Authors: Patrick Freivald
Chapter
24
Ani
almost leaped onto the bus, her athletic energy ruined by the ever-present
shackles. She bounded to her seat, sat, and smiled at the rest of the Special
Dead as they got on the bus. The new day was bright but chilly, and the air had
a crispness to it that reminded her of the holidays.
They rolled through town, past the Wegmans, past
downtown, and were almost all the way to school when she looked over at the
cushion where Joe used to sit. Grief crashed through her, a physical, guttural
tear in her soul. A sob escaped her lips before she knew what was happening,
and she breathed in long enough to unleash another.
“Jesus,” Devon said, standing over her. “Are you
okay?”
Devon fell sideways as Mike shouldered her out of
the way. He scooped up Ani into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and
cooed at her, petting her helmet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and
cried, wet tears streaming down her face, his strong arms around her comforting
and unbearable.
“Oh, my God, is she crying?” Lydia asked.
The bus lurched.
“What did you just say?” the driver said.
“Ani’s crying! Like, real tears!”
The bus screeched to a halt, and the driver spoke
into his radio. Ani could hear what he said, but not the replies. “Initiate
biohazard containment protocol. Level six, nonviolent. Yes, Doctor Romero’s
daughter is crying. That’s what I said. Will do.”
Ani recovered as they waited, clambering off of
Mike and trying not to cry again at the concerned looks of her classmates.
“What the hell was that?” Devon asked. Her concern
was spiked with more than a hint of jealousy.
“Are you okay?” Lydia sounded, if possible, more
timid than usual. Teah nodded along to the question, her brow furrowed.
Ani nodded. “I’m all right. I just looked at where
Joe used to sit and lost it.”
“Think it’s the serum?” Sam asked.
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Her boyfriend’s dead,
moron.”
Sam released a theatrical sigh and replied without
looking at him. “I’m not asking about the emotion, Kyle. I’m asking about the
tears.”
“Oh.”
Ani shrugged and tried to smile and not cry at the
same time. “It about has to be, right?” She closed her eyes as another silent
sob shuddered through her.
The driver opened the door, and a mirrored helmet
poked up into view. It moved out of the way and was replaced by Ani’s mom,
covered head to toe in a white hazmat suit. She had to turn sideways to fit
down the aisle, but the bus was only eight seats long.
Ani read the concern in her eyes and gave her a
smile. Dr. Romero’s lips whitened into a thin line as she swabbed Ani’s cheek
and dropped the Q-tip into a phial full of blue-green liquid. She shook it,
waited, and then held it up to the sun. They waited a minute, then two, before she
reached up and pulled off her helmet.
“We’re clear.” She kissed her fingers and reached
through Ani’s faceguard to tap them on Ani’s cheek. “Love you, sweetie. Have a
good day. We’ll talk later.”
She stepped off the bus and was gone.
Mike moved back to his regular seat, and Devon
surprised her by sitting next to her. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”
Devon hugged her, and she hugged her back. “I know
this doesn’t mean anything in zombie-land, but if you need anything, we’re all
here for you. I’m here for you.”
Ani squeezed her close, then let go. “I know.
Thank you. And I’m sorry about, you know.”
Devon let out a low chuckle. “I’m so over it.
Except once in a while when I’m not, just for a second, and want to break your
face. But yeah, we’re good.”
*
* *
The rest of the week brought a rollercoaster of
elation and depression, which her mom attributed to “hormone slurry.” By
Saturday afternoon, she’d mellowed into a more normal mindset and tried to get
some homework done. Sam and Devon were tutoring Lydia and Teah, respectively,
trying to get them through their math homework, so Ani curled up with Mallory’s
Le Mort d’Arthur
on the couch next to Kyle, who was reading manga,
mouthing each word as he trudged from frame to frame. Mike sat in the corner,
staring at nothing.
“Stop it!” Kyle said.
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Sam said.
“Not you.” He looked at Ani. “I’m trying to read,
here.”
Ani looked at Sam, then Devon, then Kyle. “And?”
“And it’s hard to concentrate with you breathing
in and out all the time. Calm it, would you?”
Ani opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again. “Sure,
Kyle. Didn’t realize I was.” She stopped, but without volition her chest rose,
then fell again. He rolled his eyes at her, and she grinned. “I’m not doing it
on purpose! I’m breathing!”
They crowded around her, everyone but Mike, and
stared at her in amazement.
“Try holding your breath,” Teah said.
Ani did. Fifty seconds later she gasped for air,
unable to stop herself.
They all laughed. “That’s awesome,” Kyle said. His
face twisted as somewhere in his reptilian brain he must have realized that he
was being nice by accident. “Now can you do it somewhere else?”
Later that night, her mom verified that her
response to oxygen deprivation was biological. Her cells exhibited signs of limited
respiration.
By Tuesday she was starving. The “Italian Dunkers”—
cheesy breadsticks with pizza sauce for dipping—brought to Mr. Cummings’s room
were limp and drenched in lukewarm grease, a half-hearted impersonation of what
pizza could be, but Ani devoured three servings and it took effort to leave it
at that. She couldn’t help but compare her behavior to Joe’s only a few days
before he crumbled to dust in her arms.
Everyone stared at her with naked worry when they
thought she wasn’t looking, but she knew what they didn’t. Still, a worm of
doubt wiggled through her mind.
What if Banerjee lied? What if it was the cure
that killed Joe, and not something different?
It didn’t make sense. He’d
have no reason to admit to a murder he didn’t commit, and if it was the cure,
he wouldn’t have risked Ani on the next dose.
If he needs Mom as much as he
says he does.
When it came down to it, she’d never known Dr. Banerjee
to lie to her. He made no effort to shield harsh truths and had the bedside
manner of a dead fish.
He killed Joe.
The thought filled her with every
breath, nourished her resolve with every bite of food.
At the end of the day, Mr. Foster and Miss Pulver
wished them a happy Thanksgiving. Ani hadn’t realized it was the end of a
two-day week and felt bad about not saying anything to Mr. Cummings or Mrs.
Weller. They’d be in the same complex, but never saw each other outside of
school.
On the way out to the bus, Ani brought the line to
a halt. “Wait! Mr. Benson....”
He turned around, one eyebrow raised.
“No stopping, Miss Romero.”
“But...I need to use the bathroom.”
And it’s a matter of where, not
when.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then
scanned the hallway. “Hands against the wall, please.” They turned around, a
laborious process when chained at the ankles, and put their hands on the wall. “Mr.
Clark, if anyone tries to run, cook them.”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Clark dropped his visor.
Sam rolled her eyes at the theatrics, but nobody
moved as they undid the chain, pulled Ani out of line, then chained them all
back together. “Escort them to the bus.”
The soldiers saluted him, then did as ordered.
As they shuffled away, Mr. Benson locked the
catchpole in place behind her helmet, then steered her to a vacant classroom.
“Uh...what am I supposed to—”
He set the wastebasket at her feet, handed her a
roll of toilet paper, then stepped behind her to re-grab the catchpole.
“You’re kidding.”
“Level six biocontainment protocol. The labbies
will be by momentarily, and will return it to the lab for analysis.”
Gross.
She waited for him to leave, but
he didn’t. “You’re not staying in here, are you?”
“I’m not happy about it, either, Miss Romero. I
promise not to look.”
“Try not to listen, either.”
Ugh.
Two uncomfortable and humiliating minutes later,
she couldn’t even bear to look at Mr. Benson as he backed her out of the room.
Two hazmat suit-wearing, genderless forms stepped past them into the room.
When she got on the bus, everyone stared at her
with immature grins plastered around their mouth guards. Teah locked eyes with
her. “Everything come out okay?”
*
* *
Ani had always loved helping her mom prepare the
Thanksgiving meal, even after she’d died, because she knew her mom appreciated
it. This time, she drooled in anticipation—figuratively and sometimes literally—as
they prepared enough cornbread stuffing, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes,
squash, and pumpkin pie to feed fifteen-or-so lab employees who wouldn’t have
the day off because, well, guarding zombies was a 365-day gig. Her enthusiasm
soured when she realized that her mom would eat only for the benefit of the
cameras, but she did her best to pretend otherwise.
Wednesday they prepped everything in the giant
employee kitchen and threw two turkeys in the brine just before bedtime.
Hah,
an ice bath for everyone!
By 10:00 am Thursday, the birds were ready for
the oven, and Ani wasn’t the slightest bit hungry.
Shit.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?” her mom said, shoving bird number one into
oven number one.
“I’m not hungry.” If holiday cheer was all that
was at stake, she would have lied and eaten a giant pile of food. But symptoms
were science, and you didn’t screw around with research.
“Interesting,” her mom said, shoving bird number
two into oven number two.
“You knew.”
“I guessed. The assumption was that the hunger
would spike, last for a day or three, then disappear.”
Ani looked at the giant spread. Between
brought-from-home items and what they’d made the day before, there was enough
food for at least forty people, and it all looked delicious. But it smelled
like nothing.
“Well, rats.”
Her mom smiled. “Can you grab the pie tins and
start assembling plates for the guards? We’ll reheat them when the turkeys are
done, and I recruited a couple of volunteers to pass them around. It’s the
least we can do, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just that
most of these men and women have families, and they can’t spend time with their
loved ones this holiday because they have to be here.”
“Sounds familiar,” Ani muttered.
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Well, you know,” Ani said.
She put her fists on her hips.
Oh, shit.
“I
don’t know. Your only loved one is here, so you must be talking about someone
else. The fact that you’re being evasive just tells me that there’s something
to be evasive about. So...are you going to tell me, or are you going to tell me
under duress?”
Ani sighed. “Teah’s going to kill me.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Okay, Teah’s going to
want
to kill me.”
“Truer.”
She sighed again. “Teah’s been talking about
busting out of school. Apparently Bill’s been hatching some plan or something.”
Ani knew she’d made a mistake when the wooden spoon in her mom’s hand clattered
to the floor. “It doesn’t mean anything. I meant to tell you earlier, but I got
distracted—” She realized she couldn’t explain in front of the cameras.
“Distracted? From that?” She tore off her apron
and tossed it onto the counter. She held up a finger, dropped it, then shook
her head. “I need to...deal with this. Wait here.”
She disappeared out the door, so Ani kept watch on
the turkeys. She wondered how long it would take for Teah to kill her in her
sleep. Her mom came back just in time to serve, but said nothing about Teah.
*
* *
Black Friday. Love it or hate it, Ani wanted to go
to the mall. “Public” was a dream, long-dead, but reawakened by her time back
at school. Sure, they didn’t have any true freedom, but the vague semblance of
normalcy left her wanting more. She looked around for her phone, couldn’t find
it, but wasn’t going any farther than the lounge. She stepped out of the
apartment and right into the murderous glares of Devon and Teah.
She forced a smile. “Hi.”
“Don’t you ‘Hi’ us, you stupid bitch,” Devon said.
“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?”