Other Side

by Rose, Isabella C.

  Other Side

  By

  Isabella C. Rose

  Copyright © Isabella C. Rose 2020. All rights reserved

  Chapter One

  It all happened suddenly on my way home from school, where no one cared who I was. There, in front of me, a guy grabbed a lady out of her car window at the stoplight and took a chunk out of her arm. The shriek sent shivers up my spine. Two jocks sitting at the tables outside Sam’s Deli ran to help the lady being attacked. I thought they would haul the crazy guy off her until the cops showed up.

  I put my earbuds in, not wanting to get involved when the cops came. Cops didn’t like me, and I didn’t like them. “Closer,” by Nine Inch Nails played. I hadn’t added this song to my iPod, my older sister Brandi did, and she told me, “You need to widen your range of music, and Christian rock isn’t the only thing out there.” She just finished college and was in my hair the last few weeks; I didn’t mind it too much though.

  Little did I know this song would haunt me every time I heard it after today, the Reckoning Day.

  The two muscle-bound jocks reached the guy chomping on the lady, who was desperately trying to beat her attacker off her arm. She was starting to look a grayish color. They looked at each other and then back at the assault.

  By this time, I reached the little alcove of the bus stop. Sadly, I recognized this kind of behavior. My step-dad took to beating me every night when he drank too much. He hit me plenty of times, but the moment he laid a hand on my little sister, I’d lose it. Lucky for him, he hadn’t yet. My mom tried to keep the bruises hidden. All the neighbors knew and did nothing, the looks they gave me were of pity.

  I stuck to my schoolwork, knowing that was the only way out of this hellhole of a town. I had it all planned out in my diary under my bed. My straight A’s had landed me a scholarship from UVA. I had my sister open a postal box for my submissions since I needed someone who was eighteen to open the box. My step-father would never give me any letters if he knew. I had told no one yet, but my sister, who picked up my mail. I just had to stick it out for the last half of my senior year.

  Snapping out of my head, I watched from behind my dark sunglasses. The two jocks pulled at the guy, who now had a death grip on her arm. The crazy guy backhanded one of the jocks as the other jock wrapped his arms around the crazy guy. The one jock that got slapped shook his head, blood seeping out his nose, recovered, and went to help the other jock.

  By now, people started to gather, soaking in the drama. Some had cell phones out recording, others were calling the cops by the horrid look on their faces. A mother rushed her small son away toward the bus stop and me. Ugh!

  I scooted to the corner of the bench. I’m not much of a people person. After living with my step-dad for years, I learned to keep my mouth shut and be as invisible as possible. Never had a reason to trust anyone.

  I could see the altercation through a slit in the alcove of the bus stop of the guy who had bitten the lady fighting his captors. Another old man with a white apron on from the deli went to the lady who had fallen on the ground clutching her bleeding arm. The old guy took a towel he had hanging from the back of his apron and helped wrap her arm. I could see the cops were on their way by the faint red and blue lights coming down the street, hitting the buildings in the fading daylight.

  The mother and her son had reached the bus stop, sitting anxiously. The mother’s foot tapped rapidly, and her eyes kept shifting to the crime scene, then down the street to where the bus should come any minute now. I didn’t want this mother to start chatting me up by the way she looked at me with wide green eyes.

  I took this bus most of my life since sixth grade. It came fifteen after six every day. The bus driver, Hale, was a widower who loved to chat up anyone who would listen. His gray hair bounced when he laughed, which he did often, but the smile never really reached his eyes. I could relate. I liked to listen some days because I liked Hale and he made my insane life feel a little bit better. I knew he was lonely; his wife Carol had died of cancer about ten years ago, and he talked about her like she was still there.

  I was saved in the nick of time. The cops rolled up just as the bus stopped in front of us, blocking the fight from us. I let the mother and her son get on first; she seemed like she would push past me to get on. Besides, I was in no rush to get home to my miserable step-father.

  When I reached for my bus pass is when I heard the gunshots over my iPod. I rushed onto the bus. I didn’t want to take a stray bullet or, on the lighter side, be a witness of the altercation for one of those rookie cops.

  Once I flashed my pass, I worked my way to the back of the bus. The mother sat in the front of the bus grasping her young child close. A man in a business suit sat a few seats back with his face plastered to the tinted windows. Behind him was a boy from school, Jaime. I had seen him around at P.E. He was on the football team, so not in my circle. Who am I kidding? I didn’t have a circle. He was the only one not looking out the window. He was looking straight at me, smiling, wearing a huge set of headphones. I wish I hadn’t pushed my sunglasses up when I got on the bus. I tried lowering my head so my black hair would fall over the sides of my face to hide me, but my sunglasses made it impossible to do so. My eyes were still on him, but he couldn’t see I was still watching from under my thick black lashes. I wish I hadn’t pushed my sunglasses up when I got on the bus; they made it impossible to hide my face. The bus jerked into motion, and if I wasn’t a regular rider, I would have stumbled. I passed Jaime, finding a nice spot in the back, and pulling my jean-clad legs up to my chest and ignoring the outside I rested my head on my knees wondering why Jaime had smiled at me like that.

  Most boys didn’t know I existed. I was way too skinny with brown eyes that hinted at black, thanks to my Hispanic great grandmother, and midnight black hair that fell to my waist. I never cut my hair because my step-dad loved to tell me how sloppy I looked. He never wanted to pay for a cut. But what my step-father didn’t know was that I kept it long to hide away from the world. Really, Violet, this boy doesn’t like you. He is probably smiling at his music. I needed to keep my head in the game—the game of getting out of Matthews, NC. I put Jaime out of my mind. I pulled out my iPod to change the music to my playlist when the bus shuttered to a stop. My iPod flew out of my hand sliding down the aisle hitting Jaime’s white Nikes.

  Chapter Two

  I watched as Jaime’s tanned hand picked up my iPod. He turned to look at me, and I looked past him to one of the jocks that had helped get the crazy guy off the lady. Yet he was no longer helping the lady—he put his bloody hands on the window of the bus, the same grayish hue that the woman’s skin had started changing to after they attacked her.

  It was the same feeling I got when my step-father was on his way to my room to torture me with his words about how ugly I was and that I’d never get a husband with the way I dressed. He would throw my clothes on the floor and tell me to pick them up. If I did, he would smack the back of my head. If I didn’t, he would grab my arms squeezing until I bruised and throw me on the floor. I let him do it because I knew it was either going to be me or my baby sister, who was only seven. I’d take his crap for her. I even had a plan for her when I went to college. I had saved every dime from working at the pizza parlor washing dishes every Tuesday and Friday. I was taking her with me when I went to college. I know my mom would argue that I couldn’t take Jessica, but when I threatened to call my step-father’s job, she would agree because she stupidly loved him more. I’d never tell them where we were going. If my step-father found out about any of this, he would kill me.

  That same feeling of dread resurfaced now. I knew this wasn’t right. Hale put his hand on the handle to open the bus door.

  “Noooo!” came out my mouth befo
re I knew what I was doing. I leaped to my feet and ran to the front of the bus, ripping my ear buds out on the way. Hale lifted his head.

  “Girl, why in God’s name you yelling when this man needs help?” Hale responded in his thick southern accent.

  I placed my hand on Hale, preventing him from opening the door. “Just wait, I got a bad feeling about this. Do you even know where he is bleeding from? Look at him, he doesn’t look right.”

  Hale’s face turned to look at the jock and I saw he realized I was right. I don’t know how I knew—I just did. My eyes moved to the jock. Now that I was up close, I could see a bite on his neck, a bite that should have rendered him dead. A huge chunk was missing from the jock’s jugular. My scholarship was in biology. His wound wasn’t even bleeding; it was purple and gooey-looking. It should be red, and blood should be gushing out. As we stared at the jock, his hands swished back and forth on the big bus front window.

  “What is he doing?” a harsh boyish voice came from behind me.

  I looked to see Jaime standing there. I had never seen him that close, his tawny-brown skin so smooth, his eyes sparkling like coffee cream. His sandy-brown hair was cut short, military style. I couldn’t help looking at his plump lips, light facial hair dusted his face.

  “What?” I said dumbfounded.

  “I said, what is he doing? I mean, why is he rubbing the window? He’s hurt, yet he doesn’t seem to notice. Look at his neck—that bite.”

  He wanted to know what he was doing; I wanted to know why he was still alive. The jock started licking the blood he had rubbed on the window.

  “What in dagnaabit! You’re right, this isn’t right. We will wait for the cops to come get him,” Hale told me.

  Hale looked scared; his stormy gray eyes wide.

  “Can’t we just go past him?” the mother with her son clinging to her neck asked.

  “What do you want me to do? Run him over?” Hale spat with disgust.

  Before anyone could answer, a bang on the bus door made us all jump. I jumped toward Hale, almost landing in his lap. I saw Jaime had jumped back toward the seats behind him, and the mother and son moved to the other side of the bus. At the door was the lady from the car, who had been the first to be bitten, her gaze locked on me, her head swishing from side to side. Her arm still had the towel wrapped around it, but her skin had turned completely gray.

  “Oppppppeeeeennnn!” slurred out her mouth.

  We had all been focusing on the two outside the bus. At the back of the bus, I heard grunts and a whine as the bus doors were creaking open. The man in the business suit was trying to open the door to get out.

  “What are you doing?!” I yelled at him.

  A deep monotone voice said, “I’m getting the hell out of here. Sit here and let these zombies eat me!”

  “Zombies?” I whispered. “You got to be kidding,” I said out loud, but my head swiveled back at the two outside and they fit the bill perfectly. The dead skin color, the bites that should leave you dead, and the blood the jock was licking. Could I really believe zombies were real? No way.

  The business-suit guy had worked open the back door and sprinted out, the door shutting tight behind him. The jock and lady then did the eeriest thing: their heads twisted to the direction of the business-suit guy’s exit and ran after him. I moved off Hale, who hadn’t said a thing about me leaning on his seat. I went to the window, looking out to see where the jock and the lady had gone. Business-suit guy made it to the corner and turned out of my sight. The two following him ran like animated corpses. Zombies, my mind said. What I hadn’t noticed before was that as I looked around, everyone on the street was being attacked or a grayish victim.

  “Get this bus moving, Hale!” I demanded.

  It was the first time I had used his name. He nodded. I sat on the front seat next to Jaime, trying to wrap my mind around the situation outside. Hale used the wipers to wash away the blood the jock had left on the window. That gave me shivers. Jaime’s warm presence gave me a sense of security, soothing my frayed nerves.

  “You really think zombies are taking over?” Jaime asked as he sat his head on his left hand that was resting on his knee.

  I took my time answering. I didn’t know what had happened to those people; I needed more information. Science had always been my friend, and I understood it. Cells on a slide or the periodic table didn’t require thinking. They just were, and you could explain why putting together a formula would create a solution to a problem.

  “There has to be a reason why people are attacking other people. I don’t know if they are zombies, but whatever they are, it isn’t right. We need to find a safe place,” I said as a plan formed in my head.

  Safety was nothing new for my brain, I had been grasping at it since my mother married my step-father. My sisters popped in my head. I needed to get to them before this disease reached my so-called home. Looking out the window to the payphone. If only there was a way to call home remotely. No one had invited a portal able phone yet.

  “Hale, I need to get home. I need to make sure my sisters are okay. Anyone else have family they want to check on?”

  “My parents are in Europe,” Jaime stated with a somewhat sad tone.

  “Hale? You?” I said, pointing to the mother and son.

  Hale shook his head.

  The mother said, “No, I’m all alone. His father was a soldier and died in Afghanistan.”

  “I live on Elm Street. Can you get us there?” I asked, trying to hide the frantic panic in my voice. No one needed to get emotional. That got you hurt.

  “You got it, Violet,” he said giving me a wink.

  Funny thing is we never talked other than the few words to initiate the bus transactions—not even to tell each other our names. He would talk to the other patrons on the bus about his life and I would listen, getting lost in a normal person’s life. I knew his name from the stitched patch on his shirt. He must have known mine from the bus pass that my school provided. We had created this silent bond. Years of riding together, we learned more about each other than I had thought. I got on the bus, and he was always there waiting with his half-smile.

  Chapter Three

  The further we drove from the city, the less we saw attacks. Buildings turned residential. Trees popped up and normalcy still reigned here.

  “Number twenty-three,” I said, taking in the surroundings.

  Elm Street was in a cul-de-sac, my step-father’s house was a white and green two-story. It had red rose bushes along the walk with big windows and dark curtains. It represented the perfect family home and my prison. No sign of whatever this disease was here.

  “We take no chances. Pull around the cul-de-sac and let me out. If I’m not out in ten, leave me.” I didn’t understand what this was, and I wouldn’t be liable for anyone’s life. I stood in front of the door, taking a deep breath.

  Before Hale opened the door, Jaime touched my arm. His hand hot and callused, looking over my shoulder, his face grim. “Does your family carry any weapons?” he asked.

  “Yes, my step-father is a big-time hunter.” But if he was home, we wouldn’t be getting any weapons here. I hadn’t seen his truck in the drive, so we might be lucky.

  “I’m coming with you then. You need someone to watch your back and we need protection.”

  No time to argue and he was right. I’d feel better if someone watched out for those turned humans. The bus door opened, and the warm late-summer breeze washed over me. I didn’t waste any time. I broke into a run toward the front door, my keys in hand, which I had already pulled out of my backpack earlier. Jaime’s footsteps were silent, but I could feel his presence right behind me. We got to the door in mere seconds. I slammed the key in the lock, turning the knob. The door came open ajar and we crept in. All quiet. Nothing unusual.

  “My sisters’ rooms are down this way.” I gestured toward a hallway off to the left in as soft a voice as I could.

  “Okay, go and I’ll get the guns. Where are they
?” Jaime whispered.

  I pointed to a big oak door with a silver sign on it that read KEEP OUT. He took off before I could even warn him. I tiptoed down the hall to my little sister’s room. The door was ajar. All I could see was her bed with its pink comforter.

  “Jessica?” I whispered into the room.

  No response. Placing my hand on the door, I slowly pushed it open. Everything looked normal and quiet. I slipped into the room, casting my gaze left and right. Her room had pastel pink walls with fairies floating around. Her doll house was to my right, and I leaned over to see if Jessica was behind it. She played there a lot, and it was a great hiding place. Empty. Her bed sat in the middle of the room; she could be on the other side. I felt ridiculous creeping around. This was my baby sister. I pushed off the wall and strode to the other side of the bed. There was Jessica huddled by her nightstand.

  “Jessica, honey, I need you to come with me,” I told her, leaning down toward her.

  Her head whipped around—bloodshot eyes, that same grayish skin color, and the same crazy look in her eyes the two zombies who stopped the bus had. She held something in her lap, but I couldn’t see what it was. I didn’t realize I had backed up until I ran into Jaime.

  “You ready?” he asked, and then he saw Jessica.

  He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door. My feet wouldn’t move, and I stumbled. Jessica moved then, the thing she held in her lap falling to the floor with a thud. When I saw it, I wanted to hurl! She had an arm, a freaking arm! My mind recognized survival, my feet pushed into motion. We ran for the door with Jessica hot on our tails. I grabbed the door handle slamming it shut behind me holding onto it. I felt a jiggle on the other side.

  “Vioooo… heeelppp,” came from inside the door with a bit of a gurgle to her precious little voice.

  God, I wanted to cry. My baby sister whom I had protected my whole life was one of those things… a zombie.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. I found some guns and ammo,” Jaime said shaking a camo bag on his shoulder.