Authors: Patrick Freivald
I was with Ani that night,
before. We were kissing, and she bit me, and everything changed. I now know
that she’s always carried the virus, and that she and Sarah knew. I think even
Banerjee knew, even way back to Los Angeles, and has been watching this whole
time. They thought it was under control. They were wrong.
Please don’t blame her. She
didn’t do anything that any of us wouldn’t do in the same situation. Blame me
instead. She never would have been at prom, never would have lost control, if
it weren’t for me.
Always your friend,
Mike
*
* *
Ani folded the letter and tucked it into her
pocket. It burned there all day, through every one of Mr. Foster’s astonished
giggles at Mike’s newfound intelligence, through the matter-of-fact and
nonplussed lunchtime debate that Mike had with Mr. Cummings about the
appropriate level of education spending, and into the bus ride home.
“Anyone else find it weird,” Sam said, “that Mr.
Cummings didn’t react in the slightest at Mike?”
Mike shrugged. So did Ani.
“Yeah,” Devon said. “I did.” She smiled at Mike. “No
offense, but lately you haven’t been the debate type. He just...folded you
right in to the discussion.”
“Mr. C’s pretty chill,” Sam said.
Mike frowned at the floor. “I’ve been...blurry. I
don’t remember much. I get the idea I’ve been a drooling idiot.” He looked at
Ani. “Your mom said something about severe brain trauma.”
Teah reached back to pat his knee. “Ani ate part
of it.”
Ani glared at her, but she’d already turned back
around.
Dammit, Mike hasn’t had the
time to process what happened. He doesn’t know about ‘Fair’ and ‘Fault’ and
everything else we’ve agreed to. This is all new and raw and awful.
“I know,” he said, without taking his eyes from
her. She couldn’t read his expression.
The bus lurched to a stop with a squeal of brakes.
The driver opened the door without speaking, as was his habit, and Mr. Benson
hopped on board. “Let’s go, kids.” They followed him out and into the lab,
peeling off their helmets as they went.
Mike lagged behind, and Ani lagged with him. It
seemed to be his intent.
“Can I have my letter back?”
She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to
him. “What do you intend to do with it?”
“I want to give it to Devon. But I won’t do it
without your permission.” He held her gaze and waited.
“I...” She brushed her knuckles across his cheek,
and recognized the gesture as one she got from Joe. “I can’t.”
He dropped the note in the snow, turned and walked
away without another word. Instead of following him, she picked up the letter.
Snow had smeared the ink, blurring his message
without rendering it illegible. She shredded the paper and tossed the confetti
to the ground.
*
* *
The next morning, he lurched into the lounge to
wait for the bus, smiling. “Hi.”
Ani’s heart broke. “Hi, Mike. How’re you doing?”
He scowled. “I’m, um...” He rubbed his eyes. “I
need my helmet.”
Ani grabbed it from the rack as he turned around,
then put it on his head. Mr. Benson would secure the mouth guards and lock the
helmets in place, as he did every morning.
“Thanks.”
She hugged him from behind. He squeezed her arms
tighter around his massive torso. “I’m sorry, Mike.”
“Why?”
“The letter—”
Teah walked in and glared at Ani with a look that
screamed “slut.” “Jesus, Ani. It hasn’t even been two months since your last
one died.”
Ani let go and stepped back, furious.
“Hi,” Mike said.
Teah stopped in her tracks. “Hi, Mike. How’re you
feeling?”
“Hi,” he said again.
Teah’s face shifted from scorn to pity as she
looked at Ani. “I’m such a bitch. I’m so sor—”
“Save it,” Ani said. “Apologize some other time.”
Mike scowled at both of them. “I need to....”
Teah’s smile held the soft contempt of a parent to
a child. “Need to what?”
He dislodged his helmet with a shake of his head.
It fell to the floor with a bang, startling Sam as she walked in.
“What’s up?” she asked.
Mike smiled at her. “I need to....” She stepped
back at his frustrated growl. “No! What I mean is...” He leaned down, plucked
his helmet off the floor, and pulled it down onto his head. “I don’t know.” His
eyes fell to the floor, his face stricken.
Devon joined them behind Sam. “Is he okay?”
Mike shook his head. “No. Hard to think.”
The bus arrived, so Mr. Benson cinched their
helmets and herded them onboard. Mike shuffled to his old seat. Devon sat next
to him, and they exchanged a few words in low voices. A minute later she
switched back to her own seat. Mike stared out the window the rest of the ride.
As they clanked through the halls, Ani couldn’t
help but notice that she wasn’t the only one staring. Only the soldiers seemed
unaffected. She certainly wasn’t the only one to notice Mr. Foster’s
frustration at Mike’s lack of progress in the morning and clear regression to
Jeff’s level by afternoon.
He clapped enthusiastically when Mr. Foster
awarded Lydia a certificate as “Special Student of the Month” for raising her
math scores from a D to a C-, but he’d stopped breathing. By the time they got
on the bus, he wasn’t communicating beyond the occasional, “Hi.” Once in the
lab, he shuffled his slack-jawed shuffle to the lounge and got out the Jenga
blocks. Unable to function in his presence, Ani went home to her piano.
Saturday night—Christmas Eve—her mom confirmed the
diagnosis: complete reversion of soft tissue regeneration as the serum’s
effects withered under the onslaught of ZV. Stage VIII was a failure.
Chapter
27
Christmas morning dawned almost white.
Through the half-inch polycarbonate windows, Ani admired the soggy slush
clinging to the grass and trees.
Close enough.
She got up, went through the
motions of bacon and eggs while she waited for her mom to emerge from the
bedroom, and smiled. “Merry Christmas!”
“Hi, Sweetie. Merry Christmas.”
Sarah stumbled to the coffee pot, poured a cup, and took a sip.
“What’s the plan for today?”
“Besides me, we only have two
confirmations.”
“Who?”
“Holcomb and Stuber.”
Ani pouted. “That sucks. What
about Teah’s mom or Sam’s dad? Mike?”
“I asked Mike not to come. I
wasn’t sure what state his son would be in, and I didn’t want to see him
anyway. Teah’s mom didn’t get the liability waiver in on time, so she left a
gift at the gate. Sam’s dad went to the Bahamas with his new girlfriend.”
“What a dick.”
“Language, sweetie.” Her lip
twitched just a little. “Though I don’t disagree.”
They wandered to the lounge in
PJs they only wore on holidays, and found everyone else already there. Lydia
and Sam both wore Santa hats, as did Lydia’s mom. Mike sat in the corner with a
three-foot fake tree, smiling at the modest pile of presents. Devon sat between
her mom and Mike, not even wearing her wig.
Once everyone settled in, Mike
handed presents to Devon, who passed them out, setting her own off to the side.
By agreement the kids didn’t get each other anything—everything they had and
most entertainment they wanted was provided by the lab anyway. Teah got a
stuffed panda that giggled when squeezed, whom she immediately named Burt. Sam
got a one-year subscription to
Popular Science
; Lydia got a xylophone,
which she gave to Mike, and a harmonica, which she kept; and Devon got a new
chess set in mahogany and quartz. From her mom, Ani got a $100 Kindle gift
card, and from Tiff she got a heart-shaped pendant. The picture inside showed
them lying on the hood of a car in the middle of winter, Fey in her emo glory
holding a half-gone bottle of champagne, Ani’s mouth open in an “oooh!” at a
falling star.
Ani remembered that night. Jake
had snapped that shot the year before prom, before his family had moved them to
Oregon in response to the Special Dead. He was one of the few inside the gym
who survived; Ani wondered how he was doing.
“Hey,” her mom said. “You’re
woolgathering.”
She snapped the locket closed
and put it back in the box. “Sorry. Interesting memories.”
Her mom kissed her temple. “Too
many of them are.” Never a sentimental person, she didn’t want to take any time
away from the visiting parents, so she excused herself to get some work done in
the lab.
Restrictions dampened the
festive mood: no food or drink made for an odd party for the non-zombies.
Lydia spent the afternoon glued to her mom, while Devon, her mom, Sam, and Ani
played Scattergories. Teah played Jenga with Mike, sulking the entire time. He
didn’t seem to notice.
At 4:00 pm the living were
excused and escorted off-premises. The rest of them fell to their usual
routine, which included Teah moping about Bill and Lydia trying to cheer her up
with nothing whatsoever to offer. Vacation left Teah downright morose—not only
could she not talk to Bill, but without school she couldn’t even see him
through the fence in the Zombie Yard.
By Wednesday, Ani wanted to
kill her just to shut her up. Everything turned back to Bill, no matter what
anybody said or did. Her irritation peaked when Teah got into it with Devon
over what movie to watch, so she stepped out into the hall for fresh air her
body didn’t need.
The agitation grew, and a light
bulb went off in her head. She jogged home, yanked open the door, and bolted
for the medicine cabinet. She snatched the auto-injector off the middle shelf,
put it against the base of her skull, and hit the button.
Relief flooded her, coupled
with disappointment. She turned around as the apartment door opened. Her mom
stepped in, eyebrows up in anticipation. “What’s up, sweetie?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you running on the
monitors. Figured I’d see what’s up.”
She held up the auto-injector. “Just
needed a dose, that’s all.”
“Why so glum?”
“Glum, Mom, really? Is that
even a word anymore?” She smiled, but knew her mom wouldn’t relent until she
spilled her guts. “I haven’t needed an injection in a long time. I was kind of
hoping, you know, that I wouldn’t need them at all.”
“There was no reason to expect
that.”
Ani chuckled. “No, but that
doesn’t mean part of me didn’t.”
She hugged her. “Still,
nineteen days is a record. For anyone. And eight days longer than last time. We’ll
see if that continues after Stage VII. Maybe we should back off on Mike’s, too.”
“Is that a good idea? He’s not
smart enough to know when he needs a booster.”
“Hmm.” She looked at her watch.
“I’ll think on it.” She looked around the apartment. “Anyway, back to work.
Tidy up, would you?”
Ani rolled her eyes as
theatrically as possible. “Yes, Mom.”
“And try not to be so glum
about it!”
* * *
“Well, that’s just stupid,”
Devon said, banging her helmet on the desk. Mr. Cummings looked up at the
noise, then went back to reading the newspaper.
Sam shrugged. “Dad says there’s
nothing they can do about it.”
“But,” Lydia said, “they’ve
been going to the Science Center forever! It’s tradition!”
Ms. Pulver cleared her throat. “Well,
put yourself in their shoes. If you ran a museum, would you want the zombie
school to come? What if it scared away all your other patrons?”
“A,” Devon said, ticking
reasons off on her finger, “that’s discrimination. B, none of the zombies are
even going. C, they already booked the group. D...” She looked at Sam and Ani
for help. “What’s ‘D’?”
“They’re denying a bunch of
seventh graders an educational opportunity,” Ani supplied.
“And they’re being jerks,” Sam
added.
“It’s mean,” Lydia added.
“What?” Devon asked. “Calling
them jerks or not letting Ohneka Falls send the kids?”
“Um...both?” Lydia’s smile held
all the ferocity of a pet bunny.
“Can’t be both,” Devon said.
Amazingly, Lydia puffed out her
chest instead of backing down. “You can totally be mean to someone mean.”
Devon blinked in surprise. “Yeah,
I guess you’re right.”
“And you don’t have to be. Even
if they’re mean.”
“Turn the other cheek,” Ani
said.
“Exactly!” As if realizing the
sudden scrutiny, Lydia wilted back into her chair. “That’s what Pastor John
used to say, before he got all mean.”
“Anyway,” Sam said, “the trip
is canceled, and that’s that.”
“Tell your dad to sue them,”
Devon said.
“My dad agrees with them,
remember? I think the rest of the board does, too.”
“That sucks,” Teah said, the
first thing she’d uttered all day. She looked at Sam, then Ani. “When do you
think we’ll get our phones back?”
Ani suppressed a groan. “Seriously?”
Teah glared at her. “They can’t
keep it forever!”
“Who the hell do you think you’re
dealing with, here? Mr. Leoni? This isn’t slap on the wrist bullshit. Doctor Banerjee
will—”
“Fuck him! He’s—”
“Ladies?” Mr. Cummings asked.
He took his feet off the desk and folded the paper. “Can we stop acting our
age, please?”
Teah pointed at Ani. “But she’s—”
“Right,” Mr. Cummings said. “She’s
right. The good doctor is capable of things you couldn’t dream of.”
“He’s all talk—”
“Shut up, you moron,” Devon
said. Teah stepped toward her, so Devon slapped her upside the helmet hard
enough to spin her into the wall. “Was he all talk when they burned Kyle?”
“Speaking of burning,” a guard
said from the back of the room, his voice shaking. “I’m going to have to ask
you girls to calm right down, right now.”
“This is ridiculous,” Teah
said, but she sat down. “They can’t take our shit and never give it back.”
Mr. Cummings grabbed an electronic
pen and wrote on the white board in bold capital letters. ROMERO ET AL. VS.
OHNEKA FALLS. He turned around, clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled
at Teah.
“At this point in time,” he said,
“we are not legal entities. We can’t even own property, much less have it taken
from us. So yes, Doctor Banerjee can take your phone. He can even take your arm
or your leg or your eyes if he wants to.” Lydia cringed from him. “The only
reason we’re still walking around is because we’re useful to his research, and
in that regard we’ve got fewer laws protecting us than any lab rat.”
Teah opened her mouth to reply,
but he cut her off.
“Now, you might ask yourself
what recourse we do have, and that’s a good question. The answer,
unfortunately, is none. The best we can do is behave, hope they find a cure,
and in the meantime try not to whine so much about it.”
“But—” Teah said.
“But nothing,” Sam said. “We
know you miss Bill. You think we don’t miss people? Our families? The colleges
we could be going to? Our friends who actually, like, died? Just. Shut. Up.”
The door opened, and a soldier
Ani didn’t recognize poked his head through. “Time to go.”
Sam, Devon, and Ani got in
their cage, while the others lined up to be chained together. As soon as they
left, Devon slapped herself in the forehead—or would have, if her helmet hadn’t
been in the way.
“God, she’s annoying.”
Mr. Cummings chuckled. “You
know what we call a person who complains about someone who’s annoying?”
Devon’s lips peeled back into
what might have been a smile. “No, what?”
“Annoying.”
The bell rang.
* * *
Ani’s sixth piano lesson
mirrored the fifth. Dr. Herley had her sight-read a new piece, even more
intricate than the last. He started with technical critique, and as soon as she
could play it through, switched to emotion. With each rendition, he asked for a
different feeling, or a different variation on the same feeling. Not happy,
joyful. Elated. Stately. Clinical. Depressed, then despondent, then depressed
again. He’d stop her and make her start over if dissatisfied.
“What is this?”
“Nothing. I wrote it for this
exercise. Now, play.”
After he left, Ani held up her
fingers. “Look! He literally wore my fingertips smooth.”
Anyone else
would be bleeding, and their muscles would ache.
Her mom set down her book,
Social
Vectors in Epidemiology
, and looked at Ani’s fingertips. “So he did. How’d
it go?”
Ani grinned. “Awesome. Really,
really great. The man’s a genius.”
“That’s good, because all I
heard was the same damned thing over and over again for two and a half hours.”
Ani pouted, an exaggerated jut
of her lip for comedic effect. “You couldn’t hear the differences?”
“Maybe the first six hundred
times, a little. Now do your homework. Five-week grades are tomorrow, and you’ve
got a trig Regents in three weeks.”
Ani gave her piano a rueful
gaze. “Okay.”