Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie

by Verstraete, CA

  The hopeful expression on Gabe’s face made me feel better. He took my hands. “To new beginnings.”

  I gave his hand a squeeze. Wow. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that, and…

  A new sensation kicked in.

  When I tried to talk, no words came out. I grabbed at Gabe’s arm. All I did was smack my lips, like a fish out of water. When my cousin came closer, I backed away in confusion.

  “No,” I mouthed, “no.”

  The words coming from Carm’s mouth sounded all weird and garbled. I strained to make out what she said. Confused, I stumbled and took two steps back. Her face! Her features whirled in front of me in a circle of color and shadow. I yelled, or at least thought I did.

  What was wrong with her? With me?

  I reached for Gabe, who was all soft and fuzzy, like one of those black felt pictures. He wrapped his strong arms around my body and attempted to keep me under control. His lips brushed my cheek, but I felt only a slight flutter, like feathers.

  Two more paramedics rushed in, streams of dark blue and green flowing behind them. Inside, part of me oohed and ahhed at the pretty colors. The other part deep down feared what this meant. It wasn’t good. Not at all.

  The pretty colors meant death—true, final death.

  My mama whispered in my ear, “don’t worry, honey, I’m here with you. We’re all here for you. Te amo.”

  I fell into a deep, dark hole of forgetfulness with Carm’s admonitions on my lip, everyone’s love in my heart, and a prayer everything was different when—and if—I woke…

  Chapter Twenty Three

  My eyes flicked open, my nose twitched. Green walls, a slight medicinal smell in the air. I licked my lips and tried to moisten my cotton-dry mouth.

  “Mmmm.” My attempt to speak sounded like a low hum.

  Warm brown eyes met mine. Nurse Teapot. She gave a reassuring smile and gave my arm a soft pat. “Now honey, I wish I can say it’s been good to see you again. It is, but I’d rather we were meeting under other circumstances. You’re downtown, in Windale Hospital. They sent me here since I’m familiar with your case. Do you understand?”

  Her words made more sense the longer she talked. She checked machines and wrote in a chart, keeping up a steady stream of conversation and a sense of connection. The relationship we’d developed was almost scary.

  “Your mama and your cousin are waiting in the other room,” she informed me. “They’ve been here every day since you came in. Your nice young man is waiting out there, too. He sent those pretty green flowers for you.”

  My thoughts cleared and I grunted to get her attention.

  “I’m sure you have lots of questions,” the nurse responded. “I know you won’t be as frightened as you were the first time I cared for you, right?”

  Our eyes met, and I slowly nodded in response. I wasn’t afraid, not one bit. I’d faced death, again, and survived. What was there to fear now?

  “Don’t you worry, your voice will come along just fine,” she explained. “We’ll be starting you on some new treatments that just came out. They work faster and better for the most stubborn cases.”

  My eyelids flickered. Did she mean I still had, or would have, a problem?

  “Honey, don’t worry. The other medicine’s been working, clearing up the nasty sore on your leg and a couple other small ones we found.” She ignored my gasp and went on. “You should be able to go home in a day or two, we’ll see. Now, you get some rest and I’ll let your family in for—”

  I moaned, hoping to get her attention as she turned away. After several attempts, I finally croaked out my question. “My aunt, is she—?”

  Nurse Teapot’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “She’s fine. She’s not out of the woods, but is improving. Now, I want you to rest for at least twenty minutes and we’ll see about letting your family come in. But only for a short visit. We don’t want to tire you. Now lie back and take a little nap.”

  My head on the pillow, I took a deep breath and let my worries float off.

  Everything had worked out. My aunt was getting better, my mom had come home, and I had Gabe waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to go home and have a big plate of Tia’s homemade tamales.

  I sighed and settled in, paying no attention to the sudden rush of hospital staff into my room, the flash of lights, and the frantic beep-beep-beep of the machines next to my bed…

  Epilogue

  I peered into thick, inky darkness. I heard and felt…nothing.

  Wait, something…a murmur, a voice, someone calling my name.

  “Becca! No, Becca, come back!”

  Gabe!

  Light exploded.

  I jerked and rushed away from the black hole I’d been floating in. A shrill beep broke the silence as the machine came awake. Beep-beep-beeeeeep.

  Relief flooded in as I opened my eyes and saw Gabe, and then the others. I tried to smile, tried to put everyone at ease.

  My mother gazed at me, tears in her eyes. Nurse Teapot studied me, a pleased expression on her face, before she resumed scribbling in her chart. Carm and I shared a glance.

  The TV’s blare in the background went ignored, though the scrolling script across the bottom of the screen caught my eye for a brief moment. The words were still somewhat jumbled in my mind, but I knew, I just knew, something was wrong.

  Gabe squeezed my hand and leaned closer. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “Get strong. You’ll make it. We both will.”

  I wanted to believe him. I really did. Our survival depended on us trusting each other, except…

  A shiver went through me.

  This time we had more to fear than the Zs. My eyes flicked from him to the others. The feeling inside grew. It pushed and fought to get out.

  My lips pursed, I bit back the growl in my throat. Each time someone squeezed my fingers, the urge to bolt from the bed and make them stop grew stronger.

  Weird images flickered in my mind’s eye. I watched a girl attack a group of faceless people. Her hands grabbed and held. Her teeth bit and chomped.

  The faces became clearer.

  My family. Me. The girl was me.

  Leaning down, Gabe squeezed me tight and whispered in my ear. “Fight it, Becca. Fight it. You’re stronger than it is.”

  I stared at him, my eyes like slits, not sure if he knew what I was going through, not sure if he knew what was really going on inside me.

  The images broke as Gabe’s hands held mine. “Becca, stay with us,” he whispered in my ear. “Stay with me. I love you.”

  I finally blinked and looked at him—really looked at him, seeing him as if for the first time.

  “Gabe,” I whispered. “Te amo.”

  I wondered at the icy sensation as the liquid from the IV bag made its way down the plastic tube and into my veins. This was the stuff that supposedly would destroy the infection and help me get stronger, help me recover.

  Maybe it would, but it was too late. Inside, I already felt different. Edgier.

  Anxious.

  Hungry. So hungry.

  Gabe squeezed my hand again. I licked my lips and smiled.

  THE END

  C.A. Verstraete

  Biography

  Christine (C.A.) Verstraete wanted to be a writer as far back as she could remember.

  As the family “bookworm,” she knew her writing desire was a natural progression. She always read and still does, enjoying books by Barbara Taylor Bradford, Debbie Macomber, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and many others.

  Christine’s writing career began in newspapers and magazines, but fiction writing called to her. Discovering online writing groups inspired her to get more involved in short fiction.

  Initially, the transition from nonfiction to fiction was hard, but she said it was always a heck of a lot of fun.

  Christine grew up in Chicago, the third-generation to live in the two-story house bought by her Belgian-born grandfather in the early 1900s, and no
w lives a short drive away in Wisconsin.

  She has a bachelor’s degree in journalism, and has received various awards from state and national press associations, and the Dog Writers Association, for her magazine and newspaper work.

  One of her pastimes is building dollhouses and miniature rooms, which has served as inspiration for a nonfiction book and a children’s novel, Searching For a Starry Night, A Miniature Art Mystery.

  Learn more at http://www.cverstraete.com