Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie (20 page)

I tried to act like it was no big deal. “White lie. I didn't want to tell Mr. J. about our breaking and entering. Told him we knew somebody who lived here.”

Carm frowned before she jerked her head at the second floor. “Oh. Good thing he doesn't know about them.”

Or me,
I thought. Neither of us stated the obvious.

The appearance of the odd couple had me wondering how I could avoid making Mr. J. even madder. Not that they'd care, I thought.

“So, what're we doing today?” Goth Girl asked, turning the question into a challenge.

“We,” I pointed at myself and Carm, “are going to a friend's house. Mr. Jensen brought some gas for our car and is waiting for us outside. He's already mad about coming here. I think you should stick around for a while.”

I relished my little omission about the old guy's aversion to zombies. Maybe he'd see them and—. My conscience perked up again, sounding oddly like my aunt. What was that all about?

“Uh, I'd be careful,” I warned. “He doesn't like zombies.”

Zoey's answering grin was about as sweet as a sour lemon.” Some friend. We'll be cool, right, Jimmy?”

He shrugged and snaked an arm around her waist. “I'm with you babe, whatever you want. We can hang here. I bet we'll find something to do.” He winked at me.

I held back the urge to barf. Ugh, would we never be done with them?

“Hey, Bec, we're thinking of moving on,” he added.” Zoey's aunt's got a cabin up north. Going to see if we can stay there.”

Carm and I glanced at each other. I wondered if she had the same thought, that maybe they'd find more people shooting at them there. Since Zoey knew it all, I wasn't about to say anything. Jimmy wouldn't have any problems, I suspected. He'd gotten here somehow. Judging by the dings and dents in his car, I guessed he'd enjoyed driving like it was a big game of Z bumper cars all the way.

“Good. Carm, let's get out of here.” I made sure we didn't leave anything behind and couldn't believe it when I saw her slip Jimmy a piece of paper. “What'd you do?”

Her face flushed, but she didn't flinch from my harsh gaze. “I had to tell them where Mr. Jensen's house is, in case something happens. What would've happened if he hadn't helped us?”

I fumed and stormed out, not daring to answer.

Hurrying to the car, I turned enough so Mr. Jensen couldn't see my face. We had enough problems for the moment. Of course, I needn't have worried about his reaction. He pulled out, stopped, and waved at us to follow, and wouldn't you know? Jimmy's car sped by in a whirl of gravel. Zoey waved and I swore gave us another gesture.

“Hope you get mobbed by a bunch of Zs,” I yelled and twisted the key in the ignition. “Good riddance!”

Carm laughed, put the guns on the floor, and slammed the door. “Maybe they'll just keep driving.”

“I doubt we'll be so lucky. I can't wait to explain them to Mr. J.”

My last bit of good mood died as we headed down the drive and headed back to 50, which became Main, barely missing a mangled mess of leftover zombie lying in the road. Jimmy's car was nowhere around. I sped up, glad the road was clear with no other Zs in sight. So far…

We followed Mr. J.'s car back the way we'd come, then turned on to North Edwards. Once past the two shopping centers, we suddenly found ourselves plunged into a rural landscape full of thick trees and deeply furrowed farm fields. Too late, I missed the side road Mr. J. pointed at out his window before he continued on. “Uh-oh, where's he going? Darn, I missed the turn.” I glared at my cousin who was busy playing with her phone. “Carm? A little help?”

She flashed a smile. “Sorry. I was talking to Jesse. He and Gabe may need to leave their grandma's.”

I grunted, not sure how to answer. Too much else going on at the moment. Seeing no cars, I stopped and did something that would never get me a license. I backed up slowly and turned onto the graveled side road I'd missed the first time. I thought we were doing fine when Carm screamed, “Bec, dead thing!”

It stood a few feet ahead right in our path. I swung the wheel a hard left to try and avoid hitting it, the move sending us in a screeching arc to its right.

We were so close the thing reached out a bloody, decayed arm and grabbed at the car. The arm ripped from its source, sending a spray of darkened blood across Carm's side of the car and splattered across the window.

I shrieked and bit my lip. “Oh, ICK!”

Carm covered her mouth and turned away. Retching sounds filled the car.

“Hang on!” I yelled and jerked the wheel again.

The car fishtailed, sending us screaming in the other direction around the gruesome Z stop sign. Its remaining arm flailed at us like some weird parody of a traffic cop. We hit gravel and almost went off the road when I regained some of my composure. I yanked my foot off the gas and eased up on the steering. Relieved, I waited for the car to slow. In control again, I pulled back on the road.

“Whoa, Bec, I didn't know we were going drag racing.”

“Funny, cuz. Watch for the sign. We go down that drive and we're almost there. The house is kind of buried back here in the woods.”

We drove on past a few gravel drives with dark, spooky patches of trees when Carm yelled and pointed. “There, there it is! Turn here. Turn!”

I stomped on the brake, throwing us forward and back in our seats, and hurriedly glanced in the rearview mirror before turning on to the long gravel road. “Thanks for the warning. Good thing nobody else is around.”

“I just saw it, you know? The little sign is pretty hard to see. Don't blame me.”

“I know. Carm. Can we not bicker anymore, 'kay?”

Carm nodded and stared out the window. “Okay. Wow, kind of creepy.”

“Yeah. Big time.”

The car bumped down the winding road between rows of straggly trees. The branches scraped and overhung the car like a canopy. Carm and I glanced at each other uneasily, neither of us willing to say aloud what we were thinking. I knew we were both on the same wavelength:
por favor, Dios, por favor,
don't let any more of those things be around. I gulped and sped up a bit. If my heart was stronger, it would be pounding like an African drum.

Despite it being early, the further in we drove, the darker and bushier the trees got. The trees formed a canopy, effectively crowding out most of the daylight I glanced over at Carm who sat frozen, hands clasped in her lap, eyes big. She gave me a little-girl-lost look and went back to staring out the window THUMP! I jumped and Carm screamed when something hit the side of the car. WHAM!

“Go-go-GO!” Carm yelled.

A gruesome thing, its face so decayed I couldn't tell if it was male or female, lunged from the underbrush. It clung to the side of the car and hung on like one of those sticky plants you can't get off your clothes after a hike. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator. I gunned it, sending the gravel, and finally, our horrible hitchhiker, flying in all directions.

Okay, I'd had enough surprises for one day. We needed to get inside. Now.

The car spun down the rest of the long drive, kicking up gravel. The trees pounded against the sides in protest. So far, so good. No more company, but it did make me wonder. We'd seen so many of
them
and now finding only one hiding in the woods made me uneasy. If they weren't out here, where were they? It meant only one thing…gulp. They'd come out later, right? Let the fun begin.

This was one of those times I wished my aunt could be here with us. I took some comfort in knowing she was sitting in her chair at home, sending her whispered missives for us up to God. Just to be safe, I added my own mumbled prayer for help.

Like a heavenly answer, a ray of light appeared at the end of the long, dreary road. It lifted both our spirits and told me part of our journey was at an end.

Carm's whole demeanor lightened as we pulled into the welcome brightness. “It's great seeing the sun again.”

I agreed, my mood improving, too. “It sure is, and it's so nice not to see Jimmy and Zoey. I think they kept driving.”

We shared a smile, relieved to have arrived safe and in one piece. We both looked forward to seeing our mothers, and were doubly anxious to get this whole ugly experience behind us. Except for one thing—Mrs. Carlton's old Victorian house. It stood at the end of the drive like a haunted sentinel. What secrets it harbored we were yet to discover. Yippee.

No other cars in sight meant no Mr. J.—and no moms. We'd have to go in alone. The way Carm wrung her hands and played with her hair told me she was as nervous as me. But what other choice did we have? We had to check it out. We had to make sure nobody, no
thing
, was in there.

I grabbed the gun and stepped out. Stretching my legs, I eyed the yard one more time before motioning her to join me.

“Grab your gun, c'mon out,” I suggested. “The house is big. If we stay, we'll have to help Mrs. Carlton cover the windows and doors, block off the stairs, barricade it in case any Zs show up. We can camp out in the living room and kitchen like we did at the last house. Or see the shed? It's an art studio. My friend Sam told me she slept out there sometimes. It might be safer, easier to watch for Zs, small windows, one door. We won't have as much work to do blocking everything off.”

Her arms crossed in front of her, Carm shivered and didn't look one bit convinced. “Ugh, lots more bugs, too. Guess we'll try the house. If it's too hard, we can go in the shed until our moms get here.”

I hoped my cousin was up for this. Not sure I was either, but I'd have to deal with it.

I took a deep breath. “All right, take the other gun instead of the squirt gun. Let's go. We'll come get the bags after we check out the house.”

I glanced at my cousin; her pale face worried me. “You ready?”

Her timid nod and soft, unenthusiastic “yeah” didn't make me feel much better, but I let it go. The strap on my gun adjusted, I held the barrel out in front of me and kept my fingers in place, ready for battle.

“Stay close,” I whispered. “Keep your finger by the trigger.”

We took our time going up the steps one by one, careful to avoid the clumps of dirt and dried leaves littering the porch. Since I was a little taller than Carm, I went first and peeked through the door's window into the pitch-black interior. Nothing moved.

Fingers shaking, I reached out and grabbed the doorknob. It turned easily. The door opened with a soft click. “Okay, here we go.”

Motioning to Carm, I held my finger to my lips and listened. Nothing stirred. Good.

Feeling more comfortable, I pushed the door open, waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, then strolled into the small kitchen. Pristine white cabinets, a retro table with a yellow enamel top and metal legs, matching chairs, and the yellow checked curtains stirred up long forgotten memories of sitting with
mi abuela
in her red and white kitchen.

“I don't think anybody's here,” I observed. “Let's check out the other rooms.”

We entered a small sitting room, the worn, wood floors uncarpeted. A cozy fireplace took up most of the main wall; half-empty bookshelves lined the rest. A staircase going upstairs stood to my right. In front of me, a double set of sliding doors divided the room from a larger living room. I was about to open the doors when I heard something shuffle behind us.

“Uh-oh,” I muttered and turned to look. “I was wrong. We have company.”

A woman in a torn, dingy housecoat, her gray face set in a permanent frown, swayed at the top of the staircase. She stared at us from dead, sunken eyes surrounded by deep, dark circles. A low growl came from her throat.

Compared to the other things we'd come across, her face and clothes had no bloodstains or gory smears. Her descent would earn her no prizes for gracefulness. She stumbled against the stair railing, growled again, and came down the steps in a slow, uneasy gait. We watched in morbid fascination. She came down one step and then another in a garish thump, slide, and shuffle.

Her growls grew louder the closer she came. I raised my gun and took aim when a voice exploded to our right. “GET DOWN!”

Bec and I dove to the floor with a scream. BLAM! A loud blast rent the air. The thing on the steps gave one last growl and rolled down the rest of the stairs, landing in a bloodied pile on the bottom step.

I sat up and took aim at the gray-haired intruder, stunned to find myself staring into the barrel of his rifle. Words failed me. I asked what I already knew, too rattled to think of anything else to say. “W-who are you?” I stuttered.

“I could ask the same,” he muttered. “You one of them?”

Carm yelled and scrambled to her feet. “No, no! Don't shoot!” She jumped between us. “Wait, Mr. Jensen. You didn't meet. This is my cousin, Rebecca. We—”

He lowered his gun and grunted, tipping his chin at me. “
Hmm
, didn't get a good look at you when I was done fillin' up your car.”

I bit my lip, thinking it best to stay quiet and agreeable while he held a gun in his hand.

His face didn't get any friendlier as he glared at the two of us from under bushy eyebrows. “Huh. Talked to you on the phone. Don't like people keepin' secrets. Nobody told me one of you wasn't normal.”

I winced at his thoughtlessness. “I tried to explain, but you hung up on me.”

Another grunt before he gave me a good once-over, eyes hard. “So, you going to turn on me, too, like her?”

I ignored him.

Carm's eyes fell on the undead-truly dead woman lying by the staircase. “Who is she?”

“My sister. She worked here as the housekeeper.” The older man swiped at the swatch of long hair on his forehead and glared, his eyes angry. “Well, she was, and did, until she turned into
that
.”