Page 23 of Not Quite Dead Yet

She nodded. She’d put a coat on over Luke’s sweats. Finally found some shoes too, the Birkenstocks from the closet.

Another two non-plastic people emerged from the front door: the chief of police and Mom. A look passed between them before they broke apart, Mom walking briskly toward Jet and Dad.

‘You eating now?’ she said before Jet could ask her anything.

‘I was hungry.’

‘Dinnertime soon,’ she sniffed.

‘Yeah, Mom. I think it’s probably OK if I don’t stick to standard mealtimes. I’ll be dead in a week.’

Mom flinched, closing her eyes. ‘Jet, please. Please. I’m going to ask you one last time.’

‘You already asked meone last timein the hospital parking lot.’

‘It’s not too late to change your mind. We can go back and Dr Lee can –’

‘– I made my decision, Mom. There is no going back.’

‘Jet, please.’ Eyes wide and begging, a cliff edge of more tears.

Jet couldn’t see her mother cry again, and she couldn’t keep saying the same thing. So she said something else instead, wanted to know what that look between her mom and the chief had meant.

‘Was anything missing?’ she asked, gesturing toward the house. ‘Or out of place?’

Mom shook her head. ‘No, don’t think so. Everything looks normal.’

Jet chewed the air and chewed her thoughts, now she was finished chewing her sandwich.

‘So they weren’t in the house to steal something,’ she thought aloud. ‘Or maybe they were, and I came home early and surprised them. But they hit me three times. Just once would have been enough for a thief to get away, if that was the motive. And why take my phone?’

‘Let the police worry about all that,’ Mom said. ‘It’s their job.’

Jet looked over at the cops: at Jack Finney and Chief Lou speaking to Detective Ecker, standing around an unmarked car.

‘It’s their job,’ she said. ‘But it’s my life. I have to do this. It has to be me.’

‘Jet, don’t you –’

Jet wasn’t listening, spoke over her mom.

‘– And they didn’t just hit me until I was in-inca-in –’ Fuck, another hole in her head.

‘Incapacitated?’ Dad offered.

‘Right.’ Jet blinked her thanks. ‘I was down and out after the first two hits. But the blood spatter shows that they then leaned over me, hit me a third time. Which doesn’t seem like they were just trying to get away. Seems like they wanted to make sure. That they wanted me dead.’

‘Excuse me.’ Mom covered her mouth, stumbling away around the side of the house, toward the backyard.

‘I’ll go after her,’ Dad said, taking the empty plate from Jet.

‘Wait, Dad. You also thought nothing was missing from the house, right? Checked everything?’

‘Yes.’

Jet took a long breath, allowed the thought time to grow, winding through all the broken parts.

‘If nothing is missing, that means they didn’t find the weapon at our house, that it wasn’t op-op–’

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