Barely Alive (10 page)

Standard, but the woman’s voice was cold, affected. Why weren’t they worried about their daughter? Why weren’t they sitting on their phone, ready to spring in case Heather called. Unless Dominic had reached them. Or something else less appealing.

Worry over my family would have to wait. And I wasn’t that worried anyway. I don’t think he knew anything about them – but hell, he’d hypnotized me, so who knows.

An ambulance screamed down Boulder highway blocks away. Did they seek one of my kind or were they escaping a scene? The lights were on. The sirens blared. But something seemed unnatural in the way they careened from side to side, speeding up and slowing down in sporadic patterns.

I leaned against the adobe covered wall.

The ambulance drove through intersections, eating up the lanes like a Pac-Man game.

The ambulance turned too sharp, clipping a median and tipped to its side, metal screeching on the pavement as it slid more than a block on the road.

In seconds Heather stood beside me, watching the accident with a mixture of worry and curiosity. Terrible things often held people’s attention without any rhyme or reason. They can’t turn away as it unfolds.

A breath. Another. Eyes blinked. Another breath passed.

Something pushed the windshield from the front of the ambulance. From the distance, the lurching creature resembled a man with a blue shirt and black pants. He straightened up and turned toward a street. The front of his shirt was stained red.

Another moment passed and two more emerged from the back of the van, their arms held out at odd angles at their sides. They followed the first man, in our direction.

Paranoia set in. No way would they be able to sense us from that far away. Too many other humans and other animals not to mention buildings and distance stood between us. However, that didn’t matter. I needed to get Heather out of there. Just because she was immune didn’t mean we couldn’t eat her. And not all of us were conscientious about making sure prey was dead. Especially new ones.

I pressed my back against the wall and nodded toward the pile I’d gotten for her. “Grab what you can carry. We’re going to head into the neighborhood and steal that car over there.” I pointed my finger at an old blue Nova crouched on the street in front of a trailer. I’d hot wire the machine, if I needed to. Dominic had taught a lot of awesome skills, illegal but useful. I looked at her. “I can’t carry you to Summerlin. Not as fast as we need to get there.”

She crouched down and gathered up the snacks and drinks. “Are those people down there like you?”

I didn’t answer. Cold sweat beaded on my upper lip and on my back. I didn’t want her to die. If they got her, she would. One way or the other. She couldn’t change so they wouldn’t stop. She’d resemble the carcasses I’d left in that barn. “They aren’t exactly like me. They have no idea what they are or how to control their cravings. At this point, they’re still mindless under the control of their needs.”

She grabbed my hand. “I’m ready.” She whispered.

We speed-walked down the slight incline to the road thirty feet from the building. I spoke to keep her from freaking out. “That’s one thing I’m glad Dominic did. He worked on us for a bit, hypnotized us, but controlled us while we gathered our minds and understanding.”

I looked both ways at the road, not for cars but for any strikers. They’d be coming for us, if they knew she was with me. They’d fight for the right to eat her, like hyenas in a pack, but without a distinct leader. They worked together until the meat was in sight and then all hell broke loose. Or they fought each other, eating and tearing and gnawing.

Heather pushed the button on the Nova and the door opened. She slid into the passenger seat. I followed suit on the driver’s side and breathed deep. I’d rather not hot wire the old-school sedan. Someone cared a lot about the vehicle. My male appreciation purred at the original blue dash and interior. The wide steering wheel framed the large numerals on the speedometer and other gauges.

Nothing stuck from the ignition. Under the seat, my fingers didn’t locate anything on their search.
Keys, come on
.

One more place and I’d have to rip the wires from under the steering wheel column, drastically reducing the value. I yanked down the driver’s side visor and metal keys clinked into my lap.

The engine started with a roar. Hot girl on the seat next to me. V-8 engine rumbling under me. I was having a wet dream that I hoped never to wake from. We rumbled down the road, anxious to escape but unsure where our enemies were.

“
If we can get on Boulder we can take the freeway up to Summerlin.” I didn’t want to pass my old high school, Las Vegas High. Home of the Wildcats. I’d been a senior and my younger brother, James, a junior.

We passed through neighborhoods too quiet for a Sunday evening. No dogs barked, no cars rolled down the streets around us. No movement. No life.

Turning onto Boulder, the lights brightened. I glanced at Heather, her hair and skin colored with the different hues of the rainbow, neon in the night. “How old are you, Heather?”

She watched the scenery out the window, her hands resting in her lap. She had to raise her voice over the revving of the engine as I pulled onto the freeway, rushing toward seventy miles an hour. “Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in a couple weeks.”

A couple weeks. I’d still be functioning when she turned seventeen. Something about that gave me hope, melancholy as it seemed. “My little brother is sixteen.”

Heather nodded. I hadn’t expected anything more significant from her. What would she say? ‘Oh, that’s awesome. Is he a zombie, too?’ I grinned and tapped my finger on the steering wheel, relaxing into the cushioned seat and resting my left arm on the window sill.

A random car here and there dotted the freeway, but for the most part we were alone on the highway. Eight in the evening didn’t call for an absence of people in the city that hides daylight behind windowless walls. Most parties and business happens twenty-four hours.

I turned on the old-school radio and pushed buttons until an AM news station came over the speakers. “…again, we are in a voluntary state of curfew. The attacks are happening after dark. Please, do not go out alone or without protection. These gangs are ruthless. If you need help, please call nine-one-one directly or call your local emergency outlet. In similar news, the gang has made appearances outside of Las Vegas with reports of the same activity in Los Angeles, Seattle, New York and some smaller cities emerging on the national circuit. If you have information, call nine-one-one.”

I tapped the steering wheel.
How’d the planes get that far with them onboard?

A commercial replaced the radio announcer. I turned the volume down and glanced at Heather. She hadn’t said anything about the extra syringe at the compound, either because she didn’t know the implications or she hadn’t seen it, or maybe she thought I hadn’t seen it. I was hesitant to mention anything, but we were working toward the same goal – protecting her family – even if I had no idea why I cared. Keeping her up-to-date on info was a good way to keep a handle on things.

But what if she didn’t understand what was going on? Yeah, she’d seen a lot in the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours, but as a human how much had she blocked?

Her voice pulled me from my reverie. “Paul? Do you think Dominic would hurt me?” Street lights flashed in the background and lit up her face, her eyes large in the small oval of her face. Her arms, crossed over her stomach, looked tight and immovable. “I wouldn’t mind going with him, if he’ll leave my family alone, you know?”

I knew. I totally understood. For some reason, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to explore, the unexplainable need to protect her and her family from the potential torture Dominic had in mind was overwhelming. I smothered the worry for my own family under my words, but I felt it, strong and pulsing like an extra heart hammering against my slowly dying one. “I think he’s demented enough, Heather, that he would take you and them and not care about what he did until he discovered more about his virus and his tests.”

She turned her face to the window and lifted her hand to play with the glass.

Remorse filled me. Responsibility I didn’t want to acknowledge for her feelings combined with regret for my actions. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t grabbed you and your friends, you wouldn’t be in this. Why haven’t you yelled at me or hit me or anything for that?” I know I would have. But at the same time, I was driving and I certainly didn’t need her to suddenly start wailing on me.

Heather dropped her hand and faced me. “But I
would
be in this, only worse. I wouldn’t have any idea what was happening and I’d be as vulnerable as those people out there.” She looked out the window again. “I’d rather be in the middle of this than out there in that. I guess I have you to thank.”

Thank
me? Can anyone say Stockholm’s syndrome? I think Heather was coming down with it. Bad.

A green road sign glowed in the dark from my headlights. Summerlin two miles.

“
You need to take this exit and get in the left lane.” She sat up and pulled her hair from her ponytail. While brushing her hair with her fingers, she answered me, absently, like she didn’t want to think about the event in question. “And just so you know, they weren’t my friends. We were being initiated for cheerleading. I was invited as a joke. I didn’t make it. They said I wasn’t the right ‘type’, which means blonde, tall, thin, and slutty.”

I admit, I was a bit disappointed she wasn’t slutty, and relieved, if that was possible.

She twisted her hair up and snapped her rubber band around the sloppy bun. “We were heading back to the cars to go home. It just seemed like the perfect end to the worst night. I feel like I’ve been dreaming.” She offered a muffled, mirthless laugh. “How did you get into this crap?”

The pitiful attempt at a positive spin on being attacked and kidnapped by zombies and then nearly eaten alive by a dead cheerleader tugged at my conscious. Humans. Emotional, vulnerable, hurting. I remembered. I used to be one, not long ago. It seemed I hadn’t left the emotions or the pain behind.

Unable to ignore the raw moment, I added my own wounds to the pile. “I ran away from home because – get this – my mom was remarrying an imbecile only eight years older than me. He’s not even a bad guy, just stupid, worthless. But James and I…” I shook my head and flicked the blinker on to turn off into Summerlin. “Not James. He likes him. Told me to shut up when they announced it. I called him a few names, he yelled some back. We threw some punches. I called my mom a whore and slammed out of the house.”

I followed her hand directions into the neighborhood. I had over-shared. Too much information. She’d definitely consider me a loser. She seemed so stable. From a great family. I wanted to tell her I’d planned on going back the next morning and apologizing, but that I’d met Tom who’d recruited me, reinforcing my indignation, my beliefs in the moment of my anger that I was better, superior, smarter. But I didn’t get the chance.

She directed me to pull in front of a five story house with windows on every facet of the building. The landscape had an over-manicured feel, trimmed past the cuticle and painted for appearances. Lights shined on the first and third floors.

We parked in the curved driveway. Heather smiled at me, our intimacies shoved to the side as we faced success at finding her family, or failure at finding her family – in pieces.

“
Shut the doors soft. I’m not sure it’s safe.” I held the handle open and shut the door. The click was next to nonexistent. Heather did the same and waited for me at the bottom of the brick stairs lit by the front sconces.

Hissing filled the air and I spun around. Heather patted my arm. “It’s the sprinklers.” Water shot through the air on the sponge-like crabgrass lawn a moment later.

I had a serious case of jumps. Tucking my chin, I mumbled, “Sorry.” And followed her to the door.

Heather smoothed her hair, adjusted her shirt, wiped her face with her hands, and gave me the once over. Were we meeting the parents or saving their lives? I scanned my outfit - t-shirt, jeans, boots, all flicked with blood and dirt. Not much a person could fix in casual clothes. At least I didn’t smoke or have tattoos. My only vice was fresh meat… lots and lots of fresh meat.

She reached out to ring the doorbell of her own house.

I leaned over and whispered, “Don’t you live here? Why don’t you just go in?”

“
I don’t always live here. Usually I live with my grandma, but she’s out of town. Since I had school, I stayed here. I’ve never just walked into
their
house.” She stopped, listening for movement and then continued. “I’m allowed over, if I have an appointment.”

Of course I was too cool to show my surprise, but what the hell? I’d assumed I’d had it bad with my parents divorcing, but to not be wanted by my own parents? That would be a thousand times worse than my mom and dad fighting over who got to have more custody of me and James. Two Christmases, two every things suddenly took on an all new flavor. She’d shocked me silent.

The door swung open. Bright light spilled around a woman swathed in a green satin robe and high heels. Full makeup and hair in soft blond waves around her face framed an over-bright smile as she hid the question in her eyes. “Heather? What are you doing here?” She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I don’t have you on the schedule, missy, you’re going to upset him.”