The Lola Chronicles (Book 2): A Day Without Dawn

by Jillian Eaton

  Stubborn little shit, I thought affectionately as I blew past a stop sign and made a sharp right onto Maple Street. The road sloped down towards a row of shops. Coasting between the yellow lines I stood up on the pedals and arched my back. The wind caught my hair, pulling out the rest of my braid. I closed my eyes and for an instant I felt like I was flying.

  Too bad everything that goes up has to come down.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Has to Come Down

  I OPENED MY EYES JUST in time to see a dark shape hurtling towards me. A shape that was more monster than human with tangled hair and snapping teeth and raw, blistered skin. A shriek burst past my lips as I yanked the handlebars to the left, but I was going too fast for such a sharp turn.

  The bike flipped onto its side and I went down with it, hurtling over the handlebars and hitting the concrete sidewalk with a sickening thud that reverberated all the way down inside of my skull.

  Run! My brain screamed. Get up and run! Right now!

  Dazed, I tried to roll over onto my side, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. The fall had knocked all of the air out of my lungs, making it impossible to draw a deep breath. There was a dull throbbing in my knee, but I was afraid to look. The bloody smear of red on the sidewalk told me it wasn’t pretty. I tried to push myself up but my left wrist buckled and I collapsed onto my stomach with a cry of pain.

  I’d never wanted to be bitten by Angelique, but what I wouldn’t have given in that moment to still be able to heal. Sprawled on the ground with a broken wrist and a twisted knee, I was easy prey for the thing that approached with shuffling footsteps and short, excited breaths.

  It made a slurping sound as it bent over me. Starting with my legs it slowly sniffed its way up my body while I held perfectly still. Maybe if it thought I was dead it would leave me alone. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all I had. With my wrist out of commission I couldn’t even grab my gun unless I rolled over onto my back and reached across with my right hand, exposing my stomach and throat in the process. Something I wasn’t exactly very keen on doing when Mrs. Sniffer was trying to decide what part of my body to snack on first.

  Go away, I chanted inside my head. Go away, go away, go away!

  I pinched my eyes shut as it made its way up my right side. Whatever it was it seriously needed some extra strength mouthwash and I fought the urge to gag when I felt the wet, sticky slide of its tongue on my elbow.

  Was it tasting me?

  Gross.

  So, so gross.

  I opened my eyelids a fraction of an inch. Mrs. Sniffer was poised above me in a half crouch, her head tilted sharply to the side as she studied me intently. Dirty blonde hair covered half of her face. The other half was an oozing mess of open sores and peeling flesh. She looked like Mrs. Wallace had, only ten times worse. Whatever type of disease or infection these people had caught from the drinkers, it was definitely degenerative.

  “Hi,” I whispered, opening my eyelids all the way.

  Visibly startled by the sound of my voice Mrs. Sniffer jumped in surprise before her watery blue eyes lifted to mine and a low, warning grow emanated from her throat.

  Sonofabitch.

  She really had though I was dead.

  Me and my big mouth.

  “My name is Lola.” I tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. Ignoring the pain in my wrist I struggled up onto my elbows. I was still pretty much helpless, but at least if I died it wouldn’t be with my face on the sidewalk. “I can tell you’re a nice lady. That’s, ah, a mighty fine blazer you have there.” What was left of it. Someone else could point out that Mrs. Sniffer’s entire chest was hanging out and her white lace bra had definitely seen better days. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. “You don’t want to eat me, do you? Not really.”

  She snapped her teeth.

  “I’m really sorry this happened to you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “Hungry,” she groaned. Her mouth worked overtime to pronounce the two-syllable word, almost as if she’d forgotten how to speak.

  Maybe Hayley’s zombie theory hadn’t been so crazy after all.

  “You and me both. I could really go for a double cheeseburger with fries and a shake. Do you like chocolate or vanilla?” I had no idea if trying to appeal to Mrs. Sniffer’s human side would work – I didn’t even know if she had a human side left – but it was worth a shot.

  “Hungry,” she repeated.

  “Yeah, I got that. Listen if you let me go I have friends who might be able to help. Maybe we could – hey, NOT COOL!” I yelped when the drinker zombie unexpectedly grabbed my arm and lifted it towards her mouth. Her lips peeled back, exposing bloody gums and an uneven row of jagged teeth. I swallowed back a sour mouthful of bile when she dragged her tongue from the edge of my wrist all the way down to my elbow, leaving behind a trail of foul-smelling saliva.

  “Hungry.” This time it was more of a whimper than a word and when I looked up at her face I was shocked to see her eyes were filled with tears. It actually made me feel sorry for her. Crazy, I know, especially since she was studying my arm like it was a hotdog, but I couldn’t help it.

  The drinkers were cold, calculated killers who loved to play with their food. This…this thing – whatever it was – only wanted what I wanted: to survive. It couldn’t help that it had been turned into a monster that craved blood any more than I could help being a snarky, pain-in-the-ass teenager.

  “I am really, really sorry about this.” Mustering all of the strength I had left I rolled onto my side, drew back my leg, and delivered a pretty damn impressive roundhouse kick straight to Mrs. Sniffer’s stomach. Letting go of my arm she fell backwards with a whoof of breath and I wasted no time in clambering back up to my feet.

  Cradling my right arm against my chest I looked wildly from side to side, searching for a quick escape route. Even if I knew how to ride a bike one-handed – which I definitely didn’t – there was no way I’d be able to pedal with a busted knee. I could have ducked into one of the stores, but then where would I go? And there was no way I’d be able to outrun Mrs. Sniffer. She was already standing back up. Dazed, a little confused, and definitely pissed off.

  “HUNGRY!” she shouted, glaring at me.

  Awkwardly bending down I picked up my gun and stumbled back a few steps, trying to give myself some space to think. When Mrs. Sniffer took a jolting step towards me I lifted the gun and clicked off the safety. My entire arm trembling from the force it took to hold the Beretta with just one hand, I pointed it straight at her head. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. For an instant it looked as though she was going to actually listen to me, but with a scream that was more animal than human she bared her teeth and lunged for my throat.

  The gun bucked hard as it discharged with an explosion of sound. I grunted with pain when my shoulder jolted back, but I didn’t drop it.

  Blue eyes wide and unblinking, Mrs. Sniffer took another step before she abruptly collapsed to the ground. I had been aiming for the middle of her forehead, but the weight of the gun had dragged my arm down at the last second and I’d hit her in the thigh instead. I didn’t think it would kill her, but she definitely wouldn’t be chasing after me any time soon.

  “Sorry. I’m really, really sorry,” I repeated as I slid the gun back into its canvas holster. Seemingly oblivious to the dark red blood oozing out of her thigh, Mrs. Sniffer glared up at me and snapped her teeth.

  “Hungry,” she whined.

  “I know. Just…uh…hang in there, okay?” Knowing I had to get moving before the sound of the gun discharging attracted more drinker zombies, I ripped off the bottom of Rose’s t-shirt and after a few bungled attempts – only having one hand to work with was such a pain in the ass – wrapped it tightly around my knee. I didn’t think anything was broken, but it was bleeding pretty badly. Could drinker zombies smell blood? I wasn’t about to stick around and find out.


  “Good luck!” I yelled over my shoulder as I hobbled away down a side alley. Without any means of transportation except for my town two feet, I knew my chances of finding Hunter and the rest were slim. I was alone, I was hurt, and I had nowhere to hide. Talk about a recipe for disaster. In the state I was in I might as well have served myself up to the drinkers on a silver platter. Except I wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. Not after everything I’d already been through. If the bastards wanted me, they were going to have to work for it. And if I went down I was taking at least one of them down with me.

  I made it to the end of the alley before I had to stop to rest my leg. While the pain in my wrist had receded to a dull throbbing my knee felt like someone was stabbing it with an ice pick. After looking around to make sure I wasn’t being followed, I huddled down behind a dumpster and gingerly began to unwrap my makeshift bandage. When I got down to the skin and saw what was sticking out of the torn, bloody wound I couldn’t hold back my gasp.

  When I fell off the bike I’d shish-kabobbed my knee on a four inch metal pipe. It must have gone all the way in when I landed, and when I started walking it had slowly begun working its way out which explained the feeling of being repeatedly stabbed with an ice pick.

  The end of the pipe was still imbedded right above my knee. It was going to take a solid yank to get it out. Something I didn’t know if I was capable of doing by myself.

  Looking at the pipe and the blood dripping down my leg in thick rivulets of dark red I couldn’t believe I had even been able to stand, let alone shoot a zombie drinker (if I didn’t bleed out or die of tetanus I was so going to trademark that shit). Then again, adrenaline was a powerful drug.

  Too bad it had all but worn off.

  Sweat that had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the prospect of yanking a metal pipe out of my own flesh ran down my forehead in sticky sheets as I tentatively wrapped my fingers around the pipe. It was no thicker than the size of my pinky, but given the fact that it was sticking out of my freakin’ leg it might as well have been a tree stump.

  “Ow,” I whimpered when the smallest movement of the pipe caused a fresh wave of agony to radiate up my thigh. Gritting my teeth, I tried again. “Ow, ow, OW!” My skull made a dull thudding sound when it connected with the brick building behind me. Tears of frustration and pain gathered in the corners of my eyes. What had I done to deserve this on top of everything else? Was I really that bad of a person? Had I really screwed over the universe that much? I knew I wasn’t perfect. I knew I’d made mistakes. With my family. With my friends. With my life. And maybe I hadn’t been on the best path before the drinkers came, but it had been better than this.

  How much more was I expected to take? You’d think watching my town being butchered by a horde of blood-thirsty monsters should have been enough, but apparently fate or karma or whatever the hell you wanted to call it wasn’t satisfied with a measly little massacre. Oh no. It wanted to watch me suffer. It wanted to watch me bleed. It wanted to watch me give up.

  Well I had three words for fate: go screw yourself.

  If the universe wanted me to throw in the towel it was going to have to do worse than imbed a four inch metal pipe in my leg. Six inches maybe. But four?

  Please.

  “You can do this,” I said out loud. “You are not going to die behind a dumpster.”

  Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I tightened my grip on the pipe until my knuckles turned white. All I needed was one good, hard yank. It was going to hurt like hell, but there was no way around it. If I wanted to live I needed to move, and I couldn’t move with a pipe sticking out of my knee.

  “On the count of three,” I muttered.

  Oh shit.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  “One…” Please let this work. “Two…” Please let this work. “THREE!”

  I felt a brilliant flash of white hot pain so blinding it turned everything black.

  And then I didn’t feel anything at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I Owe You One, Golden Boy

  I OPENED MY EYES SLOWLY. Then I sat up so fast my head spun when I realized I wasn’t in the alley anymore. Instead of sitting on the ground I was on top of a narrow exam table. White paper crinkled as I scooted to the edge. The sound was deafening in the tiny, windowless room. My heart started to pound. Where the hell was I? And how had I gotten here?

  Take a deep breath, I told myself. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

  Like saying it three times would somehow make it happen. Who did I think I was, freakin’ Dorothy?

  Dark hair slid over my shoulders as my gaze darted around the room. There was something oddly familiar about my sterile surroundings. It looked like any other hospital room, but I was pretty sure I’d been here before. When I caught sight of the kitten poster taped to the back of the door I was sure of it.

  My entire body sagged forward as I breathed a sigh of relief. I was back at the middle school. Someone – Hunter? – had carried me all the way from the alley into the nurse’s office. He’d even bandaged me up, I noted when I glanced down and saw the white gauze wrapped neatly around my knee. Bracing for pain, I gingerly slid off the edge of the exam table…and was pleasantly surprised when I felt nothing more than a mild ache. Who knew Golden Boy had a degree in medicine?

  He’d also managed to find a sling for my wrist. I was guessing it wasn’t broken since I could still wiggle my fingers and thumb, but it still throbbed.

  Limping to the door I turned the silver knob. The door swung open with a tiny creak and I stepped out into the hallway. It was lighter out here than it had been in the nurse’s office, but the shadows creeping out across the plain beige carpet indicated that sunset wasn’t too far off.

  Jeez. How long had I been out? Three hours? Four?

  I seriously needed to get a watch.

  My ears pricked when I heard the muffled hum of voices. They got louder and clearer as I approached the gymnasium, but stopped all together when I shoved open the double doors and hobbled onto the basketball court. I did a quick head count and breathed another sigh of relief when I reached seven. Everyone was here. They’d all made it.

  Thank God.

  If I had to carry the weight of one more death on my shoulders…

  I didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Lola?” The shock in Rose’s voice mirrored the shock on her face. “You came back!”

  Oh yeah. In all the excitement of trying not to have my throat ripped out by a crazy drinker zombie I’d completely forgotten about my dramatic exit.

  When I’d walked away from everyone I had felt so self-righteous and powerful.

  Now I just felt like a bitch.

  “Um…yep.” Shifting my weight from my bad leg onto my good one I looked to the side, avoiding Rose’s stare. After the way I had treated her I didn’t deserve her excitement or her relief. “I’m back. Did you get Hayley?”

  “No.” His green eyes intent on mine, Hunter started to take a step forward only to stop short and fold his arms across his chest instead. I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. I hadn’t really expected to be forgiven so easily, had I? Maybe by Rose, but not by Hunter and certainly not by the rest. I’d left them when they needed me the most and now I’d have to do a little work to get back in their good graces. I wasn’t that great at groveling, but for the good of the group I’d suck up my pride and give it my best shot.

  “Listen guys, I just wanted to say–”

  “But we found where she’s being kept,” Hunter finished.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Where she’s being kept? You meant she’s still alive?”

  “Told you,” Livy said smugly.

  “There’s a farmhouse on the edge of town,” said Hunter. “The old Dower place. We couldn’t get in, but we’re pretty sure that’s where they took her.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  As a unit, everyone except for Hunter
suddenly looked like they’d eaten bad tuna fish for lunch. Since people generally didn’t turn green without a good reason, I braced myself for the worse.

  Hunter didn’t disappoint.

  “Because of the screams.” His jaw clenched. “They were coming up from the basement. It was bad, Lola. Really bad.”

  Well it definitely didn’t sound good. “How do you know it was Hayley?”

  “You think I can’t recognize my own best friend’s voice?” Becca bristled.

  “Whoa.” Not wanting to get in another catfight, I held up my hand. “That wasn’t what I–”

  “We’re pretty sure she’s down there,” Hunter interjected. “There are others too. At least half a dozen. We couldn’t get close enough to get a clear look, but we think they’re holding them in cages.”

  “We don’t know why,” Stevenson said.

  Hunter and I looked at one another. We both knew why, but if he wasn’t going to say it out loud then neither was I. There was only one reason drinkers would want to keep humans locked in a basement. And it wasn’t to throw them a birthday party.

  Half a dozen prisoners… My mind reeled from the implications. That meant there were half a dozen people still alive. Half a dozen people –people that I most likely knew – being kept against their will. Half a dozen people being tortured and drained and God only knew what else.

  And my dad could be one of them.

  My body turned hot and then cold. If Dad wasn’t dead, then chances were pretty high he was locked up in that basement. It would explain why he’d disappeared from the hotel without leaving so much as a note. Why I hadn’t been able to find him. Why I’d seen no signs of him around town.