Journal of the Undead (Book 1): Littleville Uprising (21 page)

October 16
th

The entire newspaper is filled with suspicious stories. The flu epidemic is moving closer to our town and the number of missing person reports is growing. I wish Dad hadn’t been deployed. I can’t believe he’s under orders to keep his location a secret. Mom’s trying to keep up a brave front but I can tell she’s worried. And poor Lucy, she’s really upset that Dad won’t be here for her birthday party. To make matters worse, she was terrified when those idiots showed up at the park. I knew Jake was spineless but I never expected
three
of them to jump me. He knew if it had been a fair fight, I would have kicked his ass! I’m pretty sure I broke someone’s nose though. I’ll bet Emma was in his car watching. Heartless bitch! I hate her!!

The rest of the page was filled with harsh words drenched in hate. Emma couldn’t bear to read any more of it. She closed the book and ran from the room.

Evan’s pretending had lulled him to sleep and he never saw Emma fleeing from his room. When he finally woke, he felt both rested and relieved. He hoped any awkwardness between him and Emma would be a thing of the past.

Meanwhile, Kate took advantage of the rare opportunity to speak with Matt without Evan present.

“Matt, I wanted to speak to you about Emma. I’m really worried about her. She’s not eating, she’s barely slept, and now she seems obsessed with proving she can be useful. When I checked on her earlier she was scrubbing the bathroom floor. I had to force her to lie down.”

“I don’t know if it will help but I’ll talk to her.”

“I’d really appreciate it. She seems to get so nervous when I talk to her. Poor thing.”

Matt made his way down the hall to the guest room and knocked lightly. When Emma did not respond, Matt opened the door and walked in.

“Emma, I need to talk to you. I know you’re not asleep. Quit faking and look at me.”

Emma sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. She hoped Matt wouldn’t be able to tell that she had been crying.

“You need to quit upsetting, Kate. She’s got enough to worry about.”

Emma was dumbfounded. She had no idea what she was doing to upset Kate.

“Don’t look at me like that! You know what I’m talking about. And don’t you dare start crying. Now listen, they didn’t have to take us in so the least you can do is behave yourself. Quit insulting Kate.”

“But what did I do?”

“I guess Kate doesn’t clean well enough for you? Emma, really, that is so rude.”

“I was just trying to be helpful. I never meant to offend anyone.” Emma choked back her tears and wondered how everything had gone so wrong. Her hopes of proving her usefulness fizzled.

“Well, knock it off, okay? And you can drop the anorexic cheerleader routine too. Lucy actually looks up to you. If you keep starving yourself, she might start doing it. The last thing we need is another generation of emaciated airheads.” Matt realized he’d gone too far when he saw the devastated look on Emma’s face. “Look, what I meant was that you need to stop starving yourself. It’s not healthy.”

Matt wished he had phrased his speech better but the damage was done. He marveled that even when he was furious with Emma, she somehow managed to make
him
feel guilty. Emma rose and busied herself in the kitchen though she didn’t know why she was bothering. It seemed that everything she did either upset or annoyed everyone in the house. She’d grown weary of waiting for her expulsion. Clearly Matt had intervened and managed to delay the inevitable, but it was only a matter of time before they would all be rid of her.

Just as she had with breakfast, Emma packed up dishes and utensils into a bag.

“You should have called me,” Evan said as he took the heavy bag from her arms. “You didn’t have to drag all this up here by yourself.”

“It was no big deal.”

“Please, sit down and join us, Emma. We always eat together, as a family,” Kate said gently.

“There’s still another bag in the hall,” Emma answered, just barely above a whisper.

“Evan can get it. You’ve done enough.”

“Sit down!” Matt ordered through clenched teeth.

Emma instantly dropped to the floor and cowered behind Matt’s chair, reminding Kate of a frightened puppy. Kate’s words echoed in Emma’s head, reminding her of a time when her father wanted her to eat dinner with the family and she had opted to go to Tiffany’s house instead. Given a second chance, she would have stayed to dine with her father. Remembering her father’s hurt expression, Emma barely noticed when Matt thrust an overflowing bowl into her hands. Her throat tightened and the all too familiar sting of tears welled in her eyes.

“Emma, are you okay?” Kate asked. Concern weighed heavily in her words.

She nodded but never looked up. The others talked and laughed but Emma said nothing. She bided her time until she could hide, alone, in the guest room.

***

“Finally,” she sighed, flopping onto the bed a while later.

Stretching out, Emma flipped through
Journal of the Undead: A Survivor’s Guide
again. Somewhere between the chapters on weapons and battle strategies, Emma was overcome with exhaustion. Her mind drifted in and out of zombie-plagued nightmares.

She woke to the sound of her own screaming and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. Hearing footsteps drawing closer, Emma turned onto her side and pretended to be asleep. From the exasperated sigh, Emma could tell Matt had come to check on her.

“Is she okay?” Evan whispered to Matt.

“Yeah, I guess so. She’s still asleep.”

After the boys left, Emma fought to keep her heavy eyelids open. She gazed sleepily out the window at the starry night sky. It felt like hours had passed, but when she checked the clock only ten minutes had lapsed. Time ticked by slowly and Emma kept a vigilant watch on the clock. She vowed not to fall asleep again because she dreaded the nightmare she was sure would follow. Midnight became two, two became three, and three blurred into four. The last time she checked the clock it read 4:15.

It wasn’t until daybreak that Emma woke again. She had been dreaming about her father and that made her miss him even more. Though most of the dream was hazy, Emma distinctly remembered her father working in his office. In the dream, Alan handed Emma a folder with his research and told her it would save them. Deciding it must be a sign, she planned to retrieve the folder. Surely no one would want to kick her out if she had their salvation in her hand. She climbed out of bed and stealthily crept down the hall to the bathroom.

“I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone,” Emma whispered to her reflection.

With her face washed and teeth brushed, she tugged on her clothes. The book had recommended short hair, one inch or shorter, preferably a military-style cut. Combing through her long curls, Emma decided not to chop off her hair. Instead, she pulled it into a tight French braid and tucked the end securely under her collar.

The architecture of the Stones’ home made it easy for Emma to escape. An intricate wrought iron balcony spanned across the back of their home and each bedroom had its own access. She gathered extra sheets from the closet and knotted them together to make a rope. Emma then anchored her rope to the railing, carefully slid to the ground, and sprinted across the backyard. She scrambled up and over the wrought iron fence then crossed the open field toward her house.

Once inside her house, the creepy silence sent goose bumps rippling up Emma’s arms. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door to her father’s office. His usually immaculate desk was littered with the file folders and boxes of personal items he had been forced to remove from the base. Emma shoved stacks of folders and her father’s journal into her backpack; not knowing which, if any, would be beneficial.

With a hint of remorse, Emma keyed the combination into her father’s wall safe and unlatched the door. Jillian had often insisted that Alan lock Emma’s iPod in his safe while she was grounded. Refusing to sacrifice her music, Emma had discovered the combination a long time ago, rendering Jillian’s punishment void. Chuckling to herself, Emma remembered that it wasn’t all that difficult to uncover. The combination was pretty simple; her mother’s birthday, the date of her parents’ wedding, and the twins’ birthday. Because none of those dates were significant to Jillian, she had essentially been the only one locked out. Alan had safely tucked away photos of his first wife along with their wedding certificate, his first wife’s wedding ring, and her death certificate. Emma also found birth certificates and other legal documents, including the deed to the house and stock certificates. Those were shoved aside, but a small notebook with handwritten formulas and equations found its way into Emma’s bag. She locked the safe again and ventured upstairs.

Even though the bodies had been removed, she was hesitant to search her dad’s bedroom. She pulled some cash out of Jillian’s purse and emptied the contents of the medicine cabinet into her backpack. Kneeling at the spot where her father had died, Emma sobbed.

“I love you, Daddy, and I miss you.”

As she stood to leave, she noticed a sheet of paper on Jillian’s vanity. She picked it up and read the letter her father had written to her and Matt.

My dearest Emma & Matthew,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I am so sorry that I could not delay. Because your lives are at stake, I could not risk waiting for you to come home. If you don’t already know, we are under attack from what I can only describe as reanimated corpses. It seems that Jillian’s mugger was actually one of these zombies. When it bit her, the virus was transmitted and she became one of them as well. You both must be very careful to stay clear of these monsters and avoid them at all costs. The only way to kill these creatures is to destroy the brain. I had to put a bullet into Jillian’s brain but, unfortunately, not before she bit me. I will not risk infecting either of you so I will do the same to myself. According to Colonel Ripley, the bodies should be burned to prevent cross-contamination. Matt—if you can bear it—please see to the disposal of our remains. Please take good care of each other and know that I love you both more than words can say.

All my love,

Dad

Emma folded the letter and carefully tucked it into her pocket. In the familiarity of her own room, Emma felt the tightness in her chest release. She gathered some better fitting, weather-appropriate clothes and stuffed them into her bag along with a few personal items. Gingerly removing her favorite photographs from their frames, Emma sandwiched them between cardboard, slid them into a plastic zipper-seal bag, and placed them into the outer pocket of her backpack.

After double-checking the locks, Emma set off down the sidewalk back toward the Stones’ residence. With the sun brightly shining overhead and a gentle breeze caressing her face, Emma almost forgot that she was supposed to be keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings. When the sun dipped behind an ominous gray cloud, Emma was certain she heard a deep, guttural growl similar to what had echoed in the hallways of her school just days ago. Emma sprinted down the block and ducked into a neighbor’s backyard. The horrifying sound seemed to follow her no matter how fast she ran. Bolting full speed through the field, she launched herself at the wrought iron fence. Thinking she had made it to safety, Emma pulled herself up.

As she neared the top of the fence, powerful jaws clamped onto her leg. Too terrified to look, she jerked her leg hard and felt it tear free from the mouth of her attacker. The force sent her toppling over the fence and she landed with a thud in the Stones’ backyard. Emma sprang to her feet and ran to her rope without looking back. Seized with panic, she quickly climbed to the top of the balcony. She paused at the window of the guest room.
No,
she thought,
I can’t go in there and risk their lives
.

With no time to waste, she had to get her father’s research to Matt. The thought of saying goodbye to her twin brother was agony. She scrambled across the balcony and stopped outside Evan’s bedroom window. She hoped that Evan would tell him instead and perhaps give her a gun. Scarcely able to draw breath, Emma tapped on Evan’s window.

Evan was just about to crawl into bed. He had stayed awake for most of the night, keeping watch over his home and family. He lazily flopped onto his plush pillows and for reasons he could not explain, Poe’s
The Raven
sprang to mind. It was the tapping he heard coming from his window. Expecting a bird, Evan stumbled over to unlock the deadbolt on the shutters to find that Emma was standing outside his window.

“What the hell are you doing out there?” Evan gasped, trying to regain his composure. “Get in here, right now!”

Emma shook her head no and instead handed Evan her backpack. “I need you to give this to Matt. It’s important. He needs this!”

“Emma, get in here,” Evan ordered.

“I need a rifle and a box of shells.”

If Evan hadn’t been so flustered, he might have been impressed that she knew to ask for shells and not bullets.

“No!” he said incredulously,

“Why not? You’ve got a flipping arsenal in there. What difference will one gun make?” she argued.