***
Forty-One Hours and Twelve Minutes After …
Later, I find myself on the roof watching Holly smash zombies with a baseball bat. It's much more effective than shooting them, and it doesn't cost any ammo. I want to be down there with her, but she won't let me, not even with my new, super arm. I flex it and run my fingers across the darkened flesh while Dawson gazes at me in disgust. After a lengthy conversation with Valerie, he'd come downstairs and told me their decision: they were going to stay. Didn't mean he had to like it though, he'd said.
“What do you know that I don't?” he asks me as Holly takes down yet another zombie in pajamas. That's what most of them are wearing, or if they aren't, they're naked or in their underwear. It's kind of sad, really. All of these ordinary people doing ordinary things when their life was turned upside down and pulled away from without warning.
“What do you mean?” I ask and Dawson just stares, like I'm a crazy person.
“I mean, what did Holly tell you that she didn't tell us?” I start to shake my head when I catch Valerie's gaze. She knows that they're missing information that I have. I feel bad for them, but they aren't my secrets to tell.
“You'll just have to wait,” I say and they both sigh in defeat. “I'm sorry.” I look down at the roof shingles and start to pick at one with my zombie hand. I don't really like to think of it that way, but that's exactly what it is, so I make myself accept it by saying it over and over again. Zombie hand, zombie hand, zombie hand.
“See anymore?” Holly calls from below. All around her is a scene of carnage, a mass of bloodied, broken bodies and collapsed heaps of bones. She's killed twenty so far and the sounds around the forest have stilled just enough that I think we're at least an hour or so away from the next wave. I wish the air didn't already smell so bad or I might've been able to make a better guess. The smell really gives them away. Unfortunately, we have no way to dispose of the wriggling, moaning corpses just yet and have to leave them where they lie. I hope that at least some of the natural forces of the world are still in effect. If so, then flies should take care of some of the dirty work for us. From what I've seen, they don't really mind the necrotic, magic infused flesh.
“Nope,” Valerie calls for me. “I think it's safe for you to come back up.” Holly nods, swings the baseball bat around a bit to rid it of as much goop as possible and soon rejoins us on the roof.
“We're staying,” Dawson tells her and she nods, like she already knew that was going to be their answer. “So don't you think you owe us a better explanation?”
Holly stares at him for a long moment and then simply says, “No.” Dawson starts off on another temper tantrum, standing up and pacing the roof with aggressive, jerky movements. It doesn't phase Holly, and she just yawns like she's bored with it all. “You guys want the first shift or the second shift tonight?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Dawson growls.
“Second shift,” Valerie answers for him and hands Holly the shotgun. “Call us if you need us. We'll be working on boarding up the rest of those windows.” She starts to walk away and Dawson follows. It seems that Martin wasn't the only one with a crush on the shapely ranger woman. Poor Martin.
“Did you tell them anything?” she asks me, and I just stare at her because she knows I didn't. “Good. Anymore problems with your arm?” I shake my head and hold my hand out, palm up.
“It's kind of … I don't know, anxious. Jumpy, maybe?” Holly nods and steps forward, grabbing my hand and raising it to her face so that it cups her cheek gently. As soon as our skin makes contact, my left arm calms and becomes as docile as my right. “If you keep doing that, I'm going to have to make sure that I touch you forever.”
“Good,” she tells me as she presses a kiss to my dead flesh and doesn't look at all disturbed by it. “Because that was my plan exactly.” I grin and pull her into my arms, resting my chin atop her head and just reveling in the warmth from her body. Even with the stink of death all around, she makes me happy, always will. That's how I decide what I want to do next.
“Holly,” I say quietly and I realize that the birds are back, chirping a gentle lullaby to remind us that no matter what happens, they're still there. Life will go on, even if it isn't in us. “When this is all over, will you marry me?” She doesn't squeal or jump up and down, and it's not because we're in the worst situation possible, it's just because that isn't Holly. She doesn't express herself like that and she doesn't need to because I understand her completely.
“Yes,” she tells me without even a second's hesitation. “In fact, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
CHAPTER 17
Irrepressible
Forty-Eight Hours After …
Holly and I take a long shift so that Valerie and Dawson have time to do most of the windows and then sleep. More lopers show up as well as some bone bags, but that's all we see for the night. Holly waits until there's a handful of them before going downstairs and smashing them apart with the baseball bat. By the time our turn to sleep rolls around, Holly's so covered in gunk and blood that she has to strip down and wash herself with handfuls of paper towels that she gets from the women's restroom. Nobody goes into the men's or even mentions it, and when we pass by, I see that someone, probably Dawson has made a cross out of black duct tape and stuck it to the door.
“When the time comes,” she tells me, looking ridiculously cute and unbearably naked. “I want you to stay upstairs and hide in one of the cabinets along the back wall.” I hand her a blanket to use as a towel and wait until she's dried off to help her into some of my underwear. She puts her hands on my shoulders and steps through the leg holes with a naughty smile. “I know you can see my boobs,” she says. “But be serious for a second.”
“I can't help myself,” I tell her, putting a hand over my heart and giving her the best smile I know how. “I'm your fiancé now.” Holly slips on a new T-shirt and then smacks me in the arm gently.
“And that's why I want you to live through this.” Her face drops suddenly, coming down like an avalanche that crushes any sense of hope and joy in the room. I fold her into my arms and we stand there quietly for a long, long time before she pushes away and kisses me fiercely. We make love on the bathroom floor again and then retreat upstairs where Holly makes me help board up windows before letting us sleep.
It's not an easy task, made especially hard since four of the five windows on this level are up high. After we drag the tools that we took from the warehouse and the extra lumber that we got from smashing up desks and bookcases up the stairs, Holly makes me take an axe to the maintenance room door which neither her nor Valerie has a key to. Inside we find a heavy, wooden ladder that I have to use my zombie arm to carry.
“I know you're tired,” she encourages as I climb the steps and start to nail on the first board. “But this is the only way to make sure you guys live long enough for me to get to Patricia.” I pause and wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my good hand.
“Are you really going to talk to her?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down so that Dawson and Valerie don't hear. I glance at Holly and she shakes her head.
“Hell no, I'm just going to fucking kill her.” I turn back to the window and start hammering in the next nail.
“What if that doesn't work?” I ask. “What if the zombies just go all ballistic and kill you?” Holly sighs and I know she's already thought about this, analyzed it, made her decision. She'll have taken in every angle, gone down every route before deciding on something like this. But I have to ask.
“Then they'll eventually get in here and kill you, and we'll see each other in another life.” I swallow hard because I've never really thought about religion or what happens after death. I don't believe in any god and I don't know about souls either.
“If there is another life,” I ask Holly as I reach down and take the next board from her outstretched hand. “Won't it just be overrun with zombies, too?” Holly suddenly climbs the ladder and
puts her arms around my waist. She's spontaneous like that, my Holly.
“This can't be the only world in the universe, can it?” she asks and when she says it, it makes perfect sense. Anything falling from that delicate mouth would make perfect sense. Maybe I think that because she just did certain things to me with it that she's never done before. She said it was our last chance to experiment and that if she died before giving oral sex, she wouldn't feel like she'd lived life to the fullest. I kind of understand that though it's a little weird.
“I guess not,” I say as the early morning sunshine starts to disappear, hidden by the bits of broken wood that I'm lining up in a specific pattern, just the way Holly wants it. The piece I have in my hand now is dusty, part of a bookcase in a back office that doesn't look like it was often used. There were books on the shelf, most of them about geese, that Holly had thrown to the floor in a hurry. The preservation of the Canada Goose doesn't seem even remotely important right now, and I'm having a hard time imagining that that was someone's job before this all started.
“Have faith in me, Galen Nash,” she says. “Have faith in me.”
***
Fifty-Two Hours And Nine Minutes After …
Somebody is choking me.
I don't know who it is or why, but when I reach up to try and stop them, my left arm won't respond. I need to use it though because my right arm isn't strong enough to pry them away; whoever they are, they're a lot more powerful than I am. Then I realize. Zombie. It has to be a zombie. A zombie's choking me!
I try to scream, certain that yet another bite is on its way, ready to take my leg or my opposite arm or my life.
“Galen!” It's Holly's voice, calling out to me, begging me to wake up from the airless stupor that I've gone into. I must be unconscious, I think as I wonder how long this has been happening and why I didn't hear a zombie get into the room. Then I think that maybe it isn't a DeadBorn at all, but that it could be Dawson. Why wouldn't he just shoot you if he really wanted to kill you?
Warmth runs through my body and up my left arm with a tingling sensation, awakening the fingers and my sense of touch just as the pressure around my throat releases and lets me take in gulp after gulp of much needed oxygen.
Holly is staring down at me with a horrified expression on her face. One hand is wrapped around my left wrist and the other is brushing down my right cheek. She looks so pretty, framed by the white light that's leaking in the last remaining window, the one that we use to get to the roof. Her hair isn't just blonde anymore but this brilliant gold that sears the vision of her into my brain where I know I'll never forget it, not if I die, not ever.
“Are you okay?” she asks me as she leans down and presses the softest of kisses to my forehead. I try to speak, but my throat's dry and sore, bruised from my attacker's assault. Yet I don't see anyone in the room except us. Holly scoots away and grabs a bottle of water from the desk nearby, all the while glancing at the window fearfully like she's afraid someone's going to come in and see what's happened. “I'll be right back,” she whispers and disappears as quickly as she did when we were in the bathroom and my mind was slowly slipping away. What she came back with saved my life. I'm guessing that whatever it is that she's doing now, it's for the same or similar reasons.
I finish the water bottle quickly and find that I'm desperate for more. Luckily, when Holly comes back she brings three bottles with her and tosses them on the end of the sleeping bag that I'm lying under. First though, she makes me put on a hooded sweatshirt that hides my damaged throat.
“Why?” I ask. It's the only word I'm able to get out at the moment. Holly glances away and takes a big breath before answering me.
“Your neck has finger shaped bruises on it, Galen.” That's all she tells me though, not how they got there or where the person that did it went. Then suddenly it clicks. Me. I did it. My arm twitches violently as I move it in front of my face.
“Oh my god,” I croak and then start to cough again. Holly hands me another water bottle and I finish it in seconds. “I did this?” I ask, just for clarification because I'm having trouble believing it. Holly nods and takes my zombie hand in hers. I try to pull away because I'm scared I'll hurt her, but she doesn't let me.
“It's her magic,” Holly says quietly, glancing back at the window again fearfully. I know what she's looking for now. She's afraid that Dawson and Valerie will come in and see and that they'll get scared, that they won't trust us. That they'll hurt me, maybe even kill me. I see all of these fears dancing in Holly's eyes like dying stars. “She made you do it,” Holly growls as she tangles her fists in the blankets and grits her teeth. She closes her eyes for a moment as she tries to get a handle on the rage that's pulsing inside her. “It's not enough to take my parents, not even enough to take the world, but now she wants you, too?” Holly scoffs. “I can't wait to plunge a knife through her throat.”
I can't stand to see Holly like this, so I reach out and pull her to me, watching my zombie arm very, very carefully. If it tries to go for Holly, I'll hack it off myself.
“Don't let the anger take over you,” I say as I kiss her ear. “You never have before, don't let it happen now.” Holly nods, but I can see she isn't ready to take my advice, not yet. “Remember how angry you used to get at the Garcia sisters?” I ask and vaguely wonder if they're dead. Holly doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge what I've just said, but I know she's listening. She's waiting for me to make my point. “Remember that one time you said you missed the ball because you couldn't see anything but red? That lost you the game? If you miss the ball now, you could lose your life.” Holly's arms come around me and tighten fiercely. I feel her ribcage expand with a massive breath that she lets out in a rush.
“You're right,” she tells me and I hear in her voice that she's impressed with my analogy. I'm not normally good at them, so this is a big thing for me. When she pulls back, she's smiling softly. “I should use the baseball bat, just in case.”
“Holly … ” She shushes me with a kiss to the lips.
“I got it, Galen. I got it.” Holly sits back on her heels and puts her hands over her knees. Even though she looks amused, underneath she's all serious. “Did you bring any belts with you?” I think about it for awhile and shrug. I actually didn't pack any of the clothes we brought – she did. I tell her that and she snaps her fingers like she's just hit idea pay dirt. “You're right,” she says as she rises to her feet in an instant. “Be right back.” And just like that, she's gone again, bolting around the edge of the stairwell and out of sight before I can think to protest.
I sigh and drop my head back to the pillow, close my eyes and try to breathe. My throat feels like it's taken a serious blow, but that it's more traumatized than it is injured. I'm reaching my fingers up to palpate it when I hear someone come in the window. When I open my eyes, I see that it's Dawson. He sneaks past me and starts to dig around in the candy bag, casting surreptitious glances over his shoulder as he does this. Whatever it is that he's looking for, he doesn't find it and kicks the bag angrily. I'm too curious to pretend not to notice him anymore.
“What's up?” I ask and he startles enough that I really am afraid he's going to shoot me.
“Don't ever fucking do that again,” he growls as he drops the shaking pistol by his side and stares down at me. “I wouldn't want to see you get hurt.” I ignore the veiled threat in his words, certain that he's aware that if he shoots me, Holly will shoot him.
“What are you looking for?” Dawson glances over his shoulder like he's afraid Valerie might come in and hear us.
“Where's Holly?” he asks as he turns back to me and notices the empty spot where the indent of her sleeping body still shows in the blankets. It doesn't feel right anymore, sleeping without Holly. I spent more time at her house than I did my own and even then, she stayed the night more often than not. I wonder if we're becoming co-dependent and decide that I really don't give a shit either way.
“Downstairs,” I say an
d neglect to mention why she went down there. I don't want Dawson to know anything about my zombie hand, not even if I have to lie to his face. Dawson nods and licks his lips nervously.
“Do you have any condoms?” he asks me and I blink stupidly at him.
“What?”
“You and Holly were doing it in the bathroom, so I figured you might have some.” I don't even grace that statement with an answer because Holly comes up the stairs right at that moment, and Dawson turns back to the window like he's running away.
“Mind your own damn business, Isaac,” she says, calling him by his last name. He turns around and they glare at each other for a moment. I don't see a belt in Holly's hands, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have one hidden on the stairs behind her. “What makes you think you'll score with Valerie anyway? She's at least ten years older than you. Why would she want an eighteen year old boy?”
“Nineteen,” Dawson growls as his face turns a slight shade of pink. “Man.”
“Please,” Holly says as she scowls and drops to the floor beside me, legs folded neatly beneath her. “Go outside and do your fucking job. You don't have time for sex anyway.”
“Didn't seem to stop you,” Dawson says as he grabs the edge of the window and hauls himself out. Holly grins as he goes and leans back to retrieve a black belt that I wore only once to my father's funeral. I have no idea why she thought to pack it.
“It's nice to know that we can still think about trivial things in a crisis,” Holly says as she hands me the belt and instructs me to loop it around my waist. I do what she asks and hand her the ends. The belt is way too big for me, something my mother bought either without paying attention or because she had no idea what size her son was. If she'd taken me with her, she could've asked, but she didn't. Before, during and after my father's death, she was the same. She liked wine more than she liked me. “It means we're already healing.” Holly pushes my left arm against my side, pulls the belt around it and cinches it tight. “There,” she says as she tests it by pulling against the leather with both hands. “That oughta hold it back for a while, at least long enough for me to wake up if something happens.” She nods and scoots down beside me, laying one arm across my belly and putting the other under her head.
DeadBorn Page 15
