Blood Soaked and Contagious by James Crawford

the man spoke like a zealot. He is completely convinced this is the best way to do things,” Jaya reported. “There was not enough tension in his tone of voice to make me feel as though he was anything less than optimistic about recruiting my husband.”
    “Well, it appears that we have two choices. Jayashri and I flee for our lives and hope we’re never found again, or we kill him and see what the reprisal looks like. It is entirely possible that we would need to flee anyway, all of us.”
    Shawn reached out, tore off a piece of naan, and started to munch on it. The crease between his eyes shifted as he chewed, and it was all I could do to wipe the awful things I could say off my tongue before my mouth opened. I didn’t want to make my hosts go into an apoplectic fit, or piss off my favorite human mountain. After all, he does have a sister.
    Never piss off a guy who has a sister. At least, not when you’re lonely like I am.
    “Shawn, will you share your thoughts with us?” Jaya asked in her musical voice. Baj echoed with little agreement noises.
    “We’ve forgotten one big thing. Maybe two. First one is, they’re still watching us and I would bet money someone’s bugged the house or has got a parabolic thingamagig trained on your front window.” He pointed past my head at the big picture window to the left of their front door. “Second, he might be a zombie, but he ain’t stupid. He’s got a plan in case ya’ll do something.”
    Baj and Jaya broke out into quiet tirades in Hindi that sounded like the way gangrene looks.
    “I knew, I fahking knew I would forget something so fahking simple!”
    “Dahling, we are already in cow shit up to our eyes. Do not be so harsh with yourself. If he wanted us dead, we would be dead already,” Jayashri managed to comfort and chide her husband at the same time. I was just amused at how thick their accents became when they got vexed.
    “That ass fucker don’t want ya’ll dead,” Shawn joined in with foul language. “He needs you too goddamned bad to just drop a load of sheep cunts on ya’ll.”
    The stress and intensity was getting to me, but Shawn’s unique way of phrasing things pushed me right over the top. I started laughing like a complete loon and was joined by everyone at the table. We were not the only people laughing. There was a fifth voice with a different tonal range, laughing very quietly. It was coming from somewhere around the floor.
    They didn’t hear it, but I did. I let the laughter die down naturally, pulled my ever-present notebook and pen out of my pocket while everyone was catching their breath, and wrote, “There’s a fifth person laughing.” Everyone read it with wide eyes, but never changed their breathing.
    I love working with people who know how to maintain an illusion.
    “Boys, I do not know if any of this has left you in the mood for dessert, but I made Rasmalai and fresh ice cream.”
    We didn’t have to fake the happy noises that came out of our mouths.
    Baj borrowed my notebook and pen and, while he wrote, said, “My love, to turn down your Rasmalai would be doubly insane if this is the last chance we may have to enjoy it. Might I have some?” He wrote something entirely different.
    “There are heat registers at floor level. Laughing person is not a pro. They’re somewhere near other heat registers or in the basement. Maybe roof?”
    Jayashri replied naturally, “I have crushed pistachio. Would you like that on your dessert, darling?”
    “Oh, heavens, yes!”
    “Jaya, I’d love some of your ice cream. If it is as good as what you made last spring, I’ll be here all night!” Shawn wasn’t a bad actor either.

Chapter 7
     
    We ate our desserts and made small talk about the community. The notebook and pen slid around the table like a hot potato and none of us had thought to bring the sour cream and chives. We were in a bind; no one could get up from the table to do anything “unnatural” that might allow that person