Donna of the Dead

by Alison Kemper

  All citizens should stay inside, in a well-protected area, and avoid contact with other persons—even those with whom you are familiar.

  The high number of deaths within a short period of time has strained government functions. Normal, day-to-day operations have ceased, and travel is inadvisable. The United Nations reports that all member countries are reporting infection rates of pandemic proportions.

  In the United States, teams of geneticists, in conjunction with the CDC, are working around the clock to find and mass produce a vaccine.

  The Bleek-Burns pathogen infects humans rapidly. Diseased persons transfer the biological agent by biting their victims. The virus spreads through the body swiftly, first killing off cells in the region of the bite. As the lymphatic system transfers the virus, the body is unable to produce antibodies quickly enough and the lymph nodes swell uncontrollably. The microorganism overruns the nervous system, causing delirium and a loss of cerebral function. The entire process occurs within ninety seconds.

  In some cases, the host chooses not to pass the infection, and instead uses victims for sustenance. This process is fatal.

  You are listening to the Emergency Update System of Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach counties. We will update this message as new information becomes available. This broadcast will now repeat.

  Veronica clicks a button and the announcer’s voice fades. We’re all grouped on the auditorium stage, huddled in a loose circle around my iPod. The cavernous auditorium is dead quiet. I’m studying my teeny pink Shuffle, wondering how Veronica turned it into a radio, when Gretchen’s voice cuts the silence.

  “Did you hear that?” She sounds even more snippy than usual. “Travel is inadvisable. I don’t think we should even try to get to the cruise ship. If Donna’s dad can find one.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but Veronica beats me to it. Probably a good thing—she’s so much more polite to Gretchen than I am.

  “Seriously?” Veronica asks her. “You want to stay here at the school? Even with the half-dead guy outside?”

  Everyone gapes at Gretchen. Tara and Lara sit on either side of her like cheerleader bodyguards. Tara nods when Gretchen speaks, but Lara just stares into space, her eyes still blank and glassy. I wonder if Tara took my advice and tried to talk to her.

  “You heard the announcer,” Gretchen gestures at the iPod/radio. “The CDC is working on a vaccine. We can leave after they find the cure.”

  “Girl, you might be waiting a long damn time,” Quentin tells her. “I’m gettin’ out here. First chance, yo.”

  He and Fabio fist bump.

  I wonder if Gretchen truly wants to stay, or if she’s just asserting her power, since everyone’s been listening to Veronica this afternoon instead of her.

  “Listen,” Liam says, and I’m almost startled to hear him speak, “some of you are aware that my mom works for the CDC and that I’ve been in contact with her.” His eyes rest on me, and the usual surge of adrenaline shoots through my blood vessels.

  “It’s true,” he continues, “the CDC is scrambling to come up with a fix, but there’s a lot they don’t understand about this virus—the way it attacks the system, the way it spreads so fast.” Liam bows his head and can’t seem to make eye contact with any of us. “Mom says it’ll be a long time—months or…”

  He hesitates, and the pause is so long, I worry he’s going to break down. Quentin and Fabio exchange worried looks.

  Liam finally finds his voice again. “Or…maybe even years before there’s a cure. Or maybe they won’t find one at all.”

  The way Liam hangs his head makes my stomach wrench. This must be why he was sad and quiet earlier—I bet he spent all morning dreading this moment—wondering how he’d relay such terrible information.

  “Regardless,” Gretchen says, as though Liam hasn’t just delivered devastating news about the entire human race, “we still shouldn’t leave. What if Donna’s dad can’t find a ship? What if we get to the port and he’s not there? But we can’t make it back here?”

  “That’s true, it’s a risk,” Veronica concedes, “but I think it’s one we have to take. If we stay locked in the school, it’s only a matter of time before we run out of water. Or food. Or the infected break in.”

  “Or the smell from the bathroom kills us,” I add.

  Across the stage, Deke cracks a smile.

  “We can put it to a vote,” Veronica suggests.

  “Fine,” Gretchen spits out. “How many people want to stay here, where it’s safe?” She and Tara raise their hands. Tara elbows Lara, and her hand creeps into the air.

  “And who wanna blow this zombie-infested taco stand?” Quentin asks.

  Everyone else’s hand shoots up.

  “You know,” I say, keeping my tone sugar sweet, “if some people want to stay here at school, I think it would totally be their prerogative. Those people don’t have to come on the ship with us.”

  Gretchen and Tara sneer at me from across the circle. Deke tries to turn a laugh into a cough.

  “All right,” Veronica says, dropping my iPod in a pocket and raising herself to a kneeling position. “It seems like a clear-cut decision to me. So, until Donna’s dad and Deke’s grandma get back to the port, what’re our top priorities?”

  “Staying alive,” Bo shouts.

  “Uh, yeah, definitely, little guy. Alive and uninfected,” Veronica says genially. “I meant what are our top priorities to keep ourselves safe until we can leave?” She scans our faces, waiting for suggestions.

  “Weapons,” Fabio answers, in a tone that suggests this is the obvious choice.

  “And weapons training,” Stanley adds.

  Liam lifts his head, rallying slightly. “Enough food and water to hold out for a few days.”

  “Longer, if necessary,” Deke agrees.

  “And someone still needs to figure out transportation to the port,” Tara reminds us.

  Gretchen shoots a death glare at Tara, then at the rest of us. Without a word, she stands, folds her arms, and stomp-stomp-stomps off the stage and out of the auditorium. The double doors slam shut with an extra-loud clang.

  “Buh-bye!” Quentin yells after Gretchen.

  Veronica stares at the rest of us, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Forget it,” Stanley says, waving away Veronica’s reluctance. “Turn the radio back on. Let’s listen to that message again, I didn’t catch it all.”

  …

  A few hours later, as I return the first aid kit to the janitor’s closet, I run into Liam. I mean literally. I’m not watching where I’m headed, and I walk smack into him.

  Holy hell, he’s standing so freaking close to me.

  “Hi,” I stammer, startled (as usual) by his gorgeousness and embarrassed (as usual) by my clumsiness.

  “Hi,” Liam mumbles back, and continues walking down the hall.

  I can tell from this one word that he’s in bad shape. He must be more bummed about his mom’s news than he let on. Or he’s upset about his stepdad. I noticed him looking kinda squeamish when the radio broadcaster talked about “loss of cerebral function.”

  “Um, Liam, are you okay?” I call after him.

  He shrugs without turning around, and says nothing. But he does stop walking.

  “I’m worried about you,” I say to his back. His beautiful back.

  “Don’t be,” he snaps.

  He means to scare me off, but I’m persistent once I get an idea in my head. Deke says I’m annoying when I get like this, but I prefer the term “resolute.”

  I jog down the hall to get closer to Liam. “Look, I know you’re sad about what your mom told you. About how they can’t find a quick cure. I’m sure it was rough on you, having to explain that to everyone. And you must still be upset about your stepdad—about him changing right in front of you. Trust me, I get it. I can’t imagine handling that kind of horror alone.”

  “Yeah, I am alone,” he says in a tense voice. “Actually,” he spins to face m
e, “you have no idea how alone I am.”

  He scowls menacingly, and I guess that’s supposed to scare me into shutting up, but it doesn’t work. Instead, that same pull, that same irresistible attraction, draws me to him—like always.

  I tilt my head. “So don’t be alone. Talk to me.”

  Am I really saying this? Am I really being this bold?

  “I can try to understand what you’re going through. We’re all frightened and sad. We’ve all lost someone. Maybe not on the level you have, but…” I trail off, not knowing what to say next. “I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

  Ugh, I sound like a greeting card.

  His liquid green eyes bore into mine. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Some invisible knot untangles in his spine. He pulls himself straight, to his full, dizzying height. When he speaks again, his voice seems less bitter.

  “You may be surprised how soon I take you up on that offer.” He steps toward me, and the anger vanishes from his face, leaving him looking only expectant.

  Um, okay, does he mean right now? I didn’t think my plan would work quite that fast.

  “Well, come on,” I babble. “Vending machine time.” It’s all I can think of at the moment. “Better grab something decent before the good stuff’s gone. Don’t want to live off breath mints and stale gum from the bottom row—”

  “I don’t want anything to eat.”

  “Liam, you haven’t eaten all day.” Yikes. Now he knows I’ve been watching him.

  “Honest, Donna, I’m not hungry. At least not for chips or Funyuns. But if you know where I can get a pizza…” He gives me a grin and stops walking.

  He cocks his head toward a door on the right, “Would you consider going on the roof with me?”

  “On the roof? Outside? At night?” I shudder slightly. “Annunziato just climbed in our window.”

  He chuckles. “That was the ground floor. This is three stories up, you know. Perfectly safe. They’re not flying zombies. They can’t reach you up there.”

  “Are we sure about this?” I ask, remembering my voices and their litany of up aboves. “Because to tell you the truth, with the week I’m having, flying zombies would not be a huge surprise.”

  His smile widens. “I’ve always thought you were funny.”

  And then, wonder of wonders, he takes my hand. An electric shock moves up my entire arm and settles in every part of my body. Liam leads me through the door and up the stairs. To be honest, I don’t care where he brings me at this moment, just so long as he keeps holding my hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We aren’t the only ones with the roof idea. A half-dozen people stand outside, milling around. Stanley and Fabio mock-fight with copper pipes. Fabio’s got skills. He must’ve taken fencing lessons at some point. Or maybe some form of martial arts where people fight with sticks. He and Stanley spar again and again, each taking turns imitating attacking zombies. Bo hovers nearby, mimicking their moves.

  Quentin stands at the edge of the roof, chucking gravel at the hordes of dead people below. He waves at us.

  “You guys know where I can get me some bricks? My orthodontist is down there. Maybe I can hit him.”

  I shake my head and follow Liam, my sneakers crunching on the roof gravel. A chest-high wall runs the entire perimeter, and the cheerleaders sit with their backs propped against it. Liam leads me to the only unoccupied corner.

  “Crowded tonight,” he growls.

  My heart cartwheels in my chest. Does that mean he wants to be alone with me? Calm down, I tell myself. You offered to be his shoulder to cry on. Maybe he doesn’t want everyone in the world overhearing him do it.

  Liam seems to read my thoughts. “Should we sit and talk?”

  “Sure, but I have to do something first.”

  I take a deep breath and force myself to peek over the edge of the roof. Relief. I haven’t looked outside since we boarded the windows. I figured the number of goons surrounding our building had increased. Instead, there are less of them. And they don’t act agitated or anything. They shuffle around, like they’re waiting for further instructions. No signs of intelligence—complete meatheads. I relax a little.

  “They really scare you, don’t they?” Liam asks, as we sink onto the roof shingles. He’s still holding my hand and his skin is cool and smooth against mine.

  I nod, my eyes scanning the night sky. “I’m glad they’ve got a few lights on out here. Otherwise I couldn’t stay. Not so crazy about the dark lately.”

  He laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, I understand.”

  Of course he does.

  His head turns in my direction. Our faces are only a few inches apart.

  “You sleep any last night?” he asks.

  It’s hard to meet his eyes in such close proximity “Not much. One, two hours, tops.”

  “More than me.”

  I believe it. The ghouls bit his stepfather in front of him. He has more to fill his nightmares than I do.

  I sniff the cool air. “Smells good out here,” I admit. “I’m glad I came with you. The building’s really starting to…” I almost say, “stink like a giant toilet,” but then I figure that’s not very romantic, discussing bathroom odors. “The building’s starting to feel claustrophobic,” I amend.

  Liam shifts closer, resting our still-clasped hands against his thigh. “You should go with me on the food run tomorrow. I don’t see any of the infected people during daylight. And it’s nice to get outta here for a while.”

  “Ha, you’ve got to be kidding. I refuse to leave this building until my dad comes back.”

  “You might change your mind. I walked to that fountain at the community college today.”

  I decide not to mention I was in a complete panic over his little outing. “Yeah, Gretchen told us. That kid didn’t bother you?”

  “Nah, I didn’t even see him. I agree with Gretchen—I think the light bothers that guy. Maybe that’s why he wears the hat.”

  Liam stretches his legs out in front of him, his knee coming to rest casually against mine. The entire right side of my body is now pressed against him, from shoulder to knee. Any second, I’m going to melt into a puddle of goo.

  “That fountain’s the only place I could think of with water,” he explains. “I jumped right in the pool and drank and drank. It was quiet there. Serene. And I felt much better after I’d had some water.”

  Liam’s description makes my mouth pucker. “Hmmm…tempting…” I concede. “I am really fricking thirsty.”

  “Here,” he whispers, using his free hand to rummage in his coat pocket. “Eat this, if you want. But keep it under the radar.” He slips a small apple to me. “Got it from the cafeteria this morning.”

  I gaze at the piece of fruit; I can’t believe how hungry I am for that apple.

  “You don’t want it?” I lick my dry lips.

  “No, I had one when I snuck into the caf.”

  Aha. That explains why I didn’t see him eat. Why consume vending machine crud when you can have apples? It’s a mark of how hungry and thirsty I am—I actually release his hand to turn sideways where no one can see, and devour the fruit in less than thirty seconds. I tell Liam it’s the best dang apple I’ve ever had, and wonder aloud if I can eat the seeds and stem. He laughs, showing off his dimples.

  A warm tingling spreads through my limbs—and it’s not just because I finally got some liquid in my dehydrated body. Liam gave me his last apple. That makes me feel sorta…special.

  I’m not brave enough to reach for his hand again, plus I’m a little worried my fingers might be sticky with apple juice. It’s enough just to sit this close to him, our thighs pressed together, heat radiating from the connection.

  So we talk. After I recover from the shock of being in such close proximity to male perfection, things become easier between us, like they were during last night’s guard duty. Liam tells me about his mom, and how the government transferred her this afternoon from an underground bunker in DC
to a secure research facility in the Virginia mountains. She’s helping the CDC analyze the genetic aspect of the plague.

  “I like hearing about your mom,” I tell him as I stare up at the dark sky. Clouds still linger over the school, blotting out the stars. “It makes me happy to know there’s other people out in the world. That we’re not all alone.”

  “Their research facility sounds amazing.” His perfect face lights up. “The land surrounding it used to be part of a maximum security prison—like where they kept terrorists and stuff. A few years back, when we started having all these crazy flus, the CDC took it over. Turned the prison into the Government Bureau of Immunity Research. Installed underground labs. Medical facilities. But they kept all the security fences and alarms. Plus, Mom told me they’ve got tanks for going in and out of the complex.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Tanks? Damn, she’s got a good setup there. A little more high-tech than candy-bar-covered windows. Wish we had a tank to take us to the port.”

  “Yeah, Mom’s working on a plan to get me there—to the bunker. You know, after things calm down.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “Aren’t you going on the ship with us?”

  His gaze drops to his knees. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

  But he doesn’t sound sure. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll get on the ship and never see dry land again. Never reach his mom.

  “We can give you a lift,” I offer. “There’s a port in Baltimore. And Norfolk. We could figure out which is closest to her bunker thingy and take you there.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He’s staring past me, not listening.

  I turn my head to see what he’s gawking at. Lara has wandered in our direction. She waves at someone on the ground below.

  “What’s she doing?” he murmurs.

  “Probably still searching for her boyfriend.” A pang of sympathy wells in my chest. I almost hope she doesn’t find him. I’m worried she’ll completely fall apart. I make my voice louder. “Did you find Zack yet, Lara?”