Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie (23 page)

I wondered how much more it would spread before I began literally rotting and falling apart. A cold chill slithered up my back.

“You have to get to the doctor. Now. We better tell Mr. Jensen—”

The cell phone's blare cut her off. She grabbed it, eyed the screen, and gazed at me, her face white. “It's my mom's number. Something must've happened.”

I tried to get her attention as she yelled into the phone. “Carm? What's wrong? What is it?”

Finally, she stopped and stared, too stunned to say anything at first. “Bec, I couldn't hear! I told her to text. She kept repeating, Chicago airport and some motel. Bec, th-they're not coming!”

Now it was my turn to panic. “What? Chicago! I can't drive that far. I've never been on the tollway and we're almost two hours away. I can't do it!”

“Cuz, we have to. We have to get there.” My eyebrows arched at her, my annoyance growing. “Why? What's the rush? What'd my mom say?”

“I don't know. Get your stuff. Let's go.”

The way she rushed around and started throwing things in the duffel bag got to me. I didn't want to sound selfish, but she wasn't thinking of anyone but herself. And why was my mom being so quiet? That really bothered me. A lot.

“Didn't you hear me? What if someone gets a close look at me? Stop. This is crazy! We can't go. I can't do it!”

Gabe broke into our argument. “I'll drive.”

I glanced at him in the doorway in disbelief. He leaned against the door frame like nothing was wrong. Know-it-all. I couldn't believe he'd heard us. Talk about embarrassing.

My voice icy, I asked, “do you always eavesdrop on people?” When he smiled, I couldn't help but notice how the dimples in his cheeks deepened. Just great.

He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “Only when they're yelling so loud we can hear them down the hall. C'mon, you girls'll need help. You can't drive in traffic and watch for Z attacks at the same time. This ain't Wisconsin driving.”

His smirk made me want to reach out and choke him. Such arrogance.

I folded my arms in front of me and fumed, not only because of his answer, but because I knew he was right. “Fine. Ask my cousin if she thinks it's okay.”

Carm glared at me and shook her head. She returned to putting her stuff away, this time at a slower, neater pace. “Finish your packing and we'll say goodbye to Mr. Jensen. We better go.”

Now the old man peeked in the doorway, his face stern. “Nobody's goin' just yet. I talked to your mamas, both of them, at least before the phone fizzled. You'd be better off stayin' here, but they're havin' trouble with their car and I can't go. Best you wait until mornin' to leave when it's light.”

“Did they say where?” I asked, still confused. “Is my mother all right?”

His face turned serious. “They're both fine. Stayin' at the Motel 6 by O'Hare Airport. I'm goin' to watch TV, so I hope all the caterwaulin's done. See you in the mornin'.”

I sat on the bed and watched Carm go talk to Jesse in the hall, glancing away when he leaned in and gave her a kiss. With a sigh, I wondered if this was a good idea, the four of us driving together, Carm and Jesse, me and…

Gabe cleared his throat, my gaze met his. “Sure you're okay with this?” he asked. “I don't want you to be uncomfortable with me.”

I shrugged. “No, yes, I mean it's, sure, it'll be fine.”

“Good. We'll have to be ready. I think it's worse in the city. More people, more of
them.
How's your supply holding up?”

I shrugged. “We're low. But I don't think the stuff really works anymore, well, not all the time.”

“If it at least stops them, it helps, right? Bring it anyway.”

My protests over his offer of help went unheard. He picked up the bag, told me to grab the other stuff, and took my hand. I followed after him, still fuming and feeling like a third wheel, as I brought the supplies to the dining room and spread them out on the table. Jesse took a seat and whooped when Gabe stepped into the kitchen and then came back out.

I burst out laughing. Talk about ridiculous! He was the image of a bad cooking ad dressed in a motorcycle helmet, rubber gloves, and a raincoat, but the extra help did make a difference. Two hours later, the box and bag were filled to the top and we had extras, too.

The good mood I'd felt with all of us working together faded when my stomach clenched and the first pang hit me. I grunted and gripped the table. “Oh, no. Carm, what's going on? Why am I feeling like this? How are we going to leave if I get sick again? Carm?”

She ignored me, simply got up and left the room. A few minutes later she came back, my cooler in one hand, a small blue bag in the other. She motioned to Jesse and set both items on the table.

“I'm sick of your whining and complaining,” she told me. “You and Gabe should compare notes. Talk. Make it easier on the rest of us. Jesse and I'll be in the other room.”

My shock at Carm's attitude didn't register with Gabe, who motioned me to pull my chair closer.

“C'mon, sit next to me.” He flashed a big Cheshire Cat grin. “I don't bite. Have you been eating enough?”

With a shrug I did what he asked, curious to see what he'd say. He opened the bag and handed me a small piece of chicken. “You need to eat more, not less.”

He went on despite my silence and seemingly disinterested shrug. I still didn't want to encourage him even if he had the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen.

“Look at me.” His touch was gentle as he reached out and turned my face slightly so our eyes met. “I saw what happened before between you and Jimmy.”

This time, I couldn't hide my reaction. I gasped and glommed onto a spot on the wall, unable to meet his gaze. If I still could blush, my face would've been beet red.

“Don't be ashamed,” he continued. “How you felt, what you did was normal—for us.”

Normal? I tried to make sense of it, but came back to the same thing and frowned at him. “How can being so mad and wanting to hurt someone, wanting to kill someone who wasn't brain-dead like a Z, be normal?” I questioned, my voice hard. “How can you say that?”

“The doctor or nurses must've told you what kind of emotional changes you'd have?” He waited for an answer. When I didn't say anything he continued, “I know they explained that you'd be scared, then angry and depressed, and finally accept it?”

Something nagged at the back of my mind. All I could think about was how scared I'd been. I'd put on a brave front, but my insides had been like jelly.

“I don't know,” I finally admitted. “They talked to me about a lot of things. It was so much to take in. I don't think I paid attention. All I wanted to do was go home.”

He gave me a slight smile and held my hand. I tried to pull away but gave up when he gripped my fingers tighter. “They call it the ‘Five Stages of Acceptance.' It's like the grieving process. There's denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I went through it, too. I was so hurt and angry when this happened I wanted to kill someone. When my parents kicked me out, I was in a rage. I went out and dared people to take me out. I beat this one guy up pretty good, put him in the hospital. That's part of why we had to leave.”

“Oh,” I whispered, my anger deflated. But I still wasn't convinced. “Sorry it was so hard for you, but you had more to get mad about than I did. There's no reason why I acted like that.”

“Becca, yes, we have to learn to control our anger, it comes in time, but it isn't all your fault. I know you're a sweet girl. Trust me.”

His compliment made me feel good, even if I doubted his reading of me. Even in the best of times, I had a bad temper.

He dug in the bag, removed a foil-covered package, and unwrapped it, offering me another chunk of chicken, this time coated with something. “This helps. When I coat the chicken in protein powder it works better. Doubles the defense, makes it last longer.”

He gave me a devilish grin as I turned it this way and that. “Raspberry. So, how is it?”

“Wow, why didn't I think of this?” I took another bite. “It's like eating candy!”

We chewed and made a good dent in his supply. I offered to bring him some more food later, this time using some of my pink lemonade powder. The food situation wasn't ideal, but this sure made it more interesting, at least when I could taste it.

Gabe took another bite and continued with his advice. “Becca, I want you to know, I think you'll make it. You've done well already. It's good you have your cousin. My brother's been a big help to me.”

As much as Carm and I hadn't been getting along, he was right, of course. I couldn't deny the advantage I had with her always being there to help, no matter what. She'd put up with a lot from me. “We've been arguing a lot. I thought, well, maybe she'd be—”

“—Better off leaving you alone?” He laughed at my reaction. “You think I'm reading your mind? I tried getting Jesse mad. We fought like dogs, but he insisted I wasn't getting rid of him. Glad he's stubborn. I need him. You might think you're a burden, but you're family. Your cousin needs you as much as you need her. Don't forget that.”

A burden rolled off my shoulders.

My cousin had been right about this, too. Talking to someone else, someone who knew what I was going through, was a big help. A bonus was I found myself feeling more comfortable with Gabe. And as I gazed at him from under my lashes, I couldn't help but notice how his shirt pulled across his chest and fit tightly over his well-muscled arms. Whoa.

I heaved a sigh of relief and busied myself clearing up our mess. I felt better, ready to face whatever tomorrow held. “Thank you. You've helped me. A lot.”

He grinned back. “Good. I'm glad. Don't forget, I'll be there for you, anytime you want. Don't be afraid to ask.”

As I went to pack up our food for tomorrow and get more ready for later, I knew he really meant it. I was glad he and his brother would come with us. I had a feeling we'd need all the help the two of them could give.

A gun blast jolted me from bed the next morning, one of the other reasons it was time to leave. Our stuff was packed and piled by the door. I, for one, couldn't wait go, but Mr. J. had other ideas.

“Breakfast first.” He shooed us all into the kitchen. “There's waffles and eggs. I have juice and whatever else for you others.”

Gabe and I exchanged a glance, his goofy smirk making me fear I'd start laughing and never stop. But the old guy's next warnings killed any of my feeble attempts at humor.

“Been listenin' to the traffic reports,” he explained, his voice serious. “Tons of fender benders and back-ups the closer you get to the city. Lots of those things out there. Better keep an eye out. This ain't no field trip.”

Our meal over, we said our goodbyes and picked up our bags, the mood much more somber. I half-listened to Mr. J. talking with the guys and had to admit I'd kind of miss him. For all his gruff exterior, he wasn't a bad guy, kind of like a big teddy bear.

On impulse, I put down my bag, reached over, and gave him a big hug. “Mr. Jensen, thanks for letting us stay.”

His face took on a reddish hue while he herded us to the door and peeked out. “Well, I told your mamas when I talked to 'em on the phone yesterday that I'd take care of you, and so I have. Now, you better get goin' while the coast's clear. I'll be in touch if anybody comes here lookin' for you.”

With a final wave, we piled in Jesse's SUV and left my mom's car behind for us to pick up when we could. “Better ride,” Gabe said and slid behind the wheel. “Higher off the ground, good pick-up.”

He drove with me shotgun, while Carm and Jesse sat in back. I, at least, felt a little anxious and excited to be out and about again. I'd had enough of being cooped up, no matter what we faced out there.

The first hour went smooth enough, Gabe not even getting a second glance when he stopped at a gas station for some gum. I almost asked for a piece, but didn't. The last real food incident had pretty much scared me off any other eating experiments.

This time we shared my food recipe, pink lemonade protein powder-coated chicken—not bad!—made small talk, and got to know each other. The more we talked, the more my shyness and reticence about him faded. He really was nice, and fun. One good thing, his food idea seemed to do the trick, keeping the gurgles and bad moods at bay. I was glad since it would've been a nightmare driving with both of us snarling at each other all day.

Having Gabe behind the wheel became more useful the longer we drove. Unlike my stint of bad driving, Gabe could both drive straight and shoot out the window at the wayward Zs we came upon. To him, it was nothing. He acted like he did this every day as I rolled down my side window so he could aim at a surprisingly fast-running Z. Carm and Jesse got a few from their side, too. It felt like I was sitting in the center of a shooting gallery.

The suburban landscape proved much more difficult to navigate the further south we went. We zoomed down Illinois Route 173 past Antioch and headed for the tollway. It normally would've been a quicker route, but at the top of the ramp Gabe stopped the car. “Whoa, not going down there,” he said.

A pile of cars blocked the bottom of the ramp. Guardsmen and other people stood on top of vehicles, shooting at a large mob of roaming Zs. There must've been a hundred or more.

The sight sobered us all.

Gabe backed up and gunned the accelerator as several Zs shambled and limped along the sides of the road. He careened around the corner at US Highway 41, nearly plowing into a Z, swerving at the last minute. “Hang on girls, we're gonna be flying,” he warned.

The few cars on the road did the same as drivers dodged groups of Zs. The police who were around paid no attention, more intent on stopping the growing Z mobs before they became too big.