Bad Taste in Boys (18 page)

Unfortunately, I’d dropped the syringes when I fell, and Jonah was about to ingest my big toe. I grabbed the only thing within reach: the rake. I flipped it around and used the handle as a prod—I just couldn’t make myself rake my brother across the face. His teeth were sunk deep in my shoe. The situation reminded me uncomfortably of Coach.

I stretched out on the floor, groping around for the syringes. The door had swung shut, cutting off most of the light, so I was pretty much working blind. I couldn’t feel anything. Jonah was light, but when you added a heavy metal lawn chair and about fifteen pounds of duct tape, it wasn’t so easy to drag him around by one foot. I finally brushed one syringe with my finger and only managed to knock it farther away.

I swung the rake handle, aiming for my brother’s shoulder. It slammed into the chair instead.

The good news? His teeth released my foot.

The bad news? I heard a loud rip as some of the tape gave way. I didn’t even take the time to look; I leapt for the syringe, sprawling across the dirt floor on my stomach. My hands closed on it just as his weight settled on the back of my legs. His mouth clamped down on my calf.

Pain blazed up my leg. His teeth sank into my gastrocnemius muscle, and he shook his head like a dog with a bone. I had to get him off me. I bucked wildly, but his teeth were in deep and it only made the pain worse. I fumbled with the syringe, dropped it, and picked it up again with panic-clumsy fingers. Finally, I managed to pop the cap off. The needle easily pierced the flesh of his neck. I pushed down on the plunger and hoped the effect would be instantaneous.

It wasn’t. Nothing happened.

Jonah started making this wet slurping noise as my blood burbled up and flowed out the sides of his mouth. I felt the flesh of my leg start to give with a wet rip that made my belly heave. The pain was huge. Tears ran down my cheeks.

Suddenly, Jonah released me. I took the opportunity to scramble backward and ran for the door, leaving the syringe still embedded in his neck. It wobbled as he flailed around, still half attached to the chair. I groped for the rake, holding it out in front of the open door in what was supposed to be a threatening manner.

Then he puked all over the side of the riding mower.

That puke was the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen. It
was green. And a little red. Technicolor, really, the color puke is supposed to be. It definitely wasn’t black, and it didn’t smell like toasty poop.

This was a good sign.

I grabbed the workbench and pulled myself to my feet with the rake in my hand and another syringe at the ready. I didn’t know what dosage level he’d need to be completely cured. And really, I might have been immune to the virus because of my meds, but I wasn’t immune to being mauled, as my calf would attest.

Eventually he stopped puking.

“Jonah?” I asked, my voice quavering.

“Quit pointing that thing at me,” he said irritably.

Relief swam through me; I could have just about kissed him. “Are you okay?” I was feeling pretty hopeful, but I didn’t lower the rake.

“My mouth tastes like someone brushed my teeth with a slab of rotten beef,” he muttered.

Nice metaphor, bro. But I was so happy to have him back that all I said was “I’ll take that as a big no.”

He said something else then, but I missed it because I was too busy trying to count his breaths. If anything, his respiration was a little elevated. And his skin tone had warmed back up already; he no longer looked like he had a bad case of freezer burn.

“Kate?” He dragged the chair over to me. It made a horrible nails-on-the-chalkboard kind of sound. “You’re not listening.”

“Huh?”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, Jonah. How did you get taped to that chair?”

“I did it myself, right after you left. Everything after that’s a blur.” He tried to wipe his mouth, but he couldn’t quite reach. “Can you get me out of here?”

I lurched in his direction, trying not to move my injured leg. The pain had settled down to a dull, constant burn punctuated by flares of intense throbbing.

“What exactly compelled you to fasten yourself to a lawn chair?” I asked, trying to unstick him. I was getting nowhere quick, so I grabbed a pair of garden shears and tried to remove the tape without slicing his shirt to ribbons.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I really felt like just … hurting someone. As soon as you left, I snuck in here and taped myself to the chair. It was the only thing I could think of. It worked too, although I probably should have gone to the bathroom first.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Exhausted. And sick to my stomach. Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily. “I don’t know what you gave me, but I feel a lot better now. Just exhausted. After a while, I started having problems thinking clearly. I don’t really remember what happened after that.”

I pulled the last bit of tape free. But when he tried to stand, his knees wobbled underneath him and he crumpled to the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “I’m just so tired.”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you to bed.”

We went to the house and lurched up the stairs together, and I deposited him in his room. After a brief stop to bandage my leg and pick up every last vial of seizure meds in the house, I was ready for action. Time to take my evidence to the health department. I didn’t expect them to believe me, but I had to try. My only other choice was to take on the zombies all by myself.

And I really didn’t want to do that.

he waiting area at the health department was packed with children running around and screaming at the top of their lungs. Apparently they were holding a free flu clinic today, so I had to wait in a really long line before I could talk to anybody. In my tote bag were the seizure meds I had left. I’d only found twenty vials, which certainly wasn’t enough to cure all the infected, but I figured the health department would be able to get more.

When I finally got up to the desk, I quickly and carefully unpacked my evidence: the cell cultures, the paperwork, and a vial of my medication.

The woman behind the desk pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Okay, what’s all this?”

“There’s a virus spreading through the population of Bayview High. I ran the cell culture from—”

“Put it all in this, please. I’ll have someone take a look at it and get back to you.” She smacked a manila envelope down on the table, followed by a Sharpie.

“But … this is urgent.”

“I’m sure it is.” She didn’t sound unkind, just tired, and that actually made me feel worse. If she’d been rude, at least I could have blamed my failure on her. “I’ve also got water samples from a woman who is convinced that pesticides in her well gave her cancer. Yesterday, I got a deer we’re supposed to test for chronic wasting disease, and earlier this morning, someone dropped off a bunch of tuna to test for salmonella. My whole office smells like fish. All these things are urgent. We will get to your materials, but we just can’t drop everything and do it right now. As you can see, we’re a little swamped.”

I almost told her about Mrs. Luzier, but I decided against it. She’d have to call the police, and if things worked the way they did on TV, I’d be stuck in an interrogation room while Mike and the rest of the zombies ran rampant through town. I needed to stay free until I knew they had been cured.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that through before I asked.” I uncapped the Sharpie and quickly scribbled my name and cell number on the envelope. Then she tried to take it from me, but I held on tight and caught her eyes before she got away. “Listen, I realize
it’s a lot to ask, and I know you’re incredibly busy, but do you think you could get someone to look at this today? A lot of my friends are sick, and … I’m scared. Can you help me?”

She gently tugged the package away. “You seem like a nice girl, so I’ll do my best. But I can’t make any promises.”

When I got back to school, I slipped a note into Rocky’s locker asking her to meet me before the pep rally, and then I headed for the locker room. Going to class now was only going to invite questions, and I wasn’t entirely sure my goody-goody geek-girl reputation was enough to shield me from accusations of skipping class, breaking and entering, and truck theft. I was willing to face up to those things, but I had to cure the zombie virus first. It would be hard to fault someone for skipping AP Bio and committing a few misdemeanors when she had just identified a new disease, right? At least, that was what I hoped.

I expected the locker room to be deserted since it was the middle of sixth period. But when I pushed the door open, I heard a high-pitched yelp. “She bit me!” I wasted no time; I dashed around the corner and nearly took out Mindi Skibinski.

“Ohmygod,” she gushed breathlessly. “Kate, you are
just
the person we need. There is
something
wrong with Kiki, and I do
not
know what to do.” She jiggled her head at me to emphasize her words.

I eased the door closed behind me. “What happened? Someone
bit you?” The thought of something happening to Kiki made my heart race.

“Yeah!” Mindi held up a hand. I didn’t see anything but a little red semicircle near the meat of her thumb. No blood. I felt like telling her this was nothing compared to the chunk Jonah took out of my leg, but she was close to tears already. Besides, I was trying to inspire confidence, not make her doubt my sanity.

I tried to stay calm. “Where is Kiki now?”

“Back here. I think she’s got the
flu
or something, and we were all getting ready for the introduction of the homecoming court at the assembly, because of course we
need
to look our best, but she’s this nasty green color that totally
clashes
with her dress, not like anyone cares because she’s still a
nice
person, and—”

I walked toward the bank of toilets, where a few girls in formals clustered around a closed stall. They parted as I approached; I opened my tote bag with a flourish and produced a syringe. They oohed appreciatively, although that might have been in my head.

“Everything will be fine,” I said, holding a hand up in what I imagined was a calming manner. “Just let me through.”

I knocked lightly on the stall door. “Kiki?” I said. “It’s me. Kate. Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she replied, unlocking the door.

I didn’t waste any time. I sprang into the stall and stabbed the needle into the first bit of flesh I saw. It sank in right under her collarbone, which wasn’t the best choice in the world locationwise,
but it was only my second zombie combat, so I felt a little justified in being hasty.

“Ouch!” Kiki yelped, clapping a hand to her shoulder. “What the heck?”

I stepped back and waited for the vomit that seemed to follow the cure. I didn’t want to get any on me. I would have liked to give Kiki a bib or something, because she was probably going to ruin her formal, but I didn’t happen to have one. I didn’t have a dress either. I made a mental note to go shopping tomorrow. For a moment I wondered what Aaron’s favorite color was, but then I shook myself back to the present. The stupid dress didn’t matter. If we all managed to make it, I’d wear my Easter dress from when I was thirteen, because who was really going to care what I was wearing? Sadly, I was so underdeveloped that it would probably still fit.

Kiki still hadn’t puked. She was too busy staring at me in an accusatory manner.

“Kate, are you crazy?” she asked.

“Um …” I blinked. “You aren’t feeling sick? Mindi said you bit her.”

She laughed deprecatingly. “Yeah, I did. I was just kidding, though. I’m a little nervous about the whole homecoming queen thing, you know?”

“Nervous enough to bite somebody?”

“I guess.” She called out the bathroom door. “Sorry, Mindi! I’m just a total nervous wreck. You can bite me back if you want to!”

“You
wish
!” Mindi said, and everyone laughed except me. I was
too busy trying to figure out whether I’d just cured Kiki or not, and how I planned to justify my actions since she obviously didn’t realize she was a zombie in training. Maybe they only puked if it was a more advanced case? I was beginning to wish there was a zombie combat manual. I could have used one.