The Z Word

by Bella Street

  “It's Olga, come to check your vitals.”

  “It's a waste of time,” Seffy mumbled. “They're no good. My organs probably aren't even any good for harvesting. Probably all dried up and poisonous.”

  The pillow was tugged away from her face.

  “Someone is down in the dumps.” Olga strapped the blood pressure cuff around Seffy's arm. “You're probably a wee bit homesick.”

  “Well, yeah.” Seffy turned her head and looked up at the nurse. “Aren't you afraid of getting infected by me?”

  “Why should I be?” she asked, peering at the dial on the cuff.

  “Other people are.”

  “Like Baxter?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Fiona?”

  Seffy sighed. “No.”

  “So that leaves Fenn, then?”

  Seffy looked up at the ceiling. “I guess. And the lunch ladies.”

  Olga removed the cuff and put a thermometer in her mouth. “He has to take extra precautions because he leads this place. It's not just his ability that's needed, but the history and roots he brings to the compound. Keeps it stable.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About ten years.”

  “So you're a long-timer?”

  “That's one word for it.”

  “Fenn said the average stay was two years.”

  “Did he now?”

  Seffy shrugged. “Something like that.” She peeked up at Olga. “Why did you come here?”

  The nurse checked the temp on the thermometer and recorded the info on a clipboard. “I needed a change.”

  “So you're not gonna tell me the details?”

  Olga regarded her for a moment. “My husband of twenty years left me after our only child died in an auto accident.”

  Seffy felt like a monster for pressing her. “Oh, God, I'm so sorry.”

  Olga firmed her lips. “I was obviously doing badly and heard about this place. Thought I might come for a short stay, just to get some perspective. Ended up staying because of the wonderful sense of community. Fenn has done amazing things here.”

  “I guess I won't be experiencing that wonderful community any time soon.”

  “Sorry about that, dear. There are a lot of children in the compound. It's Fenn's job to make certain everyone stays as safe as possible. I'm sure once you all have a clean bill of health, things will change.”

  “But we're not going to stay when the dancers are taken care of, so it won't matter.”

  “Dancers?”

  “The common term around here is zombies I guess.”

  “Dancers. Hmmph. More like brain eating savages.”

  Seffy frowned. They were people once, right?

  “Can I have the kitchen send up something for you? It's past breakfast time.”

  She was surprised it was already morning. Maybe her non-virus was making her extra sleepy. “I'm not hungry, but thanks.”

  Olga shoved the clipboard into her black bag. “How about a treat then to cheer you up. Some ice cream perhaps?”

  Seffy shook her head, mildly amused by the offer. “Still not hungry.”

  “Who said you had to be hungry to eat ice cream?”

  Seffy smiled. “True.” She sat up in bed. “I think I'd really feel better with some decent clothes and makeup.”

  Olga pointed to the chair next to the bed. “Looks like someone delivered some clothes for you. Seffy looked over and saw her pink track suit neatly folded on the chair.

  “Yes! That will help, trust me. Wearing retro duds is getting old.”

  Olga tilted her head and surveyed her. “I think you look fine without makeup, but there's a store here that sells basic cosmetics.”

  “Uh, my purse kinda got left behind in 2006, so I'm a bit strapped for cash.”

  Olga chuckled. “Fenn told us to provide you with whatever you needed. Tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do.”

  Seffy scooted to the end of the bed, energized. “Ooh, okay, I need medium foundation, eyes, lips and cheek color in a warm palette, waterproof mascara—”

  “Whoa, young lady. You better write all that down. And I can't promise anything too fancy.”

  Seffy jumped from the bed and went to the desk. She found a pad of paper and pens. She began to scribble a list, hoping the store had at least half of what she needed. She looked up at the nurse. “I don't suppose they stock tinted contact lenses?”

  “I heard about that. Scandalous changing your eye color that way!”

  “But you gotta admit, blue is better than brown on me.”

  “I'll admit no such thing. Imagine, telling God he got it wrong.”

  “I saw it more as fixing his oversights.”

  “Sacrilegious child!” Olga's light tone robbed her words of harshness.

  Seffy handed her the list. The nurse's eyes widened. “Goodness, a normal person couldn't possibly need all these things!”

  “I think we've established I'm not normal.” She folded her hands. “But I don't want to be greedy. I'll be content with whatever they send up.”

  “I won't make any promises, but I'll get what I can to you as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you, Olga. It means a lot.”

  The nurse rolled her eyes, stuffed the paper into her uniform pocket, and left the room. Seffy looked at her closed door, hoping she could trust the woman.

  A moment later, she hurried into the bathroom and showered. Afterwards, Seffy put on her beloved velour tracksuit, feeling about seventy-five percent better as she zipped it up. Except the bejeweled zipper pull was gone. She tried to remember what she'd done with it, but too much trauma had intervened since then. Damn.

  When Seffy went back into the bedroom, she found a box on the bed filled with the makeup and toiletries she had requested. Olga had surpassed her expectations. She grabbed the box and lugged it into the bathroom to get to work.

  Maybe when she was spruced up, she'd feel ninety percent better.

  Eighty-five/ninety.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Wow. You clean up good.”

  Seffy smiled at Gareth's appreciation after he opened the door to the common room Fenn had mentioned. A little admiration went a long way and her spirits perked up a bit. She felt much more presentable after the judicious use of a blow dryer, curling iron (fat spiral curls), and a selection of Avon makeup samples (smoky eyes, clear lip gloss). Nice to know there was an Avon lady on the premises.

  She crossed into the common room and looked around. A plaid couch was filled with the sprawling Trent and Jared, who were in deep conversation. Brown shag carpeting covered the floor and dark paneling lined the walls. She knew enough to be thankful nothing was avocado green. Eva and Cynthia sat at the table in the corner perusing magazines while Lani and Addison flipped through the snowy channels on the old TV.

  Gareth closed the door behind her. He looked good in faded Levis and another snug tee. “How do you like your new room?”

  Seffy grimaced. “Not so much. It's further away and there's a bigger observation window.” She shivered. “Big creep factor.”

  “They seem to think you're extra...”

  “Contaminated?”

  “I guess. Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “In a week I'll know if I'm exonerated, or whatever.”

  “I'm sure you will be.” He studied her for a moment, his brow wrinkled. “You know, I'm still shocked every time I see you with brown eyes. I'd gotten so used to the blue.”

  “It is weird. I had to switch from my usual spring palette to an autumn one.”

  He smiled was crooked. “How sad is it I know what that means?”

  “You hang around us girls too much.”

  “Naw. It's right where I want to be. An Apocalypse Babe.”

  She laughed and squeezed his arm. She'd missed snuggling with him. At the notion, her spirits took a considerable dive.

  “Let me show you around.” He led her deeper into the room. A modest stereo system
sat on a wall shelf. Seffy flicked through the cassette tapes lining one of the shelves. Gareth picked one by Billy Joel. “It's a little early for compact discs yet.”

  Looking through the cases, she saw music by Donna Summer, The Tramps, and Eric Clapton among others. “I don't think that would actually help.”

  Gareth grinned. “Maybe you'll find something you like in the library.” He slid open a cupboard revealing dog-eared paperbacks, mostly titles by Danielle Steele. She reached down and pulled out a copy of Flowers In The Attic. “God, Gareth, what are we going to do for the next week?”

  “Who said a week?”

  “Fenn told me that's when they expected my blood results back. I guess I assumed we could go after that...or something.”

  “Hmm.” He took the paperback from her hands. “You know, this is actually a pretty compelling book.”

  “In your case, I should be thankful it's not a computer manual.”

  Gareth smiled. “Look, I know all this does seem a bit dismal. But let's remember—” he lowered his voice—“life with Malone.”

  Seffy sighed. “You're right. Hey, has there been any news about him?”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh.”

  “But let's keep that from Lani for the time being.”

  “Okay.” She sent a listless look over the rest of the book titles. “Yep, we could be worse off.” She looked up at him. “But even if we get the whole clean bill of health thing, even if the world is disco dancer free, even if we get out of Montana...what then? We're still stuck in 1980. I mean, what a stinky year, ya know?”

  He reached out and tugged on one of her curls. “We're going to figure out a way to get home.”

  “You mean time travel?”

  “Even if I have to wear a creepy bunny suit.”

  She stared at him. “Oh no, I sense another pop culture reference coming on.”

  “C'mon, Donnie Darko. Everyone's seen it.”

  “Not me.”

  “It's not like we never asked you to join us for our movie nights. You think you'd be in the thick of it, since you want to be an actress.”

  “I don't think I'm going to learn any skills by watching movies.”

  “Why not?”

  Seffy stared unseeing at the box of books. “It feels like it would be copying, or something.”

  “A lot of people get into acting because they're inspired by their favorite movie.”

  “Yeah, well I do it the realistic way. Go to parties, study for auditions, network, read the business section of Variety.”

  “That's so...business-like.”

  “It is a business, Gareth. It's about who you know and what you have to offer.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. But if Gareth followed her thoughts, he didn't let on.

  “C'mon, while we're here, you can't network, so you need to watch movies for fun. There's a box of videotapes over here.”

  “Oh, yay.”

  Gareth tugged her over to the box and started pulling out tapes. “Let's see, we have 2001: A Space Odyssey. That's a classic.”

  “I'm guessing they got it all wrong.”

  “Actually they got more right than wrong. Oh, here's Chinatown. And Taxi Driver.” He sent her a sly smile. “You wanna piece o' me?”

  “What, that's a line from the movie?”

  “Seffy, I'm deeply shocked at your lack of pop culture knowledge.”

  She leaned down and grabbed a small stack. “Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Ugh. Sci-fi.”

  “Well, I'm relieved you are at least aware of genre.”

  “Oh, here's one with a title that fits with our situation: Deliverance.”

  Gareth slid the tape from her fingers. “Uh, I think not.” He shoved it to the bottom of the stack. “Okay, at least tell me your favorite genre. Romantic comedy? Mystery?”

  Seffy shrugged. “I don't think I have one.”

  “Well, you watch The Hills, right? So what's that? Drama, romance?”

  “I thought that was a reality show.”

  His eyebrow quirked. “Trust me. There's nothing real about that show.”

  Lani came up behind them. “Oh, are there any musicals?” She knelt and began to go through the titles. “Wouldn't it be something if they had Zannytu?”

  Seffy straightened. “I think I'll check out the magazines.”

  “Seffy.”

  She ignored Gareth's plea and went to the table where the other girls sat. What was with Lani and bringing up that stupid movie every five minutes? “Can I join you?” she asked Cynthia and Eva.

  They shrugged. “All that's here are some old Good Housekeeping issues and Better Homes and Gardens.”

  Seffy picked up a copy and began flipping through the pages without really seeing any text or ads. After a while, the charm of a curling iron and make up had worn off. She wanted to go back to her room and sleep. Even if it was only ten in the morning. Her stomach rumbled. She wondered when it was Kosher for them to be seen in the cafeteria.

  “Hey, baby.”

  Seffy saw Trent leering at her.

  “Lookin' good, Barbie. Why don't you come sit near me and I'll help you pass the time.”

  “Um, no thanks.”

  “Hey,” he said in a near-whisper, “I always knew your real eye color wasn't blue.”

  Seffy raised a brow.

  “I didn't know what your real color was or anything, but I just knew it wasn't blue. I can spot a fake a mile away.”

  “You must get a lot of practice every time you look in the mirror.”

  He grinned. “Takes one to know one, babe.”

  Compressing her lips, she returned her attention to the magazine and tried to read an article about time-saving steps in the kitchen. Not only did she not have a kitchen, but she apparently had all the time in the world. After a few minutes, the words all ran together. Stupid Trent.

  She closed her eyes, having no idea how to do this for another week. Maybe she needed exercise. Seffy closed the magazine and got up. “I'm gonna go back to my room. Do some Pilates or something.”

  “I can help you with the pelvic moves.”

  “Bite me, Trent.”

  His grin was even more salacious than usual. “Gladly.”

  Gareth came over. “C'mon, you just got here.” He followed Seffy to the door. “You're upset, aren't you?”

  She avoided his eyes. “Just restless.”

  He tipped her chin up. “Uh huh. I think I know when you're upset.” Gareth released her chin and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Lani didn't mean any harm.”

  “Of course not. It's my problem.”

  “Hey, we're in this together. All the way.”

  She released a slow sigh, wishing he really meant it. “I swear if you make me cry and ruin my new makeup...”

  He straightened. “That would be criminal. Have fun doing the twisty-bendy.”

  “Pilates. And it's more crunchy than bendy.”

  “Whatever.”

  Seffy smiled and slipped through the door. Her footsteps echoed down the deserted hall as she headed toward her room. When she turned the corner, she was startled to see Fenn, who was jogging down the opposite hallway in her direction. He screeched to a stop and stared at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes. And not in a good way.

  “Get into your room!” he barked. “There's been an infiltration!”

  Seffy stared back. It was the first time she'd seen him without a glass barrier. “Uh...on my way.”

  “Where are your friends?”

  “They're all in the common room.”

  “Go!”

  Seffy hurried around the corner to her door and grabbed the knob. Locked. Oh no. She rattled the knob harder, sure she hadn't locked it on the way out. Maybe it was an automatic thing. Oh crap. She headed back the way she came and heard Fenn at the door where the others were. “Under no circumstances are you to unlock this door, do you hear?”

  “Wait!” The sudden din
of nearby gunfire drowned out her voice and Fenn was off, racing in the opposite direction. She ran back around the corner to the common door and banged on it. “Gareth! It's Seffy! Let me in!”

  More gunfire. Closer this time. She rattled the knob but there was no response. She heard running footsteps. Seffy panicked, not knowing what to do. Either Gareth was ignoring her, which she couldn't believe, or they couldn't hear her. She took off in the direction Fenn went, trying every door along the way. Each one was locked and he was nowhere in sight.

  Struggling to imagine how a shambolic dancer could cause this much confusion, she continued sprinting along every twist and turn, trying every door. Maybe it was a different kind of infiltration? Popov and his men had guns. Were they overtaking the compound?

  Her breath came in hitches as her choices ran out. Maybe she should've gone the other way, in the direction of the cafeteria. But she didn't want to run into any one and infect them with whatever plague she apparently carried. The hallways all blurred together and she didn't have a clue where she was. The blank walls and rows of doors were without identification. Not even numbers. How could anyone navigate this place?

  She ran to the end of one hall and turned the corner. A man in the compound uniform came around an opposite corner with a gun. He pointed it and pulled the trigger. Seffy screamed and ducked, then scrambled in the other direction. Another shot. Concrete dust blasted above her head.

  Pure panic made everything crystallize. She spotted a large door around yet another corner. Footsteps sounded behind her. She dove toward the door and threw her weight against it. It blew open and she sailed over the threshold, suddenly weightless. Too late she realized it was a stairwell. The platform rushed up to meet her and she crashed onto the metal floor below.

  Above her the stairwell door opened. Gasping and crying, palms scraped and bleeding, she stumbled down the next set of stairs, twisting her ankle in the process.

  “She's down here! Go!”

  Seffy didn't look up. She staggered for the last door, pushed it opened and checked for a lock. When she saw the mechanism, she twisted it then cast about for a place to hide. There wasn't any point identifying herself to the shooter. He'd seen her and knew she wasn't a zombie, yet he'd fired. The compound must be under attack, maybe by a mutiny of its own people.