The Z Word

by Bella Street

  Gareth nodded, looking up. “He sweeps forty-six states and gets the hostages released on Inauguration Day.”

  “How do you know that stuff?” Seffy asked.

  “Um, it's called high school,” Addison said.

  Seffy sent her a look.

  Baxter sank onto a chair, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Eugene pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his lab coat and mopped his forehead.

  “Hey, do you think our presence could alter history in any way?” Gareth said.

  Fiona offered a saccharine smile. “I think you have too high an opinion of yourself. Besides, you won't be leaving the confines of the compound, so—”

  “It's funny how we're told we can leave when we really can't,” Trent said, shoving his shaggy hair from his face.

  “Not until the problem on the outside is resolved,” Fiona said firmly. “And by then I'm sure we'll have a way to return you to your...world.”

  Seffy furrowed her brow. Was that just a figure of speech? Hadn't Baxter mentioned Earth? Because she couldn't handle a different world. Not when a different time was already messing with her mind.

  “Okay, we've established it's 1980,” Gareth said after a long moment. “At least right here.”

  “What does that mean?” Addison said.

  “Well, I've heard of rips in time which allow a small pocket or area to be in a different time.”

  “Excuse me,” Eugene said, sounding miffed. “I can personally assure you there is no 'pocket'. The broadcast you saw was live from the Middle East. And several of us have recently traveled to other parts of the country. Everyone is in 1980.”

  Gareth regarded him with a blank expression. “Just trying to explore all the options.”

  “That's what we're all interested in,” Baxter said in a conciliatory tone.

  Eugene peered down at his clipboard. “So, as to how you got here.”

  “I hope you have some answers there,” Gareth said. “I don't know about the others, but my friends and I were in different parts of town, doing our daily stuff when there was a blast. We woke up in the Montana desert.”

  “We were shopping,” Eva said, tears in her voice.

  “And Trent and Jared were at a sushi bar,” Seffy added, flinging a smirk toward Trent, who pierced her with a meaner leer in return. She suddenly remembered he'd also been with Clay. Oops.

  “Is the blast why the sky and sun look so funny?” Lani asked.

  “We believe so,” Eugene said, clicking his pen button over and over.

  Seffy stared at his shifty eyes and sweat-dotted brow. Honestly, the ABers should be the ones freaking out.

  “But we can't explain it.” Baxter seemed disappointed.

  “Great,” Trent said, sounding even more bored. “Say the zombie issue is cleared up, when do we go home?”

  Eugene pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grimaced at Baxter. “We could get you back to Los Angeles without any problem. However getting you back to the future will probably be impossible.”

  “Hey, I'm Marty McFly,” Jared said, laughing. “Get it? Back to the Future?”

  “We get it!” several of the their group said at the same time.

  Gareth rubbed his face.”Okay, can you explain why just us arrived here? Unless you know of others?”

  “As far as we know, you're it.”

  “So why us?” Addison said. “Why people from West Hollywood? Why from the year 2006?”

  Fiona cleared her throat.

  Eugene put his clipboard down. “You, ah, bring up some excellent questions, and we'll endeavor to answer everything we can as soon as we can.” His glasses slid down his nose. He shoved them back up then put his hand in his other pocket, pulling out Gareth's phone. “What can you tell me about this?”

  “It's a cell phone,” Trent sneered. “God, this is the brain trust around here?”

  “We're somewhat familiar with cellular technology, but it looks more advanced than anything we've seen.”

  Gareth stood up and held his hand out for the phone. Eugene hesitated, then dropped it into his palm. Gareth began explaining each of the features in electronic detail. Seffy sighed. If he wasn't careful, he'd start morphing into Mr. Dexter himself.

  “Impressive,” Eugene said after a moment. “But also useless to us without the corresponding reception towers.”

  “So can I have it back?”

  Eugene hesitated. “Would you be willing to make it available to us for study?”

  Gareth sat down. “You know what? Keep it. I don't know when I'll ever be able to use it again.”

  “That's thinking positive,” Addison said, her green eyes wide with fear.

  “Who'll win the NBA championship this year?” Baxter asked.

  Gareth shook his head. “Uh, I wasn't born until '82.”

  Baxter looked at Gareth for a moment. “Oh.”

  “We need Beckett,” Jared said.

  Seffy stared at him with distaste. “What?”

  “The Dr. Sam Beckett dude in Quantum Leap who knows all about time travel.”

  Seffy groaned.

  “What's that?” Baxter asked.

  “It's nothing. Ignore him,” Addison said.

  Lani slapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh, no! What if there's an Al guy who is manipulating not only time, but everyone here?”

  “Are you serious?” Jared barked. “Al was not the bad guy! That's a scurrilous lie!”

  “Whoa,” Trent said in a tone of awe, staring at Jared.

  Lani wrinkled her brow. “Maybe I have the wrong show?”

  “Anyway,” Gareth said.

  Seffy glanced at Fenn to see how he was taking it. His expression remained stoic, but his keen gaze showed interest.

  “If anyone starts getting amnesia, we're in trouble,” Lani said primly.

  “It's just a TV show.” Addison explained after an awkward silence. “Really.”

  Baxter stood up. “Well, to change the subject—”

  “Thank God,” Addison said under her breath.

  “— we'd like to do simple physicals and get blood samples from each of you, if you don't mind. We want to see if your, er, leaps, have had any physiological effect.”

  “You've already probed me plenty, right?” Seffy asked.

  Baxter turned red. “Yes, for the most part. But we may have more questions.”

  Gareth touched her hand, offering a sympathetic smile.

  “Well, I'm not real busy these days,” she said, addressing Baxter, dread uncoiling in her gut despite Gareth's nearness.

  Baxter's expression went blank. “Well, we appreciate all your cooperation and we'll give you anything you need if we can. Just ask.”

  Trent stood up. “How about this—let us leave. I couldn't care less what year I'm in. I just want out.”

  Seffy eased around to look at him. She was surprised to find him staring at her.

  “Er,” Baxter said, appearing flummoxed again. “That would be unwise as the zombie threat has not abated.”

  Trent's harsh expression remained centered on her, causing a shiver to skitter down her spine—whether because he was forced to stay in the compound or because of whatever she'd done to offend him—or his friend, Clay. Either way, she planned to steer clear of the man.

  Addison looked around the room. “Is it just me or does anyone else crave cheese?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seffy glared at the strange nurse who took more of her blood. At the rate she was getting pricked, she'd soon be out of the stuff altogether. The dark-haired nurse stripped off her gloves and put three vials in a little plastic case, then moved onto the next victim with a new pair of gloves.

  Gareth grimaced when she jabbed a needle into his vein. Seffy gave him a co-suffering smile, then watched the others awaiting their turn. Why they all just submitted to such treatment, she didn't know. But they did, as if they were docile patients looking to their keepers without a qualm. That just couldn't be good.

>   A few moments later the nurse patted Gareth's arm, indicating she was all done. Seffy watched the woman label just one vial and put it in her case. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched Lani and Addison also give up just one vial of blood, too.

  Seffy glanced at Fiona, who observed from a corner of the room. “Why do you need so much of my blood?”

  Fiona's graceful brows arched. “I'm not a medical professional, so I'm sure I don't know.”

  I'm sure you do know, sweetie. Seffy blew out a breath and looked away, knowing she'd never get a straight answer from the pixie-bee-ya. After about ten more minutes, the nurse was finished with everyone. She left the room, presumably to go to a lab within the compound.

  “Now,” Fiona said, straightening, “I'll escort you all to your rooms.”

  “We don't want to go to our rooms. We want to go home,” Eva said, pouting.

  “I can assure you we'll do everything possible to make you comfortable.”

  Trent snorted. “Baxter originally said we could leave whenever we wanted.”

  Fiona gave him a once over then stretched her lips in a Madonna-like smile. “Of course you can. But you'll want to watch out for those zombies.”

  “That's a convenient excuse,” he said, his tone sharp. “You could tell us the zombies are still there long after they're gone and just keep us penned up here for some nefarious purpose.”

  “It looks like you'll just have to trust we have your best interests at heart.”

  She turned and headed out the door.

  Trent said something under his breath Seffy could only agree with. She and the others followed her out the door. What else was there to do? Run? The bad guys were the disco zombies and the good guys had high-powered rifles.

  Gareth caught up with Fiona. “Not that you haven't taken good care of us, but I'm sure you understand why we're anxious to get home.”

  She looked up at him from under those long lashes. “If our calculations are correct, you don't actually have a home to go to. Or jobs. Or anything. You haven't even been born yet.”

  “It doesn't mean we want to be institutionalized in Montana either,” Addison said. “Not that it hasn't been just lovely.”

  Fiona ignored her and continued down yet another unidentifiable painted cement block hall.

  “So did this place used to be a prison or what? Ha ha.” Jared said.

  “Yes.”

  Seffy looked at Fiona, surprised at the admission. What about the commune Fenn had mentioned? “So are there cells?”

  “That part of the complex is now used for storage. Right now we're in what was the psychiatric wing.”

  “Oh joy,” Seffy said. So the compound was either a place for the criminally insane or a commune for granola nutjobs. Either way, not cool.

  A door opened into the hallway and Baxter and Fenn walked out. When Fenn saw their group, he backed up fast, then returned to the room he'd just exited.

  “Baxter,” Fiona said with a quick glance at the door, “I was just returning our guests to their quarters.”

  “The guests don't want to be returned to their quarters,” Trent said, his features grim. “At least give us an estimate on how long we'll be here.”

  Baxter exchanged a look with Fiona. “I apologize, but our hands are tied until we neutralize the threat outside.”

  “What's being done about it?” Gareth asked.

  Seffy leaned forward and peeked through the small window in the door where she'd seen Fenn. She caught his eye and blushed.

  “We're attempting to deal with it militarily, but it seems like the more zombies we kill, the more appear.”

  “Do you know the source?”

  Baxter shook his head. “In a normal scenario—”

  “Normal?” Addison asked. “You've done this before?”

  “I mean, what we would expect is an average sampling of the population to be...affected. What we're noticing is all of the...subjects appear to be in their twenties and early thirties.”

  “And in really bad clothes,” Cynthia said.

  “Omigosh, that explains why our clothes are so retro!” Lani said.

  “Took you long enough,” Eva snapped.

  Lani looked hurt and stepped closer to Gareth, who put his arm around her.

  “I thought disco was dead,” Jared said. “But not to them. They seemed to love it. Freaks.”

  Baxter's bushy eyebrows inched up. “What do you mean? What did they love?”

  Lani spoke up. “We found if we sang disco hit songs the zombies stopped attacking and actually, kind of...danced.”

  Fiona laughed.

  Yep, it was silvery. Tarnished silver, anyway. Seffy rubbed the puncture in her arm, unable to decide which was worse—Malone's safe houses or Fiona's brand of hospitality.

  Fiona pinned Lani with her liquid eyes. “Don't be absurd.”

  “Hey, we saw it with our own eyes,” Addison said.

  “She's right,” Gareth said. “Singing saved us from an attack.”

  “Maybe if you mounted speakers outside and played, say, the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack,” Lani said, “you could at least neutralize them that way until you figure out something else. I don't think they'll get tired or anything.”

  Fiona's brows rose skyward.

  “Except I wouldn't play Stayin' Alive because you actually want them dead,” Addison said with a snicker.

  Baxter surveyed their group with growing alarm. “Uh.”

  “I think we have more important things to do than make wild speculations.”

  “It's not speculation, lady,” Trent snarled. “We all saw it happen.”

  Her expression tightened. “Baxter, why don't you take them to their rooms and we'll discuss this later.”

  He nodded and headed down the hall. Seffy wasn't the only one who gave Fiona stink eye as she passed. But before she turned the corner, Seffy cast one last peek through the door window and saw Fenn still watching.

  After they headed down another hall, Gareth caught up with Baxter. “Sorry to be so demanding. We're just disoriented from all this.”

  Baxter smiled slightly. “I know, but I have to do what I'm told.” He glanced at his watch. “Tell you what, let's grab lunch before the others and I'll see if I can answer some questions then.”

  “That'd be great.”

  “What others?” Trent asked.

  “The cafeteria serves meals on a staggered basis because of the number of people on this side of the compound.”

  “If there's so many, why haven't we seen anyone else?”

  Seffy watched Baxter's expression alter. “We're being kept separate, dummy.”

  “What?” Lani cried. “Why? Are we contaminated?”

  “Uh, let's just head to the cafeteria,” Baxter said.

  They trailed through more hallways behind him, passing one empty room after another. Seffy's breathing kicked up a notch as the reality of her situation sunk in. “I guess the good news is none of your people need the psychiatric ward, eh?”

  Baxter threw her a discomfited look and picked up the pace. They turned a corner into a wide hall and came to the cafeteria. Long windows enclosed a huge area filled with regimented rows of tables and benches. At the far end was the counter complete with stacked trays, shelves of plastic-wrapped food, and women in hair nets who froze at their entrance.

  “It's alright, ladies. You can go on break now, and we'll be gone before the rush.”

  With frightened faces, the women hustled through the kitchen and out a back door.

  “Wow, even the lunch ladies are afraid of us,” Trent said. “We must be the freaks.”

  “Why are they scared?” Eva asked, her eyes big.

  Baxter swept his hand toward the food. “Please help yourselves. We only have a few minutes.”

  Seffy followed Gareth, looking around his shoulder at the offerings presented. Nothing beyond the usual hot soup, cold sandwiches, fruit and slices of pie. She grabbed a ham sandwich and small carton of m
ilk. “I was kinda hoping for wiener rollups. Just like in middle school.”

  Gareth leaned closed. “Did you see how those ladies looked at us? Do they think we're hardened criminals? Zombies? Or that we're radiating...radiation?”

  Seffy smiled up at him. “You're adorkable. Do you know that?”

  His slanted mouth seemed more tired than amused. “That's what I'm going for.”

  Once they were settled at the cold, metal tables, Baxter smoothed his mustache with nervous fingers. “I apologize for all the oddness. We're just as taken aback as you are by the threat outside. Everyone's nervous there may be an infiltration.”

  “And they also know about us, right?” Trent asked. “That we're from the future?”

  “Ah, well, I'm not precisely sure about that.”

  “They know,” Seffy said, thinking of Olga.

  “So, we're being kept from everyone else because we might be zombies?” Lani asked.

  “We're quite certain you're not zombies,” Baxter said, his forehead shining. “We would've known by now if you were.”

  Seffy unwrapped her sandwich. “But don't strangers arrive here all the time? Isn't this place some kind of refuge? A stream in a desert kinda place?”

  “Well, yes, it is a refuge for the distressed, but it's an extreme choice for most, so we don't get as many people as you'd think. Plus we have to make sure we're not harboring criminals, so there's a vetting process in place. And medical exams.”

  “So people come here to what, grow organic vegetables and find inner peace?” Trent asked disdainfully.

  Baxter's laugh sounded uncomfortable. “Something like that.”

  “You said there were about five hundred people here?”

  Baxter nodded.

  Trent's eyes narrowed. “So while they're gardening and getting peacey, the people who run this operation are doing what exactly? You have a lot of hardware in place for a commune.”

  “It's not a commune,” Seffy said. “Not anymore.”

  Baxter's smile was tense. “Uh, well, we have a science department and tech department as you know, and so we, uh, seek to improve lives any way we can.”

  “Ew,” Addison said. “Are you guys experimenting on people unawares?”

  “No, of course not. All our subjects are voluntary.”