Jenny Undead (The Thirteen: Book One) (6 page)

Jenny woke up in a bed. She could hear a noise
somewhere in the room, but couldn't focus enough to look for the
source. Her skin crawled and stung like there were tiny, biting
insects all over her. The back of her neck felt hot, burning, and
her stomach was doing flips. Jenny blinked and wiped something
sticky out of her eyes. She tried to sit up and the noise stopped.
Immediately, she lay down again as a shrill buzzing filled her head
and the pain and nausea threatened to knock her out again.

“Jen,” said a voice. It was so
familiar. She turned her head as quickly as she dared to. The pain
behind her eyes felt like it was embedded in her skull. She
squinted at a figure next to the bed. “Jen, can you hear
me?” It sounded like Declan, only softer, pained. Jenny
blinked and the world started coming into focus.

There was a chair next to the
bed, and sitting on the chair was Declan. Only it wasn't any
version of him that Jenny had seen. This Declan was haggard, his
eyes red and puffy, his face splotchy. His hair was standing on end
like he'd been pulling at it. He looked at least ten years older
and smaller than Jenny had ever seen him. He was a big man, tall
and broad and hard as a brick wall. But now he was hunched over,
his shoulders limp and his back slouched. He was looking at her in
a way he'd never done before. Like he was on the verge of
tears.
But Declan doesn't cry
, Jenny
thought. She'd never even seen him sad. Not really.

“Deck?” she said, her voice painful
in her throat. She looked at what Declan was holding in his lap. It
was the gun he'd given her, the one she'd pointed at Casey. She
looked at his face.

“It's not for you,” he said weakly.
“It's for them.” He nodded toward the door. Jenny could
hear the sounds of voices muffled somewhere in the house.
Arguing.

“They want to kill me,” she said. It
was a statement, not a question. Declan didn't answer, just rubbed
his scruffy beard with his hand.

“You need to let them,” she said.
“You know what's going to happen to me. You know what I'll
become. Let them kill me.”

“The fuck I will,” he said quickly,
his voice harsh. He looked away like the sight of her pained him.
“You wouldn't do it.”

“Do what?” Jenny rasped. “Kill
you?” She closed her eyes and caught her breath. Her skin
itched, her eyeballs ached in her skull.

“Kill me. Let someone even lay a hand on
me,” he said. She opened her eyes. He was watching her again.
“You'd slit anyone's throat who tried.”

“Probably.”

“There's no probably, Jen. It's what we
do. It's who we are.” He stood up and walked back and forth
along the bed, pacing. He ran a hand through his hair and stopped,
looking down at her. “We can't not be together, Jen,”
he said. He looked mad and wild and tears welled up in his
bloodshot eyes. “We don't know how to be without each other.
You can't...” He swallowed hard.

“You've been without me before,” she
whispered. “Most of your life.”

“That part of my life wasn't worth
shit.”

“That's stupid.”

“It's not,” he
said. “
Goddammit
!” The
sound made Jenny feel like her ears were exploding and she put her
hands gingerly to the sides of her head. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck!” Declan was pacing again, more manic than ever.
“
Fuck!
” he screamed,
closing his eyes tight and holding onto the foot board of the bed for
support. She could see his knuckles were white and took her hands
off her ears. “I can't, Jen,” he said, his voice low
and defeated. He looked up at her. “You should have listened
to me.”

“I know,” she said. “I'm
sorry.” She swallowed painfully. “I found
him.”

Declan stood up and came around again. He sat on
the bed. “You found your brother?” Jenny nodded.
“What happened?”

“I threatened to shoot him,” she
said.

“Shoot him?” said
Declan. “Was he a thumper?”

“No,” she said. “It doesn't
make sense.” She took a labored breath. It felt like she
couldn't fill her lungs. “You won't believe me.”

“Just say it.”

“Casey was a rotter,” she said.

“Shit,” said Declan, looking down at
his hands.

“He was a rotter. But he wasn't like the
zombies. He was...what's the word? Sentient.”

“What do you mean?”

“He talked to me. He was walking around
like a person. He drove my fucking car. But he was dead.”

“Jen, that's impossible.”

“I know it is,” she said, closing
her eyes. “I'm so tired.”

“Maybe it was a hallucination.” His
voice was gentle. “Once you're dead, you're dead. I'd give my
soul to change that, but it's the truth.”

“He saved my life,” she said.
“For what it's worth. At least I got to see you one last
time.”

Declan smiled but didn't show any teeth. He took
her hand and he felt so cool. “Jesus, you're burning
up,” he said.

“How long do you think?” Jenny
said.

He grimaced and stared down at their entwined
hands. “I don't know,” he said. “It's happening
fast. A day. Maybe two.”

“Declan,” she said, her voice so
soft that even she could barely hear it. She kept her eyes closed.
“I wanted to come back to tell you...” She trailed off.
The pain spread to her chest and she gasped. When the shock passed
she took a stuttering breath. “Declan, it's not your
fault.”

He was quiet for a long time. Jenny wanted to
open her eyes to look at him but they felt glued shut. She was so
tired. “I should have come,” he said, his voice
cracking. She felt the bed shaking and couldn't understand why.
Then she realized he was crying. “I should have come for
you.”

“No,” she said. “It was my
choice.”

“Stupid goddamn choice,” he
said.

“Yeah,” Jenny said. She managed to
finally open her eyes a crack. He was blurry. “I love you,
Declan,” she said. “I always have.”

He squeezed her hand; it hurt, but she didn't
complain. It was nothing compared to the pain spreading out from
her chest. “You're the only one,” he said after a time.
“The moment I saw you, I knew you'd rip my heart
out.”

“Don't say that,” she said.

“It's not your fault,” he said.
“I didn't expect to love you so goddamn much.”

“Maybe Casey was right,” she
muttered.

“About what?” said Declan.

“Maybe I will come back like he did. Maybe
I'll be okay.” He was quiet. “Declan?” she
said.

“Yeah?”

“I should have run. I wasn't fast
enough.”

As sleep took her, she could hear him
sobbing.

The dreams. Fevered and hurried and frightening.
Flashes of color and feelings and places and people Jenny had known
shifted before her eyes like a deck of cards being shuffled. Her
grandfather back in the day, cutting skin from her back for tests;
her mother, sad and angry; Casey as a child, looking up at her with
wide brown eyes. Declan. She had an empty feeling of loss, of
looking and never finding. She was running, she was being chased,
she was crying, she was running again, and then she was in the
empty department store. The first place she and Declan had stayed.
Jenny hadn't met his crew yet, and they had been alone for an
entire week. She walked through the store, the pace of the dream
changing.

Walking past upended clothes
racks and piles of shoes, her steps echoed. She heard voices ahead
and walked toward them. Laughing, happiness. She almost didn't
recognize those sounds. There was movement in some piles of
dresses. Jenny didn't know what she was seeing at first. But then
she was right next to them. Right next to
herself,
with Declan, naked, making love. They kept
stopping because they were laughing about something. Jenny stared
at herself, at him. They didn't seem to know Jenny was there. She
watched her own face, cheeks glowing as she looked into Declan's
eyes.

“Let's stay this way forever,” she
heard herself say. She remembered she'd been half joking when she
said it all those years ago. But now she could see the intensity of
her eyes, looking into his. And the intensity of his looking back.
Jenny hadn't seen it before, back then. He reached up and touched
the other Jenny's face; the past Jenny. And when he smiled, it was
as if he was surrendering to her.

Jenny fell to her knees, staring at them. They
froze, like a photograph trapped in time. And then she felt the
grief wash over her. She would never see Declan this way again. She
would never feel the way she'd felt on this day. She would be gone
soon, replaced by a monster. And Jenny understood now that Declan
would be gone too, just in a different way. When she left, whether
she wanted to or not, Jenny was taking part of him with her. She
screamed then, out of frustration and regret and, worst of all,
helplessness.

It was the scream that startled her awake, and
then she was screaming for real. Her insides were full of raw
nerves, her flesh was on fire, and her head felt like someone had
buried a hatchet in her skull. She was splitting open from the
inside out. Jenny pulled at her skin to try to hold herself
together but hands grabbed at her arms, holding her down. There
were people in the room.

“Jenny, baby, calm down.”

“It hurts,” she sobbed. “Make
it stop hurting.”

“Munro, give her some peace,” she
heard another voice say. Lucy.

“You'll take care of him, won't
you?” Jenny asked her. The question jarred Lucy and her mouth
fell open. She stared at Jenny's face. “Say it,” Jenny
said.

“I'll take care of him, Jenny,” she
said. There was wetness in her eyes and she rubbed it away roughly
and walked out of the room.

“You have to let her go,” said
another voice. Beacon. “Come on, Munro. She's dying. You have
to say goodbye. She'll just keep holding on if you
don't.”

“And what if I don't?” said Declan.
He was angry, glaring at Beacon.

“Look at her,” said Beacon, gentle.
Soft. Jenny liked it much better when they were soft. Her head
didn't split open when they didn't yell. “She's a tough girl,
Munro, but no one's this tough. Let her rest.”

“I'm afraid,” said Declan. He was
looking at her now. Jenny felt something warm and wet fall on her.
Suddenly, she felt calm. Like a cloud had shifted inside. Her body
didn't hurt as much, and she could think. Her eyes fell on
Declan.

“Don't be afraid,” she said.

He shook his head and crouched down next to her.
His hands went from holding her wrist to clasping her hand.
“I can't do this, Jen,” he said. “I can't see you
that way.”

“Then do it now,” she said.
“Or let them do it. I don't want to be a monster.
Please.”

Declan looked at the little table next to the
bed. With some effort, Jenny followed his gaze. The gun was
there.

“Munro...” said Beacon.

“No,” Declan said. “We don't
kill the living. Not unless we have to.”

“Then let me do it,” Jenny said.
“Put the gun in my hand. I know the spot. I can hit it if I'm
careful.”

“She's too weak,” said Beacon.
“She'll never be able to pull the trigger.”

Declan looked at Jenny. He rubbed his knuckles
over his mouth, his eyes watering again. “I always thought
we'd live forever,” he whispered. “I thought there
would be more time.”

“There's never enough time,” she
said.

There was screaming from the hall and Jenny
heard Lucy yelling. Veronica was shouting, her booming voice
carrying. “How the hell did they get in?”

Lucy came running in. “Munro, there are
rotters in the house. A lot of them. We need you.”

Declan looked at Jenny, shaking his head. Beacon
stood up and left without a word.

“Go,” she said. “I'll try to
hold on until you get back.”

“Promise me,” he said.

“I promise.”

He stood up and backed out of the room, grabbing
for the ax propped in the corner as he left. Jenny heard the moans
and barks and shrieks of old rotters, and the sickening thuds as
her friends hacked them to pieces.

She reached for the gun.

Jenny's hands were shaking. It took several
tries to flick off the safety. She was sweating and shivering and
her hands kept slipping. It was an old-fashioned gun, one that
needed to be cocked. Her thumb kept sliding off, weak and slippery,
and she couldn't hold the pistol still.

There was a sound at the window and then outside
exploded in. Jenny's first reaction was vague surprise that it was
night. She hadn't realized, but the room was full of lamps and
homemade candles. Like a religious shrine. Her second was a slow
realization that the window had broken. A big rock rolled across
the floor and hit the bed. And something was coming through the
window.

She grabbed onto the trigger with her fingers
and pulled it back with all her might. It tried to slip, but she
held tighter, muscles and bones and nerves seeming to scream with
the effort. Finally, she heard it click into place. She put the
barrel under her chin and aimed carefully. If she didn't destroy
the right part of her brain, there was no point. She hooked both
thumbs on the trigger, gripping the handle tight between her hands.
She braced it against her chin so it wouldn't shake as much.

“Don't,” someone said. Jenny looked
up with her eyes. Casey. He looked better than he had before. He
wasn't emaciated and his skin looked less pallid. There was a
suppleness to him that confused her. “You don't look like a
rotter,” she rasped. She felt as though a clawed hand was
gripping her insides.

“I told you, we're not typical.”

Another person was climbing in the window. A
pretty Asian girl with short, choppy hair. Her eyes had a
transparent white sheen on them – the same sheen as Casey's,
only hers was brighter, thicker. They reminded her of fish scales.
The girl sneered at Jenny, her small teeth slightly gray.

“I don't want to come back,” Jenny
said. “You're just a hallucination.”

Casey reached down and easily plucked the gun
from her hands as Jenny let out a sob. “No,” she said.
“I need to die. Declan never needs to see me like
that.”

“He never will,” said Casey. He
looked behind him at a man climbing through the window. A big,
brawny man, like an athlete gone to seed. He had a crooked nose.
His eyes weren't as white as the girl's, but more than Casey's.

“Jen,” said Casey. “You're
going to hate me for this, but you're too important to die.”
He looked at the man and nodded. The guy picked up Jenny's feet and
Casey reached over and lifted her arms from behind. She screamed in
pain. “I'm sorry, Jen. We're saving you.”

Jenny didn't have strength any longer. She felt
her eyes flutter. If she fell asleep she could never fight back.
But as she felt them handing her out the window, her body limp and
growing increasingly numb, it didn't seem to matter. She felt
herself being carried and being strapped into the seat of a
car. Her car.

Daylight was coming, Jenny could see the light.
She blinked. No, not daylight. The light was coming from inside her
head. She let her eyes shut and watched the light grow brighter.
She could feel everything leaving her. She didn't feel any pain,
sadness, or grief. She felt nothing. Peace. And then she went away.
Into the light. Jenny felt the life drain away from her body, and
she let it happen. She didn't fight it. She didn't want to.

Like drifting away.