Kat in Zombieland

by Gena Showalter

  The man--I suddenly know his name is Lawrence Smith and he's the uncle of Rebecca Smith, who is currently running Anima in the natural realm. Thanks, higher consciousness! I owe you one.

  "He's so calm and confident," I think, only to realize I whispered the words out loud.

  "That's because he's done this before. Like... a lot. And he's won more than he's lost. He's even won against me," Emma says with a pout.

  Oh... double crap.

  "Your Honor," Lawrence says with a nod at the judge, "there really is no reason for this case to be open. Aston Martin isn't asking for help, nor does he deserve it. Your very own justice system claims that what a man sows, that is what he must reap. Key word. Must. The past four months, Aston Martin has sown hate, bitterness and, most importantly, heartbreak. How can we legally change his harvest to one of happiness? The answer is simple. We can't. He must be made to eat the fruit of his own labor."

  Silence. Part awed, part oppressive. And amid that silence, I think I hear my chances for success shattering. Yeah. That. I definitely hear that.

  Lawrence sits down and smirks at me. Will I be in contempt of court if I give him a double-birded salute?

  Emma pats my shoulder, all listen carefully because what I say next is going to change everything and help you. "Everything he said is true."

  Uh, how does that help me?

  Jay says, "You have nothing to fear, Kat. Remember, you are fighting from a place of victory, and he's fighting from a place of defeat. His argument attempted to pull you to his level. Pain and suffering. Fear and hate. Resist. Love triumphs over hate every time in every way."

  Love. Right. That's what I have on my side, and there's nothing stronger.

  The judge motions to me, and I stand to shaky legs. Seriously, my knees are knocking together.

  "Your Majesty." Snickers arise from opposing council. I think the woman even mouths, Suck up. I lift my chin. "I mean, Your Great and Glorious Majesty."

  Chuckles abound in the packed-to-the-brim benches behind me. Members of Frosty's family, no matter how distant the connection, came to lend their support to me. Members of Anima came to make me more nervous.

  Another silence descends as everyone waits for me to speak. Come on, come on. Open mouth, say words. Isn't like it's hard.

  I can do this. I clear my throat. "Mr. Lawrence is... right." Crap! That isn't what I meant to say, but it's true nonetheless. Even Emma knew it.

  This time gasps rise from the crowd. Emma even drops her head into her upraised hands and moans, as if I've just lost.

  I plow ahead. "He's right. We do reap what we sow, and we should. Always. The law is the law and should not be violated for anyone, even those we love and adore. Truth must always be truth, and exceptions must not be made without just cause--and without perverting the law."

  Smirking again, Lawrence tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves. He thinks he's won.

  I square my shoulders. I'm just getting started. "Over the years, Frosty--Mr. Martin--has dedicated his life to helping mankind. Actually, he's done a lot more than help. He's saved innocents from the clutches of evil. He's saved fathers and mothers. Children too young to defend themselves. Friends and family. Even people who despised him. He has spent hours... days... years training to be the best zombie slayer possible. He has spent countless nights patrolling his city, just in case a Z-nest is on the loose. He's forgone sleep and given up the chance for a social life. And I should know! I can't count the number of times I asked him to go to the movies with me only to be turned down flat. All because he spent the bulk of his nights off helping his friends patrol for zombies."

  "Getting off track," Emma mutters.

  Right. "Frosty has had to bury many of his friends because of this war, and yet he continues to risk his own life time and time again to protect and save others. When he had the opportunity to act like Anima and kill Rebecca Smith, he didn't. He let her walk away. And why did he do this? Because he loves, and love doesn't lash out in hate. He offered her a second chance. Love is what he has sown, watered, and grown for years. Not just a few months. Years. Now is the time for one of his harvests to come in. Thank you for your time."

  I sit, and my trembling redoubles. Once again, silence reigns.

  I turn to Emma. She's gaping at me. I turn to Jay. He gives me a nod of approval.

  Well, okay then. I must have rocked it. As I rock everything. I'm gonna go ahead and pat myself on the back.

  Lawrence jumps to his feet. "I have witnesses. They will give a firsthand account of Mr. Martin's most recent offenses. He--"

  "Enough," the judge says. "Planting hate is like planting weeds in a garden. A garden Mr. Martin has cultivated with love for years, as stated. Weeds can and should be removed before they consume everything in their path. Mr. Martin has forgotten and needs a reminder. A reminder he has sown to others and will now reap for himself. That is why I'm allowing you to visit him, Kathryn Parker. Show him the light. If he plucks out those weeds, you may visit him again... and again, until he's on the proper path."

  "But--" the Anima woman says.

  "But," the judge interjects. "Do not let yourself grow weary of doing what is right, Miss Parker, no matter what the circumstances seem to be. Fight the good fight. But. If Mr. Martin ever tells you to leave him be, you must leave him be." He bangs the gavel. "I have made my ruling. So it is, so it shall be."

  My heart leaps in my chest. I just won my first case! Because I'm that good! "I have this in the bag, Judge."

  He winks at me before he vanishes--there one moment, gone the next.

  "You did it!" Emma throws her arms around me, bear-hugging the crap out of me.

  "Well, duh. The only time I was ever wrong was the time I thought I was wrong."

  Jay gives me a shoulder bump. "Until next time..." He leaves us to our celebration.

  "I wish I could stay," Emma says, "but I promised Helen I'd help her with her two other cases."

  Helen is Ali's biological mom. "What cases?"

  "I've only been briefed on the first one. Anima is trying to get a ruling against the use of rabbit clouds to warn the slayers about coming zombie attacks. They say it's not fair to other slayers throughout the world. Well, here's a solution. Let's show the clouds to every slayer!"

  In a perfect world, Anima would still complain about something. This is too perfect. We have to fix it!

  Suddenly Emma goes stiff. But then I do as well. I can sense... something. An unease or blast of fear from someone I'm connected to.

  "Ali's in trouble," she says.

  My stomach churns, but I ignore the sensation. I just won a major battle. I'm not going to crumble at the first sign of distress. "What kind of trouble?"

  "Maybe she chipped a nail. Maybe she's been shot. I never know till I know."

  Seriously. So informative, this one. "I'll check on her. You help Helen, as promised." She needs all the help she can get.

  "Hurry." Emma gives me a push. Not that I need to walk a single step.

  I close my eyes, envision Ali, and suddenly I'm standing in her bedroom. Welcome to holding zone travel.

  Ali is pacing back and forth, wringing her hands together. But she's alive and well, no wounds that I can see. Phew.

  She spots me, and her entire expression lights up. "Kat!"

  "The one and only."

  Tall, blond with freaky cool blue eyes, Ali is a closet supermodel. Her beauty is understated and delicate. Frosty once told me guys take one look at her and want to protect her--after stripping her and getting a little some-some of her goods and services. I'm paraphrasing of course. But he did add he was the exception... after I threatened to remove his apple bags.

  Unlike most of the other slayers, Ali is filled with so much faith--a spiritual power source--she's gifted with extra visits from witnesses like Emma and me. Basically, she draws us straight to her.

  She sinks onto the edge of the bed. "I'm so glad to see you, but... Don't take this the wrong way, but you're also the last
person in the world I want to talk to right now."

  "Wow. Such a sweet welcome makes my heart tingle with joy," I say drily.

  "I'm sorry. It's just... the journal my ancestor left me predicted death was coming and it is. It really is. I had a vision. A bad one."

  Oh, no. I rush over and crouch before her, reaching for--nope, my hands ghost through hers. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that. "Tell me everything." Since becoming a zombie slayer, she's developed abilities the others don't have. Or didn't have. Long story. The gist: she sees glimpses of the future, and those glimpses always come true. "I'm sure I'll have a solution."

  She bites her lower lip. "Well, it's about Frosty."

  "Tell me," I repeat with more force. "Leave nothing out."

  "Here goes. I saw two visions actually, of the same thing, with only one variable changed. The variable made a big difference. Huge. But it's just as bad and--"

  "You're babbling. Stick to the facts or I'll find a way to stop witnessing and start haunting."

  "I liked you better alive." She pushes out a heavy breath. "In one, a woman shoots Frosty... and he dies."

  With a gasp, I reel backward. "No." I give a violent shake of my head. "No." Not Frosty. Never Frosty.

  Although...

  If he dies, he will join me in the holding zone. We can--

  No! What the heck? I will not entertain such despicable thoughts. I will not act selfishly. He is needed on Earth. He saves lives. Without him, how many innocent humans will die of zombie toxin?

  "In the other vision," Ali continues, "a girl steps in front of him and takes the shot for him. He survives... but she dies."

  My stomach churns again, only worse. My ears ring and gravity stops working; it must. I feel as if I'm floating up... up... as light as a feather, but in reality, I remain firmly in place.

  "That's not all," Ali says, looking away from me. "The girl who saved him... she was Camilla Marks."

  No. No, no, no. Camilla--Milla to her friends, so of course I'll forever refer to her as Camilla--is the one who betrayed Ali, giving her to Anima in exchange for her brother's safety.

  Her courageous brother. Her irreverent and beautiful brother. River Marks. Why am I thinking about him in terms of hotness? Get back on track, girlie!

  Right. Anima threatened him in the most heinous way.

  Help us or lose him, they'd told Camilla. So she did it; she helped them. River is more than her only remaining family member. He is the boy who saved her from their father's physical abuse. She is fierce when it comes to his protection. But let's be honest. She handled the situation poorly.

  The wrong thing, even for the right reasons, is still wrong.

  Camilla's actions led to my death. The slayers were staying at my friend Reeve's house, which meant Frosty was staying at her house, which meant I was staying at her house. Camilla turned off the security alarm and opened the gate, allowing the enemy to sneak in an army of bomb-wearing zombies and armed soldiers.

  I survived the house crumbling down on top of me and being bitten by zombies, but not the gunshot wound to... well, just about every inch of my body.

  "You used your mind-wiping ability to make Camilla a blank slate," I remind her. Camilla lost everything from the childhood she abhorred to the brother she adored. "She no longer remembers zombies or the war or Frosty." How is she supposed to save him?

  Ali wrings her hands. "I know."

  Without Camilla... Frosty could die before his time...

  I scrub a hand down my face. Okay. Enough fear. It's time for Camilla's harvest. "I'll work on her. I'll help her remember." Once, Ali's mind was wiped too. The slayers shared stories of her past, and her memories came flooding back. "Camilla owes us. Me specifically, but mostly Frosty. She will remember. She will guard him twenty-four seven until... the end." Her end. And I won't feel bad about that. I won't!

  Frosty first, everyone else second.

  "Kat," Ali begins.

  "We can't let him die," I tell her, desperate for her to agree. "We just can't."

  "If she knows the truth, she won't guard him. No matter how much she owes us."

  "Then we won't tell her. We won't tell anyone."

  What I'm suggesting is against holding zone rules. We aren't supposed to value one life over another. We are all priceless to the judge. I don't have to be told. Thanks to being plugged in, I can feel the truth in my bones. If I arrange this--using my time with Frosty to save his life rather than change his perspective--I'll be kicked to the final zone, never able to help my friends again. And yes, the judge already knows what I'm thinking because of the hive mind.

  Thanks a lot, higher consciousness! I don't owe you one.

  But. Always but. He won't stop me. We have free will, and intentions don't mean anything without actions to back them up.

  Still. I have to do this. If Frosty dies, I'll have no one to help anyway. Emma and Helen have Ali covered.

  "We can't sign Camilla's death warrant," Ali says. "We'll be hypocrites, doing what she did to us. What we punished her for."

  Again, I don't care. I meet Ali's gaze with an intensity I've never before displayed. "Can you live with yourself if Frosty dies when you had a way to save him? Will Cole be able to live with it?" I'm manipulating her. I know it. I hate it. But I won't back down.

  She bows her head. "No."

  "Then we proceed. Which means you can't tell anyone about Camilla's death, not even Cole." Her boyfriend, the love of her life. "This stays between you and me. Promise me."

  Ali never lies. I've always loved that about her, because it means no matter the circumstances, I can trust her. What I'm asking, no, demanding she do isn't lying, but it isn't honest either.

  "Promise me," I insist. "For Frosty. For Cole."

  "I promise," she whispers.

  Good. That's good. "I'll convince Camilla to stay with Frosty, and Frosty to stay with Camilla."

  "How? Frosty hates her guts."

  "True story, but he still loves mine. He'll do whatever I ask." Maybe. Probably. Crap! In his current state, I don't know what he'll do or say. I've never seen him like this.

  A knock sounds at the door. "Ali-gator?" Cole Holland has come for his girl. The two can't stand to be apart.

  Once, I could have said the same about Frosty and me.

  "Just a sec. I'm changing." She pulls off her shirt, even though it's clean. See? She refuses to lie.

  Cole chuckles, and the husky sound makes my flesh prickle with warmth. And oh, wow, if that's my reaction, I bet Ali is melting.

  "Are you dirty? Do you need a shower?" he says. "I can help."

  "He'll only get your dirtier," I say and wiggle my brows. My attempt at levity is met with a frown. I sigh. "If there's a way to save Camilla too, I'll find it. For now, Frosty is all that matters. Okay?"

  Her nod is stiff, but it's a nod all the same.

  Determined to do what needs doing, I picture Camilla...

  CHAPTER THREE

  I materialize in one of those traveling carnivals. My target is sitting on the base of a carousel, watching the sun set on the horizon. I expect a punch of dislike. Or revulsion. Something! Thanks to my connection with the holding zone, all I experience is another dose of pity.

  This girl is alone. She has no one.

  I study her. Her pale hair hangs in tangles around delicate, feminine features. There are two silver hoops in her jet-black eyebrows, giving her a punk rock edge. But... her eyes remind me of honey made by depressed bees. The color is fantastic, but the irises themselves are dull and filled with sadness. Her arms are heavily tattooed, all the images black and white. Well, all the images I can see, anyway.

  She's beautiful but clearly miserable. Her shoulders are hunched, and she's lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. She looks frail, as if she'll shatter with the next gust of wind. Dirt streaks her cheeks, and her clothing is torn. Is she homeless?

  She's a classic example of reaping what you sow. She sowed death, and she lost the life sh
e knew and loved.

  This is the girl who is going to save my Frosty? How? Why her? My confidence withers.

  I need to plead my case, but without permission from the court, I can't manifest to her. Not visually and not audibly.

  How am I going to do what I promised Ali?

  I follow Camilla's gaze. The sun is disappearing from the sky, allowing the moon to glow with new life. Night has officially fallen. Lamps cast golden light over the sidewalks.

  I almost leap out of my skin with a mix of excitement and dread. Good news: There's a rabbit cloud in the sky, which means Helen and Emma won their case. Bad news: Zombies will attack tonight.

  I've got to get through to Camilla. Or is her memory already starting to return? Does she already recall the meaning of the cloud?

  As I take a step toward her, she jumps to her feet, a dagger in hand. Wow! Her reflexes are freakishly fast. Does she see me? She scans the area: a broken Ferris wheel, an empty snack shack, and a petting zoo without animals. Her gaze skips over me, and I wilt with disappointment.

  She remains tense, like a rubber band about to snap, and demands, "Who's there?"

  So... she can sense me?

  Her voice has the huskiness of a phone sex operator and the strength of a warrior. I'm impressed. I'm also reminded of her stubbornness. When she makes a decision, she sticks with it. She never wavers. I've got one shot to reach her.

  Dang it! If she can't see or hear me, I can't convince her to help. Which means I can't do this on my own. I've got to send Ali. Problem is, Ali will cave and find a way to tell Cole without actually telling him. She'll keep her word while ruining my plans. Secrets have always been her kryptonite. And I admire her for that. I really do. But this isn't the time for scruples. A life hangs in the balance.

  Save Frosty. Then sweat the details.

  How am I any different from Camilla?

  Ugh! Stupid question. I won't dignify it with an answer... because I don't have an answer.

  Emma appears at my side, and I jolt with surprise. My heart races.

  "Why are you here?" she asks. "With her?"

  I don't know if she heard my conversation with Ali. Witnesses are allowed to listen in at certain times. "Camilla needs to remember," I say and leave it at that.

  "You went to court for Frosty, not Milla."

  "Trust me, I know."

  She smirks. "But I went to court for both."