Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie (24 page)

We zigged and zagged, getting off 41 and turning down one street, then another, as we found one blocked or too many Zs on another. The suburbs flew by in a blur…Gurnee, Highland Park, Deerfield…interspersed with sporadic shootings and Z attacks.

Carm's muffled crying in the back seat as she nestled next to Jesse convinced me we needed to get there, and soon. Gabe caught my eye and agreed, “we'll try the tollway again.” He turned east on Lake-Cook Rd. and floored it, reaching 294 in record time, even with the wrecks and Z confusion. We sped down the tollway, the fewer cars and faster speeds allowing us to move along and better avoid the Zs that mistakenly tried to go for one of the fast-moving vehicles.

I wasn't the only one who breathed a huge sigh of relief that we'd arrived. The roar of the giant planes taking off from the nearby O'Hare Airport runways to some far-off locale never failed to fascinate me. A 747 flew so low you could almost see inside the plane's windows.

We drove around the curve, passed the airport, and exited on the frontage road. We continued a few miles down until we saw the lit sign. The dingy facade of the Motel 6 didn't exactly say welcome home to me as we pulled into the nearly empty lot. I saw Carm's mom's car, recognizable despite some new dents and a thick layer of dirt, and directed Gabe into a parking space.

Everyone got out laughing and talking, but a wave of uneasiness hit me. Something wasn't right. I fell silent and held back.

Quiet. Too quiet.

The doors to several rooms stood partly open. The maid's cleaning cart, overflowing with towels and supplies, stood abandoned outside another door.

Maybe it was the deserted air of the place; maybe it was the curtained window and the closed-up appearance of the room we thought our moms were in. Maybe it was me.

I felt uncomfortable.

I clenched my hands; my nerves jangled. Whatever the reason, an inner vibe told me something was wrong, so very wrong.

“Carm?”

My cousin turned and glanced my way, a questioning look on her face. Then she seemed to catch the feeling, too. She cocked her head sideways and stood there like a robin listening for the underground slither of a worm.

“Wait,” she cautioned. “It's too—”

Too late, the rest of her words were drowned out by the bang of doors and some familiar sounds—shrieks, growls and moans. The Zs emerged in droves, staggering out in all directions. We fell over each other on our run back to the car where we grabbed the guns and readied ourselves for a fight.

Carm aimed the squirt gun and glanced at me, none too excited. I could tell she was scared to death. Can't say I blamed her. The barrel shook so much I prayed she wouldn't miss. To my relief, she squeezed the trigger and hit the two Zs coming our way. I let myself breathe again. Maybe the stuff didn't always kill them, but at least it slowed them down. With Carm's terrible aim, I didn't trust her with anything else in chaos like this.

The things screeched and raised sore-covered arms as the formula hit what was left of their skin with a sizzle. They shrieked and reached for her, dropping in a pile mere inches away when Gabe took the final shots. We all backed up to put some distance between us and them. Ugh, the stench was so bad even I thought of stuffing my nostrils with something.

Several more screams rent the air as paintballs and pellets flew at the next set of undead attackers. We aimed, ran, and shot at the steady stream of Zs.

Wow, would it never end?
Guests check in and never check out,
I thought, and groaned.

Carm's scream grabbed my attention. “Bec-Bec, I'm out of juice!”

“Look out!” Gabe yelled and pushed her out of the reach of a large, ungainly Z who lurched her way. “Jesse, get her out of here!”

To my surprise, Gabe blocked Big Z's progress, the thing spitting and grabbing him by the collar. “Gabe, no!” I yelled and bit back a flash of panic. “No, don't!”

He fought off Big Z while I tried to get in a shot but held back, afraid I might hit him instead.

“Becca, shoot, shoot!” he yelled.

I could hardly breathe. “I can't. What if I hit you?”

The thing growled and raked at Gabe's face. Gabe leaned back and missed most of the impact except for a small scratch on his cheek. “Shoot, Bec, I can't hold him off. SHOOT!”

Running closer, I stumbled over my own feet, anxious for Gabe to get out of the line of fire. I aimed, my hands shaking like Mr. Jensen's. The thing shoved Gabe around, making it near impossible to get a good shot.

Gabe reached for the thing's diseased arms and told me to get ready. “On the count of three,” he yelled. “One, two…”

On the final number, he gave the thing a hard shove, breaking contact, (and breaking off part of its arm with a disgusting snap), and sent it staggering backward, which gave me enough room to get safely between them.

Pop-Pop-Pop.

Several paintballs flew from the barrel and hit the thing's arm, chest, and face with a sizzle. Thankfully, this time they worked. It let out a huge roar, waved its arms, and finally fell in a giant mangled mess.

My concern and fears mounted seeing the scratches on Gabe's face and neck. I didn't know how such contact affected someone who was already a Z, or kids like us who weren't full Zs. Would it make Gabe worse? Would it accelerate the bad stuff like the Z rot?

He must've seen my face and came over to give me a hug. “Bec, don't worry, I'll be okay. I've been scratched before. It won't do anything. We're infected already, you know?”

His answer didn't fully convince me, but that's not what kept me from moving out of his embrace, which came as a totally unexpected surprise.

Okay, yeah, I admit it—being wrapped in his arms felt good. Like I belonged. “You sure?”

His light brown eyes locked with mine. “Positive.”

Carm and Jesse's yells interrupted our almost romantic moment. “C'mon, you two,” Jesse urged. “Save the kissy stuff for later. We have to check all the rooms, make sure no more of
them
are lurking around. We have to find your mothers, get them out of here.”

I stepped back and took in our surroundings. Through all the noise, with all the screaming and shrieks, one thing really bothered me: where was Carm's mom and mine?

Why didn't she come out?

Why didn't either of them wave out a window or peek out a door and let us know they were okay?

We thought it best to clear out any remaining Zs first rather than risk being surrounded by a mob. So, door to door, the grisly search went on and on and on. Gabe and I worked one side of the building, Carm and Jesse the other. We banged on doors, went into open rooms, and came upon a few more Zs hiding in bathrooms, or stumbling around clueless and ravenous.

With every knock, my dread and my questions grew: where was my mother?

Finally, all but two of the twenty-five rooms on this floor had been searched. We'd leave the other floors for later, but I suspected any further search probably wouldn't be needed. I met Carm's worried gaze and gave her hand a quick squeeze. The guys offered to check things out, but I knew we couldn't let them.

Carm and I had to do this ourselves.

The striped curtains in Room 102 remained closed. Ear to the door, I listened for any sound or movement, and after several minutes felt confident no one—or no
thing
—was inside. I gave Carm the okay. “Ready?”

My cousin dipped her head and positioned herself on one side of the door, squirt gun set, with me and Gabe on the other side. Jesse stood a few inches away, gun in hand, and nodded. I reached out, feeling like I'd jump out of my skin. A peek at Carm's pale face told me she felt the same, except she had the pounding heartbeat to go with it. I heard her take a deep breath and slowly turned the doorknob.

Standing on my tiptoes, I bounced up and down, ready to jump if a hand pulled the door, or something came out around the doorframe.

Nothing stirred. The quiet was almost worse.

My mind raced, picturing all kinds of horrors—the creature lurking behind the door waiting to get us, the monster under the bed…a whole catalog of childhood nightmares came to life. The worst image—no. I shoved that one away—fast.

The wait unbearable, I shoved the door in and aimed. To my relief, and growing fear, everything remained quiet. I took a few steps into the room and leaped into the open bathroom door, gun pointed, like I'd seen in the movies. Empty. Thankfully the shower curtain stood open.

Me and the guys followed Carm into the bedroom, guns at the ready. Again, nothing. The beds hadn't been touched, the nightstands were clear, except for some dust.

“They didn't use this room,” Carm announced, her voice teary.

“I-I need some air,” I interjected, afraid I'd fall apart if I stayed in here. “You guys finish.”

Gabe eyed me with concern. “Bec, you okay?”

I didn't want to say anything more and nodded. Gabe wrapped his arms around me in a big hug and kissed my forehead.

“Thanks,” I whispered before stepping outside. One room left. I leaned against the wall, my thoughts swirling.
How much more could I take?
I almost wished we'd find something, anything, to avoid more searching. I couldn't stand much more of this not knowing.

My cousin came out of the room and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. We headed to the next closed room a few doors down.

Again, I put my ear to the door and listened. “I don't hear anything.”

Fingers shaking, I reached for the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad… Okay, so I lied. My imagination haunted me. The dread grew.

Were our mothers inside, lying unconscious? Or worse?

I closed my eyes and began to hyperventilate. No,
Dios, por favor,
no.

Carm's warm hand grasped mine. “Cuz, it's okay. My turn. I'll go first.”

I stared at her and whispered a thank you for her being the strong one this time. We traded places.

She grabbed the doorknob, shoved the door open, and we piled in to—

Nothing. The bathroom was empty. Nothing under the beds, but they had been here. And judging from the mess, something had happened.

“There's stuff all over,” Carm cried. “What's going on?”

Two suitcases lay on the floor, clothes and socks spewing out like they'd been ransacked. The bedspreads sat in a pile on the end of the bed. Toiletries and makeup spilled across the top of the other bed.

I opened the top drawer of the nightstand and found a familiar pair of blue-framed reading glasses next to the Gideon Bible. “Mom's glasses are still here.”

Carm piped up, her voice shrill from worry. “My mom left her purse. She never goes anywhere without it.” She picked up the floppy black bag and peeked inside. “No wallet, she must've taken it, or…?”

The mess baffled me. “You think someone else did?” I asked. “My mom's purse is gone. Where'd they go? They left most of their stuff. The car's still here. Someone chased them out, or they had to leave in a hurry. How come they didn't drive?”

Leaning over, Gabe pulled a phone book from the bottom shelf of the nightstand. “It's open to garages and service stations. Jesse, you see the keys anywhere?”

His brother searched the floor and held up a silver keychain. Carm and I watched them head outside, then come back just as quick. Gabe shook his head. “Dead. Doesn't start.”

I scanned the room, convinced we'd missed something important. “Okay, no car. They left in a hurry in a cab, or someone picked them up and they were coming back later for their stuff. Everybody look around again. Feel under the spreads, under the tables, everywhere.”

I did the same, getting down on my knees and searching under the dresser. I lifted the bedspreads at each end, thinking something could've fallen there. The guys moved the beds away from the walls and checked every corner.

Just when it seemed almost hopeless, Carm yelled and pulled something from beneath the nightstand. “I found some paper. It's—” She shuffled through several small sheets of plain paper, checking both sides. “Oh, forget it. They're all blank.”

She handed the papers to me. I flipped through the sheets like she did. Disgusted, I crumpled one in my hand. “Darn. So what else is there? I can't believe…hey, wait.” I eyed the pages again and then inched closer to the lamp on the dresser. “There's something on this page.”

Everyone crowded around. Gabe eyed the sheet and handed it to his brother. “Someone could've written something down and taken the note.” Jesse studied it and agreed.

My hopes soared. Then they must be okay! Holding the papers in front of the light bulb didn't help, until I got to the last page. “Get me a—” I smiled as Gabe handed me a pencil.

Putting the paper down, I rubbed the pencil tip across the page. My excitement grew when the shading made the indents in the paper stand out.

I read aloud, “There're a bunch of numbers. I think it's a nine and a one, then it says Grand something, an ST, then step with an hand EM. I don't know what it means.”

Gabe frowned. “Put the letters together.”

I rewrote the words. “ST Steph EM? I still don't get it.”

A minute later, Gabe smiled and gave me a big kiss. “Wait, I know. ST for Saint. It has to be St. Stephen's Hospital. The emergency room entrance is on Grand. My nephew was in there when he had pneumonia. Let's go.”

He was right again, but I didn't mind. Not this time.

We threw everything into the suitcases, tossed them in the back of the vehicle, and headed out, only too happy to leave this creepy place behind. As Gabe navigated, I pulled the big tube of makeup out of my bag, and touched up my face and arms.

He caught my eye and winked. “You look great the way you are.”

“Thanks, but not everybody'll think like you. You'll pass, I won't.”