Chapter 13
Zoey
It was lucky the shop was growing busier by the day, because Zoey absolutely intended to pay Nick back for the tow-truck guy’s off-peak, double-the-standard-rate efforts.
Nick was kind, and generous, but while he clearly didn’t care about keeping score, Zoey hated the idea of being indebted to anyone.
From experience, every time she’d leaned on someone’s generosity, they’d turned it back onto her, implying that she owed them – with interest.
Terriffany slid a smoothie over the counter to an older woman dressed in a fringed green dress resembling a Christmas tree, then turned to Zoey. ‘We’re running low on the mushrooms again.’
‘Declan! I got one! I got one!’ cried the Christmas-tree woman.
She waggled the fluorescent green smoothie as she took a selfie, then went hurrying out to where a man, presumably Declan, leaned against the shop’s exterior wall, forlornly holding a clump of helium balloons in one hand and a novelty cake shaped like a snowman in the other.
Zoey checked the cordyceps containers: Terriffany wasn’t exaggerating. They barely had enough left to last the hour.
‘I asked Nick about expanding production last night,’ she said, ‘but he said they have kind of limited distribution. He’s working on growing them in his greenhouse, but they’re finnicky.’
‘Just raise our prices, then,’ said Terriffany, who’d modelled all manner of financial forecasts accordingly. ‘Play into the scarcity thing. People will pay for it. I think there’s room to go to twenty-five, maybe thirty-five.’
‘Thirty-five dollars for a smoothie?’ Zoey shrieked. Why, those were practically off-peak towing rates!
Terriffany shrugged. ‘We can explore price elasticity with some dynamic pricing options, if you want. I’m doing my thesis on pricing variables.’
‘Wait, didn’t you already do a thesis?’ Zoey could’ve sworn Terriffany had mentioned it.
‘Do you have any idea how competitive Stanford is?’ When Zoey nodded, Terriffany looked vindicated.
‘Well, it’s nowhere near as competitive as the Entrepreneurs’ College, a tertiary unschool in the Mojave desert where every single professor has taken a business to IPO.
One of the Juicero founders is on the faculty. You should meet him.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Zoey. Anything could happen in the high desert. Like an unaccredited university for entrepreneurs.
As Zoey rinsed out a set of blender jugs ready for the next customers, her phone buzzed. It was Nick, she saw, grinning as his picture popped up next to the message thread.
So, weird thing, he began.
An ellipsis appeared as he typed.
I went over to drop off the money to the tow-truck guy, and apparently he was attacked last night. We’re talking bite marks.
Bite marks? Zoey texted back.
His wife said he came home mumbling about brains and then disappeared again.
All right. So something very odd was going on. Something that made all the joking about zombie apocalypses seem less … jokey.
But before Zoey could properly consider what this meant, a police officer strode in, wearing hot-pink glasses that Zoey suspected weren’t to uniform standard.
Was she trying to be one of the people? Because most of said people had left the minute they’d seen her approaching.
Someone in a blow-up frog costume hovered on the corner, a walkie-talkie handy.
Zoey grimaced. ‘Hi. This isn’t about the cat-mayor thing, is it?’
‘It’s not. And I’ve already voted. For Mean George.’ The cop’s voice was musical, as though she secretly performed as a soprano in a community choir on her days off.
Of course. Romero’s Cat Nip position was divisive among law-enforcement types.
She tried to think why else the cop might be here. Perhaps she’d found Romero? But coming in personally to let Zoey know didn’t seem like an efficient use of taxpayer resources.
The cop leaned forward, putting her elbows on Zoey’s counter. Great, now she’d have to clean it. ‘We’ve been having a minor issue with a … biting epidemic.’
‘Biting?’ Zoey repeated, glancing down at her phone, which buzzed each time Nick added a new thought about the tow- truck guy’s assault and disappearance.
For some reason, Nova’s blindingly white, oversized veneers popped into her mind. Where was Nova? Zoey hadn’t seen her in weeks. Nor Nestor, come to think of it. And June had been coming in with Nate the Hater instead of Darina the Handstander.
‘That’s right,’ said the cop. ‘Biting. We’re not sure what’s at the root of it. It’s most likely some sort of viral challenge thing. Like when all the kids were eating Tide Pods. Now everyone’s running around biting each other.’
‘Even the vegans?’ asked Zoey, trying to imagine tiny Darina doing such a thing.
‘Even the vegans. Although with less gusto.’ The cop fiddled with a striped paper straw, which Zoey was now going to have to replace.
‘Look, it’s a problem. Whatever it is, something’s going around, and the kids aren’t all right.
The kids, and also the clean-eating, exercise-loving healthy types. Which is why I’m here.’
‘Because smoothies are healthy?’ suggested Zoey, who didn’t quite follow.
The cop leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Look. We’ve triangulated the first biting incident to this area. We’re talking a few weeks back, on a Monday. We had a few reports about a rabid cat the night before, but we’re not sure those are related.’
‘Was it a black cat?’ asked Zoey. Perhaps the cop was here about Romero, even if just incidentally.
The cop nodded. ‘A vicious one, from the description. Look, we just want you to be safe, ma’am.
To keep an eye out for any biting behaviour, and let us know if it happens.
See it, say it, you know? Oh, and maybe increase your liability insurance while you’re at it.
Bite wounds can cost a pretty penny. Although I should probably say a pretty nickel, since they’ve stopped printing pennies. Did you hear about that?’
Zoey nodded. ‘Uh-huh. And yep, got it.’
Now the cop was fiddling with the napkins, each of which Zoey had painstakingly hand-stamped, and which now weren’t sanitary. ‘While I’m here, can I get a Rain Parade?’
Zoey blended up the smoothie, which was a blend of pomegranate, black plums, Earl Grey tea and black charcoal, and came out looking the exact colour of the Pacific Northwest skies any day of the year that wasn’t summer.
‘Can I ask how far this biting problem extends?’ asked Zoey, pushing the smoothie across the counter.
The cop shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell. Biting is a spectrum, you know? Kids do it. Boxers do it. Lovers do it. But we’ve had reports citywide. Across the river, too. Not my jurisdiction, though.’
The cop jammed two straws into the smoothie, slurping heartily.
‘Wow. I can see why people are going around biting each other. They’re probably hungry, sipping on this stuff all day.’
Don’t smack her in the face, Zoey. That’s a felony.
‘We sell protein bars, too,’ she managed instead.
The cop grabbed a carob bar and headed off next door to inform the zine-shop owners that they shouldn’t get too close to anyone with a toothy smile.
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Zoey watched her go.
Something odd was going on. Something more than just biting.
Because it didn’t end with the biting, did it?
It ended with people shuffling around the streets muttering about brains. And then, presumably, with more biting.
But then … it was Portland. Was any of this out of the norm for a city that hosted the Adult Soapbox Derby, the Naked Bike Ride and, in a few weeks, the Portland Zombie Shuffle? A zombie shuffle. Talk about on the nose!
Terriffany was scrolling something on her phone. She glanced up, her eyes wide with … was that excitement? ‘Oh my Steve Jobs, Zoey. I’ve been accepted into a pitch session at the PDXcelerator this weekend! But it means I won’t be able to help out at InkWell.’
Zoey groaned. She’d forgotten all about InkWell, and it was right around the corner. Well, at least it was literally right around the corner – at the Lloyd Center shopping mall – which was only a few minutes up the road.
Ainsley and Joaquin were both going to be there, so perhaps they could grab a U-Haul and load their gear together.
Or, thought Zoey. There was another way.
He’s not a genie, Ainsley had said. You’re not going to run out of wishes.
Zoey knew who she was going to call. Someone she knew she could rely on to help. Someone with a truck. And a cute dog.