“A few minutes. I sent for you as soon as it started.”
“What’s happening to them?” Zoe demanded.
She understood her sister’s need for reassurance, but Meilin thought it all too obvious. They’d failed. Rather than restoring their human cells to life, the formula tore into the spreading decay, eating them away from the inside out.
Dory’s mouth gaped. “I, I’m not sure.”
How could she deny it? “You said it earlier. If we failed, it would torture them.” She turned to Will. “You have to end this.”
His eyes flew wide. “End it how?”
It almost destroyed her to say it. She clutched his shirt. “We can’t let them exist as zombies, Will. None of them would want that.”
He gripped her hands. “You want me to shoot them?”
“If you love me at all,” she sobbed, “you’ll help them.”
“You can’t. It’s murder.” Dory positioned herself between them and the others. “We have to wait it out. I know it’s difficult, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s over, Dory. I can’t let them suffer like this.” If anything, their screams had grown more intense. More agonizing.
Dory stood her ground. “No, Meilin. I don’t know what’s happening to them, but it’s not the same as last time. I swear it’s—”
The snap of a broken restraint gave little warning. Father! He’d somehow freed himself. And lunged for them.
Will pushed her behind him, but she slipped toward the desk. Father kept a gun in the drawer for emergencies. This qualified. If Will couldn’t bring himself to shoot them, she’d do the merciful thing.
Fingers at the handle, she tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. And Dharma had freed herself, too, and stomped in her direction with the all-too-familiar grimace of a hungry zombie.
She yanked harder. Nothing.
Dharma closed in fast. Meilin grabbed a glass beaker. No, too fragile. Her fingers found a surgical knife, and she raised it. Dharma’s flailing arms sent equipment crashing to the floor.
Oh God, I can’t do it, I can’t! She squeezed her eyes shut.
Dharma stopped inches from her face. “Meilin.”
She peeked through one eye. “Dharma?”
Her sister’s gaze roved across her. “Your shirt’s on inside out.”
Meilin’s breath left her in a rush. “What?” She opened her hand, and the knife clattered to the floor. “You’re not a zombie.”
Despite her mottled skin, Dharma looked offended. “Of course not.”
Laughing, she embraced her sister, but held her breath when she caught a whiff of rot. “Well, you are a little.”
“Not for long.” Dharma sniffed. “By that logic, you are a sweaty man, a little bit.”
“We’ll discuss it later.” Meilin stepped around her sister. Her father and the others had calmed, apparently having also suffering some wild burst of consciousness that robbed their energy.
She reached her father and Dory, and knelt. “You gave us quite a scare.”
“Purely unintentional, believe me.” His fingers probed his neck, his face, maybe to test his tactile senses or maybe to simply remind himself he had made it. Maybe a little of both.
She heaved a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“For what?”
How could he ask? “I should have stopped them from taking my sisters. And you.”
Her father cupped her cheek. “I never doubted you, Meilin. Nevin’s greatest mistake was in leaving you behind.” He looked past her to Zoe. “And you, too, of course.”
Lip quivering, Zoe shifted her hip, blinking hard. Not hard enough to stop the tears.
Her father opened his arms to them, and Zoe fell to her knees and into his embrace. Meilin wrapped her arms around them both.
From now on, she’d also embrace the mantra, it’s never too late.
***
The final adjustment finished, Will straddled the motorcycle and reached for the ignition. He paused when Meilin walked in.
Her gaze wandered across the cycle. “I heard you’d asked for a little something extra.”
“Sweet, isn’t it?” Lucky for Will, Mr. King had a few old bikes in the garage.
She ran a finger along the handlebar. “Almost as sweet as mine.”
Not quite, but it would do. “How’s your family?”
“Better. Wish I could say they’ll be back to themselves soon, but it’ll never happen.”
It had to pain her to see them like that, but better than the alternative. “They’re alive, Meilin.”
“True. And with Dory as a prototype, they’ll function the same as before. Doctors say skin grafts might be able to restore my sisters’ peaches and cream complexions.” Her airy tone sounded forced, a reminder that her scars were internal – the kind that took longer to heal.
He had to help her focus on the positive. “That’s amazing.”
Her face lit up. “My father proposed to Dory. They’re getting married next month.”
“See? Happy endings all around.”
“Yeah,” she said sadly. “So, going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” she asked, but the hurt in her eyes asked a different question: why.
Good question, both of them. “Out there. Wherever the road takes me. Figured now that I have some zombie fighting experience, I could put it to good use in the next infested area.”
“Oh.”
That one tiny word held such longing, his heart ached. He’d always known he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t. Another question remained – whether or not he’d have to go alone. The moment of truth had arrived.
Before he could figure out how to approach the subject, she asked, “Plan on returning sometime?”
He shrugged. “Depends.”
“On what?”
Her calm voice couldn’t disguise her tension. Since he’d first met her, her body spoke to him loud and clear.
“I thought you’d probably want to come back and visit your family, but it’d be up to you.” At the moment, pretty much everything was up to her.
She bit her lip, and then straddled the bike backward, onto his lap. “I don’t know. Do you think this old bike can keep up with mine?”
Relief and happiness poured out in a laugh. “I’ll sure as hell try.” From now on, he wouldn’t have to chase happiness far. She’d be riding on the bike ahead of him.
###
About the Author
Cate Masters loves stories with a dash of magic, mayhem and romance! Multipublished in contemporary to historical, sweet to erotic, fantasy/dark fantasy to speculative, she sometimes mashes genres. Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”
For 2012, her re-release of Sixties-era short, Seventh Heaven, was an EPIC finalist. In 2011, three stories placed in the Top Ten Finishers at the Preditors & Editors Poll and four stories finaled in the EPIC competition, including Soul for Sale.
In 2010, The Pearl S. Buck Foundation awarded first place to her short literary story, Christmas Eve at the Diner on Rathole Street. Her short literary story, All is Calm, All is Bright, was awarded second place in the annual Pennwriters Short Story contest in 2005.
Most days, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of fantasy/paranormal, contemporary and historical stories with her cat, Chairman Maiow, and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, Facebook, Goodreads, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.
Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters AT gmail.com.
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Meilin and the Challenger Page 9
