She finished picking up the clothes and made for the door, but Daniel stepped out to block her exit. He had small eyes, like a snake, and dried saliva at the corners of his mouth. His hair hung limply to his shoulders, smelling of grease and cigarette smoke. Repulsion for him skittered over her skin.
“There’s no hurry,” he began. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“I need to wash these.”
“Do it later; you must be exhausted. I know those guys work you too hard. I’m not like them. Come and sit down. We can talk.”
“I need to get this done.” Violet made to push past him, but Daniel grabbed her arm, forcing her to drop the clothes. For a moment, he just stared, then he released his grip.
“You better pick those up,” he sneered. Violet held his gaze for a moment, and then knelt. As she did, he kicked out, hitting her square in the face and knocking her back. A fountain of blood poured from her nose. Gasping, she held out her hands to try to stop the bleeding. Red liquid trickled through her fingers, and her eyes watered from the pain. Daniel approached her slowly.
“I asked you nicely,” he began, his voice low. “Now I’m going to tell you. Stay down and do what I say. Or next time it won’t be your nose I make bleed.” His face was lit with disturbing glee as he started to unbuckle his belt.
But Violet still had her knife. As he approached, she grabbed it from her waistband and jammed it into his leg.
“You little—”
But the rest of his words were lost. The world around Violet began to soften. The more the blood poured, the softer everything became. Colors and shapes disappeared. All that was left was the beautiful crimson. She knew what was happening, but she didn’t try to fight it. This time, she was an observer, watching as the creature she became tore into Daniel’s flesh. It ripped out his throat. Within seconds, he was dead. Then it fed.
Violet woke up. Her head was spinning. She glanced around, the walls of the library eventually coming into focus. Slowly, she got to her feet. Daniel’s body was on the ground. Violet bit her lip, tasting the blood there.
Oh crap. Oh crap. This is bad.
Calm down. It could be worse.
She wasn’t upset she’d killed him. Should she be? Either way, he was dead now. She had bigger problems than her guilt, and the first was just beginning to wake up. Daniel’s grey eyes opened. When he began to breathe the rasping breaths of the dead, Violet slammed her knife into his skull.
Okay, that’s one problem dealt with.
Now for the next part.
There was blood on her clothes, blood around her mouth, and blood on the floor. She also had a body to dispose of, and she had to deal with all of that before John or the others came back. Violet grabbed one of the water pots from outside and hurriedly washed her hands and face as best she could. . Her nose had at least stopped bleeding. Then she went back to the body. The bite marks on his neck were large and revealing. If anyone came in, she’d have a hard time explaining how he accidentally chewed his own neck halfway off.
She spotted a jacket on the table. After retrieving it, she brought it over to the body. It took a while—maneuvering a heavy corpse wasn’t exactly an easy job—but she managed to get Daniel into the jacket and zip it up high enough to cover the bites. It also covered the teeth marks on his arms. That was an improvement. To anyone not examining the corpse too closely, it seemed like all he had was a stab wound to the head.
Violet heard footsteps, and her heart began to race. She jumped to her feet, heading for the door.
This is it. They’re going to find out. They’ll kill me!
“Violet?”
It wasn’t John or the others. It was Joe, Matt, and Sam. They were soaking wet, studying her curiously.
“Violet, are you—” Matt was taking in her bloodied clothes with wide eyes.
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s…” Violet struggled for an explanation. “It’s dye from the clothes. I was washing a red sweater.”
Clearly none of the men had any experience washing clothes by hand, since they seemed to immediately accept this might cause a person to become spattered with red from head to toe.
Sam nodded. “Okay, how are you?”
Violet, whose heart felt like it was about to explode, forced a smile. “Yeah. Great. Good. Fine. You?”
“You know, the usual,” Sam replied. “Just trying not to drown.”
Violet laughed. Probably a little too enthusiastically.
Stop acting weird; just for once try to be normal!
Though Sam and Matt seemed slightly concerned about her sudden outburst of maniacal laughter, it was Joe who appeared the most confused. Violet turned her focus on him. “Hey, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, it’s good to see you, Violet. Quick question, why is there a corpse on the floor behind you?” He didn’t wait for a response, heading straight into the library.
Crap.
The other two followed Joe inside. They stood around the body, looking at Violet for an explanation.
She sighed, making her way over to join them. “I killed Daniel.”
“I can see that,” Sam muttered.
All three stared at her with expressions of complete shock.
“How?”
“When?”
“Why?”
Violet sucked in her teeth. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Can you give us the gist?”
“Okay. Well, I killed him, with my knife, about half an hour ago, and I did it because he was…” She trailed off, not sure how to explain it. For some reason, she felt ashamed. Not of killing him, but of the reason she’d had to. Matt, however, was scowling at the body now.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Well, he kicked me in the nose, but I killed him before he could do…what he wanted to do.”
Sam and Joe also glared at the corpse on the floor. Sam kicked it angrily.
“Are you all right?” Matt asked, coming a little closer.
“I’m fine.”
Sam stepped forward. “We need to get rid of the body. I can make it look like he jumped the wall. We’ll leave his corpse for the biters. They’ll think he tried to leave and got chewed up.” He gestured to Joe. “I need you to help me carry the body. Matt, I need you to check the coast is clear as we go.” He addressed Violet. “Vi, I hate to ask—”
“I need to clean the floor.”
Everything went far smoother than Violet could’ve ever imagined. John and his men immediately believed the story of Daniel jumping the wall. No one had needed to tell them. They’d gone searching for him themselves after he failed to arrive at dinner. Edd had spotted his remains out on the street from the window.
“He was an idiot,” John had sighed, shaking his head. “Got what he deserved.”
Violet had not been able to look at anyone during dinner, but her heart finally began to return to normal. She’d gotten away with it. Not only had she and her friends managed to cover up Daniel’s death at her hands, but zombie-Violet had actually helped her. Maybe being half-dead wasn’t so bad?
No, that was a stretch. It was still terrible.
But it could be worse.
Another week passed. It was time for a supply run, but Violet had been left behind this time. She didn’t know why, only that when she, Emily, and Maggie had laid out lunch for everyone, her friends hadn’t been there. John casually mentioned he’d sent them out again, not caring one iota that Violet and the others might’ve actually wanted to know their friends were back outside with no real weapons.
To take her mind off her absent friends, Violet had gone with Maggie to plant some of the seeds they collected on the last supply run. It was a sunny afternoon, and Violet had spent the past hour helping. Though ‘helping’ might’ve been putting it too strongly. So far, she’d already opened the first seed packet so roughly that all the seeds flew out in different directions, overfilled the watering can and soaked
herself when attempting to lift it, and tripped over the rake and gone head-first into the dirt.
Emily was there too, equally baffled but less obvious about it. Zack had been ordered by John to accompany the three of them, but Violet had no idea why. Did he think Violet and the others were hatching some grand scheme to tunnel under the fence and out? Violet was sure after seeing her attempt to use a shovel, Zack would’ve worked out by now how unlikely it was, but he still stayed. The good thing about him, at least, was that he didn’t really talk, so Violet, Emily, and Maggie spent much of the afternoon acting as though he wasn’t even there.
“I’m not sure I have much hope for these,” Violet muttered, looking at the overturned ground. “I’m not exactly skilled at growing food. Or gardening in general. In fact, I’m not really ‘outdoorsy’ at all.”
“I can tell.” Maggie grinned. “You screamed when you found that worm.”
“It was like a snake,” Violet argued. Maggie raised an eyebrow, gently pressing the seeds into the soil.
“How long have you been into this stuff?” Emily asked, watching the precise way she worked.
Maggie paused. “My dad used to have a vegetable garden. He was always trying to get me to help with it.” When she stopped speaking, Violet realized it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. There was a story. There was always a story these days, so Violet simply nodded.
Of course, this was the precise moment Zack decided to speak for the first time.
“Did you? Ever help him, I mean?”
Maggie glanced in his direction. “No,” she answered thoughtfully. “I never did.”
“Why?”
Shut up, Zack! Violet yelled internally. It didn’t take a genius to see this was something she didn’t want to talk about. There was some painful memory wrapped up with this, Violet could tell. Emily knew, too, and shot daggers at Zack, but Maggie answered anyway.
Maggie woke up early, and headed downstairs to get some breakfast. Her mother was in the kitchen, gazing out the window with a smile on her face. Maggie followed her gaze, though she didn’t really need to, and saw her father working in the garden. He stood over his vegetable patch, one foot resting on his shovel, with a huge grin stretched across his lips. He was never happier than when he was working outside.
“It’s a shame you never enjoyed being out there,” her mother began. “You know he’d love it if you took an interest.”
“I know.”
“Maybe today you could—”
Maggie sighed. “Mom, you know it’s not my thing.”
Her mother’s face fell. Maggie couldn’t help but feel the sting of her comments and relented. “I’m going to see my friends in an hour, but maybe when I get back, I could ask if he needs any help.”
Her mother’s face broke into a smile. “Oh Maggie, you know that would make him so—” But she never got to finish her sentence, because it was then that Maggie’s father began to shout. She and her mother turned back to the window to see three men in the garden. They set upon him within seconds. If Maggie hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it. They were biting him, eating him. Maggie’s mother ran to the door and wrenched it open. She charged into the garden without even looking back. Within seconds, the creatures had her, too.
Then there was one in the house. Maggie spun around and ran for the front door, running from the screams of her parents.
“The school was the first place I stopped. I’d been running for so long.”
Emily reached out, putting a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. Violet did the same.
“I’m okay,” she said.
They were all silent for at least a minute. But then Zack, king of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, spoke up. “So, isn’t that the perfect reason to stay away from gardening? I mean, that’s how they die—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because he finally caught sight of the furious glare Violet was shooting him.
“No,” Maggie insisted firmly. “He always wanted me to try it, and I’m doing it now.”
By eight o’clock, the group was sitting down for dinner, but Sam and the others still hadn’t come back. The mood in the cafeteria was tense, and Violet could tell she wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy. She glanced around the table, trying to figure out what the others were thinking. Zack was silent, as usual, picking solemnly at his pasta.
Probably trying to think of more delightfully invasive questions about Maggie’s dead parents.
No, that was cruel of her. He’d been okay today. A big improvement on the other men at the table anyway, and Maggie didn’t seem too upset. Zack was definitely the best of John’s group, though that hardly meant much. It was like saying diarrhea was better than a broken leg. It was, but that still didn’t mean she wanted it.
Maggie was picking at her food, too, continually looking up at the clock on the wall. Edd and Vince were deep in conversation, and Violet didn’t have to listen to know they were talking about fighting, drinking, or women. They were their three favorite, and only, topics of conversation. She glanced in their direction. Edd was grinning, waving his fork around as he spoke.
“So then I punched him right between the eyes, downed his drink, and ran off with his sister! He didn’t know what to do!”
Oh, he’s incorporated all three into one story. That’s new.
John wasn’t joining in with the conversation today, and was harder to read. Violet was sure he was planning something, but couldn’t put her finger on what.
Emily wasn’t eating, just staring at the wall with a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were glassy, and Violet could tell that whatever she was thinking about was far away from the rest of them. She’d gone to lie down earlier, and came back looking worse than when she’d left. Violet was worried she was getting sick.
“I’m telling you, they’ve gone,” Edd said loudly. It seemed the conversation had shifted, and Violet sat up a little straighter.
John shook his head. “They wouldn’t do that; they wouldn’t leave them.” He pointed with his fork in the direction of Violet, Emily, and Maggie.
We have names, Violet thought angrily, but said nothing.
“How can you be sure?” Vince asked. “None of them are related; they’ve got no reason to come back.”
John shook his head again, but Edd was nodding in agreement. “Exactly, I’m telling you, they’ve taken whatever they’ve found and hit the road. Good riddance, I say. We don’t need them.”
“Oh yeah?” John asked. “And who’s going to go out for supplies now? You?”
Edd snorted. “If I had to, but we don’t need to do that. We’ve got Hannah.” He pointed at Violet.
Why is my name so hard to remember? It’s literally six letters.
Edd continued. “Remember what she said before? ‘I can handle myself’.” He spoke in a ridiculous high-pitched imitation of Violet’s voice, and she scowled, the fork in her hand suddenly feeling very friendly indeed.
John shook his head. “We’re not sending Hannah out.”
Oh my God, it’s Violet!
“We’re not sending any of the girls out. You three can go next time. We need to keep them here.”
Violet rolled her eyes, thinking at first that this was just another example of John’s casual sexism. She was just gearing up to roll out her ‘anything men can do, we can do’ speech, when she found herself halted in her tracks. The moment John spoke about keeping the women in the school, Emily tensed up. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and her whole posture seemed to change. She appeared smaller, more delicate. Violet watched her intently, trying to catch her friend’s eye, but Emily wouldn’t meet her gaze. Her eyes were red, something Violet had at first put down to tiredness.
Has she been crying?
As she turned her head a little Violet noticed the red mark on her cheek.
Someone has hit her.
Violet’s stomach sank, and a horrible realization bubbled.
�
�Yeah, you’re right.” Edd grinned. “We don’t want them going too far.” His eyes were on Emily, and now it all made sense. Emily hadn’t been there when she and Maggie had fixed dinner. Violet had assumed she was sleeping—she was supposed to be sleeping. When she finally arrived at dinner, she was red-eyed and didn’t talk to anyone.
Violet got to her feet, the chair clattering out from behind her. The table fell silent. She stared John down. Her mind was racing, her cheeks hot, teeth and fists clenched. Emily was the only one not looking at Violet; she had the attention of everyone else at the table.
“What’s the matter, Hayley?” Vince asked.
“It’s Violet! It’s always been Violet!” But she wasn’t even mad about that; her blazing eyes were fixed on John.
“Sit down,” he said. He didn’t speak loudly, but Violet knew he was angry. She didn’t care. However mad he might be, she was five times that.
“What did you do to her?” Violet growled, unblinking.
“Sit down.”
“What did you do?” She slammed her hands on the table.
John got to his feet, removing the gun from the back of his jeans and raising it. He pointed it at Violet. “I think you need to calm down.” He scowled angrily, and she knew he was serious. She would have been more scared, however, if he didn’t have a large piece of something green wedged between his teeth.
“Do you think this is a joke?” he growled. “Do you think I won’t kill you?”
Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it.
“It’s like you don’t understand the situation here. We’re in control!”
How does he not feel it? It’s like a tree.
Ben, who had been sleeping under the table, suddenly began to whimper loudly. He moved to the fire doors at the side of the cafeteria, scratching at the wood.
“What’s he doing?” John asked, his tone irritated, still holding up his gun.
“He can sense them; he warns us,” Violet replied through gritted teeth. As much as she feared the dead, right now she was too busy being mad at John to even consider the fact they might be inside the fence.
Alive? Page 13
