A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena. Страница 4

“It’s a miracle to watch,” Cole says.

All slayers produce spiritual fire—inner light—the only weapon truly capable of killing zombies. But after the leader of Anima experimented on Ali, shooting her full of untested drugs, she developed the ability to save Zs, too. An ability she then shared with other slayers by using her fire on them.

Multiple times she’s offered to share it with me, too, but I’ve always turned her down. I’m not interested in saving my enemy. Zombies bit Kat, which means I would have lost her to toxin even if I hadn’t lost her to a bomb and a hail of bullets. But the thing that really kills me? The toxin ensured she suffered a far more agonizing death, no matter the cause, every bit of her pain magnified. Therefore, zombies have to die.

The downside? I don’t just suffer when I’m bitten, I suffer, unbearable agony consuming me, the urge to destroy everything in my path utterly overwhelming me. I also can’t be healed without another slayer’s fire or an injection of a chemical antidote—and I have to receive either one within a ten-minute window of the bite or I’m toast.

“Do I sense a but?” I ask.

Excitement dwindling, Ali traces her finger over the rim of her glass. “Supplies are limited, so we more often than not have to let the creatures bite us. The more bites we receive, the longer we take to recover.”

“Makes sense. The more bites, the more toxin your spirit has to cleanse.”

“More coffee?” the waitress asks.

Ali and Reeve jolt at the sound of her voice. I just nod. My guard has remained on high since I walked through the diner doors. I’ve known the waitress’s location every second. The girls, both new to this life, are still learning.

As the coffee is poured, the waitress says, “Your order’s up, gang. I’ll bring it over.” She walks away without giving us a “you are so weird” look. We’re kids (technically) and we’ve discovered everyone assumes we’re talking about video games.

“We need to come up with a new way to help Zs and ourselves,” Bronx says. “After a battle, I’m drained for a week.”

“He basically falls into a coma.” Reeve rests her cheek on his shoulder, and his hand automatically sinks into her hair. “Not even true love’s kiss awakens him,” she adds drily.

Cole cracks a smile. “You must not be doing it right. Stop kissing his lips and start—”

Ali slaps a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

He removes her hand and nips at her palm. “Punching them,” he says, finishing his sentence.

Everyone laughs. Everyone but me. I shift uncomfortably and look at the door. Too rude to leave?

The food arrives a few seconds later, the waitress placing steaming plates in front of each of us. My friends dig in as if they’ve been starved for months. While I was drinking and cheating on Kat’s memory last night, they clearly hunted zombies and did a little bite-fighting. The sleeve of Ali’s shirt has risen, revealing a wealth of bruises on her arm, just above a tattoo of a white rabbit.

There are bruises on Cole and Bronx, too, and the realization hits me hard. They went into battle without me. They could have been hurt, or worse. The Z-saving thing is new, as untested as the drugs Ali was given, and we don’t know all the ins and outs. Something could have gone horribly wrong, and I wasn’t there to help.

I swallow a curse. I need to get my act together. Like, yesterday. But just as soon as the burst of protective energy hits me, it leaves. My friends will be fine without me. Probably even better off.

The handle of my fork bends.

“So, I have another bit of news,” Reeve says, breaking through the sudden silence. “I bought a house.”

Bronx swallows a bite of red velvet pancakes. He’s always had a sweet tooth, and it’s always amused me. With his wild, spiked green hair and multiple facial piercings, he looks as if he’d prefer rusty nails and shards of glass. “It has everything we need. Big-assed bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom. Enough for everyone on our crew and everyone we’re recruiting. There’s a gym. A sauna. An indoor pool. Even a basketball court. Plus, when I’m finished, security will be top-of-the-line.”

My first thought: Kat would have loved living with the group. Hell, she would have loved my small, barely furnished apartment, paid for by the trust Reeve’s dad left me. He left one for all of us, actually. We’re all richer than we could have ever dreamed, and yet, the money is as much a curse as a blessing to me. What I can’t share with Kat, well, it isn’t worth having. Including my poor excuse for a life.

I grind my molars so forcefully I expect to swallow broken bits of enamel. As her image sparks to life in the back of my mind, I close my eyes. A memory begins to play with Technicolor clarity. She’s sitting on my lap, and I’m toying with the ends of her silky hair.

“If I only have ten more days to live,” she says, “what would you want to do with me?”

I guess her intention right away, know she’s trying to prepare me. She’s suffered from kidney disease her entire life, and she suspects the end will come sooner rather than later. “Hold on and never let go.”

“Boring.”

“Chain you to my bed.”

The corners of her mouth twitch. “A possibility.”

Getting serious, I say, “Die with you.” And I mean the words with every fiber of my being.

She climbs to her knees and cups my face to hold my gaze. As if I would ever look away from her. When she’s near, she’s all I see. “You’re going to live, Frost. You’ll go to college and make friends and play sports and yes, date other girls.”

“I don’t do any of that shi—stuff now.” I don’t like to curse in front of her. I want to be a positive influence, never a bad one.

“You’re going to meet someone else, someone special, and she’s—”

“There is no one else.” I’ve been lost for this girl since minute one.

Her head tilts to the side, strands of her hair lifting with a gentle breeze. “Granted, with her you won’t have as much fun and your kids won’t be nearly as attractive, but I’m sure she’ll make you happy...occasionally.”

Not gonna happen. Ever. “You’re it for me, kitten. That will never change.”

In the present, someone taps my shoulder. I meet Cole’s violet gaze, the concern radiating from his rugged features almost my undoing. He loves me. I know he loves me, and he only wants the best for me. But I can’t have the best, and I’m not going to pretend I have something else to live for. Well, something other than revenge.

“Come with us to see the house,” he says. “Pick a room.”

A room I won’t be sharing with Kat. “I already have a place.” I breathe in...out...but I don’t calm down. I stand, my chair skidding behind me. “I have to go.”

A muscle jumps beneath his eye. “Where?”

Somewhere else. Anywhere else. “I just... I’ll see you guys around.” I stride out of the diner without ever looking back.

I crouch on top of a tombstone gargoyle-style, waiting for the spirits of the recently dead to rise. I don’t have to worry they’ll be witnesses, the good guys. Witnesses leave the body at the moment of death and ascend. Zombies tend to linger for several hours, or even a day or two, and on rare occasions an entire week. Don’t ask me why there’s a difference. Zombie physiology isn’t my forte. All I know is that the creatures need time to gather enough strength to crawl out.

They are always starved for what they’ve lost, for the most precious thing on this earth. Life.

I’ve been listening to police scanners, sneaking into hospitals to examine death records and patrolling cemeteries for people who have died of Antiputrefactive Syndrome. The past few days, there have been six, and all six will result in brand-spanking-new zombies.