Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel)

by Shana Festa

  "I'm being serious. He just said he'd feel better if someone with knowledge of medications and general hospital layouts went along." I was quite possibly the worst liar in the world. I guess if I had to be bad at something, lying is a good thing. Though, as a teen it completely sucked.

  When I lied, my cheeks and the back of my neck burned, turning fire-engine red. I picked at my fingernails and it felt like a neon sign blinked in my brain saying Liar. During my senior year in high school, my cousin Rachel and I went to a frat party. I enjoyed my share of the keg in a dingy basement decorated with inflatable palm trees, sand, and yard sale sofas. On the way home, I gargled and chugged mouthwash from a travel-size bottle and thought I'd be able to breeze by my parents with a quick wave and hide in my bedroom.

  Either I underestimated my parent's skills of observation, or I was sloppy drunk and in denial about it. I got one foot into the house and any hopes of making it past them unnoticed were dashed. They took one look at me and told me to take a seat on the stairs. Much to my mortification, they began grilling me about my night. Their expressions were unreadable, and just when I thought I'd thwarted them, my father grabbed a magazine from the table beside him and walked it over to me. He waited until he'd sat back down next to my mother and said, "Read me an article."

  My attempt was an epic fail, and I spent the next month grounded. Then again, that's not saying much. I think I spent most of my teen years grounded for doing stupid shit and getting caught. One would think I would have perfected the art of telling a lie, considering how often I tried to pull a fast one on my parents, but it was a skill I just couldn't hone.

  Tom just stared at me with no expression. That's the only way to describe it. Years spent on the force dealing with criminals taught him to give nothing away. But I held firm to my guns and worked hard to reflect the same blank expression. When I couldn't take it anymore, I looked away first, thinking that I'd just given in and became beta to his alpha. Still, though, I wasn't going to crack.

  Meg was having none of it. "No way, Emma. It's bad enough I have to deal with Jake going out there. You can't go. What about the promise we all made to each other?"

  I sighed and thought about the four of us sitting on the deck of the houseboat vowing to stick together no matter what happened. The day Vinny had laughed like a little kid and went down the water slide. It was also the day Jake had held me close while I dealt with the loss of Sanibel and our friends.

  "Sorry, Meggy, I need to go. I'll be with Jake, and you know he would never let anything happen to me." The neon sign was back again, and not even I believed my own proclamation given the way Jake had changed.

  Which reminded me, I still needed to speak with my husband. With dinner over, Jah opened one of the french doors and poked her head out.

  "C'mon, Meg," she called. "It's movie night, and I want to get there before all the good seats are gone."

  Meg stood to leave, graciously stacking my plate on top of hers, and pointed her finger at me. "I don't like this, and you both better come home safe tomorrow."

  Tom, who thought she was including him in her demand, leaned over to pat Boss on the head. "Aw, have no fear. Boss will protect us from the bad guys."

  She didn't correct him by saying she meant Jake and me, but her pursed lips and narrowed eyes left no room for interpretation.

  * * *

  After saying goodnight to Tom, I took Daphne for a pit stop and climbed the Mount Everest of stairs to wait for Jake. Thankfully, I had a book to keep my mind from playing out all the potential macabre outcomes the following day could bring.

  Daphne was sleeping next to me, her foot-long body cemented to the side of my torso. Her head snapped up and she looked at me, then stood and moved to the foot of the bed before curling back up.

  "What the hell was that look for?" I asked her. She didn't respond, but I didn't really expect her to.

  "Poof!" I cried. Using the book to fan the air in front of my face, I cursed the foul animal. "Are you kidding me? You had the nerve to look at me like I did that? You are a disgusting dog!"

  She huffed at me, and I would swear until the day I died, that the little bitch laughed at me. Granted, considering tomorrow's agenda, that day might come sooner than expected.

  The loud clock chimed eight times. Apparently, I'd lost a couple hours in reading land. The frustration at Jake's empty promise to talk after dinner grew, and I went from calm to seething in under a minute.

  I heard the snick of a door latch from the bedroom outer room and tossed the book on the comforter as I jumped up.

  "Jake? Is that you?" I called out optimistically, only to be greeted by the soft creak of a door opening.

  Entering the larger bedroom, I found Jake seated at the foot of an empty bed, untying his black leather combat boots. There is only so much disrespect one person can take before they lose their shit. Being ignored was a hot-button for me, and my shit was officially lost.

  "So, what? You don't even have the decency to acknowledge my presence anymore?" I lashed out in anger.

  "I'm in no mood for your crap right now, Emma," he cautioned, avoiding eye contact.

  "I don't give a damn what you're in the mood for at the moment, buddy." Heat flushed through my body, starting in my face and reaching the tips of my toes. My teeth ground together, and I fought the urge to vault over the beds and across the room to scratch out his eyes.

  Jake pulled off a boot and went to work on the other one, once again ignoring me.

  "You said we'd talk after dinner. Dinner ended hours ago. What the hell was so important that you felt justified in blowing me off?"

  "Jesus fucking Christ, Emma. Are you writing a fucking book?" He slid on sneakers and lined his boots up against the wall like Mister Rogers.

  "Yes, I am!" I shouted.

  "Fine. Then make it a mystery," he answered harshly, and slammed the bedroom door behind him as he left the room.

  His attitude stunned me into silence, and I stood in the middle of the room with my mouth hanging open in surprise. My rage built like a swelling wave, and I released my anger on an innocent, and likely expensive, vase. The poor trinket's only crime had been to be located within reach of my grasp. I snatched it up and threw it at the door with a primal, murderous scream and watched as it burst apart into a thousand pieces before spraying its broken shards onto everything in a five foot radius.

  I was so mad that I didn't even bother cleaning up the result of my tantrum, and I shut myself into the closet. First I cried. Then I got mad again, cursing Jake. I followed up with more crying and blubbered to my dog like an idiot until I finally fell asleep.

  * * *

  The worst thing about crying one's self to sleep is the morning after. Much like a hangover, my head was pounding when I opened my eyes. I groaned and rolled over, crushing Daphne in the process. Big shocker, I was alone in the closet. Someone had cleaned up the broken vase and I felt guilty and a bit embarrassed at the memory of my momentary loss of self-control.

  Like any good hangover, the mirror was not my friend. I leaned in close and inspected myself. My eyes were puffy, red slits, and what I could see of the sclera was bloodshot. A long, hot shower was just what the doctor ordered, and after thirty minutes I felt good enough to face the day.

  I dug through my limited wardrobe and pulled on a pair of khaki pants, figuring I would make a parody out of the Guard by dressing just like them. The only problem was I didn't have any black tee shirts. The light bulb went off and I remembered that Meg did, so I snuck over to the dresser she shared with Jah and claimed the shirt. When I checked myself out in the mirror, I felt a little embarrassed. Meg was tiny, hence her shirt was tiny. On me, it looked like a belly shirt. There was a few inches of skin showing at the hem. I pulled it down, which only served to accentuate my cleavage to the point of becoming obscene. But damn, my boobs looked good. I smiled wickedly. Let's see Jake try to ignore me now.

  Meg was curled up into a ball, huddled beneath layers of blankets
. She looked so peaceful that I almost didn't want to disturb her. "Meg." I shook her softly. "Meg, wake up."

  "Hmm...what?" she mumbled.

  "I'm leaving Daphne with you today. Make sure you remember to take her out with you."

  She rolled onto her back and stretched, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and blinked up at me.

  "Holy boobs!" Her eyes went wide with the shock of my chest, made worse by my leaning over her.

  "Yeah," I dragged out. "I had to borrow your shirt."

  She laughed, rolling back onto her side to go back to sleep. "Those poor guys are gonna piss themselves when they see you."

  I smiled wickedly, thinking how men become bumbling idiots when presented with a bit of cleavage, and left the room after securing BB through a belt-loop.

  "Ah, old friend," I cooed at my crowbar. "It's been a while."

  When I opened the front door I was assaulted by the crisp morning air. The change in temperature set my teeth chattering, and I instantly regretted my choice in shirts and crossed my arms over my chest. At that moment, I was sure I could cut glass.

  "Whoa," exclaimed Vance, pulling open the gate for me to pass. "Someone's bringing their A-game today."

  I laughed nervously. "Morning, Vance," I replied, giving him an exaggerated, flirtatious wink.

  He fanned himself and feigned dizziness. "I do declare, Mrs. Rossi, you're givin' me a case of the vapors," he said in a southern accent.

  "Frankly, Vance, I don't give a damn," I answered dramatically and walked away.

  Boss gave me a muffled woof as I approached, and loped over for some attention. The Guard, which consisted of Tom, Jake, and about twenty others stopped their idle chatter and stared at me when I joined the group.

  "Morning," said Tom when I stopped beside him. Since he was the only one who smiled upon seeing me, it was the obvious choice to gravitate to him.

  Jake, on the other hand, looked as if he were ready to explode and stalked over to me. He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me away from the group.

  "Ouch, Jake, you're hurting me!" I cried, pulling my arm away from him and rubbing the tender spots where his fingers had gripped.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" he growled.

  "Good morning to you too, sunshine," I added, going heavy on the snark. "Surprised to see me?"

  "Get inside. You're embarrassing me."

  I ignored his comment, even though it had started the simmer on my anger-meter. "Well, it wouldn't have been a surprise if you'd talked to me when I asked instead of running off to God knows where like a little bitch."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

  The tone of his voice hit a nerve, and I felt the tension in my body dissipate. Even the rage that boiled in the pit of my stomach subsided, and a wave of calm washed through me. Most people don't know this, but at the very center of a hurricane, it's eerily still. That's what I felt in that moment, and I knew it scared Jake, because he took a small step away from me.

  "Get over yourself, Jake," I told him quietly. My voice was low and even, calculated almost. "Whatever shit you've got going on, I'm sick of it. Let's be clear about a few things. First of all, you don't get to talk to me like I'm dog shit on the bottom of your shoe. I am your wife, not your verbal punching bag. Second, you are teetering on the line of becoming a single man, and I don't know if you realize this, but the dating pool has been drastically altered."

  I stuck out my foot and drew an imaginary line in the sand to bring home my point before continuing. "I'm going today at Mack's request. So you can either deal with it, or go cry in the corner like the pussy you've become."

  The calm had begun to evaporate and my anger was back in full-force. My fists were clenched at my side, and I made a conscious effort to not take a swing at him.

  "Don't you—" he started, but I cut him off.

  Not caring about being discreet anymore, I took an abrupt step closer to him, rising up on my toes until we were nose to nose, and screamed into his face. "I'm not finished!"

  Spittle flew from my mouth and I swiped the back of my hand across my chin. The swift movement of my arm caused Jake to flinch in fear that I was about to strike him. I heard the gathered crowd of men gasp behind Jake, but my eyes never left his.

  "I've asked you to talk for weeks, and you've blatantly ignored my request. So you know what? You don't get to talk right now. The only thing you're going to do is listen. And for your sake, I sincerely hope you hear me. So pay attention closely. Are you listening?"

  His stared at me incredulously and nodded his head. "Ye-yes," he sputtered.

  I lowered my heels to the ground and tilted my head back to look up at him, but I didn't back away. "This is it, Jake. Consider this your come-to-Jesus moment. You either work your shit out and get it together, or I'm done. I have enough to deal with, what with the end of the world and all. I don't need to endure your emotional warfare on top of it."

  He opened his mouth to respond but I cut him off again.

  "Not now. I'm not dealing with this anymore today. When we get back I don't want to see or even hear you. Think about it tonight and tomorrow, if you are ready to put on your big-boy pants and discuss it, then you know where to find me. If you don't, then I guess I'll know your answer. But know this, I'm done begging."

  The pit of my stomach was still in knots when I left Jake standing alone to process my words. The urge to beat him with the crowbar was strong enough to add a little pep in my step so as not to lose control and actually do it. I held my head high, refusing to look at the group of men as I moved past them to the trucks.

  I smelled rotting flesh and scanned the area for the walking pus-bag that belonged to the stench. I found it lumbering toward us up the path. Bingo, I thought, unsheathing BB and holding it above my head like a two-handed broadsword as I ran at the zombie.

  "Oh, yeah," I muttered. Like good sex, the release of my rage was nearly orgasmic and left me feeling spent. The mangled corpse lay still by my feet after having endured the wrath of Emma. It was likely dead after the first swing, but I gave it a few more whacks for good measure. I wiped the gore from BB on the overgrown grass and let out a long sigh before straightening up again. Turning back to the trucks, I brushed back the hair that clung to my sweaty forehead and walked to the Guard.

  Okay, so walk wasn't the most appropriate word for it. I sauntered, with hips swaying and a devious smile as I made eye contact with each of them, except Jake, and they squirmed under my gaze. Sometimes a woman just feels sexy after a good zombie kill. I giggled inwardly and bet myself that they were all sporting some major morning wood.

  I replaced BB into my belt loop and leaned against a truck. "So, are we doing this or what?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  Chapter 23: Saddle Up

  Tom and I climbed into the cab of a truck in the middle of the pack. Without a back seat, and with Boss sitting eagerly between us, there wasn't room for anyone else. Much to my relief. I didn't want to find myself in a confined space with Jake for fear of getting into it, and I didn't care to even learn the jock's names much less share airspace with them.

  I know, I'm bad about getting to know people. Hell, back at Target, I hadn't even known Nancy's husband's name was Joe until he was dead and trying to eat us. But this was different. I didn't like Asylum, and I loathed Mack. These men embodied everything I hated. If I got to know them, I was afraid they wouldn't be the assholes I thought, and it would be the start of my slippery slope into letting down my guard.

  "A little hard on him, don't you think?" Tom held his breath, afraid his question would put him in my crosshairs.

  I leaned my head on the passenger window and looked at the detritus of cars and debris as we drove slowly down 41.

  "Probably, but you have no idea how hard this has been for me. The Jake you know isn't the same man I married. He's never treated me like this in the ten years we've been married. It stings, Tom." I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears I felt brimming on the bot
tom lids from spilling onto my cheeks.

  "These are some pretty dark times. It changes people," he offered, as if it would magically excuse Jake's actions.

  "So I'm just supposed to except that he's changed into an asshole? I get that things are tough, but it doesn't make it okay to use me as an emotional punching bag. And it's not in me to lay down and take it."

  "If he can't bring himself back from the edge, are you truly prepared to make good on your promise?" he challenged.

  Sighing, I reopened my eyes and questioned my resolve. "I think I am. But I really hope it won't come to that."

  "Me too," he replied.

  The farther away we got from Asylum, the more zombies shambled aimlessly. That is, until they spotted the moving line of vehicles, and began following behind. I wasn't worried about them catching up, but wondered how many would still be looking for us when we passed by on the return trip.

  The truck stopped, and the fear of what we were about to do became tangible. Instead of entering by way of the emergency room, our vehicles made a semicircle under the carport at the main entrance. Given that the lion's share of infection began in the ER and spread from there, it seemed logical that the highest density of undead would still be milling about inside. While it was the most convenient and logical place to gather everything we needed, it wasn't worth the risk.

  Tom squared his shoulders and peeked around Boss. "Ready for this?"

  "Nope, you?"

  "Not even a little bit," he replied honestly.

  * * *

  Beyond the revolving entry, I could only see a few bobbing heads of the emaciated undead. They appeared docile and nonthreatening and I had a surge of false hope that they would be too weak to attack. The bristles at the bottom of the door slid along the linoleum floor in a soft whoosh and my hopes were instantly dashed when heads snapped in our direction and every zombie in hearing range converged on our group.