Carm and I exchanged glances as we followed my aunt through the back yard and into the house. Slamming the gate, she locked it and rechecked it several times. She repeated the process inside, locking and rechecking the doors, her muttered monologue growing with each step she took toward the kitchen.
“Girls, I’m having a glass of wine and calling my cousin. He told me he’ll bring his dog, Chico, over whenever I wanted. I think it’s time.”
Not knowing what else to do with ourselves, Carm and I went upstairs, and watched out the window for my cousin. I love dogs, but I still wondered…“Carm?”
“Hmm?”
“Will, you know, the dog hate me?”
“Hate you? Why?”
“You know, because I’m, uh, different? I must smell different, don’t you think?”
Carm stared at me, then glanced away, but not fast enough for me to miss the flash of guilt. “Well, maybe. You do, um, kind of smell a little sometimes.”
Her comment made me jump like she’d stabbed me. “Wh-what? You-you mean I’m starting to smell like-like…” I gulped. The idea repulsed me. “Like one of them?”
Carm gave me a sheepish look before she answered. “Bec, I didn’t want to say anything. But don’t worry. You’re nothing like them. It’s only a little. A real little. It’s hardly noticeable.”
“You noticed.”
“Uh, ah, it’s because I’m by you all the time,” she sputtered. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t smell like rotten eggs.”
“You don’t either.”
“Oh.” I paused and gave it some thought. I sniffed one arm, smelled my hand, and shrugged. “Okay. Truth. What do I smell like? I don’t smell a thing.”
“Um, it’s hard to describe. I hate to say this. You know the garbage landfill? It’s a little like that. It’s like you pass by it real fast and smelled something, but you can’t tell what it is and then it’s gone. It’s real faint and it’s not around all the time.”
“Garbage? I smell like garbage?”
Carm gave an exasperated sigh and folded her arms. “No, you don’t. I just, uh, don’t know how to describe it. It’s a weird smell. It’s hard to describe, but it’s not really noticeable and it’s not bad. Honest.”
“Wow, well, it’s nice to know what you think, cuz. Thanks a lot.”
“Hey, c’mon, Bec. Don’t get mad at me. This wasn’t my idea. You brought it up.”
“And you had to tell me, right?”
“What did you want me to say? Don’t be mad.”
“I suppose you have something to say about that, too?”
Carm took a deep breath and glared at me. “Cuz, forget it, okay? I’m sorry, I really am.”
“You know what? I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I messed up your life. I’m sorry I got in the way when your brother decided to come and share his wonderful secrets with us.”
Carm stared at me, her lips compressed in a thin line. “I guess there’s nothing else to say. I’ll be in my room.”
As she turned away, the space suddenly felt smaller. I watched her go to the door, the feeling of being abandoned almost suffocating me. “Carm? You-you’re not bailing out on me, are you? We’re still going out there, together?”
She stared at me, both angry and sad at the same time. “Bec, no matter what, I have to find out where my mother went and see if she needs any help. I’m going even if we have to spend every minute together from now on being quiet. If we don’t say one word to each other for days or weeks or whatever, I’m not giving up on what we need to do.”
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I knew it could’ve been much worse. I plopped on the bed and wondered how we’d manage if we weren’t even on speaking terms.
Jumping up, I trudged over to the staircase at my aunt’s call from downstairs.
“Becca, honey? Come talk to me.”
I joined my aunt in the kitchen. She sat at the table, packing a large cooler with ice packs and other items. “Tia? What’re you doing?”
“Honey, did you forget? Your juice bars and your snacks. You’ll need to eat, right? I found a bigger cooler. Everything is frozen. You may need to get new ice packs and replace your food.”
Then she told me about a new high protein powder she’d found made from ground chicken. The hospital gave its okay. All I had to do was mix it with water, she directed.
I made a face. “Ick, it sounds horrible. Liquid chicken?”
My aunt pushed a glass of pink liquid across the table. “Here, try it. It’s pink lemonade flavored.”
Tia ignored my protests. She raised her eyebrows and urged me on. “Go ahead. I tasted it. I wouldn’t know it wasn’t regular pink lemonade if someone didn’t tell me.”
The glass in front of me, I eyed the liquid, grabbed a straw, and took a tentative sip. “Mmm, I like it. I’m so tired of cranberry. Can I drink it anytime?”
“All they said was because it’s a high protein, use as needed. You’ll know what works.”
The wall phone gave a shrill blast. I ran to answer it, my hopes high. “Hello? Mom? Hello?” I hung up, feeling more dejected. “Nobody there.”
“Maybe a telemarketer, honey,” Tia responded. “Don’t worry, she’ll call.”
I didn’t feel ready for all this. Instead, I felt like Dorothy in Oz—lost, and scared. My shoulders shook as I hiccup-cried. “Tia? Why did God do this, why? I’m scared and Carm’s mad at me and what if…”
I babbled on until she enveloped me in a big hug.
“Honey, honey, take it easy. You know I don’t want you to leave. I’d prefer you didn’t, at least not unless we hear from your mother first. I’d love to go with you, but someone has to be here, just in case. You and Carm’ll do fine. You’re strong girls, both of you. Remember, God didn’t do this, people did. I’ll be praying until you and your mamas all come home safe. I know you’ll be okay, Sí?”
I sniffled and wiped my too-dry eyes. “Sí.” Her warm lips pressed against my cool skin and rested there for a moment, the warmth sizzling like a hot coal in the center of my forehead until the feeling faded. The doorbell’s ring prompted my aunt to get back to work.
“Now, in case we don’t have time, remember you always have all my love and prayers. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to call whenever you need to, don’t worry about the time. If I can’t help you, I’ll find someone who can. I already told Carm.” She slid the cooler shut and carried it out into the hall. “That must be Franco. Put this with your things, and then come say hello to your uncle.”
I braced myself as she opened the door to a big man and an even bigger, scary-looking black dog.
I was dead meat.
Chapter Thirteen
My Uncle Franco greeted me warmly. Lucky for me, he must’ve sensed my uneasiness and assured me not to be afraid of his German Shepherd dog, Chico, despite the dog’s huge feet, big head, and even bigger teeth.
“Don’t worry, chica,” Franco reassured.
“This dog, what can I say? He is un amante. He loves the ladies, but he’ll be on guard, especially if anyone tries to hurt or threaten you, your aunt, or anyone else en su casa.”
I thanked him and tried to appear at ease, though I couldn’t get out of sight fast enough. To my surprise, the dog glanced my way only once and kept his distance, preferring instead to greet my aunt with slobbery kisses, his interest centered on the cookies in her pocket.
Tia winked when I backed out of the room.
My pace quickened once I hit the stairs, the fear of hearing the thump of big dog feet making me move faster. Once again my aunt had understood how I’d felt without my saying a word. Something else I’d miss. A lot.
Our bags packed and set by the door, Carm mad at me, and my aunt busy elsewhere left me with nothing to do but sit and think. Grabbing my cell phone, I punched in the number for my mom’s phone. It rang and rang and rang. I texted her, hoping she’d answer. Next, I Googled my mom’s friend, Grace
Carlton, got her address, and punched in her number. No answer, either, and no way to message her.
Curious, I pulled out a Wisconsin road map I’d tossed one day in my drawer for some unknown reason. Getting myself comfy on the window seat, I unfolded the paper, and studied it, trying to see if I could find my way to Lake Geneva on my own. My finger slid along the criss-crossed lines and traced the highway. Then I got lost. Gulp. Wow, what would it be like driving if I couldn’t find my way before I even left my room?
I scanned the lines and names again. None of the roads sounded right. Nothing made sense.
Was it me, or was it my Z-infected memory? Good thing I’d done this now, I realized. I had a feeling things would change soon, and fast, whether we were ready or not.
To be honest, I’d only been in the resort area a few times before and then as a back seat passenger so I hadn’t paid much attention to where we’d gone exactly. We drove up a couple times to check out the snow sculpting stopped by to see Mrs. Carlton.
She lived in a big, spooky old Victorian just on the edge of the resort town. My mom and I had stayed overnight there once with her and her daughter, Sam, whom I remembered for her funny skill at telling good ghost stories after the lights were out. Even if Sam was three years younger than me, I’d still liked her. I wondered what she was up to now, unwilling to consider what she’d think of the “new” me, or how she’d been affected by all this crazy Z stuff.
I tried to remember the exact location of the house, but the images in my mind remained fuzzy. Was it because I’d been there a while ago, or simply a lingering side effect?
Maybe Carm remembered the way. Things might’ve improved mentally for me (well, sometimes), but I couldn’t drive alone. Not with my eye and everything else.
I needed Carm. She couldn’t stay mad at me.
Or could she?
I sure hoped not.
The only thing I remembered from the last trip was the long, boring ride down Highway 50. It hadn’t taken more than an hour’s drive was my guess, though I’d spent most of the trip dozing in the back seat. I remember thinking we’d never get there when we turned on a side street and bumped our way down a road which ended at a long, gravel drive. Not much help, that’s for sure.
I ran back to the living room where my aunt and uncle sat on the couch drinking coffee and talking, the dog curled up protectively at Tia’s feet. The dog picked its head up for one second and, to my relief, lay back down, content to stay where he was. Whew.
“Tia, do you know where Grace Carlton lives in Lake Geneva? I called her, but nobody answers.”
“Honey, do you have the right number? Use my phone. It’s on the kitchen counter. If she doesn’t answer, call the gardener, Mr. Jensen. He’ll tell you how to get there.”
“Gracias, Tia, I’ll call him.”
Stopping first to fill my glass with some cranberry-protein iced tea, I took a sip, sat at the counter, and rechecked the address on Google. Right address and the driving directions weren’t too bad. Maybe I could do this, but I’d still better ask, just in case. We didn’t need any wrong turns or detours. My mother always said I’d get lost in a paper bag. I sighed and wished she’d call or something. I found Grace’s name, hit the dial button, and waited. The phone buzzed several times. Again, no answer. I hung up after the sixth ring.
My hesitation in calling Mr. Jensen next came since I’d only met him briefly the last time I’d been at Grace’s house. I remember him being kind of cranky, giving me the also had been a hot day and he’d been busy, so maybe I’d been wrong.
What could it hurt?
The phone gave two short trills before a gruff voice came on the other end. I took a deep breath and responded. “Hi, Mr. Jensen? Sorry to bother you, this is Rebecca Hayes, my mom’s a friend of Mrs. Carlton’s?”
To my relief, he remembered my mother and his voice took on a friendlier tone. I plunged in. “Yes, I met you when I was at her house with my mom. That’s why I’m calling. I was trying to reach Mrs. Carlton, but no one answered. I’m meeting my mom at Grace’s house and I needed directions. Okay, wait. Let me get some paper and a pen. Hang on.”
I set the phone down, grabbed a notepad and something to write with, and got back on. “I’m here. Yes, I know Highway 50. Okay, uh-huh, Main Street, past 12, turn on North Edwards, got it. Wait, past what? Okay, pass both shopping centers, go around the curve until I see the wood sign at the side road. Turn. I’m not sure when my mom’ll get there. If you see her or Grace, can you tell them me and my cousin are driving up, too? I’m not sure exactly when. We may leave tomorrow or—”
A loud blast in the background made me almost drop the phone. “Mr. Jensen? What was that? Hello? Are you all right? Mr.—”
His next words had me holding the counter in a death grip. “A-a gun? Oh, of course. A zombie at the door.”
A twisted thought came to mind. Ding-Dong, dead thing calling.
“How many have you seen?” I winced and squeezed my eyes shut at his answer. “Really, five yesterday? Seven this morning and you expect more later?”
Yikes. “You think the Guard clearing the main streets pushed the zombies further in? More moving your way…don’t you think it’ll get better? Oh, not yet.”
Were that many Zs out there? Not a reassuring thought either way.
I hesitated when he asked how many Zs I’d seen.
The lie came easy. “I haven’t seen any lately.”
Except when I look in the mirror.
His angry retort about the creatures started my hands shaking. What would he think when I showed up?
Should I tell him? Dare I say anything? “Mr. Jensen, I think you should know, I—” Another loud blast cut off my attempted explanation.
He uttered a hasty goodbye, said he could use some help, and hung up.
I stared at the phone. This was bad.
So bad.
What was I walking into?
Taking one last gulp of tea, I stuck the sheet of directions in my pants pocket, told my Aunt I’d be upstairs, and headed back to my room. I sprawled on my bed and curled up in the comforter, enjoying the softness and comfort one more time.
Maybe the last time.
After tapping the side of my forehead and getting my weird eye to shift back in place, I gazed around the room, trying to memorize it all.
The striped curtains, my bright purple comforter, the bright, kaleidoscopic colors of my little shrines, (well, the unbroken ones) sitting on the shelves, made me feel more than a little sad. My heart heavy, I scrunched under the covers and closed my eyes, willing myself to the forgetfulness of sleep, if I could, though I knew it wouldn’t happen.
The sounds of a dog’s frantic barks, shouts, and someone calling my name jolted me out of the netherworld I often found myself in now. I wasn’t asleep or awake, just there.
I jumped up and eyed the dim room in a panic. What happened? Was someone breaking in?
I ran out to the hall and stopped at the top of the staircase, surprised to see Carm taking the stairs two at a time. “Bec, hurry! A mob’s outside!”
A crash made me jump. The sound of glass breaking had the dog almost going into a fit downstairs. He shrieked and strained against the leash Franco gripped with both hands, the muscles in the man’s arms bulging with each pull.
I leaned over the staircase rail in time to watch my aunt run to the door, cell phone in hand.
“Oh mi Dios! Becca! I called la policia.
Hurry, get away from the windows,” my aunt yelled. “Hurry!”
The yells and noise outside grew louder. The dog leaped and shrieked. He fought and snarled about being held back, his frantic barks and growls adding to the chaos. Franco had been right; the dog would rip apart anyone who dared come through the door.
I stumbled back up the stairs, grabbed my sweatshirt, and glanced at Carm. She stood like a statue and clung to the staircase rail, her face pale, her eyes big and bright. “Bec, hurry, hurry! We have to get out of here!”
I jumped down the stairs after my cousin, stumbling and tripping over my clumsy feet. “Carm, wait. Where’d they come from?”
She shook her head and ran to the front of the house. She peered through a corner of the curtain, backing up when something smashed against the window. “I don’t know. Mrs. Miller called. She said a bunch of crazies were outside her house and headed this way.”
For a moment I stood and took it all in, letting the noise and chaos swirl around me. It was scary how fast things had spun out of control. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
This really was it!
My aunt glanced across the room and met my gaze, her eyes wide. “Becca, what’re you doing? No, you can’t leave now. I forbid it. It’s not safe.”
I shook my head. “Tia, it’ll never be safe. We have to go. We have to, then the crazies’ll leave you alone. Me and Carm’ll go to Grace’s house. I’ll call Mr. Jensen and tell him we’ll be there soon.”
Her face sad, Tia closed her eyes and nodded slowly, a sign she didn’t agree, but had given in. She folded her hands to remind me I’d be in her thoughts and prayers. I memorized the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she was happy, and the bravery she showed, despite her anguish.
I needed her strength. I took her bravery to heart.
She blew a kiss my way. Breathing deep, I took in the room one last time and prepared myself to leave everything behind. It was crazy out there, but we had to leave, if just to keep my aunt safe. We had to find our mothers and go somewhere more secluded; my mom’s friend’s house sounded perfect.
Another crash.
Glass broke. Rocks bounced off the table and knocked over a plant. Sirens blared in the distance.
My aunt kept up a steady patter on the phone and backed into a corner, a sturdy wooden cane in her hand. “All right, I don’t like it, but go, go!” she yelled. “Go! Te amo, Becca, te amo. Stay safe!”
Taking one last glance, Carm and I grabbed the two duffel bags, the makeup case and the cooler. I caught my aunt’s eye. “Te amo, te extrañare,” I yelled before Carm and I ran to the kitchen.
The coast clear, we hurried to the garage. I tucked away a mental image of the house and my aunt’s car now parked in front of the garage next door, slipped inside, and loaded the bags in the back seat of my mom’s car.
Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie Page 11
