Read Online Return of the Jed by Scott Craven - Free Book Online

usual dog. Was I wrong in trusting a complete stranger? Absolutely. But I also know this was the only chance I have and I took it. So shoot me.”
    “Wouldn’t do any good,” Luke said. “You’d get right back up. It’s the zombie in you.”
    “Darn straight,” I said, more determined than ever to spring Tread. I motioned to my arm in Luke’s hand. “Give it another shot. Nothing to lose.”
    As Luke strained once again against the bars, my arm in his hands, all I could do was watch. Was he getting closer this time? The gap between my finger and the keys seemed narrower. It was so close.
    Suddenly my middle finger touched the key ring, and it was as if I could feel the cold steel brush the tip.
    No, I really did feel the key ring, like my arm was still attached. I stared at the finger, trying to will it closer, believing my arm was still a part of me. I closed my eyes and saw my fingers stretch out, reach …
    “What the—” Luke said, followed by a sickening thud of flesh on concrete.
    I opened my eyes, knowing what I’d see. I was not disappointed.
    My left arm was on the floor—on the wrong side of the locked door. Once again, distance worked to our disadvantage. The way it fell, there was no way Luke could reach it.
    “Dude, I’m sorry. But, holy crap, that scared the spit out of me,” Luke said, staring at my arm.
    “You know what scares the spit out of me?” I said. “When they come to arrest us and say ‘Put up your hands’ and I have to say ‘Is one enough?’ Really, Luke?”
    “Didn’t you see it? Can you blame me?”
    “See what?”
    “Jed, your arm came alive. The fingers, I don’t know, stretched out. And they should not be doing that, with you not attached to them.”
    “You must’ve imagined it,” I said. “You were probably thinking the same thing I was, if only I could move those fingers just a little—”
    “You were thinking that?”
    “Yeah. Weren’t you?”
    “No, I was thinking how tough life was for a guy with such short arms, the top shelves being forever out of reach.”
    “My arms are proportional to my size.”
    “Exactly.” Luke laughed. “What else is proportional?”
    “Really? Would you be laughing if that were your arm on the other side of that door?”
    “I’d probably be looking for something to stop the bleeding. Like for bandages on the top shelf, since I could reach them.”
    “Dang it, Luke, take this seriously.”
    “Did you just say ‘Dang it’? What are you, eighty?”
    “Luke, you need to—”
    “Wait. Did you say you were thinking about moving your fingers? At the same time your fingers actually moved?”
    “I, uh … Coincidence?” It had to be. “Coincidence,” I repeated, as if saying it enough would make it true.
    “No, not coincidence, Jed, and you know it. I can tell just by looking at you. So, the way I see it, we have two ways out of this. And both involve you handing over your right arm.”
    I’d already given my left arm to save Tread, but both?
    I knew the answer even before I finished the question.
    “You realize that once I’m unarmed, it’s going to be all up to you,” I said, offering Luke my last arm.
    Without a word, he put one hand on my wrist and another on my elbow. With a quick twist and a yank, I was suddenly powerless to do so much as scratch my nose. Which I now really had to do. Stupid psychosomatic brain.
    Without its usual support structure, my backpack thudded to the floor.
    “Once you get the technique, ripping your arms off is pretty easy,” Luke said. “Make sure you never shake my hand after beating me at something.”
    “Just get my other arm,” I said.
    “No worries,” Luke said, reaching through the bars with my right arm, snagging my left arm, and sliding it toward the door.
    Soon he held my right arm in his left and my left in his right.
    “Success,” Luke said.
    A smile crossed his lips. Flipping each arm so he held them by their (massive) biceps, he placed my hands on the