Ani's eyes flicked from Mike's guilty face to Devon and back. "I... I thought..." She ran.
Mike might have called after her. She stumbled through snow banks, driveways, hedgerows. Branches clawed at her clothes, her hair, her face. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. Away. I have to get away. She stumbled, more than once, but she dragged herself to her feet and kept running.
The world upended and she fell. She tumbled down a slope, her body punished by rocks, sticks, and the hard, frozen ground. Arms flailing, she pitched forward into a pile of brush. She gagged as a tree branch punched into her chest, pinning her up in the air. Legs dangling, she looked down at the branch embedded in her torso. Missed my heart. That's good. Her mom would notice if the pacemaker was damaged.
"Ow," she said. Her back hurt just below her shoulder blade, so she reached up and felt for the source. The branch pinning her in the air had gone right through, and she felt several inches sticking out of her back. "Wow."
Her voice sounded airy, different. She breathed in to try again, and felt air suck past the branch in her ribs. Oh, great. Just great. She grabbed the branch with both hands and pushed herself off the jagged wood. She was most of the way off when it snapped. The bark held firm, so as she fell to the ground, it tore out of her chest. She landed in a creek bed, the ice crackling under her rump as she hit.
She grabbed the branch and pulled herself to her feet. Chunks of something white and slimy—lung, maybe?—were stuck to it. "Ew!" She wiped her hand on her shirt, then looked up. The ravine wasn't very high.
She climbed out and used the moonlight to retrace her footsteps through the snow, unneeded breath wheezing in the night air.
* * *
By the time she got home, it was eight o'clock. The dance was starting. Devon was with Mike. Fey was with Jake. Mom was with her Mike. The house was empty, silent, devoid of life.
She locked the door and got in the bath, cranking Year of the Black Rainbow. Fey was right. It was wretched. And so was she.
* * *
When the bus pulled up to Fey's house, no one got on. Ani looked out the window. Jake's car idled in her driveway, and her mom stood in the doorway, waving the bus on. The bus lurched forward, passed Mike's house without slowing down, and continued on to school.
Greg Schulman lurked at her locker, scratching at his arms as he shifted from foot to foot. "Have you seen Jake?" Need a fix, do you? "I need to talk to him."
"He's at Fey's house. They're either skipping or late." Her voice was almost back to normal after a slathering of regenerative cream and a night in the bath, but it had an asthmatic quality she couldn't hide.
"Oh," Greg said. He stared at her as she got out her books for first period.
"Do you have somewhere to be," she asked?
"No," he replied, still staring. Take a hint much? "Can I see your head?"
"Absolutely not." Ani wasn't sure if his brain was functional enough to produce words that consisted of more than one syllable. Hopefully, he could understand them. "Go away, Greg."
He took a step back, but didn't leave. It was a relief when the bell rang.
* * *
Fey wouldn't shut up when they met in the hall after third period. "I never realized how deep Jake is. He's, like, so cool. So deep. We have so much in common." She flashed her eyebrows. "And not for nothing, but he ain't a bad kisser, either. And there's this thing he does—" Don't forget to breathe, Fey.
She let Fey ramble for a minute, then begged off to go to class. It was hard to feel happy for Fey when she was so miserable, and being so petty about it made her more miserable.
Mike always half-ignored her, but this was somehow worse. He blushed every time he saw her and turned away. You should be ashamed. Devon, on the other hand, wouldn't stop staring—that petty, vindictive, I-have-what-you-want look that Ani should have been above letting hurt her, but wasn't.
She turned around and bumped into Rose. She stepped back. "Sorry."
"Hey, freak, you owe me two hundred dollars for my phone."
In her peripheral vision, she saw Leah approaching from the side. Screw this. She looked up into Rose's eyes and shook her head. "If you try to collect it, I'll have you prosecuted for assault. Back off."
They locked eyes. Ani saw her rage and felt nothing but cold. Rose raised her hands and stepped back. Not expecting a fight, Rose? "Sure, freak. Whatever you say." She turned to Leah and they hurried away.
Mrs. Weller crooked a finger at her. "Ani, my room, please." Oh just freaking great. Ani shuffled into her room and she closed the door. Mrs. Weller's head tilted to one side, her eyes full of concern. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"
Ani crossed her arms. "No." I seem to be getting better at uncomfortable silence.
"Are you sure? We take female bullying very seriously at Ohneka Falls. There can be consequences, but you have to speak up."
"I can take care of myself."
"I didn't say you couldn't. But we can help, if you let us." Ani looked at the door, then back at Mrs. Weller. "But you have to let us." She waited. Ani let her. "Ani?"
"I heard you," Ani said. "Can I go now?"
Mrs. Weller frowned. "Yes. I'm not holding you or anything." But you will tell my mom.
She walked out.
* * *
Fey and Jake sat together at lunch, and Ani didn't think his hand even once left her thigh. They mooned at each other, giggling and whispering sweet nothings. They said almost nothing to Ani or to anyone else. And this is the boy that asked me out last week.
The day dragged to infinity, but finally the bell rang. Ani went to her locker to get her trig book. She lifted the handle, gave it a kick to pop it open, and froze. Inside was a box of Russell Stover's chocolates, unwrapped. Without taking it out of her locker, she removed the lid. Instead of candy there was a picture inside—Devon and Mike kissing on the dance floor. It was signed, "Love, Devon."
* * *
It was a relief to lock herself in her house. She was playing the first movement of Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, fast-paced and angry, when her mother got home. She kept playing as the key turned in the lock, but stopped as her mom stepped inside, scowling through her new tan.
"Shostakovich," her mom said. "Never good." She crossed the room and hugged Ani close. "What's wrong, my little baby?"
"Nothing I want to talk about." She buried her face in her mom's chest and gave her a good squeeze. "I'm glad you're home."
Her mom stroked her wig as if it were hair. "Me, too."
They held each other for a minute before Ani pulled away and tried a smile. "How was your trip?"
Her answering smile was tinged with melancholy. "It was good. We had a nice time."
"But?" Ani asked, her eyebrows raised. Whatever's wrong, you can tell me.
It turned into a smirk. "Nothing I want to talk about."
Ani laughed. "Fair enough. Mom...." She couldn't help but ask. "Are you and Mike still...?"
"Yes, Mike and I are still together."
"So when am I going to meet this guy?" Ani asked. Geez, Mom, you look constipated.
"Oh, I don't know. I want to make sure it's really serious before we start introducing kids."
"He has kids?" Ani asked.
"He has a son about your age." She kissed Ani on the forehead. "I need to pee and then get something to eat. Why don't you go back to your piano before you get in the bath?"
"Okay, Mom." You didn't even notice my voice. She tried for Liszt's Feux Follets, upbeat and happy and a strain on her technical prowess. It didn't lift her mood, but it made a good distraction. She couldn't quite play it without screwing up, but by the time the spring concert came around it would make a great show-off piece.
The idea of a concert brought her thoughts to Dylan, but she drowned them in music.
* * *
Wednesday and Thursday were more of the same—Fey and Jake in their own world, petty jibes from Devon, Leah, and Rose, and
Mike too embarrassed by his own actions to even speak to her. Her life was too crowded to be lonely, but she was lonely anyway. She spent both days mired in her own thoughts and found herself composing music for the first time in weeks.
She burned through her afternoons and evenings transcribing what she had constructed in her head, semi-classical but dark and moody, not her usual upbeat dance-beat scores. Oh, great. Much more of this and I'll actually be emo. She couldn't wait for Friday—Monday was President's Day, and that meant nine days off if you counted both weekends. Nine days to distract herself helping Mom find a cure.
It was three in the morning on Friday when she heard the phone ring, muted and garbled through the iced formalin bath. Late-night phone calls were never good news. Never. She pushed open the lid, sat up, and the goopy chemicals sloughed off her upper body. She heard her mom on the phone. She couldn't pick out words, but her tone was clipped, agitated. She waited for her mother's footsteps on the stairs.
Her mom walked in, the phone in her hand but turned off. She looked worried, furious, murderous.
"What is it, Mom?"
"Dylan's awake. And he's talking."
Chapter 20
"They're taking no chances," her mom said. "He's in restraints and under guard. He's told the police—and everyone who would listen—that you're a zombie and that he was trying to save the town." Her mom sat on the edge of the tub, bundled up in her nightgown. "Fortunately for us he's also babbling about how he loves you and wants to be with you on the 'other side.' They think he's crazy and maybe brain damaged." There was an exaggerated pause.
"But..." Ani adjusted her nylon-coated bath pillow so that her face would be out of the pungent solution, and lay back. The slimy, ice-cold tingling enveloped her in a comforting embrace.
"But you need to be careful. Falsely reporting a zombie incident is a felony—not that he isn't in enough trouble—but Homeland Security always follows up. Always."
"But, Mom, no one will believe—"
Her mom held up a finger. "This means no research this week. I can still get a few things done, but we can't be going in and out of the basement. We'll have to leave the blinds open downstairs—too suspicious otherwise—and you'll need to be out and about. Walk around town, hang out with Tiffany, apply for jobs or something." Ani looked at the raised finger. She almost interrupted anyway, but thought better of it. "And... I'll get us a kitten." She dropped her hand.
"Mom, we can't get a kitten. It'll freak the hell out."
"Not if it's heavily sedated whenever you're home. You can sit on the couch and pet it. That should allay any suspicion that anyone watching you might have."
"But... I... They can't possibly believe him. There are no zombies like me. None anywhere. It's not possible."
Her mom looked out her bedroom door at the repaired banister.
"Mom?"
"Dammit, Ani," her mom snapped. "Use your head. Do you think I came up with all those serums entirely on my own? The bath? The treatment?"
"You mean people know—"
The finger shot up. "There are other researchers, yes. Other rehabilitation labs. Government labs. Nobody knows about you in particular, no. As far as I know you are the only human who has ever been infected and yet remained alive for years. You are the only one who can think and speak about other things most of the time. The only one I know of."
She put her fingertips to her forehead, her elbows on the edge of the bath. "But you're not the only zombie who has had their cravings at least partially controlled, though you might be the most successful. You're certainly the only one allowed free. You'd be special, unique, even if you weren't my baby girl." Her hand dropped.
"Holy shit, Mom." She ignored the disapproving glare. "That can't be legal."
"Watch your language." She nodded. "And you're right. It's not legal. What those other labs are doing is every bit as illegal as what we're doing here. But if we're going to cure you, something has to be done, right? I can't do it all on my own, can I?"
Ani didn't bother to answer the rhetorical question. "So you work with these people? Who are they?"
She shook her head. "It's top-secret military research. I used to work for them officially—I was never really a cardiologist—which is why I was on-hand when the first ZV outbreak hit."
"The zombie virus was man-made?"
Her mom nodded.
"Mom, did you make—"
She scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. It was the Chinese. We got a hold of their research and reverse-engineered it, tried to find a counter to it before it could be used on us. The program was canceled of course, after the first outbreak, but it re-opened under other names, other departments." She leaned in close and kissed Ani on the forehead. "We all have our reasons for doing it. Mine are just more personal than theirs." She pulled back. "Anyway, those connections allow me access to drugs and research I wouldn't otherwise have. They're critical if I'm to find a cure before I—" She choked back a sob. What the hell was that? "Before you graduate." She stood up and put her hands to her mouth, gasping through tears. "I need to go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning, sweetie."
"Okay, Mom."
Her mom rested her fingers on the bath lid.
"Hey." They locked eyes. "I love you."
"And I love you, Ani."
Her mom closed the lid and hurried out of the room, leaving Ani to her worries.
* * *
She spent the rest of vacation pretending to be a semi-normal girl. She practiced piano, painted, ate two small meals a day that she had to wait until late at night to flush out, and petted the drugged-up orange tabby mom had adopted from the pound. She filled out and dropped off job applications, hung out with Fey and Jake, and tried not to notice the black Lexus sedan that seemed to follow her everywhere.
By the end of break, it was gone, her mom gave her the 'all clear' and gave the cat away to one of the bus drivers. They got in one day of tests before it was time to go back to school. Sunday night she slept in the bath. She needed it—after a week without it, she was starting to smell, and her voice was getting worse.
* * *
The next week was uneventful. Fey and Jake broke up over something stupid, got back together, and broke up again. By Friday they were back to talking, and the emo crowd had settled into a sense of relative normalcy.
People whispered about Dylan, but it was just talk—nobody seemed to lend the rumors any credence. Ani talked and went to school and hung out, so she couldn't possibly be what Dylan said she was—he had to be crazy. It did have the unfortunate side effect of earning her a new nickname from the evil three.
After the initial shock, she got used to "Dead Girl" in minutes and began to appreciate the irony of it. She started responding to it as if it were her name, and they stopped. It was probably for the best that she went back to being "Cutter" and "freak."
Saturday morning she went to an interview with Luz's Soaps and Scents, a boutique that suited her needs as well as the Lair ever did. The shop was cloying, an allergist's worst nightmare of floral scents; and in addition to soap, lotion, incense, and bath salts, it also displayed work from local artists—it was perfect, and she looked forward to an excuse to get out of the house more.
She wore a nice, modest dress and toned down her makeup to the minimum possible that would still maintain her image. She took the safety pins out of her cheek—the scar was almost invisible—and carried another copy of her resume in a portfolio. She put on her best smile and walked into the shop, the jingling bell atop the door announcing her arrival.
The curly-haired Latina behind the counter smiled at her as she approached. "May I help you?" Her accent was charming, but Spanish rather than Mexican or Puerto Rican. "Bath salts are on sale, twenty percent off."
"Are you Luz?" she asked. The woman nodded. "Hi, I'm Ani Romero. I have a ten o'clock interview."
Luz gave her a flat smile, folded her hands one atop the other, and her eyes walked over Ani's pierced eyebrow, nose, and
lip. "I'm sorry, but the position has been filled. We'll let you know if it opens up again."
Ani glanced at the 'Help Wanted' plaque on the counter and snorted. "Sure. Thanks for your time."
She walked home grumpy, slowing as she turned the corner to her street. An unmarked delivery truck sat in her driveway, the ramp down. She stepped behind a tree, watching. Her mom directed two men in dark blue coveralls as they maneuvered a large wooden crate on a hand dolly up the sidewalk, over the stoop, and into the house. About five minutes later, they returned with the empty crate, loaded it onto the truck, and drove off.
She let herself in—the doors were locked, as usual—and called out. "Mom?" There was no answer. She took a quick look around, and no one seemed to be home, which meant that Mom was in the basement.
She heard scrambling as she slid back the bookcase, and ran down the stairs as fast as her dysfunctional legs would let her. Her mom sat at the lab table, writing, but her face was flushed and she breathed harder than a person writing should. She looked up as Ani hit the landing.
"Slow down, sweetie, you might hurt yourself." She turned back to the legal pad.
"What was in the crate?" she asked.
"Hmm?" Her mom shook her head without looking up. "Nothing to worry about. Just something I'm working on."
Ani looked around the room. Everything seemed to be in its place. No new glassware or equipment, no boxes, no package peanuts, no nothing. Her eyes lit on the 'just in case' room door, and the padlock dangling from the handle. Why would that be locked if I'm not inside?
Ani didn't bother trying to be subtle; she shuffled straight toward it.
Her mom spoke up without lifting her eyes from the page. "You don't want to look in there." Oh, yes I do. She kept walking.
"I said stop."
Ani stopped but didn't turn around. "Why? What is it?"
"Something I need to continue my research, to push it to the next level. Nothing that will make you happy."
Twice Shy Page 13
