave this crappy city and all its witches and demons and angels behind. Run off to some tropical island and just live, you know? For once in our lives...just be happy."

"You know we can't have that." He felt awful for saying it, but it had to be said. It was the truth.

"Yeah," she murmured, turning back to the window. "A gal can dream, though." She was joking, but it didn't reach her eyes. 

Ingleseid turned his attention back to the road.

They could dream indeed.