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

by Jillian Eaton

  “Back here,” I said, motioning for everyone to follow me as I walked around the side of the school and past the playground. The shooting range Maximus had constructed out of straw bales spaced evenly apart with red plastic plates taped to the front was almost exactly like we’d left it.

  “Where are the guns?” Hunter asked, stepping up beside me.

  “In there.” I pointed to a plastic tan garden shed with a green roof. “We locked them up, just in case.”

  Letting out matching whoops of excitement and carrying the hammers we’d grabbed out of the bus garage, Stevenson and Greg sprinted for the shed.

  “What do you think the chances are they shoot themselves in the foot?” I asked dryly.

  Hunter rubbed his chin. “Fifty fifty.”

  “There isn’t that much ammunition, so we’ll have to be careful with how many rounds we use,” I said, raising my voice so Hunter could hear me above the hammering.

  “Got it,” he shouted back.

  After busting their way into the shed, Stevenson and Greg sauntered back out a few minutes later. His grin a mile wide, Greg pointed two matching handguns straight at us.

  “FREEZE!” he shouted.

  “Put it down,” Hunter ordered, “before you kill one of us by accident. Those are loaded, dumbass.”

  “Buzz kill,” Greg muttered under his breath, but he did as Hunter asked and set the handguns down on a weathered picnic table. “There’s a couple of knives in there too. Want us to grab those?”

  “Grab everything,” I said.

  When all was said and done the picnic table was weighed down with two shotguns, four handguns, and five knives of varying lengths. Studying the small arsenal, Greg whistled under his breath and rocked back on his heels.

  “Damn girl, you taking over a small country or what?”

  “Nope.” Knowing I wouldn’t be able to support the weight of a shotgun with only one hand I picked up one of the handguns, stepped in front of a hay bale, clicked off the safety, and fired. The bullet tore into the plastic plate a little high and to the left. Not perfect aim, but not too bad either considering the last time I had fired a gun I’d aimed for the head and hit the leg instead. Blowing across the muzzle of the gun I turned around and smiled coyly. “Just killing a few drinkers.”

  Greg blinked. “That’s hot.”

  I couldn’t help but glance at Hunter. Catching my stare he inclined his chin ever-so-slightly as though to say, ‘Thatta girl’. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile, revealing the hint of a dimple. I felt a dull flush creep up the back of my neck. Who knew dimples could be so sexy? I’d certainly never paid attention to them before. And I shouldn’t have been paying attention to them now. Swallowing, I forced myself to concentrate on the matter at hand. The quicker I taught these lug heads how to shoot the quicker we could go rescue Hayley and my dad.

  “Livy and Becca, I want you to try the shotguns. They’re going to give more kickback than the smaller guns, but they’re easier to shoot. Just keep the stock pressed firmly against your shoulder.” When they came reluctantly forward I quickly showed them how to hold the shotguns and pull the trigger before sending them over to the furthest target. Then I handed out the remaining handguns to the boys.

  “These all have safety mechanisms,” I warned them, “so make sure those are off before you try to shoot anything otherwise the gun is going to be useless. Remember: one shot to the head and one to the heart. Anything else will slow them down, but it won’t kill them.”

  “Where’s the heart?” Greg asked.

  “You don’t know where the heart is?” Stevenson shook his head. “No wonder you failed biology.”

  “Just aim for the middle of the chest,” I said. “And keep shooting until they fall down.”

  Everyone marched off to their respective hay bales, leaving Hunter and I with the last one.

  “That one’s yours,” I said, nodding down at the remaining handgun. He picked it up.

  “It’s heavier than I thought it would be.”

  The muscles in my stomach clenched as the warm glow in my chest turned to ice. Hadn’t I said the same thing to Maximus when we’d been standing together in the tiny storage unit? So much had happened since then.

  Fighting.

  Lust.

  Love.

  Death.

  Betrayal.

  It was like something out of a Shakespeare play. And not one of those sappy Americanized versions where everyone lived happily-ever-after, but a real Shakespeare play where everyone drowned or went insane or murdered their loved one or committed suicide.

  Real happy guy, that Shakespeare.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled under my breath. “It’s pretty heavy. Watch that it doesn’t jerk in your hands when you shoot or else you’ll always be aiming too high.” Anticipating the bombardment of sound that was about to take over the playground I retreated all the way to the back of the elementary school. “Well?” I yelled when everyone just stood around looking at one another. “What are you waiting for? Shoot!”

  Stevenson and Greg didn’t need to be told twice. Pieces of straw flew everywhere as they lit into their target, shooting until their pistols clicked empty. Livy and Becca followed suit. Becca only got one shot off before she grabbed her arm and cried out in pain but Livy, her jaw clenched with determination, kept firing until she’d made a pretty impressive hole in the middle of her plate.

  Hunter went last. Spreading his thighs apart and squinting one eye he fired off six shots in quick succession. His aim wasn’t great, but it was a hell of lot better than mine had been the first time Maximus had brought me out here.

  And there I went, thinking about Maximus again. Hair flew into my eyes as I shook my head in frustration. When would I get it through my thick skull that Maximus was Dead with a capital D? I didn’t know why he had been on my mind so much lately, but I wanted him gone. I needed to put him in the same place I’d put my mom and my sister, lock the door, and never open it again.

  “That. Was. AWESOME.” Jogging up to me with a wild grin on his face and a glint in his eye that was mildly concerning, Greg waved his gun in the air. “But I’m out of bullets. Where’s the ammo, Sanchez?”

  “It should be in the shed. But no more shooting,” I cautioned. “I’ll show you how to reload and that’s it. We need to save what we have.”

  Greg’s shoulders slumped. “Lame.”

  “Practical,” I corrected.

  Whoa. Never thought I’d hear that word come out of my mouth.

  “Everyone come back over to the picnic table!” I yelled, waving my arm to get their attention. “Greg, can you go get the ammunition? It should be in boxes up on the highest shelf in the back of the shed.”

  “Sure, but maybe after I could–”

  “No.”

  He blinked. “You didn’t even know what I was–”

  “No.”

  Scowling, he loped off towards the shed.

  Livy walked up to the picnic table holding both shotguns. Becca trailed behind, still rubbing her shoulder, a mutinous expression on her face.

  “You knew that was going to hurt,” she accused, glaring at me.

  “Yep,” I said without an ounce of sympathy. “But you know what’s going to hurt more? Having a drinker sink his fangs into your neck. Toughen up, Becca. This isn’t cheerleading practice.”

  She opened her mouth. Snapped it closed. Satisfied I’d won that particular argument, I waited until Greg got back with the ammunition before I showed everyone how to load and unload each gun.

  “Guard your gun with your life,” I told them sharply. “Drop it and you’re dead. Lose it and you’re dead. Hesitate and you’re dead. Shoot first, ask questions later. Got it?”

  When they all nodded in unison, even Becca, I bit back a grin. At least it was good to know that if I survived I would make one hell of a drill instructor.

  “Cadets, march out!”

  “A little too much,” Hunter said as he fell in s
tep behind me at the back.

  I slanted him a sideways glance. “You think?”

  “Just a bit. The rest was good though.” He lowered his voice. “So what do you think our chances are?”

  “Honestly?” I bit back a sigh. “I don’t know. No matter how many guns we have the drinkers are always going to be stronger and faster. If we’re lucky we might get off a few good shots. If not…” I trailed off. “But I think we might stand a pretty good chance against the zombies.”

  Hunter cracked a smile. “You know how crazy you sound, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s almost one now.” He checked his watch while I grinded my teeth in frustration because I knew what he was going to say next. Timing. It all came down to timing. The one thing I had absolutely zero control over. “If we’re going to give ourselves the best chance at success we should wait until tomorrow morning. Bust into the farmhouse at dawn, catch the zombies off guard, get everyone out and head straight for the mountains. That should give us at least an eight hour head start on the drinkers.”

  “But we’ll be leaving them in there for another night.”

  Hunter raked a hand through his hair, pulling the ends tight before letting it fall onto his forehead in a disheveled wave of blond. “What other choice do we have?”

  He was right. As much as I hated to admit it, we would be signing our own death certificates if we attacked tonight. The zombies were dangerous, but at least they had weaknesses whereas the drinkers would tear us limb from limb no matter how many guns we had. Our best chance – our only chance – was to attack at dawn.

  “It’s the best plan,” I agreed reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “I don’t either, but what else can we do?” He hesitated. “Do you think we need everyone? I mean, I get why Livy and Becca want in but Greg and Stevenson like Hayley about as much as you do and I don’t even think Ms. Siegel knows who she is.”

  I thought of Rose. “They’re not doing it for Hayley. They’re doing it for their parents and their brothers and their sisters and anyone else they think might still be alive.”

  Hunter shook his head. “That’s nuts.”

  “No,” I said softly. “That’s love.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dear Lola

  AFTER MAKING A DETOUR INTO town to stock up on water, food, and fuel for the four wheelers, we got back to the gym a little after four o’clock. Starving, I headed straight to my duffel bag where I kept a tidy stockpile of junk food. While everyone else did their thing I slipped out through a back door and sat cross-legged on the grass, drinking in the sun while I stuffed my face with potato chips.

  The next fourteen hours were going to be the longest of my life. My nerves were already humming with anticipation. I felt the same way I had before I went off to face Angelique.

  Antsy.

  Nervous.

  Terrified.

  There was no telling what was waiting for us inside that farmhouse. Drinkers. Zombies. Monsters we’d never even dreamed about. I just hoped we weren’t too late. I think I could live with it if my dad was dead. It would destroy me, but it wouldn’t kill me. After I fell apart I would find a way to pick up the pieces, no matter what it took. I would find a way to keep surviving. For him. For Travis. For everyone we’d lost and were still going to lose.

  But if he’d been turned into something else… If I looked into his eyes and found something less than human looking back at me… I didn’t know what I would do.

  Crumpling the bag of chips I tossed it aside and opened my last box of animal crackers. Ever since I was a kid I’d always had a soft spot for the sugary cookies. The zebra was my favorite. Fishing around in the box until I found one, I popped the whole thing in my mouth and bit down with a satisfying crunch.

  Sorry little guy. Better luck next time.

  I was nibbling the legs off an elephant when the door creaked open and Rose stuck her head out.

  “There you are,” she said, sounding relieved when she saw me leaning back against the warm brick wall of the gym. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “Have a seat.” I patted the grass beside me. “And an animal cracker.”

  “Um, no thanks. I promised Ms. Siegel I’d help her with something. But I wanted to give you this first.” Extending her hand, she held out a neatly folded piece of white paper. “It was taped to the door by the playground,” she explained when I reached for the paper, my forehead creased in confusion.

  “This is for me?”

  “It has your name on it.”

  So it did. Stomach clenching, I dropped the half-eaten elephant and slowly unfolded the paper. The last time someone had left me a note things hadn’t exactly ended all that well. But Angelique was dead, and even though she’d showed up in my dreams there was no way she could have written this.

  Could she?

  “What does it say?” asked Rose.

  I read the note once. Twice. A third time. “It says…it says to go out to the bridge out behind the soccer fields.”

  “There a bridge behind the soccer fields?”

  “It’s out in the woods on one of the cross country trails.”

  “You ran cross country?”

  “No, I didn’t run cross country,” I snapped. Rose shrank back, her eyes wide and uncertain. Gritting my teeth, I reined my temper back in. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just – did you see who left this?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I just found it an hour ago.”

  Leaving the box of animal crackers on the ground I rocked to my feet, dusted off the back of my green cargo shorts, and scanned the note one more time.

  Lola

  Come to the bridge by the stream.

  I’ll be waiting.

  That was it.

  The note wasn’t signed.

  It wasn’t even hand-written leaving me with no clues as to who had left it...or why.

  My brain immediately leaped to a drinker, but no one knew my name except for Angelique and Maximus and they were both dead. Unless they’d told one of their friends, which wasn’t completely out of the question. But why wait until now? And what the hell did he…she…they…want?

  “You’re not really going to go…are you?” Rose asked uncertainly.

  I hesitated.

  The new, improved, responsible Lola wouldn’t have gone. She wouldn’t have even thought about going. But the old Lola – the reckless, headstrong, irresponsible Lola – was all but chomping at the bit.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I knew it had ‘this is a trap!’ written all over it.

  And yet…

  “Yeah. I’m going.” I looked up at the sky, gauging the position of the sun, and then out across the soccer fields. It was four, maybe five hundred yards to the edge of the woods. Another hundred or so to the bridge. Even with a bum knee I could make it there and back again before dark.

  I hoped.

  “But – but you can’t.” Her hands twisting anxiously together, Rose stepped out of the doorway and onto the grass. The door closed behind her with a quiet click, sealing us both out. Now if we wanted to get back in we’d have to go all the way around to the front. “It’s much too dangerous. You don’t know who left you that note or why. They could be trying to kill you!”

  “Or they could be trying to help me,” I countered.

  “If they wanted to help you why not just meet you here?”

  It was a valid point.

  “Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe – maybe they’re afraid of someone.”

  “Afraid of one of us?” Rose’s eyebrows darted together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  I threw my hand up. “I don’t know why they left the note, okay? But I’m going and I need you to cover for me.”

  “Oh no.” Rose’s freckles stood out in stark contrast along her nose and cheeks as her face paled. “I’m sorry Lola, but I can’t do that. Hunter will want to know where you are and–”
>
  “Hunter is the last person who should know where I am. I won’t be gone for more than twenty minutes. Twenty-five tops. If anyone asks where I am just make something up, okay? I’ll owe you one.”

  “I don’t want you to owe me anything. Lola, this is not a good idea.”

  I grinned. “Since when has that ever stopped me before?”

  DEAD LEAVES CRUNCHED UNDER MY feet as I stepped into the woods. I stopped and looked back over my shoulder, taking care to note how close the sun was to the tree line. By my best guess I had twenty minutes until sunset. It wasn’t a lot of time, but it would be enough.

  It had to be.

  I moved quickly and quietly between the trees, using memory to guide me. I may not have run on the cross-country team, but I’d spent my fair share of time hiding out in these woods when I should have been in algebra class.

  Guess what, Mr. Hansler. That quadratic equation you said we’d be using every day for the rest of our lives? Turns out you were wrong. See, the drinkers didn’t really give a shit about math.

  The only thing they cared about was blood.

  I could hear my own blood roaring in my ears as I left the gym further and further behind.

  Come to the bridge by the stream.

  I didn’t need to read the note again, I did anyways. Pulling it out of my pocket I smoothed out the paper and scanned the neatly typed words. If it was handwritten I might have had a chance at guessing who had left it, but times new roman didn’t exactly give me any big clues.

  Who had left the note? And why had they addressed it specifically to me?

  “I’m here,” I called out as I turned in a slow circle, scanning the surrounding bushes and trees for any signs of movement. I didn’t see or hear anything except for the wind whispering through the leafy green branches and the faint gurgle of the stream. There should have been birds chirping and their unusual silence filled me with unease.