Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie

by Verstraete, CA

  His compliment made me feel good, even if I doubted his reading of me. Even in the best of times, I had a bad temper.

  He dug in the bag, removed a foil-covered package, and unwrapped it, offering me another chunk of chicken, this time coated with something. “This helps. When I coat the chicken in protein powder it works better. Doubles the defense, makes it last longer.”

  He gave me a devilish grin as I turned it this way and that. “Raspberry. So, how is it?”

  “Wow, why didn’t I think of this?” I took another bite. “It’s like eating candy!”

  We chewed and made a good dent in his supply. I offered to bring him some more food later, this time using some of my pink lemonade powder. The food situation wasn’t ideal, but this sure made it more interesting, at least when I could taste it.

  Gabe took another bite and continued with his advice. “Becca, I want you to know, I think you’ll make it. You’ve done well already. It’s good you have your cousin. My brother’s been a big help to me.”

  As much as Carm and I hadn’t been getting along, he was right, of course. I couldn’t deny the advantage I had with her always being there to help, no matter what. She’d put up with a lot from me. “We’ve been arguing a lot. I thought, well, maybe she’d be—”

  “—Better off leaving you alone?” He laughed at my reaction. “You think I’m reading your mind? I tried getting Jesse mad. We fought like dogs, but he insisted I wasn’t getting rid of him. Glad he’s stubborn. I need him. You might think you’re a burden, but you’re family. Your cousin needs you as much as you need her. Don’t forget that.”

  A burden rolled off my shoulders.

  My cousin had been right about this, too. Talking to someone else, someone who knew what I was going through, was a big help. A bonus was I found myself feeling more comfortable with Gabe. And as I gazed at him from under my lashes, I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt pulled across his chest and fit tightly over his well-muscled arms. Whoa.

  I heaved a sigh of relief and busied myself clearing up our mess. I felt better, ready to face whatever tomorrow held. “Thank you. You’ve helped me. A lot.”

  He grinned back. “Good. I’m glad. Don’t forget, I’ll be there for you, anytime you want. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

  As I went to pack up our food for tomorrow and get more ready for later, I knew he really meant it. I was glad he and his brother would come with us. I had a feeling we’d need all the help the two of them could give.

  A gun blast jolted me from bed the next morning, one of the other reasons it was time to leave. Our stuff was packed and piled by the door. I, for one, couldn’t wait go, but Mr. J. had other ideas.

  “Breakfast first.” He shooed us all into the kitchen. “There’s waffles and eggs. I have juice and whatever else for you others.”

  Gabe and I exchanged a glance, his goofy smirk making me fear I’d start laughing and never stop. But the old guy’s next warnings killed any of my feeble attempts at humor.

  “Been listenin’ to the traffic reports,” he explained, his voice serious. “Tons of fender benders and back-ups the closer you get to the city. Lots of those things out there. Better keep an eye out. This ain’t no field trip.”

  Our meal over, we said our goodbyes and picked up our bags, the mood much more somber. I half-listened to Mr. J. talking with the guys and had to admit I’d kind of miss him. For all his gruff exterior, he wasn’t a bad guy, kind of like a big teddy bear.

  On impulse, I put down my bag, reached over, and gave him a big hug. “Mr. Jensen, thanks for letting us stay.”

  His face took on a reddish hue while he herded us to the door and peeked out. “Well, I told your mamas when I talked to ’em on the phone yesterday that I’d take care of you, and so I have. Now, you better get goin’ while the coast’s clear. I’ll be in touch if anybody comes here lookin’ for you.”

  With a final wave, we piled in Jesse’s SUV and left my mom’s car behind for us to pick up when we could. “Better ride,” Gabe said and slid behind the wheel. “Higher off the ground, good pick-up.”

  He drove with me shotgun, while Carm and Jesse sat in back. I, at least, felt a little anxious and excited to be out and about again. I’d had enough of being cooped up, no matter what we faced out there.

  The first hour went smooth enough, Gabe not even getting a second glance when he stopped at a gas station for some gum. I almost asked for a piece, but didn’t. The last real food incident had pretty much scared me off any other eating experiments.

  This time we shared my food recipe, pink lemonade protein powder-coated chicken—not bad!—made small talk, and got to know each other. The more we talked, the more my shyness and reticence about him faded. He really was nice, and fun. One good thing, his food idea seemed to do the trick, keeping the gurgles and bad moods at bay. I was glad since it would’ve been a nightmare driving with both of us snarling at each other all day.

  Having Gabe behind the wheel became more useful the longer we drove. Unlike my stint of bad driving, Gabe could both drive straight and shoot out the window at the wayward Zs we came upon. To him, it was nothing. He acted like he did this every day as I rolled down my side window so he could aim at a surprisingly fast-running Z. Carm and Jesse got a few from their side, too. It felt like I was sitting in the center of a shooting gallery.

  The suburban landscape proved much more difficult to navigate the further south we went. We zoomed down Illinois Route 173 past Antioch and headed for the tollway. It normally would’ve been a quicker route, but at the top of the ramp Gabe stopped the car. “Whoa, not going down there,” he said.

  A pile of cars blocked the bottom of the ramp. Guardsmen and other people stood on top of vehicles, shooting at a large mob of roaming Zs. There must’ve been a hundred or more.

  The sight sobered us all.

  Gabe backed up and gunned the accelerator as several Zs shambled and limped along the sides of the road. He careened around the corner at US Highway 41, nearly plowing into a Z, swerving at the last minute. “Hang on girls, we’re gonna be flying,” he warned.

  The few cars on the road did the same as drivers dodged groups of Zs. The police who were around paid no attention, more intent on stopping the growing Z mobs before they became too big.

  We zigged and zagged, getting off 41 and turning down one street, then another, as we found one blocked or too many Zs on another. The suburbs flew by in a blur…Gurnee, Highland Park, Deerfield…interspersed with sporadic shootings and Z attacks.

  Carm’s muffled crying in the back seat as she nestled next to Jesse convinced me we needed to get there, and soon. Gabe caught my eye and agreed, “we’ll try the tollway again.” He turned east on Lake-Cook Rd. and floored it, reaching 294 in record time, even with the wrecks and Z confusion. We sped down the tollway, the fewer cars and faster speeds allowing us to move along and better avoid the Zs that mistakenly tried to go for one of the fast-moving vehicles.

  I wasn’t the only one who breathed a huge sigh of relief that we’d arrived. The roar of the giant planes taking off from the nearby O’Hare Airport runways to some far-off locale never failed to fascinate me. A 747 flew so low you could almost see inside the plane’s windows.

  We drove around the curve, passed the airport, and exited on the frontage road. We continued a few miles down until we saw the lit sign. The dingy facade of the Motel 6 didn’t exactly say welcome home to me as we pulled into the nearly empty lot. I saw Carm’s mom’s car, recognizable despite some new dents and a thick layer of dirt, and directed Gabe into a parking space.

  Everyone got out laughing and talking, but a wave of uneasiness hit me. Something wasn’t right. I fell silent and held back.

  Quiet. Too quiet.

  The doors to several rooms stood partly open. The maid’s cleaning cart, overflowing with towels and supplies, stood abandoned outside another door.

  Maybe it was the deserted air of the place; maybe it was the curtained window and the closed-up appearanc
e of the room we thought our moms were in. Maybe it was me.

  I felt uncomfortable.

  I clenched my hands; my nerves jangled. Whatever the reason, an inner vibe told me something was wrong, so very wrong.

  “Carm?”

  My cousin turned and glanced my way, a questioning look on her face. Then she seemed to catch the feeling, too. She cocked her head sideways and stood there like a robin listening for the underground slither of a worm.

  “Wait,” she cautioned. “It’s too—”

  Too late, the rest of her words were drowned out by the bang of doors and some familiar sounds—shrieks, growls and moans. The Zs emerged in droves, staggering out in all directions. We fell over each other on our run back to the car where we grabbed the guns and readied ourselves for a fight.

  Carm aimed the squirt gun and glanced at me, none too excited. I could tell she was scared to death. Can’t say I blamed her. The barrel shook so much I prayed she wouldn’t miss. To my relief, she squeezed the trigger and hit the two Zs coming our way. I let myself breathe again. Maybe the stuff didn’t always kill them, but at least it slowed them down. With Carm’s terrible aim, I didn’t trust her with anything else in chaos like this.

  The things screeched and raised sore-covered arms as the formula hit what was left of their skin with a sizzle. They shrieked and reached for her, dropping in a pile mere inches away when Gabe took the final shots. We all backed up to put some distance between us and them. Ugh, the stench was so bad even I thought of stuffing my nostrils with something.

  Several more screams rent the air as paintballs and pellets flew at the next set of undead attackers. We aimed, ran, and shot at the steady stream of Zs.

  Wow, would it never end? Guests check in and never check out, I thought, and groaned.

  Carm’s scream grabbed my attention. “Bec-Bec, I’m out of juice!”

  “Look out!” Gabe yelled and pushed her out of the reach of a large, ungainly Z who lurched her way. “Jesse, get her out of here!”

  To my surprise, Gabe blocked Big Z’s progress, the thing spitting and grabbing him by the collar. “Gabe, no!” I yelled and bit back a flash of panic. “No, don’t!”

  He fought off Big Z while I tried to get in a shot but held back, afraid I might hit him instead.

  “Becca, shoot, shoot!” he yelled.

  I could hardly breathe. “I can’t. What if I hit you?”

  The thing growled and raked at Gabe’s face. Gabe leaned back and missed most of the impact except for a small scratch on his cheek. “Shoot, Bec, I can’t hold him off. SHOOT!”

  Running closer, I stumbled over my own feet, anxious for Gabe to get out of the line of fire. I aimed, my hands shaking like Mr. Jensen’s. The thing shoved Gabe around, making it near impossible to get a good shot.

  Gabe reached for the thing’s diseased arms and told me to get ready. “On the count of three,” he yelled. “One, two…”

  On the final number, he gave the thing a hard shove, breaking contact, (and breaking off part of its arm with a disgusting snap), and sent it staggering backward, which gave me enough room to get safely between them.

  Pop-Pop-Pop.

  Several paintballs flew from the barrel and hit the thing’s arm, chest, and face with a sizzle. Thankfully, this time they worked. It let out a huge roar, waved its arms, and finally fell in a giant mangled mess.

  My concern and fears mounted seeing the scratches on Gabe’s face and neck. I didn’t know how such contact affected someone who was already a Z, or kids like us who weren’t full Zs. Would it make Gabe worse? Would it accelerate the bad stuff like the Z rot?

  He must’ve seen my face and came over to give me a hug. “Bec, don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I’ve been scratched before. It won’t do anything. We’re infected already, you know?”

  His answer didn’t fully convince me, but that’s not what kept me from moving out of his embrace, which came as a totally unexpected surprise.

  Okay, yeah, I admit it—being wrapped in his arms felt good. Like I belonged. “You sure?”

  His light brown eyes locked with mine. “Positive.”

  Carm and Jesse’s yells interrupted our almost romantic moment. “C’mon, you two,” Jesse urged. “Save the kissy stuff for later. We have to check all the rooms, make sure no more of them are lurking around. We have to find your mothers, get them out of here.”

  I stepped back and took in our surroundings. Through all the noise, with all the screaming and shrieks, one thing really bothered me: where was Carm’s mom and mine?

  Why didn’t she come out?

  Why didn’t either of them wave out a window or peek out a door and let us know they were okay?

  Chapter Twenty One

  We thought it best to clear out any remaining Zs first rather than risk being surrounded by a mob. So, door to door, the grisly search went on and on and on. Gabe and I worked one side of the building, Carm and Jesse the other. We banged on doors, went into open rooms, and came upon a few more Zs hiding in bathrooms, or stumbling around clueless and ravenous.

  With every knock, my dread and my questions grew: where was my mother?

  Finally, all but two of the twenty-five rooms on this floor had been searched. We’d leave the other floors for later, but I suspected any further search probably wouldn’t be needed. I met Carm’s worried gaze and gave her hand a quick squeeze. The guys offered to check things out, but I knew we couldn’t let them.

  Carm and I had to do this ourselves.

  The striped curtains in Room 102 remained closed. Ear to the door, I listened for any sound or movement, and after several minutes felt confident no one—or no thing—was inside. I gave Carm the okay. “Ready?”

  My cousin dipped her head and positioned herself on one side of the door, squirt gun set, with me and Gabe on the other side. Jesse stood a few inches away, gun in hand, and nodded. I reached out, feeling like I’d jump out of my skin. A peek at Carm’s pale face told me she felt the same, except she had the pounding heartbeat to go with it. I heard her take a deep breath and slowly turned the doorknob.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I bounced up and down, ready to jump if a hand pulled the door, or something came out around the doorframe.

  Nothing stirred. The quiet was almost worse.

  My mind raced, picturing all kinds of horrors—the creature lurking behind the door waiting to get us, the monster under the bed…a whole catalog of childhood nightmares came to life. The worst image—no. I shoved that one away—fast.

  The wait unbearable, I shoved the door in and aimed. To my relief, and growing fear, everything remained quiet. I took a few steps into the room and leaped into the open bathroom door, gun pointed, like I’d seen in the movies. Empty. Thankfully the shower curtain stood open.

  Me and the guys followed Carm into the bedroom, guns at the ready. Again, nothing. The beds hadn’t been touched, the nightstands were clear, except for some dust.

  “They didn’t use this room,” Carm announced, her voice teary.

  “I-I need some air,” I interjected, afraid I’d fall apart if I stayed in here. “You guys finish.”

  Gabe eyed me with concern. “Bec, you okay?”

  I didn’t want to say anything more and nodded. Gabe wrapped his arms around me in a big hug and kissed my forehead.

  “Thanks,” I whispered before stepping outside. One room left. I leaned against the wall, my thoughts swirling. How much more could I take? I almost wished we’d find something, anything, to avoid more searching. I couldn’t stand much more of this not knowing.

  My cousin came out of the room and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. We headed to the next closed room a few doors down.

  Again, I put my ear to the door and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”

  Fingers shaking, I reached for the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… Okay, so I lied. My imagination haunted me. The dread grew.

  Were our mothers inside, lying unconscious? Or worse?

  I closed my e
yes and began to hyperventilate. No, Dios, por favor, no.

  Carm’s warm hand grasped mine. “Cuz, it’s okay. My turn. I’ll go first.”

  I stared at her and whispered a thank you for her being the strong one this time. We traded places.

  She grabbed the doorknob, shoved the door open, and we piled in to—

  Nothing. The bathroom was empty. Nothing under the beds, but they had been here. And judging from the mess, something had happened.

  “There’s stuff all over,” Carm cried. “What’s going on?”

  Two suitcases lay on the floor, clothes and socks spewing out like they’d been ransacked. The bedspreads sat in a pile on the end of the bed. Toiletries and makeup spilled across the top of the other bed.

  I opened the top drawer of the nightstand and found a familiar pair of blue-framed reading glasses next to the Gideon Bible. “Mom’s glasses are still here.”

  Carm piped up, her voice shrill from worry. “My mom left her purse. She never goes anywhere without it.” She picked up the floppy black bag and peeked inside. “No wallet, she must’ve taken it, or…?”

  The mess baffled me. “You think someone else did?” I asked. “My mom’s purse is gone. Where’d they go? They left most of their stuff. The car’s still here. Someone chased them out, or they had to leave in a hurry. How come they didn’t drive?”

  Leaning over, Gabe pulled a phone book from the bottom shelf of the nightstand. “It’s open to garages and service stations. Jesse, you see the keys anywhere?”

  His brother searched the floor and held up a silver keychain. Carm and I watched them head outside, then come back just as quick. Gabe shook his head. “Dead. Doesn’t start.”

  I scanned the room, convinced we’d missed something important. “Okay, no car. They left in a hurry in a cab, or someone picked them up and they were coming back later for their stuff. Everybody look around again. Feel under the spreads, under the tables, everywhere.”

  I did the same, getting down on my knees and searching under the dresser. I lifted the bedspreads at each end, thinking something could’ve fallen there. The guys moved the beds away from the walls and checked every corner.