Tonight The World Dies (13 page)

Hooking a paint bucket off the shelf, I hurled it behind me, snapping the neck of the nearest zombie. The barren frozen food section overtook the useful items, with one possible escape left. A single bottle of liquor lay on its side half hidden under a freezer. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter clutched in the hand of a mutilated corpse several feet further down.

Speeding up, I skidded over to the bottle, juggling it in one hand as I ripped a strip of my shirt off. A hand snatched at me as I scooped up the lighter. Somehow, I burst into the strangely spacious bathroom before the zombies reached me. Clambering into the sink, I pried the vent from the ceiling, squeezing myself inside just as the first zombies pushed their way in. They reached up, trying to climbing over one another in their attempts to reach me.

I was almost laughing to myself as I unscrewed the cap and dipped the scrap of fabric into the liquid, a short tail hanging out from the neck.

“Fire in the hole,” I said, snickering.

Lighting the fabric, I dropped the bottle through the hole I had made, the bottle bouncing off the back of a zombie and crashing to the floor. They screamed as the fire caught, spreading over them, engulfing them.

Chapter twenty-four

They tried to escape. They pounded against the door, unable to grasp the handle and pull. Scurrying back toward the rest of the building, I kicked out a light, shimmying through the gap and landing heavily on my feet.

The pounding and screams grew louder. Glancing around, I saw no trace of zombies or movement. The store was almost peaceful if I ignored the sounds of the undead dying. Which I did.

They couldn’t get out, and would soon burn to death, what was left of their brains melting inside their heads. The lack of oxygen would eventually put out the flames, if it didn’t catch the walls. I should have paid more attention. I didn’t care about the freaks burning to double death, or burning down anything or anyone that got in my way, but I didn’t want others to suffer because some asshole turned me into a damned zombie. God, he was annoying.

Chapter twenty-five

He was there, watching me just out of sight. I could have heard him, I could have smelled him. Hell, I probably could have seen him if I wasn’t so wrapped up in myself.

I stacked tubes of toothpaste into a wayward cart, throwing giant packages of toilet paper on top of them. I whistled to myself as I crossed the store to the pharmacy, going over the list of needed medications.

I felt lighter as I walked, letting the dying screams fill my ears like a melody. And then it hit me. What the hell was I thinking? I had nearly killed myself and my friends’ last year because I was careless with a fire. It killed the zombie, but nearly took my friends lives in the process. ‘Maybe I should just go back there; put out the fire myself.’ I thought. They weren’t all dead yet though. I could crush them. I could bash their freaking brai- . . .

“Oh God,” I whispered. “I really am a monster.” What was left of the good in me strained against the idea of more violence, but I really couldn’t leave that fire burning. I couldn’t risk killing humans. I raced back to the bathroom, turning in circles, trying to find a fire extinguisher.

One was hooked to a wall near the rusted drinking fountain. Prying it from its holder, I kicked the bathroom door open, dousing the flames; coating the completely dead bodies in white.

“Half human,” A voice said behind me, latching on to my arm.

I spun, startled. The withered zombie that had spoken to me before stared at me, face blank.

“Half human,” He said again, tightening his grip.

I tried to pull back, but to no avail. He yanked me to him, raising my arm to his mouth.

“And half pissed off zombie girl,” I said, my anger flaring.

I kicked his legs out from under him, slamming him to the floor. Straddling him, I grabbed ahold of his face with both hands, and twisted, pulling it up as I pinned his body down.

He clawed at me, bony fingers finding purchase in my soft flesh, bits of skin coming off in long ribbons. One more good yank was all I needed. His frail bones cracked and crumbled, the leathered flesh giving way as I separated head from body with my bare hands.

I finished gathering the supplies and hustled outside.

“Took you long enough,” Andy said.

“Bite me. I just massacred a building full of zombies.” I growled.

His eyes widened as he took in the fresh wounds.

“Close your mouth before the frogs jump in.” I told him.

“Flies,” Bobby said.

“What?” I snapped.

“You said frogs. It’s supposed to be flies that enter his mouth.”

“Yeah, well it’s too big for it to just be flies.” I said. “Can we go now?”

“I need to tie you back up,” Bobby said.

“Screw you.” I said.

“Andy?” Andy pointed the shotgun at me once more.

“This is bullshit,” I said, knowing full well that I should be tied up.

The ride back to the house gave me time to think. I was becoming so reckless, so violent. It scared me.

Chapter twenty-six

I woke up the next morning, feeling groggy. I was laid out on the exam table in the basement, rope wrapped around me and the table, pinning every inch of me down. The room became clearer and the business end of a shotgun was in perfect focus, mere inches away from my nose.

“What this time?” I groaned.

“You attacked Bobby yesterday when he was tending to your wounds.” Brennan said, standing on the other end of the gun.

“Right,” I said.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t recall attacking him, and I generally do remember when I try to kill people. Especially if I’m trying to eat them.”

“He said you went crazy when he injected you with something,”

“He didn’t tell you what it was?”” I asked dully.

“Oh, he did. I just don’t know what it was. I don’t even think I could pronounce it.”

‘If I’m a danger, which I obviously am, as evident by my being held at gunpoint and tied down to a table, then why am I still breathing?” I asked.

“It wouldn’t be right,” Brennan said.

“What wouldn’t?”

“Killing you,”

“I killed someone,”

“I know,”

“I tried to kill someone else,”

“I know that too,”

So how is eliminating the threat not right?”

‘I don’t think you were entirely in your right mind when you did those things.” He said.

“So you think I’m crazy,”

“Temporary insanity?”

I laughed. “Good one,”

“Even if you were nuts, we don’t kill crazy people. We institutionalize them.”

“There’s no chance of me or my friends walking out of here, is there?” I asked.

“No, there isn’t.” He said, face somber.

“You’re just going to keep us here?”

He nodded, “I’m going to try to find you and your friends a safe place to stay near the house, where you can be guarded from yourself and the others,

‘The other who want to kill me? Or the ones who would happily keep us alive to torture us? Didn’t your girls get enough of that before?”

His face darkened. “I’m gonna keep you safe. You and your friends.”

“If you’re going to start some sort of The Walking Dead barn collection, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.” I said.

Someone laughed in the cell.

“I don’t get it.” Brennan said.

“It means she doesn’t want you to start collecting zombies and putting them in your barn.” Came Dean’s voice from out of my line of vision.

All three of them were locked in the cell now. The attack must have gotten too dangerous for them.

“Can I convince you to kill me instead?” I said.

“No. I won’t kill another person unless I have to.” Brennan said.

“I’m dangerous. I can’t control myself when I get angry.” I said.

“There were a lot of people like that before folks started getting sick. We didn’t kill them.” He said.

“We did. We put murders to death for hundreds of years.” I argued.

“I’m not letting anyone kill you, and that’s that.” He said, and turned away.

Why would no one listen to me? I was a danger to everyone, a ticking time bomb, and they wanted to keep me alive. If I knew I was one hell of a big risk, it should have been easy for him and Bobby to see it as well.

This was worse torture than being stripped naked and whipped.

Chapter twenty-seven

Andy’s face swam into view, smiling but uncertain.

“Did you miss me?” He said.

“Obviously. The wind must have thrown my aim off or something. I’m usually pretty good with a gun.” I said.

He laughed. “Still haven’t lost your since of humor, I see.”

“What do you want?” I said.

“I want to help keep you safe.” He said.

“Even after what I did to your friend?”

He paled a little, his smile fading. “Well, I umm…”

“Just get the hell out of here.” I said.

Andy turned and left, his loud footsteps echoing around the room.

“That boy is trying awfully hard to be nice to you.” Brennan said.

“He’s trying awfully hard to get himself killed.” I said.

“I don’t think you’d hurt anyone you truly like unless they tried to hurt you.” He said.

I rolled my eyes. There was no arguing with this geezer.

“If you don’t think I’m that dangerous, then let me up.” I said.

“I don’t think so.” He said.

“Then you do think I’m dangerous.” I said.

He paused. “No, I think you’re suicidal. If I let you up, you might do something crazy to get yourself killed.

“And what if your family comes in and tries to kill me? One gun is not going to be enough. They’d capture or kill you and I’d be left to their mercy, unable to do anything.” I said.

“You’re right.” He said with a sigh.

He set to work, undoing the straps one at a time.

“I gathered up all your weapons and put them in that corner,” He said when he was done, pointing to a bundle in the far corner. “No use in them having extra guns and knives when they’re like this.”

“Thanks.” I said. My stomach rumbled.

I was getting hungry again. As kind as Brennan had been, in his own strange way, I wanted to rip his skin off and eat it raw. I didn’t look at the cell where my friends were being held, in fear that my hunger would turn to them, make me ache for their flesh inside me.

I slid slowly off the table, keeping my eyes on the ground. I couldn’t look at him, or even my friends, without that burning desire to attack rising up in my stomach. I rubbed my wrists for something to do. How was I going to get out of this? Better question, how was I going to get my friends out of this alive? They didn’t deserve to be held prisoner like this and I sure as hell didn’t want them to end up like me.

I made my way to the corner in which my guns and knives sat and began checking them, making sure they would still fire and that they were loaded. They appeared to be in perfect working order, just the way I left them before this shit-storm started. As if the zombie apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, we had to find the craziest people left in America and shack up with them, leaving me to be turned into a monster. My fingers tightened around the stock of the shotgun I was holding, it creaked a little. I could feel Brennan’s eyes on me, probably worried I was about to attack him or something. Now that I thought of it…

I set the rifle down and strode casually to Bobby’s work bench, my hand trailing along the surface, touching this and that, trying to hide the fact that I was looking for something in particular. What did Bobby keep using to put me to sleep? It was probably some form of anesthetic, but what would it be labeled? Then I found it: a small bottle labeled ‘ketamine and hydrocodone’. I fingered the bottle, silently urging Brennan to look away long enough for me to fill the syringe lying a few inches away. I glanced up. Brennan was still watching me.

I moved further down the table, still in reach of the bottle and syringe, feigning interest in the box of slides sitting next to the microscope. Each slide had a dark red splotch and was labeled ‘subject’ and a different number, except the last twelve or so. They all had the same number. My number, probably. I picked up the last one and placed it under the microscope, adjusting the magnification and focus. It was from the last blood test Bobby gave me.

“Huh.” I said, eyes pressed against the eyepiece.

“What’s that now?” Brennan asked.

“Come take a look at this.” I said. “It shows the amount of infection still left in my blood stream.”