by Chelsea Luna
Cage grabbed a handful of napkins from the metal dispenser on the table. Instead of wiping the blood off his arm, he handed them to her. “That’s my favorite part.”
“Nice weapon.”
Cage lifted the mop stick. “Last minute choice. What are you doing here?”
“Huh?” She wiped at the blood on her tank top.
“Why are you at Cecilia’s?” He pointed to the baseball bat. “Obviously, you’re not picking up a pizza. You’re armed and you seem to know more about what’s going on than I do.”
“Oh, I heard a woman screaming when I was running by. I thought I’d try to help her, but I guess I was too late.”
Cage looked down at Sandra’s body. “That’s pretty brave. What’s your name?”
“Rachel Cole.”
“Nice to meet you, Rachel. So, zombies, huh? That’s kind of hard to believe.”
“Mind blowing -”
Sandra’s body twitched. First her legs and arms and then her entire body convulsed like waves of electricity streamed through her. Rachel backed up. “She’s changing. Time to go.”
“Changing?”
Before Rachel could answer, three zombies crashed through the front glass door. Cage grabbed Rachel and led her down the hallway. They tiptoed into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances crowded the small room and the sweet aroma of Italian sausage filled the air.
Rachel flipped open a box. Her fingers wiggled in indecision.
“Are you about to eat a slice of pizza?” Cage whispered in disbelief.
“I’m hungry. I should probably keep my blood sugar up. It’s going to be a long night.”
“You might want to help me search for an exit.”
She whirled around and her face fell. “There’s not an exit in here? Isn’t that a fire hazard or something?”
Cage glanced around the kitchen. No exit. They were trapped. He peeked out the order window. The zombies wandered around the dining room, bumping into tables. One zombie wearing a U.S. post office uniform shuffled down the hallway that led to the kitchen. The other two zombies followed him.
“Quick! Under there.” Cage pointed to a metal prep table in the middle of the room. There was enough space below the table’s cabinet to crawl underneath.
“Really? You want to hide under a table?”
The zombies stumbled down the hallway. Their groaning grew louder. Cage dropped to his knees. “They’re coming!”
He motioned for Rachel to get under the prep table. She glanced out the order window, exhaled and dropped to the floor in a quick lithe motion. She inched over on her back and Cage slid in beside her. The metal cabinet almost touched his nose.
The zombies entered the kitchen. A pair of brown loafers stopped near Cage’s head. Other feet shuffled around the room, aimlessly bumping into appliances. Rachel was right – this was a horrible idea. They were trapped under a table in a very small room with at least three zombies.
Brown loafers walked around the prep table and stopped near Rachel. Could the zombies smell them? Was the food masking their scent? The zombie lingered. Brown loafers could sense them; Cage knew it. They were going to be eaten alive on the prep table.
That was such a bad way to go.
Cage inched his fingers over until he grabbed Rachel’s hand. He didn’t know why he did it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She was probably terrified. She rotated her head to him and calmly nodded.
Brown loafers stepped around the table and then shuffled out of the kitchen. The other two sets of feet roamed around the room. A lot of time passed and Cage began to wonder if they’d ever get out from underneath the prep table. He had to get home. His parents needed him. The zombies’ shuffling feet grew more distant. Groans drifted in from the dining room, but it didn’t sound like any more zombies had entered the pizzeria. It was now or never.
“Let’s make a run for it,” Cage whispered. “My car is parked out back.”
Dark blue eyes lit up. “You have a car?” She licked her lips. “Of course you have a car – you’re Cage Vance.”
“What?” He whispered. What did that mean?
Rachel shook her head. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m ready, let’s go.”
“Follow me.”
She hesitated. “How many do you think are in the dining room?”
“I don’t know. Three? We’ll sneak out the back.”
Cage slid out from under the prep table. He turned to help Rachel, but she rolled out on the opposite side. They crouched under the order window that opened out to the dining room. Cage rounded the corner and they raced down the hallway to the exit.
It was dark outside, which meant they’d been in Cecilia’s for a while. That wasn’t good. His parents were old and, if there were more of these things around, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves.
Cage headed to his car, but Rachel ran in the opposite direction. He grabbed her arm, but she flung off his hand. “Let go of me!”
He released his grip. “Sorry. You can’t go on foot. Look.” Cage pointed to the two zombies shuffling across the street.
“I can outrun them.”
Cage blinked. “Outrun them? Are you crazy? I told you I have a car.”
“You didn’t say you’d give me a lift,” Rachel said.
“Of course I’ll give you a ride. Where are you going?”
“To the Wooden Barrel,” Rachel said.
“Zombies have driven you to drink?”
“No. I have to get my foster father’s car.”
“Just his car, not your foster father?”
Rachel shook her head. “A zombie could gnaw on Gene’s face for all I care. I only need his car.”
The two zombies across the street wandered aimlessly down the road. They couldn’t stay exposed like this. They needed to get to the safety of the car, but he was dying to know. The words that came out of Rachel’s mouth were fascinating. She was fascinating. “Where are you going once you get his car?”
“Ann Arbor.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No.” She flipped her head over and tied her long blond hair into a knot on top of her head. “I’m from Flint. My little sister is at science camp at the university. I have to get her and I’m wasting time small talking with you in Cecilia’s parking lot.”
The two zombies across the street saw them. The orange glare from the street lamps illuminated their dark outlines. One was a teenage girl. She fluidly switched her aimless lumber into a full out sprint.
Cage cursed. “She’s coming. Let’s go, I’ll drive you.”
Rachel looked like she wanted to argue, but the zombie was fast. She swore, too, and took off toward his Escalade, even though two other cars were parked in the lot.
“Hurry!” He unlocked the doors and slid into the driver’s seat.
Rachel jumped inside. Cage hit the locks as the teenage zombie crossed into the parking lot. She was much faster than the zombie couple in the pizzeria. The old man had advanced at a snail’s pace, but this teenager sprinted like an Olympic athlete.
The teenager’s fingers scraped against the side of the Escalade with a metallic screech. Rachel covered her ears. “Go, go, go!”
“I’m going!” Cage pressed his foot down on the gas. “Jeez, why was she so fast?”
Rachel twisted in the seat. “I don’t know. I saw a lady before – a runner – and she was really fast, too. I almost didn’t get away.”
“If they are all that fast, then we’re screwed.”
“Yep.”
Cage fastened his seatbelt. “How did you know which car was mine?”
“Huh?” Rachel still faced the rear window. Her dark blue eyes followed the teenager chasing after them.
“You ran straight to my car, even though there were other cars parked in the lot.”
“Oh.” Rachel twisted back around. “I guessed. It’s an Escalade and you’re Cage Vance.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“
Saying what?”
“Well, for one, my first and last name together, like it’s one name and we live in the South. And, two, you talk about me like you know me. Have we met before?” Cage checked the rearview mirror. The zombie teenager still chased the SUV, but she was too far behind to catch them.
“Sorry about the first / last name combo, but that’s how everyone refers to you.”
“Everyone?”
“In the City of Flint,” Rachel said slowly. “You are the same Cage Vance that’s the star high school quarterback at Flint Prep, right? The one who’s being scouted by all of the Big Ten schools?”
Cage felt his face flush.
“Thought so.” Rachel leaned against the seat. The baseball bat was propped in between her legs. “Where are you headed?”
Cage grabbed his cell phone out of the cup holder. “Home. I have to get to my parents. I’ve been at football practice all day. Crap.”
“What?”
“My battery’s dead.” Cage looked at her. “Can I use your cell phone?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Did you lose it?”
“I don’t own a cell phone.”
“What? Really?”
Rachel’s features hardened.
“That’s cool,” he said. “I mean, not now. I wish you had a cell phone now.”
“Yeah, me too. You don’t have a charger?”
“I think I left it at home. Can you check my bag in the backseat?”
She reached into the backseat. Long tan legs filled the space beside him and he had to tell himself not to stare.
“Your bag stinks like boy sweat. I don’t see a charger. Only dirty clothes.” Rachel flipped back around. “Were you checking out my butt, Cage Vance?”
“What? No.”
Rachel sighed.
“I wasn’t,” Cage said. “Well, maybe just a little.”
She turned to him and openly studied his face. “I hope your parents are okay.”
“Thanks. I hope your sister is okay.”
“Me, too.”
Cage sped down Atherton Road and under the I-475 overpass. This stretch of road was residential. A few houses had the lights turned on, but he didn’t see anyone. “Do you think this is happening everywhere?” Cage asked. “Where are the police? The military? Everything seems so -”
“Dead?”
He slowed to a stop at the light on Fenton Road. The bright lights of the Rite Aid Pharmacy were like a beacon in the darkness. A car alarm sounded down the street. Cage leaned forward to see what was going on, but something tapped on his driver’s side window.
Rachel tensed.
Cage slowly turned his head, expecting to see a zombie’s icy blue eyes.
It wasn’t. Three men stood outside of his window. One of the men held an impressive semi-automatic handgun. The barrel of the gun tapped politely against the glass.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Cage said under his breath.
The man with the gun wore a dingy tank top splattered with dirt and blood. “Get out of the car.”
“Gun it,” Rachel whispered.
“What?”
“Bad choice of words,” she said. “Go, we can get away.”
“Are you crazy?” Cage’s tone was harsher than he intended, but she didn’t flinch. “They have guns.”
“And you have an Escalade.”
“Get out of the car now!” The man lifted the barrel of the gun and shot in the air. The sound of the gunfire was deafening. “Or I’m going to blow your brains out.”
Cage raised his hands. “Don’t shoot. We’re getting out now.” He hit the button and unlocked the doors. Rachel unleashed a string of profanities that would’ve impressed a sailor.
The guy yanked the door open. “Out rich boy.” He seized Cage by the arm and flung him to the concrete.
Rachel ran around the SUV. “Cage!”
“Easy, Mami.” The guy’s eyes slowly roamed over Rachel from head to toe.
Rachel’s jaw tightened. She gripped the handle of the bat. Her stance widened and, incredibly, Cage realized what she was about to do. He reached for her. “Rachel, don’t.”
She made a face, but she loosened her grip on the bat. The three men slid into his SUV, laughing.
“You can’t leave us out here,” Cage said. “There are zombies -”
“That’s why we’re taking your ride, rich boy,” the man said. “Be lucky we aren’t taking your girl, too.” He slammed the Escalade’s door and raced through the red light.
The stench of burned rubber filled the air. When the smoke cleared, Cage could see across the street to the Rite Aid Pharmacy. Light filled the parking lot, illuminating the pack of zombies headed straight for them.
Chapter Six
Rachel stepped back.
The group of zombies crowded the Rite Aid parking lot. No, not a group – the word was too small to describe what she was seeing – it was a horde of zombies. The creatures had zeroed in on Rachel and Cage when the idiots fired the gun and sped off. She couldn’t believe they’d just been carjacked. As if dealing with the zombie apocalypse wasn’t enough for one night.
She was annoyed at Cage. He should’ve sped away instead of giving up the Escalade. Now they were carless on the streets of Flint, at least a mile away from the Wooden Barrel, with zombies after them.
Cage’s hazel eyes were filled with disbelief. He still wasn’t convinced – or maybe now he was – that these things, were actually zombies. The look of absolute shock was clear as day on his handsome face. Rachel’s annoyance turned to guilt. It wasn’t his fault they’d been carjacked or that zombies were eating people. And it certainly wasn’t Cage’s fault that Morgan was at camp and not with Rachel. Nope, that was one hundred percent her fault.
She exhaled and tried to regain her composure. Cage’s brown hair melted into the darkness around him. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled.
Snarls spewed from across the street. The zombies were every size, shape and race. It was hard to tell how many of them they were facing. Twenty? Thirty? The first row of zombies, three women and two men, disappeared from the parking lot’s circle of light and entered the darkness. Rachel didn’t know what was worse – seeing the zombies in all of their horrifying glory or not being able to see what lurked in the night.
Cage swallowed. “Run!”
They raced down Fenton Road with the zombies on their heels. The pounding of feet on the cement was unsettling. Rachel tensed with each stride, waiting for a hand to reach out and grab her.
Fenton Road was empty. It looked like a ghost town. Where was everybody? How had things gotten this bad, this quickly? How was she ever going to get to Morgan? She had to be okay. She had adults protecting her. Maybe the outbreak was only happening in Flint and it hadn’t reached Ann Arbor yet.
“We have to get off the road,” Cage said. “It’s too wide open. They’ll follow us the entire way.”
He raced alongside her, matching her stride for stride, though she suspected he could’ve easily flown by her if he wanted to. She already had a stitch in her side from running. They veered off the road and up the curb past the Subway Restaurant. Cage headed toward the door.
“No! I have to get to the Wooden Barrel,” Rachel said. “We need Gene’s truck.”
“Fine, let’s take a shortcut through this neighborhood.” He led her over the parking lot and down a quiet street. Street lamps lit the road, but inky shadows edged over the houses and lawns. “Maybe we can lose them if we cut through someone’s yard,” Cage said.
The zombies rounded the corner near the Subway Restaurant. The neon yellow and green sign lit up their ghastly faces.
Rachel followed Cage over the broken sidewalk. Weeds pushed through the concrete and she had to keep looking down so she wouldn’t fall on the uneven pavement. Cage moved fluidly over the grass and down a driveway. She couldn’t believe she was running from zombies with Cage Vance. She didn’t know which part was more shocki
ng. The zombies or Cage.
Cage didn’t recognize her, but why would he? She’d only attended his school for three months during her freshman year, before Morgan and Rachel were placed into another foster family. New families always meant another school district. She’d been to more schools in her life than she could remember, but when she briefly attended Flint Prep, she was introduced to the phenomenon that was Cage Vance.
Cage received write-ups in the newspapers for football on a regular basis. He was gorgeous – dark hair with hazel eyes – and tall with hard lean muscles in his chest and arms. He was popular, not only in school, but across Flint. More like a small town celebrity. And, of course, he was rich. Who names their kid Cage? Rich people do.
All of those superior qualities meant he had absolutely no idea who Rachel was. Even though, she reminded herself, Cage had spoken to her that one time during the incident at -
“- hop over?”
Rachel blinked. They had reached a backyard. “Huh?”
“I said, do you think you can hop over?”
An eight-foot tall privacy fence loomed over her like a giant. “Um, hopping is probably not the right word.”
Footsteps pounded over the driveway. Four zombies raced across the asphalt and into the backyard. Gunfire rumbled in the distance. Other people were fighting, too. The sound gave her an ounce of hope. They weren’t the only ones fighting for their lives.
“How about I throw you over?” Cage laced his palms together.
Rachel stepped into his hands and he effortlessly lifted her. She gripped the top of the fence and pulled herself up, so she straddled the top of the structure. She outstretched her arm. “Give me your hand. I’ll pull you up.”
Cage smiled. “I appreciate the effort, but I weigh twice as much as you. Hold on tight.” He stepped back in the direction of the oncoming zombies.
“Cage, what are you doing?”
He crouched down like a track star and sprinted to the fence, jumping midair and grabbing the top of the wood. The privacy fence shook with his weight. Rachel had to hold on with both hands to keep from tumbling over – which proved difficult because she somehow still held on to the baseball bat.
