by Stacey Jay
“Are you free to go?” Dad asked when I got to the car. Mom was sitting inside, glaring at Kitty and Elder Thomas (who’d just shown up a few minutes ago) through the window.
“Yeah, I want to go home.” I’d call Ethan on the way and let him know I’d left Pizza Pie.
Dad nodded and patted me on the back before opening up the back door, but he didn’t say anything. He’d been in the military and deployed to lots of places where violence and death were disturbingly common. So I guess he knew better than anyone that when lives have been lost, there just isn’t anything you can say to make it better.
We’d been home for over three hours and Ethan still hadn’t called, so I went ahead and swapped the jeans I’d put on for some pajamas. I’d already taken my shower and forced myself to eat some of the cheddar-cheese-and-potato soup my mom had whipped up. The last thing I wanted to do was eat, but Monica was right. I couldn’t afford to let myself get run-down, especially not with whoever was raising zombies still on the loose.
Still, my stomach didn’t feel right after dinner. Despite the exhaustion level, there was no way I was getting to sleep right away, so I figured I might as well do a quick e-mail check. I hadn’t been on ten seconds when Ethan popped up on IM.
EthanzID: Megan! I’ve been waiting for half an hour. I was afraid to call. Can you chat? Is there anyone else in the room with you?
Megsalot: Hey, no, there’s no one else here. I can talk, but why were you afraid to call?
EthanzID: My cell phone was tapped. I removed the bug, but I couldn’t be sure your cell or home phones weren’t tapped too.
Megsalot: What?!! Isn’t that illegal? Even for Enforcement?
EthanzID: As far as I know, but I’m beginning to think our Enforcers aren’t playing by the rules. Smythe was at the Presbyterian hospital tonight.
Megsalot: Oh no, did he see you?!
EthanzID: No, but I saw him. By the time he was finished, the nurse he was talking to was unconscious.
Megsalot: OMG! Did he . . . Is she going to be okay?
EthanzID: She’ll be fine, but he had some sort of cattle prod thing and shocked her with it.
Megsalot: To clear her memory?
EthanzID: Exactly. I got your message and was on the way out of the hospital morgue when a bunch of police cars pulled up. I followed them to the intensive care unit, but they weren’t letting anyone on the floor, so I tried to find another way in. I ran into Smythe and the nurse in the stairwell. Guess he’d had the same idea.
Megsalot: Do you think Smythe has something to do with the weird zombies? Do you think he could be the one—
EthanzID: I don’t know, but I don’t think so. He called Kitty right after he finished with the nurse and said something about having a situation contained. So if he’s the one responsible, then all the Enforcers are in on it.
Hmm . . . could the Enforcers be up to something shady? I couldn’t deny I’d had my doubts about them in the past. No matter how nice they were, there was still something a little scary about Enforcement. On the surface they seemed to be under orders from our local SA council, but in reality I had a feeling they were pursuing their own agenda and our local Elders had a lot less power than they thought they did.
Megsalot: You know, I hate to think they’re shady, but I didn’t want to believe the truth about Jess at first either. Sometimes it’s hard to know who your friends are.
EthanzID: Yeah . . . I heard Jess was back at the SA clinic tonight. More seizures . . .
Megsalot: Can we not talk about Jess? I know I brought her up, but . . .
EthanzID: No, that’s fine. But as far as the Enforcers are concerned, I don’t know what they’d have to gain from getting rid of you.
Megsalot: Which reminds me—I think that whoever is raising these zombies wants me out of the way.
EthanzID: I figured as much. Why do you think I’ve been so worried? I mean, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, but I really don’t want this freak to get to you.
Okay, now I felt dumb. I guess Ethan thought the fact that I was the target was so clear it didn’t even need to be discussed. We were going to have to have a talk about stating the obvious. For a smart girl with a 3.8 average, sometimes I can be pretty dense.
Or maybe I was just too tired to think straight. It seemed like this week had been going on forever.
EthanzID: You still there?
Megsalot: Yeah, I’m here. Just thinking . . .
EthanzID: I heard about Bobbie Jane. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have been there.
Megsalot: I wish you could have been there too. I really messed things up, Ethan. I can’t believe I let her die.
EthanzID: You can’t blame yourself. You’re an amazing Settler, but you can only do so much. These zombies are unlike anything anyone in the U.S. has ever faced before. I can’t find anything in my books talking about SRUs after the eighteenth century.
Megsalot: Monica is looking for answers too. Maybe she’ll find something.
EthanzID: And I’m going to head back to the hospital tomorrow morning and see if I can get on the ICU floor. There’s something going on there, I’m sure of it, and I’m betting it’s connected to the attack tonight. The timing and Smythe being there are too much of a coincidence.
Megsalot: I’m sure they’d think it was a weird coincidence that YOU just happened to be at the hospital too. If something fishy is going on, you have to make sure no one finds out you were there.
EthanzID: You’re right. Delete this chat as soon as we sign off.
Megsalot: Speaking of deleting messages, did you find out anything about why the Enforcers were checking into my mom?
EthanzID: No, nothing concrete yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something for certain.
Something about Ethan’s text made the suspicious-of-everyone alarm go off in my head, but I ignored it. If he’d found something, he’d tell me. I was just being paranoid. Though who could really blame me, what with the phone tapping and being followed by SA officers and the like? I really had to find some way to clear my name before I became one of those weird twitchy people who live in a van and refuse to drink tap water because they’re convinced the government is putting tranquilizers in it to keep the population calm while they implant tracking chips behind our ears.
Or something like that . . .
Megsalot: Okay. Sounds good. I miss you.
EthanzID: I miss you too. I wish I was there . . . I’m worried about you.
Megsalot: I’m worried about you too. Please be careful.
Ethan promised to send me an e-mail the next day giving me a new phone number where I could reach him. Then we both signed off. I deleted our chat and crawled into bed.
I would have sworn I’d never be able to get to sleep, but I obviously drifted pretty darn close. By the time I heard the tapping at the window, I had to fight to cast off the cobwebs sticking to my brain. Good thing really, or I definitely would have screamed and brought Mom and Dad running. Even familiar dead faces are terrifying when they’re floating in the darkness outside your window.
CHAPTER 11
“A girl died.” Cliff looked as traumatized as I felt, but still showed no signs of going Rogue. Whatever breed of Undead he was, he didn’t seem like he’d be turning all red and glowy-eyed on me anytime soon. He was an anomaly, much like other people I knew . . .
“I can’t believe she’s really dead. I mean . . . this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he continued. I didn’t even question how he knew. He’d obviously been lurking again. I knew I should tell him to cut it out, but I didn’t have the heart to yell at him.
“I know,” I whispered through the crack in the window. “I’m sorry, I—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said with such conviction I almost believed him. “It was them, the others.”
The others. That was like the third time Cliff had mentioned the weird zombies. “What do you know about the others, Cliff? Who’s raising them?”
“
Raising them? Don’t they just get up?”
“No, they’re not like you,” I said, briefly outlining the difference between normal Unsettled and ones raised with black magic. “Reanimated Corpses aren’t themselves anymore, not the way you are. That usually makes them easier to control, but that’s not the case with these guys. Do you have any idea why? Why they’re so resistant to Settler magic?”
He shrugged. “I don’t even know why I’m resistant to Settler magic.”
Hmm . . . I hadn’t really thought about that, but I should have. Cliff wasn’t one of the bad guys, but his timing was pretty suspicious. The chances he and the other zombies-not-behaving-normally were connected was better than good. But how? I couldn’t help but feel that Cliff knew more than he was letting on.
“If you don’t know anything, then why do you keep mentioning the others? How did you even know they exist?” I asked. “I mean, you mentioned them the first time we met, before there was even an attack, which makes me—”
“Now hold on,” Cliff said, raising his hands as if to prove he had nothing to hide. “I told you I had visions when I was alive. I still have them—they just don’t work as well. But I remembered the others. They were one of the first things I saw when I woke up.”
“You saw them?”
He nodded. “Them, and you . . . and . . . the other dark-haired girl and . . . I just knew I had to find you and try to help. No matter how strong you are, you’re not going to be able to handle them or the other ones that are coming on your own.”
“The other ones,” I repeated, pinning him with my most piercing stare. “There are more? More of these unstoppable freaks?”
“Don’t ask, I can’t remember. I just know there are going to be more zombies, a lot more. And not friendly, fabulous guys like me.”
I sighed. Great news—Cliff was just full of it. “And I guess you don’t know why you happen to be around every time I’m attacked, either.”
“No, that I know.” His gaze grew sort of unfocused. “I . . . feel them . . . when they wake up, but I’m always too late. Tonight I ran as fast as I could, but they were already pulling the second girl from the woods by the time I got there.”
Cliff’s voice echoed the failure I felt so completely that I couldn’t bring myself to ask him any more questions. Besides, his visions didn’t seem to be much more useful than a television report detailing a crime that had already happened.
“So, can I come in?” he asked. “Better yet, can you come out? Peeking through this crack in your window is cool and all but—”
“No, I can’t. It’s almost midnight.” A burst of cold air rushed in. I shivered and crossed my arms, glad I was wearing my fleece pajamas. It had gotten colder since we’d left Pizza Pie, and the smoky scent of impending snow hung in the air. It was a sad smell, and it made me realize how very little I wanted to socialize. “Listen, it’s been a long night and—”
“I know, I’m sorry. But I had to see you,” he said, popping the screen out of my window with an expertise that spoke of many nights sneaking out. “I’ve got something to show you and I need some more Settling.”
“Cliff, please, you can’t keep coming here. I’m not supposed to keep Settling the same person over and over. It’s against the rules.”
“Oh God no. We wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he gasped, then grinned his infectious grin. It was a little more strained than usual, but I could tell he was trying to cheer us both up. “Come on, get your coat and shoes. If we hurry, we can catch the last bus into Little Rock.”
“I’m not going to Little Rock. I’ve got a ten o’clock curfew on weeknights,” I said, deciding pleading parental interference was the best way to handle Cliff.
He certainly didn’t seem to care for the “but you’re supposed to stay dead” argument. Couldn’t say I blamed him, but it was complicating my life. With everything going on right now, the last thing I needed was a new zombie BFF.
“Your parents don’t have to know. Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never snuck out before. This window is perfect.”
“Oh, I’ve snuck, but every time I have I’ve almost died. It’s taught me respect for authority.”
“Right.” He laughed like I’d made some great joke.
“I’m not kidding. The first time I snuck out I was ten and ended up with this scar.” I tugged at the neck of my black fleece top, revealing the silvery white zombie bite mark scar on my shoulder blade. “And amnesia and Settler power failure that lasted for years. Then, the second time, I—”
“Fascinating stuff, but let’s talk while we walk.” Cliff reached through the window and grabbed my hand. I didn’t pull away. It was weird, but Cliff’s touch was very comforting. It made me feel . . . safe. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. We only have about ten minutes to get to the bus stop.”
“I’m in my pajamas!”
“Your pajamas look like clothes! Come on, let’s hit the Rock.”
“Why do you need to go to Little Rock, anyway?” I’d never had an Unsettled request travel privileges, but then, I’d never had an Unsettled who refused to stay in his grave, either.
“No, the question is, why do we need to go into Little Rock, and I’ll tell you on the way. Just put on some shoes and let’s go. Please, Megan. It’s important, or I swear I would leave you alone.”
I sighed, feeling my resistance begin to fade. “How am I going to get back? If the last bus to Little Rock leaves in ten min—”
“The buses back to Carol run until two. I’m sure we’ll be done by then. I know exactly where we’re going.”
“And where is—”
“I’ll tell you—”
“When we get there, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Geez, I was so going to regret this, I could feel it already. But that didn’t stop me from dropping to my knees and digging under my bed for my Uggs. “Okay, let’s hit it.” I tugged on my shoes and grabbed the Williams sweatshirt I’d stolen from Ethan from the mostly clean pile on the floor. No time to waste sneaking down the hall to grab my coat.
Cliff helped me leap the few feet from the ledge down to the frozen grass below. He dropped my hands to close the window and scoop a large camouflage backpack from the ground, but then threaded his cold fingers through mine before turning to cut through the backyard, avoiding detection by the SA spies still parked in front of my house.
For a second I felt guilty. Here I was, in my boyfriend’s sweatshirt, holding hands with another man—or boy, or zombie, or whatever. But then I decided to ignore the little voice saying I should pull away from Cliff. Holding his hand still made me feel safe and weirdly energized despite that hint of dizziness that always seemed to accompany his touch, and I needed that comfort right now. Somewhere out there in the darkness was a person raising nearly unstoppable killing machines with my name on them.
Cliff might be stalking me, but at least he was a friend, and that was all the persuasion I needed to keep my hand right where it was.
An hour later, I stood at the top of a long, rolling hill in a posh Little Rock neighborhood, certain, for the second time that night, that I was going to die.
“I can’t do this! It’s too dark. What if there are holes in the pavement that I can’t see and my skate gets stuck?” I asked, my palms sweating inside the hand guards Cliff had brought for me to wear—along with knee guards and a pair of Rollerblades in precisely my size.
He said he was good at guessing things like that, which would make him a great friend to have when it came time for birthdays, but I couldn’t let myself think about him that way. He wouldn’t be around for my birthday next October. He was dead, and he had to go back to his grave and stay there.
Unfortunately, that was getting harder to imagine the more time I spent with him. Cliff was fun, sweet, and way more perceptive than your average boy. In fact, he would have been well on his way to being my new partner in crime if he weren’t a zombie.
And if it weren’t for that weird spark that flared between us
every once in a while, that dizzy, giddy, almost high feeling—not that I’d ever smoked up, but I could imagine this was how being high felt—that resulted from being in his presence. Ninety percent of the time I felt only chummy vibes coming from Cliff, but the other 10 percent . . .
“Megan, you’re going to be fine.” He smiled and squeezed his fingers around mine, sending a little shiver across my skin that I tried to ignore. “You know how to skate and you’re wearing safety equipment. Besides, this hill isn’t nearly as intense as it looks.”
“I thought you said you’d never skated it before?”
“I haven’t, but look at it. It’s not that bad.”
“Cliff, I’ve already got a black eye. I really don’t want—”
“Yeah,” he said, his expression angry even though his fingers were gentle as he smoothed down the side of my face. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“It’s my job.” I shrugged, trying to ignore how breathless he was making me feel.
Now his touch wasn’t safe at all—it was tempting in a way it shouldn’t be to a girl totally in love with someone else. I should have pulled away that very second, but I didn’t. I just stood there and watched Cliff’s mouth get closer to mine while I slowly forgot how to breathe.
“I don’t care. I’m not going to let you get hurt again. I promise.” His lips brushed softly against my cheekbone, right under where my skin was swollen and bruised.
My eyes slid closed, the world spun, and for a second the temptation to turn my head and find Cliff’s lips with mine was so strong I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist. Wearing Ethan’s sweatshirt, loving Ethan like I did, it didn’t matter. I wanted to kiss Cliff, wanted that connection with him so badly something in my chest ached when I forced myself to roll away.
God, this was crazy! And against Settler rules, and boy/girl rules, and just about all the other rules I could think of. I had to put a stop to this before it was too late.
When I spoke again, my voice sounded angrier than I intended, but better angry than any of those other feelings. “Cliff, why are we here? You said you had something to show me, something that couldn’t wait.”
