DeadBorn (10 page)

“
Want to know something weird?” I ask. Holly doesn't respond, but I keep talking anyway. “I've never played a game of solitaire. Not even once. Not on the computer, not with real cards, never.” Holly finally looks up and a frown crosses her pretty lips. Holly Arget is a self-confessed card game addict, and I know that's a bit of information that even she won't be able to resist.

“
There better be a deck around here somewhere,” she says as I release her, satisfied that she's been temporarily calmed. “Because that's just not right, Galen.” I smile as I continue helping Holly with the search. I don't believe that we're going to get the chance to play cards anytime soon, but it's a nice thought to entertain. Besides, it's distracted her from her feelings so it's served its purpose either way. She returns to the previous conversation as if nothing has happened. “Anyway, my dad told me that they've got a whole arsenal of bows and arrows on the second floor.” I grin as I open another drawer and find it stuffed full of candy.

“
Martin oughta love that,” I say, thinking of the T-shirt he's got on. “Any crossbows?” Holly shrugs.

“
No idea,” she says and her slight smile turns into a frown. “Not that it really matters. It seems like the only way to stop a DeadBorn is to beat it into a pulp.” I say nothing in response to that. It's a hopeless enough statement as is. With their near invincibility, I doubt that we could handle more than one at a time. “Bingo,” Holly says as I look up to find a massive key ring hanging from her fingers. “Now let's lock this place down.”

CHAPTER 9

Batten

Thirteen Hours and Six Minutes After …

It doesn't take long for us to realize that boarding up the windows is going to be a lot harder than we'd first anticipated. Dawson and Martin are just starting on their second one while Holly and I are struggling to figure out what we're going to do with the front entrance. In all, the building has thirty exterior windows and three sliding glass doors, and we have only one hammer that we took from home along with a handful of nails. A picnic table's given its life for the cause, but nearly half of it is gone already.

“
This isn't going to work,” I tell Holly, but she already knows. I can see it written across her face, plain as day. She purses her lips and paces back and forth. The tabby cat weaves around her ankles and meows for attention, but Holly ignores it and pinches her brow in thought.

“
Did you see that office on the end?” she asks me, but I have no idea which one she's talking about. Honestly, they were all covered with dead animals and nature calendars, so I can't distinguish one from another in my head.

“
What about it?” I ask as my eyes fall on the lake. The hags are back to their silent stations, taking turns dipping into the water and staring off into the distance.

“
It was for the fire crew,” she says as she points at the golden grasses. They're waving at us, stirred by the gentle breeze into a slow, mesmerizing dance that tricks the mind into thinking there's nothing but good in the world. “They burn certain areas of the refuge to keep the whole thing from going up in a blaze.”

“
So?” I ask as I give in and pat the cat's head.

“
So that means they've got to have equipment somewhere. Did you see the barn across the parking lot? I bet that's where it is.” Holly grabs my hand and drags me down the sidewalk and into the middle of the parking lot. “See?” She raises her hand and points at the massive red and white building. I'd seen it, for sure, it was impossible to miss, but I hadn't given it a second thought.

“
Do you think there's a firetruck in there?” I ask, fantasizing about confiscating one and making a run for it. Despite what Holly thinks, I'm afraid to stay here. In my mind I can just imagine Patricia and her horde of undead marching towards us in a seething mass. And if one of those fire faces comes around, we're screwed no matter what we do. A firetruck could probably plow through lopers and bone bags, no problem. It would give us as good a chance as anything. I try not to think of the rotten angels and how easy it was for them to drag the choppers to the ground. That line of thinking only leads to an endless void where hope goes to die. I can't go there, not yet, not
ever.

“
Don't be stupid,” Holly says and I can see that she's already made a decision. “Let's go get Martin and Dawson, lock the doors, and grab the weapons. I want in that barn.” I don't say anything, just follow her dutifully back to the building and find Dawson leaning against the doorway with a frown smeared across his face. He's taken off my yellow T-shirt and his chest is dripping with sweat. I search briefly for it, but can't find it anywhere. I remind myself that it isn't important and look around for Martin.

“
He's in the bathroom,” Dawson explains before I get a chance to ask.

“
I think I'll go, too,” I say, suddenly realizing that I have to pee. I haven't gone all day, not once. And I haven't eaten either. I know that sooner or later, my body's going to catch up with me and I'm going to crash. Dawson knows it, too. I can tell as we meet gazes and his slides down to my toes and back up again.

“
This isn't happening fast enough,” he says to Holly. “Either we keep running or we figure out how to make this place safe and we do it
now.
I don't want to be stuck out here nailing boards after dark.” Holly gathers her hair into a ponytail and uses a green hair tie with a frog on it that she stole from the gift shop.

“
I have an idea,” she tells him as she explains about the barn. “I think there might be wood in there, maybe axes, probably more tools, and who knows what else.” Dawson doesn't look convinced.

“
What if there are zombies in there, too?” Holly shrugs, but I know she's already thought about this.

“
It's a Sunday. Nobody was here today except for Doug. We already found him, so I doubt we'll run into anything else today. If we do, we'll fight it together. We're all going.” Dawson sighs but doesn't protest.

“
Be right back,” I say as I approach the boys' bathroom and pause. Inside, I can hear a quiet sobbing. I knock gently and wait for Martin to get a hold of himself.

“
Come in,” he says. When I push open the heavy door, I find Martin sitting on the floor next to a wall mounted trash can. He's got a pile of tissues in one hand and is dabbing at his still bleeding cat scratches.

“
Are you okay?” I ask and I know that it's a shallow, stupid question. None of us are okay, not really, but Martin knows what I mean and nods.

“
Yeah, I am.” He stands up and tosses the tissues into the garbage. In the harsh, white light of the bathroom, his face looks paler and blotchier than usual and his eyes seem a bit distant. “Sometimes your thoughts can be your own worst enemy, you know?” I nod and move over to the urinal.

“
Yeah, I do,” I say as I pause and wait for Martin to leave or at the very least look away. He does neither, just comes up to the sink and leans his hip against it.

“
Do you think there will be other survivors because I've never had a girlfriend and I really,
really
don't want to die as a virgin. Dawson is cool and all, but I don't think I'm gay and I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me anyway.”

“
Martin,” I say and he nods eagerly, like he thinks I'm about to give him a bit of advice. “Go away.”

***

Thirteen Hours and Twenty-Five Minutes After …

The barn has a heavy door that's padlocked in three places. Holly says that none of the keys work, so we split into two groups and start searching around the outside for an alternative way in.

“
Maybe I could shoot the locks off?” she wonders aloud. “Do you think that sort of thing really works?” I have no idea, so I shrug and keep walking, turning the corner and stepping into a cold rectangle of shadow. The barn is so massive that when the sun hits it just right, it makes a dark little patch in the rear. I don't see any entrances back here either, but I keep looking, just in case. Holly follows behind, but takes a different approach by moving down the hill and gazing up at the building with critical eyes. If there's any way in, any secret passages or hidden doors, she'll find them.

I keep moving and end up tripping over something that's hidden in the grass. At first, I don't panic, assuming it's a rock or a piece of wood, anything but what it really is. When I turn around and find two, dull baby blues staring back at me, I scream.

“
Holly, Olly, Olly,
” it says and black and silver sparkles light the ground around it for a brief moment, highlighting its misshapen face and crooked jaw. It reaches its hands out for my boots and wriggles tiny fingers. “
Holly, Olly, Olly.
” I stumble back, fumbling for the baseball bat that I dropped when I hit the ground. It's buried in the long grasses and wrapped in shadow, and I'm having trouble finding it.

“
Galen?” Holly's shouting as she runs up the hill towards me. I don't think she can see the monster from where she is, so I must look like a crazy person scrambling around on the ground for my weapon. When the zombie giggles and flashes me a single tooth wrapped in decaying gums, I forget all about the baseball bat, draw my pistol and shoot it point blank between the eyes. Brain matter splatters against my face as the DeadBorn begins to howl. It looks so sad, sitting there in a pair of blue footie pajamas that I immediately feel guilty, like I've done something wrong.

When Holly finally reaches me and sees what's happening, she takes her own baseball bat and raises it over her head.

“
Stop!” I shout because I know if she kills this thing that it will scar her in some irreparable way. She pauses just long enough for me to pry the bat from her fingers.

“
What are you doing?” she asks me, voice tinged with disgust and confusion. I admit that I'm right there with her. This thing, this undead baby or whatever it is, is terrifying to look at. It doesn't seem dangerous, but it's probably one of the most grotesque things I've ever seen. And it said Holly's name. I'm sure of it this time.

“
Let me do it,” I say, putting my hand on her chest and forcing her to take a step back. She does what I ask, but she isn't happy about it. She's frowning and I think her hands are shaking, but she stuffs them in her pockets and says nothing. “Turn around.” Holly rolls her eyes at me.

“
You don't have to try and protect me, Galen,” she says, obviously irritated. She thinks I'm babying her, but I'm not. I know in my heart that she can't do all the dirty work. It would kill her.

“
I'm not,” I protest, trying to block out the gurgling noises of the baby zombie. That strange light is flaring up again and Holly's watching it passively, like it doesn't bother her in the least. “I need someone to guard my back.” She sighs heavily and does what I ask, removing the revolver from her pocket and scanning the horizon with angry eyes.

I look down at the DeadBorn and try not to sympathize with it. It obviously doesn't feel pain, so there's no reason for me to be guilty about what I have to do. I pull the bat back, tense my arms and swing.

After the first hit, I have to close my eyes, I just have to. Blood and bits are flying everywhere and it's gruesome enough that my stomach is turning and threatening me with nausea. The DeadBorn has stopped making noises, but it's still moving, so I wail on it until my arms are aching with fatigue and I'm short of breath. The creature has finally stilled and the weird silver light is gone. I don't look too carefully at it and turn away.

“
Martin and Dawson,” Holly says and then she starts walking as if that explains everything. Holly is like that sometimes. She doesn't always think you need to say everything aloud, just bits of it. I understand her because we've been dating for awhile. Actually, our two year anniversary is just days away. I'm kind of pissed that we don't get to celebrate it. I bought Holly this awesome pair of earrings from a local artist who claimed that they were full of fairy spirits. I didn't believe it when she told me, but after everything I've seen, who's to say she wasn't telling the truth? With all the commotion, I forgot them at home, so I guess I'll never get to give them to her. Holly glances over at me and I know that she knows that I'm lost in random thoughts. “They had to hear you screaming,” she supplies and I can tell that she's a little worried. I take her hand and immediately trip over the second baseball bat. Satisfied that at the very least it isn't another zombie, I pick it up and am just glad to have it back.

“
Maybe they found an entrance?” I supply, hoping for good news instead of bad. It would be a nice change of pace. Holly says nothing as we come around the side of the barn and find an open door. It's not a big one like the one on the front, just a normal door, bright white against the red paint of the barn and it's flanked by two windows, neither of which I can see inside of because they're so grimy.

Holly puts a finger to her lips and inches forward, feet nearly silent against the hard packed dirt. I stay put because I know there's no way I can move like that and wait until she tells me the coast is clear. The barn is ridiculously dark, but Holly pats around near the door and manages to find a switch. Lights come on above us and wash the room in fluorescent white.

“
We thought you guys were done for,” Martin says, sighing in relief. He's standing inside the bed of a white truck that's parked in a row with two others. They all have decals on the side and small sirens on the roof. “We heard all these … sounds and we thought they might be ripping you apart … ” He laughs nervously, but nobody else joins in. Dawson is sitting next to him with an angry scowl plastered across his pale face. He's trying to show us his tough side, but I can tell that he was nervous as hell.