Dia of the Dead (12 page)

I approached her carefully, taking a seat next to her on the floor. She didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the wall. If this were a scene o
n
Dia of the Dea
d
, Dia Muerto would mumble a bit of dialogue with a clever zombie pun and everything would be better. All problems solved before the end credits rolled. At the very least
,
tha
t
Dia would have the perfect line to say to Reagan that would make her snap back to the present and help me think of a way out of this room.

But this was real life, not some cheesy kids’ show. I had to come up with words of comfort on my own and once again, I had nothing. I sat next to her, my hand hovering over her back, debating whether to give her a few comforting pats or leave her alone. Reagan and I didn’t have the best relationship for reasons I didn’t understand. From the moment we met I was pretty sure she hated me.

A few days after I received the call from The Bixby Network saying I’d won the role of Ann Dead, Dia Muerto’s original name, Mr. Bixby held an ice cream social in the studio’s cafeteria for all employees where he introduced the network’s new hires. Mr. Bixby gave a short welcoming speech then turned things over to the sundae bar. Mom was there in momager mode and ditched me as soon as we hit the door to do some networking. I was left to roam the room on my own. Not knowing what else to do, I fixed myself a cup of vanilla froyo (with sprinkles) and went about trying to make friends. 

The walk through the cafeteria was as nerve-racking as the walk through the cafeteria on my first day of high school. The cup of froyo trembled in my hands as I looked for a friendly face in the crowd. Though everyone was smiling, I didn’t get a welcoming vibe from anyone I passed along the way. Coming up short on somewhere to sit, I decided to find a place at the next table I came across. Big mistake. I took the empty seat at the table with Reagan, BB, and their friends. They looked me over, giving A+ bitch faces, and giggled as I stuttered to introduce myself. Reagan sneered and dismissed me with a comment about being Bixby’s latest 2-for-1 diversity hire. Her remark made the other girls laugh louder. I got up from the table with tears stinging my eyes and a cup of melting yogurt in my hands. I bit my lip, afraid to say anything and went to look for my mother. I was prepared to beg her to take me back to our new home at Helena Gardens when I was intercepted by Kaci Miller, a friendly girl with a welcoming smile who invited me to come sit with her.

Sitting in her father’s office with her dead-undead sister lumbering about the hall just beyond the barricaded door, Reagan seemed fragile. She wasn’t the same girl who’d called Missy names in Mason’s dressing room a short while ago. She needed her space; I decided to leave her be. I got up and started brainstorming. Once again I came up empty handed. I had no choice but to bother Reagan again. I sat down next to her.

“Reagan, is there a way out of here? We need to get back to the others.”

“There is.”

I turned toward her. “Huh?” 

“There’s another way out.” Her voice was distant, her eyes still staring at the wall.

“Reagan, how are you doing?” I asked softly.

She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to the sculpture display. She opened the case and lifted a piece that was more or less a white block and sat it beside a sculpture of a human form. Underneath the white block’s resting spot was a box with several buttons. Reagan pushed a couple of them and took a step back. The display shifted, revealing a door. Reagan pushed the door open and waved me forward.

“Phillip likes to duck out of the office early sometimes. He has another exi
t,
” she said, her voice emotionless. “Sometimes BB and I—” She stopped talking, her eyes shiny with tears. She lowered her head and cleared her throat.

This was truly a side of Reagan Bixby, I’d never seen.  I enveloped her in a hug.

“Ugh. What are you doing?” She pushed me away, her eyes narrowing into dark slits as she glared at me.

“I’m crying. Big deal.” She wiped away a tear. “I don’t need you to comfort me. We’re not friends and don’t let this—this…whatever this is fool you into thinking otherwise. In fact, I think may hate you even more now because you tried to hug me.” 

I backed away with my hands in the air. “I was just trying to be a nice, Reagan. You’re obviously upset and I just thought—“

“—Whatever you thought, you thought wrong. My sister may be acting weird but nothing has changed between you and me. And it won’t change. Got it?” She paused and looked at me. “Let’s go.” She pushed the door open and disappeared.

“Hurry u
p,
” Reagan called. “We don’t have all day, do we?”

Something slammed against the door causing the bookshelf to quake. I ran to join her.

“Watch your ste
p,
” she warned as I entered the passage.

I stepped down carefully. Reagan held a second door open. The display case slid back into place after us, leaving the small room in darkness for a moment. A single bulb flickered on overhead, providing some light.

“Come o
n,
” Reagan huffed and started down the stairs.

We wound our way down what seemed to be a never-ending staircase. I was a bit dizzy from all of the turns by the time we reached the bottom.  Reagan opened the door, letting in light from outside. I squinted as I moved past her, my eyes hurt from the abrupt change, and peeked out of the door. We were on the side of the building, facing the backside of building Four.  There was no sign of anyone. Not even security. The lot seemed empty. I leaned back inside.

“I don’t know if there’s anyone else that has what BB has but when we get out there, we have to punch it. Run as fast as you can toward Six when I say so. Don’t look back. Just keep running. Don’t stop until you reach the others. Okay?”

Reagan rolled her eyes but eventually nodded.

I checked outside once more to make sure nothing had changed. Everything seemed to be fine for the time being. I stepped out and beckoned Reagan to join me. We exchanged a nod and took off. The two of us bolted from the building—Reagan trailing behind a bit—and raced back to building Six, not encountering a single soul on the way. We burst through the doors of Six and dashed through the halls until we reached Props, stumbling into a situation already in progress.

Brendan wielded a prop sword, jabbing it at a slowly advancing Joe. A piece of Joe’s scalp was missing exposing a portion of his skull coated in black goo. Kaci and Mason ran around the room trying to escape Taylor who chased them like a madwoman. Both of them had the same gray, mottled skin as BB and Amber. 

“They’re zombies!” I screamed, running into the room. Reagan stayed behind.

“We kinda figured that out ten minutes ago when Taylor ripped out most of what was left of Joe’s hair—and ate it with some scalp attached! Get back! Back!” Brendan jabbed the sword at Joe who groaned, a stream of black ooze dripping from his mouth.

“Aim for his head!” I yelled. That was very basic zombie knowledge. “Don’t get bitten!” I took a few steps back out of the room toward Reagan who had stopped outside the open door.

“I’m tryin
g,
” Brendan said. “Jesus, this is hard.” He sidestepped to evade Joe and backed into a workstation. Joe grasped at him, grabbing the sword instead. The force of his grip bent the flimsy metal, rendering it useless. He snatched it out of Brendan’s hands and tossed it aside where it clanked on the ground. Brendan ducked beneath the table, disappearing from view. Joe paused. Brendan popped up on the other side of the table and threw a coffee canister at him. It bounced off Joe’s head and landed on the floor, covering it in the fake ashe
s
.

“We have to help,” I said to Reagan, who watched the scene in horror.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going in ther
e,
” Reagan said.

“Our friends are in danger.”

“You want me to barge in there and save them from alleged zombies.”  She folded her arms across her chest. “Not happening.”

I stepped away from her—shaking my head— and ran inside the room to help our friends. My eyes darted from Taylor to Joe back to Taylor then to Joe again, and my mind ran down more of the zombie knowledge I had at lightning fast speed. They were two completely different types of zombies.  Taylor moved with quick, jerky movements while Joe was as slow as molasses. It was confusing. The only thing they had in common was that they were both dangerous. I ran toward who I thought was the easiest of the two to take down, Joe. 

He still tried to advance on Brendan but the metal table between them made it difficult. He held his hands out in front of him like a sleepy mummy as he bumped into the workstation, inching it closer and closer to Brendan who was soon going to be pinned against the wall if he didn’t move. Brendan broke left, preparing to run but Joe blocked his path.

“Crap.” Brendan stepped back and attempted to try the right. Once again, Joe blocked him.

I turned to find Taylor. Kaci was trying to keep her from biting Mason. It seemed like they had a pretty good handle on things between the two of them. Joe bumped the table back further, pushing it into Brendan’s midsection as Brendan strained against it. I had to do something. If Joe had the strength Amber had, Brendan would be crushed.

I found a piece of wood propped up in a corner and grabbed it, testing its weight in my hand. It was sturdy enough to get the job done. I ch
arged Joe, swinging like a home run hitter.  The wood met the back of Joe’s head with a crack— splintering into pieces. I was left holding a nub. My attempt at stopping Joe kinda, sorta worked. He groaned and did a slow turn.

I was his new target. 

I dropped the piece of wood and backed away as Joe stalked forward, his head tilted to the left, spilling a bit of his brain onto the floor. Brendan freed himself from the table with the metallic screech of the table’s legs dragging against a tiled floor. He jumped onto the table then down onto the floor, breezing past Joe. 

“Run!” he screamed.

Taylor and Joe were on our tail as we ran from Props. In the chaos, the group split up. Kaci, Mason and I went one way while the others went another. The three of us were lost in the maze of hallways leading to the set with Taylor behind us. She was fast, growling and snapping at our backs as we tried to get away from her. We zigged and zagged through the halls, making quick turns to try and ditch her. But no matter how fast we ran, we couldn’t lose her.

“Your shirt,” I said to Mason as we ran. He reeked of the overbearing cologne he wore to the party.

“We need to lose her.” I pointed over my shoulder at Taylor. “I think she likes your cologne.” I was grasping at straws but it was worth a try to get her off our backs. “It’s all over your shirt. You have to get rid of it. Take it off.”

He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as we ran, taking it off without question and handed it over to me. “Here.”

“I don’t want it.” I wrinkled my nose.

I tossed it over my shoulder and kept running.

“I knew it,” Mason whispered to himself. He smiled brightly and pumped his fist. He took another look behind him. “Look at her. She can’t get enough of it. She’s totally into me.”

He sighed. “I should’ve made a move when I had the chance.”

I looked back at Mason. He bit his lip, lost in what was probably a gross daydream and didn’t notice the side-eye I gave him.

Taylor growled. I peeked over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of her. The shirt covered her face. Seeing an opportunity, I ran faster. Mason kept up with my pace easier than Kaci who lagged behind, her face turning red and glowing with sweat.  Taylor snarled.  I looked back again. The shirt was on the floor. Her black eyes were on us as she leapt forward, restarting her run.

We took a left and ran onto the darkened graveyard set. A few of the stage lights were on but it was still difficult to see. I kept running, heading toward a row of graves and noticed Mason and Kaci were gone. I was alone. I didn’t have time to worry about them, though; not becoming a zombie had taken priority.

I ducked down behind one of the foam headstones only to realize nearly all of my body was exposed. I was extremely vulnerable attempting to hide behind something the size of a toddler like an idiot. I stood up, looking around for something else to protect me from Taylor. Her growls echoed in the room, making it seem like danger was everywhere. I spotted the graveyard’s mausoleum. Or rather, the large wood cutout of a mausoleum that was tucked in a corner of the set propped up by a few wood beams.

I ran over to it as quietly as possible and squeezed into the tight space behind it. I lowered myself down to sit between the
cutout and the wall painted to look like more graves resting on a hill. Taylor snarled from somewhere beyond my hiding spot. I pulled my legs closer to my body, moving them out of view.

It seemed like I hid forever. Or it could’ve been a couple of minutes. Time was weird when your life was on the line. I felt like crying but even hushed sobs could make my location known. I had to keep it together. Taylor’s snarls and growls had gone quiet. I didn’t know if her silence was a good thing or a bad thing but I knew it was probably the right time to find Kaci and Mason and get the hell out of here. I scooted forward, pulled myself up to my feet, and shimmied toward the edge of the
cutout. I peered around it, looking around the room. The place looked empty. I took a step out and was immediately pushed back in by a body heading toward me. The body blocked the entrance, jamming me up in the corner.