Dead Over Heels (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Flash.

Boom.

The sound lifts me off my feet, sends me flying several yards, landing on my back. A geyser of wood and dirt spatters the sky. The explosion burns my eyes, deadens my eardrums. I crawl across the ground, covering Cole instinctively. The air smells of chemicals and burned hair. And something else: charred flesh.

But not my flesh.

I blink. I’m blind. I’m blind and deaf.

Chemicals. All the chemicals in the air. Cole’s words echo in my head: “There’s stuff in there that’ll mess you up, just by inhaling it.”

Messed up. That’s me. Too messed up to move.

Did I get Bethany? She’s so fast. Did she get out before the explosion? What about the zombies?

I don’t have the strength to find out. Collapsing, I press my face against Cole’s warm body.

I’m going to pass out. Once I pass out, Bethany will get me. Or zombies will get me. Or even worse—Cole will get me.

Almost as though he heard me, Cole encircles my body with his arms. Adrenaline spikes through my veins, clearing my senses. I jerk back to find him staring at me. His expression is soft and slightly confused. But his eyes are the same beautiful ice blue as ever.

I gaze at him, mesmerized. And I almost miss the two figures edging along the tree line, creeping up behind me.

“No!” I scream and whirl away, a rock in my grasp, ready to fight.

The shorter zombie seizes Cole.

I won’t let them bite him again.

I raise my rock, ready to break some skulls. “Get away from him, you freaks!”

I can’t think, can’t hear, can’t see. It’s Bethany. It must be Bethany.

No.

I blink. It’s not Bethany.

Two figures in camo—a man and a boy. The boy bends over Cole, his mouth snapping in rapid chomps.

“Leave him alone!” My own screams echo in my head.

He turns, refocusing his attention on me. My stomach gives a jolt.

The boy is Jay, Cole’s brother. And beside Jay, his father. They turn to me, jaws flapping.

“Stay away!” I lift my rock. I lunge.

Cole’s dad leaps away. He stands out of range, arms raised in surrender.

Wait.

That leap was too…controlled for an infected person. But why are they snapping their jaws like that?

Talking. They are talking. Only I can’t hear them.

Their eyes are clear and their movements are normal. Mr. Greer kneels over Cole again, trying to shake him awake.

I drop my rock. Jay and his dad are not infected.

And now I’m crying. Tears course from my eyes, washing away the pain and the chemicals. Jay puts his hands on my shoulders and says something.

I point to my ears. I can hear a little, but not well. Like I’ve been at back-to-back loud concerts.

He moves his head closer and shouts, “We were downriver. We saw flashing this morning. Near here. Like someone was signaling. By the time we got here—that explosion.” He uses his hands to pantomime something blowing up.

I nod. “I…I think I killed them. A…a bunch of them. But not all of them. Probably.”

Jay’s eyes widen in shock. “You blew up that cabin?” I nod and amazement flits over Jay’s face. But he has more important things to worry about. “What…what happened to my brother?”

I don’t want to answer.

Smoke billows from the direction of the cabin. “More will come,” I say. “Hurry, we have to get out of here.”

Jay gives my shoulders a shake. “Ava, please! When was Cole bitten?”

“Last night,” I murmur.

Jay releases my shoulder and crouches beside his father on the ground. Mr. Greer has found the wound on Cole’s arm. My ears are clearing—just enough to hear Jay swearing as his dad cries.

“We have to go,” I say again. “They’re coming.” What remains of Bethany’s army is now making its way up the hill.

Jay lifts his head, his face a mask of anguish. “Dad, she’s right. Look!”

Cole’s dad jerks to attention. “Get in the cart!” he orders me.

Cart?

Jay points. Two ATVs are parked a few yards away, with carts attached—the kind my dad uses for hauling mulch.

“Cole,” I say. His eyes are closed again. Did I imagine him waking up? And then I’m sobbing too. All the fear and confusion of the last two hours is replaced by agonizing pain. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

The zombies are closer now. Halfway up the backyard. No sign of Bethany.

“I tried to burn out the infection,” I sob. “To c-cauterize his wound.”

Mr. Greer and Jay exchange a look.

“Ava.” Cole’s dad takes a turn yelling in my ear. For a few seconds I can’t focus. “Ava, listen this is important. Did he wake up at all?”

My mind shuffles through the confusion. Cole’s eyes staring into mine, moments ago, just after the explosion.

“Yes. And his eyes,” I point to my own eyes. “They weren’t…” I shake my head violently, trying to clear it, trying to think of the right words. “He acted…okay.”

Jay and his dad stare at me for a long second. Jay rubs a hand along his face.

Tears spill from the corners of Mr. Greer’s eyes. He puts a hand on Cole’s head.

“Dad, we gotta go.” Jay shouts, “There’s more coming.”

Mr. Greer nods and gently scoops up Cole’s body. As he loads Cole into a cart, Jay pulls me toward his ATV.

I struggle against his grip. “Wait! My parents. I can’t go with you. I have to get to Glenview—”

“Honey,” Cole’s dad calls over, “we’ve been helping your folks search for you in these woods for two days. Thanks to that text you sent, we knew you were with Cole. We’re the only ones allowed out of the compound right now—because we were hoping to find you and Cole somewhere between here and home.”

My blood boils. “I told my parents to stay put!” I clamber into the cart.

“You honestly think they’d do that?”

He’s right, of course.

Jay revs the engine.

“They’re both okay?” I shout over the noise, wanting reassurance.

“Yeah,” Jay says, “but if we don’t get out of here soon, no one’s gonna be okay.”

I glance in the other cart. Cole looks peaceful now. Almost like he’s sleeping.

“Dagnabbit!” Jay says, sounding for a minute so much like Cole.

Ahead of us, streaming through the trees comes a second group of monsters—the bulk of the country-club herd. A mass of bodies, all oozing black blood from rotten sores, all stinking of death, and all dressed in their finest formal evening attire.

“Bethany must’ve sent half her people around to block us in,” I say.

“Bethany?” Jay asks. And he mutters something too low for me to hear.

“I think I killed her,” I say.

“Really?” Jay turns to me. Something like respect crosses his face. “Dad, give Ava the machete! Quick!”

“She’s too weak,” Mr. Greer says, revving his engine.

“No! I can fight!” I shout. “Give me a weapon.”

Mr. Greer studies me.

“Whatever you’re gonna do, make it quick,” Jay grinds out.

Cole’s dad tosses me a long-handled machete and a pair of thick gloves. “Keep your head low and your wrist steady. Pretend the knife is part of your arm.”

I rip the plastic cover from the machete. “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

And we’re rolling. Jay has no choice but to drive directly toward the herd. His gun fires, again and again. I don’t know how he can drive and shoot at the same time. I duck low, then roll on my back, blade raised above me. All I can see is sky and branches and the next moment, a mass of hands grabbing at the cart.

I cry out and swipe the machete in a long arc. The hands disappear.

Our wheels hit a rock and the cart lurches sideways, almost upending me onto the forest floor and into the herd.

“Slow down!” I yell, but Jay ignores me.

The hands stay gone. The cart accelerates. I chance a quick peek. We’ve lost sight of the other ATV.

“More ahead!” Jay warns as a line of zombie kids from the rec center slides into view.

Damn. Bethany really thought this through. Sent her soldiers ahead to spread out in waves. Guess she wanted to make sure we had zero chance of reaching Glenview. I find myself praying she really is dead.

“Rawwwwwwr!”

We roll into the crowd. I slide back behind the protective walls of the cart. Head down. Knife is part of my hand.

I don’t slash. I jab. Over and over, like some kind of machete-machine. Jab. Jab. Jab. Jab. Like I’m creating a shield around my body crouched in the cart. There are only hands—rotten hands that need to be batted away with the sharp end of my blade.

And then something changes. It takes a few seconds to realize it’s the feel of the ground beneath the wheels. We are riding on asphalt. I chance a peek over the lip of the cart. We’re on a two-lane road barreling through the forest.

“You okay back there?”

“Yeah!” I almost ask him the same thing, but that’d be stupid if he’s still able to drive an ATV.

“Where’s Cole?” I’m panicked at no longer seeing the other cart behind us.

“Way ahead!” Jay shouts. “They got through faster. We wouldn’t have got through at all if you hadn’t kept them from grabbing the cart.”

Momentary pride sings through my veins.

“Hang on,” Jay yells. “There’s always a bunch at the gate. Time for more fun.”

Ahead of us, a pair of tall metal fences loom above the road, laced with barbed wire. Behind the fence, I recognize the outskirts of Glenview, where the car wash and the Taco Bell sit near the overpass. I’ve never been so glad to see a Taco Bell in my life.

The air thunders with a sudden volley of gunshots. Lots and lots of gunshots. Whatever was left of my hearing is gone now.

This second burst of fighting is terrifying. Now that I know there’s the possibility of zombies grabbing the cart, the whole experience is ten times more real.

The ATV stops rolling. I keep my eyes squeezed shut. Did they catch us? Are they coming for me? Am I about to be eaten?

“Let go,” says a voice. A woman’s voice. “Let go of the machete. You’re okay now.”

Soft hands smooth my hair. Mom’s hands. I open my eyes.

I make some noise that is half shriek, half cry and she hugs me.

I made it.
I made it to Glenview.

“Dad?” I whisper.

“On his way down here.”

Beside me, Jay and another man are loading Cole on a stretcher.

“Wait! Wait!” I shout, knowing my voice is extra loud. Probably because I still can’t hear myself talk. Everyone stops.

I wrench away from Mom and kneel beside the stretcher. “Please.” I grab Cole’s hand. “I have to know. Will he be okay?”

Jay’s eyes gaze into mine for a long heartbeat. He understands the meaning behind the question. I guess it’s pretty obvious I care about his brother.

I swallow hard. Waiting for the answer.

Jay studies me, different than he looked at me all those times he cut our grass. Like he’s really seeing me. There was a point when I’d have been embarrassed for a boy to see me this way. The grit of four days. Blood—both red and black—streaked across my clothes. My feet shredded from running without shoes. Soot across my tattered jacket. But I feel strong and alive.

Jay smiles. “Take a look,” he says gesturing at Cole.

And when I move toward Cole and his eyelids flutter open, I might be the happiest girl in the world. He looks groggy and battered, but behind those long lashes, there’s no blankness, no white—only pure silver blue, like moonlight on a frozen mountain creek.

His cracked lips part. “Hey, City-Girl.”

“Hey, Banjo Boy.” Tears stream down my cheeks.

Cole is not a zombie.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I disentangle myself from the blanket, snuggling closer to Cole on the narrow cot. An hour ago, under the cover of darkness, I snuck out of my new barracks and ran halfway across town to the Glenview Health Department. My mom would
freak
if she knew. Ever since I arrived yesterday afternoon, she’s insisted on keeping me close.

I have to admit—it was unnerving tonight, moving stealthily through the dark streets, the scent of distant zombies just beyond the perimeter, danger all around. A week ago, I wouldn’t have risked such an outing. I would have listened to my parents and stayed inside.

But now…well, I’ve learned that sometimes it pays off to take risks. It’s just part of this new world.

Plus, I needed to see Cole for myself. To make sure everyone is telling the truth—that he really is okay, that he’s not gray and scary, that something did happen to stop the virus. I’d only wanted a quick peek at Cole, maybe a hug, but the instant my body touched his, all those plans evaporated. I’ve spent the last sixty minutes in his bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I got carried away.” His room in the health department—the town’s new makeshift hospital—is small and chilly. But it’s private.

“Hah,” I whisper back. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You’ve been through hell the last forty-eight hours. I should be letting you rest.”

“I feel fine.”

I snort-laugh. “Obviously.”

Together, we kiss softly in the dark. His fingers smooth my hair. I bury my head in his chest, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of woodsmoke and boy.

“Dad told me what you did. How you blew up the cabin. He said you started fighting off him and Jay. Doing a damn good job of it, too.”

“No, I was about to lose it. I was half insane by that point.”

His voice is anguished. “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You should’ve left me. I wasn’t worth it.”

“To me you are.”

Cole responds with silence.

I exhale, feeling some inexplicable need to explain. “You didn’t leave me, Cole. At my house or when I fell in the river. I don’t know why, but you didn’t.”

“I think you know why.” He hugs me tight. His voice is still choked with emotion. “It’s safe to say I’ll never leave you.”

“I won’t either.”

Our words hang in the darkness, solemn as a vow.

“I been sitting here these last few hours,” he says, “just thinking about everything. I figure you knew what to do because of that paper you were writing. The one about rabies.”

“Yeah. Mr. Beaver bit you and all I could think of was that line from my research about cauterizing the wound. It was crazy.”

“The doc says I got a raging infection and third-degree burns from your cauterization.”

I wince.

Cole tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “He also says you probably saved my life. He’s in touch with some doctors at the CDC. Told them what you did. They’re gonna test the theory. See how many other times it’s worked.” He pauses for a long moment. “But there’s something else. The doc told me they’ve also found some immune people.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Immune? Like Bethany?”

He nods. “Yup. Apparently they’ve got blood samples from three different girls on the East Coast. Some gene that makes them totally immune to the virus.”

“Wow. You might’ve won the genetic lottery.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you saved me. Or maybe Mr. Beaver just didn’t release enough venom or whatever. Either way, the CDC wants a sample of my blood—Dad and Jay’s, too.”

“You’re leaving?” I practically choke.

“No way.” He sets his jaw. “They’re coming here. We’re staying put.” He pauses to kiss me again. “This place—is it okay here?” he asks. “Does it seem…good?”

“Yeah, Dad says there are seven full perimeters protecting downtown—barbed wire and sandbags. And lots of people with guns. You North Carolina residents sure like your guns.”

Cole hesitates. “That ain’t really what I meant. Do you um…you think your family’ll stay?”

Warmth ebbs through my body.
He wants me to stay!
I try to sound calm. “Oh, yeah. Dad’s already latched on to your family—they’re showing him how to shoot a crossbow. He’s shot more trees than zombies, but it’s weird, he acts almost…happy.”

Cole’s fingers worry with the corner of the blanket. “And you? Would you be happy to stay here? In redneck hell?”

I’ll be happy to stay wherever Cole is. But I’m not going to say that aloud.

“Yes,” I whisper in the dark. “I’d be happy in Glenview. There’s a huge supply of EpiPens here at this health department. Plus, my boyfriend’s gonna teach me to hunt zombies, right?”

“Boyfriend,” he says, “I like that.” His lips brush mine. “So whatever happens, we face it together?”

“Together,” I reply firmly.

I close my eyes and snuggle into his shoulder. A vision rolls out before me, like the one I’d had in the forest—an image of Cole and me, working together. A future where I’m an active participant, instead of just watching through a window. I can’t let my allergies hold me back anymore. If the last four days have taught me anything, it’s that I’m capable of adapting—of learning, surviving, and fighting back.

Beside me, Cole goes very still, and I know exhaustion has carried him back to sleep. A sudden snore cuts through the darkness. I can’t help but laugh.

It feels good to laugh again. To smile. To be safe and surrounded by people I love.

Cole was right: there are still good things left in this new world. We might have to work harder to find them. But we will find them. Together.

Did you love this Entangled Teen digital-first book? Check out more of our titles
here
!

And for exclusive sneak peeks at our upcoming books, excerpts, contests, chats with our authors and editors, and more…

Be sure to like us on
Facebook

Join the
Teen Book Club

Follow us on
Twitter

Follow us on
Instagram