Undead Much?

by Stacey Jay

  I punched the chick on top of me straight in the nose and rolled swiftly to the side, knocking her off long enough for me to struggle to my feet. Monica was less than five feet away, slamming one Undead’s head into the stove while delivering a roundhouse kick to the head of another lurching in behind her.

  “Monica, over here, we—”

  Her eyes darted to mine. “Behind you,” she shouted.

  Spinning on my heel, I delivered a sharp uppercut to the face of the girl I’d just knocked off of me a second ago. She cried out but rallied in time to block the kick I’d aimed at her solar plexus. Dammit, she was fast! No black-magically raised corpse should be able to move that fast!

  “Megan! Megan, please!” I risked a quick glance over at Bobbie Jane, who was now struggling against two zombies—one who had her forearm locked between his teeth and another trying to get a mouthful of her leg. Bobbie Jane kicked and bucked and fought like a champ, but she was outnumbered and in an undefendable position. We had to get her out of here, had to—

  “Ah!” I cried out as Red Flannel Girl slugged me in the face, then made a lunge for my neck that I just barely managed to dodge.

  What was with the hitting? The Undead didn’t possess the smarts to distract someone with a punch before making a bid for the blood and flesh they craved. They were soulless, mindless shells raised to pursue the will of another. They shuffled and groaned—they didn’t dart and weave.

  Apparently this chick hadn’t gotten the memo, because ten seconds after slugging me, she kneed me between the legs—which hurts, even if you’re a girl, I’ll have you know—then swept my feet out from under me with the expertise of a trained fighter.

  “Unnh!” I hit the ground a second time, wincing in pain as my tailbone felt like it exploded. If I hadn’t broken a bone, I’d come darn close, which ticked me off sufficiently that the next punch I landed to Red Flannel Girl’s face sent her careening backwards in one of those slow-motion arcs you see in the movies.

  It was actually pretty sweet. Too bad I didn’t have time to relish my small victory.

  Sensing movement behind me, I spun my arms in a circle, twisting as far to my right as I could, shattering the kneecap of the dude reaching for my neck. He screamed like a five-year-old and collapsed, distracted enough by his pain that his grasping hands missed me as

  I jumped to my feet and leapt over him. I headed straight for where

  Monica was still holding her own near the stove, knowing time was running out.

  Bobbie Jane screamed again, a bloodcurdling sound that made my skin break out in goose pimples. I didn‘t even care anymore that she was probably going to bring a bunch of average human people running, and all three of us would be exposed. All I could think about was getting to Monica and evading the zombies long enough for us to get linked up and accomplish the reverto spell.

  But where could we go? The kitchen wasn’t that big, and unless we knocked the zombies unconscious, there was no way we could get far enough away from them to buy the time we needed.

  Then I saw the pots and pans hanging above the stove, strapped to some sort of industrial grid bolted to the ceiling. It looked pretty strong, but was it strong enough to hold me and the Monicster? I wasn’t sure, but we were getting ready to find out.

  “Monica, up!” I shouted as I ran, pointing above her head.

  She glanced toward the ceiling, then turned back to her zombies, clocking them both in the face before interlacing her hands, forming a foothold. Say what you want about Monica, but the girl thinks fast and is a kick-ass person to have on your side in a fight. I stepped into her hands and she gave me just the boost I needed to reach up and grab the edge of the grid.

  I swung wildly back and forth for a second, pots and pans crashing to the floor as I climbed on top, but finally managed to leverage myself up and over the edge. Scrambling around as fast as I could, I reached a hand over the side just in time to grab Monica—who had climbed on top of the stove—and pull her up beside me. Once she was safe from the zombie hands snatching at us from below, I summoned her power.

  “Reverto!” This time, the aftershock from the command sent me shooting across the metal grid on my stomach, bruising my hip bones and ribs and proving Monica right—I needed to gain some weight. If I’d had a little more meat on my bones, it wouldn’t have hurt nearly as much.

  As it was, I was still wincing in pain as the zombies streamed out the back door into the marshland behind Pizza Pie. Trying to ignore the throbbing of my ribs, I crawled to the edge of the grid. I was dizzy, but I had to get down. If people came in and saw me, I’d have a tough job explaining what the heck I was doing.

  Of course, getting down would have been a lot easier if Monica had stuck around to help. Instead, she’d bolted the second the zombies headed for the door. I assumed she was checking on Bobbie Jane, but when she spoke it definitely wasn’t a fellow Settler she was talking to.

  “Your mom’s Dr. Sampson, right? Okay, I need you to go get your mom and bring her back here, then I need you to call nine-one-one and tell them we have someone very badly hurt and we need an ambulance, and I need you to get Mr. Moretti. Do you understand?” Monica asked, her voice soft and kind of high-pitched, like she was talking to—

  Kids. There were three kids standing in the door, I realized as I hit the floor, sending pans clattering to the ground. Two girls and a little boy were staring at the two of us with wide, frightened eyes, but nodding their understanding of their various duties.

  “Good, now hurry.” Monica waited until they scattered before rushing over to Bobbie Jane. The other Settler lay very still, a puddle of red smearing her Pizza Pie uniform and the white tile around her. She’d lost a scary amount of blood. We needed to stop it or the ambulance was going to be too late.

  Heart pounding in my ears, I turned and surveyed the room, grateful to see some clean-looking dish towels near the sink in the corner. I hurried to grab one as fast as my dizzy head and wobbly legs would allow and then rushed back to Bobbie Jane. “Here, we have to press this to the wound and stop the blood. Apply direct pressure on—”

  “It won’t do any good,” Monica said, ignoring the towel I held out.

  “Yes, it will. I remember the first-aid classes we took last October. If you apply direct pressure—”

  “No, Megan. It’s not that,” she said, turning to look up at me with tear-filled eyes. “It won’t do any good because . . . she’s already dead.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold. Sure it was probably thirty-something degrees outside and I’d been huddled on the ground for fifteen minutes, but I knew that wasn’t the reason I couldn’t stop shivering.

  Bobbie Jane was dead. Not that I’d known her all that well, but what did that matter? Bobbie Jane, with her bouncy curls, heart-shaped face, and eyes that had seen far more than those of the average sixteen-year-old, was gone. Now those eyes would never open again, and it was all my fault. If I hadn’t waited so long to cast, if I hadn’t been more worried about clearing my name than about keeping people safe, maybe she would still be alive.

  I was positive I couldn’t feel any worse when the shouts came from the marsh.

  “We’ve got another one! About a hundred yards back.” Somber-faced policemen rushed into the swampy water, carrying guns and cameras, followed by the EMTs.

  “Oh God, no. Please, no.” Tabitha’s mom was whispering, but I could hear the anguish in her voice all the way across the parking lot.

  Once the initial chaos of learning Pizza Pie had been attacked by drugged-up cult members—the official story being spun by the Settler undercover on the Carol PD—had cleared, we’d realized one of the cheerleaders was missing. Tabitha, a sophomore, had gone to the bathroom a few minutes before all heck broke loose and never come back. Now they were pulling her from the swamp on a stretcher.

  “No! Is she okay?” Her mom screamed, a sound that turned into a horrible wail as she rushed to her daughter’s side.
It was Tabitha. The blond hair and signature gold ribbon were clearly visible above her pale face.

  “She’s conscious, but she’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to University for a transfusion.” The EMT hustled toward the ambulance, followed by Tabitha’s sobbing mother.

  “I wish that was Bobbie Jane. I wish she was going for a transfusion,” Monica said, her tone as flat and emotionless as it had been since we were pulled out of the kitchen and rushed to the ambulance for treatment.

  Monica had a couple of bite marks, and I had the beginnings of a killer black eye, but nothing serious enough that we needed to go to the hospital. We’d insisted on waiting for our parents to come pick us up. No doubt we were both in need of parental comfort, but there was also the little matter of the Enforcers, who were on their way to investigate the death.

  Dead. Bobbie Jane was dead. No matter how many times I repeated it, it just didn’t seem to make sense. This couldn’t have happened. People weren’t murdered in Carol, especially not by zombies. Settlers didn’t let things like this happen.

  “Megan?” I turned to see Mom leaping out of the car before Dad had even fully pulled to a stop. Unfortunately, Kitty and Barker were in a car right behind them.

  “We’re just going to tell them the truth, right?” Monica asked in that monotone, which was starting to freak me out.

  “Yeah. Probably the best thing,” I said, awkwardly patting her knee. I had a feeling she was in shock, but couldn’t remember what I should do about it. My brain didn’t seem to be working, which made me suspect she wasn’t the only one who was a little out of it.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Mom crouched down beside me, cupping my face in her hands and running her fingers through my hair, as if she had to touch me to make sure I was alive.

  “Yeah, I . . . no. No, I’m not.” I swallowed hard but couldn’t fight the tears pooling in my eyes. “Bobbie Jane is dead.”

  “I know. I heard,” she said, looking as sad as I felt.

  “It was more of those freak RCs,” Monica said. “We tried to get rid of them, but they got to Bobbie Jane first. We couldn’t . . . We tried, but we—”

  Then she finally lost it, breaking down in full-fledged sobs that had my mom wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. Monica’s mom and dad had been an hour away at some political fund-raiser when she called and hadn’t made it back to Carol yet, but I guessed any mom would do in a crisis. Monica clung to my mom’s sweater and cried like the world was ending. If I’d ever had any doubt that there was a good person inside the often cruel girl sitting next to me, it was banished as I watched her grieve.

  “We’re sorry, but we need to talk to the girls.” Kitty’s voice was respectful, but firm. I looked up to see her and Barker standing a few feet behind my mom looking as pale and shaken as I felt. It seemed even the big, bad Enforcers weren’t going to be able to take this one in stride.

  “Can’t this wait?” Mom asked, making no attempt to hide her anger. “Obviously they’re both very upset, and—”

  “It’s okay.” Monica sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “Let’s get it over with. I want to go home.” She rose and stomped off into the darkness at the edge of the parking lot. Barker followed without a word. Guess that left me with Kitty.

  “Megan, you know you don’t have to do this. You haven’t been assigned a mediator yet, and until you have, you—”

  “No.” I stood up and brushed the gravel off my jeans. “I want to do whatever I can to help them find the person responsible for this.”

  “Just be careful,” Mom said with a sigh. It was pretty obvious she didn’t want me to talk to Kitty, but she knew how stubborn I could be when I set my mind on something. And my mind was definitely set. I had to help catch the real Very Bad Thing, even if it meant putting my own safety and future at risk.

  If anyone else died in my town, I was going to feel responsible. Heck, I already felt responsible, so I couldn’t even summon up any righteous indignation when Kitty started grilling me before we’d even reached a secluded corner of the parking lot.

  “Where were you this afternoon, between the hours of three thirty and five o’clock?”

  “I was at pom squad practice,” I said. “Ethan picked me up at four thirty and we ran by my house so I could change clothes and then I came straight here.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her thin lips pressed together. She wasn’t pleased to hear that Ethan had ignored her advice to leave me alone. “And where is Ethan now?”

  “He’s on his way,” I said, though I couldn’t actually be sure that was true. I’d tried to call him, but had been sent straight to voice mail. It wouldn’t be any big surprise if he was underground scoping out another morgue and wasn’t getting any signal.

  Kitty nodded, and I could almost see her making a mental note to warn Ethan again of the risks of consorting with a suspected felon. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you first arrived at the restaurant tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing at all? You don’t want to think about it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, shocked by the harshness of her tone. “Nothing that I remember.”

  “Well, maybe you should try a little harder,” she snapped. “A girl is dead, Megan, and—”

  “I know a girl is dead,” I yelled, before lowering my voice. There were still normal people here, not to mention normal cops, and I couldn’t afford to attract attention. “But I swear to you, I have nothing to do with this.”

  “I’d love to believe you.” She shook her head wearily, and for a second I could see how scared she was. “I really would, but—”

  “Then believe me! Please, Kitty. Whoever raised those corpses is still out there, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to stop any time soon. While you’re busy investigating an innocent suspect, more people could die. We have to—”

  “We don’t have to do anything. This is an Enforcement matter,” Kitty said, all vulnerability vanishing from her face. When she spoke again, it was with the calm, efficient voice of an Enforcer who suspected me of evil. “All I need from you is a blood sample.”

  “What? I thought they had my blood on file down at—”

  “They do. I’m just hoping a fresh sample might show something different from what the forensic experts have found so far. It might be your last chance to hang on to your freedom, at least for a few more days.”

  “Okay, fine. Sample away,” I said, glad we were out of Mom’s sight. I had a feeling she wouldn’t approve. “But I’m innocent, I swear I am. I have not been raising bizarro RCs. I’ve been actively fighting them, in case no one has noticed.” I held my torn and bleeding knuckles up between us as I tried to pull myself together. “I did everything I could to stop those things. I was only trying to do my job.”

  And to save your own ass. You should tell her that, tell her how waiting until the last minute to cast probably got Bobbie Jane killed.

  I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself not to cry. I wasn’t going to lose it. Not here, not now. I could go home and crawl into bed and blame myself later.

  Kitty didn’t respond, just reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a syringe and a few individually wrapped packets of sterilizing swabs. “Can you push up the sleeve of your coat?”

  “Sure.” Tears fell silently down my face as Kitty cleaned an area near the crook of my arm, but I wasn’t crying because of the needle sliding beneath the skin. I could hardly feel that pain, and what I did feel I knew I deserved. At least I could still feel something, not like Bobbie Jane, who would never feel anything again.

  “You can go home,” Kitty said as she capped the needle and tucked it back in her coat. “We can’t legally take you into custody yet, but I’d get my bag packed if I were you. It probably won’t take more than twenty-four hours to get the last of the proof SA needs to—”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I didn’t bother to ask what “proof” she was talking about before I tu
rned and walked away. I knew she wouldn’t tell me. Even if she still had doubts about my guilt, she worked for Settlers’ Affairs, and they wouldn’t mind if I ended up zombie chow. I bet they thought it would spare them a lot of trouble.

  Of course, they’d learn better when the zombies didn’t stop once I was dead. When whoever was raising them kept . . .

  “But what if they didn’t?” I whispered, a horrible idea forming in my mind.

  I hated to be paranoid, but both sets of zombies had seemed to be after yours truly. The first time I couldn’t be sure, but now it had happened twice. I’d been targeted by black magic. Whoever was raising these RCs wanted me dead.

  Or maybe just out of the way. It made sense to bring some super zombies to fight the super Settler. And if someone wanted me out of the way so they could wreak cataclysmic havoc with a bunch of SRUs, then they wouldn’t care whether I was dead or rotting in a Settler prison—their goal would be accomplished. I’d be out of commission and they’d be able to . . .

  Do something really, really bad. Like wipe out a town, or a state. Or maybe even the country, but I didn’t want to think about that.

  God, that had to be it, it was just like the night of homecoming when Jess had been trying to keep me and Monica from the dance. This wasn’t just about me. Some black magician must be planning something very bad and wanted to be sure no one could stop them. I had to tell Ethan as soon as he got here, and Monica too if she was still determined to help me.

  I turned in the direction I’d last seen her, but couldn’t find her anywhere. I looked for a few more minutes before deciding I would just have to get in touch with her later. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, I couldn’t believe how tired I was. I felt like I could sleep for about a thousand years.