Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (17 page)

Once
we are in position, I watch in the rearview as Kally goes up the
hatch in her Hummer and Ricky jumps over to join his wife. I smile as
she flings herself into his arms. Norman's face suddenly appears in
the mirror.

And
I freeze with shock.

Just
as he leaps for me, I unfreeze and fling myself onto the passenger
side floor, struggling to remove my gun from the holster, but it's
caught on something. His face is above me, his body still in the
back. His eyes have that soulless dead look in them, his skin already
pasty.
That didn't take long for him to turn.
Damn
it!

His
arms are reaching, stretching for me. His mouth is gaping and
emitting horrible gnashing/grunting sounds. There is now only one
thing on his mind...me.

I
still struggle with the damn gun. If I raise up at all, I'll be
within his reach. If I don't, I won't be able to get the damn gun
out. Before I have time to make a decision, he falls over the front
seat and I only have time to raise my legs and hold him up with my
feet. I scream in agony when his weight makes my already throbbing
ankle snap.

I've
got him balanced above me like I used to do with my kids when we
played airplane or Superman, whichever they chose to be at the time.
I'm putting the majority of his weight on my good foot so the balance
is screwed up. I grab his wrists to better keep him balanced and do
everything I can to ignore the pain in my screwed up foot. Blackness
starts creeping into the edge of my sight and then my eyes start
rolling in their sockets.
Could there
be
a better time to pass out?

Above
me, his spit and drool sprays and drops on my face, making me afraid
to open my mouth to scream again for help. My legs are shaking, my
back is aching, but my
ankle
!
Oh my god, my ankle!
It
hurts so freakin' much!

Norman's
being an ass and won't stay still, swinging his arms and legs and
twisting his body to get to me. He attempts to lower his head to my
arms that are holding his wrists but I shove up on his stomach with
my feet, sending him into a pissed off frenzy and sending myself into
complete agony.

My
legs grow weaker and the shaking increases. They start to lower from
fatigue but I force them back up. After doing this a few more times,
I know it's not going to work much longer.
I'm screwed.
I'm just a few seconds, a minute at
the most, from becoming what I have been killing these last few days.

Suddenly,
I hear, "Honey...
oh
shit
!"
Oh, thank God!
Will!
I
can just see him over Norman's head, jumping down from the hatch to
the backseat, and then Norman's head is yanked back by his hair. Will
puts his gun up next to his head and pulls the trigger. As Norman's
weight collapses on me, I let out all the pain I've been having to
hold in, along with the new pain, in one long, loud, ear-splitting
scream.

Alarmed,
Will grabs the dead man's body and throws him off me. I lower my
legs, still screaming from the pain. Will vaults over the back of the
seat and reaches down, pulling me into his arms. He tries to get me
to stop screaming, and I
try
to stop, but I just can't. The
pain is
incredible
! Of course, he thinks I've been bit and is
searching my body, asking over and over where he bit me.

Finally,
I'm able to tell him, "Not bit. Ankle." But that's all I
can manage. He grabs my ankle and I scream and slap him in his
stomach. He lets out a yelp and then he helps me onto the seat. He
tells me to wait here.
Where in the hell am I going to go?

I
watch as he grabs Norman under the arms and lifts him into the back
seat. Will calls up for Ryder through the hatch and they both manage
to get Norman's body up and then Ryder throws him out into the crowd.
Will comes back and sits in the front seat behind the wheel. He
slowly pulls my leg onto his lap and gently removes my boot.

Gentle
he may be, but it still hurts like hell! When he removes my sock, we
both gasp at the swelling. From the odd angle, it's obviously broken.
Well, this is going to be freakin' fun!

Will
wets a rag with bottled water and I scrub the zombie slobber off my
face. He wets it again and wraps the cold rag around my ankle. It
hurts but feels good at the same time. Will yells up through the
hatch for my sister and tells her about my ankle. She comes down and
takes a look at it, sucking in her breath at her first glimpse.

Rose
tells me to close my eyes and then asks me to tell her which of my
toes she's touching. I wait for her to touch them but when she asks
if I can "Feel that," I have to tell her no. She does it a
few more times and each time it's still "No." Then she
tells me to wiggle my toes, even though we both know that's not going
to happen, and it doesn't.

She
grabs a pillow, places it under my lower leg and foot, folds it over,
and secures it with duct tape. Not the prettiest splint but it will
do for now. She reassesses my foot and it's the same.

Rose
digs out some pain pills from the bag of medical supplies and and I
eagerly swallow them. I spend a total of five seconds wondering if
I'm turning into an addict to pain meds, but when the next wave of
pain hits, I decide I don't particularly care.
Bring on the happy
pills!

About
a half hour later, we hear and feel the vibration of explosions not
too far away. Rose yelps and I think I do, too. Not real sure, but I
do know I jumped because I screamed when the movement caused the pain
to have its own little explosion. Will moves my leg carefully and as
gently as he can so that he can get out from under it. Laying it back
down, he grabs the last of the grenades from inside the back seat and
goes to the roof.

Rose
sticks her head out of the hatch and I get a nice view of her lower
torso and butt. I ask her what's going on and she tells me she can't
see over the semi but the explosions are coming from the other side
of it.
It's Jake, of course.
That much is obvious.

I
start feeling nauseated and drowsy, the nausea most likely because I
haven't eaten anything and my body doesn't like pain meds on an empty
stomach very much. I know if I don't allow myself to pass out, I'm
going to get
very
sick, so I close my eyes and the spinning
slows.

In
my dream, I open my eyes and see very muscular legs in familiar
fatigues that perfectly match my own black fatigues appear in the
hatch. I see more of the person's body as they lower themselves
inside and I can't help feeling a jolt of
something
go
through me when Jake is completely inside and turns his attention to
me.
I'm not giving that something a name and you shouldn't
either.

Jake
leans over the front seat and grabs my hand. He glances quickly at
the hatch then turns his head back to me.

"Canada,
I'm sorry I've been mad at you. What I did was so stupid ,but I
couldn't help it. It's my fault, not yours. Forgive me?" he
pleads with a pathetic, over-exaggerated, puppy dog look.

I
give him a serene smile and squeeze his hand.
I wish he
were really saying this to me. But it's just a dream, and it's ok if
I say whatever I want, do whatever I want. It's all just a dream!

I
give a tug on his hand and he leans down close to my face. I raise my
head to meet him and we press our lips together.
Mm, that
feels nice!

Jake
smiles at me and my last thought before my eyes close is how
beautiful
his
eyes
are. The last thing I hear as I'm drifting away is Jake's voice
telling me he loves me.
Aren't dreams wonderful!

I'm
shaken awake with a rough hand and an even rougher voice. I struggle
to open my eyes, and when I finally do, I see Will standing in the
back, bent over the seat and me.

"You
need to wake the hell up and move your ass so I can get behind the
wheel."
Damn dude!
Lose the attitude.

I'm
confused from the drugs and I have no idea what's going on. I'm also
shaking from the harsh way of being woke up, and I take more time to
move than I guess I should, because Will leans over and shoves me to
the passenger side. My ankle bangs on the floor and I cry out. Of
course, it doesn't hurt as bad as it would if the pillow wasn't
around it, but it still hurts, regardless.

I
move my body to a more comfortable position and then look over at
Will as he settles behind the wheel.

"What's
wrong with you, Will?"

"I'M
NOT JAKE!" he screams in my face. I jerk back away from him,
terrified of the anger in his voice and on his face.

"I
know you're not Jake, Will. What the hell are you talking about?"

"When
I first tried to wake you up, you fucking called me
Jake
!"
He's still screaming at me but just his use of the "F" word
tells me how very,
very
pissed
he is.

The
blood drains from my body and I start shaking even harder than
before, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.

"I
was asleep, Will. I don't remember
anything
."

"You
said, 'Ok, Jake' and then rubbed my arm."

"Well,
that doesn't mean it had to be something bad. Maybe I just―"

"And
then you fucking said, 'I love you, too.'
What the hell is
that
about, damn you
?"

I
freeze with my mouth hanging wide open, my eyes popping out of my
head, and I stare hard at Will. My mind is racing.
OH GOD!
Was that one of those freak things that happen sometimes when a dream
leaks into real life? Did I really frikken
say
that? What am I supposed to say to Will now? How can I explain
this
?
Can
I explain this?

"Just
shut your damn mouth, I don't want to hear anything you have to say.
I have shit to do, like get our asses out of here. I don't have time
for these childish-ass games." Will twists the keys in the
ignition so hard I'm worried they will break, but they don't and the
engine roars to life.

I
look out his window and see about fifty or sixty zombies
around-considerably less than before. Will turns the truck and pulls
away from the semi. I watch as Dad backs the semi up and Ricky shoots
through the opening-then Dad turns and goes through the gate,
following him. After he gets through, we follow and pass right by
Jake on my side of the truck. He grins and waves at me and I know the
instant Will sees him, because he stomps on the gas to get us past
Jake and I scream at him to stop when we come up on the back of the
semi...fast.

Will
slams on the brakes hard and I fly into the windshield. My forehead
smacks the glass hard enough that I have time for one last thought
before I pass into darkness.
Damn that hurt!

I
hear a man calling my name but I'm not able to open my eyes. I hear
the man sobbing and I feel his hands on my face. Then I feel a blast
of cold air and hear another man screaming at the first man.

"You
stupid son-of-a-bitch! You could have killed her!"
Who is the
"her" he's talking about?
Me?
I should really
say something now, but I just can't get my mouth to open. "Move
her over. I'm getting in and don't even think about arguing with me."

I
hear scary-sounding groaning and then a gunshot from the direction
the second man had been as my body is moved closer to the first man.
I guess I'm sitting up.
I'm really not all that sure.

I
feel the heat from the second man's body as he slides on the seat
next to me, then I hear a door slam shut. I hear and feel him move so
that most of his body is leaning over me and I feel his breath on my
face. I can still hear the first man sobbing with pain and I want so
badly to reassure him that I'm ok.

But
for some reason, I can't do shit.
Maybe I'm not ok.

The
second man opens one of my eyelids and eventually my eye focuses on
him.
Aw, he's so pretty. He has such pretty eyes, too.
He lets
go of my eyelid and I'm disappointed that I can't see him anymore. So
I struggle and finally get both eyes open at least enough to be able
to see most of him.

"Can
you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" I have to tear my
gaze from his face, and with irritation from being made to look away,
I quickly say three and immediately go back to studying his face.

"What
year is this?" I open my mouth to answer and then stop.
What
year
is
this?
I know I should know this, so I drop my gaze
from his face so I can concentrate, but I still can't think of it.
The harder I try to think, the worse the pain in my head gets. I look
back at the pretty man and shrug.